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delopsia · 2 years

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Just And Just As | Nick Furcillo X Reader

Word Count: 10,000 t.t Cross Posted Here on AO3 Warnings & Notes: Implied NSFW, brief mentions of food. Really just a lot of fluff and borderline smut. Idk man, I blacked out when I wrote this. Gender-neutral reader and mentions of a height difference because I couldn't resist.

No, no no no, this is not how your plan ends.

The voices behind you are growing louder. Closer. They'll be here any moment. Trembling hands turn the doorknob once more. It turns. Pull again. Nothing. The damned thing is jammed and won't budge.

"Y/N!"

Shit.

They're almost here. They know this is where you've gone. Any moment now and they'll be rounding that bend into camp. One more time. One more time.

Again, you turn the knob and pull.

No dice. You're accepting defeat - the ziplines would have been a better place to run. Fuck, why did you choose the fucking pool of all places?

The doorknob tears out of your hands as it flies open. Familiar hands grasp your wrists and tug you inside. There's no time to grasp what just happened, no time to avoid stumbling face-first into a broad chest.

"Whoa!" The door audibly slams shut behind you. "What's got you in such a rush, sweetheart?"

Temptation to step back is ebbed away by the arms that circle around you, gently securing you against his chest, fingertips tracing circles into your spine.

"The campers were getting close," you grumble, peering up to meet his eye, "and I couldn't get the damn door to open."

He's silent — just for a moment, brown eyes flickering to the door, then back down to you. "You do remember..." he pauses to fight the big, goofy grin that's sprawling across his face — his efforts are futile, "that the door is a push to open, right?"

Your cheeks burn.

"Oh my god," you bury your face back into his chest, concealing your shame, "what am I supposed to even say after you've just stood here and witnessed me act a fool for a full two minutes?"

"You could say, 'Nick, you're such a good boyfriend, thank you so much for saving me from those rabid counselors and their equally vicious kids'," you're vaguely aware of a nose bumping against the side of your head. It's the best he can do to bend down and rest his head next to yours without outright bending down.

Nick's fingertips ghost up your naked spine, featherlight, settling at the base of your neck. They're firmer, a singular finger tapping the skin there until you draw your face from his chest to meet his gaze. "You look beautiful in this swimsuit," it's barely a whisper, so quiet that you briefly consider whether or not you'd actually heard it. The flame in Nick's cheeks state otherwise, visible even in the darkness of the pool room.

"I wish you could have come to the island with us," your hand wanders up to brush the hair from his eyes, he leans into it, "you would have loved the view from the treehouse."

"Unfortunately, someone around here has to keep all the campers fed," Nick tilts his head to press a kiss into your palm. He misses by a bit, getting the side of it more than anything, but still, it lands. "I've got a lot better of a view right here, anyway."

Both of your cheeks go up in flames, and you have to look away for a moment to regain your composure. You're not quite sure who the comment affected more, you or him. Words are hard to come by, your fingertips idly fidgeting with a lock of his hair. All this effort and planning for some alone time together, and now you can't even find the words to respond to a witty compliment. Nick takes hold of your hand, guiding it further up until you've fully tangled your digits in his long hair. It drives you impossibly closer to him, noses bumping together in your efforts to compensate for your height difference without standing on your tiptoes.

"I hope Jacob didn't trouble you too much while you were out," he says, with a dimpled frown. Jacob's constant pestering has only ramped up now that he became witness to a poorly timed peck on the lips — so much for keeping your relationship a secret, for your sanity's sake.

You shake your head, nose rubbing against his in an unintentional nose kiss, "he's calmed down since your stint in the woods last week." The image of Nick losing his temper and slamming Jacob up against an oak tree is one that will forever be burned into your memory.

Nick's stepping away, and for a fleeting moment, you're afraid that he's suddenly decided that you're far too awkward for his tastes. There's the slightest of tugs upon your wrist and it hits you that he's just leading you behind the lockers. As soon as you've rounded the corner, Nick's crowding your space, backing you into the corner until you have no space left to give him.

His lips bump against yours, touching but not quite there, "you seem to enjoy bringing that up," he observes, and before you can defend yourself, he cuts you off, "you couldn't possibly have a thing for me being mad, hm?"

Again, words fail to find you. You're saved by the familiar pressure of lips against your own, just a peck, one, two, three, four times. He goes in for a fifth, and this time you're standing on your tiptoes and catching him off guard, kissing him properly. Nick whines oh so softly, big, clumsy hands finding their way to your waist as he leans into it. The sound travels its way straight to your core, lighting a fire that burns impossibly brighter as a palm travels down your hip, fingers seizing a plush thigh. He does this every time, yet you still squeak against his lips as your leg is guided up to his hip.

You have to break it, lungs burning as you take a deep breath in, and with Nick's shoulders as leverage, hoist yourself up. It's a far cry from your first attempt, where you had jumped too low and Nick reacted too slowly, finding yourselves in a red-cheeked heap on the kitchen floor and fumbling for an excuse when Mr. H rushed in, fearing the worst.

Nick's giggle shatters the memory, and only now do you become aware of the thin trail of saliva connecting your lips. He makes no effort to break it, squeezing your thighs as he meets your lips once more. Here, with Nick comfortably settled between your legs, it's so much easier to kiss him, no ache from craning your neck up and standing on your tiptoes, just the comfortable flutter in your chest as your lips melt against his.

Cheeky, you nip at his plush bottom lip, tugging it in the slightest of nips. He gasps, lips parting oh so beautifully. He knows your tricks, meets your tongue halfway, chuckling at your surprised retreat. He chases you, hot tongue delving into your mouth, tangling with your own in the softest of touches. He tastes like peanut butter. Your lungs burn as you chase him back, spit-slicked lips sliding against his in the messiest of kisses.

You don't have much time, you both are aware of that, and you take the chance to break away from him in exchange for further ventures, catching your breath in between pecks and licks down his neck.

"Baby," he warns, and you're becoming increasingly aware of a blooming pressure between your legs.

The warning is futile, though, because your lips land on a sensitive spot just below his jaw, sucking at it gently. Nick twitches under your touch, pressing you further into the lockers with his hips, a newly freed palm gripping the back of your head as your tongue salves across the spot. The pressure of Nick between your legs is a new one, you can't quite recall a moment where he was ever this close.

"Baby wait, oh," he's powerless at the way that you nip at his skin, it's one of your favorite things to exploit.

Light explodes above you, white LEDs burning into your poor retinas.

Nick's letting you down almost immediately, backing away as if burned. The room feels impossibly cold without him crowding your senses, drowning you in all he has to offer.

"I knew I'd find you two stooges in here somewhere," Mr. H's voice is jarring, compared to how softly you and Nick had been speaking. It's only now that you realize that you've shut your eyes. "The hell are you two doing in here?"

"Intense game of rock paper scissors," Nick supplies, "we're going to Nationals, haven't you heard?"

When Mr. H doesn't immediately buy it, you fill in with your preplanned lie. "I got a migraine from the sun and this was the only quiet, dark place we could find," you've told this lie so many times that everyone is beginning to think it's true.

"Where are the sunglasses I bought you?" Mr. H makes a motion for you and Nick to head towards the door. You follow without question.

"Emma borrowed them for a theater class and never gave them back," at least you're honest, this time, "it's all an exploit to keep me from telling you how she's sneaking out at night."

"Are you sure you don't want us to tell you how they're doing it?" Nick chuckles, bumping his shoulder against yours with a not-so-discreet wink.

Mr. H shakes his head, fumbling with his keys. Hell, he's locking the door this time. "I want to catch them organically, in the act," he says, rather jovial for a man who just walked in on two of his counselors making out in the locker room, "what use am I if I can't even catch two horny twenty-year-olds sneaking out?"

His loss, you suppose. Ever since Emma figured out that Mr. H religiously goes to bed at 10:45 PM sharp, gets up once to pee at 2 AM, and then sleeps until 6:30, they haven't been caught once.

Nick bumps you again, harder this time, forcing you to glare up at him and acknowledge his presence. There's a red spot under his jaw and a funny little glint in his eye — like he's gotten away with murder.

"Back to why I'm looking for you, Y/N, you have a patient, and Nick, you have mouths to feed." Just like that, your excitement has exited from your body and flown off to the high heavens.

Back to work.

Blaire Whitson is one of those children that is almost always in your office, nursing a new injury. Yesterday she fell off the swing and cut her hand wide open, the day before that, she burned her tongue on a freshly roasted marshmallow.

"Why did Lucas push you off the canoe?" Talking is hard when you're focusing on this stubborn splinter, but it's all you can do to keep the poor girl from crying.

She huffs, loud and dramatic, "same reason he pushed me out of the tree last week. He doesn't like that I have a crush on Antonio."

You've almost got this splinter, but she keeps moving and you keep losing the damn thing, no matter how hard you try to keep her knee still.

"I still think he's just jealous," there's only one person at this camp who bares that accent.

"Hi, Counselor Nick," Blaire giggles. In her moment of distraction, her knee finally holds still long enough for you to get that damned splinter. She doesn't even notice it.

"What are you doing all the way up here?" You sneak a glance up to Nick whilst you reach for the Neosporin.

He's settled himself in the doorway frame, idly massaging his wrist as he watches you do your thing. "Burned myself in the kitchen," he lifts his hand, showing off the angry red burn along the side of his right palm, "my hired help turned on the wrong burner."

You don't need to ask who his hired help is. It is common knowledge that Dylan is a menace in the cafeteria and should not be allowed within fifty feet of a microwave, regardless of whether he's being chaperoned or not. You suppose that's why you've been smelling something burning for the past half hour.

"Why would Lucas be jealous?" You haven't quite figured that one out, just seems like childish bullying, but you're not usually spending time with the kids.

Nick settles in an open chair next to you, still has a faint red mark along his neck. You practically have to drag your eyes away from it, and only because Nick is leaning over to whisper in your ear. "Ryan confiscated a love letter from him this morning."

Ah.

It takes less than a minute for you to finish cleaning up Blaire's injuries, and then she's rushing off to get dinner before it's too late. She's eaten late meals in your office far too many times for it to be a fun experience for her anymore, and you're thankful that she doesn't linger like a lot of kids do.

"Sit." You point a finger at the newly empty bed, getting up to fetch a cold compress and anything else you suspect you may need to treat his burn. You assume it can't be too bad — Nick has never been great at hiding his pain, and he doesn't seem all that bothered right now.

The burn isn't too bad, much to your relief. Nick whines every time you touch it, but that's the most you gather out of him.

"Love note, huh?"

"Said something about being upset that every girl likes his brother and not him," Nick grumbles as you massage aloe into the angry flesh of his hand, "couldn't imagine why the ladies aren't all over him."

"It's almost as if people avoid bullies, out of fear of being bullied themselves," you're struggling to focus on the task at hand. Nick's uninjured hand working its way up your shoulder is proving to be quite distracting.

"What? You don't consider being shoved out of a canoe a quality trait in a man?" He teases, giggling at his own dumb comment.

"Not exactly, no," you raise your head at the same time he does, brushing your noses together.

You can't quite bring yourself to pull away. You really should, considering the door is wide open, but you can't resist just one kiss. It seems Nick had the same idea, because he meets you halfway, chases you down for another as soon as the first one ends.

"I wish we got to have more alone time," he pouts, the moment your lips have left his. "There's literally nowhere to escape, and our wonderful coworkers take over the boathouse every damn night."

An idea strikes you as you reach for the gauze. "Why don't we sneak down to the ziplines? There's a dock down there, too."

"Oh thank the Lord, are you two finally gonna fuck?"

You're not sure when Dylan arrived, but there he is, smug as ever in the doorway. Before you can ask what he's doing here, he points to your medicine cabinet. "I need hard drugs and a nap."

Ah, right.

Dylan has a habit of getting migraines while in the cafeteria. Something about the various noises and smells just sets him off. He's brought his honorary bottle of water, saving you the trouble of fetching one yourself.

"Cabinets unlocked," you supply, beginning to wrap Nick's hand, "don't overdose."

You know the drill by now. Feed Dylan some painkillers and allow him a 30-minute nap on one of the beds, and he's good as new. You're thankful that he doesn't follow up on his first statement. If there's anyone at this camp who knows how to tease without being a genuine pest, it's Dylan.

Jacob should start taking lessons.

"Is this where you go every night after dinner?" Nick is so wrapped up in his new revelation that he doesn't notice when you finish wrapping his injury, leaving his hand stuck out even as you step away to put your things back.

"Congrats, you've found me out," Dylan says around two ibuprofen, "took you long enough."

You don't have to ask about what's coming next, ushering Nick out of the room to avoid any more fussy remarks from your most frequent patient. You just so happened to have picked the one room with a decent mattress, and Dylan religiously picks that room to sleep in.

"What's going on?" Nick wonders aloud, once the door has fallen shut behind the both of you.

"That room has the only decent mattress," you elaborate, yawning, "Dylan refuses to sleep anywhere else."

With Dylan curled up in your office, Nick walks you down to the cafeteria under the promise of reheating a meal for you. Dinner is already over, much to your dismay, but there seem to be some perks to dating the lead chef. The kitchen is a damn mess, but it's one that Nick seems to know like the back of his hand. He breezes through it, alternating between a variety of pots and pans seamlessly. There's only one empty space, in the corner next to the fridge. You swear Nick keeps it cleared just because you always sit there. You're just beginning to sit down on the wooden stool when he comes bounding over like a puppy.

"Chili mac 'n cheese," he announces in his best southern accent, placing a bowl in front of you, "and cornbread." The cornbread is on a napkin, he's been improvising ever since Dylan knocked over a whole rack of plates last week.

"Is this how you got rid of all those different noodles?" There are at least five different noodles in this, even alphabet pasta, strangely enough. Nick nods, long hair bouncing with the motion. He's always like this, eagerly awaiting your reaction to his cooking.

Nick can be quite the chef when he wants to be, and that proves to ring true even with this unusual-looking chili. He starts grinning when you go in for a second bite and cheers when you give him a thumbs up.

"Do you have tomorrow figured out or is that still a work in progress?" You ask, reaching up to push his hair from his eyes.

"Chili spaghetti," he chirps, around a mouth of cornbread. He's been obsessed with it ever since Mr. H lent him the Hackett family recipe, makes it two or three times a week anymore.

You're not sure if you heard him right. "Chili what now?"

"Chili spaghetti," he says, slower this time, "my dad and I tried it after we went camping midwest last year. I've been thinking about it ever since." His stomach growls as he speaks, as if to put emphasis on his statement.

If you had your phone, you would look this up, because you have no idea what the hell this entails. Alas, Mr. H is hellbent on keeping the camp as "original as possible", whatever that means. It makes sense for the counselors, but you'd really appreciate it if he would lighten up on the rules. Especially considering how often you overhear him playing Candy Crush.

Boomers.

You finish your food quickly — Nick's waiting on you before he starts cleaning, and you'd like to lend him a hand so that he doesn't get stuck in here until 11 PM again. It's happened before and you'd feel guilty if you let it happen again. You take off to hunt down stray utensils in the cafeteria, while Nick begins the long, strenuous process of washing every single dish by hand.

"I have eleven runaway spoons and a singular plate," you announce, upon your re-entry. Nick makes a noise, you can't tell if it's him acknowledging you or if he's just pissed off with the pot he's scrubbing. He's got a glove on his burnt hand, which only seems to be getting in the way more than anything.

With a clean towel, you dry the dishes and put them away, working as quickly as you can to catch up to Nick's queue. It's not hard — most of the dishes are the same and as such, go in the same places. Between that and the pots, you catch up to Nick rather quickly. You're leaning against the counter, waiting for the next dish when Dylan comes bounding in.

"We're back in business boys," he yawns, making a beeline for the spare sink, "Y/N I hope you can keep up."

Going into this, you weren't aware it was a challenge. Regardless, you're up for it. With two pairs of hands washing, your job gets a lot more hectic. Back and forth, you alternate between the two stations, drying the dishes as you walk them to their destinations.

"So are you two actually going down to the ziplines tonight?" Dylan asks as he hands you a particularly large knife, still dripping with water when you take it.

Nick's handing you a handful of spoons as you breeze past him. "Depends on whether we finish these dishes in time and if Mr. H catches us."

The knife block is just out of your reach, to your dismay. You have to clamber onto a stool to get to it, have to ignore the amused grins of your much taller peers. Sometimes you catch yourself wishing witchcraft was real, just so you could pay a witch to make them short for a day. Humble them a little. There's laughter outside, and you're pretty sure that's Kaitlyn who's raising her voice to garner everyone's attention.

Dylan huffs dramatically, sets down a bowl a tad too hard, "another campfire without us." It's an ongoing issue — the kitchen crew gets left behind to do all of the cleanups while the rest of the counselors go to the campfire to listen to Ryan's campfire tales. You used to go with them, but ever since you stumbled across Nick and Dylan washing dishes after midnight, you've felt too guilty to not help them out.

"We're almost done," Nick, ever the optimist.

You're working up a bit of a sweat, jumping between the two stations, drying dishes as fast as your hands will allow. Nick's moving as fast as he can. He really wants to make it to one of these fires — you can see it in his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed, tongue poked out of his mouth as he scrubs away, determined to get these dishes done.

"Is there a reason why the nurse is in the kitchen?" Mr. H's voice is so jarring that you nearly drop the plates you're cradling.

"I want to sleep at a decent time," Dylan's tongue is sharp as he speaks, "forgive us for accepting some much-needed help."

You choose not to speak, smiling as you breeze past to take another freshly washed dish. It would be far nicer if Mr. H would go ahead and just scold or kick you out, but he just stands there in the doorway, hands on his hips, staring. His presence makes it harder to focus on the task at hand. Your hands tremble as you take the next set of dishes, nearly drop a spoon when you're separating it from the forks. 'It's okay', Nick mouths, out of view of Mr. H's careful watch.

"Y/N, get to the campfire and help with the kids," your heart sinks, "I'll take over and help them finish up."

"We literally have ten plates left," Dylan deadpans.

Mr. H is quiet, stares until it begins to feel uncomfortable again. Frowning, you hand off your dish to Mr. H and head for the door. You feel like a stray cat being tossed out into the rain, slinking out into the rapidly darkening outdoors. The campers have already been herded down to the fire pit, leaving the main section of the camp empty and deserted. Walking alone in the woods is not your favorite cup of tea. It's not even that far, but the dark forest is ominous, trees towering overhead, bushes concealing God knows what behind them. The constant reports of kids seeing something lurking in the woods at night are certainly not helping the matter.

Alone and out of Mr. H's watchful eye, you drag your feet, walking as slowly as you can manage without outright stopping. Either time must be passing slower, or Mr. H is talking the boys' ears off because you find yourself approaching a roaring campfire and the boys are nowhere to be seen. Kaitlyn's waving you over, perched up on the 'Counselors Log' as she calls it. You're still not sure how she's managed to ward off all the kids, but she's successfully staked her claim and so far it seems to be well respected.

