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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

Text

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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sserpente · 4 years ago

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A/N: So this is a much requested Part II of this Christmas Imagine which I suppose you can also read on its own. Also has requests from @keepcalmandtravelonkate and @fandom-rpblog as well as the exclusive Zoom meeting idea. Haha, enjoy everyone! ♥

Words: 1822 Warnings: fluff

Christmas Eve came sooner than you had thought and it was about as cheerful as you had imagined it. Thor greeted you with mug of steaming hot chocolate first thing in the morning, wearing the ugly Christmas sweater you had bought him last year and Tony was already in the spacious living room with Pepper to finish up the preparations for his annual Christmas party.

You spent the entire day baking biscuits and didn’t see Loki all day but for some peculiar reason you hoped that he too would attend the biggest Christmas party in New York City. Tony had invited everyone—no, that was not entirely true, the party was, in fact, for everyone—especially those who had no one else to spend Christmas Eve with or wanted to do so with none other than the famous Avengers.

With a sigh, you finished applying your red lipstick and admired yourself in the mirror. The green dress shimmering like a thousand tiny crystals had cost you way more than what you would normally spend on clothes but the occasion was worth it. You had only realised after that green was Loki’s colour too. Another sigh escaped your lips.

The God of Mischief and you had not really spoken since the roof-incident. Part of you wondered whether he was about as confused as you about what had happened between you, especially after Thor had interpreted your entanglement in a romantic manner, the other insisted you didn’t think too much of it. Loki was just… Loki. Mysterious, mischievous and handsome. Wait… handsome?

By the time you arrived at the party, more than two dozen guests had already arrived. Dressed in Christmas pullovers, suits or festive dresses much like you, they held small glasses full of mulled wine, eggnog or champagne, munching on biscuits and other Christmas treats and chatting with each other and the superheroes who had already joined the party guests, impressing them with their stories and their skills.

Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted Loki standing only a few feet away from you. Heavens, he should not be allowed to wear suits. Instead of the light version of his Asgardian signature outfit you usually saw him in, the God of Mischief was dressed in an all-black suit complimenting his raven hair and tall figure. It was perfect to blend in and not attract too much attention, for many citizens still avoided him like the plague after everything that had happened only a few years back. Your eyes met, sending waves of electricity though you, and he nodded.

You furrowed your brows when somebody spoke your name. “Is that you?” Much to your dismay, you recognised the voice immediately. It belonged to Derek, your ex-boyfriend. Derek who collected action figures of the Avengers and who owned a Captain America costume worth five-hundred dollars. Derek, who had cheated on you with other women and, upon your break-up, had blamed you for the sexual imbalance in your relationship. Needless to say, you had not exactly ended it on good terms. The last thing you wanted to do was chat to him of all people on Christmas Eve. Much rather, you’d finally spend some time with Loki again. He was fun to be around once he had warmed up to someone…

“I tried to text you like… a hundred times.”

“I saw. I blocked your number after fifty.” You retorted.

“Don’t be like that. I was going to make up, you know.”

“You literally told me it’s my fault that you went ahead and fucked other women behind my back, Derek!”

“Because you didn’t give me what I need in the bedroom, baby. We should have talked about that more. It wouldn’t happen again. Let’s talk about this. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay… Care to dance with me then?”

“Absolutely not.” You hissed.

“Come on. You are not here with someone, are you?”

You blinked. Fuck. Think, think, think. “Yes, actually.” You lied quickly. Your eyes fell on Loki who met your gaze again in a strange and almost affectionate way—something had definitely changed between you since he had helped you decorate the Avengers facility and you remembered, with butterflies in your belly, how he had caught you in his arms when you had fallen off the roof like a bird with broken wings. The idea came to you before you could properly think it through. Derek would never dare to defy someone like Loki. He was your perfect alibi to get rid of him.

“I’m here with my boyfriend. You probably know Loki?” Before you could change your mind, you stepped forward, closed the remaining distance between you and put your arm under Loki’s. He did not fail to react. Turning away from Thor, he frowned and stared at your linked arms, then opened his mouth to question you. Much to your relief, however, the gesture did not seem to anger him.

You shot him a pleading glance. Play along, you thought. Please, take the hint.

“Are you serious right now?” Derek spat, a both disgusted and shocked expression on his face.

Much to your surprise—or maybe not—Loki wrapped his arms around your middle then, pressing you against his strong body. Your heart skipped a beat. This felt like him cradling you in his arms like a bride, only more… intense, for this time—this time, it was actually intentional.

Loki gave Derek a glare, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “Are you alright, my sweet mortal?” My sweet mortal? “I believe you have promised me a dance.”

Derek swallowed, blinking at you a few times—and then, without a word, he shook his head and disappeared in the burbling and dancing crowd. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Good thing for you he’d always been a coward.

But while relief was flooding your veins, at the very same time, adrenaline set every single cell of your body on fire. Loki was still holding you. His lips against your skin had felt like the gentle kiss of a butterfly… You looked up, if anything not to make the situation even more awkward than it already was, given that by now, both Thor and Natasha had become rather taken aback witnesses as well.

“Thank you. I really owe you.” You muttered.

“I take it this was a former suitor of yours?”

You gave him a weak smile. “That’s a very elegant way to put it but yes, he is my ex-boyfriend. I left him when I found out he cheated on me—repeatedly. I panicked when he approached me and I knew he’d be scared of you.”

“Why thank you.” Loki replied with dismay before, much to your surprise, a smirk grew on his lips.

“No! I just meant…”

“I know what you meant. So?”

“S-so what?”

“He is still watching you. You would do well to keep up the act.” Loki said, keeping you from spinning around to check. But he was probably right either way. You had just announced in front of a bunch of strangers as well as your ex-boyfriend and two Avengers that Loki and you were dating. You were honestly surprised the Trickster did not at all seem too bothered by this very circumstance, not to mention what it meant for you. Ever since the roof-incident, you certainly didn’t mind clinging onto him like that.

“Dance with me.” He commanded softly, one of his large hands coming to rest on your waist while the other interlinked with yours. “He will lose interest if you feign easiness.”

You nodded quickly, leaning into him to not raise any suspicion and taking a deep breath when the side of your face connected with his chest. Loki rested his chin on the top of your head, weighing you gently from side to side as if the music was made of waves carrying you over an ocean. It was a classic playing right now—What are you doing New Year’s Eve by Ella Fitzgerald—sweet, calm… romantic. This evening was going in a very dangerous direction now but you couldn’t help but feel safe and protected in the God of Mischief’s arms. Who would have thought that putting up Christmas decoration together would create such a strong bond between two people… a mortal and a god on top of that?

“I got you a Christmas present, you know.” You murmured after a while.

His voice vibrated in his chest, you could feel it against your cheek. “Did you now?”

“Hmm…” He stole away your ability to speak. That was so unfair! “I was going to give it to you tomorrow morning but… would you like me to give it to you now, in private?” It would be the perfect excuse to get away from here for a bit too, even if, in better lighting, Loki would probably notice your blushed cheeks.

“Lead the way, my sweet mortal.” There it was again. Smiling up at him sheepishly, you moved a step back and took his hand, practically fleeing from the scene.

Loki remained in the doorway when you reached your room. Whether it was out of decency or respect, you couldn’t quite tell. You crossed your room with quick steps, reaching for Loki’s gift under your bed. You had wrapped it in green paper and decorated it with a golden bow. A bit of a cliché perhaps but it looked just perfect.

“Merry Christmas, Loki.” You said when you returned to him and handed it to him. He only took it hesitatingly.

“Why did you get me a gift?”

You shrugged. “I just wanted to be nice. I doubt the others will have gotten you something so I thought… just so you can unwrap something too?” You almost choked on your nervous laughter. “You know I almost decided not to give it to you after all after you almost drove me mad when I was hanging up the Christmas lights.”

Loki chuckled. “I suppose you made that consideration before I saved your life.”

“More or less...” You replied, winking at him. Hey… this isn’t so hard after all!

Your heart was pounding in your chest by the time he unwrapped it, revealing the notebook and the green and gold fountain pen you had gotten him. It even came with green ink.

“It’s not much, really, just…” You said quickly. “I keep seeing you scribbling and reading a lot and I thought…”

“Thank you.” He interrupted. Honesty swung in his smooth voice, making your heart beat faster in an instant. At this speed, you were going to need an ambulance soon.

You smiled. “I ought to thank you. Derek is a dick. You saved me twice now, I’m in your debt.”

Loki chuckled once more, looking you deeply in the eye. “Yes. I believe you are.” It was, without a doubt, a promise.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente

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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

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The Dark Wolf

Summary: The Dark Wolf hadn't picked an Omega yet, it had been three months since the Spring Equinox and still the omegas that had been selected hadn't been successful. With your heat approaching you could only however think of the gentle Alpha that would visit you at work, distracting you from your impending heat... and you selection as the Omega for the Dark Wolf.

Pairing: Adopted Stark Omega Daughter Reader x Alpha Bucky Barnes

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, ABOAlpha/Omega, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Werewolf, Mating Rituals, Ritual Sex, Heat Cycles, rut cycles, Full Moon, Witchcraft, Unprotected Sex, Mating, Breeding, Knotting

I do not run a tag list but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications to get alerts whenever i post new stories. Oneshots will be posted on Tumblr and AO3, Multichapter stories will be AO3 exclusives. Masterlist is now AO3, link HERE.

The Dark Wolf

It was springtime yet a keen wind swirled at your ankles as you quickly made your way home. It was late in the day and the sun was already dipping below the horizon, the thick forest that surrounded the village making the days shorter with their tall canopy. A group of girls around the same age as you ran past, laughing and joking as they made their way towards the tavern, unaware of you as you carried the heavy basket from the market. The stalls had been packing away by the time you got there, your job at the bakery keeping you busy most of the day.

As the girls passed by, their scent was thick on the air; cloying and sickly as the synthetic heat pheromones they had added to their perfume to make them more attractive to any Alpha’s at the tavern assaulted your senses, making you quietly sneeze. Their voices were high pitched and clawed at your ears as they squealed and laughed;

“Maybe that dress will be enough to convince the Dark Wolf to take you tonight!”

“Ooh do you think? He hasn’t chosen a mate yet this season, do you think he’ll do it soon?”

“It’s coming close to summer, usually he’s chosen by now”

“Who do you think the Dark Wolf is?”

“I don’t know, but the full moon is in two days’ time, and if you want to get chosen, you’ll need to bring your heat on pretty soon”

“I just need a big dumb Alpha that’s about to Rut to trigger my heat!”

“Well keep an eye out for the red paint on your door, you know that’s how the Dark Wolf chooses his Omega”

They all laughed as they went, and you could smell arousal in the air, little did you realise it was your own.

The wind blew their scent away as quickly as it had brought it, and pushing against the gusts you pulled your cardigan tighter around your body. You had always dreamed of an Alpha to take care of you, to help bring his pups into the world, have a whole pack of little ones. Shaking your head you tried to rid yourself of the thoughts that wanted to enter your mind of the Alpha you pined for, knowing if you got distracted it would only make you feel worse.

Finally the tall eaves of your father’s house came into view, giving you a sense of relief as you made your way up the pathway and into the house, closing the old black door behind you.

Your Adopted father was in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the two of you, his arms still covered in soot from where he’d been working all day at his forge, if there was one thing Tony Stark knew how to do, it was fix anything made of metal. Dropping the vegetables he was peeling he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your forehead;

“Hey Sweetie, are you doing ok? Get everything you need?”

“Yeah, thanks Dad” you replied awkwardly.

Tony had raised you alone, doing his best to raise a girl - and now a young woman in her early 20’s - and had done his best to help you with the more feminine side of things. He had never suppressed your urge to learn your mothers art of witchcraft, helping you where he could, and when it came to the time when you had started to feel the Omega Heat, he had encouraged you to deal with it however you had felt right.

Setting the heavy basket of herbs and produce onto the table, you set about resting the fresh herbs into little vases with water to keep them fresh, and opening the package of freshly roasted coffee beans to let them cool enough to store them in jars;

“I’ll make an elixir tomorrow, the bakery had me run ragged today… I’m not feeling great”

“If you’re sure Honey. Why don’t you go take a bath and I’ll have dinner ready in an hour”

“Thanks Dad”

The next morning you woke and felt the first pang of pain in your stomach, telling you that your heat was closer than you thought. You had slept fitfully, dreams marred by a large wolf; the Werewolf that haunted the village and wanted to claim a mate. You’d felt fear but also something else, something you couldn’t place, and in the dream when the wolf had been close enough to touch you had seen a familiarity in his eyes before suddenly you were awake.

Drenched in sweat you knew you needed to get your elixir made unless you wanted to try and cope with a heat without an Alpha to knot you, so you dressed quickly in the previous days clothes and quietly made your way downstairs, moving around the kitchen as you set the large pot of water onto the stove to boil before starting to add the herbs you bought the day before. Stirring the aromatic mixture you suddenly stopped;

“Rosemary!” you muttered quietly to yourself, before stepping out of the front door and crossing the garden barefoot, the dewy grass cool on the soles of your feet. Plucking a handful of sprigs you raised them to your face and inhaled their fresh scent, smiling as it hit your senses as you turned, and that’s when you saw it. The red paint.

“NO!” you screamed, frozen to the spot.

Seconds later your father appeared at the doorway, looking around wildly before seeing you and rushing to your side;

“What? What is it?”

You pointed, your hand shaking and he followed your gaze before sharply inhaling; there it was, a wide and vivid swipe of red paint on your black front door;

“Daddy… please… get a rag. It still looks wet”

“Honey… ok honey…”

His reassurance was interrupted by a quiet cough at your garden gate, causing you both to turn and that’s when you saw him;

“Constable Rogers…”

“Tony… you know its Steve, not Constable”

“Steve… really? The pack chose my Little Girl?”

Steve set a large hand on Tony’s shoulder;

“It’s the choice. She won’t be harmed. But you know it’s the ritual and it's the law” Steve paused, and you could see the conflict on his face as he spoke; “She’s not a little girl anymore Tony, she’s a beautiful woman”

Tony stood partially in front of you, trying to protect you;

“I get that Steve… but it should be her choice. This seems so… so… barbaric…”

“Maybe so, but I��m not here to argue with you… you know my job…”

Tony nodded. He knew the laws. He’d done his best to bend them or influence them as much as possible, but the rules of the Werewolf that lived in the woods called for a mate once a year, his chosen Omega would spend the first full moon after the spring equinox with him, and if she was suitable she would bear his child and become his wife… and yet no-one knew the face of the man who was this wolf, just that it was one that walked among them. And for the last three months the chosen women had been returned to the town at the end of the three nights of full moon. Each said the same of their time away; it was not to be spoken of; they were unsuitable.

The Constable - Steve - held out his hand for you and you paused, still grasping your fathers’ hand before he spoke to you;

“It’s your choice. I will fight it for you if you don’t want to go”

“It’s ok Dad. I haven’t been able to make the suppressant elixir in time, there isn’t any other way to deal with this Heat that is coming”

Tony nodded before he glanced at your feet;

“At least let me get you some shoes. Barefoot in the forest is not as enjoyable as barefoot on a soft lawn”

Standing on the cold stone slab in the clearing you watched as Steve tied the rope around your wrist to the solitary tree that stood in the centre;

“Why are you doing this?” you asked.

He froze. It was the first thing you’d said since you’d left your father’s house. He had almost forgotten you had a voice you had been so quiet. He cleared his throat;

“You know it’s the way. And as the village constable have to uphold what it written”

“Is this not… not archaic? To leave me out here to be taken against my will?”

Steve stood straight and looked at you, his hand softly cupping your face;

“It’s not like that. When the Dark Wolf appears, you will know if it’s right. He will know. He will approach you and if your scent pulls you from his Lycanthropy, he’ll know you are the right Omega”

“What if… what if it doesn’t trigger his Rut? What if I’m not the right Omega?”

“Then he will try again tomorrow night”

“And leave me here to suffer my Heat? Alone?”

Steve took a deep breath, looking away and unable to meet your gaze;

“You will not be alone”

He had finished tying the ropes and had tested them to make sure they were secure before stepping away, and with a sigh he turned and quickly made his way out of the clearing and into the dense forest. You had seen him flinch each time you’d screamed out his name, your throat finally becoming hoarse and you let out a pitiful sob as you fell to your knees. Curling up against the side of the old oak tree, you tried to clear your mind, your fingers drawing patterns in the soil, trying to remember some of the old magic you knew. The full moon was setting in the sky above you as morning broke, the sequence of the phases seemingly out of sorts.

Suddenly you felt a pain in your stomach, you knew exactly what it was; your Heat was fast approaching. The sweat started to bead across your chest, your breathing getting heavier, as the first spasm shot through you something suddenly moved in the thick brush at the side of the clearing. Your eyes darted in that direction but saw nothing but ferns and undergrowth. As another wave of Heat pains started to build, movement out of the corner of your eye distracted you from your impending heat. This time whatever it was stood still, yet all you could see was a glowing pair of eyes in the darkness of the surrounding forest.

Forgetting about your Heat and your incantations you were trying to draw in the earth, you instead focused your attention upon the rope that tied you to the tree. When Steve had said you would not be alone, was this what he meant? Your scared fingers worked on the knot in the rope, trying to loosen it.

A quiet growl echoed from the darkness and as the panic set in you felt a rush of power surge through you, grasping the rope that tied you with both hands you pulled it harshly and it snapped at the tree.

You did not wait, you were running, running as fast as your feet could take you. Blindly rushing through the dense forest, you could hear creatures chasing after you, the growls and gnashing of teeth. The surge of energy your heat was giving you powered you on, deeper into the forest, further from home. A shrill howl sent a chill down your spine, but you continued your sprint. The sounds of the creatures behind you were getting closer, ahead the forest floor rose steeply, the sharp incline slowing you as your feet slid on the dry pine needles that had fallen from the tall spruce trees that towered above you.

You slipped, your smooth and simple slippers giving no traction and your fingers dug into the forest floor. You fell to your knees and squeezed your eyes shut, doing what little you could do to prepare yourself for whatever happened next. But… but the growling stopped, the forest fell silent. Opening one eye then both you slowly turned, letting out a cry as you saw the pack of wolves surrounding you, but none were looking to you, their attention fell upon the rocky outcrop above you.

Turning you looked up and gasped, he was there; the Dark Wolf.

With a loud snarl he jumped from the rocky outcrop and over you, landing gracefully at your feet as he growled loudly at the baying pack that surrounded you. Circling around he trod silently, the hairs on his spine standing on end as he bared his teeth at the pack as they kept trying to approach, before standing beside you. He seemingly paused before pointing his snout to the sky and let out a powerful howl.

You watched, dumbfounded as each wolf sat. It was clear that the Dark wolf was in charge; that he was the Alpha of the pack. He turned, his icy blue gaze directed at you before he reached his head down and took the rope in his mouth that was still tied to your wrist. He tugged it gently and you pushed yourself to your feet, the smooth soles of your shoes slipping on the loose pine needles that covered the dirt, and he rested the side of his body against your thigh, steadying you. Resting your hand on the coarse fur to steady yourself as he led you down the slope, you found yourself surprised by how soft his fur was, almost as if it was spun silk.

The pack parted like a tide, letting the Dark Wolf lead you into the darkness of the forest by the rope between its jaws. You could hear the pack following, keeping its distance, yet somehow you weren’t afraid; you felt safe with the Dark Wolf.

Through the dense trees a solitary cabin came into view, its windows black as if abandoned, yet deep red geraniums had been carefully planted around the doorway. The soft forest floor made way for sandstone paving, and you let Dark Wolf lead you to the entrance.

Arriving at the porch he sat beside you and whined like a dog would, looking from you to the door and back again.

“Oh, right… no opposable thumbs in your paws”

If wolves could roll their eyes it would have, and as you reached forwards for the door handle you tested it, the door swinging open on its creaky hinges. Looking to Dark Wolf you smiled;

“Whoever lives here needs to do some maintenance”

The wolf let out a snort before standing, gently leading you by the rope that still hung from your wrist. He paused in the hallway before pushing his behind against the door to close it, leading you into the cabin through dark hallways, finally coming to a single room, surrounded on three sides by floor to ceiling windows that looked out to the forest. Pulling you onto the bed he sat on his haunches before you tumbled onto the soft mattress.

Only then did you realise how tired you were, exhausted from not only the chase through the forest, but also the drama of the morning on top of a poor night’s sleep. As if on cue you felt the cramp in your stomach; remind you that your heat was starting, and without thinking you curled up onto the bed, clutching at your stomach in the foetal position. Screwing your eyes shut you couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips, the surge of heat flowing through you. And yet… suddenly you felt a cold nose press against your neck, before a heavy snout rested on you. It calmed you. Curling your fingers into Dark Wolf’s fur, you screwed your eyes shut, the waves of heat tiring you, until you blacked out and a deep sleep took hold.

You could feel your mind pulling you from your deep sleep and you snuggled into the soft pillows a little further. You felt movement against you and your hands sought out the soft fur that was pressed to your chest, curling it between your fingers. There was something calming about the beast that lay beside you, even with your eyes closed you could hear its breathing was steady and strong;

“You’ve helped, you know?”

At the sound of your quiet voice it shifted slightly, and although you hadn’t yet opened your eyes you could sense it was looking at you as you continued;

“For whatever this is, you calmed me. I was so scared, not just of the pack, but of what would happen. I had been waiting… hoping… you see at the bakery there is one man that visits, I had been hoping he would ask to court me, but he always seems so shy…”

The wolf’s breathing caught before you heard a voice;

“I think it’s time you opened your eyes Omega”

No. It couldn’t be… your eyes were squeezed shut but you wanted to look… yet you didn’t… you knew that voice, you’d heard it the day before when the soft and quiet Alpha you’d always pined for had visited the bakery the and had ordered the last of the cinnamon buns you had coveted so much, the ones you always ordered right before your heat arrived, that were your comfort food.

“Omega…”

“James?”

“Open your eyes”

Meekly you did as he asked, and he was there; in front of you. Your fingers were curled around his long dark hair and his face was inches from your own, his pale blue eyes staring straight into your soul. After what seemed like an eternity you finally found your voice;

“You’re the Dark Wolf?”

He nodded;

“For the last few months, yes”

Frowning at his response, you didn’t understand what he meant.

“It is a different member of the pack each year… For the last three months whenever an Omega was brought to the clearing, they weren’t a match…”

“A match? But, surely it’s just the nature of an Alpha and an Omega?”

“Not for Werewolves. The right Omega will pull a werewolf out of its cycle. It’s why I’m here, like this, now…”

You thought over what he’d said, your eyes going wide in the realisation of what it meant; that you were meant to be his;

“Is this why you never said anything? At the bakery? Or when I would see you in the market? You were saving me for this barbaric ritual?”

James’s face dropped, the hope seemingly leaving his body at your words;

“I… I… I would be made to choose. If it’s your ‘year’ as the Dark Wolf, if you choose a mate before you have taken part in the ritual, that mate is rejected… I didn’t want that to happen to you…” he looked up at you through watery eyes; “When Steve told me that another Omega had been selected this month, I hoped so much it would be you…this is my final month, my final chance...”

His words trailed off and you didn’t want to think what would have happened to him if he hadn’t of picked a mate this month. Cupping his cheek with your hand you gently stroked your thumb over his stubbled skin before closing the distance between the two of you and your lips met.

The kiss was soft at first, but as you both became bolder and Bucky’s arms wrapped around your body to pull you flush with his, you found yourself relenting to his charms.

You were mid kiss when you felt the first pang of cramp in your stomach, this time you whimpered loudly, James pulling away and started to strip you of your clothing;

“C’mon Omega… let me help you…”

“James, it hurts… its hurts so much…”

“I know, let me at your skin and I can take the hurt away. And please, call me Bucky… the pack leader calls me James when I’m in trouble…”

You let him move you, quickly unbuttoning your dress before pulling your underwear off, finally untying the rope that was still around your wrist, and he moved back so he could take in your naked beauty… and yet you felt ashamed, embarrassed, trying to cover yourself with your hands until he gently caught your hands in his own large grasp;

“Omega, what is it?”

“I have never…”

“You’ve never been with an Alpha?”

You shook your head, and Bucky leaned forwards and pressed his forehead to yours;

“Oh, my sweet Omega, I am here to help you, we can do as much or as little as you want or need”

He settled you against the soft pillows and rested his head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat as you wound your fingers through his long hair. Finally, he felt your pulse slow and he started to press kisses down your torso until he reached your soaked core. Running his fingers through the copious slick that coated your folds, he hummed his appreciation at the sweet scent that filled his senses, before leaning forwards and pressing a kiss to your swollen clit;

“You smell so good Omega, can feel you trembling, let me taste you, make you cum with my tongue”

“Bucky…” you whined, and you felt more than heard him chuckle as you wanted him to stop talking and start doing… something, anything.

He got the hint and with one long lick he covered your entire pussy, tasting you, groaning at your sweetness. Hooking your legs over his wide shoulders he gripping onto your thighs, burying his head between your legs as his long tongue delved deep within you, fucking you with the strong muscle and you could feel the heat pains ebbing away and being replaced by those of pleasure. His fingers found your clit and he strummed against the sensitive nub, making you scramble for something to grip onto. With your legs shaking and your fingers curled through his soft dark hair you were coming hard, and he relished every drop, drinking your slick as it gushed from your core until you were spent.

When your legs went limp and your hand fell to the sheets he slowly pulled away, pushing himself up to sit as he used the back of his hand to wipe the shining slick from his chin. Reaching the other hand he pressed his warm palm to your stomach tenderly;

“How do you feel now Omega?”

“Good… oh my god, so good…”

“Wait here, I’m going to go get you some water”

You lay there on his soft bed, eyes closed and listening to nothing but your heartbeat until you finally heard him approaching, pushing yourself up to sit only to let out a squeak of surprise;

“You’re naked!”

He stopped in the doorway and looked down as if it was a surprise to him too;

“Yes? So are you?”

“But… you’re naked!”

You couldn’t draw your eyes away from his body, your gaze raking up and down as you tried to take in every chiselled plain and curve. From his wide shoulders and muscled arms, down his torso and stomach where his abdominal muscles tapered down in a deep v to his crotch. The thick thatch of dark hair that surrounded the thick and heavy length that swung between his legs, to the powerful thighs that looked bigger than you could ever have imagined;

“Omega…” he gently laughed; “I literally woke up from being a wolf half an hour ago… I haven’t left your side…”

He closed the distance between you, sitting on the side of the bed before handing you a glass of water and a plate. The scent of the treat the plate contained drew your attention, and you instantly recognised what it was;

“The cinnamon buns from the bakery! I always have these as my heat starts!”

He smiled and as you ate you couldn’t help it, but your eyes continually strayed to his crotch, watching as his thick length would twitch and slightly swell the longer you looked at it. When you had finished eating, he silently took the plate from you before handing you the glass of water which you gratefully took, downing it quickly before handing it back;

“Thank you”

Setting the glass and plate onto the floor Bucky turned back to you;

“How are you feeling now?”

