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boxesandrings · 3 years ago

Note

I it’s me again I love your stuff. A idea I had inspired a fanart Shane reacting to F!farmer telling him she’s pregnant

( I’m just curious where that would go )

(Hi I promise this is much happier than what the description sounds like!! I think considering Shane’s mental health history life changing news like this isn’t something he’d brush past with no second thought, having a kid is kinda scary to everyone! Promise it’s mostly fluff but wanted to tag anything that could be triggering for others xoxo)

Title: A Father!

Rating: T (mostly for language, but Shane's earlier heart events are mentioned briefly)

Summary: The Farmer shares some exciting news with Shane! He's immediately over the moon, but quickly becomes overwhelmed.

CW: Mentions of pregnancy, Shane's early heart-events, a panic attack(?)

Characters: Shane, F!Farmer, Marnie, Evelyn, Pierre (pretty much all are mentioned)

Words: 3816

Shane took off his boots before entering the cabin, grimacing as he bent to do so. Marnie had needed help repairing some things at the ranch today, and he had spent most of it in a crouch. His thighs were punishing him for it now, sore with every step. Maybe he’d take a bath tonight, let his muscles soak in the warm water and try to relax a bit. Maybe his wife would take one with him.

He waddled into the house, his legs tight and called out. “I’m home! You in?”

The Farmer was often out late, working in the fields or with the animals, or sometimes off mining or fishing at the lake by Robin’s. It had been lonely at first, an empty house was something he’d never experienced, but he had found ways to preoccupy himself. After a month, he and his then girlfriend had a chat, the Farmer promising to be home by 7 every night, or calling and letting him know if something had unexpectedly come up otherwise holding her late.

“In the kitchen!” Shane smiled, making his way toward the room. It was barely 5, a sign for a good night. The sound of music grew louder and the smell of bacon wafted toward him. In the kitchen, he found his wife flipping pancakes but minding another pan on the back burner. She turned when she heard him get closer, waving her spatula before focusing back on the food. Shane walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her, kissed her cheek and rested his head on her shoulder.

“I thought it was my night to cook?” The pair switched who cooked every night, and Shane was certain it was his night. Or had he missed yesterday?

“Hello to you too.” The Farmer twisted her head around the best she could and puckered her lips, which Shane quickly kissed. “It was, but I just wanted to cook tonight. Go sit! I just finished up.” Shane squeezed his wife once more, but made his way over to the table. He groaned as he lowered himself into the chair.

The Farmer tilted her head as she carried a stack of pancakes for the table, watching as Shane rubbed his legs.

“Long day?” Shane nodded.

“Marnie called this morning and said that some pipes in the barn needed repairing, but neglected to mention that it was literally almost every single pipe in the barns, all the ones that carry water to the dispensers.” The Farmer set down the plate of bacon on the table, then slid into Shane’s lap, her arms around his neck.

“Oh, that’s rough.” Shane nodded, tilting his head forward into hers.

“They’re all so low to the ground, I essentially was in a squat all day. My thighs are killing me.” The Farmer nodded, her head moving his. She kissed his temple and stood up.

“I think I have some of that muscle cream lotion stuff that helps with the soreness. I’ll find it after dinner.” She made her way to her own chair, sitting down. “Not all bad though, squats are pretty good for the booty.” She smiled as she picked up a piece of bacon and winked.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Shane shook his head, but smiled as he used his fork to slide a pancake onto his own plate. Yoba, was he hungry. “How was your day?”

The Farmer bit her lip, smiling. “Oh, you know. Same old.” Shane looked up, cautiously eyeing his wife. She was biting her lip, trying to hide an obvious smile and kept looking up at Shane as she made her plate. Shane squinted.

“I feel like you really want me to ask what else happened.” His wife nodded, slightly shimmying in her chair.

“I heard some real good gossip.” Shane couldn’t help but laugh after she said it. His wife looked so pleased with herself, like she could barely handle keeping her excitement inside. She grinned incredibly wide, biting her tongue. Shane picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite.

“Oh, what is it?” He raised his eyebrows a few times, making his wife laugh. After she had calmed herself for a second, she leaned forward, as if the knowledge itself were moving her.

“Someone we know is pregnant.” Shane dropped his fork and coughed. Now that was some good gossip. In a town as small as Pelican Town, secrets among residents were incredibly hard to keep, and something as big as that would have spread easily within a day to the entire population. How had he not heard yet?

“Who?” The Farmer leaned back in her chair, biting her thumbnail.

“Guess.” Shane ran his teeth over his tongue as he mentally went through each of the town’s residents.

“Jodie and Kent? I feel like they could have another, the gap would be the same from Sam to Vincent to this one.” The Farmer watched Shane, her face giving away nothing. Finally, she shook her head, the same shit-eating grin on her face. Shane thought hard.

“It can’t be Demetrius and Robin, he practically yelled from the mountain top when he had his vasectomy. I don’t think Pierre and Caroline even like each other anymore…” He watched his wife’s face.

“Keep guessing.” Shane threw his hands up, but continued to smile.

“You’re gonna make me keep guessing?”

“Come on! You’re getting closer.” Shane sighed.

“Let's see… Maru and Penny are together, so I don’t think they could… Sam is, and no offence to the guy, but the biggest virgin I’ve ever met…Harvey… no.” He looked down at the table, scratching his chin. “Sebastian and Abby could be… Alex and Haley, but I’m not sure if they’re broken up right now.”

He looked up toward his wife, but her face gave away no hints. “I mean, Elliot sleeps with practically every tourist, so statistically speaking…” Shane shook his head, his eyes wide, and his wife snorted. “I don’t know? Emily isn’t with anyone, Leah isn’t, but I might not know.”

Eyes wide, he looked back up at his wife. “It couldn’t physically… Marnie couldn’t…” The Farmer’s face finally broke, a similar look of horror on her own face.

“Oh Yoba no, don’t even—” She made a face, shaking her head. “She’s too old, and not to be mean but I think if your aunt was having a baby with Mayor Lewis?” She shook her head again, faster. “You’d find me in here retching.”

Shane leaned back in his chair and dragged his hand over the bottom half of his face, thinking. The devilish smile slowly creeped it’s way back onto his wife’s face as she watched him. Finally, he sighed.

“Who is it?” The Farmer suddenly stood up and ran to one of the cabinets, pulling out a sandwich bag. She sat back in her seat, and slid the bag across the table to Shane. He picked up the bag and realized there were three white, long sticks in the bag, each one with two pink lines on one end. He dropped the bag.

“Oh, gross, where were these?” He looked up at his wife, expecting the same grin, but was confused to see that it had fallen, a look almost like annoyance on her face.

“Good god, Shane, did you— do you think I’m going around picking up random pregnancy tests?” He paused, his mouth dropping.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. She didn’t find them, she took them. That’s why he hadn’t heard the gossip already, she was the only one that knew.

He jumped to his feet, forgetting the soreness in his legs. His hands covered his mouth, open in shock as he looked at his wife. She nodded at him, the smile returned to her face, hints of tears glistening in her eyes. He turned from the pregnancy tests on the table, pointing at them, to covering his mouth again and looking back at his wife.

She continued to nod, crying definitively now but still smiling. The pair had been married for almost two years, and while they hadn’t made a point of deciding to actively try for a baby, they certainly had been playing it fast and loose. Four months into the marriage they decided that what would happen would happen and stopped using any birth control, the Farmer throwing out any pills she had left. Lately, the couple had stopped even pretending they worried about the possibility of getting pregnant, and Shane had felt that a ‘we should start actively trying’ conversation was weeks away, rather than months or years.

Finally, Shane spoke. “Are… you’re…” The Farmer nodded, sniffling and smiling.

“Yeah, yeah!” Her voice was breathy, joyfully crying through the words.” Shane covered his mouth again and felt his own tears beginning to pop up in the corner of his eyes.

“I— I need you to say it.” The Farmer laughed.

“I’m pregnant.” Shane ran at his wife, scooping her up in his arms, pressing his lips firmly onto hers. She laughed as she kissed him back, her arms wrapped tightly around them as they stood in the kitchen, her tears against his face, or maybe they were his own?

They stood, holding each other, smiling and laughing and kissing, until Shane quite literally swept his wife off her feet, fireman carrying her into the bedroom while she laughed in his arms. He set her down on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, practically attaching himself to her as he kissed her face as she pretended to struggle beneath him, giggling the whole time.

He laid on his stomach next to her, his face turned towards her on the pillow. She watched him back, still laying flat on the bed.

“You’re pregnant.” The Farmer smiled and nodded.

“I’m pregnant.” Shane smiled, scanning his wife’s face.

“We’re having a baby.” She scooched her face closer, kissing the tip of his nose.

“We’re having a baby.” The two gazed at each other, minds racing with nothing and everything at once. Shane lifted himself up and moved closer to his wife, his face only inches away from hers, sliding one arm under her head and placing the other hand on her stomach. Shane bit his lip.

“When do we want to tell my family?” The Farmer sighed and looked up toward the ceiling.

“I don’t know. I want to tell them, but so much can happen in the first few months…” She trailed off, running her tongue over her top teeth. “Maybe in a month or two? Once the pregnancy is past that first little hurdle.” Shane kissed her cheek.

“I get it. Marnie tells Lewis, Lewis tells everyone.” He sighed now. “I mean, you’re only 30, I don’t think you’re high risk or anything.” His wife shook her head and smiled at him.

“No, it’ll be perfect.” She slid a hand over the one he had on top of her stomach. “I know it. Just in the small chance, I don’t want everyone knowing.” She looked back toward the ceiling. “Also, I don’t want all the attention right away. It’s such a small, small town. Something like this will rock the pelican town people to their cores.” She laughed, Shane joining in beside her. “But I promise, when we do tell people, Marnie will be the first to know.” Shane nodded.

“We’ll let her tell everyone else. Makes it easy.” The Farmer snorted.

“Yeah.” She drew circles on his hand with her thumb. “I mean, I guess we have to tell Harvey, for obvious reasons, but I don’t think he can legally tell others.” Shane laughed again, and pulled his hand out from under his wife’s, moving it up from her stomach to her chin. He pulled her face toward his, kissing her softly.

“We’re having a baby,” he whispered, his nose touching hers. The Farmer smiled, and kissed him again.

“We’re having a baby.”

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

Shane couldn’t sleep, far too excited by the day’s news. No matter how long he kept his eyes closed, or tried to count deep breaths, Shane was restless. His wife had fallen asleep over an hour ago and was curled into a little ball by his side, her head on top of one of his arms.

They were having a baby. Yes, it had been something he and his wife had talked about for a while, one day wanting children, but now it was actually happening. He turned his head to look at the Farmer, drooling on his arm, and smiled. They weren’t kids anymore, Shane well into his thirties, and his wife just into them, but it still felt so strange and new and exciting for them to be parents now.

Shane bolted upright, his stomach immediately twisting. The Farmer groaned on the bed next to him, violently awoken by the sudden removal of his arm. She rubbed her eyes with one hand and propped herself up, squinting in the dark.

“Did I sleep through the alarm again?” She yawned. Shane hopped out of the bed, bee-lining to the bathroom. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna be sick.” Shane slammed the door behind him, ignoring his wife’s further questions. He barely had made it to the toilet when he felt it deep within him, the nausea making its way out into the bowl. He didn’t hear his wife come into the room, only felt her hand on his back as he continued to retch. Finally, he laid his head against the bowl, breathing heavily.

“Shane?” He could hear his wife behind him start to speak but pause, unsure of what to say or ask, her mouth just kind of opening and shutting. She laid her head against his back and sighed. “Do you want some water?”

“I’m going to be a dad.” The Farmer chuckled behind him.

“Yeah. I think we covered that a bit earlier.” She lifted her head and resumed rubbing his back. “I’m excited too.” Shane sighed.

“I’m gonna fuck this kid up.” His voice cracked, and he watched as a tear fell from his face. The Farmer paused.

“What?” Shane pulled his arms up onto the bowl, wrapping them around his head.

“I’m a massive fuck-up, and I’m going to fuck up this baby too.” His shoulders shook, an attempt to hold back his tears. “I could barely take care of myself, how am I—” Shane’s voice broke. The Farmer let out a tense breath behind him, and began to rub his back again.

“Shane, no! Don’t say that.” He lifted his head up, and turned to look at his wife.

“I am. I mean, I was worthless. All I did was drink, I hated myself, and for fucks sake, I tried—” Shane paused as he noticed his wife’s lower lip start to tremble and sighed. “I could barely hold myself together until you got here, what, five years ago?” He bit his lip, the tears coming out faster now. “I’m doing good now, but what happens if it all falls apart again?” His voice cracked again, and Shane didn’t bother to hold back a sob.

The Farmer tried her best to pull Shane into her, them both sitting on the floor, but Shane just sat there numb. He wanted to have this life with his wife, a family together, but how could he be a dad? Why did she even want him?

“Shane, please.” He looked over to the Farmer, who was crying, her arms around him. He’d made her cry, husband of the year material! “I think you’re just… you did this when the dog died, too. It’s a lot of information coming in at once, big information. But it’s okay!” Her hands slid down his shoulder, taking his hands in her own. “We’re doing this together.”

Shane let out an indignant snort. “I can’t even handle the announcement, what happens when the baby comes?” His head was spinning. She deserved better. He loved her.

“Shane! You’re okay, it’s okay. We’re in it together, we have each other.” She squeezed his hands, scooting closer to him. “You’re going to be great, okay? You’re not a fuck-up. We all have rough patches, you just didn’t have the support system you needed. Please.” She kissed his temple, but Shane stared straight ahead, toward the wall. He wished he could shrink into a tiny ball.

“I can’t… I can’t mess this up too.” The Farmer pulled his head down to her shoulder, her hands carefully working their way through his hair.

“You’re not going to mess this up, babe. I think you’re just panicking.” She held him close, continuing to quietly stroke his head. “I’m nervous too, but I know I have you.” He loved her, but when she shifted away beneath him, the panic filled his chest again. “I’m going to go grab your anxiety meds. I don’t think you took them at dinner, they might help.” She fully slid out away from him, Shane’s heart beginning to race. The Farmer stood up and stretched out her back. “Now that I think of it, I don’t think either of us even ate.”

Shane felt sick to his stomach, and barely made his way back to the toilet bowl before throwing up again. The Farmer crouched next to him, her hand on his back. Shane could practically feel the concerned look burning into the back of his head.

“Even if I don’t mess up, I’m just passing a damn cocktail of mental illness along.” He sat back on the floor, and used his hand to try and rub away the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. The Farmer above him sighed and sat back down, and wrapped an arm back around his shoulder.

“Babe, don’t—” Shane choked and leaned forward, wrapping his arms over his head.

“It doesn’t even stand a chance, I’ve just fucked it up from the beginning!” He could feel himself hyperventilating, what did his therapist tell him to do? “It’s gonna hate me, I’ve already ruined everything—”

“Shane!” The Farmer’s face in front of his snapped him out of the almost trance he was in, the distraction what his body needed to get in at least one deep breath. She had tears on her cheeks, but her voice gave away no sadness. “Stop it! Calm down!”

Shane leaned forward into her, practically up on his knees now to wrap his arms around her, holding her tight as he cried. She rocked her body, quietly shooshing as she held him, pressing kisses into the top of his head as she did.

“You’re not going to fuck this up,” she said after Shane’s breathing became more regular. “I mean, we’re going to make mistakes. Both of us! A lot. But we’re going to be new parents, it happens.” He nodded, squeezing his eyes tight. “You’re not going to spiral— I mean, now, yes— but it’s not going to get bad like it was ever again, okay? You have me, your therapist, Marnie, we’re all here for you.”

“I love you.” His words were muffled, his face still pressed into her chest. He felt a rumble, a small chuckle above him.

“I love you too. Also, you’re not the only one afraid of passing on bad shit. I mean, my mom is medicated for depression, and I have ADHD.” Shane raised his head, his face even with hers.

“Yeah, I guess.” The Farmer smiled, and reached on her hands up to cup Shane’s face, wiping away a tear with her thumb.

“Yeah, dummy.” Shane smiled and kissed his wife, before pulling back and biting his lip.

“I’m— I’m so excited, I really am.” His eyes met hers briefly, before he looked away again. “I want this with you, truly, I—” The Farmer leaned forward and kissed her husband again.

“I know, Shane. I get it.” They held each other on the floor, their foreheads pressed together. Shane tried to calm himself, breathing in time with his wife. “We’re in it together, alright? We’ve got it.” Shane nodded.

“I know, I’m sorry.” The Farmer smiled.

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be a big change.” She chuckled to herself. “We’ve got nine months, I’m sure this won’t be the last freak out. That either of us have.” The Farmer stood up, and offered a hand to Shane, smiling. “Good luck to you when I have to start buying maternity clothes.” Shane grinned and took her hand.

“What? You’re cooking up a baby in there, you’re gonna grow.” He kissed his wife on the cheek and wrapped his arm around her.

“Oh, I know that now,” the Farmer said, leading the two of them back into their bedroom. “But I’m sure hormone-y me will have to reckon with that later.”

Shane snorted as the Farmer sat down on the bed, and pulled Shane down into her. He kissed her forehead and climbed over, pulling the covers up on his side of the bed. She snuggled back into him, her head resting on his shoulder, but Shane could feel her squirming.

“You feeling better?” Her voice was quiet. Shane nodded, and wrapped his arm around her head.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Her arm snaked its way over his chest, reaching up to hold the side of his head. “You’re gonna be great.”

Shane smiled, and moved his head to kiss the palm against his cheek. “You too.”

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

It took Marnie two weeks to figure it out. Something about the way the Farmer was moving, she had told Shane, was different, and trapped him in her kitchen until he confessed. Marnie was over the moon, and promised not to tell anyone, but Shane ran home and told the Farmer straight away. His wife had bit her lip but shook her head, smiling. “If anyone was going to piece it together, it’d be her.”

In Marnie’s defense, it was almost a week before Evelyn congratulated the pair at the general store. Shane watched as Pierre blushed and ducked behind a shelf, but the Farmer thanked her and moved past, reaching for a bag of flour on the top shelf.

“You know, that was a pretty good run, all things considered.” Shane nodded, agreeing with his wife.

“I mean, that has to be a record! What, five? Six days?” The Farmer laughed, and hoisted the last grocery bag up into the truck. She caught Shane’s gaze, and tilted her head.

“What?” Shane realized he had been staring at her, a dopey look on his face. He smiled, face turning pink.

“Oh, nothing!” He hopped up into the truck, his wife following suit beside him. He looked at her again. “I’m gonna be a dad.” She smiled now, rolling her eyes.

“You’re gonna be a dad!” Shane laughed, and started the truck. The two chatted excitedly the whole way back, discussing the future addition to both their home and family.

#sdv shane #sdv fanfic #stardew farmer #stardew shane #shane stardew valley #sdv requests #requests #fanfic request #requests open #shane x farmer #sdv fic #sdv marriage

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dashielldeveron · 4 years ago

Text

and i’ve gotta crow | takami keigo

hawks x pro-hero! reader. quirk unspecified.

summary: “You’re suffering from amnesia,” says Hawks to you, in your hospital bed.

No, you are not.

“We’re engaged to be married.”

No, you are not.

After an accident that was that bastard Hawks’s fault, you decide to play along with your diagnosis of amnesia, among other things, because how far can you make your former bully bend over backwards for you?

fluff/trickery??? completely avoidable angst, bc reader is a little shit. hawks is a scumbag bully at first. reader is honestly kind of violent. dealing with acne in a scene.

When the first things you saw after groggily blinking your eyes open were multiple IVs in the back of your hand, you flipped over and snuggled farther into your hospital bed to deal with it later, but against your will you were forced to lie flat on your back to stare into the hospital fluorescents.

When the nurse fiddling with your IVs came into focus, he said, “You need to lie on your back. You have deep gashes on your lower abdomen, and tossing about too much could open the stitches.”

That sounded like bullshit, but you were too out of it to care. “Yeah, okay,” you said through a croak, “Oh, fuck.” You wrestled a hand to your throat, massaging it. “Am I waking up from a coma? Don’t let anyone see me until I’ve done my eyebrows.”

The nurse laughed through his nose. “No, don’t worry. You’ve barely been—” He cut himself off and frowned. “The news should probably be broken to you when you have emotional support. I’ll be back soon.”

He left.

Emotional support? Wouldn’t that fucking gash on your stomach be—ooh, ouch, don’t move.

Where’s your phone? Where’s your goddamn phone; where’s any of your personal belongings? If they got crushed, you’re killing Hawks on sight.

Hawks, oh, my God. Where is he? He’s dead. If he still has the audacity to bully you professionally—fuck.

He’d cornered you on patrol earlier—whenever that was—and cut into you in that casually, negging-type way that wasn’t enough to report but enough to make you stay up late and freak out about being good enough. It hurt your chest whenever you thought about it.

But this was the first time he’d gotten seriously physical.

He’d alit on the top of the warehouse next to you, landing what would have been haphazardly for anyone else (the arch of his feet against the edge, his toes barely touching roof) and had crouched next to you, his scarlet wings completely blowing your cover as they stretched and shuddered.

“What’s a little girl like you doing in this part of town?” Hawks had propped his chin on both his fists. “Thought shoplifters were more your calibre.”

“Hawks, this is actually really important to me, so please, please leave,” you’d said, keeping your eyes on the group you could barely make out through the skylight. They’d already been partially concealed by crates, so they were hard to see.

“Someone else give you a tip for their location?” He’d tapped your opposite shoulder with the end of his wing, but you hadn’t even flinched.

“Bruh, you know I’ve been on this for weeks,” you’d said, shifting away from him, “I even shared intel at your last briefing.”

“Is that what you were talking about?” Hawks had scratched his chin. “I zoned out. Usually the little cases female heroes present aren’t in my circle, and I like to unwind when brain power isn’t needed.”

You’d planned to rip his wings out feather by feather while you’d gritted your teeth. “You can’t talk to me like that, Hawks.”

He’d laughed, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “C’mon, babygirl, have a slice of chill, won’t you? I thought you were one of the cool girls. Relax. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“Leave me alone, Hawks. You’re not gonna bully me into joining your agency. You’re not gonna bully me into quitting being a hero,” you’d said, inwardly screaming, “I’d tell you to go talk to someone who’d fall for your shit, but then, she’d have to suffer, too. So, fuck off into a sewer, jackass.”

“Oof,” Hawks had said, placing a hand over his heart and shaking his head, “You don’t have to be such a bitch, sweetheart. I’m only looking for my better half. Didn’t think it could be you, but I’d thought I’d give you a chance to prove me wrong. Don’t take yourself too seriously; just be along for the ride like the rest of us.”

“Huh,” you had said, and you’d stood and strode to the edge of the warehouse to your harness and rope, and you rappelled down the side of it as stealthily as you came up.

“I’ve been watching you all these years, sweetness, and I know you by now; I know how you really feel,” Hawks had said a bit too loudly while he flew downwards at your speed (braggart). “Strip away all of your busy work, your so-called hero trappings, and we’d mesh together just fine. We may be rough around the edges, but we clean up really nicely, don’t we?”

You’d unclipped your carabiner and stepped out of your harness, stashing it in your pack. “Fuck off.”

You’d moved towards the back entrance, but Hawks had slammed a hand against the concrete wall in front of you. You’d ducked under it and carried on, and he’d grabbed the back of your shirt.

“C’mon, if we didn’t know each other, and our eyes met from across the room at some hero gala, you’d be all over me, wouldn’t you?”

You had swiped his hand away. “I’d be putting a lid on my drink.”

His arms behind his back, Hawks had followed you through the door and behind the exposed pipes and closer to your targets. “Saw you coming onto Todoroki at the last one. You looked fine in his colours, but you would’ve looked better in mine.”

Don’t grace him with an answer; don’t grace him with an ans— “I wasn’t coming onto Shoto,” you’d said, pulling yourself up a couple of pipes for a better view—and you’d hit him when he flapped his wings to hover the few feet you’d ascended, because the noise might alert them.

“Yeah, you just simp for him, right? Then you didn’t step outside your comfortable ice queen act?” Hawks had gripped onto a pipe just underneath your ass. “You’re too much of a natural tease for that.”

How can you report him when he’s the head of his own agency? You guess the commission might listen, but what can they do besides slap his wrist? There’s really no one who can stop him, is there?

You hadn’t replied but instead crawled onto the iron catwalk. If you could position yourself about three-quarters of the way across, you’d be able to effectively activate your quirk and get this over with—wait, why would you think like that? You’d been waiting for this for ages.

A hand spreading across the small of your back had reminded you.

You’d flipped over with fire in your eyes and kicked him away as quietly as you could, but all he’d done was sit back on his knees to grin down at you, army-crawling your way through a dirty warehouse.

Would he take credit for your work again?

You’d shaken yourself. Eat my entire ass, Hawks. And with that, you’d continued inching towards your targets. When you’d gotten into position to watch them, Hawks had merely watched you.

You had scowled. “I’m gonna tear you a—”

“You had a hard childhood, didn’t you?”

A chill had unfurled up your spine, simple as that. Hawks now not only had the annoying air of an arrogant pick-up artist but also gave you an intense sense of danger. You’d moved away from him, regrettably away from your target, but Hawks had followed you, getting closer until his body heat had seeped into yours, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his dumb face.

“I could take suuuuch good care of you, little girl,” he’d said under his breath, “if only you’d let me. No one else is crazy enough to call me out or want more than the bare minimum.” His wings had folded in on his back, making themselves as small as possible to get closer to you. “If you give in, tell me yes, say please, you wouldn’t have to let any worries cross your pretty little mind. All you have to do is let me in.”

“Yikes,” you had said, sucking in through your teeth, “God, you’re a creep.”

Hawks had slammed you down onto the catwalk, iron reverberating through the warehouse as it struck your head, and your targets had looked up by the time the catwalk hinges had loosened and had come crashing down in the midst of their meeting.

You’re really not supposed to shoot guns inside. Don’t they know that’ll ruin their ears? No matter, really. You had fought them anyway, amidst crates splintering open from whatever they were shooting at you—fuck, that was a big hole. What’s oozing out of that? Gross, don’t step in it.

One with a normal revolver—his arm had given a woody crack when you’d bent it backwards—God, that was nice. Good sounds. If you could sample them into a rap track, you would.

You’d been planning a collab with a popular rapper while you’d hurled yourself at another villain, sawdust flying—just to keep your mind busy, really, but fucking—fucking Hawks had bested whoever he’d half-assed to the ground and had shouted your way.

“C’mere, you little shit—”

He’d scooped you up while you’d been taking care of it by yourself, and he had pinned you down behind a stack of crates that reached the remains of the catwalk, straddling you but keeping most of his weight off, his wings outstretched yet still hidden from the cloud of sawdust rising with deep gurgling on the far side.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he’d said over the chaos, spit flying, “You can’t handle this; you’re gonna get fucking killed. I can’t babysit you all the time.”

“Get fucked; I’m the number fourteen hero,” you’d said, deadly still, but twitching in fury, “I can handle anyth—”

“Aww, fourteen. And one day babygirl might reach the single digits.” Hawks had sneered in your face. “If she manages to fuck her way through them.”

Your jaw had dropped, and you pretended to cough on sawdust and kicked him off in the confusion. Hawks had grabbed a hold of your calf, grappling for your thigh, while you’d scrambled to climb over crates to the gurgling mess on the other side; you could handle it, and you would.

You’d slapped his hands away, wrestled out of his grasp again and again, and you’d launched yourself into the dust—

Yeah.

While the fluorescent lights flickered overhead, you picked at a hangnail. You hadn’t braced yourself for the explosion, so, you guessed you deserved whatever was wrong with you now. Big-ass gashes on your stomach. Probably broken ribs. Something felt off in your left leg, besides—oh, ho, what had the doctors thought when they’d seen Hawks’s scratches?

What an idiot.

