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plush-rabbit · 3 years ago

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I Want To Hear You Say It

Ch. 8: Did You Find What You Were Looking For?

Word Count: 6.8K

A/N: A fun filler chapter!! (I wanted to split the chapter, but it didn’t feel right so yall get a long one:))

Prev.

It’s quiet between the two men. It isn’t out of the ordinary, while they might be close- or as close as two villains can be- their conservations are usually short and limited to only certain subjects, neither of which any of the men want to approach. Shuichi doesn’t know when it started, he just knows that it has. Him and the other members have noticed the sudden change that Shigaraki has taken on lately. The secrecy- more so than usual- along with the sneaking out late at night and sneaking back in just before dawn. No one knows where he’s going and even if one did manage to follow him, they lost him just as easily, almost as if Shigaraki was making it all that much harder to track him and his location.

There’s different bets going around. Twice believes that he’s gone to underground concerts which host both villains and civilians alike- he’s sure Jin had mentioned that he went to a few to acquire some cheap alcohol. Toga believes that he’s gone out to try to find out where Kurogiri exactly is, and as far-fetched as that is, it’s not impossible. Dabi likes to believe that he’s gone to some internet café since the “internet sucks” here at the current base. He isn’t wrong, the little internet that they do get is from a coffee place opposite of where they rest for now. Mr. Compress and Magne don’t really want to get into it, commenting that as long as he isn’t leading anyone back, then it’s all okay. Shuichi on the other hand doesn’t know what to think. There’s something off about Shigaraki now. He isn’t sure what, but there just is. He’s constantly checking his phone, looking at the screen for far too long, and when someone gets close, he shuts his phone off.

Shuichi glances to where Shigaraki leans against the wall, his legs over the edge of the bed, and hands holding onto the controller, pinkies extended outward. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Shuichi states, his hands gripping on the controller, his claw pressing carefully on the joystick. Tomura hums in response, his eyes glued to the screen before him, his character successfully stealing a car. Shuichi nervously clears his throat, a chill running through his body as he follows Shigaraki’s avatar through the city. “You’ve been out a lot these past nights.” In the corner of his eye, he sees the slightest still of him, his thumb hovering over a button before he presses on it. “We’re all-” he struggles to find a proper word for the feelings of unrest that have been growing inside the team- “wondering about where you’ve been.”

“Does it matter?” Tomura replies, his eyes now narrowed and the top of his lip curling upward. Shuichi’s gaze is fixated on him, and Tomura lets out a sigh. “I’ve just been meeting with someone. It’s nothing to worry about.”

It isn’t enough. He’s sure that he can press just a little more. Just enough for him to slip about something other than meeting someone for a meeting. His canine nips at the soft pink flesh inside of his mouth. “You aren’t usually so distant about these types of things,” Shuichi comments, his attention to the game half-hearted.

“What type of things?” There’s an edge to Shigaraki’s words and if Shuichi weren’t so curious, maybe he would have backed off.

“You know-” he shrugs his shoulders and his character moves away from the other’s avatar- “going out and meeting with potential recruits. You’d at least send one of us to do it. Like with Twice. Twice is good with people. He always makes sure he isn't being followed. Shouldn’t it be- I don’t know, Mister, or Dabi-” his avatar rummages through his inventory before pulling out a knife- “even me?”

He can be good for something other than pure missions where it involves needing someone to drive. When he spares a glance at his leader, he sees him deep in thought, his fingers resting over the buttons, and his character still. “It isn’t like that,” Shigaraki states with an unusual distaste in his words. “This is a special case. They’re a special case,” he corrects, “I don’t want them to be freaked out by outsiders.” For a moment, he and Shigaraki lock eyes in the reflection of the television. “They were freaked enough when it was just me.”

“No offense, but you aren’t exactly the most comforting person in the League. That would go to Magne or even Mister.” Shuichi tries to tease, hoping that the lighter mood would offer just another snippet of information.

“It took them a long time to trust me. Or at least to feel safe around me. I’m not risking it by introducing new characters to the mix.” Whatever or whoever it is that Shigaraki is hiding, he does a good job at it.

“Is it even safe?” Shuichi presses, his character just running around a building, not doing anything in particular. He doesn’t know what answer to expect. It must be safe if Shigaraki continues to visit him, but what if it isn’t. What if he’s being led to a false sense of security?

“Is what safe?” Shigaraki asks with an annoyed tone. It’s apparent that he doesn't want to have this talk, but Shuichi does. He needs to know what's going on. He’s here for Stain and as long the League will uphold that bit of ideology, then he’ll stay. It’s not as if he has anywhere else to go.

“Meeting them,” Shuichi says as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. He’s met with silence. “If you can’t trust them to meet us, then what makes you think they won’t sell you out?” It might be cruel, he isn’t entirely sure, but it’s the truth. If they were scared to meet Shigaraki, it’s only fear that is keeping them compliant and eventually that will run out.

“They won’t,” he responds with a serious tone. “I know them. I know who they are and where they are. They won’t do something like that.” His character stops moving and he can hear the controller creak under the hands of Shigaraki. “You don’t know them. I do. They won’t snitch.

Shuichi turns to him, his controller on his lap as he leans close to Shigaraki. He has to understand where he’s coming from. If the roles were reversed, he’d be acting the same. He’d be just as accusatory, if not more. “But-”

“I have to go.” Shigaraki places the controller down on the bed and moves away, the floorboards quietly creaking under him as he stands. “Log off for me, will ya? I need to go.”

The door closes and once again, Shuichi is left alone. Behind him, the screen shifts in color, and when he turns, Shigaraki’s character has been killed. Carefully, a scaled hand picks up the discarded controller only to place it down gently beside him. The menu pops up and the game is saved, the screen returning to normal after a second, the character now revived, and suddenly standing next to Shuichi’s character.

He isn’t sure what’s going on, but at least he knows that whoever it is that Shigaraki is visiting, is someone that he cares for. The screen goes black and Shuichi is left to stare at his reflection. The room is quiet and only lit by a flickering bulb that remains lit. There’s a knock on his door, and when he turns to face it, there are shadows between the space of the door and the floor. He scratches at his snout, his claws picking at dried skin and ripping it away. “Come in,” he says, leaning against the wall and watching as the remainder of the League walks into his room, letting the door close with a soft click of the lock coming into place.

Magne is the first to speak. “So? Did you find out anything useful? Are we getting a new recruit?”

“Or is he going to some concert?” Twice says, interrupting Magne with a hand on her shoulder. “Who’s right? Who wins the bet?”

With a simple roll of the eyes, Magne continues onwards. “Ignore the bet, what’s he doing?” She runs a hand through his hair and plays with the ends as they all stare at Shuichi with a waiting explanation.

He shrugs. It’s the honest answer that he can give. “I don’t know. I don’t think- Where he’s going to, it isn’t to meet with recruits. He seems almost-” he hesitates to find the correct word- “protective about them.”

“Who’s “them”?” Dabi asks, his gaze focused on the television that still buzzes with electricity.

Once again, he shrugs. “I don’t know. I tried as best as I could, but when I pushed, he shut down. And then he just said he had to go and left.” Shuichi glances at the television, frowning when it still remains just him in the reflection. “All I know is that they’re easily skittish, he doesn’t want us to meet them, and he’s defensive when it comes to him.”

The bed dips as Toga sits on it, her legs crossed and a pillow pulled to her lap. “Well, lucky for us, I managed to actually follow where he’s been going,” she says with a smug attitude, her grin wide and kittenish. All eyes are on her and she sits straight, her hands playing with the edge of the pillow case, wrapping a thread around her finger. “I had to take somebody’s blood but whatever. I doubt he suspected something because I saw him enter some apartment.”

“An apartment?” Mr. Compress asks, his head leaning to a side. “With tenants? Or was it abandoned?”

“Tenants. I saw people go in and out. You know, like civilians. So I guess, whoever he is meeting, it means we all lost the bet.” The attention is still on her, confusion written on everyone’s face and she sighs. “I’m sure of it. The woman I was disguised as was even greeted by someone who lives there.”

“When was this?” Dabi asks, his eyes on Toga. “Time wise,” he clarifies.

“Um, maybe around, two in the morning?” Toga shrugs and moves further onto the bed. “I didn’t check the time, but it was late.” her legs are out straight and Magne sits beside her.

Magne starts talking, her fingers tapping against her knees. “It’s a bit later than when he usually goes out but-”

“And you’re sure it was him?” Mr. Compress asks, taking a step closer to her, his eyes narrowed in confusion as he takes in the new information when Toga nods. “Do you remember where it was?” Once again, Toga nods, pulling out a piece of folded paper and handing it towards the man. The paper crinkles as he opens it and the two standing behind him, inch closer to read what it says. “Huh,” he breathes out. “Should we pay a visit?”

“A visit?” Shuichi hisses. “We don’t even know who they are. All we know is that they live-”

“You said it yourself,” Dabi interjects, his eyes grabbing at the paper and tucking into his pocket. “Whoever it is, is skittish. They’re scared. Which means that if that hand-covered bitch could force them into submission, then we can too.” Shuichi glowers at the man and Dabi sighs. “We aren’t gonna kill them or anything, we just want to see who it is. Aren’t you curious about who it is that lives there?” Shuichi’s silence is enough of an answer. Dabi grins, wide and devious, as if this is all some sort of game to him. “Exactly. We’ll visit when we know that Shigaraki can’t. Maybe an hour or two before his usual time and we’ll just scope out this new person.”

“When are we going? Tonight? Tomorrow?” Twice asks, glancing around as he moves past Mr. Compress to sit on the bed with the other three. “The sooner the better, right?” His shoulders slump and hands clench and he stares at the other slowly. “Or should we plan this to make sure there is no room for mistake,” his voice has shifted to something a bit deeper, a tad more serious than his excitement just moments ago. “If Shigaraki catches us,” his tone returns to a more enthusiastic nature, “he’d definitely be pissed.” There’s a pause and everyone glances at each other, before finally returning to Twice. “That’s totally a yes.”

It won't be the first or last time that you complain to yourself on why you chose to have a floor that wasn’t the first. It isn’t a long climb, but it's excruciating when you carry bags of groceries that are digging into the joints of your fingers. You’re stubborn and too tired to make more than one trip, and even if you weren’t, you usually carry tote bags to place the items in, but you must’ve forgotten it in your apartment before you left. All you really want to do is just sit down, but you can’t. At least, not until you’re inside.

You struggle between the bags to reach your keys, the bags knocking against each other as your hands try to inch for your keys that hang around your neck. The key is inserted shakily, twisting the key while your hand also twists farther than usual as you pull the key out. Your brows pinched as you quickly enter your apartment, letting the bags fall onto the floor, as you close the door with your hip.

You let out a heavy sigh, flexing your hands as you try to ease the pain that has gathered. When you kick your shoes off, you kick them to the side, sparing a glance to the couch, as you lower yourself to pick up the bags. As you do so, you hesitate. There’s something wrong. Something feels wrong to you- enough to make you uncomfortable and all too aware of how you can feel someone watching you. It starts off easy enough- how your scalp itches, how the clothes on your body doesn’t feel right and pricks too much against your skin, and the forced silence that is in your apartment. You quickly rise and turn, your hand going to grab at the doorknob, only to have the pointed end of a knife directed towards you.

Yellow eyes stare at you, a thin smile decorating a young girl’s face and all you can do is raise your hands in front of you, your eyes catching against a sea of colors as six people stand in front of your couch. How you missed them, you have no idea, but you’re sure that they only wanted to reveal themselves to you know.

“You should lock the door,” the girl says sweetly, twisting the knife. A gleam catches along the metal and you nod, slowly reaching behind you to put the lock into place, your breath caught in your throat. Your hand is clasped over the doorknob, the tips of your fingers teasing against the lock. The young girl’s eyes flitter to where you tease at the lock, and she shakes her head. “You shouldn’t do that. Come on, come sit.”

Behind her the others watch you, a slight shift in their weight as they analyze what you’re about to do. You wouldn’t be able to run even if you wanted to- you’d have to unlock the door, and turn around, while leaving your back exposed to people who are clearly criminals. You nod slowly, and the girl steps back allowing you to walk further in your apartment, all eyes on you as you sit down on the ouch, your knees pinched together as your legs shake. Your groceries are sitting precariously by the door, and you worry that the milk is going to leave the bag wet and sticking to the jug.

Your face burns, legs shaking and teeth clasped down on the inside of your cheeks as six menacing people stand in front of you. You can’t handle the silence, the stares and the uncertainty of whatever is going to happen. In your back pocket, your phone sticks out, a vibration against your backside the curiosity for that is another fatality for you.

“Why are you here?” Your voice is quiet, your eyes on the tip of black boots that have scuff marks over them and splatter of mud against them.

“Do you mind if we sit?” You look back up, a man in a white mask with organic black lines stares down at you- at least that’s what you assume he’s doing.

The collar of your shirt feels too tight, restricting every breath, every word, every small swallow of saliva in an attempt to do something that isn’t clawing against your forearms. You nod. “Yeah- I uh, yeah,” you stutter. “I don’t mind.”

“Relax, we aren’t here to hurt you.” A heavy hand is held out to you and you stare at it with distrust, the owner of the hand removing their white rimmed, triangular sunglasses. “You can call me Magne.”

“She’s like our sister!” The younger girl says cheerfully, wrapping her arm around Magne’s, leaning her head against the woman’s bicep. Her small falls into something flat, the enthusiasm in her voice gone. “So you shouldn’t disrespect her in any way.”

You nod quickly, leaning over and taking Magne’s hand in yours. “Hi, it’s um, it’s nice to meet you, Magne,” you say quickly, giving her a nervous smile.

“I’m Twice!” A man in a black suit stretches his hand outwards to you, the suit clinging to his skin and showing off his muscles, and you fear that he’s done much worse than a simple break-in like this. You nod slowly, reaching towards the warm hand, your arm given a curt handshake. “That’s Toga-” he points to the young girl who smiles at you, her arms now removed from Magne’s. You’re about to give another greeting when another speaks up. “That’s Mr. Compress-” he points to a man in a yellow coat who nods, and tips his hat towards you. “Spinner-” a green-scaled man narrows his eyes at you and you look away, staring at the last one to be introduced. “And that’s Dabi!” The man in black hair and purple colored scars- or maybe burns- nods at you, his face devoid of emotion.

You smile but when it’s unreturned, you give a weak cough and look away from him and try to find comforting eyes that you can stare at, but none of them are comforting to you. You settle back at Dabi, giving him a small smile. Twice has yet to let go of your hand and you don’t want to risk anything by pulling away too soon. “I’m- my name is-”

“We know what your name is,” Dabi says with an attitude, the first sign of emotion that you’ve gotten from one of the people who have broken into your home. That thought leaves you feeling unsettled. It’s usually Tomura who does that and yet, he is nowhere to be found.

“Okay,” you say with a crack in your voice, nodding and looking back at your hand that is still extended outwards.

“Don’t be mean, Dabi,” Toga says with a pout, smacking the side of his arm as she huffs and crosses her arms. “Now they won’t trust us.”

There’s a tap against the back of your hand when you stare back at Twice, his shoulders are squared. “And you already know our Leader Shigaraki, right?” His voice has changed tone into something more serious and with the accusation, your nervous smile fades away, and when you stare back, his hand is now squeezing down on yours.

The whites of his mask make it difficult to look him in the eye. It makes it difficult to feel safe. Magne had told you that they wouldn’t hurt you but even if she is the resident big sister, it seems as if Twice doesn’t follow her loosely based rule. His hand is squeezing yours, and you wince, and your lungs that were deprived of air are suddenly filled once again when you take in a sharp inhale.

“They won’t talk if you break their hand, twice.” Your head is bent and you are unable to see who it is that is talking to him. The steps are heavy against the floors and you’re trying to pull your hand away, when a rough one covers yours. You look up to meet the eyes of Spinner, yours are filled with tears and his with something that you can’t quite make out. Your hand is let go, and you scramble to sit further against the couch, your legs bent to your chest as they all watch you. Spinner’s attention is redirected at Twice. “I told you the information I had on them, including how weirdly protective Shigaraki is with them.

You cradle your hand and then Dabi speaks. “You mind calling him? We all kind of want to see the look on his face when he comes in and sees that we found out about his little secret.” It’s then that emotion finally spills out, his lips stretching into a smug grin as he slouches over your couch, his leg bent over the other as he stares at you, nodding for you to pull out your phone.

You’re glad that you never installed a password for your phone, you’re sure that with your current anxiety skyrocketing, you’d be unable to put in the correct pin. Dabi steps towards you and watches over your shoulder as you struggle to go to your contact list, and he’s right there at the very top under the “A”. You tap the phone button and place him on speaker, the ringing going off immediately.

“Alleyway?” Dabi asks, leaning close to you, and you stiffen, the scent of alcohol and smoke a bit too strong for you. “Who the fuck is- Why is he put under “alleyway”?” There’s a hint of amusement laced into his words, but you aren’t in the right headspace to make any quippy comment.

“It’s um-” you clear your throat and give him a forced smile- “It’s an inside joke.” You sniffle and the tip of your nose with the side of your hand as you hear the call ring. You desperately hope that he’ll pick up. He promised that he would. Or at least, he insinuated that when you needed him, he’ll come for you. Maybe you held too much trust in him. You frown. You held too much trust in a mass murderer. You suck in your bottom lip and press the top of your teeth down against the soft flesh. Surely, there must be something wrong with you for you to even hold any amount of trust in a man like that, but to be fair, he did… do something to the man who assaulted you, and that was sweet of him. Sort of.

You hear the phone click and you look down, the timer starting as his voice is echoed into the room, everyone leaning closer to you to hear what he has to say. “What’s wrong?” A smile slowly curves your lips, and you look away, your hand covering your ever growing smile. He’s worried for you. Granted you don’t call him, so he must be worried or at least surprised by this. “Are you okay?”

You look at Dabi who gives you a curt nod and you take a shaky inhale. “I- So, um, you’re friends are here.” There’s a pause. “At my place,” you add, wanting to clarify.

“You were supposed to tell him to come over,” Twice whines, slumping in his seat with arms crossed. His tone shifts and you hold the phone tight in your hands. “Didn’t Dabi tell you he wanted to see his reaction?”

“I thought the nod was to tell him,” you retort in a high-pitched voice, your face aflame. “I didn’t know I was supposed to just tell him to come over. He would have come over on his own. There wasn’t any reason to call him!” By the end the volume of your voice has risen, your lungs devoid of air as you try to push your statements out.

“They’re there now?” He asks and you let out a sigh, dipping your head forward and nodding, mumbling a soft yes, when you realize that he can’t see you nodding.

“No dipshit, we’re here tomorrow,” Dabi says, humor heavy in his voice as his clasps around your shoulder and his other hand covers yours, bringing your phone close to his lips. “What the fuck do you think?”

“Can we not curse? We’re probably giving Shigaraki’s poor partner a heart attack as we speak,” Mr. Compress comments.

“We just broke into their apartment,” Toga says with a disbelief, and when you look up, he’s rolling her eyes at Mr. Compress’s stare- or at least what you assume, given his mask is still on but pointed in her direction. “I’m pretty sure if that didn’t kill ‘em, then cursing won’t do it either.”

“This was a horrible idea,” Spinner comments, running a clawed hand through his hair.

“I’m going over right now,” Tomura comments. “Just wait for me there, okay? I’ll see you as soon as I can.” Immediately after, he hangs up, and without saying goodbye, your phone blinks the time of the call to you, and you’re left alone in a room full of notorious villains who aren’t fond of you.

It’s silent for a moment, the little debate now put to rest and your phone is still in your hand, Dabi having let go of you after Tomura hanged up. You can still feel the burning sensation that he left, the roughness of his hand that is different compared to Tomura’s. It’s uncomfortable and you’re left shaking your leg, your phone fading to black.

“Hey,” when you look up, Toga is snapping her fingers to get your attention and you nod. “Do you have anything to drink here? I’m kind of thirsty.”

You’re bewildered for a second staring at her with wide eyes as if she hadn’t just had a knife pointed towards you. You nod. “Yeah, I think I have some water and ginger ale. I think I also have lemonade,” you say, pointing to where the kitchen is. “Do you want me to go get it for you?”

“Yes, please,” she chirps, smiling sweetly at you and pulling the sleeves of her sweater further down. “Just bring me whatever, I’m not that picky.”

“Yeah, okay.” You rise to stand and when you take a step towards the kitchen. You point to the empty space between each member, your smile still tense but more polite than before. “Uh, do you guys want anything to drink? I might have some mango and peach drinks too.”

“Oh wait! I change my answer! Can I have a mango drink?” Toga asks, leaning towards you, her smile eager.