"How did flirting with Nick go?" She asks once you're within earshot.

"Great until Mr. H ran me off," pause for dramatic effect, "twice."

"Keep on trying my little Storm Trooper," you can smell the faintest twinge of alcohol on her breath, must've been a hard day for her to dig out the vodka she smuggled in, "once you get out of here, you'll be set for life with that man's fortune."

Here we go again. "I still don't know what makes you think he's rich," there's not much space on the log, you're surprised you have room to fit. Of course, all of the counselors could hypothetically fit, if Jacob wasn't taking up an entire quarter of it.

"Dude, he was wearing a designer jacket at orientation!" Emma chirps, kicking her feet. "He has to at least come from a little money."

Right on queue, Dylan and Nick walk around the bend. Mr. H follows closely behind, like some sort of creepy shadow. Something cold hits your legs, and you realize it's Kaitlyn handing you her canteen. "Hold this and pretend it's yours," she whispers, "I'm afraid Mr. H may be on to me and my drinking habits."

There's a big shuffle to fit the two extra counselors — Jacob doesn't want to move to the edge and close his damn legs, Ryan nearly knocks Abigail's notebook into the fire and she just about smacks him upside the head with it once it's returned. You find yourself teetering on the edge of the log, thrilled that Nick has chosen to sit next to you, but it's getting hard to stay on this damn log.

"This log could be just a little bit bigger," Nick chuckles, watching you struggle. "Would you rather sit in my lap?"

You're not sure if it's his words or if it's the raging fire that puts the red in your cheeks. "Are you sure?"

"Long as you're comfortable with it," he says it so easily like it's the simplest thing in the world.

Despite your better judgment —the kids are definitely not going to let this one go— you agree. Nick shuffles a bit, adjusting to the extra space, and reaches out for you with open arms. He curls around you, long arms securing around your waist as you settle into his lap. Vaguely, you become concerned that you may be a bit too heavy for him. You attempt to alleviate that worry by putting more of your weight onto your feet than you are in his lap, it's an awkward sensation.

Nick's arms tighten, pulling you the rest of the way down. Plan? Foiled. "You're not too heavy for me, darling, don't even worry about that," lips ghost against the shell of your ear, presses a kiss behind it. There's a loud gasp from the kids that has you freezing, fearing the worst. Did you do something?

Then you hear Ryan's voice, and it hits you that he's just telling a story. Nick's chin hooks over your shoulder, a welcome weight that draws the stress from your tired body. He's so warm, all wrapped up around you like an oversized blanket, it's like you were made to fit right into his arms.

You've forgotten about the canteen in your hand. At least, forgotten it until Kaitlyn reaches over and plucks it from your hand. "Don't you two just look cozy," she teases, and you feel Nick hide his face in your shoulder.

Ryan's tale of the night comes to a close, and the kids are not happy about it. A handful of them beg for another story in their shrill little voices, someone offers their fruit snacks as bribery. You really need to pay attention to his stories more often, they're the highlight of the night, and half the time, you don't even hear them.

"I think I've told a story for just about everything," Ryan's mostly just talking to himself, albeit loudly.

"Have you told a story about werewolves yet?" The words tumble out of your mouth before you can do anything about it.

Ryan's eyebrows furrow, and he's quiet for a moment. "Can't say that I have, actually."

"Hey guys," Mr. H is lowering his voice, stepping between you and the fire, "let's just skip the werewolf topic and get everyone to bed."

It's not like you're being scolded, you've done nothing wrong, but his tone makes you feel like you've committed the most heinous crime imaginable. Your coworkers share the same expression, confused beyond words.

"Mr. H, we still have thirty minutes before bed," Nick's protest goes nowhere. Mr. H's words are law, and if he wants everyone in bed now, what more choice do you have?

With a bucket of water, Mr. H puts out the fire, and you're once again tasked to do a job that you don't get paid enough for. Getting out of Nick's lap is the worst part—you feel so safe there; it's like nobody could lay a single finger on you.

Getting the kids back to their cabins is like herding cats. Someone is always doing their own thing and not listening to instructions, and it makes your job impossibly tricky. You lose sight of Nick rather quickly, too wrapped up in stopping a group of boys from marching off to 'hunt down the wendigos themselves'. In a way, their attitude reminds you of Jacob. Invincible until they're not. It's all you can do to keep the ringleader from tearing off into the night, and he's only talked out of it once you're out of the forest altogether.

"Campers, head to your cabins!" Kaitlyn shouts, "don't make me tell you twice!"

She's gonna have to tell them twice. About half the kids, including your Wendigo Fighters, trudge to their cabins, but the remaining half cant give a damn what she just said. Who's truly in charge here? Because it seems like the campers could overrun this place if they so chose. Speaking of running camps, you can see Mr. H tying some sort of rope to the side of the pool building. He's dragging the rope across the lawn, looks like he's taking it all the way across the main exit of camp. The hell is he doing?

There's a small voice behind you that barely stands out among the chatter of campers. Blaire stands behind you, Antonio close behind, holding her tiny little hand.

"Did you say something?" You ask, kneeling to get on her level.

"Counselor Nick asked me to ask you to come and save him," she repeats, pointing off to your right.

Ah. There's Nick.

He's amassed himself a small crowd, and he really doesn't look like he knows how to get out of it. This happens every time he opens his mouth; the kids love asking him to say things in his accent.

"Thanks, Blaire," you reach up to fix a stray hair, "head on to your cabin now, 'kay?"

With Blaire and her friend running off to their cabins, you're faced with the familiar task of saving your boyfriend from certain doom. You can hear the words he's saying, "butter," "squirrel," and "juice box," being the first three you hear.

"Okay, kids, let's not harass Counselor Nick anymore than we have to," you hate raising your voice, but it's the only thing that's ever worked in the past. The kids are disappointed, but they scamper off just as Kaitlyn whips out the megaphone.

You get the feeling that you're no longer their favorite Counselor.

With the megaphone out, you only have a few moments before you need to disappear into your respective cabins, but Nick's wandering hands are finding your waist, bringing you in for the quickest of kisses. "You never told me your plan for tonight, love."

You'd almost forgotten about that. Had you even planned anything?

"The two stooges sneak out at eleven fifteen; we might be able to get out after they do," you offer. Quite frankly, you have no other ideas.

"Works for me," another kiss, and then you're separating, jogging to your cabins before Kaitlyn can come after you. It's happened before—you still think your left ear is ringing a bit.

Your bunk isn't much, just some tiny thing tucked into the corner. The frame is cracking, so nobody sleeps above you, and you've tucked a spare sheet around it to create some makeshift curtains. It's nice; privacy is a rarity around here. As a bonus, your bed is pushed right up against the window, granting you full, unlimited access to it. You're really glad that you left the blinds open this morning because opening those would make a lot of racket.

The kids settle in rather quickly; your cabin has learned the hard way that Kaitlyn does not mess around when it comes to bedtime. She is a woman of routine, and she has no problem reminding them who is in charge. The problem is that now, the cabin is impossibly quiet, and you have nothing to help pass the time.

Pushing open the window helps a little bit—at least now you have some fresh air. The camp is eerily quiet, forest looming behind, a monster in plain sight. You will never understand how people go camping alone. What do you do if something gets ahold of you? If something goes horribly wrong?

It feels like an hour has passed before Jacob's cabin door opens up; your watch says it's only been twenty minutes. Emma comes out next. It's clear that she does this pretty often because she makes no effort to be quiet. How Mr. H constantly fails to catch them, you'll never know.

Nick's door is the last to open. He's more cautious about it, minding the squeaky, loose stairs far better than Jacob and Emma did. He crouches next to his cabin, only scurries across camp when the two have their backs turned on their way out of camp. Unfortunately for him, he isn't graceful enough to avoid stepping on and snapping a rather loud twig.

"Did you hear that?" Good lord, why is Jacob observant now, of all times? He wasn't very observant last week when he drove the golf cart into a ditch.

Emma is dismissive, you don't hear what she says, but she's tugging on his arm and urging him on his way. From behind the central tree, Nick pokes his head out, wide-eyed and pale. You feel like you're in a spy movie when you clamber out of the window as quietly as you can manage. The way that Nick scurries over reminds you of a puppy, clumsily tripping over his own feet, just barely able to catch himself.

The loudest cowbells you've ever heard ring in the distance.

So that's what Mr. H was doing earlier. You can hear his voice in the distance, a bright white flashlight landing on the two escapees. There's no time for Nick to run back, not without getting caught himself. Nick seems to have gathered that himself because he picks up his speed and jumps, grabbing onto the railing and hoisting himself over in one fluid motion. He doesn't need to say anything, you're already climbing back through the window, and Nick is tumbling in after you.

Limbs are everywhere, you don't know where Nick starts, and you end. This bed is barely big enough for you, never mind you and Nick. He might as well be a second blanket, with the way he's sprawled out on top of you, panting in your ear.

"This isn't how I imagined this escapade turning out," he whispers, voice unintentionally sending a ripple down your spine. He must feel it because he finally squirms himself away from your ear.

Mr. H is beginning his lecture outside; you can hear it in his tone. Preaching about responsibility and putting the kids first. You'd heard enough of this at orientation.

"After all, what will the parents think?" Nick mocks with a roll of his eyes.

"If something happens to the kids, their parents won't send them back next year," you finish, much to his delight.

Nick shuffles around, rearranging your positions to put you closest to the window. Your pillow barely accommodates the two of you, but you hardly even notice it. It's hard to think of anything when Nick's all wrapped around you, legs tangled with your own, barely an inch of space between you.

His hand slips under your shirt, settling flat on the small of your back. "Isn't it silly that a lecture is what brought us together?"

It was only a month and a half ago, but it feels like it's been a millennium since that day. Framed for a mistake made by Emma, you and Nick had been subjected to an hour-long lecture and a three-day sentence to cleaning. You've been bound at the hip ever since.

"Remember the fight in the showers?" It's growing hard to think; Nick is so warm that he's putting you to sleep.

He hums, "I was convinced that you hated me."

You'd coincidentally thought the same thing. Strange how all this worked out. Nick presses a kiss into your forehead, then another one, right between your eyes—you can't help but giggle at the sensation.

"Shh," a kiss to your nose, "your giggles are going to get us caught."

"Well, nobody was bothered by the cow—," you're cut off by a pair of familiar lips, effectively shutting you up. The kiss is too short for your liking, Nick may have only intended it to be a small peck, but you didn't sneak him into your bed just for a peck.

He gasps against your mouth, effectively surprised at how you chase him down, and for an agonizing moment, he goes still. Your hand finds its way up his chest, fingers splaying out over his heart, and that's what draws him from his stupor. It's a sensation that you never want to get used to, the way you fit together, the pressure of his soft lips against yours, the strength of his arms around you.

Teeth clack together with a soft noise; your mouth opens to him, a hot tongue delving into your mouth. His tongue is rather short, can't quite reach yours unless you meet him halfway, and the muffled whine you receive makes it all the more worth it. You don't know who's melting more, can't tell who is breaking kisses to gasp for air and who is starting them again. What you do know is that it's you who moves your leg up; it's Nick who whimpers when your thigh presses into your groin.

Oh, what you wouldn't give to be in a place where you could adequately act upon your inner thoughts.

"Fuck," Nick pants, breathless, although you're not much better yourself. He shifts a bit, only making your thigh press harder into him, and you suddenly become very aware of what you're doing to him.

Drawing your lips away from his feels like the most monumental task you've ever completed; it's all you can do to stop yourself from kissing him until your lips bruise and your heads spin. You don't want to go to sleep, but you know that if you continue on, neither of you may be able to stop.

Neither of you recalls exactly who fell asleep first or when. It just happened somewhere between Nick's thumb rubbing the side of your cheek and the novelty of sharing a bed for the first time. One moment you're gazing into sleepy brown eyes; the next, Nick's watch is vibrating and stirring you both from your slumber.

"What...?" Words are difficult. Your bones are heavy; it feels like you've slept for a century and a half.

"Just my alarm," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

Despite the growing need to get up and be ready before the kids, neither of you can bring yourselves to move. Nick is so warm against you, a stark contrast to the cool breeze coming in through the open window. The moment is fleeting, though, as Nick's watch reminds you of the time.

"Find me in the kitchen later," kiss, "I have something to show you." Before you know it, he's slipping out the door and scurrying back to his own cabin before Dylan can wake everyone with his announcements.

You don't get a chance to visit Nick until after lunch.

Usually, you have time in the morning, not for long but enough for a kiss on the cheek and a chat about the day's plans, but your day is going wrong in every possible way. First, two of the showers broke, and your morning shower rapidly turned into a midday one, and so, so many kids fell when on their trail hike with Ryan and Jacob. You've never seen so many scraped knees and elbows in your life.

When you do finally get to visit, Nick is... "What are you doing?"

Nick all but jumps, startled by your sudden appearance. It's short-lived because very quickly, he's grinning and waving you over to look at what he's concocting now.

"I don't get it," really, you don't. He's got what appears to be raspberries or strawberries in a strainer and a tin can underneath.

"Do you remember how Mr. H bought all that lemonade, and now we don't know what to do with it?" Whatever this is, he's excited, practically vibrating with it.

Cautious, you nod your head. You were one of the poor souls who had to carry all of it in and put it into the freezer. It's hard to forget that much lemonade.

Nick moves the strainer, revealing a bright red liquid underneath. "I made syrups," he can barely speak with how much he's smiling, "now we can have a little variety."

Where he's found the time to figure this out, you're not sure. He's handing you a glass from the fridge, already mixed with syrup and ready to go. Nick has never given you something that didn't taste amazing, and as you take your first sip, it continues to ring true. Strawberry lemonade.

"God, you look at Y/N like they hand-crafted the universe," Dylan must be coming up with these in advance—he's too quick with it.

"Hey," Nick scoffs, "you're not much better than I am."

"At least I don't give off the vibes of a golden retriever."

Speechless. That's what Nick is. Jaw slack, eyes wide as he glances at his reflection on the fridge. Now that it's been pointed out, you can't unsee it.

It falls quiet. Nick is still looking at himself in what you can only assume is horror; Dylan is getting into the granola stash, and you're so busy watching them that you don't even think to speak. Distantly, you think you can hear Emma and Jacob bickering, a familiar sound around these parts.

"Romeo and Juliet got sentenced to three days of hard labor," Dylan supplies around a mouthful of granola. Nick grimaces, and you can't tell if it's in response to the punishment or the granola.

"I can't believe Mr. H caught them with cow bells on a rope," there's a glint in Nick's eye as he speaks. "What's he got them doing?"

"Do you want to find out?" Mr. H's voice is loud, booming through the quiet little kitchen, effectively shaking you to your core. You don't realize that you've jumped and grabbed onto Nick until his arm is wrapped around you, anchoring you against him.

Emma stumbles in through the door, her cheeks red from the sun, "Y/N, can I borrow you? For...something?" Being borrowed means, you'll be busy until sundown. But you'll take anything over Mr. H staring through your very soul as if he knows all of your wrongdoings. Slipping from Nick's protective embrace, you follow her out of the building. She's got a mini play going on, but she needs extra hands, and Jacob is being particularly...Jacob, today.

"I just need someone to keep an eye on the extras and make sure they don't wander off," she tells you.

At first, you don't understand it, but then it becomes very clear that her group tends to wander. You feel like a herding dog, weaving back and forth and turning the little heathens back to the task at hand. One of the kids spills your lemonade all over the ground, and nobody owns up to it. You hadn't even gotten to drink much of it, and now your glass is completely empty.

Mr. H really doesn't pay you guys enough.

"Has Mr. H been rude to you lately, or is he just doing it to me and Jacob?" Emma asks you shortly after Ryan has come to escort the kids to dinner.

"He definitely has been sort of..." you have to stop cleaning up just to have a coherent thought. Yeah, now that she mentions it, he definitely has been teetering between pleasant and snappy lately. "Snappy? Menacing?"

"An ass?" She drops some gnome hats into her costume box, "he got mad at me and Jacob earlier just for being in the same room."

With all of the gnome gear packed away, the two of you are finally able to leave. The sun is already falling, bathing the forest in deep hues of red and orange—a true golden hour. It's comforting, a stark contrast to how menacing it can be once the sun goes down. A shiver ripples down your spine.

As you grow near the main building, Mr. H's truck tears out of the driveway, sending dirt and gravel flying up into a plume of smoke. Idle, Ryan stands stiff as a board where the truck was once parked. Even from a ways away, you can see the whites of his eyes, like a deer in headlights. When he finally does come to face you, he remains the epitome of shocked, jaw-slack, eyes distant.

"What's going on?" Emma's the first to speak.

Ryan's quiet for a moment, and then, "he's...leaving for the night?" He says it as if he doesn't quite believe what he's saying.

There's a cheer to your left. It sounds like Jacob and...

"Nick?" You're surprised to hear your own voice. He just grins, stepping out from beside Jacob to come to you.

"We're finally unsupervised!" Jacob looks like a little kid as he all but stumbles over to you, taking the box of props from your hands, "I'll take this."

With Mr. H gone, Jacob and Emma are bound at the hip again, and you get the feeling you won't be seeing them until morning. In the back of your mind, a tiny voice suggests you do the same, but your grumbling stomach has its own ideas. Nick doesn't need to say a word, taking your hand in his and walking you to the cafeteria.

Sometimes you think he'd go hungry if that meant keeping you fed.

Chili on top of spaghetti is not what you expect him to put in front of you. To be fair, he did tell you that this is what he'd be making, but it still gets you. For once, you get to sit at the Counselor's table, a luxury you don't often have these days. Nick settles next to you, absolutely enthralled with what he's made.

"Didn't you eat once already, Nick?" Kaitlyn remarks, biting into a slice of garlic bread. Nick's cheeks turn pink, all he can do is nod and stare at his empty plate.

Is he...pouting?

You choose not to bring it up with the others around, Nick's never been good at explaining what he's feeling, and teasing will only ensue if you ask. He does, however, scoot closer to you. Enough so that your thighs are pressed together, and your shoulders brush with every movement. You stay like that, listening to the conversations happening around you as you finish your food. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Dylan heading for the stairs, bleary-eyed and half awake.

Abigail leans her elbows against the table, lowering her voice as if Dylan can somehow hear her over all the chatter. "Where does Dylan always go this time of the day?"

"Not a clue," lying straight through your teeth. He's probably curling up in your office as you speak, but that's none of your concern.

With Mr. H gone, you and the counselors have free reign over what to do for the night, and together you all decide that the best thing to do would be letting them play at the cabins until bedtime. A far easier task than herding them to the fire and back.

The routine begins. Nick takes your dishes, disappearing into the kitchen just before Kaitlyn and Abigail begin directing the kids. In the blink of an eye, you're carrying leftover dishes into the kitchen, and you're once again taking up a towel to begin the drying process.

"I'm here, I'm queer," Dylan all but bursts into the kitchen, "and I don't want to be here."