“Sleepy still, hot… yet cold…” you looked away shyly; “It makes me want to curl up but have you here with me…”

“That we can do… scoot over, unless you want me to climb over you…”

Laughing you moved to the centre of the bed watching in the pale light that still came in the large windows that surrounded the bedroom as the sun set having slept through most of the day. Bucky grabbed the oversized quilt as he shuffled in beside you, pulling it over your naked bodies as he curled his arm over your stomach and pulled you flush with his chest. Turning until you were the little spoon to his big.

It felt natural to be there in Bucky’s arms, to have his breath on your neck and his hands on your stomach. You could feel your body getting hotter and whimpered, you knew the heat hadn’t been sated, that you needed more, and your Alpha picked up on the change in your scent immediately. His lips found you bonding mark and he pressed kisses to the skin, soothing your body as he rubbed at the spot with his nose, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he felt you push your ass back against him. His dick was growing harder for every second he held you in his arms, and with you rubbing against him he couldn’t help but to rut against the soft globes of your ass, your voice startling him for a moment;

“Bucky… Alpha... I need you…”

Bucky knew what you needed, and before he had even moved a muscle you were turning, getting to your knees;

“Omega… are you presenting for me?”

Looking over your shoulder you nodded;

“Please Alpha… I need you… need your knot…”

Bucky positioned himself at your soaked core, the feel of your hot slick against his dick almost overwhelming, and as he breached your entrance, he let out a low growl as he sank into your swollen channel. Moving his hips fluidly he coated his heavy girth in your slick, and with each thrust he knew he was in heaven. This was it; he was never going to find an omega better than you; you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his days with;

“Fuck, Omega… you feel so good…”

“Bucky… Please… make me yours”

His hands gripped your hips as he fucked you, stretching you out so beautifully that he feared he would cum far too soon, but as you rocked back with each of his thrusts he regained control. Putting more power into each push, his powerful thighs became coated in your slick as it spilled out of you around his dick, filling the room with your combined scent.

You were crying out his name, begging, pleading for him to let you cum;

“Please Alpha…”

“Omega, you want me to cum? Want me to fill you with my seed, let you grow full with my Pups?”

“Alpha! Please, I want your Pups, want your knot…”

With a final flurry of thrusts he sent you over the edge, your body squeezing him so tight it triggered his own orgasm as he filled your fertile body with his potent seed.

As his orgasm ebbed away, he bent over and wrapped his arms around your torso, pressing kisses to your back as you trembled beneath him. When you finally spoke your voice was hoarse;

“That… that was amazing…”

“That’s nothing Omega…” Bucky muttered, shifting slightly and your eyes went wide when you felt he was still hard inside you.

“Alpha? How…? You haven’t knotted yet?”

He chuckled lightly;

“An Alpha can only grow a knot once he is spent… I got a good two or three more goes before that happens… and trust me; you’ll know it when I do my sweet Omega”

“Oh…” he moved within you, setting off aftershocks of your orgasm; “OH!”

Bucky moved you, somehow twisting and sliding you onto your side before pulling one of your legs up flush with his chest, all with his hard length still snug inside you. Pressing kisses down your calf he started to rock his hips back and forth, the added lubrication of his own cum adding to the sensations.

It was starting to get dark now, and without any light in the room the only illumination was the rising full moon, casting its pale glow over the pair of you as you rutted together like wild animals. As Bucky threw his head back the moonlight caught every muscle, his skin gleaming with beads of sweat that looked like a thousand jewels.

Looking down you watched as this meaty girth split you open and you welcomed him into your fertile womb. With one strong arm gripping your leg, the other hand found your centre, rubbing this thumb against your clit as he teased another orgasm out of you, fucking you through it and chasing his own release. With each new thrust his attention was drawn to your chest and you found yourself being bent in two as he pushed your leg ever higher until he shifted it to the side and was able to take your breasts in his hands as he continued to fuck you;

“These titties, they’ll look so beautiful when full of milk for our pups…” he reached forward and took one peaked nipple between his teeth, sending shockwaves through your body. The pleasure was building in the pit of your stomach again, and as you shut your eyes and let the sensations take over, your imagination gave you a glimpse of the future, of a future with Bucky.

The summer breeze blew warm air against your bare legs, the lace trim of your light summer dress brushing against your skin. Smoothing your hands over your swollen belly, your pup kicked inside you and you smiled. Looking out over the garden you saw your husband, your Alpha, your Bucky playing with your two-year-old twins, smiling as you heard their squeals of laughter as he chased them around the soft grass…

As you came back to reality you felt the sudden rush of pleasure that told you your orgasm was imminent, you were completely surrounded by Bucky and you felt yourself surrendering to the pleasure he was giving you as you came again, this time with a low groan he filled you with another heavy load of his fertile seed.

You held each other for the longest time, Bucky resting his face against your neck and you doing the same to him, rubbing your nose over his scent gland and picking up on the slight change in his scent. Before it was as simple as dew on soft pine, but now there was a warmer tone, cinnamon and coffee. Running your hands through his hair you spoke softly;

“Bucky?”

“Mmmm”

“Bucky, your scent…”

He pushed himself up on his strong arms, looking down at you and that’s when you realised what was happening;

“Omega…” his pupils were blown wide, pools of dark arousal as he took in your naked form beneath him; “You’ve triggered my Rut…”

Your bodies were still joined, and as he ducked his head down to kiss you, you could feel him still hard within your aching body, a body that was desperate for more, for his knot. Clouds moved across the night sky and momentarily blocked out the moonlight, and that’s when you saw it; movement outside the windows. With a gasp you pulled away from Bucky, your eyes wide as you searched the shadows, trembling as you saw eyes, glinting in what little light there was.

Bucky pressed his lips to your bonding mark, surrounding you, protecting you;

“It’s the pack… they’re here to watch”

“They what?”

“It’s part of the ritual, the pack needs to see me knot you… only then will they allow you to be mine, and for me to be yours…”

His lips were driving you crazy, and as much as you wanted to fight it, you were also excited by the prospect of being watched as you were claimed;

“Let’s do it Bucky… make me yours…”

Above you Bucky was shaking with need, his rut starting to take hold and he looked almost feral with need. Pulling out he quickly moved you into position on your knees, and you found yourself parting your legs and arching your back to present for him. Looking down at your soaked core, your slick pouring down your thighs whilst mixed with his cum, he let out a growl and thrust forward, filling you completely.

He held himself deep within your welcoming body for the longest moment, before with a surprisingly gentle grip took hold of your shoulders and pulled you upright, your back flush to his chest as his lips brushed against your ear;

“Show them, show them that I am yours and you are mine”

Bucky held you, his arms encircling your torso as he held your breasts in his large hands, all whilst thrusting up into you with powerful grind of his hips. This time felt different; you felt fuller, and that’s when you realised what it was; his knot was starting to grow, to inflate. Even though you were practically melting, from your heat and from the energy being expended by your lovemaking, you shivered. The realisation that it was happening; you were about to be knotted, claimed. Bucky picked up on your nerves, the slighted change in your scent;

“Omega, you’re doing so well, I could never have wished for a better mate…”

As he spoke his teeth brushed over your bonding mark and you felt yourself rocking down harder with each of his thrusts until you felt it, his knot just slightly caught then slipped out again, causing you to whine like an animal denied its favourite treat;

“Nearly there Omega, near-ly th-ere…”

Each syllable was punctuated by a thrust, your body trembling, on the precipice again with your orgasm, until you heard his words;

“It’s time Omega…”

“Claim me Bucky, make me yours”

With one final thrust you felt his knot notch inside and this time stick just as your orgasm crashed through your body. The added tightness of your body gripped his made Bucky let out a howl, roaring up at the sky as he bared his teeth, and with a rumble in his chest he brought his teeth down to your neck and claimed you.

You felt the skin break, his teeth digging into your bonding mark and the warm trickle of your blood down your neck and chest. The moment seemed to be frozen in time, noise filling your ears before you opened your eyes and saw the pack outside; all wolves, all howling simultaneously as they celebrated the pack leader having claimed his Omega.

Pulling his teeth away from your skin Bucky gently licked over the wound, helping it to heal, all whilst your bodies were still joined. You felt weak, exhaustion taking over, and with careful movement so not to jar his knot within you, Bucky moved your pliable body until you were lying on your side, Bucky’s strong arms wrapped around you. The forest fell quiet and you heard the gentle sound of paws retreating into the distance, and the last thought that went through your mind as the pack retreated was that you were complete.

For three days and nights you spent it in Bucky’s arms. After that first night the drapes were pulled across all the windows, Bucky laughed that the pack had their show, now it was time for a private performance. And oh boy did he perform; your body was tired and aching but in the most beautiful way, you had a glow to you that both of you already knew was the first sign that Bucky’s seed had taken, and already you in your mind could feel the pups within you start to grow. Bucky gently laughed when you’d told him;

“Surely it’s too early Omega?”

“I just know Bucky…”

You’d been in the huge tub at the time, your bodies joined yet again, warm water lapping at his knot as you let the scented water wash over your bodies for some interesting lovemaking, straddling him as he lay back against the side, you took his hands and rested them on your stomach;

“Do you feel it? Can you sense it?”

Bucky paused for a moment before his eyes went wide;

“There’s something… I can feel this heat, this power coming from you…” he laughed happily and pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around your body and burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as he sobbed tears of joy.

Walking up the path to your father’s house you gripped Bucky’s hand tight, nervous about what you were going to say. As you approached the porch the door opened and you saw him, standing at the doorway as he watched you. For a moment his face was neutral as he took in the two of you, and then he sensed it and you could see his eyes starting to water. Rushing to you Tony wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight before finally stepping back;

“Will you look at that, my baby is gonna have her own baby…”

“Dad! How do you know?!”

“Honey, a father knows. Plus, I can pick it up on your scent” Finally he turned to Bucky and extended his hand; “It’s good to finally meet you…”

“Thank you, Sir. Its James, but everyone calls me Bucky”

“Please Bucky, call me Tony”

“Well Tony, I guess I’d better ask for your permission to marry your daughter?”

Laughing Tony let go of your shoulders;

“I thought that was a given… seeing a you’ve already knocked her up?”

The two men laughed and you rolled your eyes, letting your father lead you into the kitchen. Over pancakes and bacon, you worked out your future, your dark wolf beside you the whole way.

#alpha bucky barnes #alpha bucky x omega reader #werewolf bucky barnes #abo dynamics #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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princessofopus · 4 years ago

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What are Odysseus and the others thoughts on PatroChilles relationship?

In my opinion, Odysseus is generally a calculating person who is always keen on gathering information to use it for his own purposes. This does also apply to the way he treats his and other people's personal relationships. He knows and simply accepts the fact that Achilles would do almost anything for his lover and that Patroclus is the only person who he'd ever listen to. That's all he has to know. Odysseus doesn't judge their relationship - not even on the basis of the standards of that time - because he considers it useful. Outwardly, he jokes a lot about it though. Mostly with Achilles. (Something like "Man, how do I miss my wife." - "Just be gay, Odysseus.")

Briseis (and I am know exclusively talking about the TSoA Briseis) simply doesn't understand. She, of course, doesn't judge their relationship either, and she is always happy to see Patroclus and Achilles being a perfectly sappy and happy couple. However, she doesn't quite get what Patroclus sees in Achilles. Briseis is simply often worried about Patroclus being blinded by love and therefore often has an eye or two on Achilles. Sometimes, she is aware that she often judges him too harshly, but she would never run him down in front of Patroclus.

I don't know why, but I wanted to include Automedon. (My mind turned him into an adorable little himbo. Can we make that canon if it isn't already?) As for him, he didn't really understand this relationship either at the beginning. He was very young in the book, and no one had ever told him that a man and another man could be in that kind of relationship with each other. A very interesting (if you ask patroclus, it was rather awkward) conversation was needed there. But from that point on, he kind of shipped it.

Peleus knew from the beginning. He often tried to urge Achilles to sort of keep his options open and at least give being with women a shot. Marrying a woman and having children with her was, right after becoming the most famous warrior of all time, kind of what he and everyone else expected from his flawless son. However, he soon realised that this was indeed a vain hope and that his son would always want to be with Patroclus. And as Peleus loves Achilles and Patroclus, they had his blessing.

I think we all know how Thetis feels about it...

Hector has heard of it. He hasn't given much thought to it, but he understands that Achilles would do anything to protect Patroclus. After all, he too has a wife at home who he loves dearly. He wouldn't have done any harm to Patroclus intentionally, because he could relate to their situation very much. When Achilles came for him he of course had to defend himself, but he still knew that Achilles only did what he would have done too if he had been in his place. From this perspective, one could also argue that Hector thinks highly of their relationship, as he considers it to be equal to his relationship with his wife.

Those are the first few people that came to my mind. Let me know if you want to hear more of my weirdly specific thoughts ✨ also, please feel always free to criticise me! I love discussing about this 🥰

#greek mythology #greek myth #achilles #tsoa #the song of achilles #patrochilles #patroclus and achilles #patroclus

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benedictscanvas · 4 years ago

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all the wrong places [5/7] - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Summary: It only takes a moment for Spencer to realise that he doesn’t just want to marry you someday, he wants to marry you as soon as he possibly can. But since he can’t come up with a solid plan, he turns to his BAU family for help in planning the most important day of his life so far. Is that a mistake? Most definitely.

Warnings: Series probably aren’t meant to be exclusively fluffy, but this one practically is! I need some fluff in my life, damn it! There may be some mention of regular Criminal Minds things, some language but mostly just good ol’ Spence lovin’

a chapter every day for seven days! (20-26th July 2020) so please drop an ask if you’d like to be tagged <3

---

Chapter Five - Heat of the Moment

There hadn’t been anymore meddling in his relationship with you since that day on the jet. You’d been on a case the whole time, so there was little opportunity for them to do so, but Spencer got the feeling it was more than that. All of them had started feeling too guilty about all their previous meddling to do anymore.

That, and Spencer was pretty sure JJ had taken everyone aside and put her foot down about it. No more bets were placed, no more money exchanged hands. Spencer was ridiculously relieved. The case was still tough, but at least he could pour all his focus into it rather than being worried what the team might spill at any moment.

“The geographical profile is all over the place,” he told you from his spot at the board, looking back at you over his shoulder. You were sat cross-legged on top of the conference table, files splayed out all around you, eyes tired and slightly wild. Everyone had been up for hours without sleep, but it affected everyone differently. You and Spencer were both the type to keep working without breaks, running solely on adrenaline and copious caffeine and then crash completely as soon as everything was over.

“I know,” you murmured, “Come look at this.”

You didn’t need to ask twice as he made his way over and perched on the tiny scrap of table he could find uncovered by paper. You pointed to one of the files to your left and he had to hold onto your knee as he leaned over to read it.

“That’s interesting.”

‘Yeah I thought so too, but then I thought I was probably wrong.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong,” he said absentmindedly, picking up the file and dropping it into his lap to read in more depth. You sat quietly beside him, allowing him to digest what you’d been trying to make sense of for an hour.

“Let’s take this to Hotch, see what he makes of it,” he said eventually, hopping down from the table with the file clutched tightly in one hand, “Good work, Y/L/N.”

“Means a lot coming from you, Doctor Reid,” you chuckled, taking his outstretched hand to help you down from the table. You smoothed out the wrinkles in your shirt and then quickly reached out to pull his cardigan up where it had fallen from his shoulder, before heading out of the room.

Hotch was talking to a few officers when the two of you presented what you had found. A guy in the system who had previous convictions that made him a perfect candidate for the bomber you’d been trying to stop for over a week now. A call to Garcia to look into his recent purchases all but confirmed your suspicions.

“We need to go,” Hotch said, mostly to the officers, once his phone had beeped to indicate Garcia having sent the address. You and Spencer were already grabbing your jackets and vests, strapping them on.

And then there were gunshots, Hotch was pulling you down onto the ground, you were pulling Spencer with you and all you could see was a pair of old, worn boots across the precinct from your position behind the desk. When the gunshots had stopped, the three of you slowly rose your heads above the desk, met with the face that lay in a file strewn across the floor a metre or so away from you.

There was a bomb strapped to his chest, which almost made you roll your eyes at just how obvious this next move had been and how none of you managed to see it coming. You scanned the room for the victims of the gunshots, but found only one body near the door, a young officer with a positivity that you had thought he would lose with time. He’d never get the chance. The rest of the shots seemed to be in the ceiling, if the chunks of plaster were any indicator.

Hotch was already stood up, hands out in front of him, moving forward towards the guy, Clive, you remembered, with slow steps and soft words. You looked to Spencer beside you, silently asking if the two of you should be doing something, standing up with him or pulling your guns. He shook his head, though only slightly, then he looked down and tightened your vest. No words. You did the same for him almost instantly, before the two fo you turned back to Hotch. Hands were poised on guns, but there was no use shooting the guy if it would detonate that bomb. It was enough to decimate the room, at least.

Heart pounding. Mouth dry. It was impossible to tell whether Hotch was getting anywhere. He was still getting closer, but Clive still had that rage burning behind his eyes that told you that Hotch wasn’t there yet.

When Clive suddenly took the final step towards Hotch that left his gun resting on Hotch’s forehead, you bobbed further up from behind the desk instinctually, and he turned to you. So did his gun. Spencer only just pulled you back behind the desk in time before another round of gunfire started up, this time directed at you. You crouched beside Spencer, eyes screwed shut as you clung to each other.

The gunfire stopped abruptly with a shout, but neither of you moved. Spencer’s arms were wrapped all the way around you, head on top of yours, with your hand on top of his head pulling it down as far as you could.

“You two okay?” JJ said frantically as she rounded the desk and rested a hand on each of your shoulders. You finally let up your embrace, checking each other over with military precision. No injuries.

“We’re good. Everyone else?”

“All fine,” JJ said through a sigh, helping you up with two hands and a squeeze to your right, “Morgan and I returned from our interviews just as Hotch was talking the guy down, and when he turned on you guys, we got our opportunity to bust in and wrestle the detonator from him.”

“Pretty badass, JJ,” you smirked at her, pushing at her shoulder and she shook her head at you, trying not to smile. She was off to check on Morgan without another word, who was already working with the bomb squad to take care of the bomb, but by the way he was laughing a little with one of the guys you guessed this must be a pretty easy one to sort out. Hotch had Clive cuffed and was taking him away. Rossi and Emily must still be out at the M.E. and you were glad they’d managed to avoid this.

Spencer beside you seemed to be surveying the scene as you were, but his hand was rubbing his shoulder with a grimace. Your eyes narrowed.

“Turn around, Spence,” you ordered him suddenly and he looked at you surprised, but turned around anyway. Your soft little gasp couldn’t be contained. There was a bullet lodged in his vest, just above his shoulder blade, “Oh fuck, get this off, Spence, get it off.”

You were quick to unstrap it, although still careful even if you were hardly thinking straight. When you finally lifted it from his head and stared at the spot where the bullet had been, there was no mark. No blood. You let out an uneven breath. There would be bruising, no doubt, but the vest had done its job.

“You know, I think I would’ve know if I’d been shot,” he said, slightly teasing despite the fact you had tears in your eyes, “And taking my vest off would’ve been the least helpful thing to do if I had, too.”

You were looking at your feet. Spencer winced. He had no idea you were actually that worried, but he could see you biting your lip and changed his course immediately.

“Shit, sorry,” you mumbled, but he was already scooping you into his arms and holding you tight, allowing you to cry, if only just a little bit. You hadn’t slept, no one had, so you figured you could get away with it this once.

“We’re alright, angel,” he whispered reassuringly, rubbing your back, your hair with insistent hands, “Everything’s alright, it’s done. We can go home.”

There was an extra little whimper at the mention of home, but also a resolve. You pulled away from him, wiping your face roughly until any trace of tears had vanished. He tilted his head as he looked at you.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, a small smile, “Just love you a bit, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Love you a bit, too.”

He pulled you in by the back of your neck, gentle, a kiss placed to your temple and then another for luck. When he pulled away, you gave him another look and a ‘just gimme a second’, before disappearing away to the precinct’s bathroom. He figured you might have a few tears to cry in private, and while it made his heart ache, he understood. He might have some to cry later too, when the shock wore off and he was left with the ‘what if’s.

“You okay, kid?” Rossi was the one to come over next, even though Spencer had no idea he and Emily had made it back, “Made it out unscathed.”

“Almost,” Spencer was rubbing his shoulder again, because it actually really hurt and so had hugging you, but that didn’t matter. He saw the worry on Dave’s face, “It’ll just be a bruise. Don’t tell Y/N I complained about it.”

“Don’t want her to think you’re weak?” Rossi said jokingly and Spencer barked out a laugh.

“You and I both know I just don’t want her to treat me like a piece of glass for a month,” he said with a small groan, “You remember when I was shot in the knee right?”

“I do. Maybe she was a little over the top,” Rossi agreed, with Spencer nodding along. It had made him love you more than ever, but it had also been beyond frustrating, “She’s pretty enamoured with you, huh?”

Spencer paused for a second, looking over to the bathroom to make sure you hadn’t returned.

“No one’s more surprised about that fact than me, Rossi.”

“I’m not surprised. What surprises me, is that you haven’t put that ring on her yet.”

Spencer sighed. And it returned.

“Look-”

“I’m not having a go, kid. I’m just saying I think you should go for it. And I don’t think that woman-” he pointed discreetly towards the bathroom as you emerged, eyes puffier than they had been, “-is going to care how you do it. The woman who’s currently beside herself over your wellbeing even though you didn’t even get shot, is just going to be over the moon that she gets to marry you. Trust me.”

The pep talk had tears in Spencer’s eyes again. He kept his gaze on you as you walked over to Emily for a hug and the two of you talked. Rossi had said everything he needed to hear. He turned to the man with a grateful smile.

“Thanks Rossi. Seriously.”

He began to march towards you, even though the ring was in his satchel in the conference room, ready to confess every bit of how much he loved you. Ready to ask you to marry him right the fuck now, because no other time would be soon enough.

A hand on the back of his shirt pulled him backwards with force enough to make him stumble.

“Christ, Reid, I didn’t mean right now! We’re in a dirty police precinct, dumbass.”

“But you just said-”

“Yeah, I know what I said. But not here.”

Spencer frowned as Rossi walked off, shaking his head. At the back of his mind, he wondered whether this would count as his fifth proposal attempt gone wrong, or if he was only on his fourth.

Either way, he was turning out to be shockingly bad at this.

---

taglist (ily all <3)

@mrs-dr-reid @soda610 @alexxcorona113 @thupidalethea @may-beforejune-afterapril @ilovesupersoldiers @hurricanejjareau @stardream14 @mortallythoughtfulgurl @aperrywilliams @saranyx @anotherspencerreidblog @thegayestdestielshipper @burkgolden @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @zozoleesi @baumindss @sargent-barnes @halseysunset

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff

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fanficparker · 4 years ago

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Under My Umbrella | Tom x Haz one-shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Tom Holland

Word count: 5.5k words

Warnings: Swearing, angst, lots of tears, alcohol

Summary: The one where Harrison did the audacity to kiss his life-long best friend or his twin sister’s boyfriend.

A/N: Life is short and this is just a piece of fiction, why stop myself from posting it on my own blog?

PART 1 ♡

(Tom's POV)

"I am so sorry. OH GOD, I AM SO SORRY!"

I hear Harrison screaming on the top of his voice. My vision is blurry, the rain isn't allowing me to see much, although I am sure there is much more than just the rain pouring down his face; his tears were also streaming down along with it.

He had taken five steps away from me after kissing me in the rain and my world has already fallen apart. He is pulling at his curls so aggressively. He will hurt himself. I take a step towards him with my hands reaching out but he takes another step back.

He is drifting away from me. And I am drifting apart from myself.

I freeze on my feet. My heartbeat feels non-existent. I am confused. Am I dead or alive? If I am dead then where am I? Is it heaven or hell? It kind of feels like both.

Harrison has just kissed me. His taste is still lingering on my tongue. My head is spinning without even a single drop of alcohol. His touch did this to me. And now I am starving. Starving for more.

"I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have. Shit! I SHOULDN'T HAVE!"

"No... No... " I try to stop him but he's already running. My ankle is aching. I can't run fast, I can't catch his pace. Then, he slowly vanishes away from my sight.

"HARRISON! HARRISON... PLEASE STOP! Please stop... Please..." I scream, sinking down to the footpath. I was too late to scream. I was too late to stop him.

He's gone. He broke the promise.

***

I can hear those distinct lyrics as the soft music resonates in the air. It's the Ember Island's version— our favourite version. I am sitting here waiting for the interviewers to arrive but my mind keeps drifting off to the song.

"This is our song!" Harrison says as we are lying down on the bed.

"Umbrella? Really?" I ask, surprised.

He turns on his side and faces me, I do the same. His head rests on his elbow while my head is still on the pillow. We were looking at each other.

"Yeah..." His voice is soft. He hums and looks back at the ceiling while the music plays from his phone. He starts lip-syncing along with the lyrics, "Cause in the dark, you can't see shiny cars. And that's when you need me there with you, I'll always share. Because..."

"When the sun shine, we shine together. Told you I'll be here forever---"

"You are singing." RDJ chuckles sitting beside me. And I realise that I was actually singing. My stomach twists into a knot and my face gets warm.

"We can sing it together, kiddo!" He says, enthusiastically.

"I... er..." I try to stop him but he is already singing.

Why am I always late?

"Under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh..." RDJ is singing, he is nodding his head sideways and is peaking at me occasionally.

The song is the same but the voice is different. The lyrics mean different when Harrison sang them. In Harrison's voice, they meant something but right now they are just raw. Hollow.

***

We are on the same magazine cover.

Oh my god.

We are on the same freaking magazine cover!

'The Spider-man 3 star tells us about his secret power food', The Hollywood Reporter headline reads with my gym photo-shoot as the background.

There are three more sub-headlines to the cover, placed near the right margin. The second one says, 'Harrison Osterfield: The young British actor tells us about his inspirational journey as the young face for Agent 007. (Pg. 3-4)'

The rumours were true. He has done it.

Oh my god. And I am not even there to congratulate him.

"I am so proud of you. I knew you would grab it!" Harrison bounces on his feet while I stand near him, blushing furiously.

"My mate is Spider-man! My mate is THE Spider-man!!" He proudly yells and keeps his palms on my shoulders. When I look up into his blue eyes, they are glossy and act like mirrors. I can see myself reflecting through them. Then I notice a little pinch of sadness shining through them.

"Don't forget me though..." He says slowly. His energetic voice started sounding cracked. It made me think for a moment.

I gulp, "You can be my assistant. I-It will help you... gain experience in the industry." I was planning to ask him this since my role was confirmed because how was I even supposed to step into my new, more chaotic life without my biggest support system?

He pulls back his arms from my shoulders and looks at me with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Yes!... Also, you know... I-I am kinda afraid going on the journey alone." I bite at my lower lip.

Just say yes, I pray silently.

"Oh, div! You'll not be alone there. You'll have big stars. All those fancy people, fancy life-style and those fancy---"

"These fancy things will never come in between us, Harrison," I cut his rambling off. He pauses and glances at me.

"I am alone without you..."

I am always alone without him.

I regret not saying always, even though it doesn't matter anymore.

My fingers flip through the pages, my eyes land on his half-page portrait. He was wearing a black and white formal suit; his index finger is pressed against his forehead as he is bent forward while his were eyes boring into the front. They are staring into my soul.

My breath hitches in my throat. It's just his portrait but those eyes. Those eyes. I avert my gaze from the picture to the text. He talks about his journey from school to landing this role. He talks about his family, he talks about his journey as my assistant and then he talks about me. I can hear his voice even when it's just plain text.

'I cannot thank Tom enough. He pushed me harder whenever I slowed down. He pulled me up when I fell down. I really look up to him.'

No Harrison, you are wrong. You pushed me harder when I slowed down. You pulled me up when I fell down. It's me who looks up to you.

"Oh em jee!" The teen girl squeals seeing me at the airport. Harrison and I were walking, dragging our trolleys. I was wearing a cap, sunglasses and even had my hoodie on yet she somehow spotted me. She ran towards me.

"You are Tom Holland! I am such a huge fan of you!!!" She is still squealing as she takes out her phone, asking me for a picture. I was really sleepy and sleep-deprived at the same time, but it still made me smile. I lowered my hoodie and took off my goggles.

Harrison was standing beside me, grinning too. I was ready for her to take a selfie with us but then she walks up to Harrison and points her phone to him.

"Huh?"

I see a little confusion appear on his face.

"Take our picture," She says almost disrespectfully. I feel a pang in my heart, I can't even imagine what he must be feeling. But then he looks at me, takes the phone and smiles.

The girl stands beside me, and Harrison is standing in front of us.

"Smile..." He whispers, looking at me in the eye, his face breaking into a bigger grin and I can't stop the smile that spreads across my own lips seeing him smile.

But I know he was sad from inside and even when I was physically present there, I wasn't still there to make him really smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle.

I am really sorry for making you feel left out when all you did was try to make me feel included. Sorry for every time I left you alone. Yet, you always kept smiling. How do you do that?

I seriously need to learn a lot from you...

***

I had stopped stalking him on social media weeks ago. It was taking a toll on my mental health. But much to my dismay, I had a notification of him mentioning me in his Instagram story. My finger hovers over the unseen story. I click to see it.

The story was completely black, he has even tagged me in black. This story is exclusively for me. The song plays in the background.

No. No.

He can't do this to me.

He can't fucking do this to me.

"Now that it's raining more than ever, Know that we still have each other, You can stand under my---"

I threw my phone at the wall and the song stops playing abruptly. I am sure that I broke the device. But at least the song has ended.

I hate him for this!

How can he do this do me? How can he go so low?

I sunk down to the floor of my room. I am not just crying, I am screaming. Just like that night when I sunk down to the footpath...

Harrison and I were walking on the wet footpath. The rain was only getting heavier but none of us cared. The occasional honking of vehicles or the whooshing sound of tires against the wet concrete didn't bother us either.

Our shoulders were bumping against each other while we talked and laughed at stupid things. We sometimes did it, went out to have an ice-cream and talked about everything. It cleared off our minds and provided us with a break from our busy lifestyles. Harrison was holding the umbrella over our head as he was the taller one. A small portion of my other shoulder was slightly wet even when we were super close to each other. The umbrella was small, so I shifted closer to him. But I accidentally twisted my ankle due to the slippery path.

"Ouch!" I stop, putting my arm across his shoulder to balance myself, lifting the injured foot in the air.

"What happened?" He asks in a voice full of concern, stopping his motions.

"My foot. I think... I got a sprain."

"Oh, Tom. I tell you to be careful." He says and hands me the umbrella while I shift towards the wall, supporting myself. He crouches down on the empty footpath and unties my sandals, holding my foot in his hand.

"At least I didn't break my nose this time." I chuckle but it ends up as a whimper when he twists my ankle.

"It looks mild," He declares, re-tieing my sandals and stands up. I smile at him in gratitude but he wasn't smiling back. My expression changes to reciprocate his'. Then I realise that he wasn't properly standing up. His knees were slightly bent and his face was at the same level as mine. We were staring at each other. He took a step closer to me and suddenly all my senses were shutting down. The only thing I could feel was how close he was to me, how the scent of his aftershave was the sweetest smell I have ever inhaled, how his eyes were staring at mine, how they flickered down to my lips, how they closed, how the sound of his shaky breath made my heart shiver, how his lips were feeling against mine, how his breath tasted of vanilla and chocolate...

My limbs lost all their strength and the umbrella fell down, drowning us both in pouring water. His hands came to hold mine as he interlaces his fingers through mine, giving them a little squeeze.

He was kissing away the water droplets off my lips. I didn't do anything. I just let him. Or maybe I was kissing him back but it was all... so natural. I have never felt so calm and protected in my life. The way his lips rolled over mine... I was completely intoxicated.

There was something intimate about rain. Something soothing. Your ears are drumming with the pitter-patter sound that you can't hear the regular hustle-bustle. For once I felt like Harrison and I were absolutely alone in this world. I liked that feeling.

But we weren't.

That's when the reality hit him and he panicked.

I was dating his twin sister.

PART 2 ♡

(Harrison's POV)

It's 5 am and I am still not sleeping. My headphones are plugged into my ears while I feel like an absolute piece of shit. Not just I have done the forbidden audacious task of falling for my best friend but also the heinous crime of kissing my sister's boyfriend.

Lily doesn't even know why Tom broke up with her after a relationship of over a year and that too, over the phone. She has no idea that the person she trusted so much for consoling her, the one she chose to cry in front of, the one she chose to hug, the one she chose to share her pain with was actually the sole creator of the pain. Her twin brother was nothing but a snake.

The day after I kissed Tom, there was a knock at my bedroom door in the middle of the night. As soon as the door opened, I stumbled back with what force Lily hugged me. She was crying into my t-shirt. Her behaviour confused me and an instant fear of something bad happening to her settled at the bottom of my heart; my brother instincts made my fists clench. I wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone who had hurt her this way.

"Tom broke up with me," She utters in between her sobs. Her words acted like salt being rubbed over my open wounds.

Turns out I was also a hypocrite. I didn't kill myself.

I was helpless. I felt both like the criminal and the victim at the same time.

I hugged her back tighter, hiding my face in her hair.

"I am so sorry, Lily. I am so sorry," I whimpered and kissed the top of her head as she snuggled closer to me.

She thinks my sorries were of sympathy. No. They were my apology. But they feel hollow just like my heart and existence...

***

Out of so many editions, The Hollywood Reporter apparently, chose to put me and Tom on the same one. Seems like nature has decided to pull me inside the deepest guilt trap possible. I lock the magazine in my cupboard. I no more have any desire to look inside of it.

I haven't slept for the past twenty-four hours. I am so nervous. I feel so insecure. I want to talk about me landing a significant role to him. I know it's just me playing James Bond's younger version in a long flashback and not the real James Bond, but still...

He is the only one capable of calming my nerves after my mum. But sometimes mum couldn't, sometimes it's not her field of expertise. Sometimes only a friend could help you.

Tom was roasting marshmallows in this garden when I entered and sat beside him.

"What's up champ?" He says, not even looking at me.

I was quiet and looking down at my lap when he finally notices and turns to look at me.

"How's it going?" He asks. I look up to meet his soft brown eyes, instantly melting at the sight.

"Not well... I dunno... I feel weird. I don't know if you will want to hear my rant but--"

"Just vent to me. My ears are always open..." He says, patting my knee.

I nod my head. He knows exactly what I want. He listened to all my rambles with zero interruptions even when my mouth was stuffed with marshmallows, without judging me or passing any opinion...

Turns out the asking for help from Tom option doesn't exist anymore, considering he had blocked me after me mentioning him in that blank music story and now my and his names are bouncing all over- #1. The old fashioned, not being used for what it was first designed for: Instagram; #2. The infamous, super political, the lifeline of democratic announcements: Twitter; and #3. The safe from boomers, modern version of fanfiction dot net: Tumblr.

The fans think they know better about our situation then what I and (probably) Tom knows.

'Tom Holland and Harrison Osterfield have unfollowed each other on Instagram!!!' reads one of the fan posts.

I didn't unfollow him, it's him who blocked me and that's how Instagram works. Our mutual following, likes, comment and tags on each other's posts are automatically removed.

'No, they haven't unfollowed each other. One of them has blocked the other!!!' reads the reblogged version.

Holy Shit! This user is far more observant (or a stalker) and knows how Instagram works. I know Tom isn't very good with the working of social media, but it also turns out that he doesn't know how this tabloid fan culture works too.

P. S. All these triple exclamation marks on the fan posts are making me freak out.

Also, I am so grateful that they all are unaware about Lily and Tom dating and their break-up, else they would have dragged her into the controversy too.

Thank God.

I have blocked the supposed tags they tag me with and limited my comment section, so I don't have to deal with any kind of questions, speculations or hate in general.

I feel bad for Tom, he hasn't done that yet. I don't even know if he knows there's an option for it. It can seriously degrade his mental health.

I wish I could tell him.

***

It's kind of awkward when people are watching you eat and in my case, my mum and my two sisters are gawking on me instead of eating their own food. Woman's stare is always intimidating and I am blessed with three female pairs of eyes on me.

"You know... You don't have to block Tom just because he broke up with me." Lily says, sitting across the dining table.

That almost made me choke on my food and drop the fork on the plate. I could already feel the glimmer of interest sparking in mum's and Charlotte's eyes. It is as if they all were planning to have this conversation with me for a long time.

But wait... Does she think that me deleting Tom from my life is because of her break-up?

Oh my god!

Was there too much miscommunication between us?

Wait...

There was no communication from my side.

"Harrison?"

It was my mum this time. She keeps her hand over my shoulder, her voice sounds super worried.

"What is it, Hazza?" She asks, lovingly. She speaks as if she knows it is more than Tom and Lily's break-up. But I don't know how to tell her...

The next moment, mum has shifted her chair near me and had engulfed me in a side hug. Soon Charlotte and Lily walked up to me and were covering me from all sides. That's when I realised that I was crying. No. I wasn't just crying, I was sobbing. It was even difficult for me to breathe.

I need air.

I excuse myself and got up. They don't ask anything, maybe in an attempt to go slow with me. I really appreciate the gesture.

***

That's how I end up in this pub, pouring my heart out to a stranger. He's carefully listening to me, while occasionally sipping his drink and nodding his head. It really feels good to be listened to. I am telling everything to him from the exact beginning and how I fell for my best friend and then he started dating my sister and then how everything came crashing down...

"That's really fucked up, friend!" He comments in his Indian accent.

He was a trans-man who found me sitting in the corner with a cigarette in my hand. I wasn't even smoking but lost in thoughts. The stick was almost going to burn my fingers when he came and slapped it away and now he was listening to everything I was saying.

And then he's narrating his own sad love story to me and oh my god it's so much worse than me, yet he's pretending that I am the worse affected.

"And that's how she killed herself and I couldn't do anything..." He finishes as I blink. Like a fish, my mouth opens and closes, I instantly gulp my beer in one go in order to not look like a fool who has nothing good and uplifting to reply.

"That's really sad..." I somehow manage to say.

"Yeah. It is..."

I seriously need to go, else I will breakdown crying. I excuse myself and leave, I am not even drunk enough which sucks.

***

There is a guy walking in front of me on the pavement and he's really really drunk, unlike me. I really want to reach home fast and lay under my soft blankets but this guy is walking, occupying the whole pavement, stumbling on his feet with every step. He stumbles harder this time, about to fall face-first on the concrete. I rush forward and catch him.

My hands feel as if they were made of hard ice when I see his face.

He chuckles, "I know you are not Harrison... but I am seeing him everywhere. So funny... haha..."

"Tom..." I whisper and he starts to cry. He seriously looks like shit. His shirt is all wet and hairs are super messy. It's hard to even see him like this. I throw my arm around his shoulder and place his hand around my neck and get him straight on his feet. I try my best to walk him to my house.

Mum was terrified of seeing Tom like this, so were Charlotte and Lily. Although, Lily helped me carry him to my room, while he was babbling some unintelligible stuff.

We lay him over my bad.

"You should change his shirt, it's really dirty," Lily suggests and walks out of the room, giving us privacy. I intake a sharp breath as I drag the half-asleep, completely drunk Tom to sit up on the bed. And before I could pull his shirt up, he's puking over my chest. I back up.

"Sorry..." He mutters and falls over the mattress.

I gotta' change my shirt too.

My hands reach to the edge of my shirt as I try to pull it up but then I see Tom, and suddenly it feels wrong. Hasn't he seen me shirtless like thousand times before? And he's not even completely conscious... Yet, I turn my back to him and change into a new jumper. Then I struggle to get Tom changed too, making him wear one of my hoodies and then throw both our dirty clothes to my laundry basket.

"You should wash your face and brush your teeth. It will feel nice..." I suggest, not sure if he was even listening to me. I again get him down on his feet and carry him to the bathroom where I splash cold water over his face. He drinks some water too. And then he's brushing his teeth, a little messily though.

As we complete, he refuses to go back to my room and instead, tries to sit on the bathroom floor, too tired to walk back. The next moment I find myself lifting him up with my arms tucked below his knees and the back of his neck. He's heavier than I anticipated but when he holds my shoulder and snuggles close to my chest with his warm breath hitting directly over my neck; my knees feel like noodles. I try my best to not look down at his face or fall down and successfully carry him back to my room and get him back on the bed.

"Haz, I need to talk about something..."

I flinch hearing Lily's voice. I turn on my feet and see her standing by my door. Warmth rushes to my face, realising- she must have seen me carrying Tom in my arms...

I swallow and walk towards her as she walks outside the room and shuts the door behind us.

She takes in a jitterybreath, "I really think..." She hesitates for a second, "Tom likes you... more than a friend and more than how he likes me..."

"I-I-I---" I try to speak but only a ragged stammer comes out, not expecting this conversation at all.

"He always talks about you and when he finds me wearing your clothes..." She fidgets with her fingers, "He gives me extra attention and... asks me not to remove them while we have... sex..." She pauses, looking embarrassed. I try not to react and stay still, listening carefully.

"I think the only reason he was dating me was that I look like you..." She finishes, knocking out all the air from my lungs.

"Why-why are you telling this to me?" Out of a million things I could say, I chose this.

"Because..." She looks straight at my face, "No one looks at a person as you look at Tom unless they are madly in love with them."

"But then why did he date you?" I ask with a heavy heart.

"... Cause it's easy to be... straight?" She speaks, her lips pressing into a thin line. I think for a moment.

"B-but what about you---"

"It's all about you and him right now. And anyway, he loves you and not me. You don't want your sister to end up with a man who doesn't really love her, right?" She asks, hopefully.

I inhale and nod.

"And I won't want my brother to not end up with the man he really loves..."

***

For the first time, I don't feel guilty, rather I feel some burden lifting off my chest. I walk inside the room, remembering my conversation with Lily. Tom was fast asleep on the bed and that makes me smile. I take out a blanket and cover him with it, switching off the lights. As I was trying to move away, his hand grasps my wrist making goosebumps rise over my skin.

"Can't we even... not share the bed anymore?" He speaks, sounding tired.

Suddenly, I am again feeling guilty. I turn on my feet, his hand was still gripping my wrist when I get into the sheets beside him. I prevent looking at his face. I am too weak for that stuff, especially when he sounds already half-sober.

His hand slowly slips off me and I clench my eyes shut.

***

I am sure that I was lying on the bed unable to sleep for several hours now. It's raining outside, pouring heavier with each passing minute. But it's better than the silence because seriously when the raindrops weren't tapping against my windowpane, all I could hear was my jittering heartbeat, heavy breathing and the sound of Tom's own breathing.

I shift underneath me, turning on my side to finally look at Tom.

Now that he's sleeping, he won't catch me staring, right?

He was sleeping on his side with his arm tucked below his head, facing me. My fingers slowly slide across the skin of his face as I breathe in deeper and rest my palm over his cheek. My thumb softly strokes his smooth skin while my pinky was playing with his ear.

His eyes flutter open, lashes resembling butterfly wings. Those freaking pools of chocolate. Once again, I was frozen on the spot.

How fair it is that people can be naturally born with eyes as soft and as brown as those?

"Haz..." He whispers my name and I feel the knots in my stomach tying.

"Why did you run...?" His voice is quiet but sounds serious. He seriously demands an explanation. But I am just staring into his eyes, not speaking anything.

Because I did some outrageous friendship destroying shit and running away was my way of escape, albeit, it just made everything much worse...

"I am sorry," That's what I say, finally. He huffs at my words.

Then he shifts closer to me, my heart clenching tighter than ever, my armpits sweating disgustingly.

"That's not the question I asked..." He says, wriggling a hand out from under the covers and putting it over my face, stroking my skin and playing with my ear, just like I was doing a few moments ago.

I lick my dry lips, swallowing softly.

"Okay, wrong question..." He smiles lightly, "Why did you kiss me?"

His grin appears to tease me. I am already overwhelmed by the closeness when he's asking me such questions. I try to divert the question as I avert my gaze, suddenly unclear of how long an eye-contact should be maintained.

"I thought you would be mad at me... You blocked me and---"

And then Tom shoves his head forward, pressing his lips against mine. My mouth splits open at the contact, an embarrassing puff of air escaping.

Tom's other hand is quick to find my arm from below the sheets as he slips his fingers through mine, while his other hand is busy tracing a thumb across my jaw. It's weirdly soothing. The sound of the rain tapping against my window makes it even better.

My eyes are shut as he tilts his head, pressing his lips tighter, his tongue licking at my bottom lip. He squeezes my hand, making me gasp. He sees the perfect opportunity, sliding it inside my mouth while I am a whimpering mess. His breath smells and tastes of mint from the toothpaste, eliciting tingles in my abdomen.

I lurch forward, trying to kiss him back but he's swift to pull away, lips separating with a soft popping sound. My eyes flutter open at the loss of contact.

"Ask me why I kissed you?" He mumbles against my lips with a big, confident smirk.

Son of a...

How can I ever forget about the surge of confidence levels in him after there is some alcohol in his system?

"Ask..." He repeats, more forcefully this time making me look directly into his eyes.

I breathe in, "Why..."

He raises his eyebrows and I fight the urge to roll my eyes back.

"Why did you kiss me?"

He chuckles and softly pats my cheek, pulling away his hand from my face but the other one continues to hold my hand in his.

"... 'coz I wanted to. I wanted to kiss you."

"Did... Did you think of Lily?"

His face turns serious at the question, almost sad. He shakes his head.

"No..." He pauses, looking at me sternly. His Adam's apple bobbles in his throat, "When you are with me I forget about everything else."

A tear escapes his eye, sliding though the side of his eye and falling directly over the pillow. He clenches his eyes shut, squeezing my hand tighter.

Drunk Tom is also emotionally unstable...

"I am sorry Haz. I can't love her when I am already in love with you." His voice sounds so wrecked, so broken... I just pull him to my chest, pulling my hand out of his grip and wrapping it across his torso.

"I understand why you ran... And yet I kissed you again," He speaks in between his sobs.

I don't know why but his words made me smile. Maybe because he understands, yet he did it. It's so courageous. He's so brave. Like it's us against the world.

"Lily understands," I tell him. He stops sobbing abruptly, his body freezes as if he's unable to comprehend my words.

"Huh?" He asks in disbelief, pulling away from my chest and looking into my eyes.

"Yes. She does. She just told it to me." I smile wider, swiping the tears off his face while he blinks.

"Really?" He utters, voice creaky.

"Yes!"

He keeps staring at me like a frightened animal. He is still not believing me. It made me chuckle.

"Yes, div! Come 'on just believe me!" I insist.

His mouth parts, tongue poking out. He's silent for a minute as I notice the changing expressions on his face.

"She did not!" He exclaims.

"She did!"

"Oh god. Am I this obvious?" He laughs, probably assuming my conversation with Lily to be something funny. Not his fault though. I cut him some slack, considering all life he's been surrounded by three brothers in an easy relationship not the complicated and competitive one I share with Lily. Although with Charlotte it's all super smooth.

Still, the sound of his laughter feels good. I can't complain.

This time I pull him into a kiss interrupting his giggles. I am going to keep kissing him till his lips swell. But all we both are doing is smiling into the kiss, unable to hold the contact even for a few seconds.

But then again, now I have plenty of time to kiss him like that later. Right now, it's this moment that matters. It's Tom who matters.

No more holding back...

_______

Taz taglist: @hazmyheart // @justasmisunderstoodasloki // @tommysparker // @just-a-littlebit-of-everything // @thenoddingbunny-blog // @calltothewild // @viagracex // @httplayer // @slytherin-chaser // @perspectiveparker // @catkeeperthetall // @god-knows-what-am-i-doing // @its-a-leap-of-faith-kid // @emmaloo21 //

#hollerfield #hollerfield fanfiction #taz #torrison #tarrison #harrison osterfield #tom holland #tom x haz #tom holland x harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #tom holland fanfiction #harrison osterfield fanfiction #tom holland imagine #harrison osterfield imagine

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zuzuslastbraincell · 4 years ago

Text

I’ve spent all morning thinking about how the gaang would play tabletop roleplaying games (because of course I have, this is the most on-brand thing I’ve ever done) and here’s my thoughts:

sokka GMs. let’s be honest, he’s the only person who could without it turning into an utter disaster, but also, it’s his idea, he suggests it, he’s super excited about it, they probably start off with some ATLA equivalent of D&D, because almost everyone does, but he probably branches out as he explores more and he gets super into the indie tabletop scene and ends up mixing systems & house-ruling it to create their own extremely weirdly specific homebrew game. he takes being GM very seriously, of course. his preparation folder is intimidatingly huge. he has notes on everything and nobody understands how he keeps up.

suki isn’t a nerd, does not Get it, really (at first), but she joins in because her boyfriend is really excited. she plays a very strong warrior lady :). over time, as she gets better with her character and gets her head around the concept of roleplaying, she gets super into it, and becomes one of the most valued players at the table. she’s a great player but always considerate of people around the table and understands, intuitively, that TTRPGs are a team effort, a collaborative practice, even when there’s a GM.

zuko has no idea what roleplaying games is because he grew up exclusively reading classic literature, but he immediately latches onto the roleplaying aspect of the game, gets super invested into his character, is that player who has written a novel in the ‘background’ section of the character sheet. i can see him play a support character, like a healer/cleric or such, or potentially even a sage/druid who lives in the woods. unfortunately, he has literally no idea how to craft a character that will be effective in play, and constantly fails his rolls because he dumped all his skill points into animal handling (zuko will defend this to his dying breath though). despite this, he’s the most invested in the game after sokka, and I think the seriousness with which he takes it inspires others to take it seriously as well. he gets people to emotionally connect with their story and embrace their characters’ flaws and it makes sokka reassess how he plays as a GM (I imagine Sokka tends towards really crunchy and mechanical games, but playing with Zuko makes him rethink that)

mai joins because zuko suggests it to sokka. sokka is skeptical, but actually, mai takes to it immediately, is a really valuable player, and gets it - mechanically, and also in terms of roleplaying. she’s not put off by the nerdishness of it all, doesn’t find it hard to immerse herself into a fantasy world, ends up looking at the players handbook in depth and crafts a really interesting character who mixes elements of two different classes in a believable way (i’m personally thinking some kind of rogue or an artificer). as a late joiner, mai is happy to adapt to the existing party, and just vibes with the group immediately.

sokka, suki, mai, and zuko make the core group most of the time and everyone else is an occasional player.

katara refuses to join at first because she’s not doing something her dorky brother suggests. as the first campaign goes on, and she realises suki (who is cool, even if she’s dating her brother) and zuko (her other best friend after aang) are both still invested in it, she gives it a shot. her brother helps set up most of her character sheet, which is a cool ice sorcerer-type character that he thinks she’ll like, and she appreciates the effort, and gives it her best shot, but honestly? i don’t think katara really ever gets it. she can waterbend! why would she want to pretend to be a character who can waterbend? she also keeps forgetting turn order is a thing by accident, and doesn’t understand why she can’t just charge into action.

aang is interested because many of his friends are interested. like zuko, he had no idea what this was before sokka got into it, but the monks used to play board games all the time. sokka helps him build a character sheet, and is surprised by the research he’s done into it already (aang cares about what his friends care about imo), and i think he probably ends up playing a few sessions - and they vibe really well, even if aang is a little new to all this. i think aang is most likely playing some kind of unconventional charisma based character, but it’s a fun fit, and takes the story in interesting direction. i think after a few sessions aang drops out - largely because he takes issue with how combat is the primary method of conflict resolution in the game they’re playing, and he tells sokka he’s done enough of that in his life already, and would rather roleplay something other than war or fighting. sokka respects this completely. in fact, i think aang is the other person who really affects how sokka looks at tabletop, and he ends up researching independent two-player games which aren’t focussed on combat, and plays one-shots now and again with aang (and zuko, occasionally too). whenever people want to take a break from the main campaign and play another system for a couple of sessions, aang is always invited.

toph is almost the opposite problem. She's super excited to play because tabletop is mostly oral storytelling & very accesible for her, she’s attentive to the mechanics and builds her own very powerful character who fight her through everything, but is very combat focussed. She isn’t interested in roleplaying much, and finds that aspect of it a little baffling and outside of her comfort zone, quite frankly, and it requires a bit of vulnerability she isn't really there for yet. she clashes with zuko a few times over that. I think she also struggles - as in canon - a little with being a team player at first too i think she swings between katara’s camp of ‘this is dumb’, and becomes an on-and-off player but after a few weeks off, joins in again, before giving it another shot. sokka definitely helps her out here and tries to talk through some of her issues and mediate and find a common ground between what she wants to play vs. what the rest of the table want. she gets super into it eventually, after a few arguments and teething problems, and is a much loved player. she and zuko's characters definitely have a rivals to best friends arc lol.

ty lee never plays herself but often watches because mai’s there. she claims she ‘doesn’t get it’ but somehow has zuko’s spell list memorised, and usually knows exactly what’s happening in the story at any given time.

azula is banned from playing because she likes to antagonise player characters. she minmaxes everything, has calculated how to make the most effective character (which sokka begrudgingly respects), but killed off zuko’s first character the first time they ever played (she claims it’s his fault for having such an ineffective build). after some years, when azula has chilled out a bit more, sokka ends up playing a brutal game of pathfinder when they’re both at university with a different group of friends. it’s only then that sokka realises azula’s about as much a theatre kid as zuko, just through how theatrical her roleplaying is.

#atla #zuko #sokka #suki #aang #toph #mai #azula #ty lee #katara #sorry this is excessive lol #fav post

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hysteriium · 5 years ago

Note

Ledger!Joker x JP!Joker headcanons 👀 ??

(Edit isn’t mine, made by Anarchy Graphics! They have really cool edits you should check them out!)

(A/n): 👀 HEY THERE DEAR ANON! Your wish is my command ;)) sorry I kinda added some smut hope that’s okie! HEHEH also @pennyship and I are writing a massive fucking one-shot about the duo! We’re thinking of turning this into a series if anyone’s interested?

Pairing: JP! Joker x reader x Heath!Joker

Warnings: NSFW, BDSM themes, swearing.

////

Together

Okay first things first, they will have a hard time ‘sharing’ you. They’re both really assertive characters and their personalities would for sure clash.

They’re very competitive.

What’s probably even weirder is how they resolve their arguments. If you expect them to sit down and shake it out b o i you’re dead wrong.

Honestly, if you catch them in the middle of doing some stupid shit, don’t be surprised.

More often than not, you feel like the mediator between them. You kind of keep them balanced – stop them from going overboard, though admittedly, it’s rare when they reach such a point.

Their unspoken contest keeps them on their toes and that’s just how they like it.

They also really appreciate how you spare them the psychoanalysis – they get enough of it when they’re thrown into Arkham and treated like odd spectacles.

They’re really possessive/protective. If someone even so much as thinks of threatening you, or, even more idiotic, makes it known they ARE, best believe they’re bringing out the big guns. They’ll rain hellfire upon them. This is perhaps the only time where the dynamic duo can work together.

NSFW

A lot of the times they take their frustration out in other activities. If something doesn’t go as ‘planned,’ you’re gonna have a hard time walking tomorrow.

(Coming back to their ‘rivalry’), they’ll leave hickeys on your neck – VISIBLE ONES MIGHT I ADD – just so the other can see. This often leads to more hickeys from the other.

Threesomes. Sorry, not sorry. (Will go into detail in an upcoming fic hehe).

Joaquin Phoenix’s Joker

This. Man. Is. Touch-starved.

You heard me, folks. He loves touching you. This isn’t exclusive to sex either, honestly, he’s happy with even the smallest displays of affection.

He’s also much kinder than Heath’s Joker AND WHAT I MEAN BY THAT is that he’s more open with his affections (see Heath’s section for deetz).

Loves loves loves your smile and your laugh! Every time he snatches a laugh roused by one of his puns or jokes, he’s ecstatic! “You should laugh more,” “you have a pretty smile.” His compliments aren’t always worded the greatest, but you know he means well, his sincerity shining through.

Coupled with the soft smile which almost always follows your joy, it’s enough on its own to convey his thoughts.

The man is incredibly playful and is a relentless flirt. He doesn’t CARE who’s around, he will make it known what nasty things he’s thinking about AND what nasty things he wants to do to you. If it wasn’t for your own protests which are occasionally worn down, he’d take you in front of others. He literally does not care.

Example: when you least expect it, you’ll feel a firm slap against your ass, or sometimes less overt, a grab. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is.

To reiterate, he absolutely has no shame.

Arthur is big on aftercare. He’ll make sure you know how much he loves you. He gets really attached, and his actions communicate this more than his words. Aftercare manifests itself in many forms: cuddling, bubble baths, making sure he hasn’t harmed you in any way, offering sweets.

Nicknames

“Angel.”

“Darling.”

“Doll.” (Heath’s Joker also uses this).

“Sugar.” He often uses this when he’s mad, for example, “okay, listen, sugar.”

“Sweetheart.”

NSFW

Depending on how Arthur’s feeling, funky time can either be really rough or, if he’s feeling a lil extra sentimental, very you-oriented.

He’s a passionate man and seeing how his touch leads to your unravelling is truly one of the highlights for him.

Above all, Arthur’s favourite thing is hearing the way his name spills from your lips – feeling the way you cling onto him as he plunges into you. Your expression of euphoria’s something that’s etched into his brain, like fine glass.

An added bonus for him is thinking about how antsy your loud moans make Heath’s Joker.

Gunplay → Arthur’s slender fingers indent your thighs as he spreads them apart, a sudden metallic chill brushing up against the flesh. Prodding at your entrance with the barrel and slowly pushing in, his slow teasing thrusts morph into a steady pace when you’re practically pleading him to let you cum.

Orgasm Denial → Arthur, being the mischievous boi he is, will damn well make sure he drags everything out. He loves to hear you beg, every time you do it fills him with swirling bursts of pride.

Body worship → sort of ties in with orgasm denial. Arthur will take his sweet ass time caressing your skin, planting kisses against your stomach – against your hips. Honestly anywhere he has access to he will make it known how much he appreciates your body. This can sometimes appear during sex – he’ll slow his pace and utter sweet whispers of praise against you, rendering you even more of a flustered mess.

Hair pulling → works both ways. This would mainly be exhibited during oral than anything else. If he’s going down on you and your trembling fingers jerk his green curls, the vibrations of his moans would tip you over the edge.

He’s more flexible than Heath’s Joker, meaning if you want to top, he’ll let you do so, though he still maintains a cocky air. Giving you one of his killer smirks, his eyebrows flicking in amusement, he’ll relinquish his hold on your hips and recline back into the couch. The way he leans back and places his hands behind his head screams ‘go ahead,’ ‘impress me.’ You always do.

Heath Ledger’s Joker

Will do shit just to spite Arthur; this isn’t because he has a personal vendetta against him, it’s just because of the person he is (a little shit).

Takes a bit longer to open up than Arthur, emotionally. He’s very closed off and is used to his little bubble. It takes patience but eventually you’ll get there.

Acts like the biggest hardass → he likes to portray there’s nothing more to his image other than the ‘agent of chaos,’ but you come to realise this is definitely not the case.

In the dead of night, when he returns from whatever havoc he’s stirred, he crawls into your bed and pulls you against him, arms embracing you loosely.

This is when he’s at his most affectionate. His exhaustion most likely adds to those falling walls.

Most of the time he thinks you’re asleep when this occurs but, spoiler, you’re not; the gentle upturn of your lips the only indication of such. You don’t think you’d ever give the fact away either, fearful of him receding back into his shell to the point where affection is null. Either way, you’re happy with him.

By the morning, he’s gone, already making plans (or executing them).

He seldom shows you his actual face, behind all the makeup. In all honesty, you don’t know the reasoning behind this, and you don’t think you ever will. While he’s blunt, he’s just as secretive; there’s always something going on in the back of his mind.

Perhaps it’s insecurity, discomfort, or, more simply, the ‘persona’ of ‘Joker’ is just what resonates with him. The man underneath is someone he no longer identifies with. The man he’s become – who he’s worked so hard to manifest – is his true self.

NSFW

Okay but he’s a very sexual guy, not even gonna lie.

ALSO HAS NO EMBARRASSMENT. When it comes to sex, this man’s just as open about it as Arthur.

Hair pulling kink → this goes without saying. Unlike Arthur, this kink is one-sided, and he most definitely is the one doing the pulling. Those large hands will lose themselves within your strands and if you’re giving him head, he’s most likely going to guide you by said strands.

Glove kink → he’ll set you on his lap, your back against his chest as his hands hold your wriggling thighs. With your breath hitching in anticipation, one of his gloved hands will slip down your inner thigh, rubbing slow circles against your clit. He tries his best to be patient but lets be honest, he has a really short fuse when it comes to sex; he’ll be dipping one – two – and if he’s feeling particularly torturous – three fingers inside of you before you know it, curling his fingers.

Praise kink → not particularly what you’d expect. He’s also very big into humiliation and mockery, so this kind of ties in with the two. For example, if you do something he’s pleased with, he’ll throw around teasing/sarcastic nicknames like there’s no tomorrow:

“Bunny.”

“Buttercup.”

“Button.”

“Doll.”

“Good girl.”

“Princess.”

“Pumpkin.”

“Sweetheart.”

Loves your brattiness, literally lives for it. He’s always been drawn to a bit of fire – it keeps things interesting.

Has a thing for emotions – for your expressions, both micro and macro. The main three: fear, pain, pleasure.

He’s very erratic. So, when he is praising you, he may tug at your hair the next, choke you or, if he deems necessary, spank you.

Your squeaks of pain get him off – the motherfucker’s sadistic.

Goes through topdrop, and you’d most certain go through subdrop. He’s so used to control and regaining it when lost, in both an everyday context and a sexual one. So, once those feelings develop into something more (which you’ll have trouble differentiating, or sometimes picking up on at all), he’ll become more reserved, no longer displaying his usual vigour until this issue is sorted. (More details in a future drabble/fic).

#joaquin phoenix joker #joaquin phoenix #joker x reader #joker imagine #joker 2019 #the dark knight #both jokers #jp joker #heath joker #heath ledger #heath ledger joker #heath ledger joker x reader #dc x reader #dc headcanon #Joker headcanons #joker headcannons #arthur fleck #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck x reader

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v-hope · 5 years ago

Text

Absolute

Pairing: Jeon Jeongguk x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, College!AU, Fuck-buddies to Lovers, Fuckboy!Jeongguk, Tutor!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Request by @asiivnc: “Hi, can I request a one shot? Can you do it based on Ariana Grande’s song Boyfriend for Jungkook?”

Summary: After arguing over the status of your relationship and having a bit of a fall out, Jeongguk and you find out you don’t quite like the idea of each other being with someone else. Nevertheless, with the two of you not being precisely a couple, things might get a little too complicated.

A/N: I don’t know if my interpretation of the song is what you had in mind, but hopefully you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you so much for requesting this, and I hope the rest of you guys like it, too 💞

Jeongguk was fuming.

The second he had entered the coffee shop and his eyes landed on one of the tables by the windows, finding you comfortably talking to the smarter guy of your promotion, he felt like going up there, grab you by your wrist, and drag you out of there with him.

But he could not.

And his desires were not only prevented by the fact of him knowing you would not ever look his way again if he did such thing to you, but also by his mind suddenly remembering he had not gone over there alone — the sweet voice next to him asking if he was alright, managing to draw his glaring eyes from you to the girl he had arrived with.

However, that was as much attention as said girl got from him that evening, for no matter how hard Jeongguk tried, his eyes kept fixing on you every two seconds, since he had strategically chosen a seat facing your table — torturing himself with the way you would smile ever so brightly time after time to your classmate, just like it made his heart skip a beat every single time it was directed to him.

And although his heart felt uneasy and his knuckles turned white with every smile of yours, he couldn’t bring himself to stop looking; not when the guy you were with could make a move at any given time.

It was almost two minutes later, when who felt like his new rival did indeed lean over the table to take a better look at what you were pointing to on your notebook, that Jeongguk had enough. So, not really giving it a second thought, he excused himself from the girl in front and made his way over to you.

Your eyes focused on him before he could even clear his throat to catch your attention, and he hated the way your smile had disappeared in a heartbeat. It was fair to say, neither you nor your companion were very happy to see him standing there.

“Yes?” the cold tone of your voice was enough for him to feel like turning around and never look back.

Instead of acting on his instincts, he stared at the table for a second before he awkwardly pointed towards it. “Can I borrow a napkin?”

Your eyebrows raised in such manner he couldn’t tell if you were amused or annoyed; maybe a mixture of them both. “I think you’re supposed to ask the staff for that kind of stuff, but sure”.

Without another word, he nodded his head before he took one in his hands. However, before he could leave your side completely defeated, he stared down to the person he thought you were on a date with, and before he could even think about it, his mouth was opening, much to your annoyance, once again to say something else.

“Hi, I’m Jeongguk” he introduced himself to the guy sitting in front of you, who tried his best not to feel bummed by Guk’s presence.

“Jaehyuk” he greeted with a small bow, which ended up looking more like a nod that was immediately reciprocated by Jeongguk just the same.

Not like they didn’t already know each other and their intentions with you, but seeming intimidating right then was apparently a very necessary thing to do.

“So you need help with your classes as well?” he pushed it regardless of the glare you were giving him. He knew for a fact Jaehyuk did not need your help at all, and he was not having it. “She’s been tutoring me for a while now, too”.

“Not really tutoring me…” Jae decided to answer him — his eyes travelling from Guk to you, and giving you a small smile that made Jeongguk’s stomach turn. “It’s more like, we’re teaching each other”.

You were not the two top students for nothing anyway; and to say that bothered Jeongguk was an understatement, because knowing there was someone just as smart as you, someone who overall was a way better choice for you, wanting to win your heart as well, made him feel a subtle pain in his chest he could not explain.

Nevertheless, he was not about to portray that for you to notice. No. Instead, what he did was curve up the corners of his lips in a smile, and a pretty cocky one at that.

“Oh, yeah” he was full on smirking by now, resting his palms near the edge of the round table and leaning over to your side. “I’ve taught her one or two things as well, but we haven’t really needed books for that. Right, baby girl?”

You felt your heart jump at his words, immediately feeling the heat go up to your face as a nerve-racking silence took over the table, yet being fast enough to cover it up with a cold glare directed his way.

“Well, now that you’ve so unnecessarily established that” his smile only grew bigger at how beautifully mad you looked right then, “I think you should go back to your date, I’m sure she’d love for the Jeon Jeongguk to show her what you’ve done to half of campus by now”.

That alone was enough for his smile to be erased, and not exactly because he had been reminded of the girl he had so inconsiderately abandoned a few minutes ago or because of your harsh words by the end of your statement, but because you knew. You knew he had gone there with someone else although he could’ve sworn you hadn’t seen them sitting a few meters away from you. And, for some reason, seeing your eyes slightly soften, looking almost hurt as such words left your mouth, hurt him just as much as seeing you with someone else.

It was stupid, he thought while he walked back to his seat; you had fought almost a week ago precisely because you couldn’t come to terms about your relationship and its dynamics, and yet here you were a couple of days later, hurting at the sight of each other with different people.

You were more than acquaintances, yet you wouldn’t call yourselves friends. You were more than fuck-buddies, yet you wouldn’t call yourselves a couple. You did not sleep with other people but each other, yet you wouldn’t call yourselves exclusive.

You had crystal clear feelings for one another, yet you wouldn’t admit them.

It was stupid. Absolutely stupid.

And he was not the only one to believe so, for you were left not being able to focus on your studies anymore; instead drowning in your thoughts and the faint pressure you’d feel in your chest whenever you either thought about Jeongguk with someone who was not you, or your eyes were drawn towards the table he and the girl he had arrived with where sitting at.

Maybe if you hadn’t been so submerged in your own self-pity, you would’ve noticed he was not really paying attention to his date, but to his phone under the table — only noticing when your mobile buzzed with an incoming text, causing your heart to skip a beat at the sight of his name on your screen.

Guk-ah [20:07]: I’m taking you home

Giving Jaehyuk a quick glance and internally thanking the fact that he was too focused reading one of the papers to even notice you were doing something else, you rushed to unlock it so you could type an answer.

You [20:08]: Shouldn’t you be taking your girl home?

You knew you were sounding petty as hell, but, in all honesty, you couldn’t care any less by then.

After hitting send, your eyes moved up to see if he had received it, catching the exact moment he was already determinedly typing on his phone.

Guk-ah [20:08]: That’s what I’m doing Guk-ah [20:08]: Now come here, we need to talk

Simple as that, that’s how you ended up a little under ten minutes later inside Jeongguk’s car, not even feeling like complaining when you realised he had taken the long way home, the one he knew by heart now — instead absently staring out the window as the atmosphere was filled with nothing but silence.

“I can’t believe you left her all alone in there” you spoke after what felt like forever, not really feeling like making small talk yet not being able to take another single second of the overwhelming silence.

“She said it was okay” he replied plainly, not taking his eyes away from the road.

“It was not” you denied, sitting up straight so you could take a better look at him and his tensed factions. “She’s probably going to badmouth you with her friends later”.

“Then so be it” he snapped, fixing his piercing stare on you for a second before he focused it back on the rather dark streets. “I couldn’t stand another second of you with that guy on your stupid date”.

“We were studying, it was not a date”.

“Oh, so the guy who’s at the top of our class and who, may I add, has been after you for months now, suddenly needs help with his subjects?” a loud scoff abandoned his mouth, letting you know perfectly enough just how much he was not having it. “And then he takes you to a coffee shop to ‘study’ and you’re trying to tell me it was not a date?”

“Exactly”.

He scoffed once again, shaking his head in both disbelief and indignation at either how oblivious you were or just how you were so blatantly lying to his face.

Poking his tongue against his cheek without bothering to place his eyes on you, he carried on: “Did he pay for your coffee?”

Your eyes went once again to the window. “Yes…”

“A date” he stated simply, doing a pretty good job at hiding how much that fact was actually bothering him.

“Well, you’re one to speak” you were the one to scoff this time, shifting in your seat. “You’re the one who was on an actual date with someone else!”

Jeongguk sighed, turning left to the road that would lead to your place. “I’m telling you, it was not a date”.

“Did you pay for her coffee?” you bit back with his own previous words.

Hating the way his own logic had turned out to be against him, he annoyedly answered: “Yes”.

“A date then” you said rather bitterly, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not like it matters though, since you’re not my boyfriend—”

Ouch.

“—and you can do whatever you want”.

“Can I now?” Jeongguk questioned, raising one of his eyebrows as he gave you a quick glance. “I’m guessing so can you then?” he pushed it, receiving nothing but silence from you. “Why don’t you just call what you had with Jaehyuk a date then if you can do whatever you want?”

For the same reason he wouldn’t call what he had as well a date either: because it felt wrong. Although you were technically not dating, there was this kind of both unspoken and unintended agreement not to be with other people. That’s why it had hurt the two of you so much to see one another with someone else. It almost felt like getting caught cheating whilst finding out you were being cheated on all together, for both of you.

With your mouth remaining shut for the rest of the ride, Jeongguk decided not to say anything else either, not even after he had parked the car in front of your building and the two of you got out of it; not even as you made your way inside and spent the single most tense thirty seconds on an elevator. In fact, he only ever opened his mouth with the intention of speaking up once he had followed you to your living room — even then not knowing what to say.

So, you did for him.

“You said we needed to talk” you pointed out what he had ever so determinedly told you over text, “so talk”.

Silence took over for another couple of seconds — Jeongguk having a hard time to find the right words to express what he truly wanted to.

Finally, letting out a shaky breath, he went for it: “I don’t want you to go out with other guys”.

You whined out of exasperation, throwing your head back out of instinct at how obstinate he was being.

“For the millionth time, we were just studying!”

“Well, we were just studying five months ago and you see what happened”.

It was your turn to go quiet; hesitating as to what to say next, given how taken aback his statement had left you right then.

“So what, you’re scared I’ll start fucking him just because the situation is slightly similar to ours?” the tone of your voice sounded almost mocking — your disbelief only growing stronger when he remained silent, breaking the eye contact as he looked to his feet instead, earning a scoff from you. “Seriously, Jeongguk?”

“You can’t tell me it’s not a possibility…”

Because, although it was not the same, to his eyes it was. And it was not like you hadn’t tutored more people during the amount of time the two of you had been together, but it was the first time he felt threatened by someone else. For you to have these little study sessions with someone smarter than him, who also happened to be attractive, felt like a timebomb awaiting to explode. He could already see it, how Jaehyuk would at some point want to move your studying somewhere more private, just like he had done months ago, and how then things would inevitably escalate from there… just like they had escalated with the two of you.

Only he could actually see you falling for said guy, as opposed to what he thought you would never feel for him.

That was the exact moment he let his walls down, along with the exact moment you realised just how hurt by the whole situation he actually was. And although a part of you wanted nothing but to go up to him and hug him tightly, the other part of you, the one that was still hurting because of him, was the one to carry on with the argument.

“You do realise how messed up it is for you not to want me to go out with other people when you yourself are doing just that?”

“She’s just a friend”.

You laughed under your breath at his statement, yet your face alone let him know you were not amused at all. “Friend, sure”.

“If I say she’s just a friend then she’s just a friend!” he snapped, exasperatedly motioning around with his hands to make his point.

“Okay” you nodded, slowly taking one step closer to him. “But what is your definition of ‘friend’, though?” your lips puckered up questioningly as your eyes looked up as well, “because, for all I know, she could be the same kind of ‘friend’ I am to you”.

“Okay, no” his eyebrows furrowed dramatically, “don’t even think about comparing the two of you, because we’re not just friends and you fucking know it”.

Hell, he didn’t know if you were friends to begin with. It had always been different with you. Always had felt like something more he could not quite put his finger on.

“Then what the fuck are we?!” you were the one to snap this time, throwing your hands as you took a step back. “I’m pretty sure fuck-buddies are supposed to have no strings attached, yet here we are freaking out over each other going out with other people”.

“So you did go out with him!”

“No! I—” you sighed, not understanding when had everything started to go downhill. “Look at us, Jeongguk” your voice turned weaker, just like your eyes became softer, “we weren’t supposed to start fighting over these things. This isn’t what I wanted when we started doing this”.

“I didn’t want this either but it happened” he pointed out the obvious, much to your frustration, “and now we have no choice but to deal with this”.

You shook your head no, taking one more step away from him. “We would never work out” you confessed your thoughts, glancing over the entrance of your own apartment yet what seemed to be the only escape right then. “Things weren’t supposed to get this complicated, I don’t want this”.

“No, don’t you dare walk out on me” Jeongguk called you out as soon as he saw you start walking to the door, catching up on your intentions faster than you had given him credit for.

Holding your wrist tightly, he turned you around so that you were back again at facing him, only this time he cornered you on the nearest wall — his intimidating figure hovering over yours.

“You’d really rather ignore your feelings than to give us a chance?”

“We would never work out” you repeated what you had already expressed before, watching the way his eyebrows knitted together in both frustration and disappointment... if not hurt.

“Why not?”

“Because you…” you took in a shaky breath, struggling to find the right words, “you don��t date…”

His lower lip stuck slightly out in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

“You know what it means...”

One look into your eyes was all he needed to understand what you were talking about, and it would’ve been a lie to say it didn’t pain him. Especially since he couldn’t change the things he had been doing up until a few months ago, and he had no idea as to how make you believe he would be willing to change his previous ways for you.

“Is that how low you think of me?” he wondered, taking a step back yet not moving far enough from you to let you move somewhere else.

You shrugged, not daring to meet his eyes as you spoke. “I’m just saying… the guy who fucks around campus and doesn’t do commitment and the straight A’s girl who’s never fallen in love before… it’s like a bad cliché that’s bound to end up with my heart being broken”.

“What about me? Don’t I have a lot to lose, too?” he tilted his head questioningly. “I have never been in love either and, for all I know, you could always fall for some Mr. Right and leave me”.

You could, he was right. However, either fortunately or unfortunately, it was him the one you had caught strong feelings for, and somewhere within the deepest inside of you, you knew falling harder and harder was all you would do from then on.

So, you decided to let him know.

“The thing is, I don’t want some stupid Mr. Right” you confessed, placing your hands on his chest out of habit, “I want you”.

“And I want you” he replied in what felt like a heartbeat, resting his forehead on yours and gently holding your waist — his thumbs drawing small circles on your sides as his lips already were searching for yours, “no one else”.

The way he had every so lovingly whispered those words over your mouth sent shivers down your spine, forgetting your point for a moment there as his sweet lips caught your lower one in between them.

“Jeongguk, wait....” you managed to mumble in between tender kisses, having your voice come out muffled by the soft touch of his lips, “this doesn’t change the fact that I don’t—”

Your words were temporarily hushed by another kiss.

“—entirely trust us together”.

His breathing trembled as he inhaled, fully withdrawing his mouth from yours before his forehead once again rested against your own. He understood. In all honesty, a part of him still didn’t know if he could entirely trust himself either. But he wanted you, in a way he had not ever wanted anyone else, and that was enough for him to know he wanted to fight for you and what the two of you could have if you just acted on your feelings instead of keep ignoring them any longer.

“Let’s just… be exclusive for now then”.

Your eyes opened at that, finding his chocolate ones already staring back at you. “I don’t know about you” a small smile curved up your lips, “but I haven’t slept with anyone else for a while now”.

Jeongguk couldn’t help but smile brightly at your confession, feeling his heart flutter and an indescriptible feel of joy taking over his body.

“Neither have I” he admitted, causing you to tauntingly raise one of your eyebrows. Rolling his eyes, he cupped your face in his hands. “I haven’t. Can you trust me in this one?”

Staring into his genuine eyes, you could do no other but believe him; nodding your head lightly after a few seconds.

“This solves nothing then” your bummed statement got a frown out of him, at which you explained: “We were already kind of exclusive and we still ended up the way we did…”

“But it’s official now” he pointed out, absently tracing your lower lip with his thumbs. “And I don’t mean it just when it comes to sex, I, let’s… not be with anyone else at all. No dates, no kissing…”

“No studying sessions?” you teased before you could stop yourself.

Too soon.

“Y/N” he sighed, “I’m serious” his lower lip stuck out.

“I know, I’m sorry” you pouted as well, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck and feeling your muscles relax when his familiar hands were instinctively placed by your sides, like they had been moments ago. “It’s just… such level of exclusiveness can lead to one of us to confuse it for an actual relationship at some point...”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that happened...” he sheepishly admitted, making your heart jump when he added with the same shy tone: “Hopefully it won’t be just one of us”.

“And then what?” you questioned, gently playing with the dark strands of hair falling over his neck.

“Then we date” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world; and, to some extent, you knew it was. “As in, boyfriend and girlfriend, in health and sickness or however it goes, kind of serious”.

A bright smile took over your face as you chuckled at his way with words, having him mirror it in a second.

“Just to make sure then” you raised one of your eyebrows, “we won’t be doing anything coupley for now, right? It’s just a promise not to be with anyone else?”

“Oh, no” he denied immediately, “I’ll definitely be all over you and spoil you as much as I can”.

You couldn’t hold back the giggle that had just escaped your mouth, biting down on your lower lip to try and stop smiling so that you could properly speak again.

“We might as well start dating now then” you snorted with the intention of taunting him, yet only causing his heart to skip a beat instead, “since what you’re proposing is pretty much the same”.

“I mean” he dragged on the last letter; his nose faintly brushing over yours, “if you want to…”

You shook your head in amusement, not being able to erase your smile and stop another giggle from escaping your lips.

“Let’s just…” you begun as you tightened your hold around his neck, earning a chuckle from him at the feel of your chest pressing against his — loving to have you closer than he had expected to, “take things slow from here... you know, test the waters...”

He smiled sweetly, nodding his head and letting out an almost inaudible ‘okay’ before he closed the space between your mouths.

As one of his hands moved up to cup your cheek and allow him to intensify the kiss by pressing his lips deeper against yours, his other one was soon to follow just as your fingers begun to entangle themselves in his messy hair. It was that small act from yours he had always been driven crazy for, along with your mouth opening faintly to allow his tongue the entrance it had been asking for, what caused his free hand to stop from travelling up to your cheek and instead move down to the hem of your sweater, wasting no time in digging inside the fabric so he could tenderly caress your skin; almost immediately feeling your goosebumps under his fingertips.

“Does this mean no sex for a while now?” he panted, planting a chaste kiss to your mouth, “because this one week without having you has been killing me”.

You bit down on your lower lip and shook your head in amused disbelief, jokingly shoving him away from you, only for his hands to catch yours and pull you closer to him once again — warmingly wrapping you inside his arms.

“Ugh, you only want me for my body” you over dramatically breathed out, causing a light laugh to escape his throat, and then a moan to be muffled against your lips when you determinedly pulled him towards you to resume your needy make out session.

You knew now more than ever that it was not like that at all, because the line between fuck-buddies and an actual couple had been one hell of a thin one for the two of you for a while now, and even though there were quite a few things both of you needed to work out first in order to put a label to your relationship, there was one thing you were sure about: you didn’t need to name what you had for it to be genuine.

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lewispandawrites · 4 years ago

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Prompt for your "Valkyrie".AU. Brienne has a seat in the back of a conference room. Jaime is giving a presentation with a crap ton of power point slides. So, she gets to listen to him talking about "market penetration" and stuff for a while...

Only after writing it did I realise it didn't fit the setting you requested perfectly but I still hope you'll enjoy it!

Also on ao3.

The fic under the cut.

This was bad. This was very bad, not good at all.

Why had Brynden Tully and Arthur Dayne had to decide on a merger?

Brienne, as a member of Tully’s team, was sitting now in the conference room, as far away from Mr Jaime Lannister, also known as GoldenLion, as she could. Thankfully, he was the most important member of Dayne’s team, so he sat directly opposite from Catelyn. Who was two persons away from Brienne.

At first, she tried to reason with herself. Why on Earth would Mr Jaime Lannister record audio porn? Surely, he had more important things to do and an array of other forms of entertainment. He could play golf, cricket, purchase sports cars, do anything more fitting to his position. But over the recent weeks she had become very well acquainted with GoldenLion’s voice, and it had to be him. GoldenLion had a great recording equipment (now Brienne knew exactly how he had been able to afford it) and the smooth voice that carried across the table could only be his.

Brienne thought she was doing quite alright. Even more than quite alright. She had mastered a completely blank face years before and she was putting that skill to a good use now. She was also sitting completely still in her seat, save for an occasional note written on her stack of files. No one seemed to be the wiser to her avoiding looking directly at Mr Lannister, let alone what she had been up to last night.

The worst thing was, not looking at him didn’t exactly help. GoldenLion had recorded a very, very good office fantasy, and back then Brienne had been foolish enough to imagine it taking place in this conference room - where she had barely spent time and wouldn’t be distracted by the memories of it. Or blush every time she entered. But now she was sitting in the very same room with GoldenLion’s voice washing over her in person.

“You know well, Mrs Stark, that both Mr Blackfish and Mr Dayne have been considering external growth and since they know each other well, they decided a merger would be the best option.” Jaime’s voice brought her back from her inner battles and Brienne wished it hadn’t. She almost chuckled at the ‘external growth’.

“Hostile takeovers are also an option,” Catelyn replied. It was no surprise to anyone that she wasn't exactly favouring her uncle’s plans but her hands were tied. She was only here to represent him.

“But coming together is a more pleasurable option.” Brienne could swear Mr Lannister purred those words, and judging by Jon’s sudden cough, she wasn’t mistaken.

“You seem to be taking pleasure in it,” he purred as her mouth pulled off of his cock, a line of saliva connecting the head to her mouth. His fingers were tangled in her hair and his stump raised her chin so she would be looking at him.

Brienne looked down to doodle a tree in her notebook.

“But takeovers are more common. We’ll have to prepare for being scrutinized.” Robb chimed in, trying to earn his five minutes in the spotlight.

“You seem to like this pair,” he said, hooking his finger into her panties. The sight of him, kneeling at her feet, had her mewling. His lips were so close to her sex that she felt every word he uttered. “I like them as well. You made all those beautiful sounds when I lick you through them.” Just to drive the point across, his tongue drew a line from her opening to her clit, his mouth very familiar with the shape of her. “But they do keep me from tasting you. Don’t you think we should rectify that?”

“With businesses of the same size, mergers run more smoothly,” Mr Lannister added to a point Mr Marbrand had made.

When they had been standing together before, she couldn’t help but think how he was almost as tall as her, a rare thing. Not only did Brienne usually tower over everyone with her 6’3” - she had been working exclusively with the Starks and Jon for much too long to remember what it was like to be around someone her own height.

But it didn’t matter, when he drove into her from behind as her torso was flat on the table. Or maybe it made all the difference, because his lips attached themselves to the nape of her neck, the languid kisses a stark contrast to the harsh snap of his hips.

“Sweetling.” His breath tickled her skin. His fingers were working her clit mercilessly, rubbing her through her second orgasm. “That’s it. You’re such a good girl. One more, for me. Pretty please.”

Her walls clenched around nothing and this time she had to shift in her seat, regretting all the more her wandering thoughts when she felt the slick between her folds.

“We need more details on your market penetration strategy,” Catelyn asked, looking through the files already presented to them.

Brienne made the mistake of looking at Mr Lannister in that moment. His eyes were staring right at her, pinning her in place and making her feel like a deer caught in the headlines. He was in her yesterday, but also wasn’t. There was no logical way he could know, yet he kept looking at her, his eyes leaving hers to trace down her face and neck.

“Of course. But could I ask for a five minute break?” he asked, looking back at Catelyn. “This merger will take weeks anyway.”

“Yes. I think a break would do us good,” Catelyn agreed and Brienne heard Jon’s relieved sigh. They had been sitting there for much too long.

“Could we also open the window?” Jaime asked, standing up. The others followed him, with Jon even going as far as trying to discreetly stretch his legs while standing. Mrs Peckledon giggled at his antics and he blushed then shrugged.

“I’m afraid not but I could ask someone to change the AC settings,” Robb replied.

Mr Marbrand stretched his arms above his head and asked Pia if she wanted anything to eat. “But it’s only five minutes. Four now,” she replied, anxious, and Brienne felt for her. She had been in her place. Maybe they could get a drink, once it was over. She wasn’t vain enough to think she could mentor her, as Catelyn had done for her, but sometimes talking about things made a difference.

“We’ll start again in fifteen minutes,” Catelyn told Mrs Peckledon then glanced at Addam to confirm this.

“I might be running to mine after work, just to get some feeling back into my legs. Do you want something?” Jon asked.

“No, I’m alright,” Brienne replied then watched him go. And she was alright, or at least much, much better than she had been a moment ago. She needed to focus and not let her mind wander again, not in that direction. There was no way she would ever listen to his recordings again, she thought sadly. It would not only feel inappropriate but also extremely awkward, and might mess up with her work. She would have to make do with others, or maybe find someone new. It would do her sex life good, broadening her horizons. She should also make a trip to the bathroom before the break was over, because the slight slickness was making everything awkward.

“Hi. You look much better already.”

She hadn’t heard him move, too deep into her thoughts again, so she almost strained the muscles in her neck as her head snapped to look at him. He was standing next to her with a cup of water in his hand - a cup that was then brought closer to her. “Would you like some water?”

“Thank you,” Brienne replied, not knowing what else to do, and accepted the cup with a nod. “Mr Lannister,” she added quickly.

“Please, call me Jaime.” Of course, they had already introduced themselves before the meeting, and he had called her Brienne. Oh, she was making it even more awkward. “I wanted to check if you were okay. Forgive me for being so forward but you looked very flushed from across the room,” he explained awkwardly, shifting from one leg to another. “And forgive me for assuming-”

“No, it’s alright. Thank you. I’m much better now,” she cut in, thankful that he seemed as awkward as she was. Yet when he shot her a very charming, grateful smile, she began to question that assessment.

“You made a really good point, about the name. I’ve been trying to bring it up with Arthur for a while now but he thinks it’s not important,” he started again after a moment of silence. Her traitorous brain was telling her he was trying to keep conversation going but she quickly shot it down. They were the only two people in the room now, so he was probably just trying to be polite and not really interested in her. Or he was trying to dig some info.

“Thank you,” she said, again. Then berated herself for it. “I hope this will go smoothly,” Brienne added, wanting to contribute more to their conversation.

Jaime replied with a grin. “Those things never do but I do believe a merge between those two will be the most pleasant one in history. I’m actually surprised why it didn’t happen sooner. But, maybe it was meant that way,” he added, not taking his eyes from her.

#teaandbanjo #jaime x brienne #brienne x jaime #braime #braime fic

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addisonacres · 5 years ago

Text

Insecure: A Starker Secret Santa Gift

For @starkerotic. Not sure where you are in the world but here it’s already the 24th. I hope you enjoy! @starkersecretsanta

Prompt: peter is going away for MIT. tony is... he wants peter to enjoy college life, but he and peter are still very new and, as much as his ego hates to acknowledge it, he's insecure; peter will be meeting more and more people and tony is happy for him to make friends, he is - but... harley keener becomes a regular mention in their nightly phone calls, and tony can't help but to worry. (no infidelity, just insecurities.)

Tony stood in the doorway to Peter’s small bedroom in Queens and watched as his young lover tried to cram another tin of the horrible dry cookies that May had made him into his suitcase. Peter wasn’t packing a lot of unnecessary items since MIT was only a couple of hours away after all, but even so, he’d taken a few things of comfort. May had baked for days, and Peter had watched on in dawning horror as she had packed up tin after tin of her goodies. As terrible a cook as May was, Tony had no doubts that Peter would eat every last cookie and brownie, simply because he missed his aunt. He wasn’t so sure about the hoodie of his that he spotted before the suitcase lid had been closed - he’d like to think that Peter would wear it at every opportunity, possibly not wash it for as long as he could to keep the faint scent of Tony’s cologne for as long as possible, but maybe Peter wouldn’t miss Tony as much as he would miss Peter.

It was odd to think that Tony was the more insecure one in this relationship but he was fairly certain that that was the way the cookie crumbled.

They’d not been together long, only the few months since Peter had graduated from high school. They’d had a glorious summer together and Peter had proved that he wasn’t as shy in the bedroom as he was in everyday life. Tony had had many fantasies about his protege, and most had revolved around taking Peter apart and piecing him back together again, using every trick that he knew to make Peter a squirming, mewling mess of post coital bliss, wowing his lover with his experience. To say that it hadn't quite gone down that way was an understatement. Peter was confident, determined, and almost cocky in the bedroom, making demands and expecting Tony to carry them out. Of course, it wasn’t a hardship for Tony, but it had had him on the backfoot the first time or two, and he’d even been a little shocked by Peter’s kinkiness. Both of them switched, neither preferring to only top or bottom and so they enjoyed taking it in turns, but when Peter had shot his load deep inside Tony only to drop down and then suck it out of him, Tony started to realise that perhaps he was in over his head. Peter might look like an angel, but in the bedroom he was definitely an incubus.

Peter was also insatiable, and Tony had been pushed to his limits. He wasn’t twenty anymore and he had difficulty getting it up more than once a day. He’d had to get creative to keep Peter satisfied, who if he got his way would ride Tony’s dick from sun up to sun down. Tony had absolutely no problem with sucking Peter to completion anytime his own cock didn't want to come to the party, but his knees were another matter entirely. After the first time or two, he began to subtly lead Peter to the couch, or to the bed, or (when pressed) at least to the very plush rug in the living room. Luckily, the few times that Tony simply didn't have the energy and just wanted to lay there with Peter in his arms and hold him, Peter hadn’t seemed to mind. He knew it was a blow to his ‘playboy’ persona but luckily they’d kept their relationship out of the public eye so at least the tabloids wouldn't have a field day if they found out that he couldn’t keep up with his young lover.

His young, insatiable, sex craved lover who would be heading off to a campus full of other young, insatiable, sex craved youths…

Tony tried really, really hard not to think along those lines but Peter had made it clear that he liked sex, he liked a lot of sex, and suddenly Tony wasn’t going to be around to give it to him. Their relationship was still new, so new in fact that they hadn't exactly had any talks about being exclusive or anything. To Tony it was a given - the days of his aversion to commitment were far behind him, but Peter had never really specified what they were to him. Yes, he’d had a crush on Tony for years, and he'd jumped at the chance to have more with him, but as Tony had come to discover, he really didn't know Peter as well as he thought he had. Peter hadn't been a blushing virgin when they’d gotten together, wasn’t naive and innocent. Given how confident he was in the bedroom, knowing exactly what he liked and not being shy about getting it, Tony really didn't want to think about how many people Peter had been with in the past to gain that experience. He didn't judge Peter for having numerous sexual partners (he’d be a hypocrite if he did after all) but he did worry that Peter viewed their relationship slightly differently to how Tony saw it. If he wasn't emotionally constipated, he’d talk to Peter before he left but it was too late for that now. The suitcase was zipped, Peter was looking around the room, scanning for anything he’d left behind, and there was a knock at the front door that indicated that Happy was ready to drive Peter over to campus.

“This is it then,” Tony said, somewhat redundantly.

Peter nodded and then crossed the room, hugging Tony close. “I miss you already,” he said, then tilted his head, demanding a kiss.

Tony brushed their lips together, feeling a little better about Peter’s declaration. “I’ll call every night,” he promised, “and visit as often as I can.”

Peter smiled but they both knew that the visits wouldn’t be as regular as they wished. Having Tony Stark turn up in the dorms would be a surefire way to expose their relationship to the world and Peter didn’t need to spend his first year at MIT fighting off the paparazzi. “I’ll visit too,” he promised and this was more realistic. Besides coming back to see May, Peter also had his Spider-Man responsibilities to uphold. They’d announced that Spidey was now an official Avenger and would be away on missions for them to explain away his absence from Queens, but Peter still wanted to patrol when he could.

“Peter, it’s time to go,” May called from the living room where she was chatting to Happy.

“I’m coming!” he called back, but then turned back to Tony and kissed him one last time. The kiss was deep and filthy, with a lot of tongue and teeth, and it left Tony panting for more. Peter grinned at him as they broke apart, his eyes darting down knowingly to the tent in Tony’s pants. “Just to remind you what you’ll be missing,” he said with a wink, and then turned, grabbed his suitcase and headed out of his bedroom.

Tony trailed behind slowly, watched as Peter said his goodbyes to May and offered a halfhearted wave as Peter and Happy left. By unspoken agreement, neither he nor May went down to the street to watch solemnly as the car drove off - they didn’t have much but they wanted to retain the small shred of dignity that remained.

Several minutes went by as they both just stared at the closed door, feeling empty and lost. Finally May turned to Tony and sad, “I need a drink. You want one?”

He glanced at the clock on the wall which hadn't even hit 10am as yet. Shrugging, he said, “Sure, it’s five o’clock somewhere,” and then they proceeded to drink two bottles of wine before lunch.

oOoOo

“Are you all settled in?” Tony asked, drinking in the sight of Peter’s face on the screen.

“Yeah, didn't take me long to unpack. I headed to the info fair they had and checked out some of the robotics groups but they’re leagues behind what I’ve been working on with you.” Peter pouted and Tony wished he could kiss it off his lips.

“Maybe you should join one anyway? You might teach them something.”

Peter shrugged. “I guess. I’m just wary of getting involved in anything that I can’t commit to if I’m spending every free weekend and holiday back in New York.”

Tony’s heart skipped a beat at that, suddenly overwhelmed with happiness that Peter was looking forward to being home so much. He knew he was pathetic but since no one else had access to his inner thoughts, no one else had to know. “Your first lecture is tomorrow, yeah?” It was a moot question as Peter had had his schedule for two weeks now and Tony had memorised it.

“Yep, then a lab after that. I’m looking forward to it.” Behind Peter the door opened and Tony just caught sight of a tousled head of dirty blonde curls before Peter cut the video feed on their call. “Sorry,” he whispered, “my roommate is back.”

“That’s okay,” Tony assured him, wishing that they didn't have to hide but not ever wanting to put Peter in the spotlight before he was ready. “You get along okay?”

Peter made a small sound that was the vocal equivalent of a shrug. “I guess.Too soon to really tell.”

Knowing that it was hard to talk with someone in the room, Tony decided to wrap the call up. “Okay, baby, I’ll let you get back to it. Have fun tomorrow.”

“I will. Talk tomorrow?”

It warmed him that Peter seemed just as eager to keep in touch. “You bet. I’ve got a few meetings during the day but you can text whenever you want and I’ll phone you when I’m home.”

“Can’t wait. Bye then.”

He fought the urge to sign off with an I love you, knowing it was too soon, even if that’s how he felt. “Bye, Pete,” he said softly instead. The call disconnected and Tony felt bereft. He went into the bedroom, flopped onto the bed and pulled the pillow that still smelled like Peter close to his face, hugging it tightly.

It was a poor substitute but he eventually fell asleep with the pillow hugged to his chest.

oOoOo

Tony soon learned that the roommate was called Harley Keener. He was doing Mechanical Engineering and had one class that overlapped with Peter’s Chemical Engineering course. He was three months older than Peter, had a younger sister, and his dad had skipped out on the family, leaving his mom to raise them alone. During one phone call Tony had overheard Harley speak as he entered the room and he’d heard a southern twang, with Peter telling him later that he was from Tennessee.

At first Harley was only ever really mentioned when their calls were cut short by him returning early to the dorm. Tony had his schedule memorised like he did Peter’s and knew that Mondays from two till four and Thursdays from three thirty till five were the best times to catch Peter alone. They’d taken to having hurried phone sex on these days, propping their phones in front of them as they watched the other jerk off, the need to reach out and touch Peter through the screen almost overwhelming Tony.

The third weekend, Peter came home and between meals with May, patrolling the neighbourhood, and long, frantic sessions in the bedroom, Peter hardly mentioned his roommate. The next time he came back, two weeks later, he briefly mentioned that Harley had gotten a Lego Starship Enterprise and after a lengthy debate over which was better - Star Trek or Star Wars, he grudgingly allowed Peter to help him build it. Tony was happy that Peter had made a friend, since he’d been gutted when he’d watched as Ned and MJ had left for different universities across the country. As he knew intimately, phone calls and texts were a hollow way of staying in touch and he knew that Peter missed his friends. Tony got F.R.I.D.A.Y. to run a background check on the Keener kid and when it came back clear, Tony was able to relax a little and be happy that Peter had someone in his day to day life to talk to.

That happiness faded a little as time went on as Peter began to talk more and more about Harley and what they’d gotten up to. When three phone calls had gone by and all Peter had said was “Harley this” and “Harley that”, Tony began to get worried. It was clear that Peter had really connected with this kid, which was great on one hand, but on the other, it simply highlighted everything that Tony wasn’t.

Peter was young and enthusiastic and energetic, and Harley seemed to always be with him as they studied in the library, or checked out a frat party, or spent an hour at 3am in the middle of the week, hyped up on caffeine and energy drinks, seeing if it was possible to swing the swing in the playground around the frame 360 degrees.

Tony was old and sarcastic and could spend a whole week in his lab without coming up for air. Sure, he was Iron Man and he was fit for his age, but there was always going to be ‘for his age’ tacked onto descriptions like that. He still had all of his hair but it was definitely turning more silver now and he found that seeing anyone with a head full of sandy curls triggered a bout of anxiety that made him gasp for breath and have to sit down.

It was five months in that Tony began to have actual suspicions and not just insecure worries. By now, Peter had a routine. Every second weekend (the one that lined up with May’s weekend off work) he would come home, arriving in the evening on Friday and not heading back until late Sunday night. He, Tony, and May would have dinner on Friday night, then Peter would come back to the Tower with Tony and they would spend every minute together, meeting again with May for brunch on Sunday. It was even common to see Iron Man patrolling with Spider-Man, so intent was Tony on not missing out on spending any time with his lover. Peter never seemed to mind - in fact, the times that he and Tony swung/flew through the buildings of Queens always seemed to energise him and on more than one occasion he’d not even waited until they were home, just pushed Tony into some out of the way place on a rooftop or in a dark alley before dropping to his knees.

Tony cherished their weekends together and so it was like a slap in the face when he got a call on Friday afternoon from Peter, telling him that he wasn’t coming back this weekend.

“I’ve got a big project to work on for my Differential Equations course - we’ve had to partner up for it and it’s worth thirty percent of my grade so I don’t want to phone it in.”

Tony knew that that was the class that Peter shared with Harley and with a sinking feeling he asked, “So, who did you partner with?”

“Harley, of course,” Peter answered, his tone indicating that Tony was daft for even asking, like there was no possible alternative. “He’s heading off to visit his family next weekend so we need to get a start on it now.”

“Right, well, of course, your studies come first.”

“Thanks, Tony, I knew you’d understand. Enjoy your weekend.”

If it had just been that, then maybe Tony would have been able to brush it off. He’d not really expected Peter to come visit the following weekend since May had her shift at the hospital but he was guttered when he called Peter like usual on the Friday night to find that Peter wasn’t in his dorm - instead he was in some tiny town in bum-fuck nowhere Tennessee, visiting Harley’s family with his friend.

“I’m sure I mentioned I was heading down here this weekend,” Peter said when Tony asked why he was there. “Harley’s mom has been wanting to meet me for ages and the last time she came up to campus I was with you. They’re all so nice, they’ve made me feel very welcome.”

“Well, that’s good. I hope you have a nice time.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will.” Peter paused and listened to someone hollering in the background. Tony’s eye twitched as he recognised Harley’s voice. Peter’s voice became muffled as he covered his phone with his hand but Tony still heard him say, “No, it’s nothing important, I’m just finishing up, then I’ll be there.” Then he came back to Tony. “I have to go, dinner’s ready.”

They hadn't even been talking for two minutes, but apparently he was ‘nothing important’. “Oh, okay. I guess I’ll speak to you tomorrow then.”

“About that, I think we’re going camping and reception here is a bit shitty so I don’t know if the call will come through. Try though, but if not, I’ll talk to you when I’m back at school.”

Tony did try to call the following day but didn't get through. He tried again on Sunday and it simply rang out. He began to come up with all sorts of theories as to what was keeping Peter so busy that he wasn’t answering. By Monday he knew that Peter would be back at MIT but by then he was too busy feeling sorry for himself and couldn't be bothered making the call. He holed up in his lab but couldn’t stop himself from checking the time every ten minutes. 2pm, their regular call time came and went, but Peter didn't call. It was rare that he called - it was generally Tony who called him to keep Peter’s phone bill down, but in the past if Tony had been ten minutes late to call because he was stuck in a meeting, Peter would ring.

Half past two came and went and soon so did 3pm. By now Tony had given up on Peter calling, and he hid his phone on the other side of the lab so he wouldn't give in and call Peter. He knew that he was being childish and stubborn but he needed proof that Peter still cared about him, that it wasn’t always Tony making the effort. He was first and foremost a scientist and theories required evidence to prove them. His main theory, that Harley had become something more to Peter, that he was sleeping with him, would be hard to prove without Peter admitting it, but Tony figured that it wouldn’t hurt to begin distancing himself before their relationship officially ended. He wasn’t one to fling accusations and have dramatic confrontations - those hurt too much - so he’d begin to withdraw, put some space between Peter and his shattering heart so when Peter finally broke up with him, he might not be entirely broken.

By the time the sun had gone down and Tony still hadn't heard from Peter, not even a text message, he hit the bar in the penthouse. F.R.I.D.A.Y confirmed that Peter was on campus, that he’d been spotted on several CCTV cameras heading to and from class which laid to rest the small possibility that he’d been injured somehow and was in hospital. His conscience was clear to get completely and utterly plastered and he drank most of a bottle of whiskey before he passed out on the sofa in the living room.

He was woken early the following morning by his phone beeping and he peeled open a crusted eyelid to peer at the screen. It was a text from Peter.

I fell asleep yesterday afternoon, sorry :( Talk tonight?

Tony wanted to ignore it, but his stubbornness was weakened in his hungover state and he replied back with a simple, Okay.

Classes didn't finish until late on Tuesdays so Tony waited until 6pm to phone Peter. He was breathless when he answered, but sounded enthusiastic enough. “Hey, Tony! Sorry, I had to speak to my lecturer after class and had to run to get back in time for your call.”

Tony didn’t point out that a cell phone could be answered anywhere or that Peter rarely got breathless from running, his Spider DNA leaving him in peak physical condition. He also tried hard not to listen for any noises in the background, unsure if he could handle the sounds of Harley in the room. “That’s okay. How was class?”

“Same old same old, really. There’s not much to tell you, except that I miss you.”

“Figured you’d be too busy to miss me,” Tony said, and couldn't quite keep the bitterness from his voice.

“Tony, of course I miss you,” Peter exclaimed. “I’m sorry we didn't get to talk over the weekend, but that’s just made me miss you even more.”

He sighed and tried to stop from making a complete fool of himself. “I miss you too, baby.”

“I can’t wait for this weekend when I get to see you. Got, I want you so bad.”

He was weak but couldn’t help but ask, “Really?”

“You have no idea how much, Tony. I’m going to climb you like a tree the second I see you.”

He was reassured by this up until he phoned on Wednesday and a voice that he’d only ever heard in the background answered the phone. “Peter’s House of Pleasure, if it fits, he sits.”

Tony froze. “Excuse me?” he choked out when his voice finally worked again.

In the background, Tony heard Peter whining and there was the sound of a struggle. Harley laughed and asked, “So, who is this? Peter has you down as Iron Man so you’re obviously a fan of Tony Stark. Is this the Ned I’ve heard so much about?”

“Ned is listed in Peter’s phone as Chewie,” Tony almost snapped.

He distantly heard Peter say, “For fuck’s sake, Harls, give me my damn phone!”

“Nah, not yet, I wanna know who it is.”

“If you don’t give it back right this instant I’m changing you in my contacts from Kirk to John Archer.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Harley sounded shocked.

“Watch me,” Peter threatened.

“Eh, you gotta get your phone back first.” Harley teased, and Tony heard more struggling, and some giggles. “I gotta figure out why you’ve named this guy Iron Man, I’m on a mission.”

Tony had had enough. “Because I am Iron Man,” he snapped and then turned on the front facing camera. A moment later the camera on Peter’s phone flickered to life as well and Tony was assaulted with the view of Harley sprawled out on Peter’s bed, Peter’s arms wrapped around him as he tried to grapple the phone back from him. Harley’s mouth dropped open in shock as he saw Tony on the other side. “Holy fucking shit, you’re Tony Stark!”

Tony smirked at him cruelly, hoping to overwhelm the twerp with his fame. “The one and only. Now, if you would kindly give Peter back his phone, we were discussing our plans for the weekend.”

The phone was shoved back to Peter who pulled away from Harley and gazed at Tony through the screen, cheeks bright pink and hair tousled. “Hey, Tony, sorry ‘bout that.”

“You call him Tony?” Harley squawked in the background.

Peter’s eyes darkened. “Would you just fuck off, Harley and let me take this damn call?”

Behind Peter, Tony saw Harley stand and head for the door, waving over his shoulder. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Tony asked mildly, not wanting to give away how much it had hurt to see the two teens entangled on Peter’s bed, even if there was a remote possibility that it had just been innocent friendly wrestling.

Peter rolled his eyes. “He’ll just be shitty that he didn’t know that we knew each other. He likes to think that he knows everything about me but really, he hardly knows me at all.”

Carefully, Tony asked, “Do you want him to know you better?”

Now, Peter’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Tony shrugged, going for nonchalant but knowing he missed it by a mile, all of his insecurities showing on his face. “You two seem pretty close is all. You have a lot in common, and seem compatible, he’s your age after all…”

“I can’t believe...you actually...fuck, Tony…” Peter shook his head. “No, you know what? I refuse to have this conversation with you over the phone.” And he disconnected the call.

Tony spent a long time just staring at the blank screen, feeling sick to his stomach. This was it, he just knew it. The next time he saw Peter it would be so he could be told face to face that they were over. The best thing he had ever had in his life and it was slipping through his fingers. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or throw up so he settled instead for drinking heavily since that way he’d probably end up doing both.

