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nessieart · 11 months

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TEETH pt. 18

WC: 2.7k

Summary: While the boss is away, the cats- or dogs- will play.

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"One step at a time," Bucky repeats, a faint smile pulling at his lips.

You give Steve a call, the line ringing a few times before it's picked up

"Captain America's phone, his handsome, single best friend speaking!" There's a shuffle and a few grunts. A big booming laugh fills your ears before he continues, "Who may I ask is callin'?"

You grin, "Hi, Sammy," you laugh when there's an audible protest in the background.

"No way! Baby girl, we were just talking about you. Weren't we Steve? –Hey! Man, you better put that down–" he's further away from the speaker now, more ruffled noises coming through. "C'mon, man, I'm still workin’ on that -hey no- wait- ok fine! -here!"

There's more shuffling, a throat clearing, and then, "Hi Flowers," Steve's a little breathless, "What uh- how are you?"

You see Bucky roll his eyes, and you bump his shoulder lightly.

Smooth, old man. Comes from the background.

"Fine, though I should be asking you that. Are you still in the hospital?"

"No, no. I got discharged a few days ago. Not a scratch on me. Right as rain."

It's freaky, man! You hear Sam yell in the background again.

You smile at their dynamic, glad Steve found a friend in Sam.

"Well, that's good to hear," you say, "listen, um- well- the reason I'm calling is because," you look at Bucky, and he looks back at you. He gives you a small nod.

"Have you- man, this is tougher than I thought. I found Bucky," you just blurt out and say. Tired of trying to find a casual way to tell Steve. There's a sharp intake of breath, both from Steve and Bucky.

"Wh-what- what do you mean?"

"He's here, with me. At the Tower."

-*-

You could smell the anxiety rolling off of Bucky. He’s been pacing around the floor since you hung up with Steve, and that was an hour ago. Steve said he’d be at the Tower as soon as he could, but you convinced him to wait until morning, gaining support from Sammy, too. So Steve relented and said he would drive up to New York first thing in the morning.

And you’ve told Bucky this, but he can’t seem to sit still for more than a minute. His hair's a little wild from his hands raking through it, and his metal arm hasn’t stopped whirring in protest. You’re starting to get a little worried it’ll jam or something. By the umpteenth time around the living room, you stand up and stop him in his tracks.

“You need to relax, James, your anxiety and stress is leaking out and into me and it's making me itchy,” your skin ripples and you shake it off like a chill up your spine. “The full moon is soon, and I need to run. Come with me. It’ll get you out of the Tower for at least a few hours,” you tug on his arm that is lifted to go through his hair again.

Bucky mumbles an 'I don't know, Petal.' And heaves a heavy sigh.

You give him big pleading eyes, "c'mon, old man, run with me," elongating the vowels in each word to emphasize your plea. "It'll take your mind off of it."

Bucky scoffs, "Who are you callin' old, darlin'?" His old Brooklyn accent shines through, and you beam up at him, bouncing on the balls of your feet. "Fine," he gives an exasperated sigh.

You squeal in excitement, and as you run towards the elevator, you Shift, clothes falling to the floor in a pile, and hopping in circles until Bucky hits the call button.

-*-

It's the 4th time around Central Park, and neither you nor Bucky are tired or out of breath. The sun has started to color the horizon but hasn't peaked above the highrises yet.

Your tongue lolls out to the side of your mouth as you keep pace with Bucky. He hasn't talked much since you left the Tower. You pick up pace a little, glancing at Bucky so he notices, his eyebrow raises.

You bark and break out into a sprint, paws barely grazing the cement as you take off. Bucky isn't far behind. He may be just as fast as you and just as quiet. After decades of practice, he's light on his feet and deadly fast. There's a smirk on his face when you peer up at him, and you bark again. A small chuckle leaves him as he passes you.

He stops after a mile, and you're out of breath finally. He lounges on a bench, arms spread wide across the top, chest heaving only slightly. You plop down at his feet with a heavy thud. One of his legs stretches out, and over your back, you assume to keep you close, make sure you're still there.

Bucky, and you relax for a while, taking in the early Saturday morning. The sun is peeking through the gaps in buildings as people mull around Central Park.

Your head perks up when you hear the jingle of dog tags on a collar. There's a woman walking her dog towards you, and your tail wags. You love dogs, though some don't like you, maybe they smell the Shifter in you. The woman eyes you warily, her hand clutches the leash a little tighter and pulls her dog to the other side of the walkway.

"You should put your dog on a leash, you know," she says, stopping a few feet away from you and Bucky. The French Bulldog the woman keeps trying to shove behind her is very interested in you. Your ears go up, and your tail wags a little more. "Especially something that," she waves her hand around at you, "large."

Bucky looks down at you, and you look up at him. He shrugs, "She's very well behaved." Is all he says, goes back to scanning the Park.

You hear the woman scoff, "Well, anything could happen. And it would be your fault." When Bucky ignores her, she storms off, pulling her dog behind her more roughly.

"Maybe you should bite her," you can hear the smirk in his voice. And when you look up at him, there's a sparkle in his eye you haven't seen before.

You think this is the Bucky Steve told you about. Carefree and mischievous. He's looking out across the park, and he looks content. You're glad his mind is off HYDRA, the Winter Soldier, his past. At least for the time being. He deserves the quiet. The peace. A chance to catch his breath and just be.

-*-

You're both almost back to the Tower when Bucky stops walking. The people behind him make comments of protest and annoyance, but he pays them no mind. You sit at his feet and tilt your head, big ears flopping to the side as you do. Your head reaches his waist, and he brings a hand to lay on top of your head.

"I don't think I can do this," Bucky says quietly. But you hear him. "What if -" he shakes his head. "I know I'm not who I used to be. What if I disappoint him?" His brows furrowed in worry, "what if I can't be who he wants me to be?" What if I can't remember, is what he means.

You want to tell him everything will be okay, but that's a hard promise to keep. You don't know what it's like in his mind or how he's feeling all the time. You can sense he wants to run, hide away, and never see Steve or you; the people that care about him.

You let out a small whine as Bucky looks down at you, his brows crease further, the waterline of his eyes gathering tears.

"Everything they put in me is still there, Petal. What if something happens and I-" he cuts himself off, takes a big heaving breath, and shakes his head. Eyes blinking rapidly to push the tears away. "He's still in here," Bucky brings a hand to his head and grabs a fistful of hair, "sometimes I feel like he's waiting to come back out. I couldn't forgive myself if I hurt you again." His hand runs from your snout up and over your ears, and then under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him more.

"Couldn't forgive myself if I hurt Steve again," he says quietly. You whimpered in response, hating that he feels like this. Hating that you've hated the Soldier for so long that maybe a small part of you thinks Bucky does deserve it.

But you can't think like that. The overwhelming hate you used to harbor for the masked assassin is in the past. No matter how hard it was or is to separate Bucky and his murderous alter ego, you have to keep them separate. For his sake, and your own.

A heavy sigh leaves Bucky, his nostrils flaring with the effort. He looks away from you and down the sidewalk ahead, and you follow his gaze. The Tower isn't too far now, less than a block away. You both could probably get a few hours to sleep in before Steve and Sam show up.

The prospect of napping makes your tail wag, and you tug Bucky's sleeve to get him moving again. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“OK, ok, I'm coming,” Bucky lets out a soft chuckle as he lets you tug his sleeve in your mouth and pull him the rest of the way towards the Tower.

-*-

The elevator doors open with a soft chime, and you and Bucky exit onto the floor you share with Tony and Bruce. You leap up onto the couch and bury yourself beneath the blankets. Your head pops up, you've Shifted back, and give Bucky a big grin.

“That was quick,” he comments with a small smile. He shuffles closer to the couch, hands in his pockets.

You let out a large yawn, “I usually nap after a night of running. Want to nap? I'll change back,” you add quickly when he gives you a look. You yawn again. Your head goes back under the pile of blankets, and you Shift. Your tail sticks out the other end, and you wag it.

You hear a soft chuckle and some shuffling, and Bucky is seated at the end of your blankets near your head. You peak out from your cocoon and pull his arm in. His metal arm whirs as you do.

There's a soft chime of the elevator doors not 10 minutes later, and you pop out of the blankets so fast Bucky hardly has time to react.

Front paws on the arm of the couch and your body standing over Bucky and waiting for someone to emerge from the elevator. Tail wagging and hitting Bucky in the face.

“Petal, cmon,” he huffed, trying to shove you off the couch. You growl at him. “Get off'a me,” he protested, but made no move to actually kick you off him.

“You sure this is the right floor?” You could hear Sam ask.

“JARVIS said it was,” followed by Steve's voice. Within the next minute, they turned the corner, and you were met with the duo face to face. They stopped when they heard you bark.

“Baby girl!” Sam threw his arms wide, and you lept from the couch and tackled him to the floor. He let out an oof as he landed on his backside, and his big laugh filled the space when you licked his face. Sam ran his hands up your neck and to your cheeks and squished them together, your tongue poking out still.

“What's with the fur, Baby girl?” Sam asked, running his hands through your fur.

“Full moon,” Steve says, nodding. You look up at him, tail wagging and tongue lolling out. His hands are on his hips, a fond smile on his face as he looks down at you. “Tomorrow, right?” You bark in response.

There's a shuffle from behind you, and both Steve and Sam look over and notice Bucky for the first time. You get off of Sam as he stands. Steve lowers his hands from his hips, and when he takes a step forward you can hear Bucky's heart rate kick up, a sharp inhale of breath and the whirring of his metal arm, Bucky takes a step back when Steve goes to advance again.

You put yourself between Steve and Bucky, eyes flashing in warning at Steve, and he puts his hands up and furrows his brows.

“Buck,” Steve cautions, his shoulders curl down as if making himself smaller, and he goes to take another step. There's a shaky exhale behind you, and you let out a growl at Steve. “Flowers, I just wanna talk to him, please.”

Your stance is wide and head low, Bucky's heart is still beating like mad, and when you look behind to check with him, he nods slowly. You back up and sit at his feet, keeping an eye on Steve and Sam.

Bucky's breathing is ragged, and he shuffles from foot to foot. “I,” he starts but then clamps his mouth shut. You look up at him when he absent-mindedly pets your head. He's looking out the large floor to ceiling windows to his right, eyes searching for something his brain can't grasp.

“Do you know me?” Steve asks firmly, his hands are still out in front of him, Sam close behind him with a hand on Steve's shoulder. When Bucky looks back at him, he swallows hard, and his metal arm whirrs.

“Y-you're Steve,” he croaked out, “I read about you in a museum.” You lean against Bucky's leg, and he lets go of a heavy breath.

“I know you're nervous. And you have plenty of reasons to be. But you're lying,” Steve says. It sounds a lot like his Captain's voice, and it even puts you on edge. When he tries to take another step, you see Sam's grip on Steve's shoulder tighten and keep him in place. “Bucky, you know me,” he tries again and takes two long steps forward, evading Sam's grasp. “You're my best friend.”

Bucky scrambles back, breath coming out in unsteady pants, “I-I,” his retreat is halted by a wall, and his eyes go wide, darting around the room for any escape.

You Shift, halting Steve's advance, and both he and Sam make shouts of protest and cover their eyes.

“That's enough!” You tell Steve, putting yourself between him and Bucky again. “Can't you see he's scared? Ain't no one ever told you to never corner a wild animal? He's gona lash out and hurt somebody, and it isn't gona be me!” You move forward and punch Steve in the arm, one arm across your chest to cover yourself.

“Ow!” He removes his hand from his eyes and rubs where you punched him. His eyes avoid looking directly at you. Sam chuckles. “Okay. I get it-”

“Do you? Because you're still standing here, all-” you flail an arm at him, “-all Captain-y.” Steve's nose scrunches up at your words, and he peaks at you from the corner of his eye. “Go down the hall, third door of the left. And wait,” you tell him.

Steve looks at Bucky over your head, then back to you, and nods once. He and Sam make their way down the hall before you release a heavy breath and your shoulders sag.

“Petal,” comes a small voice from behind you. You turn with both arms crossed over your chest and give Bucky a small smile. He's holding out the hoodie you let him borrow, and you put it on. It comes down to your mid thigh, and you zip it up.

“I'm sorry-”

“Sorry -”

You both speak at the same time. Bucky gives a sheepish smile. He's relaxed a little since Sam and Steve left, but still on edge. At least his arm stopped making noises.

“You don't have anything to apologize for, James,” you place a hand on his arm. “if you don't want to talk to Steve, you-”

“I do,” he interrupts, “I just don't know what to say. Or,” he fidgets with his fingers, pushing his flesh thumb in the plates on his metal palm.

“Why don't you let him do the talking? And at any time it gets too much for you, you say so, ok? You're in control here.”

Buckys brows pulled together, and his wide eyes shine with tears. He scrubs his sleeve across his face and nods at you.

It's going to be a long journey for Bucky to trust himself and others, but giving him the choice to do so was more than anything anyone has given him in the last 70 years.

-*-

Sorry this took so long! Thanks for reading! Please Reblog and comment! It means a lot <3

#tony stark x reader #mcu fanfiction #shifter!reader #tony stark x shifter!reader #tony stark imagine #steve rogers #Bucky Barnes #Sam Wilson

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smileygoth · 1 year

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8. Rivals

Part 8 of my WODtober story. Taking the daily prompts and trying to weave a vampire story from them! In this chapter, Miro tells Imogen what he's learned and gets a startling revelation.

Word Count: 1,204 words.

CW: Mention of torture, no details.

Image found on PNGtree.com.

Find the previous chapters here!

Imogen’s expression was blank as Miro relayed what he’d discovered to her. But when she looked up at him as he fell silent, the pain and rage in her eyes startled him. ‘I remember it now,’ she said. ‘The torture. The things the Prince had them do to me. Terrible, awful things.’

‘Why didn’t you just tell them who you diablerised?’ Miro asked. ‘That’s all they wanted to know. It’s not like it was going to change the outcome.’

Imogen shrugged. ‘Why should I? As you said, it wasn’t going to change what they did. So let them wonder.’

Miro raised his eyebrows, impressed. ‘Alright,’ he chuckled. ‘Don’t think I’d have the stones to do that myself. Guess you’re tougher than you look.’

Imogen only smiled.

‘So,’ Miro said, carrying on where he’d left off. ‘I’ve got some friends trying to find the catacombs for me. In the meantime, I figured I’d start looking into what happened at Harrogate’s place, see if we can get any inkling of who might have put you there. You know, his enemies, business rivals, whatever.’ He spun round on his chair to face the laptops and powered one of them on. ‘I imagine we’ll come up with quite a list, but at least we’ll have somewhere to start.’

He felt rather than saw Imogen come up behind him to lean over his shoulder. Her hand rested on his shoulder, her fingers clutching a little too hard. ‘How are you going to find that information?’ she asked.

‘I know a guy,’ Miro replied with a smirk. ‘That kind of information is what he deals in.’ He typed out a quick email and sent it, then leaned back. ‘Just need to give him a minute to reply. He hardly ever leaves his computer, so it shouldn’t take long.’ He looked up. ‘Uh, Im … you feeling ok?’

Imogen let go of his shoulder. ‘Fine,’ she replied. ‘Just hungry. It’s been a few nights since I last fed.’

Miro frowned. ‘Oh right. Well, it’s too close to dawn now, but we should probably make that a priority tomorrow. Don’t want you wigging out on me like-’ He clamped down on his words quickly, casting a guilty glance up at Imogen. She didn’t seem to have noticed; she was watching the laptop screen as if she was willing the reply to come through. ‘I, uh …. I just don’t want you to go hungry,’ he finished quietly.

The response came through mercifully quickly. The list was quite long, but a number of the names had [Dead] or [Presumed Dead] next to them, some with quick notes on how the person in question had been killed. Most of the deaths, Miro noticed, had been traced back to Harrogate and his associates.

‘Well, we can take these off,’ he said with a chuckle, and tapped on the keyboard. The names of the dead individuals disappeared, leaving a smaller list of five names. ‘Okay, so these are our chief suspects.’

Imogen leaned forward and read the names aloud. ‘Dean Winton, Ventrue. Patrick Hawk, Toreador. Evan Colton, kine. Ed Green, Gangrel. Emily Bell, Brujah. Who are these people?’

Miro scratched at a scab on his cheek. ‘Well, Colton’s human, so we can pretty much disregard him. He won’t have the knowledge or the power to pull something like this off.’ He tapped the keys again, and the name disappeared. ‘Winton’s another rich boy Ventrue who’s pretty vocal about wanting to make something of himself in this city, so that’s just going to be a basic politics-slash-business rivalry. Hawk’s been talking shit lately about Harrogate’s house-building. He objects to him filling the city with cookie-cutter highrises and bland suburbias, or something like that. But he’s been around since before Queen Victoria kicked it, so he’s going to have an opinion. And then Green and Bell, they actually work together. Pair of eco-activists. It would actually make a lot of sense if it was them. Thing is, they’re both babies. I don’t see them pulling this off without some serious help.’

‘Why not?’ Imogen said sharply. ‘Is this Harrogate so formidable?’

Miro snorted. ‘He’s old and he’s rich, what do you think?’

Imogen’s voice shook. ‘I think he is a miserable upstart whelp who has no right to the riches he has. I think he is a thief and a coward and … and … aaaaargh!’

Mro flinched and ducked as Imogen lashed out suddenly, grabbing the laptop and slamming it several times against the table’s edge, then hurling it against the wall above his head. There was a pop and fizz of electricity. Shards of broken metal and plastic rained down on him, and the shattered carcass of the laptop rebounded, landing near the door in a mangled heap. Horrified, Miro looked up at Imogen to see her towering over him, her eyes blazing with fury and her fangs bared. As he watched, she frowned, looked at her hands, and then the light in her eyes faded and she staggered backwards, tripping over her own feet and landing on the floor next to the ruined laptop. She looked up at him in bewilderment. ‘Miro?’ she muttered.

Miro gaped at her, astounded. ‘What the hell was that, Im?’ he managed to exclaim.

Imogen looked around her, her eyes falling on the destroyed laptop. ‘Eliza,’ she muttered. ‘That was Eliza. Oh god, Miro … I’m so sorry…’ Her eyes misted over with a red haze, and then to Miro’s alarm, bloody tears began to course down her pale cheeks. He jumped from his chair and crouched down next to her, arms going around her awkwardly. ‘Hey,’ he said gently. ‘Don’t worry about the laptop. All the work’s backed up, I can replace it. Just tell me what’s going on, okay? Who’s Eliza?’

So Imogen told him - about the voice, the blackouts, waking up in the middle of a field, the village inn and the room with the boarded-up window. By the time she had finished, the approaching dawn was weighing heavily on them both, and Miro’s head was spinning. He gently guided her to the bed and laid her down. She closed her eyes, falling to the death-sleep almost immediately.

Miro was awake for a little longer. With the corner of the blanket on the bed he gently wiped the blood from Imogen’s face, thinking. Then he got up and went back to the desk and turned on the second laptop, opening his emails. The message from his contact was still there, the original list unchanged. He scanned it quickly. His eyes were heavy and his mind foggy and he really needed to sleep, but he had to know. Thankfully, it only took a second to find what he was looking for. A name, nestled in among the others on the list of Harrogate’s enemies.

‘Eliza of Shorne [Presumed Dead].’

Quickly, he fired off another email to his contact. ‘Need details on Eliza of Shorne.’ He waited until the laptop chimed softly, letting him know that the email had sent. Then he closed the lid and leaned back in the chair. He wouldn’t get a reply until tomorrow night, but that was okay.

His eyes closed and he slept.

#vamily #vampire the masquerade #vampire #vampirism #dark pack #world of darkness #vtm #vamptober #wodtober #wod #nosferatu #camarilla

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sooibian · 3 years

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So Let's Runaway - Prologue

photocreds @tuanzie

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Fem!Reader ft. bff!Chanyeol

Genre / Themes: Fluff, mild angst, travel AU, road trip through Spain, travel buddies Chansoo!

Warnings: Themes of grief / loss, heartache, toxic relationships, strong language, i guess..

Description: An unlikely group of three comes together for the journey of a lifetime.

A/N: This fic is part of @supermwritersnet “Around the world in 31 days event”. Inspired by the Hindi movie Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara. Uploading prematurely so as to stop obsessing over the prologue and get cracking on the travelogue which requires a tonne of research. Let me know if you’d like a tag on the upcoming chapter(s) due for upload on 19th July 2021.

Word Count: 3k *unedited*

____________________________

Doh Kyungsoo had dragged his feet up the endless flight of stairs seeking solitude...not drama.

A stranger, just one misstep away from a fatal fall, was the last thing he’d expected to find on the rooftop of Seoul’s Park Hyatt at three in the morning. He slipped the rooftop access key card (that he’d borrowed from the security guard in exchange for a 50,000 won bill) in the back pocket of his trousers while simultaneously dwelling on the depths of the rot of corruption. He had half a mind to turn away and forget that he’d just seen someone contemplating their existence on the ledge of a highrise but there was something about you that rooted him to the spot. Dressed in fine evening wear, you’d stretched your arms out like wings as you looked up at the vast expanse of midnight blue, the wind kissing your wild, waist length hair. From his standpoint, you looked oddly at peace.

Kyungsoo had never been an idealist or a victim of the white knight syndrome. He wasn’t one to delve into the ethical and philosophical conundrums for most things in life because to him it was all just a waste of time. Seeing you on the parapet filled him with neither sympathy nor worry. It was your life after all and with it you could do whatever you deemed fit as long as you weren’t inconveniencing others. Scratch that.

As long as you weren’t inconveniencing him.

But right now, unbeknownst to you, you were inconveniencing Seoul’s hottest financial broker, Doh Kyungsoo.

He wasn’t invisible to the hotel’s security cameras and being labelled suspect in an abetment to suicide investigation wasn't exactly what he was looking for after the day he’d had. Albeit inebriated and heavy-eyed, he could effectively calculate the logistics involved in pulling you off the ledge with the cacophony of the omnipresent Seoul traffic drowning out the sound of his footsteps.

Bracing himself for superficial bruises from the impact of falling to the right side of the precipice with the weight of an adult human pressing down on his 173 cm high frame, he took off his custom tailored blazer (that had been flown in from Vietnam especially for that evening) and folded it in half, making sure that the lapels touched. Some habits are hard to shake. He put the blazer on the ground as a makeshift floorcloth for the rest of his belongings. With his back facing you, he allowed himself a moment's peace as he loosened his tie, languidly rolled the sleeves of his pristine white dress shirt up to his elbows, freed himself off the Rolex Cellini on his left wrist, his Bottega Veneta fine leather wallet, and the cursed Tiffany Blue Box that he simply couldn’t bear to look at anymore and neatly placed them all on the blazer.

Letting out a deep exhale, he muttered curses under his breath before turning to your silhouette only to find it...gone.

Kyungsoo’s eyes narrowed and then immediately grew into large circles as he grappled with the shocking turn of events. An inexplicable heaviness bloomed in his chest and he felt sick to the stomach which, in a state of denial, he chalked up to the dubious mixture of spirits he’d downed not too long ago.

Before he could find his bearings and figure out what to do next, a light tap on his shoulder made him jump. His jaw went slack and his heart threatened to leap out of his chest to find you casually smiling at him. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to climb onto the very same ledge and scream into the void but he simply stood there, mouth agape, wanting to say a million things but he could hardly muster a peep.

Reading the confusion painted across his sharp, well defined features, you uttered an unsure, “Hi?”

“I thought you’d jumped,” he whispered, head tilted to the side, his compelling, bloodshot eyes locked with yours.

“Says someone who’s unusually jumpy,” you jested, but your expression immediately turned solemn when you caught the tremble in his right hand. “Are you on something?”

There came about a sudden shift in his aura. Hands on hips, he deadpanned, “Why? Are you with the cops?”

“No, don’t worry,” you let out a soft chuckle and he started scrambling for his things, “How long have you been standing here?”

Hastily stuffing everything into the pocket of his well fitted trousers, he muttered something along the lines of ‘Chaos. Just chaos everywhere!’

Leaning into his frame, you quipped, “What’s that?”

Alarmed and goggle-eyed, he snapped, “Nevermind,” and turned towards the exit.

“Hey! You seem to have forgotten something!” You called out after him upon finding his blazer on the ground, the silken sheen of it reflecting a myriad of citylights.

No answer.

“I wasn’t going to jump!” You yodelled childishly but the man was long gone.

Seven Hours Earlier

“Natasha -” Kyungsoo huffed.

The feather light Tiffany 1873 Blue Box in his left hand had suddenly started to feel like a giant boulder weighing down on his entire being. The sparkle of the uncut diamond reflected in his misty eyes as her uncharacteristically stoic silence left him struggling for words. He searched Natasha’s face for a hint of mischief...he so desperately wished for her to crack a sly smile and pull him in for a kiss and whisper ‘Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!’ against his lips like they do in the movies, that he’d almost started to imagine it. It had to have been some sort of an ugly prank.

What reason does she have to turn me down? he wondered.

Kyungsoo breached the uncomfortable spell of silence with a desperate plea, “Say something!” the throbbing in his head intensifying by the second.

Did these three years mean nothing to you? What did I do wrong? Do you hate the ring? Is this not the kind of proposal you wished for? Is it because I left the bathroom lights on all night? Or is it because I forgot to wish your mother on her birthday? A flurry of questions spawned in Kyungsoo’s mind only to die at the tip of his tongue.

“I’m sorry, Kyungsoo, but I can’t do this. I just -” Natasha spoke finally. Gingerly shifting the weight of the box onto the ebony restaurant table, she slammed it shut as if the ring had been eyeing her lecherously.

Meeting Kyungsoo’s gaze almost defiantly, she declared, “Kyungsoo, I don’t think that I could be the kind of wife that would make you happy and I don’t think you could make me happy either.”

Two Weeks Later

Setting your eyes on that distinct pair of Dumbo ears, you excitedly weaved through the peak hour coffee shop crowd with an Iced Americano held firmly in one hand. Slamming the beverage down on the table, you engulfed his giant frame in a back hug and squealed, “Park Chanyeol!”

His wide eyes turned into even bigger brown circles and his mouth rounded into an ‘o’ in surprise. Grinning, he got off the uncomfortably tiny coffee shop chair and wordlessly pulled you in for what was famously known in Uni as a ‘Classic Chanyeol Hug’. You didn’t know how much you missed it until you felt your worries immediately dissipate into nothingness.

He hugged you a little tighter the moment you started to pull away before taking your hands in his and stooping down to your eye level. “Shifu, my love! You’re back in Seoul?!” Chanyeol exclaimed with all the love in the world sparking in the depths of his dark eyes.

Even after all this time, it felt as if nothing had changed….you’d suddenly been whizzed into a not-so-distant ‘Gothic architecture and coffee shops’ past in which a cotton candy haired boy, dressed in a pair of freshly ironed beige chinos and a plain white tee, smiles his sweetest smile simply at the sight of you. Chanyeol always felt like home. Funnily enough, even more so at the moment.

Giving him a good natured smile, you nodded in response, albeit cringing a little on the inside. Having been President of the martial arts club back in the days, you got stuck with an ingenious moniker “Shifu” which you clearly couldn’t shake off even after half a decade since graduation. You did a double take when your gaze veered to acknowledge the person seated opposite Chanyeol who, dressed in an ivory business suit, almost blended into the background. Just the way you could spot Chanyeol’s ears from a million miles away, you could recognize those eyes anywhere and right now they were shooting daggers at you.

“OH! Hi!”

His response to your greeting was a curt nod accompanying a vague hand movement, something between a hi and a failed facepalm.

At this Chanyeol guffawed, “You two know each other?”, his keen gaze rapidly flitting between the two of you.

“Yes -”

“No -”

While gesturing you to take a seat at their table, Chanyeol slumped into his chair and pursued the conversation in a voice laced with amusement, “So which is it?”

You gave your head a little shake, signalling Chanyeol to drop the topic since his friend had made his apprehension quite evident with an unambiguous “No” when asked if he knew you. Which...wasn’t entirely untrue. Even though Chanyeol now seemed to be on the same page as you, for good measure, you deflected his question with a polite, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Absolutely not!” Chanyeol assured, deftly steering the conversation back to you, “We could actually use your advice on something but first, Shifu, look at you! How long has it been? Five years?”

“Five years!”

“Wahhh! What brings you back to Seoul?”

With a wistful smile, you answered, “Appa passed away in April...”

“Oh, I’m- I’m so sorry -” stuttered Chanyeol, immediately placing his hand on your arm and giving it a light squeeze. From the corner of your eye you noticed Chanyeol’s friend chewing on his bottom lip and listening to this exchange with rapt attention.

“No, no, it’s erm...we’re doing okay now, I guess-”

It had been two and a half months but every time you talked about it, a black hole burgeoned right in the middle of your chest, sucking you within itself and rendering you breathless. You still hadn’t picked up the art of condoling the “condoler”. What were you even supposed to say to the faultless “I’m sorry”? Who came up with condolence jargon, anyway?

“I’m sorry we haven’t been in touch - ”

“Oh, please. You know how it is after Uni, isn’t it,” you turned to Chanyeol’s friend to make him feel a little less left out, “what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t,” he answered in a clipped tone while mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

“Yah!” Chanyeol chastised him with a deathly glare before continuing with an impish smile, “He’s Doh Kyungsoo.”

“Ah! So he’s Doh Kyungsoo! I’ve heard a great deal about you!” Your enthusiasm invoked a quick cursory smile from him. Doh Kyungsoo had apparently made it his life’s mission to make this unexpected rendezvous as icky as possible, leaving you to wonder if Chanyeol had ever discussed your brief relationship with him. Ex-girlfriend meets best friend? Not an ideal scenario in any part of the world.

Chanyeol and you had gone out for a couple of weeks towards the end of freshman year until you both realized that you were much better off as friends. Despite being joined at the hip in Uni, the two of you had gone your separate ways after post-grad. While he returned to Seoul to join the family business, you’d stayed back in Milan to explore job opportunities. Messages and phone calls became few and far between and it wasn’t long before both of you had completely lost touch with each other.

And it wasn’t until you met him again that you realized how desperately you needed a friend considering everything that had been going on in your life. You selfishly wished for Kyungsoo to leave you two to catch up on all these years spent apart but clearly that was a lot to ask considering how tacitly territorial he seemed to be getting about Chanyeol.

“So what was it that you wanted to talk about?” you asked in another feeble attempt to water down the rancour.

Chanyeol’s features flared into a bashful smile but the moment he opened his mouth to speak, Kyungsoo held a hand up to him and insisted, “Allow me to spare you the blushes,” before starting to explain the situation in an uncharacteristically eager tone, “This idiot is getting married in three months -”

Boisterously thumping Chanyeol’s back, you showered him with congratulations which he accepted with a shy ‘thank you.’

Kyungsoo continued, “- and we have a road trip planned for next month. As per the pact -”

Head tilted to the side, you shot, “What pact?”

“Some stupid pact that I have no memory of - ”

“That you conveniently have no memory of!” interrupted a salty Chanyeol.

Kyungsoo grimaced. Rubbing the corner of his eye, he continued with a heavy sigh, “It was supposed to be the three of us...Chanyeol, me, and our school friend Yixing.”

“Oh, okay?”

“So Yixing fell off a tractor and broke his back -”

“Oh, my gosh!” You exclaimed.

Kyungsoo’s mouth fell open. “I wasn’t there but I’d bet my ass that’s exactly what he said at the time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Wait, wait, slow down, why- how- a tractor?”

“He quit his CEO position to become a full time….farmer,” deadpanned Kyungsoo as if it was the stupidest thing Yixing could’ve done which rubbed you up the wrong way and coloured your otherwise neutral expression.

“He basically did what Kyungsoo doesn’t have the balls to do,” quipped Chanyeol, lips stretched into a gremlin-like grin. Kyungsoo returned his jibe with a strike to his arm causing him to let out a dramatic wail thus inviting the attention of everyone around you.

But none of it deterred Kyungsoo. He continued nonchalantly as if presenting a well crafted business proposal, “Since one of us is unavailable it only makes sense to postpone the trip and that’s exactly what I’ve been asking Chanyeol to do but he just won’t listen.”

“You’re getting married in three months and you’re taking this road trip next month. Will you be left with enough time for wedding planning?” you reasoned with Chanyeol, well aware of the kind of family he belonged to and the kind of weddings these families planned.

“Mr. Park here was way too eager,” Kyungsoo butted in.

“Shut up, Kyungsoo!”

“Wahhh you must really love her ~ ,” you sang, moon-eyed.

“Clearly. He couldn’t even wait for the rest of us to finish singing the birthday song for his Eomma.”

“What?”

“Yeah! He popped the question to Aera right in the middle of it.”

“WHAT!”

“That’s a story for another day,” replied Chanyeol in an atypically calm tone, “but you’re right, Shifu, it’s not enough time and that’s why I’ve been asking this idiot to just -”

“All reservations are for three. It logistically makes more sense to reschedule,” declared Kyungsoo with a hint of finality in his tone.

It didn’t. It definitely didn’t make more sense to reschedule but as gullible as Chanyeol was, he said nothing to counter Kyungsoo’s illogical argument.

“Are you sure your friend Yixing would be okay with it, Yeollie? I’m sure you can wait for him to get better and -”

Firmly setting his jaw, Chanyeol looked you square in the eyes and stated, “It's now or never.”

Kyungsoo stole a glance at you and cleared his throat, hesitance betraying his voice when he spoke again, “Chanyeollah, you’re only getting married stop talking like you’re terminally ill.”

Chanyeol's expression softened to convey an implicit plea causing you to tweak your suggestion, “The two of you can still go? I’m sure Yixing won’t mind.”

But Chanyeol hit you with an unexpected proposal. He asked, “Do you want to come?”, in a tone that was way too serious for a road trip.

“What? No!”

“Why not? You’re here and - “

“- and Yixing’s not,” interrupted Kyungsoo.

Ignoring the sarcasm in Kyungsoo’s voice, you turned Chanyeol down gently, “No, Yeol, it’s just- it doesn’t make sense, bub.”

“Why not? We leave in a month and that’s plenty of time to get all your travel docs in order -”

“Travel docs? You mean….insurance?” You asked hesitantly.

“Yeah! Insurance...you won’t need a visa, though.”

“Visa? Yeah, obviously I won’t be needing a visa. Why would I need a visa for a road trip?”

Chanyeol slapped his forehead and wondered aloud, “Oh, shoot! We didn’t tell her, did we?”

Kyungsoo gave his head a little shake, prompting you to ask, “Tell me what?”

“It’s a road trip through uhhh northeastern Spain -”

Chanyeol’s elaborate account of the itinerary was drowned in the whirlpool of emotions that erupted within you at the mention of the country. That part of your life you had locked away in the deepest, darkest corners of your consciousness now stared you straight in the eyes, forcing you to acknowledge a reality far too jarring for your fragile state of mind. You took a sip of your long forgotten beverage to centre yourself but it didn’t take a genius to know that something was up.

Placing a hand on your head, he asked softly, “What is it, Shifu? I understand if you can’t leave Eomma alone at this point...”

“It’s not Eomma,” you took another sip of the drink to fight the lump in your throat, “Eomma is - Eomma is in Bucheon, visiting her sister. For I don’t know how long but...long.”

“Is it work?” contributed Kyungsoo.

“I quit my job,” you answered and he looked at you as if you, a total stranger, had just asked him his body count.

Chanyeol took your hand in his and reiterated, “Come, then? You need this.”

Your gaze bounced between the two men who wore the exact same expression in expectation of two entirely different answers. And whatever you chose to say next, you were sure to disappoint one of them.

Eyes unfocussed, a deafening ringing echoing in your ears, you declared softly, “I need this,” with a million unpleasant scenarios running through your head, making you sick to the stomach.

Chanyeol pulled you in for a bear hug. Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and let out a deep, disappointed sigh.

101 notes · View notes

satendou · 4 years

Text

⟼ makes the heart grow fonder

⍣ 365 days of sun series | previous | 2/2

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: iwaizumi hajime/reader/oikawa tooru

⇢ au: 365!au, poly!au, college!au, pro!oikawa

⇢ summary: prequel to 365 days; everyone always calls paris the city of love, but love can come anywhere, especially the unlikeliest of places

⇥ masterlist

⇢ warnings: pre-relationship, polyamory, fluff, kinda angsty, alcohol use

⇢ word count: 11375 (oops)

Oikawa was nothing if not a creature of habit. He woke up, texted the two of you, showered, ate, went to classes and left for practice, which had been nonstop since he arrived in San Juan. When he got home, he would text you and Iwaizumi-- if he remembered between eating and crashing-- letting you know how practice had gone.

Sometimes he would get home to find some endearing, supportive message from you, letting him know you were going to sleep but that he needed to eat or pay his phone bill. You knew him too well, even from across the globe, and it made him smile, the stinging pain of something missing never stronger than in those moments. It was something he could ignore most days, exchange it for the radiating heat of a ball meeting his palm and forget for a while, but when he was slapped in the face with reminders of what he’d left behind, they were almost impossible to deal with.

He didn’t get to talk with the two of you half as much as he wanted, the 12 hour time difference making it nearly impossible to sync your schedules up, but on the rare nights where everyone was still awake and not quite tired enough to fall asleep yet, he lit up in ways he’d never experienced when he lived with you.

It made him wonder how much he’d taken for granted.

He couldn’t deny that a part of him was jealous that the two of you got to stay together. That same selfish part of him had come close to picking up the phone and saying he was coming home multiple times after he arrived in Argentina, the feeling was so strong. But the other half, the part that was equally selfish in a different way, couldn’t give up his dreams, not when he’d worked so fucking hard to get there.

On those days, you seemed to know what he was thinking and either you or Iwaizumi, with near psychic accuracy, would call him on his bullshit and things would be okay for a while. Those days had slowly grown less frequent the longer he stayed away, but the jealousy had simply been replaced with longing.

So when you had mentioned a break from school that just happened to coincide with his very first game, he couldn’t resist. Besides, he wanted some familiar faces in the crowd, and who better than you and Iwaizumi? Or his family, but they hadn’t been able to swing it for a myriad of reasons.

Then you had said yes, which was why Oikawa was standing up on his tiptoes at the luggage carousel, trying to see over the people for a glimpse of familiar faces. If he wasn’t looking at the crowd, he was staring at his watch.

Your plane had landed nearly twenty minutes ago, so you should have already disembarked. So why weren’t the two of you there in his arms yet?

“Oi, Brattykawa, you’re looking the wrong way,” a familiar voice sniped from behind him, and he whirled around, nearly losing his balance in his excitement.

“_____! Iwa-chan!” he yelled, throwing his arms around your necks and sending you faltering backwards.

Only Iwaizumi’s strength kept the three of you up, his arm wrapped around your waist and legs braced under Oikawa’s weight.

“You damn idiot, quit making a scene,” he snapped, but only pushed his friend back far enough to rebalance before squeezing him tight, his fingers curled in the back of the thin t-shirt Oikawa wore.

Your free arm came up around him as well, not nearly as strong but just as familiar and welcome and even though you all secretly swore you wouldn’t cry, tears still spilled over. The feeling of relief, of being whole again was overwhelming, and you linked your fingers with theirs as you moved through the crowd. Oikawa carried one travel case, Iwaizumi the other, and you lugged the shared carry-on bag you had brought.

Coming out of the airport after a twenty hour flight was a bit jarring and, though the two of you had prepared for a few days in advance and even slept on the plane, you could still feel jet lag kicking in. San Juan time was directly opposite Japanese time, so though you had gotten on your plane in Tokyo in the pitch black, Oikawa had carefully planned the flights and layovers so that you had arrived early in the morning.

The sun beat down from a cloudless sky, and you started sweating almost immediately.

“I can’t wait to show you guys around. But first, you’re probably hungry, right? There’s this cafe right around the corner from our apartment that has the most amazing churros I want you to try,” he rambled as the driver loaded your luggage in the trunk. Iwaizumi slid into the backseat beside you with Oikawa on your other side, all your fingers still linked together. “Oh but I guess we could go after you unpack. Don’t want you to have to drag your luggage everywhere.”

“Thank you for realizing, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi griped, and Oikawa laughed.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just so excited for you guys to be here! It’s only been a few months but it feels like a part of me has been missing,” he said, and his fingers squeezed around yours tighter. It was exactly how you had been feeling since he left, like things were off kilter.

The conversation after that was mostly questions about the flights and the layovers, and how the jet lag was. The longer Oikawa watched and listened, the more he thought something was wrong.

It wasn’t...wrong wrong, it just seemed like there was something new and different to your interactions with Iwaizumi and vice versa. He would just have to keep an eye out for it, to see if he could discern what it was.

The apartment was the one Iwaizumi had picked out for him months ago, not that anyone was surprised. Usually when he suggested something, Oikawa took it without question.

As soon as the door was open, you were slammed with the familiar smell that you associated with Oikawa. That light and airy cologne permeated everything, like he had spritzed it everywhere, mixed with the detergent you used at home, or as close as he could get, you would guess. It was a double whammy-- you realized what you had been missing as soon as you got it again, and realized that when you left you would lose it.

It made you wonder what walking into your own apartment would be like.

Before you could get too lost down that train of thought, Oikawa put his hand to your back, leading you further in. Almost absently, Iwaizumi took your hand, letting Oikawa lead both of you to one of the large windows.

Light flooded the large combined kitchen/living room area. He had put curtains up, but they were currently tied back, leaving the windows exposed. The view was breathtaking, just high enough that it rose above most of the other buildings and gave you a long view of the city, marred by other highrises here and there.

He pointed out a large, strange dome shape in the distance, light reflecting off the top back into the city.

“That’s our stadium. I’ll show you around it later today, if we have time.” he said with a lopsided grin. “Anyway, your rooms are this way! You can pick which ones you want.”

His fingers linked with yours-- it seemed as if he couldn’t get enough of feeling your hand in his-- as he led you down the hall opening first one door and then the other. Both rooms filtered plenty of light, curtains tied up and exposing the decent sized rooms. A bed and dresser decorated each, but that was it. A simple beige color coated the walls and a ceiling fan spun slowly while the air conditioner kicked on. You set your bag down beside the bed and turned to face them again.

“I didn’t expect them to be this big,” you said, looking around. It was across from Oikawa’s, versus Iwaizumi’s, which was right across from the bathroom and closest to the kitchen.

“Sorry they’re so sparse. I figured I’d let you decorate them how you saw fit,” he said, leaning against the frame of the door. “The master is even bigger, but I said the same when I saw them the first time.”

Iwaizumi stood behind him, peering over his shoulder as you surveyed the room, close enough that Oikawa could feel his chest brush against his back. “Are you sure you should be giving these rooms away to just us? You’ll have other guests, won’t you?”

As nonchalant and almost coldly, he shrugged. “They can sleep in here when you aren’t, and there are hotels around the corner. But these rooms were never meant for anyone but you.”

With that, he steered Iwaizumi back down the hall to his room with you hot on his heels. Rifling through his closet, he threw two sets of light aqua sheets at you and Iwaizumi.

You stared at them for a moment, and then Iwaizumi coughed. “Did you pick these colors for a reason?”

Oikawa, busy restacking the things in his closet, stopped and gave him a quizzical look. “Uh, not really. Why?”

The two of you snickered behind your hands, sharing a knowing look before you held the package up higher. “Doesn’t this remind you of anything. A certain uniform, perhaps?”

The color faded from Oikawa’s face just before it all returned in force, a pretty shade of red covering his cheeks. His hand met his face with a loud smack, and he groaned. “I cannot believe I did that. I really did though, didn’t I?”

More snickering met his ears and his lips turned down in a pout. Before he could start to really get into it, you looked up at him and said, “It’s fine, Tooru. They’re very pretty anyway. I like them.”

Beside you, Iwaizumi sighed, his lips quirking up just the slightest bit. “They’ll do. You probably just closed your eyes and picked though, huh?”

Stomping his foot, Oikawa stuck his tongue out, pulling one eyelid down in a very familiar move. “Did not, Iwa-chan! Don’t be mean or I’ll kick you out!”

But Iwaizumi had already turned and headed back across the hall, missing Oikawa’s childish display, while you tried to breathe through your giggles. “Sure you will. You can try, Brattykawa.”

“Poor ______, how have you put up with him without me all this time,” Oikawa asked loudly as he followed you back down the hall, his fingers gripping the back of your shirt. There was this an urge to constantly be near you or touching you in some way ever since he’d first seen the two of you at the airport. It was like there was a magnet, drawing his hand to your back or your hand, a small zing of anxiety and a desire to make sure you were really here. It even extended to Iwaizumi, which he found unusual. Separation really was playing havoc with him.

As the day progressed, Oikawa slowly began to realize that your interactions with Iwa weren’t just different, they had changed. The way the two of you revolved around each other was new and a part of him felt shut out as he watched you go about your day. The conversations you had, the stories you told, he didn’t understand any of it and it left an empty feeling in his chest as he realized that in the few months the three of you had been separated you and Iwaizumi had started living a whole new life.

“Oikawa,” you said for the third time, and watched him blink as he refocused on you. You frowned, putting your hand on your hip as you stared up at him. He had been showing you around some of his favorite spots in the city with little enthusiasm and it was starting to worry you. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been out of it for hours now.”

The sun was relentless, so you had stopped at a street vendor for some shaved ice and moved to the shade of a large oak tree. Most of his had melted as he stared off into space, making the paper cone soggy and you watched it drip to the grass. Iwaizumi had thrown away your own garbage and was now staring at Oikawa, waiting for his answer.

But he hesitated, trying to figure out how to explain the foreboding feeling clutching at his heart. It had never occurred to him just how much things would change when he left Tokyo, too focused on himself to consider anything else.

His mouth opened and closed several times, his chocolate brown eyes wide and swimming with an emotion you could only describe as sadness and your stomach clenched. When you reached out to him, he drew you into his arms, burying his face in your hair in a familiar gesture, but even your shampoo had changed.

“Tooru, what’s going on?” you asked, feeling another hand land on your back, overlapping Oikawa’s. You turned your head to look up at Iwa, your heart pounding in your chest. Oikawa’s fingers were twisted in your shirt, and you could feel his heart racing under your hand until you wound your arms around his neck.

Iwa looked down into your face, taking in your wide, nervous eyes asking him to help, but he shook his head and shrugged. He had no more idea of what was going on than you did, but knew that Oikawa would explain when he was able. Whatever had gotten into him was clearly big, and he just needed time to figure himself out.

It was a few minutes before Oikawa moved, and you were sweating in his hold. There were other people walking by, whispering and pointing, but they quickly scurried off when Iwaizumi turned his ferocious scowl on them. When he did finally shift, it was only to stand up a little straighter and set his chin on the top of your head, locking eyes with Iwaizumi.

“It feels like so much has changed since I left. Like there’s some space between us now that wasn’t there before, and you two are standing on one side and I’m standing on the other,” he said at last, and he sounded as empty as his eyes looked.

Iwaizumi knew that look, it was the “I’m about to shut down and refuse to acknowledge that I’m an idiot and overthinking things” look. If it wasn’t stopped in its tracks right now, the rest of the day was going to be miserable.

Before Iwaizumi could smack him upside the head though, you piped up, voice small and fragile as you clung tighter to Oikawa. All the pent up worries and emotions you had hidden from Iwa flooded out, and he was a little aggravated that the two of you had decided to do this right now in the middle of ninety degree weather.

“I know how you feel. I’ve felt the same for the last few weeks, wondering what it was going to be like seeing you again knowing that you have a whole new life here. I was afraid that-- that you would have changed so much that-- I don’t know,” you tapered off, and then whispered, “I thought you wouldn’t want us anymore.”

He laughed at that, a tight, high noise that carried no humor, but the cold feeling in his chest abated and he relaxed, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your head and suddenly he was comforting you. “Never ever in a million years, _____. You’re too precious to me. Even Iwa-chan, who’s done nothing but bully me all day. I’d never try to replace you. I’d never let anyone replace you.”

And it was so easy to believe he meant it when he held you like that. Rubbing your face against his chest, you smiled. “You’re still such a sap. I should’ve known you hadn’t changed.”

He whined and pinched your side. “Don’t you be mean to me too, _____. I couldn’t take it.”

Squealing, you pushed him away, but he didn’t let you get far. It was hot and your palms were sweaty and it was uncomfortable, but when he laced his fingers with yours, you didn’t complain.

Iwa did though.

“Are you two done? It’s like, 100 degrees and I am melting. You two are such idiots,” he said, scowling at the two of you. His face was red and shiny with perspiration, and he looked seriously annoyed but he was also watching you with a fondness you’d only recently begun to notice. Since that night a few weeks ago, he had been far more affectionate and open, which was saying something because you were already so casually affectionate to begin with.

Poking his tongue out at him, Oikawa tugged you along down the sidewalk with renewed vigor. Iwaizumi grumbled behind but allowed himself to be led by the hand as Oikawa told you about the next place he was going to bring you and about the game in a few days.

“Unfortunately, I have to go to practice tomorrow, but feel free to wander the city, of course. Just please don’t get lost,” Oikawa prattled on, turning a corner onto a street lined with shops.

The rest of the day was spent investigating every one of them, Oikawa insisting that you get whatever you wanted to decorate your rooms and you obliged only to appease him. It was a little uncomfortable having him pay for everything, but you were weighted down with bags by the time you left the last store. It was mostly clothes, so that you wouldn’t have to pack so much when you visited again and some other small knick knacks that he bought even though you argued against it.

Iwaizumi was carrying far less bags-- at least until he took yours-- mostly because he refused to give into Oikawa’s puppy dog eyes and threatened to maim him if he continued to nag. But Oikawa couldn’t be stopped completely and picked up the things Iwa expressed interest in anyway. Iwaizumi wasn’t happy about it but the look of happiness on Oikawa’s face as he chatted with you, the bags swinging lazily from his arm, made up for it, and he found himself smiling.

The walk back to the apartment was considerably more pleasant without the heat of the sun cooking you alive, and the way first Oikawa then Iwaizumi laced their fingers with yours only made it that much better. There was an indescribable pressure in your chest as you took in the city lights and chatter of people around you. The sounds of sizzling food and smells wafting from street vendors made your mouth water, and Oikawa stopped to purchase a plate of kebabs from one as you passed by.

“You really don’t have to do all this, Tooru. We aren’t poor, you know,” you commented as he passed one to you and then Iwa. Grease dripped down your fingers, and the first bite you took was an explosion of different flavors over your tongue, making you groan. “Shit, this is so good.”

Oikawa watched you with a soft grin, holding his own kebab in his hand but not eating it just yet as he said, “Well there’s not much I’d rather spend it on than you, my little _____.”

The wonder in your eyes as they reflected the lights crisscrossing the street was doing strange things to his stomach, and when those eyes landed on them and the wonder deepened to something more intense, it exploded into butterflies. Something in his head clicked as it changed and he realized you were absolutely beautiful right then and there.

“Shit,” he muttered, and your brows furrowed in confusion as he shook his head. What a weird thought to have, and an even weirder reaction overall. Of course you were beautiful, he had always known that, so why had it hit him so powerfully all of a sudden?

“You alright?” you asked, wiping your mouth with a napkin. Setting your empty stick back on the plate in his hands, you picked up your second one. “You look like you’re in pain.”

He blinked and took a moment to answer, locking eyes with Iwaizumi, who was watching him with curious amusement. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired, I guess. It’s been a while since I’ve run all over town like this. The heat must’ve gotten to me.

The heat, huh? Iwaizumi smirked, watching Oikawa watch you with a newfound fascination. He wondered if he even realized he was doing it and how long it would take him to recognize it for what it was.

“Oh, well,” you said, your cheeks heating up for reasons you couldn’t identify. The look in his eyes had changed, emotions you couldn't identify swirling around in his soft brown irises, but it caused your heart to stutter. “Maybe we should go home then. You have practice tomorrow and I’d hate for you to get sick or something. And just before your game too.”

You began to walk as you polished off the last of the food, still struck with wonder at the liveliness of the city. It was different than Tokyo, if no less crowded. Your city was quiet in a lot of ways, tame, whereas this one was wild and loud and raucous. It was enough to make your head spin, and you wondered if you were experiencing culture shock. Only the pressure of Iwaizumi’s and Oikawa’s slightly greasy fingers kept you from wandering off into the crowds, absorbed as you were with the lights and music.

Oikawa understood all too well, having experienced the same thing when he first arrived as well. He had been grateful for his guide, who had kept him from getting lost and probably mugged or worse in his first few weeks there. Now he knew the layout of the places he most frequented, at least, and he mainly stuck to those.

The street his apartment was on was quiet, the streetlamps casting soft light on the dark buildings with the sun just barely visible on the horizon. You could still hear the faint sounds from the main street, but it was muffled and filtered and you were surprised to find it was almost comforting. It was only nine o’clock, and he wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep yet, even though he knew he really should. He would be up early tomorrow morning and busy all day and probably into the night getting ready for his big game.

There was a sudden rush of nervous energy, one he was used to just before a game, and it never failed that it would keep him up for a while longer.

“Wanna watch a movie?” he asked, gesturing to the TV. He had a wicked setup, high definition, ultra-surround sound, the works, along with a collection of DVDs and probably every streaming service imaginable to boot.

But he looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes that you had failed to notice before, and you kicked yourself for not realizing sooner. Stupid, stupid, Oikawa!

“I-- maybe we should head to bed, instead,” you suggested, giving Iwaizumi a pointed look.

He was quick to catch on and gave Oikawa a once over as the three of you stood in the kitchen The man looked ready to collapse, his hands trembling ever so slightly, but there was some manic glint in his eyes that he recognized as pre-game jitters, and he groaned internally. Oikawa was going to work himself to death, same as usual, only here there was no one to tell him when to quit because it was his job.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, glaring at him. Dealing with Oikawa really was a full time job, even from halfway around the world. Louder, and to your annoyance, he said, “Actually a movie sounds good. I’m not tired quite yet.”

Oikawa perked up from the slump he had gone into and nodded, scurrying across the room to the TV, and you used the opportunity to turn on Iwaizumi.

“Hajime, he looks like he’s going to drop dead. He needs to sleep,” you whispered, eyeing Oikawa. But he was so absorbed in setting up the sound system that he didn’t even realize you were still in the kitchen. “I-- I’m worried.”

Iwaizumi sighed, cupping your cheek. His other hand squeezed your shoulder, and you realized he was no less worried than you. “I know, but what can we do? He’s an adult and not our responsibility anymore.”

Both of you had been with him through his overzealous competition with Kageyama, one or both of you having to literally pick him up from the floor when his knees wouldn’t hold his weight more than once. There had been too many fights and sleepless nights with him about overworking himself and his obsessive need to defeat both Kageyama and Ushijima that you didn’t want to think about what he was doing to himself without someone to yell at him now.

And the way Iwaizumi talked hurt because it was true. He wasn’t, and hadn’t been for months. You hadn’t even really stopped to consider what he might be doing to himself without you and Iwaizumi to knock some sense into him, but it was plain as day that he was working himself to the bone when you stopped to really look at him.

“I know that,” you muttered, but you didn’t really believe it. It was second nature to take care of each other, and that didn’t change just because of a few months apart. Years of friendship trumped that by miles and you weren’t sure that would ever change. “Still…”

“Look,” Iwaizumi said, glancing at Oikawa again. He was still messing with something and in a rush Iwa continued. “He’s too worked up about the game, so he won’t sleep anyway. Let’s just stay up and maybe we can help him relax--”

Oikawa’s voice cut him off, playful but a little suspicious, making the two of you jumped. “What are you two whispering about?”

Feeling guilty at the betrayed expression on his wan face, you opened your lips but no sound came out. There were words stuck in your throat-- worried reprimands and demands-- but you knew they would do no good. Not with his very first game on the international circuit looming in just two days time. Nothing you said would make a difference, and to stress him out with a fight before that wouldn’t be fair, or at least no more fair than he was being to himself anyway.

Picking a fight right now would only ruin your vacation and make everyone miserable, so instead you closed your mouth and reached out to take Iwa’s hand, which squeezed yours so tight you could feel your bones grinding. “Sorry, Tooru, just chatting about tomorrow. Didn’t realize we were whispering.”

Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, though, and Oikawa’s narrowed, his lips turning down. Everything had been fine until you had gotten back to the apartment, but now you and Iwa both looked withdrawn and distant, unable to look at him for more than a moment before finding each other. “Are you...sure?”

The air filled with a tense silence, and once again you felt like a chasm was between you, with you and Iwaizumi on one side and Oikawa on the other, and you wondered if it would ever truly close up again. He looked so alone on the other side, drawn into himself and insecure, that you had to clos the distance to him and took his hand. It created a chain between the three of you until Iwa reached out for Oikawa, and you breathed a little easier for it.

“Everything is fine, Tooru, if you are,” you said, and he heard the pointed question in your tone.

Iwaizumi groaned internally. He should’ve known you wouldn’t just leave it alone.

For Oikawa’s part, he should’ve known you would notice, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. But he didn’t feel like getting into it with you on your first night in-- if at all-- but he knew he would have to let you fawn over and get onto him following the game. He just hoped you would drop it until then.

“I’m tired, _____, but I’m okay. Things will slow down once the game is over, I promise,” he said, and you picked up on the thin warning in his voice.

Another tense silence followed as they waited for you to make your decision, and you ultimately sighed, dropping his hand. You understood his sentiment all too well, and knew that Iwaizumi was right when he said it would be better to wait, but that didn’t mean you were happy with what Oikawa was doing to himself.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he gestured to the collection of DVDs lining the shelves. Ultimately, it was left up to you and you picked out something you knew everyone would enjoy: The X-Files. The way Oikawa’s tired face lit up was a testament to that, even if Iwaizumi huffed in exasperation. At least you hadn’t pushed the issue with Oikawa, letting it devolve into a fight. He really didn’t feel like having to mediate between the two of you tonight.

Three episodes in and Oikawa was drooping onto your shoulder, eyes fluttering with the effort to remain open. The hand he had been using to hold yours was slack, fingers loosely intertwined, and he whined when you pulled away, reaching out for it again. But you were pushing at his shoulder, guiding him down to lay in your lap, and he hummed in contentment. A blanket landed on him, the one from the back of the couch, then your fingers were brushing through his hair, nails scraping his scalp and he was drifting, images of the day flickering through his mind’s eye. They mixed with some weirder things, like a giant cat and running through Tokyo away from an alien, and he stopped fighting to bring the other images back.

His breathing evened out, his full weight coming to rest on your legs, and your fingers stilled. Eyes locked on the screen, you said, “Sorry, Iwa, for earlier. I know you’re right, but I can’t help but worry.”

Iwaizumi already had the remote in hand, fiddling with the buttons until he could figure out how to switch the screen over to Netflix, and he sighed as he flipped through the shows. “I know how you are, ______, but you know how Oikawa is. He’s always been that way.” He wasn’t patronizing as he said it, just pointed, making you flinch.

“I know that, but is anyone down here going to keep him from killing himself? You know he doesn’t know his limits,” you said, watching as he clicked into the info screen for Mad Max. The opening title played and you relaxed into the back of the couch, propping your legs up on the coffee table.

He sighed, eyes fixated on Charlize Theron coming down on her platform. He loved that movie, watching it almost as often as Godzilla. “Yeah, I do know. But there’s nothing we can do, is there? He’s halfway around the world from us and texting him about it will only get ignored.” His arm came down around your shoulders, squeezing you to his side, and you let your head fall to his shoulder. “He’ll be alright, _____. Once this game is over, he should settle down. He’s probably just desperate to make a good impression.”

You chuckled at that as you watched the movie, Iwa’s warmth surrounding you and the steady rise of fall of Oikawa’s shoulders lulling you into a stupor. You knew he was right because Oikawa had always been like that-- desperate, for some reason, to make sure everyone knew he was worthy of the praise he received. As if you didn’t already think he was.

You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep until Iwaizumi was nudging your shoulder. The weight on your legs was gone and you jerked awake to find Oikawa sitting up, rubbing his eyes and glaring at Iwaizumi.

“I was comfortable,” he whined, draping himself over you dramatically. You giggled, your eyes stinging with sleep, but pushed him off you gently. “Not you too, _____.”

“We should go to sleep,” you reprimanded, letting Iwa help you up off the couch. Holding your hand out to Oikawa, you were almost pulled back down by his strong grip, and heard him snicker. “Don’t be a brat, Tooru,” you said, pinching his side and listening to him whine.

You parted ways in the hall, the resonating click of three doors closing before silence reigned, and you changed quickly. Collapsing onto the bed with a sigh, you breathed in the fresh smell of laundry detergent and smiled as you realized that, somehow, Oikawa’s damn cologne had stuck to the sheets too.

The next day, you and Iwaizumi wandered around the city again, following Oikawa’s suggestions of sites to check out. The city center was beautiful but packed, the fountain gurgling away happily, and that’s where the two of you had lunch. Following that, you went around to a museum, taking a tour where the guide explained the founding of the city and other interesting facts. Iwa accidentally ripped the pamphlet, causing you to laugh at the confusion on his face as he tried to figure out how it happened.

The last place you visited was an absolutely beautiful park. There were people everywhere there as well, sitting in the grass and on the benches littered around the lake. Iwa casually reached out, taking your hand as you walked down the riverwalk, gazing at the serene blue waters, and your heart skipped a beat.

When you returned to the apartment, greeting the doorman on your way by, it was still dark, and you set the ingredients you had purchased down on the counter. On the way back, you had mentioned how Oikawa had probably not had any homemade food since he moved there, so Iwaizumi had suggested making onigiri for him.

The two of you worked in quiet tandem, putting the rice on before turning to help Iwa make the fillings. You had opted for a few different ones, and you were overflowing with rice balls by the time you were done. To an outsider, it would look like too much, but you knew your boys all too well-- they would eat every single one of them before the night was through.

As you worked, you asked, “How long do you think he’ll be?”

He shrugged in response, molding rice around a tuna filling. His muscles flexed with the effort, veins popping naturally all along his forearm, and you found yourself lost in watching him work. It was something you were always prone too, but lately thoughts of a different nature were popping into your head, thoughts you really, really didn’t want to be thinking.

It took him a moment to realize you hadn’t said anything more, and he looked up to find you staring at him intensely. “See something you like?” he joked and watched you jump, your face flushing as you turned back to your own work. His eyes narrowed at your unusual reaction-- normally you would come back with a defensive “No,” or some quip about how there was nothing to see at all.

“Anyway, I can’t wait to see the game tomorrow,” you said, and he could hear the strain in your voice. You were packing the rice balls with more tenacity than normal, obviously determined not to look at him again, and something about it soothed the low burn in his chest that had been there for some time, diligently ignored.

He nodded, even though you weren’t looking, and picked up the next onigiri. “Oikawa is gonna be amazing out there, like always. I’m glad we get to be here for him.”

“Me too,” you said, and then laughed. “Imagine if we hadn’t come. He would be blowing us up right now, whining about how nervous he is and how we don’t love him anymore.”

He laughed with you, imagining Oikawa stomping his foot as he complained about being abandoned. “Thank god we came then. We would never survive his wrath.”

When the onigiri was done, you plopped down on the couch, putting on Family Guy on Hulu for background noise while the two of you played on your phones. Your feet were in Iwa’s lap as you tapped away at a game on your screen, the sound drowned out by Peter’s loud laughter, and that was how Oikawa found the two of you an hour later.

The sound of his entry was covered by the TV, and something heavy settled in his stomach when he opened the door and called, “I’m home.”

He snickered when you both jumped, twisting around to look at him. A smile lit your face while Iwa just looked unimpressed.

“Welcome home!” you said, throwing your arms up with dramatic enthusiasm, and Oikawa snickered.

“Awe, you even cooked. My little housewives,” he cooed, picking up a rice ball from the plate on the counter. He took a bite, nostalgia and longing filling his heart at the familiar flavors. It reminded him of home-- not Japan, not Tokyo, not Miyagi, but you and Iwa.

“Watch it, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi growled, scowling up at his friend, and was stopped short by the expression on his face. It was so tender it was almost painful as he stared down at the rice ball in his hands, and then he turned it full force on the two of you.

“I really missed you guys,” he said, and then laughed. “And onigiri, and takoyaki, and Japan.”

He brought two more over and squeezed between you, practically sitting on top of you, slinging his arm over Iwa’s shoulders. You exchanged a glance with Iwaizumi, who just shrugged in amusement.

“What’re you doing home so early anyway?” you asked, returning to your game. You were only 500 points away from beating your highscore, and you tapped away to get there. Oikawa watched over your shoulder, his warm breath tickling your ear, and a shiver ran down your spine.

He was unusually quiet and focused as your character moved across the screen, avoiding obstacles and slashing at small blob monsters in your path. “Uh, they wanted us to rest for the big game. Speaking of which, I have your passes in my bag, so don’t let me forget to give them to you otherwise they won’t let you in.”

You hummed, avoiding a blob only to get killed by an arrow on your last life. “Goddammit.”

Exiting out of the app purely out of spite, you locked your phone and looked up at Oikawa. His face was closer than you had realized and your face heated up when your nose bumped his. He seemed as startled as you and jerked back, his cheeks turning a pretty red underneath his tan. His brown eyes were wide with surprise, lips parting slightly, and his arm slid off Iwa’s shoulders.

Iwaizumi watched the whole thing with something that could have been amusement, but he couldn’t quite tell. There was a flareup of something in his chest, and he might have named it longing if he hadn’t been trying to ignore those feelings. Clearing his throat, he continued to scroll through his phone and watched the two of you shift, trying to ignore the tension in the air.

“Anyway,” you said, picking at the hem of your shorts. You picked your phone back up and unlocked it, clicking into Twitter. “Do you know where our seats are?”

Back in familiar territory, Oikawa perked back up. “Well...I got you front row seats! And you’ll meet me in back after the game is over to go to the afterparty.”

“Oh, we get to party with the great Oikawa still?” Iwa asked, snickering at the way Oikawa huffed.

“Not with that attitude, Iwa-chan. Maybe I’ll just take _____ and leave you at the stadium,” he said, wrapping his arm around you possessively. It seemed whatever strangeness had occurred earlier was wiped from his mind as he pulled you into his chest.

You laughed into his shirt, fingers wiggling against his stomach until he squirmed and let you go. “You can’t be that mean, Tooru,” you chided, curling your legs up underneath yourself. Liking one of Bokuto’s tweets, you continued, “What would we do without Iwa there to keep us from getting too drunk?”

“And going home with the wrong people again?” he piped up, and Oikawa flushed bright red again.

“It was one time, Hajime. Stop bringing it up!” he whined, hiding his face in his hands. “_____, help me!”

Instead, you snickered and said, “That was the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. You should have seen how confused they were when you stumbled up to them screaming Iwa-chan, _____ I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Iwa burst into laughter while Oikawa groaned.

“I hate it here,” he said, muffled by his hands. “Why does everyone hate me?”

Patting his back, you choked out, “It’s because you’re pretty.”

“Ugh.”

The game that day was absolutely fantastic. Oikawa was flawless, encouraging his teammates and commanding everyone’s attention-- then again maybe that was just you projecting, but if anyone asked you would say it was true-- and it seemed they won the game without effort.

They all clapped him on the back in the middle of the court, laughing and cheering and, when they turned to acknowledge the crowd, Oikawa’s smile was all for you.

A security guard approached your seats a few moments later, gesturing you towards the set of doors the team was heading towards, and Oikawa fell into step beside you, slinging a sweaty arm over each of your shoulders.

“God, Oikawa, you’re disgusting. Get off us,” Iwa snapped, shoving at his arm, but Oikawa was undeterred.

Still regaining his breath, he asked, “How was I out there? Amazing, right?”

“If you already know,” Iwaizumi said, giving up the fight with his arm, “why are you asking?”

“Because I want to hear you say it, of course,” he answered, guiding you towards the locker rooms. There was a series of benches lining the hall and he stopped in front of them, grinning. “Wait here. We’re gonna have to do a few more interviews and then we’ll go to the venue,” he said, turning towards the locker room.

It was almost thirty minutes before the team finally trudged back out, still in high spirits, and another thirty to deal with the throngs of reporters and news crews who wanted interviews. Finally, you loaded up onto the bus, stuck between Oikawa and Iwaizumi. The whole ride was loud and you laughed at the antics of the team. Iwaizumi was right at home amongst them, as if he were right back in highschool, riding the high of a win.

The party was being held on the rooftop of a nearby hotel, complete with an open bar, DJ, and more athletes, friends and family of said athletes, and reporters than you could count. You were introduced to the team and their spouses before being dragged off by a few of them to dance. Iwaizumi found you a little while later, three drinks in and giggling maniacally with the libero’s wife, Trish. She was telling you about when she first met her husband at a party just like this one and how she threw up on his girlfriend at the time’s shoes. He had laughed so hard she broke up with him right then, and you couldn’t help but laugh even though it was kind of sad.

“Hey, princess,” Iwa said, and you shouted his name happily at the sight of him. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes slightly unfocused, and when you took a sip from his cup you were overcome with the taste of vodka. “Oikawa was looking for us.”

“Oh,” Trish teased, pushing you a little harder than intended in her drunk state. You fell into Iwaizumi, who only caught you out of habit. “Are you dating our little all star?”

“W-What?” you shrieked over the loud music, shaking your head wildly. Your hair fell into your face and the sky spun, then you started giggling again. “No, no, it’s-- nothing like that?”

“Are you asking or telling, _____?” she asked, but Iwa was pulling you away, pushing through the pulsating crowd towards the bar.

Oikawa was standing there, eyes bright with drunkenness as he chatted with someone you didn’t recognize, and he waved as you stumbled up. Pulling you from Iwa, he said, “_____, this is Andre. He’s from the Swedish team. This is my best friend from Japan.”

You straightened up, the haze of alcohol clearing as you focused on the tall man in front of you. He was smiling kindly at you, a cup in his hand like everyone else, and nodded at you. He spoke with a Spanish accent as he said, “It’s nice to meet you, _____. You’re very beautiful.”

Eyes widening, you stuttered as you said, “T-Thank you.”

His grin grew bigger, and you missed the way both Iwa and Oikawa tensed to either side of you. If he saw it, he ignored it, asking if you wanted to dance.

Your friends let you go with reluctance, a pained expression on Oikawa’s face as he looked to Iwaizumi. Neither knew what to say-- they knew it would happen eventually, you couldn’t remain unnoticed forever.

“She’ll be okay,” Iwa said, pouring himself another drink. It was his fourth so far, and he was careless as he poured his alcohol. “We’ll keep an eye on her.”

Oikawa didn’t like the calmness in his voice when something ugly was raging in his chest, something he had been ignoring all this time whenever you talked about other people you expressed an interest in. But alcohol made him loose and the jealousy reared up sharper than ever as he caught glimpses of you twirling and swaying with the beat of the music. Andre’s hands were on your hips and you were laughing at something he was whispering-- at least as far as Oikawa could tell-- into your ear.

His hands were tight around his cup, squeezing and crinkling the cheap plastic, then it was being tugged from his fingers and another was replacing it.

“Drink,” Iwa said, sipping from his own cup. “Jealousy looks ugly on you.”

“Iwa,” he snapped, watching your arms loop around Andre’s neck, “how can you be happy about this?”

Iwa tensed beside him and pinned him with a glare that would have cowed him if he was less drunk or less irate. “What makes you think I am, Oikawa? But she isn’t-- she’s not ours.”

Ours echoed in his head, and for the first time he really looked at Iwaizumi. He realized that the jealousy never flared when he was around, and watching the two of you curled up together on his couch never elicited the emotion either. It felt like home watching the two of you, and yesterday was the first day he had actually looked forward to coming home. Seeing Iwaizumi’s spiky black hair over the back of the couch and your smiling face as you welcomed him home had made all the difference to him, and he took a large swig from his cup, the rum burning on the way down before he spoke again.

“She could be.”

It was said so quietly that if Iwa hadn’t been standing shoulder to shoulder with him he wouldn’t have heard him. His head whipped around, swimming a little with the alcohol, and narrowed his eyes.

Oikawa could feel his eyes on him, meeting his gaze head on. He wasn’t joking, the mix of jealousy and alcohol wouldn’t let him. Iwaizumi’s face was blank, but he could see the gears turning as he processed his words as best he could with his level of intoxication.

At last, he seemed to reach a decision, the blankness morphing into a calculating look and he said, “What about her? Does she want that? And us? Oikawa, we can’t hold her back because we don’t want to let her go.”

Oikawa looked back to you and sighed. You were now dancing with Andre and one of the other wives whose name he’d already forgotten, laughing without care. “If she doesn’t want us, then we’ll let her go. But I can’t-- Iwa, you feel the same, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” he said, admitting to it at last. It felt like the weight of finally confessing was lifted only to be replaced with the weight of acknowledgement, and he wasn’t sure he liked it any better. “For both of you, but it doesn’t mean anything if she doesn’t want it. What will you do if she rejects you?”

“Then I’ll beg her not to cut me out of her life, of course. And she’ll forgive us because even if she doesn’t love us, she loves us,” he answered, and said it with such certainty that even Iwaizumi believed him. He sighed, clapping Oikawa on the shoulder and, as if the gods were listening, you disentangled yourself from Andre and approached them.

Even in the dim light they could see how happy you were, skin flushed with a light sheen of sweat. A few strands of hair were sticking to your forehead, and you pushed them back as you greeted them. “Hey, guys, what’re you just standing here for? This is a party for you, Oikawa!” You were shouting over the music and reached out, taking Iwa’s cup from his hand. Taking a swig, you grimaced. “How are you still standing, Haji?”

Iwa chuckled while Oikawa took a long swallow from his cup.

“You’re right, princess. Let’s go dance!” he said, and took your hand. You grabbed Iwa’s at the last minute and pulled him after the two of you, his drink sloshing as he stumbled to keep up.

You found yourself pinned between the two of them, the heat radiating off of them and everyone around you making your brain fuzzy. Your arms looped around his neck when you handed Oikawa’s cup back after stealing a sip, body swaying to the beat of the music thudding from the speakers. Andre was all but pushed from your mind as his hand settled on your waist, Iwa’s landing on your other. His back was pressed flush to your back, your chest touching Oikawa’s, and suddenly nothing else existed.

The smell of his cologne filled your nose, mixed with the heady scent of alcohol and sweat. Your head spun when Iwa pressed his nose into your hair, pulling it to the side to expose the back of your neck, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

The song changed, more intense, and you lost yourself in the feel of their bodies against yours, tall and protective. Spinning around, you wrapped your fingers around Iwa’s neck now and his fingers tangled in your hair.

“Having fun, princess?” Oikawa whispered, a breath of air ghosting over your ear making you shivered. His hand was low on your hip, squeezing as he pulled you back into him, and you nodded. “I could use another drink. Keep her warm for me, Hajime.”

His warmth disappeared and you instantly missed it and the feeling of security. Nuzzling closer to Iwa, the beat shifted again, slowing down and going darker, and you shivered as the bass thrummed through you. His hand drifted lower, settling just below your hip, and you looked up at him. Both their drinks were a lot stronger this time around, and you could feel the effects on you in the way everything swam. You couldn’t focus on anything but Iwaizumi and the way he was staring at you with dark, hooded eyes. You were sure he was as drunk as you, but you didn’t even realize you were leaning up until he stopped you, giving you a soft smile.

“Not here, princess, not while you’re drunk,” he said into your ear, and you flushed under the spinning strobe lights. You were too important to him to do this when you weren’t sober, and he wanted to talk before you made any decisions.

His words held a promise you didn’t expect, and you swallowed thickly around the cloying taste of vodka.

“But when I’m sober?” you whispered, and it was only because you were still right by his ear that he heard you.

He chuckled, nodding as he rested his sweaty forehead against yours. “If you remember, princess. Yeah.”

“What have we here? I thought you had more chivalry than that,” Oikawa said from beside you. He slid back into his place behind you, resting his cheek on your shoulder, lips a hair away from touching Iwa’s forehead. “By the way, Andre is not happy. Isn’t it great?”

Iwa snickered, kissing the tip of your nose before he took in Oikawa’s shit eating grin. Leaning in close, his nose brushed Oikawa’s. “You take way too much pride in that, Shittykawa.”

“Don’t you? Our _____ is a desired woman, after all,” he said, eyes narrowing as they dipped down to look at Iwa’s lips. The temptation was strong enough that it caused him to lick his own before meeting Iwa’s again, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He was following the beat of the music, swaying side to side with you. It had shifted once again but remained low and resonating, the others around you pushing and pulling you with the flow. Your head tipped back to rest on his shoulder, eyes half-lidded and amused.

“What do you mean our?” you asked, teasing. You snatched the cup from his hand and took a drink, playing keep away from Oikawa when he reached for it. You weren’t expecting for Iwaizumi to take it from your hands and drink from it, both of you laughing when Oikawa whined.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you to him while Iwa held onto the cup, laughing brashly. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he was feeling lighter than air, and he looked at you and Oikawa, draped around you like a blanket. Love flooded his system, mixing with the drink and his head spun at the intensity. He wondered if he would feel that way tomorrow, but decided that was a problem for another Iwaizumi. He came back to you, arm slipping around you both as far as the could to curl in Oikawa’s shirt.

The party was still raging, and he was going to enjoy it with the two of you.

You didn’t stumble into the apartment until the early hours of the morning, when the earliest risers were getting ready for work, and half-assed the removal of your makeup. Hands had grabbed you the minute you exited the bathroom and dragged you back to the living room, where you collapsed in a pile on the couch. You passed out until mid afternoon and woke up tangled in long and muscular limbs, remaining makeup caked and the lingering taste of alcohol in your mouth. How you had managed not to throw up was a miracle, and the men only groaned when you untangled yourself from them.

Stumbling into the bathroom, you cleaned the rest of the makeup off your face and snagged some of Oikawa’s facial cleanser before hopping into the shower. Flashes of last night came back to you. Dancing with Andre, listening to him whisper into your ear and laughing at things that weren’t that funny now, then finding Oikawa and Iwa and being dragged back into the crowd. That caused your heart to race, remembering the way they had pinned you between them, hands groping at your hips and moving against you. Oikawa had disappeared and it was just you and Iwa, the intense look in his eyes as he stared down at you, leaning up and--

God, you had almost kissed him. And he had-- he had said if you remembered when you were sober. Your heart was thumping so hard that your hungover brain was spinning. The question was, did he remember?

Feeling marginally less dead but more nervous than ever before, you dressed and headed back into the living room to find Iwaizumi and Oikawa both sitting up with their heads in their hands.

“I haven’t gotten that drunk since my last party in Japan,” Oikawa groaned, massaging his temples. He remembered a surprising amount about last night, but most clearly was the conversation with Iwaizumi, and he knew without asking that he remembered it too. Neither of them were drunk enough to forget, but after that was a different story. All he remembered was dancing with you for the rest of the night, your hands in his hair and on his chest, body moving against his, and his heart throbbed in his throat.

Iwa chuckled at that and then winced when the action made his head throb. “Weak. But same.” His schedule was always too packed to get that blitzed, so he stuck to two drinks and then went home.

The door to the bathroom opened and you came out into the living room wearing one of their shirts-- they didn’t even know whose at that point-- and sat down between them on the couch.

“You look like trash,” you said, snickering when they grumbled.

“I’m gonna go shower now,” Iwa said, standing up from beside you. He gave the lightest touch on your cheek before disappearing down the hall. The sound of water running met your ears, and you fidgeted with your hands.

Oikawa groaned and flopped sideways down on the couch. “I ordered takeout already. It should be here soon. I need something greasy, so I hope you don’t mind burgers.”

Your stomach grumbled at the mention of food, reminding you that the only thing you had eaten were some hors d’oeuvres at the party. “That sounds absolutely amazing.”

You put on Netflix while Oikawa replaced Iwa in the shower, the air tense between you two. The words from last night replayed and you were working up the courage to see if he remembered as well when he turned to you.

“Hey, uh, _____, do you-- I mean, what do you--?” he said, and the doorbell rang, indicating the food was there. “Well, nevermind.” He stood up and answered, the smell of greasy food hitting you after a moment.

“Gimme gimme,” you said, taking the box he handed to you.

The shower cut off and a few minutes later Oikawa joined you, groaning as he took a bite of his burger. “Nothing has ever tasted so good.”

You continued to eat in silence, a tense weight hanging over the three of you and the longer it went unacknowledged the more nervous you got. The scene kept playing over in your head, exhausting you more than the hangover, your stomach rolling with anxiety. At last, you couldn’t take it and pushed your burger away.

“Listen, guys, um, I have something to say and I really hope that you don’t freak out but I--”

“Do you remember last night?” Iwaizumi asked, cutting you off. You flinched beside him, eyes wide as you nodded, and he reached out, taking your hands. “Was that real? Is it something you want?”

Your mouth went dry as he moved closer, leaning in like you had last night, and your lips parted, but no words came out. Oikawa shifted behind you, unaware of what you were talking about, but Iwa’s eyes locked with his over your head and he understood that whatever it was, it was promising.

Heart in your throat, you nodded, and that was all Iwa needed.

Your first kiss with him was soft and sweet, his hands coming up to cup your face, and he tilted his head to the side to deepen it. Oikawa groaned, fingers digging into your sides and letting his head drop to your shoulder. Somehow, what he had talked about last night was actually happening, and he fought the urge to pinch himself to make sure it was real, just in case he was in the midst of an alcohol induced dream.

When Iwa pulled back, his eyes were hazy as they stared into yours, hands rough and warm against your cheeks. He dipped in again, stealing one more before letting go, and Oikawa wrapped your hair around his fingers, guiding your face around so he could get his.

That kiss was heavy with unspoken emotion, needy and hot and you reached up behind you to tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing back into him to get closer. His arm wrapped around your stomach, hauling you into his lap and when he pulled away, he was panting. It didn’t stop him from diving in several more times, moaning at the taste until he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed and lips swollen.

“I love you, princess. And not just as one of my best friends,” he whispered, his thumb rubbing your stomach through your shirt. You gasped at that, eyes misting over as you stared up at him.

“I-- really?” you whispered, and he chuckled at the disbelieving tone of your voice.

He nodded, and Iwa distracted you by taking your hand and lifting it to his lips, kissing each knuckle in turn and then pressing your palm to his cheek. “I love you too, _____, if that’s okay.”

“W-Wait, I don’t-- I don’t want to choose between you,” you breathed, and they snickered at the panic in your voice. Dumbfounded, you fell silent, looking between them and waiting for an explanation.

Pulling your hand down, Iwa set it in his lap, stroking the back of it with callused fingertips. “You don’t have to choose between us, if you want both of us. We’ve already talked about it.”

“When?” you asked, overwhelmed by the information. Your two best friends, both of whom you’d managed to fall in love with over the course of the last few months, were confessing they both loved you and both wanted to be with you. It was almost too much.

Iwa colored red while Oikawa snickered again, turning your face to him again. “Last night, actually. Speaking of which, what were you talking about that happened last night?”

It was your turn to be embarrassed, and you hid your face in his neck, mumbling it to him.

“You tried to kiss him?” Oikawa laughed, rubbing your back. “Oh, _____, you little minx.”

“Shut up,” you whined, smacking him in the arm.

He continued to laugh at you, locking eyes with Iwa again. He looked amused, his cheeks still faintly pink but the smile he was wearing was so beautifully genuine that it almost hurt to look at, and Iwa’s words from last night flashed back to him.

Of course I do. For both of you.

His eyes dipped down to Iwa’s lips and, when he looked back up, he was wearing a knowing smirk. He shifted you slightly to the side, keeping you steady with an arm around your waist, while Iwa scooted forward. His knee pressed between yours as he leaned forward, cupping Oikawa’s cheek before his fingers slid up into his hair.

Your mouth fell open as he pulled his head down, slotting his lips against Oikawa’s. It was tentative at first, testing the waters, but then Oikawa’s fingers curled into his shirt and tugged him closer, groaning into the kiss.

Their pupils were blown wide with wonder when they pulled apart and, when they looked back to you, they found you wearing the widest grin imaginable. There was a pause where no one said anything and then Oikawa pushed you into Iwaizumi and threw himself on top of you. Iwaizumi grunted at the impact as his back hit the couch while you laughed loudly.

“You fucking brat,” Iwaizumi snapped without malice, while you wiggled around trying to get Oikawa off of you. He fell to the side between you and the couch, and Iwa held you to his chest, hand rubbing your back.

Oikawa braced himself up on his elbow, gazing down at the two of you with a bright smile, radiating happiness. He finally understood the ache that had sat in his chest since he announced he was leaving for Argentina, the fierce longing to see you and touch you ever since you had arrived explained by the fact that he was unconditionally in love with you. He wondered how he had only realized it after he left, when the signs had been there for a lot longer than that. Maybe he had simply taken what he had already for granted, or maybe he had just been blind to it.

Knowing him, it was probably both.

Your eyes had closed, listening to the steady beat of Iwa’s heart in your ear, but you suddenly jerked up, looking excited.

“Does that mean I can call you my boyfriends? Everyone is gonna freak,” you said, and Oikawa snorted and burst into laughter. Under you, Iwa groaned, clapping his hand to his forehead.

“You are unbelievable, _____,” he huffed, but he was smiling again, and you could see he was trying not to laugh. “But yeah, I guess you can. I will revoke the right if you abuse it, though. Both of you.”

Oikawa’s eyes lit up at that, and a mischievous smirk lit up his face. “Wonder what we’d have to do to make that happen.”

“Oh, no. I am not gonna risk that,” you said, pushing his face away as he leaned forward. “I just got the right, I’m not gonna lose it already.”

“You’re no fun, _____,” he pouted, grabbing your hand. He kissed your palm, listening to you giggle at something Iwa whispered into your ear. “Already keeping secrets from me, hm? I’m not sure you--”

“I love you, Tooru,” you said, and he sputtered and turned bright red, dropping your hand in favor of covering his face with his, whining in the back of his throat. You burst into laughter while Iwaizumi snickered, high fiving you.

“Why are you two so mean to me?” Oikawa asked through his fingers, though he was grinning hard enough to hurt. His heart thumped in his chest at what was probably an unhealthy rate for an athlete of his caliber, but if he died of a heart attack right then, he’d be alright with it.

It was Iwaizumi who answered, pulling his face down into his neck. Oikawa went willingly, listening to the deep timber of his voice as he said, “You didn’t really think anything would change did you, Brattykawa?”

“Well I had hoped, since you love me and all,” Oikawa admitted. He was starting to feel tired again, his eyes heavy as he soaked in the warmth of your hands on his back and Iwa in general.

“Nope,” you said, popping your lips on the ‘p’. You settled yourself on Iwa’s chest again, pushing your fingers through Oikawa’s hair. He seemed to purr at that, murmuring as he snuggled closer into Iwa’s side. “I could go for a nap.”

“Same,” Iwa said, proving his point with a yawn. Tucking his arm beneath his head, he let his eyes close with a sigh.

Oikawa was already asleep, his breathing deep and even and warm against Iwa’s neck, and he thought you were too until you murmured a sleepy, “I love you too, Haji.”

His lips ticked up, his heart skipping a beat at the quiet confession. They were words he had been longing to hear for a longer time than he cared to admit, and he sighed again.

“Love you too, princess. Now shut up so we can sleep.”

⇥ masterlist

⍣ 365 days of sun series | previous

#iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader x oikawa #.365days #.lmhisj

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gohyuck · 4 years

Text

pairing: ceo!lee donghyuck (haechan) x cfo!reader

genre: slight angst, fluff, smut (that’s a first for this acc o.o)

word count: 3.6k

warnings: explicit heterosexual sex (slight dom!hyuck)... like, really, over 50% of this is just sex lol. not a warning but hyuck is implied to be bisexual in this, it’s hinted at once or twice

a/n: sm knew what they were doing, making the 127s play office in full business attire. also, i still think we should eat the rich. just saying. this is not meant to glorify billionaires. i just think hyuck is hot. also! cfo = chief finance officer.

part of a series?: yes, 37.5% viewer ratings, my hyuck bday celebration

🎵 often - the weeknd

☀️ push and pull

“i already emailed you this month’s finance report and talked to the men from kim corp. - i think they’ll end up being major investors. my balance forecasts are done, and,” you pause in your report, your gaze meeting donghyuck’s across his desk before you continue speaking, one corner of your lip quirking up slightly. “and you have a hickey that’s a little too high for your collar to cover.”

