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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 2 years ago

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Soundly (Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader)

Summary: You’ve injured your arm, leaving you frustratingly helpless to complete everyday tasks, like cleaning yourself. Your boyfriend and colleague Simon understands your apprehension towards accepting help for such a task and tells you how he does.

AN: Working title was “Sprain” for those of you who voted in the poll. I’ll be posting the Soap fics shortly and posting another poll for my other upcoming fics afterwards! Meanwhile, let me know what you think in replies or inbox me, tell me your thoughts on fics - present or future.

I just want Ghost to feel loved and to recover from all the shit he went through. I did a fic for that and sharing a bed, so I’m doing this one for the reader a.k.a. me. Plus I like the head canon that Ghost is actually kinda talkative, like in the Alone mission. I know he’s probably partly chatting to Johnny to because he’s trying to keep him focused, guiding him to regroup and survive. But he’s telling dumb jokes and joking about watching his torture video. He’s got banter and trauma!

Content warnings: Allusions to Ghost’s time being tortured by Roba and the Mexican Cartel - specifically his SA as well as the reader’s. Reader is GN, no use of Y/N

Masterlist // AO3

For “just a sprain”, your elbow hurt like a bastard. It was resting in the hammock of the sling your doctor ordered you to keep on. Almost smugly, it sent a few stings across the bone when you were also instructed to restrict your movements and get support to complete day-to-day tasks before you were signed off on a month’s medical leave – pending review at the end of it for being brought back to work.

It was half your fault. The sprain in the first place was caused by some asshole who would not go down quietly and attempted to dislocate your limb. Thankfully, your training automatically twisted you into a position preventing that but then you had to shoot that asshole and your gun was in the arm he’d injured. The bullet that you fired solidified the damage and you were forced to focus hard on aiming with your non-dominant hand whilst slugging it over to the Heli half a klick to the west for recon. You didn’t have to shoot the guy straight away. You’d kicked him down and he was too far from his own weapon to have made it before you could have swapped your gun to your other hand and ended his life the same miserable way. But nah, in the heat of gunfire, you’d decided to end the fight as quick as possible then ran like a bat out of hell back to safety where the rest of your crew was headed.

Simon had known you long enough – and dated you long enough – to not treat you like glass. He wouldn’t insult you like that. Therefore you were very grateful that he was the one to take you home, and that his driving was a lot steadier and smooth on the motorway.

Letting you open the front door, he carried both his and your bags inside, ready to start your medical leave this instant. He was heading out of the hall with his shoes dropped loudly onto the rack when he asked:

“You want anything specific for tea?”

“Nah, I’m good with whatever.”

Despite years of therapy, this injury had dealt a hefty blow to your pride; you didn’t want to be any more of a burden than you were going to be over the next few weeks. Thank God you’d been to his place enough times for it to be considered familiar.

From the airing cupboard, you collected the towel that Simon had bought you after your fifth stay here and smiled at the memory of shopping for it together. He’d asked for what colour you preferred then gathering other items into the trolley that were the same shade: toothbrush, wash cloth, cup to sit by the bathroom sink. He was nice like that.

The bathroom door locked behind you, the final ebbs of afternoon reaching in through frosted glass. You thanked the sun for enabling you to keep the lights off; the buzz that accompanied their stark spark on the silky tiles was always too much for you. However as warm as the daylight was, it failed to soothe your state. When you tried to retrieve the memory of how you’d gotten this t-shirt on in the first place, your mind offered you a blank slate and tears of frustration bubbling over, stinging worse than the injury as you tried to warp it against its will. But to no avail. Your bitten tongue surrendered so that the crying could commence with your t-shirt still stuck on your body.

Gentle rapping at the door didn’t halt anything. Surrendering felt like an admission of weakness, failure, and it poisoned you against yourself as you twisted the lock in the handle and slumped on the rim of the bath.

A pair of plain-socked feet appeared at the top of your line of sight, lingering on the cobalt carpet side of the door frame.

“Can I borrow your scissors please?” You asked, toying with a stray string dangling from the hem.

“You gonna stab me?” Simon inquired semi-sarcastically.

“Yes.” It was a pathetic little reply. But Simon pushed off the bath, belongings tinkling against one another as he rooted around then retrieved a small pair of scissors from the top shelf.

He sat down beside you on the rim, holding out the scissors by the blade, “It’s a nice shirt.”

You wiped your nose on the hem before taking the scissors, “It’s just Primark.”

“I can help you out of it, if it is Primark’s finest.”

“Was just cut it off.”

But of course your dominant hand was tied up in the sling, and you only just realised now.

“I could help you take it off.”

You’d never been undressed around Simon. The closest you’d gotten were jogging bottoms you’d cut into knee-length shorts and the sleeves of your t-shirt pushed onto your shoulders whilst you both worked out at opposite ends of the gym. Towards the end of your set, you mopped at your brow with the hem of your shirt once and the sliver of skin nearly sent Simon into anaphylactic shock.

He knew why you grappled with the notion of undressing. But he didn’t ever linger on you going elsewhere to change. Across your relationship, and even before it started, he’d shown you love in so many other ways that you would forget about what had happened to you.