He was on his third glass of scotch when he heard the familiar sound of repulsors and then a large clunk. Curious, he staggered to his feet and looked outside to the large landing pad and saw Rhodey crouched down in his landing pose. He straightened and then Tony saw Spider-Man clinging to his back. He’d climbed down by the time Tony made it to the door and he was in time to hear Peter say, “Thanks for the lift.”

“Anytime, kid,” Rhodey replied. “Talk some sense into him, yeah?”

Peter was looking directly at Tony when he responded. “I’ll try but I think he’s being stubborn.”

Rhodey snorted. “Yeah, he gets like that.” Then with a burst of his lower repulsors, he was taking off into the night, leaving the two of them alone.

“What are you doing here?” Tony blurted, unable to stand the assessing look that Peter was giving him.

Peter stared at him a little longer and then shook his head. “You are such a fucking idiot,” he said and then closed the distance between them and pulled Tony into an embrace.

“What does this mean?” Tony whispered when he finally forced himself to pull back so that he wouldn’t have time to get used to Peter’s warmth before he lost it entirely.

“It means,” Peter said slowly, “that for all your genius, you have no fucking clue.”

“Yeah, still not really making sense,” he admitted.

Peter sighed. “Let me spell it out for you then. I love you, Tony, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I am not sleeping with Harley, or anyone else for that matter. I want you and only you. Making sense now?”

“But, last weekend, and today, on the bed…”

“For the love of all that is holy,” Peter muttered, his words almost inaudible over the sound of the wind on the landing. “Look, let’s go inside so we can talk, okay? You probably need some water too, since you’ll have a horrible hangover in the morning if you don’t.”

“I was kind of drinking my sorrows away,” Tony admitted in a small voice as he followed Peter inside.

Heading straight for the bar to fill a glass with water from the pitcher there, Peter glared at him. “I would like to point out that these are imaginary sorrows.”

“It didn't feel like it to me.” Tony’s voice cracked a little bit and Peter’s expression softened.

“Here, drink this and then come sit down.”

Doing as he was told, Tony drained the glass and then joined Peter on the sofa.

“Tony, last weekend I went camping with Harley’s family. I spent most of the weekend giving his little sister piggyback rides through the woods and helping his mother cook. He’s my friend and I like spending time with him, but that’s all he is.”

“So you really don’t want him that way?”

“I’m not going to lie - I do find him attractive, but I find pretty much all of the Avengers hot as well but that doesn't mean I want to have sex with them. Harley knows that I’m seeing someone, but I haven’t told him who since we agreed to keep it quiet. I trust that he can keep a secret so if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll tell him that it’s you that I’m seeing. Hell, come up to campus and visit me and you can meet him! I’ll be happy for you to make a few possessive displays of affection if it’ll stop you worrying.”

Tony huffed out a laugh. “Does that include me pounding you into the mattress and then coming all over your ass as he walks in the door?”

Peter gave him a wry smile. “Yeah, that might be taking it a little too far.” His voice dropped lower and he leaned in to purr into Tony’s ear. “But there’s nothing to say that we can’t do that right now.” He nipped at Tony’s lobe. “Come on, Tony, want you so much, want you to mark me, claim me as yours. What do you say? You up for it?”

Tony wasn't one to turn down a challenge and it turned out that he was definitely up for it. Twice in fact.

#starkersecretsanta2019 #starker #peter parker #tony stark #insecurities #angst

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hopesilverheart · 4 years ago

Text

Title: I loved your colours (before I loved you) Artist: @calliartss Rating: Explicit (Chapter 10 only) Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Alec Lightwood & Clary Fray, Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood Word Count: ~95k Summary: Magnus Bane is a journalist who's always dreamed of modelling for Lightwood Fashions. When the CEO Alec Lightwood starts looking for new models for their spring collection, he jumps on the occasion.

In the meantime, Alec Lightwood is struggling with the idea of finally announcing his role as co-designer. When Magnus Bane strolls into his life, Alec is torn between keeping his secret or throwing all caution to the wind.

This fic was created for the Malec Discord Mini Bang 2020.

Chapter 1: A change to set you free

Magnus woke up with a start, bleary-eyed and confused.

A cup of coffee lay forgotten in front of him, papers scattered all over his desk, his computer still open and ready to be used. He couldn’t remember what he had been doing earlier, except that it had something to do with the ridiculous article Lorenzo had been pushing him to publish all month.

It took him a second longer to realise he was in his work office and not at home. He groaned tiredly, knowing there was no way he could fall asleep here. He would never hear the end of it if one of his colleagues found out. Nightmares, the lot of them. Not for the first time, Magnus wished he didn’t desperately need this job.

This job he hated with a passion.

He loved being an editor, he really did. He loved writing and going over articles and occasionally working on a piece when his superiors needed his expertise. He loved working alongside bright people who lived to share information with the world. He loved the fast-paced world of media and the friends he had made thanks to it. He didn’t love the company he worked for.

He had loved it, once upon a time, when he had been younger and in love with all the wrong people. He had enjoyed waking up early and walking into the Fade Media building, hand in hand with his then-girlfriend. He had been on his way to getting promoted, and had been the best contender for the Head Editor position. He had the credentials, the experience, the seniority.

Breaking up with Camille had ruined it all for him. His ex-girlfriend had shares in the company and was close friends with the CEO, Malcolm Fade. It was all too easy for her to pressure the man into promoting someone else in Magnus’ place. That had been five years ago.

Five years of working under Lorenzo Rey, an arrogant man who believed he was the best employee the company had ever seen. He wasn’t a terrible editor, loathe as Magnus was to admit it, but he was far from a people-person. Magnus couldn’t count how many times he’d had to interview people himself, trying to salvage the wreck Lorenzo’s bluntness left in its wake.

He loved working, but he hated the people he worked for. He hated crossing paths with Camille and Malcolm, smirks firmly in place every time they saw him. He hated knowing he would never get the job he wanted and hated not having the strength to leave.

Because as much as Magnus hated this place, he also knew it was his best shot. Fade Media was the second largest media company in the city, and Magnus knew there was no way he would ever be hired by the first. He had preferred settling for second-best instead of risking his entire career. He felt pathetic every time he walked into his subpar office, but at least he was getting paid and had some sort of influence on his co-workers.

Still, on days like these, when Magnus was exhausted and working on something for Lorenzo, he wished he were just a bit more brave.

He packed up his belongings as fast as possible, checking his phone and groaning as he caught a glimpse of the time – past ten, already – as well as five missed calls from Catarina. He had promised his friend he would have dinner with her and Madzie, but he had been tired and stressed and it had completely slipped his mind.

Feeling bad for bailing on his best friend yet again – it was the third time in a month, and he knew even Catarina’s patience had its limits – he called her back as he walked out of the building, promising himself he’d clean his office after a good night’s sleep.

“Magnus Bane.” He grimaced at his best friend’s cool tone. Before he could apologise for his absence, Catarina was speaking again. “Don’t even try to apologise or make excuses. Madzie was devastated when she realised you were skipping dinner again. Now I have a seven-year-old girl clinging to me in her sleep because she thinks her godfather has forgotten about her. I expect you to make up for this, Magnus, gifts and dinners and everything included.”

Magnus gulped, feeling even worse now than he had a few minutes earlier. He loved Madzie more than anyone in the world, and he hated knowing he had hurt her, no matter how unintentionally. His goddaughter had been abandoned once in her life, and she didn’t need to go through that a second time.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry,” he sighed, shivering as the December air wormed its way underneath his clothes. He should have brought a coat, but he hadn’t thought he’d be out so late. “I fell asleep at work again, not that it excuses anything. I’ll make time for Madzie this week-end, I promise. I’m almost done with this piece and Lorenzo should be leaving me alone for a while after it.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re telling the truth,” his best friend said sternly, though Magnus could hear the worry lingering in her throat. “But Magnus…”

“I’m fine,” he muttered before she could get any further than that. “I know you hate hearing about my terrible sleep schedule, but I’m more than okay. This piece is just harder than I anticipated. Lorenzo’s got expectations bigger than his ego, and that’s saying something. “

“I can’t wait for the day when you finally knock that lizard off his pedestal,” Catarina huffed. Even as tired as he was, Magnus took a second to laugh delightedly at his best friend’s nickname for his boss. If anyone hated Lorenzo more than Magnus did, it was Catarina. She had been looking forward to his promotion almost as much as he had and had despised his replacement from the get-go. “You know, you could still leave. You don’t have to work for that horrible man if you don’t want to. I’m sure Fade will be begging you to come back as soon as he realises you’re the only thing keeping his company together.”

Magnus smiled at the compliment even though he knew it was far from true. Did he believe he was a better reporter and editor than Lorenzo? Yes. Did he think Lorenzo couldn’t live without him? No. There were dozens of incredible journalists out there, and he knew all of his colleagues were waiting for him to crack under the pressure and resign. He refused to give them that satisfaction.

“I’ll be fine, Cat,” he answered, turning onto his street and sighing contentedly. A few more minutes and he would be in bed, getting the sleep he deserved and desperately needed. “I’m almost home, so I’ll call you later, alright? Are you guys free on Saturday?”

“You know we are,” Catarina said. Magnus could picture her rolling her eyes as she spoke and an amused smile twitched at his lips. “We’ll figure out the details during our call tomorrow. Don’t you dare forget about me again.”

“I won’t,” Magnus promised. “Good night, Cat. I love you, and please tell Madzie I love her too. I won’t disappoint her again.”

“I know you won’t,” Catarina murmured. “I love you too, Magnus, now go get some sleep.”

With that, she hung up, leaving Magnus alone in front of his apartment. He walked inside, sighing at the ‘out of service’ sign still plastered onto the elevator, and resigned himself to having to walk up eight flights of stairs. He loved his penthouse, but the elevator had stopped working over a week ago and his legs were starting to protest the constant trips up and down the building.

By the time he made it to his loft, his whole body was aching and his mind was begging him to get into bed. He threw his bag somewhere near the door, and kicked his shoes off, hoping he’d be able to find them the next day.

He thought about taking a shower, since they usually made him feel better, but the mere idea of having to move more than strictly necessary had his limbs protesting angrily. Instead, he took a few minutes to remove his make-up and splash some water on his face in the hopes that it would keep him awake long enough to go through his nightly routine.

He looked at himself in the mirror briefly, wincing at how grey his skin appeared. He hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in over a month and it showed. He really needed to get his act together if he didn’t want his clients and colleagues to start noticing how run down he truly was.

Pulling himself away from his horrifying reflection, he walked back into his bedroom, jumped onto his bed and stretched out lazily. He didn’t get enough time surrounded by his silk sheets anymore, but he always relished in the few moments he did get.

He grabbed his phone, determined to scroll through the news and stay on top of things before falling asleep. As an employee of one of the main media companies in the country, he always made sure to be as aware of what was going on in the world as possible. It was extra work he didn’t get paid for, but it was worth it when his exclusive writings turned out better than anyone else’s.

The news was particularly dull this week; nothing exceptional was happening in the country, and the bigger celebrities had been strangely quiet all month. It meant less things for the magazine and website to cover, and more time for Lorenzo to come up with outrageous jobs for his subordinates.

He opened twitter last and immediately noticed the increase in activity. His followers were screaming about something, and Magnus sleepily tried to find the source behind their excitement.

The last thing he saw before he fell asleep was a headline that would undoubtedly make him freak out once he woke up the next morning.

Lightwood Fashions: Open Calls for Spring Collection Models

***

“Raphael Santiago! How dare you forget to mention your bosses were opening auditions for models?”

Magnus only had a few minutes until he had to get to work, but he’d be damned if he didn’t take that time to condemn his friend’s lack of forewarning.

Lightwood Fashions was one of the biggest fashion brands in the world, mostly thanks to the incredible work of Clary Fray and her secret partner. The two designers had single-handedly pushed the Lightwood name back to the top of the industry thanks to their superb designs. Magnus himself owned his fair share of Lightwood pieces, specifically from Fray’s collections.

A few years ago, Robert Lightwood had almost caused the downfall of his half of the family company. His divorce with Maryse Lightwood and the accusations of discrimination against his employees had completely ruined his company’s name. Lightwood Media had stood strong, but Lightwood Fashions had been seconds away from being shut down.

Thankfully, their eldest son had taken control of the company and turned it around. Hiring Fray had been a wonderful business decision, and although Magnus had his doubts about the Lightwood heir and his ability to run a fashion company, he had to admit everything had been going well so far.

So well, in fact, that they were apparently looking to temporarily increase the number of models for their Spring collection photoshoots and shows. Magnus had been dreaming of an opportunity like this one for years, and he had hoped his friend would tell him if one came up.

After all, Raphael was Lightwood Fashions’ best photographer, and Magnus had it on good authority that he was close to a few of the higher-ups. He had probably been aware this was going to happen for months, and yet hadn’t breathed a word of it to Magnus.

“There is such a thing as professional secrecy, Magnus,” Raphael answered dryly. “Alec mentioned the open calls a while back but I wasn’t sure it would actually happen. Even if I had been sure, I wouldn’t have told you. Besides, you’re aware of it now, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but now I only have a week to decide whether or not I want to put myself out there,” Magnus pouted, walking into Fade Media and plastering a fake smile on his face as he spotted Lorenzo Rey in the lobby. “I have to go, but we’ll be talking about this as soon as I have a minute to spare.”

He hung up before Raphael could answer, widening his grin and standing next to Lorenzo in front of the elevator. He could only hope the damned machine wouldn’t take ten minutes to arrive, because he wasn’t sure he could handle that much time alone with his ‘boss’.

“Magnus,” the man grinned, looking as smug as ever. He had never said it out loud, but Magnus knew Lorenzo adored being above him in the chain of command. “How are you doing today? Finally done with that project I assigned you last week?”

“Not quite,” Magnus grit out. Lorenzo knew it would take most people a month to complete what he had asked for, but Magnus was working day and night to make sure he got it done within the week. “It should be on your desk tonight, tomorrow at the latest.”

The Head Editor tried to hide his shock, but Magnus had spent his life learning how to read people, and he noticed the surprised twitch of Lorenzo’s fingers as he reached for the elevator button. He smirked inwardly, though his face remained an impassive mask. Oh, how he loved getting on this man’s nerves.

“That was fast,” Lorenzo finally answered. “I hope the quality of your work won’t be impacted by your insistence on rushing it.”

Magnus bristled internally but refused to say anything or show how much the jibe affected him. Lorenzo wanted him to lose his cool, and Magnus lived to make sure the man never got anything he wanted. He smiled instead, stepping into the elevator and glancing down at his phone in an obviously dismissive move.

Lorenzo twitched again, and this time Magnus let his smirk show on his face. If the man thought he would ever win one of their verbal spars, he was dreaming. Magnus was a master of words and human interactions, and he wasn’t about to let someone like Lorenzo Rey beat him at his own game.

Satisfied he had bested him once again, Magnus focused on his phone, sending a flurry of messages to Catarina about the damned lizard. Once that was done, he sent off two more angry texts to Raphael, asking for more details about the auditions. Finally, he let himself open his web browser and stare at the Lightwood announcement for the hundredth time that morning.

Apparently, their spring collection was shaping up to be the biggest and best one Fray and her partner had ever created, and they wanted to make sure they had the perfect models to get them through the season. Everyone could audition but only ten models would be chosen at the end of the process.

Some of the spots were already pretty much guaranteed, or at least Lightwood Media seemed to imply they were, since Fray had a few models she always worked with. However, there was still a chance Magnus could be chosen for the project, and his heart fluttered at the thought.

Before he had joined Fade Media as an editor, back when he had still been a college student struggling to find his place in the world, he had applied for a job at Lightwood Fashions. Everyone had always told him he would make a fantastic model, and he had wanted to see if there was any truth to their words.

What he hadn’t known at the time was that Robert Lightwood was both homophobic and racist; his application had been doomed from the start. He had taken the blow harder than anticipated and had shoved the idea of ever modelling to the back of his mind. But now… Now he knew the reason he hadn’t been accepted was most likely because of the colour of his skin and the people he was attracted to rather than his ability to do the job.

Alec Lightwood, on the other hand, was notorious for hiring people no matter their gender, skin colour, sexuality… The only thing that mattered to him was skill, and Magnus appreciated that – if nothing else – about him.

However, knowing he had a shot didn’t mean he would succeed. He knew Raphael would probably put in a good word for him, and knew he wasn’t bad at modelling, but the odds were still so low… He sighed and put his phone away, not wanting to make a decision before he had had the chance to speak to anyone about it.

“Something bothering you, Magnus?” Lorenzo asked. Magnus groaned internally but smiled and shook his head at his boss.

“Nothing at all,” he said. “I was just going over the news and thinking about Lightwood Fashions’ latest stunt. I’m wondering if this’ll mean an increase in their media department’s coverage or if they’ll be contacting fashion-oriented magazines instead. And if they stick to their own company, does this mean we’ll have a better chance at focusing on non-fashion related events?”

He was making most of it up on the spot, but Lorenzo didn’t need to know that. He’d rather have the man believe he was strategizing than realise Magnus was thinking about working for their biggest competitor. Thankfully, his boss bought it, gritting his teeth as though he was mad that he hadn’t thought about the impact the Lightwood collection might have on their media company.

Honestly, Magnus couldn’t care less about any of that, but it made Lorenzo seethe, so he’d count it as a win. The man hated that even after her ex-husband’s scandal, Maryse Lightwood had managed to keep her company at the top of the media game.

“An interesting point,” his boss finally answered, smiling unconvincingly. “Something I’ll have to think about. Anything else you might want to mention before we start the day?”

“Not that I can think of,” Magnus shrugged, walking out of the elevator with one last smirk. “Although if you need help or advice, you know I’m always free for you, Lorenzo.”

He swayed his hips as he walked towards his office. The Fade Media executives may have given Lorenzo the Head Editor position, but everyone knew the best person to go to when they needed help was Magnus. He didn’t know whether it made him feel proud of what he had achieved or annoyed at his co-workers’ refusal to put in a good word for him with the higher-ups.

Either way, it meant a higher workload for him and less time to focus on Lorenzo’s demands, let alone his own personal projects. Usually, his colleagues came to see him in the morning, once they realised the work they had done the day before didn’t meet their boss’ expectations. So when he walked into his office only to find Lily, one of the newer recruits, waiting for him with an apologetic smile, he wasn’t even surprised.

“A problem with your latest interview?” he sighed, thinking back to the projects she had been assigned.

“Yes,” she huffed. “And of course, Mr. Rey doesn’t have the time to hear me out and figure out what’s wrong with it, so…”

“I understand,” Magnus smiled, throwing his work bag on the floor, and taking out his laptop. As soon as he had stepped into his office, he had shoved all thoughts of Lightwood Fashions, modelling and a better job to the back of his mind, switching to his professional persona seamlessly.

Time to remind everyone of just why he was the best goddamn employee in this entire building.

***

It was almost nine at night when he finally found the time to call Catarina back. He cursed his bad luck and the extremely long day he had had, hoping his best friend would understand. She always forgave him but, every time he messed with her already busy schedule, he felt like he was disappointing her.

“I’m sorry,” he said as soon as his friend picked up the phone. He had just entered his apartment building and was wondering if he had the time to cook dinner himself or if he should just give in and order take-out, as always. “I swear I didn’t forget. I just needed to finish this stupid article Lorenzo has been hounding me for, and it took longer than I expected. He’s been harassing Lily again, even though he knows she’s new and still trying to get the hang of things, and I’m honestly two seconds away from murdering him.”

“Someday you’ll no longer have to work for that lizard, and you’ll finally be able to live normally,” Catarina sighed. “And you have nothing to apologise for; we didn’t exactly decide on a time for our call. Just tell me you managed to get this week-end off. Madzie needs to see you again, Magnus.”

“I need to see her too,” Magnus rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. Screw that homemade dinner; he pulled out his laptop and sent out an order to his local pizza place. “And I did get this week-end off. Lorenzo didn’t look happy about it, but I completed this project faster than anyone else could have so it would have been unprofessional of him to deny me such a simple request. Madzie can have me all to herself on Saturday, I promise.”

“Thank god,” his best friend said. Magnus could imagine her smiling on the other side of the phone. He hoped his hard work would make up for their missed dinner dates. “I know I was pissed about you bailing, but I’m proud of you for never giving up on your job, no matter how shitty your boss is.”

This was the perfect opening. All throughout the day, thoughts of Lightwood Fashions had drifted through his mind. If he got a job there as a model, perhaps they would also consider him for their Media department once his contract was over. That would mean no more petty colleagues trying to bring him down, no more Lorenzo to satisfy, and no more Camille controlling his life from afar.

“I was actually thinking about quitting,” he announced.

Utter silence.

“I know it sounds insane,” he added, not wanting Catarina to think he was going crazy. “I’ve been dealing with this for years and there’s no reason for me to break now, but I’m so tired, Cat, and I just want to stop feeling like I’m drowning every time I walk into that building. That place takes a little bit out of me every time I enter it and I don’t know how much more I can take. And there’s… Lightwood Fashions opened model auditions for Fray’s spring collection.”

He didn’t have to mention how much that job would mean to him, or have to tell Catarina how long he had been dreaming of getting an opportunity like the one he was being presented with. She’d heard him rant about Fray’s work ever since the redhead had stepped into the spotlight, and she knew about the heartbreak Robert Lightwood’s rejection had brought upon him all those years ago.

She knew everything about him, and he didn’t think he could go through with this if she thought it was a bad idea. If she told him to stay at his current job and suffer for a while longer, he knew he would do it.

He would do it even if it dragged him down and made his body itch and left him tired and listless and impassive. Catarina was like an older sister to him, and he trusted her implicitly. If she thought modelling for Lightwood Fashions wasn’t worth the possible loss of his job, he would forget all about it and shove his dream to the back of his mind.

“Oh my god, Magnus! That’s amazing!” his best friend exclaimed. “Wait a second, doesn’t Raphael work for Lightwood? Why didn’t he tell us about this? Magnus, this is incredible! With Lightwood Sr. out of the picture, you definitely have a shot! They’re going to love you, and you’re finally going to get out of that crappy company.”

Relief flooded his veins. A part of his mind was still screaming at him, telling him this was a terrible idea, that he was too old for this sort of thing, but he didn’t care. If Catarina thought this was what he should do, then he wouldn’t deny himself the one thing he’d always wanted.

“You don’t think this is a terrible idea?” he asked, just to make sure.

“Magnus, you’ve always loved fashion,” Catarina answered patiently. “And you’ve always wanted to model, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. I know you had a bad experience a long time ago, but there’s no reason for you to be rejected this time. You could finally get to leave the company and people you hate. You’ll have the chance to be truly happy again. Whether or not it works out in the end, I think you should take the risk. I know you, Magnus, and you’ll end up regretting it if you don’t even try to get this contract.”

Magnus smiled wryly. There was a reason Catarina was his best friend. She knew exactly how his mind worked, even better than he did. She could read him like an open book and never hesitated to tell him when he was acting stupidly. She was smart and compassionate and empathetic, and Magnus trusted her with his life.

And as always, she was right. If he didn’t audition for this job, he would spend his whole life wondering if he had missed out on something extraordinary. He was almost 30, and for all his creativity and tendency to act on impulse, he had never really taken a professional risk.

Leaving Fade Media and becoming a model for Lightwood Fashions was exactly what he needed to regain the joy and excitement he had lost after Camille. He would rather have a few months there and get fired once his contract was over than another ten years at Fade Media, stuck with a boss he couldn’t stand and a position way below his skill level.

“Thank you,” he told his best friend, already switching to the Lightwood Fashions website on his computer.

The page was bright and welcoming, done in tasteful colours that reflected Fray’s latest works. Rumour had it her secret partner was a colour theory genius, and Magnus had to admit their palettes were always impeccable. He couldn’t help but wonder if they had had a hand in the creation of the website or if Lightwood preferred keeping everything separate.

“Their website is fancy,” Catarina said over the phone, startling Magnus. He should have known his best friend would look up the company and the job offer as soon as he mentioned it.

“The colour scheme matches Fray’s fall collection,” Magnus hummed. The collection had been released a few months ago and Magnus was just as in love with it as he was everything else Fray designed. “Everyone thought they were crazy for choosing purple as the dominant colour, but it worked out wonderfully. The public went absolutely crazy over the line.”

“Don’t they always?” Catarina chuckled. She wasn’t far from the truth. Although Lightwood had started as a luxury brand few could afford, the company had slowly started integrating cheaper – but no less stunning – options on top of their high-couture pieces. It was another reason why Magnus had gone back to supporting them after Lightwood Senior’s resignation. “You do realise this means you’ll be meeting your idols, right? After years of telling Raphael you didn’t care about getting to know Fray, you’re finally going to work with her.”

Magnus’ heart stopped. He hadn’t even considered that; hadn’t even thought about coming face to face with one of his idols, the talented woman who created the clothes he adored. He could have easily met her if he had wanted to, but something had always held him back. This time, there would be no avoiding it.

“Stop freaking out,” Catarina scoffed. Magnus knew she was rolling her eyes at him fondly in the safety of her apartment. “She’s going to love you. She’ll be so thankful to have a model as amazing as you, and then she’ll realise you’re a wonderful human being on top of that. There’s nothing to worry about, Magnus. Besides, you’ll have Raphael with you the whole time. Our dear friend may like to pretend he doesn’t care about us, but you know he’ll protect you against anyone who doesn’t treat you right.”

Magnus exhaled, trying to let his best friend’s words soothe him. He knew he was being ridiculous. He had met countless celebrities, had interviewed them, had worked with them, but Clary Fray had always been the one person he kept at a distance. He didn’t think he could stand it if he found out she wasn’t as kind as everyone made her out to be.

Before he could let himself fall back into his old insecurities again, another thought popped into his mind uninvited. Magnus perked up, a sly smirk appearing on his lips.

“Do you think I’ll finally find out who her secret partner is?” he wondered out loud. “Hell, Raphael might tell me himself once I’m his colleague. Surely, this is common knowledge within the team, right?”

“I don’t know, Magnus,” Catarina hummed thoughtfully. “Whoever this mysterious partner is, they clearly want to keep their identity hidden for the time being. Maybe you’ll find out once you work there, but maybe you won’t. Don’t get your hopes up and please, for the love of god, don’t push anyone into giving you an answer that might get you into trouble.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. His best friend was so dramatic sometimes. He understood why someone might want to keep their involvement hidden in order to avoid the spotlight, but surely Lightwood employees knew about the secret partner.

“Magnus,” Catarina repeated, a hint of warning in her voice. “If they tell you, that’s great. But if they don’t, leave it alone. You want this job more than you want to know this person’ secret. Please don’t ruin this for yourself.”

Immediately, Magnus deflated. His best friend was – once again – right. He couldn’t let his curiosity get in the way of what might be the job of his lifetime. No matter how much he wanted to know about Fray’s partner, no matter how enthralled he was by this person’s ability to choose the perfect colours and tell a story with their palette, it wasn’t why he was thinking of joining Lightwood Fashions.

He had managed to live five years without knowing who Fray worked with. He could live without it for as long as it took this person to step out of the shadows. Sighing heavily, he clicked on the ‘open auditions’ tab and tried to push the mystery to the back of his mind.

“I won’t ruin anything,” he promised Catarina, hoping he would be able to stay true to his word. “Now, want to help me with this application process or should I call our traitor of a friend?”

Catarina’s laughter echoed in his empty loft and Magnus felt a smile tug at his lips. Finally, after years of trudging through a job he hated, he was going to start anew.

A change was long overdue; it was time for him to be free.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #fanfic #my writing

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outerspaceisbetterthannothing · 5 years ago

Text

Truth To Be Told [Ashton One Shot]

Warnings: slight cursing

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Reader

A/N: this was supposed to be Anne’s @bringmethehorizonandpizza birthday present, but i’m the most awful friend, so i’ve finished it only now, hope Anne doesn’t hate me as much as i deserve to be hatedfor that 🙈 i also hope you’ll enjoy this cliche bff to lovers story. My prompt was “I wanna eat you up like a candy” 😈 Feedback is extremelly appreciated, as always! Happy reading!

You were rushing through the rain in the busy downtown, being awfully late to your date. You looked at your watch and cursed under you breath. You just couldn’t get how it all happened.

And what happened was you simply forgetting about the date in the first place. Unbelievable, but you did. It wasn’t like you didn’t like the guy, completely opposite for that matter. You and Nate had been seeing each other for almost three months now and everything was going great. He was smart, but not a snob, had nice sense of humor, normal job and usual interests. He was absolutely normal and you often thought you liked that most about him. And it definitely wasn’t like you didn’t wanna go on this date. Nate booked a table in that Greek restaurant you wanted to visit and you anticipated that evening. You just… forgot.

It happens, right? Sometimes people forget things and there is nothing criminal in that. To be honest, it wasn’t even your fault. You had woken up with mild headache that morning and it really distracted you. You also had a really tough time at work, and by the time you actually realised it wasn’t just Friday but also that Friday, the Friday you had a date, you were already late. And yes, you felt awful. Because you liked Nate. You liked him enough to really wish for things to work between the two of you. So you were almost running. Cause you cared. You really did.

The restaurant was full, which didn’t surprise you as it was Friday night, but the waiter didn’t make you wait any extra minute. Nate smiled when he saw you and you felt the anxiety knot in your belly weaken. He wasn’t angry, he understood. He kissed you and helped with your chair and joked how he had some extra time to choose wine, so it was even better that you came late. He was a perfect gentleman, you wondered how you could even wish for anything more. And even though the annoying voice in the back of your head was nagging you about that ‘more’ you were wishing for, providing you with images and memories, you pushed it all back and focused on Nate. You didn’t quite know what was about to happen, but you had the feeling that tonight was somehow important for your boyfriend.

The waiter brought you wine and you felt that was the moment. Nate coughed and fixed his watch, he was always doing it if being nervous. You tried to guess what it was he was about to say. You’ve met his friends already, but it was too early to meet his family yet. You never had the exclusivity talk, but from the beginning of your relationship you both understood it was implied. Was he about to hand you the key to his apartment? Or was it also too soon? Or maybe he wanted to suggest going on holiday together? You felt your insides tremble in anticipation.

Nate cleared his throat again and started, “Y/n, you look wonderful today.” You smiled. He lied. You looked usual, but you were thankful to him for this little lie.

“And you always look wonderful, I have no idea, how you manage to do that, but you do. And I just wanted to take this opportunity to express my feelings to you,” he took a pause and you felt ice cover your still slightly trembling insides. Good God, was he about to say the L word? But you sure as hell wasn’t ready for the L word, no no no, how could you stop this? “You’re beautiful, and incredibly funny, and you’re smart, and kind, and caring. Honestly, you’re picture perfect. And I’m even not going to say how you’re the most sensible woman I’ve met in my entire life,” he paused again. You were just looking at him, feeling flattered and scared at the same time. And then he said it. “And all of that only leaves me utterly surprised why we don’t work.”

You felt the air leave your lungs. You even thought about asking him to repeat, but there was no need, as he continued. “I mean, please, tell me if I’m mistaking, but there’s just no spark between the two of us, is there?”

You looked away from him, moving your sight to your slightly shaking hand on the table. He covered your hand with his and, suddenly, you calmed down. You looked back at Nate and shook your head.

“No, there is no spark,” you admitted with a smile. “We’re more like a quiet couple with 15 years of marriage experience.”

Nate giggled. You liked his giggles, the sound fresh and light. But not as wonderful as your favourite giggles.

“This is unbelievably cruel,” he said. “I mean, we should be perfect together! We fit wonderfully and you’re gorgeous! What’s wrong with us?”

You shrugged, sipping on your wine. “No idea, Nate. To be honest, I haven’t felt so comfortable with a guy for a long time. So I’m just as confused as you are. And a little disappointed,” you admitted to your wine glass.

“Hey, don’t be, please,” he asked you, squeezing your hand. “If you think we need more time-”

“No, Nate, you’re right. I don’t think time will help here,” you forced yourself to smile again. Nate didn’t deserve your sad face, it wasn’t his fault after all. “What are we gonna do now?”

Nate laughed. “To be honest, I have no idea. That’s like, the most civilized break up in my life. Usually it’s scandals and tears and friends picking up your stuff from your ex.”

You laughed too, it was sincere this time, cause you knew that pattern just as well.

“What people do when they just stop dating without all the drama?” he asked.

“Well, I still have your sweater,” you reminded. “And you have my book.”

“Which I hope to finish by the next weekend.”

“So,” you started timidly, “maybe I could step by around the weekend and exchange your sweater for my book?”

“And we could then go and drink some coffee,” Nate nodded in agreement. He probably saw the slight hesitation in your eyes, as he added, “Don’t get me wrong, I just don’t wanna lose you completely. As I said, you’re one of the best people I know. Do you think we could still be friends?”

Of course, you could be friends. Obviously, you were a wonderful friend. And never a girlfriend. But, Nate didn’t need to hear that from you. So you agreed and smiled and you just spent a great evening enjoying the food and chatting about everything and nothing at the same time. When the night was over and Nate was paying the check (he insisted on doing it himself, as, technically, you were still dating while ordering) you thought, that the dinner went just as smooth and enjoyable, as you could expect. Only you weren’t a couple anymore. But it didn’t change anything, nor in the mood, neither in your feelings. And if what Nate said didn’t persuade you that breaking up was the best decision, that indifference you had now inside finally did.

Nate waited for your uber with you. He hugged you and wished you good night and promised to text next week. And just like that another unremarkable relationship in your life has ended.

***

Ashton started talking before he came up to their place at the counter.

“I do think we need to add more guitars to that song.”

Calum rolled his eyes. This conversation had been going all day long. And even now, late in the evening in a bar, where they decided to spend the night just to relax a little, Ashton couldn't let it go.

“You know what? You’ll tell that Mike and Luke on Monday. And now you’ll finish your drink and we’ll go home.”

“If you disagree, mate, you should just say so,” Ashton frowned. “No need to be passive aggressive.”

Calum chuckled, taking a look around the bar. He had no agenda, they weren’t expecting any friends, he just took a meaningless look around. And he wished he didn’t.

“Hey, Ash, isn’t it-” Calum started, but just as abruptly stopped. What reaction would Ash have? Calum knew about his feelings and wasn’t sure if it was so smart of him to show this to Ashton.

“What?” Ash looked at him quizzically.

“Nothing,” Calum shook his head and downed his drink. “You ready to go?”

Ashton chuckled nervously and looked at his best mate. “No, I’m not ready. And what did you want to say?”

“Nothing. Just thought I saw a familiar face, but obviously I’ve mistaken.”

But that was enough for Ashton to start looking around.

“You haven’t,” he informed Calum, his voice dropped. He turned back and looked into his glass.”

“So it is Y/N’s boyfriend?” Calum stated, confirming his earlier suspicions. They both looked on their right to the further part of the bar, where the guy they’ve met only several weeks ago as Y/N’s new love interest, was sucking on some girl’s face who was definitely not Y/N.

Ashton nodded and finished his whiskey.

“Come on, man, we should go,” Calum tried and patted his friends shoulder. But Ashton changed plans already. He beckoned the bartender and ordered one more round for him and Calum.

“Ash, don’t think it’s a good idea,” Calum frowned. “We better go, mate.”

“Hey, we’re just spending an evening. Promise, I won’t do anything, just let’s stay for a while.”

Calum sighed and let his friend pay for his drink. He knew it was a bad idea. But he also knew he’d rather die than leave his friend in a state like that. They were stuck together even through the worst ideas ever. So he stayed. But no matter how hard he tried to discuss new songs or studio work or his sister’s life (for the lack of topics), Ashton kept staring at Y/N’s boyfriend.

“I mean, how does she manage to do that?” Ashton finally muttered halfway through his glass.

“What?” Calum scrunched his face, looking away from his instagram feed.

“How does she manage to always choose such losers?” Aston turned to his friend. His gaze was already a little fogged by the alcohol.

“He didn’t seem a loser when we met him,” Calum shrugged. It wasn’t like he didn’t feel bad for Y/N, he just learnt long ago not to get into other people’s relationships. But Ashton was different, of course. They were much closer friends with Y/N and there were some other, well, pretty obvious reasons.

“He’s dating one of the most wonderful girls in the world,” Ashton started, looking at his friend like he was a complete idiot, “but instead of being with her and loving her, like she deserves, he’s in a bar cheating on her.”

“You don’t know everything, Ash,” Calum shook his head, while trying his hardest not to get into this argument. And pretty much failing.

“Like what? You think she deserves that?”

“Jesus, Ash, of course no!” Calum huffed in his glass. “No one deserves this. I just-” he threw another glance at the guy. “Maybe he has a twin brother.”

Ashton laughed, loudly and quite sad. He looked at Y/N’s guy again and his face fell.

“How am I gonna tell her that?” he asked.

Calum looked at his friend, thinking of a better answer. “You can keep it to yourself,” he finally said what he really believed in. Calum knew Ash would never agree on that, but honesty was one of the main principles of their friendship, and Cal wasn’t ready to break it, even for the sake of a girl his brother was in love with.

Ashton gave him a long heavy stare. “Are you even serious right now?” “Dude, not all the people wanna hear such things, you know,” Calum tried to explain. “Have you had a talk with her about that? Are you sure she would like to know and to know from you? You won’t believe how many people would choose to live in ignorance.”

“No, you don’t know what you’re talking about, mate,” Ashton was fast to dismiss all his arguments. “I know her, okay? I know Y/N, she would like to know. I just need to figure out how to break it on her,” he sighed. Then he downed his whiskey and ordered one more.

“Hey, buddy, that’s not the best idea,” Calum tried to stop him, but it seemed like Ashton didn’t even hear him.

“I just don’t get it,” the drummer huffed and went on drinking. “She’s smart and funny and it’s so easy to talk to her. I can literally talk to her about everything. And she’s the kindest person ever, so supportive and thoughtful. How can they keep doing this to her?”

Calum sighed. He knew for sure what was gonna happen next. “She’s your friend, Ash, obviously for you she’s one of the best-”

“No, you don’t get it. She’s not one of the best. She is the best,” he stated passionately. “She’s the most beautiful woman in the whole world. And, god, I shouldn’t think this way about her, but she’s so sexy, Cal! It’s like-” he took another gulp of his drink. “It’s the hardest part of being her friend. She’s unbelievably hot. And he can have her, but chooses to have that,” he motioned to Y/N’s boyfriend. “Seriously, man, what’s your problem?” he exclaimed loudly enough.

“Okay, buddy, let’s keep it low, shall we?” Calum cooed, patting his shoulder and turning him back to the bar counter. “We don’t need a scene.”

“I’m alright, I just-” Ashton stumbled.

“You just what, buddy?”

Ashton sighed and looked at his best friend, his eyes full of sorrow. “I just love her so much, Cal, how can I break her heart like that?”

Calum smile softly and answered, “Here’s a revolutionary idea, Ash. How about telling her all that?”

“Of course, I’m gonna tell her, did you even listen to me?” Ash rolled his eyes.

“No no no, not about her douchebag of a boyfriend,” Calum shook his head, smile still on his face. “About how you love her. And all the things you’ve said about her, how she’s the best, you know?”

Ashton sent his way another heavy look and indulged in his drink.

“You know I can’t do that,” he mumbled couple minutes later. “She deserves someone better than me.”

***

You were sitting on your couch with a glass of wine in the shittiest mood ever.

And what was not to be angry and upset about. You’d just been dumped after all. You huffed in your wine glass, recollecting on your most civilized break up. The worst thing was that you couldn’t even blame Nate. No, he didn’t do anything wrong. The only fault he had was not being the man you truly wanted to be with.

You rolled eyes on yourself. How pathetic you were in this longing after your own friend. Each time you were starting a new relationship, you did everything to finish them as soon as possible. Of course, not intentionally. You truly wanted to be with someone, to love someone who could love you back. But each time you were too restrained, too closed off. And naturally your partners felt it. No matter how much you wanted your relationship to work, you just couldn’t devote to them fully. Cause deep down inside, in your subconscious, hidden from the light, there was a question. The question you’ve kept asking those long sleepless nights. If you ever had a chance with Ashton, how would it be? Would it be different? Would you feel different? Would he make you feel like you, real you, and not like you were playing a role you’d never bothered to learn properly? Whatever the answer was, one thing you always knew. If Ashton showed up on your threshold asking for a chance with him, you’d break any relationship in an instance.

So every your breakup was your doing. It was your fault. And what was even worse, you wasted your partner’s time shamelessly. You wasted Nate’s time. And Nate didn’t deserve that. He was kind and caring. And he was always honest with you. You treated him ill, you knew it.

You poured yourself more wine. Maybe you should have stopped dating for some time? At least till you could look at Ashton without lusting after him. You emotional status wasn’t healthy, obviously, so it was better to wait till Ash would be out of your system. You just needed a break. Just for now.

Harsh knock on your front door startled you. You looked at the door, not fully getting what you had to do. But when the knock repeated, followed by muffled “Oh, fuck, don’t tell me you’re not home!”, you realized you had to open.

“You’re home, great,” Ashton mumbled, basically falling into your apartment, as you opened the door for him.

You fixed the bathrobe you were in and looked at the drummer, who managed to stumble twice on the way to your couch.

“Are you drunk?” you asked wearily. Drunk Ashton always scared you a little. He was either super sad or super angry, and you weren’t sure yet which one you got tonight.

“Nah, just had a couple with Cal,” he answered and by how slowly he was speaking, you understood he had more than couple glasses.

“And where’s Cal?”

“He dropped me off here and went home,” Ashton yawned, slowly slouching down on the couch. “He’s been saying I should go home all night. But I needed to see you.”

You came closer, thought for a minute and sat on the coffee table in front of him. Ashton smiled to you drunkenly and fully lied down, fixing a cushion under his head.

“Need to tell you shit,” he went on explaining. “Bad shit. Really, really bad shit. You’ll hate me for it,” he added, his voice sad and low.

You looked at him with a smile. “I could never hate you, Ash,” you answered quietly, thinking he was already asleep.

But then he opened his eyes and looked at you, confusion on his face. It looked so funny, drunk and confused Ashton lying on your couch, you even wished you had your phone with you to take a picture.

“How can you be so sure? You don’t even know what I’m about to tell you.”

“Whatever you tell me, it won’t be enough to make me hate you.”

It was almost sad how true those words were. You’ve loved him for years, let him call you his friend, saw his half naked one night stands leave his bedroom in the mornings. You were positive, nothing in this world could make you hate him, if even your broken bleeding heart couldn’t force you to do it.

“I was in a bar with Cal,” Ashton stated.

“Yeah, you told me already.”

“No no no, you don’t get it,” Ashton scrunched his face. “I was in a bar with Cal. And there was that wanker you’re dating, what’s his name again?”

“Nate?” your insides froze. Was it possible, that Nate actually knew about your feelings to Ashton. Did he say anything to him?

“Yeah, that wanker. How do you manage to choose such losers, doll?” Ashton asked you, but before you could come up with at least some answer, he already continued. “So he was there and he was kissing some other girl.”

You kept gaping at Ashton.

“There, you can hate me now,” he finished, yawned again and closed his eyes.

You stroke his hair and smiled again.

“I don't hate you.”

“But I just told you your guy is cheating on you!” Ash exclaimed.

“He was not cheating on me, we’ve broken up.”

“What?” Ashton opened his eyes again. You nodded in confirmation of your words. “That doesn’t matter, he could wait, show you some respect. Why do you always choose such losers?” he repeated his question.

You sighed, not really knowing what to answer to that. Were they really losers? Or was it you, a loser in love with your own friend?

“You deserve so much better,” Ashton muttered, while you were thinking about your answer. His speech was getting quieter and slower, he was slowly drifting off to sleep. But then he added with sorrow, “If only I could love you, I’d treated you like a queen you are.”

“You wanna love me?” you shot back before you could think what you were saying.

“Of fucking course I wanna love you, doll,” he frowned, his eyes are still closed. “I wanna love you and care for you. I wanna come back home to you every night and call you seven times a day from the tour like Mike does to Crystal. And I wanna touch you and kiss you, wanna kiss every inch of your body. Hell, I wanna eat you up like a candy. But oh well, you’ll never know anyway, so what’s the point.”

He tugged himself further in you couch, let out the final yawn and fell asleep. Leaving you stare at him mindlessly. You felt like some part of your world, really important part of it, had just crashed down, but you had no idea what it meant for you or what you felt about it.

You stood up, your limbs hardly moving. Looked at a six foot tall giant, crouched on your too short for him couch, and thought how he’ll be sore in the morning. You covered him with a blanket, which was thrown over an armchair, and went to your bedroom to spend yet another sleepless night because of Ashton fucking Irwin.

***

Long moan, full of pain and regret, was the first thing you heard from Ashton in the morning. You were surprised he woke up so early, it wasn’t even seven yet, but you were also extremely happy about this fact, as you didn’t manage to find your rest last night. You spent several hours staring at your ceiling and guessing if he really had said all those things, or you just imagined them. And trying to predict what it would mean for your friendship. You were angry and confused. You felt a newborn hope inside, starting to bloom from his drunk confessions, but were so scared to let it grow. He did keep all those things from you, obviously he had a reason. Judging by that, he didn’t want to be with you. But still he said he wanted to love you. So did he? Or didn’t he?

God, you were tired. Not only from the last night, full of discoveries and doubts. Standing in your kitchen and listening to his moans and curses, you realized you were tired of Ashton, of all the sadness and distress he brought in your life.

Ashton appeared in the door frame. His shirt was crumpled, just as his face. He was rubbing his eyes, messy curls falling on different sides of his face. He stumbled over to the chair and gave you a hard look.

“Hey,” he muttered.

“Hey,” you echoed.

You felt a change in your feelings. You had no idea how much of last night he remembered. And it wasn’t like seeing him made you less angry. If anything, your annoyance only got stronger. But at the same time you felt nervous, you were almost scared of everything that was about to happen.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad I woke up on your couch and not on the pavement somewhere,” Ashton said, distracting you from your worries, “but how did I get here?”

So he didn’t remember. Or was he just acting he didn’t remember not to discuss it? You shook your head lightly. The questions were endless, fueled by your fear of losing something you’d spent years dreaming about. You just had to shut your subconscious up and go with the floow.

“You came,” you shrugged, rushing to answer his question. “Said Calum dropped you off.”

“Can’t remember a thing,” he mused out loud, hiding his face in his hands.

“So, why did you get so drunk?” you asked, your slightly shaking hands clenched in fists.

Ashton put his hands away from his face and frowned, remembering what he could from the previous night.

“You know, the day was hard, and the week even harder.”

“So it wasn’t because you saw Nate kissing some other girl in the bar you were with Cal at?”

He closed his eyes and let out under his breath, “Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have found out like that.”

“Old news,” you dropped, examining his reaction. You’d know Ashton for several years already. Hell, you’d loved him almost all this time. You knew he wasn’t lying or acting. He didn’t remember last night.

“How is that old news?” Ashton frowned, more surprised by your tone, than your actual words.

“We broke up, so he can basically kiss whoever he wants,” you explained and crossed your arms, feeling insecure under his stare all of the sudden.

“Okay,” Ash said, his eyes not leaving your face. “What else did I say?”

You chuckled, anger spreading over your face. “Well, after informing me about Nate’s dissolute behaviour, you went on how I always choose losers-”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Ashton interrupted you, “I swear, I’m never drinking again. I-”

“But I think the highlight of the evening,” you kept telling him, not paying any attention to his apology, “was definitely the moment you stated you want to eat me up like a candy.”

Ashton choke on his own breath. He looked up on you, eyes full of pure terror. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you.

“You-” he started in whisper, but hesitated.

“Is that true?” you rushed him.

“What exactly?”

“That you want to eat me up like a candy!”

He winced. “You don’t have to repeat that.”

“Well I’m sorry. I kinda spent the whole night playing on repeat my best friend telling me he wanted to eat me up like a candy! Can’t get it out of my mind now!”

“You weren’t supposed to know. Especially not like this.”

His words were full of regret and that was what hurt you the most.

“Obviously, that was the only possible way for me to find out,” you shrugged. “Why?”

Your sudden question took him by surprise. Ashton looked at you, confusion on his face.

“Why wasn’t I suppose to know?”

He sighed, and looked down on his hands. You waited. A minute passed, but he kept sitting there in silence, the lack of answers playing on your nerves.

“Why, Ashton?” you almost yelled at him.

“Because I’m not the one you need!” he threw back.

You gaped at him as he went on. “I’m out of the city seven months a year. You deserve someone who’d be there for you. Not the guy for whom late night calls and occasional facetimes are the only option. I have no idea what other shit I told you yesterday, Y/N, but I guess you could read between the lines, if I didn’t say this,” he took a deep breath and admitted, “I love you. I’m in love with you. And I know better than anyone, I don’t deserve you a bit.”

You nodded, looking at him. Then looked at the kitchen island, separating the two of you, picked up a mug you’d taken out of the cupboard earlier and threw it right in Ashton’s head.

He dodged by some miracle, not less, his reactions are naturally slowed down by his hangover.

“What are you-” he tried to question you, looking back at the pieces of ceramics on the floor behind him, but had to stop, as the next mug flew in his direction.

He stepped aside, dodging from this one, and looked at you. You opened the cupboard, took the first piece you could find and prepared to the next throw, when he yelled, “Not this one, that’s your grandma’s set!”

You looked at the old china cup, put it down on the counter carefully and turned to the pile of IKEA plates.

“Jesus Christ, can you stop? What is-”

But you threw the plate, making him hide behind the island.

“You don’t deserve me?” you yelled at him.

Ashton peeked from under the kitchen island, but instantly hid back as you send another plate his way.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Stand up and face me like a man, Ashton!”

He stood up carefully, took a step to the side of the island. “I would love to face you, if you weren’t about to tear my head down, doll,” he chuckled cautiously while keeping moving.

“Well you fully deserve that, asshole!” another plate was smashed on the wall behind him. You were getting better at aiming with every other throw, and that was making Ashton nervous.

“Can you, please stop trying to kill me?”

“How dare you say things like that to me?” you shouted back, not even getting what he was talking about, your full attention on your own pain and fury. “I’ve been going crazy for years, Ashton!” you threw another one. “Feeling guilty for falling for my best friend! Getting insecure cause you’ve never even looked my way, brining all those models and groupies at my parties. Breaking up with normal guys cause I couldn’t get you out of my head!” you threw the last plate you had in your hands and looked around in search for the next shell.

“And all of these for you to spill your drunk guts one night? For me to learn that you actually had feeling for me accidentally?” you picked up a small pan from your stove and threw it. “Fuck you, Ashton!”

“Okay, this is too much!” Ashton muttered, looking at the pan flying past him. “Do you- Do you love me?” he asked, turning to you, realization creeping up him slowly.

You stopped, breathing hard and met his eyes. “I don’t. I hate you. I can’t put into words how much I hate! Why haven’t you ever told me? Not even given a hint?”

“And why haven’t you?”

You felt a hole left in your heart by this question. You were standing in your kitchen surrounded by shattered dishes, both wide-eyed, breathless and shocked. You couldn’t believe the words he’d just said. He was afraid of the reaction they may cause.

“Get out, Ashton,” you whispered, feeling the lump in your throat. Your eyes burnt with tears about fall.

He took a step towards you.

“Get the fuck out,” you repeated.

He smirked, covered the distance between you two in couple more steps and pulled you into him. What he didn’t envisaged was that you had just enough time to grab a spatula and start hitting him with it.

“Can you- just- not-” he stumbled through his words, one hand grabbing yours with the spatula, and another trying to keep you close to him. You two struggled for some time before he bent down to you and covered your mouth with his.

Even the kiss was a struggle. Your knees were shaking from the feeling, but you kept trying to bite him. Ashton huffed, let go of your lips and looked at you, his sight heavy, but you recognized little devils dancing deep inside his eyes.

“Try to bite me or hit me again, and I won’t eat you up,” he threatened.

You froze. You were still furious with him, you really were. But not to the point of risking the prospect of being eaten up by this man. After everything that asshole put you through, you were positive you deserved some special treatment.

He looked you in the eyes and smirked, taking in your obedience.

“Good girl,” he mused and kissed you again, this time deeper, with more passion and lust. “Now, how about moving this argument to the bedroom?” he asked, picking you up from the floor and turning around. “What do you say, my little candy?”

“Oh, gosh,” you chuckled into his neck, you face turning bright red. You knew the nickname would stick, but right now, in the arms of the man you’d been dreaming about for so long, you had nothing against it.

***

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monstersandmaw · 5 years ago

Text

Male uruk hai (Mauhír) x reader - Part Three (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

(mostly sfw/very very light nsfw) It kicks in almost immediately, hence the super short preview...

Whoop! Who remembers Mauhir? Well, in case you don't, here are Parts One and Two. My patrons over on Patreon have already devoured this, so if you want to be a part of everything before it happens over here, as well as having access to exclusives (this month it’s a naga boy!), then why not sign up to my Pixies and Goblins tier?

Hope you enjoy this - don't forget to let me know if you did by reblogging, dropping a like or even leaving me a comment/ask. I can't tell you how much that means to me when you do, but I don't necessarily expect it. I just hope you enjoy it - that’s the most important thing! :)

Content: 6048 words, some blood/conflict (not particularly explicit), death of a very minor character, a bit of angst, and lots of fluff (because it's me!).

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The morning after Mauhír and Okash had had their vicious fight over you, the Uruk stirred early, as usual, and grunted softly. You had been awake for only a short time, having warily watched the chief rise and leave the tent from the other side. Okash was nowhere to be seen, and you’d guessed she hadn’t returned last night. You honestly hoped she was lying passed out in a ditch full of warg shit.

You shifted slightly and realised that Mauhír was still pressed up close against your back, only now, his hips ground ever so slightly against you, and his left hand twitched suddenly, knuckly fingers clenching as his weighty arm lay draped across your waist. His hard length pressed against you too, and you felt a stirring of heat in your own groin that was most unexpected, given the circumstances of your captivity.