“i - what?” the ceo of lee technologies, ltd. hisses out the last word, his brow furrowing as he processes what you’ve just said. you put a finger up, silently telling him to give you a moment, before you pull your purse off of the floor and onto your lap. it takes you less than a minute of rummaging to find what you’re looking for: a compact mirror. donghyuck all but snatched it out of your hand, and you see him visibly redden once he realizes that you aren’t pulling his leg.

“shit, (name), i have meetings all day today,” he groans, slumping backwards into his far-too-expensive office chair. donghyuck shuts your mirror and tosses it haphazardly onto your desk before running both his hands down his face in incredulity and embarrassment. his neck is bared as he does this, allowing you to survey the mark further: it’s a deep red and clear as day, likely having been brought into existence the night before. you wonder briefly who it’s from - the pretty secretary who always bats his eyes at the ceo, the diligent but meek girl who can’t keep her eyes off of donghyuck and works in hr on floor 14, the red-lipped and cat-eyed ceo of the company that operates out of the top floors of the highrise next to you? you doubt you’ll ever know. as your heart twinges slightly, you realize that you don’t want to know.

donghyuck groans again, although it dissolves into a petulant whine this time. a chuckle falls from your lips without you wanting to let one out, and your boss glares at you because of this.

“don’t look at me like that,” you scoff, turning your attention back to your bag for a moment. hyuck watches as you triumphantly pull a band-aid from one of the smaller pockets. “here! it’s small enough to be covered by this.”

donghyuck narrows his eyes.

“is it professional for a company’s ceo to walk around with a highlighter yellow tweety bird band-aid on his neck?” he asks, quirking one eyebrow as he does. still, he leans forward, placing his forearms on his desk and clasping his hands together as he does.

“is it professional for a company’s ceo to walk around with evidence that he’s getting laid on his neck?” you throw back, and donghyuck stares at you for a moment before sighing, slumping his shoulders, and reaching his hand out. you drop the band-aid into your outstretched palm.

“it’ll be fine, hyuck,” you tell your boss and longtime friend as he picks your compact up again, using the mirror to place the band-aid properly. “it might even humanize you a little bit.”

“humanize me?” donghyuck asks, though the small lilt to his voice tells you that he’s just fishing for compliments. he knows what you mean. still, you have time today, so you humor him.

“your reputation is all ‘young god’, ‘untouchable billionaire’, ‘genius entrepreneur’, ‘national playboy’,” you point out, watching as donghyuck’s smirk grows, making him look a little bit like an overexcited frat boy. his expression directly contrasts his crisp gray tom ford suit and franck muller watch. “tweety bird might make you more... approachable.”

the young ceo thinks about your words for a moment before flipping his wrist towards himself to read the time. it’s 10:27 - he needs to get down to the main conference room. you stand as donghyuck does, letting him walk past you before you follow. the band-aid is even brighter underneath lights, you note, and you can’t help but smile to yourself at this. donghyuck places his hand on the door handle, though, right before he opens it, he turns back to you.

“you forgot sex icon.”

“what?” your eyes widen for a moment before you force your brows down, scowling at donghyuck’s statement.

“when you were naming off things that make me larger-than-life, you forgot to say sex icon.” he grins, his tone as matter-of-fact as its ever been.

“who says?” you throw back, determined not to let your friend’s ego inflate so easily. he grins before leaning towards you, closer and closer until his mouth is right against your ear. you do your best not to let your breath hitch at the proximity.

“cosmopolitan. they interviewed me for the cover last month, remember? came in the mail today. i’ll give you a signed copy of you want. courtesy of your favorite sex icon.” he tells you, and you swear his lips brush your earlobe before he pulls back, mirth dancing in his eyes. before you can say anything, donghyuck pulls his office door open, stepping aside as he does.

“after you.”

♕ ♕ ♕

the lee donghyuck that exists within his private office and the lee donghyuck that exists outside of it are two entirely different people. his posture is still easy, still open, still exceedingly confident, but the moment he steps out of his office his back straightens up, one hand going to adjust his tie and the other slipping into one of his dress pants’ pockets. he goes from hyuck to haechan, meaning fullsun, the name given to him by the media at some gala or the other a couple years ago. hyuck is your friend from college, a brilliant programmer and free entertainment for those close to him. haechan is a charismatic but cold leader, his eyes calculating as he surveys the empire he’s only just begun building.

he walks out after you, but immediately commands everyone’s gaze. donghyuck’s office is in the corner of the 18th floor - the highest floor of the skyscraper. all of the offices on this floor belong to executives - hell, your office is right next to his, your one wall with floor-to-ceiling windows adorned entirely with a row of potted plants both small and huge - but there’s always plenty of other people milling around on the floor: possible investors, lost interns, secretaries, and employees with questions. today is no exception: several pairs of eyes are directed to the ceo as you stroll out, him in tow.

nobody says anything about the obvious band-aid on haechan’s neck.

“i’ll see you after work,” donghyuck mutters discreetly into your ear, and you nod as imperceptibly as possible before giving your friend a parting smile.

as you head back to your office, haechan’s secretary joins him in step, tablet in hand, to read him off his schedule. as you close your door behind you, ready to bask in the sunlight that’s filtering in, you can’t help but scrutinize the secretary’s slightly rosier-than-usual cheeks, nor the way haechan had straightened his shoulders while speaking to the other man.

if you were one for betting, you’d put down money on the fact that you’ve probably just found the culprit responsible for donghyuck’s bright yellow band-aid. you shake your head sadly as you set your things down on your desk.

the poor boy’s going to get his heartbroken soon.

after all, if there’s one thing donghyuck and haechan have in common, it’s this: commitment is not in the cards. you know this better than anyone.

♕ ♕ ♕

“hyuck, i-”

“shut the fuck up.” donghyuck hisses into your ear, tugging harshly at the front of your shirt as he backs you into the closed door of his office. the material rips away easily, buttons skittering onto his floor as he shoves his warm mouth against yours. your hands go up to snake around his shoulders immediately, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as he draws whimpers from your lips. once you part for air, you watch as he studies you for a moment. his tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip, and his eyes are beautifully hooded.

you’re already gasping for air. you’re already drowning in him.

“this blouse was from saks, you asshole,” you manage to get out, though you sound more like a petulant child than the indignant business executive you are. he chuckles almost mockingly, simply raising an eyebrow at this before he starts shrugging his suitjacket off, placing it across the back of the chair in front of his desk.

“it’s your fault for wearing a $300 shirt to work,” he throws at you, no bite in his voice. you can’t help but roll your eyes as you push yourself off the door, making to follow him as he settles down into his office chair.

“you’re one to talk - your suit is, what, $4,000 at least? don’t get me started on the fact that you’re wearing a 5-digit watch.” you make your way so you’re standing directly in front of him, shirt torn open to expose your bra and part of your stomach and the top of your skirt hugging your waistline perfectly. donghyuck sticks his tongue into his cheek before leaning forward and tugging you onto his lap with ease, smirking as your skirt flies up momentarily.

“touché.”

his hands cup your ass, fingertips pressing into your skin as he forces them up past your safety shorts. you rise up slightly so you’re situated above hyuck, cupping his face as you look into his eyes. he grins up at you.

“this,” he squeezes your left asscheek fondly before meeting your eyes with his own mischievous gaze. “this is why i instituted a casual dress policy.”

“one hell of a policy, considering the ceo himself doesn’t adhere to it.”

“i don’t need to, baby,” your heart flutters at the term of endearment, and you will it to stop immediately. “after all, i’m the boss, remember?”

“you’re a pig.” you throw back, and he only chuckles before attaching his lips to the skin above your collarbone. donghyuck laves his tongue over the fresh bruises as he dots your clavicle with them, forcing you closer to him by forcefully pushing your hips down towards his. as his lips move southward, brushing over your open chest and spilling kisses onto the tops of your bra-clad breasts, you can’t help but keen loudly and grind down on him of your body’s own accord.

“someone’s hasty to get marked up,” your friend points out, not waiting for a response as he reaches into the large hole in your shirt - a lee donghyuck creation - and around your back, popping your bra open. your mind is too hazy to respond at first, in part due to the way he slips your bra straps down your arms, chasing them with wet, open-mouthed kisses across your shoulders before pulling the article of clothing off of you entirely. you can’t help but buck slightly against him as your breasts meet the cool air, and he takes this opportunity to wrap his sinful lips against one of your nipples, one of his hands coming up to run his thumb over the other one.

“you’re - ha - you’re one to talk. mark? really?”

“he’s a good secretary,” donghyuck pulls his mouth off of you momentarily to speak, eyes sparkling as if he knows he’s teasing you, and you can’t help but flick your own eyes upward in annoyance. suddenly, you feel the need to have his dick in you immediately, as if it’ll fill the growing hole in your heart. you adjust yourself, and donghyuck watches, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you steady, as you pull your safety shorts off.

he immediately drops a hand to your leg, tracing a finger up the expanse of your inner thigh as his other hand reaches up to grab your chin, gently forcing you to face him so your eyes meet. your mouth goes dry just as he slips two fingers into your wet heat, and you can’t help yourself as you rut forwards, grinding on his hand. the whine you let out has donghyuck’s eyes becoming even more hooded, almost naturally smoky, and you can’t help but gasp at the sight.

“he’s a good secretary,” donghyuck says again, and you realize he hadn’t finished his thought earlier. you hate that he’s speaking about another person when his fingers are knuckle deep inside your sopping heat, but it’s donghyuck - your hyuck, who’d held your hair back when you puked at frat parties and who let you crash on his dorm room floor whenever it was too late to walk to your own place - and you can’t say anything about it. “but if you wanted me to yourself, you could’ve just said so.”

your heart stops, but not before he has the audacity to wink at you.

“we need to fuck,” you choke out, finding it hard to breathe even though his hands are nowhere near your throat. “now.”

the desperation in your voice, the way your pert nipples are right in his face, and the way you’re humping his hand like a bitch in heat all have donghyuck groaning and rolling his head back on his shoulders. he flicks his chin towards the top drawer of his desk right behind you, and you use one hand to brace yourself against his shoulder as you lean back to pull the drawer open. this unwittingly forces hyuck’s fingers to angle deeper inside you, hitting the bundle of nerves in the back of your cunt exactly in a way that has you moaning his name long and low. your grip slips off of the drawer handle without you meaning to, and you scramble, patting your hand haphazardly around in the drawer before you come across a condom. you pull it out, slamming the drawer shut triumphantly before turning back to hyuck. he pulls his fingers out of you before you come, much to your chagrin, but you realize that you’ll be coming around his cock in no time.

“my blouse was actually about $600,” you say, your eyes meeting his as you tear open the wrapper. he lets out a chuckle before raising his fingers - covered in filmy strings of your arousal - to his mouth and wrapping his tongue around them like it’s the easier thing in the world. you feel yourself clench. he wraps one arm around you before shifting slightly, and you realize he’s unzipping his own pants.

“i’ll buy you another one.” is all donghyuck says before pulling out his thick length, and you swallow on impulse as his bulbous tip, oozing precum, comes into your view. you want it - need it, you decide as you recall his earlier statement about having him for yourself - and you need it now. you hand him the condom, and he rolls it on with a small grunt before both of his hands fly to your ass. just as you’re about to sit down properly on his cock, fill your voids the way they’re meant to be completed. donghyuck stops you with his hands on your hips.

you look down at him, and your eyes meet his for what feels like the millionth time tonight.

“are you sure?” he asks, and you fall deeper in love with him even though he’s doing the minimum. you’re sure, you realize, and you nod before remembering that he has to hear you say it.

“yes, i’m sure.” your voice is uncharacteristically quiet, but donghyuck says nothing of it. he grips your thighs, spreading them as much as he can without pushing you off the chair - he’s grateful it has no handles - before pressing his tip to your entrance. you press both of your hands into your shoulders as you sink yourself onto his throbbing dick, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you do. it takes you a moment to adjust - usually the foreplay is much longer - but once you’re ready, you start bouncing on donghyuck’s cock, setting the pace for yourself.

it doesn’t take long for you to get to the brink of orgasm - riding hyuck has always placed the head of his dick directly against the place inside you that makes you see white behind your eyes. for his part, he shoves you down onto himself when you start tiring out, tugging on a nipple in between his teeth or running his tongue down against your skin or slapping your ass and causing you to buck against him as he sees fit.

you’ve been friends with benefits for almost a year, now, and the sex only gets better.

you’ve been friends with benefits for almost a year, now, and everyday, every damn day, you curse your heart more and more. you curse your feelings when donghyuck whines as he nears his high, too, and you curse yourself for spending your ability to love deeply on the one person who won’t take it as he finally takes over, anchoring you against his body while his hips snap up into yours. he’s chasing your orgasm just as much as he’s chasing his, and when donghyuck pulls you down to smash his lips against yours, forcing you to taste the red wine he’d had with dinner on his tongue, while circling your clit with one finger like a madman, you can’t help but let go completely, clenching and spasming and shaking around his length and in his arms. this is all it takes to push him over the edge, too - he spills into the condom with a beautiful, keening whine against your shoulder.

it’s only when donghyuck looks up at you after catching his breath and his face falls that you realize you’re crying.

“(name) - sweetheart, what’s wrong? did i hurt you?”

his recognition of your state has the dam breaking, and you shake your head frantically to soothe him as your tears start falling more heavily. he wraps his arms around you immediately, pulling you into his chest as he does. donghyuck waits patiently for you to speak.

“i - i can’t do this anymore,” you start off, and you feel his arms tense around you. before he can interject or argue, you forge ahead. “i cant! i can’t fuck you and stay your friend - just your friend. i can’t sleep with you knowing that you’re the only one for me when you’re out there hunting down anyone that looks at you, i just - i can’t. i can’t...” you trail off, breaking down into sobs again while burrowing your face into his shirt. it’s expensive, you know it is, and now it’s ruined with your tearstains. you try not to think about it.

donghyuck is silent for one, two, three beats. for a long moment, all you can hear are the sounds of your own bawling, your own quiet sniffling and hiccuping. his hand runs a soothing trek down your back.

finally, he speaks.

“i haven’t fucked anyone else in 6 months.”

that is the one thing you’d never expected him to say.

“but... mark? the hickey?”

“that’s all it was,” he says, forcing you back slightly to be able to look at you as he speaks. hyuck raises a hand, wiping your stray tears away gently with his thumb before continuing. “for 6 months, i’ve kissed people and made out with them, but only half-heartedly. every time it’s gotten close to getting heated, i’ve had to stop. do you know why?”

you shake your head, sniffling as you do. his heart cracks at how forlorn you look, how innocent and confused you seem. he’s suddenly well-aware of the fact that he’s still sheathed inside your dripping pussy.

“because every time i was with someone - anyone - else, all i could think of was you. you’re the only one for me, baby. i think you always have been. i didn’t say anything because i didn’t think you’d want me.”

“not want you?” your voice is strong enough to sound properly incredulous now. “you know me better than anyone else. you’ve been there for me when i’ve needed you, and you’ve asked me to be there for you when you’ve needed me. we built all of this together. you’re everything, hyuck. you’re my everything.”

he lowers his head almost bashfully, and you know that he’s processing what you’re saying. donghyuck’s never been good at registering compliments - it’s a side-effect of always moving, always pushing forward - but you can tell that he’s savoring your words. it makes him even more endearing in your eyes. eventually, he looks up at you again, soft smile gracing his features.

“are we good?” he asks, and you can feel your heart sewing itself together again at the genuine honesty in his eyes. he really does love you back. you nod, before leaning in to capture his lips against yours in a chaste kiss.

“we’re good.”

bonus:

“this is great, and i’m going to ravish you when we get home, but right now i really, really need to get this condom off and you probably really need to piss,” donghyuck says, lifting his hips to force you off of him. you swing your legs over to stand, leaning against his desk for support as you watch him tie the condom up and toss it into the bin underneath his desk.

“when we get home?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. donghyuck stuffs his cock back into his boxers and makes sure his slacks are on properly before standing up to situate himself in front of you. he takes both of your hands in his.

“you think i’m letting you spend a night alone when you said i’m the only one for you? not fucking likely. now hit up the bathroom and then let’s go,” he says, fishing his car keys out of his pocket. “i brought the bugatti today.”

#nct-writers #kwritersworldnet #thekpopnetwork #fullsunnet #haechan #donghyuck #haechan smut #haechan angst #haechan fluff #donghyuck smut #donghyuck angst #donghyuck fluff #nct #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream #nct 127 #haechan x reader

747 notes · View notes

ssfghfrrggf · 4 years

Text

Heavy is the Head Chapter 4: Bring My Probie Back in One Piece

ao3 link

“You okay Cruz?” Severide asks as Cruz makes his way into the locker room.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, and barely manages to stifle a yawn. The truth of the matter is, he’s exhausted. Brian was up all night crying for one thing or another. He and Chloe had tried taking turns going to take care of his needs, but it ended up just being both of them doing everything together, and every time they’d be almost asleep again he’d start crying again.

“If you need more time off to be with Chloe and the baby, just say so,” Severide says standing up and buttoning the first botton on his polo shirt.

“I’m fine to be back,” Cruz insists.

“So how does it feel being a dad?” Herrmann asks him as he walks into the common room to fill up on coffee.

“Exhausting,” Joe replies, making a b-line for the coffee pot. He loves little baby Brian with everything he’s got, but he just wants like five minutes of peace and quiet, and it’s definitely bad when the station is more quiet and peaceful than home.

Herrmann laughs and raises his coffee cup. “Get ready for the long haul!”

Cruz groans. “I just don’t understand how he can cry that much without getting tired! Or-or like running out of tears! Or just getting sick of crying?! Like how does he do it?”

“Aw, he takes after you,” Herrmann teases, and Joe can see Gallo in the corner of his eye spit his coffee out in an attempt not to choke on it as he laughs.

“That was uncalled for!” Joe protests weakly, too tired to really put much energy into getting into a ball busting battle with the older firefighter.

“You know I’m kidding,” Herrmann says and actually gets up and walks over to give him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. “Screamers are no joke. Me and Cindy have had two.”

“How did you survive it?” Joe asks, desperate to find a way to maintain him and his wife’s sanity.

“All babies have something they like, once you find it all your problems are solved,” Herrmann replies. “Some kids like vacuums-”

“How are we supposed to sleep with a vacuum going, Herrmann?”

“I don’t know,” the engine lieutenant shrugs. “But that’s what worked for Lee Henry. Most of the time we’d just run it until he fell asleep and then turn it off. But let me tell you, our floors had never been so clean, and haven't been that clean since he grew out of it.”

“I can record myself singing some lullabies if you want,” Capp offers, and Severide looks temporarily from his crossword puzzle just to give Capp a ‘seriously?’ look.

“Anyone got any better suggestions that don’t involve vacuums or Capp’s singing?” Joe asks, pouring his coffee.

“The baby can’t cry forever, ride it out,” Severide offers, but seems to be kidding.

“You guy’s suck,” Joe sighs, shaking his head. He’s barely taken two sips of his coffee before the tones drop, ending any hope he had of getting filled up on caffeine before the day started.

“Truck 81, Engine 51, Squad three, Ambulance 61, Battalion 25, highrise fire.”

He’s a little tempted to take his coffee with him as soon as he hears what the call is. He’s going to need all the energy he can muster if he’s going to make it through this call.

***

“This is going to be a big one, guys,” Stella announces as they get close to the building. There’s a plume of black smoke rising into the sky and there’s at least three floors on fire and a good 10 more above them that will all need to be evacuated.

“This is one hell of a first fire you got, candidate,” Gallo laughs from the back seat. Stella rolls her eyes; this is easily the biggest fire Gallo’s ever seen, which makes her a little nervous. She and Mouch have seen more than their fair share of big ones, even their fair share of high rise fires. They have experience, but Gallo and Nathan have nothing more than their training in the academy. She’s got an inexperienced crew under her command and that’s dangerous.

“81, you are helping with evacuation on floors , 28, 29, and 30. Take spare air bottles and hotel packs up with you and drop them at floor 24. Squad, you’re doing search on 24. 51, you guys are on fire suppression on floor 27. Engines 18 and 91 are already up there. The plan is to cut it off before it jumps to 28. 61, you’re joining ground triage,” Casey starts belting out orders almost before they’re barely off the trucks. There are already at least two other battalions on scene, and Casey must’ve gotten the details of the plan from the district chief on the drive over. “Tower triage is on floor 20. Elevators are to only be used for victim transport and can not be taken past 20. You guys are hiking.”

“You got it chief,” Stella calls and turns back to her crew. Usually she’d try to fight the order to be stuck with evacuation duty, but today she’s grateful. She doesn’t want to cradle Nathan, but usually candidates have at least a couple big fires under their belts before catching one like this, and she doesn’t know how Nathan will handle himself. So if at all possible she’d rather not send him into the fire floors on this call.

They’ve made it to floor 24 and dropped off their extra air tanks and hose packs when someone from engine 18 comes on the radio.

“Requesting search teams to 27. We’ve got people trapped.”

“Copy that. 81 divert to floor 27 to help with search and rescue,” It’s Casey that responds.

“I guess we are seeing fire today, boys,” Stella says and adjusts the air pack on her back, taking in a deep breath. It’s time to test Nathan’s metal, see if has what it takes

“Kidd, don’t blow out another lung,” Kelly calls to her as she and the rest of 81 start getting ready to pick it up and hike it up to 27.

She shakes her head and lovingly flies him the bird. She thought the days of lung jokes were behind her, but there’s also a hint of seriousness in Kelly’s tone. He’s worried about her, and he means what he just said- and there’s even more behind the words don’t get hurt again. Don’t do that to me.

“And don’t you damage your good looks, they’re the only reason I keep you around,” Stella calls back to him. She knows he knows what she means. It means the same thing his lung comment did.

Kelly laughs and waves her off.

***

“Hey,” Ritter says and skips a couple steps to fall into step with Nathan. His first fire was one like this, and he froze up. The only reason he was able to pick himself back up was because of Mouch; he wants to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to their newest candidate. “This is probably gonna get scary. My first fire was one of these too. Make sure you remember to breathe and take it one step at a time.”

Nathan smiles appreciatively at him. “Thanks Ritter.”

“If you feel yourself freezing up take a couple breaths and remind yourself why you decided to do this job. You can find a lot of courage there.”

He wishes someone on his crew had told him those things before he ended up clinging to a stair railing like his life depended on it.

“You’re gonna have a blast,” Gallo says, interrupting their meaningful conversation and grabbing both of Nathan’s shoulders. Gallo’s always been a certain degree of crazy that Ritter’s never really been able to understand. Everyone in this job is at least a little crazy, they kind of have to be, but Gallo really goes out of his way to show his crazy side. Everyone gets excited about structure fires, but Gallo seems to lose sight of how deadly they can be, he seems to forget it can very easily kill him, either that or he just doesn’t care. Either way, it always makes Ritter worry about him.

“Ritter, hook up the standpipe,” Herrmann orders as they reach the 27th floor.

“Alright 81, let’s mask up,” Stella announces with her usual amount viger and energy. “It’s time to get to work!”

***

Casey wants to be making the climb to the fire floors along with everyone else at 51, but he’s been put in charge of running things outside and keeping a close eye on what the smoke is doing. The 24th floor seems to be the worst; it’s belching black smoke into the air violently, and he wouldn’t be surprised if rooms on that floor were flashing over. It’s hard to differentiate between it and 25, but it seems to be not as bad.

“Crews on 24 and 25 be advised, smoke is black and rooms could be beginning to flash. Clear those floors as fast as possible,” he says keeping his gaze glued on the building.

“Copy that chief.” it sounds like Severide who replies.

“81 making entry on 27 for search assist.”

Standing on the ground being stuck listening to the radio traffic is the worst feeling in the world. He yearns to be with his people.

“Excuse me, Chief, can we get a couple words on what’s going on?”

Before Casey can even fully register what’s happening there’s a microphone and camera being shoved in his face.

“We have multiple floors on fire, multiple crews inside battling it as well as doing search and rescue,” Casey says; media one oh one is you give them a little something to chew on then send them on their with the promise that a public information officer for the department will come give them more details. “Now I’m going to have to ask you to step back behind the police line. Someone will be over with more details for you soon.”

Thankfully the reporter and her camera man don’t put up a fight.

“You know everyone’s going to have a field day with that,” Sylvie says with a flashy grin as she walks past him. Casey rolls his eyes.

It’s not until a good 25 minutes later that Casey hears Stella over the radio again, amd he stops what he’s doing to listen for a couple seconds

“27’s clear. We’re heading to 28 to help with evacuation.”

“Cruz and Capp heading to 20 with victims.”

“Fire’s almost knocked out on 27.”

“24’s clear, changing air bottles and heading to 25.”

“All units on scene be advised, We’re down two bottles on 24.”

Casey sighs and shifts on his heels before getting back to work directing the firefighters and people moving in and out of the building.

Another half an hour passes before Stella announces that they’re heading down with the people from 28.

***

“Hey, do you hear that?” Nathan asks, stopping Gallo on the landing outside the door to one of the fire floor. They’re supposed to be bringing up the rear of the people being evacuated from the upper floors, but Nathan is pretty sure he can hear a baby crying.

“Hear what?” Gallo asks sceptically.

“It sounds like a baby crying somewhere on the other side of that door-”

“Hey, why are you two just standing around?” Lieutenant Severide demands as he comes to stop on the landing, and slides his air pack off to do an air bottle change. Nathan’s impressed with how quickly he pulls off the switch and has his pack back on his back.

“Marks thought he heard a baby crying,” Gallo explains, gesturing to the door.

Severide raises both eyebrows and glances over his shoulder at the door. “You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure,” Nathan replies, it had sounded like one plain as day, even if Gallo didn’t hear it.

“Better safe than sorry, then I guess. One of you needs to come with me,” Severide says taking his helmet off to put his mask on.

Before Nathan can say anything, Gallo is already volunteering, but Severide stops him.

“Which one of you has more air?”

“I’ve got 20 minutes,” Gallo says and starts taking off his helmet too.

“I’ve got 30,” Nathan says holding up his monitor to show the lieutenant.

“Gallo you keep bringing up the rear.” Severide orders. “Marks, suit up. You’re getting a trial by fire.”

Gallo opens his mouth like he’s going to protest, but thinks better of it and nods to the lieutenant before heading back down the stairs. It’s not until Gallo’s left that Nathan realizes what he’s just signed himself up for. He’s spent months training and doing live burns, but this is the real thing. Beyond the door in front of him and Severide there is no fail safe no quick exit. It’s life or death. It’s a monster that will devour him the first chance it gets.

“Chief, this is Severide. Possible rescue on 24. Marks is coming with me,” Severide says into his radio and then looks to Nathan. “You ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Nathan replies. He’s ready. He’s ready to face the beast.

***

“Did Kelly just say Marks?” Stella demands pulling herself up off the back bumper of 81 where she’s been forced to spend the last 20 minutes rehabbing. She’d made it through two bottles before Sylvie caught her, forced her to take a rest and made sure Casey knew she needed to stay put.

“Yes he did,” Casey says through clenched jaws.

Nathan had done some search and rescue on the 27th and 28th floors, but the fires on those floors had been minimal. It had been agreed upon almost right off the bat that 24 and 25 were to be left to the experienced firefighters.

“Lieutenant Severide, you better bring my probie back to me in one piece,” Stella says into her radio without much forethought.

“Yes, ma’am,” Comes Kelly’s amused reply.

***

“Severide, this door,” Nathan says and taps Kelly’s shoulder, stopping him. “Listen.”

And sure enough he can hear the baby crying too. He’s not exactly sure how it’s still crying. The smoke is low, and it’s even starting to finger all things pointing to an imminent flash over. Anyone not in PPE should be knocked out from smoke inhalation by now.

“Okay, we gotta slip in fast and close the door behind us,” he replies. The last thing this situation needs is more oxygen.

“Got it,” Nathan says and scoots close to the door.

“Opening it now,” Kelly says and reaches up and twists the handle. Nathan dives through the crack and Kelly follows right on top of him and kicks the door closed behind them. The room around them is somehow barely touched with any fire and there’s not smoke either. It’s like stepping into a whole other world.

“It’s coming from over there!” Nathan says pointing to the far corner of the room and moving toward it. He beats Severide there, and stops dead. “Son of a bitch.”

“What?” Severide asks, dread sinking in his gut as he makes his way to the candidate's side.

“It’s a damn toy,” Nathan says holding up a plastic toy. “We risked out lives coming in here for a toy.”

“Hey, you did the right thing. For all we knew it was a real baby. Now let’s get the hell out of here,” Severide says, grabbing the kids shoulder. When he’d Nathan’s angry curse he’d really thought that there was something seriously wrong with the baby, and that it was in fact a real one. It being a toy is really a relief.

“Cancel on that rescue. It was a toy. We’re getting the hell out,” Severide reports before heading back to the door with Nathan.

They’ve crawled about halfway back down the hallway when the smoke that’s barely a couple inches above the tops of their helmets smoke begins to move and flow toward their exit like the tide being sucked back out to sea.

“Damn it,” Kelly hisses and grabs Nathan by the handle on his air pack and hauls him into the closest room, slamming the door behind them just as a fireball shoots down the hallway. He can feel the heat of it through the wooden door as the fire tries to push it open, evil red tongues of flame licking through the crack under the door.

Nathan’s on his feet in a second and pushing his body against the door in the next to help Severide keep it closed

“Use your halligan to hammer these under the door,” Kelly orders, handing Nathan the wooden wedges he keeps in one pocket. “I’ll hold the door.”

“You got it lieutenant,” Nathan says without hesitation, and takes the wedges out of his hand.

“Severide, report!” Casey’s voice sounds over the radio, but it’s staticy.

“Me and Marks are trapped on the 24th floor. Is 23 clear for a self rescue?” Severide replies, as Nathan hammers the wedges under the door to help stop it from being pushed open by the fire.

“We’ll get a line to you.”

“Negative Casey. Do not send anyone up here! I repeat, do not send up! The hallway is too hot,” Severide shouts, hoping Casey catches it. “Acknowledge you heard me! Casey!”

“Wedges are in place,” Nathan says straightening up. “Are we bailing?”

“Yes, use the halligans to set anchors,” Severide replies before keying his radio. “Casey, do not open the doors on the hallway. It’s too hot. The fire will jump floors.”

“Copy that.” Severide breathes a sigh of relief as Casey finally acknowledges him.

“Anchors are set, lieutenant,” Nathan reports as clips his emergency rope to the built in harness in his bunker pants.

Kelly takes a deep breath and steps away from the door, hoping the wedges will actually hold it, and miraculously, they do. Now they have to survive lowering themselves down to the 23rd floor and hope that the rush of fresh air when they break these windows doesn’t give the fire what it needs to push the door open.

“Okay kid, we’re going to have to make this fast,” Severide says clipping his rope into place. “Are you ready?”

Nathan glances out the window and back at Severide. “Yeah, this’ll be fun. Piece of cake.”

Severide smiles and nods his head in agreement. “Piece of cake.”

He misses being young and not having tasted a piece, or a couple pieces, of his mortality. Right now he misses the younger him who tied ten feet of webbing around his waist and dove out a 40th floor window… he could really use that guy right now.

“I’m going to break this window and as soon as I do we go, got it?”

“Yeah,” Nathan says and adjusts his grip on the rope.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Kelly slams his glass breaker into the window and the whole thing shatters, then almost exactly in sink he and Nathan slip out of the window.

***

“You people at 51 really are crazy,” One of the other chief’s on scene says to Casey as they both stare up at the window on the 24th floor where two dark figures are climbing out the window. Casey ignores him and keeps his gaze on his two firefighters. This is the third time Severide’s done something like this, but only the second time Casey’s actually had the displeasure of watching. The first time was when Severide tied webbing around his waist and dove out a 40 something ith floor window to save a window washer not even a week into making squad. He still remembers standing on the ground watching with Andy, and Andy just laughing and saying ‘of course that’s what Kelly’d do.’ and being more amused than concerned about the friend he had since kindergarten. Casey on the other hand had been terrified that they’d be cleaning firefighter off the sidewalk. The second time Kelly did something like this, Casey didn’t have a front row seat for it. He’d been inside on a different floor, and that time Kelly had done with a kid holding onto his chest. Only a minute passes before glass is raining down from the sky and Severide and Marks are disappearing inside. They’re only just barely inside all the way when fire erupts out the window above them.

“Severide, report,” Casey orders, scared to breathe. He saw them both disappear inside, but part of him doesn’t quite believe it, and won’t until he has audible confirmation from Severide that they’re both okay.

“We’re all good chief, and heading down.”

“Make sure you use the stairs,” Casey breathes.

“You got it chief.”

***

“That was awesome!” Nathan cheers sitting up on the floor. “They had us do self rescue stuff kind of like that in the academy but that was freakin awesome!”

“Glad you liked it,” Severide chuckles and gives the kid, who’s vibrating from the rush of adrenaline, on the shoulder. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Yeah,” Nathan agrees as Kelly pulls him to his feet.

“Kelly, you have got to stop doing stuff like that on skyscrapers,” Stella scolds as soon as she’s done giving her canidate a look over to make sure he’s still in one piece.

“The important thing is that you still have both lungs intact this time,” Kelly says grabbing her around the shoulders. That had been one of the worst moments of his life, coming through that window and hearing Herrmann’s mayday not more than a couple seconds later. The only thing more relieving than not having just fallen 20 something stories is that this time Stella is perfectly okay at the end of his daring rope bale out.

“Really? We’re not letting that go?” she says, cupping his cheek in her soft hand, and giving him a loving smile.

“No, we’re not. You’re not allowed to die for me, Stella Kidd,” he replies.

“But you’re allowed to constantly repel out skyscraper windows?” she says raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“You’re welcome to join me next time,” Kelly jokes.

“Oh, there better not be next time, lieutenant,” Stella says authoritatively.

“Understood lieutenant,” Severide says and gives her a little salute as she rolls her eyes at him and heads to go talk to Casey.

“How are you feeling, kiddo?” Kelly asks walking over to join Nathan on the back bumper of 81 for some rehab.

“Little shaky,” he admits. “But that was still the coolest thing ever.”

“That’d be the adrenaline wearing off,” Kelly explains and twists the top off his water bottle. His adrenaline came and went much quicker, and was probably a lot less intense than Nathan’s; now he’s just feeling ready whereas the kid seems to be ready to jump back up and keep throwing punches at the fire. He’d felt old when he found out Nathan was their new candidate, and now that he’s actually worked with him he feels even older.

“Sorry I almost got us roasted with that false alarm,” Nathan says after a second of silence.

“I meant what I said in there,” Severide says looking over at the rookie. “I’d rather go check it out and have it be fake than not go and have it be a real baby. Even if it means getting lightly toasted. You made the right call. Don’t let it mess with your head. Second guessing leads to people dying.”

“Yes, lieutenant,” Nathan replies and sips his water.

“You handled yourself like a pro in there. You ever think about squad?”

“Are you serious?” Nathan asks, choking on his water.

“Hell yeah. You kept your head on. I know a lot of firefighters that that would’ve thrown for a loop.”

***

“Did anyone ever warn you Severide likes stealing the young new truck candidates with a bright future?” Mouch asks Stella as he walks past her, gesturing toward the back of 81. Severide and Marks are sitting chatting away on the back bumper; she’s pretty sure she should be annoyed if what Mouch just said is true, but both Nathan and Kelly look so happy. And there’s a rich history between the two of them; if Kelly wants to take the kid under his wing she’s not going to try to stop him.

***

“Can we just turn the tones off for like the next five hours while I power nap?” Joe asks as they all arrive back at the station well after dinner time. He needs a shower and sleep, and goodness knows if he doesn’t get sleep tonight he’s not going to be getting it for quite a while. It’s crazy that being at the station is calmer and quieter than being at home.

“10 bucks says we’re all out making runs all night,” Herrmann says dubiously as he follows Joe to the showers.

“Shut up, don’t even put that out into the universe to be heard,” Joe groans and pulls the shower curtain closed. He throws his clothes out, not caring if they land on the floor and turns on the cool refreshing water. It’s peaceful and it’s quiet, and Joe savors every second of it because there’s no telling how long it will last. Even Herrmann who’s in the shower seems too exhausted to talk.

***

“Alright, I ordered pizzas,” Casey announces as he walks into the common, everyone seems to be half asleep, so much so that the only reaction he gets is a couple thumbs up from a couple pizzas.

“How much do we owe you?” Joe asks from where he’s laying on the couch with his head rested on Mouch’s shoulder. Casey’s pretty sure Mouch is asleep.

“Nothing. You guys did great today. The pizzas on me.”

“He’s trying to buy our affection,” Severide accuses in a teasing tone that ends up sounding more lackluster. Casey appreciates the failed attempt to bring some life into the room, but if even something like free pizza on the chief wasn’t going to do it, Severide’s poor little weak attempt at a joke never stood a chance.

“I’ll be in my office until the pizza gets here,” Casey says, even though he knows no one cares.

“You’re gonna have to get it chief, I don’t think any of us can move,” Gallo mumbles, staring blankly at the floor. “Except I don’t know, probie might have some energy.”

On queue Nathan lets out a fake snor. This gets a couple tired chuckles from a few people

“Don’t worry. I’ll get it,” Casey chuckles tiredly as he heads out of the room to go to his office.He’ll get it if he doesn’t fall asleep first.

“Hey chief, do you want me to stick around a while longer?”

Casey stops in his tracks. He hadn’t even realized that Kylie was still at the station.

“I think we’ll be fine, if you want to go home,” Casey says.

“No offense, but it kind of looks like you got your asses handed to you. I can stay and clean up for the next shift,” she offers.

“If you don’t mind that’d be great, but I hate to make you clean up after those animals,” Casey says nodding his head in the direction of the common room.

“Anything I can do to help, I know it’s been a long day for all of you.”

“Whatever house gets you when you get out of the academy is gonna be very lucky,” Casey sighs. He’s not going to tell her no.

“Assuming I get accepted.”

“With the list of references you’ll have, you will get hired,” Casey promises and heads into his office, giving her a pat on the shoulder as he goes.

***

“Okay, eat up and get your sorry asses off to bed,” Casey says walking around the common room setting down plates in front of each half asleep firefighter and then adding two slices of pizza to it.

“Now he’s running a boot camp,” Severide mutters prompting giggles from Stella and Sylvie, the kind of giggles that warn that the girls are about to get that kind of hyper tired where they laugh at literally everything. He’s worked enough shifts with them to know that when they start, Cruz and Herrmann follow, and usually once they hit that level they bring Ritter and Gallo with them. And from there it’s a very shot leap to everyone getting cranky; which means Casey has a very short window to get them all fed and sent to bed.

He’s also not entirely sure why Sylvie is sitting on Stella’s lap, or why the truck lieutenant is braiding her hair, but he’s too tired to question it.

“Just eat the damn pizza, Kelly,” Casey quips.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“I’m turning it in,” Stella announces after having finished her pizza plus seconds. Casey had thought about doing the same as soon as he finished, which was long before everyone else, but he decided to stay and wait to turn it in for the night until everyone else had ambled off to the bunks. Ritter, Herrmann and Capp have already turned it in, and Mouch has too, but he’s still sitting on the couch snoring happily. She’s barely made it to the door when the bell sounds.

“Truck 81, ambulance 61, single vehicle car accident.”

One thing that never ceases to amaze Casey, even after years and years of being a firefighter is how quickly firefighters can go from zero to 60 in terms of energy. Every firefighter has that little extra reservoir of energy that comes out when all the other energy in the body is spent. It’s what gives them the ability to give their all and then give more. Everyone on 81 is on their feet and looking alive in a matter of seconds, it takes Mouch a couple more seconds than everyone else, but he’s still up and they’re all heading to the trucks. Even the paramedics get a little extra energy boost.

“Becareful Stella, and don’t be afraid to call for backup,” Kelly calls after his girlfriend as she gets up and heads out to the bay behind her firefighters. She waves one hand in brief acknowledgment. Kelly looks nervous.

“What?” Casey asks, as the lieutenant stands up.

“We’re all exhausted Casey, I don’t like this,” he says, keeping his eyes on the door even though Stella has already disappeared from sight.

“Trust me, I tried getting us taken out of service for the night, but everyone else in the area is whacked too. They said we had to take turns going out of service. We got 12:00 to 4:00,” Casey says with a sigh. He’d fought hard for it. But a four rest was the best he could do. They’d gotten a meal break and a few minutes of rehab at the high rise fire, but that’s not enough rest to get them through the night. Hopefully this truck call will be the only one they get for the next two hours so everyone can get more than four hours of good sleep, but the last thing on earth that he’s going to do is say that out loud for the fire gods to hear. “Stella knows what she’s doing.”

“I know,” Severide sighs, but he’s right. They shouldn’t be making runs.

***

“This is bad,” Mouch says perceptively as they pull onto the scene, and Stella concurs with the old firefighter’s observation. The passenger side of the small four door sedan is wrapped around a light pole, if there's anyone in that side of the car it’s going to be difficult to get to them unless they pull the car away from the light pole.

“Then we don’t have time to sit around gawking,” Stella says opening her door. “I know we’re all tired, but we’ve got a job to do.”

Her weak attempt at a pep talk doesn’t have much, if any, impact on her exhausted band of brothers, but they obey her and hop to it.

“Gallo, get the spreaders, Nathan, halligan, Mouch, bolt cutters, pop that hood and cut the battery,” She orders as she approaches the smashed up car. The dispatch call said it was only a one car accident but it looks like someone hit them and made them slide sideways into the pole.

“Please! My daughter! Save my daughter!” the driver cries as Stella gets closer to the car.

“We’re going to get you both out,” Stella promises peering into the car. The dad’s in rough shape with a deep laceration in the side of his head and his shoulder looks dislocated.

“Please!” he begs frantically and grabs at Stella’s arm. The daughter is in even worse shape. There’s a lot of blood, and Stella really isn’t sure if the girl is still alive.

“What have we got?” Sylvie asks running over. 61 arrived on scene not long after they did.

“Two pinned in victims, driver is alert and responsive, passenger is in rough shape,” Stella says as the paramedic pears into the car.

“Okay, get me into the back seat,” Brett replies. “That’s going to be the easiest way for me to get to her.”

“You got it,” Stella says and scrapes the broken glass off the back window. That’s going to be the fastest way in. She gives Brett a nod and the paramedic is slipping into the back seat a second later.

“What are we looking at?”

“She’s in rough shape,” Brett reports, before checking the dad.

“Gallo, get the spreaders over here,” Stella orders.

“No, get her first,” the man moans, just in the past couple seconds that she’s been on scene he seems to be getting worse. The desperation his voice for Stella to save his child is gut wrenching. He’s trapped and helpless, and he has to put his faith in her to save his child.

“He’s in bad shape,” Sylvie reports. “He’s fine right this second but that could change fast.”

“Get her first,” the man insists as Gallo powers up the jaws, there are tears in his pained blue eyes, the kind of pain that haunts you years after.

“We could pull the car out and get to the girl first, we could get to her faster,” Mouch suggests, and he’s right. They could do that, and maybe get to her faster than extricating the dad and then pulling her out through the driver’s side, especially considering how smashed up the other side of the car is. But if they have spinal injuries moving the car could cause a lot of damage, and the dad could take a turn for the worse at any second. She wishes she had more time to weigh the options, but she doesn’t.

“We crack the driver’s side and pull them both out this way,” she announces and takes a step back so Gallo can get in with the jaws and to talk on the radio. “81 to main, I need a second ambulance to my location.

“Stella, they’re both slipping,” Sylvie reports from inside the car as Mackey hands her a jump bag through the window.

“Spredders aren’t getting a grab, the doors bent inward,” Gallo reports.

“Damn it,” Stella hisses under her breath and grabs a halligan and shoves the wedge end into the door crack, and pries outward making a pocket for Gallo to get the spreaders into. That should’ve been the first thing they did, but they’re all exhausted which leads to mistakes. If it were up to her they wouldn’t even be out here. It’s dangerous for everyone. “Get in there.”

Gallo repostitions the spreaders with the tips in the pocket she made.

“Mouch, Marks, get over here and get ready to pull him out,” Stella orders as Mackey positions the stretcher.

“No, get her first,” the father mumbles weakly, he’s barely conscious anymore, and Stella can tell by the look on Sylvie’s face that she’s holding back the urge to tell them to hurry.

“We’ll get you both out, I promise,” Stella says looking him in the eyes. “But we need to move you first.”

“Got it,” Gallo grunts as the door pops open; Stella grabs it and forces it open, then slices the man’s seatbelt. Together she, Mouch and Marks pull him out of the car and onto the stretcher just as the second ambulance arrives.

“Have them load and go,” Stella says over her shoulder as she climbs into the car. “How’s she doing?”

“It’s bad Stella,” Sylvie says quietly.

“I’m not leaving her,” the man cries desperately. “Please, Kathy! Please no! You can’t take me away from.”

It hurts listening to his cries of desperation for them to save his daughter.

“Mouch hand me the backboard,” Stella calls as she slices the girls seat belt. Now that she’s right there with her she can tell her injuries are worse than she thought, and the only thing running through her mind as they position her on the backboard is that they should’ve pulled the car away from the pillar and extricated the first and that she should’ve called for an extra crew so everything could’ve gone faster.

***

The light is still on in Stella’s office when Sylvie and Mackey get back to the house and head for their bunks; the blinds are drawn, but Sylvie can still see her friend moving around inside, probably mauling over the decisions she made on the call. She wishes there were something comforting she could tell her, but the girl died in transport; giving Stella that new doesn’t seem like the best idea right now. The only good news is that the dad did make it to the hospital and is currently in surgery.

Brett sighs and lays down in bed pondering the happenings of the night, thinking about what she could’ve done differently. Going down the rabbit hole of what ifs is something that’s always preached like gospel, but she’s never actually met anyone who doesn’t. When someone dies on your watch it’s only natural to question where things went wrong, where things could’ve gone differently, and in some ways going down that rabbit hole can help in the future, help you know what to do differently. There’s just a fine line between learning from shortcomings and being consumed by the guilt brought about by thinking about them. In this particular case Sylvie is pretty sure even if she had done things differently the girl still would’ve died. There are some people you are just not meant to save.

She rolls over and tries to go to sleep, but can’t, not with the light from Stella’s office still on. It’s not the light itself keeping her up, more the thought of her friend not being able to sleep. She slips out of her bed and walks slowly to Stella’s door.

“Hey, Stella, you okay?” she asks, opening the door and poking her head in.

“Is my light bugging you?” she asks, looking surprised by Sylvie’s sudden appearance. “I can turn it off it is-”

“No, it’s fine. I just saw you were still up and wanted to check on you,” Sylvie replies.

“Did that girl make it?” Stella asks, plopping herself down on the edge of the bed.

Sylvie sighs and slips all the way into the room, closing the door quietly behind her; she sits down next to Stella on the bed and rests one hand on her leg.

“She died in transport, but she was hurt bad. There wasn’t anything anyone could’ve done,” Sylvie says, trying to comfort the lieutenant.

“We could’ve gotten her out faster, Brett,” Stella says. “I could’ve gotten her out faster if I made a different call. It’s my fault Brett.”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Sylvie says and squeezes Stella’s hand. “I don’t know that getting her out faster would’ve helped-”

“But it might have?” Stella asks. “It might have, right?”

“That’s a dark hole to go down, Stella,” Sylvie warns. “This isn’t your fault. It’s on whoever hit that car.

“I was the officer in charge, I made the call, and now a girl is dead, Brett.”

“You made the call you thought was right, and you saved the dad-”

“Yeah, and I thought wrong, what if I’m not ready for this?”

“Stella, you are the most worthy leader I know, and more than ready for this, and if you hadn’t gotten the dad out when you did, he might be dead too. You made the right choice.”

Sylvie wishes she could make Stella understand how much faith she has in her. She wishes she could share her confidence with the truck lieutenant.

“Thanks Brett,” Stella says and gives her a sad half smile, but she doesn’t look convinced. And Sylvie’s really not sure what else she can say to convince her. Maybe if Severide talks to her.

***

“What’s eating you, lieutenant?” Kelly asks, coming up behind Stella and throwing his arm over his shoulder as they head for the car. Lieutenant has almost become like a term of endearment between the two of them, and she loves the fondness he says it with; she’s just not so sure she deserves it anymore.

“It was a long shift,” she sighs and leans into him. She’s not really in the mood for talking, right now she just wants to be close to him and soak up his warmth.

“It’s that last call, isn’t it?” He says knowingly and pulls her a little closer to him as they walk slowly toward the car.

“Brett told you what happened?” Stella mutters, her hopes of just not talking about it for a while quickly becoming dashed.

Severide seems to ponder this for a second before speaking again. “You were up in your office pacing half the night. After the exhausting shift we had I know that means something happened on that call.”

“And Brett told you,” Stella says. She knows Brett.

Kelly sighs. “And Brett told me.”

“What’d she say?”

“She told me you handled the call like a pro and that you made the right call,” Kelly replies placing a kiss on top of her head.

“Then there you have it,” Stella says, hoping he’ll let her take the out. “That’s how it went.”

“Okay,” Kelly says, taking Stella by surprise. She’s almost hurt by how easily he rolled over and let her take the out. Then he starts talking again. “But, if there’s more or you have a different take you can tell me. I’m the last person on the planet who can give a lecture on talking about your feelings, but I can attest to what not talking about them does to us.”

Stella sighs, he’s right.

“I also get what it’s like not wanting to talk about stuff,” he continues, resting his chin on top of her head. “There might be different reasons, but I get it Stella Kidd.”

“Thanks Kelly,” she mumbles. She’s not really sure why she doesn’t want to talk to him about it. She knows what he’s going to say, and she even thinks it will help her feel better. “And we’ll talk about it soon. I’m just really tired right now, and don’t feel up for it.”

“Whenever you’re ready, Stella,” he says quietly and rubs her shoulder.

***

“So are you going to try my vacuum suggestion?” Herrmann asks Joe as the two of them walk out of the station with Mouch.

“I don’t know, it seems kind of-” Joe trails off as his gaze settles on Chloe standing at the end of the driveway with Brian in her arms. He’s never been more happy to see anyone in his life ever. “My two favorite people!”

“Hey! Me and Mouch are standing right here!” Herrmann shouts as he takes off at a jog toward Chloe.

“Hey baby, what are you doing here?” he laughs and plants a kiss on the top of Chloe’s head and then Brian’s.

“I saw you guys had a long day yesterday and decided me and Brian better come to great on your way out,” she replies, giving him a kiss.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t call you last night!” Joe exclaims. He’d meant to, but by the time they got back to the station he’d been too tired to remember. He knew he was forgetting something, he was just never able to figure it out.

“It’s okay,” she promises. “I knew I would’ve heard about it if something happened.”

“Let’s go home and get some sleep,” Joe suggests and slings his arm around her shoulder, but she proply shushes him.

“Joseph Cruz, saying that word is like saying quiet on shift. You say it and Brain never sleeps again!” She scolds.

***

“Hey, kid,” Matt says, stopping Nathan at the door. “I want you to come to Molly’s so we can toast your first structure fire, and whatever the hell that was you and Severide did.”

First fires are usually a sacred thing, everyone goes to the bar and toasts the baptism by fire of the rookie, but Matt has a feeling not everyone’s going to be there. Stella took a hit last night with the car wreck, Kelly is going to want to stay with her and make her feel better, and Cruz hasn’t even been to the bar since Brian was born.

“I don’t know,” Nathan says hesitantly.

“Why not?” Sylvie asks stopping next to Matt. “It’s a tradition.”

“Yeah, but it seems kind of ill timed I guess…”

Matt frowns before shouting to Herrmann who’s halfway to his car. “Herrmann! Tell the candidate he has to drink to his first fire!”

Herrmann stops and spins around. “Of course he does! It’s tradition!”

“See,” Matt says. “Plus, it’ll give everyone a little pick me up, something happy to think about.”

“And it’ll make you feel better,” Sylvie adds. “Being around people who care and understand always helps me out when I’ve had a rough call.”

“Any you get to drink free,” Herrmann says, doubling back to help them talk Nathan into joining them at Molly’s. “And Ritter and Gallo will be there.”

Nathan looks between the three of them, before nodding. “Okay, I’ll come along.”

“Atta boy!” Casey says cheerfully and pats the candidate on the shoulders.

“Chief Casey, can we have a word.” Casey stops his small celebration at what can only be the voice of an unhappy white shirt that far out ranks. He turns around and sure enough Chief Walker is standing at the entrance of the bay with a grave look on his face.

“I’ll catch you guys at Molly’s,” Casey says and heads to meet up with the chief. “What can I do for you, chief?”

“Let’s go talk in your office,” Walker says and nods his head toward the entrance.

“After the shift you guys had I’m sure you want to go home and rest, but I thought you should get a heads up before anything official comes down, so you can get a head of it,” Walker replies, and there’s an apologetic expression on his face.

“Get ahead of what sir?” Casey asks. “What is this about?”

“One of your lieutenants.”

***

“I thought you were going to Molly’s,” Severide says, calling over to Casey as he lets himself into the apartment.

“I’m going to head that way later, we gotta toast Nathan’s first fire,” Casey replies, closing the door behind him. He seems off, like he’s unsure of something and like simply being here is a struggle.

“Damn it, you’re right,” Stella says, frustrated. “I was caught up in everything I completely forgot about it.”

“You had a rough night,” Kelly reminds her before looking back at Casey who is slowly making his way over to them. He looks like he’s about to jump off a cliff.

“You want a beer?” Stella offers.

“No,” Casey shakes his head.

“What’s up Case, you look like you just saw a ghost,” Kelly asks, not entirely sure he wants to know what’s eating at the chief.

Matt looks from Kelly to Stella and back to Kelly before finally answering the question. “I have some bad news, and you two aren’t going to like it.”

***

Chloe wakes up half expecting it to because of Brian’s crying, maybe it was just the anticipation that brought her out of her restless, but she isn’t greeted with any crying. The apartment is actually quiet and peaceful for what seems like the first time in an eternity. The bed next to her is empty and the possibility of Joe taking Brian out for a drive doesn’t seem outside the realm of possibility. She gets up and opens the bedroom door and as she does so she’s met with music wafting down the hallway.

“Joe?” Chloe whispers as she makes her way into the living room where Joe is sitting on the rocking chair rocking Brian who by some miracle is asleep. The baby’s head is barely visible cradled in his big arms.

“Shhh,” he breathes, and looks up at her. It’s hard to tell in the dim light of the living room, but she’s pretty sure Joe is the one crying this time. “You might wake him up.”

“What are you listening to?” she asks as quietly as she can and sits on the corner of the couch closest to the rocking chair.

“It’s a mixed tape Otis made me,” Joe replies quietly, and a fond smile drifts across his face. “He made it for me when his cousin moved back to Russia, and he told me it was from her. But I figured out he’s the one who made it.”

“Joe…” Chloe says quietly and rests her hand on his arm.

“For so long I’ve been wishing he were here for this. To be a part of Brian’s life, you know?” Joe sniffles and looks at her with tears in his eyes. “But this is the first time… the first time that I realized he is, Chloe. He’s right here.”

#chicago fire #chicago fire fic #stellaride fic #brettsey fic #one chicago fic #my newest offering for all 30 of you to like!#30 doesn't seem like a lot of people...#oh wait. yeah. there's only ever 30 notes because no one ever reblogs. that actually tracks because it can't spread around if no one reblog #i'd appreciate reblogs!#im not above begging!

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theevangelion · 4 years

Text

Forever Girl: Epilogue Sneak Peek

AN: I am so sorry for breaking your hearts, sweet babies.

Emma sits perched on Charlie's desk, her fingers gliding along the edges, her heels kicking softly as though something is on her mind. It’s nothing new. Emma always has something on her mind, big innovations, big advances, insane technology developments that only make sense once she has decided to let the world in on her tinkering.

Charlie is used to it all by now. He just looks at his wife, feels like a permanently lovesick teenage boy, and then he shakes his head in concession.

“Do it, babe. I know you’re waiting.” Charlie fixes his cufflinks and adjusts his shirt collar in the reflection of the highrise glass.

“What?” Emma blinks.

“The thing you do.” Charlie waves it along. “Do the thing.”

“What thing?” Emma laughs.

“The thing where you’re very smart.” He turns to his wife, quite serious about it. “The thing where you have some insane, unbelievable, great idea and all I can do is stare at you in astoundment that I didn’t think of it first. So, do the thing.”

“Well,” Emma says, flattered and yet still seemingly conflicted about something. “I think it’s one that’s going to initiate an emotionally draining conversation, and we did agree that we wouldn’t do those anymore before lunch time…”

“Oh dear,” Charlie whispers mutely, closing his eyes. “That means it’s about one of my mothers. That means it’s probably a conversation better had sooner rather than later.”

“Are you in a present headspace for it? It can wait until you’ve had lunch if not.”

“No, no,” Charlie reassures. “We can have the conversation.”

Emma reaches behind herself and takes the hologram projector button from his desk. This means only one thing to Charlie: not only has Emma came up with an idea, she has also done the research, the analysis, and created a consequent presentation collating it all together.

He can’t help but laugh and try to stifle it, because having a wife who went to the trouble of presenting all of her ideas in this manner, so meticulously, so thoughtfully, was absolutely the reason he had never won an argument since they were children. It was also the reason Emma and Mom had always gotten along like a house on fire, Charlie knew that too.

“I adjusted the parameters on your nanotech project, ran some numbers and simulations… just for fun, just to give me something to do while I waited for the girls to finish school.” Emma shrugs, her hands moving in the air to zoom and adjust the projection of neural pathways. Then, she pushes the hologram over for Charlie to take a look at. “I think I’ve figured out a way to capture your mother’s entire imprint, Charlie.”

Charlie feels their nanotech is perhaps the greatest advancement mankind has made since the moon-landings, but it’s one that must always remain a secret. The world had only just started to become comfortable with the idea of aliens and settlers from distant worlds, and even then it was still a tumultuous process of shifting public opinion. If the public caught wind that he had perfected the human condition and created a new lifeform that would long outlive all of them…

Well, they’d start calling him Lex Luthor.

It was better for everyone if Luthor Manor remained disconnected from the world, cloaked and shielded away behind perception filters like a bubble reality made perfectly for Mama and Cyber Mom. No one could bother them that way, no one could snoop around and cause problems for their eternal happy ever after.

“Things are perfect just as they are, Emma. I drove up to the manor last week, Cyber Mom and Dementia Mom were relieving a family trip we took to Valencia when I was a little boy. Cyber Mom says that Mama’s been doing a lot better, apparently Mama has been getting airtime for morning flights outside — it’s the first time she’s got to fly in years.” It warms his heart that his mother finally remembered how to fly again. “Things are good, is what I’m trying to say,” he emphasises. “Better than they have been in years. She’s stable and her symptoms are improving a little.”

But Emma just sits there with this pensive look on her face, her lips wound inside of her teeth, her copper eyebrows worked half way up her forehead as though he doesn’t understand.

“Okay, fine.” Charlie sighs. “Do the thing. Tell me what it is that I’m not understanding.”

“I’m not talking about Lena’s imprint,” Emma says plainly. “I’m saying that I’ve figured out a way to replicate Kara.”

Find it HERE!

#Forever Girl #TheEvangelion

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meltwonu · 4 years

Text

| good in bed | [chapter 3]

pairing; non-idol!chan x reader

this chapter’s notes; oral(both receiving), face riding, minor hair pulling 😳and some minor angst🥴 we are almost at the finish line for this mini-series~ thank you for everyone who’s been interested in it~ 💕💕💕💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - x

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Chan the last time you said that, Seokmin had to get stitches.”

Chan rolls his eyes at you, hands on the wheel of his car. He hadn’t said exactly where he was taking you for your little picnic because, as he said, “it was a surprise” so you had hesitantly got into his car when he had picked you up about 30 minutes ago.

“Seokmin-hyung only had to get stitches because he thought belly-flopping onto the beer pong table was a good idea and he cracked his skull open.”

“Yeah, but you were the one who gave him that suggestion!”

“I said it’d be funny! I didn’t know we were gonna have to take him to the urgent care!”

You laugh along with him, glad that whatever weird mood Chan was in the last time you’d seen him seemed to be gone. It was still weird to you that he’d left without saying anything but you’d figured it was just something really important that he had to take care of.

The two of you had kept talking throughout the entire car ride, watching as the sun slowly set along the horizon. You were slowly exiting the city from what you could tell; the skyscrapers and highrises becoming small in the rear view mirror. It was Chan’s idea to have a picnic closer to sunset to which you had agreed to, packing a warm blanket for when the sun eventually went down.

“As long as neither of us end up in urgent care again, I really don’t care where you take me, Chan.”

“See, now, you can’t say shit like that cause we’ll end up at a clown convention and then you’re gonna be really pissed.”

The whole thing feels… romantic to say the least.

Chan takes you to an area with grassy hills and close to little city lights to obstruct your views of the sky. “I figured we can do some star-gazing out here later which is why I suggested we go closer to sunset.”

“Oh… Chan, that’s--”

“Soonyoung-hyung’s really been on my ass lately cause I fucked up at practice a few times so I was thinkin’ like, ‘we need to get away from the city’, you know?”

You nod, pushing your thoughts away as you help him set up. He had even brought some fake candles and some wine to help set the mood. And although neither of you had said it was a date, it definitely feels like one. Chan holds your hand, feeds you first and even wraps a blanket around you once he notices you shivering a little bit.

“Can I ask you a question?” Chan peers up at you after taking a bite of his food. “Yeah?”

“This is cute and all but… we won’t get… like, ‘hills have eyes’ crazies out here will we?” He chokes on his food, eyes as wide as saucers at your question as he rushes to swallow before he replies.

“No! I mean, I don’t think so? There’s not really a yelp page for open grassy hills outside the city though.”

“Okay I just…”

“Are you scared?”

“Not really? Just… curious. There’s like nobody out here except for us and a few houses that we passed, so, y’know.”

“Aww, is the baby scared? I’ll protect you!” Chan sends you a killer smile that sends your heart racing almost immediately. You smile back, averting your eyes quickly as you take in the fresh air. There was still the tiniest bit of sunlight left, your eyes sliding shut as you enjoy the last bit of warmth before the cool night breeze took over.

Chan watches you, committing the image of you glowing in the sunset to memory. “Wow…”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, you’re just… beautiful is all. Like, the way the sun is hitting you right now makes you look like a goddess.”

Your brain goes haywire momentarily, rebooting as you tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“Don’t say stuff like that!”

“Why not? Haven’t I said weirder things in bed?” You bite the inside of your cheek. Yeah, he’d said really possessive things and even jealous things in bed but the two of you were in a mood then. This time there was nothing prompting him to say any of that and it was really fucking with your brain. “Yeah I… guess.” Taking a sip of your cup of wine, you swallow down your feelings as best as you can.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, eating the food that Chan had packed and enjoying each other’s company until the sun had gone down completely. You take notice of the stars, watching them as you tug the blanket around yourself tighter. “Cold?”

“A little bit…” He finishes off his food, tidying up and putting the containers away in the bag he’d brought before filling his and your cup of wine. You wonder what he’s doing when he gets up from across you and places his cup next to yours on the blanket. But he slots himself behind you, caging you in between his legs and he wraps his arms around you to keep you warm.

“Is this okay?”

“Y-yeah…”

You hate the way Chan gets you to blush so easily. And you hate the way your crush on him grows every single time. There was definitely a fine line between being friends with benefits and actually dating Chan that you felt like had already gotten crossed a long time ago. But, simultaneously, you also didn’t know how Chan felt at all. You knew Chan was usually very vocal about his feelings and the two of you had even confided in each other through relationships and breakups. Hell, even one night stands were a topic of conversation with him on multiple occasions. But this was just weird to you now.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Mm?”

“You’ve had this… faraway look in your eyes today, that’s all. Like, you laugh at my jokes ‘n stuff but then you look kinda sad after.” Chan’s voice is soft and warm; his lips kissing the crown of your head before he nuzzles into your neck. “You can tell me anything you know. It’s always a judgement free zone when you’re with me.”

“I know, Chan. Sorry, just… life’s been kinda weird lately I guess. But I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it yet? You know what I mean?”

Chan hums, kissing the column of your neck. “Yeah, I feel you. But you wanna know somethin’?”

“Sure?”

“Wouldn’t it be romantic to fuck under the stars?” There was the word. Romantic.

“I mean… yeah?”

“That’s also kinda why I took you out here, I thought maybe we could? The atmosphere is nice and there’s nobody really around so…” Fuck it.

“Fu--Fuck, Chan…”

You tangle your hands into his hair, grinding down onto his face. You weren’t sure if face-riding was considered romantic but you also didn’t really care the second Chan’s tongue dips into your pussy. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you in place as his tongue licks stripes from your clit to your hole, licking up your wetness. You don’t really know how long it’s been since he started or if anyone can hear you out in the open but if there’s one thing, you’re definitely glad you wore clothes that were easy to get out of.

“God, your mouth is so good!” You untangle a hand, reaching back and gliding it down his torso until it rests over his cock straining against his jeans. You squeeze him through the material as he moans against your folds, drawing circles on your clit in harsh motions as his own hips thrust up into your palm. You can feel your orgasm already building; grinding down onto Chan’s tongue harder. The two of you continue like that for a little while longer until Chan taps on your thigh.

Thinking something is wrong, you lift yourself off of him, watching as he licks your wetness from his lips.

“I could eat you out for hours, but if you’re gonna cum, it’s gonna be on my dick.” You nod, helping him strip down until he’s as bare as you are. “Chan if we get in trouble for this…”

“We won’t! I promise. There’s nobody around here for at least half a mile or something.”

You take his word for it, pushing him down onto the blanket. He watches as you slot yourself between his legs, wrapping a hand around his cock and smearing the precum all over the head and shaft. You slowly lean in, kitten licking at his cock before you wrap your lips around him.

“Ugh, fuck!”

This time it’s Chan that tangles a hand through your hair, guiding your mouth down onto his cock slowly. He resists the urge to fuck your throat open, deep breaths and groans on his lips as he does so. You let him control the pace, bobbing your head up and down with his guidance.

There’s a few times when you deep throat him where you feel his soft and romantic side chipping away slowly; the hand tangled in your hair gripping tighter as he holds you on his cock. And it happens a few more times before Chan completely pulls you off of him by your hair, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.

“You’re such a little minx, did you know that?”

You smile up at him, a thread of spit still linking your lips to his cock. “You’re the one who suggested we have sex out here so I mean...” There’s a chuckle on his lips as he lets go of your hair, smoothing it back down before he lays on his back again. “Wanna ride me?”

“Okay.”

You take a moment to shimmy on top of him; his hands immediately finding purchase on your hips. He helps guide you, watching as you position yourself over his cock. You sink down on him slowly at first, getting about a third of the way before you think ‘screw it’ and sheath him completely inside of you.

It knocks the breath out of Chan in an instant as you giggle above him. “Jesus, slow down!”

“Why?”

“I’m tryna enjoy the mood here! And you look pretty sitting on my dick like this. The stars around you… If you looked pretty in the sunlight earlier, now you just look ethereal with the stars surrounding you and basking you in the moonlight.”

You hate it here. You really really do.

“Oh… thanks” He nods up at you, a cute smile on his face. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Choosing to ignore his last statement, you start riding him, alternating between swiveling your hips and grinding down onto him. The curve of his cock inside of you is enough to hit your g-spot; whines spilling from your lips as you chase your high.

Chan can tell when you start to get a bit tired as he plants his feet firmly onto the ground and thrusts up into you.“Ugh, Chan…”

He pauses for a second, his hands on your hips caressing your skin. “Something wrong?”

“No, just… you feel really nice…”

“You too, baby.”

You brace yourself on his torso as you ride him, the sound of your moans mix with his in the quiet moonlight.

Lifting your hands off of his torso, you snake your left hand up your torso, playing with your breasts and pinching your nipples while your other hand slides down to rub at your clit. The sensations have your toes curling and whimpering Chan’s name. He can feel the way you tighten up around his cock, finding it harder to thrust up into you. “Fuck, you’re so close, baby, I can feel you getting so tight.”

“Y-yeah...”

“Wanna cum together?”

“Mmhmm...” Chan helps guide your hips, licking his lips while he watches you touch yourself. “You’re so pretty... Lemme see you cum, baby.” He whispers words of praise, urging you to cum as his hands continue to caress your skin. You grind down onto him harder when you feel the tension in your lower abdomen about to snap. And when you cum on his cock, he follows suit, your name spilling from his lips the entire time the two of your ride out your orgasms.

And when you start to come down from your high, you can’t help but slump forward onto his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively as you catch your breath.

“Fuck, baby, that was... intense.”

The two of you stay in that position a while longer; Chan admiring the stars above you as you enjoy his warmth and listen to his heartbeat. There’s words on your tongue you want to say but you keep it to yourself for now.

“This is nice and romantic and all, but d’you think we should get going?”

His voice breaks you out of your thoughts, nodding slightly against his chest.

It takes you two a while to clean up and get dressed, lugging all of your things back to his car. Chan doesn’t say a word to you the entire time, and you don’t really make an effort to either.

He opens your side of the car, letting you in before he slides into the driver’s seat and starts the ride home. It’s pleasant for most of the ride back; the radio filling up most of the silence until you realize that the two of you are almost back to your place. And the thoughts on your mind from earlier come back at full force.

“Hey, Chan?”

“Yeah?”

“What are we?” He turns onto the street where your complex is, hands tightening around the wheel unbeknownst to you. There’s an awkward silence even when the car stops in front of your place, Chan turning off the gas as he sits in his seat, unsure of what to say.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I... I don’t know how I feel right now. I don’t know what’s right...”

“Okay... I understand. That’s fine.”

You lay in bed tossing and turning all night regardless. You knew you’d probably have to stop this soon, you just didn’t know when. And yes, while you liked Chan, he still seemed confused and unsure if he wanted to take this to a different level or if he wanted to stay as friends with benefits. You could respect that. There was no real reason to be mad at Chan so you tried to not be.

There was a fine line that the two of you knew you’d crossed, that was obvious. And it was only fair that the two of you were most likely equally as confused as the other so you try to let it go, telling yourself you’ll try to clear the air with him tomorrow or something, if he doesn’t do it first. You wanted him to say something but you, too, weren’t really saying much. The two of you were both skirting around the topic so there was really nobody to blame. You shrug in bed, letting all your feelings go in hopes of finally getting some sleep.

But your phone rings next to you in the midst of your thoughts, tired eyes blinded by the sudden light as you check to see who it is.

You feel yourself heating up, a blush forming on your cheeks as you stare at your phone screen. You didn’t want to push him for more, but damn, he’d definitely gotten your attention now.

#gib!chan #dino smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #dino scenarios #dino imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt imagines #lee chan #dino

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

Text

June Contest Submission #12: Boom Boom Pow

Words: ca. 3,300 Setting: mAU Lemon: lime CW: sand, alcohol, beanbags, dash of lime, language

“Do you like the stars?”

“Anna it’s fucking noon, the sun is up, it’s bright as shit. Why are you asking about stars?”

“Yo, my dude, chill. The sun is a star… right?”

Elsa rolled her eyes and turned up the radio, blasting 80’s music, but only the good songs. “I don’t know why I agree to come with you on these things.”

At this Anna laughed and danced a bit offbeat to the song that was playing. She didn’t know the lyrics, but the bass line was nice and she could vibe with that. She let the whole song play out before answering.

“Because you loooove me” She sing-songed, earning another eye roll from the driver. “You love me and we’re going to the beach and it’s going to be a good time.”

“If I didn’t love you, would it still be a good time?” Elsa asked, smirking.

As a response, Anna reached over and changed the radio. A loud, bass-heavy rap song overtook the speakers. The signer immediately spitting out questionably appropriate lyrics for the radio. Elsa’s face reddened under her large glasses and she reached to change channels so quickly that she turned it off. Enveloping the small sedan in a brief silence till Anna’s laughter filled the space.

And it went on like this the entire car ride, bits and pieces of random songs rapidly changing. Anna would allow something Elsa liked to play out entirely but when it was her turn she either skipped around or Elsa changed the station for her. The older woman apparently hated both rap and country music. The first part Anna didn’t understand and the latter, she agreed with. She was desperately trying to find a gospel station, just to see her sister’s reaction, but she found nothing but commercials.

Finally, she heard what she was looking for and turned to see Elsa’s reaction just as the other girl reached over and turned the radio off again. Anna was going to protest when she realized they were in a drive-thru.

“What can I get started for you today?” a tired-sounding voice asked over the intercom.

Anna leaned over Elsa to get closer to the open window and thus the speaker box. Making sure to be just close enough to be annoying.

“We would like to get married please, with Elvis if you have him, if not we’ll take what you have.”

“Anna!” Elsa exclaimed, slapping her on the shoulder.

There was an audible sigh come over the loudspeaker, “Ma’am this is a Wendy’s.”

“Oh right, then I’ll take a cheeseburger and a medium Coke, no ice. Thank you!”

“Anything else?” the tired voice asked. “I’ll have the same thing.”

They continued driving towards the beach after the drive-thru. Cupholders full of sodas in flimsy paper cups, and Anna’s lap full of white paper bags of greasy food. She kept sneaking a fry when she thought Elsa wasn’t looking. But it was a small car and Elsa could see every bit of fried potato Anna took.

The closer they got to the beach, the darker the sky became. Tall looming clouds crept over the horizon. They couldn’t see the beach yet as it was the east coast, and most roads took you to the beach straight on instead of winding down cliff faces like the Pacific was famous for. But still, the clouds loomed. Elsa knew there was a storm somewhere off the coast, but it seemed far away last she checked, which wasn’t today. She refused to check the weather today for fear of bad news.

On the main highway, traffic was starting to get heavy, more tourists were headed for their long-awaited vacations and the road ahead was either congested to the point of slowing down. Or there was an accident and everyone had to slow to a crawl to creep a glance at the carnage.

Thankfully the girls weren’t tourists, unthankfully they lived close to this tiny town that became a major city in the summer months. Having to deal with millions of tourists every year meant that locals had a series of short-cuts. So when traffic started building, Elsa took the next exit rather suddenly, cutting across the solid white lines and nearly missing the crash barrier.

“Elsa! Shit! What the fuck!” Anna yelled and shot out her hands with nearly inhuman speed to catch the drinks before they spilled out of their too-small cupholders. “There’s a backup, I’m not sitting in that,” Elsa replied, taking the next turn so hard that the car nearly tilted on two wheels.

“But I saw flashing lights, it could have been a firetruck!”

“It could have been a police car…”

“But Elsa you don’t understand, the hot firemen! …and women.”

“Anna I’m not sitting in traffic for 30 minutes or even longer, just for you to ogle at people in uniform.”

Anna took another fry, “Not people in uniform, F-I-R-E-M-E-N and women. It is very different.”

Elsa let out a heavy sigh as they came to a stop at a red light. “If I buy you that stupid Australian calendar will you shut up?”

“Wow, harsh.” Anna dramatically threw one braid over her shoulder. “But, yes.”

Again, Elsa rolled her eyes and continued forward when the light changed. It was only a short while later that they left the main road and turned into a small, older housing development. The narrow street lead them all the way to the ocean, coming out on the far end of the main strip. Highrise condos and hotels dotted the skyline to their left, but right in front of them was the beach, concealed behind a short sand dune. Because life is a bitch like that sometimes.

Luckily for them, there was also free parking at this end if you didn’t mind a bit of a walk. Which, for the price of 17 bucks to park next to the beach, who wouldn’t mind the walk. 17 dollars could buy many cheeseburgers, Anna pointed out.

The beach wasn’t nearly as crowded down where they were, away from the boardwalk and the hotels. The sand also happened to be rockier, rough and pitted with long-forgotten footprints and broken shells. The beach groomers didn’t come this far. Which was fine by them, they would take a rough sandy beach with fewer people over a crowded hellscape any day.

There’s nothing more relaxing than simultaneously listening to eight different speakers all playing different music. While children screamed for no reason and the air was filled with a mix of sunscreen and cigarette smoke.

So yes they will miss out on the hot lifeguards and yes there will be fewer people to watch. But you can’t put a price on the quiet and the fresh air that this section of the beach had to offer.

After crossing the highway on foot, climbing the dune, and laying out their towels, only then did they pause to look out on the water. The ocean was angry, white caps dotted the surface as far as they could see. The horizon line was blurred with fog or rain and the dark clouds from before were more ominous than ever. Why the two women didn’t notice all these signs until now was some kind of act of God. Or stupidly. Probably the latter.

The beach itself was even more sparsely populated than normal. A smart person would have gone home after seeing all the warning signs. But this was Anna’s only day off for the next few weeks. And Elsa, well Elsa was too stubborn to admit her beach idea was a bad one.

They both laid down, on separate towels, choosing to ignore the warning signs and attempting to soak up as much sun as possible before it was swallowed by the coming storm. Elsa tried not to think about it too much. Neither was sure how long it had been before they were interpreted.

“What are you two gay ass losers doing?” Came a female voice.

“Ch’yeah it’s like gonna rain bruh.” Said a male’s.

Elsa opened one eye to see her cousin and her boyfriend, or so it fiancé now? Standing over them. The sky beyond them somehow looked even darker than before, which was very rude.

“Trying to enjoy the sunshine, obviously.” She mumbled in response.

“What sun?” their cousin asked, in a weird out of place, and badly performed accent.

“Wait but what is that voice?” Anna asked, sitting up and brushing the sand off her arms. How that girl could get sand everywhere, Elsa would never know.

“It’s like our new characters,” Eugene answered, earning not an eye roll from Rapunzel but a nod of approval.

“I’m New York and he’s Los Angeles. Both strong and independent cities that you could almost say are their own character. And those characters are us.” She added

“Why though?” Elsa was also now sitting up and confused, though nowhere near as sandy because she wasn’t a dirt gremlin-like her sister.

“Because we wanted to be unique characters, otherwise we’re just boring white people and where’s the fun in that?” Eugene or rather Los Angeles answered.

“Oh boring, like you watch Star Trek and try to fit it into everything even though it has no business being there?”

Eugene shot Anna finger guns, “exactly, this one gets it… bruh.”

A boom was heard in the distance and it sent a few people running towards their cars, towels billowing behind them. A long-distance away, over the water, there was a flash and with it, the wind picked up.

“Looks like our beach day is ruined, I’m sorry Anna.” Elsa stood and began to roll up her towel. Even with the limited sun, she was already red on her front, making a stark difference to the pale skin of her back.

“Nah we just getting started, come back to our place and play some ping pong. We just pulled the table out of storage.” Rapunzel aka New York offered. The two of them didn’t live far from the beach, having taken over Rapunzel’s parent’s beach house. It was very old and run down, but the pair was fixing it up in exchange for free rent.

‘Aye New York is right, and we can take my new whip… bruh.” Los Angeles gestured over his shoulder towards the dunes. They couldn’t see it yet because that dang dune was blocking things again. But everyone knew he was referring to his new golf cart.

Reluctantly the girls agreed and a few long minutes later they were rushing inside an old house to avoid the rain that had just started to fall. Their car was left abandoned in the free parking lot.

Inside was an odd mix of old and new. Brand new stainless steel appliances dotted a kitchen with dark wood cabinets and a yellow linoleum floor. A half-torn-down wall gave way to the living room with floor-to-ceiling wood paneling and floral print furniture.

“It ain’t much but it’s home.” Los Angeles said once everyone was inside. He walked beyond the torn-down wall and slapped his hand on the wood paneling. “New York over there hates this stuff, but it’s hella soundproof if you know what I mean.” With this, he wiggled his eyebrows and finally, earned an eye roll from New York.

“How did you know we were on the beach by the way?” Elsa asked as she took a step further into the kitchen to look at the collection of magnets on the fridge.

“Your sister posted about it on her tumblr of all places. Honestly, get an Instagram like the rest of us already.” New York said throwing her hands up dramatically. The drama ran in the family apparently.

The ping pong table was in the basement, a dimly light space with concrete walls and a tiled floor. Mix-matched chairs lined the walls and a mini-fridge sat in the corner next to a shelf full of liquor bottles.

The ping pong game quickly descended into beer pong with a twist. No one had to drink from the cups the ball landed in. Because that’s gross, don’t do that. Inside if someone managed to land the ball in a cup the other team had to take half a shot of vodka. Los Angeles had wanted to do full shots but Elsa and New York talked him out of it, if only for not dying reasons.

Even so after a few games with no true stand-out winner, just a bunch of dumb luck, they were all fairly buzzed. Flushed creeks and slurred speech. Outside the storm finally hit. Rain battered the small basement windows and thunder boomed overhead.

With each thunderclap, Elsa reached for Anna’s hand and wouldn’t let go till the other girl gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Finally, everyone seemed to have enough of the game and collapsed into bean bag bars that Anna and Elsa had both not noticed before. Elsa scooted her bean bag closer to Anna’s, the other two people didn’t seem to notice. New York was hanging all over Los Angeles. Her fingers tracing the curve of his jawline down, her eyes practically boring holes into his face. He acted like he didn’t see, but it was obvious he knew.

“You guys can stay here for the night if you want since the storm sounds so bad,” Eugene said, dropping his horrible accent.

“That’s very kind, but it’s just a little rain, we’ll be alright,” Anna replied, completely forgetting their car was many blocks away.

New York stopped messing with her man and turned to them. “Anna, it’s more than a little rain. It’s a hurricane, I mean it was a tropical storm and it was supposed to miss us. But you know how it be sometimes.” She said with amazing clarity for a drunkard.

Elsa’s hand shot to Anna’s and she let out an audible gasp. She had refused to check the weather before heading out the door today, figuring what she didn’t know, can’t hurt her. Which was stupid and out of character for someone who claims to be responsible.

Another boom followed by a bright flash of lightning illuminated the room for a brief second. Elsa looked terrified so Anna took it upon herself to change the subject.

“So we will be seeing you in two weeks right?”

Rapunzel playing New York smiled and clapped her hands together, “Yes! At the church!”

“For things better left unspoken,” Eugene playing Los Angeles groaned, covering his eyes with his forearm.

Another boom and the room was suddenly cast in darkness and accompanied by an eerie quiet. You never notice how much sound your electronics make till everything is off. Elsa grabbed Anna’s entire arm, holding it so tightly Anna was worried she would lose it.

“Ah fuck the power is out. We have some candles upstairs, I’ll be right back, Rapunzel can you see if the camping lantern is over on the shelf?”

“Um excuse me, it’s New York, but yes I will look.”

Two bodies moved away in the darkness, their paths illuminated by the small light on their phones. Next to Anna, Elsa’s breathing became rapid and she clung to Anna as if she was in danger of being blown away.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” Anna whispered, using her free hand to pet the top of Elsa’s head. The older girl shifted so in one fluid motion she was off her beanbag and on Anna’s before curling into the young girl’s side.

“I found it!” Rapunzel slash New York exclaimed. She turned it on and the room was partly lit up. She walked back to where the other two women were cuddled together and sat back down in her own beanbag.

“Wow, that’s like hella gay.” She said, pointing to the pair.

“Oh shut up, she just doesn’t like storms, you know that.” Anna quipped

Elsa let go of Anna’s arm long enough to extend a hand and flip off her cousin, earning her a laugh in response.

Eugene returned shortly after with the candles, a tray of food, and some cards. “Anyone up for a game of hurricane poker? It’s like regular poker only there’s a hurricane.”

He rejoined the group, placing the tray in the middle of everyone and paying no mind to the two women who now shared a beanbag.

Elsa lifted her head to look, the tray was adorned with a random assortment of food. Celery sticks, M&M’s, KitKat bars, Cheetos, Grapes, and some animal crackers. She made a face.

“What’s wrong uh bruh?” Eugene asked in a bad attempt to get back in character. Los Angeles would never quite be the character that New York was.

“I’ll only eat celery sticks if you pay me,” Elsa responded.

The next few hours consisted of Eugene completely wiping the floor with everyone. They played for the M&M’s, of which he now owned all of. With the power still out and the storm still raging on the decision was made for the sisters to spend the night over.

Their room was completely unrenovated, the same wood paneling from the living room made up the walls and the carpet was a thick green shag rug. Eugene was right about one thing though, the paneling sure did dampen the sound. Once the door was shut the two women could hardly hear anything, which was good because Rapunzel had started blasting Mandy Moore music for some reason.

There was only one bed, pushed into the corner, but it didn’t matter anyway. There could have been 80 beds and they still would have shared just one.

Anna laid down on her back and traced the grains in the wooden wall. “Really makes you want to carve something in this stuff you know? Something that would be around for hundreds of years.”

“Please don’t vandalize our cousin’s house,” Elsa said before sitting on the edge of the bed. She turned the lantern off so the only source of the light in the room was the candle on the nightstand.

“You alright?” Anna asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

“Yeah, I’m just worried about the storm, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Anna reached out and gently grabbed Elsa’s arm, guiding her back to lay in the bed next to her. “Do you want to sleep or keep your mind off things?”

Elsa paused for a brief moment before removing her arm from Anna’s grip. “I don’t know…”

“It’s your choice, either way, I’m here for you.” Anna smiled at her, a flash of lightning lit up the room but no thunder.

It startled Elsa but she remained where she was, staring at Anna. Thinking, always thinking.

“It’s just a storm and this old house seems to be built like a tank anyway.” She made a fist and pounded the wall to prove her point.

Elsa started twirling the end of one of Anna’s braids but her eyes remained locked on Anna’s. The delayed thunderclap came and Elsa inhaled sharply. Anna leaned over and kissed the top of her forehead.

“You sure this is okay?” Elsa asked and Anna nodded, running the back of her hand down the other girl’s cheek. “Let’s get our mind off of things then.”

Elsa crawled till she was straddling Anna who gazed up at her with eyes that shown like stars in the candlelight.

“What’s your favorite constellation?”

“Hmm, probably Orion, because you can find his belt so easy,” Anna answered, “Yours?” “Your eyes”

“Ew, that’s so fucking cheesy.”

Elsa leaned down, her mouth slightly agape. Anna’s eyes fluttered shut as her hands found their way to the other woman’s shoulders.

The storm, the damage, their car, all these things could wait until tomorrow. Tonight they were out of their control so for tonight they didn’t matter.

Elsa blew out the candle, and they both plunged into the sinful escape of the darkness.

#elsanna #submission #June 2021 contest #prompt: storm #lime #cw: alcohol use

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woodstockbtswriter · 4 years

Text

Surprise

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader (Female)

Word Count: 2.14K

Summary: When your best friend Taehyung invites you to celebrate your birthday with him, you’re not sure what to expect.

Author’s Note: This story is based on a dream I had, and once again, I couldn’t keep things under 1K words. 😄 Please enjoy! 💕

Requested by @yvemoon

Surprise

When your best friend Taehyung invited you to celebrate your birthday with him, you didn’t know what to expect. It’s a surprise, he said, when you asked him what he had in mind.

Then when he told you to dress up in your fanciest clothes and that he’d send a private car to pick you up, you were even less sure.

You were no stranger to Taehyung making grandiose gestures. It was not unusual for him to pull out all the stops to spoil you, but whatever he had planned for this night seemed particularly… romantic. Almost like he had planned an actual date, not just a friendly outing.

To your surprise, you took no objection to the idea. In fact, you were intrigued. You’d recently started wondering if there was something more than friendship between you and Taehyung, and as the luxury town car wove through the congested streets of downtown Seoul, your excitement grew as you considered the possibility that you might find some answers tonight.

The driver finally stopped in front of one of the tallest buildings in the city, and you found Taehyung waiting for you there. He too was dressed to impress, looking devastatingly handsome in a suit that matched his unique style, and just the sight of him made your pulse quicken. He greeted you with his signature boxy smile, gushing over how beautiful you looked, and your suspicions - and hopes - about the evening increased exponentially.

Taehyung offered you his arm, escorting you inside, and you rode the elevator together to the very top floor, your anticipation rising the higher you were lifted. After stepping off the elevator, Taehyung led you up a set of stairs and out onto the roof… where you were met by a scene you did not expect.

You had thought it was just going to be the two of you tonight. You had expected a private evening, one where you could explore your feelings. But when you saw his six other members - along with all your closest friends and family - waiting for you… You were surprised, to say the least.

“Happy birthday!” Everyone yelled, catching sight of you, and you felt your cheeks flush.

You were happy to see everyone, and amazed how many people had come out to celebrate with you, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little bummed. Still, not wanting to seem ungrateful, you put on your best smile, and allowed Taehyung to pull you into the fray.

The party lasted late into the night, and by the time it was just you and the seven Bangtan boys left on the roof, you were exhausted. You had mingled like a pro, chatting, laughing, and dancing with everyone. The guys had even given an intimate performance of your favorite song, and despite your initial disappointment, you had a great time. But now you were glad it was just the eight of you, and you collapsed on a chair, kicking off your shoes. The guys did the same, moving their seats to form a circle.

“Let’s play a game!” Jungkook suggested eagerly, and the boys looked to you for permission.

“Sure,” You sighed, “Sounds good. As long as I don’t have to get out of this chair, I’ll play.”

Jungkook‘s nose scrunched as he smiled, his wheels already turning.

“We could play Mafia, or Telephone, or the game where we guess each other’s drawings,” He thought out loud, “Or I have this trivia game on my phone-”

“What about ‘Never Have I Ever’?” Namjoon offered, and Jungkook’s face lit up.

“Okay!” He agreed, and several of the other boys shrugged, but Taehyung shook his head.

“That’s a drinking game.” He spoke up, nodding in your direction. “The birthday girl doesn’t drink, remember?”

You sent him an appreciative look, and he gave you a soft smile in return.

“We don’t have to drink, we could just play…” Jungkook pouted.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Yoongi quipped, smirking.

“I could just drink soda, or water.” You tried, but Jin jumped up as you spoke.

“Oh! I know!” He said, hurrying to the food table and grabbing two trays of leftover hors d’oeuvres. “How about instead of drinking, we eat instead?”

Hoseok moaned.

“I’ve already had so much to eat, I’ll be sick if I have even one more bite!”

“Then this should be a pretty interesting game, yeah?” Jin teased, returning to the circle and sitting the food in the middle.

“Alright, alright,” Namjoon took charge, “If someone says something you’ve done, you have to take a bite, got it?”

Everyone nodded - though some more reluctantly than others.

“Then let’s play.” Namjoon continued, turning his gaze to you. “Birthday Girl, since it’s your party, how about you start us off?”

You smiled to yourself, and tried to decide if you wanted to take it easy on the guys… or not.

“Okay,” You grinned wider, “I’ve got one. Never have I ever… been an idol.”

All the boys groaned.

“That’s not fair!” Jimin argued.

“That’s how you want to play?” Yoongi scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

You picked up one of the platters, holding it out to them.

“Eat up, boys,” You chuckled, “I play to win.”

Several of them laughed, but Jungkook looked confused.

“But there are no winners in ‘Never Have I Ever’, it’s just for fun...”

“It’s her birthday,” Taehyung reminded Jungkook, taking a bite-size appetizer from the tray, “Let her think whatever she wants.”

Jungkook grumbled, but grabbed his penalty bite along with the others and they all popped the food into their mouths.

“Mmmkay,” Jungkook chewed, “Who’s next?”

You waved a hand at Taehyung seated to your left.

“We’ll just go around in a circle.”

Taehyung thought for a moment before speaking.

“Never have I ever… taken something from a store.” He grinned devilishly, looking directly at you.

“It was one time!” You cried, shoving his shoulder. “And it doesn’t count! I didn’t mean to and I took it back as soon as I realized I walked out with it.”

Taehyung smirked, and turned to his brothers.

“Judges?” He asked.

“Fair is fair.” Jimin beamed, holding a tray out to you.

“Fine.” You sulked, choosing an hors d’oeuvre and eating it in one bite. “Your turn, Jimin. But no more personal attacks, okay?”

Jimin nodded, giggling, and the game continued.

Play went around the circle a few times, and though the boys occasionally called each other out for things like falling on stage, wearing embarrassing outfits, mispronouncing English words, and losing things in foreign countries, they respectfully refrained from singling any one person out. Everyone was laughing and having a good time, but stuffing yourselves with appetizers quickly started catching up with you.

“Seriously, you guys,” Hoseok clutched his stomach, “I am going to be sick if I eat anything else.”

“Same.” You whimpered, taking a sip of water to rinse out your mouth. “How about one more turn and we call it quits?”

“No arguments here.” Jin sighed, slumping in his seat.

“Okay then, Namjoon,” You turned to him, “You’re up. Make it a good one.”

Namjoon frowned thoughtfully, giving it careful consideration. His gaze flickered between you and Taehyung as he chewed his bottom lip. After a moment, a sly smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

“Never have I ever had romantic feelings for someone in this circle.”

Yoongi and Jin exchanged glances, their mouths falling open, and Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok giggled uncomfortably. Your eyes widened.

Did Namjoon know you’d been feeling things for Taehyung? Did all the boys know? Had you been that obvious?

You dared to look at Taehyung. His expression was unreadable, but there was a fire in his gaze as he stared back at you. Not breaking eye contact, he slowly reached for the food tray, and your heart leapt.

You reached out too, and your fingers brushed as you each grabbed an appetizer. The momentary contact sent a shockwave through you. Without looking at what you picked up, you placed it in your mouth and started chewing. Taehyung did the same.

“Alright, good game, everybody.” Hoseok cleared his throat, and you reluctantly tore your gaze away from Taehyung. “But we should probably call it a night.”

You agreed, blushing as you swallowed hard. As you all stood, you thanked the boys for a memorable birthday and began saying your goodbyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” Namjoon whispered in your ear when you hugged him. Leaning out of the embrace, he tapped a finger under your chin. “I just thought it was about time you both admitted the truth.” He gave you a dimpled smile and you sighed, knowing you could never be mad at him.

Then six of the seven members headed towards the stairs, waving and calling out their last “good night”s and “happy birthday”s as they finally left, and you and Taehyung found yourselves alone on the now deafeningly quiet rooftop.

Looking anywhere but at Taehyung, you took a moment to appreciate the beauty and magic of the scene. Hundreds of little white lights were strung back and forth across the patio, and beyond them, the city skyline was breathtaking, a black canvas dotted with pinks, oranges, blues, and greens. The din of traffic from the streets stories below was almost inaudible, lost in the night breeze. Perched atop a highrise in the heart of Seoul, you felt like you were standing on a tranquil island amidst a sea of chaos. It was as though this place - this rooftop terrace - was its own world, far removed from the hectic metropolis that surrounded it.

In your own world. That was exactly where you had imagined you and Taehyung would be spending this evening when he invited you to celebrate your birthday with him.

And now, at last, here you were.

“Thank you, again.” You said, your eyes still downcast. “For everything, Tae. Tonight was perfect.”

“You’re very welcome.” He breathed, his baritone voice as low as you’d ever heard it. “I wanted everything to be perfect for you.”

You lifted your face, and though you’d been looking at Taehyung all night, you were unprepared for how unbelievably handsome he appeared in that moment. The soft party lights behind him gave him a faint golden glow, and the way his dark curls fell into his eyes made you feel some kind of way.

Taehyung slung his hands in his pockets, relaxing his stance.

“I’m glad you had a good time.” He said, inclining his chin. “But can I ask you something?”

You nodded, and he took a few steps in your direction.

“You meant me, right?” Taehyung asked, hovering before you, peering at you through his thick eyelashes.

“Meant you what?” You pulled in a breath. He was standing so close you could smell his cologne. It made your head swim.

“In the game,” Taehyung clarified, “I’m the one in the circle you have romantic feelings for, yeah?”

You searched his face. While he was exuding sultry confidence, there was an unmistakable vulnerability in his eyes. It always amazed you how he could be so precious and yet seem so dangerous at the same time.

“Yes.” You nodded again, and an exultant smile threatened to break across Taehyung’s face. “I hope you meant me, too.” You added, as an afterthought. “I mean, I know Jimin’s your soulmate…”

Taehyung broke into a laugh, his hands finding your waist. He pulled you to him, and your heart pounded against his chest.

“Come here, Birthday Girl.” He grinned, leaning in to capture your lips and steal your breath.

He kissed you slowly, passionately, his hands sliding up your neck to gently cup your face. You could feel your blood rushing through your veins as your fingers found their way to his hair, and you tangled them into his curls to pull him closer. Your mouths moved together as though it was second nature, as though this wasn’t the first time they’d met, and you allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation. When Taehyung deepened the kiss, you eagerly yielded yourself up to him, and your tongues danced with perfect rhythm. The effect was dizzying.

But all too soon, Taehyung pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath. Panting, he pressed his lips to your forehead, then rested his against the same spot.

“What a nice surprise.” You exhaled, your breath mixing with his.

Taehyung smirked.

“The party or the kiss?” He inquired, his voice husky.

“Both.” You replied, nuzzling your nose against his. “Thanks to you, this night has been full of surprises. I can’t imagine how you’ll ever top it.”

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” Taehyung wiggled his eyebrows, lowering his head again, and your heart swelled as he placed another kiss on your smiling lips.

#bts #bts fanfiction #kim taehyung #request #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fluff #taehyung x reader #bts fics #bts one shot #bts fic #bts v #bts drabbles

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 4 years

Note

Is it okay if you write a fanfic about Peter living with Tony and with a high fever. This leads him to be delirious and attacks Tony because he thinks he a villain that is trying to kill him. I'm sorry if it's too much to ask, it's just hard to find a good fanfic with a similar plot to that.

This took me a few days, but I’ve got you!

Fever Terror -happyaspie (also on AO3)

Warnings: None Rated: T Wordcount: 4290

Tags: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Sickfic, Fever Dreams, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parkers Parental Figure ... ....

The morning light was just starting to peek through Peter's cracked curtains when the alarm on his phone rang out pulling him from sleep. Without ever lifting his head that was still faceplanted into his pillow, he haphazardly felt around on his bedside table in an attempt to get ahold of the device so that he could quiet the annoyingly disruptive noise. After knocking several papers to the floor and tipping over a thankfully empty cup he managed to get a hold of the phone only to drop it instantly into the space between his bed and the nightstand. "Fantastic," he grumbled to himself while reaching his arm into the tight space to fish out the offending item and finally shut off the alarm.

Once the room had grown silent again, Peter's eyes began to drift closed again. The peace only lasted for a handful of minutes before May was knocking on his door.

"I'm up, Aunt May" he mumbled and then forced himself to sit up, scrubbing his hands up and down his face as he did so. Soon after, he realized that he was more than a little groggy from a lack of sleep, he was sore from his head to his toes and there was a dull ache settling behind his eyes. He vaguely wondered if he was coming down with something and wondered if he should stay home from school. A glance at the date on the cracked screen on his phone made his decision for him. It was Friday. Not just any Friday, it was an 'internship' Friday and that meant spending the weekend with Tony. On top of that, it was the day his class was meant to be taking a fitness test in gym. He couldn't miss class. His gym grade was iffy already. He'd gone a little overboard in his attempts to hide his enhancements. He was only a handful of points away from failing the class and really, who fails gym?

"You could have scheduled a retake on the fitness test, you know," Ned unhelpfully stated as they slowly exited the boy's locker room.

Peter sighed and nodded his head. "Yeah but I'd rather get it over with and if I'd stayed home then May wouldn't let me stay with Mr. Stark. Besides, I have a healing factor and super strength, I'm sure I'll be fine. I just need a nap or something," he said, thankful that the coach started issuing instructions before his friend could say anything else.

As it were, taking the fitness test while not feeling well was both a blessing and a curse. He ended up not having to do a whole lot of faking it when it came to downplaying his abilities. After easily finishing the mile run at a leisurely human pace, intentionally letting go of the rope before making it to the top and jumping just slightly higher than Ned, he found himself unexpectedly sweating and struggling to complete the required fifty sit-ups in the allotted time frame.

"What's the matter, Penis?" Flash snarked from beside him. "You can't finish fifty measly sit-ups? Even Ned managed to do more than that. Might need to change your name to Puny Parker."

"Knock it off, Flash. We all know you lied on your exam card. There's no way you did ninety-eight sit-ups in five minutes," Ned defended and Peter was grateful, he still needed to do at least seven more sit-ups and he wasn't sure he could do that, deal with Flash and breathe at the same time at the moment. As such, he continued to only focus on getting his abdominal muscles to cooperate with him, missing whatever Flash had sneered in return.

The remainder of the exam was blessedly easy. A few stretches and a BMI measurement were manageable. Even so, the moment they were released to change clothes again, Peter thought he might actually cry. He was just glad that gym was the last class of the day. Once he was rinsed off and in his regular clothes, he sat down on the bench, closed his eyes, and drained the water bottle he'd just refilled.

"Dude, you look like crap," Ned observed as he plopped himself down beside his friend on the bench.

"Thanks, man. You're the best," Peter grumbled in response. When he looked beside him and saw the worry on his friend's face, he sighed. "I'm fine. I just tired. I'll sleep in the car on the way to Mr. Stark's and feel better by the time I get there," he said with a wave of his hand. Ned gave a dubious look but dropped the subject and soon enough the bell was ringing, signaling the end of the day.

The nap in the car did nothing for Peter's aching body. It also did nothing for the pain behind his eyes or the mild nausea that had been building since the beginning of the car ride. That didn't stop him from putting on a happy face and bouncing into the lab, though. "Hey, Mr. Stark! What are we going to be doing this weekend? Do you think we'll have time to look at the web-settings in the suit? I think I might have an idea for a new combination that would-" he rattled off while dropping his backpack and crossing the distance between himself and his mentor.

"-Are you sick?" Tony interjected before Peter could finish his rambled request, "Because you look like crap."

Peter stopped dead in his tracks. He wasn't sure why he thought he would be able to hide anything from Tony. The man noticed every detail of every little thing but that didn't stop him from making excuses. "I had gym and we did this really stupid fitness test. Maybe I need a shower before we start," he stuttered, then turned on his heels and rushed out of the room before Tony could comment.

Looking into the bathroom mirror, Peter finally understood Ned, Tony, and surprisingly, Happy's concerned inquiries. His hair was still damp with sweat, his cheeks were both bright red and pale at the same time and his eyes looked glossy. He really did look like crap. He hoped the shower would help with that or at minimum, ease the soreness in his joints. However, neither of those things happened. He stepped out of the shower looking just as miserable as he had when he'd stepped in. Maybe even worse.

As Peter walked out of the bedroom he spotted Tony sitting on the couch and was slightly taken aback. He'd assumed the man would stay in the lab and wait for him. "Mr. Stark?" he asked as he rounded the corner.

"Hey, kiddo. You-" Tony began with the intention of asking the kid if he was sure he was feeling okay but he paused mid-sentence when the teenager flopped down beside him and leaned into his side already proclaiming that 'he didn't feel good.'

"Yeah. I thought not," Tony replied with a soft smile as he allowed the boy to burrow into him. "That's why I came back up here to check on you."

As much as Peter wanted to tell the man that checking on him hadn't been necessary, he didn't. Now that he was sitting beside him, he was actually really glad his mentor was there and he didn't have to trek all the way back down to the lab. He wasn't sure why he felt so terrible but for some reason, having Tony's arm wrapped protectively around his body made him feel a little batter. He sat there quietly, soaking up the comfort for several minutes before sitting up with a sigh. "Can I have some juice or something please?"

"You know you don't have to ask, Buddy. Just go get what you want," Tony returned with a laugh. He found it amusing that the kid had been coming over for months and still asked permission to get anything out of the kitchen. Every time.

When Peter returned moments later and curled right back up on the couch beside him, Tony sighed. Clearly he wasn't going to be getting any more work done in the lab. "I guess I'll start up some movies, we can work in the lab tomorrow if you're feeling up to it, alright?" he siad more than questioned and it was no shock to him when Peter nodded his head and requested Star Wars.

Two movies, another glass of juice, and a bowl of soup later, Peter was more than ready to go to bed. The problem was it was Friday and going to bed at ten on a Friday was practically unheard of. Usually, he took advantage of the weekends and stayed up entirely too late. Especially when he was with Tony. It was rare for them to go anywhere near a bed before one or two in the morning but when he could no longer keep his eyes open he finally gave. "Is it okay if I go to bed now?" he asked. "I'm sorry, I'm-"

"You're sick, kid. If you're tired you should sleep," Tony replied before Peter could finish his unnecessary apology. "Let's check your temperature again before you head off, though," he added before sticking the digital thermometer under the kid's tongue for what was probably the eightieth time in the last several hours. "That's not too bad," he said with a half-smile as he read the numbers to himself. "Here, take your fever reducers and I'll wake you up so we can check your temperature again before I go to sleep, deal?"

"Mhmm" Peter agreed even though he felt like the constant temperature checks were ridiculous. His fever hadn't changed since he'd taken the first dose of medication after his shower. He wasn't going to argue though. He simply took the pills, said good night, and laid down in his bed, where he fell into what to become a restless and uneasy sleep.

__________

Peter was sitting on the edge of a highrise casually eating a hotdog while looking over the familiar Burrough. It was cold outside and after some time he was starting to wonder why the heater in his suit wasn't working. He could feel the chill starting to crawl up his spine, making him shiver. He threw the mask back over his head so that he could contact Tony and let him know it needed to be repaired when out of nowhere, someone grabbed him by the legs and tied him up. He tried to shoot his webs at the unseen assailant but they weren't' working either. He began to flail leading him to unwittingly fall right off the edge of the building. With no way to catch himself, he landed on the cement, sending shockwaves of pain through his body.

He lay there for several seconds, spitting out the blood that was pooling in his mouth from where he'd bit his tongue, before realizing that there was a shadow looming over him. The person was back-lit and he couldn't see their features but he assumed it was the same person who had tried to capture him up on the roof, so he rapidly sat up and started to scramble backward as best he could but his legs were still bound. Once he'd hit a wall, he whimpered as the shadowed figure kneeled in front of him and reached towards his face.

He knew that without functioning web-shooters he was going to have to rely on his strength and immediately started swinging. Within seconds he was able to strike the person's face and for the first time ever, the sound of his balled-up fist making contact with the other person's skin made his stomach clench and vomited without warning.

As he continued to gag into his own lap he could hear voices but he was able to look up to see where they were or what they were doing. All he was able to determine was that one was male and one was female. When his stomach had finished contracting he sat there and squeezed his eyes shut waiting for someone to grab ahold of him as he tried to catch his breath. Just as he was sure that the anticipation was going to kill him, he heard the sound of Iron Man's thrusters approaching.

Mere seconds later he felt the cool metal of the armor grab his shoulder and opened his eyes. Relief washed over him and he was just about to fall into Tony's arms when the faceplate lifted. Though rather than seeing the welcome face of his mentor, he was met with the piercingly green eyes of the Vulture and he panicked. Somehow The Vulture had stolen Tony's suit and was going to use it against him. He began to kick his legs and throw punches but the grip on his shoulder didn't loosen. Instead, it held tighter than ever and he quickly realized that he was being lifted up and practically dragged to a new location.

He frantically looked around himself trying to figure out where they were going and how he was going to get away. Knowing that he couldn't let the Vulture take flight, he went limp, dropping his full weight to make himself harder to transport, all the while grasping at anything he could get his hands on in order to anchor himself. Expect everything he grabbed slipped through his fingers. He resorted to squeezing and kicking the armor instead. None of that worked and the next thing he knew he was being thrust under an outpouring of freezing cold water.

The icy water came as such a shock that he pulled a gasped breath in and was unable to release it for several seconds. He was drowning. He couldn't breathe, the Vulture was using Tony's suit to hold him under the relentless spray and no matter how much he fought and thrashed he couldn't get free. It took a while but the second he felt like he could take a breath, he started to scream. "Tony! Help me! Please! Mr. Stark!" he shouted over and over again until he no longer had the strength to get the words out and was forced to fall silent. At that point, he stopped struggling. He had nothing left to give.

As his body fell lax against the stolen Iron Man suit Peter closed his eyes and whimpered. Normally the armor made him feel safe and comforted but know who was inside left him feeling lost and afraid. He tried to pretend that it was Tony in the suit and mumbled his name. He was surprised when he heard the man's voice calling back to him saying 'You're safe, Pete. I've got you. Mr. Stark has you.'

__________

Tony had been in his bed casually propped up on the headboard, reading through a few proposals when FRIDAY alerted him that Peter was in distress. Without further clarification, he bolted out of his own room and down the hall towards the kids. He opened the boy's door just in time to see him tumble out of the bed and onto the floor. Noticing the sheet wound around Peter's legs and the blood trailing past his lips, he kneeled down to untangled him and inspect his mouth for injury but before he could get close enough to make contact the teenager's breath quickened and he backed himself up against the bedside table.

"It's just me, Buddy," Tony said before pulling the sheet away and reaching out to take hold of Peter's chin. Only before he could make contact the frightened teenager began to thrash and one of his haphazardly thrown punched ended up hitting him solidly in the eye, sending him toppling onto his back. "I should have expected that," he said to himself, knowing full well that he shouldn't have tried to touch the kid while he was panicking without some sort of acknowledgment. He took a second to reach up and touch where his eye was starting to throb and hissed through his teeth. While he knew the teenager had enhanced strength, he'd never been on the receiving end of it before. He wasn't convinced that his eye socket wasn't fractured. There wasn't much time to consider it before he heard kid wretching and he managed to look up just in time to see the boy vomiting down his shirt.

"Shit," Tony said to himself. He'd come into the room, he'd seen that the kid's eyes were open and had assumed that he'd fallen out of bed while having a nightmare and was still trying to recover. The fact that he'd gone to bed sick hadn't crossed his mind until that very second and at that point, it was all starting to click. "FRIDAY? What's his temperature?" he requested despite the fact that he would have preferred to use a thermometer even though he had an advanced AI that was capable of making a similar assessment. He liked to think that sometimes, the best tool for the job was the simplest.

It only took a few seconds for FRIDAY to read off a number that had Tony cringing with concern. It seemed that the kid's manageable fever had spiked as he slept. Knowing that the boy wasn't likely to be cooperative in the state that he was in and not particularly wanting to end up with a second black eye, he opted to call for a suit. With the servo assistance, he figured he could get them into the shower and cool him down enough to get him back to his senses.

With the armor in place, Tony reached down and grabbed Peter by his shoulder. He was taken slightly by surprise when the boy's breath slowed at the contact. Then thinking the worst of it was over he lifted the faceplate only to be met by the kid turning as white as a sheet screaming as though he'd seen a ghost. "Hey, hey, hey. Easy, kiddo. It's just me. I'm going to pick you up," he announced before hoisting the teenager up onto his feet.

As Tony began to walk Peter became more and more aggressive. He'd already stopped bearing any of his own weight and had knocked over several things, including a bookshelf in an attempt to get away from his grasp. The kid had already gone so far as to grab ahold of his armored arm and squeezed so tightly that the suit has warped under the pressure. He was sure it would bruise and was glad that hadn't been his bare arm.

"In we go, kiddo," Tony said before firmly grasping the kid around the waist and pinning him down under the spray of the shower that FRIDAY had started for him. At first, the water was pelting them in the face but after a few struggled adjustments, he was able to readjust their position so that it was landing on their legs and chests instead. At that point, Peter seemed to find his voice again and began to shout, 'Tony! Help me! Please! Mr. Stark!' repetitively at the top of his lungs while trying to free himself.

Tony offered constant reassurances. The kid's frantic pleas were causing his heart to ache. He didn't know what else he could do to help ease the terror that had taken over the boy's consciousness. That's how they spent the next ten minutes. Peter screaming for Tony and Tony trying to convince him that he was already there. Though the most heartbreaking part of the whole ordeal was when the boy had finally run out of steam and fell limp onto his chest, still whimpering his name. "You're safe, Pete. I've got you," he whispered into the kid's ear. "Mr. Stark has you."

__________

The moment Peter heard Tony's familiar voice saying 'Mr. Stark has you,' his eyes snapped open and all at once things started to clear up. Gone was the dark alley and the spout of ice water that had been pouring from a pipe. Instead, as he looked around, he realized he was in the bathroom that was attached to his bedroom in Tony's penthouse. He was suddenly unsure of what was real and what wasn't. When he looked down, he wasn't in his suit, he was in a pair of stained sweatpants. He tentatively looked behind him, bracing himself for the worst. He could feel someone holding him and was still unsure of who it was. His breath quickened for the only moment when he saw the Iron Man armor but relaxed instantly the second he laid eyes on his mentor's face.

"Hey there, Buddy. You with me now?" Tony asked, not loosening his grasp even after Peter had nodded back at him. "FRIDAY? Is his temperature back down out of the rafters?" he asked next and when the AI relayed that the kid's temperature was still elevated but no longer dangerously so, he released his hold.

"What happened?" Peter asked as he shifted his body so that he was laying chest to chest with Tony and curling up in an attempt to avoid the tepid water that was still falling against his back.

"Fever dream," Tony said wishing that he could retract the armor without having to force the kid to get off of him. "Well, fever terror in this case, I think."

"Am I going to die?" Peter asked with a shudder. Despite the lowered fever, he still hurt all over and was so exhausted that he could hardly breathe without effort.

"No, Buddy," Tony chuckled before reaching down to push the dripping curls off of the kid's forehead. "I think we should probably get out of this shower and get you into some dry clothes, though," he said and Peter nodded, though he made no effort to move. "You've gotta let me up, kiddo," he quietly spoke before helping the listless boy rise to his feet and step out onto the bathroom rug.

After being wrapped up in the giant towel, Peter got his first good look at Tony's swollen eye and bruised arm causing him to panic all over again. "Did I do that? Did I hurt you?" he asked, his eyes having gone wide and his lip quivering with feverish emotion.

"It was my own fault, Kid," Tony said with a half-hearted smile. "You were panicking and I should have known better than to try to touch you right then."

"I'm so sorry. I don't- I didn't know it was you. It was like I was somewhere else and the Vulture was in your suit instead of you and it felt so real," Peer said in an attempt to explain to the man why he'd lased out. "I thought he'd stole your suit and was trying to drown me."

Tony just nodded his head and wordlessly helped the boy into some pajamas and because Peter's room still reeked of sweat and vomit, he guided his past the mess and down the hallway. He could feel the boy stiffen under his hand as the entered the master bedroom but he assured him that a bed would be more comfortable than the couch. When the boy relaxed he helped him under the blankets and handed him a bottle of water and some more medication. Then after some minor debate, he decided to got find himself an ice pack and lay down on the opposite side of the bed. He couldn't stop himself from smiling when the kid instantly pressed up against him. "Comfy?"

"Mhmm. 'M tired and you're warm," Peter replied, snuggling in a bit closer. He was still chilled not only from the prolonged cool shower but the lingering low-grade fever as well.

Tony chuckled and wrapped his arm around the boy to offer a little bit more warmth and comfort. "Is that all I am to you? A warm body?" he quipped but when Peter struggled to answer he had mercy on him and gave him a gentle squeeze. "I was teasing, Pete. It's fine. Go to sleep."

Rather than going to sleep as asked, Peter lay still for several minutes. He couldn't get past the fact that he'd hurt his mentor. The man's assurances that he'd been out of his mind when he'd done it were of no help and the guilt was eating at him. "Hey, Mr. Stark?" he asked, knowing he would be unable to fitfully sleep until he managed to quell the nagging remorse.

"Hmm?", Tony asked, caught slightly off guard. He'd thought the kid was already asleep and had been on his way there himself.

Peter hesitated for a second and then sighed. "I'm still really sorry I hit you," he said, turning his head just slightly so that he could see Tony's face. Though, all that did was cause more guilt to wash over him when he saw the half-melted ice pack still resting on the side of the man's face.

"Yeah well, you can replay me by going to sleep," Tony replied with a smile, "-and not waking up until at least ten. Preferably fever-free."

"I'll do my best," Peter promised before closing his eyes again. He still felt awful about the entire incident but Tony was smiling at him and for the time being, that was enough. He decided he could make it up to him properly when he was feeling more like himself. Maybe by repairing the armor he was sure he's ruined. Maybe by swearing to stay home from school the next time he felt like crap. Maybe both. He wasn't sure yet. His thoughts had been cut off by a hand gently threading through his hair, soothing him into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

#asked and answered #prompt fill #i like prompts #Marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu #peter parker #tony stark #iron man #spiderman #sickfic #sick Peter parker #peter parker whump #tony stark & peter parker #irondad and spiderson #irondad fandom

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ultsoobins · 4 years

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context: reader volunteers with kids at a library in her free time and, prior to this, her and yeonjun had met when he’d come to pick his daughter up from a craft day!

note: i’d originally written this as part of a single father jaemin fic i’m writing but it no longer fits and yeonjun with kids is a blessed concept so... here you are

You’re standing in a department store in the mall by your office, watching the rain pour in buckets outside. It’s only midday, and you’ve just finished your lunch break. There’s been no rain in the weather forecast when you’d checked before leaving for work, so it’s no surprise that you have no umbrella on your person. You have a good quarter of your break left, but you’ve been steeling yourself, preparing to brave the wind and water, for a while now. What’s to say you’ll get back to work both on-time and not looking like you’ve participated in a dunk tank?

Just as you prepare to finally step outside, a hand placed gingerly on your shoulder stops you.

“(Name)?”

You turn your head to see none other than … Yeonjun, was that his name? You’d seen him at the library not a week back when you’d volunteered there - he’d been there to pick up his daughter. He’s Yeonji’s dad, and you shoot him a genuine smile.

“Hey! What a coincidence,” You say, racking your brain for how to engage in small talk. “do you work nearby?”

He nods as an affirmative, smiling easily at you as well. “Yeah, I’m up in the BH building. How about you? The library’s a little far from here.” Yeonjun’s voice sounds almost teasing, and you can’t help but slightly raise an eyebrow at the banter.

“It is,” You allow him an agreement. “But I’m just a volunteer there. I actually work in one of the highrises down on 3rd.”

“Damn,” He says, arching his eyebrow this time. “That’s honestly amazing. I’m in idol management, but that’s probably obvious by now.”

“That’s insane,” You respond, though not without a quick watch check with a mental prayer that you don’t seem impolite. Yeonjun, of course, notices this anyways - you’ll curse the universe later about this - and before you know it, there’s a bright pink umbrella in your line of sight.

“You looked like you could use this. It’s why I came up to you, actually,” He reaches the hand not wielding the umbrella to the nape of his neck, scratching almost sheepishly at it. You glance at the umbrella, then at the rain outside - it hasn’t let up, in fact, you think it might’ve gotten worse - and then back at the umbrella again before looking up to meet his eyes.

“Are you sure? I usually have an umbrella on me, but I left mine at the office this time. I swear I’m not super unprepared, but-”

“It’s fine, (Name). I’m serious - you can borrow mine,” Yeonjun interrupts you before you ramble, his kind smile causing your unwelcome blush to return. He all but shoves the umbrella into your hand - there’s little white puppies all over it, and you’re sure that Yeonji picked it out. You’re endeared immediately as you grab hold of it.

“Don’t you need it?”

“There’s a car picking me up in a few,” He says, gesturing vaguely towards the sliding door closest to the two of you. “I have a schedule to get to, so I’m not going straight back to my building.”

“You’re sure?” You lean the umbrella towards him, almost hoping he’ll change his mind and take it back, even though you know that that’s not happening. He chuckles and pushes it back towards you, looking pointedly at your watch. You glance down and wince sharply almost immediately, the fact that you have less than ten minutes to get back to work hitting you.

“Should I drop it off at the BH building when I’m done?” You ask, but Yeonjun’s shaking his head even as you finish your question. He fishes his phone out of one of his coat’s pocket and unlocks it, swiping through something or the other before handing it to you.

A new contact page glares back at you, and you get the hint. You can’t help the small smile that graces your face as you swiftly type in your name and number before handing it back to him. He types something, and you feel your phone vibrate in your own pocket.

“There,” Yeonjun speaks with an air of finality, tilting his head almost imperceptibly towards the door. “Now we can figure out the details on how you get it back to me later.”

“I owe you one,” You tell him earnestly before pulling the hood of your coat over your head. He watches as you pause for one, two, three seconds before walking out of the sliding door, and can’t help but smile as you rush to open up the umbrella once you’re outside. Even if you’d looked back, you wouldn’t have been able to see him through the rain. Still, he watches you until you and the bright pink umbrella are out of sight. Only then does he let himself sigh, wince, and walk out the door himself, breaking into a run so as to not reach the BH building completely soaking wet.

♕ ♕ ♕

Kai, who sits at the front desk of Choi & Kang LLP., can’t help but snicker at the umbrella in your hands. It’s only after you’ve thrown him a glare - and a subtle middle finger, you’ve been friends since college - that you get in the elevator, press the button for the thirteenth floor, and pull your phone from your pocket to check your messages.

Maybe: Yeonjun

this is yeonjun x please respond so I know I have the right number!

The short but sweet and simple message brings a wider grin to your face that you care to admit. You quickly add him as a contact before shooting a text back, just in time before the elevator doors pull open in front of you and you find yourself back on your office floor.

It’s (Name)! Thank you so much, and please let Yeonji know that she has impeccable taste in umbrellas. :)

#yeonjun #yeonjun choi #yeonjun scenario #yeonjun imagines #choi yeonjun #txt #txt scenario #txt scenarios #yeonjun fluff #txt fluff #tomorrow x together #tomorrow x together scenario #tomorrow x together scenarios #tomorrow x together fluff #cyj

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gumnut-logic · 5 years

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The Dentist (pt13)

Arrgh, another 1500 words and still no answers. Slippery eels, I tell you. Next part, definitely the next part ::glares at the characters::

Well, we’ve just passed the 10,000 word mark. So much for the tiny fic ::headdesk:: I’m fighting to finish this, I promise! Thank you for all your wonderful support ::hugs you all madly::

From here.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was edgy for the rest of the day, watching his brothers at first wander to and fro from the infirmary, then, once he had escaped that horrible room, watch them moon about the house. They eyed him as if he was explosive or fragile or worse.

The tableau was broken midafternoon when Eos called Scott out to rescue a crane driver from a collapsing highrise. The annoying thing was that it was more a job for Virgil and Two than Scott and One, but his brother took it anyway, the blue glare pinning Virgil to the sofa cushions.

After that there was one less brother mooning about the house avoiding Virgil.

At one point he approached John who, oddly, had yet to announce his return to Five, and attempted to get some answers out of him.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Virgil’s eyes widened at the sad expression on his younger brother’s face. “You’ll need to wait for Scott on this one, Virgil.”

“What is going on? You all look as if someone has died.” His eyes widened at John’s subtle flinch. “What aren’t you telling me?!”

John’s other hand landed on Virgil’s other shoulder and his space brother looked down at him, his expression ever so honest and sincere. “No one has died, Virgil. We just found out that someone we know and love has been hurt.”

“Who?!” Faces raced through his mind.

“Virgil, please wait for Scott.”

“Why?”

“Just...trust us.”

Virgil bit back the expletive as John squeezed his shoulders. What the hell was going on?

“John...”

“Wait for Scott.”

Wait for Scott. He grit his teeth to hold back his response.

He hid in his room for an hour, then fell asleep.

He awoke to find Alan perched on the end of his bed playing a computer game. “Alan.”

“Hey, Virgil. Hold a sec, I just gotta...” The game console let off a series of squawks and Alan swore. “So close!”

Virgil stared at him a moment, but when Alan’s attention didn’t return to him, he pushed off the covers and climbed out of bed. A trip to the bathroom and he encountered himself in the mirror.

The swelling was finally going down. He could see straight. His right eye was still bloodshot and the skin around it a rainbow of colours, but he could see. His mouth still hurt like crazy, but there had been no brothers sporting medication to alleviate the irritation which was odd in itself.

What were they waiting for?

He frowned and regretted it as it set off a throb in his eye that threatened to progress into a headache.

“Virgil, you okay in there?”

So Alan was hovering. No doubt still feeling guilty and worried about him. “Alan, I’m fine.” And honestly he was. Achy, yes, but his head was finally clear from the medication fog, his balance was fine, he could even speak okay.

He washed his face gently and patted it dry before returning to his room.

Alan’s eyes were on him the moment he walked in.

“I’m fine, Alan, I promise.”

Alan guiltily returned to his console. “Sorry, just making sure.”

A sigh and Virgil sat down beside him. “What is it? Is it this thing you guys refuse to talk to me about?”

Alan dropped his arms into his lap, fingering his game console. “It sucks.”

Perhaps it did, if Virgil knew what they were talking about. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Can’t. Not until you’re better.”

“I am better.”

“I-“ Alan cut himself off and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Virgil, I...” Blue eyes caught his and widened, staring. Tears welled suddenly and anger flashed. Alan bit his lip hard and spat out a string of profanity of the likes he had never heard from his little brother.

“Alan!”

“He is so lucky he’s dead.” A blink and Alan appeared to realise what he had said. “I...I’m sorry, Virg, I’m...aw, hell.” And his little brother was up and out the door before Virgil could grab him.

What?!

Virgil pushed himself off the bed and out the door, but Alan was gone.

What the hell was going on?!

As if to answer his question, the distant roar of rocket engines became immediate and the building echoed through its soundproofing as Thunderbird One lowered herself into her bay below the pool. Virgil couldn’t see her, but he knew the process like his own breathing. He made his way through the house and down to the comms room, knowing that would be where his brother would gravitate.

He found Gordon sitting at their father’s desk in his hoverchair. His father’s chair had been spun off to one side. Whatever he was doing, he was very focussed. Virgil was able to make his way around the lounge and step up to the desk. Gordon was staring at a document floating above the desktop and poking it with a stylus.

“Hey, Gordon.”

His brother physically jumped and the stylus went flying. The document disappeared as Gordon hurriedly swiped it away. “Oh, hey, Virg. You’re awake.”

If that wasn’t a guilty look then Virgil knew nothing about his brother. “Yes, Gordon, I’m awake. And before you ask, yes, I’m feeling better, thank you.” He eyed the aquanaut as he struggled to compose himself. “A better question might be, are you okay?”

Gordon looked away and Virgil found himself reaching out, his hand landing on his brother’s shoulders. “What is it?”

Bloodshot russet-brown eyes looked up at him. “Have you ever questioned Dad’s belief that everyone is worth saving?”

Okay, random. “Uh, no, why?”

Gordon looked down at the desk again. “Because he is wrong. There are people on this planet who do things that cancel out that right.”

Virgil swallowed. “It is not our place to judge who is worth saving, Gordon.”

“I know. It’s just...” He looked up again. “Some people are just assholes who don’t deserve the privilege of life.”

Virgil grabbed their father’s chair and sat down beside his brother. There were many things he could say. He could argue, make a point, but the despair in Gordon’s eyes was just painful. “Will you tell me what is going on?”

Gordon’s eyes widened before looking down at his lap. “We need to wait for Scott.”

Wait for Scott. “Why?” It came out frustrated.

“Because you’ll need him.”

The words sucked all the heat out of the room and his bones chilled. “Why?”

“Gordon!” Scott entered the room, still dressed in his uniform, the sleeve torn and bloodied.

Virgil shot to his feet and hurried over. “Scott, what the hell. Why didn’t you report an injury?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing-“

“Gordon, grab a first aid kit, and then find John. Why didn’t John pick up on this?”

Scott slapped his fingers away. “Because it is nothing, that’s why. Uniform got caught on a piece of metal as I fell and it tore. Scratched me up a little. The better question would be how are you?”

“You fell?! How far? Do you have any other injuries?” He stepped back a little and tracked his eyes over his brother. Nothing appeared out of order bar a few scuffs on his scuff pads.

“Virgil, for crying out loud. I fell, yes, but I caught myself with my grapple gun, I am fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Now sit down and let me have a look.”

“Virgil-“

“I said sit down.” Calm, direct and as commanding as any Tracy brother.

The first aid kit appeared at Virgil’s elbow. He dug out the laser scalpel and began removing Scott’s sleeve as Gordon called over comms to summon John.

His brother sighed and surrendered.

Once the sleeve had been removed, it appeared that yes, he was overreacting just a little, but he didn’t care. Virgil preferred it that way. With a glare at his brother who by this time was smirking at him, he swabbed the wound clean and tapped it up with a couple of butterfly bandages. A protective dressing and he was satisfied that Scott wasn’t about to bleed to death on him.

“Happy now?” The pilot actually had the nerve to smirk at him.

“As happy as I can be when a brother has a hole in him, I guess.” He squeezed a uniform clad forearm absently as he began to tidy up the mess he had made.

“Virg, do you forgive me?” It was whispered, barely breath, but Virgil heard it. He looked up into pleading blue eyes.

A swallow. “Of course.” But he looked away, still processing the implications.

“Can you at least understand why I did it?”

A slow nod as he closed the lid of the first aid kit.

Scott grabbed his upper arm and squeezed. “Virgil-“

“I trust you, Scott.” But he wasn’t willing to talk about it just yet. “Get yourself cleaned up and meet me back here.” He caught those blue eyes again. “We have to talk.”

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #virgil tracy #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #alan tracy

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jenovahh · 5 years

Text

The Honey Pot - Ch. 5 - My Name is Honey

“Welcome to the Galvus Estate.”

The words of the Hyur chauffeur pretty much pass in one ear and out the other, for you can’t keep your jaw from dropping at the sight of Zenos’ home.

Wrought in hauntingly beautiful metal, the Galvus Estate sits primly upon the hill that you are at the base of. Well-manicured gardens sprawl out what feels like for malms before the opulent mansion, showcasing a variety of flora which you can tell isn’t native to Hingashi. Multiple fountains of varying styles are sprinkled across the garden, the miniature shows eye catching as the car slowly pulls down the hand laid brick road.

Dark in color, the architecture of the estate differs greatly from any home (or any building in general) of that in Kugane, leaving you to wonder if it’s design hails to their Garlean heritage. As far as you knew, Varis himself was not a native to Kugane; that he immigrated from Garlemald as a child and that for someone with so much power, most of his origins are shrouded in mystery.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you try to not look too shocked; the very vision of a have-not being brought into the world of the haves. The chauffeur seems to realize he’s lost you and continues his drive to the front of the estate. Once there, he puts the car in park and steps out so that he may open your door for you.

He’s a bit late however as you’ve already done the job for him, ignoring his reserved sigh as he reaches to steady the door as you shakily climb out. “Ma’am, you still look very hurt,” He murmurs, holding out his other arm in offering.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You huff, standing on unstable feet, willing yourself to stand upright. A pain shoots up your right leg and you begin to go down, but thankfully the chauffeur’s reflexes are somewhat fast enough to catch you before you collapse entirely.

“Obviously.” He drones, pulling you back up and clutching onto you. “While I’m sure you have your pride Miss, I ask you to remember I too, have a job to do.” He speaks softly, giving you a knowing look. “Not all of us are...built to receive punishment for failure.”

Catching his grave meaning, you nod silently, allowing a bit more of your weight to rest on him. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, watching as he gently closes the door. With a gentle nudge he urges you toward the grand front doors, the brick beneath your soles somehow managing to feel just as fine as it looks. Just as you reach the door it’s opened by a housekeeper, who gives you a slight bow.

“Also for the record...I wasn’t punished. I fought Zenos,”

The chauffeur grips your side tight and you yelp in pain. “I do not know much about your relationship to Lord Zenos, but I advise you against addressing him so casually in public. People like me have only heard hearsay of your coming. You don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea, should it leak out to the public.” He hisses underneath his breath, guiding you past the grand staircase that is in the foyer. “One might guess you are quite close. Employees certainly do not stay within the estate.”

You purse your lips as he guides you through another door, deciding to heed his words. Like it or not, this was the path you were given, not the one you had chosen. From the tone of his voice, you wonder if the chauffeur has seen employees leave work to go home; and never come back.

“Why tell me this?” You ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

“None of us want to work here. But no one wants to struggle either. And just looking at you...I can tell this is the last place you want to be.” He smiles easily, accenting his already handsome features. “Also...you’re the first person to ever thank me. I’ve been workin for these guys for about three years now.”

That brings a smile to your own face. “I hope I get to see you around more often then.” You beam at him, watching as his cheeks tint red.

“You might. I’m Lord Zenos’ personal chauffeur.” He murmurs bashfully, leading you down another hallway. The estate certainly didn’t look this big from the outside, but you did only see the front of it to be fair.

“Got a name?” You ask, eyes wandering over the expensive artwork lining the walls. It seemed Varis certainly wasn’t above flaunting his very obvious wealth.

“Ardbert.” he answers, finally coming to a stop at a door. “We’ve arrived at your rooms. Just give me a moment,” Fishing what looks to be a credit card from his pocket, he presses it to the access point on the outside, the device chirping happily much like the one at the highrise. Leading you in, it is far grander than you ever expected.

“This is the wing where Lord Zenos stays. His room is the floor above this one. Your uniform,”

Ardbert’s words once again become background noise as you look around slack jawed. The walls are painted in a striking red with an elegant, black design strewn across it. Your bed sits against the far wall, now situated in the middle instead of tucked against itl. A canopy sits on top of the bedposts, your mouth forming an “o” as you can see a beautiful landscape painting on its underside.

Your room has a desk tucked against another wall, along with dressers and a walk-in closet. There’s a door that leads to your personal bathroom, which you are ecstatic to get a look at were Ardbert not doing his best to walk you to the bed as you try to crane your neck to look at everything.

“Ma’am,”

“Honey.” You interrupt, flashing him a smile. “None of that ma’am stuff.”

He gives a small smile at that. “Only when we are alone.” He concedes, giving you a none-too-gentle nudge to sit upon the bed. It almost feels like it’s trying to drag you into its cozy grasp as soon as you make contact. “While I don’t know how you managed to get so banged up, I am under strict orders to make sure you rest until the resident doctor is here to check up on you.”

Deciding to not make his job harder on him, you nod and allow the bed to draw you in. “All right. But only ‘cause you asked.” You snicker, appreciating how he always seems to return your smile.

“I appreciate it. And...take care of yourself.”

With that, he makes his way out the door, shutting it behind him.

You lie there and stare absentmindedly at the painting on the canopy, wishing you knew more about brush strokes and techniques to appreciate it better. Instead, you just lie there and let your bones relax, the pain mostly a distant soreness. They had given you some pretty strong painkillers, and from the look of the doctors’ faces, you’d think you had come from the brink of death and not a little spar with the Galvus heir.

That bastard.

Just thinking about him sets your blood to boiling, wishing you could land another fist in his face. And in his stomach. A swift kick in the balls to add insult to injury.

The train of thought pulls your lips into a sadistic smile, imagining taking advantage of your newfound position to get some good payback on Zenos yae Galvus. Even he himself said your place as his bodyguard was merely for show; nothing but pure looks. He gave you a position where you could be kept close with little question as to why, free for him to use you as he wished.

Even though the situation had not turned out exactly as planned, you still could find some humor in it. You could already imagine the look on his face when you finally did him and his father in, wiping their crime from the face of the star.

A knock on the door jolts you from your plotting, shouting for whoever is outside to enter. The Miqo’te doctor you saw yesterday strolls in, stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck. “Greetings.”

“Hello.” You return, eyes fixated on him as he moves to stand beside your bed. Did everyone who worked for the Galvuses speak so properly?

“How are you feeling?” He asks, hands pulling his stethoscope from around his neck, placing them in his fuzzy ears.

“Not too bad. Bit sore, but nothing another night’s rest won’t fix.” You reply, watching his expression turn into one of pure confusion as he conducts his light examination.

“A bit...sore you said?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah. Why?”

His features pinch together as much as possible, before he pulls away. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Though I must say...you have quite a few people in shock.” He finally answers, relaxing his face.

You tilt your head in confusion this time, watching as his eyes dart toward the door.

Leaning closer, he begins to whisper, “I know you’re new here, but I don’t think you grasp what you did.” His ears twitch nervously, as if searching for any foreign noise. “That you faced Lord Zenos is shocking enough...but that you lived to tell the tale has anyone who knows absolutely floored.”

“What? He doesn’t have any lackeys worth sparring?” You question, shifting to sit yourself up, forcing the doctor to sit back.

“There are very few....very few people who have dueled Lord Zenos. Not all have lived. And those that have were instead given to Lord Varis, to protect him.” The doctor explains, constantly glancing at the door. “You’ve fought him, lived, and walked away with bruised ribs at the worst. Others have had their bones entirely broken,”

“Speaking ill of me, are you?”

The doctor freezes up with fear, tail frizzing as Zenos steps into the room. Somehow he seems far too large for it, despite all the ceilings being noticeably higher than Doman architecture. “O-Of course not, Lord Zenos,” the doctor trembles, sparking your anger.

“He was telling me what a shitty employer I have.” You interject, meeting Zenos’ cool gaze with a fiery glare, inflamed further as his lips pull into an easy smile.

“I see your time in bed has done little for your tongue.” He drawls, looming closer. Your body rises naturally, kneeling in the plush covers so you may jump up at any moment.

“I’ve enjoyed my time in bed. It means I don’t have to deal with you.” You sneer, teeth bared as he stands at the foot of the bed. Something flashes across his eyes, something akin to interest as his eyes drink in your battered form.

“Luckily for you, my bodyguard is of no use to me broken and bruised. How much longer until she’s healed?” Zenos asks, settling to ignore you instead. The doctor nearly jolts at suddenly being addressed, his ears pressing flat against his head.

“Her vitals seem to be in stable condition, however,”

“That is not what I asked.” Zenos states coldly, that apathetic edge back to his voice. The glare he fixes on the shuddering doctor would kill him if it could, and it’s at that moment you decide you’ve had enough.

Standing atop your covers, you drag his attention back to you as you fist your strongest hand in his shirt. It’s soft to the touch, designer probably, for how plain it looks. But that’s not what matters right now. “I’m feeling just dandy.” You growl, hating how he places that stupid grin of his back on his face.

“Are you now?” He purrs, his eyes dipping to how your arm trembles. In a flash he makes a move to punch your side but you catch his fist with ease, wincing at the pain that shoots up your arm, unable to hide the cry of pain. “You are still unfit to serve me quite yet.” In a show of speed he frees his fist to grab your own, yanking hard to disrupt your balance and spin you around, pulling you against him, front to back.

You grit your teeth as he locks your arm behind your back, unable to move unless you feel like dislocating your shoulder. It rankles that he knows you know that. As if the doctor still isn’t in the room, he rests his chin on your shoulder, his hair tickling what bare skin is exposed to the air, drawing a gasp from you. For someone with such a cold demeanor, he is surprisingly warm. “Let me go, you overgrown, insufferable,” Your tirade is cut short as you stop to jerk away from his face as he presses closer.

He chuckles at your insults, the sound rumbling through you in the most delicious way. “Don’t stop on my account. Snarl and bite and gnash. Hate me if that’s what you must do. So long as you never stop fighting, living for that rush of blood, my beast.” His breath rolls across your skin, the sensation cool to the steadily rising warmth you feel. The man is a furnace. “I have found your strength and it is now mine. Deny my words all you want...but even now…” He pauses to laugh low and deep, and your teeth unconsciously bite down on your lip. “I can feel your pulse racing in my hand.”

You fall forward as he releases you, huffing indignantly as you flip yourself to face him. He studies you in silence for a moment before finally looking to the doctor. “She is to remain in bed until she is fully healed and ready for combat. Until then she doesn’t leave this room.”

“I’m right here, you know!” You hiss, glaring at his condescending smile.

“And here you shall stay. I look forward to you unleashing all that pent up anger when I see you next, my beast.” Done with the conversation, he turns with a flash of golden hair and strolls out the door.

You would kill him.

Well you wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Then you would be no better than he was.

Somehow that fact hadn’t sunk in...your doctor looked nearly ready to pass out from fear. Was Zenos’ reputation truly that horrible? Was there truth to the myth?

Had he really meant it when he said he would leave Nael there to die…

The thought that someone could be so heartless, so callous about another’s life, that they felt they could snuff them out whenever they inconvenienced them…

It’s what fueled your irritation as you were escorted across the estate grounds to Zenos’ personal training room, your fists flexing in the freshly bought fighting gloves you were given. Your favorites were stashed away in a drawer where hopefully no one would think to toss them out, or so you hoped. The fact that you were given an entirely new wardrobe without being asked or at the very least measured, concerned you a little less than it should have. ‘These damn rich people.’ you mumble internally, wiggling your toes in your brand new tennis shoes. Top of the line like nearly everything else in this Twelves damned, oversized house.

You’ve already made a decent map in your head back to your room, that way you can start walking yourself around the estate, and hopefully, snoop around in the future. The escort stops before an elegant metal door and you whisper a quiet word of thanks as you watch him press his card to the access point to let you inside.

The training room certainly is a lot more personal indeed, lacking the size and space of the gym at the high rise. The walls are painted a glaring red like the majority of the mansion, multiple weights of varying sizes lining one wall. A miniature fridge sits in one corner filled with a multitude of beverages, from water to what looks like sports drinks considering they have no label. The room is almost somewhat barren in comparison, save for a wall holding multiple training weapons on its racks.

Oddly enough, Zenos is seated in the center of the room, legs crossed in meditation, the pose looking strangely natural and effortless for someone of his bulk. His hands rest upon his muscular thighs, face completely relaxed as he controls his breathing. His breathing is so controlled, one might think he is not breathing at all.

“I’m here.” You announce, walking further into the room. His eyes slowly open to land on you, fixing you with a solid stare. “So you are.” He murmurs, giving you a once over. “And looking almost presentable. Enjoy your rest?” He asks and you have to remind yourself it’s not out of genuine concern for you.

“It ended far too soon.” You huff, watching as he stands to his bare feet, towering over you once more. You find yourself wishing that the only time you were taller than him wasn’t when he was on the ground. He is dressed much the same as you, a simple workout shirt loosely clinging to every bit of muscle he had, with equally form fitting pants. Had you already not pegged him as an apathetic narcissist, you’d think he was doing it on purpose.

Then again…

“So. You hired me as your bodyguard, what now? I just wake up and follow you around like a lost puppy? Hit anyone who calls you a mean name?” You snark, beginning to do your warm up stretches. He watches your every move like a hawk, and even were the situation different you weren’t sure if you would find it flattering or creepy.

“If that’s your prerogative. You are under my employment and my father’s by proxy. Therefore, there are rules you still must follow.” He explains, moving closer to you. His hand reaches out to grab your arm before you can jerk away, guiding it to a more comfortable position in a way that is strangely gentle. “I will explain the terms of your employment, after we have dueled.”

You mutter a begrudging thanks, finding the position much easier to stretch in. His eyes never leave you as you go through your motions, and it is clear he sees you as something to move and touch as he wishes; but thankfully he’s not handsy. His nudges and adjustments are purely instructional, his eyes completely analytical. “You are clearly trained, but have not studied anatomy. Most of your forms are off.”

“What kinda street rat knows anything about anatomy?” You retort, coming up from your final stretch. He’s finally backed off, walking back to the center of the floor. You watch his back muscles flex as he swoops his curtain of hair into his hands, elegantly pulling it into a ponytail.

“A street rat indeed…” He murmurs more to himself even if the words make it to your ears. “Your training does not speak of someone who has lived their life on the streets.” He observes, hawk eyes watching your every step as you come to meet him on the floor. You do your best to keep your expression in check, realizing that Zenos is not just a wall of muscle. He’s obviously smart.

“Are you gonna stand there yappin’ or what?” You spit, raising your fists to guard yourself. He sees your diversion for what it is by the glint in his eye, but is willing to let it slide as he brings his own arms up.

“You won’t hold back on me this time will you?” he asks, excitement glittering in his gaze as he slowly starts to circle you. You release a rude snort, unable to keep your lips from quirking upward. “You sure you want that? I handed your ass to you pretty good from what I recall.” You taunt, flexing your fingers.

“I would love nothing more.” He purrs, stepping in to make his first strike. You dodge him easily, able to weave your smaller form underneath the wide arcs of his punches. Deciding that it can’t get much worse from here, you don’t hold back, unleashing the full force of your schooling upon the eccentric heir. His face is pinched in concentration but the thrill never leaves his eyes, his exhilaration shining through in each strike. His blows seem to carry more force and it is with mild offense you realize even he was holding back on you that day.

How dare he.

Sweat drips down your back, your shirt clinging to your form as the two of you fight, adrenaline and excitement flowing through your veins like a delicious cocktail. Still, he will not let you get a hit in, his guard too solid, and he knows by now you’re willing to take a hit to get in one of your own. You’ve not had to think this hard about an opponent in so long, that you can’t help keep the smile off your face as you catch his fist in your hand.

He returns it, eyes gleaming brightly as he makes to grab you by the arm, but you are too swift, weaving out his grasp. He’s far too sturdy to nudge, and only a full fledged grab will do. You gasp as he manages to grab your arm and hold fast, his smirk downright feral. You tug and you pull to wrench your arm free, struggling to fight against his brute strength. He tries to pull you closer and you plant your feet down trying to twist out of his grip but he keeps step with you, smirk shining with victory.

Time to wipe it off his face.

Giving a sharp tug, you force him to move his weight with yours if he wants to keep you held. His free arm moves to grab hold but you grab him first, quickly turning your back to him and pulling him close. Bracing your legs you crouch down low and pull, yelling with the effort as you topple his weight and flip him backwards over your shoulder. He manages to twist himself to where he lands on his knees but he is on the floor regardless, and you grasp him by the collar in victory.

“Nice try.” You beam, chest heaving as you look down upon the Galvus heir. He stares up at you in disbelief again, his eyes wide with bewilderment and...wonder?

A trick of the light.

“Truly...there has been no greater prize I have won from my hunt…” he heaves, and you notice that he’s actually broken a sweat. His shirt hugs his chest tight, leaving little to the imagination as he gazes up at you, his blue eyes jumping across your features. “You are something else, my beast.” He purrs, despite how you clutch his shirt tighter and near your face to his.

“I told you. My name. Is Honey.” You bite out, for what good it does you.

“So you have said. But I find it a much more fitting name.” He croons, his cool breath slipping across your face. “A rat, plucked from the streets of savages--”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you slam him on his back, digging your knee into his chest. “I will end you.” You hiss, wishing anything you said would have the proper effect on this man.

“You might be able to back up such claims, my little savage, but you lack the conviction.” He laughs, the sound growing louder as you sock him in the jaw.

“Shut up!” You snarl, praying he doesn’t notice your fist shaking.

“Do it then, Honey. Kill me, if that’s what you want.” He challenges, his body going completely lax beneath your own. He holds your gaze in a solid, unwavering stare, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

You could do it.

You could end him right here.

Your hands around his neck, he’s clearly defenseless; you’d just have to make a break for it before anyone could come check on him. You’d already be gone.

Your hands circle around his neck, and he has still yet to do anything to stop you. You squeeze, squeeze hard, feel the muscle and the veins cave under your hands. He hasn’t stopped staring, hasn’t stopped smirking even as you try to force yourself to add more pressure, to crush his windpipe--

“You disgust me.” You seethe, rising off of him and heading for the door, leaving the Galvus heir alone in the room.

#zenos #zenos yae galvus #ff14 #FFXIV #Final Fantasy XIV #THP #my writings

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