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1kook · 5 years ago

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netflix & chill

summary If you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality. warnings grinding, 2 seconds of sub kook, oral (f), cum eating, vanilla but [ passionate ], unprotected sex, dirty talk tags use of the oldest trick in the book (“your hands are sooo big”), shy oblivious AND gentleman jk? pick a struggle, brief ment of app developer kook, evil and conniving oc wc 10.2k !! wow!!

will I ever write a serious jk fic? NO. this entire thing was based off this pic of jungkook which i’ve said before that i would print out in sepia filter and crumple and stuff in a drawer n then tell my kids 35 years from now was a long lost lover i met on a cruise to the bahamas and never saw again ty to mia more @daechwlta for being there during my brief crisis over this fic 🥺

When Namjoon had first not so subtly mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date, it was with a faux air of disinterest that you had masterfully pried the details out of him. Namjoon has a friend, he said, a friend who was kinda sorta attached to his hip. And while Namjoon loved the kid, he also thought this friend could use some social interaction outside of Namjoon.

Now you and Namjoon weren’t exactly the most conventional of friends for him to be proposing blind dates to you at whim. He was your senior at school, your mentor in your scholarship program, an educated man studying for his masters. So when he’d first uttered the words you were immediately on the fence. Sure, the two of you knew each other well and probably got along better than most mentor-mentee pairings among your year, but you doubt Namjoon knew enough of your tastes to offer you up for a blind date.

According to Namjoon, his friend was a kid in the same year as you, making him not so much as a kid as he was your classmate. You brushed it off at first, spewing some bullshit excuse that you’d rather focus on your studies, and how dating was a distraction to your education, as if you hadn’t spent the weekend prior binge watching some Spanish novella while you dutifully ignored your essay.

The second time Namjoon mentions it you agree on the spot. Life on campus could only be interesting for so long, so you might as well make the best of it and go on as many stupid dates as possible.

Namjoon is over the moon.

He tells you he’ll pass your phone number on over to that friend of his—“Jeon Jungkook”—and promises you you won’t regret this because his friend was amazing, really. And for Namjoon to sing his praises for just any underclassmen was unheard of. In fact, besides you, you don’t think Namjoon knows many other students younger than him, and if he did, you hardly doubt he would regard them so highly.

So he gives his friend your number, and so ends your weekly meeting with your mentor. You only realize on the walk back to your dorm that you forgot to ask him about some club at school, the whole goal of this week’s meeting, but by then you don’t really care, the whole conversation fading into the background.

In fact, you forget about the whole ordeal until Friday night rolls around and you’re once again, binge watching another novella on your laptop, when your phone suddenly vibrates.

You were by no means a loser at school, a friendless nobody, but you were also not the outgoing, school-spirited student on the front page of your school’s website, and thus had nearly every app that could produce a notification on your phone muted, every text thread silenced. The only notifications and messages you allowed were from your email and from your roommate, and considering the fact Doyeon was face down in a puddle of her own mid-semester tears right across from you, it was probably your email.

Much to your surprises, it isn’t that “Monday’s Class is CANCELLED” email you were hoping for, but instead some unknown number in a text notification. You roll your eyes, click it open thinking it’s a reminder from some store or from some guy claiming to be from your bank, only to pause at the words written inside the little grey bubble.

hey its jungkook!!! joon gave me your number to I guess ask you on a date soo are you free tmrw night??

The excessive punctuation reminds you a little bit of your kid sister back home and the dorky emails she’ll send you from time to time. It’s with that memory and a smile on your face, that you’re suddenly reminded of what exactly this message is saying. “Oh shit,” you mumble, moving to sit up and reread the text. Doyeon complaining loudly in the background has you reading it twice more before you understand it, and by then there’s a fluttery feeling in your chest.

You were by no means easily swayed by people, but this guy had received praise from Kim Namjoon of all people, so he definitely had some prestige to his name. He doesn’t seem overbearing from this one text he’d sent, but he also didn’t seem completely disinterested.

You try to match his nonchalant energy, letting him know you were in fact free and down to meet him, just to let you know more details.

You won’t lie, there’s a giddy feeling bubbling within you at the prospect of getting all dolled up, hitting the town, pawning a free meal off some unsuspecting college soul, and maybe even hitting it off. It’s been a while since you’ve dated, sue you.

Jeon Jungkook’s response crushes those dreams as well as hurdles you straight into a nightmare.

cool!! was thinking i could cook for us at my place, drink a little wine, maybe Netflix and chill a little bit??

You are blown away by the absolute gall of this man, to butter you up by painting a pretty picture only to reduce you to a mere booty call. The fact he had felt confident enough to say all that within the same sentence blows your mind.

Did this Jeon Jungkook, who you had no idea of what he looked like, who had no idea of what you looked like, seriously just invite you over for some quote unquote Netflix and chill?

Who, in the ever living hell, was this guy who so sleazily invited women over to fuck with no qualms about who they were?

You’re offended that Namjoon would set you up like this, pawn you off to such a greasy friend. But then again, you guess not everyone knows their friends thoroughly, because this Jeon Jungkook flirtatiously inviting your over for some sex sounds nothing like the golden boy Kim Namjoon had raved about earlier this week. You click your phone off, tapping the device against your lips as you ponder how to best rip this jerk to shreds via text.

It’s amidst Doyeon cursing out her statistics teacher that an idea hits you.

Tomorrow was Saturday night, and as far as you knew, you really didn’t have anything else going on for you anyway. You’d take Jeon Jungkook’s offer, let him cook you a free meal and drink some of his wine. He mentioned having his own place, and vaguely you remember Namjoon saying he lived alone, hence his introverted tendencies, so you could slip in and out without doing that walk of shame through a boy’s dorm hall.

Not that there would be anything to feel shameful about. In fact, if you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality.

Ha! That would certainly teach the asshole not to use his poor, unsuspecting friends to reel in nice girls like you into one night stands.

You could practically feel the devil horns begging to poke out of your skull, the forked tail wiggling behind you, as you click your phone back on and text Jeon Jungkook a great!! what’s your address :)

——

Saturday morning and afternoon are as boring as they usually are. You do a little homework, and spend thirty minutes filling Doyeon in on your master plan, which she eats up and even gives you some pointers—“and then you can be like, ‘you sick freak, as if I’d let you near this 5-star, Michelin reviewed, Gordon Ramsey approved coochie’ and throw the whole plate at his head!”—before getting ready for your little date at Jeon Jungkook’s.

You try hard to look good, harder than you would have if he hadn’t offended you by reducing you to a booty call, and Doyeon helps. She does your eyebrows all nice and natural, dusts the thinnest shin of liquid highlighter across the high points of your face, the whole shebang until you’re looking like a sexy, glowing goddess. You shimmy into a pretty dress, nothing too fancy nor too casual, and even pull on those strappy sandals you’d bought on sale last winter before blowing a kiss to Doyeon and meeting your Uber downstairs.

You don’t quite remember what the reason behind Jeon Jungkook living in such a swanky neighborhood a few minutes from campus was, if it was from a job you vaguely recall Namjoon mentioning, or if it was just purely hereditary, but his place is nice. It’s a connected townhouse, something you’d expect a newly wed couple to live in and not some douchebag third year.

Worse comes to worse, you get banned from this rich neighborhood after humiliating one of its residents in his own home, not that you’d ever make it big enough to live here anyway.

You’d texted Namjoon sometime that morning to let him know you were meeting his friend, an ominous text with an even more ominous smiley face attached to it. But it seems Namjoon is easily blinded by underclassmen he trusts, if Jeon Jungkook’s assholish feats and your own suspicious behavior is anything to go by, because he texts you back a polite have fun! he’s a little shy, so it might take a while for the ball to start rolling hahahaha.

Shy my ass, you think closing the door of your Uber behind you. You double check the address that had been texted to you, walking up to the neat townhouse and knocking against the polished door.

It’s a little chilly, and you hope finding an Uber is easier later tonight when you make your grand escape. It’s between these thoughts that the door swings open, revealing the most handsome man you’ve ever met.

He’s attractive, disgustingly so, with dark hair and light brown tips to contrast, tickling his cheekbones. His dark eyes are round and imploring as they meet yours, gaze almost innocent and doe like as he takes you in. He’s got this soft, blue turtleneck on, and it looks like it should be a seasonal sweater reserved for the holidays but he pulls it off nicely on this premature spring night. His pretty pink lips move, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking.

“___?” He says, and his voice is deep, yet soft in its own unique way. You nod, like a stupid bobble head, because your throat constricted the moment this beautiful angel opened the door. “It’s cold outside, come in!” He urges you, out stretching his palm to make sure you don’t trip over the slight step up the door as he brings you into his home.

“Hi,” he exhales when you’re finally inside, standing a little too close to you in his small entryway.

“Hi,” you finally choke out, a little dazed by how handsome he is, and the sudden realization that you’re supposed to throw your glass of wine at him tonight because he’s a douchebag dawns on you. You blink yourself out of your stupor, taking a step back and gesturing towards your sandal clad feet.

“Oh!” Jeon Jungkook exclaims at the sudden realization. “I forgot to set out a pair of slippers for you,” he sheepishly admits, before he excuses himself to go get some. There’s a tiny ottoman pushed against the wall, beneath a long mirror, that you take a seat on it, carefully unstrapping your sandals.

All the while, you’re deep in thought.

It makes sense that someone like Jeon Jungkook was so forward in inviting you over for sex during your first interaction. Realistically speaking, the guy had it all. He lived alone in a swanky townhouse in a wealthy neighborhood (you finally remember Namjoon saying he did some app developing for major companies—yeah, still in college but already making it big because he was that good), and looked like the blueprint for the perfect man, someone who’d impress your parents. On top of that, the man was was a 21st century Adonis. You hadn’t missed the flash of ink on his knuckles, or the way his jeans had hugged his legs.

He’s making his way back now, inspecting the slippers in his hands, and you don’t miss the way the jeans are pulled taut around his thighs in particular.

Yeah, he definitely knew his way around a woman’s body, there was no way he couldn’t have.

You slip your feet into the slippers he places before you, wiggling your toes around, before glancing back at Jungkook. He smiles warmly, a little beauty mark beneath his lip making itself known. He takes your hand, pulls you up onto your feet, and begins guiding you down the hall and to what you assume is the kitchen.

“I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured asking you three hours before you came over would be too awkward,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances at you again, and upon seeing your inquisitive stare, quickly turns away with flushed cheeks.

Oh this man knew the game, and he knew it well.

Jeon Jungkook still thinks he can play that cute campus boy being set up by his senior card now, after he’d shown you his true colors last night via text. But he has a big storm coming. As much as you could admit he was good to look at, you would not be fooled by some pretty face and tasty food. No, you came here with one goal and one goal only, and that was to give Jeon Jungkook a piece of his own two-faced medicine before running off to tattle to Namjoon.

You reach the kitchen and the heavenly smell of Alfredo sauce swarms your nostrils. “I… I’m still new to cooking, so I hope you don’t mind some Alfredo pasta,” he admits, shy smile adorning his features as he avoids your gaze once again to toy with the dish towel by the sink.

You creep closer to the counter, where two meticulously presented ceramic plates sit beside a wine bottle, and the glands in your mouth suddenly go into overdrive in their rush to make you salivate, and you choke out an overly eager, “it looks amazing!” before you know it.

Okay, you came here with two goals.

——

Jungkook carries the two bowls in his big hands to the dining room beside the kitchen, and you follow behind with the bottle of wine and two glasses as you set the table together. The utensils are already there, but Jungkook runs back into the kitchen anyway to return with some fancy cloth napkins for the two of you.

Just as you're tugging a chair out to sit, Jungkook beats you to it. “Ah, let me,” he smiles, and your heart thunders nervously in your chest as you return the expression, brushing your hands beneath you before sitting down and letting him push you in. Jungkook takes his own seat in front of you, and before you can dig in he calls out to seemingly nobody, “Alexa, dim the dining room lights.”

The overhead lights dim, and with their overbearing glow gone, you can finally appreciate the battery powered candles snuggled neatly into a little bowl on the table between you two. You ooh appreciatively, and Jungkook looks proud of himself.

Then, he says, “Alexa, play…Date Night Playlist.”

You blink, and a soft piano tune begins filtering through a speaker he’s hidden somewhere in the room. Even with the fake candles being your main source of light, the flush on Jungkook’s cheeks is evident as he gestures towards you to eat.

You won’t lie. Jeon Jungkook was extremely endearing.

This much becomes evident the further you get into the meal. As small talk devolves into full fledged conversations and story telling, his shy demeanor slipping away but still sticking to the edges of his personality, you begin to have a more difficult time connecting this Jungkook to the one who had less than 24 hours ago asked you to come over and “Netflix and chill” with him.

But the more you speak, the more distant that image begins to feel. For one, Jungkook does put on a fairly reserved aura for you, telling you about his job but refusing to brag about it even when you egg him on. He has no qualms gassing up his friends, Namjoon in particular, who Jungkook claims is his role model for some unknown reason, given the fact they are neither in the same major nor in any of the same clubs. They’re friends, point blank period, but Namjoon is very obviously a star in Jungkook’s eyes.

Additionally, he’s quite embarrassed to admit why Namjoon had been so set on getting Jungkook to date, but eventually tells you it’s because Jungkook’s last girlfriend had been during your freshman year—two whole years ago! It makes you wonder what he’d been doing since then, if he’d used the time to fully invest in his work or if he’d been mingling around, unbeknownst to his friends, which would explain the flirtatious offer that landed you here.

Still, a part of you refuses to believe last night’s Jungkook and tonight’s Jungkook were one in the same, and if they were, what had made this shy man so unabashedly invite you over for some sex. Was this act all a ploy? Or maybe, was he purposefully trying to ward you away by coming off as a gentleman now that he’d seen your face and wasn’t interested in you anymore?

Apparently it’s neither of the two, and you don’t realize this until you finish your meal and make your way into his living room to finally get down to the long awaited Netflix and chilling. It’s only when you sit down on the couch, smack dab in the middle, because at this point, you’re not gonna throw your wine at Jeon Jungkook like you planned, he was too nice. And if this niceness was an act to get in your panties, you didn’t care at this point. He was hot, achingly so, and at least you’d get a good fuck out of it.

But as you said, apparently not. Because Jeon Jungkook sees you purposefully take up the entire middle of the couch, sultry eyes staring him down, and decides to sit flush against the armrest, somehow leaving a good foot between the two of you, despite the fact you’re sitting next to each other.

Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend the situation, before he’s asking you what you want to watch. “Um,” you say, pointedly staring at him and not the screen. “Tr-Transformers?”

The way Jungkook’s eyes light up is insane, already round eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he eagerly rushes to select it from whatever streaming service he has, probably not even Netflix, all the while chattering on about how much he loves that series, and is so glad you do too.

The whole time, you’re struck by the oddness of his casual tone, the way he’s overly invested in the 20th Century Fox opening, and how he’s very carefully avoiding intruding in on your personal space.

The last point in particular has you wanting to pull your hair out, because you want Jeon Jungkook intruding in on your personal space. You want him pressed so tightly against you you can’t breathe, you can’t move, until you’re drowning in him as he finally lives up to his promise of some Netflix and chill, because you want him, and you want him so. very. bad.

“Oh, I forgot the popcorn!” Jungkook exclaims, and you jump at the sudden volume of his voice, because he’d been pretty silent as he avidly watched the first few minutes of the movie. “Sorry,” he chuckles, and his leg brushes against yours as he shuffles between you and the coffee table on his way out. You vaguely hear the popping of the popcorn in the kitchen, but you’re too distracted by your suddenly overwhelming thoughts.

Okay, one thing was for sure, and that was that Jeon Jungkook definitely had no fucking idea what the phrase Netflix and chill meant, because the way he’d zeroed in on the movie and the popcorn, and not you, was unheard of on such invitations. You deduce he probably heard it somewhere, and, now understanding the true nature of Jungkook’s sweet and shy personality, made no such perverted connection to the phrase.

Which meant he most definitely did not demean you to a mere booty call, like you’d deluded yourself into believing, someone he could hump and dump with no regrets, before calling Namjoon up to thank him. Which meant he’d had no ulterior motives in meeting you tonight, just planning to get to know you at the suggestion of his friend, and had—unbeknownst to him—successfully wooed you thus far.

Which was great! If you turned a blind eye to the evil, conniving plans you’d made without even meeting the guy, and the subsequent flood of self-inflicted disapproval when you realized Jeon Jungkook was a sweetheart who definitely did not deserve having a glass of wine thrown at his face after making you a home cooked meal and giving you the full Olive Garden experience, with his dimmed lights and candlelit dinner and piano music on the background.

Yeah. Perfectly fine.

The only problem now was that you had become so dangerously smitten with the man that you wanted to sleep with him. You wanted that Netflix and chill, needed it like it was the last slot in a daycare class and you were a soccer mom of five wanting to get at least one kid out of the house for the summer for the sake of her own sanity. You were desperate.

No, you scold yourself. This was fine, this was good, this was perfectly okay. If anything, this just further made you enamored with Jungkook, because it proved how gentlemanly he was by not trying to sleep with you on the first date.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, the devil on your shoulder crooned.

The microwave in the kitchen stops, and you hear the sound of cabinets opening as Jungkook pours the popcorn into a bowl. On screen, the main character is meeting a bunch of giant cars-turned-robots, you don’t fucking know.

But the devil was right.

Jungkook hadn’t offered to sleep with you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Furthermore, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be seduced into wanting to, your evil brain suggested, and the hope that had slithered it’s way into your chest from the very moment Jungkook had opened the door, took that fact and ran with it.

“What’d I miss?” Jungkook says when he returns, popcorn bowl in hand.

“Oh, um, he was with the car,” you offer, trying to stop the nefarious smirk from slipping onto your features. Jungkook laughs, cute and airy as he shuffles past you.

He’s too absorbed in the screen, not looking as he sits down, closer than last time until his thigh brushes yours and he jerks back in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry,” he flounders, goes to move away but you act fast.

You grab onto his upper arm with both of yours like an octopus, keeping him flush to you as you gaze up at him with wide eyes. “No, it’s okay,” you rush to assure him, loosening your hold as he tentatively relaxes beside you. You glance down at the popcorn bowl in his hand, swiping a piece to pop between your lips. “It’s easier for us this way,” you say, and you’re pulling that straight out of your ass, because you hate popcorn and have literally zero desire for it and wouldn’t have reached for it anyway if you weren’t trying to convince him this was all for popcorn sharing purposes.

Jungkook’s eyes briefly flicker down to where you’re munching on that popcorn, your lips, before he’s quickly averting his gaze. “Ah, y-yeah,” he agrees, and though he tries to relax back into the couch, you can still feel the tension of his muscles as he settles beside you.

With his eyes no longer trained on you, you snuggle closer into his side resting your cheek against the soft material covering his shoulder, finally letting that devious smirk slip onto your face. You keep yourself close to Jungkook, loving the way his warmth permeates the thick sweater he’s wearing, even if he’s still overly into the movie. You know he’s seen it before, because he keeps telling you random tidbits like, “they use this in the next movie!” Or “he ends up becoming really important in the sixth movie,” and you want to listen to this endearing nerd’s commentary, you really do, but once your brain is stuck on horny, it is stuck on horny.

He doesn’t even eat a lot of popcorn, setting it down not ten minutes later onto the coffee table. You release him as he moves forward, but quickly latch onto him again when he sits back down.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook is way more relaxed then, shrugging you off to rest his hand on the couch behind you, and you inwardly squeal at the prospect of getting to cuddle up to his body, and not just his arm. You cuddle in close to him, leaving your slippers on the ground as you tuck your legs up onto the couch cushions.

Jungkook is so warm and firm, and you know it’s your horny brain speaking, but you swear you feel a tight set of abs underneath the palm you rest on his stomach, and you give an experimental brush over the area. His heart picks up, you hear it by where your head is leaning against his chest, and you tilt your head up to give him a curious glance. His cheeks are red, and he doesn’t look at you even though you know he sees you, so you decide to kick things up a notch.

You sigh loudly, peeling yourself away from him to properly level him with a pout. “Jungkook, aren’t you hot in this?” You ask, pinching the wooly material between two fingers and pulling it from his skin. Jungkook finally looks away from the screen, nibbling his lower lip as he takes in your quizzical expression.

“Um, only a little… but it’s fine!” He rushes to say, and you recall from your conversations over dinner that Jungkook doesn’t much like people fussing over him, so you quickly change gears.

You press a hand against your cheek, the same one that had been resting against his shoulder earlier. “Oh, well… it’s really itchy,” you announce, and his eyes widen, one hand absentmindedly reaching to clutch the material at his chest. “It’s making me really itchy,” you emphasize, and part of you feels bad for taking advantage of his caring nature, but this is all for the greater good, you convince yourself. “Do you mind taking it off?”

“I, uh, yeah,” he agrees, reaching for the hem of his sweater before carefully peeling it off. When he pulls it over his head, you can’t help the triumphant grin that overtakes your face, though you quickly mask it when he finally frees himself from the material. “Better?” He says once he’s clad in only a plain black shirt.

“Mm, much,” you sigh, and nearly soak your panties then and there when a tattooed sleeve comes into view. “Woah!” You exclaim, snatching his wrists up to examine his skin. “What’s this?” You marvel, tracing every inch of delicious skin with your predatory gaze. Jungkook huffs out a laugh, and you glance up to watch as he rubs the back of his neck in that same embarrassed way he’d done multiple times throughout your night together.

“My tattoos,” he says, and then seems to realize the simplicity of his statement and rushes to add to it, “I hope you don’t mind?”

You hum, shifting onto your knees to face him as you continue tracing over a huge tiger lily by his forearm. “Why would I? It’s your body,” you say, and watch the nervous glance melt off his face as he regards you with something new. Something akin to wonder as he lets you trace over more of his ink, nodding along to your words.

“Yeah… yeah!” He agrees, and you grin at his sudden zeal. He chuckles, physically relaxing beneath your touch, and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s been all night as you continue rubbing your hands over every tattoo on his skin, and then purposefully focusing on the ones near his bicep. “Sorry, ‘m just used to people pushing off their own opinions about them onto me,” he explains, and for a moment, the horniness that had been fueling you all night fades away, and you let your hands trail down, past his wrist, until you’re sandwiching his hand between yours.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks,” you tell him, eyes hard as you imagine anyone imposing their stupid thoughts on Jungkook, who was too good for this world. “If you think they’re cool, then they're the coolest thing in the world.”

He smiles at you, and you’ve seen this smile about a million times tonight—when you first came in, when you talked about yourself at dinner, when you mentioned this stupid movie—but it has something swelling in your chest. Something too intimate for a first date, so you quickly move to repress it.

Glancing down at his hand in yours, littered with smaller tattoos across his knuckles, your brain whirls into action. Bringing it up between the two of you, you turn his hand over to line your palms up. “Wow, your hands are so big,” you sigh, slowly reverting back to dirty thoughts as you twist yours and Jungkook’s hands this way and that. He snorts, bends the tips of his fingers over yours just to hear you ooooh again.

“Yeah, they’re pretty big,” he agrees, completely ignoring the film playing on the screen, which is a huge win in your eyes considering how deeply he’d been watching it earlier.

Finally, you see an opening and pounce.

“Well, that means something else is pretty big too,” you murmur, chancing a glance up at his face. His face is the perfect definition of composed, and you can tell when exactly he processes your words because those little pink lips part in surprise, red slowly filling the apples of his cheeks. You let go of his palm, letting it slide between your fingers until it falls limp beside him.

Jungkook watches you with wide eyes, as you raise yourself up onto your knees. “Jungkook?” You mumble, giving him no warning before you’re throwing a leg across his lap, knees pressed into the couch on either side of his thighs.

“Y-Yes?” He stutters, brown hair falling away from his face as he stares up at you. You flash him a sweet smile, and you can tell it relaxes him because his fists unclench beside him.

“You’re a really nice boy,” you sigh, and when you’ve scooted your knees a little closer to his ridiculously thin waist, you finally let yourself sit. You find yourself right before his crotch, which he desperately tries to hide as he shifts around, but can’t with you on top of him. You let your hands flutter to rest at his shoulders, and he gulps. “You’re so sweet and cute,” you add, relish in the flush that climbs up to his ears. “But I’m a little sad you invited me over to Netflix and chill, but won’t do just that,” you pout, a finger tangling itself in a soft strand at the back of his head.

“Huh?” He stutters, eyes nearly bulging out when you wiggle around again. “I-I’m sorry?” He huffs, and when you move too close to his crotch, where his jeans are slowly growing more and more strained, he panics and reaches a hand out to steady your waist.

You feign confusion, flashing him another pout as you duck closer until your noses bump against each other. “You know what it means, don’t you, Jungkook?” You inquire, eyes falling dangerously lidded as you swallow up every inch of his appearances.

He stutters, hands moving up and down as if he doesn’t know where to put them anymore. But you know exactly where Jungkook can put those hands, and you waste no time catching his wrists in your hands to guide him towards your hips. “No?” He breathes, fingers flexing against you, and you smile sweetly at him.

“It means,” you purr, shifting forward until you’re flush against where you need him most. You can barely contain the whimper that climbs out of your throat when you finally feel the rough material of his jeans against your panties. “It means you wanna fuck, Jungkook,” you exhale, tossing your head back as your body basks in the slight reprieve, the way Jungkook squirms beneath you aiding greatly in providing that sensation you craved.

“It’s nothing more than an excuse,” you huff, placing a hand on the back of his neck to steady yourself. At your touch, Jungkook jolts, thighs jumping beneath you and you stifle another groan when the zipper of his jeans prods against your core. “For you to fuck my brains out while some s-stupid movie plays in the background.”