Today was the first time he addressed it: “I understand why you wouldn’t want me to help.”

Without moving your head, your watchful stare latched onto his adjusting to the nuisance of sitting on a thin perch of porcelain. He withdrew his skull balaclava from its suffocating in his pocket and began kneading at it until the eyehole faced the ceiling you’d stared at many times, wishing you could be more intimate with the man you loved more than life.

“Your reasons aren’t so different from mine.” And he held out the mask to you.

The olive branch was accepted and you thumbed over the skull plate as best you could with the scissors still in your grip. Only when your thumbnail caught against the paint depicting a cheekbone did it dawn on you what your boyfriend was referring to.

“Simon-”

“None of that,” He interrupted you, gently, firmly, “I get it. I don’t wanna bother you if you don’t want me here.”

He rubbed along your shoulder as you matched your deep breaths to his, resting your eyes to bask in his comfort and crushing the mask in your loose fist. You’d always equated it to anonymity. Never had you thought of linking it to another form of comfort.

“You can bathe with your clothes on,” Simon suggested after a minute’s silence.

“Do you know how hard it is to remove wet denim?” You muttered with a crooked smile.

“I do,” and he pressed a kiss to your forehead – his preferred place to do so. “Let’s give this a go.”

You handed back his balaclava and took in his bare face, the medical mask – the one he’d been wearing whilst you were in the hospital and all the way home - gone, his expression carefully crafted to be neutral so that you didn’t have to be.

He eased your sling off you after the taps were thundering steaming water into the tub. Then he vanished to his room, returning with a pair of baggy sports shorts. Cradling them like a baby, your nose welcomed their softness and the steam whilst Simon knelt onto the fluffy bathmat, nodding after splashing the bathwater and twisting the taps into silence.

“I’m gonna stink if I don’t wash properly,” You whispered.

After opening his palms to you, Simon took your shorts and arranged them on the floor, “I’ll get you some wet wipes to use while we wait for your arm to heal up.”

You held onto his shoulders whilst he undid your jeans and eased them down your legs, his hands careful to stay hidden in the fabric whilst you stepped out of them and into the shorts. Simon to pulled them up to your hips.

“Why did the magician take a bath?” He asked you as you lowered yourself into the water.

“I dunno, why?”

“To clean up his act.”

Your chest quivered, struggling to hold in your groans and giggles whilst Simon pumped some blueberry body wash into his palm, “That’s good.”

Tenderly he circled the soap across your forearm, “Fancy another?”

“Go on.” You were nothing if not his little enabler, indulging in his humour even after the rest of 141 had lightly roasted him for it.

“Knock, knock.”

Your free hand fiddled with the sodden hem of your t-shirt, “Who’s there?”

“Dwayne.”

“Dwayne who?”

Soaking the flannel and wringing it out over your arm, Simon began to wash the suds away, “Dwayne the bathtub before I dwown.”

Your smile was not dampened by the tears that rolled down your cheeks and dripped onto the shallow waterline. Instead, you focused your blurry vision on Simon’s hoodie sleeves that were pushed up to his elbows, those broad forearms sprinkled with droplets and soapsuds.

When Simon was lathering up some more body wash, you offered your own joke: “What did the man say after he swallowed a clock and went to the toilet?”

“What?”

“Watch out.”

Simon snorted loudly whilst carefully manipulating your injured arm amidst the blueberry bubbles.

You wiped a new tear away on your shoulder: “I’ve already told Kyle but you can tell it to Johnny.”

“Much obliged.”

With permission and a slow touch, he started soaping up your shins. His contact always lingered for hours on your skin. This felt like a polish, not a scratch or a dent, which is why you felt so overwhelmed now, just as you did that first time he gave you a proper bear hug. You didn’t mind the blueberry, something else to focus on instead of letting yourself meander towards conjuring disturbing imaginations of what you’d just learnt about Simon’s capture in Mexico.

He let you take over for washing your thighs, sitting on the toilet still talking to you with a smile that cracked up his face like the scar, from lip to brow. His eyes never strayed from your face, though it never felt like you were a target down his scope, more like feeling the sun first thing in the morning with a delicate breeze that danced around your being. Such a gaze wasn’t alien to Simon, even if he rarely showed it to you, and never to anyone else. You were just grateful that he was able to be like this, and that he still chose to.

That same stare, he held it whilst draping a towel around your shoulders, patting over your arms before he gathered it at the front for you to hold in your healthy hand. Then he collected a pile of clean clothes from the bedroom, placing them onto the closed toilet lid, you noted the crisply ironed button up folded on top. You settled for nestling your head against his chest since you were unable to hug him.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll make dinner.”

The door was locked after Simon disappeared behind it. You did end up cutting yourself out of the shirt, rest in peace. Fogged-up, the mirror wasn’t so bad to stare at whilst you moisturised with your good hand. You could still feel where Simon’s calloused hands had brushed over your skin, tingling in each follicle, and it was protected by the button-up you were able to slide on – one of the few Simon owned. His bulk was once again your gain; the shirt was loose enough to give you some wiggle room whilst dressing.