“I’ll have a mango too,” Spinner adds, raising his hand and lowering it when you nod.

“Ginger ale for me!” Twice comments.

“A peach for me,” Magne adds.

“I’ll take water,” Dabi says, spreading his arms against the back of the couch.

“I’ll go along with you to help,” Mr. Compress adds, standing up and walking beside you, hooking his arm with yours. “I’ll choose when we get there. Just lead the way, dear.”

You walk before pausing and rushing to the door. “Wait, wait!” You call, grabbing your grocery bags. “Let me go put these away before anything spoils,” you say, dashing to the kitchen with Mr. Compress behind you.

In the kitchen, you begin to assort things where they belong, frowning when some bags are wet and uncomfortable, and you toss them to the sink. The man in the mask has taken it upon himself to aid you in placing things away, organizing your fridge to make sure that it all fits neatly. Once done, Mr. Compress leans down to look through your fridge, his arms reaching inside and pulling out a drink one by one, letting them rest on the floor where you immediately grab them.

“I think I might have a bottle of Qoo somewhere in there. I’m not entirely sure,” you drift, your hands slowly growing cold the longer you hold onto the drinks. “You’re to take it. I think it’s apple flavored.”

He rises with his drink in hand. The Qoo and you nod at his choice. “Has it been in here long?” He asks, spinning the bottle around to check for an expiration date. You shrug in response and he grabs his mask, pulling it away from his face to reveal his face still hidden but now with a balaclava. The white mask flashes and in its place is a small marble that is put inside his pocket. “I suppose it can’t be bad to drink something like this then.” You nod, turning around, before he stops. “Ah, before we go back, is it okay to ask you a question? Once again, you nod, placing the drinks down on the counter. “What is your relationship with Shigaraki?”

Even you still don’t know the answer. You’ve already admitted that it’s easier to be with him than to deny him. It’s safer that way, but you still can’t help but smile when he actively cares for you. “We’re together,” you conclude, knowing that even if it were vague, it still answered his question. “You know, as a couple.”

“Willing?” He adds, twisting the cap off of his drink, bringing it close to his lips. You narrow your eyes at him. “Forgive me, but while Shigaraki isn’t ugly, he’s still a villain. He has his faults as we all do, but as a close comrade, I have to ask, why is it that you chose to date him?” You swallow and turn away from him, your hands chilled and slightly wet as you cross your arms. “This remains between us, but I’m not against the others getting involved. It may not seem like it, but we’ve all stuck together for a reason.”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “Is that a threat?” You stare at him, your stomach twisting into knots.

“It’s just a word of advice,” he replies, the drink in his hand as he slowly clasps it back. The mascot stares at you with a wide grin and you regret allowing him to take the last of your Qoo- even if it was forgotten in the back of your fridge.

“He liked me first.” You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to push yourself to stay focused and not tear up in front of a man you don’t know. “He’s persuasive in all sorts of ways. I just found it easier to be with him rather than be scared of him.” You shrug, gathering the drinks back into your arms. “He’s nice to me. He’s done me a huge favor and even if I don’t agree with his- er- line of work, I’m not going to report him or anything. He hasn’t exactly given me an out with this relationship, but he hasn’t been forceful with me or anything. Maybe a bit scary, but he’s been okay.” With a free hand, you scratch at your neck and tilt your head, frowning. “It’s just a weird mix of easy and difficult with him.”

“So you were forced into the relationship,” he concludes and you shrug.

“I uh- I found him injured one night and I fixed him up the best I could.” You finally choose to look at the man before you, your stomach churning so quickly, you’re afraid that you really are tasting acid on your tongue. “The next night he came back and he was- I guess, for lack of a better word, obsessed with me?” It sounds so conceited, but it’s the truth. You break away from his gaze and take a step back, already wanting to return to the living room, the drinks leaving you freezing. “He was sweet, but you know, forceful with the idea that we were together. I don’t mind it- now at least- I was scared in the beginning, but it’s nice just knowing he will be there for me.”

Mr. Compress nods his head slowly, reaching over to grab a few drinks in his hands. “I suppose that’s a good enough answer.” He walks ahead of you, standing by the door frame when he looks back. “Come on, let’s go back.”

Back in the living room, the drinks are handed to each respective person, your hands cold as you sit above them, cushioned between your thighs and the couch. You keep your gaze on Mr. Compress who smiles gently at you before thanking you for the drink. You turn away when you hear rapid knocking at your door, the handle twisting, trying to break against the lock.

You know that it’s him. It has to be him. And despite any ill feelings that you had towards him before, you want him to be here. You rise up, dashing to the door and unlocking it, greeted by Tomura who looks at you briefly, before staring behind you where his friends sit. He pushes past you, closing the door behind him and removing his hood, his hair ruffles and strands misplaced as he pushes you behind him.

“What the fuck are you all doing here?” Tomura asks, holding your hand in his. You look down, the glove covering his hand and his fingertips seem softer somehow. You look back up, your eyes meeting with Mr. Compress and you look back down, taking a step closer to him, your hand rising to clutch the back of his sweatshirt in your grip.

“We’re drinking, what does it look like?” Dabi resorts, taking a sip of his water as if to prove his point.

Tomura turns to you and you hold his hand in both of yours, looking away from him. “Did they hurt you?” You snort and shake your head. “Don’t lie to me.” His hand pulls away from your grasp, leaving your hands intertwined with each other. He holds your face, lifting it upwards to face him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

A part of you wonders what he’d do if you say no. They didn’t try to hurt you- except for the hand crushing- but you rather not get on any of their bad sides. You smile delicately at him, nodding your head and stepping closer to him, letting your forehead press against his chest, before you pull away to look at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You know me, I get spooked easily.” You pull away from him and grab his hand, pulling him toward the couch. “Come on, let’s sit. Do you want something to drink? I have ginger ale,” you say, with a lilt at the end and he nods. His hand curves against the back of your head and he pulls you close, his head leaning down and you think he’s going to kiss you, but he lets go before he can and walks to the kitchen.

“He took that a lot better than I thought,” Magne comments, holding her drink in her hand. “You think he’s going to explode later?”

“Obviously,” Dabi answers, placing his bottle on the floor. “Yo! Shigaraki! Bring me another water!” Dabi shouts, his hand cupping the side of his mouth.

Your eyes widen and you wave your hands, shushing him. “You have to be quiet!” You whisper yell, as if you all hadn't talked in your regular voices before. “I have neighbors! What if they hear you?”

He gives you a wide grin and shakes his head. “It’s a name. I’m sure there are more people with his last name-” he jerks his head at Tomura who walks back to the living room, tossing the water beside Dabi. “Anyways, just tell them you’re in some play or whatever-” he twists the cap off and before taking a sip, he looks at you with a lazy smile- “people are a lot more willing to believe something like that.”

Tomura sits beside you, his legs spread, his knee knocking against yours, and you lean close to him, frowning at Dabi. “It’s still risky,” you say with a pout, gripping the end of your shirt.

“Hey!” Toga says, standing up, her drink empty as she tosses it at Dabi. She ignores his yelp and pointed glare. “If you’re dating Tomura-” she points her fingers between the two of you- “then that means that we’re friends!” She looks at you with a wide grin and you nod. It would feel rather rude if you denied the poor girl of friendship- villain or not, confrontation and denying is something that is not your strongest trait. “Really? Does that mean I get to use your bath?”

Your eyes widen, in both worry of that being her first request and fear of that being her first request. “Yeah, of course. Do you want me to-”

“No, it’s okay,” she smiles and walks away from the living room. “It’s in an apartment, I think I can find it easily enough. Anyways, I’ll probably snoop around, so see you in a bit!” She says, before moving away to go and open doors.

It’s silent for a beat before Spinner pops up. “Do you have wi-fi?” You nod. “Mind if I have the password?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.” You grab your phone and scroll through your notes app, finding the name of the router and password, and you pass it to him, watching as he pulls out his phone to copy the numbers. Magne leans beside him, pulling out her phone and connecting to the wi-fi, her finger tapping against the screen to make sure it doesn’t dim.

“I’m going to turn on the television!” Twice comments, standing up to grab the remote. When he sits back down, he moves to sit beside Dabi.

“Don’t put anything dumb,” Dabi comments, making himself comfortabel on the couch, his hands going to grab at a throw pillow and brining it to his lap. “And nothing too loud, I’m starting to get a headache.”

“I have some pain medication.” You turn your attention to Dabi. “Do you want me to go get you some?” He spares you a glance, and when he returns his attention to the television that is flipping from channel to channel, he nods.

“I’ll go get it, dear. Where is it?” Mr. Compress says, standing up from the couch.

“Oh okay,” you chirp, leaning back towards Tomura. “It’s in the kitchen. The first drawer by the fridge.”

You turn to Tomura, grabbing his hand in yours. “I didn’t expect to meet them so soon,” you say in a whisper, turning yourself until you’re facing him. “I have to admit, I was really scared.”

He knocks his head lightly against yours and squeezes your hand. “I wish they hadn’t found out where you live, but I guess that can’t be helped now.” He glances at you and returns his attention to the bottle in hand. “Do you know how they found you?” You shake your head and he sighs. “I’ll be here next time.”

While you hadn’t realized just how alarming it is they found you, you can’t help but latch onto the last statement of his. Your head tilts and you look at him with knitted brows. “Next time?”

“Next time they’re here,” he clarifies. “I’ll make sure I come before them.” You nod slowly and he takes another sip of his drink. With your free hand you grab the drink, your hand curving around his and he watches as you pull the drink toward you, taking a sip from it. The apple in his throat bobs and he stares at the television that plays the news before changing to some sci-fi movie. “Whenever you want us to leave, you just say the word, okay?”

You watch the alien hatch from its egg, the membrane sticking to its skin as it opens its mouth. The whole scenario feels surreal. The group of people who threatened you now sit at your home, drinking your drinks, using your bath, taking your pills, and watching your television. And here you are, holding hands with the ringleader, acting as if you two are in a happy relationship that was mutual and not one that was forced upon you. You turn to him and with worry written over your face, he frowns. “Can we talk about something sometime soon?” Your heart falls when you see his face consumed with fear, his eyes scanning over your face, looking for a hint of what you want to talk about. You smile and pull your hand away from him, letting it rest over his thigh. “It’s nothing bad, I promise. Just a-” you struggle to find the proper words that doesn't make this relationship sound like some bad experiment- “an overlook of the relationship. Nothing bad, I promise.” With a smile at the end of your words, he remains silent, nodding his head and turning to watch the television.

taglist:

@chai-tea-bagels @tirzamisu @ikatella

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capsicle-evans · 4 years ago

Text

Just for Show

Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: The Evans Christmas Family get together is coming soon and Chris has to come up with a plan as to who he is taking with him

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

“What do you recommend?” I lean in to whisper to Chris, everyone too busy looking at their own menu. “I don’t know what to pick”

“Mmm the chicken parmesan pasta is always a great idea” Chris points at the small picture of the dish. “If you pair it with white wine, it’s the cherry on too”

“Mmm I don’t think I should be ordering wine” I chuckle, placing the menu back on the table. “Wine gets me in a sexy mood”

“Uff, then the more reason to do it” He grins at me, placing a hand over my knee. Oh two can play this game, Evans.

“Maybe tonight” I grin, leaning in closer so that my perfume scent engulfs him. “But I’m warning you, Evans. I can get really messy when wine is involved”

“I can handle messy, Miss Y/L/N” He says this as his hand rises up to my thigh just a little bit.

“Then I’ll make sure to be in my worst behavior” I lean in as slowly as I can, Chris’ eyes so focused on me, his lips barely open. I close the distance between our lips, the kiss a little more hot that what would be considered appropriate for a family lunch but for everyone it can look like a small kiss because I grab Chris’ neck to pull him closer so that he can conceal me for when I grace my tongue over his lips.

When I pull away, Chris’ eyes are so dark and stormy, his chest heaving. “Nobody is watching, Y/N”

“Oops, I guess I forgot” I grin. Chris is about to say something when the waiter interrupts him.

“Can I get your drinks?”

I’m the first one to order so without taking my eyes away from Chris, I tell him what I want. “I’ll have a pinot grigio”

“Do you think you are going to be able to handle yourself?” Chris whispers into my ear while everyone is ordering.

“It’s not myself that I’m worried about, Chris” I sit sideways, trying to face. “After all, you were the one watching me shower”

“But you were the one who left the door opened” He winks at me before turning back to the waiter, leaving me with my mouth wide open.

***

“Yeah, were not going out with you looking like that” Chris stands up from his couch as I reach the first floor, ready to go out with Chris and his siblings.

“Why?” I pout, looking down at my outfit. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, babe” Scott waves Chris off. “You look hot as fuck”

“Language” Lisa giggles, earning an eye roll from Chris. “No but you do look gorgeous, honey”

“I know! I never said she didn’t” Chris reaches my side and grabs my waist. “But so will the rest of the bar”

“Oh but I only have eyes for you” I bop his nose, knowing that Chris won’t actually force me to change.

“You’ll freeze to death” He counterparts, still trying to fight me.

“I’ll take a coat” I pat his chest before looking around the room. “Where are my girls?”

“Coming” Shanna shouts as she and Carly walk up to us.

“Lets goo” I clap my hands happily as we all get up, ready to leave.

***

I call already feel sweat running down the back of my neck, my whole body buzzing after the four shots of tequila Scott dared me to drink. It’s been so long since I’ve danced like this, so freely and feeling myself.

“Damn Y/N” Scott slaps my ass playfully, earning chuckles from his sisters. “You do know how to move”

“Thanks” I grin but then I roll my eyes. “Well, at least you notice it”

“Is this about my boring brother over there?” He nods his head to the direction where Chris is. He has a glass of whiskey in his hands, the other one on his phone, his eyes not moving away from the screen.

“Yeah, he hasn’t looked at me even for a minute since we got here” I try to not sound as disappointed as I actually feel but based on the look my fake in laws give me, I know that I’m not doing a good job at it.

“No no no, you go there and you force him to look at you, god every man in this bar probably wishes they could be grinding behind you” Shanna tells me, looking back at her brother. “If you don’t go, I’ll do it myself”

“You walk there and make him want you” Scott nods before giving me a soft push towards Chris’ direction.

I try to steady my breath, trying to come up with a plan to seduce Chris without making a fool of myself. I mean, I could blame it on the alcohol just in case, but I rather not have to do it.

When I close enough, without a warning, a grab the phone from his hand and before he has a chance to protest, I step myself in between his legs, sitting down in his lap. “Can you give me back my phone?”

“Nope” I reply, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Can you give me your attention?”

“Why? Is the attention of all the men in this bar not enough?” he scoffs, leaning back and away from me.

“Is that what this is all about? Are you jealous?” I move from his lap to rest both of my knees in the little space between his legs and I place my arms around his neck again, so basically I’m laying on top of him. “You know I don’t care about that, right? I only want your attention”

“You don’t have to lie, Scott and the girls are not close enough to hear you” He rolls his eyes before moving them away from me.

“God you are so stupid” I groan, grabbing his head to bring his focus back to me. I bring my lips up to his mouth, my tongue darting out to get a taste of his mouth. His lips are warm and soft and I can’t help but moan when his tongue meets mine.

Thank god the lighting in this bar is so dark, otherwise people would have seen the entire show Chris and I are putting on. He finally sits up straighter, his hands grabbing the back of my thighs as I dig my hands into his blond mess. I pull his head back by his hair, making him look me in the eyes.

“Chris” I try to speak but I’m so out of breath that it comes out as a moan.

“Fuck” Chris curses, his chest heaving and his hands giving my thighs a hard squeeze that earns him another moan. “We can’t do this”

I’m about to step away from him, feeling rejected when he adds “not here”.

I give him a quick kiss before standing up and stretching my hand to him. “Come dance with me then”

Chris bits his lips, a grin trying to scape, before standing up and grabbing my hand. “Lead the way”

“You know, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance, Captain” I walk backwards, my hand still in his. “That time at Robert’s house you denied me of such a pleasures”

“It was for your own good” He grins, pulling my arm to stop me on my tracks. “You wouldn’t have been able to keep you hands off me”

“Cocky much?” I roll my eyes, pressing my hands against his chest as his arms circle my waist.

“You know I am, Baby” He winks at me before giving my side a squeeze. “No but all jokes aside, my dance moves suuuck”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that, Cap” I pull him closer to me, keeping my eyes on his. “Now, let’s dance”

***

“MCDONALDS MCDONALDS MCDONALDS” Scott and I chant loudly as Chris, who is sitting between us in the back, rolls his eyes.

“Shanna, we are going to have to stop at McDonalds or they won’t stop” Chris leans forward to pop his head between his sisters. “Y/N alone is a force to be reckoned with but you add Scott to the mixture and it’s worse”

“Fine, I’ll look for one not to far away” Carly pulls out her phone to look for one close as Shanna just laughs.

“You are in for a good one, brother” She giggles as Carly gives her the directions.

We finally reach the restaurant and after ordering from the drive thru, we are back in the road to home.

“Don’t get ice cream on the couch” Chris looks at me sternly as he holds my ice cream cone.

“Or what?” I flash him a grin before leaning in to suck on the ice cream still in his hand.

“Fuck” He breaths out lowly, just for me to hear. “You are killing me, woman”

“Good” I dip my finger into the ice cream before rubbing it on his cheek. “Oops, let me clean that”

I lean in, sticking ny tongue out to seductively lick the sweetness of his cheek. “Better?”

“You two knock it off” Scott fake gags as he takes his eyes away from us.

“Nobody told you to look” Chris waves off his brother before grabbing me by the back of my neck to pull me to his lips.

“Stop it or I will jump of the car”

***

“Goodnight” Chris whispers to his siblings before closing the door to his bedroom.

“Tonight was so much fun” I beam at him, my cheeks still red from the alcohol and the hot kiss Chris gave me on the car.

“You know, I get what you got nominated for an Oscar” Chris chuckles, kicking his shoes off.

“What do you mean?” I frown, popping my head from the bathroom door as I pull up my pijama shorts.

“You and the whole act you put on today” He looks at me as I step back into the room. “I’m sure everyone is convinced we are in love now”

There’s a part in me that instantly breaks, I fell my legs go numb, like my whole body just got thrown down a hill. “Oh, yeah.. the act. I mean that’s what I’m here for after all”

“Thank you” Chris stands up from the edge of the bed to place a kiss on forehead before walking towards his closet to pull out his pillows and blankets.

“No problem” I whisper softly before walking up to the bed and letting the bed spread engulf me.

“Every thing okay?” Chris asks be as I turn my back to him.

“Yup, just tired” I reply, trying hard not to cry right then and there.

“Okay” I hear him say before laying down on his made up bed. God, men are so oblivious. “Good night”

I don’t reply, already feeling the tears in the back of my eyes and my throat drying up.

“Y/N?” Chris asks again when I don’t reply.

I don’t know what happens but suddenly I’m sitting up and facing him. “No, Chris, actually, everything’s not fine because I wasn’t acting and for a second there I thought you weren’t either. For me, pretending to be in love with you stopped being an act a long time ago. Fuck I don’t think it was an act at all. And I know I promised to help you with this little stunt but I feel like if I stay and I keep pretending that this is all fake to me, I’m going to end up so heartbroken beyond repair so I think it would be best if I leave tomorrow morning”

“Y/N”

“Don’t. I don’t need your pity nor an apology or whatever it is that you are going to give me. I know that this isn’t your fault, you made it pretty clear that this was all an act and that you don’t want a relationship right now and I respect that but I also hope you respect my decision to remove myself from this situation before it gets me” I know that I’m crying now, big tears running down my cheeks.

“Can I talk?” Chris asks me from the floor where he is sitting.

“Sorry, yes” I clean my tears with the back of my hands as Chris moves to sit on the edge of the bed, next to me.

“The fact that you think that this was all on act to me is beyond me” Chris brings his hand up to caress my cheek. “I seriously thought I was being so obvious about how you made me feel that I was scared that you were just acting so that’s why I said what I said. I didn’t say it because I wanted it to me an act, a lie, I said it because I was trying to convince myself of it. Because I thought that that’s what it was to you, I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to love me back because I knew it was unfair. I’ve spent the last couple of days fighting this urge to hold you all the time, not just when my parents or my siblings are around”

“Chris, I-”

“I love you, Y/N”

*************************************************

Pleaseee dont hate me!! I had scheduled this to be posted on friday but I think I did it wrong since it didn’t! Sorry!!!

Also, this is not the last part, I’m doing one more so that should be up by friday.