You’re not sure when, but sometime during that last explanation your hands had fully delved into the thick tresses of Jungkook’s hair. You give an experimental tug, and poor Jungkook, so lost in all that you’re telling him, lolls his head back for you easily until the long expanse of his neck is available, soft creamy skin yours for the taking.

You pounce, kissing the skin gently at first, before sprinkling in a handful of nibbles. He’s sensitive, devastatingly so, as he gasps at a particular suck. You suction your lips on the spot below his ear, carefully biting down on the skin as he unravels beneath you. “Will you do it, Jungkookie?” You murmur against the shell of his ear,

He nods eagerly, and his fingers hurt where he’s pressed them deep into your waist, like he’s trying to brand you as his with his mere strength alone. “Y-Yes,” he exhales, hips jerking when you swipe your tongue over the pretty mark you’d left on his perfect skin.

You smother your smirk against his neck, grinding down on him once again. “Yes what?” You tease, and let his strong hands roll you against him afterwards.

“Yes, I-I’ll…” he stumbles, eyes dazed as he watches you through hooded lids. You raise a brow at him, shifting in his lap. It’s enough to kickstart him back up, and he’s biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you just like you want,” he rambles. He surprises you when he begins rutting up against you, so animalistic and uncontrolled, nothing like the sweet Jungkook that had indulged you over dinner. “I’ll make you come, p-promise,” he rasps.

You smirk down at him, hoping he doesn’t see the metaphorical horns sticking out of your head the further he falls into your trap. Before he can say anything else, you surge forward, slotting your mouths together for the first time that night.

It’s no surprise that Jungkook kisses just like he speaks, carefully like he’s afraid one hard press of his lips will ward you off. His lips are smooth, a fact you’d hyper-fixated on all night as he spoke, but before you can ponder on that any further, something hot and wet is prodding at your lower lip.

The gasp you barely manage to contain ends up escaping anyway when Jungkook’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tilting your head to the side as his tongue slithers into your mouth. You become obsessed with the way he touches you, every bit the gentlemen he’d been all night, fingers just barely pressing into your cheek like he doesn’t want to mess up your makeup. His other hand, snuggly wrapped around your waist, pulls you tighter against him until your chests are pressed together.

And that tongue. That tongue of his that leaves no room for argument, quickly shutting down any attempts of yours to overtake him. He’s graceful about it too, one nudge enough to convince you he’s got this, he’ll take care of you. You whimper, a sound Jungkook swallows before he’s biting down on your lower lip.

When he pulls away, his lips are red and glossy, and you wonder if yours are too. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he sighs, gazing at you like he can’t believe you’re there in front of him.

Before you can say anything else, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck to brush kisses over your skin. “Let me eat you out,” he begs, but his voice is so silky and smooth that it doesn’t sound so much as a plea as much as it does a suggestion. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you jump in his hold.

It’s at this moment where the sudden realization hits you, the feeling of having the reins yanked out of your hands. You so vividly controlled every aspect of Jungkook just a few moments ago, when you’d had your own mouth on his neck, and carefully coaxed him into some sex.

But it seems Jeon Jungkook isn’t as soft or as pliable as you had dubbed him to be, and if the way he’s begun subtly rolling your hips into his crotch is any sign, he certainly wasn’t the submissive type either. Which leaves you wondering, exactly what type of person was Jungkook in bed?

Well, you had all night to figure that out.

“Hey,” he whines suddenly, ripping you out of your thoughts. You glance down at him, registering the bored set of his eyes and the unimpressed quirk of his lips. “Pay attention to me.”

You blink, lips twitching. You can barely muffle the giggle that tears itself from your throat, leaning your forehead on his shoulder as your body shakes at his suddenly childish words. Jungkook chuckles too, as if suddenly realizing how out of place his own statement was. “Sorry,” he smiles, cheeks pleasantly rosy and you can’t even stop yourself from kissing him silly.

Jungkook, bless his heart, let’s you rain down a good three kisses on him before he’s pushing you down on the couch beside him. There’s still a slight gleam in his eyes, but the rest of his face schools itself into a hungry expression as he drinks in your body laid out before him. “Let me eat you out?” He asks again, voice but a soft whisper.

You nod, heart beating loudly in your chest as he shuffles down until he can press a kiss to the tops of your thighs. He hasn’t even done anything that intense yet, but you already feel the muscles in your leg ready to spasm just from his proximity.

He’s mouthing at your skin, nudging your legs apart, and you, usually so confident in your sexuality, can’t find the courage to look at him as he so lovingly carries out his ministrations.

As if sensing your sudden bout of shyness (you! shy! Doyeon was gonna tease you about this for the rest of your life once you recapped this for her), he places a soft kiss just below where the hem of your dress begins, before pulling back and uttering, “this okay?”

You hum in response, face warm from just imagining how good he must look down there, peppering your skin with kisses. Your heart nearly rips itself out of your chest when a strong set of fingers wraps around your wrist suddenly, sliding over and around your hand until he’s tangled them with yours.

At this, you nearly break your neck trying to look at him, only to be met with an amused smile. Jungkook gives your hand a squeeze, and you barely get to appreciate the schoolgirl flood of emotions in your chest, when suddenly his free hand comes out of left field, cupping the back of your knee to push your legs further apart, before gliding across the expanse of your thigh to push your dress up.

If Jungkook holding your hand was enough to make your heart skip a beat, Jungkook pressing a chaste kiss to your panty-clad mound was enough to send you into cardiac arrest. Your leg twitches at the sudden touch, a gasp catching in your throat at the delicate path he kisses over your panties, until he’s flicking his tongue over your clit. “Oh,” you moan, and against your better judgment, your free hand is tangling itself in his silky strands.

Jungkook smirks, what sounds like a tiny chuckle muffled as he continues mouthing along your sex, until your panties are soaked both from your arousal and his saliva. Your little thong stares him in the face, and he groans at the sight, glancing up at you with those wide eyes of his like you’re his entire world. “Can I?”

Jungkook gives your clit one final kiss, before he lets go of your hand, and you can’t help the whine that leaves you upon the lost contact. Jungkook eats it up, pressing a kiss turned smile against your knee as he tugs your underwear down. It coils up as it goes, until he’s pulling a tightly twisted maroon thong off your ankles, and tossing it off somewhere behind him.

If his mouth felt good through your panties, it feels even better without. You mewl when he brushes his lips over your clit, plush lips working your sensitive bundle of nerves, sly tongue occasionally creeping out to toy with you further. “Jungkook,” you cry out, back arching. He licks and slurps likes he’s a starved man, and you're the first meal he’s ever had. You want to sob from how good it feels, his tongue flicking over your bud like he just can’t get enough.

He pulls away to catch your gaze, doesn’t let it go as he runs a lone finger over your slit, coating the digit in your own arousal, before carefully plunging it into your warm, wet heat. “Is this good?” He rasps out, watching your facial expressions carefully as he wiggles his finger deeper into your core, his other hand wrapped around your thigh to keep you still. You moan, feeling like a boneless heap of organs beneath this insanely handsome man who can’t keep his hands off your quivering pussy.

His fingers don’t let up, slowly pulling out before plunging back in. The room fills with disgustingly wet sounds, but that fact drifts to the back of your head the faster his fingers go. Your eyes roll into your head, your body twitching with each press of his fingers.

“Is it good, pretty?” He repeats, and since you’re not looking at him anymore, the sudden lick against your clit has your back arching and your thighs quivering with surprise. “Tell me it’s good, ___,” Jungkook croons, and you nod in a hurry.

“It’s good!” You cry, moaning loudly when he slips another finger into you, scissoring the two inside of you. “It’s so good, Jungkook—y-you’re so good,” you moan, and nearly cry actual tears when he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing down against the most sensitive spot within you.

Jungkook doesn’t let up, continues licking and slurping against your sensitive bud, even when your orgasm hits and you’re begging him to stop. He doesn’t let you go until he feels the warmth coat his fingers, feels the wetness begging to seep out of your plugged pussy. He lets you go then, only to move closer to your hole and replace his fingers with his mouth. There, he carefully catches and collects the cum that trickles out, mouth warm against your trembling body.

Your body quivers with each long drag of his tongue over your sensitive cunt, and you’re about to ask him to stop, when he finally pulls away and pushes himself over you, arms caging you in as he stares down at your withered form. “Kiss,” you manage to gasp out, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow in question. “Kiss me,” you repeat, and then, thoughtfully, “please.”

Jungkook complies, leans down to connect your mouths in a sweet kiss. You’re blinded by the delicacy of it all, that you in no way see coming the sudden substance that slides down your throat from his own. You choke at the sudden intrusion, belatedly realizing it’s your cum he’s pushing down your throat, the cum he didn’t swallow.

“That’s it, pretty,” Jungkook croons, licking up the residual come that hadn’t made it into your mouth. “See how you taste for me. Isn’t it sweet?” He murmurs, pushing his tongue into your mouth as if he regretted not saving any for himself. It’s the first time you’ve had your own pleasure in your mouth, so you’re not exactly sure how to feel. What you do feel is the overwhelming surge of arousal at seeing Jungkook rave about it and lap it up inside your own mouth.

He kisses you for a few moments, mouth moving languidly along yours. One hand reaches down to rub soothingly at your inner thigh, like he’s coaxing the feeling back into your body after lulling you into one of the most heavenly orgasms of your entire life. You whimper when he bites down on your lower lip, like you’re still too sensitive to reciprocate, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. He lets you go, licks over where he’d bitten like an apology.

After a few minutes of just this, of feeling like the most cherished girl in the entire world, Jungkook finally pulls away and levels you with a dashing smile. “All good?” He asks, hands still trailing up your waist until they’re framing the swell of your breasts, where he gently circles your nipple.

You nod, dazedly staring up at him and it’s at this exact moment that you realize there’s something stiff poking at your hip. You glance down, and Jungkook glances down with you, until you’re both staring at the hard on he’s hiding beneath his jeans. Jungkook chuckles, low and dark by your ear as he experimentally presses it against you.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is untangling itself from around his shoulders and slithering down his front. You cup his erection, his shaky exhale giving you the courage to toy with his belt buckle until it’s undone and you're battling with the button on his jeans instead. You put up a good fight, but in the end the angle is too tight for you to properly undo it, and Jungkook brushes your hands away with a soft kiss to your lips.

He pushes himself off you, and you’re immediately craving the warm press of his body against yours the second he’s gone. “Get that dress off for me, pretty girl,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, rendering you completely speechless as you gawk at his body. Jungkook glances down at you as he goes to undo his pants, a shapely brow raising in your direction and a soft quirk of his lips gesturing for you to do as you’re told.

You spur into action, wiggling the dress up and over your breasts until you’re pulling it over your head and letting it drop beside you on the floor. You’re just in time to see Jungkook push his jeans down his hips, a classic black Calvin Klein underwear band glaring back at you.

The chance to marvel at Jungkook’s thin waist framed by that tight underwear is gone as quickly as it came, and you’re greeted with an even more mouthwatering sight when he pushes the elastic band down, and that big cock you had alluded to springs out of its confines. You groan, subconsciously rolling your hips into the air as you take in the sight of his cock, mushroom tip swollen and flushed. There’s a thick vein that runs along the underside of it, one you only see when Jungkook grasps his dick in his hand and tugs upward like this isn’t his true form, and he can get bigger.

“Ready?” He asks, biting down on his lip as he continues to stroke himself. You nod, wiggling closer to him until the backs of your thighs rest on top of his, knees knocking against his waist. He grants you one more of those kind smiles, before he’s leaning down to press a hand beside your head, the other lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

Running his cock over your folds one last time, collecting as much of your cum as he can, he brushes a kiss against your cheekbone before he’s pushing in. You moan, throwing your hands around his neck as he pierces through the initial ring of muscle surrounding your warm heat. “Holy shit,” you choke, mouth dropped open as you pant like a dog against his shoulder. “J-Jungkook,” you cry, legs tightening around his waist the closer his body presses against yours.

Once he’s at the hilt, pelvis flush against you, you can’t help the series of whines and mewls that escape your lips from being so comfortably filled to the brim.

To your surprise, Jungkook is the first to speak. “Fuck,” he groans, breath hot against your ear. He sounds fucked out, once silky voice raspy with need as he grinds his hips against you tentatively. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He huffs, both hands coming down to wrap around your waist, your back arching under the wonderful hands that find themselves squeezing every inch of your back in an effort to pull you closer.

His mouth brushes against yours from this new position, and Jungkook puckers his lips, tongue coming out to lick at your bottom lip. You nearly cry when he finally pulls his hips away, relieves his cock from your tight heat before surging back in. “Wanted this from the moment you walked in, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Jungkook grunts, repeats the same motion until he’s picked up a steady pace of pushing and pulling, each roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy crawling up your spine.

You nod, eyes screwed shut as pleasure warms every inch of your body. It’s even worse to not see, because every sound and every touch is magnified tenfold, until you’re drowning in sensations. Jungkook’s choked groans, the slide of his hips, they all become too much too quickly and you’re choking back a sob.

“Fuck,” he groans, glancing down at your withered form like an animal as he picks up his pace. His hold on you tightens, never letting your body move away from him and he begins jack hammering in his thrusts, swallowing your cries with his lips. “Had me thinking you were a nice girl,” he huffs, and you wonder if he knows how tightly he’s holding you, how this grip will most likely leave you with fingerprint bruises tomorrow morning. But then again, you don’t care. All you care about is Jungkook’s voice and his body, guiding you toward completion. “But all you wanted was a quick fuck.”

You steel yourself to look at him again, and when your eyes finally open and focus, you’re wishing you hadn’t because Jungkook looks so hot over you. His pretty eyes, the ones that had led you into a false sense of comfort throughout the night and tricked you into believing he would be easy to bend to your every whim, are hard now. “Isn’t that right, doll?” He spits, and you whine when he punctuates this question with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips. His balls slap against your ass, and you squirm beneath him as you begin to feel the beginnings of an orgasm build in your core.

“I-I thought—“ you stammer, tone pitched from the way he jostles you with every thrust he gives. “Y-You wanted that,” you weekly defend, canting your hips down in a feeble attempt to progress this along.

He snorts, captures your lips in a rushed kiss where he wastes no time snaking his tongue inside your mouth. His saliva trickles into your mouth, and you whine as he purposefully lets it happen, pulls away just the slightest to pucker his lips and let a thick trail of spit fall straight into your open mouth. Satisfied with his little stunt, he rams his cock against you once more.

“If you wanted a quick fuck,” he says, nearly loses himself in your pussy, “you came to the wrong guy, sweetheart.”

You’re too caught up in the nice drag of his cock against your pussy, the tip of his cock stopping him from ever pulling out completely, that it takes you a second to process his words. “H-Huh?” You choke, teary eyes flickering across his face wildly as if the answer will be right in plain sight.

But all you’re met with is the soft pull of his lips as he flashes you a smirk, pearly white teeth tugging at the pink flesh, as he levels you with a glare of his own. Before you can question him further, he’s letting go of your waist to hike your knees into the crook of his elbows, his pouty lips growing further away as he leans back.

This shift has his cock nudging up, rubbing against the hood of your clit where a bundle of nerves he’d only briefly brushed before sits. You shriek in pleasure, writhing beneath him as the sudden sensation hits you full force. “Jungkook!” You sob, his hips slowing to a grind as he watches your face crumble beneath him.

“You like that?” He murmurs, rutting his hips against you shallowly. The change of pace, the rabid piston of his hips slowing to this, has your body melting into his touch. You barely manage a nod, eyes fluttering open and shut as his hips move sensually against you.

His cock brushes against that sensitive spot with each roll of his hips, and you’re a mewling, puddle of emotion by the third thrust. “Pretty girl,” he hums, letting go of one leg to place a hand above your mound, thumb circling your clit until you’re trembling beneath him. “Did you think I would fuck you and kick you out?” He husks, watching your body like he’s a lion and you’re his prey.

Your brain is far from comprehending anything at this point, reduced to a mere mass of nothingness as he continues moving against you, fingers rubbing your clit in all the right ways.

“Well, you were wrong about that, doll,” he huffs, and you’re blessed with the sight of his head lolling back as he loses himself in the tight grip of your pussy, skin glistening with sweat, trailing from behind his ear and over his neck, until you’re watching a pearl roll over his collarbones. “I don’t do that,” he informs you, and he pinches your clit between two fingers, hard enough that you almost miss his next words as you moan. “No, baby, I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he spits, and you whimper at his words. Finally, he lets go of your knees, right as you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and you moan out in protest as he ducks down to cage you between his arms again.

“Please,” you beg, voice hoarse as his hips slowly return to their pace from before. He’s still not pulling out as much, keeping his thrusts shallow as he kisses a trail up your neck and over your jaw.

“Gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever want to leave, pretty,” he says, kisses the corner of your mouth as his hips pick up pace. You wanna cry, feeling so warm and cherished in his arms, his voice telling you how good you’re doing as the coil in your stomach tightens and tightens until you’re begging him for more. “Do you want that?”

“Yes! Yes!” You sob, rolling your hips against his like a madman as you chase your high.

Jungkook hums, smile smushed against your lips as he watches you desperately writhing beneath him. “Yeah? You want that?” You nod, mewls swallowed by his kisses. “Then cum for me, pretty girl.”

You whimper, just as he bucks into you once more, and suddenly you’re falling apart. It starts in your lower back, the ecstasy climbing it’s way through your body until you’re quivering and sobbing in his embrace, muffling your sounds against his shoulder. The muscles in your entire body tighten painfully, until suddenly a wave of contentment washes over you, and you’re too weak to even hold onto him anymore, arms flopping back onto the couch cushions beneath you.

The whole time, Jungkook mutters encouragement against your jaw, keeps his thrusts short but quick, guiding you through your orgasm. When you’re done, he presses an open mouthed kiss beneath your ear, pulling away to look at your boneless frame beneath him.

A few pistons of his hips later, and Jungkook is coming inside of you, cum coating your walls as he hammers his way through his orgasm. He pulls out when he’s done, and you instantly feel your mixed arousal drip out between your thighs.

Woozy from the wine and the two orgasms, you fall asleep soon after.

——

“Good morning,” you murmur, standing at the doorway leading into the kitchen, an area you’d only been able to find after stumbling around the upstairs of the house in confusion.

Jungkook whirls around, wide eyes taking in your appearance. You clutch at the hem of the big t-shirt you’d pulled on, the only article of clothing you saw that was thrown over a chair in a bedroom you didn’t dare snoop around. “Morning,” he exhales, calculating gaze never leaving you as you tiptoe over to him by the counter.

He doesn’t say more, spluttering into action when you peek over his shoulder to see what he’s up to. “What’re you making?” You inquire, and his hands begin fidgeting with the knife.

“Oh, um,” he stutters, and perhaps he’s overly aware of your presence so close beside him, because he suddenly doesn’t remember how he’s supposed to cut an avocado. Cute, you think. “Just, um, toast with avocado spread…”

You hum. After a moment, it seems Jungkook is able to quell his nerves, and he carefully slices the avocado open, spreading its innards across the toast. He hands you the first piece, which you take after masking your own surprise, and soon after he’s turning away from the counter as the two of you eat in silence.

After a few thoughtful munches of bread, you speak. “Thanks for carrying me to bed,” you say, refusing to look at him.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, almost a little too fast and you barely bite down a grin as he rambles on. “Wasn’t gonna leave you on the couch, especially not when you were so tired after… ah, yeah.”

It’s the reserved way he carries himself that gives you the balls to look at him. His ears are flushed adorably red, like when you were at dinner last night talking about his job, and all you wanna do is pinch his cheeks. “Yeah,” you agree, and then add with an air of faux shyness, “you were really cool last night.”

It’s the little devil in you begging to jump out, curious to see how far you can push Jungkook before he shifts into that suave version of himself from last night, and you would feel bad had the corner of his lips not tilted up in amusement.

He chokes out a laugh, mutters a “yeah?” and you don’t stop yourself when you jump into his arms and kiss that avocado spread right off his lips.

——

On Tuesday afternoon, Kim Namjoon is in the midst of delivering another sermon-like speech on the importance of utilizing your student ID when visiting any of the Starbucks within a two mile radius of your school, when you spot a chestnut head of hair from the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, Joon! My ride's here!” You yelp, shoving your notebook into your bag as you stumble over yourself in your haste to leave.

Namjoon blinks. “Huh? I thought you lived on campus?”

You nod, that giddy feeling starting up in your chest as he comes closer to where you and Namjoon have taken up residence on a table in the commons for your weekly meeting, and by the time he reaches the table Namjoon is still in the midst of questioning you.

“Jungkook,” You say, all dreamily and dazed, and you know this because Doyeon caught you with this same exact look on your face after he dropped you off at the dorms Sunday afternoon.

Namjoon startles. “What the f—“

“Hi,” Jungkook beams, leans down to brush a kiss against your cheek, which only serves to make you even more ditzy and dumb in the face of this handsome man. “Oh, hey, hyung.”

“What’re you doi—“

“All set?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring whatever his beloved senior was saying in favor of taking your bag off your shoulders. You nod, have to swallow a giggle down when he takes your hand in his. “Bye, hyung.”

“Bye, Joon!” You barely remember to throw over your shoulder, too busy wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm to hear Namjoon blabber in shock.

“Kids these days,” he huffs.

[ part 2 ; hulu & woohoo ]

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #jjk smut #bts smut #mine

5K notes · View notes

leviiattacks · 4 years ago

Note

How about Levi x reader, where they get set up on a blind date by their friends as a prank, but actually end up liking each other

note :: honestly not my best at all but it was cute i guess T___T kinda an opposites attract thing also it’s a modern au !!

for some reason hange and sasha wake up one morning and decide they want to wreak havoc

it’s not peculiar coming from them

after all they are always up to something

like the one time sasha purposefully trapped herself in an elevator with a hot guy

or the time hange tried to make coffee with an energy drink mixed in it??

OR-

okay you’re getting sidetracked

but the point is they have no real reason for this new venture of theirs

when do they ever have a reason though?

somehow today their scheming has led to them begging you to go on a blind date

“he’s not my type i mean he’s old and whatever but you would like him” sasha’s stuffing her face with a buttery croissant

she doesn’t sound very convincing

then again, you have no objections to the idea

you’re single

you’re lonely

if it doesn’t end in love well ??? guess you could fuck

and if you don’t fuck well ?? you got to go outside and get some fresh air

BUT

the idea of blind dating makes you squirm

the uncertainty which comes along with the situation is intimidating

honestly, part of you is worried you’ll end up making a mortal enemy at dinner, not a lover

the other portion is petrified you’ll end up on a date with a murderer

what if it ends up like that one netflix show and you end up getting stalked????

you shudder at that thought

BE OPTIMISTIC Y/N!! YUP YUP OPTIMIST ERA!!!

levi feels the same way but his version of nervous is very different to your own

his fears are very different

what if his date appears prim and proper but it’s really just a huge facade hiding how their house is a pigsty?

imagine the third date in is a movie night in and he walks into a landfill site...

what if his date chews their food obnoxiously loud?

what if they just dislike him?

that’s why ideally he would prefer dating someone he knows beforehand

but there’s no one he knows already that he’s interested in

that’s exactly why when hange calls levi and asks him if he’s willing to go on a blind date on such short notice he scoffs and tells them that maybe if they got a life they would know that his answer is a straight no

he’s used to people not pairing well with him

he guesses it’s because of his sardonic personality, maybe it’s his occupation - he is constantly busy after all. perhaps it’s his foul mouth

erwin told him the last time he had a date that he should probably ease up on the cursing but it’s levi...

he isn’t going to change for anyone.

and really if him being little mean is that much of a deal breaker he won’t bother looking for anyone

he’ll go it solo he supposes

“LEVI. PLEASE. you both would fit together like jigsaw pieces.” hange is practically begging

then they stop for a second and wiggle their eyebrows “that can have many alternative meaningssss~”

levi purses his lips and shoots them a hard glare

“shut it, i’m not going. i’m busy.”

“busy doing.....?”

“cleaning i need t-”

“NO??? do it some other time please they’re smart, fun AND not boring at all.”

hange gives him a pleading look then explains how his mystery date has already agreed for sasha’s sake and he really can’t stand you up

“you want me to go on a blind date with one of SASHA BRAUS’ friends????”

he looks at hange in utter disbelief because that means you just have to be loud mouthed and annoying like jean or connie

or just be as stupidly unfunny

he shakes his head rejecting the idea completely

“i enjoy sophisticated people.”

hange sighs heavily

“give it a chance! c’monnn what if i bribe you?”

little does levi know hange and sasha have purposefully picked you out because of the way you’re both polar opposites

where levi loves order you’re disorderly, where he follows his own rules you don’t follow any at all, where he is disagreeable you’re agreeable in every way of the word

where he is cold, you are warm, he’s a night owl, you’re an early bird, you’re day and he’s night

everything about the two of you is different

that isn’t necessarily bad, but sasha and hange find it hilarious enough to set you both up on this date

if it fails it’ll still be funny

you’re rummaging through your closet looking for your favourite perfume because to be frank you are NOT showing up unprepared

like?? what if he moves in to hug you and he smells the scent of the chicken you were cooking today

yeah you did have a shower but sometimes you wonder if the smell lingers

you KNOW it doesn’t but it’s a matter of principle

imagine he leans in and smells marinated chicken

you think you’d die on the spot if that were to ever happen

shoving a pack of mints in your purse along with your emergency pepper spray you give your outfit a once over

it’s nothing too extravagant but it’ll do the job

at this point, everything is great! you’re walking out of your door and you’re pumped up

you’ll be early for once and there’s a spring in your step

making a good first impressions is key here

you’re so close to your uber BUT

then you hear it

it’s almost inaudible but you’re sure you hear a mewl come out of the alleyway to your right

you’re about to ignore it because you aren’t even sure if you’ve heard it correctly

and it’s late you don’t feel like wandering into an empty alleyway

but the sound only repeats itself

fuck.

cautiously venturing inside you see it.

eyes softening you look at the stray kitten in front of you and bite your bottom lip and scoop him up in your arms you’re debating if running back to your apartment and leaving him there is the best option

what’s the other option?

well you could bring the cat along with you...

it would be a funny story for the future if the date goes well

now. unlike you levi is nowhere near late

in fact he’s ten minutes early waiting promptly outside of the restaurant in his white button up

he fiddles with his collar and wonders how the actual hell he got talked into doing this

hange offering to buy him cleaning supplies free of charge is probably it

8:15pm, you were meant to be here five minutes ago

if you’ve stood him up he’s going to end hange for wasting his precious free time

especially when he rarely interrupts his schedule for anyone.

a few moments of silence pass and he thinks

how do you look?

not like it matters to him

but he’d just like to know

okay, so.

it’s 8:30pm now

levi is royally pissed off that you even have the audacity to show up

you’re holding your knees as you puff in and out

“I’M SORRY. i know i’ve wasted all your time but i saw a stray on my way here and i couldn’t leave him”

the updo your hair is in is disheveled and fly aways stick out

you’ve ran here after your uber broke down that much is obvious.

to be fair, your explanation is believable and he would have let it slide if and only if

you had NOT brought the fucking cat along with you???

he’s eyeing it with disgust as it purrs up against you and you coo at it stroking its fur

“you want to sneak a cat into the restaurant?” he asks in pure disbelief

sheepishly grinning and scratching the back of your neck your response is “well i know we can’t but if you tried to i wouldn’t mind because i really like this cat :-(”

when hange said he’d have fun they were lying

but at least they didn’t lie about you not being boring.

he picks the cat up with one of his hands

looks it in the eyes

sighs then places him carefully into your purse

“don’t let him be seen.”

you light up and try to hide the grin forming on your face

he isn’t that bad

he’s a little too serious for your liking but you can handle that.

the two of you walk into the restaurant and fuck you because the cat has to start mewling and screeching

coughing rather aggressively to cover it up it miraculously goes unheard

he shoots you a sturdy glare because he’s able to hear the muffled sounds

luckily, no one else is standing near you or is within earshot.

gulping you realise this is not a good first impression at all

late to the date, bringing a cat with you, begging him to help you sneak the cat in

you feel guilty, he probably expected way better

“oi, move your ass” he snaps

you look up realising you’ve been too lost in thought to see levi walking in front of you

“sorry” you mumble

he doesn’t respond but he does look back at you

you can’t gather anything from his face because it’s either plain or he’s got his brows furrowed

currently it’s showing no signs of distaste so he must be accepting your apology

he’s kind enough, steps out of the way to offer you the space to sit down first

he sits after you and you have no idea where to look

then the cat cries again from your purse

“lucifer, shhhhh”

you’re patting him and try to silence him

“you’ve named it already?”

laughing to yourself you’re happy he’s initiated the conversation first

“he’s a little sneaky so i called him it. do you have any other names you’d like?”

“why would my input in this matter be relevant?”

“you’re basically his family now!”

he’s covering his mouth with his hands and you swear you can see the pink tinge of a blush creep upwards and flood his cheeks

but this man doesn’t seem like the type to blush over anything.

composing himself he sticks a hand out and finally asks “what’s your name?”

coming back to your senses you realize it’s been twenty minutes since you’ve met and you haven’t even had the manners to ask his name even after arriving late

“Y/N!! what’s yours?”

play it cool!!!

he doesn’t respond instead stares at your purse and points with his index finger

lucifer has escaped again and now you really are regretting bringing him along with you

whilst you’re grabbing the cat and hushing him your date hums “try to guess it.”

well, that’s spontaneous, he doesn’t seem like the type to entertain himself with games

you think hard, he’s serious but he is kind, you guess that’s why he reminds you of sebastian from the little mermaid

get it? because he’s sweet but he’s a crab so he’s crabby??

god that joke is AWFUL because it doesn't even take into account the actual character of sebastian the crab

but you have no other guesses available.

“hmm... sebastian?” you jokingly ask

“it’s levi.” he deadpans.

oh wow you couldn’t be more far off

playing around with your fingers in your lap you fidget nervously looking around for a waiter to interrupt the conversation

levi has to sense your unease because his tone loosens up

“...do i really look like a sebastian though?”

looking back up at him your bite your lip keeping a giggle in

you can sense the ghost of a smile on his face

“yeah like the crab from a little mermaid”

at that he scowls but he inquires what exactly that means

the rest of the date goes without a hitch, sure there’s a few moments where lucifer attempts to sneak away but levi has no problems stopping him

it takes a while but the conversation flows easily after the awkward barrier from before is broken down

it’s lighthearted and calm.

he’s humorous in a way you can’t describe

levi’s mannerisms are cute, everything about him is endearing despite the serious front he has

and you can’t quite put your finger on it but his demeanor is charming

overall you find yourself enjoying the date even more than you expected

now the two of you are walking away from the booth and the fresh night time air hits your face as you step outside

turning to him you smile radiantly and without allowing him to get a word in you take your opportunity by the reins

“second date?”

you don’t normally make the first move but you’re eager

and to your surprise he’s just as eager as you are.

it doesn’t even look like he stops to think before he nods and agrees to meet with you again.

exchanging numbers with him you wave as you and lucifer part ways with levi feeling satisfied

and to his shock after you leave it settles, levi thinks he just might enjoy your presence

well, that’s a first for him.

he guesses what they say about opposites attracting is true

#levi #levi ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan #attack on titan levi #aot fanfiction #levi headcanons #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi scenario #levi fanfiction #levi fluff #leviiattacks #modern au #modern levi

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rebrandedbard · 4 years ago

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@greyduckgreygoose Tumblr ate your ask when I tried posting it two minutes ago. You requested prompts 5 or 6, which I choose to read as 5 and 6. Stay tuned for prompt 6 in the future. If you like this, perhaps I’ll make it more Valdo. Whump or healing—you pull the trigger, goosey. Or perhaps I’ll use prompt 6 for some Filavandrel fun. Let me know.

5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

tw: alcohol, depression

WC: 1600 even. Whoo! Even hundredth place! Two goose eggs!

A Good Man

Geralt meets Valdo Marx while taking a contract on a ferry, protecting its passengers from an unknown threat on the water. Valdo himself is an unknown threat, until the two of them get to talking, and Geralt learns a quiet truth.

Geraskier. One-sided Valdo/Jaskier

Valdo Marx, troubadour of Cidaris, was the last person Geralt expected to meet on the ferry from Brugge. Per Jaskier’s rambling, he’d assumed the bard stayed put, living it up in Oxenfurt or Cidaris—Geralt was never quite sure if Cidaris were his home or simply a place he’d chosen for his adopted title. He’d wondered if Jaskier were a ‘Bard of Thereabouts,’ but he was never curious enough to ask where-abouts. They both travelled so much, Jaskier could be from anywhere. Something told him that Jaskier would choose Lyria if asked; the name was lyrical.

But Geralt supposed bards were of a travelling nature after all. Besides, the ferry down the Yda was the fasted way to travel inland from Brugge to Craag An, and just beyond was the Adalatte. A straight shot through Kerack would have Marx home in Cidaris in no time at all, and people with coin to spare liked to hurry to and fro in laid-back comfort. It was a paradox Geralt often found amusing.

He paid no fare for his ride, having been hired on for protection. It would seem that, of late, people were disappearing from the ferry before reaching their final destination, reaching a much more final destination than anticipated. Drowners, probably. Sirens were less likely, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility. The channels were connected to the ocean; something could have come washing downriver. It wasn’t altogether unheard of to find displaced sirens after the summer rainstorms. If asked which he’d be more likely to meet, Geralt would have chosen sirens before Valdo Marx.

Geralt recognized him as a bard from the off: it was impossible to mistaken anything so brightly decorated. True, the man did not carry his lute about his person as Jaskier would, but he wore the uniform of satin, the season’s colors all in coordination and too impractical for the weather. It was a mark of their trade, their plumage like birds of paradise and that theatrical air.

Well, the atmosphere around Marx was less the foppish theatrics Geralt had come to expect. He did not saunter across the deck wooing a crowd, nor reciting poetry. He did not do much of anything to draw attention to himself. In fact, he was quite unlike anything that made up Geralt’s image of bards, drawing back against the bulwark, completely silent. Like a fool, Geralt presumed they would go all the way to Craag An without confrontation, but it would be a snowy day in the desert before bards acted predictably.

It was late afternoon the second day on board when he approached, the sun falling low, bringing on the evening. Geralt was keeping watch at the stern: if anything was about it would be disturbed, knocked back as the ship made headway, clawing its way onto the deck from the rear. Geralt kept to the lower main deck, closest to the water. If anything came crawling up from below, he would be in position to dispatch it. The passengers aboard had likely been warned beforehand, or else they’d heard the rumors, as they stayed on the upper deck and bow. With the lower deck abandoned, he easily read Valdo’s approach from a distance.

“White Wolf?” he asked, leaning casually a few feet away from Geralt. The question was monotone, almost disinterested, but he would not have come if there had been no reason.

There was nothing else to do and, truth be told, Geralt was bored. So he turned to Valdo and nodded. “Geralt,” he replied. He’d never quite grow used to the fanciful title, but it brought him good business. It made him recognizable, and therefore comfortable, in so much as anyone could be comfortable around a witcher. Reputations had influence.

“Valdo Marx. I’m sure you heard of me.”

Geralt hummed. There was something in his manner of speech. It was not an obnoxious flaunt of his fame: there was something resigned in it. Bitter, perhaps. It was the same tone Lambert used to say, “There was a wraith in Gulet. I’m sure you’ve already heard.” It had taken a witcher down from the school of the viper. The tone implied notoriety.

For a while, they did not speak. The only sound came from the water below lapping against the side of the ship. Geralt waited, glancing at the troubadour once more before he turned his attention back to the water. He supposed that had been it, a simple acknowledgement. People were often curious, coming to him only to confirm his identity as Jaskier’s witcher. It was a title he’d grown comfortable with more quickly than the White Wolf. It was truer, and he smiled to himself when he thought of such instances in private.

“You’re a right lucky fuck,” Valdo muttered.

Geralt looked up again from the water. He turned to examine Valdo silently, wondering what, exactly, Valdo thought he had going for him to mark him as lucky.

Valdo stared back at him, looking tired and severe. “Maybe I would have had better luck if I didn’t talk so much,” he continued. “If I didn’t sing … ”

“Bards are supposed to sing,” Geralt replied. He now wished Valdo would go back to the upper deck. Nothing aggravated him quite like people who refused to get to the point. He scented an undercurrent of hostility in the air. That, and an abundance of vodka.

Valdo produced a flask from his jerkin and gave it a swig. “Never was trying to be a bard,” he muttered. He took another sip, let it sit, then concealed the flask once more. It occurred to Geralt that the man’s leaning was not entirely owed to false causality.

Geralt knew not what to say. So he simply said, “Hm.” He heard the knuckles crack in Valdo’s tightening fist.

“Melitele’s tits. Years of poetry and songs, and you come along with your … ‘hm,’” Valdo mocked, “and that’s it. Not even a melodic hm. Just … hm.” He raked his fingers through his hair, hissing through his teeth in frustration. He was muttering something under his breath, but it was incoherent, even to a witcher’s ears. When Valdo looked up again, his eyes were red. Neither that, nor the sour note in the air were owed to the alcohol, Geralt surmised.

“He won’t love you,” Valdo said. “He can’t. He doesn’t hold on to things that way. You’re just—” he flapped a hand, searching for the word “—a fascination. You’re something shiny and new. He’ll forget about you the moment he leaves your bed.”

“Who?”

“Who the fuck do you think, witcher. Don’t mock me,” Valdo snapped, voice cracking. If he didn’t look so pathetic, if his words did not carry such weight, Geralt might have chuckled to hear Jaskier’s infamous rival croak unprofessionally. It was not flattering of bards. But there was nothing funny in what he said, nor in how he said it.

“Wait a minute,” Geralt said. He had said less than ten words to the man, none of them mocking in the slightest, and he meant to say as much.

But Valdo held up a hand to silence him. The broken man slipped down to the deck, curling against his knees, head bowed. When he spoke, he mumbled against his knees, fingers tangling in his hair. “I went to Oxenfurt for him. I chased after him for so long, watching him fall in and out of stranger’s beds for less than a wink. But all he wanted me for … he only met me on the stage. Irked if I played below standard, livid if I won. Try what you will, there’s no pleasing Jaskier.”

Geralt thought he understood him then. “Are you jealous?” he asked.

Valdo lifted his head enough to meet his eye. His cheeks were wet, shining in the fading light. “Are you Jaskier’s witcher?”

“Yes,” Geralt replied.

“Then you have your answer.”

Geralt paused a moment. He approached Valdo slowly and lowered himself to his side. They sat together in silence, hidden in the shadow of the bulwark as the sun set behind. Valdo produced the flask again, offering Geralt a sip without a word exchanged. Geralt took the flask.

“Have you kissed him?” Valdo whispered.

“No.”

“Don’t. If he never kisses you, he might not leave.”

Geralt watched as Valdo finished the last of the vodka. “Did you?” he asked.

Valdo stared across the empty deck. “No,” he replied. “But I don’t count. He sings songs about you. I only exist to him three days a year at the bardic competition.”

“He talks about you,” Geralt offered. It was a poor comfort when one knew how Jaskier talked.

Valdo sighed and tucked away the empty flask. He stood on unsteady legs, turning back toward the stairs to the upper deck. “I know. I have a rough idea what sort of man you must think I am from his gossip.”

“I don’t hold with gossip.”

“No,” Valdo chuckled. “Your kind wouldn’t.” It wasn’t an insult, but empathy. There was an understanding between them on that mark. “I wanted to find out for myself what kind of a man you were to entice him so. I hate to think I see it.”

“What do you think you see?”

“A man. One whose best friend’s first wish would be to strike death upon his rival, and knowing him, would allow that rival to approach him without preconceptions. Who would share a flask with a sobbing drunkard and listen earnestly. A good man, in short. So ... hatefully good.”

Send me drabble prompts!

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marvelsbetch · 4 years ago

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Peter Parker’s field trip part 2

March 7th

Peter's POV

I woke up peacefully to Friday playing Highway to Hell and telling me it was 6:30am and I needed to get up for school. Concerned for Wade's sleeping I quickly told Friday to be quiet and that I was up, I obviously didn't want to wake him at such a cruel hour.

Stumbling out of my room in a sleep filled haze, almost walking into the door frame and tripping over my shoes, I made my way to the kitchen to find Pops trying to cook breakfast and silently arguing with Thor who put his hammer in front of the fridge yet again, Loki really is a bad influence on the God.

"Uncle Thor please move the hammer so I can have breakfast. Please." I requested giving him my puppy dog eyes knowing he can't resist them.

With a small grunt Thor moved his hammer and set it on top of the kitchen counter out of people way. Pops sent me a grateful look before pulling eggs, milk and cheese out of the fridge to make Captain America's famous omelette. I smiled slightly and moved to sit on one of the bar stools at the island counter and watched slowly as all the Avengers plus Loki, T'Challa and Shuri were woken up by the amazing smell. All but my boyfriend who could probably sleep through an earthquake, hurricane and tsunami all at once. It's a gift.

-1 hour later-

After breakfast I got ready to just come back here, grabbed my back, kissed my now awake boyfriend goodbye, hugged my Dads goodbye and made my way to the car with Happy prepared to take me to school. On the way Happy gave me a lecture on how I was basically representing Dad and SI so I should be on my best behaviour. It was boring and in all honest, I'd heard it before on the field trip to the zoo we have last month, that didn't end well in all honesty. It's better left saying some monkeys escaped and it totally wasn't my fault.

"Right Kid. We're hear, I'll pick you up tomorrow from here so message me when you're on your way back to school." He told me, I could tell he was going to miss me but I could also tell he was looking forward to the extra one hours sleep he was going to get tomorrow from not needing to drop me off.

"Bye Happy. Tell everyone I'll miss them. See you tomorrow and I'll give regular update and text you if anything happens." I told him before exiting the car and walking up to Ned who was waiting outside the bus ready for me.

"Hey man. You looking forward to the surprise field trip?" Ned asked as we stepped onto the bus.

"Not really. I'm gonna miss everyone at the tower. Wade arrived last night as well so I'm not gonna see him for like another two days." I sighed as we sat down next to each other in the middle of the bus.

"Hey penis. I know what the field trip is and you're gonna be in so much shit." Flash tainted as he passed us.

"Steve wouldn't be happy with your language." I mumbled so only Ned heard. We both giggled a little but everyone was soon quietened down by Mrs Robbins shouting at us.

"Okay so before we leave we must take role call to see who's here." She explained and started reading names off of her sheet. Everyone responded with a simple yes miss and everything was going well until she got to my name.

"Patricia Parker!" She yelled and looked directly at me. I simply ignored it and continued to stare out of the window until she shouted it again louder.

"Come on Penis just answer. Don't try and stall this." Flash huffed from the back of the bus.

"Fine. Peter Parker is here." I told her emphasising the work 'Peter'.

"What ever." She grumbled going back to role call.

-30 minutes later-

As we were driving I noticed a lot of places, it took a few seconds until it finally clicked as to where we were going. Stark Industries. Over night. Oh dear.

“Right kids. We're going to be there in roughly 5 minutes so please get you begs sorted, make sure your areas are clean and you have everything with you." Mrs Robbins told us from the front of the bus.

"I bet you'd recognise this way from your internship, if it was real." Flash sneered as if it was going to affect me.

Soon we pulled into the visitor parking lot and exited the car. I was slightly shaking with anxiety especially when Happy and two other security guards, Johnson and Stone (I don't know their first names) walked over to us and started running through the security guidelines.

"And finally and type of bullying or intolerance towards anyone inside this building with not be tolerated and the person doing it will be kicked out immediately. That could be in 10 minutes or at 2:00 in the morning. It will not be tolerated." Happy finished giving me a look that said 'I know something you don't know I know'. Shit.

"Okay now that that is out of the way with, follow us." Happy said leading us inside the lobby of the building by swiping his security card.

“Okay we're gonna give you all access passes. These are the lowest of the 10 levels you get get so basically all you can use them for is the toilet. We have a strict no re-printing policy and a display policy. In other words you must always have your pass on display on your outer most layer of clothing, if it's lost then you will be searched and escorted out of the building if it is not found. Let that be a warning to everyone." Johnson explained as Stone started handing out the passes, glossing over me, Ned and MJ of course, until everyone had them.

Me, Ned and MJ all had to pull out our avenger themed cards. Mine was half and half Iron Man and Captain America cause there my dads. Ned's was a combo of everyone's as he couldn't decide which one he preferred. MJ went for Nat cause MJ liked the fact that she, and Pepper, could control all of us and was the only girl original Avenger. MJ admires her as a icon for women.

"Okay everyone scan your passes as you walk through the scanner like this." Stone demonstrated as he scanned his pass and walked through the scanner with his hands out.

"Logan Stone. Security level clearance:8. No unauthorised items." F.R.I.D.A.Ys voice announced.

"Now all of you do it." Happy instructed.

Everyone started going through the scanner, Flash being the most smug as his level 1 clearance was announced, until it got the the final three. Me, Ned and MJ. MJ decided to go first, F.R.I.D.A.Y announced her name, level 9 security clearance and the fact she had no unauthorised items with her. Next was Ned, F.R.I.D.A.Y announced his name, level 9 security clearance and the fact he had no unauthorised items. Next was me, I was dreading it.

"Come on Patricia, just admit your internship is fake now and save us all the trouble." Flash shouted over everyone making Happy stop and glare at him. He was about to make a move towards Flash but I put my hand out and stopped him.

"Just leave it Hap. He's not worth cancelling whatever Dad's got planned." I told him in a low voice trying to be unheard.

"He says one more thing and I'll knock him out." Happy threatened.

"I have no doubt you will." I sighed and decided I stalled enough. I quickly scanned my card and walked through the scanner with my hands up like everyone else.

"Peter Stark-Rodgers, level 10 security clearance. No unauthorised items. Mr Stark-Rodgers has already been informed of your arrival. Thank you for using the front entrance." F.R.I.D.A.Ys robotic but slightly sarcastic voice announced.

The tour started off normal. One of the actual interns, Owen, greeted us and me separately. We were quite good friends as he was one of the people to help me when Wade asked me out, I will be eternally grateful to him.

"Okay, our first stop on this tour is the avengers museum. You will be allowed to take photos but please refrain from touching anything as they could activate. Everything thing in this room is the real deal except a few things. We will also be trying to lift Thor's hammer in this room with him there of course." Owen explained. So, this is where Dads plans begin.

We walked into the museum and was greeted with 3 main area. Original Avengers, later added Avengers and Avengers associates. Then, I saw a red and blue display. Spider-Man has his own display IN THE LATER ADDED AVENGERS SECTION. Did this mean Dad wanted me to be an Avenger? What's going on? Did Fury know about this?

Ned grabbed my hand and led me to the display cases where I saw my old suit and computers next to replicas and photos of my current ones. This is so cool.

“Spider-Man is the latest mighty hero to join the Avengers in their mission to protecc the Earth and Asgard. Spider-Man has been described my many to be funny, witty and charming. He the only Avenger to have not revelled his identity yet but we are sure he will in due time. Fun facts about Spider-Man:

He is afraid of Spiders ironically,

He's a complete Daddy's boy,

He made his first suit himself,

He lives with Tony and Steve Stark-Rodgers,

And finally, he can rival Tony Stark-Rodgers levels of Sass." Ned read from the information

I silently groaned at the second fun fact knowing full well Dad was just trying to boost his ego. Oh well, it's kind of hard not to be true.

"Oo Penis Parker checking out the exhibit on his 'friends'." Flash sneered putting air quotes around 'friends'.

"Right, come along people. We have an exclusive lecture with Dr Banner on Gamma radiation and how it affects the human body. Everybody make and orderly que and and we can make our way there." Owen informed and instructed.

We all qued up with me and my friends at the back and started to walk towards the elevator to go to Bruce's lab. Once we found ourselves outside of the lab the reality of the situation set in, we're going to be talking to my Uncle Bruce. While no one in the class knows he's my Uncle and I'm with my Bully and Transphobic teacher. I dread to think what's about to happen.

"Okay kids. Be very polite and respectful, we don't want a code Green." Owen instructed before knocking on the door and waiting for Bruce to open it as Owen didn't have high enough clearance to open the door.

After a minute of waiting and no sign of Bruce Owen knocked again but to no avail. I knew that Bruce was working on a new project last night so it's highly likely he's asleep so I stepped forward, security card in hand and swiped it for entrance.

"Peter Parker, access granted." F.R.I.D.A.Ys voice sounded from above the door way.

I opened the door slowly and saw Bruce asleep on the couch. Motioning for everyone to give me a minute I creeped into the room to gently wake him up.

"Uncle Bruce, you have to give my class a lecture. Uncle Bruce wake up." I said softly and gently shook him awake.

"What? Peter? Aren't you supposed to be in school?" Bruce asked slowly sat up.

"I'm on a field trip and you're supposed to give a lecture to my class. They're all outside but you fell asleep." I informed him.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry. Ask them to give me a minute and I'll be mostly ready. Thanks Pete." Bruce replied scrambling to clean up a little bit and get sorted.

"He'll just be a minute." I informed my class while exiting the room waiting for Bruce when I heard Uncle Clint shifting in the vents. Oh no, this has been planned.

“Hello Midtown. Sorry for the delay, life of a stressed scientist. I'm sure most of you know what that's like. Come in, take a seat and please excuse the mess." Bruce greeted and opened the door wider for us to enter.

We all shuffled into the highly cluttered room and sat down in one of the fold out chairs set us in the centre of the room infront of three dry erase boards. Uncle Bruce started his lecture but I soon tuned him out as I had heard it all before.

"Peter!" Clint yelled popping his head out from the vent with a grin on his face.

"Barton." I said in a monotone voice to hopefully convey my disinterest in whatever he was planning.

"I was asking if I could go into your room to borrow some silly string. Tony fucked with a few of my arrows and I'm not happy about it. I was literally shocked!" He shouted the last sentence making me wince and cover my ears.

"Yes you may but only one can. I need the rest for Loki cause he's the only one out of all of you that hasn't had a string attack yet. Hopping to change that soon." I informed.

"Cool. I'm taking the blue one. Bye, see you later." He waved before disappearing back into the vents and crawling away.

"He has this all planned doesn't he?" I asked Uncle Bruce signing slightly.

"Sorry kid." He smirked and continued with his lecture despite people only being focused on gawping at me.

Soon after that his lecture was finished and we moved on. Owen took us to a more general development lab where people started their testing to see if it was possible and worth perusing. As soon as we entered I was greeted with Shuri running towards me and hugging me tightly.

"Shuri, you literally saw me last night. Why are you hugging me so tightly?" I asked smiling slightly.

"I still missed you. Brother has been boring but these labs are very interesting, still they would be more so with you here." She told me pulling away and looking at my astonished class.

"Hello children of Midtown High School. I am Shuri Princess of Wakanda and this is my brother, the king." Shuri introduced smiling at everyone's shocked faces.

"I can introduce myself sister." T'Challa told her.

"Now you know how I feel." She told him smirking before walking off to see one of the experiments happening in the room.

We looked around the lab for a little while, I helped a few people with equations and how to improve their testing. Shuri and I shouted memes and vines at each other from across the room. Flask and Mrs Robbins glared at me any chance they got.