When the door creaked open, the nurse returned with a mug of water for you, but—what? Who’s that bitch following him?

You blinked, twice. With his hands in his pockets and his nasty little wings tucked in behind him, Hawks meandered to your bedside, his gaze on your throat as you swallowed down water.

God, you’re too tired to deal with him. Let’s get this over with.

The nurse glanced over his clipboard. “I’ve already told your partner this, but I thought you would want him here.”

Maybe if you ignore Hawks, he’ll leave.

“You were very brave today,” said the nurse, “Your work as a hero is greatly appreciated. You’re on temporary leave to heal, though. Like I said, you’ve got three, major gashes on your stomach, and your leg’s broken—the fibula split, if you want to know. You’ll be on crutches for a while. You have four broken ribs, and—” The nurse bit his lip and softened his voice. “You hit your head pretty hard. Nothing’s broken, but you should have amnesia, with the trauma you’ve endured.”

Should have? They don’t know? You sure as hell don’t fucking have amnesia. It barely happens in real life, and it definitely hasn’t happened to you. You remembered every fucking infuriating thing Hawks did to ruin your mission, and if he doesn’t square up—

“I’m so sorry, baby,” said Hawks, grabbing your hand. He stroked the back of it with his thumb, and then he took his glove off to hold you skin-to-skin. “You remember who I am?”

You just stared at him.

“Your fiancé’s been a real presence in the waiting room,” said the nurse, “He hardly stopped pacing the entire time you were in surgery. He wouldn’t even talk to fans.”

Oh, my God.

Holy fucking shit.

“Oops, sorry,” said the nurse, covering his mouth, “I know you were keeping it a secret. Don’t blame him, please; he only told me to be able to see you immediately.”

Shutting your eyes, you took a deep, deep breath. You have been handed a golden opportunity on a fucking Hawks-shaped platter, holy fuck, and by God are you going to take advantage of it. Imagine how much you can fucking humiliate him, how far you can take it. How much you can make him pay for how he treated you, and now, if he says he’s your fiancé, then he’s gonna fucking worship you. You’re going to mould him into your little bitch, and he’s going to thank you for it. And you’ll get endless dirt on him just by seeing his place.

Don’t fuck this up.

Exhaling, you opened your eyes, blinking a bit. You curled your lips into your mouth, biting the lower one. “I remember you’re Hawks,” you said in a nervous voice, “and I remember, uh.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” Hawks squeezed your hand, his tone kind. “It’ll come back in time.”

You clutched Hawks’s hand while the nurse rattled off instructions and gave you your crutches, and Hawks squeezed your hand back, softly smiling at you.

When the nurse left, you turned to Hawks and said, “I’m so, so sorry, but I—I feel like there’s something big missing that I can’t remember.” You scratched your forehead with your free hand, dragging the IVs with you.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Hawks tilted his head, still gazing decidedly down at you.

“Oh, God,” you said, “Oh, fuck. I don’t know. Um.” Take it back. Take it way back. That way he’ll dig himself into a deeper hole. The more lies he has to create, the funnier it’ll be. “Let’s see, I, hm.” You already weren’t speaking like yourself, but you looked upward as you faked combing through memories. “I don’t know how things work chronologically, but the most recent memory I have of you is—it’s after a press conference, and I’ve never been in the building before,” you said slowly, “And I can’t find the bathroom, but some press keeps following me, and I—I faceplant in between your shoulder blades, right between your wings. You—” You lowered your voice, shrinking a little in the hospital bed, “You got rid of them so easily, with just a gesture, and you put your arm around me. You were—” You shook your head, staring at both of your hands. “—so warm.”

Was that too thick? That was too thick, wasn’t it?

His free hand shot to his mouth, and he bit his knuckle. “But sweetheart, that’s,” said Hawks, his eyes watering, “That’s only around the third time we met.”

You know.

“Shit,” you said, widening your eyes, “How long ago was that?”

“Three years.” Hawks squeezed your hand and kept the pressure longer than was necessary. “Three fucking years. You don’t remember anything past that?”

You pretended to be scared to look at him. “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry—”

“No, no, you don’t have to be,” said Hawks, and he leant towards you to lift your chin, rubbing his thumb against it, “It’s not your fault.”

You had to hand it to him: Hawks was a good actor.

But so were you.

***

Hawks disappeared for a while after that, but he manifested the day you were loosed from the hospital, more than giddy to carry all of your shit all the way to your flat. He was probably getting some sick pleasure from watching you hobble on your crutches.

“I can help you, if you lean on me,” said Hawks, giving you an easy grin, “I don’t want you to be in any more pain than you have to.”

“This is something I should do myself,” you said in what was hopefully a tough-it-out voice, “I’d like to be able to walk without depending on anyone.”

“I honestly think you ought to be in a wheelchair.” His wings bristled. “But what do I know? I could fly us to your place, if you like.”

“I don’t like. I’ve gotta concentrate on limping. Stop talking, Hawks.”

You got to your flat, and Hawks had guessed which key opened the door on the first try. Drat! He was already doing a good job of acting like he’d been here before, like he’s not surprised that the number fourteen hero lives in a pretty shitty apartment (you started living here as a student and got too damn comfortable for your own good—plus, you didn’t want your cat to endure the trauma of moving).

Hawks plopped your keys in the bowl by the door with a clatter, and he shut the front door behind you, flipping one of the locks.

He set your stuff neatly on the kitchen table—your purse, your tactical pack, your ropes—and lay your dry-cleaned hero suit over the back of a kitchen chair, and his hands were on you the next moment to guide you to your tacky, sunflower couch. Removing one crutch, he put your arm over his shoulder instead, one hand planted on your lower back above your bandages, and he eased you down onto the cushions.

Hawks then stepped over your legs to sit on your opposite side, and he brought your legs to rest in his lap, his hand gripping your non-casted leg. “Gotta keep it elevated, chickadee.”

You let yourself giggle. Time to get this shitshow started. “Thank you so much for helping me, Hawks; I know I’ve been a real hassle these past few days, and you shouldn’t have to deal with that sort of stress. You’re already under so much. I don’t understand how the commission would let you date anyone, let alone propose.”

“Oh, I know,” said Hawks, spreading himself out on the couch. He shifted himself to face you in addition to accommodate his wings—he was now positioned so that they’d drape over the arm of the couch instead of being squished against the back cushions. That bitch, he probably wasn’t used to couches that weren’t custom made to his special body requirements. Spoiled fuck.

“The commission was really pissed when they found out. Do you remember how, sweetness? Right, I’ll tell you,” said Hawks, running an ungloved hand through his hair before shaking it loose. “You remember up to the press conference with the faceplant. Short version is that you hated me for a good year before something clicked. You started acting awkward whenever I was around, avoiding me, and stuff. Sometimes getting red. I thought it was cute.”

You ducked your head. Flustered. He probably likes easily flustered women.

Wait. That’s not who you are. And he’d like you for who you are, if you’re engaged.

But at the same time, if you’re (gag) in love with him, wouldn’t you be flustered by some of the things he says?

Easy, baby. Take it as it comes. Pick your battles. Go with your gut.

And gut says make Hawks eat shit.

“You think I’m cute?”

“I know you’re cute.”

You’re going to stuff his own feathers down his throat.

“We got together at that dinner Endeavor’s agency sponsored. Do you remember that at all? That place with the purple lights. You’d gotten nervous from the crowd and had gone to take some of your anxiety meds. I caught you in the hall back from the bathroom and talked you down before going back out there.” He grinned sheepishly. “I’d like to say I’m the one who kissed you, but you took initiative before I had the guts.”

Funny. Hilarious, in fact. That was the night Hawks had solidified himself as the Biggest Dick in the World, because yeah, he’d caught you in the purple-lit hallway, but he’d caught you on the way to take your meds, not on the way back. You were talking yourself down from a panic attack and couldn’t argue him away, so he’d followed you into the bathroom, running his mouth and acting like it was an accident when the tip of his wing had knocked your two capsules down the sink.

He’d told you that if you’re a big girl, you’d be able to handle the rest of the night. Or you could leave at any time with him, and he’d make excuses that everyone would have to accept.

Honestly, you’d love to let his fake memory be true, because then, you’d be able to wear purple again without feeling queasy.

Cocking your head, you smiled. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do.”

Hawks let out a light laugh, craning his neck to rest his head on the back of the sofa. “That’s what you said that night, too. About how it felt out of character.”

“Was I good?”

Lifting his head, he raised an eyebrow at you: probably the first genuine emotion he’s shown you the whole time he’s been here. “Hm?”

“When I kissed you. Was it good,” you asked flatly.

“Oh,” Hawks said, his wings puffing out just barely, “Oh, sweetheart, you were amazing. Groundbreaking. Show-stopping.” His tongue flicked over his lower lip, and he shifted underneath your legs, leaning slightly towards you but holding eye contact before carrying on.

You shook your head. “I don’t have the energy to give you the makeout session you deserve,” you said, envisioning drowning him in the bathtub, “I’m exhausted. Forgive me.”

“Always,” said Hawks, “Want me to keep going?”

“You can hardly eat me out when we haven’t kissed yet.”

“I meant,” said Hawks, pausing to visibly swallow (was it real?), “about our relationship, but if you wanna eat—”

“Nah, keep going. So, I started the relationship? I must be crazy. Neither of us have fucking time to sleep, let alone be in a relationship.”

Hawks never shut up about how he was taking time out of his endlessly packed days to spend time with you, how time was precious to him, and if he’s spending time with you, why, then, you’d better pay up, bitch (always accompanied with his hands on his belt, subtly pointing his thumbs towards his cock).

Hawks shrugged with his wings instead of his shoulders. Interesting. Has he ever done that before? “The commission said that, but after I insisted we’d make time, they relented. Eventually,” said Hawks, jerking his head to the side, “Our quirks don’t exactly fit well, so we haven’t worked with each other professionally too often, and, of course, we’ve had to hide our relationship so that we can’t be a public weak spot to each other. Plus, we’re more marketable as eligible, young heroes.”

“Fuck the market,” you said, slumping into the pillows.

“There’s my girl,” said Hawks, grinning with his tongue caught between his teeth, “There’s her spark. I know, baby. I feel the same way, but being made into libidinous body pillows pays the bills, y’know?”

Nodding, you brought one of the couch pillows around for you to hug, and you smushed your chin into it. “Hawks,” you said, so quietly you almost couldn’t be heard over the A/C kicking on, “How long have we been engaged?”

“Four months,” he said, his grin unconsciously fading until he was essentially baring his teeth, “Since the twentieth.”

Taking a moment, you said, “I can’t remember anything at all.”

“That’s okay. It’ll come back.”

“No, I can’t—” You slid your hands through your hair, pulling at it, and you heaved a sigh. “Goddammit, Hawks. I wish I could—fuck. I’m missing something huge. I know I am.” Make him nervous. Make him lie awake at night. “I’m sorry, Hawks. It’s probably something really important, and I—”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh, it’s all right,” said Hawks, and he stood to lean over you, his hands rising to cup your face, and holy shit, his hands cover so much of your skin; is that legal? He’s got hands. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ve had a big day. Turn your brain off. I’ll take care of you.”

Red flag! Big, red flag! Creep! He’s a creep!

Your gaze fell to his jacket pockets. Does he carry date rape drugs on his person?

“Hawks, I don’t wanna inconvenience you any more than I have.”

“I’m your fiancé,” said Hawks, actually looking you straight in the eyes and not breaking, “I want to take care of you.”

“Sure, in the way the mob takes care of people.”

Hawks’s mouth opened slightly, and his eyes narrowed.

Cover it up. “I’m not sorry. I don’t trust your cooking. You’ll poison my spaghetti!” You made a dumb gesture, pinching your fingers together. “Have you seen The Godfather? There’s actually a pretty legit spaghetti recipe in it; it’s not too bad, but it’s kind of watery—”

Hawks brought your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles and let his lips linger. “Watch it with me?”

You shook your head. “I’m too tired. I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll join you.”

“No,” you said, “My bed’s not made with your wings in mind.” Fuck off to your own little sex next, Hawks. Get out of here. “If they got hurt, it’d be my fault. Go sleep in your own bed, all right?” Go home. Get mugged on the way.

Hawks sighed, blowing his hair out of his eyes. “If you insist. But you’ve gotta reach out to me for anything you have trouble with, yeah? Memories, opening jars, orgasms, you know.”

“I’m leaving,” you said, reaching for your crutches, “Ten minutes ago.”

***

“You didn’t tell me how you proposed.”

Hawks froze mid-bite of his ramen, but after a quick beat, he slurped the rest of the noodle up. “I was hoping you’d recall that on your own, baby. Get your own feelings about it, instead of me telling you how to feel.”

If you weren’t faking amnesia, you’d fucking break his nose for that. Bastard.

“I imagine once you tell me, the feelings will rush in,” you said, clicking your chopsticks twice for emphasis, “I want to remember everything, and if I don’t, well, I want to fall in love with you again.”

Hawks’s gaze glazed over for an infinitesimal moment. Score.

“It’ll sound goofy once I describe it.” With his wings cramped against the back of the booth, Hawks scratched the back of his neck—a classic move for pretending to be embarrassed. “I’m not exactly known for being romantic.”

Yeah, he’s known for fooling around with anyone who’s glittery, like a goddamn crow. If you’re paying attention.

“Aw, but Hawks, you’ve been nothing but so effortlessly romantic to me since I’ve been convalescing,” you said, rolling up the paper wrapper of your straw and soaking it in the ring your cup left on the table.

“Right, well. I flew us out to the countryside, to this overlook halfway up a mountain. You liked going rappelling there a lot. To practise for missions.” Hawks had some of your habits down, at least. Bet he gets the location wrong, though. “We watched the sunrise. We shared a thermos of tea. I asked you once the sun had risen, but you didn’t say yes right away,” said Hawks, “You jumped off the overlook without your gear, and I caught you. You were furious about it—you didn’t want me to see you overwhelmed. But you said yes.”

Ugh. That sounded about right. That sounded pretty realistic. Hawks was a fucking stalker.

“Fuck,” you said, burying your face in your hands, “That’s cute.” You stretched the skin of your cheeks before releasing, and you returned to your ramen. “Question: did we put the ring into storage, or something? I don’t have the little indent on my ring finger from wearing a ring too long, and I haven’t found anything at home.” Make him sweat. Make him stumble. Where’s the ring, Hawks?

With a flash of his eyebrows, Hawks maneuvered his straw to his mouth using only his lips, looking quite stupid, in your opinion. “Figured you’d ask that at some point. I’m so overjoyed to see you every time that I forget to bring it up. The ring’s been sent off to a high-level, government-backed, support company. I’ve pulled in a favour from the higher-ups. I wanted to turn your ring into something a little more personal and incorporate one of my feathers into it,” said Hawks, taking a moment to slurp his drink noisily, “Depending on how well it goes, I’d be able to help you if we’re separated and know where you are. At the very least—” Hawks ducked his head to give the illusion of staring up at you with wide eyes, his blond eyelashes light against his skin. “—I’d be able to feel your heartbeat. It would bring me great comfort.”

Great, so he’d have a GPS on you at all times, knowing whether or not you went somewhere he didn’t want you to. He’d be able to tell if you went somewhere your non-amnesia self would know about. Great. Phenomenal.

“Hawks, that’s very sweet,” you said, fiddling with the remnants of your straw wrapper, now fizzled out of its snake shape, “Wouldn’t the process hurt you, though? Since you can feel it.”

“Nothing more than a twinge, sweetheart,” said Hawks, holding up his hands, “And I’d bear any amount of pain for your sake.”

You fantasised about beating his head in with the back end of a rifle.

***

When you were told Hawks was waiting for you outside of the recording booth, you told the messenger that Hawks could wait until you were finished with five more takes. You could picture Hawks’s little pout at the news, his feathers bristling despite the closed space, and resigning himself to sit in one of those clangy, metal chairs out front, having to hunch forward so that he didn’t crush his wings.

The idol group adored the ingenuity of bone-crunching as percussion in a song, and along with that and some other combat foley, you were singing the bridge with the rapper of the group (the dance captain would sing your part for live shows). It’d be a good promo for the girl group and for you, and the song, “Spine,” was going to be released as a single as soon as it was polished.

Hawks perked up the moment you stepped through the secondary door to the booth, his eyes brightening and wings spreading to take up more space. “I didn’t think I’d catch you,” said Hawks, standing to take your hands (the cold leather gloves sucked the heat out of your hands), “I’ve got to fly, soon, but I wanted to tell you personally.”

“You’re not pregnant,” you said, fighting the urge to break his goggles/visor/hat thing.

His lopsided grin widened. “Not yet, baby. There’s gonna be a heroes’ gala held at the end of the month, and I wanted to let you know that I’m doing everything in my power to make it a positive experience for you. Here, I’ve got this woman’s phone number,” he said, fishing a slip of paper out of his jacket, “She’ll help accommodate the venue for your leg.”

Stupid fucking bastard man. He probably wanted to pick out your clothes himself, infantilise you and dress you up like a goddamn doll. Deny you your personhood. “I’ll be out of the cast by then.” You slid the paper into your back pocket.

“I know,” Hawks said in a way that was a fucking lie, “I just don’t want there to be any accidents. I can’t have my babygirl any more hurt than she is.” Hawks placed his cold, gloved hand against your cheek, and you, shutting your eyes, made yourself lean into it. “But contact her. She’ll make it the safest place it can be for you, even when I have to leave your side.”

God, galas were great. Big events for villains to ruin. You licked your lips thinking about using a new move you’ve learnt to take a villain down (involving clamping your legs around the villain’s neck to choke him as he crumpled to the floor—your combat coach had banned you from the move after you made her pass out). “Are we announcing our engagement, then? If we’re going together?”

“I’d love to,” said Hawks, “but only if you want to. The ring could be ready by then, if I ask them to rush it—”

“Let’s do it.” If you plunged the ring into icy water, would he start to shiver? Ooh, your ring’s going to act as a fucking bay leaf in your soups for a while.

“Oh,” said Hawks, sighing lightly with his eyes fluttering shut. He pressed his forehead to yours and rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “You have no idea how much that means to me, sweetheart. You are so dear to me, and I want everyone to know it. The best damn thing in my life. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, placing your hand on his face to push him away, “Don’t you have work to do, screw boy?”

***

“Did we have a date?” you asked from the edge of the bathtub.

Hawks dipped the razor in the water, washing off the hair and shaving cream. “We’ve gone on so many, darling; you’ll have to specify.”

“No, I meant for the wedding.” Let’s once again play: Can Hawks Cover His Own Ass?

Hawks dragged the razor down your freshly exfoliated, freshly-un-casted, freshly not-broken leg, starting at your knee. “Nope!”

“No explanation?”

“You wanna get married tomorrow? A six-month engagement is rather short, don’t you think?” His nose twitched. He’d said the scent of your shaving cream irritated his nose. Good.

“I don’t. Why didn’t we have a date for the wedding?” You eyed the actual and literal pile of your dead skin on the towel. Maybe you should make Hawks snort it.

“We were too busy working; you’d said you didn’t mind having a long engagement, so long as I was yours. Then, uh, you know. The accident,” Hawks said with a shrug—with his shoulders this time, because if he moved his wings while he was crouched in your bathtub, he’d soak them, and they were a bitch to dry, apparently. Suffer, you rat bastard.

“The commission isn’t involved in that decision?”

“I thought that was implied,” said Hawks, gripping your ankle to turn your calf to the side, “They don’t want it to be a huge spectacle, so even I don’t know how much of a wedding wedding they’d let us have.”

He’s too damn good at this. If he weren’t a pro-hero, he’d fit right along in a theatre troupe.

You’re going to wring his neck.

You caught him staring at the crotch of your underwear (bone-dry, you might add) while he shaved your thighs, and he spent more time rubbing lotion into your inner thighs than anywhere else. He tossed your dead skin before you could make him eat it, and he scooped you up against your protestations about your weight and capability, humming while he carried you to your bed.

The fucker tucked you in and rounded up your cat to place in your arms (your cat disagreed with him and promptly leapt off the bed).

“Let me stay with you,” said Hawks, kissing each of your fingertips. It’s an order.

Yet you shook your head.

***

“The doctors said you shouldn’t drink,” Hawks said under his breath, taking the champagne flute gently from your grasp.

“But I want to,” you said, sticking out your lower lip, “I’m wearing goddamn heels and a fucking dress. I’ve got on makeup, for Christ’s sake. I’ve done my time; let me drink.”

“Baby, you’ve got to stay safe,” he said, and he set the glass next to some 40s-level hero’s place at the long, white tablecloth. “There’s already press paying more attention to us than usual. You wanna make a fool of yourself?”

“Yes,” you said, lifting another champagne flute from a passing gala waiter, “Who gives a shit about the press.”

Hawks laughed too loudly to be natural before lowering his voice. “Baby, you are gonna be the death of me.”

“Promise?”

***

When “Spine” was released on a cool, spring morning to an excitable audience, you were lurking in alleyways by the docks, searching for a fight. When the music video dropped, you were smashing some guy’s face into a concrete wall. While more and more citizens recognised you and your talent, your work for the community, your connections, your popularity—with your rank steadily rising—you were rappelling down a port sewer to pummel a slime villain into dust.

You wiped his blood off on your pants, hands devoid of anything that could taint. You’d left the ring at home.

***

“You tricked me,” you said, scowling as Hawks pushed you forward, “This isn’t the rock climbing park.”

Once you deliberately smashed your face into the glass door and crossed your arms, Hawks held the door open for you. “Would you have dressed up so nicely for rock climbing?”

“A meta-game challenge,” you said, “to rock-climb in a long skirt.”

You glowered about the restaurant while you and Hawks stood in the lobby, his hand low on your back, suspiciously respectfully. You made no effort to hide your distaste: it was the place with the purple lights.

Over there at the absurdly long bar, Endeavor had drunk flat whisky without so much of a growl at anyone, despite it being his event. Hexagonal tables with lilac tablecloths dotted the floor—you’d hidden in one of the few booths, up against the exposed brick wall—but your hiding place had been ruined once a violet disco ball had emerged from the ceiling. Shiny, wooden floor that had reflected your post-panic attack face right back at you and let every shoe strike it with a clatter. No silence allowed.

The whole restaurant had lavender LED lights running around the walls, swathing the place in a distorted sort of purple haze, and any candles lit on the centre tables had indigo flames—you’d focused on how those might have been made in the process of coming down from your panic attack.

God. You’re going to throw up.

The hostess escorted you and Hawks to a farther back room, this one with booths separated by small, brick walls that didn’t reach the ceiling yet concealed the booths’ occupants from each other—unless you were passing directly in front of one.

Hawks made you sit in the booth first, trapping you in as he settled. He had to be on the edge, anyway, he told you, because of his wings. You’re going to rip them off and boil them in the soup.

The two of you ordered. You don’t remember what. You can only channel so much of your nerves into jostling your leg. This is not cool. This place is not cool. You need to get out.

“Hey, let me through,” you said, nudging Hawks, “Bathroom.”

Once there, you lightly slapped your cheeks a couple of times, trying to ground yourself through physical sensation. No use. Can’t they fucking use normal lights in this place?

You didn’t have your panic meds, because you’ve never needed them rock climbing. You can do it. You’re fine. You’re fine. Your tongue is too big for your mouth.

You took your time meandering back to the booth, coming to a halt at the end of the narrow hallway and ducking behind the corner.

Endeavor stood by your booth, his arms crossed over a flaming chest. You caught your breath at the sight of his orange fire, a comforting contrast to all the damn purple, but still—Endeavor. Talking to your (gag) fiancé.

Without the courage to interact with Endeavor, you listened at the corner for his departure.

“Nah, she can handle her bladder just fine. It’s her nerves,” Hawks was saying, hidden by the bricks, “She likes hiding. She doesn’t necessarily like being in the spotlight.”

“Yet she hasn’t completely withdrawn as Eraserhead has. You’ve picked a strange one to marry.”

From the angle Endeavor glared at him, Hawks must be slumping in his seat. “But that’s what so great about her. And it’s hard to process, y’know, like, she’s finally mine. You follow?”

“Regrettably,” said Endeavor, “Regardless, I offer my congratulations that your courtship finally worked out in your favour. You should have told me sooner.”

Courtship. That’s a funny way to pronounce bullying.

“Eh, I’ve gotta have some secrets, don’t I? Can’t betray my otherwise cool exterior.” Hawks laughed. “I can’t believe I’ve been allowed such happiness. The woman I’ve loved for years is gonna be waking up to me every day soon, y’know?”

Hawks has got to know you can hear him, otherwise he wouldn’t be saying those things. Endeavor must be in on Hawks’s ruse, since Endeavor is Hawks’s closest—actually, Endeavor isn’t the type to revel in romantic shit. Endeavor straight-up isn’t the type to revel. To the best of your knowledge, Endeavor doesn’t genuinely like Hawks as so much as tolerates him; when did they get so close? It must have taken a long time—

Time.

You could feel your IQ dropping as you actually considered: had you been in a legitimate coma? Had you (fuck) genuinely had amnesia?

No, no. You don’t live in Crazytown. Your eyebrows hadn’t been overgrown when you’d woken up in the hospital. You’d only been there a day.

Of course, Hawks is a vain piece of shit and does his own eyebrows, so he might have considered that yours were a piece of pride/insecurity for you and may have done them while you were—did Hawks do his own eyebrows? That spoiled fuck probably had someone else to do them for him. If they were naturally like that, you were going to throttle his ass.

You didn’t fucking have amnesia. Hawks is and always has been a stupid, clammy birdbrain. He’s always been cruel to you. He didn’t fucking like you.

He sure as hell wasn’t in fucking love with you.

Oh, my fuck, what if your memories of Hawks have been fabricated by a coma-addled mind and that—

“Hey, there,” said—said someone, some pale-ass, sleep-deprived freak who startled you out of your head, “Are you all right? You look—I mean, do you need some water? A chair?”

You blinked, yet he wouldn’t come into focus—you were taking in details about him, ones that didn’t fucking matter (chain on his wallet, three rings all on the left hand, a button-down missing the last button, a cloud of axe body spray), but he didn’t register as a human person. He couldn’t; you hadn’t grounded yourself yet. You yourself still had a frazzled, cartoon scribble buzzing inside of your chest, and until you vomited it up, a panic attack may yet still happen.

You can’t deal with anyone new right now.

A spark of recognition crossed the new guy’s face, and he, through a smirk, asked if you were your hero name.

Oh god oh fuck not now

“Sweetheart,” came Hawks’s melodious drawl (registering first his voice, then bodily warmth, then the wingtip covering your ass), “You were taking so long that I came to check on you.” He pulled you by the waist towards him, blocking the guy from seeing your face by pressing it into his chest. “Who’s this?”

Who cares. All you could focus on (sharp and overwhelming, nothing else but) was how fucking incredible Hawks smelled, and at this point, you’d use anything to bring yourself back down to earth. A small voice in the back of your head told you that freaking out to this degree in this particular situation was leaning towards pathetic, since basically nothing happened, besides being in an uncomfortable environment and being accosted by a fan at the wrong time, but you? You did not control the rate at which your brain panicked.

And really, no rhyme or reason played into why your grabby little hands itched for human contact once safe in the booth again, why Hawks’s scent lay on your tongue more heavily than your soup, why the overwhelming sensation of being so fucking spaced out of it threw its entire weight upon your shoulders—you couldn’t find yourself. You were lost.

And in this horrible, purple place, the only thing that’s familiar was Hawks.

When you scooted as closely as you could to him in the booth, keeping your glare towards your lap while you looped your arm under his to snuggle into it, Hawks cleared his throat to say, “What’s this?”

You scowled into his jacket, both hands gripping his forearm.

He set his chopsticks down. “How can I help, darling?”

Growling, you bonked your forehead against his shoulder, dragging your hands down to his.

“Hey,” said Hawks, and he guided your face towards his and stroked your cheek with his thumb, “Did that guy bother you too much before I got there?”

