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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

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Heartbreak For A Gift (Part 1/?)

Synopsis: Sometimes relationships start off like love stories in books. And sometimes they fall apart in a minute.

(Kind of an AU! I guess??)

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst bruh

Warnings: swearing, sadness, angst, but nothing else that I can remember. Minimal editing

Word count: 2547

A/N: Please note I don’t know what the situation is between Harry and Olivia, if it’s a stunt or they’re actually dating. Whatever the case do not harass them. This is fiction and only for the purposes of the story. If they’re actually together - GOOD FOR THEM!!! No one is entitled to other people’s private lives!

Can be read as a one-shot if ya want, but I might turn this into a very small series cause I already have ideas as to where to go further with this, so hit me up if that’s what you’d like :)

If you know you’re a part of my tag list and see you’ve been crossed out, it means I can’t tag you for whatever reason. If you still would like to be a part of my tags please message me with your previous username and updated so I can update my lists :)

When she’d first said yes to going out with Harry, she’d had zero ideas as to who he really was. Well, that was a lie, she obviously knew of him, it’s not like she completely lived under a rock, and she’d seen a couple of his interviews, but 'One Direction' or Harry Styles as a solo artist hadn’t been that big of parts of her life, so she didn’t really care much for it. They’d met at a bookstore on a sunny day in London. That’d been a good day. Her boss had let her go home a bit earlier than usual, the weather was warm, but not it’s-so-warm-I’m-sweating-my-ass-off kind of warm, sunglasses covering her eyes and hair free as the warm summer winds blew through her locks she was walking beside the Thames on her way inside the heart of the city. Because she had a little bit more free time, she decided to pop into Waterstones, which was generally not a good idea for Y/N to do if she had things in store for the day; this time she could spend the rest of the evening if she wanted to, browsing books and living her best life. Surprisingly for London, that particular Waterstones, even though it was in a densely populated area, was pretty empty, so Y/N felt free to skim through the options without having to press through a crowd of people to find the next section. As she scanned what the shelves of New-Adult fiction offered, a man also came to look at the books. He stayed a bit further away, but he was certainly someone who caught people’s attention with the bright green daisy-print covered T-shirt, chequered shorts and the three scrunchies on his wrist. The thing was as much as he’d grabbed Y/N's attention, she was more interested in the Waterstones exclusive edition of a book she’d been dying to buy, so when she saw it just sitting on the shelf, a small gasp escaped her lips. Two eyes were immediately on her, and Y/N could feel them slip back onto her form from time to time as she greedily paged through the book, but she couldn’t say her own Y/E/C eyes didn’t flit over to the man as well. He had a small bun on the top of his head, curly hair pushed away from the face, cheekbones for days, which were shaved and smooth and perfectly groomed brows arching over what seemed to be green orbs which were looking at the spine of a crime book way too intensely for it to be genuine interest. All in all, his side profile would be that of one of the characters Y/N’d simp over in a book, let alone the nails painted all colours of the rainbow which made her happy because nothing was better to see someone sticking it to the patriarchy. But their little meet-cute was interrupted as an employee apologised while he tried to squeeze past them with a giant cart filled with new release books, and almost like a lost puppy, she started to follow the stacks of books when a hand on her shoulder made her spin around only to be faced with the man. She instantly recognised his face, but, at the same time, couldn’t really pinpoint what it was about him that was so familiar.

“Sorry,” he said in a rough voice. “But you left this behind.” And in his hands was the Waterstones exclusive. Y/N’s eyes widened as she gingerly took it from him. “Oh my god, thank you! I’ve got no idea how I let it out of my fingers.” He chuckled, motioning with his chin to the employee disappearing by the corner. “I’d say you got distracted.” “Yeah, a little.” She bit her lip and drummed her nails against the cover of the book. “Well, uh… thank you. For not grabbing it for yourself.” But he just lifted his hand. “More of a Murakami kind of a man.” “Yes, well, I,” she nodded towards the book in her own hand, “like to read about people living out my dreams.” He raised his eyebrow. “It’s a murder mystery.” “Your point?” “Would you say I have issues then if I wanted to ask you out on a date?” Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest, but he looked so nervous, so genuinely open and almost scared, she couldn’t feel any ill intentions from him, so she tapped her chin a bit as if contemplating before saying, “No. I’d say you have good taste actually.’ The relieved laugh he let out made him seem even prettier than Y/N already thought he was. He extended his palm towards her, swaying on the balls of his feet a bit. “ ‘M Harry. Would probably be proper to know my name before we go anywhere further.” “Y/N.” She smiled and clasped his hand in hers. “And it would probably be proper to know I was kidding about the whole ‘watching others live out my dreams’. People living out my dreams are actually in the books having hot sex with Fae.” His laughter was loud and sudden, making Y/N duck down like she was in her Uni library and the librarians would come and shush them. But now, almost two years later since they’d first met, there was no sign of those butterflies she’d felt in the middle of the thriller section of Waterstones. Now Y/N was sitting by a large table, body slowly numbing as was her mind to keep the pain from her heart spreading. Whatever Jeff was talking about now, she didn’t hear. There were eyes on her, had to be to gauge her reaction, but they wouldn’t get anything more than slightly parted lips and a blank stare turned towards the marbled top. She knew Harry was nervous; from her peripheral vision, she saw his thumb scraping at the rest of his nail lacquer, chips of pastel yellow and green polish flaking off and floating to the carpeted floor. Y/N didn’t like LA. She’d never wanted to go there. Maybe as a tourist for a couple of weeks sometime down the line, but because of Harry and his commitment to ‘Don’t Worry, Darling’ and because he’d basically pleaded with her for days on end, she’d agreed to move there with him for the time he was shooting the movie. It’s not that the city wasn’t beautiful. The sun, the sea, the greenery surrounding her was absolutely breath-taking, but it was the people that she didn’t really mesh with. Sure, she knew dating Harry came with a lot of what LA’s society was like. The need to look absolutely physically perfect to match the unachievable barbie standard, the fake niceness people usually exhibited just to get something for themselves or possibly raise them higher on the popularity scale, but Harry had always wiped away those doubts. But now all of that seemed like one big lie. He’d told her he didn’t care for any of it, not when it concerned Y/N nor when it concerned himself. But the contract in front of them said something different. A hand touched her back. “Y/N?” Harry’s voice was tentative, wavering at the end of her name. For the first time since the proposal had been thrown out, she lifted her eyes to look around at the people in the room. Harry, Jeff, both their attorneys and Olivia Wilde and her attorney. The other woman, once their gazes met, immediately looked away. Y/N wanted to scoff at that. “What…” Harry gulped, brushing a hand across her back. She’d never flinched away from him, but this time she did. Harry visibly shrunk in his seat and pulled back. “What do you think?” What did she think? Well, she was thinking a lot of things, and the urge to say all of them was immense, but instead Y/N bit down on her tongue, reaching for the legal papers in front of her and skimmed through them. She’d read each and every word as they’d been read out loud by the attorney, and every letter had been burned into her brain now. There was no way to get them out from her mind, and they’d haunt her forever. “The fact that you’re asking me what I think of it already means you’re considering this.” Surprisingly enough, her voice was steady even though she was on the verge of collapsing after everything. “So, I’ll make this really easy for you – do it. Because, from now on, you’re a single man and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” Harry’s face paled immediately at her words, hand moving to grasp Y/N’s, but they were in a tight ball in her lap, not moving an inch at his touch. “Y/N, please.” Olivia was the one reaching out now, a pained and terrified look on her face, but the girl just stood up from her chair and went to the coat rack taking her coat and the bag that was discarded by it. “No, you asked what I thought.” Tears had started to form in her eyes while she shrugged on her jacket. “This is what I think. If you even for a second assumed I’d be alright with this shitty stunt, Harry, then through the last two years we've spent together, you’ve learned nothing about me, and to me, it means it’s not worth it.” Harry was now standing, desperate to touch her face, but Y/N once again pulled away. “You two,” Y/N said pointing between Olivia and Harry, their faces twins of fear and regret. “Have never needed publicity. Not like this, so don’t try and bullshit me that this will make great promo for the movie. There are so many other ways you could drum up interest, but this…” She let out an unamused chuckle. “How could you think I’d be okay with you pretending to be in a relationship with someone else?” “No, please… just hear us out. You don’t know what it’s like.” Harry tried to plead, hands in his hair, but it was the wrong thing to say, as she took a step back, eyes wide in disbelief. But Y/N was calm, and with how rigid Harry became he knew he’d fucked up more than before. “I don’t understand?" she breathed. “The number of things and events I’ve said ‘no’ to… the…” Her voice was as still as the sea before a storm as she took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Harry wants Y/N there for the opening of his tour, so Y/N drops everything and flies out even though she misses a presentation that could have her up for a promotion. Harry doesn’t want to be seen walking inside a club with someone, so Y/N goes to the back entrance to save his face. Harry is tired and just wants to sleep, so Y/N passes on her friends’ birthdays because he wants cuddles. What Harry wants, Y/N does. And I did. I did all that happily while keeping our relationship private while snaking in and out through back doors like I was some dirty secret of yours just so you could keep the illusion you’re single…” Y/N shook her head. “I think I understand very well… But now… it’s my turn, my time to ask of you something.” “Anything,” he pleaded, probably thinking that Y/N was going to ask him not to go with Jeff’s stunt, and he’d gladly tell them all to fuck off if it meant her staying. “I’ll do anything.” “Let me go.” If Harry’s heart hadn’t been in his chest you would’ve been able to hear it break as it smashed against the floor. “Let me go,” she repeated. “And don’t come after me. Because I won’t take any part in this.” “But –,” he was choking on his words. “But I don’t want to. I love you; I can’t just let you walk away like that. I won’t do it, none of this is worth it.” “And I didn’t want to do a lot of things, especially sit in a meeting on Valentine’s day where my boyfriend was talking about faking a relationship to promote a fucking movie, but here we are.” This time when he reached out to cup her cheek, Y/N let him. “Please. I swear I won’t do it, just please let’s talk about this. Don’t give up on me.” But she was unwavering. “For the rest of our relationship, however long that might’ve been, I would’ve wondered if you hated me if you despised me for not agreeing to go with it if the movie didn’t do as well as your management predicts it will with this. And I won’t have that. I won’t be in a relationship where every second will be spent in doubt that I’m stifling your career and you could potentially resent me.” “I could never hate you.” “Yeah.” She let out a sob. “You actually claim to love me but would be willing to put me through that kind of fuckery, so something has to be a lie.” Without looking at anyone else in the office, Y/N stepped away from the man who once made her feel like she could conquer the top of the world and opened the door, but didn’t even manage to take a step outside when the voice of the person she never wanted to hear from called after her, and although Y/N had been calm and collected, she snapped at him. “Oh, don’t worry, Jeff,” she snarled. “It’s not like I can talk about anything that happened here. You made sure of it. Smart move, by the way, I’d say you should continue it. NDAs right before any meeting… I guess that’s how you keep your clients' careers spotless, so your stunt won’t be exposed.” The way she whipped around to move towards the door would’ve given her whiplash, if not for Harry standing in front of her, arms weaving around to keep her in place. “I’m sorry." He was verging on hysterics. "Please just… please Y/N don’t…” It seemed like he no longer even understood what he was pleading for. For Y/N to not break up? To not leave the room? LA? All he knew was that if he let her walk out of the door, he’d never see her again, and she’d make sure of it. “No, Harry, I think I actually will, because the thought of being in the same city as you, is going to make me throw up right now,” Y/N said eyes not daring to meet his, because if she did, she'd break and her resolve would dissipate. “Besides, you have loads of things to talk about. By the time you get back, I’ll have my stuff out of the hotel. And Jeff?” His manager looked sheepish as she glanced at Y/N. “The least you owe me is a ticket back home. The first flight you can find.” He didn’t answer, just nodded. She didn't deign to thank him. “Happy fucking Valentines to you two.” She looked at Olivia and Harry, who was breaking apart at the seams, but no longer could she find it in herself to care. He didn’t care enough about her anyway. “Hope you have a very happy relationship.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland @raylovessarcasm

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: I’m (kinda?) back? I guess. I dunno. I’m in this weird place where I’m writing my books and then I get inspo for fics and I start writing them, but can’t seem to finish them so I dunno :D

P.S. what did ya think?

P.S.S. please don’t repost my works on other platforms (Wattpad Ao3 etc without specific written permission)

P.S.S.S. my tags are always open :)

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles and you #harry styles and y/n #harry styles and reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader smut #don't worry darling #olivia wilde #one direction #one direction imagine #harry styles fandom

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silkling · 3 years ago

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Hi Silkling, could you please write a TFP story where Sierra discovers the Autobot's secret and joins up with Team Prime? TFP never really did much with her, and I think that a shame. I think Smokescreen would make a good partner for her.

Absolutely! Great to see you again in my ask box! :D your last prompt was super fun to write to, so I’m looking forward to this one! Now, I admit, I never paid much attention to Sierra, and the show didn’t give us a lot to work with, so I’m going to have to come up with some of her characterization. And I agree. So I’m mashing her with Smokescreen. It’s gonna a be great. I love Smokescreen very much! I even have a whole AU of my own for him. He’s a tiny happy dumbass and since Sierra has basically no canon personality, I can make her be his long-suffering but still very fond best friend.

———————————————————————————————————

Sierra had been having a good day. Emphasis on the word had. It was the weekend. She had packed a small picnic, grabbed her favorite book, and hopped on her bike. She’d ridden out to the popular hiking trails, intending to take a short hike and finding a nice place to spend the afternoon with a her novel and her snacks. The sun was out, the weather was great, and she had nothing to do today. It was perfect. So, of course, the laws of the universe demanded that something go wrong.

‘Murphy is a cruel bastard and and I’m going to punch him in the face when I see him in the afterlife.’ She thought viciously, staring up at the hulking titan that had just crushed her lunch and bike under a single massive metal foot with a sense of numb disbelief. ‘At least I still have the book.’ She ignored how the thought echoed with a note of hysteria as she shoved said book into the messenger bag over her shoulder.

“Are you Sierra O’Niell?”

She was only slightly surprised when the massive robot spoke. Because why wouldn’t the giant robot that had just moments ago been a jet be able to speak? Honestly, what even was her life at this point. She was more concerned with the fact that the thing knew her name. Her initial instinct was the demand how it knew her name. But she’d seen the movies. She knew that would only confirm it’s suspicions.

“Who?” she forced herself to ask instead, surprising herself with how steady her voice was. It was the shock, she told herself. It had to be. It was making her emotionally numb. “What are you?”

The robot seemed startled, before it snarled something that was most definitely a curse. It started speaking, though not to her, and it took Sierra a moment to realize it must have been talking over some sort of built in communication system. “-wrong human, Soundwave! This pathetic fleshling you pointed out to me doesn’t even know who I am talking about.” It paused. “What do you mean it’s not the wrong human? I just told you-“ it cut itself off. “Ah. I see.” A sinister grin twisted at metallic features. “Thank you, Soundwave. I will return with my prize shortly.”

Oh, Sierra did not like the sound of that.

Sure enough, the robot turned to face her when it was done. “It seems you lied to me, little fleshling.” it sneered. “My associate tracked the signal of your personal communications device. You humans never go without it, I’ve been told.”

She blinked. “You hacked my phone?” she sputtered, and oops, she’d just confirmed her identity. ‘Stupid, Sierra.’

It’s face twisted into a cruel expression of glee. She did not like it. “Indeed.” It began bending down, and then a large hand was reaching towards her. “You shall be coming with me, human. Soundwave has seen how Jackson Darby is fond of you.” it purred. “You will make a lovely bargaining chip against that pathetic human runt and his Autobot protectors.”

And wait, this was because of Jack? How did he come into all this? If this thing was after her because of him, that had to mean he knew about it and it’s…friends. Did robots have friends? She didn’t know. And wait, Autobot?

She stiffened, scrabbling away from the large metallic hand, shunting those questions to the back of her mind to be answered later. Escape the terrifying metal monster now, murder Jack for pulling her into this later. Clearly though, the robot disliked her attempt to flee because it only growled and stepped towards her again.

That’s when she heard the roaring of a powerful engine. It made the robot pause too, and they both looked to where the sound came from. Then, over the crest of a hill, a white and blue sports car came flying in. It had red accents and bold 38s painted onto its doors. Sierra was impressed. She was no car person, but even she liked this one. Only, the car started breaking apart once it hit the ground, unfolding and growing into the form of, you guessed it, another robot.

Sierra despaired for her luck. ‘Murphy is going to die a second time for this. He’d better be prepared.’ She thought with vicious hysteria.

Except, to her great surprise, the new robot didn’t try to help capture her. No, instead it rammed full force into the tall jet robot that had tried to snatch her up. Said jet yelped before quickly getting back to its feet. Sierra heard the should of metal and gears shifting, and saw the newcomer’s large hand change to some sort of weapon, though not one she could recognize.

“Terrorizing humans now, Starscream?” it taunted. “Can’t say I’m surprised, you always were one to sink so low.”

The first robot, Starscream, apparently, snarled in outrage. “Pathetic Autobot!” it roared, and oh, so this newcomer was Autobot?

Except, from the two names she’d heard already, that didn’t sound like the type of name these robots seemed to have. She did notice the little face badges they wore, the white bot bearing a red one proudly on its shoulders while the jet robot wore a smaller, pointier face on its chest. So maybe those had something to do with the whole ‘Autobot’ thing? Hell if she knew. Sierra was clever, and she’d always been good at puzzles and mystery solving, but she didn’t have enough information for this whole…thing.

“I’m not the one who’s picking on defenseless humans, ‘Con!” the car robot barked, smirking at the skinnier jet.

The jet only snarled, lifting an arm that she was just noticing had a freaking missile attached to it, and the white robot stilled briefly, before shooting her a frantic look and oh, would you look at that, she seemed to be right in the blast radius of the missile, and oh god she was going to die-

Except, there was that shifting sound again, but much larger, and then car robot was leaping towards her. It hit the ground in car form, it’s driver door open as it slid sideways in her direction, and then she was swept up into it and the door slammed shut. Tires squealed, and then they were peeling away to the sound of a missile screaming and impacting where they had been a half second before. The jet roared in outrage, but the car robot was speeding straight towards civilization, and it seemed to want to avoid that because when she glanced at the rear view mirror she saw it leap into the sky and transform before flying away.

Sierra slowly sat up from her ungainly sprawl, pulling the seatbelt across her chest on reflex before sitting back against the driver’s seat and wheezing. Her heartbeat, which she only just noticed had been thundering wildly in her chest, started to slowly calm, and she had to force herself to take deep, even breaths to keep herself from hyperventilating.

Now, Sierra wasn’t an irrational girl. She was among the top students of all her classes, she was smart, she knew a lot about various topics, and she had a good understanding of how people worked. She was clever, she knew she had a good head on her shoulders. She kept some of her interests closer to her chest, and she played the good, polite, quiet girl for the adults, because she wasn’t without manners, thank you very much. All that meant, though, was that she wasn’t prone to screaming in terror and running like a madman when she was freaked out by something. She would prefer to understand something rather than be irrationally terrified of it.

This, though? This was a bit much, even for her. As her heartbeat calmed, a sense of nausea built in her throat. “Excuse me, robot?” she squeaked. She wasn’t even sure if she could communicate with it while it was in car mode, but it was worth a shot.

“It’s Smokescreen.”

What?

“What?”

“My name is Smokescreen. Not “robot”.”

It sounded miffed. Which, okay. That was fair. If someone called her just “human” she’d probably be upset too. Hell, she had been upset when that other one, Starscream, had called her a “fleshling”. Smokescreen’s voice also sounded very male, and she paused before asking.

“And you’re not an “it” either, then?”

“No, I’m a mech.” A pause. “Uh, a male, by your definitions.”

“Okay. Smokescreen. Well, I’m Sierra, and as grateful as I am for your rescue you should really, really stop and let me out. Humans don’t handle extreme stress very well and I’m about to be sick.”

“Sick?”

Oh god, did robots even get sick?

“I’m about to vomit. Which means I am very close to expelling internal body waste, and it will be right in your seats if you don’t let me out so I can barf behind some rocks.” she informed him tightly, fighting down a gag.

There was a brief moment if silence as Smokescreen seemed to process her words, before he turned off the side of the road, drove behind some rocks, and popped open the door. “Please don’t be sick in me.” Oh, now he sounded sick. Sierra felt a little bad.

She didn’t say anything to that, instead stumbling out of the car and out of sight, before promptly bending over and tossing her breakfast. She gagged on bile, and after a moment of pause to make sure there was nothing left in her stomach, she stood and made her way back to where Smokescreen was waiting. She pulled her water bottle from her bag, taking a sip and washing out her mouth with it before spitting it to the side, and then she proceeded to drink everything left in the bottle. She tucked it away, turning to her impromptu ride, and opened her mouth to speak, when-.

“Oh slag.” He beat her to the punch.

She was confused, recognizing that as a curse of some sort, and then she heard the beeping from his radio.

“Um, hold on for a minute, alright? I gotta take this.” He sounded anxious, and didn’t give her a chance to answer before there was a click as he did just that.

She heard muffled noises over the radio, though she couldn’t make out the words being said.

“Um, yeah. There was a ‘Con signal. I was close so I checked it out.”

More radio noises, angry sounding ones.

“I know, I know! But I was closest and no one would pick up their comm. so I thought I should st least check it out! It was a good thing too, Starscream was there and he was about to snatch up a human!”

A pause, and then an explosion of garbled noise from the radio. Sierra got the feeling that Smokescreen was wincing.

“Well what was I supposed to do? Let her be taken? Plus she’d already seen him so it wasn’t like seeing me was going to do much damage!”

A growling noise, followed by a hiss of static.

“Yes, Ratchet. I know. And I am sorry, alright! I know I went against code again but if I had waited a human would’ve been in Deception hands and as new as I am to this planet, even I know that’s bad!”

Wait, planet? Was this giant ass robot an actual alien? That…honestly made sense. With that day she’d had, she wasn’t even surprised. Smokescreen was still having his discussion with…whoever was on the other end.

“Yes, I’ll bring her back to base. I’m not going to apologize for saving her, though.”

More angry static.

“Yeah yeah. I get it.”

He sounded tired, defeated. Sierra felt bad, and wondered what was being said to make him sound like that when he’d been so bright before.

“No, you don’t need to send a ground bridge. I’m close to the base anyway. I’ll be there soon.”

There was a click as Smokescreen disconnected from whoever called him, and then she could tell he was talking to her when he spoke next. “Mind hopping in? I gotta bring you back to base. The boss can explain everything. I promise you won’t be hurt or anything.”

Sierra hesitated for a moment, then sighed. She knew she probably shouldn’t, but at this point what was the harm? Besides, her gut instinct was telling her that, based on what that Starscream character had said about Jack, she wouldn’t have to worry about being hurt. Not if Darby spent all his free time around these weird alien robots and came back fine. Mind decided, she slipped into the car’s open door. It shut on its own, and she buckled herself in once more.

“Thanks.” He sounded grateful. And then he was driving off.

He wasn’t saying anything, and neither was Sierra, and she let herself be alone with her thoughts. They drove for a while, and Sierra let herself enjoy the landscape that passed by Smokescreen’s window. He really was a nice ride, she mused. Sleek and fast, and his engine purred quietly as he drove along the highway. She didn’t know much about cars, but she knew his car mode was a good one.

Soon enough, they were coming towards a large mesa. Smokescreen drove right toward its side, not even slowing as he approached, Sierra tensed, about to protest, when a previously invisible door opened in the rock face. She shut her mouth, her eyes blowing wide. Oh. That explained that. Their base was hidden in plain sight. Which…she supposed was fitting, for alien robots who disguised themselves as cars and jets. Smokescreen took them through a tunnel, and then they were coming into a large central chamber. Sierra peeked out if the window to see two other robots there. One, stocky and painted in red and white. The other…was absolutely massive. He towered above the red and white bot, and she had a feeling he’d tower over Smokescreen too. He was broad as he was tall, with wide shoulders and a heavy looking chest, his metal armor painted in red and blue. Sierra didn’t know how she knew, but she just knew that this large one was a he, a mech, as Smokescreen had said.

The door at her side popped open, and after brief hesitation she unbuckled herself and stood up. There was that sound of transformation behind her, and she glanced back to see Smokescreen rising to his feet in his robot mode. Then a voice spoke and she snapped her head around to see the large bot speaking.

“Greetings, young one. My name is Optimus Prime. My companion is Ratchet, and you have already met Smokescreen.”

Ratchet. That’s who Smokescreen had been talking to earlier. “I’m Sierra.” she said after a moment. “Sierra O’Niell.”

Optimus tilted his head downwards in her direction. “May I inquire why Starscream was attempting to abduct you, if you know?”

“You’re very polite.” she remarked dryly. “He said something about wanting to use me to get to Jack Darby, so that he could in turn use Jack to get to the “Autobots”. I’m guessing that’s you guys?”

Optimus shared a look with Ratchet, then looked back at her. “Indeed. Myself and my team are Autobots. Starscream is a Decepticon. Our factions are enemies, I am afraid.” he explained. “We are not from your world, Sierra O’Niell. We hail from a planet called Cybertron. Our two factions were at War on our home, and that War destroyed our world. The Deceptions came here, searching for energon, and we have followed them to keep them from destroying your planet and it’s people in their quest for it.”

Sierra turned that over. She’d guessed they weren’t from Earth, so that wasn’t a surprise. The rest of the information was new, though. And appreciated. “What’s energon? And how does Jack fit into all this?”

Optimus sighed. “Energon is an energy source, and the very lifeblood of every Cybertronian.” he explained. “It is a natural resource that was once common on our home, and somehow Earth too produces it in great abundance.” he explained. “Jackson, Miko, and Raphael became involved with us by accident. They were seen with my Autobots when they mistakenly were pulled into a battle with the Decepticons, and the Decepticons assumed they were our allies. In order to protect them, we took them under our watch and guard to ensure they could not be harmed.”

So, Esquivel and Nakadai were part of this too. She shouldn’t be surprised. She’d seen the cars that picked those two up, now that she thought of it. Speaking of which….

“Jack’s motorcycle is an Autobot, isn’t it? And Miko and Raphael’s cars?”

Optimus hummed. “Indeed. Arcee, Bumblee, and Bulkhead were the ones to initially partner with and save the children in that first encounter. After they were brought into the fold, it made only sense to assign them as their Autobot guardians.”

Sierra nodded as she took that all in. Then she frowned. “I’m involved now too, aren’t I? I would have been involved regardless, if the Decepticons were really after me, but Smokescreen saving me just means my involvement is going to be more pleasant than it otherwise would have been.”

Optimus and Ratchet shared yet another look, before casting their gazes to Smokescreen. The white bot fidgeted under their combined stares, head ducking and looking uncomfortable. “While we are not pleased that the youngling acted on impulse and charged into battle against protocol, we are pleased that he saved your life, young Sierra.” Optimus said after a moment.

Sierra blinked. “Youngling.” she repeated in confusion. Then she narrowed her eyes. “You’re not getting him into trouble for saving me, are you?” she asked heatedly. The very idea insulted her.

Optimus twitched as if startled, then rumbled a soft chuckle. “Youngling, yes. It is a term used by Cybertronians to refer to those of us who are not yet fully grown. Smokescreen is the equivalent of a human teenager.” he explained. “And worry not. In this instance, we can overlook the breach in regulations. It would send a poor message to punish a bot for upholding the Autobot creed.”

Sierra relaxed at that, nodding. Then she narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to want to have a discussion with you later about why you’re letting teenagers fight in a war, but I know now isn’t the time.” she said threateningly.

Both older bots startled back and her tone and words, and Smokescreen squeaked from behind her. She turned and drew a harsh line across her mouth before he could say anything, and she watched as he stared, slack-jawed, before closing his mouth with an audible clack. That done, she returned her attention to the apparent leader. There was one more thing she wanted settled.

“You said the others got guardians, right?”

A nod.

“Well, if I’m going to need one, and something tells me I will, then I want this one.” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Smokescreen.

Optimus’s eyes narrowed in what she realized was a faint smile. “If Smokescreen agrees, then I have no issues with that.” he hummed. “All I ask is that you remain here until our liaison with the human government arrives. Agent Fowler will want to discuss some matters with you before you return home.”

Sierra blinked. So the government knew about all this. That was good to know. It meant she wouldn’t get in trouble for conspiring with aliens if it ever came to light. She could also understand why they kept this whole thing a secret, even if governments hiding things from the public wasn’t always a good thing. In this case, it was a good thing.

“As long as I’m home before my curfew.” she agreed.

Another bow of that great head, and then Optimus was turning to stride away. Presumably to make contact with this Fowler. That left her and Smokescreen with Ratchet.

The stocky bot glanced at them, then turned to that odd console she’d noticed earlier. “Smokescreen will show you around.” Was all he said, waving them away with a dismissive flip of his hand.

Sierra, taking that as her cue, turned to the youngest bot. She thrust out her hand. “What do you say? Partners?”

He seemed confused, before slowly crouching and extending his hand to tap a finger to her palm. “Yeah, sure.” he seemed a little awed that she’d want to partner with him.

She smiled. “Good. In that case, why don’t you give me a ride and show me around your base?”

Smokescreen seemed confused. “Ride?”

“On your shoulder. I’d like to see it from your perspective.”

He blinked, then shrugged and put his hand, palm up, on the floor. Sierra took that as her que to climb up, and he carefully transferred her to his shoulder. Cool. Very cool. She just wanted to ride on the giant alien robot, and now she got to. That was cool.

She saw him look at her out of the corner of his bright, shining blue eyes, and she smiled warmly. “Well? Show me around your home, big guy. I’d like to get to know you.”

Smokescreen perked up, the little protrusions on his back wiggling with his apparent joy, and Sierra grinned a little wider. Oh, he was cute. How a giant robot could be endearing, she didn’t know, but he did it. He was sort of like a puppy. A giant, metal, alien puppy. She held on as he started walking, and she listened with half an ear, processing and noting what he told her as the rest of her mind turned over the events of her day.

It had been stressful, and scary, but now that it was all done and she was fine…

‘Yeah.’ she thought, watching her new partner eagerly show her around the small, hidden base he called home. ‘I think I’m gonna like it here.’

———————————————————————————————————

And that was that! I hoped you like it! It was fun to write. The show didn’t give Sierra a last name or a real personality, so I had to kind of do that bit myself. And I was right! I did enjoy writing this. The prompt inspired me to write this faster than I thought I’d be able to. I do not expect to be able to fill a prompt this quickly again. Unfortunately. Also, Sierra is definitely going to be the straight man to Smokescreen. He’s going to need it. Badly.

Until next time, friends!

#silkling request fics #request fic #tfp #transformers prime #tfp sierra #tfp starscream #tfp smokescreen #smokescreen #tfp optimus prime #Sierra joins Team Prime #smokescreen is her partner #maccadam

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heli0s-writes · 5 years ago

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Fuckin’ Legit

Pairings: Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary: Follow up to Fuckin’ Teamwork, based off this ask. A/N: More silly shenanigans. Dumbass reader :) 2.1k words

Bag of Tricks Masterlist

Bucky watches from a distance as you hurl through the air and land right heel-first on the training dummy, knocking its head off and making it bounce off the floor with enough force to lodge itself into the ceiling. The room of SHIELD recruits clap and cheer, and when the dummy’s head flops back down you kick it like a hacky-sack at Maria Hill.

“Great demonstration,” Hill catches the head and tucks it under her arm. “Are you interested in teaching a course in hand-to-hand combat with a focus on aerial recovery? Legitimately?”

“Only if you promise not to fall in love with me.” You send a wink at her and then, as soon as you see Bucky’s bewildered face through the other side of the glass, you leap after him. He’s convinced you’re dumber than a bag of rocks, but you’re not deterred by it—especially not after Maria Hill’s validation. Puffing your chest, you skip forward, “Hey, Buck! I’m legit!”

Immediately, you trip and face plant into the nearest surface. The room collectively hisses in discomfort.

“I take that back.” Maria hurriedly ushers the recruits out before they can witness anything else.

Bucky slips through the door and roughly yanks you up by your elbow, wincing when your nose reveals a line of blood dripping into your mouth. “Legit, my ass. Come on. Stark called for us.”

The air in the conference room is stagnant and overwrought with a million unsaid—unscreamed—expressions. Tony pivots on his lifted heels, finger jabbing toward the big screen where a dark and grainy image is projected.

“Care to explain this? Friday pulled it from a broadcast coming from the cell.” He narrows his eyes at you as you slump down into the swivel chair until only the top of your head shows. “How about you?” Tony gestures to Bucky.

Tony has a laser pointer in his other hand, and he shines the red spotlight on the picture where Bucky’s knees are bent and planted to the ground. The dot trails over his thigh and then over the smaller frame beneath him.

You’re there, arched upward into his torso, legs hooked around his tapered waist, heels digging into his spine. Four of his thick flesh fingers are shoved inside your mouth, pulling your cheek open, and the dim light catches a sliver of your wet tongue. His other forearm is pushed onto your sternum, holding you down.

It looks bad.

It looks like Bucky is dry humping the daylights out of you in an abandoned Hydra facility.

Sam erupts into a screeching laugh when he finally pieces it together, pitching forward until he’s flattened against the wood table. “Ho-Homygod--- This is the best day of my life. Is this the cyanide incident?”

Bucky is red from head to toe.

Natasha rolls her eyes and slides away from the table. “Tony, she ate two cyanide capsules. Barnes was wrestling them out of her mouth.”

Tony stiffens for a moment as he ponders the truth behind her statement. Then, he quirks his head like an owl, flares his nostrils, and stoops beneath the table to find you resembling a boneless pile of flesh.

“Everyone is dismissed.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. “I wish I could fire you.”

A quiet whimper escapes your lips, the most pathetic noise to ever come from a human being. “But…” You whine pathetically, “I’m legit.”

A few nights later, you find yourself sneaking through yet another dusty old hideout. Surprise, surprise, Hydra is bad with maintenance and loves asbestos.

Steve made you an outline of all your tasks on his mission, written in all caps, folded neatly, and shoved it into your back pocket before departure. You skimmed over it on the plane before crumbling it up. The first bullet point had glared: NO CANDY.

Tightass.

You easily clear the wing and dispatch your status to Sam who is waiting patiently in the jet, fingers on the console. Bucky is patrolling the perimeter and you are taking the east side while Redwing zooms through the west.

There have been trip wires (newbie shit) and also surprisingly advanced attempts at entrapment so far (motion sensors, temperature regulated alarms). They’ve all been expertly pulled apart and rewired and you are taking a short break fucking around in the hallway, peering at dusty paintings of – some old dead bald guys. You take a picture of one and send it to Tony, labelled it’s like looking into the future.

Chortling, you continue down the corridor aimlessly until you hear a creak.

The knife in your hand is blade-first and coming down hard on the body sneaking up until— “Oh Barnes!” You cry happily, tucking it back into the strap on your wrist. “Good. You’re here! There’s only one more room—I’ve been crushing it.”

Literally two seconds after you say that, you turn the corner and run face-first into the door. Bucky pauses as if he doesn’t quite register what just happened before slowly reaching forward and gently applying pressure to the handle.

It’s written all over his face: you’re an idiot. You are seriously lacking some brain cells.

He leads the way carefully, swatting cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and taking stock of each corner, rifle pointed forward and alert. Behind him, your boots thump noisily against the floor and a chair is tipped over when your arm crashes into it.

Bucky spins on his heels and catches the chair before it can fall on top of what looks like a very obviously placed … box.

It’s a box.

A giant red box is on the floor, outlined with a square of white tape. Two abnormally unsoiled items in a room made almost entirely out of forty-year old dandruff. Your hands are already on both sides of it before Bucky can knock you out of the way.

“Don’t!” He screams because fucking anything could be under there!

A wild animal! A toxic chemical! A bomb! Snakes, for fuck’s sake! His eyes widen at the fading shadow cast on the floor as you lift the top away. Then, his heart stops beating.

It’s a slice of cake. And a cup of tea. A single slice of vanilla sheet cake neatly decorated with a blush-pink rose and two perfectly piped green leaves. The faint smell of jasmine wafts into the air.

Bucky barrels into you before you get the chance to lick your lips.

“Wilson!” He calls into the comm as you push his face away with an offended yelp, “They’re in the east side—set a trap for us! Get over here and bring your stupid bird too! I swear to God—NO! DO NOT!”

In the hovering Quinjet, Sam Wilson leaps to his feet and swoops out of the cabin, wings folded as he dives. “Come again?!” He taps on the comm wedged inside his left ear, “Barnes!?”

“-- fuck-- gonna—fucking--- stop BITING ME!”

A furious row of explosions blare in Sam’s ear as he banks a sharp left and lands on two feet, tearing his way inside the facility, checking on his wrist all the while. Redwing’s camera is glitching, but he can make out flashes of gunfire and what looks like at least five bodies, not including his two teammates. Bursts of white erupt on the screen and Sam’s heart picks up a tremendous pace before he kicks the door down, pistols out and aimed.

A silence smothers the room before grunting and screaming erupts again over Sam’s shout of, “What is going on in here?!”

“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the exact moment I came upon my fellow Avengers,” Sam pauses, waving his hand with a bow at the image projected on the conference room screen.

Friday pulled another image from the broadcast before Sam shot out all the cameras in the facility.

It seems that the previous video of you eating cyanide had been intercepted through a bounced signal from the original recording’s output and those on the other end decided you were enough of a proper imbecile to be tricked by something as simple as a slice of cake.

They weren’t wrong.

Tony’s laser is in Sam’s hand and he points the dot in flashes five times, “Dead dudes. Check.” The dot moves on, landing on two splayed out legs before it runs up the side of Bucky’s body pressed to the concrete. “Barnes. Check.” Bucky shuts his eyes and slams his head into the table. “And… here we have this.”

Sam points to you, bottom lip clenched tightly between your teeth as you lurch forward, one hand outstretched and smeared with frosting while the other holds your torso barely an inch from the ground, paying no mind to the two elbows digging into your stomach. Sam points again to where your crotch is pushed right into Bucky’s face.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve mutters, flushing red, “I wrote you directions for a reason…”

“Excuse me,” You huff, “Cake is not candy.”

“Really?!” Bucky snaps, “That’s the hill you’re going to die on!? You ran into the door! You knocked over a chair! You looked at the one thing that did not belong in the room and you picked it up even after I told you not to!”

Steve jumps back into the grilling, “And if you would have read the rest of the list—NO FOOD AT ALL was number two!”

“Oh yeah!?” You’re near hysterical now, shrieking at the top of your lungs. Stupid men ganging up on you. “What was number three? No fun!? I’m Captain America and I’m such a tightass--”

Bucky cuts you off, throwing his hands up into the air, “Number three was get the blueprints!”

“Oh.”

The room falls silent as you tuck your hand into the pocket of your pants. “Why didn’t you just say so? I nabbed ‘em as soon as I got in there. Marked off the locations of all the cameras and security alarms—not like that matters since Wilson shot them and I disarmed the rest in the east wing. Also, there were corridors and secret entryways not in the file. It’s on here now.”

Carelessly, you chuck the flash drive from your pocket at Steve and it smacks him in the chest. Sam crosses his arms and cocks his head at you, “Shit. Didn’t know you were all that.”

You frolic to the door, “See ya later!”

Three men watch on in shocked silence as you prance down the hallway, banking a sharp right towards your room. Steve stares from Sam to Bucky and then to the flash drive in his hand.

Sam clucks, “You know what… All things considered… the girl is legit.”

He calls your name, bangs on the door with a hard fist and when it cracks open, you peek your head out with tired eyes. “Sup, buttercup?”

“Why are you like this? The cyanide? The cake? You had the flash drive the whole time!”

You shrug off what sounds like an accusation, “I dunno. I’m good at my job.” Bucky crosses his arms. “Barnes!” You scold with a growing grin, “I’m legit! I just… you know. Why put all the pressure on myself when you’re around?”

You snort a little, scratch your tummy underneath an oversized shirt absently, and shrug your shoulders repeatedly like you’re dancing. Bucky narrows his eyes. “Are you telling me you’re an idiot because of me?”

“Yeah, Buck. I know you’ll take care of me.”

He freezes. Feels a sudden swell of heat rush from his chest to the top of his head. Bucky opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. He closes it. You give him a sleepy grin, leaning on the door and swinging it wide, faltering against the knob with a yelp.

Swiftly, and true to his character, Bucky catches you with one arm.

Hanging from his hold, body twisted around, you look up into his blue eyes. They’re strangely tender, dancing over your face with an inquisitive glimmer.

The moment shatters when Bucky’s gaze stops at your neckline. “Is that—" he frowns, “Is your shirt on backwards?”

You nod. “Uh huh. Inside out too.”

His eyes slip shut. With a sigh, he drops you flat on your back and turns around. “You’re an idiot. I hate you.”

Down the hallway as he stomps off, cursing the moment the thought you were cute or something… he hears your voice calling.

“I’m an idiot— but I’m legit, right? And I’m your idiot, right? Bucky? Bucky!”

Bucky holds back a grin. Flicks you off behind his back. Legit or not, he would never give you the satisfaction of knowing.

perm taglist @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #crackfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #humor

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givemestories-givemelife · 4 years ago

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Blueberries, Lavender & Hot Matcha Tea (Part 2)

A SasuHina ficlet

PART 1| Part 2

AN: THANK YOU SO MUCH TO THOSE WHO COMMENTED, OR RE-BLOGGED, OR LIKED THE FIRST PART TO THIS FIC. It truly means more than I can say. Helped a lot with motivation and it’s super cool to know that people are reading the things I write. I hope the follow up chapter doesn’t disappoint <3

Summary: Hinata has a run in with a familiar face.

Warnings: Brief mentions of grief and anxiety (because Hinata’s a nervous butterfly) but nothing remotely heavy. Also there’s alcohol consumption.

Word count: 6167

__________________________

Lavender

Hinata knows that she needs to start putting herself out there. She can’t stay holed up comfortably in her room while years of her life pass on by, listening to cigarettes after sex under the safe warmth of her white fluffy blanket that still smells like her late mothers perfume, and sniffing essential oils like they’re some kind of soft-core drug to distract her spiralling thoughts from every embarrassingly mortifying predicament she’s ever found herself in.

She’s been trying really hard not to think about spilling her extra hot matcha latte all over this potentially handsome stranger a few days ago. She thinks - potentially - because she did not have the courage to look at the man's face after maiming him and probably ruining his expensive suit!

Hinata’s sure she must have ruined his entire morning, which must have ruined his whole day, and now he probably hates her. Oh goodness, Hinata strongly dislikes the thought of people out there in this world walking around hating her.

Wow, these thoughts are entirely useless, she really needs to stop her brain from going down these awful paths.

Today Hinata has decided to try really hard not to wallow in the comfort of all her numbing guilty pleasures.

So, when Sakura Haruno, the loud and outgoing girl with pretty pink hair, who always smells like strawberries and vanilla from her photography course asked if she wanted to hangout and work on their portfolio’s after class; Hinata was thankful for the distraction.

They had spent that afternoon drinking green tea at the kitchen table in Sakura’s little homey apartment, showing each other their favourite pieces and sharing feedback.

“You have to include this one, it’s so cute” Sakura gushes, pointing at a print of children finger painting; a mischievous little boy is smearing bold red paint all over the face of a girl whose expression is twisted in pure terror.

“You have a real talent for capturing the essence of people.” She continues in a dreamy tone, “it’s like you’re able to capture the moment they’re most alive, even if it’s just the little moments, y’know?”

Hinata blushes at the complement, “th-thank you Sakura.”

“It's kind of ironic that people are your main muse considering how afraid of them you are.” She teases.

“I’m not sca-AhyH!”

Of course, that’s the moment a woman with a giant blond ponytail barges through the door brandishing a bouquet of peonies making Hinata squeal. “Sakura I swear to god if you ate the last of the ice-cream again, I’m gonna- Oh! hello there.” The crazy flower lady stops mid-threat noticing a stranger in her apartment.

“Ino this is Hinata from class, Hinata this is my roommate Ino.” Sakura introduces, failing to constrain her laughter.

Ino’s demeanor does a 180 as she gently rests the flowers on her lacquered kitchen counter and approaches Hinata in a trance like state. “Your hair is so long and gorgeous, it totally reminds me of the violets we have at the flower shop -- you have to let me braid it.” She breathes and Hinata’s eyes are as wide as the sky outside.

“Ino, tone it down you’re going to scare her.” Sakura chides, rolling her eyes, not at all surprised by her roommate's antics. “Do you always have to act like such a spazz?”

“I am but a simple girl who is a slave to all things beautiful.” Ino proudly counters running her fingers through blue strands and Hinata mentally notes that she smells like a garden.

Sakura’s phone vibrates on the kitchen table, “it’s Naruto,” she says glancing at the screen. “Wondering when we’ll be coming over.”

“I don’t know, an hour or two? Tell him we’re bringing Hinata!” Ino adds excitedly and starts to braid blue hair without permission. “You should come out tonight with Sakura and I, meet the rest of the gang.”

“Oh.” In high school Hinata was never able to make friends with girls, and spent most of her time in the photography club’s black room developing pictures. Her introverted nature made it difficult to connect with people, but in this moment, the prospect of meeting Sakura’s friends, and the inclusive enthusiasm from these girls is making Hinata a little emotional. “I-I don’t know.”

“Hinata, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but I think it could be good for you,” Sakura encourages.

“Carpe diem bitch,” is Ino’s convincing addition.

Hinata giggles, absent mindedly sniffing her wrist searching for the comforting sweet scent of the fragrance she’s wearing today, “yeah, okay.”

Ino makes a pleased sound and saunters over to a kitchen drawer to snatch a pair of scissors and clips the head off of one the peonies, then ties it into the base of Hinata’s braid. “You really have no idea how cute you are Hinata,” she coos observing her work in admiration and Hinata feels warm all over.

Hinata likes the rapport between Ino and Sakura, there’s something about their friendship that she finds inspiring.

When they split what’s left of the chocolate ice-cream and start getting ready for a night out, Hinata can’t help pulling out her camera and snapping shots of Ino with her shades of purple and Sakura’s vibes in red. Hinata feels outshined in her usual high waisted mom jean and oversized grey patterned sweater.

But that’s okay, she still feels like one of the girls.

~~~

Ino had made a strong case for wanting to get her steps in for the day, (since her fitbit said she had only reached 8243 so far) convincing the girls to walk to Naruto’s apartment instead of taking the bus. On their stroll Sakura and Ino began giving Hinata character profiles of everyone she was going to meet and Hinata found them to be quite amusing.

Ino playfully starts with, “Shikamaru’s like, my best bro. I’ve known him forever, smartest guy I know but a total stoner and he doesn’t give a fuck about anything.

“Choji gives the best hugs and he loves giving them, so if he looks like he’s going in for one - just let it happen - you’ll hurt his feelings if you don’t.”

“Naruto and Kiba are basically the same person and are the biggest loudest dorks on the planet,” Sakura chimes in, “but they’re also super friendly and kinda funny if you can get over their lack of brain cells.”

“Then there’s Sasuke,” Ino says, and hearing that name strikes a familiar chord with Hinata, triggering flashes of fond memories. “He’s really hot, but kind of a dick,” Ino hugs herself smiling at a distant memory, “basically, we all know each other from going to the same high school -”

“Ino and I had the hugest rivalry back then because we both wanted him.”

“What happened?” Hinata really wanted to ask if they were talking about Sasuke Uchiha, but didn’t want to interrupt the momentum of their story.

“We were so stupid causing all sorts of drama in our little social circle nearly tearing it apart, and Sasuke wasn’t having any of it, one day he told us to grow the fuck up and to leave him alone.” That did kind of sound like something Sasuke would say, but that would just be too big of a coincidence, wouldn’t it?

“We both cried.” Sakura snickers sheepishly.

“Eventually we finally realized that friendships should be forever-”

“And boyfriends are whatever.” Both girls enthusiastically finish the rehearsed line making silly faces at each other.

Hinata giggles at that, whishing she had taken a picture, “awe, that’s so cute.”

“And now he’s one of our good friends, but I just want to warn you that he can be cold and he can be mean and if he says something dickish, please don’t take it personally.”

Hinata hums, only half listening to Ino. Was it possible that when Hinata arrives at this apartment she was going to be face to face with the childhood friend she hasn’t seen in over a decade?

Guess she’ll just have to wait and see.

~~~

When Hinata enters the apartment, her senses are immediately overstimulated; it smells salty like ramen and sour with beer which clashes with how clean and pristine the space actually is. It’s decorated with blacks, whites and a few splashes of colors, but overall has a very minimalist feel.

Hinata barely has time to kick her shoes off before she’s surrounded by strangers, and can’t stop the heat from suffusing her face from the disorienting barrage of unwanted attention.

“Hey bitches!” Ino yells at the group, “we’re here! We know you missed us!”

“This is the beautiful Hinata,” Sakura adds, and Hinata really wants to hide under a rock somewhere. “Be nice okay, she’s really shy.”

“Hey I’m Naruto.” A blond man appears beaming at her, outstretching his hand. “I have never seen eyes that look like your eyes before!”

“Oh.” Hinata went to shake his hand but was interrupted by another hand grabbing hers and kissing it, which is so uncalled for.

“And I’m Kiba, don’t listen to that guy, he’s a complete moron.” He says with a wolfish grin and Hinata has no idea what’s going on anymore.

When she tries to turn away, she’s met with the kind face of a stout man in a green Zelda t-shirt with his arms wide open for an inviting hug. She decides to accept her fate by awkwardly stepping forward wearing a confused pout, and lets the arms of a stranger wrap around her in what is surprisingly one of the best hugs she has ever received. He smells nice, Hinata thinks. Savoury and warm like a thanksgiving dinner. For a moment she actually feels safe, like a veil has been thrown over the sudden wave of chaos, giving her a quiet moment for her heartbeat to settle, “I’m Choji, it’s really nice to meet you Hinata, try not to worry so much, everyone here is harmless, I promise.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on her back.

When Choji pulls away, he sends her one last reassuring smile before padding off towards the ponytailed man currently dying of laughter, and joining him on a leather couch. Choji grabs a handful of potato chips from a bowl on the marble coffee table and starts earnestly snacking.

Snacks! Snacks sound really nice right now! Tasting tasty things can sometimes be a good distraction when Hinata is overwhelmed. She self-consciously shuffles forward towards the provisions, drawn towards the colorful array of fresh fruits, grabbing a small handful of blueberries and popping one of them in her mouth. She tries to ignore the pair legs in her periphery... she needs a moment before making another introduction.

Hinata jumps feeling a presence directly behind her, she twirls around to see Naruto pulling back appearing extremely guilty.

What was he doing? Was he pointing at her hair?

“Hehehe, sorry about that,” he says, smiling sheepishly, and scratches the back of his head, “I was just pointing out to my friend here, how beautiful your hair is, what a wonderful shade of blue,” he made a weird face directed at someone over her head, “are you enjoying those, blueberries?”

Okay.

Hinata hears more laughter coming from ponytail boy on the couch.

Weird.

Hinata turns to see who Naruto is looking at and-

Oh.

Sasuke?

Sasuke was here.

It was her Sasuke!

She instantly looks away, eyes wide, staring down at the hardwood floors.

Well, not her Sasuke. But an older version of the one she knew as a child. The one she met that one summer years ago and spent nearly every day with him before her mother fell ill and her family moved away in the wake of tragedy.

And he was... Glaring at her? No, he was glaring at Naruto? He kind of looked like he recognized her, but why would he be glaring?

“This is fucking stupid,” Sasuke seethes and takes off towards the kitchen, where Kiba and Ino are talking and drinking.

Ouch.

Sakura approaches Hinata with a glass in hand, Hinata stares at the ice clinking as she offers it, “vodka soda, with lime?”

Well, one drink couldn’t hurt, Hinata thinks.

She glances over at a brooding Sasuke leaning on the kitchen island sipping his beer.

She might need it.

~~~

It’s nearly an hour later and Hinata feels the dread sinking deep into the pit of her stomach. She desperately wishes she could conjure up some courage, approach Sasuke, and see how he’s been after all these years, but he still hasn’t left from his spot in the kitchen.

She’s starting to believe that maybe he doesn’t recognize her, which is a rather sad thought.

Hinata also appears to be at the butt end of some sort of mean inside joke that she doesn’t understand, ponytail bo- Shikamaru and Naruto joined Sasuke in the kitchen and kept making not-so-subtle glances her way -- but whatever -- she’s a big girl, she’s not going to cry about it even if she wants to.

Currently she’s sitting on the puffy leather couch between Choji and Sakura, Sakura is sharing the memes she’s saved onto her phone this month with Ino and Kiba while Hinata stares down at the melting ice in her drink and Choji attempts to calm her with platitudes.

Hinata doesn’t regret coming tonight despite feeling like the biggest fool in existence.

After all, tonight she actually has the opportunity to reconnect with someone she still thinks about, even after all these years.

She has always wondered what had happened to that bratty boy she met that one summer.

The sinking feeling grows deeper and Hinata feels her heart beating in the drums of her ears.

She takes one last tentative sip before downing the rest of her drink and summons every ounce of bravery she didn’t know she had to strengthen her resolve.

She stands from the couch with shaky determination ignoring Choji’s concerned inquiry, then forces one foot in front of the other strait towards the guiding bright lights of the kitchen.

The easy conversation awkwardly dies down when she arrives beside Naruto and Sasuke. She feels both their gazes land on her, and Hinata spots an ugly orange magnet on the stainless-steel fridge Sasuke is leaning on that has the phrase - believe it! - stamped on it and chooses to direct most of her focus on the positive affirmation.

“Uh, hey Hinata, you doing okay?” Naruto asks, slightly taken aback. Hinata nods still focusing on the magnet, face heating up as the beginning of a buzz tingles in the corners of her mind. “Can I get you another drink?”

She looks down at the empty glass she grips and nods again, muttering a quiet thank you, and handing it over. He takes it and moves further down the island to chat with Shikamaru and starts making her another.

“Hi Sasuke,” she forces passed her chapped lips.

“Hello Hinata.” Sasuke says, sounding about as uncomfortable as she feels and she looks up, hopeful, to meet his burning gaze and quickly looks back at that stupid orange magnet.

“So, you do remember me?” She asks, confused as to why he’s been ignoring her since her arrival.

“I remember how two days ago you ran into me quite rudely, burning me with tea.”

Hinata’s brain short-circuits.

“Wait what!?-”

No! No no no no no. Impossible. No.

“-That- that was you? oh my god, oh no! I am so sorry about that, I really wasn’t looking where I was going, I-I can’t believe this, I swear you just came out of nowhere though, oh my goodness, I can’t believe that was-”

“Please just stop before you give yourself an aneurysm.” Sasuke lifts his hands in a placating manner and Hinata snaps her mouth shut. “So that’s not how you seem to know me?” He asks, further rankling as the conversation drags on.

“So you don’t remember me.” She says mostly to herself, completely humiliated by this entire exchange, every time she opens her mouth it’s like falling down a flight of stairs -- Hinata seriously wishes she would reach the bottom already.

“Remember you from... where?”

“I-I mean I guess it’s not that surprising, we were only nine or ten at the time and it-it was only one summer... over a decade ago... You-you never really did call me by my name either.” Hinata says focusing on her twiddling fingers, her voice barely above a whisper, a pensive smile framing her lips at the memory.

There’s a long drawn out silence before Sasuke slowly asks, “...Tomato face?”

Hinata feels her face burn red at the old moniker, nodding. “Yeah...”

“Hyuuga, Hinata. Shit. Yeah. I do remember.”

The culminating tension finally releases from the moment and Hinata smiles at the black and white tiles breathing just a little bit easier.

He remembers.

“Wait... Did I hear you call her a tomato?” Naruto returns with a mildly amused Shikamaru in tow, handing Hinata her drink, and looks between the pair completely intrigued.

~~~

It didn’t take long for the word to spread that Hinata and Sasuke were childhood friends and everyone congregated into the small-ish kitchen asking curious questions.

It also didn’t take long for everyone to lose interest when Naruto nudged Hinata and started grilling her for embarrassing details of what a prepubescent Sasuke was like, earning him a surly glare. Hinata shyly shrugged saying, “I-I don’t really remember, it was a long time ago.”

Safe to say -- Naruto didn’t buy it, but surprisingly didn’t press further, and the group dispersed, leaving them to reacquaint.

The conversation between them after that was unfortunately still quite awkward, thankfully, Hinata wasn’t entirely to blame.

They exchanged small talk, Hinata mentions that she actually works at Heaven’s Little Corner and was just coming off her shift early when she ran into him the other day, and Sasuke talks about going to school and getting a Bachelor's degree in Business and how he focused on E-commerce after graduation. Overall, their -- re-connecting -- consisted of the typical pleasantries involved in catching up, and Hinata couldn’t distinguish if she was disappointed or relieved when their conversation came to a lull and she couldn’t think of anymore pointless verbiage to drag it along.

What she really wanted was to reminisce over hot days on the beach, collecting tiny crabs to occupy the sandcastles they built, and how Hinata had found sand in her hair days after the event. She wanted to talk about ice-cream and food fights and sneaking out to gaze at the stars in the night sky way past their bedtime, and how they pondered if aliens exist.

“I think the universe is too big for there not to be something out there somewhere.”

She remembers Sasuke saying, thoughtfully looking up.

“I-I think you’re an alien.”

She said back, earning her an indignant huff.

“Whatever tomato face.”

She wanted to talk about how simple everything was when they were kids, how she misses that naivety and how scary the world had revealed itself to be over the years.

Hinata was never good at making friends, even as a child, but she could still look back and she knew that Sasuke was one. He had been the last mark on her childhood that had made it a good one, the last moments she had to truly be a kid before she lost her mother, the truest love she had ever felt, forcing her to grow up.

Instead silence overtakes the kitchen and they both stare at their drinks unsure of what to say.

Sasuke isn’t how she remembers him at all. Yeah, he has the same face, just matured, and the same haughtiness, but the spark for life that had once inspired her seemed to be gone.

Which is an unfair thought to have, she admits, but she can’t stop herself from thinking it.

“Well I think it’s time to go on an adventure,” Naruto awkwardly offers.

“An adventure?” Hinata repeats, eyes growing wide.

“Naruto’s idea of an adventure is leaving the house and walking around the block.” Sasuke says rolling his eyes.