Clattering from the kitchen caught Simon in the act of putting away the ironing board. He was taking loud and rehearsed deep breaths that hissed through the fabric of his freshly-donned balaclava, the board under his arm before he tossed it into its assigned slot. His hand shook as it released the cupboard door handle, searching for something to distract himself with until he latched his stare onto you bunching your shirt in the front.

“I can’t do my buttons up,” You said quietly.

Your stomach impulsively sucked in on itself when his hands reached for the buttons before it, joining them with the fabric. Nevertheless, your gaze found solace in the thatch of fine chest hair growing in the lowest peak of his V-neck.

Simon started from the bottom button and made his way up. With each wince, his fingers stalled. But you knew he’d never hurt you, never on purpose and never like that. He made steady progress until complete and even helped you replace your sling. But then he sniffed and brushed his nose briefly, stepping away and back to the kitchen. For five minutes he alternated between sifting through the cupboards and staring helplessly into the fridge, his face washed out by the stagnant light inside. You took the time to help him in one of the ways you knew how.

“I’ll order us a takeaway.”

Immediately he slammed shut the fridge door, “You’re a fucking star.”

You were not put off by his pacing back and forth, nor were you by his hovering over you like a gargoyle whilst you tapped at the screen – which you held in a way for him to see clearly in case he wanted to add something. A wide berth allowed you to approach him on the couch with the takeaway when it arrived half an hour later (always reliable, hence why it was your go-to takeaway place). Simon also accepted the drink you brought him, but only because he’d already gotten you one plus two pain meds he made sure you took after getting some food into your stomach first.

The cushioned lap trays you’d invested in were already paying for themselves.

Dinner inhaled and rendering you quite soporific, you mirrored Simon’s earlier actions and tentatively shuffled closer to him, “Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” His arm dropped to around your waist, and you tugged on his wrist to keep it there. Only then did you tentatively wrap yourself around his full belly.

“Fuckin’ softie,” He said under his breath. That didn’t stop him from giving you a little squeeze – his hand no longer trembling - and sinking himself lower so that there was no pressure on your sprain. He turned the volume down a little, which sparked inspiration in your mind.

Half hiding in his t-shirt, you projected loud enough for him to hear you: “The local TV controller museum shut down due to no visitors. Turns out people aren’t remotely interested.”

“Have you been researching these instead of doing your paperwork?”

“What makes you think I haven’t been doing my paperwork?”

Simon looked down at you, those expressive eyes communicating both the “are you fucking for real?” and the “you’re lucky you’re cute” in equal parts. But from the way his balaclava was balanced on his face, you could tell he was smiling at you. So you smiled back at him then snuggled back against him with a contented sigh and the existence of your new joke book still a secret (for now).

The next time you opened your eyes, it was much darker in the living room. A blanket was tucked around your legs. The glow of “Are you still watching Phil Wang: Philly Philly Wang Wang?” from the flat-screen, despite that not being what you were watching when you first drifted off, bathed you in enough low light to allow you a comfortable adjustment period. You squinted up at your boyfriend. Head back in the pillows, his chest was rising and falling with each breath he drew and released through his nose. You adjusted the blanket around to cover his legs too and, tucking yourself back into your bundle, both you and Simon slept soundly.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley oneshot #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod oneshot #mw2 fanfic #my writing #r: gen #wc: >2k

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something-tofightfor · 8 months ago

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Fool's Gold 3: Walkin' With Stones To Weigh Us Down

Pairing: Pirate Oberyn Martell x Female Reader (with a twist)

Rating: M for now - but that will change later.

Word Count: 11,310 (I'm sorry it's a big one.)

Summary: When your memories begin to trickle back in, your connection to Daavos deepens as you share information. You learn even more after arriving in Tyrosh, but an unexpected encounter may just change everything.

Author's Note: I love this story, and I love trying to give enough away without giving anything away, if that makes sense. Thank you so much for reading - and for being open to this interpreatation of the character(s).

If you want to talk about this story (or any of my others) please feel free to pop into my inbox or DMs!

Chapter title comes from "The World Breathes With Me" by Caligula's Horse.

Fool's Gold Masterlist

You successfully avoided him for the entire following day.

It was cowardly of you - and you knew it. Nothing had happened - you’d stopped the kiss before it could start, had told him where you stood and what you thought of taking things further between the two of you. Daavos’ response to your words and your hesitation were admirable, and you knew that you had a lot to be grateful for.

He hadn’t forced himself on you. He hadn’t pushed you to continue after your initial no. He’d treated you with respect that night and the entire time you’d known him.

And if you were being honest, the almost kiss had been your fault.

You’d stayed in his arms and gripped his shirt. You’d been the one to let your gaze drop to his mouth. You’d let yourself get caught up in him and his kindness, and had only recovered your senses at the last minute.

But knowing - and admitting - that what had almost happened was wrong was only part of the problem.

The other half of it was that the knowledge did little to dampen the attraction you felt for him. You knew that you couldn’t act on it, but it filled you with shame that all you could think about when you recalled the moments shared in the hallway with him was how firm and warm his chest was beneath your hands, and how, despite what he’d told you about his waiting wife, he’d seemed more disappointed than you before walking away.