"Right Children, it's time for lunch. You've been privileged enough to have lunch on the level 7 balcony right near the landing pad. Please be calm and sensible and respectful of the employees eating there." Owen explained and lead us up to the eating deck.

Once there I immediately noticed Uncle Thor and Loki waiting around the corner obviously looking for me. They truly planned this. Anyway, me, Ned and MJ all walked over to an empty table and they took out their lunches when I noticed I left mine in the kitchen this morning. Shoot.

"Peter!" I hear Thor yell as he and Loki walk around the corner with his arms out.

"Hello Thor. To what do I owe the pleasure?" I asked jokingly formally.

"Does one need a reason to visit his favourite nephew?" Thor asked bringing me into a hug, possibly crushing everyone of my ribs in the process, while Loki stood awkwardly to the side.

"If your all going to embarrass me can I ask you a favour in return?" I asked the brothers.

"Of course Peter! Anything for my nephew!" Thor all but yelled and clapped me on the back.

"Yeah, I left my lunch on the kitchen counter today. Could you possibly run up and get it for me please." I requested when a flying object fell from the sky.

My lunch.

"YOUR WELCOME!" I heard Sam yell from above us.

"THANKS BIRD BRAIN!" I yelled back at him and sat back down as the table, Thor and Loki soon following.

"Peter, I was wondering later if you could help me with my magic. I've been trying to work on my long distance aim and I think you'd be the perfect person to practice with." Loki asked shyly, he still isn't comfortable with all of us yet but he's made loads of progress.

"To hit or to avoid?" I jokingly asked earning a slight laugh out of the giant.

"To miss. I'll place the object I want to hit next to you and 'throw' a spell at it. If you're next to it it gives me more motivation to not hit it." Loki explained.

"Yeah sure I'll do that. What time were you thinking?" I asked.

"Well, you're class is staying the night and tomorrow day so maybe we could find time tonight or tomorrow night." Loki said making me realise my entire class has witnessed this entire encounter. For frick sake.

"Peter!" The deep voice of Bucky yelled from the doorway to the balcony.

My entire class looked in shock as I hugged good bye to the Gods and James 'Bucky' Barnes walked over to me with a bag and an apron saying 'Kiss the cook' on it. Once he was within range I could smell the contents of the bag. White chocolate and caramel cookies. My favourite.

"I made cookies and thought you might like some while they're hot." He explained handing me the beg witch I immediately accepted and took a cookie from.

"Thank you Uncle Bucky." I said but it was muffled by the whole cookie I shoved into my mouth. Classy.

"Hey you said you'd wait for me!" I hear my boyfriend shout appearing at the doorway and running towards me with his arms spread.

"I said I was leaving in one minute and you could come if you wanted. I never said I'd wait for you cause I know how long you can take." Bucky complained to Wade who crushed me into a hug and kissed my lips briefly.

My entire class and teacher were stunned at this point. Every single jaw, except Ned and MJ's, was on the floor. When Wade kissed me I could faintly see from the corner of my eye my teacher so red and angry. Close minded female dog.

"I've not seen you all day how are you?" Wade asked pulling away.

"I'm fine, you saw me less than a few hours ago. Not much changed." I told him smiling a little and pulling him into another kiss. I did this to annoy my teacher but mainly because I just loved to kiss my boyfriend. Sue me.

"I know but anything could happen while I'm not there. I love you too much to allow anything to happen to you." He said to me after a solid 40 seconds of kissing.

"Right well, I'm gonna go back upstairs. Wade, you can stay with Peter as long as you keep your hands to yourself." Bucky warned before walking off back into the tower and Me and Wade sat down with me on his lap.

After a few minuets the shock wore off and people started whispering and pointing at me and Wade. Nothing I didn't expect if I'm honest but it's a lot more annoying than I thought it would be.

“I love you Wade." I said putting my head on his chest and eating my cookies.

"I lub you too Pete." He responded making me giggle a little. "And you're ass that will be mine tonight." He whispered seductively into my ear and gently grabbed my ass.

"You two make me want to be sick." MJ joked making a disgusted face at us before continuing with her lunch.

"Right everyone, we have ten minutes before we need to move on." Owen warned.

To be continued...

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sokkabeifong · 4 years ago

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Can you write some tokka angst 🙏

ofc I can anon and IM SORRY THIS IS SO LATE but better late than never I guess. this is set in modern times because modern times are fun to write for tokka okay? a bit longer than usual but the more angst the better am I right

Toph had promised Sokka that she’d go to the hospital when it happened, so that’s exactly what she’d done. She hadn’t promised that she’d actually get anyone’s attention. Or check in. Or ask for help.

Although… the contractions were getting more insistent, and she doubted the medical staff would leave her alone if she stripped off the stupid maternity pants and just squatted down right there on the lobby floor.

With a heavy sigh, she waddled her way over to the nearest front desk. Spirits, she hadn’t been in a hospital in years. She wasn’t even sure what the different branches and buildings and desks were all for. But there was no way that she was giving birth at home. Katara was in medical school, sure, but she wasn’t done. And Toph wasn’t about to risk her life and her child’s life for a “practice trial.”

Still, there was something unnerving about the hospital, with its stuffy feeling and too-squeaky floor. It feels clean, clean in a way that you can just sense. She didn’t need sight to tell her just how antibacterial this place was.

A pinging, traitorous part of her wishes that someone was here with her, that she didn’t have to do this alone. But it was her own stupid pride that had taken a cab all alone in a Wednesday night, and the only person she truly wanted present was somewhere she could never get him back from. She’d promised him before he died that she would go to the hospital if she felt even the slightest change. He wanted her to be safe, he said.

And now, of course, Sokka was dead and gone while she was here, swollen belly stretching out her sweater and maternity pants. As much of an annoyance as labor would be, getting the thing out of her was going to be a blessing. She’d spent too long unbalanced and vulnerable to attack.

“Can I help you?”

Toph was broken out of her musings by the question from someone sitting at the closest desk. She turned her head to where she hoped the person, a woman by the sound of it, would be.

“I hope so,” she smiled, falling back into a generic cover ID face. “I should probably see a doctor.”

“All right,” said the woman. She heard the clicking of nails on a keyboard, then something sliding across the desk. “Why don’t you take one of these forms, fill it out, and bring it back here?”

“Can’t ,” she said shortly. “I’m blind.”

“No worries.” The woman clicked her pen open like she had blind pregnant ladies come into the ER every day. Who knew - maybe she did. “I’ll ask you the questions and you answer, okay?”

“Okay.” Toph winced as another contraction hit her. At least the protruding baby bump gave her something to lean against. She made sure to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth as the woman began questioning her, just as Katara had instructed her to do. I’m a few hours, the whole thing would be over and then - she bit her lip and redirected her thoughts.

She wished Sokka was -

She redirected that thought, too.

“Reason for your visit?” the woman asked, yapping the pen against the clipboard.

Toph waited a moment before she turned around yet again, because she was in the middle of another contraction and couldn’t decide whether she’d rather scream or just go ahead and kill the lady.

“My contractions are about eight minutes apart,” she said.

The lady blinked once and then repeated, “They’re eight minutes apart from each other? So you’re in labor. Are you in active labor?”

Toph smiled sweetly. “Are you asking me to stick my fingers down and see whether or not I’m dilated to seven centimeters?”

To the woman's credit, the crudity didn't seem to faze her, and she plowed ahead with, “Ma’am, this is the ER. We’re not equipped for a birth. I’ll call you a wheelchair immediately, and we’ll get you up to Labor and Delivery. Trust me, it’ll be faster than checking in here and waiting for a transfer.”

“Where’s Labor and Delivery?”

“Fourth floor, and I -”

“I’ll just walk over there. It’s fine.”

“Ma’am, I really must insist. You’ve technically checked in—” she waved the yellow paper “—and you’re our responsibility now.”

Toph leaned heavily against the counter and deftly snatched the page out of the woman’s hand. At least her coordination was still functional.

“There. Now I didn’t check in, and I’m my own problem.”

“Ma’am, please. You’re in no condition to go wandering the hospital, whether you take that against your pregnancy or your eyesight. Let me just call someone to wheel you over.”

Luckily for the woman, another contraction rendered her unable to give a snappy retort. She waited for it to pass, quietly, quickly, then faced the lady once more.

“Fine,” she said tightly. “Fine. Fine.”

“Thank you,” the lady said, obviously relieved. Apparently she did not deal with stubborn blind pregnant women on the daily.

By the time she had been put in a wheelchair and taken through the long halls and winding corridors to Labor and Delivery, Toph had managed to calm herself down. Not because the situation was in any way calming, but because she’d stressed her body and mind out enough that she’d fallen into full-blown mission mode.

Which was fine. It’d probably be easier to give birth with that attitude.

“Well, you seem pretty together, Toph,” the nurse gushed as she checked in yet again at the front desk. “We’ll get you back as soon as possible. For now, if you can just take a seat in one of those chairs, and listen for your name.”

Toph let her real self fade into the background, giving over control to the five other women sitting in the waiting room, and promptly closed her eyes. If she was going to be in pain, she might as well rest while she could.

The calm blind girl out in the lobby was already a topic of discussion.

It wasn’t completely unheard of for someone to come in alone. Life was weird and sometimes people gave birth without anyone they knew to help them through the experience. But this girl? The calm young girl with ebony in her hair and in her eyes wasn’t any of the typical stories. She was clean and put together. She was calm and young and looked like the kind of person who would have a dozen friends by her side, even if the father of the child was no longer in the picture.

And yet, there she sat. First in the waiting room and then in her hospital room.

Alone.

Moreover, Miss Toph Beifong had claimed on her paperwork that her contractions were now five minutes apart. However, she was sitting too calmly for that. In fact, the nurse had sat with phone in hand and timed out more than ten minutes, and the girl hadn’t moved once. She’d sat there calmly. No wincing, no cursing, no crying.

It wasn’t until the nurse pulled the woman back and got down to take a look that anyone believe the claim at all.

"Shit,” the nurse murmured.

The doctor startled and glanced up to see if Toph had been offended by the curse. Fortunately, the girl seemed more concerned with how many fingers she had, and didn’t seem to have heard.

“What?” the doctormurmured, more quietly.

“Her cervix is nine centimeters,” the nurse answered.

“Shit,” the doctor echoed.

By the end of it all, Toph had decided she did not like labor. She’d made that decision before she began crowning, and nothing that followed did anything to change that. While she had experienced worse pain in her life, she had never experienced that kind of pain.

She had once spent four straight hours being absolutely crushed by a girl at the gym and, at the peak of labor, she was pretty sure she’d trade out that experience for her current one.

Nevertheless, she didn’t scream. She screwed up her eyes and doubled her body up and flexed her fingers. Tears leaked from her eyes from the sheer stress of it all. But her lips remained tightly closed. The skin around them grew white from where she bit them between her teeth, and the nurses were afraid she’d draw blood.

One well-intentioned nurse had advised that she just give in and cry out.

Toph had rolled her eyes, widened her legs, and pushed again.

In the end, nature was inevitable. Toph had always had someone to remind her to take good care of her body, so the whole experience was over in a few hours. She collapsed back against the wet bedding. There was sweat and blood and who-knew-what all over her, and she’d probably never feel clean again.

There was screaming in the background, and her eyes finally focused on the small infant being washed by the hospital staff.

Then her view was cut off by the ring of congratulating nurses.

“It’s a beautiful girl. Do you have the name ready for her?”

“Call it Toph, for all I fucking care,” Toph murmured, too quietly for anyone to make out. She turned over on her side, away from the child, and shut her eyes tight.

Later that night, after hours of tossing and turning in her sleep, Toph was awoken by the small mewing sound coming from her bedside. She sighed. She’d tried to have the baby whisked away to some far-off nursery where she wouldn’t have to ignore its presence, but apparently the hospital didn’t “do that anymore.”

Spirits, she felt so empty. Tired and empty and drained.

Deciding she could avoid it no further, Toph feels her way to the other side of the bed. The hospital is quiet, and she can’t even guess what time it is. Probably late at night. She waddled over to the bassinet, and the mewing became a full-fledged scream.

She jumped. The baby continued screaming, but less so, as if it hadn’t realized anyone was there. She found herself reaching down, feeling the child, the blankets, so afraid she would drop it or break it or… worse. For a moment she hesitated.

This is your baby, she thinks. You’re allowed to pick it up. It’s yours. And his. You can pick it up.

Her. She could almost hear Sokka’s voice echo through the room, reminding her that their child wasn’t an it. The thought made her smile.

Slowly, carefully, as though her life depended on it, Toph lowered her arms around the tiny, tiny baby and lifted her up. The baby stopped bawling and snuggled against her mother’s chest.

“Hello,” she said stupidly, like the kid could respond. But her mouth kept moving. “Um. Uh, my name’s Toph. I’m your - Spirits, I guess I’m your mom now, huh?”

The baby gurgled, her lips curled like she might cry again. Toph hurried to keep talking.

“Oh, God, um. What else, what else… uh, you have a bunch of aunts and uncles,” she said. “They’re all gonna help raise you. They’re annoying sometimes, but they mean well. You’re our first baby, you know.”

Our. The word made Toph close her eyes for a second. Try as she might, there would be no more “our.” There was only “she.” The “our” in her partnership was long gone. How was she supposed to tell her child that?

She decided to start with the basics.

“Your daddy was so brave,” she whispered. It hurt to talk about Sokka in the past tense, but she kept going. “He was so, so strong and brave and I just know he would have loved to meet you. He already loved you, you know. He wanted to meet you so bad, kid. He just never got the chance.”

The baby blinked, her eyelids heavy like hearing about the father she would never meet was too much for one night. Toph wholeheartedly agreed and set her down in the bassinet once more, making sure she was secure before plodding back to her own bed and face-planting on the blankets.

The nurse had told her the baby’s eyes were blue. She let that thought sink into her heart before drifting off to sleep.

#atla #tokka #avatar the last airbender #sokka #toph #toph beifong

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gallavictorious · 4 years ago

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Outsider POV Gallavich Fic: Captive Look

For a while there this spring, I was mildly obsessed with the CO in 10x03: you know, the good-looking guy who seems so completely unfazed by finding two armed inmates stabbing an old man, and then for whatever reason doesn't report it? (He can't have; Ian's parole wouldn't have happened so soon after something like that.) I also really dig his beard... Anyway, IMDB identifies him as Raymond and I've had this short little piece about him and his interactions with two certain dumbasses sitting almost finished in my draft doc for months and months and months, so... you're welcome? 2882 words, to help pass the time until the new episode!

You can read it below or on AO3.

---

It's half past eight on a Thursday when Raymond catches sight of them across the bar at South Side Social. He’s there to celebrate his baby sister’s birthday, familial obligation overriding personal preference, but after an hour of politely chatting with her increasingly wasted college friends over obnoxiously rustic-only-because-it’s-trendy food, he’s ready for a break. Catching Tina’s eye, he mimes lightening a cigarette; she raises an eyebrow at him and smirks. She’s a clever kid, his sister – the first in their family to go to college – and she knows him only too well. Knows, for instance, that he gave up smoking years and years ago.

Offering her a rueful grin, he gets up and gets out and spends the next few minutes breathing in Chicago’s poisonous evening air. It’s December, but unusually warm for the season, and somewhere underneath the dusty stink of exhaust fumes and concrete there’s a faint trace of melting snow.

On the way back to the table Raymond stops at the bar to order another beer, and that’s when he spots them, just three feet away. Two men in their mid-twenties, casually dressed and apparently in the middle of a not-very-serious argument, complete with waving hands and mock-scoffs. It takes a moment for the vague feeling of familiarity to click into actual recognition, and when it's does it's not so much their faces as the way they pause to look at each other.

It's not the sort of look you see a lot, especially not in prison.

So, well, he’ll be damned. It’s Milkovich and Gallagher. Cellmates, lovers, and occasionally a goddamn pain in his ass. Released, as improbable as it sounded, within days of each other less than half a year ago, and now laughing over drinks in a half-way decent restaurant in downtown Chicago. It’s not the sort of place he’d expected to find them in – but then again, there’d been a lot of unexpected things about that pair.

Not them hooking up, necessarily, not once they’d ended up sharing a cell; trading sexual favors for protection (whether voluntarily or not) was common enough. Frowned upon in theory, of course, but in practice –

Well. You didn’t have to like it, but it was what it was. Idealism didn’t survive long at Beckham. Raymond himself had never harbored any grand notions about the redemptive potential of his work, but he’d seen his fair share of fresh-faced new CO:s have their illusions crushed after a week or two caught between the often violent offenders who despised them, the indifferent malice of many seasoned CO:s, and the stifling drudgery of the American penal system in general. Not Raymond, though: he did his job, did it well, and went home and didn't spend waste moment of thought on it. You did what you needed to do to pay the bills; no need to dwell on it.

So no, Gallager getting in bed, quite literally, with Milkovich hadn’t been a surprise. The nature of their relationship, though...

Sure, it wasn’t unheard of for inmates to fall for one another, or for established couples to end up in prison together. Didn’t happen a lot, and actual homosexuality was still more likely to get you beat up than laid, but yeah, it did happen. What, in Raymond’s experience, never happened was having to people look at each other the way Milkovich and Gallagher sometimes did, whenever they thought no one else was watching: there was a kind of wonder to it, both staring at the other like they’ve been handed a goddamn gift and couldn’t quite believe their luck.

Particularly on Milkovich’s face the look was baffling.

Ever since the young man arrived at Beckamn he'd moved down the gray corridors and among the yellow-clad crowds like a man born to it. Raymond supposed he was; his father Terry had spent much of his adult life in the very same prison, as had a great many brothers, cousins and assorted associates. Though Raymond didn't know any details, and didn't really care to know them, he'd bet dollars to donuts that Mickey Milkovich's criminal career had had both an early start and a sense of inevitability to it. Various stints in juvie, followed by a real prison sentence for... attempted murder, wasn't it?... followed by a widely publicized jailbreak and an eventual and far less publicized return to Beckman.

Milkovich was tough enough to make others back down when he had to but smart enough not to start any unnecessary fights, not with the other inmates and not with the ones set to watch over them. Knew how to work the system, too: how to get things in, get things done, which guards could be bribed. Raymond didn't play that game himself, but he wasn't getting paid enough not to turn a blind eye when others do. And Milkovich had been pretty smooth about it, especially since his return; careful not to cause a stir.

Gallagher, on the other hand... He'd been the kind of inmate Raymond would've been seriously worried for, had he been inclined to worry and had Milkovich not been there to watch his back and show him the ropes. Not because Gallagher struck Raymond as even remotely helpless, but he so very obviously did not belong in prison, and so very obviously did not really have a clue about what was what in here. The nastier inmates would have eaten him alive long before he'd had the chance to navigate the intricacies of prison politics and find the friends needed for protection. He'd have ended up someone's bitch, or ended up in the infirmary, or dead.

But he'd ended up with Milkovich, and as unlikely as it had seemed at the time, that had worked out. (There were moments when Raymond wondered about that, wondered about them: apart from the looks, there were little touches, too, casual things that spoke of a familiarity far beyond what they could possibly have developed in their short time in a shared cell.)

That wasn't to say that their relationship had been all rainbows and lollipops, and it sure as hell hadn't been fun for everybody. They’d driven half the cellblock insane sometimes, as well as occasionally one another. Other prisoners had complained about their bickering and their fucking (though never officially complained, because you didn't, not unless you wanted to go looking for your teeth in the shower drain), and Raymond recalled vividly the time when not one but both of them had gotten roped into Chester Russom’s endless quest to spend the rest of his life behind bars –

He'd been passing by the infirmary when he'd heard the screaming and come running. Hadn't been surprised, exactly, to find what he found, but that didn't lessen the urge to smack both Milkovich and Gallagher on the head for being so damned stupid.

Neither of them had seemed particularly concerned about getting caught stabbing another inmate. In fact, they'd fallen over themselves to take the blame, which Raymond might have taken as an unselfish attempt to save the other – if he'd been a complete idiot and if the two of them hadn't been sniping at each other all the way from the infirmary, to the point where he felt like his head would explode.

“Imma murder you two if you don't stop talking,” he said, glaring at them as they sat chained outside the small office. Thankfully, they did stop, looking neither at him nor at each other.

Raymond waited for a moment, deliberating.

“What did Chester promise you?” he eventually asked. Gallagher might have agreed to help the old man out of the goodness of his heart, but Milkovich sure as hell hadn't.

Neither man answered. They were studiously avoiding looking at each other.

“You're not going anywhere until you tell me,” Raymond warned them. “If I have to leave your sorry asses chained to this bench all night that's no skin off my back.”

“We needed a break,” Gallagher offered eventually, reluctantly. Milkovich gave a little snort at that, but – wisely – kept his mouth shut. “So we thought that if one of us got sent to solitary... “ He trailed off, shrugging half-heartedly.

Oh, for the love of God - ! “Why did both of you have to stab him if the goal was to get one of you to solitary?”

Again, there was a protracted silence, and somewhere in it – in their earlier insistence that each of them had been the first to stick the shiv into Chester – Raymond could just about make out the shape of it.

“You are both idiots,” he said, moving to uncuff them from the bench, making a decision. “Come on, let's go.”

“Wait,” Gallagher said, not rising. “You're not reporting us? What about solitary?””

“You don't get a damn reward for stabbing someone, so no, you're not going into solitary, you're going straight back to your cell – where you will hand over all contraband you've hidden there.”

“Now, wait a minute – “ Milkovich began, but he faltered when Raymond fixed him with a hard stare.

Raymond had no illusions about intimidating this particular inmate, but Milkovich really did know how this worked; knew better than to ever be friendly with a guard, not even the ones he bribed – but knew when not to push too.

He had kept their hands cuffed for the walk back to the cell, which was policy, but was him making a point too. While there were extenuating circumstances – primarily the fact that Chester had asked them to stab him – by all rights they should be going down for this, and Raymond wasn’t one hundred percent sure why he wasn't letting them. Save himself the paperwork? Yeah, sure. Why not? As good a reason as any.

“Now, am I going to have to search the cell or will you give it up voluntarily?” he asked once they'd made it to the cell. “You make me look, I won't be too careful with your shit.”

A lot of the guards would be deliberately careless when they tossd a cell, either to prove a point or just for the hell of it. Raymond usually didn't bother with that sort of power trip bullshit, but he was prepared to make an exception if these morons proved stupid enough to give him any more trouble. He was already cutting them considerable slack here, and neither of them have the brains to appreciate it.

They had shared a look, and then Milkovich gave an imperceptible nod. Without a word they set to bring forth an array of cigarettes and foodstuff, little things that would have been commonplace and unremarkable in the real world but was made precious by its scarcity on the inside.

Raymond wasn't naive enough to believe they actually gave him everything they'd got in there, but enough of it to inconvenience them, which would have to do. He grabbed the the items, then fixed them both with a firm look.

“Either of you cause me any more trouble, I'm taking your books,” – he pointed to Gallager, then to Milkovich – “and your pens and paper. You think you have it bad now? Imagine sharing a cell and having nothing else to occupy you.”

He had hoped to God he wouldn't have to make good on his threat, though. The other prisoners would probably riot if they have to put up with more of ´bickering from these two.

“I catch either of you with a shiv again, you'll be fucking sorry,” he continued. “Talk it out, or agree not to talk, or whatever. Split the cell into his and his, I don't give a damn. But sort your shit out.”

Maybe they had, maybe they hadn't; the point became moot just a few weeks later, when Gallagher was released. Milkovich had soon followed him – and how exactly that had happened, Raymond still didn't know, because there was no way in hell anyone actually thought releasing that one back into society was a great move – and that had been that. For now, at least; he fully expected to see Milkovich again. Guy like that wasn't going to quit, and sooner or later he'd get caught and find himself back behind bars. Rinse repeat, until he got himself killed or locked away for good.

Only now here Milkovich is, but in front of a bar rather than behind them, and with Gallagher right by his side, laughing like they'd never stabbed a man just to get away from each other.

Raymond hesitates. There's some small part of him that actually wants to step up and say hello, and that throws him a little. He's got a rule about never getting emotionally invested in the fates of the inmates; that way lies nothing but heartbreak, because most of those who find themselves at Beckman will find themselves there again and again, for longer and longer. Don't abuse the prisoners, but don't care too much either: it's been Raymond's private policy for the past five years, and it's worked out so far.

Except now he's actually considering chatting with a couple of convicts, just 'cause he really is a little bit curious about how this unlikely pair is doing.

But nah. Forget it. His rule aside, it'd be pretty uncool to intrude on their evening out. They're free men now – kind of – and having a CO check up on them can't be high on their list of wants. But before he can move away, they both look his way; sees him. Recognizes him, too, from the way they freeze.

Okay. Call it fate, then. “Hello,” Raymond says, going for neutral good and a little nod; I come in peace.

A beat. Milkovich is eyeing him with a wariness he doesn't bother to conceal and it's Gallagher who speaks first:

“Officer Reese,” he says, managing a polite smile. “Hi.”

Raymond notices the way they glance down at the beers they technically shouldn't be having.

“I'm not your PO,” he assures them. “I don't give a damn if you drink. Might want to take it easy, though,” he can’t help but add. “Getting shitfaced is a quick way to get into trouble.”

Milkovich opens his mouth, but after a quick glare from Gallagher he closes it again. Probably for the best; Raymond can’t imagine him playing even remotely nice now that he doesn’t have to.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your evening,” he says. “Looks like you’re doing all right.”

“Yeah, yeah, we've got jobs and... “ Gallagher pauses to glance at Milkovich again, as if asking his permission. Milkovich rolls his eyes but says nothing, and Gallagher turns his gaze back to Raymond. There's a real smile on his face now, small, but filled with something akin to disbelieving delight: “We got married. Couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, wow. Congratulations.” Raymond isn’t quite sure what surprises him more: the fact of their marriage, or the fact that he is genuinely happy for them. Maybe he’s getting soft in his old age… Or maybe it’s just that there’s so very few happy endings for those who find themselves at Beckman, whether as inmates or as guards, that they need to be treasured whenever you find them.

“Ian!” someone calls across the room, and Gallagher turns his head to look at a blonde woman gesturing wildly. “Where are those drinks?”

“Shit,” Gallagher mutters. “Better get this to Tami before she has a fit.”

Another smile, and Gallagher is gone. Milkovich, however, lingers, seemingly debating whether to say something more. Curious against his will, Raymond does his best to look approachable. Evidently, it works, because Milkovich clears his throat:

“You’d reported us when we stabbed that old fucker in the infirmary, Ian wouldn’t have gotten his release.” He pauses, looking uncomfortable, then forces out: “Appreciate it.”

Raymond merely nods. Maybe he should say something about being glad taking a chance on them had paid off, that he is glad to see them doing well – but he’s pretty sure Milkovich wouldn’t much appreciate the sentiment.

“Your boy doesn’t belong in prison,” he says instead.

Milkovich face immediately collapses into a scowl. “Well, I didn't fucking put him there,” he growls.

But Raymond isn’t intimated; just hold his gaze. “Gonna keep him out of trouble then?” Gonna stay out of trouble, he doesn’t ask, but Milkovich isn’t stupid, so he'll hear it all the same.

Milkovich still glares, but something in his eyes seem to soften ever so slightly. “You betcha. Won’t have anything on us ever again,” he promises ambiguously, with a cocky grin and one eyebrow raised.

When he walks away, swagger in every step, he is every bit the unrepentant gangster – but Raymond keeps his eyes on him and sees the way he relaxes as soon as he stops next to Gallagher. Reaches out to touch him lightly on the arm, catching his eye. That same wondering smile on both of their faces.

Raymond thinks that maybe he won't actually see either of them again.

He is glad of it.

#gallavich #fic #my stuff

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baecvlt · 4 years ago

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First Love

Pairing: Sougami (Byakuya Togami x Kazuichi Soda)

Warnings: Smut (all wholesome tho bc they barely met in this one)

A/N: Decided to write this up for the bestie (komaedanovio on TikTok; follow them). Azul would die for them and there are 0 fics abt them sooo. Yeah.

“So you’re part of the Future Foundation, huh?”

Byakuya pushes his glasses back as they were falling off his nose, then turning around to see the person who spoke. “Uh, yes,” he answered the pink haired man behind him, he stuck out his hand that he’d covered with a handkerchief,“Byakuya Togami”. They shook hands.

“Name’s Kazuichi Soda”

“I know. The ‘Ultimate Mechanic’, is it not?”

“Yeah! You look really rich. Valentino Couture?”

“Yeah—,” Byakuya answered, then looked down at his suit,“How did you know?”. “My mom was somewhat a tailor. She’d help fix and sew up suits such as yours, so I obviously had to recognize Italian threads,” he explained,“Made sure I washed my hands before approaching you, can’t stain a fine suit like that”. Byakuya was somewhat impressed. No one has ever appreciated his attire, he looked like a snob to most people.

Then again, Kazuichi isn’t most people.

“She taught me to sew, never let me handle suits,” Kazuichi added,“But I’d always see them in the closet hung up nicely”. He had a warm smile on his face, reminiscing tends to bring a little joy to him. “I think that’s just honorable,” Byakuya said warmly. “You think so?”. Byakuya nodded, the smile on Kazuichi’s face spreading. “Thanks,” he mumbled, but spoke up,“We should keep in touch, y’know?”. Byakuya began to think. He wasn’t really one for friends, Kazuichi was extremely beneath him. On the other hand, he was interesting to talk to and didn’t seem like a pest, right?

“That’s fine”

“Alright! How about we meet up during the island celebration? Tonight?”

Byakuya nodded, he didn’t know why, but he nodded. “Cool! See you later, Togami”. Kazuichi ran off, going to see if he can help with cleanup someway. As he ran, Byakuya had just realized he agreed to hang out with someone who he had just met. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, but it was just weird to him. I guess, he just seemed nice enough. Whatever. Now that the Tragedy is over, it’d be nice to return things to normal. Byakuya was ready to make new partnerships and if his first besides his classmates was to be Kazuichi, so be it.

Later that evening, Byakuya made sure to attend. He got there early, making it easier to spot Kazuichi. He was around Gundham and Sonia, who had begun warming up to him. Their eyes locked, Byakuya waved. Kazuichi waved back as he called for him,“Togami! Wait up—”. He ran from his two classmates and to Byakuya. Everyone had gotten dressed up, Kazuichi in a nice little suit that complimented his hair. He had glasses on this time. “What a surprise!,” he cheered,“I thought you would’ve bailed!”. That was sad to say the least. “How could I do such a thing? I had to come anyway,” Byakuya explained,“Makoto can’t drive...he’s also in the Future Foundation”.

“So I’ve heard. Can I offer you a drink?”

“Why not?”

Byakuya was a pessimist, this we know. He was as pessimistic as they come. Hanging out with Kazuichi was something he told himself wouldn’t be worth his time, but he agreed, so he had to suck it up. To his surprise, hanging out with him wasn’t so bad. In fact, he’ll never admit it, but Byakuya actually enjoyed Kazuichi’s company. They went for a glass of punch, enjoyed the feast, danced with friends till dawn. Around 4am (because damn, this party was just never gonna end), they took it upon themselves to walk along the beach. As they walked, conversations took place. Byakuya went off on a rant about his limousine life, riding in one everyday and how he feared for his life when doing so. His limo made a sound that sounded as if it were going to fall apart any time soon.

“It was a scratching noise against the asphalt and absolutely terrorized me as a child. To this day, I won’t enter a limousine. I just can’t”

“Scratching? Gee, only thing that comes to mind is the exhaust coming down. Wish I could’ve seen it and told you for sure”

“I still have it in a hidden garage. It’s that valuable”

“Oh, nice! Maybe, I can stop by and see what’s wrong. You’ll have to drive it though”

Byakuya raised a brow. “You’re the mechanic, are you not?,” he asked. Kazuichi laughed nervously, nodding. “See, thing is...I get terribly carsick”. Well, that was new. It was confusing to Byakuya, just as the confusion hit, Kazuichi added:

“Isn’t that funny? The rich guy who’s scared of limos and the mechanic with carsickness”

Byakuya snickered,“Yeah, I guess that’s unheard of”.

They laughed, finding a perfect place to sit down. It was late. Dark and late, the sand was cool against their hands. They took off their shoes, setting them aside. The waves crashes on the shore, “So, what next?,” Kazuichi asked. His voice was softer, Byakuya took notice. “What do you mean?,” he asked. Kazuichi pushed back his hair and shrugged. “I mean, now that we’re all free”. Byakuya took time to give a proper answer, he had a plan.

“Well, for starters, after we finish cleanup, do the very best to rebuild homes. Slowly as we become civilized again, I rebuild the Togami Conglomerate. It’s what my family would’ve wanted and for them, I’d do just about anything” “Wow” “And yourself?”

Kazuichi smiled, facing him. “I’ve been working on blueprints here and there to, get this, introduce new transportation for us all!”. Byakuya shrugged. “You haven’t heard the best part, though,” he added,“You’ll never guess what it is!”.

“Flying car?

“That sounds awesome— No! That’s not it at all!”

“What is it?”

Kazuichi bit back his smile and answered,“A monorail! One that goes super fast! I just know it’s possible! Average monorail? 70 miles per hour, but if I get it right, It could go 200 miles per hour...ore more!”. Now, Byakuya was smiling. “Impressive,” he responded,“It’d be very convenient for people to get around”.

“I’m glad you think so”

Kazuichi faced the ocean, sighing deeply. “I’ve just always wanted to build transportation, really fast ones,” he said,“My old man doubted me, though. He didn’t think it was realistic. He said cars I can do, but never anything past that. Something about cars is all the family knows, I dunno”.

“I think you can do it”

“You’re just saying things—”

“No, I know you can. You have something other geniuses lack. You have the heart. Where there’s heart, there is will”

“That means a lot coming from you”

“Why from me?”

Kazuichi explained that he knows about Byakuya’s family and they didn’t sound any easier, either. “We didn’t have good upbringings,” he said,“But you, you had it so hard. Yet, you overcame all of that shit. If you survived that and all of this, I know you can rebuild your conga line”

“Conglomerate?”

“Yeah, that”

They smiled. “Man to man,” Kazuichi added,“Is settling down in that plan?”. Byakuya hadn’t thought of that at all. Would he even want to settle down? Jesus. That was the last thing he expected to think about. “I’m going to be completely honest with you,” Byakuya answered,“I have no idea. That isn’t something that’s come to mind. While I’d like to have someone to continue my legacy, I just don’t know. Tell me about your plan?”. Kazuichi was confused now, he didn’t think Byakuya was gonna return the question. “I would like to, but who’d love me?,” he muttered. He continued.

“I never had the best luck with women, but then sometimes, I sit and wonder,’Do I really feel this way about women?’ I try to be such a people pleaser, I sometimes don’t even know if I genuinely like something or if I say I do because that’s what’s expected of me and I’ve never told anyone else that, wow”

Byakuya sucked at being comforting, we also know this, but he really wanted to be there for Kazuichi. “I think I’m gay,” Kazuichi blurted, covering his mouth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that”. Byakuya shook his head,“First of all, congratulations”. Kazuichi couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Second of all, don’t apologize for being truthful to yourself,” he said,“I’m not exactly of heterosexual persuasion either”.

“Oh, thank god. I though I was going to be killed and thrown into the ocean”

“Nah, because who on this island is straight? Absolutely no one”

“You might be right...wow. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gaaaayyy”

Byakuya laughed,“Let it out, I guess”. “I’ve just never said that out loud! It feels so freeing!”. Kazuichi stood up and ran to the ocean. At the top of his lungs, he professed his attraction to men. He ran back, only for them to hear someone say. “You love who you love, man, more power to ya!”. They laughed at that moment, laughed so hard their stomach cramped. “Who even was that?,” Kazuichi sobbed.

“I think that might’ve been Yasuhiro”

“O-Oh, at least you know him”

They calmed down, enjoying their time on the sand. “This was fun,” Kazuichi mumbled. “I agree”. He scoot closer to Byakuya, who unknowingly wrapped his arm around his waist. He caressed his sides, softly. Kazuichi lay his head on Byakuya’s shoulder, which he didn’t mind. There was just something really comforting about this. “What’s most important to you in a relationship?,” Kazuichi asked. His voice was still soft, but unlike before, it wasn’t stern or blue. “For both of us to have ambition and goals set,” he answered,“What’s important to you?”.

“I just wanna trust someone. It’s hard for me to trust anyone, really. So as long as I can trust them and they’re kind, that’s all I want”

“Well, I’m a brutally honest cunt”

“I love brutally honest cunts”

He laughed as he continued to rub down his sides. As the saying goes, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. Plus, tonight was going just great. “Look at me,” Byakuya said. “Hm?”. Kazuichi faced him, only to be grabbed and pulled to Byakuya’s lips. He gasped, a blush coming across his face as Byakuya kissed him ever so tenderly. They pulled away slowly. Kazuichi covered his face, Byakuya reaching for his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “No! Its okay!,” he blurted,“It was more than okay! I-I’ve just never kissed another dude before. Okay, I’ve never actually kissed anyone else”.

“Oh?”

“Well, I have, but not like this”

“I can tell. Your lips, they were so soft and inexperienced. Untouched, I’d say”

As Byakuya said this, he placed his thumb gently on Kazuichi’s lips, sliding it down soft and slowly; he shuddered before he spoke. “I want you to kiss me again,” he muttered against his sliding thumb. “Good”. Kazuichi’s breath hitched as Byakuya grabbed his jaw, gently kissed him. He kissed back now with more readiness, his hand digging into the sand. Byakuya’s hand moved from his jaw to his throat, gripping softly. A sweet moan escaped Kazuichi’s lips, making him bite Byakuya’s bottom lip. He winced, pulling away momentarily. “Sorry,” he whispered. Byakuya reassured him it was okay, but Kazuichi shook his head. “Let me kiss it better,” he cooed, pushing Togami on his back. Soda straddled him, pecking his lower lip.

Now, Byakuya was blushing.

“Ah, don’t hate me, but I kinda drew blood”

“You? Withdraw blood? With those teeth? Also unheard of”

“Hey! Shut up about my teeth”

“I like your teeth”

“I like you”

“Really? Prove yourself truthful”

“Say less”

“WHAT THE FUCK”

Soda quickly got off of Togami, who sat up just as fast. There stood Hiyoko, Mahiru, Ibuki, and Mikan. “Hey girls!,” Kazuichi waved,“Togami was just helping me find my glasses. We found them know, so there’s no need to worry”. “Oh don’t worry, we were just on our way to the cabins,” Mahiru explained. “What goes on in the cabins stays in the cabins! Wooho- ouch!”. Hiyoko acting as if she didn’t just nudge the fuck out of Ibuki. “Y-You know, if you two are going to, uhm, continue what you were d-doing here,” Mikan began to suggest,“Maybe you c-could go get a cabin too. The others are headed over here”. Kazuichi looked at Byakuya, who nodded. “Okay then! Let’s go!”.

So there they were, following the girls to the cabins. “I say we go to mine, just to be safe,” Kazuichi explained,“Besides, I got to clean up. It looks greats now”. Byakuya just nodded, he couldn’t utter a word. For some reason, his heart was pounding out of his chest. The girl’s split from them, giggling as they entered their room. “Home sweet home,” Kazuichi said as he opened the door. They stepped in, Kazuichi locking it. He had turned the lights on, but once he jumped on his bed, Byakuya turned them off. “Oh, you’re straight to the point, aren’t you?,” Kazuichi teased as he held his arms open for Byakuya to crawl in. He did just that, kissing him all over. He focused on his lips for about 30 seconds, before moving on to his neck, and finally he unbuttoned his shirt a little to kiss along his chest. Feeling his shirt unbutton, Kazuichi took it upon himself to do the same to Byakuya, except unbuttoning it all.

“Togami..

“Yeah?”

“Lay down”

“Alright”

Byakuya lay down as Kazuichi got between his legs, hands on his belt buckle. “Can I...?”. Byakuya nodded, giving Kazuichi permission to take it off. Carefully, he slid off his jeans and briefs, exposing his pale cock. At that point, it was quite obvious that Kazuichi had no idea as to what he was doing and supposed to do. He began by grabbing his cock, licking at his tip a little, stroking him. Byakuya snickered as Kazuichi’s eyes met his, but breathed deeply. He put his mouth over it, bobbing his head, accidentally hitting his throat. He gagged, but not loudly. Byakuya played with his hair, not yet grabbing it. “Take your time,” he comforted,“I want you to enjoy this as much as I am...Fuck~ you’re doing so well”.

Kazuichi was really, really struggling. He had to think back to the most realistic porno he’s ever seen. What were these people doing that he hasn’t? Try being sloppy maybe? Cursing himself for his lack of education in gay sex (well, actually, just sex in general), he worked with what he knew. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself. Little did he know, he was actually putting Byakuya on edge. Byakuya hardly cursed and when he did, it was for good reason. Like right now, Kazuichi was giving him the sloppiest head in that moment. He was doing so well, Byakuya became fixated his mouth. Something about his mouth drove him insane.

And then there was Kazuichi, still believing he was doing terrible. His thoughts were racing.

I know I’m doing something wrong...

Is he even enjoying it?

God, I’m so out of his league...

Maybe if I just spit...

What would my dad think of this? Wait, my dad’s dead—

Kazuichi allowed himself to drool all over his cock. Byakuya moaned, pushing his head back. “No more, I’m so close...,” he gasped,“I’d prefer to finish elsewhere...”. Kazuichi’s stomach sank. “O-Oh,” he stuttered,“Okay, I guess I’ll just lay down”. Byakuya got in between his legs now, removing his jeans amd boxers, examining him, realizing he’d look better completely nude. Kazuichi shivered, which he also took note of. “Let me pull a bedsheet over us,” he said,“You look cold”. “Thank you,” Kazuichi muttered as Byakuya fumbled for the covers.

“Better?”

“Still a little chilly”

“Okay, Uhm- how about now?”

Byakuya held Kazuichi with his arms wrapped around him, bare chests making contact. “Feels so nice,” he mumbled. Byakuya placed a kiss on his chest before warning him about prep.

“Please be gentle”

“I will be, just relax. Breathe”

Kazuichi was shaking at this point, he was so nervous and didn’t know why. Byakuya held him tightly, stopping himself from entering even a finger in the guy. “You’re shaking,” he noted,“Is everything okay?”. Kazuichi nodded, explaining,“This is my first time, I just want you to be gentle”. Byakuya helped him work on his breathing. He placed a warm hand on his chest, making sure his heart rate slows down. “There,” he whispered,“I’m gonna go slow”. Kazuichi nodded, bracing himself.

Prep wasn’t actually bad?

He took Byakuya’s first two fingers well, but then the third one made him whine (and cry a little). Nonetheless, he just wanted to get it over with. The pain had gone away once Byakuya had curled his fingers a few times. Kazuichi made small noises as he took his fingers, whining when pulled out. With his other hand, he cupped Kazuichi’s jaw, but slowly slit it down to his throat. Kazuichi gasped as he felt Byakuya’s grip tighten. “I’m going to ruin you ever so softly,” he whispered,“Understood?”.

“Yes...”

“Good”

Byakuya took his cock out, placing Kazuichi’s legs on his shoulders. Still tight, he groaned as he pushed in. “Ah! Fuck...”. Along with being filled by Byakuya’s cock, the grip on his throat remained, sending a wave of pleasure through him. Byakuya kept his thrusts slow, just like be promised. “I-Is this okay?,” Byakuya managed.

“Harder”

“I just started. D-Don’t you want to ease into it first”

“No, just— please. Also...”

Kazuichi moved his hand to Byakuya’s choking hand, pressing it down harder against him. “What you’re asking for could hurt you, um...Are you sure?,” Byakuya asked. Kazuichi nodded, fisting Byakuya’s hair and pulling him in for a heated kiss. In response, Byakuya only thrust harder into him. He knew he wouldn’t last long, seeing Kazuichi’s already fucked out face. Each thrust only made his blush deepen and his stomach acids find new ways to make him feel sick. Byakuya came to the realization that his cock already had the guy in shambles and in a trance, almost. He was making him feel good, but he knew that he wasn’t exactly fucking him the way he should be fucked, deserves to be fucked. He wasn’t hitting his sweet spot just right, Byakuya taking it upon himself to experiment with his thrusts.

“Ngh! Hey, why’d you stop doing that? It felt— Ah!”

Found it.

Byakuya tried thrusting with his cock in that angle, but realized it was harder in this position. “Ass up,” he sighed, slightly out of breath. Kazuichi didn’t hesitate whatsoever, immediately laying on his stomach with his ass in the air. Sure, he already felt weak in his knees, but that wouldn’t stop him from letting Byakuya do him the way he was about to.

It didn’t take long for Byakuya to rediscover this new spot, hitting it repeatedly. Kazuichi dug his face into the soft, white pillows; practically screaming as he was unraveling underneath Byakuya. His whines were perpetual and if you listened closely, you could hear exactly what he was saying in a quiet breath.

“Yesyesyes, oh! Please don’t stop now pleasepleaseplease I can’t take it anymore, Ah! I love you, I love you so much, I really love you, o-oh thank you..”

Byakuya smiled at his low, yet raspy words. I love you? “How cute,” he muttered, pulling his messy pink hair back. Kazuichi’s hand shook as he moved it too his leaking cock. “I’m close, Togami, please don’t stop”. Byakuya snickered,“I don’t plan on it”. Gently, he shoved his head back down onto the pillow, also nearing his high. Without warning, Byakuya came after a few thrusts. Feeling his warmth, Kazuichi came right after. He collapsed onto the mattress, head in the pillows and trying his very best to catch his breath. As he took deep breaths, Byakuya smiled as his fingers walked up the blushing boy’s back, tracing small circles and figure eights.

“You’re too kind”

“You deserve it,” Byakuya whispered, placing a hand on Kazuichi’s hip and kissing up and down his back (and to his neck). Kazuichi turned around, Byakuya getting to kiss his stomach a few times before being pulled up by Kazuichi. “Ah!”. He laughed as he held Byakuya tighter, nuzzling him. Byakuya may have been taller, but Kazuichi was definitely stronger.

“Gotcha”

Byakuya would be annoyed, but not when Kazuichi has the goofiest and most smug look on his face. Eventually he let him go, laying by him. Kazuichi’s hair was ruined by their little night Basically, he ended up with his tiny braid undone. Kazuichi twirled his excess hair in between his fingers. “Oh- Allow me,” Byakuya said, finding the rubber band used to fasten the hair, braiding. Kazuichi’s eyes stared at him lovingly, watching Byakuya put his glasses back on just to redo his braid. “Annnnnd...done”. Byakuya rubbed his chest before reaching for the the ground and picking up his briefs, putting them back on. He tossed Kazuichi his boxers.

“Thanks”

“Of course”

They lay next to each other, Kazuichi playing with Byakuya’s hair. “I’m so glad I met you,” Byakuya admitted. “Ditto”. Byakuya grabbed his chin, pulling him in for a slow, passionate kiss. Suddenly, the door creaked open, but two girls rush in, already fondling each other.

“Excited, aren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be when you look so—”

Kazuichi and Byakuya stared at the two women, who awkwardly stared back.

“Togami?”

“Fukawa?...WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH NAEGI’S SISTER?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE MECHANIC?”

“I won’t say anything if you don’t”

“Sounds good to me! Come on, Komaru”

The girls ran out, thus allowing Kazuichi and Byakuya to finish their little makeout session. Eventually, it tired them out, sleeping in each other’s arms. Before sleep, Byakuya wondered something, but decided it could wait. The next morning, Kazuichi woke up first, planting a small kiss on Byakuya’s lips. As his eyes fluttered open, Kazuichi gasped. “My prince has finally awoken”.

“Silly”

“I know”

Byakuya kissed him properly, getting up to bathe. Upon entering the shower, he heard the door open. “Can I join?!”. Byakuya invited him in, closing the shower door. “Did you want something before we go?,” Byakuya asked, making Kazuichi blush. “Uh, no, um...did you?”. Byakuya shook his head.

“I just wanted to shower with you”

“I see. Help me with my hair, I’ll help you with yours”

Kazuichi nodded, grabbing the shampoo and lathering it into his hair. It didn’t take long to add in the conditioner in too since his hair was short. Now, Byakuya got to Kazuichi’s hair. He took care of Kazuichi, being less awkward about washing him up. It’s not that Kazuichi wasn’t into helping him, he was insecure about touching him. He wanted to do it right, sometimes doubting himself and what he was doing. Byakuya on the other hand, was confident in what he was doing as he massaged Kazuichi’s scalp whilst washing him. “Did you mean it?”.

“Mean what?”

“Last night while I was destroying you from the inside out—”

“Of course”

“—you said you loved me....well, did you mean it? I know people say things they don’t mean in a state of bliss, but-”

“Togami, I meant every word”

Byakuya’s heart skipped a beat as Kazuichi spoke. “If you mean it, tell me right now that you love me,” he ordered. “I love you, Togami. Do you love me?”. Byakuya held onto him, hugging him tightly. “Well, I guess this is my answer,” Kazuichi laughed,“Hey— Are you crying?”. Obviously crying, (because he was emotional for some reason) Byakuya backed away.

“Of course not! Me? Crying? No, never!”

“I love you”

“I love you too”

“Was this too fast?”

“What? You’re telling me you don’t believe in love at first sight?”

“I guess I do”

They finished up their shower and got dressed, heading out. Everyone had already met up at the dock. “Jesus, where the hell were you two?!,” Makoto asked, genuinely concerned. “Yeah, we were about to go search,” Hajime added. “I was helping Kazuichi pack something. I saw him struggle in his room with it,” Byakuya said, calmly. Kazuichi just went along with it. “Yeah, my tools wouldn’t pack well,” he explained,“Togami was just helping me stuff everything into my toolbox”. A low mutter was heard, but you’d have to be close enough to understand it.

“Yeah, right. That toolbox wasn’t the only thing Byakuya was stuffing...—”

“FUKAWA!”

“Alright! That does it for the headcount!,” Makoto announced,“Let’s get going. We have a rebuilt city to settle into!”. As everyone cheered on boarded the boat with their own individual classes, Byakuya rushed closer to Kazuichi. “Will I see you again?,” Kazuichi asked.

“Soon. May I kiss you goodbye, or would that be too much a cliche?”

“Yeah, but I love cliches. All the best movies have ‘em”

“So do I”

They kissed tenderly, Byakuya holding his waist. They pulled away, smiling. “See ya around,” Kazuichi mumbled. “Goodbye, Souda”.

36 notes · View notes

fandomlovingfreak · 4 years ago

Text

Healing His Heart (5/?)

Young Remus Lupin/Reader

Rating: T (there’s kissing idk is that Teen+?)

Word Count: 1500

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link I Tiktok Link

Summary: (y/n) is two years younger than him, a popular Slytherin, and Regulus Black's best friend. Yet he can't help but be attracted to her bewitching personality and sweet smile. Unfortunately, his er--problem makes it harder to get close to others. Despite his attempts to push her away (for her own good) she seems determined to worm her way into his life.

Notes: Thanks for reading!

Enjoy

"Where are you going?" Sirius asks from the couch. He's got his books on the coffee table, looking like he might study. Remus seriously doubts that, though.

"Going to go study in the library with (y/n)." He continues to pack up his things, standing to gauge their reaction to this.

"(y/n) asked you to study with her-- in the library? You hear that, Sirius? Match made in heaven," James teases.

"Ha ha, very funny. You've got your foot on my Charms book." James moves his foot off the book, leaning over to grab it. "Thanks." Remus takes the textbook from him, shoving it into his satchel with the rest of his books.

"Reggie's going to be pissed you've stolen his study buddy," Sirius sits up on his forearms.

"I hardly think so. Regulus was the one who told me off for ignoring her about a month ago."

Sirius's eyes widen in surprise, "My Regulus? My little brother?"

Remus nods, "Yes, the only Regulus at Hogwarts."

"I just can't believe Regulus would-- he's usually so quiet."

"Well, he made it pretty clear I was making everyone miserable, especially himself and (y/n)."

"Who knew it would be Regulus who eventually wore you down," James chuckles.

"Yeah, yeah," Remus adjusts his bag on his shoulder, "I'll see you at dinner."

"Don't have too much fun!" Sirius calls after him as he walks out of the Common Room.

***

"Remus," she comes up from behind him, books in hand. He notices she's got a quill tucked behind her ear.

"Ready to study?" he fidgets with the shoulder strap of his bag.

(y/n) smiles, "yes. I have a specific spot in mind." She guides him to a nook in the furthest part of the library. It has adequate lighting thanks to a small window nearby, and it's rather cozy due to the small size.

"What do you think?" she sets her books down on the petite table, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

"It's private--" he feels warm on the tops of his cheeks and the back of his neck.

"It's nice, though? Regulus and I usually come back here--" Jealousy bubbles in Remus's stomach. "No need to frown, Remus," (y/n) chuckles, "it's just very peaceful back here, and Pince doesn't usually patrol as much..." She bites at her lip, looking embarrassed herself at the implication of being alone in the back of the library... together.

"I'll keep this spot in mind next time my friends won't let me study peacefully." Remus sets his book bag down by the leg of the table.

They sit down, their chairs extremely close together. Their shoulders brush against each other as they get their assignments out.

"What's yours on?" she nods towards his parchment.

Remus picks up his charms textbook, "Charms... more specifically, the Hand-Held Flame charm. How about you?"

"Potions. Slughorn told me to run wild with this assignment. Write about whatever I fancied."

Remus nods, looking at her with admiration, "you're that good, huh?"

(y/n) smiles, looking down at her quill, "It's just... interesting! I'm eons ahead of Regulus in Potions. He hates it but loves that I'm here to help him write his essays."

"Regulus and Sirius seem so different, but they might be a lot more similar than they'd like to admit," he drums his fingers thoughtfully on the table.

"Oh, yes. Definitely. They both drive me insane. I don't know why I keep agreeing to stay for the Summer with them." (y/n) flips through the pages of her Potions textbook.

"It can't be that bad--"

"No. I adore them... but if I'm going to be completely honest, for the past few summers, I didn't stay there solely for them?"

"Why then? Was there something going on at home--?"

(y/n) looks at him for a second before looking back down at her text, "No, It's embarrassing... but I always hoped you'd come around Grimmauld Place..."

His heart soars at this confession, "Me?" He knows he sounds like he absolutely can't believe anything she's saying, but part of him can't. Why would she be so invested in seeing him? Enough to miss out on seeing her own family and friends back home for the majority of her break!

"Yes, you" (y/n) giggles, "I don't know how this is so unbelievable to you!"

"I'm just-- well me. I can't imagine anyone would go through the torture of hanging around Sirius and Regulus's constant bickering for me." He raises his eyes teasingly.

(y/n) hides a giggle behind her hand, "It's not that bad. They can be bad, but eventually, it just becomes entertaining."

"That's true," Remus shakes his head, remembering the time he watched Sirius tackle Regulus over the edge of the couch over a petty argument between the brothers.

"Anyways, you always eventually came around, so it was worth it in the end."

He tries to hide his smile, "I had no idea."

"I'm completely aware of that" (y/n) places her hand delicately on his. Remus looks at her hand for a beat as it rests on his own before moving it so he can feel the softness of her palm against his own. Her fingers curl against his.

"I'm somewhat unobservant about things like this," he looks up at her, "Sirius gives me shit for it constantly."

"About-- what female attention?" His face heats up at her soft giggles.

"Yes. I don't-- well, I don't usually date, I guess."

"Why not? I know loads of girls-- well, there's quite a few that I know of who think you're cute."

Remus shakes his head, "It's not that per say. I-- It's hard to know who to trust with my... well, you know."

"Do you trust me then?" she's beaming, her shoulder bumping his softly.

"I do, but also you pretty much knew already from your observations of me--"

"You make it sound like I was intently watching you like some creep."

Remus chuckles, "how did you watch me then?"

(y/n) rolls her eyes, "I suppose like any girl like a crush. You couldn't have thought I was at the Gryffindor table for Sirius."

Remus shrugs, "a lot of people try to get close to Sirius. Girls and guys are constantly trying to sit by us, specifically because of him."

"I highly doubt everyone was there for Sirius."

"Okay, everyone with the exception of you was there for Sirius," he teases, leaning closer to her. (y/n)'s eyes dart down to his lips and then back up to his eyes.

"Yeah... only me."

Remus swallows, his own eyes roaming her face, which has inched even closer than before. "There's no way I'm letting you kiss me first this time..." He breaks the distance, feeling the smile on her lips as she climbs off her chair and onto his lap. Remus's hands find their place at her waist, immediately pulling her body impossibly close. (y/n)'s hands are warm on his cheeks as she tips his face up towards her. She kisses him greedily as his hands roam underneath her shirt moving down to rest on her butt. He tentatively squeezes the flesh, earning a moan from her, which he greedily swallows. The heat of their shared embrace makes him feel dizzy.

(y/n) pulls away slowly, her fingers continuing to stroke his cheekbone, "we've got to do that more often."

Remus nods enthusiastically, kissing her again.

***

"How was studying?" Sirius is leaning against his bed's frame. He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

"Good," Remus walks past him to hang his bag on one of the hooks by his own bed.

"Got a lot done?" James smirks. He's lying on his stomach flipping through one of the Playboys Sirius had bought last time they were all in Muggle London.

"Yup," he rifles through his bookbag, hoping they won't ask any more questions.

"Hopefully, only studying--" Sirius starts.

"Merlin-- yes. Only studying." He hates the flush on his cheeks for giving away the fact that it was not only studying he and (y/n) did in the library.

Sirius and James chuckle, sharing a look. "I honestly didn't know you had it in you, Moony. Sirius, sure. But Remus Lupin? Kissing his girlfriend in the library? Unheard of."

He rolls his eyes, "she's not my girlfriend--"

"Give him time, Prongs. He won't admit that till they're married."

Remus groans, "I haven't asked her. Who knows she could wake up tomorrow and realize what a mistake this is--"

James groans, "quit the self-loathing act, Remmy. Your girlfriend's crazy for you. Everyone can see it."

Remus schools his expression to not show how giddy those words make him feel, "You think so?"

Sirius rolls his eyes, "Gods-- yes, Remus. Do you know how many times I've had to listen to her prattle on about how nice and smart you are?"

Sirius's words make him giddy, "She's talked to you about me?"

"Didn't you just come back from a date with the girl?"

Remus grins, taking off his sweater to change into a more comfortable shirt.

63 notes · View notes

weasleydream · 4 years ago

Text

Operation swan song

Here is my participation for @hp-imagines-07 writing challenge! Once again congrats love 💜 My prompts were “I don’t care!” “But I do!” and “Is it that bad?” “Yes.” (I’ve taken a bit of liberty and changed them a bit but they are still here... for the little story I had completely forgotten them and I had to put them at the last moment)

TW: mention of torture

As usual feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

(Also I’ve recently reached the 500 followers and I’ve organized a writing challenge that you can find here! Plz don’t let it flop 😂 )

Masterlist

(gif not mine)

Everyone is different, everyone acts different. Some people cry while some others laugh, some run while others walk. Some use their head while others use their fists. I liked to think I was the kind of person that was like Remus when I was the complete opposite. He was the head and I was the fists. I was as reckless as Sirius and as impulsive as James, but with a heart as big as Remus’ and a love and an admiration for my friends as unconditional as Peter’s. The only priority I had ever had was to make sure this little group I called my family was safe, whether it was from Filch or a Death Eater. You attacked them, you attacked me; that was something I had made clear since the end of the first period of our first year at Hogwarts. Maybe I wasn’t very convincing at the time - James still used to laugh when remembering the time I had threatened a fourth year who had made fun of Remus, only because with one push from the boy I had ended on the floor - but I had never been afraid to defend them and they had never been afraid to defend me.

And now that school was definitely over for us, now that we were adults, now that James and Lily were going to be parents, the mission I had decided to complete had taken more sense than ever. In my mind, if someone had to take all the responsibilities for James, Lily and the baby they were awaiting, for Remus, Sirius and Peter, then I would do it without hesitation. I would give my life for all of them, as much as I knew they would do the same for me. And now that the war was here, now that the prophecy had designated James, Lily and the baby as targets for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I felt more than ever the need to make sure they were safe. Everyone knew this, everyone including Albus Dumbledore.

_ _ _

“Professor Dumbledore, as much as I’m happy to be back here, I believe you didn’t ask me to come only to propose to me some acid pops, am I right?”

Dumbledore folded his hands on the parchment that was spread out on the desk. His blue eyes were fixing a point on the paper, and he fixed the spot a few seconds before clearing his throat and eventually looking at me.

“You’re right, miss Y/L/N. It is for a way more grave matter that you’re here today. You probably know the Order is in a delicate position.”

“A delicate position? With all due respect, we’re being killed one by one. I don’t call this a delicate position, I call this being near from the end.”

Dumbledore sighed, a sadness all but habitual emanating from him.

“I know that, miss Y/L/N, and I believe you would do anything to prevent the Order from reaching its end, right?” I stayed silent, because we both knew the answer and I was beginning to understand where the conversation was going. “You want to protect your friends and their family, right?”

“What if you got to the point?”

“I need to stay one step ahead of Voldemort, and I need you to help me with that.”

“How- what- how could I help with that?” I stuttered, truly taken aback with what Dumbledore was implying. “Don’t tell me- do you want me to infiltrate the enemies’ camp?”

“That is not exactly what I want. I need you to spy on them, they must not know about you.”

Dumbledore’s piercing blue eyes were almost burning holes in my forehead as I was looking down, trying to process all that it meant. I had the unpleasant sensation that every word had been carefully chosen and that the old man knew that by insisting on my devotion for my friends, he would ensure that my answer would be positive. But spying on the Death Eaters? Even for me, it was a lot. More than a dangerous move, it was a suicidal mission, and if the thought of dying to protect baby Potter wasn’t scaring me that much, thinking that I would have to leave my friends and more especially Remus was making my heart ache painfully.

“Is that your plan?” I whispered. “The only thing you’ve come up with to save us all?”

“Who said it is my only idea? And this is not a plan, miss Y/L/N, only a proposition. You don’t have any obligation.” His eyes still on me, Dumbledore slowly raised his hands to fold them underneath his chin. Somewhere behind him, his phoenix moved.

“A plan, a proposition, I don’t care what we call this. You need someone to send among the enemies and you want me to do it, that’s the same thing.”

“Will you do this, yes or no?”

“Of course I’ll do it.” I muttered before leaving the office with the sensation I had just been manipulated.

It was late at night and the corridors of the school were empty. There were probably a few students out of their dorm - Merlin knew only a few years ago I was part of them - but I didn’t see anyone, and I took the occasion to wander in this familiar place. I stopped in front of a window on the second floor that was overlooking the entrance courtyard. A girl and a boy were sitting next to each other on a bench. They looked like they were looking at the stars. Suddenly, the boy got up and grabbed the girl’s hand and they began to dance to an unheard music, maybe the music of their hearts, I thought bitterly as I looked away.

Maybe it was the weight of the upcoming mission that would very probably kill me, maybe I was just being sensitive because I was alone in the dark, but I was regretting the days I would be in this girl’s shoes and Remus would be in the boy’s. How many nights had we spent here, on that same bench, looking at the same stars? Our thing wasn’t to dance but to share stories, legends or gossip. We would stay here for hours, only coming back to the dorm when the sky took a delicate orange shade. And we would never talk about these nights, greeting the other in the morning in the same way we did with our friends, we would avoid questions and the other’s eyes for the day before doing exactly the same a few days later.

I had always thought I would have a lifetime to figure out what my feelings for him were, but only now did I realize my lifetime was desperately short.

_ _ _

Lily opened the door carefully before smiling broadly.

“Y/N! I didn’t know you were coming!”

She stepped aside to let me in. As soon as the door was closed, she threw her arms around me. When she let go of me, my eyes fell on her barely visible bump and a whiff of courage invaded me.

“How is the baby?” I asked.

Lily’s eyes brightened and she began to babble on about how she wasn’t sick anymore, how James was adorable with her (“But still an idiot.” she stated with a little smirk), and how cute was that little stuffed stag she had found. We were now sitting in the small kitchen, the both of us holding a welcomed cup of tea. We were in January, the air was freezing, the sky was always so dark yet Lily and James’ little house was still so warm it made you feel like home. To be fair, it felt like it was also ours as Sirius, Remus and I used to spend a lot of time here. Peter was a bit less with us, he was working on a personal project which, in my opinion, had something to do with the Order. He seemed more invested than before, and we were all glad to see he had finally been able to fight his fear.

“Y/N, listen, I didn’t want to tell you but… The boys are worried about you, and I am too. We all agree on the fact that you’ve acted strange last week and- well, you know you can tell us everything, right?”

Lily’s eyes were so full of worry that I felt guilty for making her feel such a negative emotion.

“Lily, don’t make a big deal out of it, it’s no good for the baby. I swear everything is okay.” I smiled, an expression that looked everything but convincing, which I realized as soon as Lily frowned.

“Now I know something is definitely wrong.”

“No, really, I told you-”

“Hello there!”

James entered the kitchen, his smile widening when his eyes caught mine.

“Hey Y/N/N, I didn’t know you were coming!”

I smiled broadly and got up before wrapping my arms around him. When he joined Lily to kiss her, Sirius and Remus appeared at the door, the both of them greeting me in the same way James had done. When Remus’ hands touched my back, the memory of us on this courtyard came back and I shivered. Quickly stepping back, I pretended to be cold and ended up in Remus’ sweater. James had insisted for Lily to stay with us in the living room and had brought more tea, and now we were all squeezed on the two couches, sharing not really pleasant news.

“Lily, Y/N, did you know about the rumour that’s going about the Order?” suddenly asked Sirius.

James looked up, and I felt Remus tensing next to me.

“What rumour?” asked Lily, genuinely confused as to why the three boys looked so grave.

“It says that Dumbledore would have given a suicidal mission to a member of the Order.” declared James. “As it seems, it would be a spying mission. Not even undercover.”

“I don’t know who has agreed to do this, but they must be crazy.” muttered Sirius. “There’s no way they are coming back.”

“For me, things are different now,” said James while placing his hands on Lily’s little bump, “but even a few months ago I wouldn’t have done something like this.”

“But why not undercover?” asked Lily. “I mean we already have a few members infiltrated, but why not another?”

“I guess that’s because the infiltrated members of the Order aren’t close enough to You-Know-Who.” Remus spoke up. He was frowning and absent-mindedly playing with the end of his shirt’s sleeve. “A spy would be able to hear the most confidential things. If they aren’t killed before, of course.”

I shifted uncomfortably. Of course they were talking about me without knowing it, but the way they were bringing this up was making me realize how insane I had been to accept this. But the worst was that seeing Lily in such a state of worry without knowing for who she was scared, hearing Sirius mumbling that the poor guy would be a hero, yes, but a dead one and James adding he wouldn’t like to be in their shoes, seeing Remus sighing and closing his eyes as if he was already mourning, all of this made me wonder how they would react.

“Y/N, are you feeling well?”

Sirius’ voice almost made me jump, and I realized all of my friends were now looking at me. I felt my blood becoming ice in my veins while my heart was beating way quicker than it should.

“Yes- yes, don’t worry.”

My shaky voice didn’t convince anyone, of course it didn’t, and it only made them suspicious.

“Y/N,” began slowly Remus, his eyes not leaving mine, “would you happen to know who is going on that mission?”

As soon as the last word left his mouth, I saw in Remus’ eyes that himself had read the answer in mine. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes, usually so clear, were darkening more and more as the realization of what it meant was sinking into him.

“Y/N?” asked Lily, her voice sounding so far from me I almost missed it.

“I am. I am going on that mission.”

The heaviest silence I had ever heard took place, and it stayed here for so long that I began to wonder if I had turned deaf. I was now looking down, I didn’t want to bear Remus’ gaze nor did I want to know how the others were reacting. After what felt like hours, a sob crashed the silence and Lily left her place to throw herself on me. Her tears were soaking my sweater and her hands clenching its back.

“You can’t do that!” she cried out. “You’ll be killed! You can’t!”

Her hair was all over my face and I couldn’t see the boys, but I had felt Remus leaving the couch.

“Why the hell did you do that?” exploded Sirius.

Lily jumped and James put his hands on her shoulders before pulling her in a comforting embrace. If his face was closed, Sirius’ was expressing so many things at the same time that I couldn’t put my finger on what he was really thinking. Anger, fear, disbelief? If he was probably feeling all of this, all I could see was that he was furious.

“Are you crazy? Y/N, you will be killed! Killed, you get that? Did you even think about it?”

His voice thundered, making me feel the urge to disappear.

“Sirius-”

“I knew you were ready to do anything to end this fucking war but this? You’ll never get out of this!”

“I don’t care that much!”

“But I do!”

“Sirius, please-”

“We go to Hogwarts, now. I need a word or two with-”

“I did it for you! Is it that bad?”

Obviously none of them were ready to hear this. Lily stopped crying after something that sounded like a squeal and Sirius stopped dead in his track, his hands having almost reached his jacket. The both of them along with James were looking at me with round eyes, and only at this moment did I realize the door was open and Remus wasn’t here anymore.

“What the hell does that mean?” murmured James. “Yes it is that bad! We don’t-”

“The Order is losing, James!” I exclaimed, desperate to prove my point. “We need more informations, Remus was right, infiltration isn’t enough!”

“But why you? Y/N, the Order has members stronger than you, trained Aurors! Why did Dumbledore ask you to sacrifice yourself?”

“Stop talking like I was already dead. Can’t you consider the fact that maybe I’ll get out of this alive?”

In fact, I wasn’t considering it either. I just didn’t want to admit that if Dumbledore had asked me, it was because he knew I would be easy to manipulate. Suddenly realizing I was standing in the middle of the living-room, I sunk back on the couch and put my hands on my face.

“Listen…” I began, my voice trembling. “You know as well as I do that we’re losing. James, Lily, you are threatened! I can’t let anything happen to you or your baby, not now that you’re reaching the happiness you’ve always wanted. And the both of you, this little baby, Sirius, Remus and Peter, you are my family, I love you all so much and- and I can’t let anything harm my family.”

I looked up to see that Lily had tears streaming down her face. I smiled at her, a very little smile that broke my heart as much as it seemed to break hers.

“I’m sorry Lily, really.”

“I know.” she nodded quickly before wiping her tears away. “You should go and see Remus.”

With the feeling that my knees were going to give up on me, I got up and crossed the living room under the weight of my friends’ eyes. I pushed the door that was already half open and stepped outside, the freezing air making me almost gasp as I looked for Remus.

“Remus?”

My eyes weren’t tricking me… Remus was nowhere to be seen.

“Remus!” I screamed.

Sirius stormed out, closely followed by James and Lily.

“Where is he? Where did he go?” I cried out, completely panicked as the worst scenarios were playing in my head.

“Calm down Y/N/N, I’m sure he’s okay.” said James.

He nodded toward Sirius who disappeared without a word in a soft pop that disturbed the silence of the night.

“Come on Y/N, let’s get inside before we freeze on the spot.” murmured Lily, both her hands on my shoulders.

I sighed to give myself an impression of composure and nodded, following the couple inside. My thoughts were all about Remus. What the hell was he doing? And what the hell was he thinking? James and Lily made a point of making me stop thinking about him and asked me about my meeting with Dumbledore.

“He knows how to do, this old bastard.” muttered James. “I can’t believe you fell for this.”

“I know…” I sighed. “I know but he isn’t completely wrong either. Maybe I’ll be able to catch the information that will save us all.” I added with a bitter chuckle.

The door opened suddenly, and Sirius’ silhouette appeared. As it seemed he was alone, and he cut our questions short by lifting his hand.

“He’s outside.”

I immediately got up and stormed out of the house. Remus was sitting on the low wall at the end of the garden, giving his back to me. I slowly approached, my feet making the snow screech and my breath forming a small cloud in front of my face. My eyes were humid and at this point, I didn’t know if it was really because of the cold. However, I saw Remus’ hand moving and patting the wall next to him after a short hesitation. I joined him and we sat in silence. An air stream colder than the others made me shiver.

“Are you still cold?” asked Remus with a quiet voice.

I nodded and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

“Come here.”

I moved closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder, already feeling his warmth radiating between us. The time seemed to have stopped, it was just the both of us and the snow. My mind was haunted by so many thoughts I couldn’t think straight, and all I was conscious of was Remus’ presence next to me.

“What did I do to end up with such foolish friends?” he finally asked quietly.

“We aren’t foolish,” I murmured, not wanting to break the little world around us. “We just love each other.”

“So that’s why you accepted? Because you love us?”

I lifted my head and met Remus’ eyes. They were full of pain and of worry, and how I hated seeing those eyes! I looked away, unable to face what I was imposing him.

“Y/N, please, look at me.”

His hand found my chin and I faced him again.

“You are my family.” I whispered, and as a single tear was rolling down my cheek, I leaned in his touch. “I love you all too much to let anything happen to you. I- Remus, I love you.”

Remus smiled, a tiny smile that made my heart flutter. I was feeling like a teenager who is breathless because she’s madly in love with a boy.

“I’ve been to Hogwarts.” he suddenly muttered. “I wanted to make Dumbledore change his mind, but this- well, he refused.”

“I won’t change my mind either.”

Remus grabbed my hand and kept his head down, his eyes locked on our hands.

“I know that. I just… I don’t know. I asked him to let me go with you-”

“You what?” I exclaimed, my heart suddenly racing in my ribcage. “No! Remus, no! I won’t let you! If I have to tie you myself-”

“He refused.”

It was a simple statement, but I sighed and closed my eyes, relieved. Another silence took place only to be disturbed by a rumbling coming from the depths of my stomach and a chuckle coming from Remus’ mouth.

“We should get inside and give you something to eat.”

I precipitately jumped off the wall and rushed toward the door, extremely ashamed as I had just realized I had confessed my feelings and Remus had just ignored them.

“Hey, Y/N!”

He grabbed my wrist, pulled me against him and crashed his lips on mine.

“I love you too.” he whispered against my mouth, and at the moment I was so happy I forgot every kind of threat.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

To say the last three days had been weird would be an understatement. Lily had insisted that I shouldn’t stay at my place and Sirius, Remus and I had ended up staying at the Potter’s. We still hadn’t any new of Peter which, more than worrying me, was also saddening me. The atmosphere was tense, it felt like all of us, me included, were already mourning my death. Of course, it wasn’t my friends’ intention, they had done everything to hide their worry, each in their own way. Lily, who had never really been able to cook, had made the most delicious plates I had ever eaten, even better than James’ mother’s, which I had had the chance to try a few years ago. James and Sirius had spent their time looking for informations in files stolen from the Order which had resulted in them not saying anything for hours before resuming their discoveries during the meals. Remus had shared his time between helping them and staying with me, holding my hand or chatting about anything not Order-related.

We had also received Dumbledore’s visit, who had given me all the instruction for my mission. Except the fact that he was there for what would probably kill me, it was quite funny to see the almost exaggerated glares he had received from everyone, but especially from Sirius and Remus.

And now, here I was, standing in the living-room, a backpack at my feet and holding back my tears as I was ready to leave. Remus was waiting outside but the others were here, and the first one to come to me - or jump in my arms - was Lily. She tightened me against her and was trying her best to contain her sobs.

“Promise you’ll do everything to come back, Y/N, do you promise?”

“Of course Lily. I’ll try, I swear I’ll try.”

She nodded and stepped back, sniffling. James nodded toward me before looking away, trying to hide his fear and sadness. Far from being offended, I nodded back.

“I count on you to take care of them Prongs, yeah?”

He nodded again.

“Only if you take care of yourself.”

It was my turn to nod.

I had thought Sirius would have the same reaction as James but he proved me wrong when he pulled me in a strong embrace, a bone-crushing hug we had never shared before.

“You better come back.” he muttered, his voice muffled by my hair. “There will be no place for mistakes. We can’t lose you.” he added in such a small voice that it broke my heart.

The lump in my throat prevented me from saying anything but we didn’t even need words. At the moment, I could feel their love for me, and I knew deep down that I couldn’t give up on this. I knew I would come back because we still had so much to live all together…

A whole new courage flooded in my veins and I smiled at them before grabbing my bag and getting out. Remus was sitting on the same wall as the last time and I joined him. This time, he lost no time and pulled me against him.

“I suppose they have already told you you better come back?”

“It was pretty clear.” I let out a watery chuckle.

“So I’ll just tell you I love you.”

Remus rested his forehead against mine and we both closed our eyes, enjoying this proximity. Then we shared a passionate kiss, a kiss that held so many emotions it was overwhelming. It was a kiss that meant I love you, I’m scared and See you soon. It was a kiss that meant Goodbye but also a kiss that meant Hello because at this very moment, I felt like I was re-discovering Remus, as if I was seeing and feeling a whole new part of him, and I knew he was feeling the same.

“Useless to say I don’t want you out of here, right?” I murmured against Remus’ lips.

“It would put you in danger. No, I’ll stay here, but know that everyday my eyes won’t leave the door. I’ll be waiting for you.”

I grabbed my bag which I had left on the floor and sighed.

“Guess this is it…” I said. “Time to go.”

“Y/N, please, make sure this is not your swan song.”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

It wasn’t my first mission for the Order. I had already fought against so many Death Eaters I had lost count, and I had two infiltration missions under my belt. But I had never been that close to him, to the wizard that was killing my friends one by one and threatening my family. And never in my life had I even suspected such an army. The enemies were everywhere, they were young or old, men or women. Everytime I turned my head, I saw new faces, new enemies, and it was the scariest thing I had ever experienced. Yet I was doing quite well; in fact I had barely been spotted and the few Death Eaters that had found out about me were now dead. For three months, I had managed to stay alive. However, the more the weeks passed, the more I had wondered if that was worth it. I hadn’t heard anything, absolutely anything that an infiltrated member of the Order wouldn’t have heard.

I knew they were suspicious, all of them knew they were spied on and that was probably why they were being extremely careful when they talked. That’s why, after three months, I began considering the idea that I could try and get in one of their reunion places. However, I had made a promise to Remus, to Sirius, James and Lily, and I wanted to do my best to keep it. I didn’t want to put my life in danger more than necessary and it felt like a suicide to try such a thing.

What decided me was a conversation that I overheard between two Death Eaters one night, at the corner of a street in the heart of London.

“-in Malfoy’s manor tomorrow.” said the first. “As it seems, it’s pretty important.”

“More important than interrogating the Auror we’ve had last week?” asked the second. “What can be more important than that?”

“I’ve heard it’s the prophecy.” My heart almost stopped beating. As far as I knew, there was only one prophecy that could interest Voldemort. “The Dark Lord wants to decide on a plan to eradicate this threat.”

Then the Death Eaters disappeared, leaving me trembling in the street. A plan. To eradicate a threat. Which happened to be James and Lily’s baby. There was no way I would let that happen. I had now two choices: going back to Godric’s Hollow and warn them but miss the plan, or staying here and listening to what would be said. Apparating was too dangerous, anyone could follow me and that would threaten my friends. Suddenly, I realized that after all the time that had passed, Lily’s bump was bigger by now, and imagining her taking care of her child, James always fussing over her, Remus and Sirius and maybe even Peter with them made me take my decision.

_ _ _

I thought the plan was good. Not perfect, obviously, but good enough so that it wouldn’t end up with me being killed. Now, after having dodged dozens of green flashes of light blasting toward me, I was forced to admit that I had screwed up.

I was hiding behind a statue in the corridor, trying to catch my breath as the Death Eaters were getting closer and closer.

“Find her! She’s Dumbledore's spy, I want her alive!”

Voldemort’s voice thundered and the screams in the manor doubled in intensity. Apparating was impossible and I had to reach the front door to try and maybe - just maybe - hide long enough to leave this hell.

Suddenly, and that caught me completely off guards, my wand escaped the grip of my hand. I gasped, slowly realizing what it meant, and turned my head only to gasp once more, this time because I couldn’t believe it.

“Peter?” I whimpered.

Peter was here, in front of me, one of his hands holding my wand and his own wand pointed on me.

“You shouldn’t be here!” he squealed before looking above his shoulder, obviously terrified.

“You- you- Peter, we thought you were- I don’t understand…” I stuttered, unable to process that he was a traitor.

“Y/N, what are you doing here? You’re complicating everything!” he lamented.

Then I understood and I felt the urge to strangle him, to kill him because he had betrayed us, his friends. I was going to jump toward him when I felt a burning sensation in my back and everything became black.

_ _ _

“Crucio.”

The first thing I felt when gaining back consciousness was agony. It wasn’t even pain anymore, it was a fire in every bone of my body, magma flooding in my veins. It was the urge to rip my skin off and to end it as soon as possible. It was torture.

“Will you tell us who you are?”

I didn’t answer, and the agony came back.

“Are you from the Order?”

No answer. Agony.

“Did Dumbledore send you?”

Nothing. Agony.

“What informations have you already transmitted?”

Agony.

“Do you know the Potters?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Agony.

“Where are they hiding?”

Agony.

“How did you get in the manor?”

Agony.

“Y/N, I’m going to help you.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Peter didn’t listen. I didn’t know what was happening. No one was here except us. He did something and suddenly the ropes around me were on the floor. He tried to grab my arm and I shifted. I fell on the floor.

“Don’t touch me- you traitor, don’t-” I hissed.

Peter ignored me. He half carried me. We arrived outside and it was dark. Then the world became black and coloured again and we weren’t in front of the manor anymore.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

One last world I didn’t understand, then black.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The old man’s eyes were sad, their usually piercing blue was now shining with contained tears. The young woman in front of him wasn’t containing her tears. She was sobbing in the arms of her husband who was trembling. Then the two other men. One of them fell on his knees, his hands in his hair as if he wanted to yank them out. “Y/N, please, make sure this is not your swan song.” he had said. The other was frozen, his fists so tight his knuckles were white.

The old man left. A few seconds of shock, then the four of them disappeared.

Remus couldn’t care less if a muggle saw him. He crossed the barrier and arrived in the hall of St-Mungo’s. Not bothering to ask where she was, he rushed in the stairs and gained her level.

“Where is she? Y/N? Y/N, where are you?” he screamed.

Three nurses arrived, begging him to calm down. Remus ignored them and asked where she was. Once, twice. The nurses eventually gave up and indicated a room.

Sirius was just behind him, James and Lily were still in the stairs, but Remus didn’t care. He had to make sure- he had to see her. This couldn’t be true, obviously Dumbledore was wrong…

She was sitting on her bed. Her skin was almost as white as the sheets, except for the scars and bruises that seemed to cover her body. When Remus slammed the door open, her head snapped toward him and she smiled brightly, a beautiful smile Remus hadn’t seen in years.

“Hello!” she said. “Who are you? I was thinking about the swans’ songs. Beautiful, don’t you think?”

Remus’ heart stopped beating, and his world crashed at his feet.

Dumbledore was right.

Y/N had lost her memory, and he had lost her.

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin imagine #angst #marauder era #marauders imagine

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goldheartedsky · 3 years ago

Note

1, 6, 9, 11, 14 and 15 for north star!

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

This is complete and utter clownery but this massive fic was spawned from the opening sex scene. I was like “mmmm Booker comes inside Andy and she jokes about him not being able to knock her up—but then what if he COULD afterwards!??” And it just ballooned into this almost 79k word fic somehow

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

It’s my longest fic I’ve actually ever written and (a fun fact) it’s actually the longest fic for Andy/Booker where they aren’t paired with any other person at any point in the fic!

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Not particularly, shockingly. The only alternate scene exists when the gang goes to Marseille and I originally wrote them getting on the plane separately to avoid suspicion and Booker and Andy pretending to meet each other for the first time and flirt with one another. IT was super cute but it just didn’t fit with the flow!

11: What do you like best about this fic?

It’s really soft. Like, SO soft it makes me want to cry sometimes. I feel like it’s really in character even though it’s a canon deviation, and I’m really proud of that. A lot of the dialogue is just so spot on and perfect that, when I reread it, I just sit there and stare at the ceiling like 🥺😭🤧

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

That there is always space for love and forgiveness. You see it with Booker and Joe working their way back to what they used to have, you see it with Andy staying by Booker’s side through everything that happens. You see it with Quỳnh being allowed to have her own healing, even if it’s not with the team. We all can find that space within ourselves to offer a hand to someone, whether they necessarily deserve it or not.

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

That your readers will come if you pour your heart into it. I’m about a hundred hits away from 4k which is unheard of in this pairing in this day and age, so this must have connected with at least some people deeply enough for them to read it. It’s a little ship but it’s got a lot of love and I’ll keep paddling up the fandom river as long as I can

#answered asks #ask games

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vennilavee · 5 years ago

Text

the warm vortex

[main masterlist]

Pairing: bucky, sam, steve, natasha and reader. more platonic than anything really. and it’s mostly reader centric.

Please read the warnings before you read!!!

Summary: you’ve had high functioning depression for as long as you can remember. sometimes you can manage it, and sometimes it’s extremely difficult. you’re finding it hard to reel yourself in and you’re spiraling, but luckily you have some pretty great friends to help.

Warnings: really heavy discussions and inner thoughts of depression and anxiety. Also heavy use of alcohol. Please don’t read if any of these topics are hard for you to read about- you gotta do what’s best for you!

Word Count: 6596

A/N: written for @barnesandco‘s 1k challenge, with the prompt stay by rihanna ft mikky ekko. this was pretty therapeutic to write. this is also a rewrite of mutual and make me feel (undecided if i want to leave it up or not though).

It wasn’t always like this, that much you knew. You can’t think of a time when it wasn’t like this, but you knew there was a time when this bottomless pit didn’t exist on a permanent, full-time basis. There was a time when this darkness didn’t live rent free in your head, seeping energy from you in places you were hopeless to defend.

It’s not so bad most days. The darkness is mostly background noise, drowned out by the sweet taste of light. You have mostly healthy habits. You see a therapist once a week, and you text her sometimes, too. You have a journal. You paint. You read. You see your friends once in a while. You enjoy being in the presence of people who see you. The boxes are mostly checked. You’re just the perfect portrait, aren’t you? But you’re not immune to your vices. But you’re human, so wonderfully human. And you’re trying your best.

Just like anything else in life, things ebb and flow. Some days are relatively okay. Some days, you just want to be alone and let time pass you by. Some days, your mind is racing at a speed that you can’t catch up to. Some days, your mind and heart feel empty.

But somehow, you pull yourself up. Whether it’s by yourself or with the help of your friends.

The last time you felt that it was unbearable, that you felt numb, was when you were in college. You can’t remember the reason or the catalyst for it- perhaps you had always some of that numbness trailing along and blooming quietly. But you had finally found the word to describe it. You recall sleeping at any moment that you could, your appetite waxing and waning, seeds of hopelessness and guilt planting themselves in your heart and making homes there. It felt endless. An endless tunnel of...nothing. You recall drifting through your days, passively sitting in lectures, half listening to friends, somehow convincing them and yourself that you were okay. You were good at deflecting and you knew it.

Until it had become too much to bear by yourself. You couldn’t take the waves of uncharted sadness, the weight of the world on your shoulders. You were on the edge of something and everything was spinning out of control and yet you were standing still, unmoving.

Somehow you had gotten through college and graduate school, with the help of your long term therapist. For the first time in a long time, you felt a morsel of hope. For the first time in a long time, you could feel the sun illuminating your back.

After graduate school, you had managed to land a job at Stark Industries. It had taken you two video interviews and three in person panel interviews, but it was yours. You’d be right in the heart of Manhattan, in your favorite city. New York City was meant for you, and you were meant for it. You quite enjoyed the feeling of being in the midst of the chaos, bustle, and noise of the city and knowing that you were virtually a nobody. The anonymity of the city has always comforted you.

It had been about six or seven years since you had landed the job with Stark Industries. Now that your career had a solid start with Tony Stark, you were a well known name not just in the building, but amongst competitors and your peers in the industry as well. You were grateful that Tony encouraged your career development by letting you explore department to department. Tony often called you the jack of all trades because you were able to seamlessly offer perspectives and evidence based opinions for nearly any department at Stark Industries.

Which is why your agility and eagerness to learn had gotten you to a director role in less than ten years, a feat very nearly unheard of in corporate America. Let alone at Stark Industries.

And that meant that you knew many of the Avengers on a professional and personal level as well. You were quite fond of your relationships with them- the fact that you can call them friends has ceased to amaze you now. It feels normal. After all, they are only human.

You can recognize the tells of when things are getting bad. There isn’t a specific thing that you can pinpoint that makes it worse, even after all these years. It just comes when it wants. And it lifts a little bit when it wants. You’re constantly on edge, and yet at the same time you can feel the familiar pull of numbness. You’re not sleeping or you’re sleeping too much. And of course, you’re isolating yourself subtly. So as to shield yourself from perceived vulnerability and intimacy.

And yet, isn’t that just what you craved?

A dullness hangs over your head and you try your best to see through it.

You don’t really notice the concerned looks that you’ve been on the receiving end of from your friends. Bucky and Natasha, ever so perceptive. Steve and Sam, ever so observant. Or maybe you do notice, and you just avoid any display or discussion of vulnerability. They text you every so often, just to say hello. See how you’re doing. Or they’ll somehow find you in the tower, and they always come with snacks and water for you.

What great friends you have, and you can’t even look them in the eye. Your cheeks burn with shame, but you grin and bear it. Claiming that you’re just tired. Busy. You’ve got a lot on your calendar.

Bucky jokingly had asked if your executive assistant could pencil him in, even just for fifteen minutes. You had snorted and told him that you didn’t make enough money for an executive assistant. Yet.

Bucky often finds you around the labs and tech transfer rooms. Most of the time he sees you alone, completing some documentation and drawing up plans for the next day or week. Sometimes he sees you with your coworkers, discussing strategy. You always offer him a smile and a wave, even if you’re deep in heated debate with your team members. Maybe it’s something of a happy coincidence that you both are around there at the same time. Similar interests and all.

It’s the nights when he sees you alone in the laboratory corridors that you both get to know each other, beyond pleasantries. It takes a few weeks for you to even ask what he’s doing there. That’s when you learn of his interest in the industry part of ‘Stark Industries’, and how he is fascinated by the advancements of the century. The nights turn into almost daily hangouts, complete with takeout and snacks. Bucky finds himself comfortable enough to sit in your office with his legs up on the desk.

You always chide him with a roll of your eyes, but there’s never any heat behind it. Small talk had slowly evolved into a very real friendship between the both of you, and you looked forward to seeing him at the Tower whenever you could.

Natasha Romanoff was the one who had suggested you apply for a job at Stark Industries after graduation. While she was a former SHIELD agent, now Avenger, you had met her at your favorite coffee shop to study at. Perhaps it was destiny then, that you had met one of the most elusive spies of the 20th and 21st centuries and you hadn’t even recognized her. All she had asked you was for a pen, and you had stumbled over your words and nearly spilled your coffee on yourself in an attempt to reach over and hand her a pen.

What a menace. She still never lets you live that down. What were you meant to do when someone like Natasha Romanoff asks you for a pen?

From that day, you had made it a point to study at the same cafe, hoping to catch a glimpse of her once again. And maybe have a chance at a redemption arc for your terrible first impression. Eventually, she had come back and you had struck up a conversation with her. One conversation led to another, the seasons had changed, and suddenly, Natasha Romanoff was present at your graduate school graduation ceremony, looking onwards proudly.

Becoming friends with Sam had been easy. On your first day of work at your brand new big girl job, he had been one of the first people to poke his head around and introduce himself. He had even had lunch with you on your first day, and that is a memory you hold near and dear to your heart. To remind yourself that people do genuinely like you, and that you are not the version of yourself that you’ve created in your head. The version of yourself with virtually no redeemable qualities. The figment of yourself born from your own anxieties and insecurities, that truly does not exist anywhere but your own mind.

While it was in your own mind, it didn’t make it any less real.

You and Sam had fun together- he had managed to make himself a permanent fixture in your life by sharing music and movie recommendations with you. You had even established an exclusive impromptu movie club with him, where the both of you shared opinions and thoughts on movies while tasting new wines.

It wasn’t so much as an official club, as it was two friends hanging out and enjoying the company of the other.

You had been most intimidated by Steve Rogers, and you had no reason to be. You had seen Bucky and Sam tease him, you’ve run into Steve during late nights when you were working late, and you had seen him come into the Tower bruised up and bloody after missions. You had seen him during times of vulnerability, and for whatever reason, it took you the longest to open yourself up to him. You had mostly ignored him aside from pleasantries, if you could.

Until it was a cold winter’s night, around 1 AM.

You were just getting ready to leave the Tower, making a mental note to be better about your work/life integration. Whenever you left the Tower late, Tony always made sure you were protected so you wouldn’t have to walk home alone. He also had given you a guest room in the living quarters of the Tower, but you rarely stayed there.

The smell of burning sends your adrenaline into overdrive and you quickly found the source of the burning in the kitchen. It’s Steve and Natasha hovering over an oven as billows of smoke begin to engulf the area. Steve attempts to open the oven with his bare hand before Natasha whacks him over the head and hands him an oven mitt.

You’d laugh if you were sure that the kitchen wasn’t about to get burned down.

“Uh,” You say, “You guys need help or should I leave you to it?”

They both turn around at the same time. Steve looks like a deer caught in headlights while Natasha just looks exasperated.

“We were trying to make cookies. Apparently Steve can’t be left unattended.”

“Me?! You were the one who was supposed to keep an eye on them! Now they’re all burned!”

Apparently it takes seeing Steve and Natasha bickering about who left the cookies in the oven for longer than they should have for you to feel more comfortable around Steve. Nothing like burned cookies to humanize Steve Rogers.

And so you end up baking a new batch of cookies with Steve and Natasha, helping them clean out the burned bits. And you end up staying in that guest room that Tony had gifted you many months ago.

It’s a night of firsts.

Relatively speaking, the rational part of your brain knew that things could always be worse. But repeating that to yourself like a mantra didn’t seem to soothe the near constant ache in your heart. Sometimes the ache felt like a bleak numbness more than anything. In fact, you had come to at least appreciate the ache. Because then that meant you could at least feel something. It wasn’t fair to compare pain. Pain is pain. That became your new mantra, after your therapist had framed it in a way that just made sense to you.

You can’t be faulted for the way you feel, you know that. You can’t be faulted for constantly questioning everything and everyone around you, questioning intentions, and questioning yourself. Wondering if people even liked you, or if people merely tolerated you when you could barely even stand yourself.

Once those thoughts start coming, they don’t stop. Your friends notice you digging yourself into your work, isolating yourself and avoiding them. Perhaps this time, they’ll finally realize what you are.

And yet, they still find it in themselves to invite you out for a night out. They know you’ve been struggling and just want to show you that they’re here for you. They just want you to believe them.

***

You were at a quiet but vibrant bar near your apartment, one you frequented often with Natasha, Sam, and Steve. To be honest, you hadn’t really wanted to come. But they had been resilient in their efforts to see you and make sure that you were okay. You’re able to see through the fog for a moment, cracking a smile at Bucky who is sitting at one of the barstools, chatting up the bartender. He’d taken an interest in the art of crafting a drink lately, and you quite enjoyed seeing curiosity light up his eyes. You also enjoyed being his taste tester, but honestly you were game to try anything.

Months ago, you and Sam had told Bucky that maybe he should put himself out there. He looked at the pair of you like you had grown five heads each.

“Out where, exactly?”

“Meeting people. Getting into casual dating. You’re a catch and I wish you would realize that, too.” You had said it so genuinely that he finds himself nodding slowly. The memory nearly makes you cringe- it irritates you to no degree when people tell you that you should put yourself out there. Who were you to say the same to a friend?

God, how could anyone stand you?

You take another long sip of your drink and try to center yourself in the conversation around you. Bucky sits down across from you at the booth and tells you and Sam what tips the bartender gave him when making drinks.

“Maybe you could teach him a thing or two,” You remark and he grins appreciatively.

“I think I should get one of those bartending books. To see what mixes well with what,” Bucky muses.

“I feel like you’re enjoying the experimentation of it all. That’s half the fun,” Sam says, absentmindedly peeling the sticker off of the bottle of beer.

“Did you know that if you peel labels off of bottles, it means you’re sexually frustrated?” You say off-handedly, grinning when their eyebrows rise in unison.

“Sounds about right,” Sam sighs, “Lemme tell you somethin’. I’m hittin’ a real dry spell right now.”

“Tell me about it,” Bucky agrees, taking a swig of his drink.

“I guess nobody wants what you’re selling,” You tease and glance over at Natasha, who is currently chatting up a man on the other side of the bar. She’s all charm and flirty smiles and you wave at her when she catches your eye.

“Someone wants what you’re selling,” Bucky muses, tearing your attention away from Natasha, “This guy has been looking over here for the last fifteen minutes. Think he’s tryin’ to be sexy or somethin’.”

“Is he? Bein’ sexy?” You laugh, “Maybe he’s lookin’ at you, Bucky.”

“No, it’s definitely you, baby girl. Bucky’s not half as nice to look at as you are,” Sam grins, earning himself a whack on the shoulder.

You turn your head and see the man in question, giving him a once over. He’s cute, you suppose. Part of you welcomes the new distraction, and the other part of you wants to stay within the walls of your comfort zone. Sam and Bucky look at you expectantly, wondering what your next move is going to be.

You shrug and chug the entirety of your drink, getting out of your booth to walk over to the bar. You’re certain that the man who had been eyeing you will join you in a few short minutes. Asking you what you’d like to drink.

“Let’s see what happens, boys.”

Little do Sam and Bucky know that you’re about to find yourself slipping into old habits, and fast.

***

A night of drinks, one night stands, and walks of shame had turned into a routine over the course of the next few weeks. It was a welcome distraction from reality and you couldn’t get enough of it.

You can almost hear Natasha’s voice in your head- ‘there’s nothing wrong with sleeping around. But you’re sleeping around to actively avoid something deeper and you have to talk about it.’

Even if she’s right, you’ll gamble on it.

You’re spiraling into a whirlwind of self-deprecation, and you know it. The thought flits around in your head and disappears as quickly as it had come. You quickly toss back a pair of tequila shots and thrust the lime in your mouth for sweet relief. You enjoyed the way the tequila burned your throat before settling in your stomach with a happy hum.

Admittedly, you had begun to pull away from your friends even more over the last week or so. You weren’t sure, you were losing track of time. Worried texts and phone calls went unanswered for hours. Which would gradually become days. You had shirked off scheduled therapy appointments several times. Voicemails from your therapist were left unlistened to. Bless her heart.

You threw yourself into work until that became your primary excuse and then you just stopped answering altogether. Sam, Steve, Natasha and Bucky had all come around knocking on your door. Both physically and digitally. But you pretended like you weren’t home most of the time. You wished they would break down the door and find you, a complete mess. But you didn’t have the physical or mental strength to just open the door yourself. They probably thought you needed space. Which maybe you did.

That night you had taken that random guy home from the bar had sparked something inside of you and you didn’t want to let it go. The recklessness made you feel alive, it made your blood burn, and it made your heart thump with anticipation.

They probably deserve better than someone who’s head is spinning from self-loathing, someone who can’t stand the sight of themselves anymore, someone who can't seem to get themselves together.

But they’re your friends. They love you regardless, comes a small voice that you’re easily able to quash.

You find yourself unable to even brush your teeth without a frown jarring your face. The thoughts that bounce around in your head are wrong and you know it, but they are relentless. And you find yourself powerless to argue with them. You can only focus on what’s right in front of you. Focusing on anything else hurts too much.

So you focus on the music pumping through your veins. The burn of alcohol seeping into your blood. You focus on the arms wrapped around you and the neon lights blaring at you.

You barely feel lips kissing your neck and you’re surprised to taste saltiness on your upper lip. You’re crying, you realize. You’re crying because all of a sudden, you get flashes of your friend’s concerned faces and you’re here. Alone, of your own accord.

***

The first week you started pulling away, Steve had suggested that they should break down your door. You had been completely unresponsive, sending all of them into a state of alarm and concern. They did toy with the idea, but they ultimately let it be. Maybe you needed space. After all, wouldn’t you come to them if you were upset?

But then, you didn’t.They wouldn’t have known how you threw yourself into alcohol, barely ate proper meals, barely slept properly. They wouldn’t have seen how much you were barely keeping your head above the water. You were good at hiding it, in the beginning. You were all smiles at work, making small-talk and doing what you did best. Then you stopped caring about hiding it. You had called out of work a few days and hadn’t left your apartment. Tony and Pepper were most definitely concerned- it wasn’t like you to pull away like this. They had reached out to you several times to no avail. You had only said you weren’t feeling well. They only knew you were going through something and didn’t know how to handle it. Did any of them know how to handle it?

You’re out again in Chelsea this time, at a club lined with smoke, mirrors, and strangers. You’re singing along to the music as the drink in your hand sloshes with your movements. A sudden wave of fatigue washes over you.

You don’t want to be there anymore. The realization feels like a weight has landed on your chest, but you feel the familiar wings of freedom embrace you. Maybe this is it- maybe you’re finally breaking out of your spell. You just want to go home. You think of your friends again. How you’ve ignored them for weeks now. How they still reach out to you and you just… do nothing.

Downing the rest of your drink- because you’d be damned if you’d ever let a drink purchased from a club in Chelsea go to waste- you hold your purse close and make the decision to leave. Once you’re in the comfort of your home in your pajamas and under the covers, you open up your messages app on your phone. Your finger hovers over Natasha’s name.

With the courage of a small lion, you finally text her, and it feels like liberation. You just text her saying hi, with a simple heart emoji. That’s the most you can muster for right now.

It takes another week or so for you to get sick of the long nights out and of partying the way you have been. Then another week to get sick of the alcohol. It doesn’t numb you anymore; instead, it just makes you feel disgusting. This week, you’ve spent most of your days in bed. You’re afraid to go into work, so you’ve worked from home as much as you can. You even reached out to Tony and Pepper. And mustered up the energy to make an appointment with your therapist.

The fact that you’ve come this far on your own is even a surprise to you. This spiral felt different to you. Looking back on it, in previous years, you felt that you were able to snap out of it more easily. Whatever it was. Even if it took weeks or months for you to snap out of it, somehow you always did. Whether it was by a momentous epiphany, an intervention, or a conversation with a stranger. Somehow, for whatever reason, you always snapped out of it. Even if you haven’t seen or spoken to the few friends you have and the people who care for you, they’re still on the forefront of your mind. Feeding you bits of strength to get you through the days, whether you realize it or not. The fog, while it still shrouds you, feels a little easier to see through.