“Hey anything can be an adventure if you let it!”

~~~

It smells like damp grass and Hinata nearly jumps out of her skin as Naruto’s roar of triumph echo's off the surrounding buildings, catching the glow in the dark frisbee Kiba threw him. Sakura and Ino had joined them in their late-night excursion and Hinata can’t suppress the giddy giggles from watching them stumble about attempting athleticism when they are clearly four or five drinks deep.

She snaps a few photos and decides that she likes Naruto’s philosophy of approaching even the mundane aspects of life as an adventure.

This whole day certainly has felt like one.

Hinata puts her camera away, feels the chill in the October air, and pulls her scarf tighter. She casts a glance over at the park bench where Shikamaru was smoking a joint to see that he’s now casually chatting about... string theory? -- to Choji, who continues to nod his head like he understands.

Her trailing gaze then lands on Sasuke and-

Hinata immediately looks back towards the glowing air bound frisbee.

He was watching her - he looked suspicious - Hinata doesn’t know of what.

“Hey Sakura,” Hinata tries to call out, voice wavering, “it’s getting late, I think I-I should start heading home.”

That seems to put a halt on the physical activity for a moment, she’s then hugged by every frisbee player.

“It was nice meeting you Hinata.”

“Come back any time.”

“Yes please! We need more girls in our group, Sakura and I are severely outnumbered.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to walk you?” Sakura slurs slightly, pulling away from the tight embrace.

“I’ll be fine, thank you Sakura,” Hinata smiles at her newest friend and turns to leave but stops at the bench to wave goodbye at Choji and Shikamaru, earning her a warm smile and a lazy nod. She looks at Sasuke’s arms proudly crossed over his broad chest and says, “it was nice seeing you again Sasuke.” And makes her way down the busy street, casting one last glance behind her just in time to see Sakura jump on Ino piggyback style to catch the frisbee in an impressive display of drunken camaraderie.

She smiles wider to herself. Wow. Today was a good day. An Adventure! Even if seeing Sasuke again was really weird and awkward and not at all how she wished it could have gone, she still met a lot of new people – Sakura's friends are so nice! They made her feel right at home and didn’t make her feel too weird about being shy and -

“Hey, Hinata.”

Hinata startles, hearing the sound of her name accompanied by footsteps catching up and her breath hitches when she turns to see Sasuke slowing down next to her.

“S-Sasuke? What are you-”

“I’m going to walk you home,” he snorts like it’s obvious, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black jacket, “it’s late.”

“Oh,” Hinata hugs herself, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious and maybe even a little nauseous as they walk in silence, their steps in sync.

She can feel the heat of his gaze on her and Hinata makes a point to stare at the crispy autumn leaves on the pavement – yeah – Hinata has no idea what to make of this.

“You know it finally makes sense now, why I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Hinata trips over nothing, “you what?”

Leaves. Look at the leaves. The beautiful burnt orange leaves. Just. Keep. Looking.

“At the coffee shop, there was something about you, I couldn’t get you out of my mind. Guess I thought you were familiar somehow.” Sasuke shrugs, with an air of nonchalance as they cross the street.

“Oh,” Hinata’s starting to feel warm, she doesn’t know if it’s from their quickening pace, the two drinks she’s had or how Sasuke is close enough for their shoulders to brush.

“It’s kind of crazy that we’d run into each other like this, after all these years.”

Hinata stops walking and Sasuke mirrors her. There’s something in his tone that catches Hinata off guard, something almost fond? Hinata looks back in the direction of his friends, they’re about five blocks away now.

Sasuke seemed... different than how he’s been all night -- more open somehow. Maybe he feels weird about their earlier interactions too, but didn’t feel comfortable acting this way in front of his friends? Sasuke’s always been a very private person, even as a child.

“Yeah it is,” Hinata bites her lip and throws him a timid fleeting smile, silently wishing she knew what was going through his mind.

“So, why did you come back to Konoha.”

“I-uh-” Hinata starts playing with the hem of her sweater and reminds herself it’s good to open up, “-wanted to figure out this life thing for myself – be independent - if my dad had his way, I’d never leave home or do anything that wasn’t part of his plan-” she tapers off, distracted by the approaching sound of music, a dumb smile spreads across her face when she sees an old skinny man on a sparkly bicycle riding past them on the road blaring ‘Dancing Queen’ from an oversized speaker he probably installed himself -- he seemed so – in the moment, like all that existed was him and the music filling the streets that he owned – Hinata silently mourns the missed opportunity of capturing that moment forever in a-

“You were saying,” Sasuke pokes her shoulder harder than necessary, bursting her from her reverie, and starts leading her down concrete stairs away from the bustling main road of the city, towards the waterfront.

“Right,” Hinata continues feeling energized from the random encounter and embarrassed from being caught drifting away in a daydream when they were in the middle of a conversation, “it was – uh - hard to leave my sister, but she encouraged me to go, that I should at least attempt to do the dream chasing thing.” Hinata pats her shoulder bag in reference to her camera. “I saved up some money and here I am, making it up as I go.”

“Hm, you always were snapping pictures everywhere you went.”

Their steps slow to a stop once they reach the cold metal railing where tourists gather during the day overlooking the docks, but it’s mostly quiet at this time of night.

It smells cold from the breeze and salty from the ocean. The lampposts must need changing because the only light is from the half-moon in the cloudless sky, casting them in dark shades of blue.

Hinata takes a deep breath observing the skyline and the colorful lights reflecting in the undulating ocean waves, then asks the question that’s been bothering her since their seemingly kismet reunion. “What do you remember after all this time?”

“I remember...” He trails off, Hinata doesn’t miss the sly edge in his tone. “That I had told you I’d marry you one day,” his voice is deep, almost gravely when he takes a slow playful step closer and Hinata swears her heart skips several beats noticing their breaths mixing in the cold air between them. “And that... you were technically my first kiss.” He says with a sarcastic snort, stepping back, and gesticulates somewhere behind them. “You can’t tell them about it though. Especially Naruto, the idiot would never let me live it down.”

Hinata blushes at the memory and attempts to mask her frown with an indignant pout, trying not to take the jeer personally.

Sasuke always did like to mess with her.

“You were my only kiss.” Hinata then whispers without thinking and regrets it. She immediately hates the implications -- like she’s some inexperienced-love-sick-twenty-something, who’s never gotten over her childhood crush.

Hinata sighs, briefly drowning in her own self-deprecating thoughts, gripping at the railing, eyes a passing ship, and pretends she can’t feel him studying her, surprised by the admission.

“What do you remember?” He asks back, finally breaking the silence.

She bites her lip, thinking, a rush of memories flashing one by one, settling on their goodbye -- her sobbing because she had to move away to a new city thousands of miles away that had special doctors who could treat her mother, how Sasuke was speechless and could only squeeze her tight in the first and only hug they had ever shared.

She remembers how he always told her she should stand up for herself, even against him, and she remembers how sometimes when she was around, he’d bite his tongue, holding back petulant sneers.

There’s a small quirk to her lips when she softly says, “Looking back, I-I always thought that we brought out the best in each other.”

There’s another long silence and Hinata once again feels the heavy weight of his gaze examining her, he reaches out and she stiffens when he gently grips the base of her braid touching the bright pink flower there.

“Did Ino do this?” He quietly asks, and there something hidden in his voice that shifts the mood of their conversation, and he’s close again, close enough for their visible breaths to once again mix, his fingers trail down towards the tail end of her braid.

“Uh huh.” Hinata breathes, watching his fingers play with the tip of her strands.

“Why can’t you…” he starts to ask, unsure, but curious, “never mind.” He let’s go of the braid, huffing lightly in frustration and leans on the railing, looking out towards the roaring waves.

Hinata’s stunned by his sudden apprehension. "Why can’t I what?”

“I said never mind.”

“But… I- I want to know.”

“Why can’t you look at me?”

“Oh.”

Sasuke sighs, “you don’t have to answer.”

Hinata bites her lip hard, internally wincing. “I-it’s not just you it’s most people really.” She starts, racking her brain for the right words “- It’s -it’s embarrassing… Well everything is embarrassing but, I get anxious about nothing all the time? And looking at people. I don’t know. I get paranoid that they can hear my thoughts or something? Not that I’m thinking about anything weird, well sometimes I am… it’s easier when they’re not looking back at me... Anyways... I guess it’s just become a bad habit now…” she sighs and smiles bitterly at the mess that just flew out of her mouth. “So, to summarize, looking at people kind of sometimes really freaks me out?”

“I see,” Sasuke says, Hinata glances at his mouth, he’s smiling a little, it’s almost warm in an amused sort of way, which completely disarms her.

Hinata’s tongue feels dry, “uhm, do-do you ever feel anxious?”

“Never. I get annoyed or frustrated with people very easily though, which can be problematic, not that I care”

“I guess some things never change then.” Hinata teases gently.

Sasuke smirks, he seems ready to retort with a quip but retreats and opts for something entirely different, “are there things that help you with your anxiety?”

There’s something about the question that makes Hinata feel warm all over, she never really gets to talk about these kinds of things without it feeling like it would dampen the mood, but there’s surprisingly no judgement in his tone, he seems genuinely curious, which encourages her to open up some more, "I find different scents to be calming, so I wear whatever my current favorite essential oil is on my wrist every day and whenever I feel too overwhelmed,” Hinata begins to explain in a rush pulling her sleeve up to demonstrate and presents Sasuke her wrist, “I close my eyes, count down from ten and-” Hinata’s breath catches in her throat and her eyes fly open when Sasuke gently pulls her forward by the wrist and she feels the softness of his lips brush over her pulse, then draws in a slow breath to scent the fragrance she chose to wear that day, “...and... sniff.”

Oh goodness, is it getting hot out here? Because Hinata’s face feels like it’s about to burst into flames. Hinata debates pulling her arm back but is currently enraptured by the softest look she’s seen on the Uchiha’s face this evening.

This feels way too intimate, and Hinata thinks she likes it. Hinata thinks that maybe this is what’s been missing in her life. The feeling of being close to someone in more ways than just proximity. Is it possible she’s been physically and emotionally touch starved for years without realizing it?

That’s a thought that petrifies her. How sleeping on your basest human needs can become a habit, and you find yourself going through the trivial motions of existence, not bothering to search for more, for something that makes your heart sing, twist, and turn into itself the way that muscle pumping blood through her circulatory system at a quickening pace is doing right now.

“Lavender,” Sasuke murmurs against her wrist and his breath feels hot on her skin, Hinata struggles for breath when the sensation brings her back to the present moment and she realizes that she’s been staring directly into his darkened obsidian eyes, boring into hers and she finds herself unable to look away. A subtle look of achievement flashes through them when he softly asks, “you okay there?”

Is she dead? Is she imagining this? This whole situation with the soft touches coinciding with depressing epiphanies triggered by Sasuke smelling her suddenly seems completely absurd, and Hinata’s not sure she’ll be able to form a coherent sentence any time soon.

“I uh, uhm.” There’s definitely something wrong with Hinata’s voice when she attempts to speak.

“I think that...” Sasuke smoothly adjusts their hands to interlock their fingers and his hand feels so warm in hers, “you should go out with me.”

What is happening?

“No.”

Hinata kinda meant to say yes, but sure, no works too?

“What?”

“I mean, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Hinata winces slightly. Gosh what is she even saying? Is this some sort of weird defense mechanism because she’s afraid of getting hurt?

Sasuke nods slowly, narrowing his eyes, “why not.”

Don’t you have to risk getting hurt to get anywhere in life that’s worth while?

“I-I don’t know.”

“Hn.” Sasuke breaks eye contact and lets their holding hands fall. Hinata reels at the loss of warmth. He turns away from her and crosses his arms over the railing and looks out towards the dark rhythmic waves of the ocean. Hinata worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she studies the man before her. The moonlight is hitting the sharp angles of his face just perfect, and Hinata’s in awe. He’s all grown up now, and by default that means Hinata is too. Yet, here they are, the oldest they’ve been, and still the youngest they will ever be.

Nostalgia floods through Hinata’s system, deciding to grab the moment instead of letting it pass. She’s not sure when she pulled the camera out of her bag, but the flash went off before she understood that she was taking a picture.

Sasuke jumps slightly at the flash and is pulled from his brooding thoughts, shooting her a puzzled glare.

“Sorry, that was kind of weird of me. I just – I just thought you-you looked erm... nice in the moonlight?”

A bewildered look flashes across Sasuke’s face before a small smile begins to form and he laughs! He actually, genuinely laughs while shaking his head in what appears to be disbelief.

The only thing Hinata can do is smile sheepishly distracted by how handsome he looks when he lets go of his composure, the light in his eyes makes him look younger, like the Sasuke she knew all those years ago.

Hinata wonders if any of his friends get to see him like this.

He looks down at the pavement, shoulders still shaking, smile still present and pinches the bridge of his nose while taking in a slow breath and on his exhale, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, unlocks it, hands it over and says, “give me your number.”

Hinata tentatively obliges, pulling open the add new contact page, filling in the blanks then handing it back. Sasuke starts typing something in his phone and asks. “Do you work Sunday?”

“Uhm, yes?”

Hinata’s phone buzzes, when retrieving it from her bag she sees a text from an unknown number.

>> I’m going to come by after your shift and I'm taking you out. Don’t even bother using your mouth to respond.

Hinata feels her fingers tingling and tries to open her mouth to speak, closes it, bites her lip to try and stifle her giggles and resists the urge to slap herself in the face for acting like a complete airhead.

She pushes her fears aside one more time tonight...

And takes the damn dive.

<< Okay <3

__________________________

AN2: Wow, okay. A month later and I have the second part to this little story. This is the first time that I’m posting something I didn’t just throw together in one sitting. I’ve also never posted anything that was longer than 1200 words and it’s unexpectedly a little nerve-wracking??? OKAY SO, I guess there’s going to be one last chapter and it’s going to be like 90% SasuHina interactions? And spoiler alert they’re finally going to make-out. I have this SasuHina headcannon where they’re both private people who generally keep to themselves -- so people think they’re a boring couple, but when they’re alone together it’s like they’re in their own little world, and that’s the dynamic I’m looking forward to exploring in the final part. I’m not sure when it’s going to be up since I have a bunch of other stuff I need to work on so it depends on how the inspo hits me, but I do have plenty of fun ideas!

#sasuhina #sasuhina oneshot #sasuhina fanfic #sasuhinafanfiction #hinata #sasuke #naruto #mystuff #Hinata hyuuga #hinata fanfic

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babybottlepop96 · 3 years ago

Text

Home Again Chapter 1

Jean x Marco

Summary: Jeana and Marco have been friends since the tender ages of 5 and 7. They grow together and fall in love.... then Jean disappears.

Warnings: This story will contains mentions of past rape and abuse. The violence parts will probably be descriptive, but the rape will not be. There will be eventual smut further along into the story.

~20 Years Ago~

"Jean, honey, this is mommy's new boss, Mr. Bott. He is the man who is going to help us, so I need you to be on your best behavior, okay?" The small five year old with ash blonde hair, dark brown undercut and honey golden eyes nodded his head as he stared at the tall dark haired man with dark chocolate eyes.

"Nice to meet you Master Jean." The man smiled down at the boy with a warm smile. "This is my son, Marco, he just turned seven a few months ago. Heard you enjoy dinosaurs and superheroes?" Jean nodded as he stared at the boy just two years older than himself with wide eyes, mapping out all the freckles along his tanned skin, milk chocolate eyes staring back into his own with a smile that could make the grumpiest of men relax. "Marco has a boatload of dinosaur and superhero toys, Marco, why don't you show Jean your room?" Marco smiled, grabbing Jean's hand and dragging him up the giant spiral staircase to the second floor.

Once inside the room, Jean's jaw dropped, the size of Marco's bedroom was bigger than his whole house combined. The ceiling was high with detailed trim along the edges, painted in a dark brown and a pale maroon shade of red. The bed was bigger than what any seven year old should have, a giant flat screen tv was mounted onto the wall across from the bed and games, movies and toys filled the rest of the room. "Do you want to play a video game? I have Spyro the dragon, Crash Bandicoot, Mario Kart?" The freckles kid asked, naming off games while setting up one of the many gaming consoles he owned.

"I… ummm.." Jean stood there nervously, rocking on his feet while twiddling his tiny thumbs. "I've never played a video game before." He looked up to see Marco smiling at him.

"That's okay! I'll teach you! We can start with Mario Kart, it's a multiplayer game, so I'll be able to teach you!" He smiled proudly as if he just won first place at the spelling bee.

"Oh, okay! Thank you!" Jean grabbed the controller Marco handed out to him with shaky hands. The two sat down on the squishy blue and purple bean bag chairs and started a game, Marco showing him how to pick his character, how to move and control the kart and how to throw the special abilities gained when hitting the boxes with the question marks.

"So, Jean, what's your favorite color?"

"Purple." Jean spoke as he tried to concentrate on what he was doing on the screen, still having a bit of trouble with the turns.

"Cool! Mines red!" Marco spoke as he gestures to the room around them.

"Favorite food?" Jean asked, stealing a glance at the older kid next to him, he couldn't help but smile, Marco's smile was infectious.

"Spaghetti! Well, all kinds of pasta! Penne, ravioli, ricotta-"

"I thought ricotta was a cheese?" Jean questioned, he wasn't actually sure himself, he just knew that cheese was a luxury in his home, never having enough money most of the time for really fancy things like cheeses.

"Oh, yeah! It is!" Marco giggled, "I just really like ricotta cheese." Jean giggled too, this kid was alright. "You're my new best friend, Jean."

~8 Years Later~

"Will you just shut up, Yeager?" A thirteen year old Jean Kirstein, as calmly as he could, spoke with his fist balled up at his sides as he walked out of the middle school building.

"Come on, Kirstein, didn't your poor piss excuse for a mother teach you it isn't nice to tell people to shut up?" Eren, the school bully, asshole and dick, in Jean's opinion, insulted. That's when Jean's resolve faded into nothing and landed a swift punch to the tanned, unblemished skin, a crunch was heard throughout the whole parking lot. Eren fell to the ground but quickly regained his strength and landed a kick to Jean's guy. The wind was knocked from Jean's lungs, but his anger was dominant. He lunged for the bastard who insulted his mother, the only parent he ever knew who worked her ass off to make sure he survived, to give the douche-nozzle a good pounding, but warm, strong arms held him back before hos fist could collide with it's intended target.

"Jean." A warm voice whispered in his ear, Marco. He relaxed in the freckles arms but he was still livid. "Let's go." Then, he was dragged off to the black Chevy Impala.

"Is that your boyfriend Horse Face? Man, I knew you were fruity but seriously? You could do better!" Jean almost got out Marco's grip, but the taller, older teen had his grip firm and all but threw the teen into the back seat.

"Jean-"

"No, don't start Marco! He taunted me about how I have to live my life, insulted my mother, then insulted you! He deserved to get his lights punched out!" Jean yelled, unshed tears forming in the corners of his Carmel eyes, threatening to spill any second. Marco just simply drew the younger into his arms and the driver drove towards Bott Manor. "He… he doesn't have to be so mean! I never did anything to him!"

When they finally pulled into the Manor, Marco led Jean to his room, the same room they first became friends in eight years ago. The stuffed animals and small toys are now replaced with books, CDs and even more games and movies. Marco sat them down on the bed and neither spoke for a few minutes. "He was right, ya know." Marco finally spoke and Jean looked at him like he had four heads. "You could do better than me, if we were together."

"Marco Bott, you stop right there! No one could ever replace you! You are literally the best person alive! If I had the balls to kiss you I would!" Jean and Marco's eyes widened and Jean turned into a blushing, flustered mess. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I.. I don't know why I said tha-", but Jean couldn't finish, Marco's lips pressed firmly against his in a gentle yet passionate kiss that spoke thousands of words and so many feelings.

"I love you Jean." Marco whispered as they pulled apart, foreheads still touching as both tried to regain their breath and slow their hearts. Jean cupped Marco's face in his hands and kissed him again.

"I love you too, Marco."

~2 Years Later~

Jean Kirstein, fifteen year old freshman at Trost High, walked through the park on his way home after work. He hates his job, hates working behind the counter at the local Taco Bell, hates that Eren works there too in the kitchen as a prep cook, hates dealing with annoying ass customers with snarky attitudes complaining that their crunch wrap supreme doesn't have enough sour cream. Well sorry, Karen, I don't make the fucking food nor do I determine how much sour cream goes on it. Today was a particularly bad day, Eren called off claiming he was sick when Jean really knew he was out with his "boyfriend" leaving him to prepare food and take orders. Then someone took a dump on the men's bathroom floor, didn't even try to aim for the fucking toilet! Just took a shot right there in the middle of the goddamn floor which he had to clean up himself while his manager bitched about him not doing his job at the counter. All Jean wanted to do was go home, talk to his boyfriend for a little before he eventually went to bed and got up early the next day for school.

It was a simple request that he wished for while the clock ticked by slowly. Jean was so into his own head, he never heard the footsteps coming up behind him until it was too late. A wet cloth covered his nose and mouth, his eyes widened for a second before the world faded to black.

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

"We have to find him!" Marco shouted at his father who was looking at him with a solemn expression. Marco paced back and forth in front of his father's desk, hands taking through his u kept hair. He has barely slept a wink since Jean vanished three days ago, his mind wondering about all the worst scenarios it could think of.

"We are trying, son, but we have no evidence of anything taking place. No struggle, no personal belongings, nothing to suggest anything has even happened."

"But Jean couldn't have just vanished into thin air! He wouldn't run away either! He loved his mom too much to just up and leave her and me…" Marco trailed off, thinking about his and Jean's time together over the last two years. Picnic and arcade dates, eating pizza and hot wings while they binge watched their favorite tv series at that moment, the soft and gentle kisses they shared between one another before they parted ways, always promising to text each other once they got home, letting the other one know they got there safe. That's the single most reason why Marco knew something was wrong. Neither of them forgot to send the 'im home safe and sound' text. Not once, in the ten years that they've known each other, did they miss sending that text. Even as children and Marco's father gave Mrs. Kirstein a cell phone as a gift to keep in contact, did they miss THAT text.

"Son, we are doing everything we can to find Jean. But we also need to think rationally, Jean might not ever be found." Marco froze at those words, Jean may be lost forever? He may never see those honey eyes, beautiful smile, perfect sketches and vibrant paintings painted by those slender pale hands and fingers? May never run his hands through those soft locks of ash and brown ever again? That's when Marco broke, he screamed and fell to the floor in a fetal position on the floor. His father looked at him with hurt in his own dark chocolate eyes, for him, his son and Jean's mother who was currently out looking for her only child as they speak. Don Bott rose from his leather chair and walked around the desk, kneeling in front of his son. He put his hand on his back and whispered a pained, "I'm sorry, Marco."

~10 Years Later (Present Day)~

Here he was, once again, at an underground auction. Mr. Bott hated these things, but he had no other choice, ever since Mrs. Kirstein passed away three years ago from a drunk driving accident, he hasn't been able to find someone who cleaned as well as she had. Every person he hired had an attitude or just didn't speak at all, always forgetting to dust the book shelves or take out the trash. So he relented and took up on Mr. Ackerman's suggestion to go to an auction. Getting there early to get a good seat, Mr. Bott, along with Mr. Ackerman, Mr. Braun and Mr. Hoover, the Dons of their respected parts of New York City, all sat down to converse while the auction for the…. Pleasure portion of the auction slowly came to a close. Mr. Bott cringed as the scum of New York bid money on these poor people just for the gratification of getting their dick in a hole.

"And now for our last and best prize of the night!" The auctioneer spoke as the Dons sighed in relief, none of them liked the idea of people being sold for pleasure as they themselves, tried for years to get it under control but never succeeding. "This one has been in the business for ten years, used and a bit rough looking, but this little beauty will be the best fuck you ever had. Clean and pliant, not a bad body either if I do say so myself. Number 54!" The announcer spoke as someone roughly shoved a young man out into the center of the room. The numbers flying from the crowd started pouring in left and right and it got the Dons wondering whom this "prize" was. "Three-thousand!" "Ten-thousand!" "Twenty Five-thousand!"

"Two hundred-thousand!" The crowd went quiet after hearing the deep booming voice coming from the front row.

"Two hundred-thousand! Going once! Going twice! Sold! To Do Bott!" The young man was then hauled out of the room to be prepped for leaving the facility.

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

"Dad! I'm home! Reiner, Bert, Mikasa, Eren and Armin are here too!" Marco called from the doorway as he and the others walked into the Manor. "Dad?!"

"In the living room son!" He heard his father call and the group walked towards the sound.

"What's up? We heard your voicemail and hauled ass here. What happened?" Marco asked as soon as he saw his father, eyes brimmed with tears and a small smile. The others in the room, specifically Dr. Yeager, looked at them, small sad but slightly happy smiles on their faces. "What's going on here?" The group looked at each other, confused and concern plastered on their faces. Once Mr. Bott moved to the side and gestured to the couch, it was then that the group realized what was happening. On the couch asleep, lay a thin pale man, dark circles under his eyes, bruises and scars and even some fresh wounds, now neatly stitched up thanks to Dr. Yeager, littering his almost naked form. Marco stared at the man laying on the pale green couch and tears flooded down his cheeks. "Jean?"

#attack on titan #Jean Krischtein #marco bott #jean x marco #kidnapping #abuse #eventual smut #jeans mom #marcos dad #eren yeager #mafia au #reiner #bert #mikasa #armin #erens dad

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quicksiilver · 4 years ago

Text

In My Fathers Eyes

All Parts: Here

Also on AO3: Here

Part Five: The Upside Down

Word Count: 5.6k

Chapter Summary: Under the influence of the prototype device created by Tony and Bruce, Rachel lives through moments in time that had already happened. Learning more Avengers history from the boy downstairs, Rachel finds herself a new friend.

Suddenly my eyes clamped shut and I sat up straight. I could no longer hear any noise from the room or the men in it. My eyes began to dart back and forth behind my closed lids and my breathing picked up only a bit. I could only see darkness, as if I were put into my own brain that appeared to me as a darkened hallway. Slowly, I lifted my foot and put it down realizing that I could walk where I was. Trying to look down or at my arms was impossible , I couldn’t see any part of myself but I was somehow conscious in another world.

“Where am I?” My voice echoed, the noise vibrating off of the darkness that surrounded me. There was a minute of silence.

“Can you hear me?” Tony asked, echoing into the dark. Twisting my head around side to side I still could see nothing, but I nodded my head.

“Yeah,” I said, “What’s going on?”

“You’re in your brain, kid,” He said as if this were an average Sunday night for him, “We can see everything you’re seeing out here.” I reached out a hand and tried to grab something, anything, but got nothing.

“Am I still... here?” I asked, the feeling of emptiness looming over my back. It was growing colder, and even though it was pitch black it seemed to be getting darker.

“Yeah, you’re still here with us,” Tony said, “You’re just seeing inside.” It felt as if the coldness was wrapping around my body like a snake, pulling tighter. I reached out again hoping to feel for the table, but I missed. My senses were disoriented and I was dizzy. Tony was asking me another question but his voice came through fuzzy to me. I continued my search with both my hands now, anxiously gripping the arms of the chair and feeling for the table to get myself grounded. I hadn’t noticed my breath or my heart rate that were now both skyrocketing the longer I fell into this panic.

“Hey!” Peter's voice cut in and I felt someone grab hold of my hands, “I got you. I’m right out here.” Squeezing his hands tight I tried my best to take in a deep, very shaky breath. My hands were trembling, but Peter held them steady.

He suddenly appeared in front of me, the scene of us meeting downstairs replaying a few feet away in the darkness. My breathing slowed as I watched him crouch to the floor and speak to nothing. The memory was being played from my eyes, so I couldn’t see myself.

“This is crazy,” He said slowly from outside in the room with Tony and Bruce.

“What?” I whispered, turning my head to the side.

“I’m looking at myself,” He began, “From wherever you’re standing right now... This is from earlier, when we crashed!” I couldn’t see him, but I feel like I could tell he was excited.

“Peter, watch out,” Tony said and I felt Peter let go of my hands and Tony grab onto one of them not nearly as gentle as Peter had been. The vision of Peter dissipated and a Tony shaped figure appeared in its place. The moment he had with Thor pressing his hammer against him was playing, the figure of Thor appearing as well. A small smile grew on my face as I watched my uncle defend me again.

“Yeah, okay,” Tony groaned and shook my hand away as I sat there feeling better, “So that’s how this works. Where’s my phone?” His voice moved with him as I believe he looked around the room for his cell phone. I still couldn’t hear any other noise besides their voices.

“I feel like I’m in Stranger Things,” I said with a quick laugh.

“Oh my god!” Peter laughed, “You’re in the upside down.” He joked. His voice was still close to me.

“Not even close,” Tony scoffed, “Pepper made me watch that show. Here.” He placed his phone in my hands.

“I can’t see what’s on it,” I said holding it up to whoever was near me.

“Obviously,” Tony groaned, “Your painting of those things is on the screen. Can you think about that for a second?” Instantly without me even thinking too hard about it all of the darkness around me shrunk and I was placed in my apartment in my bedroom. Finally there was a scene around me that comforted me even in the slightest. It was quiet, aside from a rumble of thunder outside happening every few minutes. Tony's phone dropped from my hands. I looked to my bed and found my mothers old quilt lying on top of it, along with a couple stuffed animals thrown by the pillows. That blanket had been shoved in a closet for years now, knowing it was her favorite, I couldn’t bring myself to wrap up in it at night. The walls were covered with artwork my seven year old self had drawn, along with some colorings that weren’t even on paper. It was nighttime, the room was dim. Lighting struck just outside the window making me jump and a woman’s voice shouted from outside in the living room. I was having deja vu. I had just dreamt this last night.

Lightning struck again and I wanted to fall to my knees and run away. Outside that door was my mother chained up by one of the blue things I painted. A frost giant, as Thor had told me they were called, and they were very much real apparently. The anxiety I was feeling once before was back, except it was stemming from the sound of my mothers helpless cries.

“Rachel, stay with us okay?” Tony coached me, my real self showing signs of my panic, “We’re here with you, we can see and hear this, too.” A hand gripped mine again. It was Peter. He squeezed it once and I took another deep breath.

Looking down at myself, sure enough, I was in a Little Mermaid nightgown with chipped toenail polish and chubby little kid fingers.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, Peter squeezing my hand again, “This is the dream. I had this dream last night. I’m living it right now.” Lighting struck and I leapt against the wall, fear shooting down my spine.

“What dream?” Bruce’s voice came through to me, “If you talk us through this it may be easier to get through.”

“I used to dream of them. The... the frost giants,” That word now left a funny taste in my mouth, “And I had it again last night for the first time since my mom died,” I was surprising myself with how well I could talk about this to these strangers, “There’s one here, he’s outside the bedroom door.” Silence came from the men that were with me.

“You’re only seeing a memory, kid. It can’t hurt you,” Tony reassured me. Taking myself away from the wall I inched for the door. Once I was in front of it I took a hand and placed it on the door knob. At this point in the dream I open the door and see my mother and that thing, and I bolt for the telephone. I swallowed, hard, and closed my eyes silently counting to three. One... two…

“What’d I miss?” Thors energetic voice bellowed into the room and my eyes shot open. I was still in the dream.

“Thor?!” I gasped, all of my panic subsided.

“Yes,” He answered, his voice coming close, “What’ve I missed? What’s happening here?” Confidence suddenly surged through my veins as I watched myself hold onto the door knob. Tony’s voice echoed, explaining some things to Thor that I tuned out. My heart was beating as if it were in my ears. Pursing my lips together I didn’t waste another second, and I flung the door open violently. My adrenaline was pulsing as I stepped out in the living room and looked toward the front door where my mother was found, chained in the awful restraints with the frost giant standing above her. She screamed out my name, telling me to run, but the rest of the dream played out before I could control another movement of mine. The telephone was there on the counter and my little feet were taking me to it, but not before I got a good glimpse at the blue monster who was staring right back at me with blood red eyes. The scene around me began to vanish, the couches, the counter with the phone and the walls all faded away into the empty black I started out in. What was left behind was my mother, the frost giant and me. The monster turned to me, looking directly at me now, and walked in my direction. I stumbled back and hurried away, trying to get as far as I could before he could reach me. Once I was stuck he held out a hand and came so close to grabbing hold of me before I shouted.

“Stop!” I screamed, and he froze. Silence flooded around me everywhere. I hesitated, not knowing what to do next. Scooting myself sideways I broke free from where I was stuck and stared at the giant.

“What’d she do?” Bruce’s voice asked.

“I don’t know... she seems to have frozen the memory,” Tony answered, “Thor? What can you tell us about this?” My eyes drew up and down the giant, finding I wasn’t paying enough attention to detail in my drawings. He was a light icy blue color underneath all of the navy markings, and veins covering his body. Knowing that he was frozen where he was, I came closer and swore I could see little reflects of gold on some parts of him, but it was very faint. He had to have been at least eight feet tall, just crouching below the ceiling of the apartment when we were in there. I rounded him, and then placed myself back in front and looked up to his face. His nose was sharp as was his jaw, but it was almost beautiful. The eyes were what chilled me the most, however. The red was so bright and they seemed as if they held onto pain, years of it.

Reaching out a hand that now looked like my own, I poked his arm once but didn’t feel anything special. I expected to feel a chill, or to freeze, or something spectacular, but he just felt normal to me. Behind his arm my eyes found my mother in the same place she was before. Stepping around the giant and going closer to her, my heart sunk to below my knees. She was crying, her hazel eyes were wide and full of fear. Her golden hair was messy on top of her head in a ponytail with a scrunchy from a pack of six we used to share with each other. She looked beautiful. She always did to me, despite everything. Her youth stuck with her until the day she left me. I swear she never aged a day over twenty five.

Looking at her now my heart was being squeezed inside my chest. The pain written on her face killed me, and the lump in my throat grew until I let out a sob, squatting down, dropping my head against my knees. I looked up to her and reached out a hand, grazing it against the side of her cheek that felt warm. Instantly comforting me. A single tear fell from the corner of her eye and onto my pinky finger.