You rolled over just enough to be able to look at him and lay there a while, simply watching his sleeping form. Every now and again he let out a deep, guttural grunt which usually coincided with a sharper roll of his hips. His face was still puffy and tender from the blows his sister had dealt him, and his purplish brown skin had darkened under the bruises which covered his scarred face. As he slowly climbed to the surface of consciousness, his eyes opened and he blinked, looking straight at you.

“Pleasant dreams?” you asked coyly, and his tusked smile made you snort with laughter. He wasn’t in the least bit embarrassed about the nature of his dreams.

“Yes,” he rasped, deep voice made even thicker than usual by the extensive swelling and bruising. “You want… I stop?”

Crushingly, you didn’t get the chance to say one way or the other, because the chief re-entered, striding across the hide-strewn floor, and yelled something at Mauhír without looking at him, grabbing his huge war axe from where it rested beside his own sleeping furs.

“What is it?” you asked as Mauhír levered himself upright, still sporting an impressive hard on that was visible through his underclothes, though for how much longer you weren’t sure because the war horns were sounding, harsh and cruel on the morning air. He dressed hurriedly into his leather and fur wrappings.

Mauhír grunted in pain as he straightened and prepared to head out. “War band,” he said. “Centaurs.”

“Centaurs… You think…?”

“I think your friend is stupid,” he growled.

If Erica had convinced the centaurs to come raiding against this belligerent band of Uruk Hai, then she was indeed foolish. “She wouldn’t…”

“Stay here,” he snarled, grabbing his own war axe and hefting its weight in his scarred hand.

When you scowled at him, he leaned down and grabbed your tunic by the collar, hauling your whole body up off the furs by at least a foot and leaning in close to snarl in your face.

“Stay. Here.” His voice was threatening in a way that you’d not witnessed before and he shook you emphatically with each word as though you were a disobedient pup.

“You’re frightened,” you whispered, seeing a new light in his puffy, golden eye.

“For you,” he said, dropping you unceremoniously back into the furs. He strode away, whistling to Avhundas, who was already pacing in the main space of the tent, ears pricked and her ugly face alert and wary.

He didn’t look back at you as he made his way to the tent flaps, and you sat up sharply and called after him, “Mauhír!”

Only then did he pause, and he squinted, clearly having a hard time seeing you with his one remaining, bruised eye. He looked honestly incredible; his dark, purplish-brown legs built like tree trunks, powerful thighs barely covered by the leather wrapping he wore around his hips like a gladiator, his torso covered only by his scars, and his long hair hanging down his back in a bead and bone studded braid.

“Please be careful,” you whispered.

He grinned at you, scars stretching on his face, and nodded once before striding out into the daylight.

Beyond, the camp seemed to have exploded.

Tramping feet, clanking weapons, blaring horns and the yipping and yowling of wargs formed a chaotic backdrop to your own fear, and you crept closer to the tent flaps and peered out.

Okash was there, yelling at a group of Uruks who had just mounted up onto their own wargs. Avhundas was one of them, and Mauhír kept her at the back until Okash jabbed a finger at him and then pointed at the main camp gate. He simply nodded, no sign of their previous feud in his features, and dug his heels into his warg’s side. She sprang away at a gallop, large as a horse and muscular as an ox, and the pair had vanished through the camp gates in seconds.

“Be safe,” you prayed aloud. He was clearly a scout and had been sent to recce the situation.

A while later, Okash and the others followed him, with seemingly all of the other orcs in the camp proceeding on foot behind them. The excitement in the air was palpable, and you felt sick from their collective blood lust. You couldn’t help wondering that perhaps if you’d gone with Erica you could have stopped all this from ever happening.

The appearance of a figure right in front of you made you jump and you startled backwards into the tent before realising it was another human. Simon, the blacksmith’s apprentice from your village, had been sent to work the forge fire with the Uruk smith, and he crouched down in front of you and hissed, “Relax; it’s only me.”

“What’s going on?” you asked, recovering quickly.

“As far as I can tell, a group of centaurs was spotted not far off wearing war gear and carrying spears. Ghorga seemed to think they were only scouting though, not intent on raiding…”

“Ghorga?”

“The smith,” he explained. “How have you been? I haven’t seen much of you around the camp, except at mealtimes when you serve the orcs their food…”

You shuddered, recalling hands on you in places you really didn’t want Uruk hands. Well, save perhaps for Mauhír’s. The thought so startled you that you nearly didn’t reply, but you cleared your throat and said, “It’s… It’s been better lately. Mauhír has sort of taken me under his wing a bit.”

Simon smiled. “Good. Ghorga’s kind of done the same with me.”

“Is she out with the others too now?”

He shook his head. “No, but she let me go see what was going on. Listen, I heard Erica escaped?”

Cold fear shot through you as you recalled the events of that evening, and you nodded. “Yeah. She ran away while Mauhír and his sister were fighting last night.”

“You think this has anything to do with that? You think we could escape too?”

You shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t see how we can…”

“We could drug their food…” Simon suggested.

The thought had occurred to you, but you didn’t have access to any poisons.

Glancing across the courtyard, you saw that Argash’s hut seemed abandoned and quiet, and you’d glimpsed a number of plants growing which might be useful in concocting a poison that would render them unconscious if slipped into their wine. “They’ll want to celebrate tonight when they get back,” you said, thinking on your feet. “They’ll all be drinking. If we can poison their wine, then the humans can escape the same way Erica did while they’re all unconscious.”

“You wouldn’t kill them?” he asked darkly.

“I don’t think there’s going to be enough poison for that,” you said carefully. “If I can even find any at all…”

After a little more discussion, you and Simon decided that you would head over to Argash’s hut and see what you could find. If you could prepare the poison and slip it into the wine casks on the far side of camp before they returned, you stood a chance of escaping. It was a slim hope, but it was all you had, and you didn’t intend to spend the rest of your life as a slave in an Uruk war camp. You also decided to keep this between you, in case anyone squealed in the hopes of getting preferential treatment from their captors. Plus, if it failed, no one’s hopes would be dashed but your own.

You walked carefully but confidently over to Argash’s little hut while Simon headed to the edge of the encampment to keep an eye open for any remaining orcs. Most of them seemed to have charged out onto the plains with only the thought of bloodsports in their minds, but if Ghorga had remained, then others would probably have done so too.

At the tent flaps of Argash’s home, you paused, straining all your senses. You couldn’t hear anyone stirring within. You hovered there, tense and frightened, before taking a deep breath and stepping inside. It was dark and your eyes took a while to adjust, but when they did, you almost screamed with shock. Sitting in the centre of her hovel was the old, gnarled, white-haired Uruk.

And she was looking straight at you with suspicious, red eyes.

“What are you doing in here, human?” she growled without getting up.

“I… um…” Your heart thudded so hard against your ribs that its frantic rhythm was all you were aware of until you croaked, “Forgive me for intruding. I thought… since I was a healer in my village, that I might be able to… help you… when they get back… in case anyone is injured…”

A slow, cruel smile spread across her gnarled face. “Really,” she said sarcastically. “And why would you want to do that?”

You shrugged, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile. It looked more like a nervous twitch than anything else. “Figured I might as well offer. If you don’t need another pair of hands, I’ll take my leave.” And you bowed awkwardly, hoping to back out of the entrance before she could decide that you’d been there for more nefarious reasons.

“Wait,” the old Uruk snarled, rising stiffly and grabbing a knotted walking cane from nearby. Her knuckly hands gripped it and you realised with a jolt that it was made from the horn of a huge creature, perhaps an aurochs, and was carved with a repeating design of skulls.

“Yes?” you croaked, mouth completely dry, throat constricting with fear.

“Come here…” and she shuffled to the back of her round yurt and drew out a bag of tools which she unrolled with relish on a table. “You know how to stitch a wound?”

You nodded.

“And you know what these are?” she said, waving a surprisingly steady hand over an array of pots and salves on the table beside the tool roll.

You shook your head this time and she smiled that yellow smile again. “Come here then and tell me.”

You worked out that most of the salves were made with honey, to help with healing and to prevent infection, and as you worked your way through them, sniffing and inspecting, she seemed quietly pleased with your knowledge.

“I don’t know what that one is though,” you said, pointing at the last one in the row.

Her nasty smile told you that it probably wasn’t a pleasant concoction. “It’s made of naga venom and the sting of a giant wasp,” she said, “Among other things. I use it most commonly on amputations after cauterising the stump.”

“Right,” you said, feeling a bit faint. There hadn’t been much call for amputations in the village where you’d lived before the Uruks had razed it to the ground.

“Works a treat on burns, though the pain is ten times worse than the burn itself for a while. I think I can use you,” she added, apparently satisfied.

She kept you there until the sound of returning Uruks heralded the end of the fighting, hours later. They were laughing, jeering, and whooping, and singing some kind of terrible song that made your bones crawl at the sound of it.

Argash stepped outside, leaving you alone in her tent. On the table before you were dried seeds which you had identified as henbane. Perfect. While these were poisonous to humans, they had the effect of rendering larger creatures like orcs and Uruks unconscious for hours, sometimes even days. You bit your lip and carefully slid them into your pocket with the blade of a knife, mindful not to touch them with your bare skin.

You followed Argash outside a moment later and gasped when you saw what the returning Uruks had with them. Between three wargs, none of which you recognised, a centaur was being dragged along the ground by the hooves, and he was dead, no mistaking it. Looking away from the gruesome sight before your stomach emptied itself, you scanned every face, searching for Mauhír, but there was no sign of him. A frantic fear bubbled up your throat like acrid bile and you stepped forwards unthinkingly, drawing Okash’s eye as you did so.

She laughed as she swung down off her own black warg and said, “Don’t worry, little human, your runt will be coming soon.”

Relief washed through you and your knees wobbled. Argash caught the reaction and tilted her head slightly but offered no comment on her private thoughts.

A moment later, a screaming neigh split the air and six huge Uruks appeared in the gateway to the camp with cruel lassos lashed around a centaur who was thrashing and kicking, bleeding and screaming. He was covered in bite marks and gashes, but even bloodied he was not giving up. Four wargs prowled, one on each side, one in front and the last behind him, and the one at the rear was Avhundas. She had blood on her muzzle and one of her ears was ripped, but sitting astride her was Mauhír.

When he saw you standing with Argash, his eyes lit up with fear, but he quickly masked it. He was carrying his arm awkwardly in his lap, and you realised his shoulder was dislocated. He was also cut on his ribs by what looked like a glancing kick from a centaur’s hoof.

He swung down off Avhundas’ back and strode over to Argash, who shook her head, tutting, and handed you her walking cane. It was heavier than it looked. The gentleness with which she put his shoulder back into place surprised you, and he only grunted his thanks and looked at you.

“I said stay there,” he said petulantly, jutting his blunt chin at his father’s tent.

“I came to see if I could be of any help to Argash,” you countered with a hot snarl, and the orcish healer laughed, ruffling your hair with her leathery hand.

“The human is knowledgeable, Mauhír,” she said before turning to you and added, “Perhaps you should have seen to your master…”

“He’s not my master,” you snarled, but Argash only snorted and shook her head, the bone and metal beads clacking in her hair.

Mauhír’s expression seemed proud at your defiance beneath the bruises on his face. “Come,” he said. “You heal these,” he grunted, pointing to the bleeding cuts on his body, “Then drink.”

You nodded, guilt blooming in the pit of your stomach.

As you walked behind him towards the main tent, you caught Simon’s eye and nodded once. He flashed a grin and turned away.

Mauhír’s dark growl made you look up at him, and you realised that he’d seen your interaction with Simon and misread it completley. When you smiled and made to follow him inside the tent, he sneered at you and brought the flat of his hand to the middle of your chest and pushed you backwards, hard. You landed heavily in the dirt, winded and confused, and he looked down at you with disgust in his eyes. “You are not mine.”

“Mauhír,” you said, but he rounded on you and spat his words out as though they were nightshade.

“Not speak my name,” he snarled. “Go. Go him…”

With a heavy heart, you realised that now was the perfect opportunity to poison the wine, so you picked yourself up and headed away from Mauhír towards the stores before they could begin to crack the casks open and start celebrating. Everyone was preoccupied with either tying up the captive centaur in the middle of the camp, lashing his hooves to four posts driven into the ground so that he had to stand with his legs splayed and his wrists tied to the front two posts, or with dangling the corpse of the other centaur off the palisade wall as a sick trophy.

You didn’t linger to watch either.

With the seeds administered equally to each cask, all you could do was wait. You prayed it would be enough. It wasn’t exactly as though you’d had time to measure out doses after all…

The celebrations began not long after that, with some orcs taking turns to sit on the centaur’s back as though he were a wild horse to be broken, degrading him and humiliating him while he could do nothing but stand there while they sat astride him until his legs shook. His shame was enough to turn your stomach. You decided that once the orcs were asleep, you would free him too.

‘If’ the orcs fell asleep…

For the first hour, they showed no signs of being affected in even the least little bit by the narcotic. They grew rowdier and rowdier by the minute, though you were pleased to note that Mauhír was nowhere to be seen. You assumed that he had remained in his father’s tent, but you weren’t about to go and check. If he didn’t want to see you any more, well, that just made leaving all the easier.

When the first orc went down, it was met with a cheer and a round of fresh drinks.

When the second and the third collapsed a few minutes later, the others began to look nervously around and reach for weapons. You stayed silently out of the way, sitting with Simon in the lea of the small forge, watching the orcs stagger and sway and finally hit the dirt.

When all of the orcs around the fire were finally down, you and Simon nodded at each other, and he handed you a dagger from Ghorga’s collection.

“I’ll free the centaur,” you said. “You start gathering the others. I’ll meet you outside the gate.”

He nodded once and set off at a run.

As you approached the centaur, he looked at you with wary, white eyes rolling and his chest heaving. He was exhausted but clearly his adrenaline had spiked again at your appearance from the shadows.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you said slowly, showing him the dagger. “I’m going to cut you loose. Tell me, did a woman named Erica find your herd last night?”

He nodded, tapering ears pressed flat against his flame-red hair. “Yes,” he croaked. “She said more humans were captured here.”

“Is that why your war party rode out?”

Again, the centaur nodded. “We were only scouting. They must have seen us in the distance and decided to attack.” He tossed the unconscious Uruks a disdainful look and turned back to you. “Was that your doing?”

You nodded and got to work on the ropes without waiting to see his reaction. Sawing through the thick ropes was slow going, even with the sharp blade, but eventually he was free and he staggered slightly before skittering out of the crude holding pen, haunches tucked nervously and dancing round in an apprehensive circle.

Simon appeared a second or two later with a group of humans following him like nervous ducklings, and you looked around and nodded. Everyone was here.

Turning back to the centaur, you said, “Will you take us to your herd?”

He nodded. “You can’t stay with us though,” he said. “You bring too much attention from these bastards. My name is Iarla, by the way. Come on, we shouldn’t hang around.”

You corralled the others into a group and turned to go, knife still in hand.

As you brought up the rear, something made you halt in the gateway and you turned to see Mauhír standing at the entrance of his father’s tent, holding the flaps to one side with his left hand. He was the only one who had not been present at the festivities, and he watched you and then nodded once, disappearing back into the shadows and letting the flap drop.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump, but it was Iarla. “Come on. Let’s go.”

You nodded and set off.

The trek to the centaur’s camp wasn’t all that arduous, but your feet still felt bruised and your legs like lead by the time you got there. Erica met you with a shriek of delight, and to your immense joy, you found that your older brother and the other humans who had been sent to the neighbouring Uruk tribe as tribute had been rescued perhaps four days earlier and were recovering well.

The reunion festivities were tempered however by the other centaur’s death and, more personally for you, your deception of Mauhír. You felt honestly terrible about it, but he had seen you go - let you go, even - and perhaps he was glad that you were out here, safe, and away from them.

You made plans with the centaurs to ride south in the morning, some of them even offering to let you ride on their backs to speed you on your way. Iarla was particularly grateful to you, and honoured you by offering to let you ride on his back. You accepted, despite not being particularly familiar with riding equine creatures. When you admitted as much, he just tossed his ginger head and laughed. “You let me do the work,” he said. “You just hold tight, and I’ll take care of everything.”

You curled up in a canvas tent that night and dreamed of Mauhír. You remembered in astonishing detail the way his body had felt against yours, the way his heat had seeped into your skin, the hardness of his muscles and of his morning wood against your body, and the gruff kindness in his voice. You missed him. And you worried for him.

Your brother woke some time after midnight and found you sitting up, hugging your knees, staring off into the darkness, and he touched you lightly on the shoulder. “What’s up, kiddo?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said, and as the lie rolled across your tongue, an alarm call went up from the centaur on watch.

You and your brother shot out of the tent and, illuminated by the moonlight washing over the cool, whispering grasses, you saw the figure of a warg walking slowly over the grasslands, up the rise towards the camp. At first you thought she was alone and when you rushed forwards crying, “Avhundas!” you were immediately held back by two centaurs, one of which was Iarla. “Let me go!” you hissed. “That’s Mauhír’s warg!”

“I don’t care who’s filthy animal that is,” Iarla growled. “I’m going to kill it!” There was an ash spear in his hand already.

“Wait!” you yelled, seeing something slumped over the shoulders of the warg. You wriggled free of the centaur’s grasp like a rabbit and shot forwards over the scrubby heathland towards Avhundas, calling her name in the hopes that she would recognise you and not attack.

She did recognise you and yipped softly, and as you drew level to her you saw that the figure draped across her shoulders was Mauhír, and that he was in a terrible state. He had an arrow sticking out of his ribs, and he was cut and bloodied beyond what you’d seen him endure at the hands of his sister.

“Come on, girl,” you said, turning around and leading the anxious warg into the camp. “If anyone hurts this warg or Mauhír I will kill them,” you said, the warning flashing in your eyes. The centaurs saw the sincerity in your words and nodded warily, though in truth there wasn’t much you could have done to stop them if they had turned on him. “He kept me alive, and he let me escape. Let me help him,” you demanded quietly.

Iarla snorted and stamped a hoof, coming closer, rearing and plunging. “That bastard is one of the ones who brought me in, bound with lassos like a common plains donkey!” he whickered.

“Did he lay a finger on you?” you countered hotly. “Did he hurt you?”

Iarla’s ears went back. “No,” he admitted. “But inaction is the same as action when it comes to injustice.”

“What was he supposed to do? Fight his entire clan singlehandedly for you?” you shouted. “He let you go, Iarla. He watched you leave tonight and did nothing to stop you. He as good as set you free. Will you deny him aid?”

“No,” the centaur scout said sullenly. “And neither will I stop you tending to him. But he leaves with you in the morning, or he dies here tonight.”

You nodded gruffly and signalled Avhundas to follow you, which she did.

“Lie down, girl,” you said, pointing at the ground at your feet. She got the message and carefully lay herself down. Despite the efforts she took not to jostle Mauhír, who was still draped across her shoulders, he slid onto the ground beside her, mercifully not onto his right side where the arrow was lodged. That was going to be a bugger to get out cleanly.

You used every ounce of your medical training that night in stitching him up and cleaning the wounds. The centaurs refused to help in the surgery, but they did provide you with silk and a needle, clean water and bandages.

He had clearly been beaten within an inch of his life before he’d managed to escape on Avhundas. It was only as you finished with Mauhír that you noticed the gash in the warg’s hind leg. She hadn’t even limped. You cleaned that, not without her snapping at you, but after a stern bop on the nose, she had behaved herself and allowed you to tend to her as well.

Simon came over when you were just bandaging the still unconscious Uruk up - with some considerable difficulty, and he looked at you with confusion and hurt in his eyes. “You’d treat one of them?” he asked harshly. “After what they did for you?”

“Mauhír protected me from his sister,” you said. “He fought with her to keep me from being humiliated and used and hurt, Simon. I trust him. I don’t trust any of the others further than I could throw them, but I trust him. Why else did Avhundas bring him here? He means us no harm.”

Simon just shook his head and stalked off.

It was another tense hour before Mauhír regained consciousness. He swallowed thickly and sat up, grunting, before you could stop him.

“Careful!” you yipped. “Fuck, Mauhír, you nearly died. Are you alright?”

“Where…?” he asked.

“Avhundas brought you to me, to the centaurs. You’re going to be alright, Mauhír.”

He nodded and brought his hand to the thick bandages around his ribs. “Thank you,” he said and then looked up at you. “Is that right? ‘Thank you’?”

You smiled and took his jaw in your palm. He leaned into it, closing his eyes. “Yes, Mauhír,” you said. “That’s right.”

“I cannot… go back,” he said. “I go… for you.”

“I know,” you said. “Thank you. It’s going to be alright.”

He sighed and his eyes fluttered as he fought to remain conscious. His blind eye drifted slightly when he was tired, and you smiled at the unexpected softness in him. “Sleep now, Mauhír. We have to leave in the morning. They won’t let us stay here any longer than that.”

The Uruk nodded and lay back, staring at the sky above him and the canopy of stars. You lay down on his uninjured side and snuggled close while Avhundas curled up behind his head and set herself on guard duty for the rest of the night.

You let your hands play over the solid, iron muscles of his abs and stomach, and he smiled, growling softly in pleasure like a big cat as you eased him towards sleep.

When dawn came, he woke suddenly and sat up, unceremoniously dislodging you from your perch on his shoulder. You expressed your displeasure with a curse and a light smack on his forearm, and he grinned playfully at you, tusks glinting in the dawn light.

The rest of the temporary camp was stirring and beginning their usual morning routines, and it wasn’t long before Mauhír was on his feet. The centaurs had no food for Avhundas, but Mauhír shared with her the hunk of bread they tossed him, and when you had all eaten, the humans and Mauhír gathered at the edge of camp, preparing to ride out with the centaurs.

Iarla gave Mauhír such a look of caustic hatred that you thought the two might come to blows, but Mauhír only ducked his head and mounted Avhundas, wincing as he landed gently on her back, clearly jolting the arrow wound in his ribs. Uruks healed quickly, but not that quickly.

You rode with the others in silence to the edge of the centaurs’ usual territory, and then further into the lusher, verdant valleys you knew from childhood.

“We’re almost home,” you said to Mauhír as you recognised the old lightning-blasted oak tree on the hill outside the remnants of your town.

“What will you do?” Iarla asked when he saw the blackened shells of the buildings, cold now and lying in disarray along the hard-packed dirt of the road.

You sighed. “I suppose they’ll rebuild…”

“And you?”

You looked over at Mauhír, riding silently on the edge of the cavalcade. “I suppose we’ll see…”

The Uruk managed a weak smile and you thanked Iarla for letting you ride him. “It can’t have been easy for you,” you said carefully in a quiet voice that only he could hear, “After what they did to you…”

He laughed wryly. “It was only too easy,” he said lightly. “You, I owe. Them… Them I’m going to make pay.”

“Take care of yourself, alright?” you said as you slithered off his back, steadying yourself on his warm, chestnut withers.

He nodded. “You too.”

The centaurs left and the humans headed off to pick through the remnants of their houses, but you remained with Mauhír on the outskirts of the former village. “What will you do?” you asked him.

He looked at you and blinked slowly. “I…” he shrugged and looked away. “I can fight,” he said. “Someone pay me… fight for them…”

You scowled. “You’re no mercenary, Mauhír. Stay with me.”

He shook his head, looking down at you from Avhundas’ high, sloping back. She carried herself like a hyena, and had the jaws to match. Now, however, she wagged softly, the wound in her flank seeming to trouble her not at all.

You nodded at the warg and said, “Avhundas seems to like it here…”

At the sound of her name on your lips, she swivelled her head to face you and whined once, stepping closer and nuzzling at your palm, tame as a princess’ lapdog.

“You want to stay here, girl?” you crooned patronisingly and she wagged her stumpy tail again. “Is that right? You want to stay with me?”

More wagging.

Mauhír rasped a laugh and slid carefully down from her back. He patted her rump and she took it as a signal to wander off and nose about after game trails in the long grass.

The Uruk took your hands in his and stared down at you with his mismatching gaze. His blind eye and extensive scars seemed starker and more out of place here in the softer terrain of the valley where you’d grown up, but you loved him no less here than you had out on the plains. “What… What you want… for me?” he asked awkwardly.

“For you to learn more Common, for a start,” you grinned, and he smiled good-naturedly, twin tusks gleaming. “And… to stay with me, I suppose.”

He jerked his chin over his shoulder towards where the other humans had gone, and said, “They… They not like Uruk here…”

“True. Perhaps we should hit the road together… you know… travel a bit. Just you, me, and Avhundas?”

“You… You leave…” he looked around him and gestured with his rough, scarred hands, “You leave this… for me?”

“Sure,” you shrugged. “There’s nothing much here for me now.”

Your brother called your name before Mauhír could respond, and you looked around to see him jogging over. He eyed Mauhír warily and hung back. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he said, and you nodded, letting go of Mauhír’s leathery hands and stepping away.

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m… I’m not going to stay,” you said. “I can’t.”

He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I didn’t think you would,” he admitted. “I saw the way you look at him, and the way he is around you. He’s different, isn’t he?”

You nodded.

“Fine,” he said with obvious difficulty, “But you keep in touch, you hear me?”

“I will.”

You hugged your brother and promised to visit, and then turned back to Mauhír who was watching you unblinkingly from a polite distance.

He cut a strange figure in the strong sunlight of the fertile valley, with his mottled purple-brown skin and deep scars, but as Avhundas trotted back over to him and bumped her forehead affectionately against his hip and as he fondled her ears the way a lord would fuss a beloved hunting hound’s ears, you smiled.

He looked back to you and suddenly seemed so vulnerable for all his steel muscles and intimidating looks.

“Let’s go,” you said as you walked back through the long grass towards him.

Mauhír had only his war axe on his back and his warg by his side, but in that moment he knelt before you and bowed his head. He said something in the harsh, guttural dialect of the Uruks and took your hand in his. Something told you that the words he spoke were an oath. He pressed your knuckles against his forehead with great solemnity and then rose. “I… I am… yours…” he said falteringly, embarrassed.

You smiled and reached your hands up around his neck, more pulling yourself up to meet him than tugging him successfully down to meet you. You pressed a kiss against his lips, avoiding his jutting tusks, and laughed as his eyes went wide with surprise. His hands grabbed your waist and then the curve of your cheeks, and he hoisted you unceremoniously up around his waist, heedless of his injuries, and he kissed you back, his hands holding you firmly in place.

You caught him wincing, and you said, “Put me down you big idiot. When you’re better, we can do this and much more, but not til then, alright?”

He growled wordlessly, nuzzling kisses against your neck, but eventually acquiesced when you continued to protest. He then set you up on Avhundas’ back and then hopped up behind you, holding you tightly.

He had no reins to control her, relying on his voice and his legs to guide her, and the three of you headed out of the village and down the road, still heading south, towards a new life together and towards whatever your new road would bring.

His warm weight was a comfort behind you, and as the day wore on and your legs began to get sore from riding so long, you let yourself lean back against his bare chest. He kissed the top of your head and pressed on, leaving his clan and everything familiar behind.

And it was all for you.

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