Hope you like this❤️

Tag List: @patzammit @hollandprkr @hauntedmuffinoperarascal @denisemarieangelina @marianas-studyblr @justjulie1105 @itsscottiesstark @phillygirl19 @prettymuchawhore @cevansfics @jennamarieee623 @chrisevanisliterallysir @spookyscot @c00lkidvibes @duskangxls @supraveng @syms-things-5 @sabstrang

#chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff

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foodieforthoughts · 4 years ago

Text

When the ball drops

Summary: It's your third year in the Big Apple and you still haven't found your midnight kiss for when the ball drops, until tonight.

Pairing: Henry x Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Fluff!!!

A/N: Happy New Year to everyone! ✨ Watching the ball drop on New Year's Eve in Times Square is my ultimate bucket list! Also not beta read, so don't mind the errors, just had to get done in time before @infinite-shite celebrates New Year's before the rest of us! This baby deserves all the love in the world ❤️

*divider by @firefly-graphics

Title: When the ball drops

The cackle of people's laughter ringed through the pub as the hours ticked by. In contrast to the cold winter air of New York, the inside of the enclosed space felt warm. You quickly pulled on your apron and slid behind the bar, relieving your co-worker from their shift. He hugged you for the New Year that was to ring in about an hour later, happily weaving through the crowd towards the staff exit.

You sighed, grabbing the dish cloth to clean some glasses.

The excitement of coming to the Big Apple had quickly died down for you. You had dreamed of living in the city like the various shows potrayed, feeding lies that everything is magical and full of opportunities in this concrete jungle. But you could disagree with all the contradictions between facts and fictions and align them in a PowerPoint presentation. Not only were you yet to secure your dream job, you lived in a mediocre place with little to look forward to everyday.

Another sigh left your lips, your shoulders slumping despite the merriment around.

"That would be the second time you sigh." The crisp accented voice of a stranger sounded from across you. "What's the matter, love?"

You knew who he was. You ogled at his pictures on a regular basis, especially when he became Superman. But he looked nothing like the Henry Cavill you saw on the red carpets. Clad in a plain blue shirt, jaw sprinkled with the hint of a stubble and hair combed to perfection, Henry titled his head at you with a smile. You looked around at the other patrons, unsure if he was talking to you indeed.

Henry chuckled at your look of confusion. He took a seat at the barstool and grabbed the menu from the stand. With a dish cloth still inside the glass tumbler, you stared at the Hollywood heartthrob. The pub you worked at was frequented with celebs on a regular basis, the only downside being you usually worked for the day shift which meant by the time you rolled out of work, the big shots were only just waking up.

"Can I get-"

"Guinness?" You interrupted him. You meant to say it in your head but the word left your mouth before you could control your lips.

But Henry didn't flinch. He just smiled widely, the dimples in his chin dipping charmingly and his eyes shining like the brightest star under the flickering strobe lights. He slid the menu back towards you and clasped his hands together.

You blinked your eyes several times to rid yourself of the flutter in you belly as Henry smiled at you softly. He watched as you got him a glass and filled it up with his beer. Your hands trembled so much with the nervousness of serving an A list actor, who not only was doing well in industry but was exceptionally sexier in person, that you were worried the foam gathered at the top would dribbled down the sides. Noticing your struggle, Henry extended his hands and placed them over yours to secure his glass.

Electricity. In the most clichéd scenarios of romance movies, you felt a jolt of electricity when your hands touched his, the sparks travelling down your spine to your toes. Sucking in a sharp breath you handed him the glass, chiding yourself over your hyper aware mind.

"What is a pretty lady like you working in a bar at this hour?" He asked, sipping his fermented pint of alcohol.

"Coworker has plans with his girlfriend, like everyone tonight." You shrugged your shoulder, going over to another customer ordering drinks. You could feel Henry's eyes on you as you readied the customer's order. The sound of giggling girls pulled your attention just as the man left with his drink.

You walked back to where Henry sat, nursing his beer. "Anything to go with that?" you enquired, rearranging the shot glasses under the bar counter.

"I am still wondering how, in the world, a pretty woman like you, is stuck here."

You scoffed, more to yourself than him. "Because this supposed pretty woman is single as fuck." The mirth in your voice hid the sense of self pity edging at the corners of your mind. It had been three years since you had first arrived in the city with a possibility of reaching for the stars in both personal and professional life. You had been left disappointed with the jerks and assholes you ended up with, ultimately sitting at home and questioning your choices in men.

You noted the softness creasing at the corners of Henry's eyes. The last thing you wanted was to be seen as a miserable bartender at the end of the year, so you cleared your throat and smiled at him. "What is superman doing at a bar, in New York, alone?"

Henry chuckled. His gravelly thick laughter ringing louder than the music in your ears. "I was just stopping by the city, thought I'll stay to understand what the big deal is with the ball drop."

"Oh my God. Watching the ball drop and kissing at midnight is the most romantic thing you can do with your partner. You should be at Times Square!" Your excitement over the whole New Year's Eve shenanigan was flowing through in your speech.

"Too crowded." He shook his head, groaning and sipping his beer.

You rolled your eyes. "As opposed to this cramped pub?"

Henry chuckled again, throwing a wink at you. You felt the familiar flutter in your belly. You peered at him under your lashes, Henry seemed to be having his eyes only for you tonight. The giggling ladies were desperately trying to grab his attention while sipping on their Margheritas wearing their embellished dresses with low cuts and frills. You glanced down at yourself and frowned. Over the faded blue jeans and white t-shirt, you wore the black apron with the pub's insignia on the left breast. You suddenly became profoundly aware of how 'basic' you might look in comparison to the other ladies.

Self doubt clouded your mind. You politely smiled at Henry and hurried to the other side of the bar to serve the other customers. Maybe Henry only wanted someone to play the horizontal hokey-pokey with him for the night, or maybe he was bored and since you were obligated to talk nicely with him, he had pitched a conversation. Whatever the reason, you did not like how the multiple scenarios would end. You knew your feeble, fragile heart. You would get hurt, one way or another.

"Hi," Henry appeared again in front of you. He had his beer in his hand, his other elbow resting on the counter. "Did I offend you in some way?"

"No. But you are pretty much making me realize, how miserable my life is." Your voice sounded bleak against the booming voices. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you watched the couples snuggle up to each other. It had been ages since you had felt the loving embrace of a man, even longer since you had shared a meaningful kiss with someone special.

"What would you have been doing instead?" Henry's voice pulled you out of your desolated reverie.

"I would be in Times Square, with my significant other, which I don't have. We would get some drinks while standing on the outskirts of the crowd and watch the countdown."

There was a stir of activity in the pub as someone announced that there were only 90 seconds to the ball drop. You hadn't even realized that time had passed so quickly whilst you had juggled your conversation with Henry.

"Well, you have the drinks," Henry reached forward to grab a glass and poured half of his beer in the empty tumbler. "We are at the outskirts of the crowd since everyone is huddled near the TV." You nodded as you watched the couples gather near the enormous flat screen mounted on the wall. "We aren't at the Times Square, but we are in New York."

The countdown read 60 seconds with the red numbers counting backwards. Henry stood up and leaned forward on the counter. You watched with bated breath as he grabbed the strap of your apron and pulled you towards him.

His hand rested lightly on your cheek, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. The smell of beer, his perfume and musk enveloped you, bundling you in everything that signified him. You gazed into his cerulean eyes, the fleck of brown going dark against the blue ocean. Your hands hung by your side, flabbergasted by the surprising turn of events.

"I might not be your significant other," His breath washed over your heated face, his eyes transfixed on yours. "But we can perhaps change that."

"Happy New Year!"

Like the fireworks going off on the One Times Square Building, when your lips collided with his, there was a burst of colorful sparks celebrating the union of two people from across the pond. Henry pulled your face closer to his by grabbing behind your head, his fingers threading through your hair. You finally could think straight as you moaned into the kiss, holding onto the collar of his shirt as the pub erupted with loud cheers. In that moment, everything seemed perfect in the world. You felt your legs turn to jelly as Henry pulled back, breathing through his mouth, tugging at your lower lip with his teeth.

The smug smile on his face returned as he sat back on his barstool. You grabbed onto the counter for support as you gulped lungful of air.

"Did that count as something for when the ball drops?" He asked, sipping his beer and watching you from the brim of his glass.

You nodded. The heat on your cheeks traveled down to your chest, a grin spreading on your lips. Biting your lip you reached for the other glass of beer Henry had poured. "Happy new year to me." You announced before clinking your glass with Henry's.

✨HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS✨

#henry cavill #Henry Cavill fanfic #Henry Cavill rpf #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill x you #henry cavill fluff #Henry Cavill imagine #Foodie's new year fanfic #NYE 2020 #foodieforthoughts

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snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Moon - Part 4

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.) I felt it necessary to say, remember, these are all following along with the episodes from 03x04 on till the end of 3A. Without *directly* inserting the reader into the plot line, but more an off screen role. (Aside from the beginning, where, obviously, Derek fought the Alpha’s while Cora watched from the sidelines.) And because of that, it’s more angst than I usually write. It was a very angsty season. And the prompts have inherent angst, but lots of fluff, and sass, so once we get out of the murkiness that is Jennifer Blake (can you tell I don’t like her? - which, kudos to the actress, who I think is beautiful and brilliant, for making me hate her so much. 😆) we can move on to that happy, feel good, Sourwolf love we all enjoy so much. But until then, I guess this counts as a slow burn of sorts?

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 2,633

Xxx

The next day was lonely. Stiles would text you every now and then, but other than that it was a quiet day. No word about Derek from anyone other than Peter and Cora going to get his body and it not being there. And neither was Ennis’, who Derek had pulled down with him. You decided not to dwell on the many possible things that could mean.

You drove in silence to all the places Stiles had mentioned the night before and spoke meekly at each one. You felt almost like you were floating through the day, going through the motions, but your mind was a million miles away.

The meet ended up getting canceled due to weather, and they were all going to be stuck staying at some crappy motel that Stiles insisted was haunted through multiple texts with an excessive amount of emojis. You couldn’t get ahold of anyone else, which was kinda odd, but also not totally abnormal.

To top it all off, you needed something you left at the loft, so you told the Sheriff - who had taken the night off and ordered a pizza to stay in with you this evening, after finding out Stiles wasn’t coming right back - you would be back in a flash, you just had to “run home real quick”, careful not to mention the loft, to which he just chuckled and said something along the lines of, “Just make sure you run the speed limit.”

Sighing as you pulled into the loft parking lot, you glanced through the windshield up at the top floor where it sat. It was so ominous looking, bathed in moonlight, it almost gave a faint glow. Resting your forehead on the steering wheel, you took some deep breaths, panic rising as flashes of your tango with an Alpha came back rapidly. But instead of feeling like a badass, it made you hyperventilate. There was this gnawing feeling that it had been a one time thing, and that should you ever encounter them again you would be in so much trouble.

Taking one last deep breath to steady your nerves, you stopped mid inhale, slightly cocking your head to the side, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

Derek.

You had caught Derek’s scent. Well, it’s his loft, you rationalized to yourself. But no. This was fresh. Less than a few hours old. Glancing back up at the loft one last time, you grabbed the handle and yanked your door open, mustering the courage you could find to climb up the winding staircase and see for yourself.

Taking them two at a time, you felt your courage build with each step and your hope that Derek was there along with it. As you stood in front of the loft door, your outstretched hand just shy of the handle and trembling, you took a tentative breath and knew Derek had been here very recently. That was the final push you needed to firmly grip the handle of the loft door, preparing to give it a hefty pull, but something made you stop short.

A whisper.

Just on the other side of the door, a woman's voice, then Derek’s. Surely your mind was playing tricks on you; you didn’t smell anyone else. You did pick up on something vaguely familiar, but couldn’t place it. The smell reminded you of school, and the crime scenes of the sacrifices you had been at, and lately, the loft. Unable to place the smell, you slowly slid the door open, stopping after only a few inches to peek in.

What you saw made your heart speed up, as there Derek sat on the edge of his bed, covered in scratches and blood, but alive. He was alive.

Your feet that had been glued to the floor suddenly felt like they were floating, the distance between him and you too much. You couldn’t contain the smile that brought to your lips, but it soon melted when another figure stepped into view in front of him. On instinct you had started to move forward, barely making it over the threshold before the other silhouette made you pull up short.

Jennifer.

You covered your mouth to hold in whatever was about to come out, anger, disgust, pain, you didn’t know, they were all swirling in your gut at the sight. You fell to your knees, bracing yourself on the doorframe to try and stay just out of sight.

No, Derek hadn’t caught your scent yet, which is what you found the most strange, and worrisome, and only reinforced that she was doing something to his mind.

You finally placed the smell as belonging to Miss Blake, but it was different from her scent she had all the other times you had seen her, and that somehow made it worse. It didn’t smell like emotions or anything, it smelled like an entirely different being. Barely even human.

This last thought made you knit your eyebrows in determination, about to rise to your feet, charge in there, and show the she devil a thing or two, but you only made it to one knee, still bent on the floor, before you froze, eyes wide, eyebrows practically in your hairline. What you saw could never be unseen. Like two dogs in heat, they were on one another as if space between them was too painful. Your grip on the door frame and the loft door handle almost broke them under the pressure.

You felt sick. Physically sick to your stomach. Whether from the feeling of betrayal, knowing you were right that something was weird about this whole thing, the fact that they had been getting it on in front of you, or all of the above, you weren’t quite sure.

Sliding the door shut calmly, you tried to keep it together as you softly, but quickly, made it back down the stairs, into your car, and back to the Stilinski driveway, putting your car in park and shutting off the engine before you let yourself feel anything.

You wanted to kick and scream and sob your eyes out because you knew she had been doing something to him, you knew something was wrong, but you didn’t go with your gut, and now here you were. In your car, alone. In front of the Stilinski house. Silent tears racing down your face at the feeling of betrayal, both from seeing them together tonight and at yourself for not doing something sooner.

A tap on your window made you jump, and you saw the Sheriff trying to peek in. Opening your door, you hopped out, swiping rapidly at your tears, and plastering a smile on your face. “Sorry that took so long.”

He looked at you skeptically, waving it off. “Nah. The pizza just got here. You’re right on time.”

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he ushered you into the house, quietly closing the front door behind the both of you. He stayed silent until you were both in the living room. He had the remote in his hand about to press play on the movie, but it dipped once in hesitation before he sighed, and it fell along with his hand to the armrest beside him. Scrubbing his face for a moment with his free hand, he finally looked up at you. Opening his mouth once before snapping it shut, staring blankly in front of him as if the space held the right thing to say, he scratched his forehead with the remote, his face making the face you had come to learn and love earlier on from Stiles. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

You stopped trying to grab a slice of pizza from the box, clearing your throat and wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans before nodding gently, staring at the floor. “Yeah.” You looked up and met his gaze, seeing concern painting his features. “Yeah, I’m okay, Mr. Stilinski. Just boy trouble. Thanks for asking.” You smiled as best you could, and he seemed to do the same.

“Well, we’ve known each other forever, sweetheart, and I want you to know that you can tell me anything.”

The smile on your face felt a little more genuine. “I know. Thank you.”

“No matter how uncomfortable it makes me,” he continued as if you hadn’t said anything. The words sounded pained and forced, his brows knit like he was eating a lemon, and you finally let out the full smile that had been trying break through, even laughing.

His lips twitched up gently. “There she is.”

“I will. Thank you. But for both of our sakes-” you leaned in, placing a hand on his forearm- “I’ll probably just tell Stiles.”

“Oh, thank God.” He let out on a huff of air, making you laugh again. “Now. Let’s watch this movie.” He hit play, and you settled into the couch, letting the plot unfolding on the screen take you away, if only for a little while.

Xxx

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, waking you up with a start.

The DVD menu played softly on a loop, the movie long over, and to your right the Sheriff was snoring with his head on the back of the couch.

You tossed the blanket you had been using on top of him before leaving the room and checked your phone, only to see it was Stiles.

“Stiles?” You spoke quietly into the receiver, not wanting to wake the Sheriff.

“Y/N? Why are you whispering?” Stiles sounded kind of stressed, just a little bit off.

“Your dad took off work tonight and we had a pizza - yes, I let him have pizza, don’t you dare jump on my case and go on a tirade about how he needs a salad, let the man live, Stiles - and we watched a movie.”

“I was wondering why that soundtrack was playing on a loop in the background. He used a DVD, didn’t he? I taught him how to use streaming-”

“Stiles!” You cut off his tangent with a chuckle. “Why are you calling me so late. Or, is it early?” You checked your watch to find it was early morning, still dark outside.

“Well, let’s just say tonight has been interesting, we are all alive, which is good, but sleeping on the bus-”

“The bus?”

“The bus. Our rooms weren’t safe, and I don’t mean because of roaches or mysterious stains, Y/N.” You grinned. “Although there was this one smell in my room that was rather suspect….”

Smell. Scent. Shit.

Screwing your eyes shut, palm on your forehead, you spoke quickly, “Stiles, don’t be angry with me.” Peeking your head into the other room to see the Sheriff still soundly asleep, you stepped onto the back porch and closed the door behind you, ignoring Stiles’ incessant questions as you did.

“Stiles! Hush! I had to leave the room so your dad didn’t hear!”

“Oh,” was all he said. You heard the squeak of the bus as he slumped back against it, obviously doing the same as you and trying to get a bit of privacy.

Taking a deep breath, you told him everything you saw at the loft.

The only thing he did was suck in a sharp breath, but was otherwise silent. Finally he said, “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Yeah, thanks, whatever.” You cleared your throat, looking down at your feet before lifting your gaze to stare vacantly across the yard. “My main concern was that scent. It didn’t smell human, but not entirely not human.”

“Well, that’s terrifying,” Stiles said blandly, making your lips twitch up just slightly. You heard another voice on the other end, Scott, and Stiles mumbled something about speakerphone before the phone was jostled around a bit. You could hear a mumbled, “Well, no, you don’t need speakerphone because you’re a freak of nature, Scott, but I, a mere mortal, need the aid.” You chuckled and could hear Scott let out a groan and soft chuckle himself.

“Y/N?” Finally Scott’s voice came through clearly.

“Yeah?”

“First of all, thank you. For everything.” His voice sounded distant, and you sure as hell were going to interrogate them when they got back as to what the hell happened that night at the motel, but for now you just nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see you and rolled your eyes.

“You’re welcome, Scott. The feeling’s mutual. Thanks for making it so easy.”

Stiles humphed. “I feel like that last part was directed at me.”

“But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A mumbled, “Thanks, I guess,” but you could hear his smile.

“Y/N, the scent. The one you smelled at Derek’s loft.” Scott was back to business. “I think I smelled it here tonight.”

“Really? How is that-” You were cut off by Scott who was obviously talking to Stiles.

“Right before we decided to stay in the bus, when Lydia saw something in the fire, after the explosion-”

"Okay, what the hell happened to you guys?!" you asked loudly, cutting them off. Grimacing, you quickly used your hearing to pick up on the Sheriff's continued snores, let out a sigh of relief, and lowered your voice. "I feel so left out."

“No, I’m glad you weren’t here,” Scott said. “Long story short, something went after a specific group of our friends, and when it finally showed its face,” you heard Lydia cut in from somewhere behind, “I’d barely call that a face,” and you didn’t know whether to laugh or be afraid.

Scott continued pointedly, “When it showed its face, I got a whiff of something I can only describe how you described the smell at the loft. Not human. But also not… not…. human.”

A smacking sound could be heard, and you realized Stiles was patting Scott on the back while saying, “It’s okay, bud. It’s been a long day.”

“One question.” You took a deep breath, trying to decide on the winner of thousands that swam around your brain right now. “Why is Lydia there?”

“She came with Allison.”

“Why was Allison there, Stiles?”

“Uh-uh. You said one question.”

“This is still technically the same question since they apparently came together.”

“….Touché,” Stiles finally came back with, before sighing. “Look, I’ll tell you everything when we get back, okay? It’s been a hell of a day and I just want to sleep,” he continued in a mumble, “if I can ever sleep again after seeing what I’ve seen.” A brief pause. “You werewolves need to come with a disclaimer. ‘May cause sleep disturbances’.”

You laughed loudly. “Okay, okay. I know I’m not going to get anywhere with you guys this tired. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” came a chorus of voices, and you felt relief wash over you at the sound of each one, knowing they were safe and sound.

“Goodbye, Y/N.” Stiles’ voice came through by itself after some fumbling, probably taking you off speakerphone.

“Goodbye, Stiles. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay on the phone until you fall asleep? I mean, I am part of the reason, after all. I do come with a disclaimer.”

“I would absolutely love that, but I need to save my battery and I am in a bus surrounded by werewolves, whatever Lydia is, and a hunter. I think my security system is pretty good for tonight.”

You chuckled. “Okay then. Goodnight, Stiles.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Oh!”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being there with my dad.”

“No problem, Stiles. You know he’s like family to me. He was there for me when I came back from the loft, said I could talk about it if I needed.”

“He offered to listen while you talked?!” He was almost yelling.

You laughed again. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

He chuckled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra, @lilostif16, @wandas-love, @emily500, @babygirl-angel-love, @c-dizzle99 What’s This?

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smugzayn · 4 years ago

Text

From London and Back (2/2)

Part One

“I need to shower,” you announce, looking at Harry expectantly.

Upon entering the room, he had promptly dropped the bags, and sprawled out on the too-small bed filling the middle of the space. You had quickly plugged in your mobile, letting your mum know you were safe (but she should alert the authorities immediately if you did not text her by half eight tomorrow morning), and checked the weather again. If you were lucky, you would be able to leave by mid-morning. Christ.

“Harry,” you tapped his foot. “I said I need to shower.”

His massive form shuffled a bit and he just barely turned his head to glance back at you.

“Do you want my permission, baby? Yes, you’re allowed to shower.” The smirk on his face was infuriating and it was even worse that you could feel your skin start to burn. You hoped the blush didn’t creep up into your cheeks.

You muttered under your breath, affronted, and looked pointedly at the open shower off to the side of the room. Apparently, the rich had little need for modesty. Aside from the toilet, which was tucked into its own little room, the place was entirely open aside from half-walls and some matte glass that offered minimal privacy.

“Well, I can’t very well shower with you in here.”

The shower was mostly, thankfully, sectioned off with half walls, but the door that opened into the shower was made of patterned glass. Your entire silhouette would be exposed for Harry’s peering eyes.

“Well,” Harry parroted, “then I guess you won’t be showering at all.”

You glowered at him. “Can’t you go to the lobby for a minute? Or just wait out in the hall? I will be quick.”

“Not a chance, darling. Y’threatened to steal my keys, remember?”

“My keys,” you instinctively argued and rolled your eyes. “Take the keys with you, and then I can’t steal them.”

Harry laughed, loud, and dry, and he stood up from the bed to get closer to you. “I’ve an idea,” he suggested, reaching around and grabbing the towel you had placed atop your luggage. “How about we shower together? Then, we don’t have to worry about the other slipping away? And,” he scanned you up and down as he inched closer. “We can get to know each other a bit better.”

When you bumped into the wall behind you, you realised you had been scooting away from his encroaching advancements. You snatched the towel out of his hand.

“Fine. Just don’t look.”

Harry smirked and watched you turn on your heel with your towel and luggage in hand.

Fully clothed, you stepped into the shower, and, before removing any of your clothes, you carefully hung the towel from the rack to block your lower half from any prowling eyes. The shower was nice and hot and it helped to relieve the tension in your back, shoulders, and neck that you didn’t realize was there but didn’t surprise you in the least. Harry was stressing you out.

You rolled your neck when you noticed him slip around the corner to use the toiler. His eyes flickered towards you quickly, a devilish smirk twisting his lips as his eyebrows raised in appreciation.

You made sure to use every last drop of the complimentary shampoo, conditioner, and body soap. You even took the time to dump the excess moisturizer down the drain. If you thought there was a chance you could’ve used the entire hotel’s hot water, then you would’ve tried to use that all, too.

You’re not sure what about Harry brought out the obstinacy in you. He just seemed to demand the upperhand, and the control, and the power in between you two and you were unable to keep from pushing against that. Something about him made you want to push, and shove, and tempt until he couldn’t fight it any longer. There was always an undercurrent of threat and god if you weren’t desperate to see if it was real.

Harry was right there when you stepped out of the shower. Still wrapped in a towel, you had decided dressing in the toilet would offer you the most privacy; you clutched the three empty bottles in your hand.

“Whoops,” you shrugged, as you dumped them in the bin. “I guess I used them all. Maybe run down and check the front desk.”

Harry looked more amused at your pettiness than seriously irritated, but that same glint of danger was deep in his eyes, so you knew he wasn’t letting on as much as he might have felt.

You leaned against the vanity, drying your hair with a fresh towel.

Harry leaned in close suddenly, reaching around to the sink behind you, and grabbed a bar of hand soap wrapped in yellow paper and matching ribbon.

“Honey,” he mused, reading the packaging, and then watching in delight as you rolled your eyes.

“You’re a twat,” you clipped, holding the towel more securely to your body, and trying to slow down your racing heart.

Harry’s face dropped slightly, a threat lacing his features as his smile just barely hung into his lips. “That mouth,” he tsked, unwrapping the packaged soap and holding it under his nose to sniff.

“I wonder if it tastes like honey?” He watched you carefully, gauging your reaction. “Want to say that again?”

He raised an eyebrow at you in question, and there was nothing kind or good-natured on his face now. It was all challenge, and danger, and warning.

You were frozen on the spot as Harry reached out, lightly taking a hold of your jaw with just the tips of his fingers. If you took a step back, you were sure he’d let you, but you didn’t have anywhere to go - the edge of the vanity pressed flush against your toweled back. Your eyes didn’t leave his face as he reached out with the bar of soap, running it slowly along your bottom lip, and then top, and then just slipping past your lips to coat the tip of your tongue.

Your breath was sharp, your blood coursing in your ears, and a burning running through your stomach, and chest, and reddening your neck.

“Want t’say that again?” Harry repeated, taking his eyes from the bar resting on your lips to look into your eyes.

You wondered what would happen if you said yes. Would he demand you take it into your mouth? And would you? Or would he turn you around, trap your arms and hold you close to his body, and force you to do it?

You shook your head slowly, still unable to step away from his powerful touch.

His lips quirked slightly, and you could see his nostrils flare in need.

His thumb tugged down gently, just parting your lips slightly, and the bitter taste of the soap soured the end of your tongue. Heat flooded through your body and your eyes fluttered shut in shame, and desire, and vulnerability.

Harry’s hand trailed down your neck and he let you go, and the bar of soap fell to his side.

“After I shower, we’ll order some food.” Harry decided, pulling his shirt over his head. His stomach was hard, and there were defined lines disappearing under his trousers, and his shoulders were large, and round, and thick with lean muscle. “Pizza or pub food?”

“Yes,” you muttered, not even sure of the question - you were short-circuiting and over-processing. You stepped into the toilet, pulling the door shut, but not before Harry stepped out of his trousers to reveal a pair of short, black pants hugging his thighs.

The door clicked shut with more force than you intended and the sounds of Harry’s gruff chuckle slipped under the crack.

You didn’t know how to recover from the soap. Harry had only smirked when he saw the nearly empty bottle of water clutched in your hand. It didn’t matter - you still tasted the bitter honey.

This wasn’t you. You were confident, and in control, and begrudgingly followed the lead of others. You got into PR because you could wrangle the difficult singer, the diva movie star, or the eccentric talk show host, and you were good at it. So, what the hell was wrong with you when it came to Harry Styles?

“I’ll order,” you decided as Harry used his towel to dry out some of the remaining water drinking from his hair. He had pulled on a pair of gray sweats and a hoodie.

You went to grab your mobile before Harry had time to protest or give you permission - you weren’t sure which you were expecting. It was time to regain some footing, and taking control of the dinner situation was the first step.

“Chinese, Italian, or Sushi? You decide.” You didn’t glance up from where you were perched on the very tip of the bed; rather, you scanned pointedly through the menu pulled up on your screen. “Chinese has four stars, so does Italian...the Sushi place only has -”

As the mattress sunk down beside you, your mobile was plucked from your hand. You involuntarily reacted to the proximity by jerking your thigh away from where it was all of the sudden pressed flush against Harry’s.

“I’ll order,” you repeat, trying to grab your phone but Harry’s forearm in the middle of your chest keeps you at bay. You’re not so indignant, or naive, to think you can get it back from him by force. So, instead you step away from him and hold your hand out to wait. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of his stupid power games.

“We’ll do pizza - sausage or cheese and get a side, too.” He hands you your mobile, some place already pulled up on the screen. You watch him shove the card key in his pocket before he grabs the ice bucket and mutters something about buying drinks.

He gives you a warning glance and you look away when he tells you to “behave” before slipping out the door.

You roll your eyes to the safety of his back.

You order Chinese and quickly deadbolt the door before running over to dig through Harry’s luggage. He’s just stuffed everything haphazardly into the duffel, so you don’t worry about keeping it organised as you search his pockets, and unravel tops, and search for your car keys.

You can’t stay here with him tonight. He’ll have you gagged, tied up, and shoved in a closet by morning, and Christ if that thought doesn’t send a shiver through your body.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter in your panicked search. You start unzipping the side pockets and digging around. You throw the duffle back on the floor and start opening and closing different drawers in the place. The bathroom cabinets are empty, and the keys aren’t hidden in the closet, or tucked away in a nightstand drawer. You start ripping up the sofa cushion in a frenzy.

The door slams suddenly and you can hear Harry out in the hall. “Hey,” he barks and shoves at the door again. “Open up. My hands are full.”

You reshove the cushions into the sofa and throw the pillows back to their spot.

Just as Harry’s growl comes barking at you again, you unlock the door and swing it open as casual as you can.

“Sorry,” you grab the ice bucket from his hands as an excuse to turn away. “I must’ve accidently deadbolted it. You were able to buy drinks, then? I was worried they might be out. Y’know with the storm, and being full, and everyone being trapped here for the night. From the weather, it almost seems like…”

You trail off as Harry leans against the door, his arms folded across his chest. You follow his gaze to the open drawers of the wardrobe doubling as a TV stand.

“Oh,” you shove them close with your hip and foot before setting the ice down. “I was thinking about unpacking my stuff. I hate when it gets wrinkly -”

“My stuff, too?” Harry questions dryly as he looks at where his completely unzipped duffle is abandoned.

You take a deep breath to keep from cursing.

“Yes, yes, yours too.” He walks towards you, his broad shoulders looking hulking and threatening. It makes you prattle on nervously. “I guess I am so used to working for celebs and since you’re a popstar - I just - I was thinking about laying out your stuff for you. I wouldn't want your Gucci, or Givenchy, or Prada to -”

“Are you lying?” Harry’s grabbed onto your wrist to stop you from shuffling backwards any further. He doesn’t let go as he sits down on the bed. He’s tall enough that he’s eye level with you as he sits, and he pulls you in until you’re basically wedged in between his thighs.

“No, I’m not-”

“I don’t like being lied to,” he interrupts. “I get lied to all the time. From my bosses, my PR people, my designers, my publicists, my fans. I don’t want lies.”

The hand wrapped around your wrist squeezes in warning.

You swallow your nerves and opt for the truth. “I want the keys,” you confess, pulling your wrist until it’s free from his hold.

His lips pull upward, not in delight, but in some sort of dry amusement. A harsh chuckle flares his nostrils and you’re sure the lies go along with never getting the truth from anyone. He doesn’t get told no, or hear any criticism, or receive any pushback from all the yes-men who surround him.

Well, if he’s asking for the truth then you will fucking give it to him.

“Give me the keys,” you state firmly. “I want to leave, so give me the keys.”

Harry shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and runs a hand roughly along his jaw. He levels you dead in the eyes before sinking you with one word, “No.”

You storm away, over to the sofa, and sit with your arms crossed and your back towards him. He turns on a footie match and lays back on the bed. You two don’t exchange another word until the delivery man shows up at the door.

You like him better that way - silent.

“I thought I told you pizza,” he growls as a boy holding two bags of Chinese looks up at Harry in embarrassment.

“I’m not one of your yes-men, popstar,” you snatch the food from the boy’s hand and flash him a smile. “It’s a snowstorm; make sure to give a good tip.”

III

It’s late by the time you finish eating. The day had been long, the ride treacherous, and every interaction since entering the hotel completely draining.

While the Chinese food wasn’t that great, you had delighted in every grumpy swallow Harry took of the Chow Mein. His irritation was clear when he growled at you about trying to throw away his chopsticks.

“I’m saving them,” he had snarled, plucking them out of your hand. They were nicer than the usual takeaway chopsticks - heavier and a bit more durable, but what millionaire keeps takeaway utensils?

“You liked the Chinese so much that you want a souvenir?” you taunted and only smiled wider when Harry glowered at you darkly.

“Something like that,” he muttered, placing them safely on the nightstand.

That was an hour ago and the mindless drone of bad telly has lured you into nearly forgetting the exhausting celebrity lounging at the head of the bed.

“Harry,” you prompt, looking back to where he’s leaning against the headboard, his sock-covered feet crossed casually near where you rest at the end of the bed. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

He didn’t respond, just flickered his eyes from you and back to the television as if it was none of his concern.

You stood up, tired, and in a bit of a huff.

“Aren’t you going to go sleep on the sofa?” you question, trying your best to keep the bite out of your voice. “There’s no sense in us both sleeping here.”

Harry just flipped the covers down and patted the spot next to him without glancing your way.

“Seriously?” you rolled your eyes. “I’m not one of your yes-men - or girls. I am not sleeping with you!”

“Then, sleep on the sofa, or stand, or find a comfy spot on the floor because I’m not moving, princess.” You glared at him from the foot of the bed.

It made you angrier the longer he paid you no mind.

“You’re so surrounded by people so stuck up your arse that you don’t remember what it’s like to have someone tell you no. Do you?” Harry licked his lips, his nostrils flaring dangerously. “You always get your way? Grab this, schedule that, talk to them... Well, fuck you, Harry because I am telling you no.”

Harry stands up, taking two large steps until he’s closed the gap between you two, his lips are on yours as he pulls you into his body. His scent overwhelms you first - fills up your nostrils and you’ve never felt so wrapped up in someone in your entire life. His tongue demands entrance next, and you part your lips to let Harry slip in. He rolls against you, pressing deeper into you, and muddling your brain from any coherent thought.

“I’ll make you say yes,” he growls, a hand crawling up your waist until his thumb brushes over your nipple. His mouth is still hard against yours. “Tell me no again and I’ll make you mine.”

You use his shirt to pull him closer into you, and he forces a bit of separation by dragging that same hand up your throat, his thumb pressing gently against the sides of your neck this time.

“Say it,” he demands, “Tell me no.”

You’re scared, and hungry with desire, and your brain can hardly make sense of what he wants from you and what you want from yourself. You think back to the bathroom, and the soap, and his threat. You push him away.

“What would you have done?” you ask as Harry stares down at you, his lips just slightly puffy from their assault. “If I called you a name again? In the bathroom?”

You can see Harry’s breath hitch, but he smiles - a taunting, arrogant smile that makes your heart flutter in desire.

“You want to know?” he asks and after a pause, you nod. You were starting to realise that Harry demanded answers to all his questions. “I would’ve made you stand there and watch me as I lathered my hands up, and then I would’ve told you to open, and I would’ve ran my finger all through your mouth - along your gum, under your tongue, and the inside of your lips, and then you would’ve sucked my fingers until you apologized.”

You feel numb and he stares down at you carefully, calculating. His hands spread wide across your hips

“I wouldn’t have let you,” you whisper.

Harry throws his head back in a humorless chuckle. “Darling, you wouldn’t ever want me to stop.”

His hands run up your sides, across your breast, and rest under your jaw, forcing you to tilt your neck to meet his gaze. The pads of his fingers wrap behind your head and his palms cup your cheeks.

He stares down at you expectantly, and the word parts your lip with a rush. You know it means everything - freedom, and permission, and acceptance that you want everything he will give you.

“No.”

The smile that splits Harry’s face doesn’t fool you for a minute - it’s intimidating, and threatening, and makes you want to crawl away from the touch you crave.

He sweeps you away with one deep, demanding kiss before turning you around, pressing your back tight into his back, and sinking his hand beneath your panties.

“My favourite people aren’t yes-men,” he growls into your ear, his fingers discovering the wetness coating your thighs. “They tell me no. I can’t resist no - it reminds me I’m human, and I’m man, and it’s naughty.” You moan as he adds pressure to his exploration and you feel his own hardness pressed into the top of your bum. “How have you been naughty today? Huh? Tell me.”

His free hand roams up your body until it’s wrapped around your neck and he pulls your head back against his shoulder. You moan when he pinches your clit threateningly.

“Tell me.”

You squeal when he pinches even harder.

“I called you a twat, and I didn’t listen and ordered Chinese, and I - I” Harry snakes a finger into your mouth but encourages you. Your words come out garbled and fuck it makes you needy. “I snuck through your stuff and I told you to fuck off. Fuck.”

Harry pats you lightly on the cheek and rubs your clit once more before guiding you to the bed. When you move to lay down, he stops you, and positions you with both feet firmly on the floor, your arms tucked under you, and your cheek pressed firmly into the mattress. Your bum sticks out and it makes your face glow red.

“Harry, I-”

He shushes you.

“I’m going to make you my yes girl, ya?” You watch him reach back to the nightstand, and he picks up the chopsticks. “Open,” he demands, holding them in front of you and waiting until you’ve had your mouth open for an embarrassing long time before placing them between your teeth and telling you to close.

Harry pulls your shorts down and rubs his hands soothingly over your bum. It’s been a while since you’ve had doggy style and never before with chopsticks between your teeth. You push back into Harry, eager to feel him press into you.

He pulls your panites up slightly, and you practically purr at the fabric against your sensitive flesh. The pressure against your clit makes you needy for more. You wiggle your bum, desperately asking him to stop playing with you.

“Have you ever been spanked before?”

You freeze.

Harry pulls your panites a little more taut and warms your bottom even more.

“Yes or no?” he prompts lowly, “Have you ever been spanked?”

Your face burns into the duvet when you shake your head no and you practically hear Harry’s satisfaction at your response.

“Didn’t think so,” he chirps lightly, almost slightly disproving. “We’ll change that.”

He pulls your panties tighter, balling them in one of his first, and forcing you to arch your back and pop your bum.

“Eight this first time,” Harry decides. “Two for each offense. I’ll explain more tomorrow, but for now it will just be two. Understand?”

You’re so caught up in your shame, and confusion, and the feeling of wetness dripping down your leg that you nod into the mattress noiselessly.

Harry grins and adjusts himself where he’s still tucked in his trousers.

You jump at the first three, the shock of them surprising you more than any real hurt or pain. You study Harry’s face, see the hunger in his eyes, and how he licks his lips as he studies your bum, and even the way his lips twitch delightedly when you gasp at his touch. You think you’d let him spank you every day if it means getting to see him look at you like that.

By the time Harry says, “That’s eight” you’re grateful that’s all he had wanted from you. Your bum feels hot more than anything, but Harry had snapped harder for the last two and you wondered how much he was holding back. You try to stand up, but Harry’s hand in the middle of your back keeps you still.

He reaches around to grab the chopsticks from your mouth. “Tell me thank you,” he orders, looking down his nose at you.

You feel like you should want to crawl away, but instead you find yourself giving a breathy “thank you” to the man that just spanked your bottom red.

IIII

After Harry helps you up, you think you’re going to have sex.

When he sits down on the bed, you swing a leg over top of him, straddle his waist, and grind down on his hardness underneath you. You’re so desperate for him that you feel no shame - just need, and desperation, and an aching burn somewhere deep in your stomach. Your lips are hungry for his, and his hands crawl up your thighs, palm your stinging bum, and settle at the dip of your waist. His long thumbs dip playfully under your panties.

You moan when his thumbs dig in right under your hip bones.

“Let me ride you,” you beg, sneaking a hand under his sweatshirt and Harry lets you pull it off him. You reach down to untie his sweats.

His hands clasp around your wrists suddenly, and he holds them captive in one hand while his other wraps around your neck and a fat thumb pushes just slightly into your mouth.

“Harry?” you moan in question and his thumb presses down more harshly, prompting your jaw open more.

He stands up, shift you off his waist, and sets you down on the bed.

“Don’t move,” he orders without a backward glance and disappears into the toilet.

You figure he’s rolling on a condom, and you take the time to peel off your own top and bra. You leave your panties on in anticipation of the feeling of Harry pulling them off you.

Your brain is drowning in so much desire that you don’t really have the will to consider what’s happening. Harry’s power hungry and it makes you absolutely desperate for him. You think you’d do anything he wants, whatever he says, work to meet all of his needs.

You lay back on the bed and touch yourself, gasping at the wetness in between your legs. You yell at Harry to hurry up, a bit more breathiness in your voice than you intended.

After another torturous moment, Harry walks out of the bathroom with his top back on and his pants noticeably less...strained.

“Ready for bed?”

“What the - are we not? I thought you were going to?” There’s a small smile on his face, but his eyes betray whatever image of innocence he’s trying to convey. He leans down to kiss you. “We-we were going to have sex?”

Harry shakes his head. “After a spanking?”he looks at you with an infuriating patience.”No, you should go to bed. Maybe another time, after you’ve earned it.” He taps your leg to get you to scoot, as if that’s it, as if he’s just settled, closed, finalized the matter.

“Are you joking?” you seeth and it looks like he’s trying to bite back a cocky smile. “We’re not going to fuck? You just spanked me and let me ride you some and I’m horny and we’re not going to have sex?”

“Yes,” Harry nods. “Now get under the covers.”

“But you were hard -”

“And I took care of it myself.”

You want to scream at him. He looks so satisfied, so sure of himself, so confident you’re going to do exactly what he says and christ if he’s not 100% right.

“Fine,” you growl, pulling your shirt back on and crawling over to your side of the bed. You scooch as far from him as possible and curl up with your back towards him.

“That's it, darling. Just as I say,” he’s absolutely taunting you for a reaction and it sends a wave of desire through your already desperate body.

The mattress sinks as Harry slides in and then the room is plunged into darkness when he turns off the telly and flips off the light. You should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy, he’s an absolute devil and apparently you are his new favourite toy to tease.

You yelp in surprise when his hands wrap around you and pull you tight into his body. You wiggle away, but he holds you tight and, after a moment, you let him. You’re angry, he’s a prat, but his body fits so well around yours that you can’t bother to fight too much.

For a while, his hands innocently splay across your stomach, unmoving. You’re hyper aware of his fingers ghosting right above your panties.

“Please,” you beg as Harry slides one giant hand deeper into your panties and rubs slow circles around your wet folds.

Harry just shushes you, and you think you will die like this - horny and in the arms of the man who did it to you.

***

When you wake in the morning, it takes two minutes before Harry is on top of you.

“I’m sorry for calling you names. I’m sorry for cursing at you. I’m sorry for - for,’ Harry peels your shirt off and hovers above you.

You prattle on some more - listing off every apology that crosses your mind - you had slept, but it was restless. You’ve never woken more horny in your life.

“Open,” Harry demands, tapping your chin. Again, just like last night, he makes you wait a shameful second with your mouth hanging open before he stuffs your shirt inside. “I don’t want to hear anything but moans from that filthy mouth. Got it?”

He wraps a hand around your waist and flips you onto your hands and knees. He guides your shoulders and cheek into the mattress with a firm hand.

“Answer me,” he smacks your sore arse. There’s a softness in his voice, a slight desperation that you didn’t notice last night when it was all arrogance, and sharp, and firm.

“Mmmphhh,” you moan as Harry spreads your knees apart further and keeps a hand right above your bum to force a wanton arch in your back.

He runs his fingers along your folds. “Is this just from this morning, baby? Or is this still from last night? Fuck.” Harry growls and snakes just the tip of a finger into you. “Did you like that? Going to bed horny for me? Hmm? Tell me?”

You moan and buck back on where it feels like he has two fingers in you.

“We’ll have time for slow,” he shuffles behind you and when you subconsciously lean up slightly he gently but firmly pushes you back down on the bed. “I don’t have time to tie you up. Stay still.”

He shuffles around and then you gasp when you feel just the tip of him glide against you. He chuckles when you lean back for more of him. You think he calls you greedy, but your heartbeat is so loud that you can barely hear a word.

Harry dips into you a few times, stretching your pussy, and making you moan in pleasure. You desperately want to ask him to touch your clit, or you want to touch it yourself, but the angle he has you at makes it impossible.

“C’mon, lean back f’me, darling,” you feel his length fill you and your eyes roll back in your head in pleasure. He rolls his hips inside you and then sets a quick tempo. The sounds of smacking flesh quickly fill your ears and you groan in need.

You beg into the gag again, pleading with Harry to touch you.

“That’s right,” he growls and leans down to grab you and pull your back against him. The angle keeps him in you but his thrusts make you feel split full with every pull and push of his hips. He’s desperate and when you cry into your gag, his hand finds your neck and pull you even tighter against him, your neck curved back to rest on his shoulder. His other hands ghosts down your stomach until he’s rubbing circles into your quaking folds.

“Come for me, doll,” he demands, pulling the gag from your mouth, and then running his fingers down your body to cruelly flick your clit. You clench down on his cock as your orgasm explodes through your toes, and thighs, and chest. You gasp and moan into your gag and then hear Harry do the same as you grip down on him in need.

“Fuck me,” Harry curses as you both shake through your orgasms and then collapse on the bed.

Harry’s hand finds your jaw. He has thing for holding your face in his hands, but you’re starting to think you might have a thing for it, too.

“B’mine?” Harry asks, his cheeks still red, and his lips puffy, and the dark hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. “Be my good girl? Tell me yes.”

“Yes,” you mutter, your face flushing with heat and desire.

“Say it. All of it,” he demands and you don’t know how you’re ever going to survive London with him in it. You had left London a respectable woman and now you were absolutely preening with the thought of going back to it after bending over, letting Harry spank you, and call you his good girl. It sent a shiver up your spine.

“Yes,” you promised and watched a dangerous smile paint his face. “I’ll be your good girl.”

[masterpost]

#this is dirty sorry #feminism on hold #one direction #one direction fic #one direction imagine #one direction writing #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #one direction x reader #reader insert #my writing

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

Text

Never Satisfied [Chapter 8]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“reality may be better than a dream“

He isn’t sure when he woke back up or how long it had been since he fell asleep, but his cheek is squished up against something and he is in a horizontal position. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, realizing he is staring past the edge of a pair of tanned legs decorated with thin black lines of fishnets which are also digging into his cheek. His eyes widen, lips parting a tiny bit when he realizes he’d tipped over in his sleep, laying his head on Cora’s hip. His hand had slid from her cheek and curled against the back of her neck, cradling her head in his palm. He swallows hard, unsure if he should move and risk waking her up or stand as still as he possibly can. On one hand, he doesn’t want her thinking he willingly invaded her personal space, but then again she’s bound to find out, seeing as how moving would result in waking her up and if he remained in his current position, she’s still gonna wake up sooner or later and find him awkwardly looking at her, silently praying she doesn’t lose her cool at him.

What is a guy to do?

Her arms are still wrapped snugly around his thigh, sleeping peacefully in the dark room illuminated only by the Netflix menu.

It must be later than I thought, he thinks to himself as he stretches his free leg out to his phone, tapping the screen with his sock covered toe to discover it’s 6:48pm. Jesus, we’ve slept for almost two hours.

The sun is still glowing but is now significantly lower in the sky, indicating they’d have a little bit of daylight left but it would be quick to slip past them if Cora doesn’t wake up anytime soon. What if she wanted to leave before it got dark? I should probably wake her up, no? I mean, there’s also the possibility that she didn’t and I’d just be disturbing her for no reason and I of course don’t want that….Ugh, fuck, why is something this simple so complicated?!

Doing his best not to jostle her, Corpse carefully pushes himself up using his hands which he’s propped up on the back of the couch. Once upright, he carefully eases his hand out from under her head and brushes a few stray dark locks away from her face where they had formed a curtain over her closed eyes. His voice cracks as he tries to speak so it comes out more as an unsure murmur.

“Cora. Hey, come on, wake up.” He whispers, trying to be gentle as he nudges her shoulder.

She lets out a soft distressed noise at the fact that someone dared to interrupt her sleep. Her arms tighten around his leg and she rubbed her cheek into his thigh, indicating that he’s not going anywhere with this mellowness,

“Mmm...five more minutes…” she mutters, making his cheeks burn as she snuggles up even tighter into him.

With a defeated sigh he leans back, fixating his gaze on the TV and smiles a tiny bit, feeling that by now familiar, warm sensation in his chest and stomach - the one he feels whenever he takes her hand or gets a text from her. “Alright, five minutes.” He settles, leaning back further on the couch, unlocking his phone, beginning to browse Instagram quietly and then checking his email afterwards.

He soon finds he’s lost track of time but eventually it definitely starts feeling like more than five minutes have passed, and so Corpse decides to take some action. Bowing his head down, he shakes her shoulder again. “Alright, come on, Sleeping Beauty, it's time to get up. I’m hungry and I gotta pee and I’m done with being held hostage.”

Her head tips slightly to the side, eyes still closed as she turns to face the ceiling. A sly little smirk dances on her lips before it falls when she goes back to pretending to be consumed by her blissful slumber. Her voice arises from her throat as a playful whisper,

“Something-something can only be awoken with the kiss of a strong knight.”

Corpse feels his stomach do a backflip and his face starts burning as the color of his cheeks, ears and neck switches to a bright shade of red, eyes growing wide when he registers what she just said. “I’m...um-...” He stutters, his throat suddenly dry and coarse as sandpaper.

Cora opens one eye just a slit, spotting his frantic blushing before closing it again. “Or even just a dude lost in the woods if the knight is unavailable.”

He swallowed again, desperately trying to fish out any words and let them leave his mouth. Despite his attempts to calm himself down, his hands go clammy and his heart has taken to hitting the inside of his ribcage with the intensity of an angry dragon, threatening to break through and leave his body.

She isn’t really suggesting this, right? It’s a joke, it has to be. Haha, make Corpse look like a dumbass, won’t that be hilarious.

Interrupting his thoughts, one of her hands squeezes the back of his knee while the other comes up to link her pinky finger with his own. He stares down at her, flustered as all hell, catching that one eye open again. His face is the epitome of questioning, puzzled and….hopeful? He can’t afford to be getting hopeful, not when there’s still the option that she’s messing with him. That’s why he has to know. His eyes are begging her to tell him what’s going on here or if there’s anything going on at all. He wants her to either break this magic or carry it out completely to where it’s enveloped and surrounded them both. He wants something, anything, even the tiniest signal from her, just to put his mind at ease and his racing heart to rest.

His breath hitches when Cora slides her hand out from under his leg. Defeat spreads throughout his chest like a wildfire when he thinks she’s about to pull away.

I knew it! I knew she’s just fucking around, she’d never w-!

His brain stops firing neurons of panic when he feels a hand rest on the back of his neck and he suddenly realizes he’s being pulled down slightly, the figure across his lap raising to connect their lips halfway.

He freezes, eyes wide and nearly watering in panic at the sudden contact that he was far from prepared for. However, Cora wouldn’t be Cora if she just let him sit there and panic so she immediately reacts, squeezing his hand so that his instincts would kick in. When they finally do, his hand comes up to gently cup her face, allowing himself to melt into the kiss. He kisses her slowly, savoring the feeling of her lips against his - warm and soft against his chapped ones. His thumb brushes slowly across her cheekbone, subconsciously memorizing every spot and tiny line etched into her skin.

She’s the first to pull back but they don’t stay apart for long seeing as how she’s quick to sit up higher and press her lips back against his, hand cradling his head as both their bodies buzz with heat. His arm automatically wraps around her torso, the palm of his hand resting on her back to keep her close, deepening the kiss.

His chest is aching with happiness, eyes brimmed with tears of joy and relief he hopes won’t spill for her to see. He just can’t help himself, it all feels so overwhelming and surreal. The feeling that he’s had living within him since their lunch date has finally fallen into place. It finally makes sense and he can finally be at peace with it. That’s the biggest relief he’s felt in a long while. She’s his check point, his safe haven and his relief. She’s become so much to him in such a short amount of time. It goes without saying she’s incredibly special.

He draws back after a moment and inhales shakily, his whole body shaking in shock.

“Holy shit.” He whispers, eyes wide as he carefully moves his hands away from her face.

Cora’s cheeks are pink as she smiles faintly and nods in agreement. “Sorry...I hope that was okay.” She mumbles, looking away shyly but not for long. Corpse tilts her head, turning it to face him once again as he leans in to press his lips firmly against hers, eyes closing slowly yet again. She brings her body closer to his and Corpse could swear he felt the Earth stop spinning. The rest of the world has stopped existing. Nothing matters but this moment, right now. This kiss shared between them, this contact between them, addictive like a drug.

They spend a few minutes just kissing slowly, enjoying every second of it, savoring it with a small fear they might never repeat this though they really hope they do.

He alternates between cupping her cheek and neck to holding her hands. The whole experience is just so warm and deep and meaningful, but tame at the same time. They don’t dissolve into a frantic mess, they kept their pace, moving in sync, reminding each other that this is not a dream. This is better than any dream could ever be.

He breaks away first, his heart still beating rapidly in his chest. “Do-...do you need to go home?” He blurts out softly, fingers laced with hers, the question so out of place for the setting.

“Oh, is my kissing so bad you want to kick me out?” She asks with a smile so small but so bright it warms him internally.

He laughs a deep breathy laugh, looking at her with affection. He can't help it, he’s intoxicated by her. Before, it would have been a totally different experience for him: frantic backpedaling on what he’d said but something feels...good with her here. It feels so right and it keeps him grounded in the current moment, refusing to allow him running the conversation and events back in his head.

“No, you’re perfect…” he admits softly, a little anxious with those words but accepting them as truth because that’s what they are. “I just thought….”

“Is that what that burning smell is?” She teases again, perhaps hiding her own nervousness behind jokes, before she kisses him softly.

“I thought, if you wanted to stay the night....I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.” He manages to say, pulling away from her briefly, the backs of his fingers drawing a soft line across her cheek. He pulls away further suddenly, realizing that may be a bit too romantic. They just kissed, and still haven’t spent such a big amount of time together. With these thoughts in mind, he hurries to add: “If not, it’s okay…”

She’s quick to shake her head, dismissing his worries, “I want to stay, but you’re not sleeping on the couch. What, are you afraid I’ll give you cooties?” She teases, squeezing his hands and leaning in to affectionately headbutt his shoulder.

He smiled and winds his arms around her in a tight hug, releasing her when she pulls away. “Alright, but I’m hungry, and I still need to piss.” He declares, standing up and stretching to loosen and relax his stiff joints, starting to make his way to the bathroom. “Think about what you want for dinner!”

@fockingwhore @vixenl @annshit @wineandionysus @wiseflamingoqueen

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kat-tamin · 4 years ago

Text

you’re a cowboy like me

For Women of SVU Week 2021: Day Six: There was only one bed

Ship: Kat x Amanda

Warnings: Smut, including oral and fingering

Word Count: 2115

“Rollins, I just got word that our suspect got picked up in Westhampton's. We need to go pick him up.”

Amanda looked up at Kat. “When?”

“ASAP. ADA wants him arraigned tomorrow.” Kat gave the older detective a sympathetic look. “Sorry, Rollins. Hamptons PD says we can get him first thing tomorrow morning.”

“That means leaving tonight.” Amanda rubbed her forehead in frustration. “I’ll see if I can get someone to watch the girls.”

“Sorry, Rollins.” Kat smiled, trying to come up with something comforting. “On the bright side, mini vacay? I can make us a road trip mix.”

“Fine.” Amanda grabbed her keys, heading for the elevator. “Go pack a bag. I’ll meet you back here.” She paused, turned back to Kat. “None of that mumble rap crap, though. That’s not music.”

___

An almost 3 hour drive for two people who didn’t know each other that well was practically torture. The majority of the drive was spent in awkward silence. The only time they spoke was to discuss the landscape, or the case they were currently working on, Kat’s 90s music mix filling in the gaps of conversation.

This wasn’t like Kat, or Amanda. They were both quite talkative women, but there seemed to be an underlying awkwardness between them when they weren’t at work. Neither was quite sure why. They just didn’t seem to have a lot in common. Kat was young, while Amanda was a mom. That alone made their lives very different.

Chasing Waterfalls by TLC came up on the mix, and Amanda automatically turned the volume up.

“You like this?” Kat raised her voice to be heard over the music.

Amanda nodded, grinning. “Reminds me of when I was young.”

“Me too! I remember them playing it at my elementary school graduation!”

Amanda turned to her wide eyed. “Your what?”

“Yeah, it was fun- what?” Kat glanced at Amanda’s disgusted face.

“Kat, this played at my senior prom.”

Kat snorted, and quickly covered her open mouth with her hand. “Sorry, Rollins.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Amanda muttered. “Respect your elders, Tamin.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Kat’s tone of voice made Amanda’s breath catch in her throat. She had to quickly right the car so it wouldn’t swerve into the other lane.

Finally, the two SVU members made it to the motel that the department had booked for the night. It was just outside town, close to the station. Kat would have preferred to be closer to the ocean, but beggars couldn’t be choosers when it came to a free hotel room.

Kat noticed Amanda was already walking into the office, and hurried after her, catching the door just before it closed.

“You must be the NYPD!” The cheerful, older woman working greeted them. “One bed, right?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Kat leaned on the check in desk, blinking in surprise.

“That’s what was booked.” The woman peered at her screen. “A queen sized room.”

“But there’s two of us,” Amanda reminded her, her voice tight.

“I’m sorry, Detective. I’m afraid I’m all booked up otherwise.” The worker scrunched up her nose. “I think I may have a cot lying around.”

Kat and Amanda glanced at each other, their eyes wide. A motel cot was just asking for a messed up back for a week.

“We can share.” Amanda turned back to the counter. “Right, Kat?”

“Right.” Kat suddenly felt very thirsty, her throat dry. “No big deal.”

After dumping their bags in their room, neither looking at the single bed, Amanda suggested they find a pub to eat at. “I could use a drink.”

Luckily, there was a bar down the street that served dinner. It was dark and dirty, but Kat didn’t mind. The smell of grease made her stomach growl, and her mouth water. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, forgoing lunch to finish up paperwork.

“Drink?” Amanda didn’t wait for Kat’s answer, flagging down the bartender.

“I’ll have a whiskey, neat.” Her eyes went to the blackboard menu. “And a burger with fries.”

The bartender nodded, then looked at Kat. “You?”

“Scotch and soda, please. I’ll have the burger too.”

He left to put in their order, and Kat’s eyes wandered over the tight space, with it’s neon signs and bright decor. “This reminds me of this lesbian bar in Brooklyn.”

“Ginger’s.”

Kat turned to Amanda, surprised. “You know it?”

Amanda just shrugged. “Of course.”

Their drinks were put down on the bartop, interrupting Kat’s follow up questions before they could start.

The combination of liquor and the exhaustion from the drive loosened their tongues. Over their greasy meals, Amanda and Kat found that they had more in common then they first thought.

Besides the obvious work connection, they bonded over the fact that they grew up pretty poor. This started a debate about whether it was worse to be in a New York winter without heat, or a summer in Georgia without air conditioning.

“You can’t say Winter is worse. You’ve never experienced summer in the south.” Kat noticed Amanda’s accent became more pronounced, whether it was from the talk of home or the alcohol. “You sleep naked, but still wake up hot and sticky.”

Kat’s thoughts betrayed her by imaging Amanda’s body sticky with sweat. She took a large swig of her drink, blood rushing to her cheeks.

___

The air was thick with tension as they changed into their pajamas, and slipped under the covers. Kat made sure to stick as close to the edge as possible, not wanting to make the other woman uncomfortable. She didn’t know many straight girls who were cool with sleeping in the same bed as her, unless they weren’t as straight as they said.

Was Amanda one of those girls? She knew about Ginger’s, after all. Maybe she’s just an ally, Kat thought. She had at least slept with two men, Kat knew for sure. There was no indication that Amanda was into women. Except the niggling feeling Kat got when Amanda stood a certain way, or the way she dressed sometimes. Her internal radar always seemed to ping when she looked at Amanda.

On the other side of the bed, Amanda turned onto her side. Then tossed onto her other side. Then on her back. She heard Kat shift. “Sorry,” Amanda whispered. “Can’t get comfy.”

“All good.” Kat turned to face Amanda. “Do you want me to ask for the cot?”

“Nah.” Amanda craned her neck to look at her. “Unless you want to.”

She felt Kat shake her head. “I’m used to sharing a bed.”

“With your girlfriend?” Amanda’s voice came out confrontational, making her wince.

Kat stiffened. “No, with my sister.”

“Oh.”

They laid in silence for a minute. A passing car illuminated their room for a flash.

“I haven’t had a girlfriend in a while,” Kat whispered.

“Yeah, the pandemic kinda killed the dating game,” Amanda replied, folding her hands over her stomach. “Men weren’t really beating down the door before then either.”

“But you’re so beautiful!” Kat blurted out.

Amanda just chuckled sadly. “A lot of the guys I meet don’t want an automatic family.”

Kat propped herself on her elbow. “Not even to hook up?”

Amanda wrinkled her nose. “I think I’m getting too old to play that game.”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re fucking hot.” Woah, where’d that come from? Kat winced.

Amanda slowly turned towards Kat, their faces close now. “Yeah?”

“Yeah...”

In a split second, Amanda made a decision. She moved, and pressed her lips to Kat’s, who eagerly responded. Their movements became rushed, and soon Kat was pulling at Amanda’s tee. Amanda slipped it over her head, then helped Kat out of her own.