In an instant she faded away, as did the giant, and my real eyes opened with a huge gasp from my lungs. The room was blurry and way too bright. Holding up a hand I shielded the light away until I could see properly, while I sucked in air like I had been underwater for a half hour.

“Kid, keep breathing,” Tony said from in front of me. I looked toward him, and then looked to Thor who had his face planted on a screen on the other side of the room with Bruce.

“It’s over,” Peter said softly from beside me. Turning my chin, I sighed with relief. He was still holding onto my hand. Sniffling, I pulled my hand away to wipe both of them across my cheeks to clean my tears but I couldn’t feel any. The tears from inside didn’t make an appearance out here, and I thought what sweet irony.

“That was insane,” I said letting my weight slide me down in the chair.

“Pretty crazy from out here, too,” Peter agreed. He asked me if I was alright, looking at me sympathetically and it clicked in my brain that he saw the entire scene, even the end with my mother. Pushing the grief back in where it’s been kept, I simply nodded my head.

“It’s almost been three years,” I told him, “She was an alcoholic.” No matter who I said those words to, and it was very few, it felt as if I was admitting the secret like it was myself. I looked down at the floor, the dizziness of being under finally lifting.

“Almost fourteen for me,” Peter said to my surprise. I turned back to him with my eyebrows raised. He smiled at my expression, “Yeah,” He sighed, “Plane crash. Both of them.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

“Nah,” He shook his head, “Thank you, but I’m okay. You know the crap the adults fed us in high school about it getting better?” We both cringed and laughed, “Sounds stupid, but it does.” He rested his hand over my arm. We both fell quiet, finding ourselves in another gaze match. His brown eyes broke away from mine and flickered all around my face, his lips growing into a slow smile.

“I see it now,” He said and I rolled my eyes with a soft laugh.

“Every single one of your Avenger friends has said it about me today, and the funny thing is, I don’t even know what he looks like,” I said. My phone buzzed in my pocket making me jump forward. Quickly scrambling to pull it out I unlocked it and found a few messages from Shaun.

“It was going off the entire time you were under,” Peter told me. Glancing to him I groaned.

“It’s Shaun,” I said and I watched his face slightly change with subtle concern.

“Who’s Shaun?” He asked.

“My best friend,” I muttered, “Who is Avenger obsessed. I’m basically living his dream right now.” Peter shook his head.

“Tell him it’s not as great as it looks,” He muttered, and I shot him a look of uncertainty knowing very well that I’ve basically been recruited to join this not as great as it looks team. He laughed, shaking his head faster.

“No, it’s great for us. We have the powers,” He spoke confidently. It was my turn to shake my head, Peter’s eyebrows furrowing.

“I don’t have any,” I said.

“But, Loki-“

“Yeah, Loki,” I whispered staring toward my lap saying his name out loud that still shocked me, “He learned how to do his magic Thor told me, but he told me that I’d probably be able to learn it.”

“Children?” Tony called over to us. Between Peter and I speaking to one another we hadn’t noticed he joined Bruce and Thor across the room. Peter stood up attentively and I wondered why he was always so responsive to Tony.

“We’re going to be in here for a while. Rachel, you’re probably beat,” Tony said and I agreed, my muscles were starting to ache, “It’s going to be getting late soon. Why don’t you guys go get something to eat, and Peter you can show Rachel where she’ll be staying.” Peter answered him and then asked me if I was feeling okay to leave, and he promised we’d take the elevator. I nodded to him, but felt stuck on Tony’s words.

“Where I’ll be staying?” I asked standing to my feet.

“Yeah,” Tony spoke as if I was restating the obvious.

“How long am I going to be staying?” I asked, hoping to finally get an answer to this question. Tony tapped the pen he had in his hand on the table and looked around the room thinking to himself.

“I literally can’t give you an answer,” He said honestly and I felt defeated, “I have no idea how long this is going to take or what else we’re going to need you for. This was only the start,” He gestured toward me and I realized I was still wearing the earbuds he gave me. I took them out quickly and sat them on the table.

“We’re going to need to do this again and see what else we can find,” He said and Thor looked up to me.

“Rachel, you did great,” He smiled.

“You know who it is?” I asked, pointing to the screens. He glanced away from me for a moment.

“No,” He said flatly, “But I’m determined to figure it out,” He frowned when he looked at me again, “I’m sorry.” His eyes were soft and I knew he was talking about my mother the same way Peter had.

“Thanks,” I smiled.

Peter and I started to leave, I followed him toward the door, but before leaving I turned back to Tony.

“What do I do about school? Work?” I asked. He thought to himself for a moment.

“I think Tony Stark can get you out of it,” He said and focused back on his work. Letting them work, Peter and I left and took the elevator to another floor. I felt my phone buzz in my hand and I remembered I never answered Shaun.

“Sorry Peter, I have to see what he wants,” I said quietly, opening my phone to my best friends messages. The elevator dinged and we stepped out onto a floor that opened up into what looked like a giant kitchen and living room, but it filled up the entire floor. There were TV’s, refrigerators stocked to no tomorrow, and long couches that looked extremely soft. Peter told me he was going to grab us drinks and left me alone with Shaun’s messages.

S: Okay I know I said I wouldn’t bother you anymore but tell me why Thor just came here?!!

S: I’m still at your place and he just knocks on the door!??! He comes in and shakes my hand

S: He’s insanely strong I thought he was going to break my wrist and he is GORGEOUS up close

S: Sorry I know he’s your uncle now

S: He stayed for like ten minutes but he just left. He said you’re doing good!?? And that you aren’t coming home today?? I’ll cover for you at the bar.

S: Either way be safe I love you and keep enjoying your time!!!!

I smiled and tapped a message back to him.

R: They had to read my mind..... and Tony says he’s gonna have to do it again. It was exhausting. I’m about to eat something I’m with this guy Peter who works here with Tony. He’s nice and I think he’s gonna help me out while I’m here.

Three dots popped up the second I sent the message.

S: The name Peter is not in my head.. you stumped me.

R: He says he’s Spiderman..??

S: SPIDERMAN!?!?!!!

Double tapping his last message I laugh reacted to it as he continued to type.

S: He’s shown you his face?!? He’s the only Avenger who no one knows what he really looks like!!!!! Is he old? What’s he look like?

R: He’s kinda cute.

I sent that text with minor regret.

S: Oh SHIT!!!! Get. It. Rach.

R: He looks like he’s our age but I dunno. He lost his parents when he was really young so it feels kinda nice to know someone knows how I feel.

S: You know I try my best

R: I know but you know what I mean

S: I know!! Okay stop texting me, go sleep with Spiderman.

R: Shaun!!!! No.

He only sent me back the smirking emoji, so I slipped my phone back into my pocket and joined Peter at the kitchen table he made himself comfortable at.

“Here,” Peter said as he slid a water bottle across the glass toward me, “You’re gonna need that.”

“Thanks,” I spoke softly. Twisting off the cap I took the bottle to my lips and nearly downed half of it in a few sips, not even realizing the irritation growing in my throat. I hadn’t eaten or drank anything since this afternoon in my apartment before being abducted to come here.

“What’d I tell ya,” Peter smirked. Rolling my eyes I cocked my head, agreeing with him.

“Must’ve been from all the hot air in that room,” I said with a slight dig to Tony who I knew couldn’t hear me. Peter laughed under his breath and sighed.

“Mr. Stark gets better,” He said in a reassuring tone, “I promise. He and I went through a rough patch at some point.” I shot him a look of surprise. There was no way I could imagine Peter and Tony fighting with the way Peter seemed to obey his every command, or the way Tony seemed to want to protect Peter when the topic of battle came up earlier tonight.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, taking a sip of his water keeping his eyes on me.

“I guess....” I started and then shrugged my shoulders before I continued, “I can’t see you guys having a rough patch with how I’ve seen you guys act today.” Peter looked to his lap before displaying a proud smile, however it soon turned mischievous and showed me a new Peter.

“I met Mr. Stark when I was fourteen,” He began, “He needed me on his team to help fight the other Avengers,” My expression fell confused, “Yanno when the big guys had to sign the agreement that they belonged to the government?” He asked, I slowly shook my head and he waved the thought away with his hands, “Well that had to happen, so Mr. Stark recruited me to help him. Then I wasn’t considered an Avenger yet, so as every fourteen year old would, I really tried my best to prove myself to him,” Peter was sitting forward in his chair now, his chest leaning against the glass edge of the table.

When he spoke he used his hands and it gave me a subtle hint that he was from here, New York. All native New Yorkers use their hands to talk. He was so expressive with his story, his eyes beaming with pride and excitement. There was a single small curl that had fallen onto his forehead and I couldn’t help but allow it to stir up those feelings inside me again. Between the confidence he held as he told me his origin story and just his complete appearance in general, I think I’m feeling something stronger than just some little butterflies.

“He took away my suit, my webs... Basically everything,” His voice fell slightly and he paused letting his eyes gaze around the room before landing back on me, “I realized how much he meant to me and how much I looked up to him,” He slowly smiled, “So I did my best to listen to him, and he did his best to listen to me. We spent a lot of time together before he officially made me an Avenger, and now I get to work beside him when I’m not out doing things for New York.” I nodded, taking all the information in and figuring out why Peter was so loyal to Tony without needing to hear the words. He was a father figure to Peter, and it was clear that Tony needed Peter just as much.

“Still,” I said, ripping the paper label off my water bottle, “He doesn’t get on your nerves?” Peter rolled his eyes and laughed, making me smile.

“Constantly,” He admitted, “But it’s cool because I get on his right back.” Smiling wider I glanced up to his smug grin. He was sitting back in his chair now, arms folded across his chest. The muscles in his upper arms were precisely defined, even in the long sleeves he was wearing, and as my growing tired eyes looked back to his, he squinted curiously. His smile had faded and I suddenly felt guilty for shamelessly checking him out.

“We gotta eat,” He said to my relief, and twisted in his chair to look toward the counters behind him, “Friday?” He asked aloud, speaking into the air. I lowered my eyebrows in confusion.

“Hello, Peter,” A female voice came from out of nowhere making me jump, “What can I do for you?”

“I’m feeling hungry. Can we get a pizza, please?” Peter asked her. Looking around the room I expected a woman to walk out from somewhere to answer him, but she spoke from nowhere again.

“Give me ten minutes, Peter,” Friday responded and Peter lifted a thumbs up into the air before turning back toward me.

“Who the... What?” I asked simply, letting my confusion do the talking.

“Oh, that’s Friday,” Peter said, “She’s a program created by Mr-“

“Stark,” I finished his sentence, cutting him off. He nodded happily.

“She’s everywhere I am pretty much,” He said, “In my suit, in this building, in my phone... she’s great.”

“Thank you, Peter,” Friday chimed in, making me jump once more. Peter smirked.

“Anytime, Friday,” He grinned, his eyes stuck on me again, “I got her from Mr. Stark when I became an Avenger. He had an almost too close near death thing happen to him. It wrecked him for a little while, that was the longest I went without seeing him since I had started working with him,” I kept my eye roll to myself when I heard that it was only six days, “But when he came back he had Friday and since then she’s been my number one girl. She’s with all of us now, actually.” Friday chimed in with another thank you that got both Peter and I to laugh.

In the time it took Friday to get a pizza for Peter and I, which was incredible because this invisible AI system made us a literal pizza, Peter told me about the rest of the Avengers team and what they had been through in the years they’ve been together. I was silent for most of it, enjoying the pizza that was unlike any pizza I’d ever tasted, which is crazy because I’m a New Yorker, and I let my facial expressions do the talking as Peter spoke. He was honest about never properly meeting my father. He had only ever heard stories about him and seen photos and listened in on conversations had by other Avengers about him.

When the two of us were finished eating we sat back and we each yawned, Peter first and I second. We finished the entire pizza and looked at each other happily full. I smiled and sat forward.

“Thanks for the history lesson,” I teased.

“Anytime, I’ll be here... for life,” He joked and both of us laughed.

I learned about Socovia, a place the team saved from robots before Peter’s time here, Wakanda, Vision and Jarvis, but I was mainly intrigued with the story between Steve and a man named Bucky Barnes. He had a history like Steve only he was under control by the bad guys, a group called Hydra who were long gone by now. It was cool to know the team was cool with what was between Steve and Bucky, because I was one of them as well.

Steve was bisexual, as told by Peter, and so was I. It was a relief to hear this actually, that I’d be accepted if they all knew. When I asked if Bucky was as well Peter shook his head and said that now they were both living in this present time Bucky found that he could be himself without facing the dangers of the world and finally told them all he was only into guys, and that all the women he involved himself with back then was to try to condition himself to be straight. That part of the story hurt my heart, but Peter ended it by saying that Steve helped Bucky through his transition to come back to Bucky and not The Winter Soldier.

It felt a lot easier to listen to Peter than it did to listen to Thor, as comforting as my uncle seemed.

“I’m beat,” I said pushing my plate away from me, “And stuffed.”

“Same,” Peter sighed, “I’ll show you where you’re gonna be staying.” He nodded to the elevator and we both stood up, walking toward it. Our sleepy selves bumped into one another by the door and I laughed under my breath as Peter looked at me with a small smile on his pretty lips. I took a deep breath and pushed that sudden intrusive thought away. When did I ever think of someone's lips as pretty?

“Thank you, Friday,” Peter said over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” I said looking at the table, “Thank you,” I said unsure of where to speak.

“You’re welcome,” Friday responded, “Please be safe.” Peter groaned aloud and I swallowed hard ignoring what the invisible woman was saying.

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled as we stepped inside the elevator together, “I’m not allowed to have friends here apparently.” He crossed his arms and looked up at the small screen with changing numbers on it as we went down two floors.

“You’ve had other people in here?” I asked curiously seeing if he would give any information up about his love life.

“Yeah,” He said as the doors opened to an open room that was lined with doors, “But just friends though. I never really... dated anybody.” He spoke carefully, almost embarrassed by what he just told me. A happy feeling struck me and I smiled internally.

“Me either,” I said quietly and Peter looked at me as we approached the third door on the left of the hallway.

“Really?” He seemed surprised, “I mean, I don’t mean that’s a bad thing, I just...”

“It’s okay,” I laughed once, “It’s not a bad thing.” We shared a moment.

“I’m glad we have a lot in common,” He nodded, “It’s been pretty lonely here.” Knowing he was sort of in the same situation as me I felt comforted by his words.

“I’m glad we do too,” I returned his nod and he smiled then pointed at the door.

“This is you,” He said.

“Thanks,” I said with a breath, ready to get into bed and sleep off this day. Peter started to take a few steps backwards from me, “Where do you stay?” I asked before he got too far from me. He leaned against the door across the hall.

“Here,” He put a hand on the doorknob and we shared a smile.

“Goodnight,” I said and he said it back, then we both went into our rooms.

Inside there was a king bed covered in comfy blankets and pillows waiting for me. The floor had white carpet and the walls were a subtle shade of blue that matched the blue pattern on the bedspread. This room looked as if it was as big as my entire apartment, maybe even a little bit bigger. There was a TV on the opposite wall from the bed, and two lounge chairs at the end of the bed pointing at it. A small wooden table was between them and sitting on the dark stained top of it was one of my big overnight bags I bought myself when I started high school. Confused, I unzipped it slowly and found almost all of the clothes I owned inside of it. A note was shoved between the pairs of jeans.

Thought you would find this helpful. There’s another bag in the bathroom. No need to thank me, just know that I’m with you and here for you. - Thor

Turning around I found a door and took a deep breath, a feeling of excitement washing over me. My own room, my own bathroom, all of this is my space to be me.

Folding the piece of paper I sat it down on the bed and started to unpack my clothes separating them into their piles. I put them away in the dressers stained with the same color as the table when something in the corner by the bathroom door caught my eye. An easel, a tall easel, was leaning against the wall with canvases on the floor beside it. There was a bin of paint tubes and paint brushes nicer than I could afford myself. I hurried over and dug my hands into the bin fawning over how nice they looked unopened and untouched. The best part about being an artist was buying new supplies.

I placed everything back where it belonged and took myself to the dressers to change into a new sweatshirt and sweatpants and I crawled on the mattress instantly sinking in. Groaning at the sudden comfort I laid down quick and shimmied under the comforter forgetting to turn off the light. Groaning again in frustration I tossed the cover off about to stand up.

“I’ll take care of it,” Friday's voice said to me and I jumped. The lights switched off as I still sat there in shock.

“Thanks Friday,” I squeaked and she said goodnight to me. It was a little frightening to think that she was here... somehow. In the walls, or in the air or... something. Laying back into the pillows that I nearly disappeared in I shut my eyes and quickly fell asleep, exhausted from an emotionally overwhelming day.

#I have so many parts written I want to post them all at one time #I am holding myself back #marvel #marvel fanfiction #the avengers #the avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #thor fanfiction #loki fanfiction #Tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #bruce banner #Peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction

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quarantined-with-bucky · 4 years ago

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Crash

Bucky x Reader

Words: ~ 4,900

Summary: Bucky learns what he likes about life: you

Warnings: Angst, but also fluff

A/N: Mildly inspired by “Crash” by You Me At Six!

...

Wait, where you say you've been? Who you been with? Where you say you're goin'? Who you goin' with?

There was a knock on your apartment door. Plucking yourself off the couch, you trotted towards the door, pulling it open. You were met face to face with Bucky, a smile immediately finding your lips. His visit was a surprise, he hadn’t said anything about stopping by. “Hey,” you greeted, about to stretch out your arms for a hug, stopping immediately when he didn’t return your smile.

Oh. And that’s when you peaked over his shoulder and noticed Steve standing on the street, leaning against the car. “Sorry, doll,” Bucky apologized, offering you his arms for a hug.

You accepted, pulling him close and tucking your face into his chest. “’S okay, Buck.” He told you earlier that he may have to be leaving to go on missions, he couldn’t say exactly when or where. But this took you by surprise; it was the first mission he’d been sent on since he’s met you – since he started dating you.

“So, it looks like I’m going to have to raincheck dinner on Friday,” he mumbled shyly, pulling away, but still holding you firmly at the waist. He awkwardly chuckled, hoping you’d at least find light of the situation in his old charm.

You smiled up at him. “Let me know when you’re back?”

“You’ll be my first stop.” He moved a hand to cradle your jaw, leaning towards you for a goodbye kiss. You obliged, biting your lip and watching him saunter back towards Steve.

Bucky stood next to the man, giving you a stiff wave. “Make sure he comes back in one piece,” you call out to Steve, waving back at the both of them.

Steve laughed, waving back. “Will do, (Y/N).”

You stood frozen in the doorway, leaning against the frame as you watched the boys climb into the truck, pulling away, heading off to wherever the hell they were going.

Wait, keep me in your skin, Keep me in your chest. I'll wait for it to start, I'll wait for it to end.

Bucky sat at the camp sight, the soft light of the fire illuminating the picture before him. He held the edges carefully, the image creased perfectly in the middle from where he’d folded it up to fit in his pocket.

It was a photo of the both of you. You were at the bar, one around the corner from your apartment, that you took him to months ago. It was the night of your friend’s birthday, and you wanted to bring Bucky along to meet a few of your friends. He was nervous at first, not sure if they’d recognize him, if they knew his past, if they’d be scared of him.

However, everyone welcomed him with open arms. They didn’t ask him too many questions, didn’t pester him about his arm. Instead, they told him extremely embarrassing stories from your past. And, damn, it made him laugh; you were blushing like crazy, trying to cut them off after every story – doing so by buying rounds of shots if they promised to stop talking about you.

It ended up not working, everyone growing more and more intoxicated as they continued teasing you. But you found it to be all in good fun, just enjoying you night out with your boyfriend and your friends. You spent the whole night attacked to Bucky’s arm, linking your own two arms around his, his hand resting on your thigh. You buried your face in his shoulder to smother your laughter or after they said something embarrassing about you.

It was one of the best nights he’d had in such a long time; he doesn’t remember laughing for so long or so genuinely in a while. Your friend had secretly snapped this picture of you, sending it to you the next morning. You groaned and rolled over in bed; your few hours of sleep interrupted by your phone buzzing loudly. Bucky handed you your phone, holding back his laughter at your raging hangover. You mumbled an “oh my god” and showed your phone to Bucky, cheeks tinted pink.

It was dark, the bar had been dimly lit where you were sitting. Cups half full, empty shot glasses, and beer glasses littered the sticky table in front of the both of you. Your face was buried in Bucky’s shoulder, unable to conceal the drunk smile taking up your whole face. You held on tightly to his metal arm, the glare of the metal prominent in the photo. Bucky was gazing down at you, a similar grin painting his own lips.

As you tucked yourself into his side to resume sleeping, he took your phone and placed it on the bedside table, but not before sending it to himself.

That was the picture he carried with him on missions. He tucked it away into his breast pocket, hidden underneath his armor-plated vest, right above his heart. He patted atop his armor for safekeeping.

He couldn’t wait to see you when he got home.

Just crash, fall down, I'll wrap my arms around you now. Just crash, it's our time now, To make this work second time around.

It was eight days later when he showed up on your doorstep again. This time, when you opened the door, you were met with a smiling Bucky; he was clean shaven, his hair pulled back behind his head. He was wearing that red Henley you loved so much, and his arms were open wide, waiting for you to run into his arms.

So that’s exactly what you did: hopping off the front stoop into his warm embrace. He caught you, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist, intertwining your hands behind his neck. The two of you stood on your front steps, embracing each other, kissing each other, for what felt like an hour. Eventually, Bucky made his way into your apartment, plopping down on the small sofa, not taking you off his lap.

That became routine for you two. Whenever he had to leave, you’d spend a whole day holding each other when he came back.

We grew up, We worked and changed our ways. Just like wildfire, Been burning now for days. Tearing down those walls, Nothing's in our way. I said, nothing's in our way.

Time flew by; before you knew it, it was your two-year anniversary. Two years of bliss, two years filled with commitment and trust and love. Despite taking it slow at first, after that first mission, you two became inseparable. Given the fact that he spent a lot of time with the Avengers: working, training, and on missions, you had no choice but to spend every bit of free time together.

You’d spent your fair share of time at the Avengers Tower, spending the night at Bucky’s place, joining him at parties, watching the sunrise on the roof of the skyscraper. But there was something about your place that Bucky felt more comfortable. He was like a giant in your tiny apartment. Meager living room, tiny couch, lined with pillows and blankets; modest kitchen, two small chunks of countertop on either side of the oven, shelves crowded with spices and utensils, pots and pans hanging off the pot rack on the ceiling above the island; crowded bathroom, utilities barely able to fit in the small room, no room to maneuver, shower head just too short for Bucky; humble bedroom, packed bookshelves, clothes strewn about, bed pushed under the one window, narrow enough that you have to sleep half on top of Bucky – not that he minded, except for the fact that his feet hung off the edge.

It made him feel small and safe. He hadn’t felt a home in a long time. He went from the frontlines of World War II to the empty cell of Hydra to a block of ice. He’d spent the majority of his life without comfort. And when he was welcomed to the Avengers, he hadn’t received much either. There were shrouds of hospitality, yes, but something about it lacked an intimate feeling. Vast corridors, high ceilings, large rooms; Bucky decided he wasn’t a fan of minimalism. He much preferred “cottagecore” as you liked to call it.

He loved to garden, taking care of your houseplants almost too much. He’d named all of them, from each viney philodendron to the splaying palm trees. He had an almost aggressive watering schedule. Soon, he began spontaneously bringing you flowers and houseplants – your small apartment turned into a jungle.

It was the morning of your second anniversary when Bucky asked if you wanted to move in together. “Do you mean you want to move in with me?” You clarified smugly, flitting your eyes above the coffee mug currently held to your lips.

He giggled childishly, happily. “Maybe,” he mumbled, drawing out the first syllable. He sipped his tea, mimicking you as you couldn’t contain the smile pulling at your lips.

You sauntered across the kitchen – as in, you took two steps closer to him and you were already chest-to-chest – and tilted your head up to his. He kissed you on the tip of your nose before you could respond, the grin on your face already confirming your answer. “You think you can fit all your clothes in my bedroom,” you teased, eyebrows raised in challenge.

He rolled his eyes, pointing his chin towards the open door of the bedroom. Piles of your clothes and his clothes thrown over chairs, folded on top and in the dresser – he practically lived with you already. “I think my clothes fit just fine in our bedroom.” His tone dropped, as did his face, burying it into the crook of your neck, pressing his lips to the soft skin of your collarbone.

You hummed, setting your mug down on the counter beside you, wrapping your arms around his neck and broad shoulders. You traced the top of his spine on the back of his neck, barely dragging your finger on the surface of his skin; the tickle brought a smile to his lips against your skin. “It seems so.”

And then he moved in. It’s not like he had much, anyway; everything he had technically belonged to Tony. He spent one Saturday bringing over his clothes – in which you graciously shoved into the dresser beside yours – knickknacks – to which you’d decorated throughout the apartment, displaying them on shelves, on the walls, between pots of plants – and boxes of memorabilia. Bucky thought about stealing his king-sized bed, just so he’d be able to fit without curling up into you (also so you’d have more room to roll around), but he wasn’t even sure it would fit through the door. He wouldn’t change anything about it, though. Everything felt like home, it felt like you.

You shared countless memories in that apartment: long nights spent talking instead of sleeping as the New York City traffic blared through your window, endless nights of baking (and burning) desserts, numerous movie nights that half-the-time ended in the two of you having sex on the couch or falling asleep innocently in each other’s arms.

No matter how many times he woke up with cramps in his legs and a sore back from falling asleep on your tiny plush couch, he still couldn’t wait to do it again the next night.

…

“(Y/N),” he whispered your name, face pressed up inches from yours, pillows smushed together and against the wall. Your sleeping eyes fluttered, eyebrows twitching, and bridge of your nose crinkling slightly. Soon, though, you were completely relaxed again, and Bucky almost felt bad waking you up – but not really. “(Y/N),” he murmured a bit louder, this time smoothing your wild hair down against your head, pulling his fingers through the knots.

You hummed, stirring in the bed, inadvertently stretching, pressing your palms against the wall, toes lengthening to the edge of the bed, pulling the bedsheets off you (and Bucky). “’Sup,” you mumble, immediately closing your eyes again, burying your face into your pillow and tucking your hands underneath your chin.

He smiles, gazing down at your tired form, obviously exhausted from the night prior’s festivities. “Baby, wake up,” he almost groans, faux upset that you weren’t giving him attention.

“I’m up,” you hum, not moving – not even opening your eyes.

“Let’s get married.”

You laughed in your pretend sleep, reaching your hand out blindly up his arm and up to his cheek, patting it lightly. It wasn’t the first time he said it; although the other times he had either been extremely intoxicated or sleep talking. “Do you have a ring for me, darling?”

“I do.”

And with that, your eyes popped open, meeting his staring back at you. You then narrowed your eyes at him, crinkling your nose. He was beaming at you with a shit-eating-grin, hand curled under the pillow propping up his head, curled up like a goof. You couldn’t find any words.

“So,” he continued, filling the gap of your shocked silence. “Will you marry me?”

Sitting up in bed, you propped yourself up on your elbow, staring down at him. He quickly took the cue, flipping around and digging his hand around under the bed. He returned facing you, sitting up next to you, sheets pooling at his hips. He held up the box, opening it with his metal hand.

Your breath left your lungs.

“Bucky,” gasped, covering your mouth with your hands, eyes flitting between the ring and his eyes: blue, glossy, and glazed over with passion. “Oh my god, Bucky.” You kept repeating yourself, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“So…is that a yes?” He chuckled, nervously holding the box, gesturing it towards you.

“Oh my god, yes!” You nearly screamed, tears now fully flowing down your face, holding your hand out for him to place the ring gently on your finger. You then threw your arms around his neck, kissing your fiancé. He smiled through the whole kiss and you felt his heart beating next to yours.

You pulled back to fully look at the rock now sitting on your left hand. “I hope you like it; I had to go through my sister’s daughter, who had to go through a ton of old keepsakes and it took a while so I would’ve gotten it sooner, but – ” he cut himself off, realizing he was rambling when he met your growingly perplexed facial expression. “Anyway, it was my mom’s ring. And my pop saved up forever for it. I know it’s not huge and probably out of style and you deserve a million diamonds – ” he cut himself off again with a deep breath, anxiously scratching the back of his neck. “I just thought it would be nice – but if you don’t like it, you can just tell me and – ”

This time it was you who got him to shut up, leaning forward, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his lips to yours. “Bucky, I love it.” It was beautiful. The diamond was small, still in perfect condition. The gold band was twisted intricately around the stone, newly polished and sparkling in the light shining through the window. What was even more appealing about the ring was the sentiment behind it. There was no two people that Bucky looked up to more than his parents; he often told you stories describing how much they loved each other, how hard his dad worked to finally convince his mom to go on a date with him. He beamed with pride when he spoke of them, recounting their hardships but how that never impacted their love for each other.

There was nothing more he wanted – then or now – than to give pass his mother’s ring along to you. He just happened to be lucky enough that his sister and niece saved it after all this time. He admitted that he could’ve gotten you a new ring, probably through a loan from Tony. Bucky technically didn’t have an income – just Tony’s money. And he did, in fact, offer to buy you the most expensive diamond ring in the world, a ten-carat ring from Antwerp; but that didn’t feel right. This was the only thing that Bucky had actually felt right about in a long time.

…

One month from that day, it was your three-year anniversary.

It happened during dinner – one random Thursday while the two of you sat at the edge of the kitchen counter, enjoying a casual plate of spaghetti.

“What – ” You choked on your mouthful of noodles. Coughing slightly, you sipped some wine, washing the rest of your bite down. Then you repeated yourself firmly: “What?”

“You heard me,” he responded, casually, mouth full of garlic bread.

“Now?” You ask, eyes wide, but unable to stop the smile forming on your lips.

“Yeah, why not?”

You stood from your stool, holding your palms against the island counter on either side of your dinner plate. “You were the one who said you didn’t want to do anything special for our anniversary.” You laughed, completely knocked off guard, mind moving a million miles per hour.

He raised an eyebrow. “You really thought I’d say that without some trick up my sleeve?” And, in fact, you were surprised when Bucky wanted to have a very low-key anniversary – he’d always been one for romantics. “Thought you knew me better than that,” he smirked, throwing a wink your way.

You rolled your eyes and swatted at his arm. “Are you being serious?” You leveled with him, leaning over so you were staring directly into the eyes of the man sitting beside you.

He smiled back kindly at you. “What do you kids say these days? Deadass.”

And you burst out laughing. Maybe you were a bit wine-drunk – but, god, this was something you’d never grow tired of. And that was perfect, considering you had already agreed to spend the rest of your life with him. There, in all honestly, was nothing that made your heart flutter like Bucky being an old man. “Okay,” you then whispered, cupping his jaw in both of your palms. “Let’s elope.”

So that weekend, that’s exactly what the two of you did.

Bucky had “borrowed” one of Tony’s cars – he assured you that he asked to take it for the weekend, but the smile and laugh in his voice told you otherwise. There was no time to question him further – no need, in fact – as he threw your suitcase in the trunk and opened the passenger door to you, ever the gentleman.

It was a short drive to Brooklyn Botanical Garden. You’d taken Bucky’s word for it, a place he remembered from his childhood; it was somewhere his mother used to drag him to and roam around – obviously with time he grew to appreciate not only the memory but also the serenity. He knew that was where he saw the both of you getting married; he knew that seeing you adorned in white surrounded by the beautiful trees and flowers was a sight he would never get tired of imagining.

Now, it was a sight burnt in his memory, holding your hands in his, a simple white gown falling perfectly on your body, veil pulled back that made it seem as though you were surrounded by clouds, the beautiful angel you were, anyway. Your hair was free, moving ever so slightly with the soft breeze; cheeks tinted pink as your skin glowed in the sun that shined before you; a bright grin painted your lips, so genuine that it made small crinkles form around your eyes. God, those eyes – gleaming in the reflection of the bright light before you, sparkling with love and laced with anticipation.

You faced a similar view, Bucky donning a casual grey suit; you insisted that was the one he brought with, a light grey contrasting his dark hair and deep blue eyes. While you had no doubt that seeing Bucky in an all-black suit was one of your all-time favorite looks, this was much more fitting for the occasion. The bright morning sun, the light-colored leaves surrounding your union; black was too harsh. Black, after all, was the color associated with the Winter Soldier. His uniform was black, his mask, his pants, his boots – his whole life was shrouded in darkness. This could not have been more the opposite; it was untraditional color, but so was your wedding and, hell, your whole relationship.

It was you and him, the officiant and the witness. You couldn’t remember either of their names, and you didn’t care, either. The only thing that mattered was Bucky’s eyes staring down at you, your hands held in his large ones, him slipping the wedding band on your finger.

And the kiss: perfect. You didn’t have the words to describe it. One hand found your waist as the other snaked through your hair, holding the back of your neck, guiding your lips up to his. Your arms folded around his neck, allowing you to pull your entire being flush against his body. He gave you two pecks on the lips before pulling away, letting his forehead rest against yours, staring into your eyes, glazed over with tears. His heart was full, it took all of his willpower not to breakout in tears. “I love you,” he whispered.

Your smile never faltered as you repeated those words to your husband.

…

“Buck, I have to get ready for work,” you called to him, yelling over the sound of the shower running.

“I’m almost done,” he responded, peaking his head from behind the curtain.

You stood at the vanity mirror, holding your hairbrush in one hand, flat iron in the other, makeup bag propped skillfully on the corner of the sink, one wrong movement away from spilling all over the floor. The mirror was fogging up ever so slightly; Bucky always insisted on taking the hottest showers possible. You began work on your hair when the water shut off, curtain swinging open, Bucky stepping out to grab a towel.

The two of you were practically pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, your elbow actually jutting out to nick his side as he toweled-off his hair. He laughed, maneuvering so that he stood behind you, his reflection towering over yours in the mirror. “I think we need a bigger place.”

He frowned, holding his hands against your hips. “But I like this place.”

You set the hot instrument on the edge of the sink, turning around in his arms. “I think we’re out of room,” you replied, thinking of the stacked up boxes of wedding gifts everyone sent you; you didn’t have anywhere to set them out or store them, thus everything remained in their boxes stacked up in your living room. Books and clothes lined every wall of your bedroom; you couldn’t fit nearly anything in the bathroom – and, hell, Bucky didn’t even fit without having to crouch under the showerhead.

He smiled down at you as you ran the brush through his freshly washed brown hair. “I guess so,” he mumbled shutting his eyes, reveling in the feeling of you softly brushing out his hair. “Plus, we’re going to be needing some more room to grow.” He peeked open his eyes, shooting a wink in your direction.

You cocked an eyebrow and yelped when his hand tucked against the underside of your thighs, pulling you up against him; you locked your ankles around his back and held onto the back of his neck, droplets of water still rolling down the nape of his neck and down his back, tickling your skin. You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh yeah, why’s that?”

“You’re telling me you want little baby Barnes running around this place? It’s kind of a hazard, (Y/N),” he teased, then pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You rolled your eyes and pressed your hand against his chest, signaling him to drop you. Once he did, you turned around, back once again against his chest. “House first, then baby.”

“Really?” He gasped, staring at you in the mirror, wrapping your frame in a backwards hug. His eyes lit up, a huge smile creeping on his lips.

“Better get house hunting,” you said, shooing him off to get dressed so you can finally get ready for work.

Crash, fall down. I'll wrap my arms around you now. Just crash, it's our time now, To make this work, second time around.

There was a knock on your front door. You set down the sponge you were washing dishes with, placing the bowl in the drying rack next to you. Wiping your hands on your jeans as you walked over to the freshly painted door. Bucky had painted it a deep forest green before he left. You’d been waiting for ages to find the perfect color, the best shade to match the cozy, rustic – cottagecore – living space the two of you had cultivated together.

Once the door was done, you felt it was finally finished. Everything was so much bigger, but you two made sure to fill it with large, comfy furniture, displaying all of your wedding gifts graciously (and obviously Bucky’s plants). He made you wait outside while he painted the door; he didn’t want you breathing any fumes in that could harm the baby growing newly inside you. You rolled your eyes: “It’s the twenty-first century, Buck. We don’t use lead paint anymore. It’s okay – plus I want to help.” You picked up a paintbrush, reaching towards the paint can.

“(Y/N),” he groaned, grabbing a hold of your wrist, instead holding it up to his chest. “I just don’t want anything to happen. Please,” he pleaded, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes, curling out his bottom lip.

A soft smile pulled at your lips and you quit protesting. “Okay, baby,” you giggled, gazing up into his blue eyes. He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, blushing hard as he did so, laying a hand to your lower belly. It hadn’t grown much, only three months – hell, it was still the size of a plum (which also happens to be your husband’s favorite fruit) – you weren’t even showing yet, nonetheless he was still so excited, so proud, so in love. And nothing had changed since he met you on day one. He still looked at your with the utmost admiration, a lustrous gloss in his eyes as he stared down at you. You’d only grown more beautiful by the day, to him. You were his to come home to, his to protect, his to love.

You spent the afternoon out front in the garden, pruning bushes, watering flowers, and pulling weeds. You’d detested yardwork – everybody did – but there was something about doing it while you called across the lawn to Bucky, still positioned at the front door, cracking jokes and sharing anecdotes that made it all worth it. You wouldn’t trade this for the world: to be able to do chores with Bucky, even the most menial work, because he enjoyed doing them, just because he got to do them with you.

You walked to the door, kicking a few rogue shoes out of the way, and swung it open.

You were met with the sight of a uniformed chest, straight ahead in your line of sight.

You dropped to your knees, holding your hands to your chest, feeling your heart race. You couldn’t breathe – you were almost feeling yourself for a pulse.

He knelt down and wrapped his arms around you.

It was just the two of you in that moment.

You buried your face into his chest, the tough leather scratching your face. The wetness of your tears smeared across the surface of the material, painting your cheeks. His hand rubbed up and down your back, cooing softly in your ear. You didn’t know if he said anything in that moment, your mind couldn’t register anything coming out of his mouth, your ears clouded with a loud ringing behind your eardrums.

It was a loud, open, ugly sob – you sounded like a toddler throwing a fit; damn, this was quite the tantrum.

You pulled back suddenly, fisting at the chest of his uniform. It startled him; he tore himself away from you quickly. There was no way of knowing what you looked like – eyes red and puffy, cheeks glistening with wet tears smudged along your lips and chin as well. You couldn’t even stop, as you pulled away to look into his blue eyes, your own tears kept flowing, eyebrows knitted together and breath still hitching. He looked tired – exhausted; you didn’t know how long he’d been torn up like this. His face was pale, cheeks red and irritated with tears, blue eyes filled with tears exactly like yours.

“Is he really gone?”

He stared at you for a moment, new, fresh tears flooding in his eyes and down his cheeks. He bit his bottom lip, unable to trust his own voice. But Steve found the strength to muster up two words, the words that made you bury your face into his chest again, crying harder than before:

“I’m sorry.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes #captain america #winter soldier #angst #bucky x you #angsty bucky

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seeds-and-sins · 4 years ago

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F**kin’ Diabolical (Chapter 4)

Master List

Pairing: Homelander / Original Female Character, Billy Butcher / Original Female Character

Rating: M (Strong language, sexual themes)

Decription: Carly Danvers is a reporter/radio show host/annoying little piece of- For reasons unknown to Vought, she decided to start a one man investigation on Vought’s operation. Her efforts had been quite successful so far, so much so that Stillwell would have done anything to see the young girl dead. Turns out Stillwell didn’t have to do anything at all, while one piece of evidence against Vought causes Danvers to fly too close to the sun. And Homelander flies after her.

Chapter Summary; Homelander didn’t realize that getting Carly to the Vought tower was only half the battle.

Her apartment complex was small, but in a cozy kind of way. She got lucky with the expanse of square footage the landlord had offered her, considering that she had seen other apartments and hers was the biggest in the building. At first, it was all concrete floors, scratchy wall paper, and a broken sliding glass door onto the balcony, but once she started making more money, renovations came into play. With Carly’s creative expertise, the place was a fun house in not time.

The floors now were sandalwood and the walls painted a darker beige, where the longest wall was left a solid white, covered in doodles and painted pictures that she had spent hours on. She opened up the room to expand the windows out, now they spanned around a corner of the living room. The living room opened up at the entrance, where an L-shaped sectional with brown leather graced her guests as they entered. Off to their left would be a wall with an entertainment center and a flat screen tv, to their right the crimson granite counter tops that stood with bar stools, on the other side a kitchen of that counter. Aside from the hallway that led to her room, her apartment was fairly open, lots of seating areas because she liked variety. There were bean bags and stools for her bar, which had an array of liquors that she had saved up over the years. Her kitchen was closed in by the counter, an island in the center, with a dual sided refrigerator that she also had worked her ass off to get.

It was fairly lit, but sometimes she liked to dim the lights and turn on a flashlight to read her books with, as she cuddled into a giant bean bag. In her bedroom was a king sized bed, with tons of pillows, that was her favorite part of the apartment. She often drew pictures and played on her guitar in there, that was her safe space, where no one could bother her.

Across from her lived a rough looking, older man by the name of Billy Butcher. He was rowdy, single, and he had the cutest dog she had ever seen. They didn't spend time together or anything, but they certainly talked more with each other than they did with the other residents. Down the hall was a fresh frat boy/jock, and across from him was a single mother and her two kids. Billy and Carly felt more alike, more drawn to each other, so whenever they just so happened to cross paths they would share a few words.

"Ey, I listened to your show today, definitely sticking one up to those cunts."

"Right?! They deserve it." They both shared laughs, cracked jokes, were extremely profane, and even a little too open with each other at times. Carly and Butch were similar in that they didn't have a sensor, so God forbid the two of them were ever together for a few minutes in passing. That poor mother had to shield her childrens’ ears in the elevator more than a few times.

"Can you bloody believe that they even stretch that far?"

"I don't even want to imagine that happening to anyone, not even me."

"Well, its a bloody process I am sure..." Naturally, as they crossed paths, the two of them spoke that night before she went to the lab. She was grabbing a few things, Allen and the Doctor waiting outside in the car. As she shut her door, jiggling the key with a twist, jacket slung over her shoulder, he was also exiting his apartment.

"Oh, well, what do you know? My favorite celebrity." He teased, she faced him with a grin and an eye roll.

"Oh look, my favorite asshat." She mocked in the worst cockney accent she could muster.

"You shut your pretty mouth there, those are fighting words." They started towards the elevator with laughter bubbling up from them, cheeks rosy, God it would be a sickening sight to anyone. The two of them were like peas in a pod, munchkins, cuddle buddies or some shit like that. "So, where are ya' off to tonight?" He pressed the button to the elevator for her.

"Some stupid shit with Vought, you know me."

"I like stupid shit. Does it have anything to do with your show this evening?" The doors slid open with a ding.

"Sure does, between you and me..." She came in closer to whisper into his ear, exhaling a giddy giggle behind a cupped hand. "I am breaking into a Vought Lab." He smirked, shaking his head, but never in disapproval as much as it was at the ridiculous stunts she'd pull. The door slid shut, the both of them now completely alone in an elevator. Nothing much different than the hundreds of times before.

"You think you'd have any time for drinks afterwards?" She blushed at the question, just drinks, right? No, she felt like the question was more than that and the way he awkwardly leaned on the elevator wall, said so much. As if he was nervous she would say no, or something worse.

"I'd love to, but I don't know when I will be back." He nodded his head, fiddling with his thumbs out in front of him. "But hey, how bout tomorrow for sure?" His face lit up with that shit-eating grin of his.

"Yeah, I'd like that." The elevator doors dinged open, but Billy didn't make a move when Carly stepped from the elevator. She faced him with her own grin and smiled, he waved at her. "You be careful there, sweetheart, some of us like seeing your ugly face every day." As the doors slowly began to close she stuck her middle finger up at him, and he stuck his tongue out. Children at best, that's always what it seemed like when they were together. When he was gone and they were apart, always after seeing each other, Carly felt empty almost, like she was missing out. She always shoved that away.

"Ms. Danvers! Are you going to answer me?!" An aggravated Madelyn shot out from across the desk, Carly blinked her eyes, coming to from her daze. She met Stillwell's steely gaze, Homelander pacing around the desk, eyes targeted on Carly in some threatening fashion.

"W-What-What did you ask again?" Madelyn groaned, straightening herself and plastering a fake smile onto her lips, she crossed her fingers over the desk.

"Did anybody else know you were going to the lab last night?" She stated more firmly, pronouncing each word with venomous emphasis, as if she was talking to a three year old child.

"No." Carly responded instantly, perhaps too soon, as Homelander's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. He was surprised. Carly had always been fairly good at lying to him, better than most, but she was in an emotional vulnerable state, not on her A game truly. Madelyn rolled her eyes and then sat back in her seat, arms crossed.

"You do know the position, you've put me in, right?" Carly sighed, shakily holding her hands on her lap, she gulped.

"Look, I just want to get back to normal."

"Back to normal?" Madelyn chuckled at the thought, she stood up and waltzed around the desk over to the window that spanned the wall of her office. Homelander stopped pacing at the other side of the room, still watching Carly like a hawk. "You are as powerful as Homelander now, Danvers, there is no normal for you ever again." She twisted in her seat to consider Madelyn with sorrow filled eyes, and Homelander couldn't hide his deep huff of amusement. Carly tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill, she had never felt so weak or insignificant in front of anybody before. Heck, she'd stand up to Homelander any day before this shit happened. Now she wanted to hide in a cave and wallow in her own self pity.

"Maybe there is a way, right? The doctor told me its genetic modification, all we have to do is convert my DNA back to what it was officially."

"But you would die." Homelander said with sardonic glimmer in his tone, he shuffled around the coffee table and plopped down onto the couch. His arm rose up, spanning the length of the back rest. He held his other gloved hand up, crushing his fist into a ball. "It blows my mind that you would want to be normal again, Carly. You have all the power in the world-"

"And I don't want it." She shot out, frustration taking residence over the desperation and she stood. She held her palms out and shook her head. "This isn't who I am. I am a simple girl, made of flesh and bone, nothing more." Homelander opened his mouth to reply, but Stillwell beat him to it.

"You are right, you are absolutely right. And I might just have some options for you, Danvers." Madelyn paraded back over to her desk, perhaps she was having more fun with this than she expected she would. When Homelander told her about Carly’s situation, Stillwell was pissed beyond explanation. Here she was wanting the girl dead, and now the only person that could truly make that decision themselves was Homelander. Madelyn knew Homelander wouldn’t kill Carly, at least not without riding this high first.

"I have two options for you..."

"I don't have time for games. This isn't a joke." Stillwell laughed, leaning onto her desk with one hand, the other propped on her hip.

"I'm not so excited about this either, but this might just be good for us."

"Whatever you have to say, it better not be what I think it is."

"It better be what I think." Homelander stood, soon coming to stand alongside Carly with that grin.

"Option one," She placed a hand on her chest, "My preference..." She added slyly, and then, "We pretend you died from the fire, get you a nice place in Alaska and you live the rest of your days in solitude." Stillwell patiently waited, as if there wasn't a second option, and if there was she definitely didn't want Carly to have the ability to choose.

"What's the second option?" Homelander's voice was all too solid, glaring at Stillwell, forcing her to procure that second option like her life depended on it. It probably did.

"Alright," Stillwell sighed, "We make you a hero. You denounce your previous claims against Vought and in return you live more famous than you've ever imagined." Since Carly woke up that morning, there was a stray thought that constantly teased to slip past her lips. The knowledge that she had against Vought, she could fight them, and now, more powerful than ever, she could fight them hard. Compound V was real, she was proof of that, all the heroes were. The compound injected into babies as if they were lab rats, the thought made her sick. She was reminded of why she was here, how she ended up in that lab. Now being offered a chance to be one of them, knowing all the cruel things they've done, if anything it made her heart race.

Homelander must have felt it too. The feeling made her want to do something but she didn't even know what. Impulses working through her mind, the need to just jump out that window, the realization that nothing can kill her now. Perhaps Homelander, but still. The options before her, and she had always been one to make an option three, to force it. Now there was no choice, one or the other, they say. Homelander’s hand landed on her shoulder and he laughed, harshly patting her on the back, a pat that would have anybody else coughing up their broken bones.

"She'll do it, option two. She'll be wonderful!"

"I would like her to say it." Stillwell didn't like the feeling of not having control. Although for so long Homelander had been loose, the reins were gone, this was still different. She hated knowing that Homelander wanted Carly around and that she couldn't do anything about it.

"Okay." Carly found herself choking out, despite her better judgment. She didn't know what logic came with the response, but she knew that it felt sound. Like something was in her path, something big, like it was worth it, like the universe was talking to her.

"Perfect." Homelander said with such joy in his voice, now both hands on her shoulders, massaging at her neck. She closed her eyes and allowed him to shake her forward and backward for a moment.

"I will work with my marketing team. Until then, Homelander can keep an eye on you." Stillwell hated that too, but the girl had zero to no control over her powers. Carly could destroy this whole building and without Homelander around, there would be no one to stop her.

"I've been waiting for this moment. So exciting..." Both women glared at each other, both for different reasons. "And I have already picked a name." Stillwell crossed her arms, cocking her head at Homelander, trying to hide the agitation surging through her. The level of absolute excitement he was feeling struck a nerve in Stillwell, the hero was crossing a big line.

"Oh, you have, have you?"

"Lady Liberty." He held his hands up like the name was gospel, like it was the most obvious name, the most fantastic name. Carly admitted to herself the fact that he even thought of a name was extremely unsettling, like this had been his plan all along. "Come on guys, get with the program." He waltzed over to the office door, now fixed after yesterday's door slamming incident. He waited, gesturing to Carly as he motioned out the door. "Let's go. Come on, the more we wait, the less time you have to learn those new powers of yours." Carly didn't think she'd ever beg in her life, but as she left Stillwell's office, that last glance to Stillwell was full of silent, raw begging. The last person she'd thought she'd ever beg for help, beg for a plan, beg for safety from him. But both of them knew, Homelander was not letting Carly go anytime soon. Carly made her choice, the moment she entered that lab.

#homelander x ofc #billy butcher x ofc #Billy Butcher #homelander #the boys #vought #the seven

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commander-rahrah · 5 years ago

Text

Alone with You - A Ride or Die Short (Logan x MC)

Pairing: MC Ellie Wheeler x Logan

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 3600+

Description: It’s been two years since Ellie and Logan said goodbye. And now he’s standing in front of her.

Disclaimer: Characters are from Pixelberry’s Choices. They fully own the characters, backgrounds, etc.

Author’s Note: 1 billion years ago I said that I had re-read Ride or Die and it made me have a lot of feelings and ideas about what happened to Ellie and Logan (since ROD2 is never going to happen?!!?!!?!). Well, I wrote it. Finally.

The two have been stuck in my head for so long -- I have a playlist for them, I have a pinterest board for them. I am so happy to finally have fully written this little short out. And who knows... if people like it, maybe it can become a little mini series?

As always any likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated.

Taglist: @omgjasminesimone @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicesarehard (hope this is OK, I remember you three being excited for this lol)

Full choices masterlist: here

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I wanna be alone Alone with you, does that make sense? I wanna steal your soul And hide you in my treasure chest I don't know what to do To do with your kiss on my neck I don't know what feels true But this feels right so stay a sec Yeah, you feel right so stay a sec

“Ellie?”

She froze — her hands hovering on the latch for the car hood. Gulping, she snagged it with a tan finger before turning around.

It was really him.

He looked exactly the same. His brown hair, perfectly waved around his face. His puppy dog eyes were big as he took her in. A black t-shirt clung to his chest and biceps — his arms hanging loosely at his sides, his car keys dangling from his fingers.

“L-Logan?” She stammered, wiping her greasy hands on her jean shorts.

He took two giant steps, before enveloping her into his arms.

Ellie stood frozen for a moment — standing in shock. Before she blinked back to reality, and threw her skinny arms around him. He placed his forehead into the crook of her neck, holding her tighter as she hugged him back.

“What — what are you doing here?” She muttered through his wavy, brown hair. Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as she pulled away from him.

“I’ve just been driving — and I needed to stop and do some work,” He pointed a finger behind him to the familiar GT — that was painted matte black now. “I usually go to a little Ma and Pop like this...” He voice trailed off as he took her in. “You look good Troublemaker,”

Ellie ignored the feeling that nickname gave her, following her train of thought. “You were just driving? You didn’t realize you were getting close to my college town?”

He hesitated, “I—I’ve been driving for a while, didn’t really pay attention to where I was going.”

“Right.” She said, not believing him.

He peered over her shoulder to the white convertible she was working on. It was sitting half out of the garage, shining in the sun. “230SL, hey? She’s pretty.”

“Thanks, she’s mine.” She looked back at the car, licking her lips.

His dark brows furrowed in confusion, “What happened to the Panther?”

Ellie ignored the question, “Logan, what are we doing?”

He shrugged, not sure what she was implying. “What do you mean?”

“I mean — I haven’t seen you in two years, and we— we’re just, what? Shooting the shit at this garage?” Her voice started to raise a little — her emotions getting the best of her.

His dark eyes went wide, “Well, no—“

“Well, what Logan? I didn’t think I was ever gonna see you again. And now you’re just here and you’re asking me about my car?!” Her arms wrapped around her torso as she started to tremble.

Logan moved his hands out to touch her — but then thought better of it. He played it off instead, running his fingers through his dark waves, “Ellie... I know this is so unexpected. If you could — just gimme two hours. Two hours of just normal stuff. I missed you — more than I want to admit.”

“I missed you too.” She croaked out, her blue eyes meeting his brown ones. “We’ll trade out spots in the garage. Take my car.”

Logan hesitated — looking back at his car with a twisted mouth.

“It’s that or you can pay like $25 an hour to park near my apartment.”

“Way too rich for my blood.” He smiled sheepishly, before unlatching his key from his belt loop.

The pair reversed and drove around each other — before Logan slid into her white convertible. His hands ran over the fine stitching on the leather seats — a smile spreading across his face as he took in the vintage car. “You have to tell me how you got this.”

Ellie swallowed as she watched him — following his calloused fingers softly touching the console and arm rests, “I bought it at an estate sale actually. This guy’s son was selling it — said his dad was working on it for most of his life. Poor guy died before he got the chance to finish it and it was way over the sons head.”

His thick brows raised on his forehead, “You low ball him?”

“For a 230SL? No. But I made sure I had enough leftover to fix it up.”

Looking over her shoulder, Ellie reversed out of the parking lot with ease and started to drive them through the streets of Cambridge.

Logan was looking through the passenger window — watching all of the brown stones whiz by, “So, you work at the garage?”

“No,” She shook her head, imagining the little two car garage mechanic shop in her head, “I just made an arrangement with Mr. Kim, the owner. He lets me work on the car and get it fixed up when I want.”

“So you did all of this?” His mouth opened in slight shock.

“Everything but the paint.” She shrugged nonchalantly.

“Damn, Ellie.” A grin spread across his face as he was genuinely impressed with her. “You a grease monkey now?”

She smirked at him, “Mechanical engineer actually.”

“That’s what you decided on for school?” His voice was so genuine — it was killing her.

She nodded in reply, her eyes focused on the road. Her fingers were tight around the steering wheel.

“Good for you. I’m glad.” There it was again — and he was probably looking at her with those big brown eyes.

Licking her lips, she changed the subject, “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Good thing I know the best place to get burgers in Cambridge.”

______________________________________________________________________

“Can we get also get two doubles, well done and crispy fries? Thanks Joe.” Ellie rattled off the order without looking at the menu. She gave them a smile, but then quickly her eyebrows shot up, “Oh! And no mustard on one!” She turned around to face Logan.

“You remembered?” His heart fluttered.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.” She shrugged, before putting the straw to her milkshake back in her mouth — chewing it slightly.

But it was a big deal to Logan. His heart was melting because she had remembered he didn’t like mustard. Two years later.

God, he was a mess.

He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act right now. All he wanted to do was to hold her, to make her laugh again. To kiss her soft pink lips.

“EJ?!”

Logan ignored the voice, instead drawing his eyes away from her and looking out of the window at all the people walking by — all of them mostly students.

“Austin, hey.” Logan’s ears perked up as he heard Ellie’s voice. Turning around he watched as she was approached by a tall guy with a black cap and MIT hoodie.

His stomach burned with jealousy as they hugged.

The young man pulled his arms back from around her, looking down at her with a warm smile, “We were just talking about you,” He gestured behind him to a group of guys sitting at a table, “You heading to the track tonight?”

“Oh, uh,” Ellie clammed up, “No actually I have—“

“Hey I’m Logan.” He stepped forward — his calloused hands outstretched for a handshake.

“Logan?! Like hometown, Cali Logan? Nice to meet you man.” He clapped his hand to his, gripping it tightly.

“Yeah — that’s me.” So Ellie has talked about him to other people?

Ellie sidled up in between them, waving her hand at the guy in the cap, “This is Austin. He’s in eng — engineering with me at school.”

Logan scrutinized him quickly — he was a lot bigger then him. But that wouldn’t be a big deal — he had fought guys much bigger than him his whole life and usually came out the winner. “Austin” had way too perfect stubble and the vest he was wearing over his hoodie probably cost $250.

“EJ’s our resident brainiac.” Austin flashed a megawatt smile — his teeth were perfect too.

Logan’s first instinct was to hate this guy, “Sounds about right.” He said casually, looking over to Ellie who had her arms crossed over her torso.

“He’s just saying that.” She said, her eyes low.

“EJ, foods up!” The man working the countered yelled from behind them.

She sighed in relief, and quickly turned to get the bags. Shuffling back towards them she gave a sheepish smile, “All ready to go.”

“Enjoy you two. If we won’t see you at the track tonight, we’ll catch you at Ash’s birthday tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure. Probably.” She nodded nervously, “Okay, talk to you guys later.” She waved her full hands to the table of guys behind Austin and started to walk away.

Logan followed her out, looking back over his shoulder at the group once more — his brows furrowed as he watched Austin return to the group — all of them chatting excitedly and watching them leave.

He grabbed the car door for her, before grabbing the brown bags of food so she could climb in. Getting in himself, he couldn’t help but notice how nervous she seemed as she fumbled with her keys to start the car.

They sat in silence for a moment — the only sound was the rustling of the bags on his lap as they drove through the downtown streets. Finally he broke the quiet.

“So, EJ huh?”

She licked her lips before speaking, “Yeah. Ellie J—“

“Jane. I know.” He nodded, remembering the night she had told him her middle name. She had been curled up in his arms in his little loft above the garage — she had drawn circles on his arms as she spoke about her mother, her namesake.

“Of course...” She glanced over to him — her face was hard to read. “When I moved here I just — I wanted to be someone else. Not just Ellie. So I introduced myself as EJ.”

“So what’s this EJ like? She hangs out with people like Austin...”

“Austin’s a good guy. All of them are. We lived in the same building freshmen year.” She chewed her lip, “It’s a tough program — we all take care of each other.”

“Right.” Logan felt his stomach twist — someone had to take care of her. It couldn’t be him, he knew that.

She pulled up in front of an empty park filled with trees, and cut the engine. Leaning back in her seat, she closed her eyes as she breathed in the fresh air with the top down in her car.

He gulped as he watched her — his eyes following the line of her nose, curves of her lips and throat. Coughing slightly he composed himself as she started digging through the brown paper bags.

She handed him one of the burgers, wrapped with a napkin.

“Do you usually eat greasy take out in a priceless vintage car?”

“It’s my right as an American.” She grinned at him, before taking a big bite of her food.

Slowly unwrapping the burger, he took a bite and let out a moan, “Oh, that’s good.”

“The best.” Ellie said through chewing. Ripping the brown bag a little with a free hand, she poured out fries onto the brown bag for them to share. “Probably been a while since you’ve had decent food? Being on the road?”

“Yeah... yeah it’s been... I mean I didn’t have to do a huge drive recently. But I was trying to go from coast to coast.”

“Were you following me?” She joked.

“Right, yeah. I guess you made the same drive.” He sat the burger down in his lap and ran his fingers nervously through his hair. “But I — I didn’t make it.”

“Oh?”

Shit. Okay, he was going to do this. “I got arrested.”

“Logan, I— I had no idea. I’m sorry.” Her voice turned quiet — but genuine.

“S’okay.” He mumbled out, “I mean — it was just a matter of time honestly.” He gave her a sad smile, “I made it to Colorado at least.”

“What happened?”

“I got a lesser sentence for agreeing to be a key witness against Shaw. Served for a year, got out on remission... Served a probation order.” He nervously ran his fingers through his wavy hair.

“Wow...”

“And now...”

“You’re here.” She moved her knee closer to his — her bare skin brushing up against his jeans.

“I’m here.” His dark eyes met her light ones — going back and forth between them. He had missed them, as corny as that was to admit. “I was living in New York before—“

“Before?”

“I didn’t mean to come here.” He admitted.

“You didn’t?” She asked — a line forming between her brows.

“Not at first. Not on purpose.” He gulped as he looked up at her, “I just started driving. And this is where I ended up. And then I thought — I could just drive by your school, through the town— just see what you see. I didn’t think I’d actually find you.”

“But you did.”

“But I did.”

They locked eyes again, studying each other.

“Do you wanna see apartment?” She asked simply.

He gulped — he suddenly felt nervous and clammy. “I — sure, if you’re okay with it.”

“Mhmm.” She said with a nod, before turning the key in the ignition and starting to drive away with one hand on the wheel and the other clutching her burger.

After a ten minute drive, she pulled up in front a row of studio apartments that were in alternating colours of brown and orange.

Logan followed Ellie up the sidewalk and into the apartment complex. They padded down the empty, carpeted hallways and up a set of stairs. Her keys jingled in her hand as she let them in to apartment 2-7.

Logan’s heart fluttered as he stepped into her apartment. He had never gotten to see her bedroom in California — and stepping into her little home now was like stepping into her mind.

It was a studio apartment — just a tiny little thing. The first thing he noticed was the big window at the back of the apartment, pouring in the afternoon light. Christmas lights were wrapped around the frame, turned off at the moment.

A little kitchenette sat off to the side — scarred wooden counter tops and vintage appliances showing the age of the building. There wasn’t any where to sit — a bed sat in front of the large window, a mattress on wheels. It was messily made with a sunny yellow duvet. Night stands on either side were made of stacks of books, and a little green plant was sat precariously on top of one. He could see a few photographs taped on the far wall — but it was too small to see from the front entrance.

It was so messily organized and soft and simple — it was so Ellie.

“It’s not much.” She shrugged as she stepped in.

“I love it.” Using his toes, Logan kicked off his shoes and followed Ellie farther into the apartment. He was trying to be nonchalant about looking around — he didn’t want to seem like he was prying. But every little detail — even the magnets on her fridge shed a light onto the young woman in front of him.

His fingers trailed on a framed photo — Ellie in her red cap and gown from her graduation. Her dad standing next to her — big smiles on their faces for the photo. He could try and determine how fake the pose was, knowing everything that had led up to that photo, but he didn’t want to go down that road.

Moving his dark eyes, he let out a chuckle as he saw an extremely organized calendar stuck to the fridge door. “I see you haven’t lost your passion for organization.” He thumbed through the pages, noticing all the stickers and highlighter.

Her face turned red as she realized what he was looking at. “You have to be with my course load. I’m taking extra classes on top of my usual work load.”

“Trying to graduate early, nerd?” He teased.

Her face fell. “Uh, no. I have to take extra courses if I want to graduate on time actually.”

He raised a dark brow at her, “What? Did you take a light course load or something?”

“Yeah — light course load. An extremely light course load.” She let out a heavy sigh, “I took off a whole semester actually.”

He almost scoffed but he stopped himself. “You love school. I highly doubt you took off a semester to travel abroad.”

“I, uh, I didn’t. I went home.” Ellie had wrapped her arms around her torso, starting to hug herself.

“You went back to LA?”

“Well, I went there for the summer.” She chewed her lip, “And then I stayed throughout the semester.”

Logan studied her carefully, “Okay, what are you not telling me?” It had been two years, but he still knew how to read her.

When she didn’t answer him right away, his stomach twisted. “Ellie?”

She kept her eyes to the worn floorboards, but finally opened her mouth. “At first, it was just for summer break. But while I was there — Dad got sick.”

“Ellie, I’m so sorry.”

“He collapsed at work — apparently it had happened before, when he was home alone. That’s when the doctors found it...,” Her voice trailed off, “The cancer.”

He crossed over to her — getting closer, but not touching. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to do that. “What— what happened?” His voice was quiet — gentle.

“School gave me an extended absence — they held my spot and scholarship for me. Due to family distress. I — I stayed there. I took care of him, drove him to chemo... I was all he had.”

“Ellie...,” A sharp breath escaped him — imagining the pain she had gone through. The pain she was still going through. Was he...

Logan didn’t even want to think it.

“Wh—what happened?”

“He died.” She croaked, before exploding into uncontrollable sobs. She tried to speak again but all that could be heard was hiccups and gasps of breath.

Logan didn’t know what to say. He’d never been one with words.

So instead he did the only thing he could think to do — wrap his arms around her. She fell into him easily — her face burying into his chest as she started to soak his t-shirt.

As he felt her start to crumble into him, he softly lowered them until they were sitting on the edge of her mattress — her face still glued to his shoulder.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that for — and he didn’t care. He would sit with her all night if she wanted him too. But finally she shifted around, keeping her face tucked to his chest but she wrapped her arms around his torso.

“Ellie — I’m so so sorry.” He said softly, rubbing her back as she sniffled, “About your dad. And you having to go through that by yourself. No one should have to do that. And for what I put you two through — the wedge I drove between you and your dad is unforgivable I know that, I—.”

“We were okay. In the end.” She said through her sniffles — her voice muffled through his shirt, “We were good.”

He let out a sigh of relief.

“And I’m sorry for keeping my promise — to stay away.”

She turned her face up to his — her blue eyes wide as she listened. He stared into them — his heart beating faster as he thought about what he was going to say.

“I wanted to be there in little ways — maybe a letter or even just to call, and hear your voice — heck, even hearing your voicemail would have tied me over. But I was so afraid. I’m still afraid.”

“Why?” She asked — her voice a whisper again.

“Because the way you make me feel, Ellie Wheeler, terrifies me.” He used his thumb to brush some of the lingering tears on her cheek away. “I haven’t seen you in two years — and the moment I saw you it felt like I had gotten a sucker punch to the stomach.”

“And I’m sure you know what that feels like — I assume you’ve been punched in the stomach a lot.” She said, a smile forming on her lips. They let our breathy laughs together.

“I have. Look I have no idea what I’m doing, Ellie. All I know is—,” He gulped, “That the last couple hours I’ve spent with you ... have been the highlight of my life for the last two years.”

He hung his eyes low for a moment, his dark brows furrowing, “And I know that I’m scum. I’m trash. A freakin’ ex-convict... I know, I don’t deserve someone like you.”

“Logan, what are you saying?” She moved her fingers to his chin, moving it so he was looking at her again.

He took a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m saying that I love you, Ellie Wheeler. Troublemaker. EJ. Every side of you. The valedictorian. The speed demon. I love you.” He looked up at her through his brown waves, his dark eyes big as he tried to read her face — trying to figure how royally he had just screwed everything up.

“I’m sorry — I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m such an id—“ But his words were interrupted as Ellie crashed her mouth onto his.

A surprised gasp escaped Logan — not able to comprehend what was happening. Before his lips met hers again — the kiss was needy and desperate. It had been so long — too long. He almost forgot what her soft, pink lips had felt like, how she had tasted. He felt goosebumps start to cover his skin as she moved her fingers up the nape of his neck and into his thick hair. He moved his hands onto her waist carefully, pulling her into him. Their kiss softened as she parted her mouth for him, deepening it.

They sat like that for a moment, relishing in the feeling of each other until Logan felt dizzy. Their lips stuck together slightly as they pulled away. He gulped as he looked down at her — waiting for her to say something.

“I love you Logan,” She said simply, her fingers trailing down his tan jawline, “You’ve always been my ride or die.”

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

#ride or die #choices rod #choices ride or die #rod #logan rod #rod logan #logan ride or die #ride or die logan #logan x mc #mc x logan

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soundofseventeen · 5 years ago

Text

Dreams (Lee Chan)

Hello! It’s the last of my requests from forever ago! Now I can do the other things I thought to do!! Yee!! Enjoy! -Erin

Requested

“Y/N…” You didn’t want to open your eyes. You were so warm and comfy, it really didn’t seem worth it.

“Y/N…?” You had the weirdest dream. You dreamt that you spent the night hanging out with Chan, Soonyoung, Minghao and Jun. Which couldn’t be possible since they had been so busy lately with their comeback. You also vaguely remembered confessing your crush to Chan in the dream, but there’s no way on earth you would do that.

“Y/N!” You jerked, eyes shooting open. You blinked a couple times, seeing Chan looking at you with a giant smile on his face.

“...Chan!?” You looked at him confused. Why the hell was Chan in your apartment?

“It’s time to get up.” He laughed, walking over to your dresser. Wait. That’s not your dresser. You were in the dorm.

You were in Chan’s room.

“What… Wha… Uhm…” You sat up, looking around the room. You still wore the same sweatshirt and jeans you had on the night before.

“You fell asleep last night and we didn’t want to wake you up. So Soonyoung and I brought you in here.” Chan said, pulling out a shirt and some socks.

“...Where did you sleep?”

“On the couch.” Chan replied, not looking at you and feeling the concern you did.

“You slept on the couch?” You suddenly felt bad, knowing how much he’d been working lately. Chan just shrugged, continuing to dig. “You didn’t have to do that…”

“With the way the guys are coming and going at all hours of the day, it’s fine. I wasn’t fully asleep anyway.”

“Where were the others?” You looked at the other bed, Chan glanced at it and shrugged.

“Vernon’s been working with Jihoon almost constantly, so he didn’t come back last night. Jun went with Soonyoung after you fell asleep to go work on some choreo.” He smiled at you, shutting the drawer. “Be right back.”

After Chan left the room, you looked around. You had only been in his room a couple times, mostly going with him to grab something or because he asked you to toss something in there for him. You were a little surprised at how neat it was. You saw a bunch of pictures next to his bed, smiling to yourself as you looked at them. There were random pictures he had taken with members of Seventeen, his family, other friends, even one of a dog that you couldn’t quite place. You even found a picture of you and Chan from the very beginning of your friendship, where you’re both covered in paint and smiling like little kids who just got candy. You couldn’t help but laugh at the picture, realizing how ridiculous you both looked. You didn’t even notice Chan walking back into the room, dressed in his dance clothes.

“You know,” you whipped your head around, seeing Chan just grinning as he put his other clothes away. “You really do have an adorable laugh.”

“...Thanks?” You said, eyebrows furrowed. What an odd comment for him to just make.

“So I have to get to rehearsal, but I was kinda hoping you might hang around here today? At least until I get back.”

“I mean, I could? Why?” You said, getting up off the bed. You stretched your arms above your head, eyes squishing shut as you did.

“I want to talk to you about something you said last night.” Your eyes shot open, looking over at Chan.

“Something… What was it, again?” You quickly said, starting to think it wasn’t really a dream last night.

“Oh you know, the fact that you like when my eyes sparkle. Or that I’m a great dancer. Or that you like my hugs best out of all the members. Or that you geeked when I had my hair pink last time. Or that you thought I was the most attractive one in Seventeen. You owe Jun an apology, by the way. He was very offended by that one. Or, maybe, the part where you have this giant crush on me.” Chan smirked while your face became horrified.

“Oh my god, Chan I’m so-”

“I really have to go, so I was thinking about talking about it over dinner later? You can pick the place, you know what I eat.” He grinned, starting to walk past you. As he did, he swiftly left a kiss on your cheek, that giant grin back on his face. “See ya, Y/N.” He laughed, running from the room.

“Wait… What… LEE CHAN!” You shouted, running after him.

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fanaticwritings · 5 years ago

Text

smoke and mirrors- [prologue]

pairing: tom holland x reader

words: 1k

a/n: i am not writing a summary for this because the prologue is a summary of sorts. this is an idea that has been stuck with me since forever, in fact i started writing something like this for another character but tumblr fucked up and nobody really read it. @keepingupwiththeparkers' beautiful writing made me want to start writing again and if you're reading this, i'd like to say thank you. so much. (p.s: you don't have to read this story!) anyway, i promise that this fic is going to be real good. the idea real appeals to me and I'm gonna try my level best to execute it. it's not your normal ceo x reader; it's full of suspense, heart breaks, a LOT of fluff and a bit of smut. so please give this a read and i hope you stick around! thank you xo

The steady hum of the engine died as the black sedan came to a screeching halt. The chauffeur got out as you waited in the backseat, straightening the hem of your dress.

A second later, the door to your right opened and you were instantly blinded by a thousand flashes.

Unfazed, you stepped out of the car with effortless elegance that now came to you naturally.

Still blinded but unbothered, you trudged up the stairs to the hall, heels clicking behind you.

"Who are you wearing today, Ms.Y/N?"

"What is the next big thing for Winchester Corp?"

"Are you seeing Mr. Osterfield?"

"Holland & Co. remains to be your biggest competition even today. Thoughts?"

The paparazzi was as merciless and as invasive as ever. They didn't care about you being one of the youngest woman CEO of Manhattan, your personal life seemed to be of a prime importance.

"Winchester Corp has a lot in store for the public, some of which you will be seeing soon," you answered, flashing a radiant smile at the reporter.

You continued to answer other questions about the company for a while, ignoring personal questions all together.

You were thankful when you reached the top of the stairs and walked into the majestic hall, leaving the swarm of cameras behind you.

The interior of the hall was breathtaking. Large, crystal chandeliers hung from the white ceiling. Mosaic paintings of pictures from what looked like Roman Mythology adorned the walls that surrounded you. You recognized some of the stories, fondly remembering how much mythology had intrigued you when you were a child. Further down the hall, round, decorated tables were set up all around a raised platform. The architecture reminded you of a Roman cathedral which, perhaps, this place was.

There were a lot of people in the hall, some you recognized and most you didn't.

The Manhattan Gala was always like this.

Business tycoons, big shots of the city and some other important people you didn't bother remembering the names of, were the small group of people that were invited to the gala.

"Hello, Miss Y/N," a chaperone called to grab your attention and handed you a card with your name as well as the number of the table that was assigned to you.

You met a couple of business associates on the way to your allocated seat and a blond big shot who's name you failed to recall.

Before long you ran into Rachel Allen, chairman of another large scale company in the market. Her name you knew because she was always up in everyone's business and tired everybody easily.

"Hey, Y/N. Gosh, you look amazing! Is that Krutz you're wearing?" she cooed, giving you a smile that didn't exactly match her zestful tone.

Before you could reply, however, she gasped looking behind you, "Oh. Look who it is."

Ignoring her, curious as to who it could possibly be, you glanced over your shoulder, following her gaze to whoever she was looking at.

Even from across the room, his brown eyes were disarming.

Tom Holland was gifted with a natural and charming persona.

He was also sweet and gentle, which made him popular with the ladies. The fact that he was the CEO of a multi-million dollar company was only an added bonus. They flocked to him like birds to prey, almost fighting for attention. But little did they know he had eyes for one woman only.

He held Y/N's gaze for a long second, mouth twitching, before turning to the slightly older woman who was currently shaking his hand.

"Remember that you can always reach out to me," she was saying and Tom really hadn't been following so he only nodded, smiling.

Harrison Osterfield, his closest friend, caught up with him just then and Tom sighed in relief. He did enjoy being around people but only the kind who's names he at least remembered.

"If another person asks me about the shit with Winchester Corp, I'm gonna walk out of here," he blurted to Harrison, who

chuckled lightly, patting his shoulder.

"Mate, you wanted that to happen."

Tom shrugged, rolling his eyes.

They sat down at their table, exchanging plesantaries with those who sat with them.

The host of the evening was soon up on the stage, engaging in light-hearted humor. She then moved onto the performances that were lined up for the event and the crowd cheered.

Before they knew it, two hours had passed. The cultural dances and music had been really worth the while and since the charity gala was for such a good cause, Tom didn't complain much.

The crowd broke apart for dinner, later and once again the socialities resumed.

"I'm going to grab some food with Liz," Harrison informed him, gesturing towards the aisle that lead to the dining area.

"You'll be okay?"

"More than," Tom answered.

He grinned when Harrison shot him a knowing look and left to fetch his girlfriend.

He sat then, at his table, observing the crowd around him. People were shaking hands and laughing their hearts out, so much so, that to an outsider it would've looked like a merry affair. But only they themselves knew that it was all, mostly, a facade.

Events like these were more about expanding your networks and showing off your wealth. Little did they care about building real relationships.

Tom quite hated the atmosphere but certain things he could have no control of. Besides, he had even grown used to this, being in the business for so long.

He glanced around once more, only to catch Y/N looking at him again. She held his stare for a moment and then got up, straightening the long, velvet-black dress that she was wearing. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and said something to the woman next to her.

He watched her make her way through the crowd and disappear behind one of the giant pillars in a far corner of the hall.

He looked at his rolex; 10:45 it told him. He waited a heartbeat before stalking off in the same direction as Y/N. As an afterthought he wondered if he should've waited a little longer. He decided that he didn't care.

The brain does as the heart wills.

He took short, cautious steps but it wasn't long before he had turned left into a dark aisle behind one of the pillars and caught up with her.

She was leaning against the railing of a staircase that lead to god knows where, her gown shimmering slightly in the dark.

"You look quite lovely, Miss L/N," he said, approaching her coolly, the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

You watched him get closer, straightening the cuffs of his black tux. All of his hair was gelled to a side except for a tiny unrelenting curl. You smiled to yourself.

"You don't look too bad yourself, Mr. Holland," you said, biting down on your lip as he drew closer.

There wasn't much distance between you two at all, but Tom took his time. Despite being shrouded in complete darkness you could feel his gaze travel down your figure, leaving you with a feeling of being completely bare.

Bastard.

The next thing you knew, you were being pulled towards him; a sharp tug of your arm resulting in you being thrown against his chest.

You couldn't suppress the soft chuckle that burst out of your lips when he buried his face into the nape of you neck, his hands encircling your waist.

"I missed you, darlin," he murmered, his breath warm on your skin.

"I did too," you whispered, throwing your arms around his neck as he drew back.

You stood pressed together for a while, noses brushing against the other's. The noise from the hall didn't quite reach this area, so all you could hear was Tom breathe deeply and his heart beat against your own.

You'd been doing this for two long years now, whole seven hundred and thirty days of it, but it wasn't enough.

It would never be enough.

And then Tom was kissing you, full and slow, taking his time to drink you in. He pulled you impossibly close, tiny hills forming on your skin at the touch.

Your lips fell into a routine, nipping and sucking at his own. You remembered how sloppy it had been the very first time. But now all of his being, every inch of his skin was etched into your memory. You couldn't get it wrong if you tried.

You felt him push you against the railing, the wood poking you slightly, as he deepened the kiss. It was a welcome pain. His hands squeezed your waist as one of your own fisted his hair.

"My place tonight?" he murmured against your lips when you had to break apart for air.

"Okay," you answered, slightly out of breath.

Being in a relationship when you were owners of giant companies wasn't easy at all. And the fact that your companies were arch rivals didn't help either.

Your relationship was the most private of affairs. Not a soul, bar a few friends, knew about it. To protect yourselves from being mercilessly prodded and judged, you played along with the rumors of you hating each other's guts. But it also meant that you could never be seen together in public, which made things... difficult.

Perhaps it was a part of the reason why you had made it so far. Perhaps it was because the universe willed it to be so.

Because you both thought, even though neither had admitted it, that you had found your soulmate.

It was the most perfect thing.

Until, it wasn't.

Tagging:

@lil-writes @captiveties @imaginingthefandoms @fangirlingonrhys @killbillls @borkystank @miklsnvengers @bunnie-kookie @silverreading @skz-in-ncity @estate-euphoric @tragicluver @aestheticgaybish @rororo06 @forever-stuck-in--neverland @sholland4

[want to be tagged? send an ask/ comment below!]

Please leave feedback, I'd be forever grateful!

#tom holland x reader #tom holland oneshot #tom holland reader insert #tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland series #peter parker x reader #tom holland x you #peter parker fluff #marvel imagine

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kisskissbanggang · 6 years ago

Text

Learning to Share

[~30min Read, ~9K Words -- Mystery Members👀 x Student!Female Reader -- Half Fluffy Plot. Half Fluffy Smut. -- Spoilers in Tags, Classmates, Snowstorms, Threesome, Jealousy, Competition, Experimentation, Impromptu Dom/Sub, Double-Penetration, Anal, Oral, Edging]

[I miss winter already. Let's cool off with something a little hot and cold.💕]

Masterlist | Feedback

Frigid air bit your nose and cheeks as you crossed campus for your last lecture before winter break. Mysteriously, Professor Brown was one of the only curmudgeons insisting on holding class on the last day before vacation, but that should be easy. You just needed to survive this last morning and then it was the bus ride back to your place. Hopefully the gentle snow drifting down wouldn't get any worse.

"Hey!" You were startled as Ten caught up to you, pulling the tail of his long scarf from under the strap of his gym bag and wrapping it once more so it shielded his face from the cold. He hooked an arm into yours. "How's it going?"

"Good," you sighed, "excited to get home after class and sleep for a few days. We're only halfway through the semester but I feel like I'm dying."

"I feel you," Ten commiserated, "When are you flying out?"

"Wednesday, remember? Can you drive me to the airport?"

"Sorry, babe," Ten winced, "my Christmas plans got shuffled around so I'm leaving --" he pulled out his phone to check the time, "-- in an hour to catch my Lyft to the bus station. I'm gonna run home and pack. Just wanted to let you know."

"What?!" No fair. The two of you were originally going to sit on the couch and drink wine until neither of you could move.

"You'll be fine," he kissed your forehead, "bring a boy home to keep you warm and don't drink all the wine by yourself." Ten turned and ran to the bus stop, carefully skirting around the impromptu ice rink that had formed in the campus square. You sighed, trudging your way to class. With your plans for the next couple of days dashed, what were you going to do with your time until you had to fly home?

You scanned the lecture hall, hoping to see if anyone had saved you your usual seat. Thankfully, Doyoung waved you over, pulling your chair out for you as you set your bag down.

"Are you alright?" He asked, concern painting his face. He grabbed your empty mug off the table and poured you some hot brew from his thermos. "You look miserable."

"I'm just so ready for winter break." You gratefully took your mug back, immediately taking a swig and feeling a little rejuvenated. "When are you heading out of town?"

"I'm not. My family lives just outside the city, remember?"

"Oh, god, you're right." You pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation. "Sorry. I'm more out of it than I thought."

"You could really use a break, huh?"

"Certainly. I was looking forward to hanging out with my roommate for the next couple days, but he's already on his way out of town. I guess I'll have to decompress alone."

Doyoung perked up. "Want some company?"

You blushed at the offer, but were interrupted as your professor finally showed up. Doyoung seemed oddly eager to hang out. Was he asking you out on a date? Probably not. For all you knew, he could've just been pumped to hang out outside of school. You made a mental note to ask Doyoung what he meant once you reached a break in class.

❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️

The chance never came. You were suddenly shaken partway through class, Doyoung's elbow sharply jabbing you in the arm to surreptitiously wake you. You'd fallen asleep? Winter break really couldn't come sooner.

"Wh-? Whuzzat--" You quietly slurred as you blinked into consciousness. Doyoung grabbed your notebook and scrawled a note in the margins before sliding it back over to you.

I can't believe this. Group project. Due during break.

You bolted upright in your seat. A group project? Seriously?

"... You will be forming independent, but related, theses based around a central subject, one that your group has chosen from the material we've covered so far," Professor Brown droned, "and what makes this a group project is that your theses will not just be related, but will also be informed by each other. Communication is key, after all. You will be taking the conclusions and opinions of your colleagues into careful consideration and incorporating them into your work. This will be short: ten pages each. However, I will also be seeing if your papers can be read in conjunction with one another, as well as independently. Now, go on. Pick a partner over our ten minute break and make sure you come up here and let me know who is with whom."

The class scrambled, but you and Doyoung stayed put. You had worked together on nearly every project you'd had in any course you'd taken together. Though you wanted to take your extra time to ask about Doyoung's intentions, you knew it'd be a better use of the ten minutes to discuss subjects now rather than later. A line had formed at the podium at the front of the lecture hall, everyone scribbling their paired names on a list for him to confer with later. You sat tight, waiting for the line to die down.

"Now, class, as we settle back into our seats," Professor Brown said as the line of students rushed, "I want us to remember the importance of keeping an open mind during a project like this, where we may come across stark differenc--"

The professor was interrupted by the back door of the lecture hall opening in the hush of the room. Into the hall spilled Yuta, a classmate so rarely seen it was easy to forget he was even in this course. He slung his gym bag over his shoulder, panting and out of breath as he tried to sneak into a back row seat.

"Mr. Nakamoto, it's a pleasure to see you in class," Professor Brown boomed so the whole class would notice, "you'll see that we've paired up for a project over our winter break. Seeing as the project can't be done alone, I will pair you up with..."

Everyone shrank in their chairs as Professor Brown scanned the room. Yuta was a more than capable student, but notorious for skipping class for practice and clubs and meetings and doing the bare minimum to get enough credit to keep up. There was no way he'd kept track of all the material from the semester so far, so surely anyone teamed up with him would have to drag him along. You nearly crawled under the desk when Professor Brown's eyes settled on you and Doyoung.

"You'll need some smart partners, so we'll stick you with a couple of over-acheivers. Doyoung, you two will be partnered with Yuta. Now, let's take some time to brainstorm."

Before any of you could protest, the click of Professor Brown's pen interrupted like a gunshot before he himself wrote all three of your names together on the list of pairs.

Yuta stood, wide-eyed and stunned in place for a second before sighing and heading your way. You clutched onto Doyoung's arm in a death grip.

"Save me," you demanded in a harsh whisper.

"Save me," Doyoung growled back, "this project sucks enough just the two of us. This is a nightmare."

Yuta made his way down your aisle in the shuffle of everyone sitting with their partners.

"Not just that."

"Wait," Doyoung noted, "what?"

"Yuta asked me out at the beginning of the semester, we went on one date, he got conveniently busy as always, and then never called again." You buried your head in Doyoung's arm, refusing to believe any of this was happening.

"He WHAT?!" The exclamation was jarring enough that everyone around you took a glance. Your nails dug into Doyoung's arm. There was an edge to his bewildered look. "That guy? What?! How did I never hear--"

You cut off his intense whisper and yanked him back down to you. "Jesus Christ, Doyoung, I'm sorry I never said anything; I know we're friends but it was never an issue since he's never here." You were babbling, trying to get all this mess out before Yuta was actually here and adding to it.

"Uhm, hello," Yuta awkwardly greeted with a small wave, "I guess we're partners. Mind if I sit down?"

You and Doyoung rapidly pulled away from each other, looking as cool and collected as possible from your recent revelation. Yuta gave you a small, shy smile as he pulled up a chair. The rest of class was torture, just coming up with any idea of what to do and turning down every possibility.

"We're overthinking this," you stated ten minutes or so later, pressing your hands down hard on the table. "This won't take us all week to figure out but we will have to at least use today. Should we go to the library after class?"

"Can't," Doyoung said, shaking his head, "they're switching to winter break hours today."

"Student cafe?"

"Same."

"How about one of your places?" Yuta asked. Doyoung gave him a skeptical glance. "We can't go to my apartment," he continued sheepishly, "we won't get any work done with my roommates around."

"Not my place, either," Doyoung sighed, "My roommate's back at the dorm by now and it's been a giant mess since midterms."

Both men looked at you now. Ten's words echoed in your head.

Bring a boy home to keep you warm and don't drink all the wine by yourself.

Well, this probably wasn't what Ten meant, but the sentiment made a fair enough point.

"My place is free. When can you all make it?"

"I have some stuff to tend to real quick after this but I can be over right after," Doyoung offered eagerly.

Yuta checked the time on his phone. "I have a quick meeting after class but I can come right away when that's done. I still have your phone number," he offered with a small smile, "How about I'll text you when I'm ready to come over?"

"It's a good thing we're not asking you to call," Doyoung laughed to himself, ignoring you as you stared daggers into him. Yuta shot him an equally sharp look, his tongue poking at his cheek as he tried to figure out just what the hell Doyoung was getting at.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️

To your horror, you received a text from both Doyoung and Yuta within seconds of each other. Based on both, you had roughly fifteen minutes to make it look like you lived in relatively civilized conditions. If you were lucky, the fat snowflakes landing on the ground would keep them from showing up too soon. Much to your dismay, the gentle wisps of frost from earlier were giving way to a bit more aggressive tactics.

You had been too preoccupied wondering what Doyoung was up to instead of cleaning. He seemed so oddly bitter towards Yuta. Surely, this must've meant he liked you as more than a study buddy, since his behavior more resembled that of a jilted lover than that of a protective friend, but how could you even broach that subject with Yuta around? And, for that matter, Yuta still had your number? How come he never called? Or even texted?

When it came to your lovely mess of a home, you'd really lucked out. At the beginning of his sophomore year, Ten had been given the opportunity to rent his grandparents' modest starter home -- only a convenient distance from the campus -- on the condition he find a roommate soon after he moved in. Thankfully, you'd already become fast friends and moved in right away once the invitation was presented. No more dorm, no more R.A. looming down the hall, no more dining plan. Having already lived here for a year, though, it was tiresome learning how to care for a house. Thus, the slight mess that had settled in once winter came.

You sprinted around the living room, picking up clothes and throwing them in the laundry room, grabbing errant dishes and throwing them in the dishwasher. You cranked up the space heater to a level only utilized for when guests were over, and quickly passed over the hardwood in the living room with a broom. It wasn't the best, but it was better. Glancing out the front window to the darkening grey skies outside, you were amused to find that Yuta's Uber arrived right as Doyoung finished walking the couple blocks from the bus stop. They paused upon meeting each other at the end of the driveway, a silent standoff before they speedwalked a spontaneous race to the porch, mindful of the icy slush on the ground. A simultaneous knock and doorbell chime sounded just as you reached for the knob and you took a deep, calming breath in vain to appear more casual as you opened the door.

Once you had all settled into the living room, crowded on the floor around the coffee table as you worked, the tension began to die down a little. Really, the paper wasn't a huge deal. Everyone was just understandably heightened from the annoyance of having to do group work over the break. Despite the collaboration needed, once you all calmed down it was easier to wrap your heads around some ideas. At least, you thought it was.

"Look," Yuta said, interrupting your momentary silence, "am I allowed to say Doyoung's idea makes no sense to me?"

"I'm right here," Doyoung deadpanned, raising his eyebrows as he peered over his glasses, "and my concept is just fine. Isn't it?" He looked to you, barely waiting for an answer before continuing. "We already started, and I'm pretty sure you don't really get a say in what we do since you barely come to class. I'm not sure how, or even if, you're passing, but I want no part in it for my grades."

"Okay, fine," Yuta conceded weakly, "I was just blowing off steam. You don't--"

"A simple 'sorry' and 'thank you' would suffice."

"Uh," Yuta stared, slack-jawed, eyes darting between Doyoung's hard gaze and your own bewildered expression, "I'm sorry for taking my stress out on you. Thanks for your efforts and ideas."

"You're welcome." Doyoung wasn't even regarding him anymore, still tapping on his laptop like this wasn't some bizarre power play you both just witnessed. You awkwardly snuggled into your hoodie, burying your nose into the plush fabric and distracting Doyoung across the table.

"Cold? I can turn up the heat," Doyoung offered.

"Oh, thank you," you smiled sheepishly, "but the heater is already up as high as it'll go. Just cold outside and the insulation on the house needs replacing."

Yuta thumbed behind him at the quaint wood stove in the corner of the room. "I'm surprised you use a heater at all. What about a fire?"

"Uh," you gave an embarrassed chuckle, "it's not exactly my forte. Not Ten's, either. This is just easier and more convenient."

"That's crazy! Do you have a woodpile in the yard?" Yuta made a move to sit up on his heels. Doyoung shot a quick look his way, gauging him.

"I think so? I think I saw one behind the shed a few months ago."

"No problem," Yuta smiled, "I'll go get some and be right back."

"Oh!" Doyoung sprang to his haunches as well, "Let me help you."

"What? Don't worry about it; it's no problem," Yuta smiled, his sweet voice mocking, "I'd hate for you to ruin your nice boots in the snow."

Doyoung sat back down, scowling and a little wounded as Yuta grabbed his shoes from the front door. His beat-up hiking boots had been sat next to Doyoung's vintage Redwings, previously mint condition before today's trial by fire. Yuta loosely slipped on the boots by the back door and threw on his coat before valiantly marching outside to investigate.

It wasn't like Yuta was wrong. He was a bit more rugged whereas Doyoung was a little more prim. Yuta seemed to live and breathe in sweats and jeans and flannel and hoodies -- an actual sporty type who liked to fill his spare time with bike rides through the woods or camping at the river during the summer. He even smelled nice and woodsy. During your one date you recalled he smelled like musk and pine needles and even coffee. Doyoung, on the other hand, had a modest collection of handsome bags that paired well with his sleek capsule wardrobe made up of soft neutrals and smooth textiles. You always liked his somewhat floral cologne that reminded you of stores you were both too broke to shop at. Mysteriously, you hooked on how he also happened to smell like coffee.

Doyoung chewed on his lip as he flipped through his notes in his notebook and on his laptop. He slipped his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry, by the way, for acting weird. I'm sure it's obvious that I feel some way about you and I should've said something forever ago." You froze, perked up at his brazen admission. So you weren't going crazy, after all. "I hate to admit I'm a little jealous," Doyoung continued shyly, "but, I mean, he's gorgeous and nice."

You leaned forward, giving his hand on the table a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, I'm just glad you told me. We'll figure this out after this whole mess of a project, okay? We can go to that cafe I like." Doyoung gave you a small smile, interrupted as Yuta kicked the backdoor in, his arms piled high with firewood and kindling.

"Thank god this stuff was covered, or we'd really be up shit creek," he laughed boisterously as he kicked his boots off and nudged the door closed. He padded into the living room and gently dropped the pile by the wood stove. "So, if I'm correct in assuming this wood pile is ancient, am I also correct in assuming you have no idea how to light a fire?" You blushed, eagerly kneeling up to join him. Doyoung rolled his eyes. He mumbled an excuse to go use the bathroom.

You suddenly found yourself alone with Yuta for the first time in months. He shrugged off his coat and quickly hung it back up by the front door and returned, dropping to a squat next to the wood stove. He checked to make sure the flume was clear, showed you how to arrange the wood over the kindling, and handed you a match to light. You clapped triumphantly as the fire crackled to life. Yuta offered you a high five and you couldn't stifle your giggle as you accepted. The touch lingered. Your cheeks warmed as Yuta gently held your hand. "I'm so sorry, by the way," he said meekly, "for never calling. I just got so busy and then I was just super embarrassed and I was positive you wanted nothing to do with me. Every few days I thought about your number in my phone and considered at least just texting you. Sorry for being a giant wuss."

"No!" You quickly countered, squeezing his hand, "No, no, no, I understand. I'd probably feel the same if I were you."

Yuta gave you the warmest smile, his hand squeezing back at yours and quickly releasing as Doyoung walked back from the bathroom. He looked concerned. "Have you seen outside?"

Getting up, you and Yuta both joined Doyoung as he opened the front curtain. Sheets of snow were drifting across the lawn and street beyond, piling up and glistening. The slush on the sidewalk and driveway had completely snowed over and more by now.

"Oh, shit," Yuta mumbled, "how am I going to get home now?"

"Do you have basic channels?" Doyoung asked, pointing at the cute little TV in the room. "We can see if there's a weather report so we can get a better idea of what's available."

You nodded quickly, grabbing the remote and flipping on the television. Just as you found the news confirming that, indeed, tomorrow's snow drift was early and stronger than predicted, a buzz sounded throughout the house. The electronics surged before suddenly dying out with a crackle. The three of you stood, looking at each other in the growing dim of the living room as the stormy sky outside grew darker.

It was as good a time as any to break out the wine, you figured. The boys watched curiously as you opened the fridge and pulled out your two boxes of wine. You set one on the counter, then clicked open the kitchen window to toss the other box into a pile of snow in the backyard to keep cool. Twisting off the cap, you nearly drank straight from the box when you noticed Doyoung and Yuta staring. Sighing, you grabbed three cups from the cupboard and poured one for each of you. The boys got the hint and came forward. You clinked your cups and each took a sip of the cheap wine.

"Generator?" Yuta asked optimistically. You shook your head.

"Am I imposing if I ask to crash on the couch tonight?" Doyoung sighed, grimacing at the sour aftertaste. Again, you shook your head.

"If anything I assumed you'd both already figured you should hunker down here for the night," you mumbled, "and the stove is now the hottest thing in the house. We'll all camp in the living room."

❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️

Thankfully, with a gas stove in the kitchen, dinner was easy enough to scrap together with the help of some candles and a headlamp Yuta had found out in the shed during his expedition. The mood was kept light enough, the boys even managing to warm up to each other some, and conditions were kept civilized as the water was still running for the time being. However, things still felt tense. You'd settled for sitting in the exact middle of Yuta and Doyoung, finding that if you sat a centimeter closer to either of them where you were all bundled up in front of the fire, they attempted to scoot closer to you.

The box of wine felt suspiciously light as you noticed Doyoung shiver. "Got any extra blankets?"

"Yeah," you nodded, "in the hall closet. Want me to go get them?"

"No, no," Doyoung shook his head with a smile, "I'm sure I'll find my way." He switched on his phone's flashlight and ventured down the hall. You turned back, gasping into a laugh as you noticed Yuta had silently slid up next to you. You hushed yourself, trying not to giggle at his sudden proximity. It was, admittedly, really nice to hang out again, even under these circumstances.

"This is going to sound crazy," Yuta whispered, "but would you go out with me again? Give me another chance?"

"What? Of course," you found yourself whispering, blushing from the wine and his face so close to yours, "I've just been waiting for you to ask." Yuta smiled, his sweet grin making you smitten and eager as he leaned close, his lips nearly brushing yours as Doyoung stumbled back into the living room empty-handed. You fell back in surprise, craning your neck to see him in the dark.

"Alright," Doyoung laughed, "I'm less capable than I thought."

"It's okay! I'll grab them." You rolled and got up, feeling your way down the hall. You wrenched open the difficult door of the hall closet and grabbed all the blankets you could get ahold of, as well as some extra pillows from yours and Ten's rooms. Softly, you padded back down the hallway but stopped short, listening in on a hushed conversation happening in the living room.

"Yuta, just knock it off already, you had your chance."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's my turn."

"Turn?! What is this, grade school?"

"Oh, shut up. You hardly know her, anyhow."

"And you do? I thought this was your first time here, too."

"What does that prove? We help each other with assignments, we talk, we eat together. Plenty more than you can say."

"And I want to do all those things with her, you tool."

"And more?"

"Jesus, don't make me sound like the bad guy when you clearly want that, too."

You gracefully waltzed back into the living room, your mountain of blankets in hand and appearing to be none the wiser -- even ignoring that Doyoung and Yuta would be sitting hip to hip in their fervor if it weren't for the box of wine separating them. The duo immediately shut up and rose to their feet. Yuta grumbled something about finding the extra wine before making his way into the kitchen and stepping into his boots by the back door. Doyoung tossed another log on the fire before helping you with the blankets.

"Watch out for this guy," Doyoung spoke quietly, "I think he's up to something."

"Up to something? What is this, Doyoung, True Crime Stories?"

"Want it to be?" Doyoung deadpanned, and you did your best to hide the shiver that ran down your spine as you set up a little blanket nest in front of the couch. You'd be hard pressed to deny you didn't like this dark edge to how Doyoung spoke to you. For as goofy and neurotic as he could be, you knew there was something to him that he didn't quite advertise. Maybe this sudden possessiveness was connected to that. Doyoung reached for you. It was barely even a reach, his fingertips daring to brush your hip and instantly retracting once Yuta shambled in through the back door, switching the wine from hand to hand to clap the snow off his shoulders and shucking his boots off.