It didn’t matter, though. Despite the fact that you didn’t know anything about your own past, you knew that you didn’t want to begin your new life in such a dishonorable way. You couldn’t control Daavos’ actions … but you could handle your own.

At dusk, you couldn’t put off leaving the room any longer. After visiting the washroom and then the galley for a late dinner, you headed up to the deck, just in time to watch the crew partially furl the sails for nightfall.

They moved with a practiced ease, and from your position on one of the plush lounge chairs that you assumed were leftover from Prince Oberyn’s use of the ship, you had a perfect vantage point throughout the process.

“You seem to enjoy watching this.” The voice came from behind you, and without looking away from the sails, you answered.

“Very much. I like the routine.” Smiling as two of the crew members secured the bunched fabric in place, you shrugged your shoulders. “It’s too bad that I may only have a few more days of viewing it.”

He didn’t reply, but you weren’t surprised when Daavos took a seat the end of the chair you were on, his hip next to one of your feet. You kept looking up until both men began to scurry down the masts, and then you finally looked at him.

He was wearing a different shirt - that one a dark brown, though it had golden embroidery on the collar and down the center of the front. Daavos’ hair was also styled - or at least it looked styled, the curls damp and pushed away from his forehead.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He repositioned his shoulders, sighing out a quiet breath. “That is not necessary.”

“This isn’t a small ship, but even here, I couldn’t avoid you forever.” Linking your fingers together, you met his eyes. “You are a temptation, Daavos. My own situation makes it feel proper to remove myself from your presence, but yours? Yours makes it absolutely necessary to keep my distance.”

“I tempt you?” He grinned at you, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe your head wound also stole your good sense, otherwise a lady like yourself would have no interest in a pirate like me.” It made you smile. You knew that he was teasing, and that his attitude was somewhat improper, but it was better than the distance you’d convinced yourself would exist throughout the earlier hours of the day. And it’s harmless. We’re just talking.

“Not all of it. I stopped you from kissing me last night, didn’t I?”

“You did.” He ducked his head. “But I was not lying when I said that there are things you didn’t know about me. And I wouldn’t expect you to, after so few days here on this ship.” He gestured to the ship with one hand, the golden ring on his thumb catching the light. “All I ask is that you not judge my actions yet.” His request made no sense. He was keeping something from you, which was clear, but what that was was unknown. “We should reach Tyrosh tomorrow evening. The winds were kind today, and we traveled much further than I thought possible.”

“Oh.” It slipped out before you could stop yourself, your disappointed tone unmistakable. You recovered quickly, nodding as you met his gaze. “So it looks like you might get your room back a few days sooner than -”

“You do not have to leave.” He inched closer, unblinking. “And we may not find anything out in Tyrosh. There are many different -”

“If I have a family, I have to leave, Daavos. I wouldn’t want them to think that I … didn’t survive the sinking of my ship. Wouldn’t you want to know if you were them?”

“I would.” He nodded, pushing his lower lip out in thought. “I was just reminding you that going ashore doesn’t mean that your time with me … with us has to end.” Even if it was an unintentional slip, you heard that he meant the words, and for the first time, you actually let yourself entertain the thought that it might be possible to remain with Daavos and the crew for a little longer. Would I want that?

“Your generosity and hospitality are unmatched, Captain.” Bowing your head briefly, you smiled back at him. “Maybe once back onshore, I’ll write your story down somewhere so that the history books are sure to remember -”

“Who says I’m not already in those history books?” He reached up, dragging his fingers through his hair. “You’d heard of me, right?” That made you laugh, the man joining you moments later.

As you laughed together in the gathering darkness, a flash of a memory came back to you.

You were sitting outside with a green-eyed man and a dark haired woman, the three of you sharing a meal under a fragrant arch of flowers. The air was warm, and you could smell the sea - though it was out of sight. They were holding hands between bites, the woman’s gaze soothing as she watched you eat slowly.

“It will not be so different from Braavos. We will miss you, of course, but Oldtown is a beautiful city, full of history. And your husband will surely keep you -”

“But I don’t want to go. I know exactly who Lord Perle is.” You pushed your plate away and sat up straight. “You made this decision for me, because your shipping routes have been compromised and you’ve lost more than you can -”

“It is your duty.” The man stood, pulling his hand free from the woman’s. “As our daughter, it is your duty to do what is best to secure the future of the family.”

“Find someone here.” You stood, too, your anger getting the better of you. “Find someone for me that isn’t so far away that I won’t ever get to return here to see you or my friends. Find me a man that won’t -”

“It is done.” The woman lowered her head, sighing. “The contract has been signed. We have known Lord Perle and his family since he was a child. He will make a fine husband, and you will see that for yourself when he is here with his father in a few moons. We have waited long enough for a match for you in Braavos, and circumstances … don’t allow us to wait any longer.”

You felt Daavos’ hands on you before you were able to pull yourself free from the memory, but instead of shaking him off, you leaned into his touch, feeling tears spring to your eyes. “What is wrong? Should I get the healer? You’re shaking.”