You hope you’ll have the energy to see your friends again soon.

***

On days that you’re not working, you find yourself sleeping for most of the day and wide awake at night. You’ve taken to roaming the city during these nights, walking around familiar places. The idea of showing up at the Tower unannounced has crossed your mind once or twice. The thought scares you, so you decide against it every time.

You’ve been doing better about texting Natasha once in a while. To let her know that you’re still breathing, even if it’s barely. She has offered more than once to come over for company, but you can’t bring yourself to agree. Bucky, Steve, and Sam all still text you everyday, even after your lack of responses. They even call you once in a while and leave short voicemails, letting you know of their days and how they miss you.

And still, what kind of person are you to continue living as if you were empty when there was clearly all of this love and care surrounding you? You couldn’t help it. The dark cloud has lessened somewhat, but still floats over your head. It’s just there, and you try to think back to a time when the cloud didn’t exist.

Your therapist’s understanding eyes and warm gaze simultaneously makes you feel a little better and makes you want to cry. She validates your feelings and tells you that it’s okay for you to not be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. But she tells you that whether or not you can see it, it’s still there. And that you deserve that light and so much more. She’s keeping a close eye on you as well, texting you every so often to see how you’re doing. She sends you gentle reassurances, and you begin to echo those same reassurances to yourself. While the voice has gotten quieter for now, it’s still there but it doesn’t feel as loud as it did a few weeks ago.

What a ride it’s been. You’re exhausted from your own mind. If mental gymnastics was a sport, you’d surely achieve a perfect score.

It confuses you, how you’re sent into this dark shroud only to re-emerge on the other side. Well, sort of. Why did it even happen? Did something cause it? Or was it your own chemistry betraying you without any rhyme or reason?

Whatever the cause is… it’s not a great feeling and despite how overwhelming it feels, how it feels like you’re drowning. You still manage to keep your head above the water to get through the next minute. The next hour. The next day. The next week.

After neglecting your journal for longer than usual, you decide to buy some new pens and markers for doodling on the pages. Even if you can’t necessarily get the words out on paper, you still want to be able to focus some of the energy you have into something.

You can spend hours doodling and coloring in the pages. And so you do.

After your evening of doodling, you even dabble with the idea of calling Natasha. And so you do.

She’s ecstatic to hear from you, and she doesn’t bother to try to bottle it. Her enthusiasm makes you feel warm inside. It reminds you that you’re still here. That your friends are still here. In a display of courage, you ask her if she’d like to come over for pizza and ice cream. She immediately accepts, and you can’t help but feel slightly proud of yourself for taking that step.

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have reasons to smile.

***

You had cleaned your apartment in preparation for Natasha’s arrival, and had even lit her favorite candle scent that you owned. It’s called black cherry, but smells sultry with hints of sweet and spicy. Boxes of pizza were hot and ready on your counter and two tubs of ice cream were in your freezer.

When Natasha arrives, you nearly lose your breath from seeing your friend after so long. You don’t know what to do- should you hug her? Shake her hand? How awkward and formal of you. Both seem wrong and Natasha picks up on your unease.

“You gonna let me in or what?” She asks with a raised eyebrow and you beam at her. You welcome her inside, insisting that she sit down on your couch. You hand her a glass of water and place the boxes of pizza on your coffee table, feeling the cobwebs around your heart begin to melt away slowly.

It’s after a few slices of pizza and making small talk that you feel that you have to bring up the last few weeks-

“Natasha,” You begin, “I’m just- I don’t know. The last few weeks have been really hard. I’m just sorry I ghosted you. And everyone. You didn’t deserve that, when you were only trying to be my friends.”

“Hey,” Natasha shakes her head, “It’s okay. Believe me when I say that we all understand. Sometimes your mind takes you somewhere you don’t want to go. We just worry, you know? If you need space, then that’s what you need. But I don’t want you to… be alone because you think nobody’s here for you. Because we are. We are.”

Tears well up in your eyes at the sincerity in her voice, and you believe her. You believe her with everything in your bones and it lifts you up higher than you’ve felt in a long time. The rest of the night is spent in a flurry of laughter, some tears, and lots of pizza and ice cream. Your heart is singing by the time Natasha leaves, cotton candy clouds of contentment surrounding you as you fall asleep quickly.

***

You go back to work at the Tower the following week, where Tony and Pepper embrace you with open arms. You’re quite blessed to be surrounded by people who understand you and want the best for you. You can’t be helped if a few tears leak out of your eyes when you see Tony and Pepper after what feels like is years.

You clean up in your office, brushing off the thin layer of dust over your things. Opening the cover of your laptop, you go into your Outlook calendar. Too see what was on the agenda for today. And you schedule an impromptu lunch with Sam, at your favorite food truck two blocks from the Tower.

You had gotten over the fact that you were able to schedule something as mundane as meetings with the Avengers during your second week of working at Stark Industries.

It was time to see your friend again. The thought sends nervous butterflies fluttering in your belly, but you’re proud of yourself for reaching out when it felt impossible only a few weeks ago. Sam accepts the meeting almost immediately and a smile stays on your face until you meet him for lunch.

***

Despite the awkwardness you initially feel about seeing Sam after weeks, it dissipates quickly once you see him at the food truck. He’s waving at you, genuine excitement radiating from him at being able to see you after so long.

He’s already bought your favorites from the truck and he’s waiting for you. So you both can walk to the bench you usually sit at while having lunch together. Sam refers to it as ‘our bench’, and you do, too.

“You look good, baby girl,” Sam greets you with a smile, patting the space next to you.

“Yeah, I guess the aftermath of a six week long bender is the look I should strive for,” You say with a laugh, giving him a good-natured shove of his shoulder.

“You know what I mean,” Sam says pointedly, taking a bite out of his food.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you. You gaze out in front of you, taking in the people bustling past you. People on their phones, people with smiles on, people who look stressed. People in a hurry. The call of birds, the sound of people walking over leaves. It’s bright outside as the sun beams over the plush grass.

You tear your eyes away from the grass and turn to Sam, who is patiently waiting for you to speak.

“I really,” You murmur, “I really appreciated your texts. And phone calls. And voicemails. I’m sure you all would have come and broken down my door at some point.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Sam shrugs, “Breakin’ down doors. Steve did want to. But we were sure you wouldn’t have appreciated a broken down door, on top of everything.”

You let out a loud laugh at that.

“The real reason I asked you to come here,” You swallow nervously, “I just wanted to say. Thank you for believing in me, too. I know I get in my own head and it takes me time to snap out of it. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never snap out of it. And every time, I’m surprised that I do. So thank you. For not giving up on me, even when I was barely responsive. Even when I wanted to give up on myself.”

Tears are swimming in your eyes, as well as Sam’s. He sets his food down next to him, and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tightly.

“I know this is something that we can’t control. And it feels like it’s here to stay. But so are we,” Sam says and you pull away to give him a watery smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

***

You see Steve when you have a really late night at the office a few days later. You’ve been trying to properly catch up on your work and you had lost track of time. Leaning back in your seat, you rub your eyes and stretch your neck.

You’ve been craving something sweet all day and have been unsuccessful in satisfying your sweet tooth.

You wonder if Steve is still awake. Maybe he’ll make cookies with you. Before you lose your nerve, you call him and familiar butterflies of nervousness flit around your belly.

“Hey, Steve,” You murmur, “Wanna make cookies with me?”

And so you find yourself in the kitchen with Steve at nearly 1:30 AM with mismatched oven mitts on. He’s quiet, as if he doesn’t know what to say.

“And look at that,” You grin, “We didn’t even burn the place down.”

“Don’t let Natasha know, she’ll get jealous,” Steve says and you laugh.

Another poignant pause.

“I-uh, I’m glad to see you again,” Steve says, scratching the back of his head, “Things are tough. But uh… we’re here. I mean, we’re here for you.”

“Thank you, Steve,” You murmur, “I know. And I appreciate everything. I’m glad to see you again, too. Who else would be here to make sure you didn’t burn the Tower down while making cookies?”

Steve snorts, and that’s that.

***

You see Bucky that same night. It had been close to 2:30 AM when you and Steve had finished making and eating cookies. You had both shared a few laughs and yawns when you decided you’d stay at your room in the Tower for tonight.

But before that, you decide to go down to the laboratories for a quick peek. Just to check on the progress of several projects and check the logs and data sheets. You haven’t been down here at night since… well, it’s been a while.

You end up just walking around, taking in the vastness of the room. You’ve always liked venturing down here at night, because the moon shines into the laboratories at an angle that it doesn’t anywhere else. Everything has a silvery hue to it, almost reminding you of something magical. And wasn’t it- wasn’t this the closest thing to magic that you would ever get?

You’re mesmerized by the jagged edges of one of the old trinkets on the workbench. It’s been here a while, it seems. Dust has gathered upon it, blanketing it in a coat of grey.

“You come here often?” A voice calls from behind you and you nearly drop the trinket in surprise. It’s Bucky, complete with a small smile and cozy sweatpants.

“Only when I want to be scared into having a heart attack,” You mumble, trying not to stare at him.

Your throat goes dry.

“How… How’ve you been?” You ask, leaning back against the workbench with your arms crossed.

“Been good. And how have you been?” Bucky asks.

“Well,” You begin, “I think you kind of know the answer to that. What with disappearing for weeks due to falling into a whirlwind of self-loathing, depression and who knows what else.”

“You’re talking to the king of disappearing for weeks due to a whirlwind of self-loathing, depression and who knows what else,” Bucky says with a quirk of his lips and it widens when you smile back.

“Two regular peas in a pod,” You murmur. He comes to stand next to you and bumps hips with you. You swallow again.

“I’m glad to see you again. This place was gettin’ boring without you.”

“Don’t I know it,” You reply, casting your gaze to the concrete floor with a deep breath, “Thanks for… Just thanks for understanding. And thanks for bein’ you.”

You meet Bucky’s eyes, and it feels like it’s in slow motion. His gaze is tender, illuminated by a splash of moonlight. He offers you a warm smile, one that you can’t help but return.

Even if he doesn’t quite say it, you feel it. You feel it in his gaze, the way he teases you lightly. You feel his unmistakable warmth and you allow yourself to feel warm, too.

***

The threshold for your depression feels like it’s been shifted higher. While it still exists and is very real and tangible... It feels like if depression was the ocean floor, you were hovering several hundred feet above it. With your continuous therapy sessions and better habits, you feel like you’re doing better. Even from before you had started spiraling.

Tonight, you were hosting a board game night at your apartment with your friends. You had asked them to only bring themselves and to not even think of bringing food or drink with them.

You were stocked with everything under the sun, from snacks to food to drinks. You had spent the better part of the day cooking and baking.

The familiar but unfamiliar feeling of warmth has you excited.

While some days still felt quite heavy and impossible, you had the courage to get through those days. You knew seeing your friends more often wouldn’t cure you… But it would certainly make you feel supported, cherished, and valued. And despite knowing that your friends would be there for you, you still sometimes can’t help but feel like too much. Those thoughts are sometimes hard to dismiss. Some days, you’re louder than those thoughts. And other days, those thoughts are louder than you.

But you get by.

Soon enough, your apartment is filled with the sounds of laughter and music, and you’re certain you haven’t quite stopped smiling. You wonder if this could be what the meaning of life is- this warmth that truly only came from a place of comfort with yourself and with others around you. You watch Bucky and Steve bicker while Sam instigates and Natasha looks on, shaking her head in amusement. Sam looks up at you, laughter fading into a gentle smile. You wonder if he knows what you’re thinking.

You wonder if the answer to the question that had transcended all of time could be found right here in the middle of your apartment.

#sam wilson x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #avengers x reader #tw: depression #tw: alcohol #im nervous lowkey for this LOL

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helenarlett-rex · 3 years ago

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Me: I just realized what kind of vibe I get from Ankha porn...

Friend: Dominatrix?

Me: No... Look at these pictures, and all the countless other pictures just like them. Ankha never looks like she's overly into it. A complete contrast from her partners. She always looks like she's just... doing it... and that's all... Like it's just another task. No different than any other daily activity. And yet at the same time we know she does in fact want to do it. If only from going by the famous video... She wants it, but it seems utterly mundane to her. She has this attitude of, “Yes, I want to have sex, but it’s nothing special...”

Friend: You think she's ace?

Me: Yeah. That's the vibe she gives me. She comes off as a sex-positive, sexually active asexual. Someone who doesn't feel sexual attraction but still has sex simply because she likes to.

Friend: It's possible.

Me: And I know this is by no means Nintendo's official stance on her character. This is just an observation based on the current image of her the fans have propagated in pornographic fan art... but that image screams asexual who wants to fuck. Which isn’t unheard of either... We exist. There are plenty of sex-positive, sexually active asexuals.

Friend: So, I sorta understand from the outside, but can you explain sex positive asexuals? Or rather, the difference between them and regular... sexuals?

Me: Okay so there are two types of asexuals... I mean, not really... There are far more than just two types... but for the sake of this explanation let's just say there are two types. Sex-repulsed asexuals, and sex-positive asexuals. Sex repulsed means exactly what it sounds like. You don't like sex at all. It's disgusting and you don't want to see it, hear about it, or even think about it. While sex positive don't feel that way at all. They still don't experience sexual attraction, but they aren't put off by sex and it doesn't bother them when they see it. One way to think about it is like this... Let's say I sit down and watch The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. And let's say I actually enjoy it and have fun watching the movie. Does that mean I want to go out and butcher a bunch of people and feed them to my family? No, of course not... But it's still entertaining to watch. A sex positive asexual is someone who is able to view sexual things the same way I would view The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. While a sex repulsed asexual would view sexual things the same way a person who can't stand gore or violence would view The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. But then you can take it a step further and you have sex positive, sexually active asexuals. They would be the kind who are like, "Well... It doesn't exactly do anything for me... But I guess butchering a bunch of people and feeding them to my family could be an interesting experience... I'm not really doing anything at the moment, so... Sure, why not? Hand me the chainsaw." And you even have some who are like, "Huh... I don't really WANT to butcher people... I have no desire to butcher people... But butchering them DID still feel pretty good... Yeah, I guess I'd do it again. Same time next week? Don't be late, okay? If it runs into my yoga time we'll have to put it off for another week. I want to do this but... not enough to interrupt my yoga time." Does any of this make sense to you?

Friend: I get it. Kinda...

Me: Asexuality is a spectrum so I know it can be confusing.

Friend: You're sex positive I'm assuming.

Me: Yes. I guess if you are still having trouble understanding it, you could use the cake analogy instead. Or garlic bread if you don't like cake... You aren't hungry but I give you cake and you eat it anyways because you still like how cake tastes. As a gray asexual... and a sex positive one... I'm generally not hungry... But I still like how cake tastes so if you offer it to me, there is a good chance I'll eat it anyways... Unless it's one of those nights where I just really can't eat cake because it just doesn't sound like it would go with what I already had for dinner and I don't want to make myself sick by eating cake and raw oysters... But then there are rare occasions where I'm suddenly like, Oh my god I AM hungry. Why haven't I been eating? Do you have any cake? But getting back on track, I guess the difference between me and a “sexual” person is that Ankha vibe I was talking about. Which I can tell you that I for one feel a very strong connection to... I'm not exactly interested in sex the same way you are... but I still enjoy my body and like playing with it. If someone else wants to play with it with me I'm probably fine with that. Just don't take it to heart if I don't look like I'm into it. I am... just not the same way you are. I don’t have the same attraction to this sort of thing that you do, so this is something completely different for me than what it is for you. We’re each getting very different things out of it.

Me: But long story short, all I’m really trying to say is... Ankha is the one asexual icon the community has been missing. A sex-positive one.

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dabblescrawl · 5 years ago

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Once Bitten, Twice Shy - Part One

Request by @ratatata-ah While Oscar is incarcerated, the reader took care of Cesar and when Oscar gets out he and the reader (Monse’s cousin) meet for the first time. Oscar quickly becomes infatuated with the reader and invites her to his “welcome home” party to get to know her more. The reader is shy and Oscar is very flirtatious trying to get her to open up more. Long story short, the series could be about Oscar falling in love with the reader

Monse and her crew had been friends since birth it seemed. In truth, I suppose it was grade school when they were all kinders and the rag-tag group had formed. Monse, always her style, had been the outspoken one who took quickly to learning. Cesar had kept up with her academically and they had often found themselves in the same groups assigned by their teachers. The pair’s quick wit and blunt personalities had matched right away. Cesar was also a protector. Even as small children Ruby and Jamal had been in need of that. And so the small group of wildly different perspectives had formed.

Sitting in the Diaz house now watching them argue about the rules for Clue, I rolled my eyes. Their little group seemed to conflict more than they agreed, and yet the soon to be high schoolers seemed tight as ever. Often when you were watching them spend time together like this you were slightly jealous of their tight bond. Despite any bickering or arguments, the group always had each other’s backs. They protected and supported one another. The world be damned and destroyed if it tried to hold down any one of the four.

Many times I’d wished my friendships were like that. Of course they weren’t. Sure I had friends but I am a continuous giver without much reciprocation. I am a part of several friend groups due to my kind spirit and personality, but none of those groups ever felt like my own, not the way the Core 4 belonged to each other. It probably was related to my hesitant and unsure nature when it came to sharing myself with others. It was easier to be a yes woman and do what was asked of me than build any personal connections.

Shaking away the thoughts of self pity and jealousy, because those never resulted in anything good, I elected to see what was still in the fridge from my last shopping trip. Opening the door I saw a few things but nothing of substance left. I nodded to myself, grabbing the keys off the countertop and heading towards the door.

“I’m going to the store,” I announced, my words unheard over the game, “Ay!” I shouted over their voices to try again. Four sets of eyes trained on me. “Cesar and Monse, any requests from the store for food this week?” Both preteens shook their heads negative. “Ok, well I’m going now then, and then when I get back…”

“Everybody better get their asses outside to help carry it in.” They answered.

I nodded, “And then everybody is going home,” which was answered by 4 sets of eye rolls. “Eh, eh, it’s a school night,” four more nods. “Last call on requests because…”

“I’m only going once” they echoed again, cutting me off.

“Awww,” I replied sweetly tugging at Monse’s check who was closest to me, “I have trained you so well.” I giggled and headed out the door as the bickering started again.

The mothering thing had come naturally to me, but I guess that was to be expected, I had raised myself from a young age. When Uncle Monty first started long hauls he was only gone overnight and I’d gone to stay with Monse. But the money was better and I was free anyways so nights turned to weekends, and weekends, turned to weeks, and those weeks were sometimes continuous. I’d lived there through most of high school and simply stayed after I graduated three years ago. I’d always been able to go out on a limb for either Monse or Cesar and be more assertive, but when it came to myself that was a skill I lacked.

After Cesar’s brother had gotten locked up, he’d been a mess. How was a 10 year old kid supposed to take care of himself? And the truth was, he wasn’t. In fact, it was by some miracle at all that he’d been overlooked and allowed to continue to live outside of the foster system himself. And I intended to keep him that way. Sure, he was alone a lot, but the Core 4 and myself also tried to have him around as much as possible. So really, he wasn’t alone all that much more than you or Monse. The thought of foster care just did too much to disrupt his life so you’d made it your mission to make sure it didn’t happen to either of them.

Pulling the coffee off the pot and pouring it into the cup I slid my phone out of my pocket and speed dialed 2. “Hello” came the groggy voice on the other end.

“Morning, sleepy head” he smiled into the phone, “Have you taken a shower yet?” The voice mumbled an affirmative. “What’d you have for breakfast?” The voice slurped into the phone as if to answer the question.

Mouth clearly full, the answer was garbled, “Cereal”.

I nodded to myself, “Brushed your teeth?”

“YES MOM” was answered from the frustrated half yell.

“Listen here friend,” I started, “it’s a call or a visit, you want your mornings to yourself you just answer.”

“I know” Cesar conceded, “I have to get dressed so I’ll be ready when everybody gets here.

“Have a great day, learn something new, and…be good” we finished in unison. “Bye, companero”

“Bye”

I hung up and took the first deep gulp of piping hot coffee. Ok, one down, one to go. I marched off towards Monse’s room where I completed almost the same routine with much more resistance from Monse than Cesar had given me. The teen years were going to be fun.

With everyone off to school you hurried around to tidy up the house, finish getting ready for work, and barely made it out the door on time.

Monse had just left for writing camp for the summer. For the first time in a long time, there wasn’t a kid in the house for you to take care of. You’d picked up extra shifts, carefully scheduling them when Cesar should be asleep or with friends so that he wouldn’t be alone all the time.

As seemed to be my norm, I had done some favors for my friends this morning and was completely behind when I had wanted to leave. I texted Cesar apologizing and letting him know I would make a late lunch, instead of noon as we had planned. No response yet, I hoped he hadn’t decided to eat without me.

I hurried to finish getting ready and chose to leave the house with soaking wet hair. I mean Cesar has seen me before, no need to waste anymore time getting prepped, we were just having lunch.

I pulled into the drive and noticed quite a few more cholos in the yard. I frowned, that’s weird, sometimes different homies come around to check on Cesar, but never this many. Something had to be going on.

I stepped out of the car and headed for the house. Opening the door I yelled for Cesar, “Hey, Cesar, just me. I’ll get lunch started!” I made my way into the kitchen without really taking a look around, “Also, what’s going on, there’s like a bunch of people outside.” I pulled the ingredients for lunch from the cabinets and the fridge with ease, after all it’s not my first time cooking here.

“Uh, Y/N” Cesar said, seemingly hesitant near the fridge.

“What’s up dude” I smiled and continued about my business.

“And who do you think you are?” a deep, booming, voice came from behind where Cesar stood.

I turned and my jaw dropped to see Cesar’s older brother Spooky behind him. Blinking a few times, I gathered myself.

“Uh, hi, Spooky” I started, then gained a little more confident and raised my voice above a whisper, “You probably don’t know me, I am Monse’s cousin, Y/N.” You paused as the information didn’t seem to answer his question, his face hard and betrayed no emotion. “Um, I have been watching out for Cesar since you’ve been gone.” I finished.

“Yeah, Oscar, she’s been awesome. She checks on me every day, and does the grocery shopping, and well most of the cooking too.” Cesar started his words tumbling out in a rush.

“Monse’s cousin?” he asks.

I nod, “Yeah, my mom is Uncle Monty’s, that’s Monse’s dad, sister. I didn’t move to Freeridge full time until she died” I shrugged, it was old news.

He nodded as if taking in this new information. “Well thanks for taking care of my mano'' he said, placing his hand on Cesar’s shoulder.

“Now I get why everyone is outside” I answered, turning back to the food, “well” I said clicking my teeth and surveying the contents of the fridge. “I don’t think I have what we need to serve everybody. But I can do lunch for the three of us.” I said turning back to the Diaz brothers and waving my pointer finger in a circle at each of us and each nodded in turn.

“Give me like” I made a calculating face waving my hands in that little up down motion for about “20 minutes and it’ll be on the table. Give or take.” I amended my previous statement.

When I finished lunch, I laid it out on the table and mostly listened to Cesar detail to Spooky everything that had gone on since he’d been locked up. There was a lot to catch up on in Cesar’s life, and that of the block. Mostly I was quiet but every now and then Cesar would turn to me for a detail or I’d prod him about a subject that he’d forgotten to include. Spooky would look at me intently each time I did speak and I couldn’t figure out the look he was wearing when he did.

After lunch I cleaned up and was headed for home. “Ay, Y/N” Spooky stopped me before I left for the afternoon. “We’re having a party tomorrow night. Beers on me, thanks for taking such good care of Cesar.”

Standing in your room you weren’t quite sure what you should wear. Parties weren’t really your thing after all. The concept was always appealing but the practice was always less than desirable. At the time that you had accepted it had sounded like a fine idea and now you weren’t really looking forward to it at all. You weren’t even sure you’d know anyone there at all except Spooky. Well and possibly Cesar, but, the idea of drinking with a nearly 14 year old made your motherly, legal, brain uncomfortable. You laughed at yourself, because a Santos party was the place to be concerned about legality.

Sighing and looking back at your bed you decided to play eeny meeny miney mo with yourself. If you didn’t choose soon you’d chicken out entirely. I wanted to try to be a little more adventurous and also I had told Spooky I would be there, if I don’t go it’s like backing out on a promise. In the end you ended up with a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a strappy but flowy tank. My hair isn’t usually as unruly as Monse’s, but today I had no such luck. I threw it in a couple of tight braids and hurried to put on some make up. I looked at myself in the mirror on my door as I tied my converse. Close enough, I thought.

When I got to the Diaz house I was grateful for 3 things, my outfit allowed me to stay relatively cool and comfortable even in the California summer evening, I had chosen to walk because the curb was packed with cars, and Cesar was right out front. If it hadn’t been for his catching my eye, I probably would have turned around before ever stepping foot into the party. There were a lot of people here, like A LOT of people.

Cesar had taken me to the backyard as he’s been instructed by Spooky and cracked open my choice of beers. I was both afraid to drink too much and too socially awkward not to get a little liquor courage in my veins. “Next, stop, Spooky” Cesar announced.

“What?” I asked eyebrows furrowed.

“He said he wanted to know when you got here, he was by the DJ last time I saw him” Cesar turned and began snaking through the people in the yard and a beat or two later I was following him.

Read Part Two Here

#Oscar Diaz #oscar imagine #oscar x reader #oscar diaz imagine #oscar on my block #spooky imagine #spooky x reader #spooky on my block #spooky diaz #spooky diaz x reader #on my block imagine

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