“Have you done this before?” Kat couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes.” Amanda’s mouth moved to Kat’s earlobe, her breath hot.

“At Ginger’s?”

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.” Amanda bit down gently on her ear, making Kat moan. The sound flooded Amanda’s stomach with heat.

Amanda moved down Kat’s body, leaving open mouthed kisses. Her fingers ghosted over the front of Kat’s sports bra, making her nipples pebble. She leaned down, biting at one gently through the fabric.

“Oh, fuck!” Amanda hurriedly captured Kat’s groan in her mouth. Their tongues slipped over each other, wet and slick.

Amanda’s hand slipped under Kat’s hips, pulling down her pants and underwear in one tug.

“Let me see you,” Amanda said, leaning over to snap on the lamp.

Now in the light, Kat could get a good look at Amanda leaning over her, her bare chest right in front of Kat’s face. Her breasts were full and round with pink stretch marks, and tiny nipples.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Kat breathed.

Amanda’s face broke into a cocky grin. “Not so bad yourself.”

They met back in a hurried kiss, tongues swirling around each other.

Kat felt Amanda’s hand on her inner thigh, stroking the sensitive skin. Kat shivered at the sensation, her eyes closing.

“What do you want?” Amanda’s voice in her ear.

Kat’s legs opened wider, begging for her touch. “Anything. You.”

Amanda’s mouth took her previous path, this time making it all the way down to where she wanted her most, the scent making Amanda’s mouth water.

She slid a finger down Kat’s slit, making the other woman gasp. She couldn’t help but tease, liking the way Kat’s eyes screwed shut in frustration.

“Amanda, please...”

Amanda ducked her head down, her mouth taking her finger’s place. She teased Kat’s entrance with her tongue, savoring the wetness that gathered there.

“Please.”

Her tongue made contact with Kat’s clit, making her back arch. Kat’s thighs tightened around Amanda’s head more and more with every swipe.

“Fuck, just like that.”

Kat let out a gasp, Amanda’s mouth sucking hard on her clit. Heat built in Kat’s body, her muscles growing tight. The sheets were curled tight in her clenched fists.

“I’m close!”

Amanda could feel her, the wetness clinging to her lips, Kat’s hand moving to her hair, pulling gently as she pressed her cunt closer to Amanda’s face. Amanda suddenly pushed two fingers into her pussy, making Kat finally cum with a small scream of her name.

Amanda scissored her fingers, letting Kat ride out her orgasm, then moved up her body to give her a kiss, letting Kat taste herself on Amanda’s tongue.

Kat used the distraction to flip Amanda onto her back, straddling her hips. “My turn.”

Amanda shimmied out of her bottoms, finally leaving her bare. “Be my guest.”

Kat took her time, hands tracing Amanda’s breasts and collarbone. The light touch raised goosebumps on her body, her nipples hard. Kat circled one, then the other.

“Harder.” Amanda’s hand went to her own chest to demonstrate the strong pinch she liked.

“You like it rough, huh?” Kat decided to up the game, and bit down on Amanda’s nipple instead.

Amanda groaned. “Fuck yeah, like that.”

Kat took the nipple in her mouth, sucking and biting the flesh. Amanda moaned loudly, her hand drifting down to her clit.

In a flash, Kat grabbed her wrist. “Nuh uh.” Kat grabbed the other wrist, and pinned them above Amanda’s blonde head. “Do I need to grab the cuffs?” Kat licked a stripe along Amanda’s neck. “Or are you going to be good?”

“I’ll be good,” Amanda promised. “But you should probably get going.” She bucked her hips pointedly, urging Kat to her pussy.

“Keep your hands there,” Kat ordered. She let go of Amanda, testing her. To her credit, Amanda didn’t move. “Good girl.”

She moved down the bed so she could get into a better position in front of Amanda’s cunt. It was mostly bare, except for a small triangle of blonde hair. Her lips were wet with her slick.

Kat stroked her clit with her thumb, and in a quick move, thrust three fingers deep into her pussy, finding no resistance.

Amanda screamed, but didn’t move her hands to push Kat away. Kat pistoned in and out of her. “So good taking my fingers, baby.”

Kat’s words made Amanda tighten, her walls clenching down against Kat’s fingers. She moves her hand to massage Amanda’s front wall, the spot that Amanda could never reach on her own.

It wasn’t long before Amanda was shuddering and gasping. “Oh, God….”

Kat withdrew her hand, pressing them into Amanda’s mouth. Her tongue made good work of cleaning off the younger girl’s fingers.

They both laid on their backs, breathing hard. Kat reached over to turn the lamp off, plunging the room back into darkness.

Amanda curled on her side, and Kat slung an arm around her waist, burying her face in her neck.

All tangled up, their tiny bed didn’t seem as small anymore.

#wsvu week #kat tamin #amanda rollins #kat x amanda #tamlins #fanfic #svu #kat tamin fanfic #*

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pillowfluffs · 4 years ago

Text

Pining!Mark

Pairing: Mark X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: dark stormy fluff (my fave)

Author’s Note: I haven’t written kpop imagines in so long im sorry this is long overdue and probably bad aasdkasjdasd

The living room windows and blinds were shut, blocking out the dim lighting from the outside world as a storm brewed in the sky. Mark walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of water for himself until he heard the chiming of his doorbell which made his heart skip a beat knowing you were behind the door. He took a deep breath and opened the door to find you in comfy clothes. He had invited you over to spend to watch a movie together while his parents were out but they didn’t mind you coming over since you two had been friends since middle school.

“Hey,” you smiled as you stepped in to the familiar house, taking off your shoes.

“Hey, so I got the movie so prepare yourself,” he smirked a little as you followed him to the living room.

“Oh god what movie did you pick this time?” Youvraced yourself as you asked as you sat beside him, already grabbing a pillow to hold. Ye last time you came over for a movie, he for some reason picked the sonic movie claiming he wanted to watch it out of curiosity. It wasn’t bad since you got to spend time with him but you did wish he didn’t pick a movie for kids. It wasn’t the first time you came over to Mark’s to watch a movie but the thing was he never told you the movie until you came over. There was no turning back when you were already over so it was pretty much a gamble whenever you came over.

“The Conjuring,” he smirked as the tv turned on, already showing the creepy house on the menu screen. He knew horror movies weren’t your favorite but he hoped it would give the opportunity for him to make his move. He had been crushing on you since the beginning of high school and now that it was the last year, it had been seven years of you two being best friends, he wanted to be something more than a friend.

Whenever you were around, you made it feel like he was always sitting on the edge of his seat, not knowing what to expect by what you would say or do. The way you smiled at him and everyone else around the room, having the power to immediately brighten it wherever you went. How you were able to click with any teacher and help others who needed it in class but also kept to yourself and did what you needed to do as a student. He couldn’t help but admit the envy he get when another friend of yours who wasn’t as close as he was to you, Renjun, asked you to go to homecoming with him. He had beaten Mark to his own plans and asked your friend instead so you could all go as a group.

You bit your lip having seen the trailer a few times for this movie when it came out a couple years ago. You were quick to turn down the volume and turn your phone screen upside down until the trailer ended, though you did want to watch a horror movie. “I honestly might die, wow you want me dead, Mark.”

He laughed at you. “It won’t be that bad... I think. Plus, I can protect you.” He said boldly, feeling heat ride to his face and ears.

“My hero, a tall lanky noodle guy,” you laughed back at him. This was one of your jokes you always made to him calling him a lanky noodle which began toward the end of middle school as Mark grew into his features and grew taller. You couldn’t ignore the attraction you felt for him either but you were afraid of losing him after being together for years so you kept your feelings to yourself, even suppressing them to the point where you told yourself you didn’t like him anymore.

The movie began and then the realization hit you when the sound was suddenly all around you. Mark’s living room was practically a movie theater with the surround sound speakers, making you even more immersed into the movie.

As the movie played and gradually began getting creepier and creepier, you draped one of the blankets over your legs and hugged the pillow you grabbed earlier with your knees up to use as a possible shield.

Mark snuck a few glances to you every now and then feeling a smile tugging on his lips as he saw your bundled up form with your little wall from the movie.

For you, the worst part of the movie was when there was little to no sound at all, making you brace yourself and tense your body up for a jumpscare. It was during those moments did you finally hear the rain and thunder as it poured outside, making the perfect ambiance to watch a horror movie.

Mark’s glances slowly stopped as he began to focus on the actual movie itself, being drawn in by the plot and suspense that seemed to grow stronger and stronger as it played. He was suddenly pulled out until he felt a poke on his hand that rested on the top of the couch. His eyes met yours, surprised that he didn’t even notice you with his head wrapped up into the movie. Could I sit beside you?” You asked adorably, making him really want to confess his feelings for you but he knew it wasn’t the time.

“Yeah,” he nodded. You took the space to his side and leaned against him. He sat leaned against the arm of the couch on his left with his left knee up in the air, with the other leg folded down on the couch. He could swear you were able to hear how loud his heart was beating with you so close to him, cuddled against him. But you could swear he heard the same thing now that you could feel his body heat seeping through your shirt into your back.

As the movie continued and things for worse for the characters, you began to shield your eyes more often, holding up the pillow. You flinched whenever a loud sound or jumpscare happened, making mark poke his fun and tease you until it was your turn where mark let out a loud gasp, making the two of you laugh together. Never in your life did you think you would laugh during a horror movie but of course you would be with Mark. He never failed to make you smile or laugh.

With the movie near the end, Mark ordered a pizza so it would be close by roughly around the time the movie ended.

By the time the movie ended and the credits played with the eerie music in the back, you leaned your head back onto his arm with your hood up. “Wow. That was really intense.” You looked over to him as he just looked at you with his dark orbs. Low rumbles began to sound through the house cause of the storm outside with the rain bouncing off the roof of the house. There was something about this moment that he couldn’t put his finger on and his body moved without realizing it.

His lips were on yours as his hand cupped your face. You were frozen at first until your mind clicked into reality of what was happening and then you moved your lips against his. You turned your head more and you grasped the fabric of his shirt until the two of you pulled away.

With your faces still close to one another, you could feel each other’s breaths. He brushed a strand of hair behind, taking in the curves of his your lips looked in the dark room.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he sighed, breaking into a smile, cupping your face once again.

“Let’s do it again, then,” you agreed as he leaned closer to you once again, moving his lips against yours. He leaned closer and closer, letting the feelings he felt for you take over his body. You laid on your back on the couch with his arm beside your head holding him up and his knee between your legs. You wrapped your arms around his neck as the other went under your hoodie, feeling your skin.

The rain continued to fall from the heavy clouds as the two of you laid together in his living room, letting your mutual feelings finally be expressed to one another. The movie and pizza was a distance thought now that you two finally had each other after pining for years.

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more!

Sorry if this is bad, I’m rusty 🥺

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lumora-the-white · 3 years ago

Text

Anyone Else

TFATWS - Bucky Barns x OC

Chapter One - word count 4835

**Trigger warning** brief sexual assault over the phone - has asterisks

SHIELD Agent Helen Turner swore under her breath as she bent to pick up the keys she dropped at her locked apartment door. Before she could pick them up, the soft jingle of her key ring made her straighten back up. She blinked at the man standing beside her, not sure how he could’ve gotten so close to her without her noticing. He held her keys out to her, and she cautiously took them from his hand. She’d been seeing him in the building on and off for the last six months.

“Thanks.” She murmured, taking note of his leather gloves. Odd to wear in such nice weather. Although, the wind could be bitter in Brooklyn, even when the sun was shining.

The mysterious dark haired man nodded, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and realization hit Helen like a ton of bricks. He’d shoved his hands in his pockets, but she caught the glint of metal at his left wrist between his jacket sleeve and his pocket. This must be the infamous James “Bucky” Barnes, aka The Winter Soldier. She knew he had come to New York after the battle for Earth. She just hadn’t realized he’d come to Brooklyn.

“A-are you hungry?” Helen offered, inserting the key into the lock and giving it a twist. “I-I’m about to make dinner and I always make too much so…” She turned to look at the man still somehow miraculously beside her. He was eyeing her carefully, lips set in a grim line. He didn’t say anything, he just squinted a little.

Bucky wasn’t sure what to do with his neighbors’ proposition. On one hand she was incredibly beautiful; blonde and curvy, with a knockout set of beaming bedroom eyes. On the other, she set off all kinds of alarm bells in his military trained head. He was sure he’d seen her before, but was having trouble placing her outside of the apartment building at the moment. Just that morning he’d held the building door for her when a shower suddenly popped up, noting how her sports bra pleasantly clung to her chest.

Helen eased open her apartment door and stepped inside, leaving the door open for him. She set her grocery bags down on the kitchen counter and slipped off her sneakers. “Can I get you something to drink?” Helen asked, peering into her fridge and plucking out a couple of beers. She shut the door with her hip and turned to find Bucky still standing in the doorframe. She raised a bottle to him and he stepped forward, letting the door fall shut.

Helen smirked and twisted off the caps. After tossing them into the bin, she padded across the linoleum and handed him a bottle. “Cheers,” She murmured, clinking the neck of her bottle with his.

Bucky nodded, his smirk deepening a little. “Cheers.” He echoed, taking a swig.

“Helen.” She spoke softly, offering her hand.

Bucky’s lips twitched. The name suited her well. “Bucky,” He answered, taking her hand. He immediately noticed the strength of her grip. He resisted the urge to pull her closer to him and released her hand.

Helen reached around him and threw the deadbolt. “This is Brooklyn, after all.” She teased, flashing him a smile. She hung up her keys on a hook by the door and then spun around and returned to the kitchen.

Bucky took a few more steps into the apartment, taking note of how neat and clean the space was. The living room was decorated well, modern leather furniture with a flat screen TV. The kitchen was clean, and it looked like the cabinets had been recently painted. He picked up a framed photograph sitting on a small side table. The picture looked old, but with today’s Instagram filters looks could definitely be deceiving. The picture was of Helen and a rather dashingly handsome soldier. From the flashes on the man’s uniform, he appeared to be a WWII veteran. He realized Helen was also in uniform, a nurse’s uniform. He supposed the picture could be of her grandparents, or maybe a costume party for Halloween. He knew people went to and enjoyed those types of things.

Bucky set the picture down, trying to contain his panic. How could she be in a photograph like that? “What’s on the menu?” He asked, casually leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter to take a swig of beer, watching her empty her grocery bags into the fridge.

“I was thinking some comfort food would be nice.” Helen explained, setting a pan in the sink to fill with water. “How about some goulash? I use an old family recipe and give it a little twist.” She rummaged in a cabinet for some elbow macaroni.

Bucky set down his beer and caught a stray jar of dried parsley as it fell off the shelf over Helen’s shoulder. “Easy there, doll.”

Helen swallowed hard at his sudden nearness, reaching gingerly between them to take the jar. “Thank you.” She murmured, feeling her cheeks flush.

Bucky flashed her a good natured grin and took a step back, leaning against the counter again to continue drinking his beer. He was encouraged to see the chemistry crackling between them wasn’t lost on her. She seemed interested in exploring their options, probably why she’d invited him inside her apartment in the first place.

Helen closed the cabinet and returned to gathering the ingredients for the dish.

“Anything I can do?” Bucky offered, setting his half drunk beer down on the counter, shoving his hands in his pockets again.

Helen looked up from the pan of water she set on the stovetop to boil. “Are you serious?” She scoffed, giving the pot a generous dash of salt. “You goin’ ta cut vegetables in leather, eh?” Kinky, she thought, knowing why he wore them, but not sure how to tell him she knew without giving away her identity just yet.

Bucky glanced down at his leather gloves. He wore them so often that he really didn’t think about it much anymore. “That a problem?” He countered, taking the knife she handed him. Her thick Brooklyn accent was doing silly things to his insides.

Helen just raised an eyebrow. “You could take your coat off too,” She motioned to the hooks across the room next to the front door “Stay awhile.”

Bucky thought for a moment, setting the knife down the countertop. There was definitely something different about this woman. He just wasn’t sure about revealing himself in that way. As much as he didn’t care that people knew he had a metal arm, he usually didn’t lead with that when he was looking for a woman’s intimate company. Is that what he was really looking for here? He’d heard a rumor of a woman super soldier also made by Hydra during his brief sabbatical in Wakanda. Shuri had spoken like the woman was a unicorn, hard to spot and even harder to capture the attention of. The outlandish rumor was that her brainwashing had been cut short by an attack by Steve as Captain America. She’d gone into hiding and SHIELD had tried to recover her mind to no avail.

The woman before him, softly humming to herself in the dimly lit kitchen did not seem like a super soldier with a mind that had been ripped to shreds by Hydra. Maybe SHIELD had success in putting her mind back together after all. The picture on her side table popped up in his mind as she looked over at him, her green eyes dancing with amusement. He’d bet his next meal that this was the same woman in that photo. In all his years, eyes never lied. She looked back at the pan she was browning some ground beef in and he exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

You don’t trust anyone…the words of his therapist ran annoyingly through his mind. Instead of just shrugging off the words, he took a deep breath and slipped off his gloves, placing them in his jacket pocket. Next, he unzipped his jacket and slid it off his shoulders, exiting the kitchen to hang it on one of the hooks beside the door. He swallowed and turned around to face Helen, who’d set out a cutting board with some peppers and onions for him to dice.

“Feel better?” Helen asked, looking him in the eyes, not ogling his arm at all. He nodded, coming back into the kitchen. He’d worn a short sleeve shirt under his jacket that morning because he never planned on taking the thing off in public. “Good.” She smiled, turning a little to check the pasta.

Bucky washed his hands and then busied himself with chopping up the vegetables in a fine dice, trying to ignore the fact that she hadn’t even flinched at the fact he had a vibranium left arm. He'd at least learned to cook basic things when he was kid, so he wasn’t completely useless in instances like these. He tossed the veggies in the pan she had just drained the beef from. He stirred absently, jumping a little when she came closer to see the fruits of his labor.

Helen tried not to stare at Bucky’s vibranium arm, she had so many questions but she knew if she drew attention to it, he’d just leave. He was after all a grumpy old man, 100 years old and all alone, or so Shuri had said. She was 100 years young herself, a curse of the super soldier serum and the time she’d been frozen for. She’d just been in Wakanda last month, that’s how she knew who Bucky was and what he’d been through.

She came closer to inspect his work. Instinctively, she had come up behind him and peered over his shoulder, her left arm wrapping around his back. fingers gently resting on the cool metal of his left bicep for a moment. “Looking good.” She murmured, releasing his arm and turning back to the sink to finish cleaning up the pasta pot.

Bucky tried not to flinch at her touch. Granted the sensation was different than his flesh arm, but he could still feel that her fingers seemed at peace there, that they weren’t repulsed by the material they felt. She released him and he found himself missing her warmth. He continued to stir and she returned with more ingredients. She added the beef back to the pan, some spices and then a can of tomato soup. After letting it bubble for a few moments, she added the pasta. He stirred all of it together and let it simmer. He turned away from the stove top to find her elbow deep in soapy water, washing the dishes as she went.

“I clean as I go, otherwise they just sit for ages.” She chuckled, wiping her hands on a towel. A couple of soap suds lingered on her cheek and without thinking all the way through his actions, Bucky reached up with his left arm and swiped them away.

This time Helen did flinch. “S-sorry,” She shook her head. “You s-surprised me is all.” She explained, “You don’t scare me, Bucky.” She murmured softly, her eyes sliding closed. “Please.” She sighed, “D-don’t leave.”

Bucky swallowed and studied the trembling woman before him. He could tell she wasn’t afraid of him staying, he could tell she was afraid he’d be offended and leave her, just like everyone else. Instead of shrugging off her fear, he turned back to the pan where their dinner bubbled away and gave it a few stirs so it didn’t burn. From her reaction, he could tell she was used to not having people stay in her life. Super soldier life was, after all, a lonely existence.

Helen sniffed and covered her face for a moment before clearing her throat and squaring her shoulders. No need to get upset, Bucky wasn’t running from her, at least not yet. If he knew who she really was, and not just a pretty neighbor girl, he’d probably would run the other way. He’d probably find it incredibly creepy that she, a fellow immortal super soldier, had invited him in for dinner, knowing exactly who he was.

She instead focused on getting dinner served, trying to push down her feelings of inadequacy. She turned to the cabinet and brought out a pair of plates, setting them on the counter beside the stovetop. “Here,” She reached for the spoon in his hand. “Silverware is in the drawer by the sink.”

———

The pair moved around each other with seemingly practiced ease and brought the meal to the table in the tiny dining room. Helen had an end unit so there were two sliding glass doors with a connecting balcony, giving them a nice city skyline backdrop. Bucky settled in the chair facing the door out of habit and noticed that Helen had gravitated towards it too. “Sorry,” He moved to get up.

Helen quickly slid into the opposite chair. “No, I’m sorry.” She smiled nervously, “Habit I guess.” She laughed softly, shaking her head a little.

Bucky smirked, picking up his fork. “Looks good.” He nodded to his plate.

Helen found herself suddenly nervous. She hadn’t thought all the way through inviting him into her home. Sure, dinner out was easy, but it was another thing for him to be in her home. She picked up her fork, “I sure hope so, slaved over that hot stove for you.” She winked.

Bucky’s lips twitched and he took a mouthful of goulash. “Oh wow.” He breathed.

Helen’s nose scrunched. “That bad?”

Bucky finished chewing and swallowed. “It’s delicious.” He quickly took another forkful.

Helen dug in and echoed his sentiment. “Oh, that definitely hits the spot.”

They ate in silence for a few moments until Helen ventured a question. “Where did you grow up?”

Bucky set down his fork for a moment and wiped his mouth on his napkin. “Here, actually.” He met her eyes for a moment as he took a swig of beer. “Born and raised.”

Helen smiled. “Really?” She knew he’d come back to America after Wakanda, but she hadn’t realized that he’d come home. “It must be weird to be b-ba...uh.” She’d almost said ‘back.’

“You obviously have me at a disadvantage.” Bucky murmured, picking up his fork again.

Helen worried her lip with her top teeth. “I-I’m not sure what you-”

“You know I’m The Winter Soldier.” Bucky said after swallowing a forkful. “It’s not everyday that I meet someone and they don’t gasp when I reveal my arm.”

Helen’s eyes widened, afraid she’d crossed a line, “Were,” She corrected. “You were The Winter Soldier.”

Bucky licked his lips, “You’re right.” He sighed. “Still getting used to that.” He clicked his tongue. “Something tells me your grip is definitely not because of CrossFit or Pilates.” His brow furrowed. “So what does that make you, eh?”

Helen blinked. “Make me?” She squeaked.

Bucky swallowed another forkful. “Uh, let’s see, um, CIA?” He guessed, “FBI-”

“SHIELD.” Helen admitted. “After my time at Hydra I was taken in by SHIELD.” She looked away for a moment. “They froze me for almost fifty years, trying to figure out how to rebuild my mind since Hydra had wiped it clean.”

“Should’ve taken you to Wakanda.” He mused. Bucky’s brow furrowed again, “How old are you?”

“Jesus,” Helen scoffed. “What kind of a question is that? We barely know each other.”

“Considering we’re both have super serum running through our veins, I’d say we know each other better than we’d like to admit at this point.” Bucky countered, surprised by the looseness of his tongue. Usually it was hard for him to talk this much, especially to a complete stranger. Helen seemed to put him at ease, and for that he was cautiously grateful.

“Touche.” Helen smirked. “I was given the serum at 24 so I haven’t really aged much since then.” Bucky cocked an eyebrow. “You first.” She jutted her chin at him.

Bucky smiled. Probably the first real smile he’d smiled since coming back to Brooklyn. “106.”

“Oh,” Helen’s eyes widened. “You might be a little old for me, Mr. Barnes.” She gushed playfully before taking another bite.

Bucky chewed for a moment then swallowed. “I was given the serum at 28, so that’s not possible.”

Helen bit her lip. “Just turned 100 last week.”

So she was turned after him. Maybe after his escape, Hydra had sought to rebuild in a different direction. “Happy Birthday.” He grinned, raising his almost empty bottle.

“Thanks.” Helen accepted awkwardly, clinking her half drunk beer with his.

They’d just finished their meal when Helen scoffed. “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

Bucky thought for a moment. Sure, he probably should be running in the opposite direction since she was from the world he was trying so desperate to leave behind. But frankly, he was tired of running. Seeing her this morning running in the rain made him want to go with her, to feel the rain on his skin and not have a care in the world. “You cook like this all the time, you’ll have to kick me out, doll.” He gave her a wink, earning another flush on her cheeks. He sighed, getting up from the table. “More beer?” He offered, stacking their now cleaned plates.

Helen pushed up from her chair. “Sure.” She followed him into the kitchen and joined him at the sink where he’d begun to wash the plates. She glanced over at Bucky to find him subtly checking her out. “Like what you see, Sergeant?” She picked up a clean towel to dry the dishes with.

Bucky bit his lip, his eyes back on the dish in his hand. He handed her a rinsed plate. After she dried that, he handed her the last plate and let the water drain out of the sink. “Say that I do, like what I see.” He drawled, taking the towel she offered him to dry his hands. “What would you have me do next?” He ran the towel through the oven handle so it could hang to dry.

Helen swallowed against the lump of anticipation in her throat as Buckly leaned against the counter opposite of her, casually crossing his arms. “I-I thought we were going to have another beer?”

Bucky smirked. “So we were.” He pushed off the counter and opened her fridge. He pulled out two more bottles and twisted off their caps, tossing them into the bin. “Cheers.” He held out a bottle to her.

Helen took the bottle and clinked it with his. “Cheers.” She answered, a small smile playing on her lips. “You still out saving the world these days?” She asked before taking a long drag of beer to calm her nerves.

Bucky scoffed. “Not quite.” He chuckled a little before taking a swig of beer. “I’m planning on heading to D.C. tomorrow. They’ve opened up a new part of Cap’s exhibit at the Smithsonian.”

“You were close with Captain Rodgers,” Helen mused, “That might prove difficult.”

Bucky nodded. “He was like my brother.”

“That must be a terrible burden to bear.” Helen murmured, “All the people I was close with have passed on.”

Bucky knew that reality. Watching the people he was close with pass on had definitely taken a toll on him. “Yeah, perks of being a hundred years old, eh?” He shook his head a little. Seemed like Helen didn’t do small talk. He liked that. “You work with SHIELD, or?”

“Sort of,” she smiled, knowing they’d landed on a touchy subject. “I’m a liaison between SHIELD and a US Military black ops group.”

“Fancy.” Bucky scoffed. “You have a codename I’d know?”

Helen barked a laugh. “Probably not.” She pushed off the counter and sauntered over to the living room. “Come sit,” She settled on the sofa and tucked her feet underneath her. “I’m beat.”

Bucky took a deep breath then pushed off the counter and followed her to the sofa. He settled next to her, not quite touching, and stretched his right arm out along the back of the sofa behind her shoulders.

Helen swiveled to face him and continued to drink her beer. “Nightingale.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Because you were a nurse?” He nodded towards the side table with the framed photograph he’d picked up earlier.

Helen nodded, fingering the frame absently. “The hospital ship I was on in WWII was captured by Hydra.” She suddenly had a very far away look in her eyes. “I-I killed a few of the agents with my side arm and got a few men off onto rescue boats. I wasn’t able to fend them all off with it.” A single tear rolled down her cheek and her lips trembled a little. “Silly to still be so upset about something that happened so long ago, eh?” She sniffled and took another drag of her beer, dashing the back of her hand over her eyes.

“No,” Bucky shook his head. “It’s really not.”

Helen studied him for a moment. “You sound like my therapist.” She scoffed with a smile before polishing off her beer. She set it on the side table.

“He says I need to learn to trust people.”

Bucky scoffed. He’d heard that one before. “Is that what I am tonight?” His lips twitched in amusement. “A therapy exercise?” He passed her his empty bottle and she set it on the end table.

Helen laughed. “Maybe?” She bit her lip. “You’re the most attractive therapy exercise I’ve attempted so far.” She murmured wryly, giving him a wink.

Bucky swiveled to face her more, his arm sliding along her own that was stretched out beside his as he inched closer. “I’d say you’re passing the exercise with flying colors so far.” He teased, now there was just a few inches between them. He could see the unease in her eyes, but also the determination to hold her ground. “Inviting me into your home, cooking a meal, telling me about Hydra and SHIELD. All steps to build genuine trust and friendship.”

Helen subconsciously licked her lips. Bucky clenched his jaw to keep from pulling her to him and kissing her senseless. “Is that what you want to be?” She sounded slightly breathless. “Friends?”

Bucky pursed his lips, “Hell, doll.” He scoffed. “I’ll settle for the neighbor down the hall you have dinner with and, uh.” He lost his nerve. He mentally kicked himself for being so forward.

“And?” Helen whispered, feeling herself fall deeper under the spell of his nearness.

Bucky moved closer still, his hand coming up from the couch to delve into her hair, gently cupping the back of her head. He brushed his nose with hers, feeling the electricity between them spark. “And, with the lady’s consent of course, enjoy each other’s intimate company.”

“Oh,” Helen breathed, she’d been thinking of this moment since he’d held the door for her in the rain this morning. “The lady does consent-“

That was all he needed to hear. Bucky closed the distance between them by pressing his lips to hers, pulling her closer to his chest. His left hand gently slid up her arm to her shoulder to pull her even closer.

Helen was losing herself in the way he seemed to envelope her and want her as close as possible. She sighed in pleasure and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Helen came up for air, resting her forehead against his. “This is a dream.” She murmured, biting her lip, eyes sliding closed.

Bucky’s lips twitched. “I’ll say.” His voice sounded heavy with want. It’s been a long time since he’d let a woman in this close. He placed a finger under her chin to tip her face up towards his. Suddenly Helen’s phone rang on the wall. “You have a landline?” He teased. She moved to get up from the couch. “Stay,” He murmured, his fingers tightening in her hair, “Let it go to the machine.”

“I should get it.” Helen sighed. “It’s probably the office.”

Bucky smirked. “No rest for the wicked.” He kissed her cheek then leaned back so she could extract herself from the comfort of the couch.

Helen rushed to the phone, “Hello.” She answered. “Yes.” She agreed to accept the charges from the call coming in.

****

“That you sweetheart?” A voice that made her blood run cold asked through the receiver.

“Yes.” Helen answered. “How are you?”

“Better now that I’m talking to you, sweetheart.” The man answered with a sneer.

“How can I be of service?” Helen asked, suddenly aware that Bucky had gotten up from the sofa to bring their empty beer bottles into the kitchen.

Bucky’s ears perked up at the strained tone of her voice. He stayed in the kitchen to give her a sense of privacy, but he could still eavesdrop some.

“What are you wearing?” The man asked. “What color are your panties?”

Helen swallowed, “Red.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” The man groaned, “that’s good.” He took a quick breath. “You gonna fuck those sweet fingers of yours and think of Daddy?”

Helen’s voice broke. “Y-yes.” She whispered.

“Good girl.” The man smiled, “You let anyone touch you and I’ll kill them, you know that I have the power to do that. Right sweetheart?”

Helen’s eyes squeezed shut, “Y-yes.”

“Say it.” The man ordered. “Out loud.”

Helen locked eyes with Bucky who had emerged from the kitchen. “If I let anyone touch me, you’ll kill them.” She murmured, voice trembling.

Bucky’s eyes widened. Who in the world would she be talking to like that? He came closer, brow furrowing as he crossed his arms over this chest to keep himself from taking the receiver from her.

“That’s right.” The man praised, “That’s my good girl.” He sighed. “Time for me to go sweetheart.”

“Already?” Helen nearly choked on the word, trying her best to feign enthusiasm.

The man chuckled darkly. “We’ll talk again soon, sweetheart. Just remember who you belong to.” Then the line went blank.

****

Bucky was close enough that he could hear the recording announce the charges to her account. She was talking to a convict? “You’re letting some asshole locked in jail harass you?” He squinted in confusion. “You’re a badass super soldier SHIELD agent, Helen, why-”

“Please,” Helen whispered. “You don’t understand.” She hung up the receiver and brushed past him to go into the kitchen.

“You’re damn right I don’t understand.” Bucky scoffed, following after her. “You could rip this guy to shreds, why take his phone calls and torture yourself?” His brow furrowed in frustration.

Helen’s tears spilled over as she reached for a bottle of whiskey. “Because he knows who I really am!” She exclaimed in a whisper, shoulders shaking. She swiped at her tears, undid the bottle cap and poured a couple of fingers worth of liquid in a rock glass.

“So he knows you’re a SHIELD agent, where’s the harm in that, doll?” Bucky came closer, gently taking the bottle from her shaking fingers.

“No,” Helen shook her head. She knocked back her glass in one go. “SHIELD doesn’t even know who I truly am.” She murmured. “I’m sorry, this,” she motioned between them, “was a bad idea.” She didn’t know what she’d been thinking, even a late night rendezvous between them put Bucky at risk.

Bucky set the bottle down on the counter, just out of Helen’s reach. “C’mon, doll.” He smirked, “We’re just getting our feet wet here.” He took a step towards her. “I was the Winter Soldier, remember?” He gently placed his right hand on her shoulder, “Some scumbag who gets off on harassing a pretty dame like you doesn’t scare me.”

Helen bit her lip. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“Who is he?” Bucky asked, his left hand balling into a fist.

Helen shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’ve already said too much.” She stepped back from him, causing his arm to fall. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I can’t give you what you want.” A few tears escaped down her cheeks. “You should go.”

Bucky blinked. He didn’t just want inside her apartment so he could satisfy the late night fantasy he’d had for the last six months anymore. Her confession at dinner and now this disturbing phone call had him concerned for her well being. Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but Helen turned away from him.

“Please.” Helen pleaded, louder and firmer this time. “Please leave.”

Bucky looked at the ground for a moment. Then he took a step back. “Thank you for dinner and the company Helen.” He thanked her. She just nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. “Have a good night.” Then he fled.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x oc #the avengers #tfaws spoilers #tfatws #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#romance #adventure #bucky x you

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woodstockbtswriter · 4 years ago

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Voyagers

Genre: Fluff/Headcanon

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (Female)

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to join BTS on a Bon Voyage adventure leads to once-in-a-lifetime love.

Author’s Note: Okay, I just have to say, watching the boys try to filet a fish and not being able to tell them that they were using the wrong knife was painful for me. 😄 Anyway, hope you enjoy this latest installment! 💕

GIF Credit: MONOSUGA

Part Sixteen

Back to Civilization

At the conclusion of your fishing trip, you returned to your campsite to meet up with the rest of the boys, pack everything up, and head to Queenstown

You watched the sun fall lower and lower in the sky from the passenger’s seat as Yoongi drove into the city

By the time you reached your accommodation, the night was completely black

For the last two nights of your trip, you’d be staying in a rental, and though it was hard to see in the dark, you could tell just from the outside that the large, modern house was luxurious

As soon as Yoongi parked the SUV and Jungkook parked the camper, everyone grabbed their suitcases and headed inside

The second you walked in the door, you and the boys were amazed, and the interior designer in you geeked out just a little bit

The house was open-concept, with the living room, kitchen, and dining room all in one large space, and the whole back wall was floor-to-ceiling windows

The design was clean and contemporary, featuring all neutral colors and mixed materials like glass and stone

It was a far cry from the cabins, tents, and camper you’d stayed in the last few nights

And as several of you admired the incredible view of the twinkling city skyline, you agreed it was nice to be back in civilization

Collapsing onto the sofas after bringing in all the luggage, food, and supplies, the boys began discussing how to decide rooms

There were five bedrooms to choose from: three would have to be shared and two would be private

Jin suggested you play the bottle cap game, and Hoseok cleared off the coffee table in preparation

After a quick round of rock-paper-scissors, it was determined that Yoongi would go first, and he casually flicked the plastic bottle cap a little over halfway across the table

Surprisingly, his mediocre shot was enough to win, as everyone else - including you - either overshot or came up short

Having won first pick of the bedrooms, Yoongi chose the private room with the twin-size bed

Which allowed you, as the runner-up, to choose your own room with a full-size bed

Then the rest of the boys scattered, checking out the remaining bedrooms and picking their spots

Jin and Hoseok claimed the room with the king-size bed

Namjoon and Jungkook chose to share the room with the queen-size bed

And Jimin and Taehyung naturally wanted to room together, so they decided on the room with the other full-size bed

Once you were situated in your rooms, everyone began taking turns washing up, and you enjoyed a long, hot shower

Dinner Prep

When you were dried off and dressed in comfy clothes, you made your way to the kitchen

You found a freshly-bathed Yoongi there at the counter, attempting to cut up the salmon you’d caught that afternoon

He appeared to be struggling, so you asked if you could help, but he said the only thing he needed help with was peeling garlic

Jin, Jimin, and Jungkook were already seated around the kitchen table with a half-peeled mound of garlic bulbs between them, so you joined them

Though you had really hoped Yoongi wanted you by his side

You watched him from the table as he continued to wrestle with the fish until he finally admitted defeat

You were about to get up to assist him, but Jin insisted that Yoongi let him try

Jin had some trouble cutting up the fish too, but soon figured it out well enough to prepare passable sashimi

When you and the other garlic peelers finished your task, you moved to the counter to watch Yoongi and Jin work, standing ready if either of them needed your help

Eventually, after putting a pot of water on the stove to boil, Yoongi asked - without looking at you - if you could toast some bread, and you happily obliged

Dinner and Dessert

When the salmon, garlic shrimp, and pasta were ready, everyone took their place at the dining table, and you ended up seated between Hoseok and Taehyung

As you and the boys began filling your plates, Hoseok commented that you all had only one more day of the show left, and the unwelcome reminder made your stomach clench

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at Yoongi, hating the thought of your time together coming to an end

Especially after the way he’d been so distant all day

To your surprise, Yoongi was looking directly at you, but quickly turned his gaze toward his lap when he noticed your gaze on him

Then Hoseok lifted his drink, toasting to enjoying the experience until the last moment, and you joined the others in clinking your glasses and bottles together

It was a fitting toast, and as you started on your dinner, you hoped you would be able to enjoy every last moment of this experience

While you ate, the boys began discussing dinner for the next night, saying they’d like to have Korean food

But it suddenly dawned on you that if it was the final night, it would be your last opportunity to make your traditional food for them

So you spoke up, and offered to cook them all dinner the next night

The boys liked the idea, agreeing unanimously and enthusiastically, and you started planning your menu in your mind

After dinner, Jungkook brought out a box of mint chocolate chip ice cream cones and handed them out

Jin lamented that he hated mint chocolate, and Namjoon agreed that it was like mouthwash

Unwrapping his cone, Yoongi said food was food and he wasn’t very picky

You agreed as far as ice cream goes, enjoying your own cone and saying you’d yet to find a flavor you didn’t like

BTS UNO

When you finished your dessert, Namjoon, Taehyung, and Hoseok took charge of cleaning up dinner

While you waited for them to finish, the rest of your group relaxed in the living room, and Jin started shuffling a deck of UNO cards

It was getting late, and as soon as the production crew set up a ring of GoPro cameras in the middle of the coffee table, they wrapped filming and said goodnight

As they left the house and headed for their own accommodations, you and the boys encircled the table and Jin dealt everyone cards

It wouldn’t be a game with BTS if there wasn’t a penalty, so it was agreed before play started that the loser would have to wake everyone else up in the morning

Though you were all tired after a long day, the game was lively, with everyone singing and dancing and laughing as they played

Taehyung wasn’t familiar with the rules, but you grew up playing UNO with your family, so you and Jimin coached him each time it was his turn

But a heated debate occurred when the boys tried to make Yoongi draw ten cards

You immediately came to his defense, telling them they couldn’t stack +2 and +4 cards

Jimin and Jungkook insisted that they could, and you went back and forth until you pulled up the official rules on your phone

They weren’t happy about it, and grumbled as they drew their cards, but you were right

And though Yoongi kept his focus on his hand, a smirk was curling his lips

“At least now I know who’s on my side.” He said, playing his card onto the center pile, and you couldn’t hold back a self-satisfied grin

Play continued for a while, the game lasting longer with so many players, until Jin was finally the first person to go out

The remaining players kept playing, going out one-by-one, until it was down to Yoongi, Jimin, and Taehyung

With only three players, the game went much faster, and Yoongi and Jimin both went out one after the other, leaving Taehyung in last place

Unsurprised, he humbly accepted his defeat and his wake-up penalty, and everyone decided to call it a night

Another Late Night

As the boys dispersed, you hung back, taking your time heading to your room, but it was quickly apparent that Yoongi did not have the same idea

You’d been waiting all night, anxious to finally get an opportunity to talk to him without the cameras

He’d been giving you mixed signals all day, and you were dying to know exactly what he was thinking and where you stood

But as Yoongi disappeared into his bedroom, closing his door behind him, your heart dropped to the floor

Taking a deep breath then exhaling shakily, you entered your own room, trying your best to stay calm

He was just tired, you told yourself

You’d had a long day, and he probably just wanted to go to sleep

That’s all

There’s no reason to freak out

It’s late anyway, and everyone should go to sleep

Reflexively, you pulled your phone from your pocket to check the time and convince yourself of the lateness of the hour

But before you even saw the clock, your eyes were instantly drawn to the notification banner waiting on your screen

You had one unread message from Min Yoongi

You couldn’t tap it open and read it fast enough

Not sure you read it right, you read it again

And again

And again, reading it one word at a time

You then racked your brain, deciding how to answer, before finally sending a casual response

Shoving your phone back in your pocket, you hurried into your bathroom and brushed your teeth as fast as you could, your heart now racing in anticipation instead of sinking in disappointment

As soon as you’d rinsed your mouth out and checked your face in the mirror, you found the small camera mounted in the corner of your bedroom

You gave the lens a bright smile and a cheerful goodnight, then firmly pushed the power button, ensuring the recording light was off

Crossing the room, you smoothed down your clothes and lowered yourself onto the edge of your bed

And your leg began bouncing as you sat

All you could do now…

...was wait

Previous - Next

Taglist: @bucky-thorin-winchester @yvemoon @serpentiinequeen @neilpoetssociety @narcissism-iskey

#bts #bts fanfiction #min yoongi #suganetwork #hyunglinenetwork #bts bon voyage #bts headcanons #bts fluff #yoongi x reader #bts fics #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts suga #bts imagines suga #bts fic #bon voyage season 4

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crazyboy92758 · 4 years ago

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Dream journal: Kaiju Apocalypse

Overall dream mood: apocalyptic doom. Fear but the action-y kind.

This dream was a combination of the legend of Zelda: breath of the wild and a Godzilla-type kaiju flick.

So first thing to point out is that, like in a video game like Zelda, there was a world map menu screen that I kept constantly referring to. In this case, it looked like a virtual globe. There were at least two continents, a northern one and a southern one, separated by ocean. I lived on the northern continent, which also had some kind of castle thing.

The earliest thing I distinctly remember, I was with a group of people - my family? My friends? Maybe you? - in an rv in the middle of the desert in the southern continent. There was a violent sandstorm whipping around the desert. We were there looking for something. I don’t know what, but it was something important. The whole desert looked like a wasteland. I know this was happening very shortly before or right after the apocalypse had started. I don’t really know.

Evidently we found whatever we were looking for, because I was suddenly in the northern continent in some kind of huge brownstone castle sitting right on a circular beach with huge, brown, sharp rocks right around the water’s edge. The castle was simultaneously at the center of the northern continent while also sitting at its most southern edge, right at the edge of the ocean separating the northern and Souter bay continents. I know that doesn’t make sense, but it’s a dream. That’s just the way it crumbles.

Ok so here’s an important thing about this castle: I was definitely there far earlier in the dream, evacuating people from nearby into it in preparation for the coming kaiju apocalypse. Like I was there before the desert stuff, and I had flashbacks to evacuating people into this castle, but I don’t remember that part of the dream.

Anyway, now I’m on the beach, running around as these huge black jagged rock-eggs fall from the sky and release these enormous insect kaiju. Each one is glossy jet black with six spider legs attached to a monstrous humanoid torso that looked like a leaner, more muscular Godzilla but without spine. They were terrifying and awful, but I somehow had a way to defeat them if I could reach these ancient and powerful computer terminals in various places in the world. The two most obvious ones I knew or were on the beach...right where the kaiju kept dropping. I was DESPERATELY trying to reach the terminals, but the kaiju kept killing me or stopping me (don’t worry though; it was like video game dying where I’d respawn somewhere and try again). I managed to stop a couple of these kaiju, but they also had a special ability: whenever they died, a similarly sized spider creature would tear out of their armored bodies and keep fighting, making it really hard to catch a break against them.

Eventually, I ended up getting chased by one into the water. I’m swimming backwards, desperately trying to keep space between myself in this monster while it swings big at me trying to end my life. I open up my world map and try to teleport away to somewhere on the southern continent (something you can do in the legend of Zelda: breath of the wild). Unfortunately, I had just borrow my ancient teleport iPad from my friend Ivana from college (who I haven’t seen or thought of in YEARS), and she unfortunately didn’t have any location unlocked. I had to keep swimming until we reached the southern continent. And I say “we” because halfway through, the monster stopped attacking me, and suddenly the monster wasn’t a monster, it was this younger black dude around my age. He was the son of the man who had worked with the monsters to bring about this apocalypse. He and I end up on the Southern continent and then somehow together teleport to the northern one. We ended up talking, and I asked him, does he really want this end of the world?

“Yes,” he replied.

“Really?” I asked. “You want to go with your father on this? You’ve seen movies and read books right? You’re here with him until the monsters ask him to sacrifice you, or ask him to fight you. Is that really what you want?”

He didn’t really answer; he just kind of stormed off to find his father. I stopped him to say one more thing: “please. Just help me. I can stop this.” He looked conflicted as he walked away.

Meanwhile, my friend from high school, Wei-Ting Huang, decided now was a good time to walk out on to the beach. I ran after him and was like “wei-ting, you have to get inside NOW!” He turns and runs back in, across some short small bridge back inside. I had a brief flashback to when I was evacuating people right across this bridge, causing me to freeze up. Wei-ting came back out to grab me and pull me across - just in time because the bridge got destroyed by a kaiju-blast of air.

Then I woke up.

#mike's dream journal #dream journal

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missgarnet · 4 years ago

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Bad Idea

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word count:1.9K

Part Two of Yours, Mine, & Ours

Part One Part Three

Summary: After a messy breakup Y/N ends up at her neighbor Namjoon's home with a bottle of wine. What could possibly go wrong?

Link to ao3

Everything was NOT going as you planned. It was supposed to be the best anniversary you and your boyfriend have ever had, the last before you got married. All of that ended when you glanced over at his phone, and saw the messages from your friend. Next thing you knew, the two of you were in a screaming match worse than any of the other fights you had. The night ended in broken glass and slammed doors.

You sit with your back against the wall, listening to the sounds of your neighbor shuffling around his apartment. The two of you weren’t particularly close, especially since he stayed somewhere else most of the week. You didn’t want to bother someone you barely knew, but anything was better than sitting in the heavy silence of your empty apartment. Before you could overthink anymore, you grabbed the bottle of wine and went next door.

He seemed confused that you had shown up at his door in your current state. You almost couldn’t stand seeing the pity in his eyes, but it’s not like you could blame him. Seeing yourself in the mirror had shown you enough to understand his reaction. After all, it’s not everyday that your neighbor sees you carrying a bottle of wine with puffy eyes and watery mascara smudges on both sides, or at least it shouldn’t be.

“I’m sorry you had to hear all of that, it’s usually not this bad. We just got carried away”

“He shouldn’t treat you like that, a relationship needs honesty and communication. If he’s not willing to give that, he shouldn’t be with you. You deserve someone who’s going to respect you and think about what you want.”

“What if I don’t know what I want” you mutter.

He returns from the kitchen with two glasses. “Well, you may as well join the club,” he jokes, pouring the glasses so full that they nearly spill when he goes to lift his.

“Are you sure you poured enough?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re not the only one who had a long day.” He lets out a dry laugh, “Actually I’d argue that I need this more than you right now.”

You grab your glass off the table, trying not to dump it on your clothes or Namjoon’s light grey furniture. “You probably don’t want to play who has it worse right now. Turns out I’m pretty damn good at that game, and I don’t think you’d win tonight.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that if I were you.”

You grin at this, “You want a bet, how about loser buys take out?”

He nods his head at this and pulls out a stack of menus from the coffee table. “Winner picks which one we order, and you go first.”

“Fine, you probably already heard some of it anyway.” You sigh as you begin to speak, rushing through your words as if that would make it hurt any less. “I found a ring in the closet, so I thought he was going to propose. We had a timeline; he didn’t want to get married until his career was in a good spot. I thought tonight was the night. I wore the skirt he likes on me, curled my hair, fuck I even put on lingerie for him. And then I find out my idiot boyfriend fucked his best friend. I went to check the time on his phone, and I saw pictures of him cheating on me with her.”

Namjoon sits silently for a moment thinking through everything you said. “Yea, I still win. My partner left me because he couldn’t stand feeling like I was putting my work before him.”

You bust out laughing as tears begin to run down your face, “How does that win?”

“Your boyfriend was a jerk and I could hear him yelling at you through the walls all the time. Mine was a good person, he just wanted more than I could give him. At least you can move on to someone better now.”

You take a large sip of wine and roll your eyes at him, “That’s easy for you to say, you have options. He was the only one that ever saw me that way.”

“That’s not true,” Namjoon said, placing his hand on your thigh.

You find yourself drawn in by something in his expression, he seemed so sweet and caring yet insanely hot at the same time. Maybe it was an accident, or the wine but you couldn’t hold back any longer. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. Without a second thought his lips met yours. You feel him reach around your waist and pull you onto his lap. You reach up and curl your hands through his soft brown hair, giving it a hard tug.

He smirks against your lips and pulls back for a moment, “You like things a little rough, don’t you princess?”

“Only if you can last,” you say as you grab his collar and pull him back in. He glides his hands up your thighs and under your skirt, reaching around to grab your ass and lifts you further on to his lap so that you were positioned right over….. You start rocking your hips back and forth, grinding on him as he pushes your hair aside and buries his head in the crook of your neck.

You gasp as he begins to suck, leaving little marks leading down your throat as he starts to unclasp the front of your shirt. He pauses to finish taking your shirt off, and all you wanted was for him to hurry the fuck up and take the rest of it off already. You grab the buttons on his shirt and undo them in a rush, unable to wait any longer. You hadn’t been this intimate with someone for a while, and you needed to feel his skin against yours. Being with Namjoon felt different. He wasn’t just doing what made him feel good, he was doing whatever you were responding to most. Each time you gave a little gasp or soft moan, he would start going harder at what he was doing, if you got quieter he would change to something else.

You barely noticed him slipping your panities off, too focused on the way his lips wrapped around your breast. It caught you by surprise when he suddenly flipped you underneath him and sank down to where his face was level with your thighs. He started placing soft kisses, starting from your right knee and trailing up to the highest part of your thigh stopping just short of where you wanted him to go. You whined and shifted in your seat when he switched sides, trying to get him to move faster. He smiles as he leans back away from you, “If you want something, you can always ask for it.”

Without him touching you, you began to grow frustrated. “Namjoon,” you demanded, “I want you.”

He sat back on his knees and smirked, “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“Damn it Namjoon!” You felt so needy and couldn’t stand him teasing you like this anymore. “I want you. Inside of me. Right now. And if you make me wait any longer so help me”

He cuts you off, “All right princess, if you want it so bad then turn around and get up on your knees.”

You didn’t appreciate being told what to do, but if doing what he said would get you off sooner, you would do it. Turning in the large chair, you got up on your knees and leaned over the back so that you were more exposed to him. The anticipation was building inside of you as you heard him remove the rest of his clothes. His hands slipped under your skirt and pulled you back, pushing himself inside of you without warning. Your hands grip the edge of the couch in shock as you try to adjust to the feeling, the size was almost too much for you to handle. He gives you a moment before setting a brutal pace. You rock forward with every harsh snap of his hips against yours, lewdly moaning as he traces your curves moving his hands up your body. He rolls your nipples in between his fingers and pinches chuckling as you shift in pleasure.

It was nothing like you had experienced before, he went from softly kissing your back and caressing your breasts, to digging one hand into your hip and pulling your hair with the other. He managed going from loving and gentle to rough without needing to be told. Even as you finished he fucked you through it, thrusting even harder as he ran his hand up and down your thigh.

You were starting to put your clothes back on when his phone started ringing on the coffee table. Trying to get Namjoon’s attention didn’t work, and the person kept calling. It buzzed one more time before a text popped up on screen Hey Joonie! Don’t forget about our date tomorrow, Love You!

You couldn’t help but shake your head at this. He knew what you just went through, and yet here he was doing the same thing to someone else. “Are you kidding me?” You snap, handing him his phone. “I can’t believe you.”

“Y/N, wait, I can explain” he tries to stop you from leaving, but you’re already slamming the door on your way out.

Namjoon hadn’t talked to you in weeks, he knew you were avoiding him and was trying to give you space. Still it was difficult to hear about the other guys spending time with you when he knew he could make things right if you only gave him a chance. He wanted to explain, but you made it clear that you didn’t want to see him. It hurt for him to see you so happy around his friends when all he could think of was how badly he fucked up. If he was usually so careful with his words, why couldn’t he just find the words to tell you everything? He almost couldn’t believe it when he saw you wheeling a giant suitcase down the hall, sure you probably needed distance, but you didn’t have to move out.

“Y/N, wait,” he ran across the lobby to catch up with you. “I’m sorry, I know I messed up but please don’t leave just because of me.”

You do your best to ignore him, turning away to keep yourself from seeing how upset he’s acting. You try to remind yourself that this is just an act, that he doesn’t really care about you and you didn’t need him. “I’m not leaving, and this isn’t because of you. I’m doing this for me.”

“Y/N, please just hear me out for just a moment. The guys made fun of me for how much I stay here, I got the apartment so that I would have somewhere quiet to write. They liked joking that I only came here to flirt with you, and they’re not wrong.”

“Namjoon, I don’t want to talk to you. You’ve done enough.”

You turn around to leave, but he tries to keep up with you. “Please, that’s not the full story. There’s more going on, and if you could just listen.”

“No,” you snapped, “you’re with someone else. You can’t just take back the things you did. I am sick and tired of people acting like they want me, when really they just don’t want to be alone.”

Namjoon looked hurt and his voice cracked as he spoke, “No, it’s not like that. I do want to be with you. Please just give me a chance to explain.”

Trying to keep yourself from crying, the only thing you could say was, “No.”

#bts fic #namjoon fic #bts smut #bts ff

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lifesabe-ch · 5 years ago

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this means war - billy r. and frank c. (part 4)

summary: this is a spin-off from a movie (can anyone find the title?, lol), starring Billy Russo and Frank Castle. In this AU, Billy isn’t a psycho, Frank’s family is alive, and they both really like coffee. And, you know, Y/N.

pairings: Frank Castle x Reader, Billy Russo x Reader (actually both of them, I promise)

warnings: nada

a/n: we reread this last night and we love it so we’re finishing it :) (with @pitaparka, because she very heavily co-wrote this)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

Smoothing out the wrinkles in your new dress, you did a small spin in front of your phone.

“Are you sure this looks okay? Nope, not okay. Good. Does this look good?”

“Y/N,” Morgan’s voice came through the phone, her bored expression reflected on the screen through your FaceTime call.

“You look great. Your makeup is amazing, your outfit makes you look like a model or something, and your hair... I guess, it could use some work.”

“Morgan,” You scowled, a hand immediately finding a way up to your curls, desperately trying to make them look better than they already did.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding… kinda. Look, he’s gonna love you, one way or another. You’re a jaw dropper, baby!” Rolling your eyes at how quickly she could turn an insult to a compliment, you fixed your lipstick in your mirror, “You’re ridiculous.”

You could see her shrug, a grin still present on her features, “Hey, I’m not the one telling myself that I won’t fuck the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, first chance I get.”

“I never said that I won't... just that I probably shouldn’t.”

“Like I said before, and I'm the ridiculous one?”

As your phone buzzed incessantly with a call you hurriedly grabbed it, “Ahh, he’s calling me, I'll talk to you later.”

“You better tell me everything! I mean it, Y/N—”

Ending the call before she could finish, you quickly switched to the other line, “Hello?”

“Hey you.” Upon hearing Billy’s voice, a smile immediately found its way onto your lips.

“I have a favor to ask.”

As you grabbed your coat and purse and moved towards the door, you nodded despite him not being able to see you, “What’s up?”

“Could we meet at the restaurant instead? I hate to do this to you but the meeting I’m in is running a little behind and if I pick you up we might miss our reservation completely...” Billy’s voice came out rushed, a hushed tone to his words.

“That’s fine. I’ll see you there?”

He chuckled, “Of course”

You grabbed your keys, a small smile on your lips as you gently shut your apartment door behind you, hanging up.

For what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last hour, the waitress wandered over to you, a sympathetic look on her face, “Nothing yet?”

You checked your phone in hopes to see something, anything, hopefully a text to let you know why you were sitting there alone. When you found nothing, you shook your head, dejected, “Can I just have the check, please?”

“It’s on me.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

The woman rested a hand on the ten dollar bill, an understanding expression on her face, “I want to, hun. It’s the least I can do.”

You sighed, “Thank you.”

Getting out of there, you sat in your car for a moment. You could, theoretically, wait in your car to see if he ever showed up. Or, you know, just go home. But you didn’t want to do either of those things.

So, instead, you got out, walked the short distance to the pub, found a seat at the corner of the bar, and began knocking back drinks.

Or, your version of knocking back drinks anyway. It was more like, drink.

You were upset, sure, but you didn’t want to be hung over. Even as you tried to sip at the glass in front of you, you couldn’t help but scowl at it.

“Not an alcohol fan, huh?”

You turned, then you paused.

You were pleasantly surprised to find Frank sitting down next to you, an almost empty beer in his grasp.

“Oh. Hi.”

He smiled, offering you a slight nod, “Hey there, sweetheart. What brings you here?”

You scoffed lightly, your mood getting the better of you, “What, now I’m not allowed to have a drink?”

“You are, y’just… don’t seem to like it very much.”

“Oh,” You paused, swirling the liquid around in your glass but never taking a sip from it, “You’re not wrong. I just… didn’t want to go home.”

“So… here?”

“So here.”

The two of you remained silent for a moment, before Frank spoke, “Hey, you hungry?”

You smiled slightly, nodding, “I could eat.”

Abandoning the almost full drink in your hands, you left the bar with Frank.

When you got there, you couldn’t help but smile as you looked around, taking in the red and white booths and the hardwood panelling on the walls. The fluorescent lights were a bit harsh, but the kind looking night staff made up for it.

“I have to admit, I’m feeling a tad bit overdressed.” You said, Frank guiding you to a booth in the back. You could picture him, eating by himself on a Saturday morning, watching the sun rise, pancakes, toast, bacon, and eggs put together on a plate and served with a smile.

Frank chuckled, shaking his head, “A little, but you do look beautiful.”

You smiled, “You say that but the only other thing you’ve seen me in is my uniform.”

“Which, I gotta say, you look beautiful in as well.”

You shook your head, heat rushing your face, “Thank you.”

The menu wasn’t extravagant, but it didn’t need to be. Frank looked at it as a formality probably. He looks like the kind of guy who knows what he wants. The kind of guy who orders the same thing every day. You think about Billy for a second, aware of the new turn the night has taken.

All of a sudden, a new song starts playing over the speakers, you, suddenly very aware of the music “I love this song!”

Frank smiled as you began humming along to Dancing in the Moonlight, your head bopping along to the beat.

From his spot, he extended a hand. Your brow immediately raised, “What’re you doing?”

“Asking you to dance with me.”

You smiled, a teasing edge to your voice, “Who said I wanted to dance with you?”

Frank feigned hurt, turning to look behind him before continuing, “Well, you can’t say no to me now. We’ve got an audience.”

Glancing around the nearly empty diner, you noticed a teenage couple had taken note of the two of you, as well as the waitress. You smiled, taking Frank’s hand and chuckling as he spun you around.

The two of you danced for the duration of the song as if in your own bubble, you pressed up to his chest, one hand in his and the other between his shoulder blades. It was so oddly personal so fast, but it didn’t feel wrong. You closed your eyes and relished in his scent, feeling his warmth and the callouses where his fingers met his palms. The song seemed shorter than you remembered, and the two of you sat back down much sooner than you would have liked.

A small chorus of applause came from the young couple, the waitress having gotten bored with your uneventful dancing. She’s probably telling her coworkers about the couple who came in and danced before they ordered anything. You flashed Frank a grin, “Thank you. You know, for tonight. It means a lot.”

“Nah, I should be thanking you. If you hadn’t walked into that bar, I would’ve been stuck there all night with Bottle Bob.”

“Bottle bob?” You questioned, raising a brow.

“He’s a blast. He steals the beer bottles off tables when people get up to go to the bathroom.

Sometimes just when they look away. Very risque.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “Maybe I should’ve invited Bottle Bob out. He sounds like a good time.”

He chuckled, “Next time.”

“Next time?”

Leaning forward across the table, he grinned, “Well yeah, you can’t just leave me hanging.”

You leaned in yourself, leaving only a little space between the two of you, “I can’t?”

“Nope. It’d be rude. Besides, you’ve still got to make up giving me your sour hopes and dreams.”

Your gaze flicked between his lips and his eyes, “I can think of a few other ways to do that.”

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