It took a few tries of various pleas, cups of wine, appeals, and ego stroking to get the two men to calm down enough to focus their energy on hanging out with you rather than competing with each other. Eventually, you were all settled in a cuddle pile on the plush carpet, cheeks rosy and everyone a little more jolly as you hung out. You actually gave Doyoung a chance to enjoy hanging out with you outside of school. You found out that you had both belonged to the same film society but during different years, and now you both considered returning again. Yuta was thoroughly engaged while you actually got to know each other. You made a plan to go hiking together as long you also got to check out your favorite museum together some time. The boys nearly died when they realized they were wearing the same jeans -- Yuta's having been thrifted downtown years ago and Doyoung's bought in perfect condition from an online reseller. In the dead of the night with the snow whistling outside, you finally started to feel drowsy. Your head rested on Yuta's shoulder, feeling the soft rise and fall of his breath while you stroked Doyoung's hair, who had curled up to lay his head on your lap. You were surrounded with the smell of pine and flowers and coffee, with two spare heartbeats lulling you to sleep.

You barely dozed off just as Yuta woke himself up with a soft snore. You glanced up, sharing a quiet laugh and locking eyes. It was only a moment. He took your fingers in his, thumbing the back of your hand as his gaze fell on your lips. You gave him the smallest nod and his lips were on yours, gentle and soft and warm. His scent tickled your nose in the heat of the living room, cranked up in intensity with each breath you took of him. You nearly forgot Doyoung in your lap as Yuta's hand slid up your arm to stroke the pad of his thumb across your cheek. He kissed you again, smiling contently as you gladly sighed into him. In fact, you were so caught up in the moment that you hadn't felt Doyoung's arm around your waist until you turned back to catch him catching you.

"Having fun without me?" Doyoung asked plainly, raising his eyebrows in unamused assumption.

"Doyoung," you gasped, only amplified as his charged silence. He made brief eye contact with Yuta, and then you, before his lips found yours as well. It was only a moment before he sat back. The three of you sat, stunned in the series of events that just transpired. What possibilities were even available now? Any consideration you'd been making towards either of them just multiplied in complexity and now all three of you waited in excruciating silence. Doyoung and Yuta shared an intense stare-down. Really, you barely had to be there. They each clutched one of your hands and you wondered if they’d be tempted to try and grab you for their own like a game of tug-of-war. This had to be settled.

In an impulsive decision, you looked to each of them before pressing a quick kiss to Doyoung’s lips. A proud smirk graced his face as you turned to face a confused and somewhat hurt Yuta, only made more confused as you placed a quick kiss on his lips as well. You turned back to Doyoung. His pride had turned into the same look of confusion. “I like both of you,” you said simply, “so either we’ll have to make some tough decisions or learn to share.”

The boys looked to each other again, nodding in mutually bewildered acceptance of the situation before they both lunged into you. You gasped at the combined sensation, Yuta’s hot and eager lips peppering one side of your neck with nips and pecks as Doyoung’s lips lingered on the other side, methodical and patient. Their hands traveled up and down your body, Yuta searching and Doyoung wandering. Any time either of them happened to catch a kiss from you, the other instantly noticed and wanted one as well. Yuta's hand slid across your tummy as his arms went to wrap around your waist, but Doyoung batted him away. Despite your request, not much sharing was coming too easily.

You spun and scooted away from the boys on the floor, facing them as they still crowded the space you had just been occupying. "If we can't do this," you spelled out calmly, "then we won't." Doyoung returned Yuta's silent plea with contemptuous acceptance. He offered a hand to you to let you come near again. You hesitantly accepted, curious to see what his plan was. You were surprised as he led you into Yuta's arms. Was he giving up?

"Yuta," Doyoung said quietly, firmly, "I want to see you kiss her. Let me see if you're as good at pleasing her as I'm going to be."

You observed, wildly intrigued at what Yuta would do. His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek, cocking his head just the slightest bit in his threatened pride. He made his move. Yuta pulled you onto his lap, his strong hands running up your back and pulling you close. He gave you the smallest moment of hesitation before his lips grazed yours -- just the smallest moment needed to fill you with adrenaline and make you gasp. Unlike before, his kiss was needy, but also leading. Your tongues barely had a chance to mingle when you caught Doyoung's gaze out of the corner of your eye. He had risen to sit back on his heels, watching intently, his long fingers resting on the growing bulge in his jeans. You were suddenly made aware of Yuta's own stiff erection pressed up under you.

Yuta tensed in his kiss as Doyoung slid -- prowled -- closer, his fingertips brushing your hair back over your shoulder and making you shiver. Whatever power inside Yuta that allowed him to be simply wary of Doyoung rather than intimidated was impressive, as he cautiously didn't stop kissing you, even as his grip around you tightened just the smallest bit. Almost like he was afraid to lose you. Doyoung gently guided your head back and away from Yuta, smirking at your shaky breath.

"Is he good?" His simple question was directed at you. You didn't even take your eyes off Yuta's as you nodded breathlessly, awaiting Doyoung's next move. "Good. Let's see what else he's good at."

Doyoung's cool hands surprised you as they slipped under your sweater. Yuta backed his hands off of you, patiently and carefully waiting. Your sweater was lifted up over your breasts, the skin there instantly raising in goosebumps. You moaned softly as Doyoung's fingers thumbed over your raised nipples and you couldn't stifle your small smile as you noticed both boys perk up at the noise. Yuta took the hint and leaned down just enough to tentatively run his tongue over the sensitive nub. Doyoung gently pulled you back against his chest, sitting back and nuzzling your neck as Yuta sweetly licked and sucked on your nipples. He followed you forward, now leaning over you between your legs and alternating between your breasts to give them equal attention. Doyoung's fingers walked down your belly, letting you get a good view as he dipped below the waistband of your jeans.

"Does that feel good?" Yuta asked. His tone suggested enthusiasm, but his wary gaze suggested a fog of jealousy still drifting through him. You hesitated, your heart racing while you nearly forgot to breathe.

"Answer him, baby." Doyoung was confident, challenging you to pick a favorite as his lips grazed your ear.

"You're both driving me crazy," you breathed, your head swimming as both boys sank their teeth into you in teasing retaliation, Doyoung in your neck and Yuta in your breast. You observed as Doyoung's free hand snaked around into Yuta's hair. He froze, tense and on edge but his lips still on your chest. Doyoung firmly, gently tugged Yuta off of you, smirking at his grunt and signaling him to stay still as he began to unbuckle your belt. He slid your jeans down your chilly thighs, his hands caressing you as he pushed the denim down your legs, your panties following right behind. Yuta watched intently until the hand in his hair returned and led him down to your heat. You were still surprised at how cooperative Yuta was being as his warm lips ghosted over the soft lips of your pussy. Doyoung's hands returned to your breasts as Yuta finally ran his tongue over your clit, tentatively sampling you before diving in and devouring you. You erupted into moans, already too turned on by the entire situation. Doyoung rolled your nipples in his slim fingers, pulling you back to kiss you and whisper playful teases at you.

"Is he good, baby?"

"He's so good," you whimpered, earning a groan out of Yuta between your legs.

"Do you want more?"

"Yes, please, Doyoung, I need more."

Doyoung smiled graciously against your lips as he tugged on Yuta's hair again. "You heard the boss, Yuta. She wants more. I say we get you to lay down and she can take a ride. Sound good?" Yuta nodded, probably looking just as lust-drunk as you as Doyoung eased out from behind you. He pulled Yuta up close to him, first running a finger through the slick that had coated his chin and feeding it back to him. Yuta made cautious eye contact, carefully sucking the juices off of the offered digit and closing his eyes with a thick groan as Doyoung leaned in to lick more off his face. "What do you say?" Doyoung asked, firmly cradling Yuta's chin. "Doesn't she deserve to ride your face?" Yuta nodded gratefully towards both of you, practically entranced as he reclined to lay back on the rug.

Both boys looked on, admiring as you slipped off your sweater and let it fall to the floor, all the layers underneath quickly following behind along with the jeans you finally kicked all the way off. You made a show of releasing Yuta's straining cock from his jeans first, earning a choked groan out of him before you climbed up and let out your own breathy moan as you eased down onto his eager tongue. You pulled Doyoung closer and held onto him for support as you straddled Yuta's face with your trembling thighs. Tentatively, you let your hand grip around Yuta's firm cock, causing him to take the slightest pause at the sensation. You pumped his length in your hand as you gained more confidence, letting your hips rock back and forth on the tongue massaging your clit. Doyoung absently massaged your breasts, more consumed with watching you. Both sources of attention went straight to your head, making you dizzy with arousal. You were interrupted with Doyoung's snarl in your ear as he noticed Yuta's moans underneath you grow more earnest. Suddenly, his hand was on yours on Yuta's cock, gently peeling your fingers away. He took the stiff erection into his hand, making Yuta jerk and exclaim from under you. You lifted just enough so Yuta could regard Doyoung.

"What are you doing?" The quiver in his voice wasn't accusatory. Yuta may as well have been asking for directions. His voice slurred, thick with arousal.

"You're getting a little carried away," Doyoung soothed with a tone more fitting for comforting a child, "Don't you think she gets to cum first?" Yuta whined, but he nodded enough for you both to notice. "Let her cum first," he continued, "and then we'll take care of you." Doyoung took the small moan falling from your lips as a sign that Yuta had continued licking and shared a satisfied smirk with you. His hand remained firm on Yuta's cock, and the sight alone was helping your orgasm build. Doyoung sweetly swept your hair back over your shoulder as your breathing grew more ragged, the climax quickly becoming inevitable. Both boys shuddered as your body contracted, your muscles clenching in waves as your light-headedness hit its peak. You slumped forward, hoping to escape from Yuta's persistent tongue, but you were met with Doyoung's warm hand pushing back down on your thigh. His slender fingers traveled down to Yuta's hips, working at his jeans to push them down to his knees.

"You're making a mess. You better keep going," Doyoung slyly ordered, "if you stop before I say so then you won't get to cum." His hand had begun pumping at the hard cock in his grip, slowly but consistently traveling up and down the whole length. Yuta hesitated beneath you, but quickly clamped his hands down over your thighs as well to hold you in place. You cried out, the overstimulation seeming to prolong the passed orgasm. Doyoung's smirk persisted, and you both loathed and loved the feeling it gave you, the rush it filled you with. Yuta could hardly keep up, stopping regularly to let out a pained moan from his delayed orgasm and giving you a welcome reprieve.

Soon, you were both begging Doyoung to call it off. Only when you both sounded close to tears did he seem to be satisfied. You gratefully collapsed off of Yuta, spilling onto the rug next to him as you tried to catch your breath. Yuta, however, did not get off that easily -- literally. His fists balled up to his sides, he could only grit his teeth as Doyoung kept his tantalizingly slow pace. He struggled to keep from thrusting into the fist around his cock. "Please, Doyoung," Yuta breathed, his eyes squeezed tight as he pleaded, "I need it. I feel like I'm gonna fucking pass out." Doyoung couldn't contain his pitying laugh. His hand was soaked in Yuta's seeping precum. You felt the need to interfere -- to challenge Doyoung and see where exactly his desires lay, as well as helping Yuta finally reach his orgasm. You gingerly fought your tired muscles to rise up to your knees, catching Doyoung's attention before you hooked a finger into his waistband. You pulled at his belt and jeans, quickly getting his pulsing erection into your own warm grip and making him yelp. He instantly fell against you, his head on your shoulder. However, his hand still didn't let up on Yuta. You watched, pleased at the scene that was oddly serene and severe at the same time, both boys breathing hard and outlined bright in the hot glow of the fire.

"Doyoung," you spoke softly in his ear. Your free hand rose up to stroke his hair as his breath grew heavy, "haven't I been good?"

"So good, baby," he breathed.

"And Yuta? Hasn't he been good?"

"Yes, he's behaved himself," Doyoung choked out against you. You stroked him swiftly and firmly, bringing him up to speed much too fast. It was nice to see that you were the exception to Doyoung's dominance if you wanted.

"If I got to cum for being good, then so does he, doesn't he?"

"Yes, baby." With the simplest of reluctant replies, Doyoung was able to pick his head back up. He turned his gaze back to Yuta writhing on the floor. "You want to cum, right? That's why you've been so good?"

"Yes, Doyoung, yes, please. I've been good. I'll be good. I'll do whatever you want just please let me cum." Yuta was practically hoarse from his repressed orgasm, nearly seething as Doyoung quickened his pace to the breaking point and then quickly backed off.

"You know what you have to say, don't you?" Doyoung smirked at the silent reply, Yuta desperately searching for the unapparent answer. The dominance had entirely returned. "What do we say when someone does something nice for us?"

"Th-thank you," Yuta muttered, shivering from too much desire and lack of proper circulation.

"What was that?" Doyoung laughed, pretending not to hear.

"Thank you, Doyoung," Yuta strained. His head pressed firmly back against the floor as he grit his teeth.

"Could you repeat that? I'm not sure I-- oh Jesus--" Doyoung collapsed, nearly folding in half as you gripped his hard-on tightly.

"Doyoung," you sweetly chided, "you made your point. Yuta will be grateful." Yuta furiously nodded his head in agreement. Doyoung sighed, wincing as your hold on his cock lessened into a gentle caress, and finally regained his pace on the leaking erection in his hand. Yuta cried out a final 'thank you', clawing at the rug underneath him as he finally shot out his orgasm. You instinctively leaned down, catching as much of the warm load as you could in your mouth, moaning at the erotic sensation. You sat back up, startled as Doyoung pulled you into a quick and heated kiss.

You both watched, amused as Yuta melted into the rug, his hair matted to his flushed face with a sheen of perspiration. His chest heaved as he finally was able to get his heart rate back down. You leaned down, pressing your lips to his forehead as he calmed down, and he gently held your hand. You caught Doyoung looking at you expectantly.

"My turn?"

"Hmm," you pondered coyly, "am I ready for another round? You were pretty mean to Yuta just now. Do you deserve it?" Doyoung looked distressed, if only for a moment. You set his mind at ease with a stifled laugh as you pulled him close. You tugged at his sweater, peeling it off along with the thin shirt underneath and admired his toned chest before you lay down next to Yuta on the rug. Pulling the exhausted man into your arms, you pulled Yuta's shirt off as well. "Is this alright?" You asked him, looking back and forth between him and Doyoung, "I know this wasn't exactly what the three of us had in mind."

"I'm fine, I think," Yuta breathed, still coming back to earth, "I'm still coming to terms with that orgasm, but I'm definitely not feeling bad."

"Definitely not bad," Doyoung noted incredulously, "you're still hard." Looking down, you were equally impressed as you noticed he was right. Doyoung excused himself to grab a glass of water, leaving you and Yuta momentarily alone once more after he threw another log on the fire.

Yuta pulled you into his arms and rolled you on top of him, holding you close. He tucked a loose tendril of hair behind your ear, cupping your flushed face. "How about you? Are you okay?" You nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course. This whole thing is surreal, but I'm enjoying myself. You seem to be enjoying yourself, too." You let out a breathless giggle, referring to the soft head of Yuta's cock kissing up against your dripping entrance. He smirked in return, gently rocking his hips up to dip the head inside. You shivered, suddenly letting out a surprised squeak as a firm set of hands began easing you down on the sore erection. You both groaned before regarding the presence behind you. Doyoung replied with a sly smile before reaching under your ass to shimmy Yuta's pants all the way off. Somewhere between here and the kitchen, Doyoung had finished undressing as well.

"Jesus," Yuta laughed, "you're so quiet! We need to put a bell on you or something."

"Sorry," Doyoung chuckled, "you were having a moment. I just wanted to help it along."

He certainly seemed to have had that effect. You already began slowly grinding your hips against Yuta's cock, his own hips meeting yours the best they could in this position on the floor. Doyoung reached a hand out, groping and palming your ass as you rode. You both momentarily froze as his thumb brushed against your asshole.

"Sorry--!" Doyoung instantly apologized.

"No-no-no," you quickly recovered, "it wasn't bad."

You nearly cooed when you noticed a blush crawl over Doyoung's cheeks. Yuta was practically on another planet, too preoccupied to notice. "Are you... Are you shy about it?"

"I mean, I didn't ask or anything--"

"Doyoung, none of us particularly asked anyone anything," Yuta suddenly interjected.

"I've experimented plenty before, you know," you said matter-of-factly. Doyoung babbled, half jealous, half bashful. Yuta raised an impressed eyebrow at you as he stifled a laugh. "Oh my god!" You laughed, playfully punching Doyoung in the arm, "You thought I'm innocent, didn't you!"

Doyoung gave in, hanging his head and laughing shamefully. "Ugh, am I that obvious? I guess I had you figured wrong."

"Is it a bad thing?" Yuta asked.

"What? No! Of course not!"

"Then..." You carefully proposed, "Do you want to try it with me?"

"Like... At the same time?"

You simply nodded in reply. Doyoung stared. Yuta stared. You officially surpassed both their expectations. You bit at your lip. "I always wanted to try," you admitted. "Are you okay with it?" You directed at Yuta. He nodded expectantly, picking up his dropped pace underneath you and meeting your thrusts again. Grabbing Doyoung's hand, you pulled him closer to the two of you. You pecked a kiss to his blushed cheek as he ran his fingertips back over the curve of your ass. The pad of his middle finger brushed the slick entrance of your pussy and up against the puckered hole above, making you both gasp and shiver as he gently pushed the digit into you. Though you had, in fact, experimented with anal both on your own and with a partner, you'd never had two partners to try this with before. The closest you had gotten was trying with an old boyfriend with the help of a dildo, and you'd given up from an impatient lack of proper care and preparation.

Doyoung was, of course, much more attentive, almost taking too much time to stretch you open. Surely, Yuta couldn't hold off a second orgasm forever. You had to practically beg Doyoung to add another finger, assuring and reassuring him that you were fine and loving it. Replacing his slow hand on his member with your own, you hoped to coax him along and make him just a little more eager. "Please, please, Doyoung," you breathed, "I need it. I need you in me, too." He nodded earnestly, slowly pulling his fingers out of you. You arched into his touch as you felt his hands on your hips again.

"Hold on a second," Doyoung chuckled darkly. You and Yuta took notice -- his confidence was back. "I need to get wet real quick." Just as you were about to question, Doyoung's hands lifted you off of Yuta's cock. Your protest was shocked into a sudden moan as Doyoung sank his whole length into your sopping wet heat. Yuta's hands clutched onto your thighs, hypnotized into silence as Doyoung bounced you hard back against his cock. He teasingly pulled out, pushing you back onto Yuta's aching dick before leaving you empty once more and impaling you again on himself. "There," he soothed, running a surprisingly gentle hand down your back, "all lubed up and ready to go." He eased back out of you and let you sink back down onto Yuta's length. Yuta let out a satisfied groan to have you back down against him. Both boys' eyes bore into you as the head of Doyoung's cock finally eased up against your hole, watching as your moans turned to whines as you slowly, persistently took the length inside of you.

Your thighs trembled and you leaned forward, resting your forehead on Yuta's chest and arching your ass up to meet Doyoung's hips. Both of them caressed you, whispering sweet praise and encouragement until Doyoung was fully rested inside of you. You finally sat back up, realizing that both boys' eyes were locked on each other. "Holy shit," you panted, "I feel so..."

"It's oddly intimate, right?" Yuta laughed quietly, fluttering his eyes shut at the sensation of Doyoung nestled tight up against him through your walls.

"Goddamn -- That's definitely a word for it," Doyoung agreed, his hold on your hips wavering from the stimulation.

"Doyoung -- Yuta -- Somebody please move," you whined, your hips fighting on which direction to move. Tentatively, the three of you figured out a rhythm that worked: you moving back with Doyoung's thrusts, and moving forward with Yuta's. You took your time, feeling each other out and enjoying the drawn out sensation.

"Yuta," Doyoung moaned out, "how have you not cum again yet?"

"My refractory period is dumb," Yuta struggled, "sometimes I'll stay hard but won't cum for an eternity. Guess it's one of those times, except this is bringing me dangerously close."

"Oh, thank god," Doyoung hissed, "I felt like a dick getting close already."

"I'm not surprised, I mean you haven't even orgasmed once yet."

"Uh--"

The three of you grinded to a sudden halt. You craned your neck to gaze back at Doyoung, the blush returning to your cheeks.

"When?!" You laughed.

"Uh... Earlier. When I went to the bathroom. Took care of some tension."

"My bathroom, Doyoung?!" You and Yuta failed to keep down a guffaw.

"Stop or I'll never cum again." Doyoung's head lolled back as he sighed in embarrassment. You reached to squeeze his hand on your hip, but were surprised as Yuta beat you to it.

"Don't be so dramatic and help us cum," Yuta playfully jabbed. Doyoung gave him a thankful smile and you yelped as his thrusts resumed behind you. Amazingly, the shared real estate inside you meant that Doyoung's cock angled Yuta's just enough right into your g-spot in this position. In fact, they'd been collectively pounding up against it this whole time, surprising you as you felt a rare penetrative orgasm approaching.

"Holy shit," you moaned desperately, "you're both going to make me cum if you keep this up."

"That's as bright of a sign as we're going to get," Doyoung laughed, "and not too soon, either."

"I'll fucking say. I've been holding back for the past two minutes."

"Wait," Doyoung blurted, "wait-wait-wait I'm just about there--"

"Hurry up, then," you cried out, "oh, Jesus--!"

Your legs clamped down around Yuta, the erratic pulsing of your muscles pulling both his and Doyoung's orgasms out of them, eventually syncing all three of you together. You lay in a heap, breathing each other in and finally collapsing into a pile as both boys gently eased out of you.

"Do you need anything?" Doyoung offered. You weakly smiled and shook your head, rocking up onto your feet and teetering like a fawn down the hall to the bathroom to freshen up.

You gazed in the mirror, face flushed and glowing and your hair a ruffled mess. What did this mean for the three of you? Would it be possible to figure out an arrangement that would work for all of you? You grabbed a couple towels and washcloths and a pack of wet wipes before making the trek back down the hall. You paused just short of the living room, not wanting to interrupt the conversation inside. As you peered around the corner, both boys were wrapped up in blankets by the fire, hip to hip.

"-- Yeah, I'm fine. Great, even." Yuta assured, sounding a bit dazed, still.

"I'm glad. I've just never... You know?"

"Me neither... Wait, really? You've never been in a threesome, or with a guy?"

"Uh, yes."

"Seriously?! You're a natural. I mean, as far as I can tell."

"How flattering."

"Oh, I'm teasing, you big baby. You're a natural slut. A real manwhore."

"Yuta, oh my god--"

"Definitely a good dom, that's for sure."

"Yuta -- wait, really?"

"Yeah! That edging was, uh, heh, pretty great. I could really be down for that again."

You could see Doyoung's blush in the glow of the fire even from where you stood.

"That is," Yuta teased, "if you're not still going to be all territorial."

"Well, she's nobody's territory. We're not dealing with flags, here. But I see what you mean. I had you figured wrong, too, I guess. I'm sorry about that."

"Hey, don't worry; it's kind of cute, if not a little obnoxious."

"I think it's cute, too." You finally interrupted, emerging from the dark with your supplies. The boys backed up about a foot away from each other, getting a laugh out of you.

You probably had nothing to worry about. Not even the assignment. Not even the snow outside. In fact, you wanted the snow to last forever.

❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️💙❄️

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laughing-with-god · 6 years ago

Text

Pandemonium IX

Words; 3.3k

“Oh I guess they’ll never know, how a young heart really feels, and why I love her so....And they called it puppy love.” -Paul Anka

The feeling was somewhat foreign to you.

But this was to be expected, as it has been a long time since you have kissed someone.

His lips felt very gentle despite being somewhat chapped and they tasted like the dried mango chapstick that you often saw Jungkook carry with him.

You leaned back to depart your connected orifices, but Jungkook leaned forward in response. He was unwilling to let the moment go away that quick.

You opened your eyes and saw his closed ones that were still very much into the moment. He smashed his lips more heavily against yours and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, eyes still open.

It was adorable how into the smooch he was. He was completely lost in the taste of you.

You tapped his shoulder in signal for him to back off.

His doe eyes fluttered back into awareness, a glossy and dreamy look casted over those dark irses. The man child backed away from you, but still held you captive in his giant arms.

His face got redder as he began to process what just happened, but you just giggled.

“Y/n….are you drunk?” His breathy voice asked very carefully. His brow furrowed and you could practically see the gears turning in the little pea-brain of his. It was likely that he thought that this was a drunken mistake and that he may even be taking advantage of you right now. Your rolled you eyes.

“No.”

His brows shot up and he gazed down at you, cheeks still red. “T-then….umm..why?”

“It’s crazy how the human will works right? I can just kinda do whatever I want, whenever I want. Fucking wild, am I right?” You joked, trying to release yourself from his arms now. He shook his head furiously at this and it reminded you of a toddler who was in the beginnings of a temper tantrum. His eyes held such a glossy film over them that it almost made him look teary eyed, while his cheeks were still painted strawberry red and dark brows were furrowed in a brilliant mixture of confusion and frustration. His lips (that you now were familiar with the taste and feel of) were scrunched up in a pout and his black hair wagged back and forth in the motion of shaking his head.

“Y/n~!” He whined, musical voice sounding high and bleak as he bitched.

“I just wanted to know how you would kiss me back, to be honest. I figured you would be like a pre-teen who would freak out and use too much tongue, or get WAY too confident and reach for the boob.” You shrugged. Jungkook scoffed at this explanation.

“I’m literally older than you. You should stop comparing me to a child.” You laughed at this.

“Yeah but women mature faster than men, dude. Even though I’m younger, I’m still like four steps ahead of you mentally.”

His pokable nose scrunched up. “That’s a myth!”

“No.” You said.

“Yuh huh.”

“Nuh uh.

“Yuh huh.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh-” Jungkook was cut off when you screamed “NUH UH TIMES INFINITY!”

He snapped his mouth shut, and given he wasn’t a barbarian, he clearly knew that he was beat due to the ‘times infinity’ rule. No one could beat that. It was a rule of life.

You smirked at this victory and backed away from him, this time he let you go.

“Where’s your friend?” he asked just now noticing your lack of companionship. You shrugged.

“She went to go talk to someone and I haven’t seen her since.”

His youthful face scrunched up at this, “That’s rude that she just left you…”

“Eh, I’m not going to try to cockblock.” You told him. You weren’t sure if there was something going on between Kat and Lia, but you hoped something would. Lia would make a perfect rebound, and this would be an ideal opportunity for Kat to see right out the bat that there was plenty of fish in the sea just waiting for her.

“So...what are you going to do until the party’s over?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck while shyly looking down.

“I don’t know to be honest.” You responded. But then an idea struck you. You bounced on the heels of your feet and gave him the ole’ razzle dazzle (ie; you trying to bat your eyelashes and smiling stupidly in hopes he would pity you enough to do what you want). “Mayhaps you should get me out of here and buy me something.”

Jungkook’s face shot up, face eager and obvious at the prospect but also slightly disbelieving.

You inwardly snickered, he was like a puppy eager to please.

“Buy you something? Like what? I swear to god (Y/n) if you try to make me fund a shopping spree at ass’oclock at night I’m-” You cut him off by waving your hand.

“Sis, I’m nothing like that. I like being spoiled by food and financial security, not Louis Vuitton bags. I was thinking more like a late night snack?”

Jungkook nodded dumbly at you, eyes still glossy and cheeks pinkened.

You stood there awkwardly for a moment, awaiting him to do something.

“Ummm….my dude this is the part where you whisk me out of here.”

Jungkook bolted into action after being frozen for a second and took your hand into his and lead you back into the house.

He guided you through the drunken mayhem of yelling idiots, obnoxious music, and making out couples and eventually you two got to the front of the house. Parked near curb, was a nice red mustang and you just knew that your little jock-toddler was the proud (if not smug owner) of it.

Confirming this, Jungkook clicked a button on his tiny remote thingy attached to his keys from his spot a few feet away. In response, the mustang’s lights bursted into light.

He jogged ahead of you and opened the passenger seat for you.

You got in while snickering evilly.

The brothers might think that they were your sugar daddies.

But, you were their pimp.

You had a craving for tacos and Kook was nothing but obedient.

You two were eating the drunken snack whilst parked at the Taco Bell parking lot.

“Kook?” You asked after squeezing more salsa onto your taco. He perked up right away and your slightly fuzzy mind released endorphins at this, seeking pleasure at the fact that his body language screamed ‘OBEDIENT PUPPY EAGER TO PLEASE’.

“Yes?” he asked, doe eyes sparkling at you.

“What’s your zodiac sign?” you asked.

His brows furrowed as he thought about it for a second, trying to recall. “Virgo, I think.”

“Oh sis! You’re a perfectionist, huh?”

Jungkook’s delightful voice chuckled. “I don’t know, do you think I am?”

You looked at him up and down while chewing on your food carefully. “I mean to have your muscles, one has to be very disciplined.”

“I guess I can be. But do you like virgos?” He asked, attention fully on you as you stuffed your face.

“Kookie, let me tell you something about me.” You started off dramatically. “I am a woman who beats to the sound of her own drum. I am spontaneous and wild. In other words, I’m not like most girls. You cannot put me in a box, my man.” You leaned close to his face. “I color outside the lines, sis.” You whispered to him, making deep eye contact.

Jungkook giggled, “I don’t follow what this has to do with Virgos?”

You leaned closer to his face, noses bumping as your eyes screamed seriousness as his crinkled in suppressed laughter.

“I don’t fit inside your cookie cutter box, baby boy.” You -attempted to- purr. However right after this, a loud burp escaped you.

Jungkook laughed loudly as you wondered to yourself if you really were drunk? But you decided that you weren’t given that you only had a handful of drinks and you were just more loose and comfortable than what you usually were.

“Are you sure your not drunk?” Jungkook laughed.

“‘HA HA, suck my clit.” You groaned while finishing your treat.

“Clit?” he asked while laughing harder. You rolled your eyes once more. Why did everyone laugh their asses off when you talked? You weren’t even that funny.

You got brief flashbacks of Jimin and all the times he would giggle madly at your unique choice of diction.

“Duh, I can’t say suck my dick. I don’t got one, honey. But please feel free to feast on this clitorous.”

Jungkook roared harder at this, clutching his stomach in hysteria. After a while, he calmed down and turned his attention towards you one more.

“I mean….I wouldn’t mind that.” He said, voice purposefully deeper as he gave you a smouldering gaze while his face twisted up in what he must’ve thought was alpha male attractiveness.

You gasped in disgust.

“I cannot believe that I ever thought you could be a fuckboy.” You told him. “You look like such a Chad when you try to pull bitches.”

Jungkook looked offended, “What you didn’t find that sexy?”

You laughed. “NEVER make that face again in my presence, please. You looked constipated. Also, you are the sexiest when you are an obedient little fella.”

“Obedient?” Jungkook looked unconvinced. “I thought girls liked the ‘daddy’ type of guy.”

You giggled. “Some do. But, I personally like it when you’re all eager to please. My aunt once told me that men are like dogs and needed to be trained. You are perfectly trainable, baby.”

Jungkook was stunned into a silence as your crumpled up your taco wrapper and threw it into the taco bell bag.

“Kookie?”

He broke away from his little trance and snapped his head to you.

A sudden urge to stay with your little puppy fogged your brain. Jungkook was so sweet and gentle and you had no worries of him ever taking advantage of you. Hell, if anyone was going to take advantage of anyone, it was going to be you to him. With his cute little doe eyes and boopable nose. You decided to ask.

“Let me sleep over at your house.”

He slightly coughed at this, eyes widened at your request. “Why?”

“I want to live like a blue blood heiress tonight. I bet you have Netflix AND hulu.”

Jungkook snorted and started his car back up. “Who am I to not be a little obedient puppy?”

Jungkook lived in an apartment that was near campus.

But just because it was an apartment did not at all mean it was shabby.

It was on the top floor of a very high-rise building. It was like a mini-penthouse and you happily skipped around, awwing at the place.

It had a giant living room complimented with a wide ass flat screen, top of the line gaming consoles and a L shaped black couch. A kitchen with a marble island and black barstools, and a balcony that overlooked the shimmering city lights. The entire place smelled faintly of his cologne. It wasn’t a grand amount of space, but considering the city view and the high-class building, you knew it was a luxury apartment. He just didn’t need extra room when it would just be him living there.

No decoration was really seen. All pictures that were hung up were mainly black and white photographs of scenery. You noted that all appliances were either black, white, grey or silver. But you didn’t expect a 21 year old male college student to be into interior design so you shrugged the simplicity off as normal.

You squealed and hopped onto the couch. You openly made yourself comfortable to do what you wished. With Jungkook, you always knew that he would let you walk all over him before he’d ever restrict you in any way. Perhaps this is why you felt so free in an element that was clearly not yours- Jungkook’s home.

“Jungkook! Let’s watch a scary movie!”

He sat beside you and turned on the TV with a remote. “Don’t girls hate those types of movies?”

You explained, “Mama didn’t raise no bitch.”

He laughed and scrolled through some movies on screen as you leaned back into your spot. “Kookie, I know you’re rich and all but how the fuck do you live here?”

He shrugged, eyes still on screen. “My father owns many buildings in the city. Some are apartment buildings. I just had to ask one for a place and they gave it to me. I don’t even have to pay rent.”

“You should let me move in.” You joked. Jungkook halted his movie-searching.

“Anytime you want.” Is all he said which slightly baffled you at the seriousness in his tone. “So Saw or The Conjuring?”

You settled on The Conjuring and he happily obliged. He got up for a minute as the opening scene played out, only to return with a big fluffy grey blanket that he threw over you two.

To your surprise, he nestled himself very close to you and threw his hefty arm over your smaller form.

If it was any guy, you might have been put off by this. But it was Kookie. And despite his image, he was harmless. Like a puppy. All bark but no bite. Even if you wanted to push him away, images of his iron man socks, video gaming sessions and IU posters would pop up into your head and dismiss that idea right away.

You cuddled closer to his side.

Having an overgrown obedient child with muscles the size of Texas on your side wouldn’t hurt you.

And to be honest, he was really cute.

In a puppy way though…...

Peaceful slumber was evilly ripped from your clutch as you felt your still form begin to shake.

You groaned, deep within your throat (that you noted was really dry) and the sound was raspy yet far away in your ears.

You pulled your worthless pile of bones closer to the heat source and smushed your head into the soft and thick object.

The shaking got more persistent, causing you to slowly become more aware of things you didn’t wish to wake to.

Slowly, a sound joined on the shaking.

A breathy voice calling for your name. “Y/n~”

It was like a siren that gently forced you to open your eyes.

Jungkook’s adolescent face was the first thing that you saw.

His eyes cinkeling cheerfully (yet tiredly) as his little overbite show casted in the form of a gentle smile. The soft and thick object you had smushed your face in? His chest.

You were in a king sized bed, and you had awaken to see that you had slept through the night whilst being face-to-face with Jungkook.

“You have a really nice mattress.” You complimented him (openly trying to ignore all the other factors at play here), voice raspy and bleak from the effect of sleep.

Jungkook smiled. “How about that brunch?”

You and Jungkook got up and began your day.

He handed you a large hoodie of his and said that you could wear it if you wanted. You took the large ‘Puma’ hoodie because you didn’t feel right going to brunch in the now wrinkled and taco-smelling crop top that you adowned last night. He handed you an extra tooth brush and you two brushed your teeth together.

“This is so fucking domestic, dude.” You had told him.

He had chuckled and spit into the sink, “Yeah it’s like we’re married and shit bro.”

You mentioned that last night’s makeup was nowhere to be seen on your face. Jungkook blushed and slyly admitted that he heard how sleeping in makeup was bad so he cleaned your face off with a wipe after you fell asleep during the movie. Next, he took you to his bedroom since he didn’t think the couch was good enough. He swore he didn’t try anything while

sleeping next to you and you just laughed it off but thanked him for taking such good care of you.

If he had a tail, you could’ve sworn that it would’ve been wagging at the sound of your praise.

You patted his head and said, “Good boy.”

Then, you two headed out to the overly expensive brunch place that Jungkook had looked up.

Both of you clad in oversized hoodies, slight bed head and tired but happy faces.

“So do you want blueberry pancakes or chocolate chip?” Jungkook asked.

You two were seated at a booth. However, you two were sat at the same side. You had your head (that was partly covered by a hood) rested on his buff shoulder while he read the menu and gave you the options for brunch.

Like a father and daughter, the way he read it to you as you childishly laid yourself on him.

“Bold of you to assume I want pancakes, bun.” You said while nuzzling yourself closer to him. “Waffles are god tier breakfast food and I’m not even about to argue.”

Jungkook laughed and you felt the vibration from under you. “Waffles it is, babygirl.”

He called over a waiter and ordered the food with suave.

“Jungkook?” You called out.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think you’re more like your mother or more like your father?” It was a question that was meant to get to know a person. Certainly, it would give insight to not only Jungkook’s personality, but his parents. His head turned towards you, and due to your position on his shoulder, your noses were only a centimeter apart and your eyes were extremely close and boring into each others at such a proximity.

“Ummm...I don’t remember my mom that much. She left the country when I was very young. And my dad is very opposite of me. Pretty cold and distant in all honesty.” Jungkook paused, round eyes looking down for a second. “How about you?”

You avoided the obvious land mine that was his sensitive family history. You didn’t want to be responsible for ruining the light-hearted vibe that was supposed to come along with brunch. So, you just focused on answering the question with a joyful smile.

“I’m more like my mother, without a doubt. I’ve always been told I got the smart ass gene from my mom.” You said, peering up at him.

“What’s your mother like?” He asked, seemingly very interested.

“She’s very head-strong and outspoken. When I was in first grade, there was a boy who would pick on me sometimes. I asked my mom for advice. And she knew the boy and his family because they lived near us. She told me to tell the boy that his mom was fat and his dad was bald and the future wasn’t looking bright for him. I got detention but my mom took me out for ice cream because she was proud.” The memory was fond to you as it just showed your mom’s unorthodox methods of raising you into the very witty woman you were now.

Jungkook laughed hard at that, his closeness allowing you to observe his eye crinkles with much more detail.

“I’d love to meet your mom.” he said while gazing down at you with admiration in his big brown eyes.

“I’d love that too.” You responded.

“Is she better after her accident?” Kook asked, surprising you with his memory.

“Yeah, it wasn’t that serious to begin with. Can’t believe your brother found a way to pay for her medical shit.”

Jungkook grumbled at that, face turning pouty. “It’s not fair, if I knew about your mom before he did, I would’ve done something too!”

You laughed. “I’m sure you would have Jungkook. How about you will be the first one to meet her, huh?” You didn’t care how unrealistic the proposition was, you wanted to cheer up the babe. And it worked, his face brightening up almost instantly.

A ding on your phone sounded and you checked to see who it was.

It was Kat.

‘I’m gonna skip past where the fuck you are and go straight to WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU SEEN KISSING A FUCKBOY AT THE PARTY?!’

{AUTHOR”S NOTE: so lmao funny story. Whilst I was writing this, god striked upon me and now only one of my headphones work. Love that. Wish I could make money off tumblr (you know like youtubers do) bc a bitch broke. So school is starting and I gotta say, I can’t pull off that many all nighters anymore. Updates will probably slow down a bit but like I think I gave you guys a lot over my break??? Also, hello to like a bunch of you guys who recently discovered Pandemonium??? A lot of you hoes came out of the woodwork so like hey. Hit up my inbox with what you guys thought of this chapter while I knock out the 17 requests I got.}

1K notes · View notes

camillemontespan · 5 years ago

Text

stars [AU. drake walker x MC]

Skinny Cappuccino with an Extra Shot (part one)

Williamsburg (part two)

Here we go, the third and final installment of this AU trilogy!

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @moonlightgem7 @sirbeepsalot @drakesensworld @katedrakeohd @notoriouscs @ritachacha @iplaydrake @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @be-still-my-aching-heart @dcbbw

******************************************************************************************

Relax. This is just a date. You’ve been on dates before. Granted, never to your date’s work, but hey, first time for everything. She is cool. She’s actually nice, she’s not stuck up, she is gorgeous, why the fuck is she interested in you? Right, breathe. Stop panicking.

Drake was standing the bottom of her apartment’s stoop, trying to work up the courage to press the buzzer. He wasn’t usually this bad with girls; but something about Camille made him feel nervous, excited, silly. It was a weirdly nice feeling.

Steeling himself, he made his way up the stairs and pressed the buzzer for Apartment 10. The piece of paper beside the number had her last name written in twirly, loopy handwriting.

The door buzzed him open and he entered the main foyer.

He found Apartment 10 and saw that she was standing at the door waiting for him. She was dressed but her hair was wrapped up in a towel. 'I promise I'll be ten minutes,' she told him. She beckoned him inside and led him through to the living room. Drake looked around. Dove grey walls, intricate cornices in the ceiling, wooden floors. It was a classy place. The TV was on, showing a football game - Raiders vs Patriots, Drake could see - and an unopened bottle of beer was placed on the coffee table beside the remote. Camille nodded at the beer and TV. 'Make yourself at home, I'm just going to dry my hair.' Giving him a smile, she padded out of the room and down the hallway.

Drake sat down on the sofa and opened the beer. This was new. Most of the time, his dates would have him standing in the hallway awkwardly. Not Camille. No. She put on the football and had a beer ready.

He looked around the room and began to see little bits of her. The bookcase filled with Austen novels and fashion biographies. The artwork on the walls which looked expensive. The framed photographs on the sideboard which showed her out with friends, on holiday, cuddling an old lady who resembled Camille.

Drake's phone buzzed with a text. Opening it, he saw it was from Leo.

Good luck tonight champ!

Drake grinned despite himself and took a picture of the TV screen and bottle of beer, captioning it : 'She's getting ready, look what she set me up with.' He sent it onto Leo, who texted back instantly.

Dude, marry her or I will.

Drake smirked and put his phone away. He watched the game for a few minutes, looking up when Camille came through.

She was wearing a red silk dress and gold strappy heels. Her hair was tousled around her shoulders and her makeup was smokey. Drake stared at her. 'You look stunning,' he said. Camille blushed and looked at him from under her eyelashes. 'You look pretty handsome yourself.'

Drake shrugged. He had picked out a black suit and tie for the occasion- he never felt comfortable dressed up but as this was a law firms annual party, he figured he had to make an effort. Plus it was Camille.

'Right let's go then!' she said, picking up her clutch bag. Drake followed her and she opened the door, letting him out first. She turned the key in the lock and when she looked up at him to say something, Drake's hand reached up behind her head and he gently pulled her into him. His lips brushed hers softly. He swore Camille sank into the kiss.

When they parted, she was blushing. 'What was that for?'

'I know I'll be wanting to kiss you all night and won't be brave enough to try anything. I was feeling brave then so..'

Camille laughed. 'You don't have to summon courage to kiss me, Drake.'

'Believe me, I do.'

Camille smiled and leaned up to kiss him herself. 'You can kiss me anytime you like, Walker.'

*************************************************************************************

They hailed a taxi to The Empire. They chatted easily on the way and Drake began to feel himself properly relax now.

The Empire was lit up from the outside. Pink and purple floodlights hit the facade. The words Beaumont Bash 2019 were lit uo against the stone and Drake could hear pulsing music coming from inside. Bouncers were at the door and Camille showed them her staff pass, before telling them that Drake was on the guest list. The bouncers let them inside and Drake whistled when he saw the scenes in front of him.

There were waitresses holding out trays of champagne glasses - their skin was spray painted in pink glitter body spray, as if they were aliens. As Drake and Camille went further into the hotel, they saw lights that looked like glowing planets hanging from the ceiling and the walls were lit up by a galaxy floodlight, making it look like they were in another world.

'Why is a law firm pretending to be in space?' Drake asked her. Camille grinned. 'This is our theme of the year. Beaumont LLP: The Firm of the Future.' We want to dominate the sector and be the law firm that everyone in the world wants to work with.'

'That's a big ambition.'

'You haven't met my boss,' Camille said, 'and speaking of, there he is!'

Drake looked over to see a tall, thin man wearing a purple silk suit. He was talking to some guests and was toasting his glass of champagne against theirs. Drake thought he looked familiar.

Beside him was a younger man, lanky, wearing a blue suit that sparkled. He turned and waved at Camille, rushing over.

'Little Blossom! You're here!' he cried, pulling her into a hug. He saw Drake and offered him a giant smile. 'You must be Drake! Hi, I'm Maxwell!' he thrust out his hand eagerly and Drake shook it.

'Nice to meet you, Maxwell. This is a great party.'

'I know right! I planned it myself! Do you get the theme?!'

'Firm of the Future, I see it,' Drake replied.

Maxwell finger gunned him and winked. 'You betcha. Now, Camille, how about we get a bottle of champagne? It is a free bar after all.'

'I don't think bottles are included in that, Max,' Camille said, raising an eyebrow. Maxwell rolled his eyes. 'For the common people maybe. But for me...,' He gave them both a wink and Drake chuckled. Maxwell led them toward the bar but was stopped by the man in the purple silk suit.

'Maxwell,' he said. He saw Camille and kissed her on both cheeks. 'Darling you look fantastic.. And who is this fine piece you've brought with you? A mid year bonus?'

Drake reddened as the man's eyes roamed Drake. Camille cleared her throat. 'This is Drake, my date. Drake, this is Bertrand Beaumont, the managing partner of Beaumont LLP.'

Drake shook Bertrand's hand. 'Have I seen you on the cover of Time Magazine?' he asked.

Bertrand winked at him. 'Yes, my darling, you have indeed. Pray tell, what do you do? Model? Act? I can see you modelling for an outdoor magazine myself, you are very... rugged.'

'Bertrand, are you hitting on my date right in front of me?' Camille asked, her hand on her hip.

Bernard waved his hand. 'Darling, I flirt with everyone's dates!'

Drake shuffled on his feet and felt Camille take his hand, squeezing it gently. 'Well this one is off limits to you!' she replied. Bertrand pretended to be offended but then kissed her cheek. He looked at Drake. 'She's my best Paralegal,' he told Drake seriously. 'She's a diamond. Now, away and help yourselves to the free bar!'

Camille lead Drake away with Maxwell following. 'So, at work, Bertrand is completely different,' Camille whispered.

'In what way?'

'Everything. His clothes, his mannerisms, his attitude. But when we have a Bash, it's like he's been replaced with this glamorous, fun, kinda pervy guy. It's so weird.'

'Maybe he has a twin?'

'Maybe. All I know is he has a collection of kimonos that are worth more than my rent.'

'How do you know that?' Drake whispered. Camille shot him a mischievous smile. 'They held a bash at their townhouse once. Hana and I went sneaking around, came across his dressing room. Oh my god it was a room of wonders!'

Maxwell asked for a bottle of champagne and three glasses. He handed one to Drake. 'So Camille tells me you make her her morning coffee and you also work in a bar. I tried working in a bar once, I was shit at it. I accidentally charged someone for a bottle of wine when they had actually asked for a glass. Oh dear.' He gave Drake a bashful grin and shrugged.

Drake smiled. 'It's alright, pays the bills you know? What do you at Beaumont LLP?'

'He's the social media superstar!' Camille answered for him. Maxwell bowed. 'I am indeed... A superstar.'

Camille chuckled. 'Seriously, he has that engraved in the sign on his office door.'

'Perks of the job, Little Blossom!' Maxwell turned to Drake. 'Basically, I manage our Twitter, Facebook and Instagram. I live feed our seminars, try and make law actually look interesting instead of full of stuffy old men. It was difficult at first but I discovered that if a post a video of a cute dog every so often, people will follow regardless. People love corgis right now I think.. Guys help me find videos of a corgi.'

Maxwell whipped out his phone and the three of them crowded round it, trying to find YouTube videos of corgis. 'This one's wearing socks!' Camille squealed.

'Yeah but this one is wearing a sombrero!' Drake protested. 'It's called Pablo!'

‘Hey guys, what are you up to?’

They looked up and Drake recognised Camille’s friend who ordered matcha tea at the coffee shop. ‘Hana!’ Camille greeted her, giving her a hug.

‘Ah Mr Barista Guy!’ Hana said, turning to Drake. Drake smiled and offered his hand to shake hers. ‘Drake Walker, nice to meet you, Hana.’

‘You too! Are you enjoying the party?’

‘Yeah, it’s really cool! Different.. I’ve never been to a shindig like this.’

‘Ha, get used to it if you’re going to be dating Camille,’ a familiar redhead said, sidling up to the group. Camille blushed. ‘Hey Olivia. Drake, this is our friend, Olivia.’

Olivia looked at Drake, her nose wrinkled. ‘Barista by day, bartender by night? Charming.’

Drake frowned. He was about to reply when he felt Camille take his hand. ‘Liv, don’t be a bitch,’ she told her. Olivia smirked. Camille turned to Drake.

‘Olivia has a bite but she’s a softie when you get to know her, promise.’

Drake nodded but he felt flat. Looking around the room at the lawyers dressed in their suits and the tinkle of laughter and the sound of champagne flutes being toasted, he felt like a fish out of water. What was he even doing here? He didn’t belong here. He was a barista and a bartender. He was on minimum wage. He had never even had a lawyer before.

‘Excuse me,’ he said quickly and he turned to leave the room. He felt Camille try to pull him back and say, ‘Drake, please..’ but he shrugged her off. He needed air. Walking with purpose, he strode to the foyer and out of the entrance door.

The warm New York air hit him and he inhaled, filling his lungs with the city. Looking around, he spotted a taxi and hailed it. He knew it was rude to leave Camille. But he didn’t want to feel inferior; as his mom had told him time and time again, nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent.

He reached the taxi and pulled open the door.

‘Drake!’

He turned to see Camille running after him. She reached him, panting. ‘Drake, please. Don’t go.’

‘I don’t belong in there, Camille,’ he told her. ‘I’m not a lawyer. I’m not successful, I’m not rich, I’m not anything, okay? Why have you not brought a lawyer as your plus one? You’re wasted being my date. I’m just the guy who makes your morning coffee and works in a dive bar at night.’

He turned to get into the taxi but she pulled him around. He sighed, looking at anywhere but her. Camille reached out and pulled his chin towards her so he was staring into her brown eyes.

‘You’re my date because I like you,’ she told him. ‘I think you’re really interesting and fun and clever and sweet and bonus, insanely goodlooking.’ Drake cast his eyes down, embarrassed, and Camille clicked her fingers. ‘Look at me, Walker.’

He looked at her.

‘You are the best guy in that room,’ she said. ‘I know that we’ve only just met but I know that you are worth way more than all of them combined. I’ve got such a good feeling about you, you know?’

Drake blushed. ‘Montespan..’

‘I’m not asking you to come back in there but I do want to continue our date,’ she told him. ‘So, Drake Walker, what do you say?’

Drake looked at her earnest face. ‘I say the night’s still young.’

‘Correct answer. So, your place or mine?’

*******************************************************************************************

They went back to Camille’s. As soon as they were in the door, she kicked off her heels. ‘I’m going to get changed,’ she told him. ‘There’s beer in the fridge, knock yourself out.’

Drake went through to the kitchen to grab a beer. The fridge was littered with post its - doctors appointment reminders, shopping list, to do lists. A polaroid was stuck up with a magnet of Camille and Hana at a party raising their wine glasses in the air. Drake smiled; he felt like being in her apartment was like being allowed inside Camille’s head. All of these little touches about her laid bare to him.

He placed a beer on the coffee table for Camille and settled down on the sofa. He turned on the TV and saw that The Sixth Sense was on.

‘Ahhh I see dead people!’ Camille cried, entering the room. She had changed into denim shorts and a New York Giants jersey which was oversized on her, slipping off her shoulder. Drake felt his jeans tighten and hoped he could get rid of the situation before she sat down beside him.

She brought over a pizza delivery leaflet and sat down next to him, oblivious to the tent situation.

‘So, large pizza with like, all the meat?’ she suggested. Drake chuckled. ‘Sounds good to me.’

Camille phoned the pizza place and then settled down to watch the film. Drake was painfully aware of how close she was to him. He could smell the coconut scent of her hair. He swallowed and kept his eyes fixed on the TV, not absorbing anything that Haley Joel Osment was saying to Bruce Willis.

Camille stretched her long legs out, crossing her feet on the coffee table. Drake looked at her legs out the corner of his eye but then scolded himself. Stop being a perv.

Drake spent the next thirty minutes in silent torture. He really wanted to hold her close, make a move. But he didn’t want to come across like he was taking advantage.

The door buzzed and Camille jumped up. She came back with the pizza box and she placed it on the table. They both dug in. Drake turned to say something to Camille about how the twist in the film was so obvious, but chuckled when he saw she had pizza sauce on her cheek.

‘What? What’s so funny?’ she asked, blushing.

‘You got sauce on your face,’ he told her, smiling. She reached to get at it but missed. Drake shook his head and leaned forward to wipe it off. ‘There, all clean now,’ he said quietly.

Camille’s eyes met his. There was a loaded silence. He cleared his throat and looked away.

‘Drake.’

‘Yeah?’

‘You know you can kiss me whenever you want. I told you that earlier.’

Their eyes were steady on each other. Camille raised an eyebrow, daring him. Fuck it.

Drake bolted forward, his hands reaching out to behind her head and their mouths crashed together. Camille let out a gasp of surprise and Drake felt her smile against his lips. His arms went underneath her legs and he picked her up, throwing her back against the sofa. Camille laughed and Drake grinned, pinning her arms above her head, his body lying along hers.

‘Tell me if this is too much,’ he whispered.

She smirked. ‘I’m a big girl, Drake.’

Drake kissed her jawline, travelling down to her throat. His hands roamed up under her jersey, feeling her bare skin. Camille reached out to pull her sweater off and Drake watched as she cast it aside. Drake undid her bra in one swift motion, throwing it to the floor, and he closed his eyes when he felt her hands unbutton his shirt and skim across his chest.

Her legs wrapped around his waist. Drake was still on top of her and he breathed in her scent. They kissed deeper, more desperately now. They reached for each other, Camille unbuckling his belt, her hand reaching down to wrap around him.

Suddenly, in their hastiness, they rolled off the sofa.

‘Ah!’

Camille was lying on top of Drake. They were lying on the floor and they were staring at each other, holding back laughter.

‘Did I mention that I’m really smooth?’ Drake asked. Camille burst out laughing. ‘I think you can make up for it, Walker.’

Drake’s hand reached down to cup her ass and Camille ground her hips into his. Their lips caught and Drake’s fingers tangled in her hair. She let out a groan and tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth. Drake unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them down. She cast them aside, her underwear following.

Drake took a moment to take her in. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered.

Camille blushed. ‘No I’m not..’

‘You really are.’

Sitting up, Drake pulled her further into him and her hand guided him to her entrance. He looked into her eyes, saw the desire, and gently he pulled her onto his length. Camille let out a sharp gasp. ‘Fuck, Drake, you’re really big..’

Drake kissed her neck, enjoying the feel of her around him. Their hips began to rock together, steady and fluid. ‘Oh god..’ she breathed.

Drake kissed her mouth fervently. His hands roamed her body, feeling her skin. Camille rode him harder, crying out louder as the movements became more rapid.

Their eyes met. ‘Make up for not being smooth, Drake,’ she said, her breath hitching. Drake’s eyes bore into hers.

‘Challenge accepted.’

*******************************************************************************************

They spent the rest of the night curled up under a blanket, naked, watching the rest of The Sixth Sense. The pizza box sat in between them; Camille was lying against Drake and he had his arms wrapped around her body. This was nice. This was cosy.

‘I really want to adopt Haley Joel Osment...’ Camille said. ‘He’s just too precious for this world.’

‘But, Camille..’ Drake said, staring at her in mock horror, ‘he sees dead people!’

Camille giggled and snuggled into him. ‘I would protect him at all costs.’

‘I’m sure you would.’

‘Let me guess..’ she said slowly. ‘You would adopt Bruce Willis, wouldn’t you?’

‘Die Hard Bruce Willis, yeah, why not. He can kill all of my enemies.’

Camille laughed and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. Drake looked at the clock; it was 1am. ‘So... I should probably head home,’ he said.

‘Aww but.. we’re having so much fun.’

‘I know. But it’s getting late and you should go to sleep-’

‘Drake, I’m not tired.’

‘No but you will be soon. I should head.’

He stood up. Why was he suddenly being weird?

Camille frowned. ‘You know, you could stay over.’

‘I don’t want to look like..’

‘Like you’re taking advantage? Drake, you’re like, the most polite guy I know. Trust me, you’re not taking advantage of me.’

He scuffed his foot against the floor. ‘I’m a gentleman.’

‘We’ve already had sex.’

‘A reformed gentleman, then.’

Camille sighed. ‘I told you, I’m a big girl. I’m not expecting a marriage proposal. Maybe just a really nice cappuccino in the morning, okay?’

Drake chuckled.

‘Drake, stay,’ she said, her face serious. ‘It’s 1am. You can sleep on the sofa if you must but got to say, my bed’s comfier and I’ve just got a new mattress which is like sleeping on a cloud.’

Drake stared at her. She wasn’t going to give up. ‘Ahh fine, you got me. I’ll stay.’

She grinned at him. ‘Awesome!’

They turned off the TV and lights. Camille guided him to her bedroom. Drake stared at her naked body as she walked down the hall, her hips circling a figure of eight.

She got under the duvet. Drake followed.

‘Holy shit, this mattress is incredible.’

‘I know right!’ she squealed.

Drake settled into it and stretched. Camille looked at him mischievously.

‘Want to test it?’

*******************************************************************************************

As Camille slept, Drake was awake. He lay there looking out of the window, listening to the patter of rain. The moonlight shone in, highlighting Camille’s sleeping figure. She glowed. Drake could hear the sounds of New York, still awake, as always, and he had never felt more content.

Camille let out a sigh and rolled over into his chest. Drake wrapped his arm around her and listened to her lightly breathing. He wasn’t going to mess this up. This girl, Camille, was perfect. Drake felt like he had to count his lucky stars. He gazed out the window and although he couldn’t see the stars thanks to the city lights, he still thanked the universe, which had seemed to have gifted him this person. Drake closed his eyes and for the first time in a while, he slept peacefully.

#drake walker #drake walker x mc #trr fanfic

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bran-writes · 5 years ago

Text

OC Backstory Week 1: Family

Hey, glad to still be participating! If you want to check out this event and join in, go look at @yourocsbackstory‘s blog or the OC Backstory Masterpost

This week is family, and I’m continuing telling Sunny Keaton’s backstory in Farm Boy Blues. Here in this scene, Sunny meets his father for the first and last time since he left The Farm. Sunny’s just left NYC after a disaster with the organized crime family he’d been working for and he’s on his way to Dyson City- this is a few years before he gets his contracting license.

TW: Violence, repeated mentions of child abuse

Sunny wanted a cigarette. That’s all he dared to think about as he sat in the silent apartment. He didn’t actually have a good handle on why he was there, why he decided to break in to his father’s home and wait for him. He’d been five when Brian gave him up to The Farm. The only thing Sunny remembered about the man was being scared of him. Of being hit by him repeatedly. That memory had always stuck with him, even when he got to The Farm.

Six days out of New York City, and on his way to California, Sunny decided to check the address he’d gotten from a fixer in the city. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t expecting a warm reception, which is why he decided to break in anyways.

Might as well do it on my terms, Sunny had thought as he used the cloned security card he’d bought to open the apartment door, checking for cameras in the hallways and watching for witnesses.

Getting into the apartment easy enough, and Sunny satisfied his curiosity by looking through the man’s photos placed around the messy home, checking the usual places for hidden weapons, and just messing around a bit. He’d been nervous, and figured he’d gather more information while he passed the time. That was when he found the man’s porn stash. That was when Sunny considered calling the police. Or worse.

During his investigation, he’d also found the man’s hidden Commonwealth material- which probably meant his father still supported the fallen regime. When he was done looking around, he pulled his ski mask on and waited at the table in the small, cramped and smelly kitchen.

Sunny really wanted a cigarette. But from the smell in the apartment, he figured his father wasn’t a smoker. So that’d be the first thing he smelled when he walked in. Sunny didn’t want the man tipped off in the slightest.

An hour went by while Sunny sat in silence, trying to stamp down his anger as it bubbled up in his chest. The teenager had thought about this moment for a long time. The memory that kept coming back to Sunny of him laying on the floor of his childhood bedroom while his father’s boot came crashing down on his side never strayed too far away from his consciousness. In fact, it had a funny way of popping up uninvited while he tried to sleep. He checked his watch and grunted. He was about to meet the man who gave him his earliest memories of being bullied, smacked around. He was about to meet the man who handed him over to The Farm. And after everything that’d happened, Sunny had a lot of anger he never felt comfortable unleashing on anyone else. That was about to change.

Right on time, just as had happened the previous two days when Sunny staked out the apartment, the boy heard his father coming home. The door’s key card reader chimed and Sunny’s heart pounded in his chest, the back of his neck tingling. He sat completely still, hand gripping the pistol tucked into the back of his belt.

Brian Somers walked into the living room, tossing a duffel bag onto his couch. Sunny stared intently at the man, who had yet to even spot him, and almost groaned in disgust. He looked thin and stretched- clearly still on drugs, which is how the fixer found him in the first place.

Look at this piece of shit. Why are you even here? Sunny asked himself. It was too late to back out now, and part of Sunny was hungry for this confrontation. He stood up in the darkness of the kitchen right as Brian turned his couch-side lamp on. The man jumped as he turned and saw Sunny, standing stock still and glaring at him from under the black ski mask.

“Jesus Christ!”

Brian spun to run back towards the door, but Sunny was faster. In a fluid motion, the teenager scooped up the chair he’d just been sitting in and hurled it across both rooms, smacking the man in the back. Before his father could even get up, Sunny was closing the space between them. He barely had time to notice Brian fumbling for something under the recliner in the living room.

Nice, Sunny, he thought to himself, you forgot to check under the damn chair!

Sunny had just enough time to side-step the first blast from his father’s sawed-off shotgun that tore the air in the room with a deafening blast. By the time the man racked another round in, Sunny reached forward and smacked the barrel away, the second shot peppering the wall.

Wrenching the shotgun out of Brian’s hand, Sunny reared back and smacked him with the handle of it. While his father yelled out in pain, Sunny tossed the gun onto the couch before descending on the crawling man, whose desperation had just gone up a few notches.

Sunny straddled his father and punched him repeatedly in the kidneys. His strikes were accurate and swift- a product of his training at The Farm. Brian hollered out in pain and tried to buck the teenager off him, almost sending them both into the coffee table.

Not intent on drawing this out any longer than he had to, Sunny grabbed his father by the shoulder and flipped him over. He pulled his Beretta from his belt and whipped the man across the jaw with the short barrel.

“Fuck!”

“Hold still before I plug you,” Sunny almost screamed. Surprisingly, Brian stopped struggling.

“Look, I told Eckhart I’d have his money by the end of the week! He promised me I had till the end of the week!”

Brian looked panicked. Sunny stared at him from under the mask, studied his gaunt, leathery face. The boy couldn’t help but see himself in his father’s visage. He looked too much like Sunny(although a ghoulish, druggie version of Sunny) for the boy to ignore.

The only word Sunny could muster in his mind to describe his father, sprawled out on the carpet beneath him, was “Pathetic.” He tore his mask off and stuffed it in his pocket. When the man got a good look at him, his eyes widened. “Oh God, no!”

Brian tried to struggle again, chanting, “No, no, no,” repeatedly. Sunny gripped the man’s throat and brandished his pistol.

“Hey, hey! Stop moving, or you’re dead. Now open your mouth.” The man stared up in horror for a moment too long. Sunny put the barrel of the pistol against Brian’s sweating forehead. “I’m not gonna tell you again. Open your mouth before I knock your teeth out.”

Now sobbing, the man opened his mouth, quivering. Sunny stuck the barrel of his Beretta between his father’s teeth and the man sobbed harder. “You can close your mouth now. I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to answer them with a nod or a shake. Got it?”

The man nodded.

“Good,” Sunny mumbled, adjusting his knees so they securely pinned the man’s arms to the floor. “You recognize me?”

Nod.

“Do you know why I’m here?”

Brian shook his head, eyes furrowed. “I’m here because for some reason, no matter how hard I try, I can’t forget what you did to me. How you used to treat me. Do you remember that?”

The man froze, eyes locked on Sunny. He even stopped crying for a moment. Of course, he didn’t want to admit it. The man probably assumed his son was too young to remember. Sunny pulled the hammer of his pistol back with a satisfying and heavy click.

“Answer my goddamn question.”

Brian nodded slowly.

“Good. It’s funny,” Sunny sniffed, “After everything they did to me at The Farm, after everything they made me do, I never forgot you. I never forgot how you tried to beat any kind of hope out of me. The funny part is, that made me want it even more. Do you want to know what they made me do at The Farm?”

The man shook his head.

“I thought so. You were ‘man’ enough to give me up, but not ‘man’ enough to face what they did. I figure that’s why you never looked for me after The Commonwealth fell. Did you have any idea what happened to me? Where I was?”

Again, Brian shook his head, breathing heavily.

“Figured that too. I should paint your fucking carpet right now for what you did. You are, and I can’t say it loud enough, human garbage. Do you know that?”

Hesitantly, the man nodded. Sunny thumbed the hammer release and watched it snap forward. Brian jumped in surprise and groaned. Satisfied, Sunny pulled the gun from his father’s mouth and scooted away from him, backing against the couch.

Brian crawled to the recliner and held his sides trying to catch his breath. He coughed up some sick looking liquid that made Sunny want to wretch before leaning against the giant chair, eyeing his son.

“What are you going to do?”

“About you? I thought about just doing you and letting somebody to find the body,” Sunny shrugged, “until I found that porn in your room. Did you take those photos?”

Brian didn’t look his son in the eye, but slumped down against the recliner. Sunny pointed the gun at him. “Just keep your hands where I can see them and answer the question.”

The man raised his hands and nodded, “Yeah, yeah, they’re mine. I took ‘em.”

“Are those women still alive?”

“What? Oh, yeah they agreed to all that. It’s part of this club I’m in, they’ve got… They’ve got pictures of me like that too, it’s what we like.”

Sunny rolled his eyes, not welcoming the images of what he’d seen with his father as the center piece. Watching his father’s expressions, the way he held himself, Sunny could tell he wasn’t lying. “You’re not worth the bullet, I decided. I actually want to have a life, I want to do something with it. I just killed a dozen or so mob enforcers in New York who tried to fuck me over, I can’t afford another body on me.”

Brian looked relieved at first, until he registered what Sunny said about New York. “The New York mob? Is that how you found me?”

“Don’t worry about how I found you,” Sunny narrowed his eyes. “The question is, how I leave you.”

“You said you weren’t going to kill me…”

“That’s right,” Sunny stood up, “that doesn’t mean I’m not looking to return some more of that good ole’ abuse you gave me.”

“Now, son, listen,” Brian held his hands up in desperation, “I was a different man back then, I was hurt. And instead of getting help I passed that hurt on to you.”

“Yeah I know that, now give me your hand.”

“Son…”

“What did I tell you about asking twice? And don’t call me son,” Sunny said coldly was he got up and stood over his father. “Now give me. Your. Hand.”

Shaking, Brian held out his right hand.

“Your other one.”

“I need that for work, Con-”

“That’s not my name. I don’t ever want to hear you say it again. Now do what I told you, or shit’s about to get real weird in here.”

Brian gave Sunny his left hand- his dominant one. The fifteen year-old placed his father’s quivering hand on the coffee table. “I want you to think about this every time you remember me. I want you to think about this every time you read your little Commonwealth propaganda bullshit you got stashed away here.”

Sunny flipped the Beretta around, held it up in the air while the man squirmed, and brought the grip down hard.

Outside, the Pennsylvania fall air cooled the sweat on Sunny’s neck as he descended the apartment stairs. By the time he hit the bottom, a cigarette was jammed between his lips as his shoes slapped against the wet leaves on the ground. He made it all the way to the parking lot before he heard somebody behind him. Sunny stopped just as the person addressed him.

“Is he still alive?” Agent Ellis’ voiced was tinged with a note of curiosity.

“Yeah. I’m not a murderer, y’know.”

“So that wasn’t you who just left a trail of bodies behind you in New York?”

Sunny turned around, puffing the cigarette and eyeing the federal agent, amused at how this man knew so much but never seemed to catch him in the act. “Those were mob enforcers, Ellis. And I killed them in self defense.”

“Ah, okay, just making sure. You know that’s still a fucking shit storm They want to bring down on you, right?”

“So They sent you by yourself to bring me in?” Sunny arched an eyebrow.

“No, actually, They sent me with the hope that you wouldn’t get spooked and start a shoot out. The president is caught between a rock and a hard place. On one end, she has no intention of just locking a bunch of children up in a prison. On the other hand, we can’t go one month without one of you killing somebody, so…”

“So, I can’t control what the other kids are doing.”

“What are you doing?”

“Going to California.”

“Why?”

Sunny shrugged, “Figure I might be able to start over. Have a real life. Not have to look over my shoulder for the police, or feds, or crime syndicates.”

Grafton chuckled, rubbing the scar on his neck. He looked tired. “So you’re going straight?”

Sunny glanced at the sky above Agent Ellis’s head, the morning sun peaking out over the trees. It was a nice day already. He wanted to enjoy it. He wanted to enjoy every day he could, from now on. “Yep. Going straight.”

“In that case, I would be more than happy to escort you to California. Maybe it’ll be easier to place you in a home there, anyways.”

Sunny scoffed, “I never said I’m ready to be put in the system. I’ll be fine on my own. Better off, actually.”

Ellis sighed, “Sunny, you’re fifteen years old. I can’t just drop you off in Cali and wave bye as you saunter off into the sunset.”

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to discuss that on the way to Dyson City. It’s a long drive…” Sunny shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette. “So where’d you park?”

_______________________________________________________________________

Tag List:

@writerinafury @oneleggedflamingo @carmina-solis @anomaly00 @neirawrites @lnspired-insomniac

#Farm boy blues #yourocsbackstory #my wip

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