“I…” You blinked your tears back, feeling as a few of them escaped and ran down your cheeks. “I remembered …” He sucked in a breath, but you continued. “I am from Braavos. My parents, they…” His hold on you was gentle, Daavos’ thumbs pressed to the front of your shoulders. “They are in shipping, but something … happened. Something went wrong, and they arr…they arranged for me to …” You broke off, reining in your sobs before going silent as you stared past him and at the horizon, where the last faint remnants of daylight lingered.

“Take your time.” His voice was low, and with some surprise, you realized that Daavos had moved even closer, the distance between you next to nothing. “It is good that you’re remembering, even if the memories are … not what you had hoped for.”

Steadying yourself with a deep breath, you closed your eyes. “I’m not married yet, or at least I don’t think I am. But I …” You met his eyes when you opened yours, and saw that Daavos’ were filled with kindness and understanding, the crease between his brows prominent. “Daavos, I -” He lowered his hands and took yours gently, linking your fingers the way he had the first time he’d applied the salve. “My parents needed money to save their business, and they were tired of waiting for me to make a match in Braavos. So they signed a contract with a Lord in Oldtown. I think … I think I was on my way from Braavos to Oldtown when my ship sank.”

“That will narrow things down.” He nodded, the man’s chest rising and falling with each breath. “Now we know where you were supposed to be, and where people will be looking for you, and -”

“I didn’t want to go.” The tears gathered again, and that time, you made no effort to stop them. “Daavos, I don’t know all of the reasons why but I know I didn’t want to go.”

He swore, pulling his hands free from yours, but instead of leaning back or standing, he leaned closer, his arms winding around your shoulders. You let him hold you, turning your head inward so that you could press your forehead against the side of his neck.

You wished that you hadn’t remembered.

You wished that the memories had been happier. You wished that you knew exactly what your parents had arranged, and why you were so against it. And against him. “I would stay here with you until dawn if that’s what you wanted, but …” Daavos backed away, though he didn’t let go of you. “But it will get cold, and neither of us are dressed for it.”

“But it’s warm here. We’re in the South, isn’t -”

“Sea air is different.” He smiled, the expression sad. “Trust me.” You did - and it had more to do with what you felt around Daavos than what you’d seen of his behavior. “Would you like me to walk you back to your room?”

“Yes. Please.” You swiped at your face with one hand, the back of it coming away wet. “Thank you, Captain.”

He stood and then held out a hand, waiting for you to take it. And when you were on your feet, he didn’t let go right away, instead catching your eye again and tightening his grip. “You are still my responsibility. Remember that.”

The pair of you started toward the cabin again, but instead of holding your hand, Daavos rested his on your lower back, his touch light. Neither of you spoke, and when you reached your door, you paused and turned to face him, just as you had the previous time. Your thoughts were jumbled, bits and pieces of memories flashing one after the other, though nothing was clear.

“Daavos?” You finally broke the silence, chewing on your lower lip for a few seconds before finishing your thought. “Would it be improper to ask if you could sit with me for a little while?”

“If we were on land, it would be.” His smile widened, and then he winked at you. “But here? I think the Captain will allow it.” Asking him to stay was wrong and you knew it, but in the moment, you didn’t care.

A few minutes later, you were in the room by yourself, boots removed so that you could pace barefoot over the smooth flooring. Daavos had assured you that he’d be back before disappearing down the dimly lit hallway. But the alone time gave you more time to think - and to focus on what little you remembered. And how much I still don’t remember.

“I brought us something to eat.” He reappeared in the doorway holding a small bowl in one hand and a jug of wine in the other. “And to drink.” Daavos shut the door behind him, walking over to the desk and setting everything he carried down. You looked in his direction but didn’t move closer, instead crossing your arms over your chest.

“If my parents signed a marriage contract, I have to honor it. This Lord… Perle? Sending me to him was worth enough to them to -”

“Please, come here.” You didn’t miss the dark look cross his features at your words. Why? What’s that for? He gestured with one hand, interrupting you. “I understand you have a lot to say, but … let it wait.” He spoke so calmly that you didn’t hesitate to do as he asked, and when you took the place next to him, you were delighted to see that the bowl was full of berries. “As the Captain, I keep a few … luxuries on board for myself. Tonight … I thought they might be appreciated by you, too.”

You reached for the bowl at the same time you breathed out a thank you to him, and Daavos let you take a handful of fruit before he took some, too. It was impossible to look anywhere else as he popped them between his lips and chewed, one eyebrow raised while he waited for you to do the same.

They were delicious - perfectly sweet and ripe, and when the first trickle of juice hit your tongue you closed your eyes and actually moaned, the sound loud in the confines of the room. When you realized that you’d done it, your eyes flew open, lips parting in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. That was -”

“Perfectly understandable.” He grinned, biting down on a round, blue piece of fruit. “That was a noise I only dreamed I would ever hear you make.” What? He’s thought of… “Would you like some wine?”

“Yes.” You finished the fruit you held, and then reached for a few more pieces. “Please.”

“It is Dornish wine.” He poured two goblets full and handed you one, turning so that he could rest his hip against the front of the desk. “The Prince always traveled with it… and that means that there was a lot on board.” He raised his glass, the smile on his lips almost sad.

“To Prince Oberyn, then.” You lifted yours and held it out, sighing. “For the wine and the ship and the sleeping quarters.” Daavos’ smile widened. “May his memory endure.”

“To the Prince and his lasting presence.” He tapped his glass against yours and then you both drank, the taste of the wine sharpened by that of the berries. It was delicious, and you told him as much, but once the pleasantries were out of the way, there was no more avoiding the looming conversation.

“I cannot ask you to take me to Oldtown, Daavos.” You sipped again, stepping over to the mattress and sitting on the edge of it, facing him. “I don’t know where you’re headed after Tyrosh, but even by land, it would take …”

“Will you tell me what you remembered? All of it?” He sat on the chair beside the bed, lifting one leg and bending it so that he could rest that ankle on his opposite knee. “It may be useful when we inquire at the port.” I can do that. I can tell him everything I know.

You spent the next few minutes doing as he’d asked; explaining the flashes of your parents that you’d recalled, along with the stone walls and flowers. You told him about the conversation you’d replayed, focusing on your distaste for doing as your parents directed. He listened intently, sipping from his glass but never looking away. Repeating the words seemed to seal things for you, driving home the point that your future had been decided and even though it wasn’t a direct route, you were still - somehow - on your way to meet it.

“When we dock, I can send a raven back home, and one to Oldtown. I can explain what happened, and that I’m still on my way, but -”

“Or,” Daavos wet his lips, tilting his head to the right. “Or, before we do that, we can see if they’ve received any news from either of those places. If … if this Lord Perle was on the ship with you, he may not have survived.” Daavos frowned. “But if he was, why wasn’t he with you when it sank?”

It gave you a spark of hope - if your intended husband was on the ship with you, and hadn’t survived, but a marriage contract had been signed and possibly fulfilled, then you could inherit his estate. That would help your parents and mean that you weren’t expected to stay in a place you’d never been to on your own. But. “I think I was sailing to meet him.” You looked down at your hands. “And if that’s true, then the ship that sank was carrying my dowry, which is now sitting at the bottom of the Narrow Sea, and I have nothing to offer anyone in marriage.”

“You have plenty to offer, and if that Lord can’t see that, then that is a fault with him.” Daavos leaned forward, uncrossing his legs and reaching for you with his free hand. “You cannot be blamed for a sinking ship. It -”

“All men care about is coin.” You rolled your eyes, finishing your wine and then setting the goblet down on the table. “Coin and land and ownership of people and things.” You gestured to the ship. “Isn’t that true? You’re a pirate, you live to gain wealth and notoriety.”

“There is more to life than that.” He scoffed, also finishing his drink. “Wealth is not only measured in coin.” He rubbed his chin, shaking his head. “You said you read some of Oberyn’s poetry, yes?” You nodded, unsure of what he was trying to say. “He had other priorities. He cared about things that had nothing to do with what you speak of. His daughters. His family. His -”

“Ellaria.” You smiled as you said the name, agreeing. “He did love her very much.” Daavos looked away, his eyes sliding across the desk and then to the window, where they lingered. “But according to the stories, he also loved many others, in many parts of the world.”

“None like her.” He spoke quietly, one thumb twisting the ring on the other. “Never like her.” The conversation had taken a very serious turn, and for a few seconds, you wondered why Oberyn and Ellaria’s story seemed to impact Daavos so much - and how he knew it so well. You didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because he turned to look at you again, the sadness melting from his features, replaced with his typical easy smile. “You’ve read the letters.”

“Some of them.” You agreed, scooting back and then lifting your legs into the bed before wrapping your arms around your bent knees. “He might be gone, but I didn’t think it was right to read the ones he never sent.” You turned your head, giving him a sad smile. “When I saw those, I put everything back and closed the drawer.”

“You’d respect a dead Prince’s privacy that much?”

“I’d respect anyone’s privacy that much.” Using one hand, you pointed. “And I’m sure that you cannot dock this ship in Dorne, but I’d hope that there is some way for her to get those letters, and maybe all of the ones she sent to him, too. I’m sure it would mean a great deal to have even a tiny bit more of him after so long.”

His eyes narrowed, but the expression wasn’t unkind, and you watched his expression soften after a few seconds, Daavos’ sigh audible. “You surprise me each day.” You didn’t know what he meant by that, but coming from him, it seemed like a compliment - so you took it.

“That is better than being dull, hmm?” He nodded, taking another sip of wine and then reaching for the jug to pour more - first for himself and then, after a nod of agreement, for you. “Maybe I can sail from Tyrosh to Dorne and pass them along before I -”

“You are getting ahead of yourself.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Are you so ready to be rid of me?”

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” You swallowed another mouthful of the wine, savoring the sweetness. It reminded you of the sunlight, and you wondered if all Dornish wine was the same, thanks to the way the fruit was grown. It must be. “And I wouldn’t want to ruin your fierce reputation by making everyone think you just … pick up strays and keep them when they amuse you.”

“You weren’t a stray, you were shipwrecked. There is a difference. But you do amuse me.” He arched a brow and watched you as he drank again, the tip of his tongue dragging across his bottom lip when he’d lowered the goblet. “And my fierce reputation is because I do what I want. I always have.”

You didn’t doubt that.

Though there was an air of refinement to Daavos’ behavior, the more you got to know him, the more you understood that the nomadic life of a pirate suited him. Even though it keeps him away from someone he cares for. “Tell me something else about you.” You finished your wine and then leaned over, setting the goblet down. “I know what I’ve seen aboard this ship, but …” You linked your fingers together. “Who are you, Daavos?”

“May I sit next to you?” He gestured to the headboard, cocking his head to the side. “It may be a long story, and since I have not had the luxury of such a comfortable bed in -”

You winced, immediately feeling guilt for causing him discomfort. “Of course.” Scooting over, you left him a space - and a pillow. “This is your bed. Why would you even ask?”

“The first thing you should know about me,” he started as he removed his boots and then swung his feet off of the floor and onto the mattress. “Is that I have never forced myself into someone’s bed.” He settled in, and despite the space left between you, you could feel the heat from his body. “Everyone has been a willing participant.”

“Good to know.” You pulled the blanket up and over yourself and then turned your head toward where he sat. “It doesn’t surprise me, though.”

“Why is that?” He nudged you with one elbow, laughter in his voice. “What are you trying to say?”

“It would be hard to resist you, Daavos.” Wetting your lips, you rubbed at your forehead. “You are -”

“You did.” His tone turned serious, and when you met his eyes, you saw that he was focused on you. “You were adamant that I not even kiss you.” And for good reason. My arranged marriage and your waiting wife and …

“Will you tell me about her?” It was bold, but you didn’t think he would mind. “About your … wife?”

“She is what you want to talk about?” He smiled, showing off almost perfect, white teeth. “Alright.”

He was quiet for a little while, the only sounds you heard the creaking of the ship as it rocked gently on the waves. You wanted to know more - about Daavos, about he woman he loved, about where he was from - and if you only had hours left, you weren’t going to waste them.

“She was born in Dorne. In Hellholt, to be exact.” He grinned. “You said I sounded Southern, and you are right. I was also born in Dorne, and spent many years there.”

“We’re going to be so close. Is she … are you …” He raised a brow, watching you struggle to get your thought out. “I am sorry. It’s not my business.”

“Do not apologize.” He reached over, taking your hand and squeezing it. “It is not your fault I’ve been away for so long.” He cleared his throat. “She and I found each other when we needed it most. From the beginning, we were inseparable. She stood by my side and ignored everything people said about us, about her. And she did it with a smile on her face because she knew that no matter what was said, it did not matter. We loved each other, even in the beginning.”

You could hear that in his voice. The way he spoke about the woman made it clear that she occupied almost every inch of his heart. You remembered his words from earlier - that she was his wife in all of the ways that mattered - and opened your mouth to ask why they’d never actually married when he went on.

“It only grew stronger over time. When our first daughter was born, I thought I could not love her more. And then the second came. And then the third, and …” He sighed, shaking his head back and forth. “She is a good mother, and her fire is in our daughters, too.”

“I didn’t know you had children.” It surprised you, but not because you hadn’t thought that he could have had any. Your shock was because he seemed to be content to be away from them for such long periods of time. This woman must love him a great deal if she is willing to wait for him and raise three children on her own. “Three daughters? That -”

“I have more than three.” His grin widened, and Daavos laughed. “And they are all taken care of. They are not secrets, and I am not ashamed of them.” He gestured to the room, and then turned his head toward you, his smile more of a smirk. “This life offers me the opportunity to give my children anything they want, even if I cannot be with them at all times.” More than three? So I was right, there are women all over the - “I was reckless in my younger years.” Daavos winked. “But I do not regret any of it.”

“I can’t imagine what that must be like.” You swallowed, fingers plucking at a thread on your pants. “To be so free that you can go anywhere in the world you want. To … to have relationships with whoever, whenever you choose.” You didn’t know for sure, but it was probable that since you’d been assigned a partner based on their ability to help your family, you’d never had the opportunity to pursue someone based only on desire. “You are lucky. It sounds … it sounds like …”

“Do you know much about Dorne?” He shifted, moving just a little closer, and you didn’t stop him. The truth was that you enjoyed being so close to him, and in such an intimate position. You were both still fully clothed, and not even really touching, but even being in bed with Daavos - especially after he’d told you a few things about his romantic history - was thrilling.

“Just that they live very differently than a lot of places in the Seven Kingdoms. Their customs and traditions aren’t as … rigid.”

“Correct.” He nodded, taking a breath. “The Dornish do not put as much pressure on themselves when it comes to love and sex and partners. We follow these customs, yes, but it is not like in the Crownlands or the North. In Dorne, bastards are born of passion. We do not despise them, or their parents. You would like it there, I think.”

“I probably would.” But. “But Dorne is not where I am intended to -”

“You’ll enjoy Tyrosh, too.” He took your hand, squeezing it before he let both of them rest on the blanket between you. “It can be dangerous if you do not pay close attention to your surroundings.” He cleared his throat. “Tomorrow, when we go ashore, I want you to stay close to me.”

“I understand.” You nodded. “Will we stay there long?”

“Just a night or two.” He swiped his thumb slowly over the back of your hand, the motion sending a jolt through you. “Long enough to replenish supplies and let the crew enjoy themselves. Long enough to seek answers about you.”

You were both quiet then, and you realized that the gentle rocking of the boat was making you tired. I should ask him to leave. Instead, you opened your mouth and said the opposite. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep, Daavos?”

“Of course.” He eased his hold on your hand and then spread his fingers wide, sliding them between yours. “I will stay as long as you ask me to.” You tightened your grip on him and closed your eyes, but Daavos wasn’t done talking. “Would you like to hear about Dorne? It is much different than Braavos.”

You nodded your head and he began talking, Daavos’ voice working with the waves to push you into sleep as time passed, though you tried to listen to every word he said.

Just before you nodded off, you could have sworn you felt his breath against your skin, followed by the lingering press of his lips to your forehead.

—

You woke the next morning and Daavos was gone.

It was disappointing, but you understood - he was the captain, and had things to do. He can’t just lay in bed next to me until I wake up.

There was breakfast waiting for you, though, and you smiled at the sight of another small bowl of berries next to your plate. Of course.

You spent the morning preparing to make landfall, even though you knew that you likely didn’t need to do anything.

You changed your clothes, choosing one of the other shirts that Daavos had brought for you and hadn’t ever removed, along with a new pair of socks. You tidied your hair - as best as you could, anyway, frowning at your reflection in the mirror. Who am I trying to impress? You once again thought about putting on your dress, but Daavos’ words about Tyrosh being dangerous echoed in your mind and you opted not to. I should try to fit in.

When you made it to the top deck, there was a flurry of activity. The sails were completely unfurled and puffed with wind and the crew were running back and forth, making preparations and getting things organized. Daavos was standing next to the helm, the fingers of one hand curled around the handle of a spoke, the other on his hip.

He’d changed, too, dark pants replaced with a soft brown pair and his shirt an umber color that reminded you of the sunset. He was grinning, and even though you couldn’t hear the conversation, you assumed it was a lively one, since the men surrounding him were laughing, too. I won’t bother him. I’ll just sit and wait to see land.

Daavos had other ideas, though.

He caught your eye and waved you over, his mouth continuing to move as he spoke with his crew. As you got closer, he turned his attention to you, the smile easing back into the smaller and more reserved one he typically wore. “Sleep well?”

“I did, thank you.” Ducking your head, you murmured a hello to the men he’d been speaking to, and then focused on Daavos. “I also appreciate breakfast.”

“Of course. I wanted to be sure you ate before we arrived.” He pointed, and you turned to look in the direction he was indicating. “Do you see?”

You did - it was faint and faraway, but you could see just a hint of land ahead of you. It made your heart beat faster, but the longer you thought about it, the more you realized that your quickened heartbeat wasn’t for the reason you assumed it would be. I am anxious. I don’t want to leave the ship. I don’t want to leave… him.

“How much longer?”

“Hours. I thought nightfall at first, but now …I know it’ll be earlier.” You tried to keep your expression even, but must have failed, because he turned to one of the crew and jerked his head toward the wheel before stepping away and taking your arm. “Come with me.”

You followed, the two of you walking over to the railing. “Daavos, I -”

“No matter what we learn, you need to know something.” He didn’t remove his hand even though you stood still, both of you gazing out at the water. “You are not obligated to act. You do not have to follow through on the future that was arranged for you.” He moved his hand to the center of your lower back, the pressure of his touch reassuring. “You have options.”

“Do I?” Swallowing back a lump in your throat, you turned your head toward him. “They would not have sent me away like this unless it was necessary. If I don’t -”

“What if you had died when that ship went down?” He angled his body toward you, and for the first time since you met him, Daavos’ tone was harsh with you. “You would not have made it to Oldtown and whatever was going to happen to your family would have happened. You told me that you did not want to marry this man or go so far from home. So why, now, when you are free from that expectation, would you choose to follow it?”

“Because I don’t have the luxury of avoiding responsibilities. I didn’t die, I’m still alive, and if I find out that Lord Perle wasn’t onboard the Sea Spider and still expects me, I -” You stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening. The Sea Spider? Did I just remember …

“Your ship was called the Sea Spider?” He arched a brow. “That’s new.”

It was. It was another detail that had come back to you in the heat of the moment. But it doesn’t change anything. I still don’t remember anything else. “It doesn’t matter. Knowing the name of the ship makes no difference.”

“I know that ship.” He nodded. “It is part of the Braavosi fleet. Not for cargo, but for…” He gestured with one hand at the Sand Snake. “For travel like this.” You looked around, too, taking it in. So I was on a ship built for pleasure. “And it does matter. Every piece of information you have matters.” He stepped even closer, moving his hand up your arm and letting it rest on your shoulder. “We are close to getting answers. And only then do you have to decide anything.”

He was right. