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obae-me · 4 years ago

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Sweet and Sour Demons

Note: Thank you for 400 followers! It means so much to me that so many people appreciate what I do and write, and I’m excited to keep improving! So as a thank you, I wrote this little piece with some added visuals!

Disclaimer: I made these creations on Picrew, and I wanted to make sure I give proper credit, so, here’s all the places you can find this wonderful artist! Go support their work and make some cute chibis!

Picrew

Their Twitter

Their Website

You had no idea why you made these things. At first, it seemed like a great idea, you had sat there in a hallway at RAD, waiting just outside the door of the Student Council room. They were all having a meeting, which, of course, you weren’t allowed to attend. However, you were also barred from going anywhere by yourself, so here you were, waiting like a dog on a leash. It was, to say the least, absolutely mind-numbingly boring. You had scrolled and double-scrolled through everything on your phone, you had given up trying to read-you just weren’t in the right headspace- and even the occasional entertaining shouts and exclamations from the brothers had died down. So, you resorted to random websites, and in one, you did something you never should’ve done.

You created cute and heart-squeezingly adorable stickers of the brothers you knew so well. You knew the consequences, you had been there for the texting ban which came after those stickers were created of Lucifer and Diavolo. The house had been in chaos, and yet you made these anyway. You couldn’t help it! You were bored and your creativity and curiosity was begging you to see what they would all look like as kawaii dessert chibis. Plus, after you had made them, it had brought enough warmth in your heart to let you survive a harsh winter using nothing but your body heat.

You knew the trouble it would bring, you knew the moral consequences, so you had planned on not showing them to anybody. They’d just be your secret and yours alone, never to be shown to the world. The D.D.D. you possessed just skyrocketed in value.

Plans and secrets were hard to keep in the Devildom, especially for you, and despite what you had prepared for, you weren’t prepared for the meeting to end early. Today of all days. Right while you were giggling and hugging your phone to your chest, the doors swung wide open, each of the brothers catching you in the act.

Mammon sped past you like a whirlwind, a simple blur of white and gold. The phone was gone. Your phone was taken! Still left on the screen where all the little pictures were saved. Your heart almost stopped, that warmth snuffed out in seconds. Mammon just waved the phone around in his hand.

“What’s got you so giddy, eh? Who’re you talking to?” He frowned, the gold color of his eyes getting darker. “Since I’m so nice, I’ll let you tell me before I look.”

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, Beel came over and plucked the phone from him. “Mammon, it’s not nice to invade MC’s privacy.” You were saved!

At least until Asmo came and snatched those hopes and dreams away. “Aw, but I want to know! The drama, the intrigue, who can resist?” These brothers were playing hot potato with your phone. None of them had seen what was on it yet, for some reason all of them assumed you were talking to someone. It was only a matter of time before…

Levi rushed over to Asmo. “They’re talking to someone other than us?” His envy almost started dripping from his body. “I need to see who it is!”

Satan aggressively grabbed Asmo’s wrist and tore the phone away from his brothers. “Honestly, all of you are such children.”

A tail knocked the phone out from Satan’s grasp and into the air, landing perfectly in Belphie’s palms. He was in demon form, already enraged somehow. “Who…” was all he could mutter.

“Please, it’s no one!” You pleaded, surprised you could still breathe and say words at this point. What played out before you was like some cartoon. Was it possible to still salvage this?

The eldest brother, annoyed by his siblings’s antics, used his powers to magically move your phone into his gloved hands. He had a deep scowl on his face. “The next person to touch MC’s D.D.D. without their permission is going to have a special punishment.” He shook his head and looked into your eyes. “Here you go, MC.” There was such a thing as miracles after all! You couldn’t believe it. “I’m sorry abou-” Lucifer cut himself off short, his eyes had just briefly flickered over your phone screen. Had he really just tried to take a sneaky look after everything he just said?

Everything was in shambles. The phone that had almost been in your possession once again, just inches from your fingertips, was snapped away, plastered near Lucifer’s face as he looked upon your screen with an expression for the ages. Confusion. Slight amusement. Then bafflement. Now he was in his demon form.

“MC…” his voice was a rumbling sound, almost deep enough to make the floor shake. “What are these?” His brothers all looked intensely curious, but none of them even dared move.

“I wasn’t going to do anything with them, I swear! No sharing, no money, no nothing. I was just bored and...I thought they were cute?” You even questioned it yourself, your confidence wavering. Lucifer was silent...much too silent. You were prepared for anything, a lecture, your D.D.D. confiscated, even death.

His scowl turned into a smile, an evil smile. “I think it’s only fitting to share these with everyone else, right, MC? Once we get home, I want to see you in my study.” With a menacing glint in his eyes, he held his hand out to let his brothers, rabid with curiosity, claw their way at your phone to look at the contents.

Lucifer

Dessert: Chocolate-Covered Strawberries

Description: Despite their simplicity, this dessert is widely popular and renowned for its flavor. It doesn’t need to be overly flashy to be a prideful fan favorite. It’s not sickeningly sweet or rich like lots of other desserts. Its strong fruity tartness mixed with a sweet outer layer makes this the perfect dessert for the demon of Pride.

He’ll admit, he was shocked to his core when he saw the creation on your phone. He had felt deeply insulted that you would make him look like that. On the other hand, the fact that you had gone out of your way to make something in his likeness--no matter how disgustingly cute and humiliating it was--mixed with the look you had on your face when he opened the door left a feeling in him no human had stirred up in him before.

When you came into his study after the event, he saw you with your head hanging low, eyes sullen. He had to control himself to keep him from smiling. He only showed you a cold expression, crossing his legs in his chair behind his desk as he waved you over with one hand.

“Come here.”

His demand sent a shiver down your spine, and your face burnt up as you obeyed his order. You stood right next to his side, looking deep into his eyes as his glower burrowed into your skull. You noticed a box in his lap, red, covered in a single ribbon. Lucifer finally let his tart countenance fall, a smile on his face. He held your chin in his hand as he made you look at him. He stroked the lid of the package with one hand before gracefully opening it. Inside laid an assortment of chocolate covered strawberries, each pristine and neat. You blinked. It wasn’t nearly as terrifying as you thought the contents would be.

“What is…” you stammered, trying to look for words to express your confusion, but Lucifer’s thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making you lose your voice immediately, your face starting to almost share the shade of some of those strawberries.

“Your...punishment,” Lucifer explained. “Believe me, I had something else planned, but then I thought, if you helped make me look so cute in strawberries, how about I do the same thing to you?” Before even giving you a chance to catch your breath, he placed the box on his desk, reserving the space for you. With a hand around your wrist and the other on your waist, he pulled you into his lap, relishing your little gasps as you tried to get some air in your lungs.

Everything about him was making you squirm, his rich voice, the slight bobbing of his knee as you remained on his legs, his eyes flickering a deep crimson. To make things worse, he helped guide your hands behind your back, his hand big enough to reach around both your wrists. Your heart was racing a thousand miles a minute, your head going dizzy and light. One hand keeping you bound, the other one grasping one of the treats from the box, holding it tauntingly at your mouth. He brushed it across your lips, the look on his face telling you that what he was putting you through was sweeter to him than any dessert.

“Be a sweetheart and say Ahh.”

Mammon

Dessert: Lemon Tart

Description: A classy little pastry that’s a great mix of zesty citrus and sweet custard that sticks with you despite being surrounded by a flaky crust exterior. The bold flavor along with the gold and white motif makes this a good match for the greedy second-born.

As much as his brothers wanted to see him embarrassed, even he was surprised to feel...proud of the thing resembling him on your device. You made something of him. It may have been demeaning and overly cutesy, but you really took time out of your day to make something about him. Something that made you happy and that you appreciated. You didn’t make fun of him and tease him about it, you had planned on keeping it a secret for you to enjoy.

He dragged you away, both of you headed out of RAD, past stores and shops that he usually took you to, and instead headed into a popular Devildom bakery. Everyone in the shop swiveled around, and you couldn’t help but try to hide your face as Mammon shouted enough to be heard two stores over. He demanded the best lemon tart money could buy. Despite the other demons waiting, everyone hustled to get what Mammon needed. They knew who he was, and if he didn’t get what he wanted when he asked for it, there would be worse things to worry about.

“Mammon, slow down.” You were starting to get out of breath from all the running around he was doing, refusing to let your hand go. He had you and you couldn’t say otherwise. You realized the path you both were on now was heading back towards the House of Lamentation. As you slowed down due to exhaustion, his impatience kicked in, his wings spreading from his back as he swooped you off your feet, pressing his body deep into yours as he flew the rest of the way.

He didn’t stop moving till both of you were inside his room, slamming the door behind him. He crawled onto his bed with you still clinging to his neck, his knees by your side. You heard him undo the package the tart had come in. He made sure you watched as he bit into it, the crust crumbling, some of the custard lingering on his lips.

It was hard to stay focused, but you dropped one of your arms that was around his body, ready to grab a piece for yourself, but he stopped you, his irises glowing a dark gold behind his lids. He used his hand to direct your arm back to its place around him. His eyelashes fluttered as you instinctively latched onto his hair. His gaze had you so enamored, you didn’t notice his horns now sticking out of his head. He got in close, very close, close enough that your noses were almost touching and all you could smell was sweet citrus.

“Do you want to come try some?”

Levi

Dessert: Mochi Ice Cream

Description: A small round treat consisting of soft sticky pounded Mochi with cold and flavorful ice cream on the inside. It’s able to change color and flavors to adapt to people’s moods and preferences to make sure people like them. Perfect for the envious otaku.

He was used to seeing characters like those, but he never thought you would make him into one. He was equal parts embarrassed and envious. The way you looked at your phone like that over a fake digital character, the same way he often did. He could do that, but when you did it, it tied his insides in knots.

He still couldn’t get it out of his head, so later that night, he headed to your room, a bowl of treats in his hand. He would show you that, for once, the real thing was better than any 2D picture. When you opened the door, he stormed in, causing you to back up to keep him from bowling you over. He was in his demon form, his tail flipping back and forth. His face was flushed, but he was determined.

He backed you up to the bed, forcing you to sit down, still confused by the rush of actions happening in rapid succession. He looked down at you, his cheeks tinted pink, his tail brushing against the skin on your arm as it curled around your body, the scales as cold as ice.

He picked up a Mochi ball, placing it in his mouth, his orange eyes swimming with something other than envy. This was one of the only times he wasn’t shying away. He leaned close to you, preventing you from leaning back away from him with his tail pinning hard against your back. He pressed the soft ice cream against your lips, waiting for you to take it from him like one of his favorite Pocky games. You could feel the tip of his tail wagging against your shoulder blades, expectant.

You took the treat from him, puncturing through the mochi with your teeth only to feel the nerves of your mouth freeze as the ice cream came through. With one of his fingers, Levi helped pop the rest of the mochi in your mouth, a look of sweet satisfaction spread over his face. You shuddered, the ice cream and his cool scales sending a cold chill down your spine.

He wrapped you in his arms, the boldness melting away like the ice cream in your mouth as he leaned into your body to keep you warm.

“Don’t look at anything like that other than me.”

Satan

Dessert: Mint Brownie

Description: A hot and powerful tasting treat that not only has the bitter sensation of dark chocolate, but the strong and flavorful mint. An array of tastes under the simple and calm looking brown dessert matches the demon of wrath perfectly.

He was angry, which was the expected response. The way Lucifer and his other brothers teased his sticker form. It took a lot of control to not fight them off right then and there, destroying your D.D.D in the process, but he couldn’t stop looking at it. He was angry at you for making it, but also...he felt something else. He stormed away from the group, making his way home. You felt guilty, but decided to try to give him some time to cool off, but he had other plans.

He called you to meet him when he got home. As you approached his door, you couldn’t help but smell something sweet coming from his room. As you came inside, you smelt the strong scent of chocolate and mint. It filled your nose and overwhelmed your senses so much, you didn’t notice Satan standing right behind you. He wrapped you in his arms from behind, and you could feel his tail curling around your ankle.

“Here, have these.” He presented to you a plate with a single brownie on top of it, a thin layer of green frosting over the surface. They must’ve been fairly fresh since they still were giving off waves of heat. “I made them for you, since you think I’m so sweet.” You could feel his hot breath right near your ear as he curled his lips into a smile.

They were still so scorching, they almost burnt your fingers, but you picked a corner and shoved some in your mouth anyway. It was deliciously dark and minty, the temperature and flavor making your eyes water. The tail around your leg wound tighter as one of Satan’s hands came to brush away your tears. His boa around his neck tickled your skin, giving you goosebumps.

“Satan?” You swayed, overwhelmed by the heat coming from the pastry and Satan’s body, you were unable to tell which one was burning you more right now. He held you tight, keeping you planted in place. He used the fingers that had touched your face to pick up the rest of the brownie on the dish. He brought it up to you, and while you couldn’t see his face, you could feel his eyes staring you down.

“Go on, they taste best when they’re this hot, trust me.”

Asmo

Dessert: Cupcakes

Description: Undeniably sweet in every sense of the word. Soft cake, fluffy icing, not to mention you can use whatever filling or toppings you want. You can dress it up and make this dessert as fashionable as you please, the flawless comparison to flashy fifth-born demon.

He thought it was adorable. He was flattered you’d made sure to make him look as amazing as possible. He was sickeningly sweet, but something about the way you looked at your phone made his heart flutter. He had a plan. He was going to do a comparison, and you would be none the wiser.

Already he had everything prepared by the time you got home. He hunted you down and dragged you to his room, not giving you a chance to say no. As you entered, everything hit you at once. He had a plate of cupcakes on his nightstand, white cake with pink frosting. Asmo was almost glowing as he came over to get you one. You looked him up and down, noticing he had changed his clothes to make himself resemble the treat he gave you. A pink top, white bottoms, he even wore a pearl necklace and matching bracelets to resemble the pearly beads on top of the frosting.

“Asmo…” You hesitated, knowing he was up to something, just not quite sure what yet. Or even if you did have an inkling of what he wanted, it still left you breathless. He just looked at you with begging eyes, and you sighed figuring there was nothing wrong with eating a cupcake.

You peeled the paper off the base slowly and watched as Asmo blushed, getting closer to your body. You raised a quizzical eyebrow at him as you opened your mouth to get a good bite of the dessert, making a happy little noise when you tasted how delicious it was.

“Yay, yay, my turn!” He came over quickly, making you back up against his bedroom door as he stared you straight in the eyes as he took a bite of the cake in your hands. He took a finger and curled it around your hair. Your face turned bright red. “Lets keep going, I don’t like to waste things.” You kept taking turns biting your own end of the cupcake, watching it get smaller and smaller as your mouths were getting tauntingly close. When there seemed to be only one bite left, he made a little whine. “Aw it’s your turn, you win.” He let you take the last bite, some of the frosting depositing itself on your lips.

Asmo let you press your back deeper into his door as he got even closer, his lids heavy. His wings and horns now exposed as his lips got closer to yours.

“Time for me to check which one is sweeter.”

Beel

Dessert: Pancakes

Description: Not your typical form of dessert, but with its fluffy texture and satisfying nature, it’s capable of being a good meal for any part of the day. With stacks upon stacks, it’s a great match for the demon of gluttony.

Just seeing how you dressed up his little likeness made him hungry. He wanted to eat everything he saw, in fact, it was a miracle he hadn’t eaten your D.D.D. when he had it in his possession. All he could think about was making something like that with you. You made everything taste so much better, if he could let you finish making it anyway.

He dragged you to the kitchen once the two of you got home. There was a little spring in his step, being the happiest he had been in a long time as he watched you mix the batter. You had to order him to stay put to make sure he didn’t eat it before it could even get in the pan. He watched you move around the kitchen, and you could’ve sworn you watched him almost drool as he looked you dead in the eyes, not even at the stove.

It was almost like art the way you placed the pancakes on his plate, and as you turned around to get yours, he had already downed his in a single breath. You figured he’d do something like this, but you weren’t ready for him to watch you eat, him licking his lips every time you opened your mouth.

“Beel, do you want these?” You slid your plate towards him, only having taken a few bites of the syrupy cake.

“No, I want you to eat.” He slid his own chair around the table to be seated right next to you, legs touching. His response left you stunned, your mouth just slightly ajar in your shock. His gaze turned bright, snatching your fork away from you. “Ah so you want me to feed you, I can do that.”

Your little cry of a protest was muffled as he placed the fluffy pancake in your mouth. Some of the syrup escaped down your chin and he wiped it up with his forefinger before licking it clean. He hummed to himself in glee.

“So delicious.”

Belphie

Dessert: Hot Chocolate

Description: A hot beverage consisting of sweet chocolate and creamy milk. It leaves you feeling warm and cozy after drinking it, coaxing you to take a nap. It’s simple to whip up and quick to make, an easy comparison for the demon of sloth.

He wasn’t sure which one had left him more irritated, the fact that he thought you were messaging someone that left you giggling, or the fact that a digital image of him was. Either way left him exhausted, but restless. However, he wasn’t someone to let something go. He always felt like he had to get even. He wouldn't be able to get any sort of sleep till he ensured you looked as cute to him in real life as you made him on your phone.

So, when you came back home from RAD that evening, he was already waiting for you. How he had gotten there faster than you was a mystery. He was laying on the steps, still in demon form, clutching his pillow in his hands. As soon as he saw you, he was up faster than you had ever seen him move. With a twitchy tail, he grasped your arm and dragged you to the attic, the place he always seemed to take you when he wanted to be alone with you.

“Belphie, what’re you?”

He pointed to the bed, glaring pins and needles at you. He wordlessly watched you sit on the bed in confusion. You glanced to a small table and noticed that there was one mug on it, steam emanating from the top, the smell of sweet chocolate drifting through the air. He strided over to the mug, picking it up in his hands before doing something you weren’t ready for.

He came over, placing himself in your lap, knees pinned to your sides, towering over you as he pressed the warm mug to your face. You immediately flushed, and you watched his top lip twitch as he prevented himself from smiling.

“Too hot?” He droned. He brought the cup to his lips to gently blow at the drink to make it ‘cooler’ for you. It didn’t stop you from burning up. His tail came up to brush against your cheek as he let the ceramic touch your lips. “Well?”

You parted your lips to let the sweet liquid fill your body, the milky chocolate making you warm. The sight of Belphie staring you down, his tail patting your head as the smirk he had tried hard to contain finally revealed itself. He didn’t stop until every drop was gone, and then he put the drink to the side, using his sleeve to wipe away remnants around your mouth.

“We’re not close to being even yet.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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mimisempai · 3 years ago

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There's always a calm before the storm

Summary:

Mobius is extremely frustrated because they have to wait to go catch the Variant in 2050 Alabama. Loki decides that this time it's his turn to take care of Mobius.

I'm still exploring their relationship as I await the next episode. Think of it as a little interlude before they leave for Alabama.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32095750

1646 words - rating G

Mobius was frustrated.

For whatever reason, logistical, administrative, they would not be able to leave to catch the variant in Alabama for another twenty-four hours. He didn't even listen to Revonna's explanation until the end and left her office, furious.

Loki, sitting in the corner of Mobius' open desk, was watching him with amusement.

He had noticed that Mobius was generally very controlled in his emotions, but there were two emotions that made him act unpredictably.

Joy and anger.

Loki blushed as he remembered how he had been on the receiving end of these unpredictable reactions, whether it was when he had pissed Mobius off in the elevator or just now when Mobius had been happy to finally have a solution thanks to Loki.

Unconsciously Loki brought his hand to his lips, as he wondered if he would be able to elicit a similar reaction now that Mobius was frustrated again.

A little embarrassed at where his thoughts were leading him when it was not time for jokes, Loki coughed discreetly.

"Time Variance, Time Keepers, Sacred fucking Timeline... for fuck's sake, they're the masters of time, and we have to wait to catch the fucking Variant! "Mobius, pissed off, kicked his desk, causing his precious jet ski magazine to fall to the floor without him noticing.

He continued to pace around the office, railing a thousand times against all those who he thought were preventing him from doing his job.

Loki stood up, picked up the magazine and looked at Mobius fondly.

There was something strangely charming about the man, though Loki couldn't quite figure out what it was. But there was no denying that something about Mobius drew Loki to him like a moth to a flame.

Loki was both curious and cautious. Something compelled him to expose himself to Mobius more than he had with anyone else.However, while the feeling was incredible, Loki also knew that rarely had anything good happened when he had allowed himself to trust.

Either way, this wasn't the time, and unless Loki tried to hit Mobius with the magazine like he had done with Miss Minutes, Mobius wasn't going to stop circling until they got the approval they needed.

Loki thought that maybe this time he was the one who could do something for Mobius.

He called him several times, but Mobius was so consumed with anger that he did not hear Loki.

So he tried another way, "Mo!"

Mobius stopped immediately, only the slight flush on the tops of his ears betraying his embarrassment.

"Mo? Loki, I'll have you know that my name is Mobius! Not Mo, Mobi, Bibi or any other such idea that comes to mind. Okay?"

Loki smiled with indulgence before replying, "That had the merit of getting your attention at least."

Mobius grumbled before snapping at Loki, "What is it that deserves my attention?"

Loki turned to him, spreading his arms in the manner of Loki when he was acting out.

"Lokiii...." sighed Mobius, "I don't have the time or the heart for this."

It was Loki's turn to be annoyed, but he didn't show it, after all the short time he'd been there, he had surely frustrated Mobius more than his share.

"Mobius, please sit down." said Loki softly as he turned Mobius' desk chair towards him.

Mobius let out a sigh of annoyance, but sat down nonetheless.

Good boy, Loki thought as he stood behind him. Then he asked Mobius, "Do you mind if I touch you?"

Mobius put his head back to look at Loki and said with a sigh, "Lokiii we said we would continue this later."

Loki gave him a small flick on the forehead, before replying with a slightly annoyed tone and eyes raised to the sky, " You idiot, I just want to help you relax.I'm probably not going to try anything while it's an open desk, even if there's no one else there but us."Then handing him the magazine, he added, "Here, flip through your magazine and admire your famous Jetskis."

Then handing him the magazine, he added, "Here, flip through your magazine and admire your famous Jetskis."

Mobius bowed his head and with a sigh gave his consent.

Loki began to massage his shoulders, looking for any strain to relieve.

Mobius grunted in response, "Hmmm Loki, where did a god learn to massage like that? I would have thought you were more of a massage receiver than a massage giver."

"Thank you!I thought you were one of the few who didn't have preconceived ideas about me, after all I understand very well, my exceptional and divine personality is so vast that it's hard to go around it in a human lifetime and-"

"Lokiii..." sighed Mobius

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Loki quivered slightly as he remembered the last time Mobius had said that to him and the way he had shut Loki up. He replied in a playful tone, "I'd tell you to shut me up, but then again this is a public place."

Loki didn't need to see Mobius' face to know that he was rolling his eyes. He continued his massage, while explaining, "To answer your question, let's just say that DB Cooper wasn't the only bet I lost with Thor and I won't go into further explanation."

Mobius chuckled before replying, "In any case, I am delighted to be the lucky beneficiary of your talents, no matter how you acquired them."

Loki simply smiled and continued his ministrations, as Mobius flipped through his magazine while groaning his appreciation every time the god loosened a sensitive muscle.

"Mobius..." he murmured softly.

"Hmmm..."

"I'd like to do something more for you, but it requires that you trust me." Loki's tone had become uncertain.

"Well I let you take me to Pompeii and you didn't stab me in the back, so I guess that means I trust you right?"

A bit of a twisted way of reasoning Loki thought, but it would be enough for what he wanted to do.

"Second, do you trust me enough to take off my necklace for a few moments so I can use my magic?" He knew Mobius' answer would be slower in coming, after all, two kisses exchanged didn't mean unlimited trust.

Mobius surprised him once again though, he tilted his head back and looked at Loki with a smile, reaching into his pocket to activate the command that opened the inhibitor collar. Loki's throat tightened at this display of trust.

He pulled himself together and said, "Okay, then I want you to think of your favorite jetski model and close your eyes."

Mobius chuckled again, but complied.

Loki placed his fingers on the man's temples, without applying pressure. He concentrated and a faint green flash passed between his fingers and Mobius' skin.

With his eyes closed because he was concentrating, Loki did not see Mobius' expressions, but he heard his exclamations of glee and laughter.

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Then Loki slowly opened his eyes and gradually took his hands off Mobius' head. The man slowly came back to reality. He leaned his head back again and murmured a thank you, while squeezing one of Loki's hands that had lingered on his shoulder.

"So was it as good as you thought it would be?" asked Loki.

"Better even. I really felt like I was on a jet ski, out on the ocean, the wind whipping by, the spray, everything." He touched his cheek, "I still feel like I can feel all of that even though I know it wasn't real. Thank you again."

Loki awkwardly replied, "I know it's probably not as good as the real thing, but I hope it took your mind off it a bit."

"Don't underestimate what you did Loki, it was exactly what I needed."

"Good for you then," Loki muttered as he picked up the collar to put it back on.

Mobius' hand stopped him.

"Wait, don't put it back on just yet. Are you able to create an illusion where we both would be, if I project to you what I want?"

Loki simply opened his arms and said, "Hey you forget who I am."

"Idiot."

Loki replied, "Alright, it's going to be just like before, just gather what you want us to see in your mind. Are you ready?"

"Yes." replied Mobius firmly.

Loki repeated the same gestures as before and closed his eyes.

Anyone who entered at that moment would have seen the scene of one man sitting at his desk while another stood behind him with his hands on his temples. Both men sporting bright smiles.

A few minutes later, they opened their eyes at the same time and Loki moved back a little.

Mobius caught his hand before he could pull it away.

"Are you okay?"

Loki nodded but said nothing. He gently withdrew his hand and put his collar back on. Seeing that he was reluctant to speak, Mobius turned fully toward him and pulled him by the sleeve until he was standing between Mobius' knees.

Looking at him from below, he asked gently, "Loki, speak to me."

Loki replied just as softly, "Is this the kind of thing you like, the kind of thing you'd like to do...with me?"

"We could start with that after this whole thing is over, what do you say? Ah unless there's a rule that says gods don't date?" asked Mobius, raising an eyebrow.

Spreading his arms, a mischievous smile on his face, Loki said with his trademark emphasis, "Hey, I'm Loki, the god of mischief, since when do I follow rules?

Quickly checking behind his shoulder that no one was there, Mobius pulled Loki's head to his own with a gentle tug on his tie and proceeded to wipe the arrogant smile from Loki's lips in the only way he knew to be effective.

________

The whole serie here : The story of Loki and Mobius

Thanks for all the support, this fandom is incredibly motivating. Love you all!🥰

Not beta'd

#loki series #loki #mobius m mobius #lokius #moki #wowki #developing relationship #lokius fics

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jamiemackenziefraser · 4 years ago

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All That Was Fair

Chapter 18: To Go Home

Summary: Jamie and Claire get a little distracted on their way back.

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Previous, master list, next

a/n: A little early update since this chapter is essentially the second half of the last <3

Chapter 18: To Go Home

***

Hand in hand, Jamie and Claire began to walk back toward where he had parked. There was no urgency now as there had been when Jamie dragged her toward the stones, nor the anxiety there had been when he first found her on that hill and decided to take her home. Now, there was only bliss. They walked with a particular laziness— something that came with the certainty that they would be together forever.

Jamie had been in no rush to face his life of loneliness after leaving Claire on the hill, but now he was in no rush to be anywhere or do anything. So long as Claire was at his side, he was well pleased with their world.

They were strolling along, holding hands and taking in the beauty of the surroundings and the peace of their newfound intimacy, when all of a sudden, Claire stopped dead in her tracks. Jamie’s heart dropped, and he was gripped by fear that his happiness would be ripped away from him. Was she about to tell him that she’d changed her mind?

But she didn’t declare that she wanted to go back to the stones, and the world didn’t open up at their feet to swallow him up, Claire just turned sharply and launched herself straight at him.

He caught her around the waist as her lips landed on his. Laughing breathlessly into the kiss, his anxiety eased instantly.

“Sorry,” she said between kisses, pecking his mouth before rewarding him with deeper kisses, “I just really— wanted to do this again.”

They explored each other’s mouths lazily for a minute before Claire broke the kiss to trail her lips down his jaw. Tingles went down his spine as she reached a particularly sensitive spot, and he clutched her more tightly to him as his insides twisted in delight.

“I’m really never going to have personal space again, am I?” Jamie chuckled to himself, not sure whether to lean in to the tickling sensation or pull away.

“What was that?” Claire asked, detaching her slightly-puffy lips from his neck and peering up at him with that adorable look of confusion.

“Only that ye’re a touchy one,” he said playfully, reaching out to grab her around the waist. His hands could span most of it, keeping her solidly in his grip.

“I like touching you,” she stated matter-of-factly. Her face held the slightest bit of a playful pout, as if she was upset he’d called her out on it.

“Well that’s verra good,” he said in a low voice, leaning in closer to her, “because I like when ye touch me.”

He tried to bridge the distance between them and press his lips to Claire’s again, but she leaned back, just out of reach, with her brows raised teasingly.

Letting out a groan, he let his forehead fall against hers.

“Dinna torture me, mo nighean donn. I promise ye, one of my favorite things about ye is how tactile ye are. But it made it damned hard for me tae control myself when I was tryin’ verra hard not tae kiss ye.”

Claire smiled. “Like I said, I very much wanted you to kiss me, but your head was too far down the hare’s hole to do it.”

“I can do it now,” he breathed in quiet awe, and he took her lips again.

Kissing her was a drug that he was quickly becoming addicted to. He was aware that they had barely made it a quarter of a mile, so distracted as they were by each other, but he couldn’t seem to care.

Time was passing, though, and Jamie hadn’t been able to stomach eating anything that morning. His belly let out a rather mood-killing growl, and Claire jerked back.

She had the same bewildered and concerned expression she’d worn the first time his stomach had growled in front of her, but it was just for a split second before she remembered and her face spread into a smile.

“We need to get you some food,” she said, emphasizing the last word in a sweet way that clearly said be proud of me for remembering this word.

“I couldna care less about food right now,” he tried to dismiss it, eager to simply enjoy the moment of being with her. He could think of a few other activities for his mouth that he’d rather partake in… maybe something involving Claire’s mouth as well...

“I care. I won’t have you suffering because you can’t keep your lips to yourself,” she said, pushing a wee hand against his chest.

“Me? Ye’re the one who canna keep any part of herself off me. Ye even sat on my lap in front of my sister, for pete’s sake!” he teased.

The playful mood broke as Claire looked thoughtful. “Why did you say it like that? Like it's wrong?” she asked innocently, looking genuinely curious, “we both love each other.” She ran a hand down his arm for good measure, ending by taking his hand in hers. Then, she added suddenly, “and who is Pete?”

Jamie couldn't help but laugh. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to take much offense to this. She just gave him time to get it out, waiting patiently for his answer.

“Weel, firstly, ‘for pete’s sake’ is jes’ a human expression that means… weel, it is an exclamation of exasperation, only I didna mean it in a bad way. And… it’s jes’ that humans dinna show affection so much around others. They leave those things to the privacy of their own homes,” he explained.

Claire’s brows furrowed and she shook her head in disapproval. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you humans. You make such a fuss over little things. If I want to touch the one I love, I will.”

“I appreciate yer sentiment, a nighean,” Jamie laughed, “Also, it’s no’ common for a man and a woman tae hold hands or sit wi’ each other if they arena in a committed relationship,” Jamie added, “so Jenny was a wee bit appalled when ye sat on my lap.”

His precious faerie’s eyes widened in dismay. “Oh… oh no. I made things worse then, didn’t I?”

“Nah… dinna fash. I jes’ thought ye should know that, is all,” Jamie reassured, dismissing her worry.

“Is that why you would blush so much when I touched you? Or went to sleep with you?” Claire asked.

Jamie nodded with a smile as he thought about holding her body against his in bed, how terrified he’d been. “Yes. But I liked it. Probably too much. It made it nearly impossible for me tae keep ahold of my feelings. I fell hard for ye, and I had tae keep my feelings in check for so long.” He started to lean in, meaning to kiss her, but her question stopped him.

“Fell?” Claire asked.

“Ah…” another human expression, “it means felt love.”

“Oh,” Claire responded, a slight satisfied smile turning up the corners of her mouth, “well if my touching you made you love me, I’m glad I did.”

Jamie looked down at her, feeling an impossible warmth bubble up in his chest, “I didna fall in love wi’ ye because ye are touchy, lass. I fell in love wi’ ye because… well because all I want tae do for the rest of my life is make ye happy. There’s somethin’ between us, somethin’ I canna explain…”

“A connection,” Claire breathed, nodding, “I feel it too. The world was trying to bring us together.”

They were both quiet for a minute before Claire asked, “do you think maybe that’s why I came through the stones? I mean… I had never ventured out that far before that day. I just felt like… exploring. And then I heard the buzzing sound, and I was just…. Here. Maybe it was all for a reason. For you and me.”

“Aye,” Jamie agreed, “maybe. Either way, I dinna much care about the reason behind it so long as ye’re wi’ me now. I am grateful, whatever happened tae cause it.”

They both fell into a comfortable silence again, walking hand in hand.

“Claire,” he asked abruptly, “will you tell me about what it's like for faeries when they are in love? I ken ye have parents, so I imagine it must no’ be sae different for the fair folk.”

Jamie had a million questions, but he settled for asking that one, hoping Claire would answer some of those others as she explained.

“Well…” she said as she played with his fingers, weaving them together over and over and turning her hand over in his as they walked, “we choose who we love, who we want to be with. Some never find someone, and that’s okay too. But if we do… well, we mate for life.”

She looked up to him at that, her eyes holding an unspoken question.

Will we mate for life?

He wanted to tell her yes, to get down on one knee and propose then and there, but they had only just confessed their feelings for each other. He could be patient, give it more time. He didn’t want to rush her before he even knew much about her expectations.

Continuing on, she said, “some have children and raise them until they can be off on their own.”

“That sounds verra much like humans,” Jamie said, giving her hand a squeeze.

Claire seemed like she was about to respond, but her mouth fell closed again as she caught sight of the car.

“We’ll talk more about it later,” Jamie reassured, “we have time now. All the time we need.”

She nodded, looking pleased. As they reached the car, Jamie went around to her side and let go of her hand to open the door.

Claire looked disturbed by the loss of contact, and looked up at him with big eyes, staring for a long moment. Something was stirring there, some deep emotion, and it twisted Jamie’s wame. The content expression she had worn moments ago had disappeared from her face. She seemed… distant somehow. Like her head had gone somewhere else.

“Are ye gettin’ in, lass? Because if it’s the car worryin’ ye we could…”

“One moment,” she interrupted as she pressed her fingers to Jamie’s lips, halting his speech. “I need—“

She didn’t finish her statement but abruptly bridged the distance between them and leaned in toward him. Hearing the choke in her voice, he quickly got with the program and gathered her again into his embrace the second she was near enough. Her face fit into the crook of his neck as her arms went around him, and she clung to him with a mixture between fierceness and certainty of the secure place. He held her tightly for a long time, feeling her shuddering breaths against him and stroking her back in long soothing lines. He didn’t let himself think; He just held her.

“Talk to me, lass,” he rumbled gently after a long moment.

“While I was standing on that hill— I thought that you really meant to leave me. That I’d have to face a life without you,” she murmured into the skin of his shoulder, “for a moment just there I.... I could hardly believe that I’m really here with you. Going home.”

“I’m sorry, mo nighean donn,” he breathed, his heart breaking, “I’m sae sorry, lass. I thought the same. That I’d be facin’ an empty life wi’ out ye. Christ,” he shuddered at the thought of the sorrow and despair that had wrapped him in their darkness only mere minutes ago. How much life can change in an instant.

He hugged her tighter, feeling the exact same impulse as she did. He wanted to cling to her forever, to feel anchored to her in the drifting sea of emotions. The memories of walking down that hill and leaving her would haunt him forever. If only—

She drew back suddenly and placed a hand on his cheek. It was as if a switch had been flipped and all her sorrow had been pushed to the wayside.

“It’s okay, Jamie,” she said, her brows furrowed and face serious as she looked at him searchingly, “I’m here. Feel me here? I’m not going anywhere.”

Jamie felt confused by this sudden shift.

“What? Why…?” he tried to ask why she had suddenly begun to comfort him, but thankfully he didn’t need to articulate his question.

“I could feel it… everything you were. You were just thinking about it, weren’t you? Re-living those feelings of leaving me? Well I could feel them coming from you. I could feel how much you hurt.”

Jamie’s mouth must have been hanging open— and if it wasn’t, it should have been— because his brain had halted completely in its track and was struggling desperately to come to terms with yet another new divulgence.

“You’re... an empath?” he mustered.

“Empath… like empathy?” she asked quizzically.

“Aye. An empath is someone that can feel the emotions of others. It’s no’ real… I mean… humans canna—” Jamie stumbled over his explanations, “canna sense feelings.”

“You can’t?” Claire asked, surprised.

“You can?” Jamie shot back.

Both of them stared at each other for a long moment. Jamie was still trying desperately to keep up with everything. He’d known that Claire was very in tune with emotions, astoundingly so, but he’d chalked it up to her making him feel things so strongly that they showed on his face. Either that or the connection that they shared that sometimes seemed so unreal had revealed his feelings. Thinking back, it made perfect sense to him that she’d actually been able to sense his emotions, not just read his face.

He was also startled by the fact that he’d been living with her for days now, falling in love with her, and he didn’t even know she was an empath. The back of his brain was cursing him, once again, for his foolishness. He’d been so blind these last few days, so caught up in showing Claire his world and not wanting to push her that there were still so many things about her that were a mystery. Even so, they were taking things one step at a time.

Claire interrupted his scattered thoughts when she spoke, “when I touch you… I can feel what you’re feeling. Not as much as if I were feeling it myself, but I… know.”

Jamie nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense given the things ye’ve said to me. Humans canna do that. We can look at a person and try tae guess what’s goin’ on in their heads, but we never really ken. You… ye dinna actually know my thoughts, rights?”

Claire laughed, a bright and beautiful sound. “No,” she shook her head, “definitely not. And I can’t even sense your emotions all the time. I have to really be in tune with you, concentrating. It seems to be getting easier the more time I spend with you, but don’t worry, some things are still a mystery.” She punctuated that last statement with a sly smile.

Jamie felt slightly relieved. Not that he didn’t want Claire to know what he was feeling, but his heart had been thrumming with mounting embarrassment as he considered whether she had known all the inappropriately forward things he’d been feeling about her the last few days. Only… only he’d told her now that he loved her...

“So,” he began huskily, ducking his head so that his face drew close to hers, “can ye tell what I’m feelin’ now?”

She gave him a smile, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath as if concentrating herself. Then, she exaggeratedly placed her hands on either side of his face.

“I think…” she breathed, cracking one eye open to look at him playfully, “that you are feeling rather sentimental, James Fraser.”

“Ye really are an empath, my wee one,” he said, dipping his head further to press his lips to hers in a long, drawn out kiss. God help him, he couldn’t stop.

She didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Her arms wound around his neck and pulled him closer, making a big ball of warmth grow in his stomach.

Keeping her lips somehow smushed against his, she spoke in a mumble, “we should— probably go home.”

“Hold on, I’m kissing my faerie,” Jamie said insistently, sparing barely any time to speak the words in between kisses.

He wrapped both his arms around her waist, grabbing her to pull her closer, and continued to kiss her without hurry.

She was laughing by the time he finally had to draw back for breath.

“Are ye laughin’ at me?” he demanded with answering laughter of his own.

“Not at all,” she chuckled— clearly lying— “it’s just that you were the one complaining about me never giving you space.”

“Lass, ye’re mistaken, it was most certainly no’ a complaint.”

As he spoke, his hands skated down her back and came around her sides to cup her hips.

With an impish gleam in her eye, Claire swatted at his hands.

“I’m going to need some space,” she teased. She placed a hand smack in the middle of his chest and pushed, making him stumble back a couple steps until her arm was straight and bracing as if holding him back.

“And you… a wee thing half my size… think ye can hold me back wi’ only an arm?” he challenged, raising a brow at the appendage she had forced between them. He drew himself to his full height, making to intimidate her with his size.

Claire seemed delighted to take him up on the challenge and raised her head defiantly, completely unfazed.

(Some part of Jamie deep inside acknowledged the fact that this playful, defiant side of Claire was a huge indicator of trust. It had only been days ago that she’d trembled at the sight of him. Now, they were playing with each other with the comfort of friends and lovers.)

“I think you’d be surprised what a ‘wee thing’ like me is capable of. You’re awfully big, I doubt you could run that fast.” Claire looked him up and down appraisingly, her head cocked in a manner that made Jamie want to grab her and kiss the grin right off her face.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“It is one.”

“Maybe I’ll take ye up on it.”

“Maybe I’ll go back to the stones.”

“Not on yer life.”

With that, Claire tore off at a run. She was so astoundingly swift that a flash of dismay washed over Jamie as he wondered if maybe he couldn’t catch her after all. As he slammed the car door shut and sprinted after her, though, her unnatural fae nimbleness was no match for his long legs. Bless high school track, he thought to himself as he ran.

He considered very briefly allowing her the satisfaction of evading him for a moment longer, but he couldn’t leave her challenge unmet anymore than he could resist touching her. Bridging the distance left between them, Jamie snagged her around the waist and pulled her sharply to him. She smacked against his chest, laughing breathlessly, and struggled playfully as Jamie held her fast.

“Seems I’m no’ so slow, after all,” he bent his head so he could say it right into her ear, his lips brushing teasingly along the shell of it.

“I was going easy on you because I know you’re just so in love with me that you couldn’t bear to be apart,” she said in a gasp, stilling her struggles.

“Aye, that’s true,” Jamie admitted, “I’ll thank ye, then.”

Just as he was beginning to lean in for yet another gratuitous kiss, he felt Claire stiffen.

Alarmed, he was about to ask her what was wrong when he turned his head in the direction of her gaze and saw two hikers approaching. They were clad in teflon from head to toe, likely day trippers exploring the highlands.

Even though Jamie knew there was no threat from them, he tucked Claire behind him protectively, out of sight of the couple.

“Jamie—” Claire started, but Jamie cut her off.

“Dinna fash, lass, they’re only taking a wee stroll, they’re no’ a danger.”

“No,” Claire said, tugging at his wrist insistently to get him to pay attention, “tell them to stay away from the stones.”

Jamie turned toward her abruptly. Seeing the fear in her eyes at the mention of the stones and the distress it was causing her to think of others going near them, Jamie was overcome once again by guilt over leaving her on that hill. They scared her terribly, and that was just another reason why depositing her with barely a word was one of Jamie’s biggest regrets.

“I’ll tell them, lass. Dinna fash,”

Taking her hand, he brought her out from behind him and began to lead her back in the direction of the car, toward the hikers. Claire stepped cautiously beside him but didn’t seem overly concerned about passing near them.

“Hi!” Jamie called with a wave of his free hand as soon as they drew close.

“Hello!” the woman called, returning his wave.

“Beautiful day, is it no’?” Jamie commented in a friendly manner as the two couples reached each other.

“Verra fine,” the man answered with a nod.

“Are ye two from around here?”

“Jus’ here for the weekend, we’re from Edinburgh,” the woman said with a smile.

“Ah, well I willna keep ye. Jes’ a word of caution from a local, though: dinna get near those stones. It’s a faerie hill, ken?” he said with a wink.

Both nodded, murmuring appropriate grave assent. Without another word, they passed each other, Claire’s grip nearly bruising Jamie’s hand.

Once they were out of ear shot, his faerie was fixing him with huge, almost horrified eyes and asking, “you told them about the fair folk?”

Jamie couldn’t help but laugh. “They dinna actually believe me, but scots are a superstitious lot. They’ll leave it be out of respect even though they dinna really think faeries exist.”

Claire let out a hum of understanding and bobbed her head, looking relieved that Jamie hadn’t actually just outed the existence and location of the fair folk to two random strangers.

Walking hand and hand back toward the car, Jamie said, “well, I think now it’s really time to leave. Are ye ready tae go home, lass?”

His words echoed back to what he’d said earlier that day before he’d taken her to the stones. It made his heart ache with joy to think now he was saying them while referring to his home. Their home.

“Yes, Jamie… take me home.”

***

Full disclosure, I’ve been waiting for FOREVER to write these fools kissing, so I’m gonna milk it ;)) Thanks so much for reading, lovelies! Your support blows my mind <3

#same mood board as last chapter because this chapter is basically the second half #all that was fair #update #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction

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aesop1 · 5 years ago

Text

clumsy [2]

pirate!chanyeol x reader

a/n: im back! and pleasantly surprised to see that my story actually got notes! thank you to everyone who read it, i appreciate you all so much! ahh!

word count: 3.2k

warnings: some more cursing

(i do not own gif)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

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

a living hell chanyeol did attempt to make of your life, and a living hell chanyeol failed to make of your life. he at first assigned the most useless of tasks to you, the first being scraping the barnacles off the sides of the ship, which resulted in you stumbling off the suspended seat and into the ocean. sehun was forced to fish you out afterwards. the next task was swabbing the deck, which also resulted in you falling into the ocean somehow and sehun rescuing you. chanyeol, desperate to have you complete just one awful assignment he's given you even told you to just watch for land, specifically telling you to look out west (where there was no land for miles). he'd had hoped you would stand there in the brutal sun for hours, but within minutes you were back in the ocean.

"for fuck sakes, chanyeol, give her a job away from the deck," sehun chattered out, shivering as junmyeon wrapped a cloth around him for the third time that day.

"she could polish the canons," jongin suggested, quirking his head to the side for confirmation from his captain.

"she could be in charge of supply management and just write down everything we have laying around on the ship." yixing added in.

"none of those are agonizing enough," chanyeol muttered out, rubbing his chin in thought.

"she could prepare dinner with kyungsoo in the kitchen." everyone turned to jongdae as he spoke, and then to kyungsoo's outraged expression.

"no, I refuse to have that buffoon anywhere near my kitchen," kyungsoo spat out, lowering his voice in case the girl tied to the mast of the ship overheard his aggression.

"that's actually a brilliant idea, jongdae," junmyeon agreed, looking over to chanyeol who was considering the proposition. "it's away from windows and ledges."

"do we know if she's any good at dealing with knives, though?" minseok brought up.

"she worked in a diner with her father." chanyeol explained.

"so put her in the kitchen." yixing agreed.

"look, chanyeol," baekhyun stepped forward, a hand on his captain's shoulder. "we know you're trying to be all intimidating and everything, but let's be honest: her clumsiness is beating you ten fold. just dump her in the kitchen, being around kyungsoo is torture enough--"

"excuse me?" kyungsoo questioned, his cold, dead eyes glaring at baekhyun who continued to speak.

"-- and we'll call it a day, okay? I don't think sehun can handle another rescue mission."

"he's right, I can't," sehun concluded.

"okay fine," chanyeol sighed out. "kyungsoo, she's with you from now on. everyone, back to your stations."

---------

you were sat in the corner of the kitchen on a barrel watching kyungsoo work away at the stove. you were interested, cooking always being a pastime your father and yourself took part in, and his departure did nothing to sway you from your intrigue. kyungsoo definitely was no novice when it came to cooking, his techniques proving his expertise. you didn't know what he was concocting over there, considering he hasn't spoken a word to you since you entered his domain. not that you minded, after three falls into the ocean, you were spent for the day. you could only imagine how sehun must be feeling right now.

kyungsoo finally turned around, shuffling in your direction, yet not acknowledging you. he grabbed some items from the shelves beside you before finally looking at you.

"I need the potatoes that are in that barrel," he explained, pointing to your seat. wordlessly, you hopped off while he scavenged through for multiple potatoes. glancing over to you, he pooled the potatoes in his arms like a swaddled child. "you want to help?" you nodded vigorously, your drowsiness washing away instantly at the prospect of getting back into your routine, just one constant from your previous life. side grinning and nodding over to the counter, he guided you over to his workstation. "I need you to peel and dice these potatoes for me. you up for it?"

"I think I can handle," you snorted. within minutes of being handed the knife, your task was completed and you awaited further instruction from the chef. kyungsoo was visibly taken aback, but chuckled nonetheless.

"alright, that was impressive, I'll give you that." sliding over some more vegetables, he instructed you to dice more, and again you finished before he could even think of what to give you next. in less than 5 minutes, you already acquired your first acquaintance on board.

an hour later, you were both preparing the dinner table, laughing away at the inside jokes you've established together in the kitchen. your giggles halted when jongin entered the dining room. he looked between you two suspiciously before turning to kyungsoo.

"jongdae wanted to know how much longer until dinner?" he asked in a low voice, as if telling a secret to only kyungsoo. kyungsoo's eyes darkened again in irritation and he glared up at his shipmate.

"every night you come in here with a new name, and every night I say the same thing: it'll be done when it's done. now tell jongdae to get back to his duties and to stop pestering me." with a nod and a chuckle, jongin walked out with a hop in his step.

"are you all always this aggressive to one another?" you let out. kyungsoo continued to set plates down and shrugged. "it's just, you all live on the same ship, you all have the same or at least similar desires. I would think you were all like brothers. from the few hours I've been on board, I haven't seen any signs of brotherly love from you all."

"well like you said, we're always together. that's why we act this way to one another. we get sick of each other after a few days out on sea with no escape in sight." he then sighed and looked up, leaning against the ship and grinning. "we do love each other, though. nothing will change that."

a comfortable silence settled in the room and soon, kyungsoo called everyone in.

---------

at the dinner table was the first time you saw their dynamics together and were thoroughly shocked to find these ruthless pirates were so... rambunctious; almost childlike in a sense.

kyungsoo beamed at every little thing baekhyun did, and baekhyun went above and beyond to try and make him laugh. jongdae and jongin were constantly whispering and giggling between each other. junmyeon treated sehun as if he were a toddler, instructing him to wipe his face when needed or to eat something he hadn't piled onto his plate already. minseok and yixing were among the most silent, merely observing their shipmates and giving reactions when needed.

chanyeol was another story entirely. he never spoke one word to the crew around him that night. his arm circled his dish like a predator guarding it's prey from others. he was brooding in every aspect of the word, and the fact that he never took his eyes off of you hadn't helped his case.

it was a near glare, the iciest you've ever seen a gaze been. his locks shadowed his eyes just subtly, giving a hooded and hostile look. you avoided his stare as best you can, pretending like it wasn't affecting you, yet your instinctive recoiling into your seat gave away your clear discomfort. his smirk went unnoticed to your frenzied mind as he was then distracted by jongin beside him.

"kyungsoo told me your stowaway is actually very impressive when it comes to knife wielding."

"is that so?" chanyeol turned in your direction, head cocked to the side in a taunting manner. looking down at your food, you avoided the rhetoric question revolving you. never had you felt so small in someone's presence. chanyeol trumped you like a beanstalk, and you were jack. something in your mind clicked, and you felt the urge to not climb that beanstalk. instead, you were going to chop it down before events escalate.

willing yourself to look up, you glared right back at chanyeol, pursing your lips into a thin line and scrunching your brows together.

"yes, it is," you responded matter-of-factly. "I've been in the kitchen my whole life. I know how to handle a knife or two." he tongued his cheek, a habit of his you've come to realize shows his evident frustration in a matter. leaning further into the table, he threw an arrogantly boyish grin, jaw slack and lifted in your direction.

"could you ever kill a man with a knife?" your eyebrows frowned at the question, a slight grimace seeping into your expression. no, you could never kill a man. you were tenderhearted, a trait you've always lived with. hearing about a neighbor's grandfather who you've never met once in your life brought tears to you. you couldn't imagine yourself standing over someone, their blood staining your hands.

your silence was apparently enough for chanyeol, who snickered and stabbed his fork back into his meal as if ending the conversation. with a tick of your jaw and the narrowing of your eyes, you brushed off the weariness imbedded in you.

"if I must." your outburst attracting everyone's attention. "preferably, it'd be one man in mind whose blood I'd voluntarily shed." your blank stare at him was clear for everyone, who quickly went back to eating, leaving you two in whatever competition had conjured up with your exclamation.

--------

you were to sleep amongst crew members at all times. you were currently housed with sehun and jongin in their room, a drab thing about half the size of chanyeol's quarters. two wooden beds lined the walls, both seeming obscenely small for the two giants. you sat at the useless chair in the corner as they both prepared for bed, disregarding your presence entirely. you paid no mind to their infernal blabber, far too preoccupied in trying to find the sweet spot to sleep in the stiff chair.

"mermaids aren't real, sehun," jongin had sighed out, laying back on his pillow.

"I'm not saying that they are real," sehun answered protectively. "I'm just saying that it's a possibility." exhaustion had found you easily, and you were already dozing off after a long day. "we reach land next week, right?"

"I think so. probably."

you attempted to keep yourself conscious to continue hearing their conversation, but you were too far gone, completely fading away into slumber within the second.

-------

"so do you just intend to keep her as a crew member?" junmyeon leaned against the wall, observing chanyeol who sat at the end of his bed. "this is a new frontier for you. you usually kill people before you learn their name."

silence lingered in the atmosphere, chanyeol staring down at the planks making up the floor of his room.

"chanyeol," yixing sat beside him, wrapping an arm around the man's shoulders. "talk to us. we're not just your advisors, we're your brothers. tell us what's bothering you." chanyeol clenched his jaw and clutched the material of his pants.

"that girl," he spat out, a look of rage mixed with disgust tainting his facade. "she... she..." he took a shaky breathe, arms trembling with vexation. "never... has anyone... threatened me like that." he stood and marched to his desk, dragging his arms along the surface and knocking every item to the floor. junmyeon and yixing cringed at the resounding crash that filled the room as a result. "SHE THINKS SHE CAN INTIMIDATE ME?" chanyeol shouted to the two beside him.

"chanyeol, calm," junmyeon grabbed his shoulder, digging his fingers into his skin to bring the man back to reality. "we reach land next week. you can deal with her then."

"that's the thing," chanyeol leaned against his now barren desk, staring out through the window in front of him. "I have no fucking idea what to do with her."

"well what are your choices?" yixing asked. "you can let her go at the port. you can kill her." he grinned inwardly, once he began realizing where chanyeol's predicament resided. "you can keep her." junmyeon turned to yixing, his eyebrows furrowed at yixing's proposition. "as a crew mate... or as your personal play thing."

"what are you blabbering about?" chanyeol grumbled, rubbing his temple.

"it's a normal thing for great pirates to have women in their crew. there are no rules discrimi--"

"you know what I fucking meant," chanyeol turned, brushing off junmyeon's hand and glaring at yixing. "whatever. I've made up my mind. I'm just going to drop her off at port. she'll probably kill herself in due time when she realizes she has no one and nothing to her name."

the door to his room burst open, revealing a stoic kyungsoo who entered the room and stood before the enraged captain.

"you're a fool," kyungsoo seethed. "for thinking she'd ever kill herself, and for giving her up that easily."

"what are you doing here, soo?" junmyeon bristled.

"you've grown on her in less than a day," chanyeol responded, his voice more mellow now to conceal his confusion.

"I have, I will admit that. she's not as weak as you think she is. she fell off a damn roof, survived three falls into the ocean, and had the bravery to stand up against the pirate who killed her father. she's resilient, chanyeol, and if you can't see that, then you're not the great captain I once thought you were."

"I didn't kill her father," was the only thing that chanyeol thought to say at the end of kyungsoo's speech. with that, kyungsoo shook his head, a smile of disbelief spread across his face. without another word, he left the room.

--------

you awoke to the sounds of whining and shuffling sheets. delirium had made itself present in your sleep muddled mind so you struggled to process your atmosphere. it wasn't until a soft, yet frightened "no" shocked you awake. clearing your blurred vision, you spotted a figure tossing around in bed, tangling himself more and more by the second. you stumbled over to the bed, yanking at the sheets and quietly shushing the frantic man. finally unravelling the blanket, you patted his face, still murmuring reassuring coos to him. with a jolt, he woke up, breath ragged as if just finished running a marathon.

"yn?" sehun gasped out, still in a panicked state. "what are you doing here?"

"you were having a nightmare," you answered, still holding his cheek.

"okay? and?" he was becoming more irritated than frightened, so you assumed that was a good sign. sighing, you pulled back the sheet and laid beside him, causing him to shrink back against the wall. "what are you doing?"

"sleeping beside you. you had a nightmare."

"what does that have to do with any of this?" he hissed out, his irate facade evident in the darkness. "waking me up, invading my bed, what is your motive?" squinting your eyes, you tried to find any evidence of him lying, yet he seemed genuinely displeased.

"have you never had someone hold you after a nightmare?" you whispered out in disbelief. his eyes faltered, trying to retain their malefic glower. you placed the sheet over his slightly trembling body, opening your arms to him. hesitantly, he scooted closer, as if unaware of what you were trying to insinuate. wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you brought him into your person, allowing him to melt in your embrace. the next few minutes were silent, and you swore you felt a tear hit your collar bone, but you weren't too sure. all you knew was that his breathing grew heavier and his body went slack, falling back to sleep before your eyes.

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

you were jostled awake the next morning, detangling yourself from the giant next to you. turning over, you had every intention to confront your assailant.

"kyungsoo?" your aggression faded away, sighing to yourself as you sat up and faced your friend. he grinned before nodding his head towards the door.

"we have to prepare breakfast," he explained softly so as to not wake the other two.

you trailed behind him, through the long corridor of rooms and up to the deck.

"how are you holding up this morning?" he asked once entering the kitchen.

"I'm surviving." he hummed in agreeance at your words and set forth prepping breakfast. a comfortable silence settled between you two, but you felt he still had more to say. you didn't want to push him to speak. you haven't been this close with someone in ages, and you've only known him a day. you felt that had to speak for itself; how accustomed you were to his presence in such a short span. you appreciated his calming aura. he was perhaps the first person to not let your rather apparent flaw affect his perception of you; especially after your many incidents yesterday. you had almost completely forgotten he was a pirate, your worst fear since your adolescence. deciding to change your perception of pirates, you cleared your throat to alert him of your conversation starter. "so tell me about your life. where you've travelled, how long you've been on this ship, when you first started cooking. I want to know everything."

afraid you might've gone too far, you stared down at the stove, the meat you were instructed to cook sizzling away on the stone pan. your hopes sparked within you at the gentle laugh resonating from your friend. turning over to him, you found the rare yet bright, heart-shaped grin which adorned his face.

"alright, I'll tell you about myself," he started, placing down the bowl he had been mixing. "but for every question I answer, you answer one of mine."

you were sure you never smiled wider than at that very moment.

----------

breakfast had a completely different ambience to dinner. maybe it was the exhaustion which ensues with early mornings, or maybe it was just they had gotten rid of all of their rowdiness overnight. what you did know was that it was almost eerily calming. you sat between sehun and kyungsoo. sehun was silent towards you, but you could tell he was trying to show his gratitude. kyungsoo spoke to you and baekhyun all morning, causing you to grow closer to the other man. you didn't really acknowledge the rest of the crew, too distracted by baekhyun's incessant jokes and impressions. sehun joined in with the comedian across from him, bouncing jokes back and forth and nearly causing kyungsoo to choke.

you had assumed your day would continue as well as it had started, but chanyeol's appearance already left you in a sour mood.

"after cleaning, come find me on the deck for what you're to do next," he instructed, standing and leaving the room. cruel and near deadly thoughts circulated through your mind, causing your blood to boil as you assisted kyungsoo in cleaning the dishes. once done, he patted your back and gave you a pitiful grin before you headed towards the deck.

"chanyeol?" you called out, finding a barren ship. it was a cool morning, winds from the seas knotting your already tangled hair more, yet forgivingly stroking your exposed neck and face. you may have been slightly distracted with the lovely weather because you hadn't even noticed the stray rope tied into a loop obscuring your direction. the minute your foot had stepped in it and accidentally dragged it with you, you were yanked back aggressively. with a yelp, you tumbled to the floor, knocking your head against the floorboard and successfully throwing you in yet another state of unconsciousness.

#chanyeol x reader #chanyeol fanfic #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #chanyeol fanfiction

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panda-noosh · 5 years ago

Text

in the morning, we will see {Pidge x Reader}{The Rockstar Series}

The Rockstar Series: a series of fics documenting rockstar!Voltron falling in love.

Words: 9.9k

Summary: What a coincidence that you and Pidge are both having an identity crisis at the same time; the only difference is, Pidge is a rock star, and you’re a bartender.

Genre: angst

Warning: mentions of anxiety - mentions of drinking

Notes: masterlist - buy me a coffee! - this got so ... personal? like i projected my own issues with anxiety into this character and i don’t really know how it happened yeet.

---

Pidge didn't mean to become a rock star.

This is a fact that not many people believe when she tells them. They question how a person can be thrown into such a world entirely by accident. It's the kind of job that requires commitment, a life-long dream, a lifetime of experience and wishing. In the movies, that's always how it's laid out – the person picks up a guitar one day and immediately their one goal in life is to get on stage and make music.

Pidge wasn't like that.

She picked up her guitar at the age of nine just for the fun of it, and that was all it remained for a good portion of her teenage years; she would learn new songs, smile when she mastered them, and then swiftly move on to something else. She never itched to get her fingers back against the frets, never woke up in a cold sweat because she just had to write this specific riff down on paper.

To Pidge, music was a casual hobby that she used to fight off boredom.

However, she had friends who were of the opposite side of the spectrum, Lance being the most passionate of them all. For as long as Pidge could remember, Lance McClain was trying to form a band. He sang, but Pidge always had the impression that he cared more for the money and the female attention than anything else.

Nonetheless, she tried to support him. When he asked, she would provide a nice little tune for him to sing along to, but she never meant to fall into his trap of actually starting something. She just wanted to help out, but by the time she'd turned seventeen, Lance got a hold of her and had no plans of letting go.

That was how she came to be part of Smokey Saturdays.

Her dreams of becoming a programmer were dismissed. She dropped out of college, and her parents supported her decision, because at least she wasn't landing on soft ground. She had a fall-back plan, no matter how unsteady it was in the beginning. She led them to believe that this was what she wanted, what she'd always wanted, and they'd let her go with little to no argument.

Now she toured.

She was away from home for months upon months out of the year, dealing with her bandmates bullshit and losing herself to music she didn't even really like; she was an indie listener at heart. This rock vibe that Lance clung onto was something she would never get used to, but something she suffered through because it meant getting her pay check at the end of the day.

This was a difficult lifestyle to live. It wasn't the kind of thing someone just got used to, considering there was no routine to really get accustomed to in the first place; it only got worse with time, and Pidge was starting to feel those effects.

She sat with her feet up on Keith's bouncing knee, tuning her guitar as she waited for Lance to return with the news of when they would be going on stage. The dressing area was quiet, Hunk humming to himself in the background, the soft blow of the fan in the corner being the only thing filling in complete silence. Keith was never much of a talker, and Pidge was too far in her own brain to really start a meaningful conversation.

She wanted to go home.

She hated thinking like this; it was pointless. She knew she would never go home, not whenever she'd promised everyone else her complete, undivided attention. Despite knowing this, she couldn't quite keep her head out of the gutter, and it was putting a major damper on the mood. She must be the only person in the world who could sit back and listen to thousands of people cheer her name, and still feel down in the dumps.

Lance arrived with a flourish, bursting through the door with a grin on his face and a hop in his step. Pidge looked up from her guitar; he'd clearly been given good news.

“We can play next!” he exclaimed. “Is everything ready?” He pointed at Pidge, raising a brow. “That guitar of yours tuned?”

Pidge held it up as way of response. Despite that not really giving Lance a viable answer, he gave her a thumbs up anyway.

He span on his heel and slapped Hunk on the back. “You ready, big guy? We've got two new songs to perform tonight, and your drum solo's need to be perfect.”

“They always are,” said Hunk, before chuckling nervously. “Is there a lot of people out there, do you think?”

“At least a thousand,” Keith replied casually. Pidge always thought Keith had a bit of social anxiety because of how quiet he was, but the size of crowds was never something that bothered him.

Hunk paled. “A thousand?”

“One. Thousand,” Lance whispered, bursting into a grin. “We're really going up in the world, lads. They're out there waiting for us, and we have to deliver!”

“Which we will, considering you've had us busting our asses for two weeks straight,” said Pidge.

Lance continued to smile.

Pidge sighed, looking back down at her guitar. She forced herself to at least be grateful – this life she was living was unbelievable, and it wasn't as if she didn't appreciate it. Every night she asked herself how she'd gotten so lucky, what she had done to stumble into this lifestyle without even really needing nor wanting it.

But there were some days when she just wanted all of it to end. There were some days where she just wanted to breathe.

---

If this crowd were to get any larger you'd. . . you'd. . . .

You put your head in your hands, blocking out the sounds of the outside world for the time being.

Some days, you just wanted to breathe.

Being an adult was tasking. You'd learned this the hard way; after going through multiple job interviews, being too nervous to really fit for any of them, you'd finally been offered a job as a bartender – the least you job anybody could possibly conjure up.

In your desperation, you'd said yes.

Listen. It was the only choice you had. Things were expensive these days, and as you were thrown into adulthood entirely against your will, you were coming to realise that money was genuinely a thing you needed to take into consideration from time to time. Rent wasn't going to pay itself. Food wasn't just going to magically manifest in your cupboards; you needed to work for that kind of thing.

The band – Smokey Saturdays – was announced. You nearly rolled your eyes, still not looking up from the cocoon of darkness your hands provided. They had it so easy; they were living their dream, able to perform in front of adoring fans and get paid for it – you thought it was unfair.

What did they do to deserve such an easy ride through life? Who had they paid?

Certainly not you, that was for sure. You were too busy working nights at a bar that gave you so much anxiety it was almost dangerous.

Looking up, you noticed the crowd had started moving. You shuffled a little closer to the shelves behind you, analysing; this was perhaps the largest crowd you'd ever seen in this place. It was almost too large, some people being pressed into walls as the excitement started kicking in and people started jumping around, waving their hands above their heads. The music started, and you nearly scowled at the volume of it – was the crowd cheering not good enough for them? Did they have to have the added ruckus of bad music going on in the background, too?

The stage was almost entirely obscured by the people jumping in front of it. Craning your neck, you were just able to make out who was playing – all of them were so young. The lead singer was already jumping up and down, yelling the absurd lyrics into the microphone. Behind him, two men were bobbing their heads, less mobile but still enthusiastic.

And then there was the girl.

You'd read about her quite a bit – it was difficult these days to not come across some kind of article on Smokey Saturdays and it's members. They were growing quite popular, but Pidge was always the one you took the most interest in. Now, don't get it twisted – you didn't obsess over her. You didn't sit there and read through her biography, screenshotting her Famous Birthdays page – but you would admit that you spent the most time reading about her when she popped up on your phone.

She came from a fairly small family, from what you'd read. She was intelligent, had a history in both piloting and computer mechanics, as well as a fair bit of engineering. Overall, she was a very ambitious person, and it was clear she enjoyed learning.

Not once had you read anything on her love for music.

People shoved that to the side, it seemed. Whilst Keith, Hunk and Lance's biographies were filled with exclamations about how they'd started music at a young age and had always known this was the path they were destined to take, Pidge's was always more focused on her love for. . . other things.

Looking at her new, you were beginning to see why.

It wasn't as if she wasn't all in it. She was. Her fingers drifted easily up and down the neck of the guitar, and she was playing beautifully – there was no doubt in your mind that she was a talent when it came to music.

However, she was almost entirely stationary, bar the slight dip of her knees and bob of her head here and there. Just looking at her made you feel bad for her.

“Excuse me.”

Your head snapped up, fake smiling plastering on your face immediately. The man standing in front of you looked slightly annoyed, and you silently cursed the distraction Miss Pidge Gunderson had caused. You needed to shake her out of your mind – she was probably living her dream. You were just thinking much too deeply into things.

However, even as you served the man and apologised for your daydream, you couldn't help but wonder what was really going on behind the scenes – you desperately wanted to ask, but speaking to a celebrity was so far out of the realm of possibility that you nearly laughed at the mere thought. You'd learned not to get your hopes up – life never really went the way you wanted it to.

---

Pidge needed a drink. Desperately.

She ordered her manager to get her a couple of cans whilst she snuck out round the back. Lance was back on his bullshit, yelling his congratulations and over-enthusiastically thanking the staff at the club for letting them perform, as if the managers hadn't been hounding them for weeks to play a gig; they just wanted the attention.

After receiving her drinks, Pidge pulled herself up onto the industrial bins round the back of the club. Inside, she could hear the music pounding against the concrete walls, but it was clear the club was clearing out now that Smokey Saturdays had finished their set; it was getting awfully late, and Pidge wanted nothing more than to get absolutely wasted before going home and sleeping off the grimy feeling that had taken over on this particular night.

She inhaled. The night sky was pretty today. It reminded her of the days she used to spend in the library, hunched over a notebook or a laptop, or a textbook. She used to dive so deep into the pages that she lost track of time, and when she looked out the window after what felt like only minutes, the stars were blinking back at her, a warning that she needed to get some sleep before her body gave out on her.

The memory made her smile. She wanted to relive them. Nowadays, the only reason the stars gave her warning was because she was sat up late writing songs, or Facetiming Matt, or drinking until she forgot the simple mistake she'd made on stage that day; now, her reason for drinking was purely because she didn't want to feel guilty about the fact she didn't enjoy the show she'd just put on.

She emptied her first can and tossed it to the ground.

The door closed, startling her. She turned, glancing over her shoulder to see you standing there.

You were clearly startled, a black bin-bag in your hand, eyes wide and jaw open. Pidge raised a brow, cracking open her next can of beer before ushering you forward.

“You can do whatever you came to do. This is public property.”

“Sorry.” Your voice was quick. You ducked your head down, scampered forward and started plucking bits of rubbish from the floor.

Pidge tilted her head, swinging her legs as she watched you work. A tiny stab of guilt formed in her chest when she watched you pick up the can she'd just thrown on the floor.

“You work here?” Pidge wasn't entirely sure why she cared. She just wanted to start conversation.

You nodded. Clearly, you didn't have the same attitude.

“Hm. Did you see the show?”

“Yes,” you mumbled. “You did really well.”

“Do you listen to a lot of rock music?”

You paused.

Pidge grinned round the lip of her can. “No?”

You shrugged. “Not . . . Not particularly.”

“Nah, don't worry,” said Pidge. “Me neither.”

You narrowed your eyes, glancing at her over your shoulder. Pidge met your eyes, and immediately you looked away, getting back to the job you were assigned.

You were obviously a timid little thing; in Pidge's drunken state, she found something endearing about that. Most people would be trying desperately to impress her, but you seemed like you barely even had time to talk to her.

That was a very, very pleasant change.

“So what do you listen to?” Pidge asked.

“I like all sorts,” you replied. To Pidge, this was just a way to drop the conversation.

“Name me an artist you listen to,” she pushed. “I'll tell you if I like them or not.”

“Smokey Saturdays.”

“You don't like our music. You're only saying that to impress me.”

You winced, caught out. “Hozier.”

Pidge's eyebrows shot up. “Hozier, hm? I like him. What's your favourite song?”

You paused, hand hovering over a glass bottle as you thought. “Someone New.”

“That's quite old. 2014, I believe.”

You shrugged. “I don't think it gets old. I can listen to it on repeat.”

Pidge nodded, leaning back on the top of the rubbish bin. She watched you work, before slowly reaching into her back pocket and tugging out her phone; she was in a weird mood this night, and for some reason, this seemed like a good idea. She pulled up her Spotify app and put Someone New by Hozier on.

You shot up, turning to look at Pidge with wide eyes. Pidge simply grinned, holding the phone out as if to help you listen better, despite it being clear you could hear every word. Pidge watched you swallow, and felt a sense of pride at the fact she was the one who had made you so suddenly. . . surprised.

“Uh. . . Yeah,” you muttered. “It's a good song.”

“Have you ever listened to Oh Wonder?”

“A few of their songs. They're not one of my favourites, but I like them.”

“You should listen to Superlove by them – it's really good. Different to what they usually put out.”

Again, you only humbled Pidge with a small nod. It didn't tell her much; you were back to picking up the litter, not looking back to give Pidge a glimpse of your expression. She wasn't sure why it bothered her so much – perhaps it was the drink in her system. Maybe it was just because she was a rock star – she'd grown to thrive off of attention from others, even if that person was a strange bartender she'd never even spoken to before tonight.

Nonetheless, you'd somehow piqued her interest; it was strange how Pidge had met hundreds of famous celebrities, thousands of fans, so many other well-known names, and none of them knew how to capture her attention like this.

“Have you got a name?” she asked.

“Y/N,” you replied. “Just Y/N.”

Pidge raised a brow. “Okay, Just Y/N – why have your managers got you out here picking up litter? Surely you're more helpful behind the bar.” Pidge stuck out her bottom lip, furrowing her brows. “If I'm not wrong, I'm pretty sure that's where I saw you earlier on.”

You jerked up. “You saw me?”

“Yeah. You were trying to hide behind some of the shelves when we were playing.” Pidge grinned teasingly. “You really hate our music that much?”

You bit your bottom lip, looking back down at the bag in your hand. “I just get nervous when things get too loud.”

Pidge took pause with this comment, a rush of fresh guilt crashing down upon her. She hadn't taken into consideration that maybe you struggled in social situations – had she been making you uncomfortable this entire time?

She slowly sat up, pulling her knees into her chest. “Sorry. I didn't . . . If you want me to stop talking to you, I don't mind. I can go inside and leave you to your work.”

You were quiet for a moment. Pidge was sure she'd ruined it – you were going to ask her to leave and Pidge would be forced to go back into the building and face a life she was no longer sure she really wanted to live. She'd found herself enjoying the little bit of normalcy a conversation with you had given her.

“You can stay.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Pidge tilted her head. “Are you sure?”

“Please,” you mumbled, not looking up. “Tell me a bit more about your band.”

Pidge bit her lip, staring at the back of your head. You continued to work, and there was something about the casual atmosphere that made Pidge feel comfortable. She leaned back on her hands, taking yet another swig of her drink before she said, “It's really not all it's cracked up to be, you know.”

“No?”

“Not in my head, anyway. I enjoy performing, don't get me wrong, but I've never been much of an outgoing person. I prefer to keep things fairly private.”

“You can keep your life private and still be a rock star, you know.”

Pidge scoffed. “Easy enough for you to say. You don't have cameras following you around everywhere you go.” She swigged her beer. “Or a Lance McClain forcing you to post on Instagram every two seconds.”

You snickered. “No. I just have famous celebrities talking to me whilst I do my work.”

Pidge grinned round the lip of her can. “I offered to leave and you said no.”

“I'm not saying it's a bad thing.” You glanced at her. Pidge was certain she glimpsed a tiny smile. “I'm just saying it's bizarre.”

“Yeah, well. I'm nothing special.”

“I'm still slightly awestruck.”

“Was that why you were so shy when you first walked out here?”

You shrugged. “That, or I was just embarrassed. You're up there in your million pound outfit and I'm here, picking up other people's litter.”

Pidge frowned, raising a brow as she looked down at the raggedy grey shirt and jeans she was wearing. “Hardly a million dollar outfit, Just Y/N.”

“Better than my alcohol-stained uniform.”

Pidge scoffed, and before she could think better of it, she tipped her can of beer straight down the front of her shirt. You gasped, shooting upright before you furrowed your brows and tilted your head in confusion. Pidge merely grinned, downing the remainder of the drink. She sat up straight, tossing it in your direction; it landed right in the bin bag.

“Kobe!”

“Why did you do that?”

Pidge slumped back, lazily shrugging. “Why not?”

“You're gonna go back in there smelling like a brewery.”

“Oh, boo hoo.” Pidge wiped her mouth on her collar. “We're going back to the hotel. And it's not like half the people in there aren't off their heads on drugs and alcohol anyway.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Now we match,” said Pidge.

“Why would you want to match with me in the first place?”

Pidge shrugged. “You're a lot cuter than you give yourself credit for; I don't know why I wouldn't want to match with you.”

Your eyes widened. Sober Pidge would have been mortified at such a comment slipping past her lips, but Pidge was past the point of caring about that right now; she simply grinned, letting her legs fall so she could swing them back and forth. She planted her hands between her knees and gazed at you as if you were the celebrity and she was your biggest fan.

You coughed and turned away, biting down on your lower lip. “That was nice of you. I – I think you're cute too.”

“Is this the part where we give each other our numbers?”

“Do you want my number?”

“Do you want mine?”

You paused, grip tightening on the bin bag. Pidge watched you take a deep breath, as if hyping yourself up to answer her question. Your response was quick: “Yes.”

Pidge nodded, tossing her phone in your direction. You yelped, dropping the bin bag to catch it. Pidge casually leaned back on the rubbish bins, waiting for you to figure out the mechanics of her mobile on your own.

You glanced up at her. “Do I just put my number in your contacts?”

“Mhm,” said Pidge. “Save your name under 'Cute Bartender.' I'll know who you are then.”

“Stop flirting with me,” you grumbled, even as you punched your digits into her phone.

Pidge raised a brow. “Do you not like it?”

“I don't know how it works,” you said, tossing her phone back onto her stomach. “I can't reciprocate, so therefore it's better if you just . . . don't do it.”

“I don't mind a little one sided flirting.” Pidge read your name, grinning when she saw you had taken her suggestion and actually put yourself down as 'Cute Bartender.'

You scooped the bin bag up and looked at Pidge for a final time; even though you hadn't announced your parting, Pidge could just kind of tell that the conversation was drawing to a close; she wasn't entirely sure why it bothered her.

She smiled, waving at you.

You swallowed, nodded and awkwardly waved back. Without even saying goodbye, you ducked your head down and fled from the alleyway. Pidge listened to the door slam closed behind you before finally tilting her head back to look up at the stars; they were no longer warning her about going to bed. They were warning her about staying up and thinking on this moment for too long.

---

You hated this.

Whatever this was.

A feeling of terror mixed with excitement mixed with a tiny voice in your head telling you to just fucking go for it. For the past few years, your life had been just that – you willing yourself to do things. Maybe that was why you were so sheltered – there was only so much anxiety a person could ignore before they let an opportunity pass by them.

But this was just so far beyond what you were used to. You didn't even know where to start.

You stared down at your phone, the place where Pidge's contact was flashing back at you; it was just her name. Even though Pidge hadn't seen her own contact in your phone, you were still too shy to put her name as anything other than 'Pidge.' Even giving yourself a nickname in her phone – at her request – had left you heated and fumbling.

Did she expect you to text first? Maybe she did. She was probably too busy, was probably drunk when she first thought it was a good idea to ask for your number. This morning, she'd most likely woken up with absolutely no recollection of who you were, or what this random number in her phone even meant.

You groaned and rolled over onto your back, pressing your knuckles into your eyes. Why was this so difficult? Why did your chest feel tight? Why couldn't you just do it?

These were the thoughts that stampeded your brain for the minutes it took for your phone to go off.

Immediately you bolted upright, snatching the cell up and looking down at the message that had just come through. As if the gods had somehow heard your complaints, Pidge's name popped up on screen – only it wasn't a message.

She was calling you.

Phone calls made you nervous at the best of times. There was always more of a struggle to keep a conversation up when you couldn't see their face, so you tended to avoid them as often as possible. But if you didn't answer this one, she would think you weren't interested. She was giving you a chance here, and you couldn't just-

You cursed under your breath and hit accept.

“Hello?” You said it like a question, as if you hadn't read and reread her name when it first popped up on screen.

“Just Y/N!” Pidge exclaimed. “This is Pidge, from last night. The bassist. The girl you spoke to in the alleyway.”

“I remember,” you replied, relieved that Pidge at least seemed to be good at holding conversation.

“So, I hope you're not busy at the moment,” she continued. “We have the day off and I was hoping I could see you.”

You paused. “See me?”

“You know, go out. Just you and I. Perhaps to a place that doesn't have flies swarming around it.”

“What do you have in mind?” Why couldn't you just say yes? You had the day off, too, and you knew for a fact you wanted to talk to her again; it was strange. You were almost never so enamoured by strangers – actually, sometimes you were downright terrified of them. So why was Pidge any exception?

Pidge hummed in thought. “Well, are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Then we'll go out to eat.”

“I can't afford to go to a fancy restaurant, Pidge. I work as a bartender.”

Pidge scoffed. “Bold of you to assume I'd let you pay for your meal. No. Don't worry; we'll go somewhere simple. Maybe get a chippy and then have a picnic – it's a nice enough day for it.”

You glanced out your window – she wasn't wrong. The sun was shining and the grass looked greener than ever. It truly was the perfect day for a picnic.

“Okay,” you replied. “Sounds good. When should I be ready?”

“Five minutes. I'm already walking out the door. Text me your address.”

You shot upright. “Pidge, no. I'm not-”

“Five minutes, Just Y/N!” she exclaimed. “Ready or not, I'll be at your front door in five minutes!”

She hung up before you could respond. You groaned, tossed your phone onto your covers and stampeded for the shower, scooping your clothes up on your way.

This was going to be an eventful afternoon.

---

When Pidge saw you, she was immediately reminded as to why she had taken such a liking to you the previous night.

Waking up this morning, her mind had been slightly foggy. Hunk was playing the drums in the basement, forever thinking he was being quiet, whilst Keith and Lance were arguing about their next gig in the kitchen. Pidge had been cursed with a hangover, but through the haze, she was still able to clearly make out the memory of you and her in that alleyway.

She'd thought about it all morning. As she was making breakfast, as she was arguing with Keith, as she was laughing with Hunk – she could not get you off her mind, no matter how hard she tried.

And so, she'd bitten the bullet and called you.

She wasn't entirely sure a phone call was appropriate – she just couldn't gather her wits to text you. She wanted to be coherent, and with the state she was currently in, talking was the only way she was going to be able to get her point across.

The entire journey to your flat was like some kind of fever dream; Pidge didn't even know where she was going, made a fool of herself as she pressed her phone to her ear, listening to the Google maps app talk her through directions. She'd ended up outside your block of flats, had been forced to ask the door man how to get up to your room; he'd simply nodded towards the door at the side of him, the bright green sign that read 'THIS WAY TO APARTMENTS' being a dead give away. Pidge had smiled and dashed up the steps before her embarrassment could reach higher levels.

But that embarrassment was ebbed away the moment the door opened and you were standing there, hair still damp and eyes glistening with what Pidge could only hope was excitement.

Pidge grinned, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “Well, don't you look pretty.”

“Five minutes isn't enough time,” you said. “My hair isn't dry yet.”

“We're going for a picnic.” Pidge stepped out of the way, ushering you out the door. “You don't need dry hair to enjoy some fish and chips, for crying out loud.”

You scowled but stepped out of the house anyway. You locked the door before you and Pidge started back downstairs and headed towards the chippy.

Pidge would be lying to claim things weren't a little more difficult than yesterday; your first conversation had been partially artificial, a product of the alcohol in her veins and the faux confidence said alcohol always gave her; today, however, she was overthinking everything. She wanted to call you pretty again – she liked the little smile you got when she said that – but couldn't bring herself to do it. She wanted to hold your hand, but she wasn't even sure you were seeing this whole thing as a date – maybe it wasn't. Maybe Pidge had been a little too hopeful, and she supposed it was partly her fault if you saw this as nothing more than a casual catch-up. She had asked you to a picnic. There had been no mention of a date within her request this morning.

Conversation was scarce and cracked as you walked into the small chippy and ordered a fish and chip each; Pidge chastised you for getting vinegar. You chastised her for having hers plain. The two of you gathered your orders and walked to the park, sitting down on the grass to enjoy the view.

And it was a splendid view; the park was right beside a rock beach, so the two of you could watch the waves softly lapping at the shore, plus the kids and families who were running up and down the length of it, giggling as the rocks prodded their bare feet.

You started the conversation this time, a fact which both surprised and excited Pidge. “Do you live here?”

Pidge looked up, raised a brow. “Here?”

“Here.” You gestured around you. “Or is this just a tour stop for you?”

“Oh, right.” Pidge wiped her hands on her jeans, ridding them of oil. “I have a house here, but we're on tour quite a bit nowadays. I wouldn't really say I live anywhere.”

“Is that not annoying?”

“It's nice sometimes. Although sometimes it's a little weird not having anywhere to call home.”

You nodded as if you understood. Pidge hated that you didn't, hated that she still wasn't talking to someone who could genuinely relate to her; however, Pidge also acknowledged the fact that she didn't want to be talking to anyone else.

She picked up a chip and tossed it at a nearby seagull. “What about you? How long have you lived here?”

“My whole life,” you replied through a mouthful of fish. “I don't think I've ever lived less than two miles from a beach.”

“Lucky bitch.”

You shrugged. “It's all I've ever known. Plus, that also means we always got the worst winds at winter time – living near the coast isn't always sunshine and sunbathing.”

“But it's always peaceful, isn't it?”

“There was one time a ship with a bunch of smugglers pulled up on the shore, and-”

Pidge raised a brow. You grinned, swallowing the rest of your story with a giggle. Pidge simply rolled her eyes, leaning back on her hands to gaze out over the ocean; it really was a peaceful sight, even with your attempts at dampening that.

You leaned back alongside her; Pidge's stomach erupted into butterflies when she felt your arm brush against her own.

“I think I need to apologise for last night,” said Pidge suddenly. The words weren't even planned, shocking even to her.

You turned your head. “There's nothing to apologise for.”

“I was brash,” said Pidge. “I was a little drunk, I think. I don't usually act that way in front of people.”

“I don't think you acted badly-”

“Cute bartender?” Pidge raised a brow, tilting her head in your direction.

You bit your lip, stifling a giggle. “Okay, maybe that was a bit bold of you-”

“It was disrespectful,” Pidge corrected. “I shouldn't have made you uncomfortable.”

You sighed. “Pidge, I wasn't uncomfortable.”

“But you could have been. I was treading on thin ice.”

“You entertained me.” You nudged her shoulder, urging her to look at you. “There's a big difference.”

Pidge stared at you for a moment longer; in this light, you looked utterly incredible. It almost took her breath away, made her feel flustered in the best way possible. Your eyes were glittering, your lips parted, a small glean of sweat on your collarbones, revealed by the slightly low cut summer shirt you were wearing. Pidge found herself slowly reaching forward, and you weren't stopping her, so she continued, and-

“Oh my God, is that Pidge Gunderson?”

She flinched away, letting her hand drop back in her lap. A young girl around the age of fourteen had dashed up to her side, was jumping up and down by the time Pidge finally managed to gather her bearings and look up, forcing a smile on her face.

You, however, had immediately ducked back into your shell, pulling your knees into your chest and looking away. Pidge had the impression that you were pretending to not know her, lest the fan take notice of her company.

Pidge greeted the fan as she always did – with enthusiasm, engraved into her head by Lance McClain himself. She took a picture and signed the girls shorts, before she turned on her heel and left, squealing to her friends that she finally met that girl she'd been telling them all about. Pidge watched them as they glanced back at her, and she knew then there was no point in staying if the fans planned on sticking around; you and her would get no privacy.

Pidge turned back. You looked flustered, ducking your head behind Pidge so the fans wouldn't be able to see you. Pidge sighed and grabbed your hand; you tugged it out of her grip, stuffing it into your shorts pockets.

Pidge frowned. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you said a little too quickly. “I'm fine. I just – I think I have to get going.”

Pidge's heart stopped. “What? Why?”

You were already standing up, gathering your half-finished chippy. Before Pidge could even argue, you were tossing it into the bin, nearly stumbling over your own two feet in your attempts to get away quicker.

Pidge followed you, grabbing your elbow before you could get too far. “Hey, hey, hey. Slow down a second. What's this about?”

You couldn't meet her eyes. Your voice was a whisper, the words cracking. “I just have to go, Pidge.”

There was something in your tone that made her arguments cease; you were panicking. Pidge knew what panic felt like, but never before had she been triggered by something as simple as human interaction. She stared at you for a moment, fingers hovering beneath your elbow but no longer holding you; she couldn't put you through that. If you felt yourself getting overwhelmed by what just happened, Pidge wouldn't be the one to make you go through it again.

But there was no way to stop it besides letting you leave.

She swallowed thickly and nodded, stepping back. “O-okay. You'll text me when you get home, won't you? Just to – Just to let me know you got there safely.”

You nodded, already walking away.

“Okay,” Pidge called after you. “I'll see you soon, then, yeah?”

You nodded again, but there was no verbal response. Pidge let her hand drop, slap against her leg. The noise echoed, sounding dull in her ears. It sounded like the most pathetic noise in the world – the sound of rejection.

---

You hated everything.

You hated yourself, hated your brain, hated the anxiety you had been cursed with for entirely no reason.

It ruined things. In fact, there were some days you were genuinely convinced it ruined everything, because you knew for certain your life would be ten times better if your brain would just shut off for a few hours and let you live.

But that was never the case. It would never be the case. The world was bleak, and you let it get to you, and you hated it.

You hugged the comforter tighter around your body, Netflix playing as nothing more than background noise. Sometimes having something on in the background helped quieten your brain, but it was getting more and more difficult as the stresses of life emerged to the surface. You had a job now – you would need to interact with people again tomorrow night, and that thought was enough to keep you awake. You imagined all the ways you could mess up – you were still new. You hadn't learned everything, certainly hadn't mastered anything you'd been taught, and so there was every possibility that you would mess up somehow. People would stare at you and laugh, because you knew for a fact you looked odd in that place; a shy little thing being forced to serve burly, overexcited drunk teenagers.

You must have looked a sight.

In truth, you thought you were starting to get used to this new job. You were able to sleep a little better, was getting more skilled at convincing yourself everything was going to be fine. However, the situation with Pidge brought you right back to square one, reminding you of just how bad it was.

You liked Pidge. A lot. A lot more than you had a right to, considering you barely knew her, considering she was a rock star and you were a bartender.

But, weirdly, she seemed to like you, too.

So what was the problem?

That was the question you asked yourself on a daily basis – why did your brain go into overdrive over absolutely nothing? The pieces were all there – you and Pidge got along, enjoyed each others company. The only thing missing was your ability to understand her lifestyle, and it was your anxieties fault that you couldn't do that right now.

You'd at least had the decency to text her when you got home. Whilst your anxiety was strong enough to make you ditch her at the last minute, it apparently wasn't strong enough for you to disappoint her by not texting her back when she asked you to.

She'd replied, but you hadn't looked at it. If you didn't see it, you couldn't really chastise yourself for ignoring her.

You sighed and closed your eyes; nights like this were painful. You just wanted to go to sleep, but turning the TV off meant the thoughts had free reign. You would be up until the early hours of the morning fretting over what happened today, and you honestly saw no point in doing such a thing – if you were going to overthink, you may as well do it with Netflix playing in the background to keep you entertained.

And so, you stayed awake until your body could no longer properly function. You fell asleep upright that night, head tilted against your shoulder, Pidge's message going unread on your uncharged phone.

---

“You look like someone took a shit in your cereal.”

Pidge looked up, hair dishevelled and fingers aching from how hard she'd pressed into the copper strings of her guitar. Keith stood over her, toothbrush dangling out of his mouth as he got ready for the second night playing at the Club From Hell – that was the nickname Pidge had given it. As soon as she walked in the doors, she had been reminded of you, reminded of the date, reminded of the fact that she had been completely rejected.

He was shirtless, his guitar hanging across his chest. He raised a brow when Pidge looked up, but all she did in response to his mild insult was blink drearily.

Keith leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. “Did you sleep last night?”

Pidge shoved him away. “For a few hours.”

Keith grabbed her wrist, inspecting the indents in her fingers; they shouldn't have been there. Keith, being a bass player himself, would definitely know this. Pidge had been playing guitar since she was nine years old – by now, her calluses should have been strong, able to take the pressure it took to make a good note ring out on the guitar. It was clear by the damage he was inspecting now that Pidge had been pressing extra hard into the strings.

She pulled her hand away, wrapping it back round the neck of her bass.

“Pidge...”

“Do you not have something better to do?” she snapped.

“Not until the show starts,” said Keith, sitting down in the seat across from her. “You gonna tell me what's going on, or do I have to get Lance in here to-”

“Please, for the love of god, do not get Lance in here.”

“Then explain.” He leaned back, going back to brushing his teeth.

Pidge inhaled; how could she even explain what was going on? Never before had she been so unsure about her life and her goals and her future – she'd always known that music had been an accident, but she'd enjoyed it. It was a happy accident.

However, she was starting to think of life outside of concerts, outside of touring, outside of the thousands upon thousands of fans who supported her. She was beginning to think of the people who she wanted to care for her, but couldn't because this lifestyle she owned wasn't something they could keep up with.

But maybe that wasn't right. Maybe Pidge should give herself more credit – why should she give up the life she enjoyed just to please somebody else?

Well, the answer to that was simple; the life she enjoyed didn't always include music. The life she enjoyed, however, did include being loved by family and friends.

“What would you do if you met someone you ended up really liking, but they couldn't keep up with the whole rock star life?”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “That's what this is about?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Well.” Keith sighed, his head falling back completely. He draped his arm over the back of the chair. “Why don't we take Shiro as an example here. His partner was a god damn criminal when they first met. They were robbing his house, for fuck sake.”

“So?”

“So.” Keith looked back up. “Their lifestyle didn't match up with Shiro's, but they managed to make it work because they love each other.”

Pidge frowned. “They ended up becoming a criminal profiler, Keith. They got out of that life.”

“Shiro fell in love with them whilst they were still living this crazy life. You wanna know why?”

“Because Shiro's a crackhead.”

“Because Shiro realised he loved them for who they are, and he was willing to help them change. He kept up with their life because he wanted to see them get better. If someone falls for you, Pidge, they'll stick around because they want to see you do what makes you happy. They'll stick around because they want to see you reach that point.” Keith put the toothbrush back in his mouth and scoffed. “And people say I'm not a romantic.”

Pidge ignored him, pondering on his previous example – it was true that Shiro and his partner had a horrendous story between them; Shiro had nearly been robbed by the person he would later become engaged to. In a sense, Pidge always thought that was stupid of him – but Keith was right. Shiro had helped them get their life on track. He'd stuck around because he wanted them to be happy, wanted to help them reach that happiness.

It hurt her heart to think that the person she'd been talking to, the person she enjoyed talking to, wouldn't feel that way. But it was the truth. You'd walked away, unable to handle the life Pidge had chosen for herself. That was your choice, but Pidge was under no obligation to drop her whole life just to please someone else.

It was a hard truth to conclude, but it was the truth nonetheless. She could do nothing but move on.

---

You could barely even hear Lance.

You weren't concentrating on the lyrics any more; you were concentrating on her.

Tonight, she really was wearing a million pound outfit. Her black shirt was decorated with golden chains that dangled from her arms and glinted against the spotlight cast down upon her. Her brown hair was sticking up in that crazy do she always seemed to have it in. Her body swayed just slightly to the music, fingers working wonders against the neck of the bass guitar she played so wonderfully.

You wanted her to look at you.

For the first time in your whole entire life, you wanted someone to look at you. You were prepared to meet her eyes, prepared to hold that eye contact until she understood what it was you were trying to communicate – you were sorry.

So, so sorry.

Anxiety vibrated in your bones as you stood behind the counter, but you were so willing to push that out of the way right now. You could do that. You were capable of pushing it to the side if you really tried, and right now, you were willing to put yourself through that exertion if it meant getting your point across to Pidge.

If you wanted to be with her, you would have to make sacrifices. That was what you'd learned, what you were willing to attempt. If it got too much for you, it would be okay. You could leave the fire knowing you tried to put it out – if you failed, then so be it. What more could you do?

You turned away from the stage as the last song came to an end; Pidge was clearly trying to avoid you. She knew you worked at the bar, so she hadn't looked over a single time throughout the entire set. You didn't mind. Sure, it hurt a little bit but you would be lying to claim it wasn't exactly what you'd expected to happen.

Nonetheless, you couldn't help yourself when you joined the rest of the crowd in exiting the club; your shift wasn't over, but that was fine. You could come up with an excuse when the time came. For now, you had one objective, and one objective only.

You found Pidge not long after.

As expected, she hadn't gone out the back. That was too similar to the happenings of the first time you met. Instead, she was with the rest of her band mates, huddled outside the front of the club, greeting fans. She was smiling, but that smile quickly faded when she looked over and saw you standing there.

You hugged your arms tight around your body, staring right back at her. You wanted to say something, usher her forward, but the words died in your throat, and you were suddenly growing much too nervous to do anything like that. So instead, you stared, and you hugged yourself, and you hoped she got the idea.

She hollowed out her cheeks, giving Keith a subtle nudge before she broke away from the crowd and walked towards you. You turned on your heel and jogged round the side of the building; she followed.

“You wanna talk to me now?”

“I'm sorry.” It came out a jumbled mess, not nearly as coherent as you'd originally planned it to be – but, well, that was how it often was with you.

Pidge narrowed her eyes, folding her arms over her chest. The chains dangling from her loose black shirt glinted under the late night summer sun. “Sorry for what? Ditching me on our first date?”

You blinked. “That was a date?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

You quickly shook your head. “What? No. No! I'm – I'm glad you thought it was a date. I just – I wasn't thinking. It was nice, though. I – uh – I enjoyed...” You trailed off, biting your lower lip when you realised just how badly this was going. “Look Pidge, I feel like an asshole.”

“You didn't want to stick around. I don't have a problem with that.”

“I panicked.” You grabbed her arm. She froze. You froze, but didn't pull away. “I'm working on that, alright? It's just . . . my anxiety has been an issue for me from day one, but I want to get better. I want to help myself, because it's getting past the point of manageable, and it's just. . . I can't keep going on like this, worrying about the smallest of things. It's not fair on me. It's not fair on you.”

Pidge blinked. You inhaled shakily, letting your hand fall back to your side.

“I panicked,” you repeated, quieter this time. “But I panicked even worse when I got home and realised I'd probably lost every chance with you. I think that says something.”

Pidge was silent. You thought for sure you'd messed it up this time – she was going to laugh in your face. She was going to turn on her heel and tell you to go to hell, and quite frankly, you were starting to believe that's what you deserved.

But then you felt her fingertips brushing gently over the back of your palm. Your breath hitched, lower lip trembling.

Her voice was quiet when she spoke, soft. “You're apologising because of your anxiety?”

“I – I guess so.”

“You don't have to apologise to me for that.” She stepped closer, examining your face for any signs of discomfort. You stayed rooted to the spot, fingers twitching with the need to grab her and pull her closer. “If anything, I have to apologise for making you feel bad for something like that.”

You closed your eyes. “Pidge, this is my mistake. You don't need to-”

“Why don't we just agree that we both slipped up?” Pidge flicked your chin, urging you to open your eyes. Looking back at her, you could see she was now grinning. She kept her fingers hovering near your chin, and when you didn't back away, she traced her thumb along your bottom lip. “We can pretend none of this ever happened. We can get you help for your anxiety. We can make all of this work.”

“I don't – I don't know how quick I'll be able to throw myself into the public eye like that-”

“You don't have to throw yourself into the public eye at all if you don't want to.”

You blinked. “But that's what you do. That's your job. I want to support you in that.”

Pidge chuckled, stepping closer. This time, the step saw your chests touching. “You can support me without getting involved in things you don't want to get involved in. Honestly, just seeing you at the bar when I'm performing helps keep me sane.”

Your cheeks heated. “Okay. Okay, that's okay. We can . . . We've got plans, then.”

Pidge raised a brow. “Plans for what?”

You swallowed. “Well, I mean . . . I don't know. I guess I was just kind of wondering if we could do that date over again. I promise I'll try my hardest not to, like, ditch you again.”

Pidge was smiling even before your sentence was finished. “Does this invite mean I get to kiss you?”

You blinked. “Uh, yeah.”

Pidge chuckled before pressing her lips to your own. Your heart thundered in your chest, but this time, it wasn't a product of horror and fear, but of emotions you'd never even felt before. Pidge's hands wandered to the back of your neck, and your own rested on her hips; you didn't know where else to put them, and yet Pidge still groaned into your mouth when your fingers made contact with the flowing material of her black shirt.

She pulled away first, looking into your eyes. “How about we re-do that date of ours tomorrow afternoon? The fish and chips are on me.”

---

You squeezed Pidge's hand. She was brought back to reality.

The fans were screaming her name. This was something she had grown used to in the years she'd been in the public eye, but it was different this time; they were here for the album.

The album.

The album the whole band had been working on for years was finally out, had debuted at number one in the UK album charts, was rising to number one on every other bloody music chart there was – Pidge was overwhelmed as she stepped out of the limo and waved to the fans who had been waiting on her for hours. Some of them had camped out for days.

You being by her side was the only thing keeping her sane.

You stepped out of the vehicle beside her, reaching for her hand almost immediately. Pidge looked over and smiled at you; you awkwardly smiled back. She was proud of you. It was only the year before you would have nearly passed out from so much as being beside Pidge when she was spotted by a single fan, and now here you were, standing beside her, smiling at the cameras at her album debut party.

She was so proud of you.

The two of you walked into the venue. Keith, Hunk and Shiro gave you a polite peck on the cheek, whilst Lance threw himself into your arms and cried out, “You made it! You made it!” You'd giggled and nodded, admitting you were a little nervous but more than happy to be there for Pidge on her big night.

The show started. You stayed back stage, and Pidge couldn't help but grin when she looked over and saw you dancing with Allura and Hunk's significant other – Pidge remembered the first time you had met them, how awkward you'd been, how you'd basically hovered round Pidge the entire time. Now, Allura was hanging onto your arm like she was afraid of losing you, and you didn't even seem to care.

Plus, it was only last year that you had openly admitted to not even liking Smokey Saturdays music.

Once the show was over, Pidge made a B-Line for you. You were waiting for her, arms already outstretched. Pidge laughed loudly, all but bounding into your grip. She nuzzled her head in your neck, pressing multiple kisses to the flesh there because she knew how flustered that got you.

You squealed and pulled back, shoving Pidge away playfully. “You're sweating.”

“I'm happy.” Pidge dived back in for a hug, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you into her chest. You didn't fight this time, simply laughed and hugged her back. “God, this is incredible. I feel so happy.”

“I don't want to hear it any other way,” you said. “I'm so proud of you, Pidge. You've worked so hard for this.”

“It would have driven me insane if you weren't there with me,” she replied, pulling away to look into your eyes. “Honestly, Y/N – when we first got together, I was on the verge of giving this whole thing up.”

You nodded solemnly, because you knew. Even after things with you had become official, Pidge had still gone back and forth with what she really wanted – music was part of her now, and it always would be, but she questioned it's benefits to her personal life more than she wanted to admit.

You had been part of the reason she'd chosen to stay on – not because you pushed her to choose music. You pushed her to understand. You sat with her until the early hours of the morning, listening to her rant about the recent song she was working on, how she wanted to give it all up and go back to university to study something she was good at. You'd always cut her off at this point, tell her with a firmness unfamiliar to you that she was good at music – but if she was losing her passion, you promised to stick by her no matter what path she chose to take.

You always just wanted her to be happy.

It had worked both ways. As Pidge looked at you now, she realised with a tiny sense of pride that maybe – just maybe – she had done the right thing with you. You had done all the work, gotten yourself to this fresh point of confidence entirely on your own, but Pidge had been there for you – it was all she really could do. She went with you to counselling when the idea of walking into that office on your own was too daunting. She held your hand when the doctors gave you the official diagnosis of generalised anxiety. She went running with you on days when not even Pidge's soothing words could calm you down.

You'd been there for each other, and you had somehow managed to reach this point of utter happiness that Pidge would not trade for the world.

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 5 years ago

Text

A View To A Winchester (Part 8)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle.

Section Word Count: 5,483

Section Content: fluff, flirting, arousing, kissing, R-rated language, drinking, more Spice Girls references

~~~~~

The doorbell chimed at 8:03 pm. Julie had been pacing in the entryway since 7:50 pm. Unsure as to which entrance Dean would choose, she’d closed the curtains to the sliding door. Mood lighting had been set to a somewhat romantic minimum. She still wanted to be able to ogle the man.

Every thought and decision that day had in one way or another circled back to Dean. She’d even dreamed about him that night. The mild annoyances of work texts and emails, when she made the mistake to check her inbox, did little to sidetrack her from the tasks leading up to this moment.

There’d been no calls, no texts from Mr. Winchester since the night before. And she’d made a point to avoid staring out her office window or back door every five minutes. A quick trip out to the backyard to toss some garbage found the Impala still in his driveway. Tingles of excitement rushed over her skin. There was a very real probability that Dean could be keeping an eye out for her. That he’d been doing it for weeks produced a grin on her face throughout the day.

Now, her gaze lingered at the imposing shadow outlined against the beveled glass of the front door. A check in the mirror produced a nod. She inhaled and took in the surrounding scents. The perfume was not overpowering. The other aroma filling the air had her the most anxious. She couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

Julie pulled on the door and braced herself, leaning against the edge for support. Thank goodness she had. Spotlighted in a golden wash of technicolor, Dean stood at the base of the step up in a radiant glory. The man was actually glowing.

He was still taller than her by a few inches, even with her temporary height advantage. It afforded her the opportunity to only tilt her head up in a slight nod to gaze at his face.

His mouth cocked up the side in a sassy grin. It fell away as he gave her a once over, top to bottom. Have at it, Mr. Winchester. I’m going to revel in the constant blushing you’ll be causing tonight. There it is, that damn lip licking. Good God. His gaze rode its way up her body back to her face. His grip on the neck of the wine bottle tightened. “Evenin’.”

“Hi.” Her mouth managed to spill out the one word greeting. She stepped aside to welcome him in.

Dean stepped up into the entryway, now towering beside her. He took the lead to close the door with one hand, offering the bottle with the other. “Wine.”

She grinned. “Thank you.” She grabbed the bottle at the base, intent on avoiding any skin. She might jump his bones right there if they made contact. “Have a seat if you’d like.” Her nod pointed to the living room.

His nose twitched. A deep inhale followed. His posture straightened, gaining inches of stature. Julie pursed her lips and squashed a grin. “What’d you make?” he asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

This man standing in front of her was so other level, so beyond reachable and enigmatic in terms of attractiveness and attitude. Top shelf and bottom of the barrel somehow all at once. A tailored three-piece suit mixed with a leather jacket worn out to perfection. But there was also something so approachable and knowing, as well, that made her willing to put herself out there.

Is this what they mean by chemistry? It’s been so long, I forgot what it felt like. She ripped the imaginary censor tape off her mouth. “You may have entered this house a single man, Dean, but, by the end of the night...” She trailed off.

A genuine, unadulterated smile lined his mouth. “Don’t tease, sweetheart.”

She laughed. “Why not? Can’t take what you so easily dish out?”

“Not where pie is concerned.”

“Sit. Please. Make yourself comfortable.”

He nodded and wandered toward the sofa. Those damn bowlegs and swagger getting all her attention and throwing her off her train of thought. Dark, midnight blue jeans and a deep forest green button up shirt, with sleeves rolled up to the elbow, hugged his figure. And the man was wearing cowboy boots. Fucking cowboy boots. Kill me now.

Before he could turn around to catch her staring, she ducked into the kitchen to catch her breath. The white wine went into the fridge. Cool air from the open door skirted over and bathed her already goose-pimpled skin. “Can I get you something to drink?” She called out.

“Sure.”

“Bourbon?”

“You’ve got bourbon and pie?!” She couldn’t quite make out the muttering that followed the quizzical exclamation. “That’d be great,” he said in a louder volume that carried clear into the kitchen.

Julie came back with two tumblers a minute later.

“You drink bourbon?” he asked. His fingers wrapped around hers as she passed the glass. His eyes lifted in what looked to be mild surprise with the touch.

She let the warmth of his rough hand permeate and wash under her skin. “No, actually. But, I figured you did.” She sat next to him on the couch, careful not to spill the small amount of liquor in her glass.

“Was it your goal to check off all my favorite things tonight?”

She shrugged and crossed her legs. “Wouldn’t say goal. Hope.”

Dean toasted in mid-air and took a sip. Brows rose. “Hm. Well done with the bourbon.” His gaze trailed over her floral print dress. The fabric had the right amount of flutter over her sleeves and flounce around her chest for Julie. The knee length skirt rested a tad high up her thigh, thanks to an intentional tug of her fingers when his eyes got to that destination. A lick of his lips, when the stare halted at the revealed skin, had been the hoped-for reaction. She sipped to hide the giddy grin. The liquid sliding down her throat was velvet fire. It forced her mind to concentrate on the sensory effect of something other than Dean Winchester.

His silent assessment resumed. But whether it had been seconds or minutes Julie could not be a reliable witness. He stopped again at her favorite nude-colored, closed-toe, strappy heels. She twirled her foot. Only one of Dean’s eyebrows rose that time.

The ensemble had been the easiest decision she’d made that day. It made her feel sassy, sexy, confident, and every ounce a woman.

An unexpected dart of his eyes shot back to hers. Held breath zapped out of her lungs like a popped balloon. She hoped the reaction didn’t look as ridiculous as it sounded. But there was no laugh or throat clearing from him. “You look really nice tonight.” He added, in that beguiling baritone, “But, I don’t think I’ve seen you not look nice.”

She smiled at how good he was at covering all bases. “Thank you.” Her fingers danced over the tumbler’s etched glass. “You mentioned asking me out on a proper date, but having no clue what that was.” She shrugged. “I’m a little rusty in that department. Thought this might ease us both into the idea.”

He smiled and thumbed the rim of his glass. “Rusty is not how I would describe it. So, why no dinner?”

She laughed. “Hey, I made dessert.” He returned her laugh with a chuckle. “I don’t know. Don’t tell Brigida I flat out refused to make you dinner. I’ll get my wooden spoon taken away as punishment.”

That produced an even deeper laugh out of Dean’s throat. Composure regained after another sip, he studied her through a side stare. “It’s almost like you had something else in mind that would be occupying our time.”

“Just talking.” She tried to flash him her most innocent smile.

“Riiight.” He dragged out the word. “Did your friends have a lot to talk about when I left last night?”

“So much… I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Hm. Catherine’s cute.”

Julie smiled. “She is.”

“So, I got the stamp of approval?”

“With some cautious reservations.”

“Sound like good friends.”

“They are. I don’t see them as often as I’d like to… you know, everyone always seems too busy to get together. But, Karen’s been checking up on me since she heard about Steve and...” She trailed off. Great, already mentioning the ex.

Dean nodded and cut her off, “Were you all in a sorority together? Did you have sexy sleepovers?” He raised his brows in a quick and comical gesture.

Julie laughed at his levity and the obvious attempt to bail her out with a topic change. “No sorority. We just all ended up in the same hall of our dorm. Bonded over Spice Girls and Sambuca one night. That was all she wrote.”

A frown. “Spice Girls?”

She shrugged. “I’m a Pop girl. But, I do appreciate classic rock.”

“Appreciate? Do you listen to it? Make a concerted effort to seek it out? Speak the truth, sweetheart.” His tone was serious, demanding, and kind of pushy. Damn. If he gets this worked up about music…

“Not really.”

He sighed. “Can you name me one Zeppelin song?”

She shook her head.

He clutched at his heart. “Confirms it. You aren’t the perfect woman.” Another sigh escaped those full lips, longer and drawn out this time. A heavy nod followed the resolved expression. “I should go.” Forlorn, puppy dog eyes met hers.

Jesus. Dramatic much? “If that’s really the deal breaker, then I guess you should go.” Julie played along.

He raised a finger. “How about this? You let me give you a crash course in classic rock one day. And, you promise never to subject me to the Spice Girls.”

Julie laughed. “I can’t promise that. But, I won’t intentionally play it in your presence, how about that?”

He produced a “Meh” and downturned his mouth.

“Are you quite the professor of rock and roll?”

“Oh yeah.” She found his eyes gazing with intent at her lips. “I could teach you a lot.”

The static charge was catapulting a frenzy of sexy into the room. Her body was drawn to his like a dowsing rod to water. Her ass shifted. Fingers rubbed over her neck, feeling the warmth. I’m probably beet red.

Dean’s hand that held the tumbler rose. One of the fingers popped free from the grip and did a swinging point at her face. “No glasses.”

“I went with contacts tonight.”

He grinned, “And, you wore your hair down again.”

“You said you liked it...”

He leaned in a few inches. Her thought cut off at the action. His visage turned to stone; eyes almost primal in their focus on her mouth. Again. “I like a lot of things.”

Holy shit. She froze in place. Could only stare at the beauty. Freckles. How did I not notice those before?

“This is dangerous, Julie.” He pulled himself back.

“W-why? What’s dangerous?”

“You are doing everything in your power to push all my buttons.” He shook his head. “It’s sexy as hell. But it’s only going to end one way.”

“What way is that?” Please say sex on this couch.

“Told you. Me turning into a jackass.”

Way to be a downer, Dean. Her lids narrowed. “Do you really believe that?”

He shrugged. “Decades of experience.”

“Can we just enjoy this?” Her plea was firm in its tone. “I’ve been through a crappy divorce from what turned out to be a turd of a husband hiding his yearlong shitty and adulterous behavior.” She closed her eyes. “I’d like to believe that we are two damaged adults that deserve some flirting and feel good times right now. I’m trying not to ‘what if’ you into the circling drain of catastrophic proportions.”

When she opened her eyes after the rant, she found him smiling.

She nodded. “Pie?”

His grin spread. “Pie.”

~~~~~

Three more glasses of bourbon on Dean’s end had loosened him into a comfortable heap on the sofa. He was on his third piece of pie, too. Julie had been mindful and stuck to the one glass. The pie, however, called out for a second slice to be cut. The conversation had shot into that wonderful galaxy of transitions and rabbit holes, where struggling to find the original thought only led to more discovery.

“Okay,” Dean shifted in his seat, “tell me one good thing about your ex.” He dusted some crust from the side of his mouth back onto the plate.

“Ugh,” she frowned.

“You just said you try to find one good thing about anyone and anything.”

“I didn’t think you were going to call me out on it.”

He smiled. “I’m sure you can. It was ten years, right?”

She eyerolled, turning pensive. “Steve always put the seat down.”

Dean laughed. “Gotta give him more than that.” He pointed at her. “Or, I blame you for staying that long.”

She sighed and plucked an apple with her fork. “He was a hard worker. He loved my mom, even though she always rode him for not being ‘the man’ she thought he should be. Not that my mom has a great grasp of a healthy male/female dynamic, mind you. He always tried to make her happy. And, by extension, me happy.” She went deeper. “He was romantic, even when I’d try to mess up his plans and be a grump. He was big on romance, for a long time.”

She caught Dean inspecting whatever reaction washed over her face. His gaze softened. “What happened?”

Julie shrugged. “Maybe I took him for granted. Maybe he took me for granted. Maybe a mid-life crisis turned his brain to mush and he thought he’d find happiness with a twenty something yoga instructor. I don’t know. He never offered an explanation. And, I didn’t want to hear one, anyway.”

“Yoga instructor?” Dean grinned.

Julie grinned at Dean’s grin. “You’re thinking about how bendy she is, aren’t you?”

He chuckled. “I dated a yoga instructor. I know how bendy they are.”

“Do tell.”

His eyebrows rose. “You want details?”

Her bare feet, having long kicked off the heels, slid onto the sofa cushion and nestled under her ass and skirt. “All the details.” Another bit of pie slid into her mouth.

“She was pretty amazing.” He grabbed at the glass on the floor beside his spot and took a gulp. His reminiscent stare into the liquor heated Julie up again. He grinned, not meeting her eyes. “She could get into these positions… well, it was… awesome.” He returned the glass to its spot and focused on the pie plate. “Lisa was great on lots of levels.”

There was a palpable warmth to his memory. How long will it take me to think of Steve with even an ounce of that fondness? Will I ever be able to again? “Were you with her long?”

“Little over a year.” He stretched a bit and brought his eyeline back up to meet hers. “When I tried the normal life thing.” His eyes rounded like saucers. “God, that was like... over a decade ago. Ben’s in his twenties now.”

“Ben?”

“Lisa’s son.”

“Do you keep in touch?”

“Nah. It was better to cut ties. Have them move on, like I’d never messed up their life to begin with.”

“I’m sure you didn’t…”

“I did.” Dean nodded with certainty. “But, it was better after me, I guarantee it. What about you, though? Ten years. I mean, how are you doing with that kind of change?”

“Does it sound bad if I say it wasn’t as hard as I’d thought it would be?”

Dean smiled.

“I mean, the betrayal, the dishonesty, the collapse of my marriage. Yeah, that was devastating and had me on the fast track to a pint of Ben and Jerry’s every night. I cried for weeks… tried to keep my work life together during the day just to come home, wrecked, to an empty, fucking huge house… because he was staying over at Chelsea’s apartment until he got a new place.”

His face deadpanned. “Her name was Chelsea?”

Another eyeroll. “Yeah. And, our ‘marriage’ friends hightailed it out of existence… probably because most of them had known and didn’t want me to know that I knew that they knew.” She watched Dean try to process her ramble. She laughed at how absurd she sounded. “It was tough. I started to go to therapy again.” She waved a hand in the air. “Then, I found this place.” She slowed her breathing. “I had something that was mine again. Just mine. I don’t know, it kind of centered me.”

His cocky grin returned. “I hear the view’s pretty great, too.”

“The view is awesome.” Julie giggled.

“Oh, man.” He let out a huge yawn and leaned into the crook of the sofa’s corner. He slid like a serpent on his back, molding into the cushions. His legs draped over the edge. The empty pie plate and fork rested on the center of his chest, teetering a bit. “I’m feeling really good right now.” A beefy, muscled arm raised over his head. He clutched the armrest. His eyes closed.

“I bet.” Julie mumbled, staring.

An eye shot open. “Open invitation to come on over and find out.” He teased and knocked a knee against one of hers.

The ping pong game of flirting had been ongoing, with neither one missing a return yet. “But, I might take advantage of you, in this drunken state of yours.”

“Take, woman, take.” He grumbled and shut his eyes again. “Seriously, though…”

“Hm?” Julie deposited her empty plate on the side table.

“Did your husband not eat? Did he hate sweets? Cause, just as an act of self-preservation and I don’t know… non-stupidity… to give up ever eating your mom’s food… or, taste your baked goods again…” The brows twitched suggestively above his closed eyes.

Dirty, cheesy jokes. He’s lucky he’s so damn good looking. “Maybe Chelsea’s a good cook?” Julie offered.

Dean’s eyes batted open in a lazy gesture. “Yeah, and I’ve won the Nobel friggin’ Peace Prize.” He wagged a finger. “Now, if he’s anything like my brother, I might understand the short sightedness on his part.”

“Is your brother an asshole?” Julie grinned.

He chuckled. “No. He’s very fond of kale, though. He could resist your food charms.” Dean licked his lips, his chin to his chest, eyeing her. “But, he’s not blind. And, if he wasn’t already in a committed relationship…”

Julie gave him her best sexy side eye. “What?”

“We’d probably have to rock paper scissors for it.”

She tilted her head. “For what?”

“The chance to try out our best moves on you.” Dean rose up in slow motion to a sitting position, mansplaying into her half of the couch. He slid the fork and plate onto the nearby coffee table.

You got this. Julie was keenly aware of how her entire body thrummed to her heartbeat. And how soaked her panties were. Just talking to him and being in close proximity is wrecking me… what would happen if... She readjusted her sitting position as well, crossed her legs, and clenched her thighs together. Got me slippery enough to slide off the damn couch. “Do I have a say in the matter? What’s your brother like?”

“Oh, he’s a total nerd. Living in San Jose, trying to finally get a law degree from Stanford.”

“Lawyer material, huh?” Julie gave him an impressed nod.

“Okay, calm down.” Dean raised a hand in jest. “Like I said, he’s taken. And, you wouldn’t like him.” Dean shook his head with certainty.

Julie giggled. “You don’t know that. I consider myself somewhat of a nerd. Maybe we’re kindred spirits. What’s he look like?”

Dean sighed and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. Julie marveled, realizing that neither one of them had glanced at a phone over the past hour. The television had remained off as well. His finger tapped and scrolled for some time before showing her his screen. “That’s him and his girlfriend, Eileen.”

Julie’s eyebrows rose. “Wow. Your family gene pool is quite impressive.”

“Well, thank you.” He smirked. “But, still, I think I’d have a better shot. I mean, look at his hair.”

“Very bouncy. Really cute.” She noted some slight agitation from him as she continued to stare at the picture. He pulled the phone away and slipped it back into his pocket. Pushing ALL of his buttons was turning out to be very entertaining. “My brother and his family live in San Francisco. Not too far from San Jose. Maybe I should pay him a visit the next time I find myself over there.”

“Yeah, well… he’s a bit high maintenance. Me, on the other hand… ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

“So, you’re easy going?”

His lips jutted out into an exaggerated pout. “I don’t know if I’d say ‘easy going’. Easy maybe.” He winked.

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em type then?”

“Pretty much. But, there was an underlying reason. It wasn’t all about me being an ass.” He took another swig of his drink. “That’s why…” his tongue smacked against the roof of his mouth, “I really shouldn’t be here. The family business I was in for so long... It put anyone my brother and I got close to in danger. It was better to stay unattached.” He tilted the glass in her direction. “And, you haven’t lubricated me with enough liquor, or dessert, to get more info outta me on that.” The gaze dropped into his glass.

You’ve got me lubricated enough, you full time fucking flirt. Julie screwed her lips together. She took some time to gather her thoughts. “Is that what happened with Lisa? She ended up in danger?”

He clenched his jaw. That was enough of a response.

“But, your brother has a girlfriend now.”

“Yeah. Goin’ on two years.”

“Something changed then, when you moved on from the family business?”

He nodded, a grin slow to form as he looked back up. “You could say the family business went out of business. Our services weren’t needed as much.”

“So, he isn’t worried about his girlfriend’s safety? Your brother?”

“She was in the same business for a long time. Can take care of herself. I don’t think she’s a Spice Girls fan.” A wicked smirk unfurled.

Julie took silent offence at the dig. She nodded, processing the information to continue her original line of questioning. “Danger still out there?”

He shrugged and dropped the glass. “No, not really. I mean, not like it was. Every so often there’s a blip. But, I’d say it’s been the quietest I’ve known in… well, forever.”

“You are only making me more curious, you know that, right?”

Dean leaned in. One hand dragged along her dangling calf. Those rough, calloused fingers lit her up like flint against a match. Her nose scrunched as she tried to maintain some composure. The smile on his face sparked up into his eyes. Those damn crinkles multiplied. “Are you getting frustrated?”

“No.”

“Cause I’ve seen you make that face when it looks like you were frustrated.”

She sighed. “Maybe a little frustrated.”

He slid along the seat, bending his leg like snipping scissors to get closer. The oh so warm calf wedging along her thigh. An arm snaked behind her on the couch. Nostrils flared, sniffing the air like a hungry bloodhound. “I can take care of that for you, Julie.” He whispered. “All you gotta do is ask.” He teased out a smile. “Tell me what you want.” He paused. “What you really…” Another long pause. “Really.” Even longer. “Want.” The word slipped out of his mouth, slow and tasty, with a click of his teeth at the end for even more dramatic effort.

Awareness of what he had just done made her grin.

His head tilted. “I may have come across ‘Spice World’ on cable a few times while channel surfing. Being in the middle of a Baby and Ginger sandwich might be fun.” He inhaled deep again and a quick dart of his gaze fell to her lap before coming back to scan her facial features.

Shit, can he smell how wet and excited he’s making me? “What do you want?” She held his stare, desperately trying to keep some control of her faculties. Even though every cell in her body was begging to give in to the temptation that was Dean Winchester. “Are you looking for a woman that knows this mysterious family business like your brother’s girlfriend?”

The focus of his hypnotic green, glassy eyes traced over different spots on her face. She admired his ridges and furrows and planes up close. The slope of his nose was a perfect angled dream. Evidence of a hard life lived was scattered all over amid the youthful, sin-full lips and speckling of freckles. There was earned wisdom in his eyes behind the golden flecked irises. She couldn’t remember the last time she was in the presence of anyone so very handsome and beautiful. And? There was something else she’d been trying to pinpoint since she chanced on him, in the dark, that first night. The words slammed into her mind. Tragic. But, not just that. Heroic.

He remained quiet, stoic. Not answering her questions. Only wrecking her with his inspection, intent on getting her to concede. She pushed through, answering her own query. “Cause, fun little fact, I’m probably not that kind of woman. I’m guessing that woman is badass.” His fingers traced the skin by her sleeve. She was melting, drowning. And it was heaven. Ah, fuck it. “Now, if you’re looking for a one and done type situation…?”

He shook his head. “No. Not with you. I’m pretty sure I want to have you all sorts of ways. Not just one and done.”

The vocal confirmation made her lips twitch up. “Don’t tell anyone, but I kind of like your chauvinistic, caveman style.”

“Oh, I’m telling everybody.” He whispered, even closer now. Bourbon and cinnamon-apple breath danced over her lips. “But, for clarification,” the tease was still stroking her calf, “what exactly is my chauvinistic, caveman style?” He gave her a little head tilt. “You know, when I tell everybody.”

“Hm, well, you walked me home that one night.”

“That’s just looking out for your safety. I’d say that’s the opposite of caveman. Otherwise, I’d just drag you back by your hair to my lair.” He urged for more details with a roll of his fingers on her shoulder.

“But thinking I can’t look out for myself could be considered…” She slammed her mouth shut. I really don’t want to get into a debate on feminism with this man right now. His stare was far away and centered all at once. One finger stroked the upward curve of her neck, just under her earlobe. The gaze broke from her eyes, now interested in the same spot as that finger. His entire body leaned into her right side. So fucking close. “Um,” she hesitated.

“Come on. You gotta give me more than that.” His nose nuzzled into the wavy curls against her neck. He inhaled. An almost imperceptible moan emerged from his throat on the exhale.

She sighed and leaned into the enticing action. “I guess it’s not a style exactly. More like an aura?”

His posture tipped back, enough to brush his cheek along her jawline. His scruff rubbing like fine grit sandpaper. And, goddamn, his lips were so close to hers for a fraction of a second. “Aura?” The one word released in a jagged, hot breath. He dipped back toward her neck.

“You’re very… male…”

He chuckled against tender flesh. Goosebumps formed. She twitched at the almost touch. “I hope so.”

“I don’t know. You seem so… strong… capable… take charge. I think you’d make a very lucky lady feel safe. If you gave yourself the chance to try.”

And then, she felt it. The pressure of his soft, full lips rested at the base of her neck. They sizzled, lit the fuse. His hands wrapped around her in an instant. He gripped her into a bear hug of the hottest proportions. Their chests melded together, his muscles pressing into her soft curves. Firm, unmoving. Even his lips remained still. His heartbeat, however, that pulsed through her own skin.

She jolted at the sensation of his tongue teasing out from his lips, tasting her. His smile seared into her skin. Then, light kisses ran up her jaw. She tilted her head up, providing him full access to whatever the fuck he wanted. He trailed the outline of her chin with his lips. She dared open her eyes when his mouth retreated.

She had not been prepared for the look of want. His fingers tangled into her hair and clutched the back of her scalp. He moaned, low and deep, a second before his lips crushed her mouth with a coveting force and ownership. He brushed into the red and raw underside of her own lips, producing a wet, slick heat and easy undulations. The sway of his mouth back and forth, slow and prodding, opened her to him. The introduction of his probing tongue had her gasp. She felt the sound travel down his throat.

She hooked arms under his massive biceps and latched onto sharp shoulder blades, holding on for the ride. The stronghold manipulated her like a ragdoll with every kiss and suck and lick. He broke from her mouth and rested his forehead against hers. “You OK?” She smiled at how out of breath he sounded. He leaned back and inspected her face. She nodded, noting how fast her heart was beating. “Cause, I can stop… like, right now. It’s probably better if I do that. And, maybe, we try that proper date… before things get too out of hand.”

“Is that what you want to do right now?” She tried to catch her breath.

“Hell, no.” He smiled. His fingers massaged her scalp and pressed into the small of her back. “But, maybe… I should give myself the chance to try.”

She groaned. “Don’t use my own words against me.” She bit her lip, then mumbled. “You feel really good.”

“So do you, sweetheart.” He brushed his lips along her forehead. “So do you.”

She unfurled her arms from his back. “Going to be all adultish.”

“I know. Adulting sucks.” He sighed. “When do we do this date thing?”

“Soon.”

A childish grin curled up his lips. “Sweet. Well,” he licked his lips, wiping away any innocence, and peeled his body from hers, frowning as he did so. “Let me take you out to dinner one night, maybe next weekend? No food or dessert prepared by you. And, I’m not going to even think about taking you to an Italian place.”

She smiled. “Good call.”

“Steak?” His eyebrows rose.

“Sounds good.”

“Awesome.” He stood up and grabbed his drink, finishing it, then picked up his dessert plate. “I’ll make a reservation and let you know when.”

“But, you might have to cancel if work…”

He raised a finger. “Then you have permission to slap me if I stand you up again.”

She laughed, then frowned realizing his current intention. “You’re leaving?”

“Too much temptation if I stay.” He stared down at her. “I mean, all I want to do right now…” He shook his head. “Going to go put these away.” He darted to the kitchen.

She stood up and adjusted her skirt. “I was going to give you a piece of pie.”

“Ohhh, I know you were.” He called from the other room and ran some water in the sink. When he rounded the doorway, he donned a wide, toothy grin. “Save me a slice for later?”

“Let me just...” She started to walk toward him and the front door.

He raised his hands. “Nope. Nope. Safer if you stay there.” He rubbed his hands along his thighs, drawing Julie’s attention to the rather impressive bulge in his jeans. “Cause I’ll want to give you a kiss goodnight…”

“And, it won’t end there?” She strolled over.

“Really, Julie.” He backed toward the front door. “I won’t be responsible for my actions if you keep it up.”

“I’m supposed to consider that a threat?”

He laughed. “Thank you. Good night.” The door opened from behind his back and he slid out with a wave and a wink.

Julie pressed her lips together. The phantom tingle of his mouth lingered. Her tongue ran over the top lip. Bourbon puckered her taste buds. She sighed and headed to the kitchen to clean up with her half-eaten pie slice. She could feel the stupid smile settling into her face for the rest of the night. “I’m in such delicious trouble.”

Part 9

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hanasnx · 2 years ago

Text

❝ final girl. ❞

── sk!anakin skywalker x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 8.4k SUMMARY: the neighborhood serial killer has a soft spot for you. you didn’t realize how really close you were to him. after your best friend confesses his feelings for you, he confesses something else as well. something far more sinister. NOTES: this piece features dark themes in honor of halloween. anakin based on sam monroe from life as a house. both in appearance and personality. (as giffed above). so it’s like a modern, college, no jedi au hehe | my kinktober fic for the month bcos i couldn’t participate in the full month 💀 | i made a playlist & listened to it religiously while i wrote this piece :) i also imagine it’s the halloween party’s playlist. WARNINGS: dead dove do not eat | explicit sex | dark themes | serial killer things | f!reader | dom!anakin | breath play (choking + suffocation) | features murder by blunt force trauma so blood (reader is unscathed btw) | touching blood + blood consumption | size difference, impact play: slapping (f + m receiving), tit slapping | unprotected sex | exhibitionism | dirty talk/degradation | no specific ask for consent + slight coercion | features drinking & smoking weed/nic.

“Can you imagine it? I just feel like our town isn’t the type to have a serial killer.”

“Oh, shut up, Jeremy, it’s not that big of a deal,” you replied. “It’s probably just some crime of passion blown out of proportion.” The plastic of your chip bag crackled when your fingers dug in for more.

Jeremy nudged you, his strong arm jostling you in a way you would’ve disliked if it wasn’t coming from him. “Aw, you’re just saying that ‘cause you have that nasty serial killer obsession,” he teased, grinning down at you from his seat above you on the concrete steps.

“It’s not like that! I just study the thought process because of purely scientific fascination.” You did not appreciate the way you could see Jeremy’s dimples when he smiled at you like that, unable to meet his gaze for longer than a couple seconds. “I major in psychology for a reason,” you muttered sheepishly, aware of how flushed you were getting.

ANAKIN SKYWALKER, who’d remained quiet as he listened in, nursed his cigarette. When he spoke, the smoke blew from his lips, “Yeah, (y/n), I’d say you’ve got a pretty nasty affliction. You don’t remember when we watched Scream and you told me you thought Ghostface was hot?” That brooding look shifted in judgement, arching his brow at you.

“Don’t say that!” you leaned over to push him, making him snicker at you. It was too early to reveal that to someone like Jeremy.

As you expected, Jeremy reacted with an exclamation, eyeing you accusingly, “Oh, you do, do you?”

“Don’t you have class to get to, man? Head out,” you shoved your thumb over your shoulder, and he stood from the steps. You couldn’t help but notice how cute he looked in his jacket. He was a pretty big guy, broad and muscled. It was easy to deduce he played some football in high school. Tilting your head at him as he adjusted his clothes, both Jeremy and Anakin saw the way you were checking him out.

Jeremy moistened his lips. “I’ll see you later then?”

Before you could respond, Anakin chimed in, “Yeah, man, don’t forget. My place, eleven.” With Anakin’s good natured pat on Jeremy’s backpack, he got him to move on, hopping down the steps.

“Yeah, see you guys.”

While Jeremy traveled further out, yet another one of your opportunities to say goodbye was squandered when Anakin added another thing, “Don’t forget to dress up~!” he called in a cant, and you recognized it as his way of making fun of you.

“Ani,” you scolded through a clenched jaw, “can you stop?”

Anakin merely frowned, screwing the end of his cig into the concrete, staining it with ash to put it out. “Why do we hang out with that guy?” He repositioned himself, leaning back onto the concrete with his arms up, and legs spread.

“I think he’s cute, and I like him. I’m hanging out with him, nobody said you have to.”

Anakin pouted his lips, shrugging minutely, “These are my steps.”

“You can’t monopolize concrete stairs.”

“I can if I piss on them. Doubt you’d come near them then—”

“Anakin!” your scold dissolved into laughter.

You’d known Anakin for years. You were in college together now, but you met when you were children. Living next door most of your life, you spent a lot of time with the kid whose parents were never home. It became an effortless habit to invite him over, where the two of you would spend time together silently, whether it was to work on homework alongside one another or while he messed with his guitar, you listening to music in your earbuds, or movie nights. Your parents took pity on him, and you’d learned firsthand that Anakin wasn’t easy to love or get along with for the most part. However, they tried, and in no time he’d warmed up to them with enough family dinners.

He’d been your closest friend, and he was fiercely loyal. The memories of how reckless he’d been on your behalf were some of your least favorite: the bloody noses he’s gotten, the broken arm—one time he split your skateboard over someone’s back when they’d pushed you down as young teens. As you grew up alongside one another, you had a front row seat to watch how he altered himself. He dyed his hair, got all those piercings, and wore eyeliner for no other reason than dramatism.

Frightfully intense was another descriptor you’d use. Anakin felt your eyes on him as he drove you home from campus. “Sure are staring a lot for someone who can’t fight,” he muttered, and your lips curled in amusement at how he read your mind.

“You’re one to talk,” you replied, inclining in his direction to run your fingers through his hair. “You gonna keep the black and blue?”

Your nails sent chills down his spine, and he batted your hand away, “Quit touchin’ me. I’ll shave it off if you don’t stop grabbing at it like that.”

“I bet you’d still look good,” you said without thinking, turning your attention to your phone in your hand. Anakin lingered on that compliment, and pulled into his driveway.

“Alright, get out,” he ordered, gathering his stuff. The doors of this old, beat-up truck creaked as the two of you exited.

“You’re not gonna walk me to my door?” you teased, clutching your books to your chest. Rounding the car, he squinted at you.

“Don’t be a ninny.”

“You’re bossy today. What’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

Anakin’s large hands found your waist, pushing you in the direction of your house next door. You swallowed, but your mouth was dry, wide eyes staring at him. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Get your little ass inside, (y/n).”

“You stressed ‘cause of the party? Didn’t finish your engineering homework? I can help you, you know!”

“(y/n),” he said warningly, impatience setting in because of your idling. His expression was endearing to you, and you chuckled.

“Okay, okay.”

Since Anakin’s parents were never home, he had free range of the house, and in honor of Halloween, he wanted to trash the place with a party. Neither of you knew a lot of people, but once word got out of a Halloween party, it snowballed. As soon as you’d finished getting ready, you admired yourself in the mirror. You’d thrown together the costume out of anything you found in your closet, the subtle makeup holding the character together. Twirling, the white dress bore an uncanny resemblance to that one famous picture, not to mention flattered your figure.

“(y/n)!” your friend called you over from the porch, and your heels clicked against the pavement.

“Hey! So glad you could make it!”

“Of course! Anything for Anakin,” she responded so carelessly, your countenance flashed a furrowed brow. It dissolved into a smile, shaking your head at your reaction.

“Yeah… Yeah! Right?” You were surprised at how such a subtle comment caught you off guard, and your friend said nothing else as you entered. What could she want with your Anakin?

Compared to the cold weather outside, the inside was boiling. Bodies were pressed together, dancing to the pounding music. The bass shook the house, strobing lights confusing you. You identified that Anakin’s huge speakers from his studio had been moved from his room down to the living room, and it impressed you that he’d done it himself. It wasn’t like Anakin to accept help.

There was beer pong and a circle smoking a joint in the kitchen alongside a punch bowl that was mostly straight up vodka at this point. Since the girl on the porch, you didn’t see anybody you recognized. When two fingers poked into your sides, you jumped, startled. You whirled around, “Ani, I was looking for you—” you began to say, but cut yourself off at the sight.

A tall figure, dressed in black and a chest holster, long sleeves rolled up to the elbows, gloves, shirt tucked into pants… with a Ghostface mask. A fake knife twirling in his hand. Speechless, you stared, “Is that…?” you were about to ask Anakin if this was really his costume, when he reached up to take the mask off. Jeremy’s face met your gaze.

“It’s me!” He grinned at you, “What do you think?” Clearly, he wanted you to know he wore it for you, especially because of what Anakin had mentioned.

A disappointment hung in your chest at the fact he wasn’t Anakin. You mustered a weak smile. “Wow! You look great,” you responded, trying not to be rude. He did look hot, the outfit fit him great, the mask is a kink of yours, but something felt off. It was missing something. He sheathed the fake knife and took your hand in his free one.

“You too~” he purred, guiding you to twirl for him when he held your arm over your head. You did so, relaxing into it. “Marilyn Monroe?”

“Yes! Great guess.”

He inclined in your direction, “It’s the eye makeup that gave it away.”

“Thank you! I tried so hard.” Instinctively, you backed up a step.

It was hard to speak over the din of the room, but you two managed since he insisted on standing close to you.

That lingering unease was impossible to shake, and you questioned if you should be feeling this way about the guy you liked. Here he was, dressed better than you expected he could be, in this character no less, but Anakin occupied your thoughts. Part of you wanted Jeremy to put the mask back on.

“Have you seen Anakin? I can’t find him,”

Jeremy let you speak in his ear, and pulled back to shake his head. “No, I haven’t. Let’s look over here,” his hand stayed in yours, leading you through the crowd.

“Hold on, Jeremy, this is hard!” you referred to attempting to cut through the crowds. He merely shrugged at you.

“Dance through it!”

You had to admit, it was a smooth trick, because instead of looking for Anakin, you were now dancing with Jeremy.

It was packed tightly, and it was the perfect excuse for Jeremy to move in. Since it was fun, you allowed it. Within arm’s reach of each other, it quickly turned to pressing up against one another. The music took over, blaring, bleeding into your thoughts as you let it move your body for you, swaying with the beat. Effortlessly, Jeremy had your back to his chest, bunching up your skirt in his hands, guiding your hips to move against him. The act had butterflies erupting in your stomach, how he danced so fluidly betrayed the control he held over it, and it had your mind drifting to how else he could put it to use for you.

Much to your dismay, he’d discarded the Ghostface mask, but it’s not like you saw his face while you were grinding on him.

Anakin, who had been so wrapped up in getting his house ready for the onslaught of guests, didn’t have a costume, and didn’t care to buy one. It was one less thing on his to-do list. Jogging down his stairs with his guitar in hand, a stranger offered him a hit of a joint which he took, nodding to them in gratitude before continuing his search for you. You’d texted him you were here a while ago but he was occupied, knowing you’d busy yourself. He laid his guitar down onto the counter by the side door.

The people he’d asked hadn’t seen you or didn’t know who you were. Anakin wasn’t worried, but lit a cigarette anyway. It balanced in between his lips, and a random girl from the smoke circle offered a light, holding it up to him. He flashed her a quizzical look, but leaned in anyway, puffing to ignite the end, and pinching it in his fingers. On the table near her was a discarded Ghostface mask.

His chain rattled against his leg, striding through the crowds, gradually tightening together as he traveled further in. He looked over the bouncing heads, the music surging.

Jeremy was the first face he recognized, and then you, pressed up against him. His eyebrows pinched together, eyeing the two of you, noting how naturally you molded together. Anakin’s jaw clenched.

The instant Jeremy’s lips latched onto your neck, and you tilted your head to grant him the access, Anakin shot his hand up in the air. It was just his luck that Jeremy saw him before you did.

So Jeremy acknowledged him, having not realized what he’d just been caught doing, he muttered to you that he’ll be right back. He managed to squeeze through, leaving you to dance alone as he approached Anakin, who towered over everyone.

“Hey, what’s up, man? Lookin’ for (y/n)?” It was an expected question, considering Anakin and Jeremy never interacted outside of you.

Anakin pulled the cig from his mouth. “No, actually,” he replied over the music, slinging an arm around Jeremy’s shoulders to pull him further away from you. “Was looking for you. You’re strong, right?”

“I mean,” Jeremy gave himself a once over, “yeah. What do you need?”

“C’mere, man, someone passed out in the bushes, need you to help me carry him inside so I can sober him up.” As Anakin explained, he led Jeremy to the side door. To fill in the silences as they made their way through the sea of people, his curiosity got the better of him, “What’re you supposed to be, anyway?”

“Oh, uh, Ghostface. Can’t tell without the mask,” Jeremy answered with a chuckle in spite of himself, scratching the back of his head. “Total coincidence you mentioned him earlier.”

Yeah, total coincidence, Anakin thought, taking a drag from his cigarette as the wheels in his head turned. His lips held the cigarette as he grabbed hold of the Ghostface mask from the table as they passed by, stuffing it into his back pocket.

Awkward, Jeremy added, “‘Course, we just have to be quick ‘cause I wanna get back to—”

“To grinding on my friend?” Anakin finished for him, staring at him with raised brows while Jeremy sheepishly could not meet his intense gaze. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you back to the dance floor in no time,” He patted Jeremy’s chest once and detached from him. Eager to get this over with, Jeremy strode in front, heading out the side door.

Anakin lingered, puffing his cig to hear the crackle of paper. He held it in between his lips, and he flexed his hand to pop the joints. Deft fingers enclosed around the neck of his guitar he’d left on the counter, and followed Jeremy out.

“Hey, man, I think the guy left on his own,” Jeremy began to say, turning to face Anakin who had raised his electric guitar, and swung.

The body of the instrument shattered against Jeremy’s cheek, the sickening crack of bones sounding as the body slammed against the outside wall of the house, sliding down to streak the wood in red. Anakin, splattered with blood, tossed what was left of his guitar, held together by the wire strings, into the bushes.

No one was sober, and it was a Halloween party. Blood on the wall was not an uncommon decoration, nor was a seemingly dead body crumpled on the ground. Anakin knelt down, replacing the Ghostface mask back over Jeremy’s smashed-in head, the cowl concealing the deed.

Anakin blew smoke from his pursed lips, and put the cigarette out onto the mask’s forehead. He rejoined the party.

You’d gotten tired of waiting easily, and you escaped the dancing bodies. Not being much of a drinker didn’t stop you from making yourself a drink. Since the punch bowl was vodka, you rifled through Anakin’s fridge to grab cranberry juice, pouring it into your red solo cup to make the horrid taste of alcohol go down. Having been left alone, your nerves were getting to you, and you enlisted the help of liquid courage in order to face Jeremy again. Nothing was wrong, but since you were getting closer to him, that pit in your stomach grew at the thought of him asking to take you home. It wouldn’t be a stretch since the two of you danced so closely together, and it would’ve been in character from your experience with men. It wasn’t like you hadn't considered going home with Jeremy, you liked him, but you hoped he wouldn’t ask—you needed more time to get to know him.

Your brain had run away with you, guzzling down the drink to calm yourself. When a hand is wrapped around your waist to get your attention. Startled for a second time tonight, you assumed it was your dance partner, “Jeremy—!” Your hand braced yourself on his chest and came eye to chest with Anakin.

“John F. Kennedy,” he corrected like it was obvious. “I just had to keep my head on.”

Relieved to see your friend, you instantly relaxed, your expression softening to break into a grin. “So you just…” you gestured to him, his normal clothes splattered with red, “covered yourself in fake blood, Mr. President?”

Anakin shrugged, dragging you from the kitchen by your waist. “I wanted to match with you, Marilyn.”

“How so?”

“They boned.”

“John and Marilyn did not have an affair!” you replied incredulously, allowing him to lead you, not registering it when his large fingers splayed around the rim of the solo cup, plucking it from your hands to set it on the table that you passed by.

“Oh, c’mon,” he goaded, shaking his head with a frown. Heightening his voice to pitch light and airy, he sang the famous song, “Happy birthday~ Mr. President~” It made you giggle and hit his chest.

“Shut up!”

Anakin continued his trek, and you were grateful he kept his arm around you as the front door came into view. “Come on, I wanna go to your house for a second. It’s too much in here.”

“I shouldn’t leave,” you looked over his shoulder, finally remembering Jeremy who’d said he’d be back. An additional wave of anxiety washed over you, and you decided a break would be best. “Yeah, okay.”

Your hesitance followed by compliance was noted by your best friend, and when the two of you reached the porch, you were somewhat disappointed to not see your friend from earlier. An intrusive thought popped into your head that you wished she could’ve seen you and Anakin leaving together. The music leaked from his house, some remix of Katy Perry’s E.T.

“Did you make a playlist for this?”

“Yeah.”

“I showed you this song.”

“You want me to interrupt the music to tell everybody which songs you showed me?”

“It’d be nice to be credited.”

He scoffed. “It’s freezing out here, let’s just get inside.”

The alcohol kept you warm, however you hadn’t had enough to be too buzzed. “Is there a reason you’re avoiding your own Halloween party?”

Anakin had settled into your bed, tossing a ball up to catch it repeatedly. “It was too loud.”

You took this opportunity to fix your makeup in the mirror. “Where were you? When I got there I couldn’t find you.”

“Seemed like you found a way to occupy yourself.”

At the mention, you realized Jeremy must be looking for you. You’d only been here for a few minutes, but it was rude to keep him waiting. “Hey, we should get back soon.” Anakin’s expression shifted to something indecipherable, flashing furrowed brows when he cleared his throat. The makeup brush in your hand made a sound when you dropped your arm, frustrated with him. “Look, you don’t have to like him, I like him, and—”

“Where are your parents at?” Anakin interrupted you, and you lost your train of thought.

“Oh, they’re out tonight. Business trip somewhere on the east coast and gone for the weekend. I didn’t tell you?” The emotion that had coursed through you dissolved, and you went back to powdering subtle blush onto your cheeks. He tossed the ball up one last time, letting it fall and roll from his chest and he brought his fingers up to chew the sides of them. A single glance at him told you he was nervous about something. “What’s up, Ani? You wanna tell me what’s been getting you so worked up lately?” you spoke through your parted lips, focusing on re-applying your eyeliner.

He sighed hard through his nose. “Nothing, I’m just…” His hands came to grip his hair, tugging on it. It’s always been hard for Anakin to express himself verbally, and to make it easier you came over, kneeling at your bedside.

“What?” you encouraged, taking his hand in yours.

It was a quiet moment as he inhaled deeply, meeting your soft gaze.

He leaned in—you didn’t pull away—until his lips were on yours. It was tentative, and you felt his warm breath fan over you as you kissed him back, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. His palm cupped your cheek, tilting his head and intensifying the kiss.

It felt so good. So right. Your hand tangled in his black hair at the nape of his neck, and when his lips parted in surprise, on instinct your tongue invited itself in. It unlocked something within him because his tongue met yours with fervor, and his thick arm wrapped around your waist. Unable to get the contact he wanted, he pulled apart from you, cutting the string of saliva connecting you two. You panted as he ripped off his flannel, setting his boots down onto the ground to lean over and go for you again. Finally realizing what had just occurred, your hand shot out, halting him by his chest. Without heeding your warning, his hands handled your waist, pulling you to your feet as he stood. The action had you fluttering, but this was wrong.

“Wait, wait, Ani, wait—”

“See that’s the thing, I don’t want to wait anymore.” Since you would not give him your mouth, his lips latched onto your neck, rewriting whatever Jeremy had left there, sending tingles throughout your body. Weakly, you pressed your palm against him.

“Listen, Anakin, this isn’t right. I should get back because Jeremy’s waiting for me.”

That caught his attention, and he recoiled, hands squeezing your upper arms. “You wanna know what Jeremy’s doing right now? You wanna know?” he asked, anger shining through in his voice at being rejected, his firm grasp remaining on one of your arms to yank you along with him out of your room. Your bewildered countenance stained your face as he brought you to another window, showing you the side of his house. “Look out.” It didn’t make sense to you, his behavior. You faced him, attempting to put a calming hand on him but instead he jerked you in the direction of the window, jamming his finger against the glass. “Look. Now.”

Unappreciative of the way he treated you, you did as he requested to get this over with. At first, you saw nothing, “I don’t see anything…” until a body on the ground came into focus from behind some foliage, a Ghostface mask, and a sense of worry overtook you. “Oh, my God, he’s passed out,” you exhaled, moving to leave the house, “I have to go help him.”

Anakin stepped in front of you.

Your frown hardened, “What?”

“I can’t let you do that, (y/n).”

“You’re being weird, he could be hurt. I need to go see him. There’s…” You pivoted your head, hair falling over your shoulder from the motion, and once your gaze settled onto the streak of red on the wall, panic replaced worry. “Blood on the wall… Anakin! There’s blood on the wall!” You turned to him, pushing at his shoulders when your fingers came into contact with something cold and wet.

Your friend was silent.

You pulled your hands from him, examining the blood on your trembling hands.

Stomach dropping, you stepped back from him. Your head spinning so fast you dizzied, you braced yourself on the window behind you. He knew and he didn’t tell you that Jeremy was hurt. Was he the one that did that to Jeremy? He couldn’t have. Could he? He’d always been protective. Did he knock him out? What reason could he have?

It was not the fact it was plausible that scared you. What scared you was the fact there was blood on your hands from touching him.

It was not fake.

It had to be Jeremy’s.

You could be next for knowing.

He didn’t take his eyes off of you, and you crept against the wall slowly, staying as far away from him as possible.

“(y/n),” he said warningly, trained on the route you could be taking.

“I need to go.” You watched his tongue poke out to moisten his lips, and you went for the exit.

“(y/n)!” His arms wrapped around your torso, lifting you from the floor as you thrashed in his grip.

“Let me go! Let me go!”

“Let me explain!”

“No!” Your body was moving for you out of fear, and when he set you down you tried to elbow him. Anakin was much larger than you, and much stronger. He maneuvered you to face him, and allowed you to bang your hands against his chest. “You—! I can’t believe you!”

“I know, I know, just stop. Stop!”

“No!” Your heel came down hard on the top of his foot, and he cried out, grabbing hold of it while you fled. Unfortunately more athletically inclined, Anakin swooped in, cutting your path off to the stairs. You screamed, passing him before he could clutch you.

“(y/n)! Come here!” His heavy steps thundered after you as you dove for your room, whirling around to slam the door when his hand shot out to catch it before it closed. You shoved as hard as you could but he kept it open, wedging it open. “Don’t run away from me, sweetheart, you know how much I like it.”

You knit your eyebrows together, incredulously questioning, “You’re joking at a time like this?” Taking advantage of your guard down, he grabbed your wrist, and like a little doll, he tugged you over to lock the other one in his harsh hold. “Hey!”

“I can’t let you leave,” Anakin told you, a solemn lilt to his voice and your first thought was how he was going to hurt you too.

Somehow, you still believed he wouldn’t be capable of that.

“Ani, Ani, please,” you pleaded. “Before you do anything or say anything, please hear me when I say I love you, I love you and I mean it, and I can help you, please just don’t—”

“I know, I know,” Anakin rolled his eyes as he backed you up, your knees hitting the side of your bed, tripping over it and he pinned you there. A much more sinister assumption replaced your old one. Your wide eyes stared up at him as he straddled you and locked your hands over your head. “God, (y/n), do you have any idea how fucking sexy it is when you beg like that?”

Your mouth fell open at how he spoke to you, “What are you talking about?”

“Fuck, baby,” he leaned down, lips connecting to your jaw and you jerked away. It only gave him more access to your neck, peppering kisses along the column.

“Stop, stop, Anakin, don’t do this.”

“Would you rather I keep chasing you?” he reproached and that familiar heat pooled in between your legs. It was like your body recognized this as some sort of sexual act, whereas your brain was in a frenzy at the unsafety.

“Did you hurt Jeremy? You can tell me,” you told him, lips quivering as you fought tears. You couldn’t cry right now. Not in front of him.

“Aw, I got blood all over your pretty dress,” he cooed, eyeing you up generously. One of the sleeves had fallen off your shoulders. “You know a white dress like this makes you look like a little virgin,” he mused, a crooked grin adorning his lips.

“I know you defend me. Did Jeremy do something? Tell me, Anakin!”

“Jeremy didn’t do a damn thing,” he told you, meeting your gaze as you were silenced. “Except think he could put his hands on you.”

“You’re—!” you wiggled underneath him, attempting to worm your way out of his hold, “— crazy!” He dodged your head from butting him, and you managed to roll the two of you to the side and off your bed. Landing on top of him, knocking the wind from him, you scrambled up. Somehow, you were able to slip your hands from his frantic latchings and beelined for the stairs. You skipped some, and landing funny on the floor, you regained your footing as he called after you. He wasn’t far behind, and you weren’t going to get to the front door in time. You opted to hide. In a dark room, you slid behind a door, and your heavy breathing would give you away if you didn’t calm it.

His voice raised to ensure you’d hear him. “You don’t feel safe, angel? Not even with me?” he grinned sinisterly as he searched his surroundings.

You prayed.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you forced yourself to draw in a slow deep inhale.

Heavy boots echoed.

“Got to admit, this is turning me on a little bit,” he mused, that familiar playful tone controlling you like always, gasping to speak before you realized you were giving away your position. Frozen in place, you couldn’t bring your feet to move. Silence from him indicated he hadn’t heard you, and you thanked your lucky stars.

Anakin’s head snapped in your direction at the noise of your breath, and picked up a stray item from the kitchen table. He’d pinpointed you were somewhere in corridor that connected rooms, and he pressed himself against the wall by that doorway. Glancing inside, he tossed the item across and hid.

The sound told you he’d passed by the open door you were concealed behind. Gently, you removed your heels, your feet against the tile as quiet as a field mouse as you crept around to see he wasn’t in the room where the noise was made. You dashed for the front door, and when you passed the doorway, a large hand clapped around your mouth, muffling your scream as he locked you in his embrace.

“Hey, shh, shh,” he soothed, slamming your back against the wall with his palm at your upper chest and shoulder. Fighting for oxygen, you clawed at his fingers. “Listen to me, baby, listen,” Anakin could see how dilated your pupils were in your wide eyes, pleading to him to release you as you futilely fought against him for air. The way he stalked you, caught you, and stared at you like you were his prey had your heart beating so fast you could pass out. The notion distracted you from doing anything effective against him. “I’m not going to hurt you, (y/n), and I’ll let go if you promise to behave.”

Lashes fluttered as you neared your end, vision blurring, driving you to nod furiously at him. You were released and you fell against him, his towering frame supporting you as you gasped for air. As you recovered, Anakin tongued the inside of his cheek, pinching your jaw to force you to look at him. Lazily, you allowed him, lightheaded. “Now that I’ve got your attention, pretty girl, I need you to hear this. Did you mean it back there? When you said you loved me?”

He clenched his teeth, and you lingered on his lips, reminiscing on the kiss you’d shared with him and the influence it had over you. It was no secret you were attracted to him, you loved him as a friend, and you got jealous when the girl on the porch talked about him.

Impatience got the better of him, and he jostled you to wake you from your trance, “Answer me, princess.”

The way he was speaking to you, the thrill of the chase you’d just endured—it had the hairs at the back of your neck standing as a chill ran up your spine. “Mhm,” you nodded at him.

“You liked kissing me.” It was a statement.

You nodded anyway.

“You kissed me back.”

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, shame setting in at the truth he made you face.

“What else did you want to do?”

Why were there tears pricking the corner of your eyes?

“None of that, (y/n), I’d like the waterworks later.”

“I wanted to keep kissing you,” you replied reluctantly, knowing he’d sense it if you lied.

“Yeah, I know,” he slumped in place, rolling his eyes. When he straightened, his hands slammed at the sides of your head, startling you. “I don’t always like it when you play hard-to-get,” he warned.

Opening your mouth to ask what he meant by that, you listened to your better judgement. “I wanted you to touch me.”

This pleased him, perking up with interest. “Where?”

Apprehension claimed you, eyebrows knitted together in worry. “I don’t know,” you told him with a hint of incredulousness, afraid of the point he was traveling towards.

“You wanted me to touch your pussy, right?”

His harsh words and lack of romance made you flinch, but hearing him say it at all sent heat pooling in between your legs.

“Say it, (y/n), and I might just give it to you.”

“I don’t want it!”

He grabbed hold of your upper arms, circling you around him, and you arched away. “You’re lying.” You were never good at lying to Anakin.

Shying away, you cried, “Fine! Yes! I wanted you to touch me like that!” You squeezed your eyes shut as your words grew bolder, “I wanted your hands on me, Anakin, I always have. I like it when you touch my waist,” you looked at him, “and I liked it the one time you smacked my ass even though I threatened you afterwards!” The backs of your hands swept his off your arms. “And I liked your tongue in my mouth,” you stepped to him, backing him up, “and I’ve touched myself imagining it was your hands and your mouth and your dick getting me off!”

That was all Anakin needed to hear because with lust-blown eyes he clutched onto you, drawing you back to his lips, reconnecting to finish what you two started earlier. You accepted it, accepted him, fisting his shirt to press him nearer. He backed you against the kitchen table, parting your lips with his to explore your mouth with his tongue again. This kiss was different. It was hard, demanding, and unapologetic. His writhing tongue inside of you was desperate, and you matched his enthusiasm. When you sucked on it, he slowed out of curiosity, and you bobbed your head as if you were giving him oral. The moan that emitted from him shot straight down to your cunt. His hand came to tangle in your hair, tugging you off him with a sting of your scalp.

“It’s hot when you fight back, you know. I wouldn’t mind a little challenge.” A breathless chuckle escaped him as he spoke, and you hit his chest at the suggestion. “Go on,” panting, he stepped back, gesturing to the stairs. “Be a good girl and run along now.” When you stared him down in disbelief, he spun you to face the steps, smacking your ass to get his sincerity across.

You jumped on the opportunity, dashing for the stairs. You were not granted a head start when he came barreling after you, a hair’s width away from you up the steps. Squealing in excitement from the thrill he put in your belly, he laughed at you, chasing you up, “It’s so hot when you run from me.” Inexplicably, it worsened the desire for him, facing him when you reached your bedroom doorway. Anakin didn’t slow, practically running into you and scooping you up. Your back hit the wall, and his hands bunched up in the skirt of your dress, riding it up as he settled it around your waist. When you gasped, he dove in, swallowing your surprised sounds as he lapped at your open mouth.

You cupped the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the soft hair there and tugging when his tongue slid against yours in a way you liked. He moaned for you, senses heightened from the excitement. Breaking the kiss, he stooped to be eye level, his fingers rifling underneath your skirt, and ignoring your squirm, he asked, “You think I didn’t notice you whoring yourself out to everyone but me?” He bit his plump bottom lip as he wrapped his digits in the strings of your panties. On instinct your mouth fell open, scrambling to grab at his arms. “Huh?” He wanted you to answer, goading you, “You wore these for someone else, right?” he provoked, tugging until you heard the thin strap snap apart. It made him scoff. “Yeah, I know you did. You wanted precious little Jeremy to get in your pants tonight, isn’t that right?” he mocked the name, and he got on his knees in front of you, hiking up your dress around your waist again. “I’ll get you ready for him,” he told you as your hands braced on his shoulders. There was an undertone in his voice that conveyed something more sinister. You didn’t have time to contemplate it when his mouth latched onto the folds of your pussy. Warm spit coated your insides that he greedily pet with his desperate tongue.

In your experience, it wasn’t often that a man just dove in headfirst, but you’d had plenty of anticipation that built a need up within you. Anakin was quick to comment on it after he moaned into you and vibrated you with his voice, “Fuck, baby, fuck. Already so wet for me, huh? I can’t believe what a freak you are.”

You keened in response, desperately grasping onto the windowsill next to you for purchase as he made your legs shake, the tip of his nose poking into your clit as he devoured you. There was no doubt in your mind you were a freak, getting turned on by the chase, and now the predator was on his knees for you. The eye contact he made over your mound drove you crazy, your hand now finding a place at the back of his head, stroking through his hair to grip it which earned you his hum of approval. As if to shut him up, you pressed him further into you. A flash of mischief in his eyes told you he was into your actions.

He flattened his tongue, drawing from the bottom to the top, wiggling it against your clit and you trembled. You’ve never had your pussy eaten out like this before, and it made you wonder where he picked this up… How long had he been waiting to do this to you?

Anakin noted how your gaze grew hazy, his large hand—panties hanging from the webbing—came to grip your chin to warn you, and patted your cheek hard. “Pay attention to me, princess,” he spoke against you, sucking hard on your sensitive bud. The motion had your face stinging slightly, but it was the shock of it that widened your eyes. “Don’t look so surprised,” your gaze trailed from his fingers to the panties that hung from them. “I want everything from you.”

Your face twisted in pleasure as he returned to eating you out like his life depended on it. The way his tongue swirled and jabbed inside of you had your back arching and the coil in your belly wound tight. Both hands came to your thighs, gripping hard to indent the porcelain flesh, sensing your proximity to your release. Your fist in his hair clenched, and he stuck his tongue as far as he could inside, nuzzling your bud with his nose again. “I’m-I’m going to… if you keep—” Your sentences couldn’t form, and you cried out in frustration when he pulled away from you completely, your slick shining on his face.

“Oh, no, you’re not,” he replied so derisively, straightening up, ripping your chances of an orgasm away from you. “First time I’m gonna make you cum, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock. I’ve waited too damn long for this,” His strong hands slid up to squeeze your hips, and he pressed your wet heat against his erection in his jeans, the denim dampening with your secretion. It was easier to grind into you that way. “You were so scared earlier, what happened?”

The reminder had your hands bunching up in his shirt, weakly pushing at him. He pressed on. “C’mon, baby, feel it. Feel what you’ve done to me. Such a tease, making me chase after you like that.” You pivoted your head away, gasping when the ache inside you dulled with a splendid swipe of your clit against his hard cock.

You’d seen Anakin naked before, but you’d never seen him hard. The thought had you wiggling your hips against him, anxious to egg him on.

“That’s my girl,” he praised. “I’m desperate to hear that pretty voice of yours. Tell me what you want. You want my cock?”

You, desperate for anything, nodded your head. Again, he forced you to look at him, another firm pat on your cheek. “Answer me, brat.”

“Yes!”

“Yes, what?”

“What? Am I supposed to say ‘please’?”

His rut slowed, snatching up your wrists to direct your hands to his jeans. “Go on.”

Obediently, despite glaring at him, you undid his button and zipper. You were angry at him for prolonging your release, for causing you such distress, and for refusing to fix it for you until you begged for it. You tugged down his pants and boxers until just his member was free. Seeing it in it’s erected glory had a pain shoot through you from the mere anticipation of it burying inside of you, your eyes widened at the sight, a demand emitting from you, “Just fuck me already!” You’d barely finished speaking before he ripped the front of your dress down, freeing your tits. He spun you to the side, pressing your bare chest against the cold of the window. “What are you—?” The temperature perked your nipples up painfully, and when he slid his cock inside, your head bumped against the glass.

At first he’d rocked about half of himself in, gradually adding more until he bottomed out, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “You’re so big, Ani,” you purred, hot breath fogging up the window.

“I know. A shame you didn’t hop on my dick sooner, yeah?”

The cockiness had you breathlessly scoffing, but when his pace increased, things were suddenly not so funny anymore. Your mind was bursting with things more important than the fact you were against a window where anyone could see you if they simply looked up. You could still hear the music from Anakin’s house, the multicolored lights pouring through and staining the pavement. You were called back to the present by the way your pussy slurped him up. “Fuck, Anakin!”

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. I like my name on your lips,” he purred, snapping his hips against your ass. His shirt got in the way so he picked up the hem to tuck in between his teeth, watching how his member was swallowed up by your greedy cunt.

Cock drunk, you couldn’t stay up, leaning into the window until what was left of your red lipstick stained the glass. A familiar face exited the house from the porch, and you recognized it to be your friend that had made you realize your jealousy earlier. At the risk someone would see you like this, you reached back weakly. “Ani! Ani, wait, someone could see!”

He merely continued, railing into you harder. You cried out, enraptured with how he filled you completely. As if she could hear you, the girl looked up and locked eyes with your lust blown gaze. She was suspended in disbelief, seeing Anakin fucking into you. Anakin, who took notice of this, merely grinned biting his t-shirt, and waved flirtatiously at her. The interaction had your wet heat dripping. He spat out the fabric, and clapped a hand over your throat to bring you away from the window, redirecting you. He pulled out to spin you, pinning your back to your bed and picking up your legs to hover as he re-entered you. The new position made your eyes roll into the back of your head, his hand coming to wrap around your neck again. “Did you like that? Huh? Could feel you clenching down on me like a vice.”

You whined, begging for a release.

“I’m so into you, (y/n), I’ve always been into you. You’re so fucking hot,” His fingers dug into your hip painfully, watching your tits bounce with his thrusts. You lazily reached out to him, running your claws down his abdomen taught with his movements. “I’ve gotta tell you another secret.”

He was taking advantage of how silent you were, unable to form words like a dumb whore speared on his cock. “You were right, they were crimes of passion. All of them.” You furrowed your brows at him quizzically, mouth having fallen open to emit any sinful sounds he dragged from you with the scrape of his dick petting your insides. “Every single one. Passion. Passion for you.”

“What are you talking about, Ani?” Finally you’d sobered up enough to say something.

“I took Jeremy out back, and I bashed his fucking head in.” An evil glint flashed in Anakin’s eyes, thrill shooting through him as you stuttered. “You’ve got shit taste in friends, you know that?” Did he mean in Jeremy or in him?

He killed him. Had he really just admitted that to you?

“If this is,” Anakin adjusted his hips, the new angle causing your voice to crack, “is one of your jokes… Anakin… it’s not funny.”

“No joke, sweet girl, it’s me.” I’m the killer, the unsaid words hung in the air for a moment before you threw your head back, unable to respond appropriately when he increased his pace, fucking you like a little toy after he’d just confessed his darkest secret.

“Anakin!” you cried out, and he kept you pinned down by your throat, squeezing while his other covered your mouth again so he could speak.

“I never did like Jeremy, I’m surprised you didn’t see it coming. How I’ve been protecting you.” Wide eyes met gaze over his hand, your body was not one with your mind because it still reacted to Anakin positively, your orgasm building and nearing. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it. I do it for you, you know.”

Your fingers clutched onto the sheets, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes again from the overwhelming emotions. You shouldn’t like this, but you do.

“I can feel how wet you are for me. So fucking filthy, I can’t believe you’re into this. I was right about you being a little whore.”

Futilely, you moaned against his hand, so his fingers brushed over your lips, dipping into your mouth. Obediently, you sucked on them, swirling your tongue around them to taste something metallic. His hazy gaze on you told you he’d had blood on his hands, and you’d done something to him by cleaning them off for him. “How’s he taste, baby?” he cooed. Once he was satisfied you wouldn’t talk back, he removed them for you, running down your chest to squeeze at your breast, smacking it. It moved downwards until it reached in between you two, rubbing circles into your clit. “Leading me on the way you did. Touching me, letting me touch you. All those late night conversations about kinks and who or what you were into. You had to know I watched you change. Why else would you change in front of your stupid bedroom window?”

At the mention, your hand grew a mind of its own, coming up to slap him across the face for spying—as if that was the worst thing he’s done. “You’re so gross!” He moistened his lips, coming to look back at you with a newfound vigor.

“Feisty…” he groaned, rolling into you to hit that spongy spot inside of you with his tip.

You writhed, jerking your head to the side to squeeze your eyes shut.

“You’re close, huh? I can feel you fluttering. You feel better than I ever imagined,” he breathed, groaning low in his throat after he let himself really cherish you. “These hands have done unspeakable things. Strangled the life out of people, and here you are, letting them wrap around you so trustingly.” His finger came from your neck to your jaw, guiding you to look at him. “You trust me, right? Baby?”

“Just let me come, please, Ani, please just let me cum…”

You felt it in your legs first, how they trembled when your high crashed through you. It traveled throughout your whole body, seeing stars as you thrashed involuntarily, clenching down on him hard without warning. It felt so damn good, Anakin fucked you through it, tipping over the edge himself and spilling inside of you while you were panting underneath him. You threw your arm over your eyes, lip quivering from the overstimulation. He leaned over, chest to chest as he rocked into you lazily, his finish oozing from your entrance.

His face buried into your neck, hands caressing your body, massaging you as the last remnants of your orgasm passed through you. Pleasant tingles calmed you as his kisses pressed against your jawline and temple. “You wanna go again?”

“Go again?” you parroted.

He stayed sheathed inside you, the feeling bringing you both comfort, humming in confirmation to your question.

“We need to talk.”

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ohwaitimthewriter · 7 years ago

Text

Flight encounter

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings : one or two swearing words, fluff, a slight anxious Bucky

Prompt : You met Bucky on a plane and didn’t expect an Avenger to be afraid of flying.

Words count : 1.9k

A/n : This is my first Marvel story, I hope you’ll enjoy it! Let me know your thoughts 😊

Masterlist.

You sat by the window and looked through it at the tarmac, patiently waiting for the plane to take off. A few passengers were depositing their bags in the compartments above the seats and others were still getting on the plane. That was probably the most boring part of the flight for you: waiting for everyone to settle in and follow the safety tips before takeoff. You scanned the people around you, adressing a smile to those who noticed your gaze when your eyes were instantly tempted by two men who just entered the plane. No wonder they grabbed your interest, you knew them. Everyone who got access to the web, knew them. You quickly turned your gaze to the outside as you knew all the passengers were already staring at them in awe and they probably didn’t need a new pair of eyes on them. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were on the same flight as you, who would believe that? You got carried away by your thoughts when you heard a male voice right beside you.

« It’s your seat Buck. » and you raised your gaze to meet Bucky’s eyes while you adressed him a shy smile.

You were watching the two giants look at each other when they realized they couldn't sit next to each other. And then you noticed that Bucky had become tense. His shoulders had contracted and he had swallowed his saliva more than necessary. He gave Steve a glance of distress and that's when you realized that the great Bucky Barnes, the winter soldier himself, was not feeling safe in an airplane. Besides, it would be silly to separate them while you were traveling alone.

« If you wish, I can take your seat Captain, it doesn’t bother me to leave you mine. » You explained with a soft smile.

The relief was on Bucky's face and you were about to get up to let your seat free when Steve stopped you with a simple wave of his hand, a more than satisfied smile on his lips.

« No, you don't have to. Buck should be fine. » And he patted his friend's shoulder, exchanging a knowing glance.

It was easy to say that the soldier had just experienced an emotional rollercoaster. A tense smile stretched on his lips and this time Bucky turned his begging gaze on you, trying to make you understand that it would be appreciated if you insisted. All you could say was that his gaze had not fallen on the eyes of a blind woman. You understood perfectly well that not feeling safe on a plane, a person wanted to travel with someone they knew. And second of all, kindness was one of your most prominent traits, and you weren't going to deviate from what you were.

« Are you sure? I really don't mind. » You insisted, which brought you a broad, grateful smile from Bucky.

You glanced at him and his smile made your heart melt. You could only imagine the sweetness and kindness of this man and you were definitely more ready to accommodate this man.

« I’m sure enough to entrust him to your good hands. Right Buck? »

It wasn't really a question because he was already forcing the soldier to sit next to you.

« Well, I guess you’ll have to handle me. » Bucky told you and you already feel his nervousness.

« It shouldn’t be too difficult. » You said with laughing eyes.

« Believe me, I can be quite a big deal. » He mentioned, finally settling comfortably on the seat.

« I’ve already dealt with worse. » You chuckled and you almost forgot Steve who watched your talk, proudly.

« Worse? » Bucky asked and Steve just patted his shoulder again, telling he would be just on a seat a bit further.

« An old perverted man who tried to lay his dirty hands on me the whole flight. » You explained to him as you grimaced at the memory.

« What a jerk! » Bucky exclamed before adding. « I may be old but I’m absolutely not a pervert. » and he held his hands up in the air to show his innocence.

« I hope you’re not, I would be disappointed if an Avenger was one. » You teased.

« So, you know who I am. »

« The real question is, who doesn’t? »

« It’s too bad, I wish I could introduce myself to you, doll. » He tried to softly flirt with you but the plane started to move on the tarmac and he cut off the smirk he planned to show you, gripping the armrest tightly.

You couldn’t help it, you gave him a reassuring smile as you started to rummage through your purse a pack of chewing gum. At the same time, you heard the pilot doing his usual speech, warning the passengers that the plane will soon take off and that we had to pay attention to the security maneuvers. Bucky became more and more agitated when you turned again towards him, offering him a chewing gum.

« It may not help with the stress but at least your ears won’t be clogged. » You told him gently.

« Thank you. » He said quietly.

He didn’t question it and was about to take it when the plane started to shake from the take-off. He suddenly grabbed your hand tightly, making the chewing gum fall on the ground, and he closed his eyes, pressing his head back on seat.

« Sorry. » He groaned between his teeth but yet he didn’t release his grip. « Swear I’m not a pervert. » He tried to laugh.

« I know that. » You replied, squeezing his hand to reassure him.

He gave you a glance and he noticed a small flush coloring your cheeks. His hand was incredibly warm and you wondered if you were the only one to feel a bit flustered by the touch. You would lie to yourself if you’d say you didn’t find him attractive and somewhere, the fact he showed you a vulnerable side made him even more special to you. You couldn’t fully explain why but you trusted him and in the few amount of minutes you’ve spent talking made you feel at peace. It was weird but you accepted the feeling gladly. You peeked over him and saw his gloved hand glued to the armrest and you let a chuckle out.

« I think if you keep squeezing this armrest that hard you’ll end up by crushing it. » You teased.

« Shit, you’re right! » He gasped, releasing the armrest to form a tight fist.

You couldn’t stop the affectionate smile to break your face. You looked outside and you noticed that the plane was soon at its cruising altitude and unconsciously you gently drew small circles on the palm of Bucky's hand.

« Almost done. » You indicated quietly.

Bucky nodded silently as he stared at your hand in his and the small pattern you drew on his skin. He didn’t remember the last time someone gave him some sort of sweet touch and the feeling it brought him made him wish wholeheartedly you’d never stop. But too soon for his liking, the plane stabilized and your strokes stopped at the same time, forcing him to let go of your hand. The tension he felt faded away and he straightened up on his seat, clearing his voice.

« I didn’t show you my best side. » He confessed, almost saying sorry for his anxious state and you shrugged.

« I don’t mind and at least it means you trusted me enough to show me this side of you. » and you let a small smile fall on your lips.

« It wasn’t really my first choice. » The words slipped out of his mouth with no warning and he suddenly froze, being aware it didn’t sound like he wanted it to. « No, no! Okay, huh, it came out the wrong way, I don’t mean it like this, I mean… » He stammered but you cut him off as you laughed.

« I got it, I know what you mean, don’t worry. »

He scratched his neck awkardly and you thought he looked way too cute to match his strong frame.

« So, huh, New York? » He asked, desperatly hoping to change the topic.

« Yeah, New York. I’m coming back home after a way too long business trip. » You almost complained.

« Which was about? » He kept on, laying his intense and curious gaze on you.

« My boss owns a restaurant chain and being his assistant I had to find a new spot for a new restaurant of his. » You explained to Bucky, taking out of your bag a business card with the name of the restaurant on it.

« The Rebel. What a name! Does your boss rebel in food or something like this? » He joked, taking the card.

« Yeah, sort of » You chuckled. « But to be perfectly honest, it’s quite good. »

« Then I’ll bring some friends with me for a taste. » He smirked and you nodded cheerfully.

The rest of the flight went like this. You were discussing everything that could go through your mind and for once the trip went faster than the flight time suggested. Bucky was so infatuated with the discussion that you shared that he didn't even notice that the plane had landed. It’s only when Steve came next to the two of you that you realized that your little special moment was coming to an end. Bucky stood up, taking his bag from the compartment above his head and helped you out of your seat. You became suddenly aware of his big frame and how impressive he was when you saw him standing next to you. You shared a small smile, not even bothering to hide the little sad feeling to part and you walked out of the plane, ready to come back to your daily life, until Steve nudged him in the ribs, forcing him to catch you before you definitely leave.

« W-wait! Doll! » Bucky called you, realizing he didn’t even know your name.

You were quick to stop at the sound of the pet name he gave you earlier and you turned on your feet to face him.

« I, I don’t even know your name. » He implied and you never saw so much hopes in someone’s eyes.

« I’m y/n. » You smiled softly and you started to slowly walk backwards.

« Where can I find you if I want to see you again? » He asked a bit louder to be sure you’ll hear him.

« I think you know enough to be able to find me. » You teased.

« What if I can’t? » He insisted, a playful smile on his lips.

« I thought you were an Avenger. » You scoffed and you turned on your feet again to walk away.

The last thing you heard was his laugh and even if you didn’t doubt the capacity of the Avengers to find someone they were looking for, you mentally wished you didn’t put your expectations too high on this one.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes story #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky #bucky one shot #bucky barnes one shot #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel one shot #marvel imagine #imagine #fluff #stress on a plane

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whottheactualfudge · 7 years ago

Text

kiss

pairing — kwon soonyoung / hoshi (svt) | reader

genre — friends to lovers | fluff | non-idol au

warning — drinking (of age) + a lot of kissing

word count — 3892

summary — moving into a new apartment wasn’t the only thing that was going to change for you

The night was only beginning as your two friends waltzed into your living room, shouting to announce their arrival in your new apartment.

“Y/N!” one of your closest friends, (F/N (friend’s name)), yelled.

“In here!” you responded from a nearby room, poking your head out to smile at them before hurrying out to greet them swiftly. “Sorry, I’m almost done.” You knew that many more people were about to arrive, so you air-kissed them quickly and ran back to your room.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you sighed, seeing that your makeup still needed a little bit of adjusting, as well as your hair.

"Ahh Y/N, you have to relax," your male friend, Soonyoung, commented. "It's just a party. You've had them before."

"But I'm super late —"

"You're not late at all!" He interrupted, smiling, but shaking his head. "No one's here yet."

You let out a groan, beginning to curl your lashes. "That doesn't mean that I'm not late!"

"Soonyoung’s right," F/N said as she stood to your left and looked at you in the mirror. "Chill. It'll be great."

"Easy for you to say," you retorted, applying mascara. "You're ready." A smile stretched across your face when you glanced at her for a brief moment. "You look great, by the way. I love your hair."

She grinned before lightly punching you in the shoulder. "Thank you! It took about two hours!"

To your right, Soonyoung grumbled and rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, you both look good and it takes you both forever to get ready; we get it."

"Shut up." You scoffed, adding finishing touches to your hair as you looked at him. "Besides...you also look good, Soonyoung."

"Ha, I always look good." He joked, doing a hair flip that didn't exactly work since he had short hair.

“I think it’s great that you’re having this party,” F/N mentioned before you could sarcastically reply to Soonyoung. “It’s the best way to announce, ‘this is my new home. Come on over and trash it whenever you want to’.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “It’s a housewarming party, F/N. It’s not like you guys were gonna throw one for me.”

“If you had asked, we would have!” Soonyoung countered, overreacting offense.

“Whatever.” You said. “Let’s just clear the boxes before anyone else shows up. There’s room in the back.”

Without a word, F/N walked out of the room. You started to follow when Soonyoung abruptly stopped you by putting his arm around your waist. He looked at you and smirked, flirtatiously raising a brow.

With a nervous chuckle and a slight shake of your head, you curiously looked into his brown eyes. He had been acting quite strange recently; flirting with you a lot and doing a lot of things he never did at first. You were giggly and full of butterflies whenever he did so, therefore it wasn’t much of a problem — but, you couldn’t help but feel like it was a bit odd, and wonder, why now, after 3 years of knowing you and being a close friend to you?

A part of you didn’t like it since that part of you worried that he was only doing it for a reason you hated to admit to yourself.

(Just. Sex.)

“What?” you smiled, feeling a blush creep into your cheeks.

“Are you going to wear heels tonight?” he questioned, removing his hold off your waist.

“Most probably…why?”

“Argh,” he threw his head back as he groaned. “Nothing, nothing…just don’t wear anything that would hurt your feet. Whenever you wore heels somewhere, you always end up taking them off. Do I need to remind you?”

“Soonyoung, that would only happen after hours upon hours of walking. This is my apartment; I think I can manage to walk around in here as much as I want to without feeling the need to remove them.”

He seemed unconvinced. “Are you going to get incredibly drunk?”

For some reason, the question bothered you. “No, not tonight; I’ve got early plans tomorrow.” You answered with a frown, and he took notice.

“All right,” Soonyoung nodded. Looking away, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry for all the questions. It’s a new neighborhood…”

A part of you felt like it was an excuse for something you couldn’t quite understand, but you let it go. “It’s fine, Soonyoung. I appreciate it.”

Looking up, he smiled at you unevenly, and you couldn’t help but return it.

“…D-did I tell you that you look beautiful?” he murmured, clearly nervous as he inched closer to you, making you take a step back.

“I think so,” your smile almost faded as your blush deepened; a part of you held your ground while another part wanted to back off. You weren’t exactly sure which part of you was louder – or rather, which was the right one to listen to.

“Am I third-wheeling here?” F/N exclaimed from behind Soonyoung, carrying plastic plates and cups in both of her hands.

Soonyoung visibly jolted and looked over his shoulder at her, but didn’t say a word.

“N-no, no, sorry, F/N,” you stuttered, walking past Soonyoung and joining her. “He just wanted to discuss something about the apartment.”

“OK, good. Let’s get started, then.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Finally, the party had come to an end.

The apartment felt warm and smaller than it actually was, and you felt comfortable; as though you had been living here for an entire semester already.

“I’ll see you next week!” you called out after your last guest departed your new home. “Bye!”

You closed the door and leaned against it briefly before striding over to your couch, dropping onto it with a smile on your face. You weren’t sleepy, but you were tired, and you couldn’t wait to go to bed.

Scratch that — you didn’t want to go to bed; you barely wanted to move. You pulled the blanket on the couch over your legs and let out a deep sigh, letting go of the stress that had been sitting on your shoulders the entire night.

“Aaaand done!” Soonyoung appeared to your right, clapping his hands together as though he had just finished building something. You faintly jumped at his exclamation, thinking that you were alone in the flat until he showed up. “Your apartment is now as clean as it can be, after its first party. Congrats! It has been deflowered.” He snickered at his silly joke.

You groaned as you sank further into your couch, kicking off your heels and putting your legs up. “Thank you so much, Soonyoung. You’re a godsend.”

“So I’ve been told,” he shrugged, joining you on the sofa and placing the blanket over himself as well. A couple seconds passed before he turned to you and asked, timidly, “Do you mind if I…?”

He meant to put his arm around you as he gestured to your shoulders. His slightly uneven jawline made his small, unintentional pout even cuter than it already was.

Without hesitation, you replied with, “No! Of course not; why would I? I mean, not from you, at least.”

Chuckling, he placed his arm around you as you leaned onto him and located your head on his chest, wondering whether or not you could put your arm around his waist this time. You kept thinking of asking him, but the words never came out, and you didn’t know if it were because you were tired, or shy.

Endless thoughts began to race through your head; it was the first time you and Soonyoung did something like this. Suddenly, he asked, “What are we watching?” interrupting your train of thought.

“Flip through the channels.” You smiled, when in fact you weren’t even remotely focused on what was on the TV ahead of the both of you.

What did this mean, if it meant anything at all? You wondered, somewhat anxious. Has Soonyoung liked me the entire time we were friends, or is it something recent? Does he even like me at all, or is he just being really nice? Are we going to start dating now? Or is this some sort of ‘sign’ of extreme friend-zoning me…? Like when girls are extra touchy with their gay best friends?

You never thought of Soonyoung in that way; there were a few times when the thought would cross your mind, but you never actually – seriously – considered it. And at that moment, you asked yourself, why didn’t I?

The notion intrigued you, in a way. Your train of thought returned, bringing forth endless scenarios as you recalled all the times you spent with him. It’s not like you two had been close friends since childhood – no; you two met and became close right before the two of you graduated from high school. Speaking to him and spending time with him was the highlight of your days, especially since he could always find ways to make you laugh.

Still — there was a lot to go on.

You questioned every move he made. And then began to question yourself. This was what you had in mind as the minutes passed:

Dating Soonyoung PROS:

• He’s so!!! cute!!!!!!!! But also sexy?

• SO talented. I could listen to him singing forever

• Always making me laugh. Hilarious

• Is my closest friend!! <3 thankfully. I’m so lucky to have met him

• One of the BEST people I know. Seriously. So open-minded and accepting.

• Supportive and encouraging. Wouldn’t have done so many things if it weren’t for him

Dating Soonyoung CONS:

• Can be obnoxious and mean. It hurts me, sometimes

• Will totally make F/N the third wheel – which is the worst thing!

• Is my closest friend…

• So…it might ruin the friendship if it doesn’t work out. Maybe there’s a way to avoid ruining it?

• Often childish (((((not immature))))) but still annoying in a way

• Not always available…busy. So many times when I wanted to talk to him, he was busy

“Closest friend” ended up being on both lists since you didn’t know if it were an actual con or a pro. Talking to him about what’s been going on in your life was the only stress reliever you knew you needed – there were not many people you could open up to the same way you opened up to Soonyoung, excluding F/N, since you could tell her anything.

Still; with Soonyoung, it was different.

Maybe deep down, I always knew there was something more, you thought.

“Aw hell yeah!” he abruptly exclaimed as he adjusted himself on the couch beside you, which resulted in his hand finding its way to your waist — again. “I love this movie. I hope you don’t mind me restarting it.”

“No, go ahead.” You looked at the TV but your mind was elsewhere; mostly, you were focused on him. The sound of his voice and his steady heartbeat, the way you shifted when he laughed, and the way his thumb was rubbing your elbow and his fingers clenching around your clothes – like he wanted something a bit more.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Psst, Y/N. Wake up. It’s almost 3:30. I gotta go.”

You felt a soft tap on your cheek as Soonyoung gently shook you to consciousness. “Why are you still here…so late?” you asked, slowly lifting yourself off of him and faintly opening your eyes, looking at him. Even though you had just woken up, you immediately took note of your arm around him. “And why did you let me fall asleep?”

“I was watching the movie,” he said, as-a-matter-of-factly. “And…I couldn’t wake you. Not right away. You deserved to sleep – even if it were just for a little bit – after such a busy day.”

You sighed, feeling yourself cave in from his thoughtfulness. “You’re so sweet, Soonyoung. Thank you.”

He chuckled, removing his arm from around you as he glanced away briefly, and then looking at you again. It was quiet; you watched his eyes dart from your own, your lips and your surroundings. For a moment, it appeared as though he wanted to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth.

It felt like the both of you were slowly inching closer to each other. You watched as his eyes began to close —

And then, it happened. Your nerves took over, making your heart pound and your insides shake.

You didn’t know who exactly initiated it, or who leaned in first; all you knew was that…it felt so wonderful. It felt like something you had been wanting for the longest time, and now, you finally have it; like a breath of fresh air after being stuck in a closed-off room for hours.

When the kiss was over, it was silent again. Soonyoung’s cheeks were visibly pink as he gazed at you, only inches away from your face; the tips of your noses still touching, along with your lips. He said your name, but you only hummed a response.

You breathed in his scent as your eyes closed once more, enclosing the space that separated the two of you. Placing your hand on his neck, your fingers entwined with the tips of his hair as you continued to kiss – slowly, as though you had all the time in the world, as though you two had been in love for the longest time and the truth had finally revealed itself. In a peculiar way, you felt liberated.

He’s kissing me back, you thought. For the second time. It must mean something, right? He didn’t reject me, after all. Didn’t change the subject. Didn’t awkwardly move away or dig up an excuse to leave. Could this be the beginning of something new between us?

His hand roamed your back as his other hand ran up your thigh, delicately pulling you closer. You took notice of the way he was kissing you; like it was something he had always wanted to do as well, breathing you in and gripping you close, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

And you did the same: stayed as near to him as you could be, your fingers in his hair and your hand on his neck, unable to detach yourself from him as you fell for the way he moved and the way he smelled.

He took one deep breath before reluctantly parting from you, however still placing small kisses on and around your lips.

“U...um…” he breathed, leaning on his shoulder as he watched you through tired eyes. You separated, becoming two individual beings once more. “I should get going.” He continued, rubbing his eyes before ruffling up his hair. He looked down at where his hands were now resting on his lap, and glanced up at you again. For some reason, you felt as though he were upset.

He didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, and smiled softly before turning and standing. “Sorry if I kept you up.”

“No, Soonyoung,” you peeped and then cleared your throat. “You didn’t…what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he sighed, disheveling his hair again and shaking his head, looking at the front door as if he wanted to leave right then and there. “I just…I thought it would be different. I wanted it to be different.”

You blinked. “…Different?”

Had he been planning something…? And how long was he planning it for?

“Yeah,” he admitted, glancing at you. “A bit more…romantic, I hoped. Not after a party…”

“Romantic?”

“Yes.” He sighed heavily, plopping back down onto the couch and rubbing his face. It looked as though he were preparing himself to say something. “I’ve…” he was staring at his hands, playing around with his fingers, looking for the right words to say. “I kind of…really enjoy being around you…and… maybe, like you, in a way, so I wanted to confess differently. Do things a bit differently.”

You couldn’t say anything, especially when he looked at you. You didn’t know what exactly was going to happen after the kiss, but things were abruptly clearer to you, and in your head, you kept telling yourself, I should have thought about it more; about what would happen once the kiss was over.

“It’s okay…” you managed to say, not entirely sure that you, yourself, believed in it. “These things usually happen when you least expect them to. I think that makes it romantic, in a way, too.”

He looked tense. “…And?”

“And…? And what?”

“What do you think?” he looked at you, back at his hands, and back at you, continuously, nervously. “Do you like me…?”

Only a part of you knew the answer to that, but at the same time, you weren’t sure. Still, you felt the need to reassure him. “I mean…I kissed you, didn’t I?”

I do like Soonyoung, you told yourself. He’s my closest friend. And maybe…maybe something more, from now on. I’m certain that I like him.

“…You’re not drunk…or tipsy at all, are you?” he questioned carefully, almost seeming like he regretted the question as soon as the words left his mouth.

You chose not to complicate it. “I did drink a little bit from here and there, so I am a little tipsy, even after a nap…but I’m being honest, Soonyoung.”

At the sound of your words, he grinned. You saw the happiness reach his eyes and you wanted to do nothing more than embrace him tightly, caress his hair and continue to kiss him.

He bit his lip, holding back a laugh, still looking at his hands.

He’s so cute.

“Okay…” nodding slowly, he chuckled, appearing relieved. “Okay, then. It’s not exactly what I had in mind…but I’m okay with this.” He turned to you and smiled, making you blush and smile in return. “I’ll come back later, okay Y/N?”

“Where are you going?” you snickered, unable to stop smiling. It was unexpected, but you were happy, too; it was as if his presence made you all warm and fuzzy, for the first time.

He must’ve seen the sad look in your eyes since he started talking faster – but he also laughed. “Not-not because I don’t want to stay…I want to, I really do, but I have to go. I have an early shift tomorrow and it’s almost 4 AM…my shift starts at 8.”

“I like you, Soonyoung.” You blurted, not thinking about it. Your confession caused his eyes to momentarily widen. “I really do.”

“I like you, too, Y/N. I like you a lot.” He was stopping his mouth from stretching out into a smile by pressing his lips together and leaning towards you to place a soft kiss on your cheek. As soon as his lips left your cheek, he started to giggle impatiently. “I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah,” you grinned, half confused, half excited. “Me neither. But I’ll see you later…right?”

“Of course,” he beamed widely, standing up and gathering his things. Clearly, he couldn’t control his facial expressions anymore. “Call me before you come to visit, okay Y/N?”

It was a dopey smile that drew you into him a lot more – more than you thought was ever possible, with Soonyoung. The fact that the feelings you were feeling were directed towards him was strange and new, but utterly thrilling.

I can’t wait to see him again, you thought, genuinely feeling that way.

“I will.” You smiled back, abruptly feeling lightheaded as you turned off the TV and went back into a lying position on the couch, closing your eyes. I guess I’m still tired and sleepy. “I’ll…I’ll call you later, Soonyoung.”

He let out a loud groan and suddenly, his arms were under you. “You don’t expect me to leave and let you just sleep out here, do you?”

Before you knew it, you were off the couch and airborne as he carried you into your room. Giggling, you put your arms around him, feeling his fast heartbeat against you, making you blush. You reached up to kiss him, which he didn’t return since it took him by surprise.

But to you, it already started to feel natural, as though it was something you were supposed to do and something you should’ve been doing for a long time.

“One, two,” he counted, still grinning from ear to ear as he placed you down on the bed and began covering you up with the blankets. “Stay warm and sleep well.”

You hummed, looking up at him with a sheepish smile. He turned to leave, but you stopped him. “Wait. Why don’t you stay the night?”

“You want me to sleep over?” he hesitated, already standing near the entrance to your bedroom.

“Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time you do.”

“I told you…as much as I’d love to stay over, Y/N, I have to go in early tomorrow,” he explained, slowly striding in your direction. “I don’t think it’ll work out tonight.”

You didn’t want to force him, even though, if you had, it also wouldn’t be the first time. Still, you groaned and rolled your eyes. “Okay, I guess…just…”

“What?” he chuckled, stroking your cheek. “It’s only a few hours.” He joked.

“Not that, Soonyoung. It’s just that…I have one key. If you leave and lock the door, taking my key, I’ll be locked up in my apartment.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was definitely the perfect excuse to have him sleep over — or so you thought, at least.

“Ha-ha, you’re cute.” He shook his head. “You’re forgetting that you already gifted F/N and I extra keys to your new place?”

Your eyes widened, and then you sighed as the memory hit you in the face. “…I remember.”

Dammit.

“Y/N, I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?” he said, giving you a kiss on the cheek and turning away again.

You whined, intentionally. “Soonyoung…”

He rotated back to face you, throwing his hands up in confusion before understanding what you wanted.

“If I had known you felt so strongly about me…” he teased, leaning down to you once more. “I would’ve planned for this more carefully.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, putting your arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer for another kiss. It resulted in him sitting on the bed, trying not to fall over when he was standing.

I could kiss him for hours…

“I’m not staying over,” he breathed heavily once he forced himself out of the kiss, pushing his hair back as he sat up. “You can’t make me.” But you both knew that that was a lie.

“Fine,” you gave in, rolling your eyes. “It was worth a shot.”

He groaned. “How do you expect me to leave like this?”

“Hey,” you shrugged. “It’s not my fault.” A giggle escaped your lips, and Soonyoung perceptibly clenched his teeth.

“I’ll get you tomorrow,” he warned, pointing a finger at you as he stood up and hurried towards the door. “Same time and place, yeah?”

Nodding, you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “Yeah, same time and place.”

Once again, he shook his head, and finally waved a goodbye. “Goodnight, Y/N!”

“Goodnight.” You smiled, watching him vanish in a flash. “Soonyoung.”

You hummed to yourself, repeating his name and attaching a cringe-worthy nickname after it, such as ‘gumdrop’ or ‘cupcake’, smiling and laughing yourself to sleep as though he were still in the room.

And, for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were going to explode from happiness.

I can’t wait…to see him again.

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naruto-oc-reviews · 6 years ago

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Naruto OC review for kakashianko of her oc — Botan Hatake Botan’s Bio

review under the cut

General

Botan Hatake appears to be a solid character, with a well thought out story. Even so, the rationality behind some choices that are made by some characters seems to be a little unexplained to me, leading to some slight confusion. A few things occur in her life without much explanation as to why. (I have marked these with an exclamation point further on.) With some slight tweaking and clarification, however, this character will be good as gold.

Appearance

I would have loved to see a colored in reference of this character, although I do get the gist of her general design from the included image. Her design is very simple, but feels appropriate. The shoes look unique but still fit in with the theme.

I am unsure on if she acts as a Konoha nin once she moves to the village, but if so, does she change her mission uniform?

Personality

She appears (for the most part) to be a very dependable kunoichi, and one that would be capable of mentally handling many situations.

I am unsure of how to take the fact that she is considered “extremely level headed” but below that, it says that her weakness is that she will do things that are considered extremely detrimental to her wellbeing in order to get people to trust her. In my opinion these personality traits are conflicting and don’t make much sense. (!)

Her personality seems to be slightly one-dimensional, with her descriptions just focusing on battles and sternness. The fact that she “squeaks while her face turns red” on rare occasions seems as though it was added in as sort of an afterthought in order to give her more than one emotion.

If she is hard to fluster, why would her first instinct be to “squeak and go red” right away? In my opinion, it would make more sense for a cool, calm, collected character such as herself to act a little bit more in control of such emotions, maybe denying her embarrassment while she blushes.

Relationships

I very much enjoy the fact that she and Tobirama did not end up falling head-over-heels in love with each other right as they were arranged to be married. I enjoy that it was a slower process.

The relationship she has with her parents seems mostly very believable and realistic for someone in her situation. I do however, have one specific question.

Why would her father give up his heir, the next in line to run the clan, in order to make peace with Konohagakure? There is no way that she would be able to run the clan whilst also located in a foreign village with the Hokage as her husband. (!)

At what age was she sent off to marry Tobirama? I don’t believe age was discussed when talking about any milestones in her life.

I also appreciate the fact that her love life was not perfect, and that her husband DID eventually perish. It creates more depth to the situation of her being pregnant at the time, making for some real thought as to how she would cope with the situation. I like that she eventually did “move on” but never really forgot about her first husband.

Ninja Info

I feel as though this character is talked about as being a very strong, skilled ninja, but whilst looking at her stats, all I seem to notice is very average skills. They’re solid stats, but nothing in my mind that pushes me to say “wow!” like all of the characters in this storyline are seeming to do.

Why is this character considered to be amazing in the ninja world, other than the fact that she is the heir to her clan? (!)

If she is well versed in kenjutsu, as I am lead to believe due to the fact that it is mentioned that she does well with a tanto and other weapons, it might benefit including that in the ninja stat’s section.

Also, if she is using ninja weapons such as tanto, I feel like it wouldn’t be much use if her ninja strength is really at a 1 out of 5. I would suggest either raising that number or rethinking what methods she uses to fight.

What method does she use to be a sensory type ninja? I know she can sense chakra, but what ability of hers enables her to do this? (!)

History

Although I very much enjoy the idea of the Hatake clan stemming from Kumogakure, therefore explaining their lightning nature, it doesn’t really make much sense to me as to how that would work out from my own standpoint. If Botan is the first Hatake to end up in Konohagakure, during Hashi/Tobirama’s period, how does it become an actual clan based out of Konohagakure in future generations instead of continuing to be a Kumogakure based clan? Especially since her children are only half-Hatake and the lineage would be very diluted before it go to, say, Kakashi’s era. (!)

What happens to Botan’s home after Tobirama is murdered? (I’m assuming you’re going with the normal history of him being murdered by Kinkaku and the Kinkaku force, from Kumo?) I feel as though tensions would be high with her in Konoha, as even though KInkaku was considered a criminal at this time, he was still a Kumo nin. Is her new husband from Konoha? Or somewhere else? Was she treated differently by the villagers if she did stay in Konoha?

Is she allowed to work as a ninja from Konoha, or even though she is living in Konoha, is she still a Kumo nin?

Once Botan marries Tobirama, does the alliance get put back into place

Does Botan eventually become the head of the clan?

Xoxo gossip girl

#m:pia #review #naruto oc #konoha oc #founders era #kakashianko #naruto #boruto #naruto-oc-reviews #botan hatake #tobiramaxoc #canonxoc #kumo oc

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rock-n-roll-curly-blonde · 7 years ago

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Fanfic: Did You Notice Me? (Prequel)

Challenge: 2018 VDay Chalenge by the amazing writer and my friend and proofreader @prettyxlittlexwriter

Prompt: Feb 5: A song that is a remake/remix/cover of another song

Song: Teasin’ Around - Brian May

Pairing: BrianxSusan, BrianxReader

I know what you’re thinking… DYNM? Again??? Does that girl not have any ideas??? Hmmm… No. I really don’t. Oh and brace yourselves. There is a sequel as well.

My sincere apologies if your name is Susan, I needed to use a name.

This obviously takes place before Did You Notice Me?

Brian singing the blues while feeling blue. (I know. Why did she have to write that as a fic description? That is exactly what I am thinking too)

“I don’t want nobody teasing around with me. No, nobody, I don’t want nobody teasing around with me. I may be weak, I may be strong, I may be right, lord knows, I may be wrong, but I don’t want nobody teasing around with me. I’ve been in love lately, I’m not a fool you see. You left my heart aching, a lonely, lonely melody. So say you want me, you want me back. Darling, I’ll give you loving, baby, you’ve never had. Oh, I don’t want nobody teasing around with me. I may be deaf I may be blind, baby, I can talk, and I’m sure gonna speak my mind. Oh, I don’t want nobody teasing around with me.”

The other three had just entered the studio, and found their guitarist in the recording room, belting out the blues, with such an emotional burden, it was hard to bear hearing him like that. They didn’t even seem to have a glimpse into what was going on. The three guys hadn’t seen him since the previous morning, but they could tell something was definitely wrong when Brian was singing the blues with such passion, even more when recording such a song.

When he finished the song, the curly man was calmer and, as always, composed. The other three didn’t say a word and just complimented him on the song and got on with their day on the studio, working, composing, recording one song after the other. John kept a closer eye on Brian, trying to figure out what was bothering him, but couldn’t quite make it up. The younger boy was sure of one thing though. The lanky guitarist was distant and a bit absent-minded.

After many hours of productive studio work, the four guys called it a day, and as they were about to separate ways, Freddie spoke up. “I’m famished and feel like eating japanese. Care to join me?” while adding in his mind, the fact that in that particular place they could have a quiet and private conversation.

Exclamations in agreement arose from the other three bandmates and the four of them headed to that small, dimly lit place they had grown to love.

The band had entered the place and placed their order, then spotted a quiet and empty table where they could easily talk.

“So, Bri, what’s bothering you?” Roger asked, not able to wait any longer. Brian was taken by surprise.

“Me? Nothing! How was that idea formed in your blonde head?” Brian teased him, almost succesfully hiding the uneasiness in his voice. He was expecting their frontman to speak this time, and the taller guy knew how dodge the frontman’s persistent questions, but Brian was in bad luck.

“Brian who are you kidding? We hadn’t seen you since yesterday morning, and the first thing we saw you doing this morning was singing, recording actually, a blues song with such passion. You really did mean those lyrics you were singing. How many people have you met singing first thing in the morning blues songs? And even worse, how many times have YOU been singing the blues first thing in the morning? And okay, let’s say the song stuck in your head and you wanted to record it, there was clearly something bothering you, in fact still is, the whole session. You were distant and absent-minded. You didn’t even get in a single fight about even the slightest detail in one of our songs. You. The guy that won’t shut up unless he has got his way and everything is perfect. You wish to tell me there is nothing wrong.” John concluded, making Brian want to vanish. The taller guy was sure his cheeks had turned crimson red in the meantime.

“Dammit John! Why do you have to be so observant?” Brian exclaimed slightly frustrated he had been ‘caught’ and should explain it all to the other three.

“Thankfully he is. So tell us now, or I dragged you over here for nothing.” Freddie added and Brian looked at him surprised.

“So this was a whole plan of yours?” the guitarist inquired but the other three wanted to hear the story so the singer just hummed rushedly in agreement.

Brian huffed to let out some of his frustration and picked up his story. “Do you guys remember Susan? Well. we broke up yesterday.” His band was about to say they were sorry and give him hope but the lanky guitarist cut them off. “No, no, no. It’s not that. You know I did love her, but lately her behaviour had changed and she turned out to be a bitch, revealing another side of her, one I did not like. So I told her I wanted to end it. What bothered, to be honest, still bothers me, is that she started saying things that were false, trying to make me feel guilty, saying it was my fault she behaved that way and tricking my mind into believing those things. I had honestly started doubting and blaming myself, when she gave away herself by accident, making a slight mistake in what she was saying. I was furious. I turned around and left immediately. My heart and mind were raging. I might have not liked how she behaved lately, but I still respected her and cherished our moments. That mind game has made me to hate her beyond belief. That was the reason I wanted to let out my emotions with that song. Are you contented now?” Brian concluded.

Brefore the others could give any kind of answer, the waitress appeared with their order, placed the dishes in front of them, and left.

This time Freddie was the quickest to answer. “Bri dear, you have a week tops to get over that. This time next we are playing a gig. Make sure you find a fan, a groupie, a girl in general to get along with, okay?”

Brian nodded with a hesitant smile tugging at his lips.

Brian was playing Keep Yourself Alive when he noticed you. Yes, you were standing in the shadows, but you had captured him without your knowledge. If you did, you’d be over the moon.

Brian was looking at you, not able to look away, when a sneaky smile spread on his face. He remembered what their frontman had told him a brief week ago, playfully, teasingly, yet, here he was. Having set his eyes literally, and his heart, and brain figuratively on you.

I hope this didn’t have any spelling or grammatical errors, but I’m sure it does. Anyway…

I really hope you liked this part, please tell me what you thought of it with an ask (anon or not), private message, comment, even with a like. I don’t care whether it is bad or good, I wanna know if it’s worth losing so many hours of studying for school lately to write 14 fics.

You can reblog if you want, I would appreciate it more than you could think… So, if you feel like reblogging don’t hesitate. Much love

#2018 vday challenge #day 5 #teasin' around #brian may #cover/remake song #brianxsusan #brixreader #brianxreader #brian may x reader #did you notice me?#prequel #fanfiction #queen fanfiction

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fairyscribbles · 7 years ago

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THIEVING HEARTS - First Touch (KRIS, PT.9) [CHRONICLES OF THE WOLF SERIES]

[ Yifan | Thieving Hearts ]

\ First Touch

You nodded, smiling when he threaded your fingers together and led you back towards the house, your bag slung over his shoulder.

You were quite expecting the shocked gazes when you got inside, yet it didn't mean you welcomed them.

It wasn't very nice, being stared at by a tall wolf with weird ears and his mate, along with Jongdae and Haerin, who decided to join Chanyeol and Jimin downstairs. Kris noticed their staring and he sighed.

"Take a picture, guys. It lasts longer." He rolled his eyes and the youngest girl was the only one to react with a blush, hiding her face away, but as she turned her head to the side, she revealed her neck..and the bruise on it.

Oh. oh. Jongdae finally decided to taint his little mate?

She caught you looking at it, and her blush spread down her neck. All you did was smile at her, glad that Jongdae seemed to be able to control himself enough to mark his mate. As Jongdae reached to wrap an arm around Haerin, you couldn't help but glance at Kris's back.

How long would it take before you no longer felt the tinge of doubt with him? Until you were finally able to believe that he wasn't going to disappear? Until you could carry around a mark like Haerin's...?

You shook the thoughts out of your head, because you heard you mate tell Jongdae something about protection and the way he was holding up your bag full of weapons indicating that he must've started to talk about the mate's need to protect themselves.

You moved in closer, standing in between the curious Chanyeol and Kris, looking at the suspicious Jongdae.

"And how do you expect the mates are to protect themselves?" Jongdae asked and you could clearly see his fingers wanting to reach for his mate.

"Well...last night, during the raid, I took some guns and-"

"No." Jongdae's eyes turned hard and you could hear Chanyeol's snicker from next to you.

"Jongdae..." Haerin said softly and as she was slowly inching to you. She looked genuinely curious of the weapons, but the second she got too close, Jongdae was wrapping his arm around her waist and twirling her behind him.

"Out of the question, baby."

"Jongdae, don't be like this," she scolded. "It's for our own protection."

"I'll protect you," Jongdae insisted, to which Haerin just pursed her lips.

You were glad for that, considering that the topic was still a sore subject for all of you. "But... this gives her an option, Jongdae. It doesn't leave her completely helpless in the event that... she is left alone..."

Haerin touched her mate gently, communicating warmth and reassurance even from where you stood. "I know you want to be there for me at all times, but we have to be realistic..." she whispered calmly.

Jongdae scowled. "But a gun? They're so unpredictable, and you wanna learn that?"

"I can't really learn martial arts, Jongdae." Haerin told him and you nodded.

"I agree. Even if she would be able to pack a punch, it would take only one to take her down." Jongdae's head turned over slowly to look at you and you panicked, speaking some more.

"I'm pretty sure only one good aimed hit from a tougher guy could knock her out, even worse..."

"___." Kris's voice stopped your mindless babbling after Jongdae's eyes turned red and he snarled, pulling his mate even closer.

"I'm shutting up now..." you murmured, taking refuge in Kris's arms when he reached out for you.

"What ___ was trying to say is that I'm tiny." Haerin cupped Jongdae's cheek, letting herself be pulled against her mate tightly.

"I can't really rely on my hits and kicks to defend me."

"Yes, but guns?" Jongdae whined, holding the hand against his cheek.

"Jongdae, the day I'll be able to overpower Kris oppa or Chanyeol oppa I won't need guns."

"Yeah, but..." Jongdae scowled. Because he knew it was a losing battle. "...guns, really?"

You almost wanted to look away when Haerin gave you a pleading look. She wanted to learn, and after what you guys went through together, you didn't blame her in the least.

"Jongdae, you can be there..." you whispered, instinctively moving further into your mate's hold to escape any possible backlash.

"Yeah. You watch and help me," Haerin added, to which Jongdae just groaned.

"I'm just gonna panic at everything."

"You sound like a mom, Jongdae-yah," Chanyeol teased, earning himself an elbow to the ribs from a smiling Jimin.

"Yah, I'm an injured man." Chanyeol mumbled with a small pout as he rubbed the poked spot. The cute giant was ignored though, you and Kris watched the silent exchange Jongdae and Haerin had with eye contact.

In the end, Jongdae sighed and shook his head.

"But if you ever get even this close to hurting yourself," Jongdae demonstrated to Haerin with his index and middle finger, which were tightly smushed together.

"I'm stopping this and forever chaining you together to me, so I can protect you. You got it?"

"Y-you're insane..." Haerin said breathlessly.

A little unreasonable, if you could say so yourself. But you chose not to.

"I'm your mate. When it comes to anything concerning you, I kinda am." Jongdae's tone was matter-of-fact.

But at least he agreed. And that was all you really needed.

"So... we're good to go?"

"Eh?!" Jongdae's head whipped around to look at you with a shocked expression, and you instinctively buried yourself in Kris's arms. Luckily, he understood and while one of his arms were wrapped around you, he tried to nudge you back behind him.

"Can we?!" Haerin's exclamation was quite the opposite, very hyper, as she tried to bounce to you, but Jongdae's strict hold on her preventing it.

"B-but we can't shoot just yet, because of yesterday...so we can go practice aiming."

Haerin's pout might as well have been a tantrum, but Jongdae was good at appeasing his mate. He kissed her gently, ignoring everyone else in the room and effectively wiping her pouting away.

You turned away from the displays of affection, smiling uneasily up at Kris. "It's okay, right..?"

He sighed, shrugging as he tucked your hair behind your ear. "I guess... It's not like you two are gonna let us stop you, right?"

You smiled, leaning up on tiptoes to reach his chin and planting a grateful peck there. "Okay, come supervise, alpha."

Kris groaned, swatting at your ass playfully. "Don't sweet talk me. Just go."

And with a slight blush, you went. Jimin and Chanyeol left somewhere in the middle of the grand persuasion of Jongdae and so it was only the four of you.

If you could say honestly, Haerin was a much better student than Jimin. The young girl effortlessly mastered the pistol within a few moments and she was eager to learn more, much to her mate's distaste. Even though the shotgun seemed to be a bit too heavy for her, she handled it like a champ, practicing until she couldn't anymore and the morning sun slowly moved up high above.

You didn't even realize how fast time went by, you only knew once Kris wrapped his arm around your waist and brought you in closer so he could whisper in your ear.

"Aren't you hungry? You've been teaching her for three hours now." He murmured and you turned to look at him with shock in your eyes. Three hours? Kris nodded, kissing your forehead.

"Let's call it a day, and put Jongdae's mind at ease."

"Yes, please!" Jongdae practically wailed.

The rest of you just laughed as Jongdae snatched the weapon from his mate's hands and tossed it towards Kris, who caught it with ease in one hand. Then Jongdae was herding his mate into his arms, nuzzling her as he cooed things you couldn't hear. You glanced up at Kris, who was touching your hair absentmindedly.

"Should we go inside then?"

"That would probably be best," he said with a smile, not even bothering to alert Jongdae and Haerin.

The two of you slipped back towards the house, leaving the mated couple behind to do what they were doing. When you got inside, the call of the couch was too tempting. You plopped back into it before Kris could even finish setting the weapons down, groaning with relief. "Ohh, I didn't realize how tiring that could be..."

He chuckled, walking towards you and you automatically lifted your torso and head up so Kris could settle on the couch and you could rest your head in his lap. You sighed in bliss when you felt Kris dips his fingers into your hair, carding through them in a caring manner.

"You're a good teacher." He murmured in appreciation and he almost absentmindedly traced your lips with his fingers before they fluttered downwards. You shivered at the contact, looking up at him with a small smile.

"Are you sure you're not hungry?"

You glanced up at him. "Are you?"

He shook his head. "Not really, but I'll go grab you something."

"How sweet of you," you smiled, reaching up and playing with the collar of his shirt.

He took that as his cue, curving down to close the distance. You looped your arm around his neck, leaning up as well to meet him halfway. You kissed softly - once, twice - before Kris let you ease back down.

His smile was gentle, as he looked down at you with adoring eyes. The look made you feel something come alive inside you. Made you feel...oh so safe, oh so loved.

Something you haven't felt for a very long time in your life, if ever.

You reciprocated his smile, reaching up to cup his cheek.

"Is there anything you'd specifically like?" He asked as he nuzzled into your hand, making you chuckle.

"Not really. I don't care."

"Yixing hyung wanted to make some lunch, so if you'll wait, you can have something warm." Kyungsoo added from the stairs, hair ruffled as he looked like he just woke up.

"Hey, Kyung-ah," Kris greeted with a smile, surveying the younger wolf. "You feeling okay?"

"Hi, hyung. I'm fine... It'll heal... Noona," said wolf ducked his head towards you before shuffling to the kitchen. Where he seemed to be a lot, you noted.

"Kyungsoo's not mated?" you asked curiously.

"Not yet," Kris sighed. "I almost wish he was. So someone can take care of him now. He's just like Minseok. He never complains about pain. He just... keeps it to himself."

You frowned. "You think he's in a lot of pain..?"

Kris shrugged. "That's the problem. I have no idea. I'll be back. I'll go get you food and talk to him."

You sat up. "You mind if I come and sit at the table?"

Kris raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were tired?"

It was your turn to shrug. "I wanna know if he's okay too."

He smiled before shrugging.

"Alright, come on." He helped you get off the couch and you followed your mate to the kitchen, where the younger wolf was already making food for himself. He looked up, eyes wide in surprise.

"Hyung?..."

"How are you feeling, Kyung-ah?" Kris sat down at the table, watching as the wolf looked away from his alpha, a clear sign he couldn't quite lie to his leader.

"It's managable, hyung." You tsked, shaking your head. It was now at you where Kyungsoo's surprise stare was aimed.

"You were shot with wolfsbane. Did you make the medicine to take it out?" Both of the wolves now looked at you.

"There is medicine to deal with it?" Kyungsoo asked and you nodded, already moving to the closet to search for the right ingredients.

"We never thought something like that existed. We would just wash it out with water..." Kris mumbled, watching you in awe.

"Well, that was the way it's supposed to be. This is something every citizen knows just in case they get caught in a fight between the wolfsguard and the wolves." You pushed a tray, knife and some roots over to your mate, clearly wanting him to cut it up.

"It makes the wolfsbane disappear faster in your body, and it could quicken the healing process."

Kyungsoo gaped, leaning over your side as you went about putting a pot on the stove. "Hm... I bet Jimin knows..."

"She's a little preoccupied with Chanyeol... and Kyungsoo doesn't know how to say anything," Kris quipped.

Said wolf threw a glare towards his alpha, who just glared right back, daring him to say otherwise. When the younger wolf just remained quiet and pouted, Kris chuckled. You had to smother your own giggle, focusing instead on the boiling water in front of you.

"Kris, give me that stuff, please."

Carefully, knowing that the ingredients would make the water sizzle, you dropped in the tiny squares and slices of roots and other things, stirring it in the water.

"It should be ready in a few moments..." you murmured, mostly to yourself but you knew the two wolves heard you.

"Kyungsoo, could you take off your shirt, please?" You did expect your mate's growl. What you didn't expect was Kyungsoo's small blush that spread over his cheeks.

"Really, Kris? What, are you afraid he's more buff than you?" You teased, turning around to grin at the alpha.

Kris scowled. "Well, he's stronger than me."

You turned to Kyungsoo's now more intense blush with a grin. "Please don't worry about him." You waved off your mate's growl. "What I'm concerned about is you getting better."

Kyungsoo bowed his head, but he flashed his alpha an apologetic look anyway before tugging his shirt off.

You tried not to look too hard - at the very least - to appease your mate, and you gestured to the table for Kyungsoo to sit as you went to stir one last time. With a sigh, you followed the injured wolf to the table, making a point of kissing Kris gently before setting the pot on the table.

"Can I have a towel, please?"

Kris nodded silently, kissing you again before going to fetch it. He came back within seconds, handing you the towel and plopping back into his seat.

You chuckled at his petulant behavior before dipping the towel into the still steaming liquid. "Don't burn yourself."

You laughed. "Thank you, Kris."

You waited for a moment, moving to inspect the three arrow holes on his chest. They were red and slightly swollen, making you frown.

"Kyungsoo, this must hurt like hell..." you murmured, but Kyungsoo shook his head.

"It isn't that b-!" His words were interrupted by a painful snarl when you jabbed into the wound with your finger.

"And I didn't even do this with much force." You looked at him with a small glare before moving to retrieve the towel that now cooled down a bit.

"You know it isn't shameful to say it hurts, right?" Kyungsoo scoffed, looking at you with still-red eyes.

"Yeah, and who should I go to?"

"Us. Joonmyun." Kris was the one to speak up now.

"Just because you don't have a mate doesn't mean you're something less than your brothers."

Kyungsoo sighed, watching as you wrung the towel a bit and held it up. "I just didn't think it was worth worrying about. Chanyeol and Sehun got it worse."

"And yet Chanyeol was out and about with his mate today, watching her shoot."

Kyungsoo didn't even attempt another excuse. He just stiffened as you approached with the towel, frowning. "It might sting..."

You saw his jaw clench as he gritted his teeth for the oncoming pain.

Kris was already rising from his chair.

"Should I do it? Just in case." He inched closer to you, at which you clicked your tongue.

"It's fine, alpha. Don't worry about it."

"No, noona." Kyungsoo's voice had you snapping in surprise his way.

"I...it's not the best area for me, and I don't know how I might react. Could hyung do it?" You stared at him for a while, the wide eyes looking as honest as ever.

"I would hate to hurt you when all you are trying to do is help."

You smiled appreciatively at him, nodding. But when you went to hand the towel to Kris, you were surprised to see the flash of red in his eyes. "Kris..?"

He growled, taking the warm cloth from your hand. "I just don't like the idea of you getting hurt."

You raised an eyebrow, and Kyungsoo gave an uncertain chuckle. Maybe go try and ease some tension, including his own nervousness. "And I don't much like the idea of hurting her, hyung."

You patted Kris's back in comfort, stepping away from Kyungsoo just to appease the alpha.

"You see? Far away now. Kyungsoo won't reach me now." Kris shook his head with a chuckle, making his way to the injured packmate.

"You first need to press the cloth in, so the oitment gets into his skin and washes out the wolfsbane." You instructed and your mate did just that, looking at you when Kyungsoo snarled in pain.

"It will hurt but he will heal much faster now." You said with a guilty frown, making Kyungsoo chuckle shakily.

"Don't worry, noona. I can handle a little pain."

You smiled reassuringly back at him and returned to instructing your mate. Kris did just as you told, circular motions as he cleaned out the wound, occasional wringing out of the towel and one change, after the cloth got too bloody. Unconsciously, you started moving to the suffering werewolf as well, and you didn't ever realize it until you were leaning over him, running your fingers through his hair in comfort.

"You're almost done, Kyungsoo..."

It didn't take much more. Kris managed another bloody towel, but he washed that out and used a bit more of the medicine to wash away what you hoped were the last remnants of the wolfsbane.

Kyungsoo was left leaned back uncomfortably on the chair, panting, body slack with relief from the pain.

"Is it... all out?" he grumbled.

"I think so," Kris answered, patting Kyungsoo's shoulder gently. "We should've known of this sooner."

"It would've been nice," Kyungsoo groaned.

You smiled, pushing his hair back from his forehead and feeling his temperature. "Are you feverish or is that just a stressed werewolf thing?"

"We run hot," Kris answered. "We don't really get sick, even after such injuries, because of it. His system is trying to recover."

"I'll be fine soon. Thank you, noona."

You smiled at Kyungsoo. "Of course. Get some

rest, okay?"

Kris helped him to his feet, but Kyungsoo seemed stable enough to grab his shirt again and wobble to the stairs. "I'm gonna sleep a bit. See you guys."

You waved at him, listening as Kris tossed the rest of the medicine and washed his hands.

"Well that was relatively quick..."

Kris sighed. "I told you. Kyungsoo is good at no-nonsense."

"I see that," you mumbled.

But you found yourself squealing when you were swung up. "Now you. I have a bone to pick with you."

"K-Kris!"

You kicked futilely the entire way as Kris climed the stairs with you in his arms, and he kicked the door to his room shut before tossing you on the bed. You blinked, and he was above you, hovering almost menacingly. Your heart kicked rapidly, and your first instinct was to reach and beat at his chest.

But he caught your wrists before you could do even that. "I told you to stay back. You're lucky Kyungsoo's control is good."

"He was in pain!" you countered easily.

For some reason, you adopted a motherly approach when you saw the younger wolf in pain. There was no way you weren't going to comfort him.

Kris groaned. "You're so good at getting yourself in trouble, ___..."

You scowled, but he was burying his face into your neck the next minute, and your angry retort died on your lips.

"But thank you..."

"Wh-what?"

"You've gone out of your way all day to help the pack."

Oh... You blinked, unsure how to answer. But he raised his head and looked down at you, kissing your nose gently.

"I really appreciate this, ___."

You smiled, not quite sure what to say, so you just didn't say anything. You wriggled your wrist a bit and Kris let your hand free, so you could reach up and cup his cheek. Kris nuzzled into it, his eyes closing in bliss at the contact.

"It's to repay what you've done for me..." you murmured, when you realized you were currently stroking his cheek with your right hand. Kris's eyes watched you in confusion.

"For the hand..." Kris's chest rumbled as he shook his head. He then turned to kiss at your palm.

"No, baobei. You can't expect me to watch my mate be in pain, can you?" You chuckled.

"Have you known it by then?" You asked him and Kris nodded, dropping down onto his elbows. He nuzzled his nose against yours.

"Since the first time I saw you, I knew..." he murmured softly and you moved your other hand to card them through his hair lovingly. Almost unconsciously, his chest vibrated against yours as he rumbled in content.

"How did you know, though?"

"I just knew. It's something primal."

You hummed in thought.

"I guess I have that primal sense, too. You know why?" Kris smiled, shaking his head.

"Because I also knew you were my mate at some point." Kris's eyes sparkled in interest.

"Really? How?"

"Like this." You pulled him in closer, planting your lips over his.

Kris growled, but he sank into your body naturally anyway. Who was he to argue when his mate decided to kiss him so passionately?

"Yet you fought me so hard."

"I'm still fighting you," you muttered, palms slipping up his back over his shirt. "You have a lot to prove to me..."

Kris eased up just to stare down at you. "And by that you mean?"

You shrugged as best as you could from the position. "You can figure that out, can't you, alpha?"

Kris grinned, shaking his head before leaning down to kiss you again. This time he led the kiss, soft lips moving against yours, stealing your breath away little by little, until you were left breathless under him, panting lightly with a small blush over your cheeks.

"Do you enjoy seeing me struggle?" Kris asked you, his voice slightly deeper than usually, making all beautiful things happen in your tummy.

"Maybe a little. Just because how handsome you look when you frown." You confessed, making him chuckle. His hand came up to stroke your cheek with an affectionate look in his eyes.

"I enjoy seeing you blush...especially when you blush so prettily just for me..."

You glared at him, but it probably didn't look half as threatening as you wanted it to considering you were still blushing just as he said.

Kris sighed, kissing your cheek gently. "Now you're just asking for it."

"F-for what?" you grumbled, punching his shoulder lightly.

"To be teased," he rumbled.

Your face went even hotter. Because he didn't elaborate... and you weren't sure how you were supposed to take that at all.

Kris leaned in again but lower this time, slowly and carefully kissing your neck, taking his sweet time to explore the area. Chaste kisses turned into openmouthed ones when you leaned your head back, offering him more with a sigh and closed eyes. Kris growled as your hands tightened in his shirt, pulling him lower on you. He complied, pressing himself into you a little more and he grinned wolfishly at your gasp when his tongue licked a trail all the way up to your ear.

"My sweet little mate..." he rasped into your ear, nibbling on your lobe.

"I'm n-not sweet..." you opposed a bit breathlessly and Kris chuckled.

"I beg to differ. Your scent is the sweetest thing I ever smelled...all drenched in arousal, just for me."

Your tone kicked up an octave when you squealed lightly and swatted at his shoulder. But that turned into an even higher-pitched surprised sound when his large hand swatted right back - at what he could reach of your ass.

And damn if that didn't make you arch against him with a gasp. You couldn't exactly deny your arousal at that point.

Kris chuckled, his hand settling back on the bed as he spoke against the curve of your ear again. "Mm~ So sweet..."

Instinctively, your legs parted, letting your mate settle deeper against you with a growl on his lips. Your hands balled into the back of his shirt when you felt him press into you, hardened arousal into your core.

Kris growled your name, one of his hands gliding down the side of your body, all the way down to your leg, where he hoisted it over his waist, kissing you once again. His palm then cupped your ass and you gasped, bucking up into him at his squeeze.

"K-Kris..." you basically whimpered. It has been such a long time since you've done this with someone and this feeling was so perfectly exquisite, you never wanted it to end.

"Yes, baby?" Without another word, you tugged on his shirt, whining almost pathetically. That stupid shirt needed to be off. Right. Now.

Kris chuckled roughly, slipping your fingers away before tugging the shirt off. It slid over his head, and you followed the entire trail up, biting your lip to keep in the moan that wanted to come out.

You were so lucky.

Your palms landed on his abs before he could even toss the shirt aside, and Kris's hissed from between his teeth.

"Your hands are cold..."

You laughed. "You're so romantic."

He leaned down, his hands sliding under your shirt and making you hiss right back.

"I know," he whispered, kissing up your arched neck as his fingers ghosted over your ribs. "You like it?"

You merely hummed, eyes closed in bliss as you enjoyed the way you felt his soft lips explore your neck before they sucked on a certain spot. Immediately, nails dug into his skin and Kris growled, sucking well enough until he was content with the blooming bruise over your virgin skin.

"That will be the spot." He rumbled proudly, looking down at you with a glint in his amber eyes. Your mate had control, you noted. You wondered what you would have to do to break it.

"T-the spot?" You asked and Kris only nodded, swooping down again after he discarded your shirt as well.

"Yes." He rasped in your ear.

"The spot where I will mark you as mine."

Your belly clenched at the idea. To be marked. To belong to him? To someone at all...

Kris's hand palmed your breast through your bra, and you pushed up against him with a breathy sigh.

"Kris..."

"I don't know what I'm doing here..."

You blinked before your eyes narrowed at him. This silly wolf and his impulsive declaration. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I shouldn't be touching you, but I can't stop."

Which you could see judging by the way he slipped his hands to your back to unclasp your bra.

The offending garment was thrown aside, away from you and Kris leaned up to look at you with an undescribable expression in his eyes. You weren't the shyest of people but when you saw him look at you like that, your arms inched to cover yourself up.

"Don't." He grabbed your arms, stilling you. You shivered when he licked his lips and your nipples puckered up, almost as if they were prepared for him.

"Beautiful..." he snarled just a second before he swooped down to bury his face in your chest.

You gasped in surprise, but it didn't stop you from arching up towards him. Your hands wound straight into his hair, and Kris growled as he nuzzled his cheek against one breast before taking the nipple into his mouth.

Your breath rushed out in the form of his name, and Kris was encouraged to roll his tongue around it, making your eyes screw shut.

"Hnnngg. K-Kris..."

He hummed as he trailed kisses to the other breast, laving the other, already budded nipple the same way.

Your core burned with desire. It felt unbearable, mainly because Kris just barely started doing something to you and it already made you feel this way. You moaned out his name again and your legs naturally parted as wide as they go, unconsciously offering yourself to him. Kris snarled.

"Baobei, do you know what you're doing to me?" He ground out in a gruff voice but even so, his hand trailed down and ripped the pants off you, making you squeak in surprise. That squeak soon changed into a mewl when you felt his fingers press into you through your panties, into your already engorged clit, making your head fall back against the pillows.

"Kris~...."

"The way you say my name..." he grated, his finger moving just barely. The press already made your eyes flutter, and you fought to keep your hips from moving against him too much.

You twisted underneath him, hand grabbing at his side to bring him closer. "Kris..."

"Please..." you whimpered against his lips, your hips grinding up to meet his now moving finger. You could barely keep eye contact with the blood red eyes, as they stared down at you with great intensity.

"Are you sure, baby?" He asked, his voice deliciously deep, deliciously husky, just the way you loved it. You nodded shakily and Kris growled before covering your lips with his and slipping off your panties. You gladly spread your legs wider, welcoming the touch of his fingers up your now bare core when-

"Duizhang, Sehun woke up."

"Fucking hell."

The grating curse echoed through your lips as Kris's mouth hovered over them, his teeth baring in an indignant snarl.

You closed your eyes, willing the moment not to break. You swung your legs around Kris's hips, locking at his back to keep him in place.

"No..." you whined.

From not feeling like this for so long, from not having anything like this ever, to having your mate here ready to pleasure you? You didn't want to be interrupted, as selfish as it felt.

"Is he okay?" Kris grumbled.

"Yeah. Disoriented..."

Kris growled, grabbing the nape of your neck and planting a hard kiss against your lips.

"Five minutes." He growled against you.

"Give me five minutes, babe." And then he was sliding off, covering your naked form with a sheet. He didn't bother putting on a shirt. Just like that, he swung the door open and with one heated glance sent your way, he was off, leaving you naked and alone in his bed.

Five minutes. Such little time yet it was long enough for all the tiny voices to appear in your head. The ones that sneered, laughing how gullible you were. All it took was for a guy to bring you water when you were hungover and tell you you're his mate, and you spread your legs. It was ridiculous. You thought that after your history, you'd grow more cautious but no, here you were again, naive and naked for someone you don't even know.

You didn't even realize what you were doing, only when you were slipping on Kris's boxers and your shirt. Stupid, you were so stupud...it rang in your head, Echoing in the silence. You slipped out of the room and snuck down the stairs before running out the back door.

You were so stupid...and you needed to be alone for a while.

Kris grumbled under his breath, and Yixing glanced over at him. "Sorry, duizhang."

"Don't be."

They walked into Sehun's room together, where Jongin was perched at his brother's side. "Sehun-ah."

"Hey, hyung."

"How you feelin'?"

Sehun muttered nonsensically, and Kris had to sigh. He promised his mate five minutes. And as much as he was worried about his packmate, he could already sense the turmoil in you all the way from the other room. He didn't want to lose what progress he may have made. He couldn't afford it.

Yet even when he was listening to his packmate mumble on without making sense and the pack's healer explained to him what was happening, Kris couldn't concentrate on what he was saying because he heard his mate run down the hallway. Seconds later, the back door closed and Kris closed his eyes, breathing heavily.

You will come back. He knew you will, he just hated that you felt the need to run away from him. He also tried to tamp down his urge to run after you, because feeling his mate run from him made his beast whine.

You will return. And Kris knew so and he was right, when in the middle of the dark night, he felt you slip wordlessly under the covers with him.

He said nothing. He didn't turn, didn't move his arms from behind his head where they propped up his head as he stared at the ceiling. He knew that you knew he was awake. His eyes were hard to hide in the dark, especially when flashing in relief to see his mate coming back.

You didn't say anything, but you did draw little patterns into his bicep, trying to curl into yourself and keep away from him.

"Are you mad?" you whispered, voice surprisingly frail.

"I was worried..."

"I came back." Your stubborn streak flashed with that statement. "I wasn't sure at first if I could, but I did..." And then it was back to softness just like that.

"No matter what you do, you can always come back to me." Kris told you honestly, his arm carefully and slowly curling around you in a fragile hold, just in case you didn't want to touch him yet. But you did, and you scooted deeper into his embrace, searching for the security Kris provided.

"I know this is hard to swallow at first..." he murmured, rubbing his thumb into your skin comfortingly.

"And although I hate not knowing where you are, if you need distance every now and then, I have no problem giving it to you."

You sighed, closing your eyes. This is why you came back. The appeal of this feeling, the warmth and acceptance, the safety in his arms.

"I'm mad at myself."

"Why..?"

"Because I want to trust you. And then... sometimes, I really don't want to..."

Kris sighed. "It makes sense... As much as I don't like it, it does."

You groaned softly. "Is it... supposed to feel so... quick?"

"What is..?"

"Being a mate," you explained. "I don't know you, Kris. But... I actually... do trust you. And... you don't understand how strange this feels for me."

Kris sighed, pulling you closer. When you burrowed even deeper, he rumbled his content. "You trust me?"

It took a moment. "I can't explain it... and I'm not sure I like it... but yeah... I do."

"I won't do anything to betray that trust, ___."

"Yeah, I've heard that one before."

"From some mongrel who didn't know what he had." Kris growled, his grip growing tighter on you.

"He was lucky, too. If I had met you and you'd still be with him, he wouldn't have a chance."

"And what did that mongrel have?" You asked, looking up at him from where your chin was propped on his chest. Kris smiled down at you, running his fingers through your hair fondly.

"A mate of an alpha. My mate."

You smiled. "That... has a nice ring to it..."

Kris chuckled. "Good. I'm glad you think so."

You nuzzled into his shoulder with a sigh, unsure how to feel about the issue. You already spent hours going over it again and again in your head, so you were too drained to draw any more conclusions now anyway.

"Go to sleep..." he whispered, hand still weaving through your hair.

He didn't have to tell you twice- sleep was already creeping up on you, gently lulling you to sleep a little faster now that you were in Kris's arms. And his voice that seemed to hum some unknown tune to you just carried you off to dreamland and once again, you slept with ease, knowing that your mate is there to protect you.

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#kris #kris story #kris werewolf story #kris werewolf au #kris wu #wu yifan #exo #exo story #exo werewolf story #exo werewolf au #werewolf au #werewolf story #series: Chronicles of the Wolf

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 7 years ago

Text

Written on Your Heart - Chapter 1

12 year old Rose finds her soulmate in 15 year old James. This is their story.

Now titled ‘Written on Your Heart’ and available on AO3!

Masterlist

Written for @doctorroseprompts Soulmate September.

10/Rose AU. Will feature: Sarah Jane, Jackie, Donna, Wilf, Mickey, and others

Chapter 1/??

Every soulmated couple was marked in their own unique way. Some couples, arguably the luckiest, had each other’s names inked on their skin; others would only be marked upon a shared touch, or speaking to each other. There was no way of knowing how, or when, a person would be marked until it occurred, if it ever did.

There were two broad categories of the looking – those that knew they were mated but had not yet met, and those that were dependent on luck. Those that knew typically had clues to follow, or at least to eliminate potentials, based on their mark. The levels of contact for those that knew varied depending on their type of bond. Some had a name to be on the lookout for, but nothing else – others were in contact from a young age, but had not been able or allowed to meet until they were of age. They were the lucky ones.

The other category, those who were only marked upon meeting, were not so fortunate. They had no information about their mate; it was quite possible to meet them, even perhaps know them for years, without stumbling upon the trigger for the mark to appear. There were stories, of couples who would work in the same office building and speak every day, and not know they were mated until they actually introduced themselves. Others would be marked upon merely the brushing of the fingers; it was not uncommon to see someone running along the platform of the tube, yelling for their mate, only known of because of the brush of fingers.

Family didn’t seem to have anything to do with the type of mark you would receive; even in large groups of siblings, no two would have the same type of identifier. If your ancestors tended to ‘know’, it was a higher likelihood that you would as well, but certainly no guarantee.

As a child, Rose had always been fascinated by her mother’s mark. Jackie and Pete Tyler had been those with the first words they would ever say to each other imprinted on their skin. After Pete’s death, Jackie’s marks had faded to a faint silver, almost impossible to see but still present.

Rose is twelve when the words first appear on her left palm, accompanied by a slight tickle.

Buy the new Harry Potter book.

What?

She was in the middle of math class, staring out the window, when she glanced down and saw the message. At first, she wasn’t certain how it had gotten there, as it most certainly wasn’t her handwriting. It wasn’t until the bell rang, and she was halfway to her next class the most likely explanation hit her, and she stopped dead in the hallway.

In a fog, giddy with excitement, she had enough presence of mind to make her way to the nearest toilet, heedless of the bell ringing for the next period to begin. Instead, she locked herself in a stall and sat on the toilet lid, staring at her hand in awe, gently tracing the letters.

Eventually, it occurred to her that if she could see his writing, he would likely be able to see if she responded. Digging in her bag for a pen that wouldn’t hurt, she held it poised over her palm, lacking only something to write.

This was it – her first communication with her soulmate! She’d been worried that she would be one of the searchers; that she’d never know if she had a mate, or worse, that she would only know when she lost him. She wanted something special, dazzling; she wanted to charm him, make him fall hopelessly in love with her with only a few letters written on her skin and transferred to his. But what was right?

In the end, she decided to make one thing clear – she was her own person, capable of thinking and deciding for herself. Even though she knew in the back of her mind it was most likely only a note to himself (or herself – it happened), she still wanted to establish herself as independent. So, with a trembling hand, she printed four characters below his message.

Why?

Dropping the pen with a nervous giggle, she waited with baited breath to see what her soulmate would respond with. It took the longest two minutes of Rose’s life, but eventually he (she assumed it was a he; most girls had far better handwriting) replied.

Hello?

Hi! She quickly scribbled back.

This is Came through after a moment, though it seemed like an unfinished thought.

weird strange different new. Her mate seemed perplexed, though she appreciated that he seemed to be trying not to insult her right off the bat.

Yep. Do you write notes on your hand often? She asked. This was the first time she’d noticed it, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything without knowing what was the trigger to initiate the bond.

Sometimes, if it’s important. You?

Drawings, but that’s it. She admitted.

You draw?

Yes.

Well?

At this point, Rose had to roll up her sleeve to continue the conversation, considering her response all the while. After a few moments hesitation, she doodled a simple rose.

Is that a rose?

Yes.

Why?

She paused only for a second, before reminding herself that they were soulmates – even if they’d never met, she could trust him.

It’s me.

You’re a flower?

No – it’s my name.

Rose?

Yeah.

Your name is Rose?

Yeah.

She briefly considered leaving it there, but decided to go for broke.

Tyler.

Uh, actually, I’m James.

No, Rose Tyler.

Oh. James Noble. Hi.

Hi!

Can I ask you something? He replied after a minute.

Sure.

How old are you? She froze, nervous.

How old are you? Rose asked instead of answering.

15. She instantly blushed, sure that he would think she was just a kid.

12.

After that, she didn’t hear from him, though she spent twenty minutes staring at her arm, hoping for a reaction. Finally the bell rang, signaling the end of the period she skipped and the start of her lunch break; shouldering her bag, she walked quickly to the cafeteria, going through the lunch line by rote and finding her friends. A little hurt at his lack of response, she resolutely decided to focus on the rest of the school day, and maybe check when she got home.

In the end, she made it ten minutes into history class before checking her arm, pleasantly surprised to find a response.

Oh. Ok.

I was just a little worried – the exclamation points made me think you might be a bit younger, which would be weird.

Well, it’d be weird now – not in like, 10 years.

Well, maybe still in 10 years – it would’ve depended on how much younger.

But 3 years isn’t that big a deal now. At least for talking.

Hello?

Rose?

I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings – also, for disappearing. I was trying to figure out what to say when my teacher announced a pop quiz. I hope you don’t think

The writing stopped there, but there was an arrow pointing to the left. It took a moment, but then she realized what it meant and twisted to see her forearm, where the message finished.

that I was rejecting you. Because I’m not. I was just a little thrown.

Rose?

I really am sorry – once we meet (if we meet – was that too presumptuous?) you’ll realize that I’ve got a bit of a gob, and it can sometimes take off without me.

Though, I suppose, in this case it’s my hand that’s got away from me.

Please, Rose, don’t let me have ruined this on day one…

It was the final message that truly got her, and she practically knocked all of her books off her desk to scramble for her pen.

Sorry! Remembering belatedly his comment about the exclamation points, she quickly scribbled the whole word out, replacing it with, Sorry. I was at lunch, and didn’t see your message til now.

So you don’t hate me already? It was his fastest response yet, and Rose felt bad for making him worry.

No. Not at all. She only hesitated a moment, before adding a smiley face.

Good!

“Something to share with the class, Miss Tyler?”

Rose’s head jerked up, her smile falling as she realized the entire class, including her teacher, were staring at her.

“Uh, no?” She said meekly.

The teacher raised an eyebrow, but moved on. “Please try to pay more attention, Miss Tyler – the test is on Friday, as you’ll recall.”

As subtly as she could, Rose glanced down at her arm, ready to tell James that she couldn’t talk until after school, only to see a note from him.

Don’t want to randomly disappear on you again – I don’t think I can talk write until after classes are done for the day. Can we speak write tonight?

She managed to scrawl back a hasty OK before turning her attention to the front of the class. History was not her best subject, and she needed to ace the test on Friday to pass with an acceptable grade.

That didn’t stop her from daydreaming about life with her soulmate, though.

Thanks for reading so far! I’m excited about what I’ve got coming up for our young couple - I’m already written up through chapter 8 :)

Any suggestions for a title would be appreciated. (No, seriously - please help!!)

Also, if anyone would be interested in being a beta, please let me know.

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #ficandchips #Doctor Who #human!tenxrose #human!ten #rose tyler #Written On Your Heart #soulmates au #human au

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bloomsoftly · 7 years ago

Text

the color of lightning, pt. 4

Darcy/Pietro, rated T

read: part 1, part 2, part 3

Agent Darcy Lewis is called in after the Battle of Sokovia to help identify the bodies of the deceased. Except, it turns out, one of them isn’t quite dead.

it’s also on AO3. comments and kudos make the world go ‘round. ;)

this is a mirror fic to @paranoidwino‘s Life is Unfair (which is amazing and you should read it!). so many thanks to my bb, @ragwitch, for reading this over and cheering me on when i was ready to give up forever.

“Oh my Thor,” Darcy groaned, letting her head fall forward to slam against her desk. “Why is it that superheroes are allergic to paperwork?”

A slight displacement of air had her raising her head; she'd heard it often enough in the last several months to recognize the sound of her favorite speedster zooming to and fro. Sure enough, he was standing in front of her desk, looking down at her in concern. At least she thought that's what it was; a bright yellow sticky note had attached itself to the right side of her face, marring her vision.

Before she could reach up to pry it off her skin, a gentle hand did it for her. His calloused fingertips brushed lightly against her temples, and Darcy’s eyes closed of their own accord. Immediately, she forced them open—way to be totally chill about your crush, Darce—but Pietro wasn't looking at her. The uneasy twinge in her stomach was not disappointment, she told herself.

“Find a way to get the Avengers to do their god damned mission reports,” he read aloud, waving the sticky note in the air in front of her face. “That's a lot of exclamation marks, mila. Is everything alright?”

She could practically feel her blood pressure rising again at the reminder. “No, not really. A crucial part of my job is collating the mission reports from every member of the Avengers. And everyone blows me off, even though they're really important. The reports were the only reason we were able to quash those rumors that Wanda was responsible for leveling an entire school in Mexico City, if you'll recall.”

“I remember, Darce. You did such a good job in salvaging that disaster.” His eyes were warm and grateful as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. And wait, when had he gotten so close? Damn Sokovians and their lack of personal bubbles. Though Wanda didn't seem to have that problem. Nope, now was not the time to be following that line of thought.

“Thank you.” She smiled and waited for his hand to drop from her hair. It didn't, and they stood there long enough for anticipation to coil in her belly, unbearably tense and heavy. It was all she could do not to drop her eyes to his lips, and she struggled against the urge to raise herself onto her tiptoes and press her mouth to his. But he didn't seem to be having the same problem; his gaze was steady and sure on hers. And she’d be damned if that didn’t act like a bucket of water, immediately dousing the fire kindling in her belly.

With an icy tightness in her chest, she shifted backward. She needed space, to let herself breathe again. His hand finally dropped, but instead of satisfaction at the distance, she just felt bereft. He eyed her curiously, but didn't move other than to draw his hand back to his side. The moment was on the verge of becoming unbearably awkward, and she couldn’t stand the thought of him having to let her down gently. So, she continued her rant. “It’s just—I’m not sure what Coulson was thinking. I don’t think I’m the best fit for this job, if I can’t even get the team to turn in their paperwork.”

She raked a hand over her face in frustration, trying to will away the headache that was blooming at the back of her eyeballs—no, those weren’t tears, it was just dusty in her office, that was all—when suddenly he was crowding into her space again. With gentle hands, he coaxed her hands away from her face. When she still wouldn’t look at him, he used his index finger to tip her chin up.

His worried frown deepened when he saw the moisture in her eyes. “Darcy, I had no idea things were this bad,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “What can I do? Please tell me what I can do.”

“Nothing,” she sniffled. “I’m just having a bad day, that’s all.”

Pietro scoffed, the sound reverberating through her body from where her head was pressed to the crook between his chest and his shoulder. She tried very hard to ignore his well-defined muscles, which flexed every time he stroked tender fingers through her hair. She completely failed, but at least she tried. “That can’t be true. If it’s upset you so much, it can’t be nothing. Please tell me what I can do.”

(read more link here)

Sniffling and lightly butting her head against his chest one last time—and desperately hoping there wasn’t snot leaking out of her nose or something equally disgusting—she pulled away and swiped at her eyes. “Unless you can suddenly convince the rest of your team to turn in their paperwork on time—and completed—like civilized human beings, I don’t think so,” she muttered.

There was nothing to say to that, but he took her hands between his and squeezed. It was a brief touch, just long enough to feel the pressure, but her hands were burned with the heat of his and tingled even after he’d let her go. She ignored the sensation, shaking her head slightly as if to erase the memory of his skin. It wasn’t enough, and she took a step back to clear her head.

Pietro opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “You have more important things to worry about.” His expression darkened and he shook his head, but she ignored it. “Were you just stopping by to rustle my papers, or did you need something?” Her grin was half-hearted at best, but he let it slide.

“I was going to see if you’d like to take a break for lunch, because I know how hard you’ve been working lately.” Jerking his chin at her massive pile of papers, he added, “But I didn’t realize you’d be this busy.”

With a regretful shake of her head—lunches with Pietro were some of her favorite parts of the week, and not because of the food—Darcy pouted and confirmed, “Oh, Piet. I wish I could, but—”

He waved away her apology. “No, mila, do not worry. I can see how much work you have. Another time, yeah?” At her quick nod, he grinned. “Perfect. Try not to work too hard. And I’ll see what I can do about my lazy teammates.” And then he was gone, her hair fluttering in his wake. For a second she thought she felt a slight pressure against the side of her head, but shook it off. She must’ve been imagining it.

Staring down at the mound of work that awaited for her, she groaned. Time to roll up her metaphorical sleeves and get to work. Despite her complaining to Pietro, she wasn’t actually someone who gave up in the face of hard work. And with that determination in mind—a little more boring when it was paperwork at stake, rather than evacuating a small desert town or preventing a world-ending, cataclysmic event, it was true—she turned on some music and picked up a piece of paper. It was going to be a long day.

A couple of hours later, another gust of wind had her looking up from her significantly-reduced stack of papers. But Pietro wasn’t there this time. Instead, there was a sandwich and chips at one end of her desk. A bright orange sticky note was stuck to the top. Don’t forget to fuel that beautiful brain of yours, it read in his hasty scrawl.

She stared at it for a moment too long, wondering how much shit she’d catch from Clint if she kept the sticky note as a keepsake. Deciding she didn’t care, Darcy smoothed the little piece of paper between her fingers and slid it into the drawer of her desk. No one even had to know it was there. Before she could get immersed in her work again, she shot a quick text to Pietro. Thank you.

It buzzed with a reply within seconds. She stifled a snort at the thought that he was using his super speed for something as mundane as a text message. The giant dork.

Anything for you, mila. And yeah, he was a dork, but he was a dork with charm. Somewhat grumpily, she shook her head and tucked her phone away. Out of sight, where she wouldn’t cave and find more reasons to text him. She was gone enough over him as it was, honestly. It didn’t help that he knew exactly what to say in order to make her melt, either. Actually, she hoped he didn’t know, because that would mean he knew about her crush. And that would be incredibly awkward. Wanting to escape her own thoughts, Darcy shut off her brain and dove into her paperwork with a level of enthusiasm that was entirely unnecessary.

The rest of the day passed in a boring blur of signatures and filing and online forms, which to be honest was perfectly fine with Darcy. The more excitement there was for the Avengers, the more work it generally meant for her. Not to mention that she spent hours and sometimes worried for the safety of her friends. So, no. She’d take the boring days anytime.

Still, she was dragging her feet the next morning when she headed for her office. She had a giant coffee in one hand, already in desperate need of caffeine. Her eyes were still a little fuzzy with sleep, which is why she blinked rapidly a couple of times when she reached her door. Because there was Captain America—Steve—waiting outside with a sheepish look on his face. “Hi, Darcy.”

“Hello,” she replied, drawing out the vowels. “Is there something I can do for you, Captain Rogers?”

“Just Steve, please,” he corrected, reaching up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. The other hand clutched a small set of papers. Her heart skipped a bit. Surely this didn’t mean— “And I’m really sorry I didn’t get these to you on time. I hope you know it doesn’t reflect on my respect for you at all. I’m just not always the best at remembering to do my paperwork.” His cheeks were stained a charming red, and that was the only reason she didn’t call him out on his little fib. That, and she wanted to encourage good behavior.

“That’s alright, Steve. I appreciate you bringing them to me.” She took them from him, then hesitantly added, “If you want, I can send you the electronic versions next time? I just wasn’t sure—” she trailed off, not knowing how to say it gracefully.

“How caught up on modern technology I am?” He chuckled, and it was her turn to blush. “I’m sure I can figure it out, or someone can help me. Thanks, Darcy.” Steve turned to go, then stopped. Half-pivoting back to face her, he said, “You know, you and Pietro make a good team.”

She sputtered, not knowing what to say to that, and he winked at her. Then he was walking away, whistling a cheeky little tune. With the sense that she'd just been trolled by Captain America, Darcy stood frozen in the hallway for a second. Finally, she shrugged and continued into the office, Steve's mission report gripped tightly in her hand. There was no way she was going to lose the damn thing after all this effort.

One Avenger down, she thought as she collapsed into her chair. Well, two, really. Surprisingly, Pietro was the most responsible person on the team when it came to turning in his reports, almost religiously so. And come to think of it, he usually brought Wanda’s with him. Generally speaking, the Sokovian twins did everything they could to make her job as easy as possible, both in the field and at base.

On a hunch, she went digging through her stack of paperwork. And sure enough, there they were: two mission reports from the Maximoffs. Which brought her total to three. And all of a sudden she was a lot better off than she'd been the day before, after a single conversation with a certain speedster. With a slightly-happier slurp of her coffee, Darcy booted up her computer.

Since the team wasn't deployed in the field today, Darcy was stuck with administrative work. Not that she wanted her friends to throw themselves into danger, but mission support was a lot more interesting than cleaning up the bureaucratic messes afterward. She let her mind drift as she waited for all the emails to come pouring in, trying not to think about the implication behind Steve’s words or the way her stomach twisted with anticipation for the next time she got to see Pietro. When she began to think of hypothetical ways to convince him to visit more often, she knew she needed a distraction.

The universe was clearly listening, because the first email in her overflowing inbox had her jaw dropping. She hastily set her coffee aside, attention fully captured by the name of the sender: Tony Stark. Resisting the urge to pinch herself—Tony didn't send emails, just like he refused to accept anything that was handed to him; he made other people do it for him—Darcy clicked on the email. Maybe it was spam, some kind of humorous scammer.

But no. It was an email from Iron Man himself. Abrupt and vague and completely annoying, which meant it was definitely written by Tony.

Here, short stack. I've turned in my report. Can you tell your little boy toy to lay off the pranks and the threats now? I've officially done what he wanted.

She read it twice, and still didn't know what he was talking about. But, sure enough, when she double-clicked on the attachment, there was his report. All filled out and everything (correctly, even!). She'd never known such a thing was possible, not when it came to the man in question. As she stared at his signature, she wondered whether this made her particularly good at her job or completely terrible.

Without even bothering to respond to Tony, she pulled out her phone to text Pietro. What on earth did you do to Tony? He just turned in his report!

There was no immediate text in reply this time; instead, Pietro came to visit in person. The only warning she received was the rustling of her papers, and then Pietro was leaning over her shoulder, examining the email from Tony. “I knew that would work!” he crowed, as if he couldn't hear the pounding of her heart or see the flush in her cheeks. The smell of his cologne filled her nostrils, and all she wanted to do was drag him to bed and curl up around him for days, until his scent permeated everything she owned. Well, among the other things she wanted to do to him—with him—in bed.

Clearing her throat, she asked hoarsely, “What did you do to convince him? What pranks and threats is he talking about? Should I prepare myself for revenge?” She could feel him shift his head to look at her, but didn't dare turn her head.

“Trade secrets, mila.” Was it just her, or was his voice a little husky, too? “All you need to know is that Tony will be turning in his reports on time from now on.” With one hand draped across the back of her chair and the other braced against the desk, his body bracketed hers, creating a cocoon with his body heat. He was warm and tempting, and chills broke out along her neck as his breath ghosted against it with every word he spoke. She was in deep trouble. Such deep trouble.

“You are making my life so much easier, Piet.” Unable to resist the temptation, she leaned into the crook of his elbow a little as she spoke, tilting her head back to make eye contact.

His eyes were warm and earnest. “It's nothing, Darcy. I'd do anything to keep you happy here.”

“Anything?” she teased, already thinking of a number of mundane things she knew he wouldn't want to give up. His crappy Sokovian coffee, for one. His speed, of course. The fancy new Avengers uniforms they’d recently acquired…

But his gaze never changed, never shifted from hers. “Anything.”

There was something in his eyes, deep and still and steady. It was strange to see that in someone who was constantly moving. She was frozen, caught in his gaze, and she got the sense that he was waiting for her. To do what, she wasn’t sure. And whatever it was, he wasn’t saying; she wanted to be annoyed, but instead she was caught in his orbit, hanging there helplessly.

After a silent minute or two, the air shifted. It grew heavy with tension—the kind that sent a rush of desire coursing through her body, shifting in her lungs until her breathing was soft and shallow. They were on the verge of something, some kind of change that had her skin prickling with anticipation.

She stared up at him and licked her her suddenly dry lips, swaying back into the heat of his body. His eyes never dropped from hers, but his hand fell from the back of the chair to curve around her shoulder. The heat of his hand soaked through the light silk of her blouse, and fire crept along in the wake of his thumb as it stroked a semi-circle along the bone of her shoulder. She memorized the curve of its arc—she’d been branded, for all that no one would ever see the mark.

A look of mild irritation swept across his face, only to be immediately replaced by an expression of nervous determination. Pietro opened his mouth to say something, and the atmosphere shimmered with the weight of it, ready to break with his words—only to shatter as the clanging of an alarm sounded throughout the facility. The Avengers were being called to assemble.

Sheer frustration overtook Pietro’s face, tugging the corners of his lips down into a dark frown. “Jebati!” he spit furiously, looking away. But by the time he’d turned back to her, the frustration was gone from his face. She could still feel it, though, simmering beneath the surface. “I’m sorry, Darcy. I have to go.” His words were gentle, and so were the fingers he brushed across her cheek.

Before he could zip away, she reached up and caught his fingers with hers. “Be safe,” she ordered, letting the two words hang with the weight of all the other things she wouldn’t let herself say.

His fingers squeezed hers, just once, before he pulled away. “I always am. I’ll come back to you in one piece, don’t worry.”

Long after he’d gone, she stood braced against her desk, struggling to breathe. I’ll come back to you, he’d said. And it hadn’t been a come on, either; his face was was perfectly sincere, his gaze open. Despite what she’d thought in the hospital, Darcy had never—not once in the six months they’d been in the Avengers facility—seen him flirt with anyone. No one except her.

She sagged into her chair, feeling like an idiot. In her obsessive dedication to protecting herself from getting hurt, she’d overlooked the obvious. All those times Pietro came over for lunch, or made her job easier, or stroked her hair or touched her hand, he hadn’t been doing it out of gratitude, or from a sense of obligation because she’d saved his life. She’d been so blind. He cared about her as much as she did him, she’d stake her life on it.

I’ll come back to you, he’d said. And that look in his eyes, the way his fingers had lingered against her cheek, his palm on her shoulder. The way he’d blackmailed his teammates just to make her job easier. It all made sense. Clint was going to make so much fun of her for this, she knew. Whether it would be because she’d actually fallen for him or because it had taken her six months to figure out that Pietro felt the same, she didn’t know. She wasn’t looking forward to his gloating, though.

She was still standing there, cataloging every interaction she’d ever had with Pietro and trying to figure out everything she’d missed, when Maria knocked on her office door. “Darcy, I need you up in ops—are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” A little dazed maybe, but she was okay. Shaking her head to clear her fuzzy brain, she mustered a smiled and added, “Sorry. On my way now.”

With one last skeptical look, Maria said, “Alright. As long as you’re sure. The team is en route now, so you’ve got a minute or two. But no longer than that.”

“I’m fine, honest.”

And she was. Luckily, the team was, too. The mission—an extraction of hostages being held in a small country whose government didn’t have the infrastructure to manage it themselves, at least not safely—went off without a hitch. In no time at all, it seemed, they were on their way back to base.

Suddenly, Darcy had to figure out what to do with her revelation. Did she bury it, or wait for a better time, whenever that might be? Why had Pietro waited so long to say something? Had he changed his mind?

The questions—some logical, some less so—whirled through her brain so quickly she was giving herself whiplash. She lost track of time, running a finger around the brim of her coffee cup over and over. Until, suddenly, a small, gentle hand covered hers. She looked up with a gasp.

It was Wanda. Which meant that the team was back. The prospect of seeing Pietro sent a strange mixture of excitement and unadulterated terror coursing through her. His sister stared at her quizzically, like she was trying to put the last pieces of a puzzle together. “Ah, so you’re finally ready,” she finally said, as mysterious as always. Her stare changed, morphing into pure curiosity. “What changed, I wonder?”

“What?” Darcy asked stupidly. She felt like they were putting on a play, except only Wanda knew the lines.

And then the elevator dinged, and she knew she wasn’t ready to face Pietro, not in a group of people who would hear their every word. A group of people who’d clearly known about his feelings longer than she had. All of a sudden, Steve’s teasing, Tony’s jokes, and Clint’s eye rolls all made so much more sense.

“I can’t—not here,” Darcy sputtered, backing away.

Wanda’s smile shifted again. Now it was gentle and understanding. She sometimes had a hard time with larger groups of people, too. “Go,” she said to Darcy. “I will tell him.”

What Wanda was going to tell him wasn’t clear, but Darcy was out of time to ask questions. With a jerky nod, she fled.

There was a knock on her door less than an hour later. It was Pietro; not that she'd expected anyone else. He'd taken the time to change before he'd come over, clearly, because he wasn't wearing his uniform anymore. But his hair was still wet and dripping onto his henley, and her heart skipped a beat at the thought of him rushing straight to her apartment once he'd gotten clean.

He looked down at her with a piercing gaze. She felt like he'd split her open and was staring straight into her soul, until he finally quirked his lips and asked, “Can I come in?”

She smacked the heel of her hand against her forehead and moved out of the way, mumbling, “Oh my god, of course you can.”

They stood in her living room awkwardly for a second before she blurted, “Can I get you anything? Water? Wine? I think I might have some of Nat’s vodka stashed away if you—”

“Darcy,” he said, cutting her off gently and taking her hands in his. “I'm fine. Can we sit down, maybe?”

Nerves had robbed her of words, so she simply nodded. Together they walked to the couch and sat facing each other; his hands never let go of hers, and their fingers rested, entwined, on the cushion between them.

Clearing his throat, Pietro began, “Wanda said that—well, that you might—be ready. To talk about…everything.” His voice trailed off at the end, and there was a faint blush staining the tips of his ears. It was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen.

And then his words caught up to her, and she finally understood what Wanda had meant. “Yes,” she answered, wanting to say more but her throat clogged around the words.

With that single word, Pietro settled. The blush faded, and his self-confidence came back. He sat taller, and his eyes were clear and steady on hers. “I’m in love with you,” he said clearly, simply, like they were the only words in the world that could possibly matter. And maybe it was true, because those five words sent her heart into overdrive. It was pounding so loudly that she could hardly hear herself breathe.

But if he could find the bravery to make his confession, then so could she. “I love you, too. I have for months.” And once the words started, they wouldn't stop. “I'm so sorry…all this time—”

Pietro was suddenly in her space, cupping her face lightly in his callused palms. He held her reverently, and it made the guilt writhing in her gut even stronger. “No,” he whispered, leaning in until he was close enough that his breath ghosted across her lips. “No, no, no. Don't apologize, mila. You weren't ready.”

She nodded, savoring the feel of his fingers on her skin and the way his heat radiated across the inch of space that separated their bodies. It wasn't enough. She wanted him closer. “I wasn't ready,” she agreed, reaching up to cup a hand at the nape of his neck. “But I am now.”

She exerted just enough pressure to keep him close as she closed the distance between them. Her mouth brushed against his lightly, worshipfully. He exhaled against her, shaky and frozen like he was afraid to make the wrong move.

Her hand shifted, reaching up to sift through his hair and tug. Not much, but enough to make him gasp. And then his lips were moving along hers desperately, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers. They lost themselves in it, exploring each other with eager hands and mouths, until Darcy felt like she was going to explode.

And then she was in his lap, rocking against him and making them both moan. It was too much, too overwhelming, and she leaned back. Just a little, but enough to slow them down. Pietro got the message immediately. He turned his head to press gentle, close-mouthed kisses along her jaw, waiting for their breathing to even out. “Wow,” he finally said, undisguised wonder dripping from the word as he muttered it against her skin.

“Yeah,” she agreed breathily. “Wow is right.”

“A little too fast?”

“A little,” she confirmed, shifting to press a kiss against his temple. He hummed at the contact, blissful and content.

“That's alright,” he said, sure and easy. His hands traced little designs up and down her back. Motions meant to comfort, not arouse. “We've got plenty of time.”

It was her turn to hum. “Yeah,” she agreed happily. “Yeah, we do.”

@magellan-88, since you asked to be tagged, here’s the last part :)

#quicktaser #darcy x pietro #darcyland #the color of lightning #fic update

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