"This would be so much easier if Mr. H would actually invest in this place," Nick's critique is not without reason. It feels like half of the camp is falling apart around you. From the unfinished construction and deteriorating structures to its barely functioning equipment. Hell, the golf carts are so old that parts for them are becoming rarer by the day.

"At least he's left us for the night," you try to be positive about the situation, but there's nothing positive about a whole bunch of dirty dishes.

It's dizzying, spinning back and forth between stations so mindlessly. With no Mr. H to worry about, it goes smoothly. Nothing gets dropped, and it's looking like none of Nick's plates have gone missing, for once. The same cannot be said for the forks, which seem to have dropped in numbers since yesterday, likely at the bottom of the trashcan. None of you get paid enough to go in after them.

It's quiet outside. Far too quiet, actually. Usually, you can at least hear the kids playing or a counselor talking a touch too loud, but all you hear tonight are crickets. Nick must be picking up on it, too because he's squeezing your hand a bit tighter than usual, and he's not torn his eyes away from the path.

Darkness has already fallen, casting a blanket of black and blues upon the forest. A full moon hangs in the sky, acting as the only light to guide you through the poorly-lit trail. The cabins are deserted, with not a child in sight.

"Can you believe it?" Kaitlyn's sudden appearance startles you. "We got everyone in bed without a singular thing going wrong."

"Gee, did you threaten them, or did they do that naturally?" Dylan barely dodges the swift kick that comes for his shins. You don't think he'd even have shins anymore if Kaitlyn's legs were any longer.

"It just required a werewolf story," you hadn't even seen Ryan sitting on the cabin steps. Had he been there the whole time? "Kaitlyn called for bedtime, and they scattered like roaches."

Abigail giggles next to him. "You should have seen them, scurrying to their cabins like a werewolf was after them."

As conversation blossoms, Nick lightly tugs at your hand, eyes darting from you to the beaten path leading to the ziplines. Well, here's your chance to finally go through with that plan. You move slowly, at first, feet treading lightly as you depart from your group. If anybody notices, they don't mention it.

Then, Nick's picking up the pace, and you're all out running, wrapped in a fit of giggles as you sprint hand in hand to the ziplines. Finally, finally, you have each other all to yourselves, with absolutely no one around to impose. The forest is dark and Lord only knows what's lurking in the shadows, but the path feels like it's lit up like a Christmas tree. Absolutely nothing can come between you, Nick, and the open trail ahead of you.

"Do you think they know we're gone?" Nick pants, just as the ziplines appear in your line of sight.

You're already stumbling to a slow walk, lungs burning, out of breath for all the wrong reasons. Nick's long strides are hard to keep up with. "Let's just hope they don't come looking for us."

The ziplines aren't as nice as the boathouse is. It used to be illuminated by a singular fluorescent lamp post, but the bulb has since gone out, and Mr. H refuses to buy "unnecessary lights." The stairs are a different monster in of itself. Old wooden boards creak menacingly beneath your feet, seemingly growing louder with every step you take.

"Y/N."

"Did you say something?" You turn to look up at Nick, who just cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy.

"Nope," he blinks, "at least...I don't think I did?"

It happens again, at the bottom of the stairs. A faint whisper of your name, fleeting, dancing around your ear just long enough for you to become convinced that you didn't make it up.

"Did you say my name?"

"Baby, I haven't said a word since the last time you thought I said something."

You're not sure if you buy it or not, but Nick is tugging you into his chest, wrapping you into the sweetest of hugs—tight, just enough to remind you that you're safe. He's got you. You're safe here. He sways you back and forth, the motion shaking all of the worries from your head and filling the space with nothing but Nick. Nick and his heart that you can feel pitter-pattering against your ear. The way his fingertips trace invisible shapes into your spine, the way his cologne meets your nose, a faint mixture of vanilla and coconut that's just barely there.

"It's just the forest playing tricks on you," he murmurs into your ear, chin heavy on your shoulder, "I've got you."

You only unwrap from each other to go and sit at the end of the dock, feet dangling off the edge. Nick's feet just barely avoid touching the water; any wrong move and you're afraid he may end up with wet feet.

"I think this is the first time we've ever truly been by ourselves," yawning, he leans over to rest his head against yours, "as strange as that is to say."

"Do you think we'll get more moments like this before summer ends?" You hadn't intended to ask that yet, but it tumbles out of your mouth anyway.

Nick hums, the noise sending a quiver down your spine. "I like to think that we will," soft lips press a kiss to the skin just before your ear, "maybe after we leave, we can have a night to ourselves at that one hotel in town."

"Harvester?"

"Harabinger?"

It starts with an H; that's all you can recall. It's hard to think with Nick's nose pressed against your cheek, hot breath fanning out against your sensitive skin. An unknown voice calls your name from across the shore; you know you heard it this time. Yet you pay it no mind—distracted by the kisses trailing across your cheek and the sparkling brown eyes that could drown you if you gazed into them for too long.

His lips meet yours, a gentle, unmistakable pressure that you've come to know so well over these past weeks. He breaks it, then comes back, once, twice, thrice. You don't have time to consider pulling him into something that isn't just a few teasing pecks; he does it all for you. It's soft at first, just a simple caress, and then he deepens it in a way that has your head spinning.

His arm is circling you, drawing you closer until there's no space between you, and that's still not enough. Even as his tongue licks into your mouth, testing the waters, he's still not close enough, won't be until there isn't an ounce of space left between your tired bodies. It's that feeling that guides you to breaking the kiss—you can barely manage it, especially not when Nick whines and attempts to chase you down— to swing yourself over and straddle his lap.

His surprise is heard only through a small gasp. It's short-lived, his arms circling your waist, gathering you against him. Your arms are draping around his neck, and then you're kissing him again. He's all you can think of, senses clouded with Nick, Nick, Nick. You can feel him now, pressed against you between your legs, and it's all you can do not to take advantage of that face.

"You do such crazy things to me," his accent is thick as he mumbles against your lips, breathing heavily.

He falls backward, taking you with him as his back hits the rotting wood of the dock with a soft thump. Then he's kissing you again, insistent mouth parting your lips, hot tongue meeting yours for a fleeting second. An unfamiliar heat blossoms in your core, a dancing flame that threatens to grow into a wildfire at the drop of a hat. Nicks's hands are everywhere, tracing up your spine, cupping your cheeks. All the while, he's humming against your lips, a small noise that you've rarely heard him make.

Your head is spinning too much for you to focus, leaves you no option but to break away and gasp for the sweet, sweet oxygen that fills your stinging lungs. Nick looks so pretty underneath of you, hair splayed out on the wood beneath him, swollen lips, and glistening eyes illuminated by the light of the moon. It's hard to stop. Even with how dizzy you've become, you can't resist leaning back in to kiss down his neck, tongue soothing over every spot you come across.

"Shit," Nick gasps, "wait."

Just like that, you've frozen in place. "Is something wrong?"

He shakes his head, fingers catching your chin to guide you back up to him for a sweet peck. "Not here," his voice is trembling, unable to get above a whisper, "I want to make it perfect for you."

You're rolling your eyes before you can stop yourself. "It's perfect right now."

"Baby, if I have you now, I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep myself off of you for another month."

He says it so seriously that you can't help but giggle. "You have a point."

Breathless, you settle down on top of him, your ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and his arms intertwined around you like a vice. Time has stopped; the only thing in this world moving are your two heaving chests. For just a moment, you close your eyes and just breathe.

You awake to a strange sensation. Nick's there; you can feel him against you, but your legs are swaying in such an unnatural way, and his heartbeat is no longer as loud.

"Are you carrying me?" It's a dumb question. As soon as you open your eyes, you're met with a sleepy-eyed Nick and the dark cabins looming directly ahead of you.

"I was trying not to wake you," he frowns, kissing your forehead. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't at least try to carry you to bed."

You grumble, burying your nose into his shirt. There's a weight in your chest that grows heavier the closer you get to the cabins. You really should get to bed, but even as Nick stands at your door, you can't bring yourself to get down. Nick's too warm to let go of.

"Baby?"

"Hm?"

"We're at your door."

"I know." You still make no effort to get down, only clinging tighter.

Nick chuckles, low and heavy in his chest. "Is this your way of saying you don't want me to go?"

Nod.

If Kaitlyn is awake, she doesn't say anything when Nick opens the door and steps inside. Only when he sits you on the bed, do you let go of him, just long enough to kick your shoes off and crawl under the covers. Nick is quick to follow after you, wrapping around you like a blanket.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

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lokitu · 2 years

Photo

Fast Food Rep, part 1

- commissioned and written by DeltaC -

i. Perlman: O’Grady! In my office…NOW!!!

O’Grady: Whoa Perlman ever heard of using your inside voice? What the heck has your shining dome spinning like a disco ball?

Perlman: Cut the bullshit I don’t want to hear it! Not now! Mind explaining what I am looking at here?

O’Grady: Huh? This is how you treat your Exec VP of Marketing? You really need to mind that tone. I’ll let it slide for now…

Perlman: Hey hot shot, for once can you just stop running your mouth, and for the love of god just answer my question!

O’Grady: Fine. You really aren’t much fun until you have that first swig of brandy.

Perlman: Get on with it. I am not getting any younger…

O’Grady: Perlman, buddy of mine, what we have here is our next marketing hit. I mean this here baby is going to go viral. Just look at that charming face and electrifying smile. This here is the face that will launch a thousand motorized scooters scooting into the double wide seating of our clients fine eateries across the nation. And not only that…

Perlman: Hard stop. Did you really go off script again? You were specifically instructed to stay on script. YOU were told to get an all American corn fed fat boy for this commercial. I am pretty damn sure I told YOU to get a guy with a dad bod borderline FAT. Why the fu..

O’Grady: Let me stop you there Perlman, buddy. Have I ever led you astray with any of my past decisions? How many times have I saved this ad agency from losing a single client? Come on Matty. Trust your golden goose here.

Perlman: Are you kidding me?! Not only have you gone off script but from the looks of it you didn’t even bother to get a professional model. Did you really pick out your fitness obsessed husband for this?

O’Grady: Matty you know that our viewers don’t want to see themselves on screen; they want to see an idealized version of themselves on screen. They’ll eat and buy anything we want so long as the right face is selling it to them. Besides, he is cute if I do say so myself.

Perlman: God dammit John! Here is the bottom line. Either your husband there gains enough weight to pass as a fat guy for this commercial or we are going the dad bod route. And by the looks of it your husband there won’t cut it as a dad. So, either he gets fat enough for this gig or you better start memorizing the script because you’ll be starring in the commercial. So, if I were you I’d put that raise you got last year to good use, fatten up that husband of yours or start investing in some big and tall clothing for yourself.

Golden goose? More like a golden cow. Hahaha!!!

Take this as a learning experience John. Don’t fuck with me. You don’t have the weight around here to pull this kind of shit. Well maybe you’ll have the weight soon enough.

Oh and one last thing you better get used to a well rounded husband in the bedroom. From what I hear, more cushion for the pushin is always much more fun.

*** O’Grady: Fuck fuck fuck!

Client requirements: Male: 6’0” + height Weight: 300 lbs minimum with a top weight of 500 lbs. Maximum weight is negotiable.* Sopkeman is to demonstrate weight gain as the project progresses. If the chosen spokesman is unable to meet minimum metrics a substitute MUST be found immediately.

*If the spokesman meets and exceeds maximum set weight he shall be given a personal fitness instructor to lose weight. Of course, if the model opts out of fitness instructor he may be compensated handsomely with an annual allowance for clothing and food.

***

Oh Christ there has to be a way out! There is no way I’m letting Steve gain weight. And there is no way in HELL I am going to replace Steve in the commercial. What kind of script is this? What company would even want a fat spokesperson purposely gaining weight! It has never been seen.

Steve: Hey John are you okay?

John: Yikes! Don’t sneak up on me.

Steve: Haha since when can I sneak up on you? Anywho, I can hear you cursing from the bedroom. Are you planning on coming to bed anytime soon?

John: Yes of course I’ll be right in babe. *oh god how am I going to break it to him. He doesn’t deserve to pay for my fuck up.*

Steve: Come on John. Put that paperwork down and let’s have some fun in the bedroom to help you unwind. If you’re lucky I’ll give you a back massage afterwards.

John: Awww you spoil me you know that right?

Steve: I know I do. Not as much as you spoil me though. I still can’t believe you want me to star in this commercial of yours. You know I have zero background in acting. I mean I am flattered and you know I will give it my all.

**Oh god my heart just dropped. I have to tell him. What is he going to say? How is he going to react? He’ll never forgive me. Everything is fucked**

Hey Earth to John! Are you listening? Come on, let's get you to bed.

John: Oh, oh right there. Stay on that spot. A little bit to the right…okay lower lower. Oh god yes! My lower back has been killing me. Steve, you got some magic fingers there. It’ll be a shame you’ll lose so much strength after this gig is over…

Steve: Huh?

John: …shit…ahhh…a little higher?

Steve: Babe, what did you mean that’ll it be a shame I’ll lose strength after the gig is over?

John: Nothing. Nothing. You know me, I speak nonsense when I’m stressed and under the spell of those strong fingers…come on keep rubbing my back.

Steve: Yeah, I know you so well, and I know you start talking fast and enter executive VP mode trying to throw me off the scent. Plus your voice spikes and you get all defensive. Come on, spit it out. Baby, talk to me.

John: YOU HAVE TO GET FAT FOR THIS GIG! I mean who the hell orders a commercial starring a fat guy getting FATTER! It makes no damn sense. And sure maybe I should have read through the entire contract. But come on, it read as a straightforward fast food commercial. And I can’t find a way out of this for either one of us…

Steve: Ummm come again? I need to get fat and continue to get even fatter.

John: And that is only the half of it. If we can’t get you up to 300 lbs minimum I have to take your place in the commercial. I just can’t gain. I don’t want to be a whale. I just can’t…

**smoooch**

Steve? What are…why? Aren’t you pissed at me? I just fucked our lives.

Steve: Shut up you big beautiful dork. We’ll sort it out in the morning. Now, I gave you a massage. The least you can do is go ahead and give junior a nice tug and make some love with me…you know before my big 300 lbs belly covers it up.

*John blushes*

Hey, you always did enjoy paying special attention to my bum. Just picture it three times wider and all the fun we’ll have.

John: Steve…

Steve: John, baby, for tonight forget all your worries. Tomorrow is a new day. And hey I expect a big breakfast tomorrow. I'm eating for two now after all. Now pull yourself together and come and get it papi.

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nighterwriter · 2 years

Text

Fur Coat

Bruce Wayne x reader

Word Count: 1218

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Never did you contemplate killing Bruce to this extent.

Making you hide behind racks of clothes and alarming the high-end mall’s consumers would not look good if the press got their hands on it and posted it on every possible surface of Gotham. You were huddled near the bulkiest rack, winter fur coats (it’s summer for crying out loud), trying to map a way out the store and to Alfred who had parked nearby and resolved to sit in his car and listen to his radio than accompany the two of you inside the mall.

You had developed a somewhat compelling route, but the rack swayed slightly as someone filed through the coats.

"I didn't take you as someone who liked fur, but if you wanted one, you could have asked instead of hiding behind it. Black or brown?"

Embarrassed and annoyed, you rose from your squatted position and glared at him. "I wouldn't have to hide if you weren't so stubborn."

He smiled boyishly as he strolled towards you and placed a kiss on your forehead. "Being stubborn's what got me this far."

"Your lucky streak's about to end if you don't cut it out and let me go home."

"Home? We haven't even gone to the west wing."

"Bruce."

You had forgiven him for missing your anniversary. Blackgate had a jailbreak so bad, that the city was in lockdown for two weeks and citizens relied on government funding instead of going to work. You made it to the manor at the last second and stayed there for the entire two weeks practically alone. The inhabitants of the house were too busy trying to round up the escapees to tend to whatever less important need you had and you understood this, but it stung a little. It wasn't ideal sitting in your room with the blinds drawn every night, munching on a half ass dinner trying not to worry about your husband and kids. You'd barely talked to Bruce in those two weeks. You wanted to send a 'happy anniversary' text as compensation, but you didn't want to be the reason he lost focus. So you sat in your bathtub and blew out a candle you'd stuck into some leftover roast, wishing that your family could finally catch the break they deserved.

And when that break came, Bruce didn't leave your side. From the minute you woke up to when you went to bed, he was there. He went everywhere with you and when he couldn't, it was a constant shower of text messages. You knew he felt guilty, but you'd made it a point to say that it wasn't his fault you understood that things like this would happen and there was always next year. But that just made it worse. The entire manor tried to make it up to you, not letting you complete any menial tasks: no opening doors, getting the mail, going to run errands. It was nice at first, but now it was just overbearing. And the stunt Bruce was pulling now was teetering you towards the edge of pulling your hair out.

The man practically hijacked the car you holed yourself into for some errands and drove you to a high-end shopping mall, filled to the brim with designer clothes and snooty associates. Then, he had given you an ultimatum, buy at least one item from each store (keychains or pens weren't allowed), or he'd buy one of each thing in your size. You didn't believe him, but when he'd handed his card to the cashier and moved to write down your measurements, you caved and bought a ring. You'd done this for about seven stores, taking an extremely long time viewing each item before settling on the most inexpensive one, hoping your husband would crack, but it seemed like the fucker was made out of stone.

"I don't need any of these, Bruce, and you know it. I mean, fur coats, really? You're all lovely, this isn't about you." You assured the two workers who Bruce told to follow you and take whatever you laid your eyes on for more than a second to the register. "Could my husband and I be alone for a minute?"

The two nodded and turned towards the register, hefting the items onto the counter.

You placed your hands on each side of Bruce's face, tugging his head down to look at you. "Listen Daddy Warbucks, I know you feel bad about missing our anniversary, but I knew what I signed up for when I married you. I knew it would happen and it's sad that we didn't get to spend our anniversary together, but hopefully, if you cut this crap out, we'll have next year to celebrate."

Bruce sighed and leaned into your touch. "I don't want you to get used to the idea of never spending time together. I don't want you to think I don't care that I leave you alone every night, scared that the next time you'll see me is in the morgue."

"Bruce, stop being paranoid." You shook your head, running your thumbs on his cheekbones. "Don't you remember what I told you in my vows?"

How could he forget? He read them so often, that the words were burned into the back of his eyelids, flashing every time he blinked. He knew them, you made sure to sear it into his memory during your honeymoon, kissing different parts of his body at the end of each sentence. He nodded, eyes shutting when he pushes his forehead to yours.

"Then you know I don't give a shit about any of this. I just want you, Bruce Wayne. That's enough for me."

He pressed his lips to yours, cradling the back of your head in his hands as the workers cooed. You pulled away, pecking his lips one more time before straightening his collar.

"Now can we go home?"

"Of course, baby, but I should mention that the kids planned a surprise anniversary dinner."

"Why're you ruining their surprise?"

"'Cause they banned Alfred from the kitchen. Dick's leading the pack."

"Jason lost the rock paper scissors game again after I taught him all my tips and tricks?"