Turning your mouth towards the hand cupping your cheek, you kissed his palm, bit the leather, and kissed it again before burying yourself in his shoulder again.

He rested his hand on the crown of your head. “What’s the matter? Can you tell me?”

“Not sure I can put it into words,” you said, “I think I wanna go home.” You bit the fabric of his jacket and gnashed it between your teeth.

“I can handle that,” said Hawks, “Gimme a moment to get takeaway boxes, yeah? Then we’ll leave, and you’ll be safe. Don’t worry.”

Unfortunately, you were still clutching onto his arm by the time he unlocked his darkened penthouse (because you’re not gonna hold his hand. God), but you slapped his hand away from the light switches.

“Turning them on would be too much stimulation,” you said, “Please don’t.”

Hawks hummed against the top of your head, placing keys and both of your phones on the kitchen counter. “Bed or couch?”

“Window,” you said.

“Window?”

“I’m assuming you’ve got one.”

“I do,” said Hawks, guiding you through his dark apartment, probably past scarily expensive, posh shit. He led you to what was most likely his living room, with the cool, dim light of the night sky through a vast, single-frame, wall-to-floor window illuminating furniture custom built for his wings, but he eased you down onto the carpet, tugging your shirt upwards so that the window would be touching your bare skin on the small of your back.

Hawks yanked his boots off, late, instead of at the door, and he tossed them over his shoulder. He took yours off, too, and once he’d set them aside, he sat next to you against the window, a hand on your thigh.

“Better?”

“Probably,” you said, staring at the triangle of light beige carpet between your crossed legs.

“Need me to talk? You need to talk?”

“Not right now.”

Hawks was a dumbass. He’s such a fucking dumbass. But he’s a dumbass who’s here right now, and he’s interested (?) in you, interested in helping you. And good golly, you have to be touched. Hawks’s offering warmth, freely, potentially lovingly, and all you had to do was reach out to take it, even if you didn’t reciprocate whatever sentiment was motivating him yourself.

Do you really want to take what you have no feelings for?

Hawks lies a lot to Endeavor. To everyone. He might not have been lying earlier. What reason had he to lie?

Guess it didn’t matter, because you were lying.

But good God, you haven’t been kissed in a long time. Haven’t felt safe or loved. You could…you could indulge for a few hours in order to calm down. You could pretend.

The last ten months had proved that.

“Hey,” you said idly, reaching out to grab the inner fleece lining of his jacket to rub it between your fingers, “Hawks, I’m gonna—I’m gonna put my mouth on your mouth. Okay?”

Hawks’s wings ruffled and constricted themselves so that he could move closer to you, and his hand has migrated from your thigh to grip your hip—how could anyone’s hands encompass that much of you? Your fucking hands couldn’t, not in the way his does.

(Bird man big and safe.)

([No, fuck you, don’t think that.])

(BIRD MAN SAFE—)

Shoved is how you’d describe the first few seconds of the kiss, followed closely by wet and you’d think his teeth would be sharper. Your lips didn’t line up with his completely until he adjusted your chin with two of his fingers, guiding it open just barely, as well, so that his tongue could graze your teeth—it took you a moment of processing before parting them, with a final don’t think! shouted to your neocortex.

Birds have a higher body temperature than other animals, on average having a body temperature of 105 degrees Fahrenheit (40 degrees Celsius). The colour of their feathers, of course, affects how much light and heat they absorb, with the lighter coloured feathers—say, red—reflecting more, rejecting outside heat sources.

Yet Hawks gripped you like he’d fucking freeze if he weren’t clutching you, if he weren’t straddling your legs, one palm flat against the cool of the window by your head. The other snaked around you, his forearm lying almost vertically up your back to press down between your shoulder blades, keeping you as near to his chest (he probably didn’t realise it, but his fingers ran across the curve of your shoulder blades where his wings were on his own body.

For some reason, the thought crossed your mind that you weren’t enough for him, because you were too dissimilar.)

Don’t think!

When he massaged your tongue with his, applying pressure sporadically, you returned the action—have you ever seen a bird tongue up close? They’re fucking nasty little things, looking more like a grub than anything else. Thank God Hawks had a normal, human tongue that performed particularly delightful, normal things, like drag across the roof of your mouth and aid in sucking phenomenal hickeys onto your jawline, licking over where he’s bitten and kissed.

Stop thinking about bird anatomy. Hawks has no discernible bird traits except for his fucking wings. He’s not a fucking bird man. He’s just some dude with wings. And not all birds have functional wings; for example, the ostrich and the penguin do not have wings to be used in flight—

Oh, my fuck. Turn your brain off.

Your stomach lurched. That had been something Hawks had told you too often, back before your accident.

It’s what he wants.

Hawks fucking whimpered when you pulled the shorter hairs at the back of his neck, prying him away from your skin with great difficulty—he kept trying to touch you with his mouth and tongue in the process.

“Let me have more,” he said, panting, his breath heavy and just below your ear, “Please.” He pressed his lips to the spot in front of your ear in a weak kiss, having spent himself for the most part. “I’ve missed you so much, baby. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me for so long.”

“I don’t—” You fake-stuttered, but it turned out you needed the time to put your thoughts into words. “I don’t think I’m back yet. I’m,” you said, taking as deep a breath as you could with Hawks smushed against your chest, “Something’s missing. Something big.” That’s right. Steer it back in his direction. Make the bird man sweat. “I don’t—something doesn’t feel right.”

It took a moment, but Hawks nodded fervently, shutting his eyes. “Of course. Yeah. Yeah, I get it, sweetheart. Can’t do anything when your heart’s not in it.”

Your heart’s not the problem. “Thank you for being so understanding, Hawks,” you said, untangling yourself from underneath him, “Would you just, uh, hold me for a while?”

His wings wrapped around the both of you on his enormous bed, still fluttering with each slow breath he took. Hawks almost looked genuine while he slept, and probably for the best—at least he was getting rest; at least his guard might be down.

You couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing.

***

“Rank speculation is out,” you said, scrubbing the pumice stone over a patch of dry skin on Hawks’s back and scrolling through the twitter with your other hand, “Take a look.”

He opened the link you sent once he’d safely removed a dead feather that had been lodged in an odd spot in a wing. “Huh. Think I could truly take on Endeavor?”

“Well, he’s got that abusive-to-his-family thing, while you’re rocking the preparing-for-my-wedding look, and he can’t network non-aggressively to save his life.”

“Nor can you.” Hawks shot you a smirk over his shoulder.

“Zoom in on my speculated nine, baby,” you said, flicking away some dead skin with a satisfied/disgusted sneer, “And I didn’t have to sleep my way there.”

“Ah, ha, ha,” said Hawks, “Knew you could do it. Whoever’s told you that is gonna have to deal with my foot up their ass. You’re more than capable of getting there on your own.”

“Which I did. I have.” Wait. Hawks told you that. No, it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s a commonly said, misogynistic comment towards women heroes. Hawks isn’t special. “But having your foot up someone’s ass wouldn’t be good for PR, unless you wanted to advertise that you’re a kinky son of a bitch who’s cheating on his fiancée.”

“I would never,” said Hawks, and, contorting his arm, he grabbed your hand with the pumice stone to kiss the back of it, “But my PR is solid, regardless.”

“If the public knew how much time you had to spend preening these fucking wings, they’d probably appreciate you more. Or call you conceited.”

Hawks hummed. “It’s a necessary evil,” he said, returning to his wingtip to search for dead feathers. “Thank you for helping.”

“No problem. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t get to see how—Hawks, holy fuck. Do you feel that?” You ran a finger near the base of a wing.

“It’s your finger?”

“No, this,” you said, tapping the spot.

“No?”

“My God. It’s a dilated pore of a winer,” you said, already reaching for the tweezers, “Right at the base of your wing. It’s basically an enormous fucking blackhead. I’m popping it. Oh, my God. I’ve never seen one in real life.”

“You’re popping it?”

“You didn’t have a problem with my getting the ones where your costume sits.”

“No,” said Hawks, rolling back his shoulders, his wings spreading with them, “Gotcha. Get on with it.”

“Can I film it?”

“What? No,” said Hawks, “No one can see me preening, let alone dealing with acne.”

“There’s sure to be another hero out there with a wing quirk, right? I don’t know how you can’t feel it.”

“Yeah,” Hawks said slowly, “Since my feathers can feel—I suppose where the wings merge with my skin is pretty numb. I haven’t ever had to think about it.” He licked his lips. “Funny.”

He continued to scroll through his feed and tend to his feathers while you worked at his back. “Bad news: the tabloids got a hold of our grocery list from the last time we went to the shops. I must have dropped it at some point in the store.”

“Oh, so do they know what kind of ice cream we prefer? The horror.”

“No, but they’ve brought in some hack handwriting analyst. Talking about our annotations for each other on the list. Something about how you’re logical and I’m a romantic. The writer of the article is practically swooning.” Hawks pulled out a clot of feathers with his teeth and spat them aside. “With good reason, though. The trashy pictures they snapped of us are hot.”

“Describe them to me.”

“I can show you—”

“No,” you said, concentrating on your work, “I don’t want the image imprinted on my brain. Describe them in your own words.”

“All right,” said Hawks, crossing his legs and placing his phone on the coffee table in front of him, “To start, the flash is on.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah. We’ve got that distantly surprised look going on. It looks like we’re near the eggs and cheese. You’re not looking at the camera, but I believe it’s in the moment I caught it.” Hawks flicked away a feather and let it fall to the carpet. “My hand’s on your waist. The other’s on the cart. You’ve scrunched your face up in concentration; it’s really cute.”

“Aw, we should get it framed,” you said, wiping away the gunk with a tissue and wadding it up so that no one will ever have to see or touch it ever again.

“Never,” said Hawks, “The first picture of us I wanna get framed should be on our wedding day.”

“It’s coming along quickly,” you said, setting aside the tweezers, “Bit more quickly than I’d thought it would.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait,” said Hawks with a light laugh, and you ducked to rest your head against his shoulder, straining your neck to reach him over his wing.

Hawks clicked his non-nasty, non-bird tongue. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Sighing, you said, “Turn your head this way.”

He did you one better, since he anticipated your plan. He twisted around, keeping his legs crossed as he pulled you into his lap. His wings initially bristled but wrapped around you when his arms did, and Hawks kissed your cheek, once, twice, until he arrived at your mouth, where he barely grazed your lips, rather letting his hot breath spread over your face—and he grinned up at you with half-lidded eyes (he’d left off his eyeliner today, but the natural marks below his waterline kept his eyes sharp, anyway).

“Kiss me, you fucking idiot,” you said, overriding whatever he was about to do by kissing him yourself, hard and open-mouthed, almost violent in its fervent. Yet Hawks held you lightly, delicately, but still close enough to freeze.

You ran your cold, cold hands over his bare abdomen, pressing your thumb down with considerable force to trace his muscles (he grunted at that, and that’s it; that’s right—make him squirm; make him sweat; make him yours). His finger only toyed with the hem of his shirt that you were wearing, as if waiting for you, which didn’t line up with what you had garnered about Hawks at all, but c’mon, man, come on; didn’t you want this all those months ago? Almost a year, now? Years, if what he said to Endeavor is true? But when he flinched away with a shaky breath once your cold fingers circled his nipple, you knew this was where you were supposed to be: right here, in Hawks’s lap, completely destroying him with hardly anything at all. Nothing but light touches and a strategic flick of your tongue. Idiot man. He must really like you if this is doing it for him.

You slowed and opened your eyes at that thought, frowning, and you pulled away. With the back of his hand, Hawks wiped saliva off of both of your mouths, yours first.

He waited for you.

“If you can’t take all of me, then what’s the point?”

He tilted his head. “I’ll take whatever part of you you’re willing to share.”

“I’m missing something.”

“I know.”

“I want to find it before we get married.” You laid your palm flat on his chest, and he grinned at the cold.

“You can find it,” he said, “I know you can.”

“I don’t know what I’m blocking out,” you said, lying—or maybe you weren’t? Fuck it. “Whatever I’m repressing is really fucking with me.”

“Take your time,” said Hawks, running his tongue over his lower lip. “I’m here for—”

“Hawks,” you said, faking the light of realisation in your eyes, accompanied with a sharp inhale, “I can’t remember your name.”

Hawks’s mouth snapped shut.

“You told me once. I know you did,” you said, moving to cup his cheek after tapping the mark underneath his eye, “but the memory—there’s a blur where you spoke. I—” You cut yourself off, biting your lip. “That, that might be it. I don’t know. Everything else about the scene is in perfect detail. I remember what fucking socks I was wearing, for Christ’s sake. But you. What you said. Maybe it’s something so personal, so intimate, that I’ve repressed it. Maybe it was too much for me to handle.” You cupped his face with both hands now, forcing him to look at you. If you hadn’t been scrutinising him for some evidence of breaking character, you wouldn’t’ve seen the minute quivering of his upper lip. Hardly there, but it was there. “It’s a part of you that I want. Even if I couldn’t handle it before, I want to try now.”

Hawks averted his gaze, even though he couldn’t move his head. And bang, you’ve got him. Hawks’s name was still strictly secret, hidden by the commission, but if he’s genuinely in this dumbass situation for the long haul, if he’s truly in it for you, then he would have told you. Even if he wanted you to continue to call him Hawks, your own fiancé would have told you his damn name.

So, this is it. The way out.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out you’ve been faking all this time. Good. Let each feather burn.

“Keigo,” he said, staring into your eyes with a newfound determination, “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Oh, shit—you clapped a hand over your heart, your eyes widening. Maybe you could play this off as memory recovery instead of absolute shock? But you hadn’t any memories to recover, probably. Holy fuck.

Where do you go from here?

You tried to say his name but ended up simply mouthing it, and after clearing your throat and coughing a bit, you managed to say it aloud. “Keigo,” you said softly, reaching for his hand, “Keigo, I fucking love you.”

You’d only been kissing him for a few moments before his wings shuddered in a muscle spasm and flung you off to the side.

***

Only a commission higher-up witnessed your wedding. She stood silently to the side the entire ceremony in the courthouse and only shook Hawks’s hand afterwards.

You and your cat essentially moved into his penthouse and adjusted. Your mostly empty apartment stayed leased under your name.

Sometimes, you’d note that you turned your brain off and instantly be hit with a lightning strike of self-loathing—but you didn’t have to consciously decide to be affectionate with Hawks. Being with him came naturally and easily. Probably for the best, since if you had to think about it, you’d screw it up.

You stayed together. Supported each other. Sneaked out to see the other on patrol. Took care, listened to each other. Defended each other. Worked it out.

And now, you stared up at the ceiling fan whirling in your darkened bedroom, Keigo lying on his stomach next to you in the bed as he slept. Your cat catloafed between his wings and nestled into them, rising and falling with each breath he took. Hawks was perfect, always saving the day, working up a routine to mesh with your fighting style and quirk, always charming and easygoing with the people he rescued, indulging you in your ferocity, and Keigo, Keigo whispered sweet and dirty things into your ear when he spotted you in public, made you laugh, worked wonders with his cock, helped you clean up before he even thought of preening himself, held you, and made you feel held. He’s got it bad.

And maybe you do, too.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out.

#bnha #mha #hawks #keigo takami #takami keigo #hawks x reader #hawks/reader #hawks imagine #hawks fic #hawks headcanons #hawks fanfic #hawks fanfiction #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo/reader #takami keigo imagine #takami keigo fic #takami keigo headcanons #takami keigo fanfiction #takami keigo fanfic

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sallyf4ce · 4 years ago

Text

wolves

chapter III

-> sallyfacexf!reader

-> enemies? to lovers

-> previous | next

cw: drugs, cigarettes, abuse, violence

*does not follow original plot of sally face*

summary: (y/n) wakes up early to avoid sally. sally’s upset that he did something wrong yesterday. (y/n)’s first meeting with travis isn’t the nicest.

The incessant beeping of your alarm tugs you out of your dreamless sleep.

The sticky tears on the ground remind you of yesterday’s events, but you disregard them. All you want to do is take a shower, throw on your jacket and get out the door. You slowly clamber up off the ground and across the living room to turn off the alarm. After making sure it’s not on snooze, you drag your sore body to the shower. It smells like smoke and lots of cleaning supplies. This place is fucking gross. Is it even monday?’ you check the calendar. It is, in fact, monday. You strip and turn the shower handle.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

You're so glad that you chose to wake up early. Usually kids this far from school drive or get picked up by the bus, but you prefer to use your skateboard. That’s why you get up at 6:30, so you have enough time to get ready and get to school on time. Sanity’s fall quietly played as you washed your breakfast plate and cup, brushing grease residue off the greyish porcelain. You wonder if Sal is awake yet. Probably not. You know, waking up early ensures that you won't see him in the morning. The guy’s not that bad, his eyes just freak you out a little.

Pulling the pink glove off your prosthetic, you wipe your hands with a towel and move to the closet to put your shoes on.

“Jacket, jacket, jacket, jacket.” you mumble, eyebrows knitted. “Where are you?” oh, right, you left it in your room.. With poppy. Was that even her name? You kind of just decided it for her.

Alright, don't be a pussy. Just go in and grab the jacket. You sucked in a breath and opened the door to your room.

“Eeh! A teenager! What’s your name, little lady?” her blond ponytail bounced with every sentence. This was the first time you could get a good look at her. She didn't really have feet, just bloody stumps where they used to be.

“Holy fuck, you’re so loud!” your hands covered your ears.

“Ahh, so sorry! I haven't used my voice in years.” she coughs.

“S’ fine... Can I just- just grab my jacket?” you point at the green pile amidst the boxes all around the room. You didn't get a chance to set up.

“Go ahead!” she nods and smiles.

“Alright. uh, listen, lady. This-” you motion towards the whole room. “Is my room. I live here now. I get that you, like, can't leave this place and shit, but could you maybe sit quietly while i set up later? I really need to clean my room up. I’ll set up a little chair place for you or whatever, so you could sleep at night.” you mumble the last part, embarrassed about your hospitality.

“I can’t sleep.” she smiles, her teeth surprisingly shiny for a ghost’s. God, she’s so preppy that you forgot she’s dead.

“Pretend to then, i dont fucking know. Alright, i have to go. Just… don't cause trouble.” grabbing the jacket, you begin shutting the door. “My name’s (y/n), by the way.”

You can hear her squeals as you leave the apartment. You decide to take the elevator because you don't feel like running down the stairs with a heavy ass bag on your back.. Stepping in, you press the main floor button. It looks like there’s a bit of sticky stuff around it. gross. Syrup? You hoped so.

The elevator dings and you step out, heading out the front doors. It’s cloudy. Again. Not a surprise, really. Keeping your eyes on the gravel, you set down your skateboard and begin your journey to school.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Sal’s point of view:

“She probably went on without us, man. Don’t know why you're worrying so much.'' Larry leaned back into the bus seat.

“It’s not that, Larry face. Yesterday, when we left…” was it my fault? Did i scare her? Did she see my face through the mask? Fuck.

“What is it? Spit it out, sally dude.” he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and puffed the smoke out the window.

“I think i scared her, larry. I think she saw my face.” i let out a shaky breath. God, everything was going good. Why the fuck does this stupid face ruin everything?

“Did you- did you take your mask off?” he sat up in the seat, eyes wide.

“No. She probably saw it through my mask.”

“I still dont get it. Explain more, dude.”

“She looked so scared. We made eye contact, and she, like, panicked. Her eyes widened and then she threw me out. It was definitely my eyes. We were fine the whole night, i dont know why she freaked out.”

Larry let out a long hum. He was probably trying to piece things together. Anyway, she definitely went to school earlier than us. I can ask her about it there.

“Woah, sally face. Calm down or you’ll go bald.” larry’s hands pulled mine off my pigtails. Huh, i didnt even notice.

“Thanks, dude. I think we’re here.”

Your point of view:

It was around eight o’clock by the time you arrived. Kids were already piling out of buses and cars, standing by the school’s entrance and conversing with their friends. You definitely felt some eyes on you. That was expected, though. They didnt recognize you, and nockfell didnt seem like a town with many new people. Thinking back to yesterday, sal and larry mentioned some bully kid. Probably wouldnt be hard to spot him.

“Watch it, goth freak!” a pair of hands gripped onto your shoulders.

Ah, what a coincidence.

“Get the fuck off me, fucking prick.” he twitched as you gripped onto his hands and pushed him away.

“Is that a metal hand? Ha, you’re a fucking cripple! How pathetic.” he chuckled. Blond hair draped itself across his forehead, definitely not complimenting the purple shade of his shirt and eye. School fight? or daddy issues? Who knows. I mean, you’re not one to speak, your dad’s literally dead.

“Let me guess, you’re that bully fucker they talked about. God, isnt there enough troubled kids in Nockfell?” you rolled your eyes, just wanting to get to school.

When you said you had bad luck, you really meant it, because all of a sudden, his fist landed on your face.

Are you fucking serious?

You just moved here yesterday and you’ve already been fucked up twice. You can’t keep taking hits, (y/n)! You gotta dish some out!

Sighing in disbelief, you reached out to your gushing nose.

“Mother.” you flicked the blood off your prosthetic hand. “Fucker.”

At this, travis bolts. You drop your bag and get back on your skateboard, weaving through the crowd to get to that shrimpy little fuck.

“I’m so fucking done with nockfell.” blood trails down the side of your face as you lock your eyes on the blond mop of hair in front of you.

Do you jump? Or let him get away?

Nah, you jump.

The skateboard shoots out beneath you as you kick off. He lets out a strangled cry as you land on his back and send him to the concrete. A few whoops can be heard from the kids far behind you.

“Fuck, i’m sorry! Get off me!” he scrambles beneath you.

“Now you’re fucking sorry?”

He doesnt say anything. You slowly climb off, keeping a hand on his neck.

“Pussy.” a snicker escapes you.

“What’d you just-” the hand on his neck squeezes tighter and shuts him up.

“What’s your name again?”

“Tr-travis, fuck.”

“Travis, huh? Well, travis-”

“(Y/n)? What are you doing on Travis?”

Sal’s point of view:

Me and larry were getting off the bus when we heard a bunch of cheering. Weird. I looked in the direction larry was staring. Hold on, that’s travis and some other kid on top of him.

“Sally face! I think that’s fucking (Y/n)! Holy shit!” larry shakes my shoulder. That’s actually her! What is she doing on travis?

“Larry, c’mon, we have to go get her off!” i try pulling him away, but he doesnt budge.

“No way, man! I wanna see her beat him up! She’s doing what you won’t let me do!” he smiles wide. Fuck, i guess i’ll just have to go alone. Larry frowns as i drop my bag and begin running towards them. I’m not letting her get in trouble on the first day. I hear her say something to him as i come closer.

“(Y/n)? What are you doing on travis?”

She looks up in surprise. Holy shit, she’s bleeding!

“I’ve gotten fucked up twice in the past 24 hours. I’m not letting this fuck get away with it.” She snarls. As bad as i feel, she’s kind of attractive, bloody and feral like that. God, what the fuck? Not time for this, sal.

“Oh my god, (y/n)! Here, uh, get up and i’ll take you to the office.”

Your point of view:

You look back at travis. There’s a visible blush on his face, and he’s staring straight at sally.

Oh.

OH.

A smirk forms on your face.

“No thanks, porcelain face. Me and blondie here will go by ourselves. Right?”

He growls, but you tighten your grip on his neck again and he nods.

“Uh, okay. Do you want me to take your skateboard or something?” Sal scratches his head and changes the topic. Just a sliver of jealousy can be found in him, but he is grateful for the nickname. It suits him.

Your expression darkens for a second, all of a sudden feeling possessive of your skateboard. He’s not touching it. It was your dad’s.

“No. Take my bag or something.” you nod towards it by the entrance of the school, where it sits. He obeys and gets up to pick up your bag. You pull travis up with you, blood dripping down your shirt and an arm around his shoulders. Sal’s quite a bit away at this point.

“You gay?” you hum. Travis’s back straightens and fear flashes through his eyes. How did you know? How the fuck did you know?

“No! Fuck you, you’re just a pussy who thinks she knows everything-” he starts yelling, trying to get away, but you interrupt him.

“God, shut up. You’re making my head hurt more. It’s okay, you know. I wont fucking tell anyone about your little self exploration journey.” you pat him on the back and he flushes.

“Fuck, you’re so sappy it’s disgusting.”

“I’m not gonna be a dick to someone because of their sexuality, fuckass. I’m not that low. Let’s get to the school.”

taglist: @dream-of-eros @potatochic2003 @mr-bombastic @purelydarling @ghostfacefricker6969 @deadpoetsandhoney

#sally face x reader #ashley campbell #larry johnson #sal fisher x reader #sally face

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bitchassbucky · 4 years ago

Text

.zip

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, gaslighting and manipulation, abduction, injuries were mentioned, stalking, dark!bucky x dark!reader, emotionally/mentally unstable!reader, dismemberment (not gore-y but still), three very special character mentions, shady corporate stuff, career sabotage?, food mention, sedation/drugging, f-words.

A/N: oh my god, this is the final chapter of CTRL. to all who read from the start, thank y'all so fucking much - from the bottom of my big-ass heart, thank you so much for coming along with this journey. this is my first FINISHED series, oh my god. to @babyboibucky (CTRL's number one fan), @sarge-barnes-sir, and @borikenlove thank you so much for indulging my inner degenerate GHJSDFG and for screaming (affectionately) at me when i first let y'all read the finished draft.

BUT THIS IS NOT THE END (just yet), i will be uploading TWO epilogues very soon: the explicit version and the not-so-explicit version. stay tuned!

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

epilogue:

.eps (explicit)

.eps (cut)

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Your demeanor, character, even tone, changed.

Calculated, cold, unnerving.

But you sat there like a housewife in front of her husband, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Acting all dandy like there isn’t a man strapped onto the chair four feet away from you.

“C’mon, darling, eat! I made your favorite,” your eyes twinkled as Bucky helplessly tugged on his restraints, “oh, sorry, you’re tied up.”

Hm, sick in the head, bad for the heart.

“What do you want?” Oh, wow, even talking hurts for him. His throat is all dried up, he tasted something bitter under his tongue.

You chuckled, moving half a meatball around your mostly empty plate, “for you to stop treating me like I’m stupid.” You spear the meat with your fork, swirling it in the sauce, “I know you’ve been… checking in on me, Bucky.”

Oh, fuck.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was-- I mean, look at you--” He’s making it worse. You’re mad. You’re angry because he was being a good friend.

He only did that because you were lonely and he’s right: you are lonely.

So lonely that you’re willing to kidnap a grown man to keep you company, “I’m so sad for you.”

“You’re aware you’re the one’s been tied up, right?” You’re curt as you should be, scooting over near Bucky to feed him.

“I can’t eat that—” If he wasn’t sitting down and tied, Bucky would’ve vaulted over you and called the neighbors, she’s fucking crazy!

You giggled, rolling your eyes as if he had the freedom to make a choice right now, “if you’re thinking of screaming… More than half of my neighbors are felons or on parole, I doubt that they’ll call 911.”

Jutting forward the fork, you let the prongs gently touch Bucky’s lips, “now, eat! We have so much to talk about.”

“No. I don’t-- I’m not hungry.” He shakes his head, the fork hitting his chin and clanking down the floor.

“Just eat the fucking food, Steve!”

Bucky flinched at your sudden outburst. The words—the name—seeping in a moment later. Steve? Who the hell is Steve? Was he your husband? Boyfriend? His head throbbed again, his mouth filling with saliva like he’s about to throw up.

You kneel down, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe the meat and the sauce from the floor.

“This better not stain.”

—

He promised thrice.

Once over pasta and meatballs, once over dessert, and once when you were clearing the table.

You relented, of course. Half because you love him and half because it’s getting annoying.

“As long as you don’t leave me, okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

Bucky’s still seating on the dinner chair, slightly slumped without the ropes holding him up, “look, I’m really sorry about the anesthetic, I went overboard with it.” You look over to him—at least he’s regaining his fingers and arms again.

“It’s okay, babe, I wouldn’t trust me either.” If he could stand up, he’d go over and hug you. Helping with the dishes, peppering you with sweet kisses.

A genuine laugh slips out of your lips, “ugh, still… I’m really sorry.”

The last of the plates were neatly stacked, cups and cutleries were placed gently on a drying rack. It was getting late, you could tell.

“I’m not mad, by the way.” You muse, prompting Bucky to lean forward, listening to you.

“What do you mean?” He takes your hand into his, ever so gently.

“You did that,” you squeeze his hand back, gazing into his soulful eyes, “because you love me.”

Did you know that some people could read microexpressions well? Bucky went through a whole lot of them before answering, “of course, I do.”

Contemplating whether you call him out on it or not, you hum, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, “it’s okay, you’ll learn how to love me.”

He has to. He has no other choice.

Bucky clears his throat, “have you seen my phone?” His tone was hopeful, upbeat, maybe he can reach out to someone, anyone, before you can do any more damage.

“Yeah, ‘s on the couch.”

He tried to move, he really did. Bucky’s fairly strong, he can bench an easy 140 on a good day. But even the beefiest motherfuckers have no match for Propofol.

“Don’t worry about your friends, they’re not worried about you, Buck.” The coolness of your tone sends Bucky into a panic—again. “D’you wanna check your messages though? There’s a lot of ‘em.”

Grabbing his phone, you asked Siri to read him his latest notifications.

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

From Joaquin: Where are you, man?

From John W.: Do you have copies?

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

Urgent: Gross Misconduct

From Joaquin: Bucky, what the fuck?

From Samuel Wilson: Pick up the phone, Barnes. You’re fired.

17 missed calls from an unknown number

From John W.: I knew you were a freak but holy shit, dude!

72 text messages from an unknown number

Bucky never really liked horror movies. It made him jumpy and anxious. Too paranoid, even. But now? Now he’s sure that people have never experienced sheer fright before.

His toes cramped inside his boots, his feet were cold, sweating. The little hairs on his legs stood up, goosebumps littering the entirety of his body. If he held his breath, he’s sure he could hear his heart hammering out of his chest. The blood rushes past his ears and onto the base of his skull—he’s gonna be sick.

“What,” he gulped back the saliva pooling in his mouth, “what did you do?”

You’re irritatingly calm, “well, I mean… We’re already together, what do you need those for, right?”

Putting a warm hand over his forehead, you cooed, “poor thing, you look sick.”

—

Bucky thinks it’s well past midnight when the anesthetic wore off.

His limbs were heavy, he had to lean on the wall every couple of steps to regain his balance. Helpless. He’s helpless and you both know it. As if it’s a bear trap, Bucky carefully took his phone from the coffee table.

Why would you leave it unattended?

The screen lights up as soon as he picked up, his lock screen littered with ‘fuck yous’, ‘sicko’, and his personal favorite, ‘motherfucker.’

Ignoring the glaring messages, he went straight for the emergency dialler and—you took out his SIM card, snapping it into two neat pieces, placing it beside the phone.

Bitch.

The golden surface of the card was scratched too, he can’t do anything, use it as a toothpick, maybe? His phone was just as good as a paperweight.

He looks out of the window, limping towards it. Even if he could climb over, it would take him forever to get onto the street. Your neighbors would probably think that he’s just on a bad trip.

“It’s bolted shut. Perks of living alone as a single female.” Your voice made him flinch back, like a kid whose hand was halfway down the cookie jar.

Bucky plays it off with a cough, he can’t be weak now, “no, babe, I was checking out a noise. You ready for bed?”

You smiled softly, taking his hand and draping his arm on your shoulders as you prop him against you, “almost, big guy. Gotta get you settled in bed first. Are you tired?”

Nodding, Bucky kisses your temple, “yeah.” He just needs to play with your sick little games until he regains his strength.

Where would he go? His reputation and his job are besmirched, his apartment is probably crawling with forensics too.

“You fell down and banged your head earlier. Nasty cut on your head too. I told you to not tire yourself much.”

You hit and drugged me but I digress, “Yes, darling. ‘M sorry.”

“You scared me, Buck. I thought you were dead.” Are these tears forming in your eyes?

“I’m not leaving you, not by any chance. I promise.”

He promises a fourth time.

—

Your bedroom was bigger than he thought. But of course, he only saw your desk and your bed through the webcam.

Save from the Ted Bundy-esque corkboard you have in front of your workspace, he feels weirdly at home. You tucked him in, reminding him to wake up every two hours for the painkillers.

“You’re not going to bed?” He muses from behind you, all cocooned in your blankets.

“Just need to take this phone call real quick, babe.” Your back was turned from him as you work on your company laptop. He noticed that the webcam is covered with white tape.

The sound of an incoming call filled the room before you quickly answer it, your voice turning hoarse and raspy as if you’ve been crying.

Hi, Mr. Wilson. I’m so sorry for the late call. Do I- do I need to come in tomorrow? I just... I don’t feel comfortable facing everyone—I used all my home hours this week and—

Miss L/N, I’m glad you reached out to me. Is it okay if I record this call for security purposes? It’s just for you, me, and the HR department.

You turned to Bucky, your face is stone-cold but your voice belonged to someone so utterly helpless.

No, you don’t have to call into work tomorrow… Or any other day.

A dainty gasp and a fucking sob comes out of your mouth, your eyes were telling a different story.

Am I fired?

God, no. Please, Miss L/N, don’t worry about that. We want you with us through this entire debacle. We want you to take some time off—paid. We’ll also grant you… a grievance package.

You could almost hear what he would say next.

As long as you don’t talk to any members of the press or any journalists until our friends in the PR department can clean this up.

A triumphant smile creeps on your bare features, putting a finger in front of your lips, you mimic a ‘shh’ gesture to Bucky.

You round up another mirthless sob as the CEO drones on about the bureaucracy of this whole thing.

He was really nice to me, you know? He took me out on dinners and lunches. He even brought me to his place and I– nothing happened but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I’m really sorry, Miss L/N. I thought he was…

A good guy? I really thought so too.

Please stay offline for a bit, just for the weekend, alright? Someone from the HR department will be in touch with you for the process. We don’t wanna be a hassle more than what Barnes is. On our behalf, please accept our deepest apologies.

Jesus, this guy had the PR department cook up an apology letter.

Thank you—thank you so much, Mr. Wilson. I’ll keep in touch.

You burst out in laughter a second after the call ended. Hearty laughter, the one where you can feel your belly tightening.

“Did you hear how good I was, baby? Oh my god, we had them fooled.”

We? Fuck your ‘we.’

You slide over the covers, propping up yourself with your elbow as you turn to face Bucky, “don’t worry, you don’t need them anymore. You have me, yeah? We have each other.”

—

Out of the most bizarre things that happened to him last week, finding dismembered fingers in the fridge was the least of his concerns.

“Honey!” Bucky calls out, holding the ziplock bag with a pair of tongs.

You bound down the stairs, your laptop in hand as you squint, “what am I looking at?”

Bucky hesitated, maybe he’s going insane too, “fingers. Dismembered fingers—are these yours?”

Setting down the laptop onto the table, you peck him on the cheek, smiling as if him holding a baggie with human remains is just your Sunday normal, “god, I hope not. I need my hands to do things.”

As soon as you look back at him, you dropped the facade: “those are Steve’s. Well, used to be.”

Bucky’s afraid to ask the question where’s the rest of him?

“You know the term pinky promise, right? Well, it has a dark origin.”

Just as fast as a bustling train, Bucky rakes his brain for all the times he promised you something. Hoping that he won’t end up with a stump for a hand.

One vividly bright memory is seared into his brain though, the days blurred together with sharp edges and mismatched colors: we love how we were taught to love.

So, who taught you how to love like this?

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff

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1engele · 4 years ago

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daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 8. solo

Previous | Next

[warnings: underage drinking, smoking, weed, near death experience?, crying]

"never have i dealt with anything more difficult than my own soul." — You leave the roof late in the night. Sal had gotten up and retreated into his apartment a little while earlier—but you'd decided to stay and make sure he didn't come back there.

Three days pass. They all consist of fleeting glances and irresolute tension. Things remain the same with the group dynamic, except for between you and Sal. Neither of you seem to know how to continue from that conversation on the roof. No one else notices, though. They'd never suspected anything from the beginning, it seems.

The beginning of your involvement with Sal involved a little bit of buildup and then a snap which resulted in a sexual encounter (or two).

Now it was a bit different. Now things were a little less lighthearted.

It's a Saturday—you'd planned to spend it inside as usual. That's until your phone starts ringing.

You flip your phone open, read over the contact, and answer the call.

"Hi, Ash."

"Y/N," she starts. You hear the excitement to continue in her voice. "There's a party tonight."

"Oh?" You get up from your seat on your bed.

"Some stoner Larry has connections with invited him and said to bring friends. He wants to bring us—save for Todd. He doesn't do parties."

"Wait," your eyebrows furrow. "Me?"

"Yeah!" She says from the other end of the line. "It'll be fun. Cmon."

You bite your lip nervously, anxiety knotting in your stomach. "I don't know. I've never really.."

Ashley is momentarily silent on the other line. She must be contemplating what to say to convince you. "Sal's coming too. Parties aren't necessarily his thing, either—so maybe you guys could try it out together?"

You open your mouth and then promptly close it. Something inside of you suddenly really wanted to go to this party. "Um... alright. Okay."

"Cool! What're you gonna wear?"

You look toward the drawer that contained your clothes and bit your lip. "Not sure yet. I'll update you on that."

"Okay, don't forget to text me! See you at eight."

The call declined from the other line. The phone that held the phone to your ear slipped into your lap. You pressed your lips together and tried to ignore the familiar feeling of sickening nausea and anxiety.

You don't rush yourself on getting ready for the party, because the time you're due to be done won't be for a while.

You take your time with the hours you have. You shower, take your time on eyeliner, mascara, and lipgloss—and finally decide on what you'll wear.

You decide on a square neck white cropped tank with short sleeves and your nicest pair of light blue, slightly washed out jeans. You slid on your favorite, sort of chunky white sneakers over white socks.

It isn't long after you finish when Ashley calls and informs you she's arrived at the apartments and Larry and Sal have already joined her out in the car. You give yourself a once-over in the mirror and then leave the apartment.

Your mother was nowhere to be found. She's either at work or drinking with her coworkers.

Once you've opened the door and climbed into the Ford Fiesta, you immediately realize your predicament—Sal is the only person in the backseat with you.

The drive there is decently long and painfully tense. Neither you nor Sal know how to speak to each other, so no words are exchanged beneath the heavy metal music emitting from the radio.

When you finally arrive at the party, it's recognizably crowded, drunken teenagers are flowing from the front door, in and out, and there's a good amount on the lawn. The newest radio hit is playing on a considerably loud speaker, and the vibrations are notable even from a distance.

"Woah," Larry says, staring at the house as Ashley pulls onto the side of the road. "Didn't realize he was so popular."

You all exit the Ford Fiesta and cross the road. You cringe as you watch someone vomit onto the grass, and another person ripping from a bong in the wide open.

Smoke flies into your face and your eyes as you enter the home. You cough, waving a hand as you blindly follow after your friends.

Eventually, the four of you find yourself on two couches directly facing each other. You on one, Larry and Ashley on the other. Sal is stood to the side.

Larry materializes a bottle of Fireball that you guessed he stole from someone on the way in, opens the cap with his teeth, and takes several gulps.

"Where did you get that?" Ashley laughs over the music, pulling the sleeves of her lavender sweater over her hands.

"Stole it," he looks to Sal and directs the bottle toward him. "Want some?"

"Sure," Sal replies, to your surprise—taking it from Larry's grasp and walking away and in your direction.

"You're drinking that?" You ask him, testing the waters.

"No, actually," you watch Sal round to the other side of the couch to linger behind you. "I'm limiting him. He'll thank me later."

Once he's out of your field of vision, you tip your head back and gaze up at him—your perspective on him being upside down. Your gaze zeroes in on the bottle of Fireball he's clutching in his hand.

"Hey," you say, meeting his eyes. "Give me some."

It was time to give him that excuse—the excuse to break the ice.

He leans in a bit, gesturing toward you with the bottle. "You want it?"

A grin pulls at your glossed lips. Instead of reaching for the bottle, you open your mouth and tilt your chin up.

Sal looks on for a moment but laughs once he realizes what you want. Everyone else at the couches seem decently distracted with each other and the overall environment—so he doesn't seem to worry about it too much.

He reaches his hand around and towards your neck, gripping your jaw in his fingers and holding you firmly. You feel his cold rings press into your skin when he tips your head further back just a bit—and then steadily pours a shot-amount of Fireball into your mouth with his other hand.

Sal stops at the right time, looks on as you pull back and sit up, and cautiously watches the back of your head as you assumedly swallow the whisky. But when you turn a bit in your seat to peer at him over your shoulder, you're holding your mouth closed and pressing a closed fist to your lips while soundlessly giggling.

"What?" He laughs, a hand moving to the top of the couch. He leans in a bit. "Can you not swallow it?"

Your shoulders shake slightly as you continue to laugh. You shake your head up and down.

"Do you need to spit it out?" Sal asks, his tone warming into concern.

You shake your head from side to side. You meet his eyes and swallow, gasping as the liquid slides down your throat and burns all the way down. You cough, the flavor of cinnamon and what tasted like Big Red gum overloaded your senses.

"God," you breathe out, giggling all the while. The alcohol is gross but you're feeling good. "It's not great."

"Yeah, that's why I'm holding Larry off, so he won't be puking his guts out later."

You look up to the boy, who's sat on the arm of the couch opposite to you. He's busy talking to some equally stoned guy, so you can't manage to catch his eye—but you catch Ashley's.

She had this look of astonishment on her face.

Had she been watching what happened? When Sal poured Fireball in your mouth?

Your face grew hot thinking about it.

Sal wanders away from you again, and you find yourself drinking more than you should. Eventually, your rationality disappears.

It's been a few hours and Sal hasn't seen you for a while. So when he hears about a girl wearing a white crop top walking across the roof of the house, he feels like he's going to vomit.

It takes him a record time of 6 seconds to get out of the door and onto the lawn. Upon looking up at the roof, his suspicions are confirmed. He shoulders past multiple people to place himself near the front of the crowd and gazes up in horror.

"Sal!" You yell, gesturing toward him with something between a wave and a point. "I'd recognize that hair anywhere!"

Multiple heads within the crowd turn away from you and towards him. He puts aside his social anxiety and the wave of unease that washes over his body and tries to focus on you. "Please come down," he rushes out, raising his voice just enough for it to be audible over the crowd.

You laugh like he's told a hilarious joke and he quickly realizes his mistake. That's the worst thing he could've told your intoxicated self. You move toward the edge of the roof, shaky and uncoordinated. "You want me to jump?"

"No!" He exclaims, his hands flying up, fingers splayed. "No. Don't do that!"

"Holy shit!" He hears Larry shout from somewhere closer to the front door of the house. Sal guesses he's just now catching wind of the current situation. Moments after, both of his brunette friends are at his side.

"What the hell is going on?!" Ashley yells, verdant eyes glued to the sight before them.

You lost your balance once again, but this time a bit worse—your foot catching on a shingle on the roof and effectively knocking the red solo cup out of your hand. It dropped onto the downward slope of the roof and the liquor inside of it spilled down the side.

Whenever Sal witnessed the toe of your white sneaker catch onto that shingle, he felt as though his very soul had been ripped from his body. Immediately after he watched you regain your footing and stable yourself, though—his heartbeat calmed to a steadier pace.

"I'm going up there," he stated beneath the chatter.

Both Ashley and Larry's heads whipped toward him.

"You'll kill yourself!" Larry exclaims incredulously. Ashley opens her mouth to assumedly second Larry's statement, but Sal cuts her off by walking away.

"Not before she does," he mutters, pushing his way through the density of bodies and forcing his way through the front door. His senses are disoriented like he's been submerged beneath water as the volume of the music scratched at his eardrums and pulsed the innards of his skull. Adrenaline courses through his blood like a drug whilst he shoulders past both mindlessly drunk and carelessly high teenagers.

Sal doesn't spare them a second glance, but their unconcern does remain in his mind. The fact that they're continuing their lives while he feels as though something that's growing into something of importance in his is about to be taken from him... it's mind-numbing.

He's never been an optimistic person, he's always tried to view things in the way they're most likely to happen—and all that's beneath that two-story house is a long drop and concrete. If you fall, you'll break your head open and you'll die.

He finally makes it to the stairs. He makes a break for it then, tripping over his own feet multiple times. Anything could happen in this amount of time, and he knew no one else was going to help him.

Sal's thoughts grow more and more disordered as he navigates the dark halls of the house. The music seems to have only grown louder, the deafening mixture of guitar and drums taunting him.

He remembers the window on the outside of the house. Sal estimates which room it would be, locates it, and approaches the door. He turns the knob, but it doesn't fully rotate.

The door is locked from the inside. Of course. Who would have a party and leave the bedroom unlocked so people could fuck all over your comforter?

He bites out a curse only he hears and prepares himself to force the door open.

Sal grabs the doorknob tightly, prepares himself, and rams the side of his body into the wood. He doesn't even feel the pain, just does it again, and again.

He goes until that half of his body is numb.

The door finally budges, and he wastes no time entering the room. He doesn't hesitate when he reaches the double-hung window he'd been seeking. He grips it at the bottom and pulls it up and open, clenching his teeth together painfully.

Sal stares out at the vastness of the night, the golden streetlights, and how they shine down on the crowd of people below him. They all seem to be looking at the same place, up, but not at him—and he can only swallow thickly.

Carefully, Sal moves to sit on the windowsill, gripping what was above him tightly, his legs outside. He then ducks to leave the room and shivers as cool air hits the front of his neck.

He starts walking the roof, steadily—like his life depends on it. Because.. it does.

Or yours. Yours depends on it.

"Y/N!" Sal calls as he finally reaches a point where you're in his line of sight. Momentarily, he's worried he'd scared you. But you turn your head, meet his eyes, and smile. Despite that, your face spells fear all over it. Something must have sobered you up a bit while he'd been inside.

"I'm going to come to you. Do not walk towards me!"

You blink lazily, because you were drunk, and nodded. You shivered, hugging yourself. It didn't seem to do much, though. Your arms were bare.

"Fuck," he breathes, gazing down at the fall that could await him if he misstepped and immediately reverted his gaze. Blood rushes between his ears as he steadily makes his way towards you.

"Please don't fall!" You suddenly exclaim, your hair tussling in the breeze. A strand blows over your face, so you quickly raise a hand to move it back in place.

He looks up from his feet and stares you in the eyes. "I won't," he affirms, you and himself, continuing across the roof. "Just stay put, okay?"

It doesn't take long to get over to you. He's mostly sober, so it isn't hard on that part. What's difficult is calming his steady heart.

He's not scared of falling. Not necessarily scared of injury or death. But he is scared of not making it to you.

Once he's at an arms reach of your shaking form, he reaches out a hand, palm facing the darkness of the sky.

You seem to read his mind, slowly grabbing his hand. Sal maneuvers your joint hands to where your palms press together and your fingers are interlaced. He doesn't know if it's the blood rushing through his ears or the distance from the ground, but it's as if everything below becomes very quiet.

You meet his gaze, your pretty eyes glossy with tears. The eyeliner you were wearing had just begun to collect beneath your lower lash line.

He squeezes your hand and leads you to be in front of him.

It's not long after that that he's gotten you off of the roof. Sal watches you slip through the open window before turning toward the density of people beneath him on the ground. He breathes in as he catches both Larry and Ashley's eyes—he can't read their expressions, but he wouldn't be surprised if there was shock written all over it—and then ducks back into the window.

As soon as the window is shut and it meets the windowsill once more, Sal whips his head toward you. "Y/N-"

Before he'd saw your face, and the language of your body as you were sat on the edge of the bed, he was going to scold you, and then go downstairs and find you some water and sober you up—all of that falls down the drain when he sees the stream of tears falling down your face. Every time you blink, more drop—quickly staining your cheeks with black makeup.

"Oh," he breathes, suddenly speechless. "Y/N-"

You attempt at taking a breath in, it seems—but it's a failure because it hitches and turns into a shoulder-shaking sob.

"I'm sorry," you cry, roughly dragging the tips of your fingers beneath your eyes. This only smears the running mascara further. "I'm just drunk."

Sal momentarily feels like breaking down in tears himself, that's how much this entire ordeal stressed him out. He approaches your trembling body and crouches down in front of you.

"Hey," he says, softly. "It doesn't matter whether or not you're intoxicated. Your feelings still matter, okay?"

You sniffle, still attempting to wipe your tears away, and reluctantly nod. "I'm sorry," you try again.

He places his hands on your knees and squeezes them firmly. "It's okay."

You jerk into a sob, leaning forward and pressing the side of your face on his shoulder. You slowly tuck your arms beneath his and cross them over the expanse of his back, palms flat on each shoulder blade. The convulsive gasps were hard to stop, making it hard to breathe.

Sal breathed out softly against the prosthetic, raising his arms and encasing them around your torso.

He didn't wonder about the reason for your tears. Assuming things wouldn't help you anymore.

"I don't know why I did that," you whisper, quieting yourself to swallow your saliva. "Maybe I do. I think I was trying to prove something to myself."

He finds himself holding you tighter, your chest pressed to his, feeling your heartbeat through the fabric that separated you both—oddly enough, even at this moment, it reminds him of that night in the car. You had been even closer to him then, though.

"It was stupid," you murmured. "Why would I do that, after what we had talked about last night?"

"What if we jumped together?" he remembers saying.

"Some things can't be explained," he replies earnestly. "You don't need to know why you did what you did. It was stupid, though. I'd probably walk across the roof of a two-story house for you again, but.."

You pull back and meet his eyes, your face wet. The majority of your makeup had been cried off and your lipgloss had been smudged.

You must've sensed his examination, breaking the visual contact and sniffling. "I know I look ridiculous right now."

Sal smiles. He knows she can't see it, but maybe she'll hear it. "I don't think so," he murmurs, looking off to the side. "I think that's a bathroom. You can clean up in there if you want."

You follow his gaze and then return your eyes to his and laugh a bit. You still sound drunk, he notes. Obviously. He'd poured a good amount of Fireball into your mouth and watched you drink plenty of other things.

"Feels kinda weird using a stranger's bathroom," you laugh, your breath hitching from the earlier crying.

Sal rolls his eyes humorously, gripping your knees tighter as he pulls himself off of the floor. "The guy who lives here is Larry's friend—and a stoner. I doubt he'd mind. And if he does get mad, I'll take responsibility for it. I forced that door through, anyway.."

Your gaze swivels toward the door, which is not shut but mostly closed. When he glances to where you're looking, he notices it seems a bit.. crooked.

He inwardly cringes. "I'll pay for it. Come on."

Sal follows you into the bathroom. You seem reluctant to enter first, so he does, opening the door and reaching to the side to turn the lights on. They do what they're supposed to—eventually. They're momentarily unresponsive before becoming alive—the illumination brightening the room with a dull yellow hue.

You step onto the tile and began to search for whatever it was you needed. You kneeled at one of the cabinets below the sink, opened it, and ducked your head lower.

"Oh!" You exclaim quietly, reaching in and pulling out two things. A bottle of half-empty makeup remover and a bag of some cotton rounds.

"Maybe he has a girlfriend?" He hears you say to yourself, standing up, nudging the cabinet closed with your foot, and placing the things you found beside the sink.

Sal reaches over and closes the door. He'd rather not have to witness the sight of some drunkards wandering in and fooling around on the bed.

"Lock it," you say. "I'd rather no one- no one see me like this."

His hand was already on the doorknob, so he just reaches down a bit and locks the door.

He watches you struggle a bit with the bag of cotton rounds, trying but failing to open it, so he reaches forward and delicately plucks it out of your grasp.

Sal slides the makeup remover over and pats the place on the counter it was previously. "Sit."

You peer into his eyes inquisitively but waste no time hoisting yourself up and onto the cold surface.

After that, he plucks the bottle of makeup remover off of the counter and douses the cotton round in the liquid. He reaches forward from the distance that your knees created between the both of you, but you spread your thighs and press the heel of your shoe into his lower back, pulling him in so he's between your legs.

Sal doesn't see it suggestively, because you're drunk—but he's glad you asked him to lock the door because, with his luck, Larry or Ashley would find their way into the bathroom and get all of the wrong ideas.

The firmness just beneath his navel presses into the edge of the counter as he cups one side of your face and began wiping away at the eyeliner and mascara and everything it messed up.

"Thank you," you say sweetly, blinking at him with appreciation in your eyes. "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

He remembers a silhouette. Her back was turned to him, golden hair cascading just past her shoulder blades. He remembers blue eyes that looked a lot like his own staring into a mirror, a hand which adorned a wedding ring wiping away makeup from the day.

"Read it on the label of the bottle," he replies, meeting your eyes and looking away.

As he's finishing up, he hears a rapping of knuckles against the locked door. He tosses the used cotton rounds into a trash bin in the corner and then locks eyes with you curiously.

"Occupied," he calls out, still looking at you. The knocking only gets louder, which makes you laugh.

"He said it's occupied!" You yell over the unintelligible music downstairs, your words breaking into a giggle. You press your knees against his waist, and he doesn't even realize it when his hands meet your thighs.

The knocking ceases, fading into a voice. "Is that you guys in there?"

Fucking Larry. Speak of the goddamn devil—that's what he would've said if he'd come knocking sooner.

The both of you seem to be thinking the same thing, locking eyes in terror. You quickly get off of the counter, and Sal unlocks the door and swings it open.

Sure enough, he's standing there—in all of his glory and highness. Larry blinks, the whites of his glossy eyes tinted red. He looks between the both of you before speaking. "Why were.."

"I had to pee," You choose to deadpan.

Sal feels himself grow even paler than he already is. "I came in.. after.. that."

Larry intakes a mouthful of whatever is in the red solo cup he's holding in his tan, lanky fingers, and swallows thickly. "Okay," he croaks, instinctively cringing as the alcohol passed through his chest. He gestured the cup toward you. "Uh..crazy stunt you pulled up there, huh?"

Sal saw your face shift in his peripheral vision. "Huge lapse of judgment," you reply.

"Nobody could tell who you were, so don't worry about that," the brunette smiles a bit. He returns his attention to Sal. "They've started playing country," sure enough, Sal hears the sound of a banjo from the speakers downstairs, effectively punctuating Larry's statement.

"Yeah.." Larry mumbles, sipping his drink and looking up and through his eyebrows. "Ash said to come find you guys so we can leave."

It doesn't take much, after that.

As you're leaving, Larry pulls the door open and furrows his brow at the condition of the hinges. "Wow. How old is this thing?" He mumbles.

Sal hears you snort.

The three of you descend the stairs, skirting past countless teenagers standing on the steps drinking or smoking. Sal makes the mistake of letting you fall behind and feels you stumble and smack him in the back. It's easy to steady himself, quickly gripping the railing—but he's concerned about you, so he turns around.

A guy with a cigarette balancing in his teeth is eying you with frustration pulling at his features. His gaze pulls from your face and down your body absentmindedly.

"Watch it," he murmurs.

"Sorry," you breathe, jerking your head away and meeting Sal's eyes worriedly. Keep walking, you express in the hues of your eyes.

Sal reaches forward and interlaces your fingers with his as he'd done on the roof. He makes a show of it, too—so the guy with the cigarette sees the rings on both of his hands. Sal gives him a distinct look when they lock eyes, rolls his jaw, and lets you lead him down the stairs, instead of the other way around.

By the time you're all nearly shot from weaving through the multitude of sweaty bodies and navigating through plumes of smoke thicker than fog, the three of you find Ashley petting what he'd assume is the host's dog.

No one questions it.

"You good to drive?" Larry asks, placing his cup on a nearby surface.

"Oh, yeah," she rises from her crouch beside the dog. The animal walks away, his golden tail wagging excitedly at the next person who would give him pets. "A gross sip of something put me off of drinking tonight a while earlier. And, uh.. the whole roof thing dried me out."

You sigh. "I'm sorry about that. It sobered me up, too."

She shakes her head, a wispy strand of light brown hair falling over her face. "It was stupid, yes, and I hope you don't do it again, but all that matters now is that you're safe."

Ashley blinks kind green eyes at you and smiles, reaching forward, taking your hand, and leading you away. Sal hears you laugh and follow after her as both of you head for the front door.

He turns to look at Larry once he loses sight of both of you in the crowd. He examines Sal with bleary dark eyes and looks as though he's about to say something, but he doesn't get to.

Even over the blaring country music, Sal hears a yell and then some fearful shouting. He whips around toward the sounds, which were toward the front of the house.

Red and blue flashing lights shine through the windows.

"Shit!"

"Ah, fuck," Larry groaned, nimbly wrapping his fingers around Sal's wrist and dragging him into the density of the panicked crowd. "Did you see where they went?"

Sal shakes his head. "No," he knows you're intoxicated. Panic settles in. He chews his lip, his eyes desperately scamming for a girl wearing a white top squared at the neck—you. "Y/N's had a lot to drink, Larry. If the police-"

"Don't worry about the Five-O, let's worry about the girls," Larry replies absentmindedly, keeping his firm hold on Sal.

"They must've gone to the Ford," Sal shouts over the music, which, for some reason, is still playing. "We were leaving anyway. I'm sure they're in the car."

Larry releases Sal and motions toward the back of the house. "There's a back door. I'll text Ashley and tell her to drive down the block and we can meet them on foot."

It was an agreeable plan. Waltzing out of the house and walking straight up to the car wouldn't be wise.

Larry does what he'd said he'd do. Turns out, Sal was right, they had made it to the car moments before the police had rolled up. Ashley informed him it was two squad cars and four officers. Seemed like overkill for a house party—but he wouldn't know. He didn't do this often.

When Larry was on the phone, Sal was very tempted to ask about Y/N, but refrained.

On the way to the back door, they crossed through the kitchen. Larry snatched an unopened bottle of alcohol of a brand Sal didn't recognize and carried it along with him for the road.

As soon as they made it out of the house, they both made a break for it, running between houses and into multiple different backyards on their way.

They slowed down once they were at a measurable distance from the party, gasping for air. Sal panted against the prosthetic, placing his hands on his knees and slowing his gasps into slow breaths, attempting to calm his racing heart.

They stood on the side of the road, the music in the distance (albeit a lot quieter) still pounding into the night.

Sal lowered himself down onto the curb. Larry joined him, raising the bottle he'd chose to bring with him to his mouth, and opened the steel cap with his teeth. He spits it onto the road and gestures it toward Sal.

"Bottoms up," he said, bringing it to his lips and taking several gulps.

Sal rolled his eyes playfully, eyebrows rising as Ashley's Ford Fiesta cruised down the road and slowed to a stop in front of them. He stood up from the curb and pulled Larry off of it as well.

They entered the car, sliding into the backseat. Larry continued to down the beer he'd found as Ashley turned around in her seat.

"The night's still young," she says. "Any ideas of what we could do?"

It's really not. Sal's a bit disoriented so he doesn't know what time it is but he wouldn't be surprised if it was 3 AM.

You then turn around in the passenger seat and grin mischievously. "Let's go to the lake."

Oh, great.

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader

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paradoxolotl · 3 years ago

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mmmmmm.... how about the kids all get sick and its CHAOS. There are whines, exaggerations on how they feel, want to be cuddled, maybe some tears? Idk, just...make it as chaotic as your heart pleases. Andrew and Neil are tired. Maybe if you're up for it the parents get sick and even though they don't feel that bad the kids are still overprotective of them, as if they were going to die from a cold

This is too big for a comic. Have the honour of having the prompt for the first fic!

It had started, Andrew thought, with Nichole. She had been crabby, her cheeks red and swollen, and a little warm. Teething, he had thought. Finally getting her top teeth.

Then it was Anthony. Of course, just like his father, Anthony didn't say anything. Andrew watched his son stumble around the house in a daze, bumping into everything and sniffing every two seconds. Anthony had insisted he was fine, which earned him a scowl, but promised to tell Andrew if he started to feel worse.

When Dave got sick, Andrew knew it was the beginning of the end. Dave had always had a flare for dramatics, but even Andrew thought him collapsing halfway down the stairs was too far, even for him. He carried his son up to bed, ignoring his protests.

The next day, hell broke loose.

"Dad," Dave croaked from where he was curled on the sofa under a mountain of blankets. "Dad, I need to update my will."

"No you don't," Andrew said, stirring some noodles into the broth.

"I do," Dave insisted. "This is it for me. I can see the light."

"Stop staring at the lamp then," Anthony grumbled before immediately falling into a coughing fit.

"Stop telling what to do."

"Stop being annoying."

"You're annoying."

"You're face is annoying."

"Well, your face-"

"Okay," Andrew cut in, a bowl in each hand. "You both need to take your medicine and then you can have food." He was met with twin glares, which were weakened by the red noses and fluffy blankets. "Medicine. Now."

Anthony grumbled something while curling further into his armchair.

"I don't need any medicine," Dave said, sniffing loudly.

"Clearly." Andrew glanced at the coffee table where the bottle had sat earlier. "Where is it?"

Anthony shrugged, "Oh? It's missing? What a shame."

"A tragedy of epic proportions," Dave agreed with a nod.

"Better put out an APB."

"Should we make wanted posters?"

"That implies we want it," Anthony said between coughs.

"Celebration posters then," Dave said.

Andrew felt his sign run through his entire body. He was getting too old for this. "Guess I need to go grab the stuff that tastes like shit then."

"It all tastes like shit," Dave said, unbothered.

"You would think that," Andrew said, putting the bowls onto the counter and walking up the stairs.

Peeking into Nichole's room, he saw Neil staring dead-eyed at the wall, holding the baby against his chest. She was sleeping, finally. They had both been switching off through the night, giving her medicine and keeping her fever down as best they could. Andrew had had a headache for days at this point.

Neil looked over at Andrew, blinking once.

"They hid the cold medicine," Andrew said softly, "so I'm grabbing the gross stuff. Soup?"

Neil nodded. "Check the-"

"Couch cushions, I know." Placing a kiss on both of their heads, Andrew left as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake his daughter.

When he came back downstairs, both of his sons hadn't moved. They were shivering slightly, wiping their noses with the backs of their hands. The last step creaked under Andrew's weight, and both of them zeroed in on the bottle in his hand. Grabbing two spoons, Andrew sat on the table between them.

"Who's first? You pick or I will."

Neither kid would look at him. Fine. He would go another way.

"I didn't realize I had raised a couple of wimps." Both of them started to protest before once again falling into a coughing fit. Andrew shook the bottle. "Prove me wrong then."

"What is it?" Dave asked warily.

"It's called Buckley's."

"I've never heard of it."

"You can't get it here," Andrew said, pouring a spoonful. He could already smell it. "Open wide."

It was Anthony who relented first, glaring at Andrew the entire time. As soon as his lips closed around the spoon, Anthony's eyes grew wide, the sound of him gagging filling the room.

"Swallow it," Andrew said, taking the spoon back.

Anthony did with a grimace, and immediately stuck out his tongue, scraping it along his teeth. "Gaaaaaaaaaahhh, why is that so awful? That is the most disgusting thing ever!"

"Oh, come on!" Dave said. "It can't be that bad!"

"It is," Anthony gasped. "It really really is."

Andrew waved a spoon in Dave's face. "You're up, kiddo. Unless you're too scared."

Dave shot him a look, telling Andrew exactly what he thought of that, before taking the medicine into his mouth. Much like his brother, his eyes went wide, and Andrew could hear the beginnings of a scream.

He narrowed his eyes. "Swallow."

Dave did, and immediately collapsed onto the couch, screaming into his pillow.Satisfied, Andrew brought them their soups.

The next time it was time for their medicine, the cherry flavoured bottle was back on the table, almost exactly where he had left it.

#sorry i didn't do part two #maybe in a longer fic #also #buckley's #if you're canadian #you KNOW #it tastes awful. and it works #that is the SLOGAN #aftg #aftg fic #para’s fics #the minyard jostens

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lost-in-mind-palace · 2 years ago

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Horror Show (Huxloween Day 3 overdue prompt: horror movies)

I'm a kriffing sluggard, so I post this 4 days later. To justify myself I'll say that I posted earlier on AO3 and I'm not a tumblr person sooo

A tiny piece I wrote mostly sitting in school on my first day of English Philology studies lmao I was superrr bored

HORROR SHOW

aghast squeak 'Ben!!! Turn it down right now!!'

'Oh, someone's scared?'

'I'm not scared, you dork! I'm— mentally disturbed.'

'It's just a mild way of saying that you're quaking in your boots, Hux.'

'Shut up! No one who's keeping up at least some appearances of normalcy watches such movies! And eating fucking popcorn while this!!'

chomp 'What? Why? It's almost like my own sound effects. Listen. chomps louder Doesn't it sound like cracking bones to you?'

'Gross! excruciating wail in the background Wait, what's he gonna do with that axe? Is he gonna— oh my God, Ben, he ripped her guts out!!' sounds of hyperventilating

tired sigh 'Chill out, Hux. It's all fake. Can't you see this? It's so false it hurts my eyes. The entrails look like some slimy tapeworms.'

'Oh, and that's supposed to be better? And I don't know where you have your eyes, because to me it looks fucking real! If something's spilling from one's stomach, there's no way those aren't guts.'

'It's all a matter of context. in a hushed voice And a weak will.'

angry snort 'I prefer to be weak-willed, as you put it, than watch such atrocities with a smile on my face like some psychotic serial killer! in a tricky questioning voice Is there something I should know about you, Ben?? Do you happen to secretly slaughter people in the dark alleys during your evening jogs? Putting the ideas from your stupid movies into life, huh?'

chuckle 'Are you nuts? Goddamnit, you haven't got some dread-concussion, have you?'

'I'm deathly serious. I thought I knew you, but seeing the content you feed your poor brain with, I start to doubt everything. What else are you hiding, hubby? A severed head in the fridge?'

in an ostentatiously flirtatious voice 'Wanna check?'

helpless growl 'You're insufferable. dramatic Hitchcock's-Psychosis-alike music in the background intensifies Shit, what's happening? And are the leaking entrails playing a main role in this again? You've watched it already, haven't you? '

'Yup, 10 times at least.'

'Christ—'

'And no, he's gonna only slit her throat, if you insist to spoil you the fun.'

'Oh, only this? What a relief.'

awkward humming 'Uhm— there's gonna be, you know— er, a little fountain of blood squirting out of the artery. So— cough you've been warned.'

relieved sigh 'Ah, fine. This I can handle.'

'Really? I kinda thought you'd shut your pretty eyes tight and cuddle on my lap like a terrified puppy.'

'Nah. Slitting one's throat isn't actually that bad way to die. Hmm, if the cut is neat and clean, of course.'

'Hux... now I don't recognize you.'

scoff 'Come on, what can a fake fountain of red tomato juice do to my already wretched sanity? I've just seen human's embowelment and a gallon of gastric juices. Nothing like a plain throat-cutting can bother me anymore.'

'Damn, should I be proud of you, Hux? I feel proud. A couple more marathons and I'm gonna make a full-blooded horror movie bug from you!'

huff 'Forget it! swish Hey, leave my hair alone, buffon!!'

fond giggle 'Sorry, I couldn't resist. You're so cute when you get angry.'

'I'm not cute!!'

'You're literally denying yourself right now, you know? Look at you! You're blushing, Hux.'

incredulous wheeze 'Bullshit! It's the screen's glow!'

'Are you sure? The light's blue.'

'I— I don't care!!'

soundless eyeroll 'Oh, c'mere, my cute blushing hubby.'

sounds of a person wriggling madly in a tight grip 'Lemme go, you sociopath! You're squishing my ribs and lungs in a fucking pulp!!'

sloppy peck on the forehead 'I'm doing this for your sake. I suggest you stop wriggling. Someone's gonna have their eyes gouged out in a while. Trust me, you're not prepared to see this yet. I need to spare your beautiful eyes the sight. When I watched it first, I almost threw out.'

'You?!'

'Yeah, I was so innocent then. But don't worry, I've toughened up. agonising howl 'Please, noooo!' 'Now, it doesn't affect me in the slightest.' relaxed chomp 'Over time, the same will happen to you.'

words muffled in one very shredded chest 'Over my dead body.' after a sinister pause 'Or yours, hubby.'

#kylux #huxloween #huxloween2022 #halloween #kylo ren #ben solo #armitage hux #general hux #hello there it's me and my silly brain #my fics and ficklets #huxloween day 3

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

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Bittersweet (JJK x Reader) ☕️💜🔞

🍪 Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

🍪 Genre: Barista!AU, Mutual pining, smut because this is my content we’re talking about

🍪 Warnings: mentions of sickness, mentions of vomiting, best boi Koo, coffee puns, casual y’all during sex, protected sex because we have our lives under control in this household, overstimulation, rough! Koo, spanking (like..once), doggy-style because why not, reader rides Koo for a moment before he takes the upper hand again, they’re just being a mess ok

🍪 Summary: every day she’s his favorite costumer. So when she’s suddenly absent; what’s he supposed to do without any way to contact her?

Jungkooks eyes began to sparkle as she stepped inside, wrapped up in a fluffy brown jacket, a scarf around her neck.

His scarf to be exact.

Now, they both weren't a couple- but close enough. He'd given her his scarf the day before as she'd forgotten hers at home; and due to the cold weather outside, he'd immediately gotten concerned over her health. He knew that she hated the cold- so he'd gifted his own protection against the harsh wind outside to her, uncaring about himself in that moment.

It gave him a weird sense of pride knowing that she wore it still. And as she stepped closer, Jungkook had already prepared her usual order- never forgetting to include her favorite cookies, a thing he'd memorized by now. She never quite drank coffee, but more like, milk and sugar with a drop of coffee. His coworker, Jin, had made fun of it several times in the past; he'd always stepped in however, as soon as he could see how embarrassed she got.

"Oh?" He asked, as he noticed her red nose and glossy eyes. "Are you okay?" He asked, and she giggled before coughing. He furrowed his brows. Hopefully she didn't want to go to work like that- but by now he knew her well enough to have a very big suspicion that that was exactly her plan for the day.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh hey what's brewing? Looking good yourself, thanks for the compliment-" She said, trying to laugh but coughing again. "Hey look, I kind of wanted to return your scarf, but I also don't want to share my bacteria with you so- is it okay if I keep it for a bit?" She said, voice a bit muffled due to her facemask. He nodded, a slight pout on his lips.

"I know you're gonna go to work but-" He said, placing her order on the counter for her to take, as she placed down the money he took. "Can you at least go home a bit earlier? You really do look not so good." He said, doe-eyes growing a bit pleading at her as she sighed.

"I'll try, okay?" She said, and he nodded. Technically he'd ask her to promise, but he also knew how headstrong she was. The fact that she aknowledged his request was good enough for now.

"Okay." He said, smiling a bit as he waved from behind the counter as she left. "Take care!" He called out as she still waved, almost tripping over the small step outside the door as he chuckled, turning to the next costumer.

She wasn't there the next day.

Typically he should not get too worried about it, but as the week passed, she still didn't show up. A coworker of hers couldn't tell him either what was going on; only that she wasn't at work either.

So she was probably at home resting. Hopefully.

"...kook. Jungkook!" Jin called out, saving his younger coworker from spilling hot milk all over his hand. "Okay, spill the beans loverboy." He sternly said as he took him to the side, the cafe calm and almost empty as they were close to closing time. Jungkook sighed as he ran a hand over his face, groaning for a moment.

"I'm worried!" He exclaimed, no need to say out loud who he was talking about. "I know that she's an independent adult person who can surely take care of herself but what if something happened? What if she's at home too sick to take care of herself? Jin during the entire time she came here, she never missed an entire week!" He explained in pout as he let himself flop down on one of the small chairs. Seokjin sighed, before he looked at the clock.

"Go. I'll wrap things up today." He said, as Jungkook furrowed his brows. Even if he went home now, that didn't help his situation at all! "I'll give you her number and you can call her-" He started, as Jungkook suddenly jumped up.

"You have her number?! Why didn't you tell me?" He yelled, absolutely scandalized by this.

Seokjin threw his hands up in defeat. "Okay slow down, first of all you never asked. Second of all she told me not to!" He said, and Jungkooks look shifted. He suddenly didn't look offended anymore- he looked hurt. Betrayed almost.

"Why.?" He asked, now way quieter.

Jin sighed. "She wanted you to ask for it instead." He answered, and Jungkook threw his head back again, groaning as Jin laughed. "Give me your phone.." He said, taking the device from him and putting in her contact info. "There you go. Use protection kid!" He called after Jungkook, who'd immediately grabbed his phone and ran out, putting on his coat on his way.

The older one simply shook his head, smiling.

"..yeah?" The very tired voice of hers answered as Jungkook sat up straighter on his couch.

"H-Hey its Jungkook! You know, Kookie, the barista who puts in vanilla sugar instead of the lame stuff?" He said, and suddenly a laugh reached his ear, making him involuntarily smile. "Hey, I.. you didn't show up the entire week and it made me kind of worry so, I wanted to ask if you're good?" He asked, shyness slowly dying down.

Her voice sounded strained. "Yeah yeah, just great-" She said, before coughing. "Okay yeah no. Have you ever needed to sneeze but you couldnt?" She asked, and he hummed a reply, agreeing that he indeed had been in that situation before. "I feel absolutely like I'm gonna, you know, throw up, but I can't." She groaned, and his brows furrowed at that.

"I promise I don't try to be creepy here but-" He started, as he looked at his dog, peacefully sleeping next to him on the couch. "Can you give me your address maybe so I can come over? I- Listen I'm super worried, and no one should be left alone when sick." He said, and wondered if he was overstepping a line. Until he heard some shuffling, and a jingling sound.

"I'll text it to you, k? I uh.. unlocked the door now because I sure as hell won't be getting up anymore today." She said, as he chuckled.

"Oh, so you're gonna make me your maid?" He asked, and she giggled.

"Thats the plan Kookie."

"Y/N?" He called, without getting an answer. He thought about it, before trying a second attempt. "Midget!"

The answer was almost instantly. "The fuck do you mean Mid-" She tried, before coughing.

Jungkook walked inside the bedroom after searching for a moment, looking at her with a pitiful smile as he leaned against the doorframe. If she wasn't feeling so absolutely disgusting in that moment, she would've whistled at his way different outfit. After all, she mainly only saw him in his regular work attire; the black button up and ripped jeans he sported now a complete one-eighty to that. He looked so much more mature like that- now actually giving away that he was a bit older than her. Did he always have such a defined jawline? He could definitely cut a bitch with that-

Wow, exit was three miles ago.

"Done staring sugar?" He asked, and she only groaned, burying herself deeper into her massive mountain of blankets as he chuckled. "Alright. I'm gonna carry you into the living room, because I wont be spending my time in your stuffy bedroom." He said, making her giggle as she peeked out of her makeshift burrito.

"You won't?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively before sneezing into the blankets, making him chuckle again.

"You're sick, so no." He said, and she suddenly yelped as he leaned down to pick her up. "What?" He asked with wide eyes.

"I'm sick!"

"So?"

"I'm sick."

"Heard that before." He said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. She swallowed a bit at that because- was that a tattoo staring at her? Why did she never notice his hand was inked?! She shook her head, to focus again. "You'll get sick too!" She explained, before he scoffed.

"It's not like I'm licking your face sugar, now stop being difficult." He said, as he picked her up, blankets and everything included as he carried her back, placing her onto her couch before he squatted down in front of her face. "I'm gonna heat up some soup, and you'll eat something alright?" He said, and she shook her head.

"I'm gonna throw it up." She said, a pout evident. She didn't want his hard work to simply go down the drain- quite literally.

"That's okay." He answered, as she furrowed her brows. "You probably can't throw up because you haven't eaten. People typically feel better after vomiting so it's okay. Win win situation, really." He said as if it wasn't a huge deal.

"It's gross though." She mumbled.

"It happens." He said back, as he placed the white plastic bag on her kitchen counter, filling some of the soup from the plastic container into a small bowl he had a bit of issues finding, before he heated it up in her microwave. He was absolutely terrified of using them usually, making her laugh at him every time someone brought it up, but this time he didn't care much. "Here, let me help." He hummed, as he placed the bowl and a spoon on the small coffee table in front of her couch, helping her sit up properly. "Slowly, okay? You don't need to finish it, just a bit at a time alright sugar?" He requested, and she nodded, watching him as he sat down next to her, bowl on his thigh while he blew on the spoon, careful to cool the liquid food down before offering it. She kept her eyes on his focused face as she opened her lips, accepting it as he gently smiled. "There we go. Hope it doesn't suck, Jin says I can't cook for shit." He said with a chuckle.

"Doesn't matter, I can't taste much anyways." She shrugged, as he offered another small spoonful.

He snorted a bit as he kept himself concentrated. "Well I guess I'll just have to get you better, and cook for you when your tastebuds work again." He decided, as she smiled.

"Huh?" He noticed, as the small form of her whizzed past him, practically throwing open the bathroom door before he heard her. He dried his hands, sighing as he went inside the bathroom, spotting her leaning over the toilet bowl, gripping it with pale hands. "Oh sugar." He hummed, before he squatted next to her, a comforting hand running over her back as the other gathered her hair, holding it away from her face. He hushed her the best he could, a bit of helplessness seeping into his mind as he watched her struggle. She leaned her head on the side of the bowl for a moment, breathing heavily with closed eyes. Jungkook reached for a piece of toilet paper, wiping her mouth before he continued his gentle caressing of her back. "Better?" He asked, and she nodded, before opening her eyes, tearing up. "Whats wrong?" He asked, as he helped her sit, flushing the toilet.

"I hate this." She said, angrily wiping her eyes.

"Everyone gets sick." He said with a slight smile, searching for toothpaste as he prepared everything for her to get the taste off of her tongue.

"Thats not what I meant." She mumbled, as he looked at her. "I hate that you see me like this. I'm disgusting and a walking piece of dead meat at this point, radiating germs." She huffed, as he went down in front of her, pointing her toothbrush at her lips as she opened them almost automatically. He smiled at her reaction, placing the brush inside her mouth as she took over, lazily brushing her teeth.

"I think you're still pretty." He said, as she looked at him with an unamused look in her eyes. "I feel good that you let me take care of you like this. It feels nice that you let me see you like that." He explained, as he helped her up to walk towards the sink, turning on the water as she rinsed her mouth. "I don't like you any less, of you're worried about that." He said, and she almost choked on the water inside her mouth.

She knew he liked her, romantically, yet he'd never openly said it.

"I know its a bit sudden, but I've been pretty obvious." He said, as he wiped her mouth with a towel, before smiling at her.

"If I wasn't sick right now I'd be all cliche and kiss you right now, but I can't." She said, pouting a bit as he chuckled, kissing his two fingers before placing them onto her lips.

"Indirect kiss then."

"Okay but espresso is absolutely disgusting." She said, leaning over the counter to grab a mini cookie, before yelping as Jungkook playfully slapped her hands.

"Everyone can decide for themselves, first of all, and stop stealing shit." He said as he pointed at her, gasping scandalized as she teasingly tried to bite his finger. "Really now?" He asked, and she laughed.

"Okay kids, be disgusting somewhere else please!" Seokjin yelled, grabbing Jungkook by his apron as he pushed him into the backroom, telling him to change and go home. "Yoongi and I will close up today." He said to the young girl waiting, as she nodded.

"Alright sugar, lets go and be disgusting!" Jungkook exclaimed as he emerged from the backroom, now dressed in familiar all black attire, as he scooped her up, making her laugh as they both walked out of the cafe, towards his car.

"I want you to move in with me." He said between huffs of breaths as she mewled underneath him, body shaking with every encounter with his thrusting hips. She nodded as she smiled when he leaned down to kiss her collarbone, hand running over her breasts as he teasingly pinched a nipple between his fingers.

"You'll- urgh-" She groaned, as he bit the skin. "You'll have to carry my shit though." She pressed out, as he laughed at that, leaning back as he expertly angled his hips to hit her sweet spot deep inside, making her arch her back.

"Ah- that's fine with m..me!" He stuttered as he began to put more force into his movements, sacrificing speed for strength as she hummed in delight underneath him, grabbing the pillow above her head as she started to grow restless. "You gonna cum sugar? Nice and hard?" He asked playfully as he moved his hand over her exposed clit, fingers rubbing over the sensitive bundle of nerves as she gasped in pleasure, thighs suddenly shaking as she came, clenching around him. "Hm, good girl." He hummed, before she huffed, suddenly squirming before she squealed, wetness escaping her as he chuckled, sight enough to send him over the edge as well. "There we go, giving me a show aren't you sugar?" He said, voice hoarse as he let himself lean over her again, before she suddenly grinned up at him, pulling him down and shoving a bit to get him to lay down, suddenly above him as she sunk down on his still sensitive cock.

He laghed and choked up as she continued to ride him, her own second orgasm approaching as he squeezed his eyes shut. "God- good god ah!" He yelled out between laughter at the way he could feel his own legs tremble, unsure if what he was feeling was torture of absolute heaven. "Pl-Please God, Baby you're-" He pressed out, gasping as he suddenly felt himself close to a second orgasm as well. "You're gonna kill me you fucking demon!" He exclaimed, roughly turning her around as he pulled her legs against her stomach again, thrusting with newfound strength, as she giggled and squealed. "That's what you wanted?" He asked between gritted teeth as she pressed her eyes close. "Little demon can't get enough of this dick?" He teased as she nodded, now desperately racing towards her release as he suddenly slipped out of her, adjusting the condom with a trembling hand as he manhandles her laughing body onto her stomach, pulling on her lower half as he slipped inside her wet cunt from behind, bringing his inked hand down onto her butt with a loud slap for good measure as she whined. "Oh now you're complaining? Should've known what-" He groaned out in between his words as he grabbed her thighs, pulling her against his relentless hips as she moaned out into the pillow below her. "-Should've know what you got yourself into." He finished, before she arched her back again, reaching behind her to push him off as her eyes teared up from overstimulation. As he saw her painful expression he immediately pulled out of her, pulling the condom off of his erection as he desperately pumped his length, finishing in small spurts on the arch of her back before they both collapsed, breathing heavily.

"Okay, I loved every second of it sugar but-" He exclaimed breathless, as she cuddled up next to him, throwing a leg over his body as he laughed. "What the fuck was that?"

But she simply giggled, mind still too hazy to form any words.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #bts #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

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cheelduh · 4 years ago

Text

A Liar’s Bait

Pairing: Kaeya x fem!reader

Warnings: Idk fatui abuse? Also Aether gets his braid pulled don’t hate me. Also unedited asf.

Synopsis: There’s a hiccup in the elaborate plan you’ve concocted to rescue your friends, and said hiccup comes in the form of a handsome Cavalry Captain that doesn’t have the foggiest of clues as to what personal space is.

"Ah darling, I didn't know you'd be wondering about this late in the night." The charming cavalry captain, Kaeya, sang from behind you.

For a brief second, you froze in place, but not long enough for him to see through your motives. "Kaeya," You turned to him naturally, and spoke your next words like an actor revising a memorized script. "Have to return a book. You know how Lisa gets."

"At these ungodly hours?" He raised a brow, and you blinked away any remnants of sleep in your eyes at the mention of time.

Barely skipping a beat, you gave him an acknowledging smile. "I have some tasks to do tomorrow. It's better if I return it now." The book that is supposedly due tomorrow is waved hurriedly in the air, as if to exaggerate your point.

"Though it seems like Lisa has went home." He pointed out, cornering you against the brick wall, a knowing look in the deep pools of his eyes.

Of course you knew Lisa wasn't in. That was the entire base of your plan. There were a total of four knights on rotation at the headquarters. It was simple really, sneak into the library with your authority as trusted aide, and if push came to shove, an easy knockout would do.

However, Kaeya's sudden appearance put a hiccup through your plans. It would take more than a sock to the face to put him out of commission.

"Oh really?" You tilted your head in confusion, eyes widening, as you eyed him. "I probably should have came by earlier. Well then, I'll just have to put it on her desk with a note."

"You could trust it with me, and I'll return it tomorrow. Captain's word." He replied innocently, snatching the book from your fingers.

Archons, you absolutely did not have the time for this.

Aether and Paimon were waiting after all.

You decided not to shove a stick up his ass, and instead let your anger blow over silently.

"Your hands are clammy darling," Kaeya went on, flipping through the text just for show. "I can feel it on the book."

'Ew that's gross' You wanted to say, but decided to play his game instead.

"Guess I'm nervous." A forced a blush made its way onto your face. Okay maybe it wasn't forced, but you couldn't blame yourself for letting his subtle teasing get to you.

"Oh?" He feigned curiosity, letting the book close with a soft thud. "My presence often does that to people." The cocky undertone in his voice made you fantasize smacking his face a hundred times over.

"Of course," It was a struggle to not speak in a dry tone. "You are truly..." A small cough escaped your lips, and you tried to stumble upon the words, wishing upon barbatos that the flattering would work. "charming."

Kaeya's grin widened, all cat like, and for a brief moment you felt your heart stutter. He swooped in to cage you against the wall. "I didn't know you were so bold dear."

Before he could utter another flirtatious remark, you pushed yourself close to him, distracting him for a mere moment just to strategically slip the book into the safety of your arms. "Thanks but no thanks. I'll return the book myself."

With a swift duck under his arm, you made your way to HQ before a cold hand grabbed your shoulder. You ceased any movement and glanced over your shoulder, a frown made clear.

Kaeya narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not liking how you weren't becoming a bumbling idiot at his flirty behaviour like you usually did. You'd love to—but you just didn't have the time to deal with him, not when the fatui were breathing down your neck.

"I'll go with you." He said slowly, testing you for any reactions. Shit. He's on to you. "I can't let a pretty lady wander all alone. You might get lost."

Like hell you would. You knew everything about the damn base as if it were the back of your hand. Kaeya understood this as well, but instead, he opted to wake up every morning and choose to be a dickwad.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Lead the way."

Kaeya seemed satisfied at your reply, and slid his grip down from your shoulder, straight to your free hand. He walked in front of you, pulling you behind him like you were a clumsy toddler.

His gaze wasn't on you, so you took the chance to examine your surroundings, trying to find the presence that was tailing you.

Kaeya being this close to you wasn't looking good for you at all. The walls had eyes and ears, and the only way to apprehend the risk was by doing as they said. Only then would you get your opening.

Paimon...Aether...hold on a bit longer.

With a nod to the guards, Kaeya and you made your way in, stopping right in front of the library. With a puzzled expression on your face, you were about to question his intentions, until he readjusted his grip so that your fingers were intertwined.

You were sure your face was flushed in all kinds of colours by now.

"Shall we enter?" He asked you, mirth clear in his eyes.

The only signal you managed to give him was a quick nod.

The library smelled of dark oak and silk flowers. You briefly remembered Aether giving her the plant from his adventures back in Liyue. The bookshelves were decorated with intricate designs, filled with countless of books that had all earned their rightful place.

And you were about to steal one, summoning chaos into Lisa's beloved library. It would be you who might deliver an archived book straight into the hands of the very people who sought out violence in order to achieve power.

"I'll check it in for you," Kaeya let go of your hand after dragging you all the way to the front desk, only to outstretch it for the text you were gripping too hard.

"Oh yeah," You handed it to him—willingly this time. "thank you. I'll be looking around."

It was understood what you had to do. Easily finding the locked case from which you would slip the book into your clothes only to make a run for it wouldn't cut it.

The captain would make too much noise and track you down himself before you could get the chance to shove the book up the Fatui's ass, get Aether and Paimon their freedom back. Then once you'd ensure their safety, you'd beat the living shit out of the Fatui agents right after. It's not like you'd have a choice.

The whole reason you were in this whole mess was because you decided to help Aether out with his latest commission, which happened to be clearing out a hilichurl camp smack dab in the middle of a road. The camp blocked all imports and exports, proving to be a stick in the butt for the merchants of Monstadt.

You, oh helpful and kind you, assisted him with the task, seeing as you were walking back from a fishing trip.

Turned out that the hilichurl camp was a cover for a bunch of Knights of Favonious hungry Fatui agents who were hellbent on getting the one and only copy of a book Lisa had tucked away in the library.

While you two could've easily ended every single one of those shady bastards, enemy reinforcements came out of nowhere and dug their claws right into Aether.

At least that was the cover story.

Violà, a hostage situation was born.

They promised to let Aether go on one condition. If you obtained a book they had their eyes on for quite some time. But their promise had as much worth as Venti's word did when he told you that the drinks were on him.

They couldn't risk the Knights finding out. You were just another loose string that would be cut off along your two friends.

Locating the book and hiding it in your outfit undetected was as effortless as it could get. What was coming would not be.

"Darling," Kaeya called out to you, but his voice is different. More darker than usual. You didn't summon your spear just yet.

"I've finished up. Let's get going yeah?" His footsteps are light on the wooden planks of the floor, but his words are solid. Frozen even.

You breathed out, but refused to turn around.

"You know," He continued, halting next to your shoulder, leaning his sweet mouth down to your ear. His hot breath fanned against your neck, but you paid no heed. "A liar is no stranger to a liar."

You lunged to the side, spinning on your heel as your back hit the railing in the middle of the library. The captain reacted quickly by swiping the air, but ultimately failed to grab you as you gracefully tipped yourself over, landing right on your feet.

There was now a floor that separated the two of you. Just as you had intended.

The reflexes you showcased earned you a smooth-voiced chuckle, an amused smirk gracing his lips. He leaned against the ledge with both hands, bending down his upper body.

"Oh my. We've got ourselves a thief. You didn't think I wouldn't notice, right?" He contemplated, weapon materializing right then and there, ready to put on a good show. You could read him like a book just as he could you. "Can't believe you're such a naughty girl."

Despite his teasing tone, his eyes remained cold and calculating.

"Don't flatter yourself." You spoke monotonously, brushing a hand in the air. "The date stamp didn't match up right? Tight time frame, couldn't really think about the logistics."

Kaeya narrowed his eye shrewdly, offended. "I can't let you go you know."

"I don't need you to." You quipped, but then placed a finger on your chin. "On second thought I kind of do. How about a friendly transaction? I really don't want to fight you."

"And I do not wish to fight you, darling." Kaeya's face split into a viscous smile, a far less forgiving gaze meeting you halfway. This was your chance to tell him, he was giving you a generous opening to explain yourself.

You bit your lip, feeling the unknown presence yet again. The walls had eyes and ears. The walls had vengeful teeth that would dig into you the minute you'd let it slip.

"I need you to let me go." You clutched the leather of your gloves desperately, your prior confidence flickering. Begging was the only card you had left.

His hardened gaze on your form softened slightly, but disappeared almost instantly.

You didn't have to wait for him to voice his answer. It was as clear as day.

The captain didn't waste any more time when jumping over the ledge.

By the time Kaeya's feet made impact, your pole arm was already aimed and ready to strike.

"Let's dance."

After a tactical withdrawal, you found yourself taking tentative steps on the outskirts of Springvale. It wouldn't have been possible if Kaeya didn't let his guard down momentarily.

The cuts on your shoulder still stung, but it was difficult to spare any time towards the throbbing.

Why were you walking so slow? Did your plan not work? No, it should have. You calculated every risk. But why the hell were you prolonging the inevitable end?

It didn't matter. Either way, you'd get to sink your teeth into some unfortunate fatui agents, injecting them with centuries worth of pain.

The opening was nearby, you noted, the pathway familiar. You always were good with maps, oftentimes lending a hand to the certain young outrider with a bright smile and kind heart.

You allowed yourself to calm your erratic heartbeat, and slow your breathing as to get a clearer sense around you. There were two, but before there had been three. The third one revealed himself when you deployed your "return the book" scheme, flipping through the guidebook carefully to see if you left potential breadcrumbs.

Gnawing at your lip, you followed the trail, the world behind you quieting down to a silent whisper.

It seemed like forever when you reached the destination, halting your movements.

Your ears perked up at their footsteps before you could catch a glimpse of them, but made no sudden movements except for dropping the book on the ground as they had instructed.

It was odd that you felt as calm as you did. It could've been because of your confidence in your abilities, or perhaps, something else entirely.

The pyro agent appeared from one of the bushes, right after shoving a bruised and gagged Aether. Paimon came next, in a cage controlled by a fatui cicin mage who wore a wicked smile on her stupid face.

They managed to shut Paimon up real quick. You wondered what it took, but not for too long.

"Hey now," You grinned, but your fingernails were digging crescents in your palm. "I thought we agreed that no one gets hurt?"

"The traveller here is a real handful." The fatui agent hissed from under his mask, harshly yanking Aether by his braid.

Aether, immobile, scowled in discomfort and continued to struggle through his bounds.

You didn't acknowledge the blond nor the agent's words, alternatively choosing to nod your head to the book instead. "Here as promised."

The agent motioned to the Cicin mage, who walked forward in order to obtain the book safely. She handed it back to him, and he briefly flipped through it, seemingly satisfied.

Just like that, Aether was knocked down on his knees next to your feet, Paimon thrown like a sack of potatoes atop him. They were out of the red. Your signal to strike.

"Unfortunately, promises are beneath our pay grade." The agent placed a finger on his chin, as if in thought. "However, you prove to be a valuable asset."

"Oh really?" You piped, eyes crinkling in mock excitement. "I'm really glad a lowly fatui scum thinks so highly of me. It's truly an honour."

Said fatui agent glared knives straight through his mask.

"Kill them." He ordered, and the Cicin mage hummed a sound of delight, summoning her electro-flies or whatever the hell those things were called.

Your polearm took shape in the clutches of your left hand, a twisted grin plastered on your face.

"I'm gonna have so much fun tearing you apart." The bloodlust you emanated was enough to choke the air out of both the mage and agent.

Pouncing on your prey, you didn't give the mage a chance to scream before you landed a roundhouse kick straight to her ribs. She made a guttural choking sound, moving to clutch herself. You ended the move by twisting your weapon into the air to send a shattering hit straight to her temple.

Your blow successfully knocked her out, the kick back proving to be enough to send the pyro agent flying into a nearby tree.

"I really expected something more challenging." A pout formed on your lips, eyebrows furrowed. "Hopefully you can make up for what your mage lacked. If not, I'll be disappointed."

The agent chuckled painfully. "You won't get the chance. You can't take on all of us."

"All of you?" You questioned, tilting your head, eyes widening innocently. "Oh you mean those pesks that were tailing me? So sorry, but they're gone now."

"W-what?!" He sputtered, quick on his feet as he pulled out his knife, charging it with elemental energy. "How could you have—"

"How unfair," A low tone whistled, and Kaeya finally made an appearance, smiles and everything. "Don't give her all the credit. You're making me feel left out."

The pyro agent scattered around his flames, preparing to shake up the battle—

You lost your patience and picked up a decent sized rock, aimed for his nose, and sent a plunging attack.

The agent lost consciousness before he hit the ground.

"Oh come on!" Kaeya's dejected groan rang in your ears. "Could've let me have a turn."

"You already had your turn." You sent a pointed stare at him, bending down near the mage to wipe the blood of your pole arm with her clothes. "Two times if I recall."

He rolled his eyes playfully, forgetting the banter to go and free the traveller of his bounds.

—

"Let's me get this straight." Jean said with fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "You two roughed up some fatui agents without informing the knights, and put the traveller at risk." There's this look of disappointment in her face, but you're used to it by now.

Hanging around Kaeya sure had its ups and downs.

"Precisely. The folder on your desk has all the details. Enough proof to have them in our custody.” The cavalry captain nodded along, and it somehow made you feel like you were a kid being scolded after getting caught stealing cookies from the jar.

"It was an operation that the traveller agreed to," You declared so her brewing anger didn't overflow. "The perfect plan to catch them in the act. It was my idea. The captain didn’t really know until later.”

"Although I’m quite hurt you didn’t fill me in any sooner, I must say, watching those ignorant fatui diplomats scramble to try and find an explanation is going to be worth the wait.” He spoke with a hint of a smile.

The both of you fist bumped. Jean wasn't amused.

The acting grand master produced a stern glare. "Y/N, assist Lisa with anything she needs for the rest of the week. And the Cavalry Captain here won't be going out on patrols any time soon."

That was a clear lie, but Jean had to keep up appearances after all. What kind of acting grand master would she be if she didn't at least pretend to have some sort of authority over her two trouble-making subordinates.

With a dramatic sigh, you spun on your heel to leave.

“Hey Y/N,” Jean called out, and you tilted your head, wanting to know if she changed her mind and decided to make your punishment worse. “Good work today. That will be all.” She avoided eye contact, feigning deeper interest in the pileup on her desk.

After the "briefing”, as Kaeya liked to call it, you found yourself outside of HQ with him right on your tail.

"Not too shabby for a day's work." He winked, smoothing out his words. "I must say, I'm quite impressed with how this went. Didn't expect you to put so much faith in me.”

"How did you get my signal anyways?" You snorted. "The entire scheme was off the bat. I had to wink at the traveller like five times to get him to showcase a crappy fight stance and become my fake hostage. Dense little guy.”

There was a momentary pause before Kaeya enlightened you with an answer.

"You hate reading, and you're irresponsible." He pointed out cheekily, poking at your nose. You scrunched your nose and turned away, cheeks warming. "The abyss would freeze over before you ever read a book, let alone steal one. That’s several red flags for me.”

He kept going, finding the topic of this to be quite interesting. “Not to mention returning the “Code of Conduct” handbook.” The relentless teasing was one of the reasons why you dreaded work,

"Gee thanks." You remarked unceremoniously. “I didn’t need your help at all. You just love sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

"Aww don't be so low spirited." He suspended your movements by curling an arm around your waist. "Let me treat you for a job well done darling." His hot breath fanned your ear, lips teasingly close.

Dammit dammit...why does he have to be so close!

"That's unfair." Paimon screeched from thin air, scaring the living daylights out of you. "After all the traveller and I have been through, don't we deserve a treat as well?!"

Kaeya laughed apologetically, cold hand never leaving your hips. "Of course. The honorary knight has been quite the help. Now let’s get moving, we're not frozen in place, after—"

A smack on the arm shut him up real quick.

#kaeya x reader #genshin impact #kaeya alberich #kaeya x y/n #kaeya x you #genshin impact oneshot #aether #Paimon

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the-archxr · 4 years ago

Text

Waterloo!

steve harrington x reader

Summary: After witnessing you and a Family Video frequent flirting and connecting over your favourite band, Steve gets jealous and ends up showing you how ABBA should truly be celebrated.

A/N: so hahaha, I have recently been obsessed with Mamma Mia! and Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again, which led me to this fic, which is ONE THOUSAND PERCENT based off of the Waterloo scene from Here We Go Again, because the more I thought about it the more I realized that Steve is like Harry in that sense, so yeah. Here we are.

Song Inspo: Waterloo - ABBA, Waterloo - Hugh Skinner and Lily James (cause you can’t just pick one, m’kay?)

•••••

“Okay, but speaking in terms of the be-all to end-all of questions...”

The boy with the dirty blonde hair and ragged plaid shirt leans over the counter slowly. His blue eyes meet yours and his teeth are bared in a striking smirk. “And just so you know, your answer will determine the future of our relationship...”

You nod with a laugh. “Okay.”

“What’s your favourite ABBA song?”

You snort and shake your head, picking up his rental to ring it through.

He gives you an expectant look, which you respond with a simple shrug and and, “I don’t know.”

He scoffs playfully. Gliding over to the register with ease he rests his head on his fist. You roll your eyes at the sight before you. If he wasn’t so cute, then you’d be severely turned off by the excessive forwardness.

“Aw, c’mon. Everyone has a favourite.”

After shutting the register with his exact change in it, you cross your arms with a sigh. “Well, if you were as true of an ABBA fan as you say you are, then you’d know that that’s a trick question. Because every ABBA song is good, therefore, they’re all my favourite.”

“Smartass,” he huffs, earning a laugh from you.

Suddenly you hear a loud “shit” come from behind you which grabs your attention from the flirtatious customer to your coworker and friend.

“You alright, Steve?”

He hops out from behind the back wall, a faint blush gracing his cheeks and neck. “Y-yeah. Just got attacked by these goddamn boxes.”

You laugh and look back to the blonde who still hasn’t left. Quirking an eyebrow, you look him up and down.

“You’re still here?”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs with a shit-eating grin. “Was hoping I’d be able to talk to you a little more.”

“...About?”

He opens his mouth to speak before his eyes flit to the clock above you. “Shit, I gotta go. I have to pick up my little brother and his friends up from the pool.”

He grabs the VHS, before shooting you a wink as he waves goodbye.

It isn’t until after he leaves that you hear a scoff come from your coworker. You frown and spin on the heels of your feet.

“Something wrong, Stevie?”

He rolls his eyes and leans over to pick up the empty boxes he tripped on earlier. “No. Yes...? I don’t know. I guess, it’s just...him?”

Picking up the remaining boxes you follow him to the back. “What do you mean ‘him’?”

“Ah, c’mon he was practically eye-fucking you in the middle of the store. It was—it was gross and icky and...bleh.”

You laugh loudly at that and watch your friends hair bounce with the movement of hauling the cardboard into the large bin. “Bleh?”

“Bleh!” You both walk back to the door, which encourages Steve to hold it open for you. “I mean that’s a total Billy move.”

“Oh, so now he’s not just bleh, he’s a Billy.”

“Yeah,” Steve huffs and runs a hand through his hair. “Meaning he’s a complete and utter dick.”

“Just cause he was flirty?”

“That’s not being flirty that’s called being horny.”

You groan at his words, regardless of the fact that they don’t offend you in the slightest. If anything they amuse you.

You heave yourself on top of the counter, one leg splayed over the countertop and the other swaying idly. He gestures to the sticker gun beside you, which you grab and wave in his direction. “Oh, and you know something about the difference between flirty and horny?”

“Yeah, because I used to be that horny guy.” He snatches the sticker gun out of your hand and begins to wave it around as he walks to the one end of the store.

“Oh, right. Your whole King Steve faze.” You watch him shake his head at your words with a slight frown. You sigh. “King Steve, ruler of the horndogs.”

He laughs, making your plan in lightening up the mood a success.

The silence in the store pulls on for a few seconds before you reach over and turn on the radio—the hum of the static and muffled voices echoing through the building as you switch through the channels before you set it on the desired station.

You lean back and watch your friend move around the store lazily, putting bright pink stickers on the assortment of rentals haphazardly.

You frown as you think (a curse, cause you never seem to stop thinking), and sit up playing with the many woven bracelets on your wrist. “No, but seriously, Steve. What’s your problem with the guy?”

He stops his motions and turns to you. He looks nervous and his chest heaves up and down with trepidation. He opens his mouth to speak, but he pauses. You can practically see the words stuck on the tip of his tongue, before he sighs, mainly to himself, and shoots you a small (and kind of sad) smile.

“He has a favourite ABBA song. No one trustworthy has one favourite ABBA song.”

You laugh at his words, slapping your knee as you keel back to the wall with laughter. He laughs loudly too and tosses the sticker gun and himself on the countertop. He sits opposite of you with his Nike shoe pressing almost perfectly against the sole of your Converse.

You look at the clock and huff. Steve follows your line of sight and his face falls at the sight of the time. “We got a whole half hour left.”

You hum and close your eyes, resting your head against the wall. You stay like that until the radio announcers voice comes through. You open your eyes instinctively, only to see that Steve is already looking at you.

But maybe he wasn’t because with one blink he’s actually looking at the door. An awkward cough resonates in the back of your throat as you groan.

That’s when the mans voice comes to a slow and the beginning of the next song plays. It takes you a second, but when you recognize the song your ears prick up and a smile graces your face.

Steve eyes you strangely as you grab the knob to turn up the sound. “What? What song is this?”

Your jaw drops in your friends direction. “Uh, Waterloo?”

“Water what?”

You laugh and hop off the counter, your feet already moving to the beat of the song. “Waterloo. It’s an ABBA song.”

“No I know this is ABBA. I’m slow, not stupid.” You cackle and roll your shoulders to the sound of the guitar. “I’ve just never heard it before.”

You grin before grabbing his hands and pulling him to the middle of the store which surprisingly has the most space. You sway both of your arms back in forth, in an attempt to coax him to start moving. An action that he doesn’t take to immediately.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be a Debbie Downer, Harrington.”

He scoffs. “I am not a Debbie Downer.”

You shake your head and stick your tongue out at him. “Well then, prove it. I mean, didn’t you used to be the funnest man in all of Hawkins?”

“Funnest isn’t a word.”

You gasp. “Wow, look who actually payed attention in English.”

He rolls his eyes and once again runs his hand through his damn hair. He stands there for a second, before a small grin appears on his face. “Also, what do you mean used to be?”

Your jaw drops as he grabs a hold of your arms and spins you around dramatically. You gasp, the breath being knocked out of you suddenly as he holds your arm above you and spins you twice. You laugh as he pulls you back into him, to which he begins to bounce around the space, spinning you every so often—much to your delight.

You gasp after another spin, but by the second verse you’re too caught up into wanting to sing the words then being worried about your lack of oxygen if you do so. “My, my! I tried to hold you back, but you were stronger!”

You spin on your heel away from him, the momentum sending you back into the counter with a laugh. “Oh yeah!” You both sing out.

Then, with a wink and a spin of his body, he uses his hand and slicks his hair back in a Greaser fashion, earning another string of laughter from you. Jumping back to you, your back is pulled into his chest as he holds an arm out and runs forward.

The bun in which you put your hair in is now dangling loosely just below your shoulders, and as he spins you for the nth time, fate would have it that some of your hair gets in his mouth. Steve sputters and makes a face, causing the both of you to erupt in another fit of laughter. Soon, you both are dancing like fools, completely in your own space, yet never too far from the others reach. “Waterloo! Finally facing my Waterloo!”

He takes your hand firmly, spins you and as the song nears the end you almost fall to the ground. However, with Steve’s knee propped up beneath you, he has you dipped and breathless. His eyes are partially closed and as he pulls you up you almost grow dizzy from him dipping you a second time. This time, the dip is more dramatic and your loose hair falls onto the ground in a soft pile, indicating that you’re far lower than the first time.

“Waterloo!” He sings, finally getting the lyrics to the song.

“Knowing my fate is to be with you.” You finish. The song ends abruptly and both of you are at a loss of breath as you try to tune down the echo of laughter.

It’s at that moment that the sound of a door bell jingling has you both breaking away from each other awkwardly. Still out of breath, you hurriedly rush to the counter and try to smooth down your hair. (Not that you expect that to hide anything with the way your cheeks are so inflamed. If anything, whoever had come in would think that they caught you in Steve in the middle of something else.)

Your eyes finally focus on the customer, realizing that it’s the same blonde boy from earlier. “Hey, again.” He winks at you, resting his forearm on the countertop.

“Hey,” you say back. Your eyes flit over to Steve, whose back is faced to both of you. He’s already walked to the other side of the store, and the obvious distance he has quickly put between himself and the customer makes you think.

But you don’t have to think too hard as the realization practically hits you over the head. You suddenly grin and look at the counter, the feeling of your cheeks reddening further blooming throughout your upper body.

“So, uh...” the boy in flannel begins, clicking his tongue. “I came back.”

“I see that.” You counter him quickly with a soft smile.

He laughs and runs a hand over his jaw before looking to you. He hesitates. But only for a moment. “I’m tryna’ ask you out, ya know.”

You nod at that. “Yeah, I know.”

He pauses as he bites the inside of his cheek. Suddenly, the air around you two has turned very awkward and you can tell that he knows it.

“So...”

You shrug. “So?”

Shoving his hands in his pockets he moves his shoulders up in question. “So what do you say?”

You look down at your bracelets for a moment before looking back at him with a soft smile. “I’d have to say that I’m flattered. But, uh, no thanks.”

The boys eyes widen, as does Steve’s who’s attention is now on both of you.

The blonde nods and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh...okay then. Thanks for being honest at least.”

You smile at him, which sends the boy back to the door and on his way. You let out the breath you had been holding in and look to Steve who looks just as shocked as the other guy.

“What just happened?”

“I said no to his offer.” You say matter-of-factly as you walk around the counter and closer to your friend. He shifts from foot to foot, his eyes telling you that his brain is going a mile a minute.

“W—why? Why would you say no?”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “Usually you say no to a date when you don’t want to go on a date. At least, I don’t want to go on a date with him anyway...”

Your voice trails off purposely as you look directly at the boy in question. Steve is still stunned and is still very confused, which makes you want to laugh at his obliviousness.

It’s cute though...his obliviousness.

...He’s cute.

“Steve,” you say lowly. He’s biting his lip, and the slightest hint of worry blooms over his features.

“...Yeah?”

You sigh. “Well I’m trying to imply that I want to go on a date with you...”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that Steve had stopped breathing. Eliciting a laugh from you, you glide closer to him and look the boy in the eyes. “Steve...did I break you?”

He almost short circuits in a sense and looks at you with disbelief. “You want to go on a date with me?”

You shrug with a nod. “I think it could be fun.”

The poor boy stands there, still in shock. You shake your head and kiss him on the cheek before walking to the counter and grabbing your bag.

“Pick me up at 8 tomorrow at Dustin’s and we’ll go to Dairy Queen or something.”

His eyes and mouth are wide open as his gaze follows you to the door. The door barely closes behind you before you pop your head back in the store. “Oh, also, Steve since you’re the last one in here you gotta’ lock up.” You smile widely at him and run off before he can protest.

But even with the thought of having to lock up present in his mind, Steve doesn’t feel like protesting. When he comes back to his senses he nods to himself with a smile and runs to the back; excitement coursing through him.

•••••

Steve Harrington Taglist:

@wigofokoye @timeladygallifrey @fairlysuitehearts @loulouloueh @bluegreyme @coltonparayyko @readinthegarden12 @hello-therree @gothackedalready @aphrodites-perfume @fic-cheesecake @bohemiandeakyy @nerd-domland @blueoz @laneygthememequeen @xelaalec @i-justlikewhales @elen-alambil @heykarsyn @yellowhopes @veeshthefrog @justsomeficsilike @cxddlyash @aniya21890 @billyhargrovescigarette @nugturally @daddystevee @asheseiler @enchantedcruelsummer @jxnehxpper

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #joe keery x reader #joe keery #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagines #abba references #waterloo #this ia kinda cheesy #but like #who cares #its cute #mamma mia! here we go again #references

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honorable-wanderings · 4 years ago

Text

Word of Honor - Episode 3 Part 2 - We’re getting INN to it now!

Meanwhile back with Scooby and the Gang. B-characters realize that the Goldilocks is missing and it was only the 3 bears that were killed.

And we can hear them surprisingly well from this far away. Their voices must carry exceptionally well.

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The spiderwebs of DEATH

Seriously though it’s been hours. How has no one either taken these wires down or run into them accidentally? You cannot tell me they have checked every bit of this place for ChengLing’s body if these are still up.

Someone has lied to you Mr. White ‘n’ Blue.

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

No you fucking did not. If you were cleaning them up roughly you’d at least get the ones on the main doorways! goddamn.

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Old ppl vs the Ghosts!

COME ON DOWN FOR THE FIGHT OF YOUR LIFE THE ALL DEAD VS THE MOSTLY DEAD THIS SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY BE THERE BE THERE BE THERE.

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The Ghost Valley is a menace! It’s high time someone went in there and eradicated them all!

Huh... never thought of that before...

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Eh. Old people chanting the children’s rhymes doesn’t have the same tension. It’s just not the right feel. It’s a no from me.

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Yes. This is perfectly far enough away. No one could possibly overhear us from this distance! I am a genius!

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We are all very worried about ChengLing’s well being. Yes. That is all. Only his well being. Nothing else. No ulterior motives here. Nope. Purely just good will and worry. :DDDD

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Ah yes! Back to my boys! :D

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You big softie.

Seriously though. He is so considerate of not only Best Boy’s physical well being but really his emotional state and autonomy as well. He doesn’t expect ChengLing to act like a full grown adult but he doesn’t treat him like a little kid either. It’s great and I’m here for it.

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

It’s not stalking if we got here first, right? Now you’re stalking me! :D :D :D :D :D

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Some day soon I’ll get you to admit you like me ;)

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Whaaaaaaaaaaaat you’re here to? At this random river?????? OMG what are the chancesssssss?!?!?

At this point I just wanna know fuckin how????

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A-Xiang deserves a fucking medal for putting up with this BS. For real.

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A-Xu you make-a him sad D:

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Zhou ZiShu! Look out! They’re stealing your boat!!

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-Hey if the ghost valley peeps come up to wreck shit it’s gonna be our shit that gets wrecked too you know? -I don’t give a farting fly’s left ass cheek! I’m one foot in the grave already.

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Glazed armor this glazed armor that give me a glazed donut and let’s call it a day. I don’t careeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

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Are you inn or out?

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Sorry we’re out of space because for some reason we let ourselves rent out the entire establishment to a single person. Like I get he paid for the rooms but it’d still be bad for business?? Like no one wants to go to an inn if they won’t let you stay even though there are empty rooms. Like the fuck

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Look elsewhere? Shit you know this is the only inn in town (apparently)!! Where we supposed to go???

Um... why don’t you try looking at I don’t give a FUCK

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Well well well. Who could have seen this coming?

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Zhou ZiShu is about read to add a few more nails

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This old ragged beggar man is hot as fuck. Set him up in my room at once!

Just end my suffering. I beg you

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ChengLing just gonna keep his mouth shut and stay out of it

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-I gave you my own room! -My room now. Kindly GTFO -But I bought you clothes too! -Yeah no one asked you. GTFO!!

-How have my seduction techniques continued to fail??????????

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Love me pls D:

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If Oedipus invented a wire tap he’s gonna have to work harder to get past me!!

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But he doesn’t look like he’s a bad person

Bad people rarely do.

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Take the bed? I couldn’t possibly!! No! You’re taking care of me and protecting me and you’re old! You take the bed! I’ll sleep on the chair! I’m the best boy!!!

Bitch did I fucking stutter?

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You owe me no explanations. I’m sure you have your reasons and that they’re good ones. But don’t suffer needlessly. Treat your wounds and I won’t ask any more about it.

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MY BOY DOESN’T DESERVE THIS. ALL THIS OVER A PIECE OF FUCKIN SEA GLASS??????????

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Ain’t nobody dope as me I’m just so fresh, so clean (So fresh and so clean clean)

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Daaate niiiiiight

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So I get that you’re like persistently stalking me and all that but like Why??

Because I know you cute as fuck. Why you hiding? Show me what your true face and I’ll tell you what I want. What I really really want.

You first bitch

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Local man tries to pry secrets out of only human in a 10 mile radius who has no ulterior motives and is confused when it doesn’t work.

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Das gay

HDU

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Clink Clink bitch

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Master can you please keep it in your pants for 5 minutes? It’s all I ask. Just 5 minutes of peace! Please!

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Pop Quiz! Who is the second cutest person in the world?

I will settle for anyone who feeds me

Naw. Tsundere is where it’s at.

*Is unimpressed in tsundere*

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Then who is the mostest cutest?

A tsundere with long legs, slim waist, fat ass.

Heavens strike me down now. Please end my misery. Why did I sit here? Didn’t I know better?

Anyone have any more torture nails? Anyone? Please?

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*Insert Mii channel theme*

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We are the unwashed masses. Let’s go fuck some shit up

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Hey guys. Does this look like anime style to you? Someone said it looks like anime but I don’t see it.

I think it looks great! I can’t even draw a stick figure! hahahaha

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Sleepy boi <3

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How the fuck did I become the third wheel?

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*mii channel theme continues*

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Your honored uncle here wouldn’t let us eat anything until you woke up even though he sat at my table. D:

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-Stop acting like a little brat and start acting polite and demure like the other girls

-Uuuuuuuuuuuuuugh gross

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We’re doing found family and we’re doing it now!

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Why aren’t you eating?

Yeah! We had to wait all this time for you to get here and you’re not even eating anyway!!!!!!

Well my home and my entire family died, and so did that random boat man who protected me. And also there’s a hole in my stomach. So I don’t have much of an appetite atm.

Oh My God. can you not???

But that’s how I show affection!!!!!!!! D:<

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Shoving food in your face to hide your tears. A time honored tradition.

Also D: Best boy is sad </3

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Oh no. More people I’m supposed to remember.

JESUS FUCK REALLY???

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? HOW MANY? You cannot tell me they are all important. Please tell me I’m not supposed to remember this many people. I can’t handle this.

aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG

THAT’S 11 PEOPLE AT ONCE! WHAT THE FUCK

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Whenever this guy speaks it sounds like he’s trying really hard not to cough in front of the board meeting.

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Okay so what I got from this is

There was a treaty between these peeps and the ghost peeps to say they’ll leave each other the fuck alone

The ghost peeps broke that promise by fucking with the mirror lake sect and so these peeps decided to retaliate

and they’re gonna retaliate by throwing a party? Like I guess they’re just gathering forces? But like it’s a weird way to do it.

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Oh for the love of god.

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

Pffffffffffffffff welcome to the circus

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*sigh*

Okay y’all I can remember like 6 people. 7 Max. Y’all gonna have to be picky about who’s important here.

How many of these people do I actually have to know?

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Now what the fuck happened here and why are the twin jades here?

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You two have a piece of the glazed ham. And even though no one is using it it’s really important that we keep it that way. No one must hold all pieces of the glazed ham. Or..... bad things?

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Oh my. Pain o’clock already?

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SOMEONE GET THEIR ASS IN THERE AND GIVE MY BOY A HUG!

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Hey! What do you see? Is he in there? I can’t see a goddamn thing.

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So I know that he’s like what, 15? And like grew up with a dad. But like you know they made him scream “A-Die” and then wake up to Zhou ZiShu’s comforting touch on purpose. You know that was planned.

Maybe not a father, but certainly a father figure.

(Also thanks, A-Xu for answering my request from earlier for someone to comfort the poor boy.)

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What’s this? The sounds of a scuffle???

Whelp. Not anymore.

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Couldn’t he have just ordered them to leave instead?

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The Ghost Valley seems to be following me rather closely.

Oh you have no idea. ;)

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Alcohol detected

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Let me call you a cute pet name and I’ll let you drink from my bottle of nectar. ;)

Oh my god this shit again?

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

You know what?

Two can play at this game.

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You wanna see what lies underneath? Rip it off yourself.

Don’t worry! I’m patient! Sleep well! Dream of me! I know I’ll be dreaming of you! ;)

#word of honor #Shanhe Ling #wen kexing #zhou zishu #zhang chengling #Gu Xiang #Writing WoH #spoilers #episode 3 #long post

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bakugohoex · 4 years ago

Text

chapter two ➺ everlasting hatred

paring: pro hero katsuki bakugo x pro hero female reader

cw: language

word count: 2500+

a/n: you guys might be a bit confused on why i haven't explained what the mission actually is, but everything will be reveled in the next chapter especially what happened in the building where the two of you were making a plan up, i promise everything will be explained in the next chapter, hope you guys liked this chapter though

summary: in which the rivalry continues, both finally in the loop of what is occurring, an agreement is formed on the perfect plan as you both grow closer along the week, maybe the two of you could be friends of some sorts?

chapter one | masterlist | chapter three

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

“What do you two know about the Paranormal Liberation Front?”

It was unexpected and made both you and Bakugo stop in your tracks, he was the first to sit down you wanted to know what he was thinking but felt bad after what had had happened earlier on in the day to get inside of his head.

“It’s the League of Villains and Meta Liberation Army joined together.” There was hatred from the words. After the League had kidnapped Bakugo and you and Deku had been the forefront of the regaining of Bakugo, he would never admit how happy he was seeing your face and you would never tell him that you had been worried sick.

“Tomura Shigaraki as the leader, we both know you’ve had contact with him and that is why we want you to do this for the greater good.” You raised an eyebrow wanting to know more.

There was a fun in hearing it come out of peoples minds rather than reading what was in their head. You saw as she looked back outside, “we’re not asking lightly you both have a choice to make that could either further your career or lose any support you had.”

“Just spit it out.” Bakugo was getting frustrated at the cryptic messages and you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t as frustrated.

“We need the two of you to…” Listening to her intentively, thoughts skimming through your head, weighing out the positives and negatives. “We will give you till tomorrow to make your decision.”

“I’ll do it.” Bakugo was quick to speak, your eyed widened at how easily he could subjugate himself to do something as tormenting as this.

“Y/n.” You got out of your thoughts looking at her, Bakugo stared up at you, you could see the fallen ash still in his hair. He hadn’t had a shower and you were distracting yourself with being worried about the dirt instead of the question at hand.

“I need some time.” She nods dismissing you both, you both walk outside the doors.

You needed to go outside, feel the air and puke up. The anxiety you felt over this situation was making your stomach go into a whirlwind. “How could you easily decide?”

“I became a pro hero to help people, this is helping people.” You stood in front of the elevator thinking about the comment. “You should think if this is really what you want to be if you can’t easily choose to do stuff like this.”

“I’ll be back.” You spoke, walking back to the office. He didn’t bother waiting for you as he stepped inside of the elevator. He hated how coy you were being about this whole thing; it should’ve been an easy decision but maybe there was something bigger than what was being asked and he didn’t know.

Whatever it was he didn’t care walking outside as he felt the breath of stifling air hit his skin, you had made him dirty with the soil and rubble in his hair. He hated the gross feeling of it all. A man had come running outside calling his name telling him about the steps forward from now.

You had gone straight to the office, without knocking you entered. “That was a quick decision.”

“I’ll do it.” You muttered half-heartedly.

She smiled with paperwork in her hands, “good, you and Bakugo will meet tomorrow morning at this address.”

You nod taking the paper with your quirk and it landing in your hand. She dismisses you again as you run out of the building, your leg shaking whilst going down the elevator. Where you seriously doing this because of Bakugo’s comment or was it to prove that you were a pro hero who deserved their rank and position.

You saw Bakugo talking to the man who had helped you up outside, he smiles at you as you smile at both. Bakugo giving a scowl at you, you rolled your eyes leaving the two alone. You didn’t care about the conversation only about what was happening tomorrow.

The early morning sunrise hits your skin; you heard the knock on your door as you were making coffee. There hadn’t been a time on the paper just an address, so you assumed anywhere between 8 to 9 was acceptable to arrive. Well, that’s what you thought anyway.

You opened the door in your oversized shirt and nothing else sipping the coffee that you knew wouldn’t be your last. “Hello.”

You normally used your quirk to see who it was, but you were tired from staying up researching and thinking about the Liberation Front. “Why am I not surprised you’re not even fucking dressed.”

The loudness of his voice boomed through the apartment, “good morning to you too Bakugo.”

He stormed inside without an invitation; you muttered some profanities before kicking the door closed. He eyed you up and down an unamused look on his face. “Get read quickly.”

“There was no time on the paper why are you being so goody goody.” You mutter sipping on the rest of the coffee as you leant against the kitchen table. He had sat down directly in front as it left little room to imagination with how your legs were on show. Even with him seeing your legs in costume that was your choice now it felt more intimate to be seeing your legs without anything covering them.

“Just fucking hurry up.” You roll your eyes skipping into your room. It was like this boy had some sort of everlasting hatred against you.

Bakugo only knew where you lived from the many times, he had taken you home from you getting drunk, even with being rivals there was still some friendliness outside of work. Well as friendly as it could get with Bakugo, he skimmed through his phone and messages not bothering to reply to the many.

You had walked back out the leotard around your skin, you were warm in the long sleeves but were missing your thigh-high boots that helped for easy mobility and landing. You hand your phone between your hands as you typed quickly. Bakugo raised an eyebrow eyeing you again, he could admit you had worked on your body amazingly, especially your thighs which were on full show for him.

“Eyes up here dumbass.” You mutter without looking up, Mina had been talking about the plans for the night out tonight, but you didn’t even know if you’d be available after the revelation last night. You say something had come up apologising but telling them all to go themselves.

You felt bad but you didn’t know how long this thing would last and knowing the commission who didn’t understand time they would keep you for a lot longer than they should.

“Fucking hurry up.” Bakugo was tense, he looked around your apartment, he had never seen it properly only in the dark when he left you on your bed but that was it. He left as soon as he came, but as he saw the pictures with the UA class even some pictures with him in them. He noticed one from the dance that had occurred in your last year, you and Bakugo hadn’t gone with anyone but did one dance just to have one memory and Kirishima made you both take a photo. It was framed next to some potted plants that looked fake.

He saw more photos from the three years spent at UA, the festivals, the missions, the training camps and the most recent one being yours and Bakugo’s first day at the hero agency. He saw it was taken for a newspaper and remembered how the first time you both were shown to the public, you both had been asked many questions. Which led to a photo being taken, he hadn’t realised how many memories you both shared, pictures with Kirishima and him, with Mina and Momo, you had it all.

You coughed to gain his attention, he hadn’t realised you moving to the sofa, your legs bare as you zipped up your boots, they were tight and almost suffocated your legs, you pulled the other boot on your leg as he saw you struggle. You knew what he was thinking how idiotic it was that it took you so long. His thoughts were always humorous mainly due to the comments he made in his head that were far worse than what came out of his mouth.

“Fucking finally.” He muttered walking towards the door.

“Be patient.” You hissed grabbing your phone and gloves sliding them onto your fingers before the necklace you wore was put on. You did it looking at the mirror Bakugo leaning against the door frame as he watched you.

“Is little miss princess done now.” He scowled, you glared before opening the door with your quirk, the movement jabbing the door handle into his sides.

“Now whose taking their time.” You smirked back walking out of the door. He followed with a heavy grimace at your action. He had imagined blowing you up many times and you had always read these thoughts easily which you mocked him even more for.

The drive was slow, and you didn’t bother talking feeling angry at not having a second cup of coffee in the morning. You both arrived at the destination, “we’re too far into the city for this to be the place.”

The building was tall and flashed brightly, “I thought this shit was supposed to be discrete.” He parked with ease, his arm going to the back of your seat as he looked back reversing. You always loved watching any man do this, it was a heavy turn on even if it was the angry boy doing it. You were glad you were the one able of telepathy as him knowing you liked this sort of shit was a sure sign for him to mock you even more.

You both stepped outside, it was empty due to it being half seven and the building was too tall for it to be anything to do with the Liberation Front mission. “You two are here.” You both stare at the man, he hadn’t come from the building but instead an alleyway. “Follow me.”

You both did as you were told following the man, you spoke inside Bakugo’s head wanting privacy, ‘what if he wants to kill us.’

Bakugo’s face scrunched in anger at hearing your voice inside his own, ‘we’re pro heroes y/n, did you just forget that?’

‘Oh yeah’ He could hear you laughing in his head his mouth twitching upwards but suppressing a smile before your laughter was no longer in his head.

“Come in.” The man spoke, the alleyway had led to a rustic building, it was one storey and looked like a take-out place rather than a safe place to talk about the mission.

You followed anyway, Bakugo leading the way, he wasn’t doing it to get in the way or make it seem like he wanted to see first. He did it to make sure nothing bad would occur so that if it did you weren’t in the firing line, but he would never tell you that and he prayed you hadn’t been looking at his thoughts.

You normally didn’t anyway, you had told him when you first met all those years ago you hated your telepathy quirk, you didn’t like always hearing people’s true opinions on people, so you rarely used it to listen in on people and used it rather to control and manipulate villains.

You both walked inside the building, being met with a figure you didn’t expect. The current number two hero was struck right in front of you, his red wings wide as if he had just flew in, a casual smirk on his face. “Nice to finally meet you both, I’ve heard good things.”

You were in awe, yeah, you’d heard Tokoyami talk about Hawks and you had seen him a couple times, but you were never important to meet him face to face. “I need a picture.”

You hadn’t realised you said that out loud in your awestruck. “Y/n.” Bakugo scowled as Hawks smirked.

“No, it’s fine, get your picture first and then we can get down to business.” He made you go back outside to get some light, Bakugo reluctantly taking a photo of you with the pro hero a pure shock running through your bones.

‘Bakugo did you see that I got a picture with the Hawks.’ You were back in his head, he scowled as you both walked back inside you flicking through the multiple pictures which you swooned at. You were getting these printed and putting them in your apartment.

“You both already know what’s going on, I used to be undercover in the Liberation Front, I obviously can’t be associated with you that’s why we’re in this dingy building. You two need to think of a plan is really what I’m here to tell you.”

“You couldn’t have just texted us this.” Bakugo muttered, you were more annoyed you came here only tunning on one cup of coffee.

“We need you two under surveillance, that’s why my good friend is here.” Hawks pointed to the man in a suit, he didn’t introduce himself and neither did Hawks. “I’ll be back at the end of the day, come back with a plan of action.”

You and Bakugo stayed standing, you hadn’t gotten a chance to look around it was a clean bare room, a table and a couple of chairs around but that was mostly it. The man in a suit dropped some pens and papers on the table as if you were in nursery doing arts and crafts.

“If you two need anything ask him.” Hawks smiled going to the window, “come up with a plan by tonight or we won’t be needing you if you don’t”

The malice in his tongue sent shivers down your spine as you both watched him fly away, “Do you two need anything I’ll be waiting outside.”

“Coffee.” Both you and Bakugo spoke in unison.

It was a long day with multiple coffee runs and by the end you both had thought of a decent plan, it would make a scene, show your true colours and most of all be live for the whole of Japan to see. You both assumed it be the best plan and as you proposed it to Hawks, the excessive hand gestures and pleading to make it a whole show.

He finally agreed after questioning some parts, he saw it as reasonable and said he would sort it all out. You both had used the power of technology and your popularity to get this plan into action, all you needed now was it to work.

You both were set free, stretching your legs as you both walked towards the tall building again, “you getting in.” Bakugo gestured to how you stood in front of his car like a deer in a headlight.

You nodded going into the passenger seat, one hand lowly against the window and the other against the steering wheel, you watched his movements on the wheel. His ability to lazily do something so simply perfectively. You were tired and it was common for you to easily fall asleep and as you rested your head against the window the soft music coming from the speakers as Bakugo hummed along made you drift away into an effortless sleep.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alaina-rose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

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What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader

Chapter 3- The Swedish Job

Summary: After learning of Diego’s wonderful ‘cough cough ‘terrible’ cough cough’ plan to stop the assassination of JFK. And figuring out Sir Reginald is in the recovered footage, you, Diego, and Five went out to find him. Ending the night with Diego getting shanked by his own father. Now here you are in the aftermath trying to convince Diego, he needs to rest.

Tagged: @white-wolf-buckaroo @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 If you want tagged just hit me up.

This is like 55% smut ngl.⚔️

To make a long story short, you didn’t end up talking it out with Sir Reginald Hargreeves, or find anything worth dying for either. No hidden notes or files were to be found. And all that you took away from this fun little adventure. A bleeding Diego, and a cranky old man in a 13-year-olds body who also happened to get scratched by an aggressive monkey. Who turned out to be baby Pogo, things have been weirder. So you took it in stride, and hauled Diego’s ass to Elliot’s house, while Five drove, you keeping pressure on the wound the whole time.

——

Getting some medical supplies ready, you glance at an unconscious Diego, who’s sleeping soundly on the couch. Shirt off and looking as handsome as ever, contrary to the bloody bandaid covering his injury that you applied earlier. So far he was doing fine, and that’s all you needed to know. You cursed yourself for not stepping up in time to prevent this little mishap. But how could you have known Diego would get stabbed? All that mattered was that he’s alive and not dead. Ben wouldn’t want anyone else hanging around Klaus most likely anyways. He deals with enough nonsense already, you assume.

While holding the steel medical instruments, one in each hand, you carefully position yourself next to Diego. Slowly bringing the utensils closer to his damaged skin, preparing to cauterize the bloody cut. A second later you make contact, hearing a gross sizzling sound and smelling the burning of human flesh. Disgusting. Instantly Diego’s eyes shoot open, gasping at the hot pain your causing him. Being dramatic and starting to get louder, sounding like drums in your ears. Not helping whatsoever.

“Would you quite yelling I’ve never done this before” You tell him honestly while concentrating on the task at hand.

“What happened?” Diego asks you, confused as to how he got here.

“I saved you...again.” You reply bluntly, still working on his wound.

“Did you even listen to the plans?” He mumbles sassily.

“Your plans were stupid and it was entertaining watching you get your ass kicked by your own dad, if I might add.” You reply while finally looking up at him.

Suddenly he goes wide eyed again, lifting his head up to better access the situation. “Where are my clothes Y/N?! The hell happened to my clothes?” He says distressed, trying to get up.

Frustrated with his lack of listening skills you push the cauterizing tool closer into his skin, listening to the sizzle once again. Diego looks down at the damage as he yells out loudly in agony, then abruptly laying down with a groan in defeat. Falling unconscious from the large influx of pain, and conveniently not moving again either. Good.

Focusing back on the task of playing doctor, Five sighs, walking into the room. “Oh. He isn’t dead.”

“Disappointed.” Lila asks, trailing in after him from some hidden corner.

“Oh, to see you? Always.” He jabs back.

“So much hostility in such a tiny package. How are you two friends?” She asks, glancing at you unamused by Five’s rudeness.

“He’s an added bonus for dating Diego.” You vaguely explain, smiling to yourself as she nods and focuses her attention back to Five.

“Did you cut yourself shaving? I could tech you to shave like a big boy.” Quips Lila bluntly.

Snorting in amusement at her banter with Five, you look over to him. Who’s holding up a cotton pad over his scratch marks. “No, just ran into an old family friend.” He says tiredly with a sigh.

Looking briefly behind him, he points to Elliot who’s still tied to the dentist chair, unable to properly speak. “Neither of you untied him?” He asks.

“I was preoccupied.” You shrug.

“I wasn’t told otherwise.” Lila says, while sitting down and reclining in a chair.

——

While you’re throwing one of Diego’s knives into the nearby wall for some pastime target practice. An annoying alarm begins to sound throughout the room, “Hey, we got one. Hey, one of those machines you asked for his going crazy.” Announces Elliot from across the room in his swivel chair. Five speeding past you to see what the commotions about.

“Which one?” He asks quickly.

“It’s the, uh, atmosphere radar.”

“Good.” Five adds.

“I don’t get it. What are they tracking? A hurricane? A storm front?” Elliot wonders, confused as to what his radar system is showing them.

“Sound waves.” They say collectively in realization.

Five starts to back away, you knowing exactly what he’s about to do. A flash and he’s gone.

“Wow. What...Hey, where are you going?” Inquires Elliot, not used to Five’s way of handling things. Which is usually alone.

Giving him a shrug you turn back around to throw another knife, hitting the bullseye with a thud, and splintering the wood in the process. “I wonder if he’ll actually find Vanya?” You think, pondering the possible whereabouts of the rest of your friends.

——

Halting your arm from throwing another dart, your ears prick, abruptly catching the sound of Diego creaking the bed from the other room. Oh that man is not about to get up, you thought, turning to Lila. “I’m gonna have to forfeit, wolfman apparently thinks he’s okay enough to get up.” You tell her while rolling your eyes, setting your spare darts on the table and turning to find Diego.

Walking into his makeshift room you watch as he painfully stands up from the bed, grimacing and trying to breathe steadily, as not to cause anymore pain for himself.

“So what are your plans now tough guy, by the way Elliot’s made mushy tuna.” You tell him while leaning against the door frame.

“No. It’s a tuna mold.” Replies Elliot while walking away with his tuna mold, half offended.

“Y/N, where’s my shirt?”

“Last I checked you had a stab wound, so if you can all of a sudden miraculously harness my healing powers. Your ass is staying in bed.” You tell him sternly, knowing he’s not gonna listen.

“What, no I can’t, this is all connected to JFK, and my Dad’s right in the middle of it.” He explains while putting pants on. “That’s why he attacked me last night.” Looking to your right you pick up a mop-less wooden stick, and decide to have some fun getting him to shut up. “Cause he knows that I’m actually getting closer to..” he doesn’t have time to finish before you poke him directly into his bandaged bloody wound. Earning a gargled yell from him in the process, he then falls directly onto the bed grunting in pain from your cheap shot.

“Yeah you look like you’re ready to throw hands, why don’t you fight me right now. And if you win I’ll let you go.” You tell him with a shit eating grin plastered onto your smug face.

He looks up at you slightly offended and very much frustrated. “What is wrong with you?” He exclaims from the bed, still in pain.

Throwing your arms up in irritation, you try and reason with his stubbornness. “Just going out on a limb here, but if I remember correctly, you almost got killed last night. Take a day off, D.” You tell him, setting your temporary weapon off to the side. Swiveling back around on one foot, you gracefully jump onto the bed, positioning yourself right next to Diego’s discouraged and mostly naked form.

Propping your left arm up to look down at Diego, he tells you sadly, “I can’t believe I got shanked by my own father.”

“Wild right. What a prick.” You say trying to comfort him with a little humor. “Listen, if it helps any, he didn’t know you were his son when he shanked you.”

“Still, he cheap-shotted me.” He says still looking sadly off into nowhere. “Man to man, that son of a bitch wouldn’t stand a chance.” He tells you with hidden fight in his voice.

Not wanting to fully dampen his withering spirits to much but still wanting to tease him a little. You carelessly caress his skin, trailing up to push on his cut ever so lightly. Pulling forth a pained gasp from Diego, giving him a silent reminder that’s he’s in no shape to fight.

“Why didn’t you stick to the plan?” He asks finally turning to face you. Taking his statement into consideration, you lay down next to him on your back. Staring up at the ceiling, you can feel his eyes on you. “I trust you Diego, just not what’s always going on up in there.” Pointing to your head, referring to Diego’s own problem making skills. Breathing heavily you start, “I know what it’s like to die, it’s lonely and dark. You feel cold and weak, you can’t move, see, hear, or feel anything.”

Sighing you continue, “I remember the first time I died. Have I ever told you about it?”

Looking at you more intensely now he replies in a whisper, “Never.”

You glance at him for a moment before diving right back into your story, trying to make a point as to why he shouldn't be actively putting himself in danger. “I was 5 at the time, my heightened senses and all that other shit came to be before I figured out I was immortal. It was hard not understanding why I could hear so well. Or run in the dark through my house without tripping, unlike my parents, who couldn’t see shit without a flashlight.”

You kept your eyes fixed on the ceiling with a troubled expression crossing your face, letting the memories flood back into your mind. “A fire started late one night, mum had left one of her scented candles burning on a wooden table downstairs. She didn’t mean to leave it there, but the dogs were getting rowdy again, so she had to put them away in their cages. And dad was already in bed snoozing away. I could smell the smoke before I new something was wrong, then I heard my mother screaming and my dad yelling for her to calm down.”

“Shit” Diego whispered.

“The fire had burned so fast through our house, it had gone up the stairs and reached our hallway. Fortunately for my parents, their room was at the end of the hall, so their escape to freedom was easy. But unfortunately for myself, I was trapped, I couldn’t open my windows and the door handle burned to much to touch. I huddled in the corner of my room terrified, and then just like that, my door was gone and the flames shot in.” You tell him with a shaky breath as a lone tear runs down the side of your face and into your hairline.

“What did it feel like?” He asks softly, nervous as to what you’re about to say. Letting you take your time.

“It was excruciating. I’d never felt pain like it before. Sure I’d scraped my knee or walked into the wall a couple times when I was smaller, it happens. But this pain, this was like having boiling water poured over you all while standing on hot coals.”

“Jesus.”

“When the firemen found me, they thought I was a charred corpse. They picked me up and set me down in the grass, and that’s when I woke up. The guy fainted and my mother rushed over to me in hysterics.” You yawned, tired from the emotional roller-coaster you were currently putting yourself through. “After that they realized something was definitely up with me, and 7 years later they decided I was to much to handle and then ‘poof’ I was an unwilling member of the Umbrella Academy. The end.” You finish, turning your head to look directly at Diego, as he sits up on his right elbow turning to fully face you.

“I had no idea. Why haven’t you ever told me before?” He wonders.

Bringing your jaded gaze back to Diego, you go to explain. “It’s not like it’s that fun of a memory. And anyways you never asked.” You mutter, taking in a deep breath, and relaxing again.

“I guess we could stay longer...for a bit. I guess that’s okay.” He murmurs in that gravely voice of his that you’ve missed so much.

Sitting up on your left elbow to meet his dark eyes, faces inches apart, you start to contemplate where this close proximity may lead you. Smoothly hinting at your excitement you tell him while smirking, “I’ve spent one year and 7 months trying to find you, if you don’t kiss me in the next...” you don’t have time to finish before his lips come crashing onto yours for a sweet and hungry embrace.

Pulling away instantly you lightly slap him across the face, making him groan loudly and throw his hands up to his stinging skin. “What the hell, Y/N?! What is wrong with you woman?!” He exclaims muffled by his hands, until he pulls them away to reveal an incredibly confused expression littering his features.

Laughing for a moment, you smile while climbing on top of him, pinning him to the bed between your unmoving legs, “You didn’t let me finish.” You say lovingly, hovering over Diego’s shirtless body.

“Ow. Oh, oh, ow, ow, ow.” Diego suddenly says while flinching in pain at the sudden new pressure of your body weight on his torso.

“Oh, shit. Sorry love.” You tell him smiling as you lean your body onto your legs more, so you’re not completely crushing him.

Mock glaring up at you, Diego breaks out into a huge smile. “Just. Be gentle.” He says kissing you again. “God, you’re the most weirdest and fantastic person I’ve ever met.” He says breathlessly, staring deep into your beaming eyes. Not being able to hold yourself back anymore you lean down attacking his lips in a heated embrace. His hands instantly go to your hips on instinct, like he’s done it a million times before. You both begin exploring each other’s bodies like it was the first time all over again, wanting nothing more then to feel every muscle and curve both of you have to offer.

Breaking his lips away from yours, he quickly goes to tell you something important, as a fake pout falls to your face, “These have to go.” He says, as he reaches for the bottom of your white tank top and begins to pull it up, you helping him speed up the process. Taking your shirt in one hand he throws it, not giving two fucks as to where it could have landed. You also not caring in the slightest, just eager to get things rolling. Next you skillfully unclasp your bra, taking it off and flinging it off to the side. Diego stares at you with a giant grin spread across his face. Reaching out to gently caress the sides of your breasts, his hands slowly trailing up your body to bring you down to kiss him again.

“I guess I won’t be needing these.” You mumble in between kisses. Referring to your pants and underwear, annoyingly concealing the prize jewels. On both of you in fact. Awkwardly struggling to rip your pants off, you lay next to Diego for a brief moment finally getting your jeans and chucking them across the small room. Jumping back into action, you straddle him, hands roaming all over each other once again. As your lips make contact, savoring every second with him for as long as you can.

Moaning in deep satisfaction you take a breath to tell Diego, “As much as I’m digging you in white, these things gotta go.” You explain while kissing his cheek, sneakily reaching down to tug at his tight white underwear that now are concealing a noticeable bulge. “You first mi amor.” He purrs seductively in your ear, you just about die. As gracefully as you can muster, you tear your undergarments off accidentally kneeing Diego in the gut, thankfully not near his stab wound. “Oh shit.” You laugh breathlessly, as Diego grunts in pain but only for a moment, before flipping you over, pinning you to the bed. “I’ll let that slid.” He says smiling at you, kissing you again real quick before he takes off his own underwear. Revealing the true king jewels, you’ve been absolutely dying for, no pun intended.

Diego looks deeply into your eyes, opening up your legs and kissing your inner thigh. Sending shock-waves of pleasure and pure joy throughout your whole being. God it’s been a long fucking time, you thought. As agonizingly slow as ever, Diego gently kisses your stomach. Inching his way up to your mouth with light butterfly kisses that make their way up in between your breasts, then to your collarbone, neck, cheeks, and eventually arriving at your wanting lips. All the while he continues to feverishly feel you up, you not shying away as you do the exact same. In true Diego style, without warning he thrusts into you, making you moan loudly in pleasant surprise. His thrusts are slow and full of passion at first, both of you savoring the moment for as long as you can take. Until it’s not enough for you anymore, you begin bucking your hips into his, trying to get more friction. Diego takes your not-so-subtle hint and obliges by picking up the pace., pounding into you harder, perfectly hitting your sweet spot every time.

“Ah, fuck.”

He grunts while pushing you further into the mattress with that muscular heavenly body of his. He sloppily kisses the side of your opened mouth that’s quietly releasing satisfied moans with each new thrust of his cock into your soaking walls. To say that you are on cloud nine would be a severe understatement. It’s been way to damn long since you’ve had a good fuck, and there was no way anyone from the 60′s was getting anything from you while you patiently waited for Diego. The bed shakes as his sweaty body rocks you back and forth into the soft blankets, your hands hold onto his back for support while he continues to fill you up to the max as he pulls in and out of you like a madman. You suddenly let out a shaky gasp when his hard cock hits your sweet spot in the most perfect of ways. He leans his elbows onto the bed as he looks down at your pleased face with a smile, satisfied with his fruitful work at making you get this way, so completely undone, and all because of Diego. You bite your lip as a knot begins to form into your dripping core, you open your eyes to watch as Diego appears to mirror you, he begins to moan loader as he starts pumping even harder into you, teetering on the edge of oblivion, you about to do the same. A couple more deep thrusts from Diego’s angelic body sends you fully over the edge, screaming in ecstasy as your orgasm explodes throughout your entire being. Practically sending sparks of electricity racing through you, your walls tighter around Diego’s cock as you ride out your high. With one more ragged thrust, Diego moans as his own orgasm hits, loudly spilling into you with everything he’s got left to give.

Kissing your sweaty cheek, Diego pulls out of you, flopping on the bed to your right while making it shake for a second. “God I love you, Y/N.” He says tiredly, not sure if it’s from the blood loss or your goddess-like body. Turning to face Diego, you scoot in closer, cuddling him as you rest your head on his shoulder. “I love you too, my hairy wolfman.” You tease him with a laugh. Closing your eyes you start to feel the weight of the past 24 hours hit you like a sack of bricks. Smiling in content and comfort, you reach down to pull the covers over your naked bodies, then throwing your left arm around Diego’s chest, hugging him gently before immediately dozing off. Diego lightly kissing your forehead, falling asleep shortly after.

——

Meanwhile.

“Hey, while those two love birds are busy I’m gonna head out, be back soon. Aight.” Lila tells Elliot, waving at him as she hastily slips out the backdoor, like a thief in the night.

Waving awkwardly back he watches as she leaves, hearing the sound of a projectile hitting the bedroom window. Causing him to jump, and grumpily walk downstairs with his tuna mold in hand.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy x you #the umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves x you #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #number two #what a time to be alive fic #falcor the luck dragon stories

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tomboyneedshercoffee · 5 years ago

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Thin Ice Pt 3 || Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: The decathlon team gets snowed in and room 401 and 412 decide to play truth or dare.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author’s note: Wowie this took a long time to write but I’m glad I finally finished it!! Hope everyone is safe and remember, if you need toilet paper, just use the shower to wipe your ass!

Warning: Swearing, teen drinking, mentions of sex, forced kiss kinda

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || to be continued

Cindy rummaged through her luggage as you mindlessly scrolled through Instagram, spamming through Flash’s insta-stories of the day. MJ laid down right beside you on the hotel bed, making a quick joke about how he probably buys his followers.

You had all just eaten dinner and the chaperones had made their last rounds visiting rooms when the news of an incoming blizzard was heading straight towards the resort. It wasn’t meant to cause any damage but your whole trip itinerary would have to be pushed back a day or two depending on when the blizzard would stop.

You were slightly glad that this storm had decided to roll through because that meant that when it cleared up, there would be hardly anyone on the slopes so you could snowboard without the fear of running into a child on skis.

“ Found it! Who wants to go first?” Cindy asked as she pulled out her bag that was filled with various facemasks.

You and MJ both looked up for a second before turning back to your phone screen unphased.

“ I’ll pass. Last night you made me try it and I couldn’t wash off the pink tint. I looked like a freaking pokemon,” You shivered as MJ laughed beside you.

Cindy got up from her spot on the floor and plopped down beside you, grabbing the phone away from your hands.

You protested as she held the phone above her head, catching a glimpse of your case,” Seriously? A spiderman phone case? Are you and Flash a part of some creepy fangirl club?”

MJ watched as you leaped up and snatched your phone from Cindy quickly, immediately turning it off in the process. You looked at the nightstand beside you as you laid back onto the bed, pointing to her phone that was charging.

“ Oh so you rather me have a hello kitty one?” You teased as you lightly pushed Cindy away with your foot,” what are you twelve?”

Cindy wasted no time and grabbed your foot and pulled you off the bed, causing you to let out a yelp. You landed on your butt as MJ peeked over the bed to make sure you were okay. Once she saw that you were fine, she just shook her head at the two of you and laid back on the bed.

“ Hello Kitty is for all ages thank you very much,” Cindy defended as she sat down on the bed and held up a blue container,” Come on MJ. This is a collagen one from Korea and you know us Asians have great skin.”

MJ rolled her eyes at Cindy but sat up from her spot,” Fine, as long as Y/N does it too.”

After a minute of whining, you and MJ both found yourself sitting upright with a scented sheet mask covering your face. You continued to scroll through Instagram when Betty entered the room holding the ice bucket to her chest.

“ Guess who I just ran into?” Betty asked excitedly as you all perked up,” and might I say, a girl might be catching feelings.”

“ What? Are you talking about Mr. Harrington?” Cindy laughed as Betty put down the ice bucket and stuck her tongue out in disgust.

“ Gross! I mean I did see Mr. Harrington going to the jacuzzi but I’m talking about Ned! Since the chaperones already checked the rooms for lights out, he’s thinking we can all hang out in our room!”

“ Who’s we?” MJ asked as Betty started to clean up her clothes from off the floor.

“ Everyone in his room so Flash, Brad, Peter, and obviously Ned. What else are we gonna do all night?” Betty asked as you pointed to your face.

“ Um hello? Facemasks and talking shit all night sounds like the perfect plan to me,” You shrugged as you turned on your phone and looked through your messages,” plus what if we get in trouble? You know Mr. Harrington will have an aneurysm if he finds four boys and four girls in one room.”

You were already in a weird spot with Brad since this afternoon and you knew that he was the type to hold grudges. You couldn’t imagine being in a room with him and all his attitude but at the same time, you wanted to hang out with Peter.

Betty zipped up her luggage and put it in the corner next to the other mini-fridge,” Y/N, I know you didn’t go but we almost died on our last two trips. Considering all that happened, I think us watching a movie and playing charades with a bunch of science nerds will be harmless.”

Sometimes you envied how everyone seemed to bond over the last two trips for the decathlon team but then you remembered the falling elevator story at the Washington Monument and the droid attack at the Tower Bridge in London. While no one died, you were glad you weren’t apart of that “bonding experience” and you knew if you wanted to bond with people, you would stick to just trust falls exercises.

“ In that case, I call dibs on Flash!” Cindy shouted as she raised her hand promptly, earning a confused look from everyone in the room,” What? Have you seen his house? Securing Flash means securing his bank account and I’m trying to financially invest in my future.”

“ Then I call Brad!” Betty raised her hand but lowered it when she made eye contact with you,” wait nevermind. I forgot about how close you and Brad are.”

“ First off, it’s 2020, we’re not claiming anyone,” you said as Betty rolled her eyes,” secondly, you can have him. I’m not interested in him or any guy right now.

It was half true. You couldn’t care less about Brad going out with someone, even if it was one of your best friends and the idea of you and Brad together made you feel so uncomfortable.

You didn’t really have a crush on anyone but there was something about Peter that made you drawn to him. You didn’t know if that meant you had a crush or not but when the idea of him coming into your room and seeing you in a face mask in your pajamas made you feel embarrassed.

Before Betty could confront you with your lie, you all turned your heads when you heard a knock at the door.

Your heart stopped and now you weren’t sure if you were more nervous to see Peter or Brad.

Betty calmly made her way over to the door even though you knew she was a nervous wreck on the inside. Once you heard the boys start to come in, you took off your facemask and rubbed in whatever moisturizing element it had left.

MJ had done the same but instead of throwing hers away, she made it into a soggy ball and threw it at Flash, who shrieked in disgust.

“ Did we miss the sexy pillow fight?” Brad asked as he smiled at you, almost like he hadn’t gotten mad earlier.

You decided to let whatever happened this morning slide but once you caught eyes with Peter, you felt anxious.

“ Hey, we’re twinning!” You said as you pointed to your Harry Potter pajama shorts and Peter’s sweatpants to try and calm your nerves,” I never pegged you as a Gryfindor Pete.”

Peter looked down at his pants and chuckled lightly,” I never thought I was either.”

He wasn’t going to lie, he wore those on purpose cause MJ had texted him that you had a similar pair in your luggage and he liked the idea of you two matching.

“ Is that alcohol? How did you sneak that onto the trip?” Cindy asked as she grabbed the bottle from Flash’s hands,” We could get in so much trouble.”

“ Only if we get caught,” Flash said as he opened up his backpack and brought out plastic cups.

He passed one around to Ned and Betty but when he came to Peter, he just stopped and scoffed,” Are you sure you can handle your liquor? The girls probably have some apple juice in the fridge for you to drink.”

Truth be told, Peter couldn’t handle his liquor at all but that was before he had powers. Now, he could forever say goodbye to hangovers and embarrassing drunk encounters.

It wasn’t like he was a big drinker pre or even post-spider bite but his body operated differently than a regular teenager so instead of passing out after two shots of Remy Martin, he could easily call himself a heavyweight.

“ I think I’ll be okay,” Peter said plainly as he practically ripped the stack of plastic cups out of Flash’s hand causing Flash to flinch.

Peter passed one to you as you hesitantly took it from his hands. You were second-guessing everything and you weren’t sure if it was the paranoia of getting caught or the mix of alcohol amongst the group.

Brad watched you from his seat on the ground and shook his head, letting out a tsk from his lips,” You’re not fooling anyone Y/N, you don’t drink.”

The hell was that supposed to mean?

Brad knew you all too well, you almost made it through high school without drinking (with the exception of your aunt’s wedding where they served champagne) and you didn’t want to ruin your streak now.

At the same time, peer pressure was real and while no one was asking you to drink, you still felt like you almost had to.

You shrugged and handed out your cup to Cindy so she could pour some of the Smirnoff into it,” There’s a first time for everything I guess.”

Everyone took a seat on the ground in a circle, with Peter on your left and MJ on your right. Brad and Betty both made a toast and before you knew it, you took a sharp sip of your drink and coughed after you swallowed it.

“ Yeah, okay that freaking sucks,” You cringed as you put your cup down beside you.

You felt better knowing that Flash and Betty both had the same reaction but you were a bit surprised how easily Peter took down the shot. Peter noticed you from the corner of his eye and pretended to shudder, even though it almost tasted like water to him.

After about a half an hour of mingling and drinking amongst yourselves, you could already feel the alcohol running through your system. You didn’t feel nauseous but if someone had asked you to spin around in a circle, it wouldn’t end pretty.

You watched from your spot on the office chair as Brad made his way over to you, smiling wide.

Here he goes, you thought as he sat down on the desk and looked down at you.

“Y/N, you look mad.”

“ I’m chill but clearly something upset you this morning,” You said as Brad shrugged plainly and took another sip,” what’s been up with you? You’ve been dodging me all day.”

From the outside, Brad looked fine like any other tipsy teenager but you knew better. There was something behind his eyes and you could literally see the gears spinning in his mind.

“ I can’t be protective of you?” He asked as you responded with a confused mm as you took another small sip of your drink,” obviously I’m talking about you know who.”

You watched Brad’s gaze fall over to Peter, who was sitting on the bed beside MJ and Cindy deep in a conversation. You rolled your eyes and you gave Brad an unconvinced look.

You were many things but being someone who needs protection was definitely not one of them. You knew Brad long enough to know that he had never cared about any guy being around you but for some reason, he was so threatened by Peter.

You knew if you said it out loud, Brad would just get madder like earlier but deep down, you knew he was jealous. What made you even more upset was that this jealousy practically came out of nowhere and you and Peter only started to hang out just this morning.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your pure frustration alone but once you opened your mouth, any chance of having a PC filter was gone,“ You don’t have to worry about Peter, he’s a good guy. I like him so do me a favor and stay in your lane.”

Before Brad even had the chance to reply, Flash grabbed the bottle off the dresser and sat down in the center of the hotel floor.

“ Lets play something cause I’m bored as hell. How about a friendly game of spin the bottle?” Flash suggested as everyone was adamant on playing something else,” you guys are so lame, would you rather play truth or dare?”

MJ poured herself another small amount and handed the bottle to Ned, who immediately passed the bottle away from him.

“ That’s so cliche,” MJ groaned as she looked down at her cup before taking it all down,” but I’m in. If you don’t want to answer or do the dare, you gotta take a shot no matter what.”

You shifted in your seat and mentally cursed. You hated truth or dare and frankly, it was the dumbest game to suggest especially since you knew that most of the group wouldn’t be down to do a dare that was too risky.

On the other hand, you were the type to always pick truth because you rather let people know your deep dark secrets than lick a toilet seat.

After a few rounds of Flash running through the hallway in just his underwear and of MJ switching clothes with Brad, it was Betty’s turn to pick who was next.

“ Okay, my turn... Ned,” Betty said, catching Ned off guard,” Truth or dare?”

Ned looked around and shrugged, looking visibly uncomfortable,” Truth I guess.”

“ Do you want to get back together with me?”

You were the only one to gasp and you covered your mouth in shock when you realized no one else had the same reaction,” Sorry I- you guys dated? Since when?”

“ Oh right I forgot to tell you, we were a couple during the Europe trip but it ended when the trip did. You really missed a lot,” Betty explained as she moved her attention back to Ned, waiting for a response.

Ned looked at Peter who only nudged him back in response which made the situation even more awkward. Instead of answering the question, Ned took down his shot like a champ and shook his head,” I’m not falling for that one.”

The room busted out in ooos as Betty’s face grew red. She quickly composed herself and poured herself another drink,” Your turn then.”

Ned looked at Peter as if he was asking for permission but Peter shook his head. Peter knew Ned wanted to be a good wingman but Ned tended to take the title too seriously and go overboard.

“ Okay then I’ll pick Peter,” Ned said as Peter’s hands started to feel even more sweaty than before,” Truth or Dare.”

If it was anyone else asking Peter, he could easily choose Truth and move on with the game but because Ned was in control and knew too much about his crush on you, he was worried that something would slip.

“ D-Dare,” Peter stuttered as he cleared his throat, his eyes locked on Ned as if he was pleading to have a normal dare that didn’t involve you.

Ned smiled and looked over in your direction as his plan started to come together.

“ I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

The room grew silent for only a moment before it bursted out in mixed conversations. All eyes were on Peter and he could feel how hot his ears were burning from embarrassment.

Peter tried to play it off and lifted his cup in the air,” I’m definitely not doing that.”

Cindy groaned from her seat and sat up on her knees,” Come on Peter, it’s just a kiss. It’s not like it’s your virginity or anything.”

“Cindy!” Betty smacked Cindy’s thigh sharply as if she was a child acting up in a grocery store.

“ Ow! I didn’t even say anything bad,” Cindy rubbed her thigh but glanced over at Peter,” I’m sorry but even if you are a virgin, that’s not a bad thing!”

You and Betty both gave Cindy a ‘Stop Talking’ look and you turned to Peter, his face flushed by now.

“ If he doesn’t want to do it, he shouldn’t be forced to,” Flash said as he leaned over and poured a shot out for Peter,” but just for the record, he totally would’ve kissed Y/N.”

“ N-No I wouldn’t!” Peter stammered, feeling completely mortified.

“ You hear that Y/N,” Brad smirked as he looked between you and Peter,” Peter doesn’t think you’re pretty. I on the other hand-”

“ That’s not true!” Peter shouted over Brad as he turned to you sympathetically,” Y/N I-I do think you’re pretty!”

“ Um, thanks Peter, you too,” you said simply as you tried to catch up to the conversation.

If you could be honest, you felt like you were on a five-second lag thanks to how much you had been drinking and you weren’t processing what everyone was saying as well as you should’ve. You weren’t really paying any attention to the conversation until you heard the word virginity and your name. What you did notice the whole night was Brad’s small attempts to get you a bit annoyed while flirting at the same time.

Since you two had been friends for so long, you knew how he operated and whenever Brad liked someone, he would always make little jabs as if girls fell for that kind of stuff. You needed to get him alone to set him straight because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship over his small crush on you.

You shook your head at Brad as he watched you pour yourself another shot that was almost triple of what you took earlier.

“ What were you saying Brad? About Y/N?” Cindy asked as you looked over to Brad who only shrugged.

“ Nothing I was just going to ask Y/N truth or dare,” Brad said as Ned shook his head.

“ No it’s Peter’s turn, those are the rules remember?” Ned insisted as he gave Peter a quick look.

Peter had nothing against Brad but Peter wasn’t stupid or blind either. He clearly had feelings and wasn’t going to waste any time going in for the kill. If it was any other guy then maybe Peter had a chance but Brad Davis? Not only did Brad have an advantage since you two were friends for so long but Brad was practically a clone of you.

You both had similar interests, identical backstories, and the same sense of humor so of course Peter felt threatened.

What was worse was that Peter could tell that Brad knew about Peter’s feelings for you so now, it was almost a competition for Brad.

“ Oh come on, he doesn’t mind,” Brad laughed as he looked at Peter and tilted his head to the side,” do you Pete?”

Peter only nodded as Peter took his shot and crossed his arms over his chest. You weren’t sure why you were feeling particularly bold today but when Brad asked you truth or dare, you chose dare.

“ I dare you to do seven minutes in heaven with me in the restroom.”

You leaned back onto your hands and tilted your head to the side. If it were any other day, you would’ve passed on the offer but this was just a game to Brad. He knew you would say no and that would prompt Brad to make even more jabs towards you for being a prude.

“ Okay Davis, I’ll bite,” You grabbed your cup and drank the whole thing before handing it to Peter,” see you guys on the other side.”

You got up from your seat as Brad followed you closely,” Don’t wait up guys.”

Peter clenched his jaw as Brad gave a thumbs up to Flash who was whooping in celebration.

Once the bathroom door had shut, Flash nudged Betty and stuck his tongue out,“ They’re gonna get down and dirty-”

“ Shut the hell up, Flash!” Peter didn’t even realize he had said it out loud until he noticed that everyone was staring at him.

Peter’s face flushed a deep red and sighed deeply before grabbing his phone and got up from his seat,” It’s late. I’m going to bed.”

Everyone watched as Peter practically stomped out of the room and was fuming from head to toe.

Once you were in the bathroom, you sat up on the counter and looked up at Brad, who just locked the door.

“ I know what you’re doing Brad,” You said as Brad leaned against the counter next to you,” you’ve done this move before on Katelyn Gomez at the homecoming after-party. I’m not stupid.”

Brad smiled innocently as he ran his fingers through his hair,” I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can’t I just have some quiet time with my girl?”

You let out a dry laugh and shook your head, you really couldn’t believe what was happening. You heard the main hotel room door slam shut which made you turn your head to the door. You didn’t hear anything follow up so you turned your attention back to Brad.

“ That’s my point, I’m not your girl,” You motioned between the two of you with your hand,” this is not a thing and will never be a thing.”

Brad acted shocked and placed a hand over his heart as if he was in pain,” Why do you love breaking my heart?”

“ You’re my best friend Brad which is why this can never happen. I mean come on, my mom used to bathe us in the same tub when we were younger!” You exclaimed as Brad shooed your hand away.

“ Okay fine, we have history but there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m not asking you to marry me I’m just asking for a chance,” Brad sighed as he moved over and leaned closer to you,” are you really saying that you don’t have feelings for me?”

You looked down at Brad’s hand and back up to his face. Brad looked at you longingly with puppy dog eyes but you were smart and you knew better than to fall for it.

“ I have feelings for you... but not the kind you have for me. I love you Brad but as a friend. I trust you more than anyone else I know and I like being a part of your life,” You watched as Brad nodded softly,” our friendship is so important to me and I don’t want to ruin it.”

For the first time ever, it was like you had left Brad speechless. You could tell how hurt he was and it made your heartache. Brad was never someone to take things so seriously, especially if it was with a girl. Brad could be rude at times and a little too sarcastic for your liking but so were you.

“ I’m sorry,” you said, trying to interrupt the silence between the two of you.

Brad shook his head and bit his lip, a habit that he had been doing since he was six whenever he was nervous,” You don’t have to apologize. I’ve been a dick to you lately and I’m sorry...Can I ask you for something? It’s okay if you say no.”

You nodded and squeezed Brad’s hand,” Yeah, anything.”

“ I know you want us to be friends and I respect that but...do you think I could kiss you?”

You tensed up as you shifted against the counter,” I don’t know Brad..”

“ I’m not asking to make out, I’m just asking for a quick peck on the cheek,” Brad stammered as you nervously bit the inside of your cheek,” pretty please?”

You thought things over in your head but all you could think about was Peter. What would he say if he found out? You shook your head and tried to get Peter out of your head, why would Peter care? Better yet, why were you thinking of Peter right now?

“ Okay, but only if it’s a cheek kiss.”

“ Deal...okay can you close your eyes?” Brad asked as you rolled your eyes but did so anyone.

You sat there with your eyes closed and shook your head,” You’re so weird Davis.”

After a few seconds, you felt Brad move off the counter and scooted between your legs. You felt him place his hands next to your thighs and leaned closer to you,” Ready?”

“ Whatever man just do it. God this is so weird,” you mumbled as you heard Brad count down from 5 to 1.

When he got to you, you expected to feel his lips press up against yours but when you felt his lips against yours, you opened your eyes in shock and pushed him away with your hands.

“ What the hell Brad! You said it was a cheek kiss!” You shouted as you wiped your lips with the back of your hand.

“ I-I’m sorry” Brad backed away from you and rushed for the door handle,” I’m going to go.”

Brad didn’t even look at you as walked out of the door, leaving you alone in the bathroom. You couldn’t believe your best friend just kissed you and you were somewhat thankful you felt nothing but disgust from it.

Peter. You rubbed the sides of your temple in frustration as you thought of what would happen if Peter found out. Your heart sunk as you thought of why you didn’t want Peter to know what had happened between you and Brad.

Damn it, you had a crush on Peter. And you were pretty sure he felt the same way.

@holland-in-disguise @yeahimcrying @greatpizzascissorstaco @mysticalbanshee @weyheyavengers @infinityflamesworld @fandom-fangirl22 @peterparkoure @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

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