Bruce chuckled and wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you out of the store after waving to the workers. "He fought to bake the cake though."

"Please tell me it's what I think it is."

"Yellow cake with buttercream frosting, fresh fruit on the side."

"He's been forgiven."

The two of you took your time returning to your car, embracing the few minutes of alone time you had left before returning to a full manor. You made a mental note to return what you were forced to buy (except the ring, it was cute) when Bruce was stuck in back-to-back meetings. As you sat in the car as Alfred pulled out of the parking spot, you thought of something.

"Why'd you think I'd want a fur coat?"

Bruce shrugged. "You always keep me on my toes and I'm happy to get you anything you want."

"Yeah, buy me a fur coat when I have a death wish. I don't think Damian would let me step into the house, much less allow me to live if I even thought of buying one."

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne drabble

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ofstarsandvibranium · 2 years

Text

Pepsi & Cola

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: It's always been you and Eddie. His Cola to your Pepsi. His night to your day. You and him forever...until it wasn't.

A/N: i didn't wanna do any angst for Eddie but I'm feeling kinda bleh so here you go...

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Eddie enters the diner and heads straight to where you were at the cash register, "So, you coming tonight?"

"I tried to reason with Paul, but he said two other people called out so he really needs me here."

"Pep, it's the end of the campaign!" he whined.

"I know, I know, I really wish I could go! Besides, the more money I get from working the more I have for your graduation trip. So it'll be worth it."

Eddie pouted, "Fine. But I demand a milkshake for compensation."

You saluted him, "Aye aye, Captain Cola!" and you immediately got to working on Eddie's shake.

While you were doing that, your coworker Tanya came up beside you, "Oooouu, I see your boy toy is back!"

You rolled your eyes at her, "He's not my boy toy, Tan. I told you, he's my best friend. That's it."

"Mhm. Mhm, suuurree, but I see you two giving each other those heart eyes." she teases, poking your side.

"We don't give each other heart eyes!" you whisper yelled at her so Eddie doesn't hear you.

"Whatever you saaaaay," she sing songs her way out of the kitchen and back out to the floor.

You finished making Eddie's milkshake and grabbed a can of Pepsi for yourself. You made your way back out to Eddie, setting his drink in front of him, "For you, good sir."

"Thank you, m'lady."

He waits as you pop open your drink and you both cheers, taking a few gulps from your beverages of choice.

In between customers, you continued to chat with Eddie until he had to leave to get ready for the last campaign of the year.

He gave you a hug and hollered, "Talk to you later!" before getting into his van and driving away.

_________________

When you heard the news about Chrissy, about Eddie, you couldn't believe it. There was no way that Eddie Munson, your best friend, was a murderer. Nope. No way.

As soon as you heard the news, you drove over to his place as fast as he could. You immediately spotted his Uncle Wayne, looking scared and concerned.

"Wayne!" you called for him, waving from behind the police tape.

He immediately rushed over to you, "Kid!" he pulled you into his arms, "Do you know what happened? Have you seen Eddie?"

You shook your head, "No. I haven't seen or talked to him since yesterday. I've been working at the diner."

Wayne shook his head, running a hand down his face, "It's bad, kid. They're saying they murdered that poor girl. But you and I know-"

"I know, Wayne," you gripped the man who was like a second father to you, "I'll do what I can to find him. I'll figure out what happened."

"I just want him safe. You make sure he's safe, okay? Let me know if you find him."

"I will," you murmur and give Wayne a hug before heading back to your car and immediately go on the search for your best friend.

Turns out things were a little bit more complicated that you thought. You ended up following Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson, Max Mayfield, and Robin Buckley to Reefer Rick's. That's where you found Eddie...whom was holding a broken bottle to Steve's neck.

"Eddie! Eds! Stop!" you cry out.

Eddie looks over his shoulder and he immediately drops the bottle, "Pep?"

You nod, "It's me, Eddie."

"Fucking hell," he murmured and he threw his arms around you, "I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared," he whispered in your ear.

"It's okay. I'm here. You're gonna be okay. It'll be okay."

And as it turned out, things weren't okay.

The police and the town were on a manhunt for Eddie. Some creature named Vecna was killing people. It was all so confusing and scary.

You could see the light in Eddie's eyes dim. Your best friend, your Eddie, he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be scrutinized, villainized. Just because he didn't fit into what society deemed as normal. He'd gone through so much and he still had the heart of gold. The love and kindness in his eyes, but you see it dwindling as the time passed. As the hunt for Vecna grew closer to, what you hoped, was the end.

In the stolen RV, you sit beside Eddie. You nudge his shoulder with his, "Hey, it'll be okay. We got this. Pepsi and Cola forever right?"

He sighs, "I dunno if we'll be able to get out of this one, Pep."

You just hum in reply to him. You reach out, gripping his hand with yours, "Well, it's been quite the adventure, hasn't it?"

"A shitty ass adventure," Eddie responds with a small smirk, he laces his fingers with yours and holds on tight. Like this is the last time he'll ever get to hold you like this.

________________

You yell out Eddie's name as you and Dustin race to his fallen figure. You fall to your knees beside him and carefully pull him into your lap, "Eddie," you sob.

With blood stained lips, Eddie looks up at you "Guess this is the end, Pep."

"You shut up right now, Eddie. You're gonna be fine."

"Oh yeah, it's just a flesh wound...times a hundred." he gives a painful smile to you and your heart just breaks.

He then looks at Dustin, "I didn't runaway this time right."

Dustin, teary eyed, shakes his head, "No, you didn't run away. You were...badass."

Eddie gives another painful smile, "You're gonna have to watch over those little sheep for me, okay?"

"No, no you're gonna do that yourself!"

"Say you'll look after them. Say it."

"I-I'll look after them," Dustin sobs and you're sobbing with him.

"Y/N," he gurgles your name and you look at him wide-eyes. For years, Eddie's only ever called you Pepsi, or Pep. Never your actual name. Hearing it now, scared you.

"Y/N," he said again, looking up at you. With a bloody hand, he does his best to wipe away your tears, "I-I love you, you know that? I've always l-loved you," he winces at the pain, "I planned on telling you s-sooner. After-After graduation."

"You can tell me again, when we get you out of here. You're gonna get better, we're gonna clear your name, and you'll graduate."

"Seems like a lotta work," he huffs out a witty response.

You give a sniffled laugh, "Yeah, but I'd do anything for you, Eddie. It's you and me forever, remember? Pepsi and Cola," you pulled out the necklace Eddie made you all those years ago. Two tabs from a Pepsi and Cola can glued together to make a heart and strung on a chain.

"I love you guys," Eddie says and you and Dustin respond with the same sentiments.

Eddie lets out a few more, harsh, ragged breaths before his body is limp in your arms.

You whimper out, "Eddie? Eddie, please. Come on, Eddie, don't do this. Eddie? EDDIE!!"

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine

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nightwishesworld · 3 years

Note

Oh, I have a request! How about the daughters (who love the reader very much) always taking the reader and practically stealing her every time she’s with Alcina? (Cuz we need more daughters and reader interaction 🥲) And maybe to the point of our precious big dommy mommy gettin ya know ya know jealous? ;)) HAHGSHAHAHAHA, that would be hilarious to see. Anyways, hope you’re havin’ a great time~ ✌🏻till next time!

I’m so sorry this took me so long anon! I’ve gotten more requests than I ever thought I would and I’m starting to get behind. This was a really sweet one to put together though- really enjoyed it!

Slight Gore warning for Cassandra! Nothing too detailed but it is referenced. If you don’t like it just skip her

Bela

Being the eldest sibling has made her the most level-headed of the three. After decades of ending squabbles between her younger sisters, she’s discovered the pleasures of retail therapy.

She takes great joy in popping off to neighboring villages for a few hours perusing the various aromatherapy shops.

And she takes even greater pleasure bringing you along. Dragging you, really. Even if you’re otherwise busy. Sometimes she’ll buy you a few scents or lotions that catch your eye.

She calls it “compensation for being dragged away from Mother,” but really she’s just happy to spoil you

Also loves asking you for literature recommendations. As vast as the castle’s library is, Bela had read through most of the literature over her lifetime

Is absolutely fascinated by modern day novels.

She takes you on a day-long shopping spree visiting five surrounding villages just blowing through money buying almost every book that peaks her interest

Most of your time together is spent relaxing in the library talking about your novels.

Eventually you’ve collected enough books to make an entirely new section in the library just for the two of you.

Even when cuddled up with Alcina in the library, there is simply no escaping Bela when she’s looking for recommendations or simply someone to talk to

At the end of the day, you really didn’t mind. You were more than happy to spend time with all the girls and happy they wanted to spend time with you.

You knew as annoyed as Alcina got when interrupted she found it incredibly sweet that her daughters will go out of their way to be with you

Cassandra (Cassi)

Suffers from middle child syndrome hardcore

She’s a bit too old to understand Bela’s interests, but too old to join Daniela in her delusional fantasies. So naturally, she tries to cling onto you.

At first she tries to convince you to enter the basement with her so she can show you her “Art Gallery,” but Alcina forbade it. So things between you and Cassi went quiet for awhile

Alcina says Cassandra is an artist of some sort and all her work is done in the basement

After about a month of silence Cassandra came barrelling into your private study with some kind of canvas in her hands

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much, y/n, but I’ve been working really hard on your gift.”

You gush, “oh Cassi, you didn’t have to make me anything. That’s so sweet of you.”

She eagerly flips over the canvas to reveal her painting of a human heart.

It was beautifully detailed, the heart really jumped off the page against the black background...but something was off about it. It took a minute for you to realize it but once you did, you couldn’t stop staring. The heart was painted with blood.

You were lost for words.

“Well?” Cassi, asked with a broad smile on her face. “Do you like it?”

All you could do at first was nod you head. “Oh Cassandra, its gorgeous. You really made this?”

The girl’s eyes were rapturous. “It’s my favorite hobby! But this particular piece was my first try at observational painting. I hope I did a good job...”

“Are you kidding Cassi? It’s beautiful! I’ve never seen anything like it. Can I hang it on my wall?”

She lunges at you, wrapping you in a suffocating hug. “Thank you, y/n. I made it a heart so you know how much we love having you here with us.”

Tears were starting to prick your eyes. “I love you guys, too.”

You looked up lust long enough to see Alcina walk in your study, roll her eyes and walk right back out.

Daniela (Dani)

Being the youngest Dimitrescu definitely has its advantages and Daniela knows how to use every single one.

Gets away with absolutely everything and anything under the sun. Even things her older sisters could only dream of getting away with and it irritates them to no end.

Daniela is definitely the most daring of the three. Always pushing her boundaries with her mother and will go out of her way to annoy Alcina just for funsies.

Is comfortable (and has) appearing in your bedroom while your, erm...busy with Alcina. Literally grabs you by the arm and swoops you away in a swarm of moths giggling the entire time. You hear Alcina shouting obscenities as you’re taken away.

You’re both thoroughly embarrassed.

Daniela seems to be, just like her mother, very needy. Attention starved if you will. So of course, she’s in need of your presence every hour. Sometimes more.

And for the dumbest freaking reasons!

“Y/n come quick! Look at the birds in the garden. They’re so pretty!”

You laugh at her excitement “They’re crows, Dani. We see them every day.”

Other times she will drag you to her room and pull out her vast collection of weapons and tell you different stories associated with each one. You loved hearing how passionate Daniela was about her collection.

On a few rare occasions, she even gifted you a set of daggers, or crossbow, or whatever your favorite weapon is.

“You don’t own any y/n, which means you’re vulnerable to attacks. One day I’ll teach you how to use them.”

BONUS: Alcina being absolutely done with her girls not sharing

Late hours of the night are Alcina’s favorite time of day

She gets to relax in bed with you all to herself while shedding away all the stresses from the day.

More often than not she’ll lazily sip a glass of wine and reread her favorite novel to you while you’re nestled in her lap.

It was the only time of day she knew she had you all to herself

...usually...

One night all three of her daughters barged in your bedroom arguing who you would spend time with first. Alcina tried shouting over them to take control of the situation, but none of them were even paying her attention.

Situations like this call for drastic measures.

Alcina covered your ears and shouted at her girls from the top of her lungs. Once she knew she had their attention she reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a...spray bottle? They were about to laugh at her before she explained that the spray bottle contained holy water.

That scared them enough to make them back up a few steps. Daniela even hisssed at her, baring her fangs like a feral animal.

“I am tired of you three stealing away my y/n and I’ve reached my breaking point. This is the one time of day I’m allowed exclusive time with them and I will not have you getting in the way of that.”

You couldn’t process what was happening before you. Was Alcina really prepared to spray her own daughters with holy water just because she wouldn’t get her cuddles tonight? Really?

Daniela felt bold tonight. “As if you would actually do it. I bet that’s not even holy water.”

Alcina only arched a brow. “Well you’re more than welcome to come see for yourself, Daniela. By all means.”

The redhead was about to do just that until Bela pulled her backwards. “I guess we can wait and see y/n tomorrow. Goodnight, mother. Goodnight, y/n.”

As soon as Alcina knew they were gone she fell back onto the mattress, pulling you with her, peppering you in kisses.

“Darling,” you ask. “Is that really holy water?”

She chuckles into your neck. “No, it’s not, and they should have known that. If it were I wouldn’t have been able to hold it without it making me feel ill. But they’ll figure that out eventually and once they do they’ll be back.”

“What then?”

“Pelting them with fake silver should do the trick.”

#lady dimitrescu x reader #tall vampire lady #alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu

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harveywritings92 · 3 years

Text

BNHA Dad scenario: Someone hits you.

Summary: You're around 8 playing or trying to get you parents attention, someone hits accidentally or on purpose, your father took exception to this. and decided to return the favor with interest.

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

Shigaraki: All the senior members of the league knew who you were and knew to never mess with Shigaraki's princess, unless they wanted to be a pile of rot on the floor.. however there were was a newbie about 18 years old who just recently joined had no idea who you were and thought you were some street brat and the resident punch bag, so imagine his surprise when he demanded you hand over your Gameboy, and you told him to go suck a lemon bad move.

You were kicked in the ribs sent airborne toward the wall and crashed into and fell to the floor clutching your stomach in pain. "Next time I ask for something you give it to me you little brat!" the boy sneered before looking down at your crying shaking body and heard you calling out. "Daddy...daddy..." He started laughing at your wailing and tried to get everyone else on his side, but no one moved they just stared at (dickhead) in horror he looked at them all confused.

"C'mon what the hells wrong with you guys?" as you were hyperventaling as the door to the back opened in stepped Shigaraki who looked around the bar confused why everyone was so quiet before hearing you crying and wheezing and his red eyes zeroed in on his daughter on the floor and (Dickhead) walking over to him with this shit eating grin holding your Gameboy …

"Hey boss you like gaming, you got any-" Shigaraki shoved him and made a bee-line towards you and he crouched down carefully helped you sit up , you were clutching your ribs. "D-daddy.." you stammered as your dad shushed you and pulled your shirt up, if they thought Tomura was mad before they were wrong! the second he saw the large bruise on your stomach, he saw red... "it's all right Princess Daddy's got you." he cooed picking you up ( he's got gloves on) keeping your face tucked in his shoulder.

Shigaraki then turned towards (dickhead) who's cocky grin turned to a confused pout as he tried processing what was going on, as your dad started slowly walking towards him, stoned faced red eyes alight with rage as he brought his free hand up to his mouth taking his glove off with his teeth, (dickhead)'s face slowly contorted in horror as he realized you weren't some random brat they picked up off streets!

You were his boss's kid! and he punted you across the bar for a toy! "Hey-I-i didn't know man,-s she can have it back-" the last thing he saw was Shigaraki's hand coming for his face, everyone in the bar looked away or down at their drinks "Someone clean that up." Your dad ordered as he calmly put his glove back on and stepped over a pile of dust and clothes as he took you to the doctor to make sure that waste of an NPC didn't break your ribs.

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

Kirishima: You were both at the bank you were off to the side fidgeting with your dress waiting for your dad to finish up at the teller and decided to wander around the lobby, checking around if there any candy bowls around here, when you bumped into another adult a balding mad who's back was to you, "oops I'm sorr-" You were cut off by a loud crack! and suddenly you found yourself floor clutch your stinging cheek stunned as this angry red faced man screamed in your face. "I TOLD YOU TO STAY IN THE FUCKING CAR (random boys name!)!?" You there was tense ringing in your ears as you burst out wailing as the demeanor changed as he finally got a good look at you and in horror realized you were a little girl and not his son.

"uh-r" Just then Red blur came running at him and he was punched in the jaw by rock hard fist that sent him flying through the bank's glass door by a very pissed off Eijirou, who looked like was gonna kill him before he felt she daughter hug his leg, which she does when she wants to go home, his red eyes looked down at you the back the man who was being check on by the bank security, then back to you starring back at him tearfully, your dad took a deep breath picked you up and kissed the bruise forming on you cheek, and told manager he'll pay for the window. "YOU'RE MEAN!" you screamed at the man who hit you who was now awake with his actual son who was a teenager was standing awkward to the side looking embarrassed, the man flinched when your dad shot him a glare as you both passed him.

A week later the jerky dad had the gall to try taking your dad to court, the judge got one look at the security footage and your still healing face and laughed in the guys face and threw the case out.

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

Dabi: Your mom was the owner of his favorite Dive bar, They don't ask questions and he don't give answers, Anyway mom had stepped out to get weekly restock delivery and left Dabi in charge, things were wrapping up for the night when you had wandered down from the upstairs apartment way passed your bed. "Hey ,Firefly what're you doing up?" he said picking you up and sitting you on his lap.

"Was the music too loud?" You shook your head he hummed you weren't feeling well and woke up, went looking for one of you parents, he felt how hot your forehead was under his chin and frowned. "Want some ginger ale?" he aske rubbing your back you uh-huh'd as your dad leaned over the bar grabbed a glass and went to grab the dispenser hose for the ginger ale.

Meanwhile some scantily dressed chick who been eyeing your dad like a hungry dog all night was angerly made her way over, in her drunken haze she saw another woman cuddled up to him instead of a little girl, stomped over to bar and before Dabi could register what was going on a nasally voice sneered "Get off my man whore!" and a manicured hand suddenly reached out and grabbed a fist full of your hair and tried yanking you out of his lap!

"Eek Daady!" You screamed in pain as your dad whipped around "What the hell?" Dabi snarled grabbing the woman's arm and using his quirk to burn her, the painted hussy let out this pterodactyl like screech and let go of your hair, then you threw up on her legs causing her to scream louder "My shoes!!!?" she shrieked and went to hit you, but Dabi had ignited his hand and stopped her.

"Get the fuck out, before I melt your fucking face..." Dabi hissed as you held on to him like a baby koala crying and shaking like a leaf, Your dad watched the bouncer throw the bitch out, while she bitched and cried about knowing the owner and how he'll beat Dabi's ass. "And then you'll sorry!" she wailed as the bouncer shoved her away. "Oh we'll see about that..." Dabi mused as he tried calming you down and making sure she didn't hurt you too badly.

True to her word the bitch came to complain to the owner not realizing that A. the owner was a woman, B. they were Dabi wife, and C) the mother of that "midget whore" who barfed on her fake designers shoes. Dabi watched from the upstairs window calmly sipping his morning coffee as the woman said her sob story and demanded compensation!

He smirked as your mom nodded calmly put the empty keg she was carrying on her shoulder down on the sidewalk, and without saying a word deck the woman in the face knocking her out cold. "There's your compensation..." She huffed then calmly picked the keg back up and put it on the truck, Dabi whistled at her "Say babe, have I ever told you how much I love you?" he said watching her from the open window your mom blushed flipped him off, he chuckled he could see her smiling.

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

Katsuki: it was Kirishima it was you birthday and he was showing his quirk off to some of the kids when you ran into his elbow, knock on your butt sat there for a few seconds as your uncle and parents fussed over you, Eijirou was apologizing to you asking if you were alright? you just stared at them blankly before grimacing, causing your mom to bring her hand up towards your mouth and like that you spat a tooth out into the palm of her hand, her [y/ec] eyes widened while your dad and and uncle started freaking out...

Well.... more like your dad had uncle Kirishima by the shirt collar threatening to destroy him! while Eijirou came saying how sorry he was and it was an accident! while they were yelling your mom checked your mouth carefully counting your teeth, then sighed in relief before turning your dad. "Katsuki...." your dad didn't hear her as he was telling Kirishima to pay for you dental work!

"Katsuki." she tried again, but he was too far gone. "Alright you asked for it!" she yelled finally getting Katsuki's attention when he realized she was going use her quirk. "Hon, wai-" too late your mom snapped her fingers and your dad, still holding Kirishima, was frozen in place. Your mom calmly brought you over to your them and had you open your mouth and show him the "Damage" your dad's red eyes looked at you then back at your mom who was holding the tooth. "He knocked out that tooth... we were gonna have, y'know?" His eyes widened as he realized Shitty-Hair had knocked out a stubborn baby tooth that refuse to fall out, and were gonna have it pulled next week...

Your mom unfroze your dad and he dropped Kirishima before taking the tooth to examine it, making sure it really the right tooth, and he seemed to calm down, muttering an apology to Kirishima, then whispered something to you mom that made her blush. "You better be ready for it..." he purred in her ear, while you stared up at your parents confused. "Ready for what?" you asked innocently they both froze before Kirishima grabbed your hand. "say kiddo, let's see if (Kirishima's kid.) wants to play!" he said making a hasty get away with you.

#bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #dabi x reader #shigaraki x reader #kirishima eijirou #katsuki bakugou #shigaraki tomura #kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #touya todoroki #daughter reader

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treesnutsandleaveswrites · 3 years

Text

Left Behind

Pairing: The Bad Batch x Reader (Polyam)

Summary: After staying with Roland Durand, you make up with the team and head out on another mission

Warning: Angst, some fluff, ANGST, injury, Imperial!Crosshair at the end, mentions of shooting and violence, Bad Batch spoilers ig

Word Count: 2445

A/N: I’m kind of on a writing kick rn lol

pt xx, pt xxii

XXXXXXX

You woke up to the sun reaching your eye-line. It was an odd thing to wake up to. The sun barely shined into the flat Cid was letting the Batch borrow, and there was barely any sunlight on Kamino to wake you up either. You sat up in the bed and let the silk sheets pool around. If it wasn’t obvious already, you had stayed the night at Roland’s, deeming it a bit late to buy off a speeder and head back to Cid’s. Beeping came from the communicator of your armor, which made your heart skip a beat.

“Ah, kriff…” You muttered before getting up and grabbing it, “Hello?”

“Where are you?” Hunter asked with a hiss in his voice, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine… I’m still in town.”

He sighed and you could basically hear him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “Just… try to get back before the sun is at its highest point or else Echo is gonna reign hellfire on the city to find you.”

You nodded, “Yeah… got it.”

The communicator went dead as Roland walked in wearing a new set of clothes.

“Good morning, how did you sleep?”

You smiled while still looking at the communicator, tossing it slightly in your hands, “Like a baby…”

He observed your movements and his face fell, “Duty calls?”

You nodded, “I should go.”

“Alright… I’ll have a few of my guards escort you. Get ready, I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

“Okay…” You whispered as he walked out.

*******

You made your way out of the building and found a few guards waiting in a speeder.

“Where’s Roland?”

“Dealing with some business. He said to take you back to Cid’s.” One of them explained which caused you to nod and get into the speeder. It wasn’t long until the speeder pulled up in front of Cid’s parlor, where Hunter was talking with Echo and Wrecker. You hopped out of the speeder and waved them off before they pulled out and turned the corner.

“Ad’ika! There you are!” Wrecker grinned before picking you up into a tight hug.

“Hi, Wreck.” You smiled as he set you down and followed them inside.

Tech was sitting at the bar with Omega, showing her something on his datapad. He glanced up at you, then pulled out his blaster and aimed in your direction. The others had done so and were facing the threshold, which made you turn. Roland was standing there in one of his guard’s uniforms, holding the helmet under his arm.

“I’m not here to take your things again, don’t worry.” He said nonchalantly.

“Why are you here?” Cid wondered, leaning against the bar.

He didn’t bother to answer her as he turned his attention to you, “I had to see you were safe…”

You shook your head, “You shouldn’t be here…” You urged back into the threshold, “Please, go…”

“Lodestar…” He whispered, stopping your motions and holding your hands, “You’re welcome anytime, you know that?”

You nodded, not looking into his eyes, “I know…”

“Be careful.” He whispered, kissing your knuckles and leaving the parlor.

You stood in the threshold for a moment before making your way into the parlor.

“So you’re working for anyone now?” Cid asked maliciously.

“I didn’t do a job for him…”

“Well, then what the hell were you doing?”

“Nothing. If I did a job, I would’ve given the money to you.” You admitted, placing your helmet down.

“What did he want?”

“Nothing, he has no interest in your parlor anymore.” You murmured.

“If I catch you slipping up again, you’re out! I don’t care what these boys say!” Cid stated which caused you to nod. A hand was placed on your shoulder and you turned to see Tech.

“Darling-”

“You’re right…” You said plainly, “You shouldn’t trust me.”

“Lodestar-” Echo started.

“I… should have never left with you.”

“Don’t say that, ad’ika.” Wrecker pleaded.

“Cyare…” Hunter murmured, going up to you, “you’re struggling… with something many people struggle with. We aren’t gonna give up on you just like that…”

“Tech was drunk, and whether he likes it or not… he’s not always right.” Echo insisted.

“For once, I agree with that statement.” Tech remarked.

“Please, don’t go.” Omega whispered, “You’re our family. We need you.”

You looked at her for a moment before nodding. She hugged you tight and you hugged her back gently.

“Okay! Enough with the hugging! It’s hurting my eyes!” Cid groaned, “I guess you can stay in touch with Roland, be a double agent or somethin’.”

You smiled gently, but then Omega spoke up.

“What was with the hand kissing thing?”

“Yeah…” Hunter crossed his arms,”What was that?”

You rolled your eyes, “Nothing happened. I guess… he just has slight feelings?”

“Slight?! When we were held hostage, he couldn’t keep himself away from her!” Omega laughed.

“Omega!” You exclaimed.

“You can stay friends with him… but make sure he isn’t too comfortable.” Echo instructed.

“C’mon… you really think I’d give up the four of you for one of him? It’s gonna take more than sweet talk and a four course meal to get out of your hooks.” You crossed your arms. Wrecker laughed and scooped you into his arms.

“That’s our girl!”

All of you headed towards the Marauder and you looked around in confusion.

“Wrecker, where are you taking me?”

“Ah, we have a mission!”

“Seriously? Huh, I guess your enhancements help you recover from hangovers quicker…”

Wrecker set you down once you were all loaded into the ship.

*******

You were looking over some data on the computer while Omega was working on some wiring on Gonky and Hunter was sitting next to you, flipping his knife around.

“We’re being hailed.” Wrecker called out, “It’s from Rex!”

You all looked at each other before heading into the cockpit. Echo opened the transmission on the projector and you saw Rex in a large cloak.

“Hello, boys. Sorry to get right to it, but I could use your help.”

“What do you need, Captain?” Hunter wondered.

“I’ve received a distress signal from a clone trooper, but I’m a bit tied up at the moment to retrieve him.”

“You want us to recover a reg?”

“He’s an old friend, and he’s in trouble. I need you to get him out.”

“Out of what exactly?”

Beeping went off in the transmission, which caused Rex to get frantic, “Can’t talk right now. Sending you his signal. I’ll be in touch.” Then the transmission ended.

“What was that about?” asked Wrecker.

“The distress signal sent by CC-5576 is originating from Daro: a terrestrial planet in the Outer Rim with no known settlements or installations.

“What’s he doing all the way out there?” You wondered.

“Well, does it matter?” Echo asked.

“We’ve gone on missions before without intel, this is stretching it.”

“Rex wouldn’t ask us for help if it wasn’t urgent.” Echo insisted.

“Echo’s got a point.” Wrecker agreed.

“May I remind you that we are in the middle of a job for Cid. If we deviate, we will not be compensated. No money means no food.”

“Oh yeah, Tech’s got a point.” Wrecker said.

“But Rex’s friend is in trouble, that’s more important than getting paid.” Omega butted in.

“Well, the kids got a point.” Wrecker finalized, which caused you to chuckle.

Hunter hesitated before having a small staredown with Echo. He sighed gently, “Lodestar, what’s your say?”

You sat back, “I am ‘Lodestar the Liberator’… you already know my answer, love.”

Hunter nodded, “Fine. We’ll check things out.”

You all nodded in agreement and prepped for Daro.

*******

Tech landed the ship and you all trailed out, following Tech as he tracked the clone’s signal. You looked around, staying behind the group in case of any surprises.

“The signal is coming from here.” Tech announced, which caused Omega to go ahead and find the beacon connected to a large log.

“Found it!” She handed it to Tech.

“Where’s the reg?” Wrecker looked around. Hunter took off his helmet and looked at the ground. You crouched when you felt some uneven earth.

“Hunter… track marks.” You announced, “Fresh… maybe from last night or early this morning.”

“We’re too late… the reg’s been caught.” Hunter concluded, “He was running, then he got dragged this way.”

You all followed him as he moved further towards the mountain just nearby.

“There’s something here.” Hunter looked up at the mountain.

“You’re right. There’s something jamming my signal.”

“I thought you said there was nothing here!” Wrecker exclaimed.

“That data appears to be inaccurate.” Tech stated.

“Wrecker, you, Omega, and Lodestar head back to the ship.”

“I thought-” Omega started.

“Coming here was up for debate. This is not.” Hunter said sternly before turning to you, “I need you to help fly the ship just in case Wrecker needs to bring in heavy fire.”

You nodded and urged Omega to follow Wreck back to the Marauder. Before you went to join them, you grabbed Hunter’s helmet and bumped it with his gently.

“Be careful…”

He nodded before urging his brothers to the mountain. You watched them for a moment before heading back to the cruiser.

Omega paced in the shuttle while waiting for her brothers to come back. You were adjusting the scope on your helmet while Wrecker sat back in one of the chairs. “Meg… come here.” You called, which caused her to hesitate before she stood in front of you. You let out a small laugh and caressed her cheek, “Y’know who you remind me of?” “Who?” She asked grumpily.

“Me.” You smiled, “I was never allowed to go with the others on the field… they made sure I stayed on the ship.”

“They’ve been on so many missions, how could you stand it?”

“I trusted them and they trusted me… of course, I was worried, but they ended up coming back at the end…”

She groaned, “I’m a part of the team now! I should be a part of the action!”

“Dealing with bugs on Ord Mantell wasn’t action? Or co-piloting a shuttle?”

She sighed, “It was, but I want more!”

You chuckled, “You really are a clone at heart… always ready for the action.” You sighed and cupped her face, “But even clones your age need some preparation and training before going into big battles.”

“The clones who are younger than me look as old as Rex!”

You shook your head, “Patience, ‘Meg… there will be a time when you will lead them… right now, we wait.”

She sighed and nodded, going back to her pacing. You went back to cleaning up your armor as you all waited. Eventually, you were in the main part of the ship tending to D-5.

“Maybe let’s not leave you in the mount next time, D-5.”

“D-d-d-damaged?”

“It’s not bad, buddy. Your balance module is just out of place again, and you bent your antenna.”

You finished fixing him and set him next to Gonky, “Stay there, okay?”

“O-o-okay.”

You shook your head and spoke to yourself, “Why do I expect him to listen?”

You made your way into the cockpit, seeing Wrecker and Omega doing the same thing.

“How can you be so calm?” Omega burst at Wrecker.

“I’m recharging! I’ll be ready to go when they call!”

Suddenly, the comm channel opened, “Wrecker! Omega! Lodestar! Meet us at our location!”

Omega got into the pilot's seat with Wrecker, “We’re on our way!”

You stood behind them, hanging on to the back of the chairs.

“Focus, Omega! Stay steady!” You instructed.

“Got it! We are on approach!”

You headed towards the hatch and opened it, pulling out you blaster and stunning the troopers behind them.

“Meg! Get closer!” You called, hanging onto the threshold. Wrecker came to join you as you helped Tech and the other clone onto the ship. You heard an approaching ship.

“We’ve got incoming, 6 o’clock!” You called to Tech, who took over the ships controls.

“Wrecker, get on the gunner’s mount!” Tech ordered. You nodded to Wrecker as you shot at the incoming troopers. You hopped off the ship to help them fend off the attackers as the ship swooped out to avoid the airfighters.

“I said stay on the ship!” Hunter ordered.

“Well, do you want me to jump off the mountain and fly to them?!”

He shook his head as you helped Echo fight off some troopers.

“We’re coming back around! Be ready!” Tech announced on comms

The ship pulled up and Echo jumped onto the ship as you and Hunter shot at the troopers. You looked back to make sure he got on safe, getting hit in the arm in the process.

“Ah!” You were flung back by the blast, losing your balance.

“Lodestar!”

Tech maneuvered the ship to try and catch you, but to no avail, you were already off the platform. Hunter tried to jump for the edge of the ship to catch you, but he missed and he too fell down the cliff.

“Hunter! Lodestar!” Omega called, but Echo grabbed her and urged her into the ship.

As Hunter fell, he tried to dampen his fall by latching into the mountain with his knife, but it wouldn’t hold. He had landed just before a clearing and looked up to see where you fell.

“Lodestar!” He called, “Lodestar!”

“Multiple system failures, we can't take anymore hits!” Tech said on comms.

“Get the ship out of here! I have to find Lodestar and we’ll get back to you!”

“Negative, the odds of escape are not in your favor!”

“I’m not leaving her behind! Go Tech! That’s an order!”

He looked ahead, seeing a shuttle land multiple troopers approaching.

“No! Turn around!” Omega cried, “Hunter, tell them to come back! Order them to come back!”

“Sorry, kid… I can’t do that…” Hunter sighed before sheathing his dagger and surrendering to the troopers.

*******

Crosshair arrived with his squad and looked to the commanding officer who approached him.

“Commander, the other clones got away but we have their leader.”

“What about the other girl?”

“Troopers reported she fell off the cliff. She’s most likely dead.”

“And if she isn’t? That woman has connections all over the outer rim. Do you want the Pykes or the Hutts to be involved with our affairs?”

“N-no, sir.”

“My squad and I will find her with help from your troopers. Get a shuttle ready.” Crosshair ordered and watched as the commanding officer rushed off.

“Commander, do we really need the girl? Isn’t the leader enough?”

Crosshair sneered at his squad member, “Like I said. She has connections in the outer rim. She’s valuable. We aren’t leaving here without her.”

XXXXXXX

Taglist:

@darkangel4121 @lightning-wolffe @alucas528 @rintheemolion @shadowfoxey @butch-medusae @gabile18 @incandescentlywarm @echo-is-worth-more-than-2000 @spidercrush3

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

Coffee & Meetings

Relationship: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Innocent!Reader Warnings: stalking, drugging TW, manipulation, Summary: Prequel to Pastries & Memories - Bucky sees you day after day at a bakery and decides you’re just perfect for him. All from Bucky’s POV. A/N: someone suggested this on ao3 and i really liked that idea so I hope i did it well! I am thinking about expanding this to a bit of a mini-series... :)

Masterlist

Six months earlier…

He first saw you on a Monday. A bright, sunny, lovely Monday morning. He hadn’t even been looking for you — hell, he hadn’t really been looking for anyone.

Bucky was planted at a little table in the corner of a coffee shop, sipping on a dark roast, watching people come and go on the sidewalk. It had become his new morning routine, an interesting yet annoying suggestion from his therapist. She had become concerned he was too into his previous routine. She wanted him to step out of it for a bit, expand horizons, maybe even find a hobby. The craziest thing he had done yet was this — drinking overpriced coffee at a local shop.

He had to admit, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Sometimes he looked forward to this new start to his day. Everyone at the shop was always nice to him, amazingly. They didn’t mind him dilly-dallying, nursing his coffee, as he people watched. They even had a bakery attached which was part of the attraction to the place for Bucky. He had smelled their pastries one morning and was hooked.

As Bucky sat watching the people, he was contemplating getting an almond croissant to go when something caught his attention. From the corner of his eye, like a little flash, he had seen someone that made him perk up.

It was her. It was you. You were standing in front of the bakery entrance debating on going in. You looked between the coffee and the bakery sign. You checked your phone then you walked in. Bucky watched as you entered the bakery, your face bright with the kindest smile he had ever seen as you greeted the cashier. He didn’t have to hear your voice to know it was contagiously joyous.

You were like a little tease standing around all those baked goods, flicking your hair over your shoulder as you pointed at which donut you wanted. Bucky suddenly felt hungry for something else. Especially when you bent over to point at the strawberry glaze on the bottom row.

But then you were gone as fast as you had come. He watched you from the window as you got back on the path to wherever you were headed, he guessed your job. Your hair blew in the wind. Your skirt bounced as you walked proudly, your hand grasping the box of donuts tightly.

Oh, yeah, Bucky thought, this new routine was definitely what he needed.

***

You quickly became the most exciting part of Bucky’s day.

With his cup of coffee and hawk-like gaze, he’d sit at the little coffee shop table, watching the world outside the window. You’d come strolling by fairly early, looking so classy and professional. He figured you worked in an office which seemed very unnecessary for a girl like you. You didn’t need to work, he decided. You were too beautiful, clearly too bright, for that.

But you never seemed to recognize this yourself since you were constantly strutting past in your blouse and skirt, stopping in every day to collect some new pastry for your coworkers.

The way you talked to the bakery staff was what really won Bucky over. You were so gentle and patient when the kid behind the counter fumbled with the boxes or accidentally grabbed the wrong item. You’d still shoot them your lovely smile and make light conversation as they rang you up.

You were too generous, especially noted by the strawberry cake you had purchased one more for your work. Whoever was on the other end of your kindness better appreciate it, Bucky thought. He also didn’t miss your obvious love for strawberries.

Bucky watched you for a while, almost for two whole months, in that coffee shop seat drinking in every inch of you. The baristas didn’t seem to mind his lingering. He always made sure to order two cups as some sort of compensation for letting him sit there and watch his girl. Yes — his girl, that was what he had marked you as in his mind. You hadn’t noticed him yet but Bucky wasn’t sweating it. All in due time, he silently promised you.

It took Bucky a few days to gather what was needed. You still weren’t noticing him but he was way past being bothered by that. He had been screwed by life enough to know that sometimes you just have to take what you want. Sitting around waiting and hoping was for men who had patience. He was over it. Little worked out for him so now he had to make it work.

The morning of the commencement of the plan, Bucky stood in his kitchen double-checking the items needed. Content with it, he carefully drew up the correct amount of light sedation into the syringe. It wasn’t anything crazy and apparently affected the mind first, body second. You’d be on autopilot for a bit, walking more like someone who was just having a rough day. But that wouldn’t be an issue because Bucky would be there. He’d be able to escort you to his apartment, simply appearing as the concerned, protective boyfriend among the sidewalk pedestrians. He got a bit giddy just thinking about it.

Moments after you were properly sedated, he’d need to administer you another drug in a timely manner. This one would be focused on memory loss. He’d discovered it on some corner of the black market while originally on the look for types of sedation. Apparently, this drug was part of some sort of failed spy mission in Europe. The seller swore it boasted good results, citing studies conducted. Bucky looked into it and agreed. After some clumsy navigation in the world of online shopping, it was his within a few days. The concoction seemed like it would do that job.

The goal was to pretty much scramble your brain just a little bit. Nothing crazy like making you totally forget key components of yourself but still hit a point where you didn’t have enough to fight Bucky’s word on, well, anything. This drug wore off, though, so he would have to come up with ways to get it in your system over the course of your relationship. It was still worth it to him. He wasn’t stripping you off your personality, just some little details here and there. You’d still be his shining girl, just only now focused on him.

The final items laid out were various feet of rope. Bucky was being overly cautious with this. He didn’t know if anything actually was going to work. What if you woke up and realized you weren’t in your apartment? That you were being watched over by a stranger? You were bound to panic but he understood that. If need be, he could restrain you while he figured out the right way to go about it all. It would never be to hurt you, of course — in fact, he felt it was more for your safety than anything.

After another run of the mental checklist, Bucky gathered the syringe and headed out to the coffee shop. The idea was fairly simple. After you came in for a box of pastries, he’d head out behind you, try to chat you up a bit. He had some old moves he could flex. Once you got comfortable enough, he’d make the move and then lights out. By the end of that day, you’d be making yourself comfortable in his apartment.

Bucky practically fawned over the idea as he walked. He had taken some steps earlier in the week to add some things for you in the apartment like ladies’ toiletries and new outfits. He had even finally purchased a real couch. All for you, so you could have a home. A real home. With him.

Bucky was still lost in his daydream as he sat in the coffee shop, looking between the clock and the window. He waited and waited and waited. The syringe growing heavier and heavier in his pocket as the seconds went by.

The clock struck a new hour. Something Bucky never planned for was unfolding: it didn’t look like you were coming today. He almost about lost it there. Almost went into the streets stomping away in anger. Everything was perfect, how could you just be the only missing piece? Did something happen? Were you okay? Gosh, he should’ve got to you sooner—

Your hair suddenly came into view. You were walking furiously, just glancing at the bakery this time before deciding not to go in. You looked anxious which certainly wasn’t like you. He wanted to crush whatever was making you feel such a way. But Bucky had to snap his thoughts back. You weren’t coming into the bakery. He wouldn’t be able to follow you out, to casually build-up to this moment. His heart was pounding. He panicked.

In a moment of stupid impulsivity, Bucky quickly left the coffee shop and began racing to catch up to you. He took long strides, quite amazed by how fast you walked in those heels, but it didn’t take him very long to now be right on your tail. Few more steps and he was able to pop up right in front of you. You jumped at his sudden presence. Bucky smiled, finding you so amusing.

"Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but I think you dropped something." He lied through his teeth so gloriously, way too easily. It was just the right comment to get you to stop in your tracks but didn’t completely scare you off.

Your brows furrowed, adorably confused. You looked down, searching for whatever it could be. "I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t think I did."

Sir. The word stuck with him a bit. Maybe after some coaxing, you could always be calling him that. Bucky didn’t have much time to think about this, though, as you began to step around him. You had taken his moment of silence as a way to evade him. Smart, but frustrating. A mix of annoyance and anger shot through him. He grabbed your arm and pulled you into him quickly. You let out a yelp in surprise. He ignored it and before you could ask any questions, the syringe was plunged into your neck. To outsiders, it looked like a couple in some weird embrace, but to Bucky, it was just the beginning of something beautiful.

He got you back to his apartment fairly easily after that. You were eventually out cold and the next step of the process could begin. He was pretty much banking on the memory loss solution. Not a very religious man, Bucky still said a silent prayer as he administered it.

He took a step back from his bed, watching you look so at home knocked out on it. It was a wonderful sight, one he was saving in the back of his mind, even though he’d now see it every single day. Feeling quite content with how smoothly that all had gone, he had nothing to do now but wait for you to wake up.

Bucky took this free time as a chance to begin cutting off connections you had. Thankfully, your bag held your laptop along with other necessities like your phone and wallet. He was pretty thankful he wouldn’t have to try to get into your work to grab your devices. That would rely too heavily on whether or not you overshared. No one would believe he was the concerned boyfriend if just last week you ranted about how single you were.

Sliding onto a stool at his kitchen counter, Bucky set up your laptop. The first thing he noticed was your lack of password. You were too trustful, too good, and that was only example A. Bucky suddenly felt so relieved he had you in the safety of his apartment. There were lunatics out there.

Bucky navigated your laptop fairly easily. While he was pretty new to the technology scene, he could at least find the basics and you weren’t exactly running some government-level device. With a few simple taps and clicks, he was writing out messages to your boss and family.

He put in your letter of resignation, something short and vague, to your boss at the public relations firm you were an assistant at. Lower level work, not even anywhere near the big dogs. No wonder you constantly brought in treats for everyone. You were hoping your kindness would get you ahead. Bucky shook his head at your naivety.

A simple Google search showed him you were not the only assistant to the head of the firm. You probably wouldn’t be missed. The pastries, maybe, but you? An assistant? Someone would take your place within the week. Bucky was turning out much better for you than he had realized. He mentally patted himself on the back as he moved onto looking into your family.

Scrolling through your email contacts, it appeared you only had a sister for immediate family. No mentions of parents and… sure enough, another search brought up an obituary for your mother. No mention of a father. Even better, he thought. You needed that strong, guiding force.

A few scrolls through your current email thread with your sister and Bucky found out she was studying abroad. Could this all get any better? Nothing was in the immediate area of a threat. He responded back to the last email your sister had sent. Copying your language the best he could, he dropped some hints that you wanted a vacation. In just a few more exchanges he could drop the news that you were off in paradise. Correspondence could easily fizzle out and your sister would be too caught up in her European dream to notice an absence.

If this ever called for any more attention, Bucky figured he could easily invite her over. It’d take some training but you’d eventually remember your sister — or, what Bucky would plant in your head about her — then you’d happily host a dinner. Introduce your two favorite people to one another. He bought himself enough time to spend with you.

Of course, Bucky realized he got very lucky with you. He had done some minimal research beforehand but everything had been behind sign-in walls. He didn’t know if he was really ready to break into social media and instead decided to risk it. If all had gone to shit, like you having a real big, caring family or a prestigious job, there wasn’t anything a little talking couldn’t fix.

But Bucky had also kind of already knew you as he watched you day in and day out. He had felt that dire need to be comforted, to be loved, to be cared for, to be protected behind those cheery smiles and generous small talk. You always tried too hard as if you needed everyone in the world to love you, to praise you. That wasn’t it at all. You just needed him. And he needed you.

Lost in his dreamy thoughts, Bucky nearly jumped out of his skin (leave it to you to be the first person to actually scared him) when your soft voice called from the bedroom doorway.

"Excuse me," You said, nervously fidgeting as you slowly walked from the hall into the kitchen. "W-What’s going on?"

Bucky shut your laptop quickly and hopped down from the stool. He gave you a warm smile which you seemed to try to return. So obedient and caring already and you didn’t even know why — yet.

"Hey, doll," he said, keeping his voice steady and gentle. "You okay? You laid down for a nap earlier. I was worried you were getting sick." He placed a hand on your forehead pretending to check your temperature. Thankfully, you allowed it. After a moment, he pulled his hand away with a curious hum.

You frowned, obviously confused, much more than you were earlier. You looked totally clueless at the situation. It was the best reaction Bucky could’ve ever hoped for.

You glanced around the living space. "I- Yeah, I think I’m alright… I’m sorry, I can’t seem to remember much. Who are you?"

Bucky chuckled, "I’m your boyfriend. Bucky. And this is our apartment. You remember, don’t you, honey? Maybe you’re just still a bit sleepy."

He watched as you blinked a few times, probably wrestling with whether to admit you really didn’t remember anything or to go with the lie. If you were a good girl, like he predicted, you’d settle with the lie.

"Oh." You bit your lip and eventually nodded. Jackpot. "Of course. Again, I’m sorry. I must’ve been really tired." You glanced over at the clock. It read just before noon. "I’m a bit hungry. Would you like anything, B-Bucky?"

He smiled. "A sandwich would be great, doll."

You nodded once in acknowledgment then began hunting for everything you needed in the kitchen. You looked a bit confused at first but slowly Bucky saw you get the hang of it. He took his place at the kitchen counter again, sliding the laptop out of your sight.

He sat there waiting and observing as his new girl began making him lunch. It was a sight he had dreamed of, but Bucky also knew this was too perfect too soon. You were bound to stumble within time but that was okay. He would have to fine-tune the details later but he was already complying some ideas on how to shape you into who you were destined to be.

Yes, he had a long way to go, but it would all be worth it if he got to come home to you standing in his kitchen whipping up a special treat like the sweetest housewife to ever exist. Because that certainly would be the next step down the line — making you his darling wife.

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dandeliononthemoon · 3 years

Note

If you're still doing prompts, #27 for zoyalai with a bit of #1 and #43?

Thank you so much for the request, anon <3

This has become hurt/comfort, when I actually just planned comfort for you lol but well

Anyway i had fun writing and i hope you enjoy!!

p.s.: I kid you not anon, when i was writing this i realized i had dreamt this, that i was writing this fic, and i got even more excited so i really hope you enjoy it

Fandom: Grishaverse

Pairing: Zoya Nazyalensky x Nikolai Lantsov

Prompt(s): 1. Small kisses littered across the other’s face, 27. Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap, 43. A kiss pressed to te top of the head

Words: 970

number(s) + pairing = drabble for you!

i still take requests up until 4 dec, so if you have been wondering about a certain kissing headcanon, i could fulfil your dream by writing it!

Most days, Nikolai felt as confident as he showed it on the outside. Some days, he didn’t.

On those days, he compensated for it by being over confident. People often enough didn’t see the difference, so he knew that it worked.

Today was one of those days.

His whole life he had spent not quite fitting in. Not quite receiving as much love as he thought he deserved. Except for Dominik and later Zoya, he never had someone who he could feel so deeply for, and had been on the receiving end of that love.

Sometimes, the insecurities crept in. He wondered often when Zoya would leave, for someone better, maybe more deserving of her affections. He always anticipates her not staying the next day, but she always does.

Today, as he was sitting on the chair of their dressing table, he watched Zoya getting ready for a dinner party they had organized.

She was wearing a sleeveless deep blue velvety gown, with a mermaid shape that beautifully accentuated her curves. The dress goes on to pool around her feet.

He knew, that everyone was going to stare at her, just the way he did now. There might even be someone, who is more charming, nicer, funnier than him that Zoya would probably go with him. And he would gladly let her, if she wanted that.

Right now, she was looking in the big mirror on their closet, trying to fit her diamond earrings.

Zoya noticed Nikolai staring at her through the mirror. “What are you thinking?”

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He blinked a few times before quickly producing a convincing smile, he hoped it was convincing. “Nothing darling, I was just thinking how beautiful you look”

“That is not nothing” she smirked and turned around, having finished putting her earring into place.

“And that is not what you were thinking”

She proceeded to go sit on his lap, putting her arm around his neck and placing the other on his face, making him turn his face towards her. He put one hand on her back and one on her thigh, distractedly rubbing circles with his thumb. He did that when he was thinking about something. Zoya also noticed his eyes drooping and his smile not exactly radiant, which it was every time he genuinely smiled. It was too bright. There was some weariness in his eyes.

“Are you okay? Should we cancel the party” Zoya looked into his eyes with concern.

“Oh no, you shouldn’t cancel the party on my account. Besides, there is not even anything” he waved his hand as if to brush away her concern, with a too bright voice.

“Honey, we have been together for so long and have gone through so much. I think I know when you aren’t in your best mood”

She sighed. “They say it is good to share concerns, it lessens the burden” she implied.

“But of course you don’t need to talk about it just yet” Zoya was brushing over his cheekbones.

Nikolai looked downward and took an uneven breath.

“I-“, He exhaled and started again. ”It is quite stupid, but I can’t help and feel that someday, you will choose to not love me anymore”. He turned his head away as he said it. “As so many others did”, he added with a small, soft voice, a blush creeping up on his face.

Her heart twisted.

“I mean if that did happen and you chose to walk away, I would not stop you. Saints, I can’t even believe you have stayed for as long as you did”, he looked down again, “I just-“ he got cut off by a soft pressure on his lips.

“Okay, first of all, you are stupid”, Zoya said with a hard voice and an equally intense look. She couldn’t believe he was still thinking this way. Not that she could exactly blame him, with the family he had and the life he grew up in, it was hard to let go of this anxiety. It make her feel a rush of emotions for him, all in one second.

“Second of all, I am never leaving. I thought we vowed on that”

“People can easily break promises”, he interrupted softly.

“I wasn’t done”, she huffed.

“Third, I love you”, Zoya emphasized every word.

He looked up at that.

“What? You are surprised? D’you want confirmation?”, she asked with some annoyance.

She then kissed him on the forehead, with as much tenderness as much anger she spoke in.

Her lips trailed around his face, leaving little pecks along his forehead, going on to his temple, moving to his cheekbones and the hollow of his cheek, to his jaw, chin, all the way around. Then she hovered around his lips, ”I love you, okay you dumbass? I love you”

Zoya brushed her lips on his, softly grabbing his upper lip and kissing across it, kissing the corner, going down to the lower lip, leaving kisses across there as well and the other corner.

His hands moved around her, possessively curving around her waist and pressing himself against her. Zoya had often enough said ‘I love you’, but whenever she did, his heart would make a jump, not quite believing she means it. But she does. And she’s proven that many times. As she was doing now.

They pulled away, resting their foreheads against each other.

“Thank you”, Nikolai whispered.

“You are welcome, but why?”

“For sticking around, for staying with me, for loving me”

He could feel Zoya’s smile and she gave a quick peck as she said, “You can thank me properly later, but for now we need to get going, we don’t want to upset our guests”

He smiled now too, feeling a little bit more confident.

“Yes, let’s go”

30 notes · View notes

bookishofalder · 4 years

Text

Night Changes [One]

Night Changes Series Masterlist

Summary: It may have been years since Poe and the reader have seen one another, but that doesn’t make the emotional upheaval any easier to navigate for either of them.

Warnings: Fuck ton of angst, language, a lot of feelings, mentions of death and loss, grief. WC-5,780 (Jesus buckle up I guess!)

Poe was dreaming.

Nothing particularly special, but it was a dream nonetheless, a break from the usual nightmares that tended to invade his sleeping mind night after night when all he wanted was to succumb to the darkness for a few hours. The dream was more of a memory, a replaying of a night back on Yavin-4 so many years ago before he and Charlie had gone to flight school.

A night like every other, yet the humid evenings on Yavin 4 always did seem to hold a little mystery, like a warm blanket that wrapped one in a false sense of security; he could do anything. And on that evening, he had snuck some of his father’s good whiskey, the stuff from a planet far, far away, and gone to knock on Charlie’s window in the cover of darkness. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, though the whiskey was a new addition.

Charlie had answered immediately, a big grin stretching across his face even before he saw what Poe had brought, the relief in that grin piquing his curiosity-why did he seem grateful that Poe was there? When he climbed through the window, he found you were already there, sat on the floor across the small bedroom with your back against the end of Charlie’s bed, your face wet with tears and he understood your brothers reaction.

Before Poe could ask what was wrong, Charlie noticed the bottle in Poe’s hands and tapped it excitedly, “Just what we needed! How do you do it, brother?” His voice was always so loud, but in the Horn household it wasn’t an issue. Your mother was asleep on the other side of the house and even if she did wake, she wouldn’t come in and begrudge a little teen rebellion. Poe really liked her for that, for trusting them, for never making him feel unwelcome.

“Didn’t realize it would come in so handy. What's going on, sweetheart?” The affectionate nickname had been around for years, so long now that he hardly noticed himself using it. He liked the way it tugged the corners of your lips up, even when you were sad. But he didn’t like that you were sad right now, his concern only growing when you pulled your knees to your chest and dropped your head to them, hiding your face and, no doubt, a fresh wave of tears.

You had always hated crying in front of them, for some reason. Charlie never cried, but Poe had no issues with sobbing outright in front of you both. He didn’t understand why you felt you had to hide it from him.

Without speaking, Charlie and Poe sat down on either side of you, your brother taking the whiskey and opening it, taking a small swig and huffing through the smoky burn.“Kid, you tell him.” He used that extra soft voice reserved only for you, his free hand reaching over to pat your foot on the ground next to him.

Poe had his shoulder pressed against yours. He knew you enjoyed how warm he always was, that you thought of him as your personal furnace, cuddling him even on warm days like this because you seemed to forever run a little chilly, or maybe you were just a touchy person and you were that comfortable with Poe.

After a few moments of quiet sniffling, you finally raised your head, setting your chin on your knees and staring straight ahead. “Gus ended things earlier.” You whispered into the moonlit room, your voice wavering somewhat with emotion, though Poe could sense it was more of embarrassment and disappointment of being dumped than that of actual heartbreak.

Poe felt an odd mixture of both anger and relief sweep through him, the latter of which he resolutely shoved away, into the far reaches of his mind to be stubbornly ignored. “That kriffing asshole! Who does he think he is, dumping our girl?” And truly, what the fuck audacity did that guy have? Did he not have eyes? Did he not spend just five minutes with you and feel like he was sitting in the company of a Sun, so bright and warm as you were?

You gave a watery laugh at his words, and Poe felt warmth pool in his chest; he was always good at making you laugh. He saw Charlie’s shoulders sag somewhat with relief upon hearing you, always so protective and yet he had difficulty reigning in some of your big emotions, often looking to Poe for his help.

“He said it was because I’m a prude. Because I wouldn’t, you know,” You broke off, and Poe glanced down at you to see you bite your lip briefly, eyes still forward, “He said there was no point going on dates if I wouldn’t even give him the chance to, and I quote, ‘appreciate your tits properly, at the least.’”

Poe turned to face you fully now, his eyes meeting Charlies over your head. His friend looked just as annoyed as Poe felt, hearing what that skinny piece of shit had dared to say to you. A silent agreement crossed between them then, Gus would be meeting their fists come morning. For now, though, Poe focused on you, tossing an arm around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your hair, “He’s a prize fucking idiot, sweetheart, doesn’t know what he’s losing. Right, Charlie?”

“Exactly. Remember kid, no guy is ever going to deserve you because you are perfect. You don’t need to cry over someone who can’t see how lucky he is you even let him breathe the same air as you,” Charlie added his arm to your shoulders, curving under Poe’s, “Flyboy and I will take care of you, always.” He promised, and you nodded before reaching both hands up to grab each of theirs on your shoulders.

“Thank you.”

And Poe stayed the night, each of you taking turns to sip the whiskey until eventually sleep won out and Charlie crashed on his bed. You and Poe curled up on some pillows on the floor together, your head resting on his chest and even though he knew you were sad, which made him sad too, he couldn’t help but feel truly whole in those moments before sleep took over.

It was a good memory, one which he would have been content to remain in until the abrupt and incessant whirring and beeping of his droid woke him, Poe shooting up in his bed with a shout of surprise. “What? Are we being attacked?”

BB8 came to a stop near the edge of his bed, his noises growing quieter now that he’d woken Poe up.

“Buddy, it’s my day off. You better have a good reason for scaring the living hell out of me-“

The droid beeped again, clarifying his reason for interrupting his rest day. Interest piqued, Poe ran a hand over his face before planting his feet on the floor and leaning towards the droid.

“The new replacement is here? Guess that means the General wants me to come and meet them?”

BB8 confirmed, and now his alarming wake-up made more sense. The droid was as excited as Poe to meet his new second in command. He’d just lost his long-time friend, Jess Pava, to a new unit on an outpost for the Resistance. He’d recommended her for it, at her bequest, because he knew she’d be damn good for the role. But it didn’t make the loss any less disruptive; she��d been gone a few weeks now and he’d had to take on extra duties to compensate.

General Organa had profusely apologized to him a few times now, only explaining that the replacement was due back from a classified mission ‘soon’, and once they were they would be coming straight to D’Qar to join his squadron. He didn’t mind the work, but he was a little miffed that the day the new Major arrived was his only day off.

Poe quickly got himself ready for the day, taking a speedy shower in his fresher before pulling on his khaki’s and button up. Once pleased with his appearance, he stepped out of the fresher and walked toward his small desk area, above which he had a corkboard with a few mementos pinned up, including his favourite picture.

You were standing in the middle, sandwiched between him and Charlie, a big, goofy grin on your face. Charlie was laughing in the photo, and Poe was looking down at you with a fond smile. You all wore flight suits, as it was taking when you had first joined Gold Squadron. Charlie had his arm flung over your shoulders while Poe’s was snaked around your waist. You had your arms wrapped around each of their waists, though Poe remembers how your hand had brushed up his back before the picture was taken, fingers unknowingly leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

He looked at this photo every morning, tapped it once and then carried on with his day. It was the only time he allowed his conscious mind to think of Charlie, of you, and the life he lost in the blink of an eye.

When the door to his quarters opened, Poe saw a few service droids unloading a couple of crates into the room directly across from his. The room where the new member of his team would live. He could see within the unit as the door was open for the droids to carry items in, a few cases already inside the otherwise bare space.

Being careful to step around the droids and avoid falling over his own, who was wheeling excitedly along next to Poe, he made his way to command, hoping the introductions wouldn’t take too long. He had woken up with a big appetite.

And he really needed his morning caf.

“Ready to meet them, buddy?” He asked of his droid, and BB8 gave a happy little ‘weeee’ as he zoomed along beside Poe. He laughed loudly and BB8 pulled ahead, the doors of the command room opening at their approach.

Poe could see into the room now, activity within quiet enough that General Organa and the new arrival both heard his laughter and turned as he walked into the room. For a few beats, Poe kept walking, his mind not processing what he was seeing because it simply could not be. And then he froze, mid-stride.

It was you.

And from the patch on your uniform, it was now Major Horn.

And just like that, every emotion, every feeling of guilt and self-hatred and heartbreak came roaring to the surface, breaking through the walls he’d so carefully built up around what he’d done when he lost Charlie, when he’d lost you, walls he spent the last few years reinforcing as best he could.

Leia knew of the history, though she didn’t know any details of why neither of you had spoken since that terrible fucking night. She simply knew you’d all grown up together, which was probably why she hadn’t felt the need to warn Poe that it was you coming to take over as his second in command. Maybe she thought you had kept in touch and were expecting her.

Stars, Poe hadn’t seen you in person since the funeral. The night he ruined the best thing he had in his life because he couldn’t deal with his grief and took it all out on you, of all people. Poe thought of Charlie then because your brother and you looked a bit alike, but it was your eyes; you each had the exact same eyes. Though yours were lined with thick, long lashes that would sometimes tickle Poe’s cheeks when you would lean in and press a chaste kiss to them.

It had only been a few years, but so much about you had changed. Gone was the goofy girl with braids falling past her shoulders, her big smile that stretched from ear to ear. No, now Poe was looking at you and you were all grown up, wearing your uniform, hair pulled back into a low bun that was woven with intricate braids, a few wisps framing your face. You had leaned out slightly, though you still had your curves, the ones that had boy after boy falling for you back in the day-no doubt now it was man after man. He found his eyes flicking from your face to your hands, but he saw no ring. Not that he should even be thinking of whether you were single or not.

But somehow, it felt like he should know if you were with someone. Because Charlie would have expected Poe to always keep an eye on you, be there for you. The only person he let down more than Charlie was you. He knew his best friend would murder him if he knew the things Poe had said to you that night. He had never known a greater regret, a regret that he carried with him since the moment he spoke and watched your face contort in pain, as though he’d hit you with a physical blow.

He had wanted to apologize, to take it all back that very moment. He couldn’t believe himself, but you’d pull away to be sick and he was so shocked at how much he’d managed to hurt you that he couldn’t do anything other than listen to you when you ordered him to get away from you.

The irony of that wasn’t lost on him, either.

He’d walked straight to the hangar where his x-wing was parked and took it out, finding a secluded spot a few hours away to camp for two days, just to clear his head. He cried and grieved and then he realized just how badly he’d fucked up and he panicked. He started to plan how he would apologize, what he would do to earn your forgiveness and then tell you how he truly felt. But he failed you, hurt you, and he knew he had a lot of work ahead to repair what he’d broken.

Only, when he came back to base and sought you out, he instead found Jess and Tommy waiting for him by your room, their faces so grim his heart had stopped in his chest, and he’s not sure it ever restarted once he found out you’d left. Without a word or a note, you had just...deserted him.

And he knew he deserved it, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Nor did finding out that you’d been clever enough to have your new assignment sealed, eliminating any chance he could have had of going after you.

And he would have. He’d have flown across the galaxy to find you.

Instead, Poe was alone and never, ever forgave himself for being the reason you had fled in the first place.

Eventually, Poe grew enough in rank that he was able to access your private files. He only did so now and again, just to check-in and make sure you were still alive and on active duty. The last time he’d checked had been about five months ago, and it had stated you were on a classified mission that even he couldn’t access the details of. But he knew you were alive and doing well enough that you were getting assigned seriously high-class missions. Charlie would have been so proud of you.

It was a few awkward moments before Poe was able to function, quickly shaking off his shock and continuing forward, his eyes tearing away from your too-blank expression to meet the warm gaze of General Organa. “Commander Dameron, I believe you know Major Horn here. Thank you for coming to greet her with me this morning.” Leia smiled between him and you, and Poe had to swallow before returning it, breaking out his usual grin.

When he looked back at you, he found your blank expression had now morphed into one of utter contempt. An insane part of him wanted to laugh, because how could (y/n) Horn, his best friend since he was a boy, the girl who had owned his heart, ever look at him like that?

Instead, Poe forced a friendly smile, nodding to you politely, “Welcome, Major. It’s...it’s good to see you. And congratulations on your promotion. I’m happy to have you join our team.” He stuck his hand out and hoped you would grasp it.

Your eyes, so much more intense than he ever remembered, searched his face for a second before you took his proffered hand and shook, a small smile appearing on your lips.

“It’s an honour to be here, Commander.” You replied, and Poe had to blink, pulling his hand way almost too quickly. Stars, you even sounded more grown-up. Your voice had always been a little breathy, which Poe had always found alluring. But now it had matured, the breathless way you spoke now demure, feminine.

“I was just telling Major Horn that after you two had met the day was open,” Leia said, seemingly unaware of the tension between her two best pilots, “I know you earned this day off, Commander, so enjoy it!”

Poe couldn’t help but give her a wide grin, “Thank you, General.”

“Yes, thank you for taking the time to...reunite us, General.” You said, excusing yourself before abruptly walking past Poe and out of command.

He rushed after you, BB8 still at his side, now beeping in confusion at what the hell was going on. Poe ignored the droid, catching up to you just down the hall. “Wait...(y/n)...”

He trailed off, unsure of what he could even say to you, questioning why he’d stopped your departure. You ceased walking and turned to look at Poe, your expression now openly hostile, which he knew he deserved yet it still stung. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as he stood before you, a huge part of him wishing you’d start yelling at him. Or hitting him.

Instead, you gazed up at Poe and after a moment your face fell, a storm of emotions rolling across your pretty features. You took a careful, measured step back from him, as if afraid he might try and reach out to you. “I didn’t know I was coming here to be on your team,” You didn’t meet his eyes when you spoke, instead focusing on the droid at his feet, “But this is a big opportunity for me, so we’ll make it work.”

You sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself rather than Poe, but he nodded all the same. “Of course. And you deserve it.”

You scoffed, “Thanks so much, Commander.”

“I’ve missed you.”

He didn’t know what possessed him to say that. It was just that one moment you were biting your lip, and then the next you were giving him a familiar look of incredulity that he remembered receiving more than once growing up and he suddenly needed you to hear that he did miss you. Missed you more than you could ever really know.

Poe saw a flash in your eyes before you spun on your heels and marched away, not looking back. He didn’t try to follow you again. He knew there wasn’t a whole lot he could say, not right now when you were both still reeling from the shock of seeing one another again.

And what could he even say to you? Sorry for taking our friendship and smashing it to pieces at the worst possible time? For never speaking to you again because I was too cowardly to try and find you, especially once I realized how deeply I felt for you? And how could he explain how those feelings seemed to develop over such a long time that he didn’t recognize them for what they truly were until you were gone?

Charlie would have hated what had happened between you both. He would have killed Poe, easily, but he’d had also been disappointed in you. Charlie had protected you both that day because you and Poe were his family, and if he found out that his family never spoke again after the funeral? He’d have been livid.

Guilt and regret now at the forefront of his mind, Poe had lost his appetite. Instead, he found the nearest caf machine before hurrying to the flight deck and climbing in his x-wing eager to get off the ground and clear his head for a few hours.

He spent the rest of the morning thinking about Charlie, his heart tight in his chest.

✨

“I’ve missed you.”

You could hit him, you really could. No one was around, either, you might get away with it. But that would be too easy and not nearly as satisfying as you might hope, you knew.

The audacity of Poe fucking Dameron saying he missed you was so infuriating, you briefly considered violence. But you had grown up with him, knew the way he worked even if it had been a few years. You could hate him and still understand him, which meant that he wanted you to give him a strong reaction that he could confront head-on. Scream and punch and cry and he would instantly work to comfort, to apologize, but it was really just a way to make himself feel better.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

You spun away-not before seeing the pained expression cross his face-and hurried off. You figured if you still had such a decent read on him, the same went for Poe. He’d always been able to read you, your body language, expressions, hell Charlie usually went to Poe for help when he couldn’t figure out how to support you, comfort you.

You needed some time alone, time to process and figure out the best way to make this work.

When you were invited by the General herself to come to D’Qar, to work under her ‘top pilot and most trusted Commander’, you hadn't blinked before saying yes. And you’d known that it would mean, inevitably, seeing Poe again-you knew he still worked here. But you’d had no idea until he walked into command that morning that it was his team you were joining.

When you’d been standing with General Organa in the control room, chatting amicably about the weather, the very last thing you’d expected to hear was his booming, rich laugh. And then the doors had opened, a small droid whizzing in, and his laughter continued as he stepped into the room. You had thought you might pass out, throw up, or start screaming.

With no idea what he was doing there, you had simply stared at him, watched as he reacted to seeing you. Actively working to keep your expression blank, you stared at your once best friend for the first time in years, going numb inside.

In some ways it had been almost comical; he’d frozen mid-step and gaped at you stupidly for a few beats before coming to his senses and continuing forward. And it was at that moment you had realized he was the superior you were meeting. He was the Commander you’d be working under. When he stood directly in front of you, your mind betrayed you by immediately zoning in on one specific thought.

But stars, he’d aged well.

When he finally was able to collect himself enough to wipe the surprise off of his face, it had settled into that easy smile you remembered so well. The one you tried to never think of because of the pain that would build in your chest, the memories and feelings that you had refused to look back on for a very long time now at risk of bursting through your mental walls if you weren’t careful.

Now, that smile revealed a slight crinkling around his eyes, though he hadn’t changed much beyond that. He was just as broad and lean as you remembered, just as handsome and you thought he might be a little more built up, a new layer of muscle moving under his button-up. Charlie would have loved to tease him over the grey flecks you could barely discern in his raven locks, and you suddenly wondered if your brother would have had any grey hair himself.

Those thoughts were fleeting at that moment before fury and sadness and longing were suddenly overtaking you and it was all you could do to remain composed in front of the General when, for the first time in years, you wanted to crumble to the ground. That fucking grin of his, it was always maddening, always so attractive and disarming.

When you were kids, he’d do it to get away with something and even though your parents knew he’d done it, it would work and he’d barely get a slap on the wrist. As teenagers, the strongest memory you had of that grin was one time when he’d climbed into Charlie’s room late at night and your brother wasn’t there-he’d fallen asleep on the couch-so Poe wandered to your room.

You had just gotten out of the fresher, having taken a quick rinse off to cool down, and hadn’t shut the door. Your bedroom door was closed and it was the middle of the night; you hadn’t expected any company. And then Poe just sauntered in, his eyes on your bed where he doubtless thought he’d find you. You had barely had time to freeze, completely naked and mid-stride as you sought a clean nightgown when he seemed to sense you. His head had jerked in your direction in surprise.

That memory forever burned into your mind. The way his eyes had fallen, then snapped up to your face and instead of seeing amusement or a pervy smirk, Poe had slapped his hands over his eyes, cursed, apologized vehemently in a loud whisper, and then he grinned. That grin, just as powerful even though his eyes were covered. It spread across his face and you couldn’t help but laugh despite your embarrassment, quickly throwing on a nightgown before walking over and punching him in the sides a few times, hissing didn’t he know how to knock?

And though you worried it might affect things between you and your best friend, it never did seem to. For you, it did in some ways because you couldn’t seem to get the look on his face (the one that slipped out just before he could properly react and compose himself) out of your head and you wondered what it meant-if anything. He still stayed the night, climbing into your bed, his arms casually behind his head as he laid next to you and told you about his day while never once teasing you.

At one point, when sleep was close, eyes drooping and your cheek resting against his arm, Poe’s soft voice had pulled you from unconsciousness. Barely a whisper, he said, “I really am sorry I came in without knocking, sweetheart. Please forgive me.”

And he’d sounded so concerned, so genuinely stressed that you would be mad at him, you had snuggled closer into his side and murmured your reassurances until eventually, you fell asleep.

Today, however, it was only memories of what that smile used to mean to you and anger for what it was now. That he got to keep that easy fucking grin all these years, it only pissed you off. The logical part of you knew he had been just as surprised to see you and was no doubt struggling himself now, but you didn’t have room to care.

He had been the one to break you, to take your friendship and pulverize it by saying the worst possible things to you.

He had broken you.

That fight hadn’t just been the loss of what you had thought was the greatest friendship in the galaxy. It had been the final moment that took your life from carefree and fun to what it was now, what it had been since. Joyless, lacking, lonely-so fucking lonely.

That had been the night you had to grow up, realizing that not only was Charlie gone, but the life you’d had was too. Gone were the days of adventure, of going on test flights and racing one another, of Poe getting you drinks at the cantina and Charlie sitting with his arm slung casually over your shoulders, until any of you spotted someone who caught your interest. Someone who would only be around for the night but would bring a little pleasure and escape. Charlie was more often the one to go home with such a person, happy to play the field and often making new friends you’d see again, even though he never exclusively dated them.

And the little flare of excitement you’d get each time it was just you and Poe? That had been carefree too because whatever it meant didn’t need to be examined, it just was. Casual touches that lingered and sent heat up your spine, easy and flowing conversation, long hugs even when you’d see each other the next day. All of that had been such a prominent fixture in your life, the slow escalation between you and Poe was something that, to this day, you never tried to understand.

But then Charlie died; everything changed, and you left and never looked back. All the while, Poe Dameron kept grinning like that. Fuck, fuck!

You almost walked straight past your new room, so lost in your thoughts and memories, but thankfully a passing droid greeting you politely pulled to the moment, and you only had to retrace a few steps back. Immense relief washed over you the moment you saw that all of your items had been delivered and unpacked, only a box of mementos and photos left on your desk for you to find new homes for.

Even the bed had been made already. And as much as you wanted to just climb under the covers and shut the world away, you instead set yourself to the task of putting the final touches on your space.

The room was silent save for your occasional gasps and hiccups as you let your emotions run free in the privacy. You proudly displayed the plaque you had been given from the Resistance following Charlie’s funeral; a handsome photo of him in uniform set in the middle, his name inscribed along with his rank, years of life and final resting place on Yavin-4. His flight suit patch was attached to the plaque above the photo, the final touch to a beautiful little tribute to Charlie that you could take with you wherever in the galaxy you went.

The final item you pulled out was a small protective album for photos you displayed in your room. You pulled out the photos, ones of you and Charlie as kids, of your parents, of the whole family plus Poe during one hilariously disastrous little vacation that resulted in all of you returning home and ignoring one another for three days, even Poe. A few from your teen years, early and late, Poe and Charlie usually taking up the most space in the photos between their sizes and huge smiles, and the final photo you had was your absolute favourite.

Smushed between Charlie and Poe, you had a smile on your face that hadn’t been seen in years. It was silly, girlish and youthful and not the person you were anymore. You were looking at the camera, Charlie with his big arm over the top of your shoulders, laughing as he looked toward the camera as well. Poe was looking at you. Giving you a warm smile that you always suspected he only shared with you, one that melted his eyes to pools of warm honey and made your insides wriggle. You remember how his hand burned where he gripped your waist, and you had instinctively traced your hand up his spine in the moment, though you never understood why.

That photo both broke your heart and made you smile every time you looked at it. The last photo of the three of you together, the three of you happy. A photo that not only showed your love for one another but also hinted at that feeling you never did examine. A photo that revealed that feeling might not have been one-sided, not at all.

When you finished your tidying, you took a seat at your desk and used your data pad to pull up your schedule, curious what the days ahead would look like. Right away you could see no missions in the queue, though that could change in an instant. And as eager as you were to get flying, you knew it would probably be best to spend the next couple of days trying to establish yourself on base, meet the rest of your team, and figure out how you were going to keep a cool head spending so much time working with Poe.

With a heavy sigh, you glanced at the clock and decided a late lunch was in order, hopeful that the weird hour would leave the caf quiet. Although you knew you’d be recognized you did hope to push that off for as long as possible.

You needed to swallow back your feelings and face the fact that you weren’t just working directly for General Leia. You were back on D’Qar; a planet that Charlie had spent enough time on, even before you joined Gold Squadron, to make lasting friendships and leave an incredible reputation behind after he’d died. You hadn’t been back since the funeral, so it was inevitable that others would be bringing him up, asking after you, where you had disappeared to, why you’d left without saying goodbye to pretty much everyone.

You needed to suck it up because you had a job to do and your work for the Resistance was the only thing anymore that made your life worthwhile. No family, no close friends, no partners, just fighting the fight and being the best damn pilot you could be.

You wondered if Charlie would be proud of you. Of how far you’d come, of the fact that you were now the same rank as he had been before his death. But after seeing Poe today you knew that wouldn’t have entirely been the case, not with how things all ended up.

So, you reasoned with yourself, that meant that you had to work extra hard here on D’Qar to push aside the history between you and your Commander. And actually, indifference and coldness were probably going to be your best assets going forward.

At least you had a game plan.

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bubsthebee · 4 years

Text

Can’t Say It.

Aizawa x Reader

Word Count: 3,541

A/N: Fluff, dragged out but it’s a happy ending. One shot. Age difference (9 years) Reader is 22 while Aizawa is 31. Mentions of alcohol.

Reader is a young teacher at UA who has a unique relationship with Pro Hero and coworker Eraserhead. After a while of getting to know each other, will they realize their feelings? OR will they let self doubt get in the way.

CHARACTER REPORT

Position: UA SCHOOL ADMINISTRATION

Job Description: Quirk Analysis and Evaluation Processing.

Name: (L/N), (F/N) Power: 2/5 D Intelligence: 4/5 B

Birthday: (5/10) Speed: 2/5 B Cooperativeness: 5/5 A

Age: 22 Technique: 5/5 S

Sex: Female (She/Her)

Quirk: Analysis

-(Y/N) is able to instantly analyze a person and their abilities after observing them, familiarizing themselves with their qurik. This also includes evaluating/predicting situations with higher than average accuracy. With this ability, she can use this information with or against a subject. She can keep up to three peoples' worth of information perfectly memorized at a time. Anymore, her analysis starts to create more errors and her accuracy decreases.

Ever since (y/n) started working at UA, everyone knew that Aizawa’s single streak was in danger.

While the scruff chined 1-A homeroom teacher taught his bustling young hero course, she supported the admin staff! Specifically falling under processing and evaluating every student's quirk and how to help progress their potential. This means every homeroom teacher ran their notes and evaluations about their students through her every quarter, possibly more depending on how active and intense their training has been. She and her small team are a key to the school’s successful hero and support course. No matter how a quirk was used, they would find the best way to help them improve it.

Classroom 1-A currently holds the record for most updates and changes to analysis (surprise). With an increase in updates, (y/n) has spent more sleepless nights making sure her work was perfect than she originally thought she was going to. Not that she minded of course! She was young, and found that it helped drive her to improve her passions and skill. Besides her administrative work, she also works as a substitute teacher for English, and Hero Strategy lessons twice a semester. If needed she is more than happy to help with summer lessons.

Aizawa has had more than his fair share of interaction with the young lady, more than others if one was keeping track. After the hero noticed (y/n)’s sleepless nights because of his students, he offered to stay and bring her coffee. When (y/n) noticed extra heavy bags under his eyes, there would be a nicely wrapped lunch on his desk with a cute thank you note in return.

Over time a unique relationship developed between the two that anyone looking in could clearly see. Including the students.

“Mr Aizawa! Your lady friend left ya another lunch, you’re so LUCKY.” Denki and Mineta whined without hesitation.

“Why don’t we get cute lunches made by cute girls?”

“Shut up! That’s Ms. (L/n) you’re talking about, not some side chick you dumbos. I think it’s really sweet.” Mina cooed alongside some of the other girls.

Their homeroom teacher could only sigh, carefully tucking away the lunch box into his work desk as he partially ignored their scattered comments. “Lucky or not, you all should have your notes out and study. Your test scores from last week clearly tell me I haven’t given enough in class work time. Do I have to cut down on our outside training hours?” The instant shuffling of paper and pencils brought a small smirk to his face. Nothing got his students off his back faster than less training hours. As he took attendance and organized his schedule, the small peeks at the lunch box reminded him about his last encounter with his….coworker.

“Midoriya is such a strange boy you know? I’m surprised his quirk doesn't instantly tear his body apart every time he uses it. I’m glad he’s getting a handle on it, I hated seeing him hurt himself so often.” You were sat cross legged in your office chair, typing away at your laptop underneath a bright desk lamp.

“I agree, he needs to learn how to use his body with his quirk.”

“Exactly!- Well, it looks like his rate of injuries compared to training has decreased. Based off of Recovery Girls records, his quirk usage deteriorated his arm muscle effectiveness. This means he’s got to either limit his usage on his arms, or learn how to use the rest of his body to compensate.” Rubbing your eyes shifted your reading glasses off of your face, exposing the bags that were starting to grow underneath them.

“You shouldn’t be getting such heavy bags under your eyes like that, you’re too young for those (L/n).” He always notices them, no matter how well hidden.

“Ya, okay GRAMPS. You’re not that much older than me and YOUR eyes are just as bad, if not worse. And call me (y/n), we’re friends aren't we?”

Rolling his eyes, Aizawa gets up with a huff to pour some coffee from the nearby coffee pot. “Midoriya is your last report tonight right? Go home, you’ve got Hero Strategy classes tomorrow.” as if on cue, he hands you the cup of warm coffee while you reach out for it with a quiet “Thank you”.

The way you hold the cup in your hands and let the warm steam brush against your face leaves him staring at you with a soft look.

“I guess I could leave a little earlier than I thought....” blowing cool air onto the coffee, you slowly take a sip of the warm beverage. Every time you see that look on his face, you can’t help but wonder what he’s feeling.

After a short while, you both clean up and close the office up. It’s 1 AM and both of you are more than ready to get at least a few hours of sleep in. Like usual, he walks you halfway to your home before bidding his own goodbye.

“Goodnight (L/n).” As Aizawa turns to walk away, he feels a small tug at his sleeve.

“I uh-” Turning to look around, he sees you with pinker cheeks underneath a streetlight. How do you always look so...nice? No matter the light you always look nice.

You slowly slid your hand down his arm to gently hold onto his hand. It was so soft, not just the hold but your skin. You couldn't even look at him but your voice was clear as day.

“Thank you, for staying with me. I know how tired you must be too….so I feel honored that you decide to spend your important time with me- er, to help me. You’re a great teacher and man Aizawa. Good night.” Just as quick as the moment had started, your touch was gone and you made your way home.

He was alone, yet he could still feel your touch on his skin. Aizawa stood there for minutes, looking at his hand in awe and strange curiosity. His coworkers and friends told him multiple times, “You two aren’t a thing?”, “It’s obvious that you fancy her Shouta.”,

“She has to feel the same, you don’t see how she looks at you when you aren’t paying attention.”

The school bell alerting the start of their first class was what pulled Aizawa out of his mind, looking up to see (y/n) walk into the class with your information tablet. ‘Ah, right. Hero Strategy.’ “Good Morning class! Great to see you all again.” She was chipper as always, her makeup easily covering her endeavors from the night before. The young teacher wore simple black tights with her training sweat jacket, everyone murmured in excitement because this meant that there would be out of class training and demonstrations Rubbing his exhaustion from his face, the black haired male stands up to go stand near (y/n). “You all have ten minuets to change and get to the field. Any longer and you’ll be stuck in cleaning duty for the week.”

Iida is quick to stand and grab his fellow classmates attention. “Quickly but in order, please gather your things and head to the gym! No RUNNING!” As valiant as his efforts were, everyone rushed out of the class in fear of being put into the cleaning crew while it was out of their turn.

The small smile he saw on your face was sobering, calmly following behind you as you made your way to the gym.

Usually, Aizawa would sneak into his sleeping back and nap during other teachers' lessons. These ones were different for him. He would sit off to the side and observe how you worked with the kids.

While some students could take simple suggestions and immediately apply them, others needed physical examples. You were more than happy to adapt to all their needs as they all trained with their new plans and teachers notes. While Tokoyami nodded and talked with Dark Shadow about your observations, Uraraka carefully mimicked your moves as you slowly countered her attacks explaining how they affected her opponent's momentum even more.

He knew you were a natural when it came to children and hero work. The obvious proof was right in front of him. That and he was nine years older than you, yet you both were doing almost the exact same job. That's where everything starts to blur for him.

After a quick practice round with Shoji, a rundown with Bakugo about his quirk usage along with Midoriya and the rest of the class, their first class of the day was over.

The rest of the day went normal, and (Y/n) left to finish the rest of her lessons while Aizawa did the same.

After a long week, you were more than happy to have the weekend to yourself, or so you thought.

Incoming Call: Keigo <(‘v’)>

“Keigo?”

“Hey tiny, sorry to bother but I felt like I should call in and see how you were doing.”

“I’m fine, just getting ready to watch some movies and order take in. Had a long week. You?”

“Gonna be heading out to an event soon! Glad to hear you're doing good. Any luck with your crush on the office grandpa?”

You roll your eyes as you wiggle yourself into more blankets, clicking through the different documentaries you could find on YouTube.

“I don’t have a crush on Aizawa, and even IF I did he is NOT a grandpa. He would probably want someone closer to his age anyway. The whole life experience gap and everything.”

“Yeah okay, whatever. Don't get mad at me when you realize I’m right and you're missing out on not being single anymore.”

“You’ll be the first person I call when you’re actually right. ” “Ouch-”

“Pfft, talk to you later Kei. I have an hour long video about the origin of heroes and it’s calling my name.”

“Bye bye!”

No matter how relaxed you were or how interesting the documentary was, you couldn't get you know who out of your mind. Could you have a crush on Aizawa Shouta? Silver Fox hero of the night? Grumpy man who likes taking naps in the middle of the day? You couldn’t lie, he was attractive and his personality was more than pleasant to you at least. It always felt like something was there between you two..between late night talks and having lunch together sometimes. It felt like there was a connection, and the only thing keeping you two from connecting was a waterfall of hesitation and doubt.

“Whatever…”

“WoooOO! Staff Party, this is gonna be a blast Listeners! Present Mic here to keep your evening thrilling with an amazing music selection!”

Upbeat music with minimal words played through the old speakers of a rented out ballroom. It was the end of the first semester staff party, everyone was dressed semi formal with their hair done nicely and makeup to match. The decorations were nice, and tables were laid out with food, drinks and chairs to relax and chat.

Aizawa was one of the first to show up since he and Yamada came together like usual. Although he socialized with other teachers as they passed by, he stayed closer to the walls and talked with Kayama most of the time. He was dressed fairly well, a simple fitted dark g suit coat with normal slacks. The usually wild and wavy mess of locks was neatly tied back into a very clean half knot that showed off his handsome face.

“No date Shouta? I was sure that pretty young thing would be with you tonight. (L/n) Right, she’s such a lovely girl.” Kayama’s hair was curled beautifully around her, a long fitted dress with a deep V cut showing off her lovely charm. Aizawa only rolled his eyes, sipping on his Champaign class to avoid talking even if it was just for a second more.

“It would make more sense for her to come in with someone closer to her age or with a friend. She is the youngest person on staff you know.”

“Age this age that blah blah BLAH. I know love when I see it-”

“Not love, this isn’t some romance film Nemuri.”

With a small and understanding smile, Nemuri reaches out to gently pat her dear friend's shoulder. “Someday, you’re going to realize that the things that are holding you back are nothing but a reflection of your own worries. I know you’ll figure it out. You both will. Now try to have fun-” Her attention was stolen away for a moment, a glint of excitement in her eyes clear as day. “If you’re worried about how she feels and how she’s doing, why don't you go show her around and make sure she feels welcomed?”

Turning around, the first thing Aizawa see’s is you. A cheesy thing to say, but he almost feels his heart skip a bit.

You wore a black turtleneck underneath a midnight blue spaghetti strap dress that fit you just right. Knitted knee high socks and stylish black heel boots finished off your look along with a beautiful pearl pendant necklace. Your hair looked soft and styled in a way he had never seen it before. Your eyes were done up just enough in a way that made them shine even more than they usually do.

He’s trapped, and he is slowly realizing that he never wants to be set free.

When your eyes scan the room for anything familiar, they finally land on a set of eyes that are looking right back at you. You have to stop yourself from visibly gasping, why did his eyes feel so intense? What was he thinking as he made his way across the room to you.

Like Moses and the sea, everyone carefully parted to let you both have your moment. They all knew the chemistry between you too, and were more than happy to leave you alone as they carried on with their conversations and laughter.

“You look beautiful.” His voice was low, and held a sense of hesitant tenderness even he was unsure of. You knew he meant it.

“And you look very handsome, you even shaved for the party.” With a small laugh you gently ran the back of your fingers across his shaved cheek. This wasn't new, you had done this exact touch multiple times before when you made fun of his stubble yet- it felt more intimate than it ever had before. Aizawa knew he didn't mind it.

Carefully sliding his hand into yours, he lifts it up to press a soft and long kiss to your knuckles. “It is a special occasion. Would you like to join me tonight?” He was never a man who cushioned his words, straight to the point and expressing just how he felt was never an issue. You were different.

Accepting his offer, you move to accept his offered arm. The night starts slow as you both walk around and chat with other faculty members you work with. With Aizawas help you were confident that you were able to make some new friends, maybe going to this party wasn't so bad after all.

Everything else almost felt like a breeze. Laughs were shared, drinks were drank- and barriers were being broken down. You and Aizawa found yourselves slowly standing closer and closer together, close enough to where your fingers would brush against each other when one of you moved. All of Pro Hero Eraserhead’s friends could only watch with warm and excited smiles for him.

Like always, nights must always come to an end.

While some people left to retire for the night, others stayed longer to help clean or help more than drunk coworkers make it home safe. “I’m helping Nemuri make it home Sho! You gonna be okay making it back tonight?” Yamada had Nemuri balancing into his side, laughing as she drunkenly waved some of the others goodbye. “Oh! You all can head back home together if you’d like. I’m just helping clean a bit before I head back home.” you politely cut into their little chat, holding a medium sized black trash bag in your hands.

Taking a moment, Aizawa starts to shrug off his coat as he takes the garbage away from you. “I’ll stay behind to help clean. If you’re alright with it I can walk you home.” with wide eyes, the younger teacher could only nod before she turned away to hide her reddening cheeks to pick up more trash and plates.

“No worries, now get em TIGEr. RaaArW-” As Kayama tried to cheer her friend on, Yamada tugged her away with an amused laugh of his own.

Not even an hour later, everyone was out and the sky was as dark and it could be. The only stars you could see were the large ones as the light pollution shrouded out the smaller and weaker stars.

This time around, Aizawa's coat was wrapped around (y/n) shoulders, her head resting on him as they linked arms on the walk back to her house. Instead of splitting off halfway, he walks her all the way up to her front door. It was silent for a moment, the events from tonight silently washing over them.

“Thank you Aizawa, this...was a really nice night. I don't think it would have been as enjoyable as it was without you.” (y/n) broke the silence, turning to face and look up at the man she knew she would never look at the same again. Rubbing his mouth in thought, his eyes flicker between the young woman standing in front of him and the road.

“I want to thank you as well. I-.” He paused for a moment.

“I would like to kiss you, but I understand if you wouldn't. I think after tonight you know what my feelings are for you. I didn't even know about them fully until tonight. Kayama- Midnight was right. I was letting my worries hold me back when I should have been forward like I always am-”

Time freezes when he feels your hands pull down his face, your lips eagerly pressing into a kiss with such raw love and desperation. Instantly his arms move around to gently lift you up into him. One minute, two..three. You both only break apart for air and your warm breaths mingle against each other. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now I think. My friend was right haha...maybe I do have a crush on you. I was just worried because I had no idea if you would even be interested in a relationship, let alone with someone as...young as me. I feel like a high schooler again haha.”

The fact that you were able to laugh the way you did and still hold him in your arms brought flutters to his chest. He knew now that he more than just saw you as a coworker or a close friend. He wants to be more. “I know what you mean. Who would want to be with someone as old as me? I would never want to make you feel like I was holding you back.” He would never admit it, but he felt like a young adult experiencing love for the first time...it was a bit embarrassing (in a good way.)

“You make me feel so helpless sometimes you know that?” pulling his head down again, (y/n) presses another soft kiss to Aizawa’s forehead. “What am I gonna do with you Aizawa?”

“Shouta.”

“Huh?”

“Shouta, call me Shouta if you want.” Thankful that it was dark out, he could feel himself heat up at the intimate suggestion.

With the way your eyes sparkled while you said his name, he knew he was hooked. There is no going back. “What am I gonna do with you, Shouta?”

“You’ll figure it out eventually. I’ll help you along the way as long as you’ll help me too.” The shared silence was an unbroken promise to do the best you both can.

After sharing your final kiss good night, you watch Shouta walk down the street and out of view before returning into the comfort of your home. The jacket around your shoulders smelt strongly of the stoic man you now called yours. Enjoying the warmth and comfort his coat brought you, kicking off your boots you hop over your couch and settle into a comfortable position.

Calling: Keigo <(‘V’)>

“WHY are you calling me at….2 in the MORNING. You gave me a damn heart attack-”��

“You were right.” your voice was soft and held no regrets.

“Right? Right about what?”

“You were right, I did have feelings for Shouta. I said you would be the first person to call if you were right. And well, you were right.” The next hour was spent catching your best friend up on everything that happened tonight.

On the other side of the story, Aizawa finally made it home and had no problem finding sleep that night. He felt as ease knowing that things weren't going to turn out as bad as he thought it originally was going to be.

He can't say it, not yet.

But he is in love.

And so are you.

#bnha #oneshot #bnha imagines #aizawa x y/n #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #bnha x reader #pro hero x reader #aizawa fluff #shouta aizawa #bnha fanfiction #eraserhead x y/n #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academy x reader

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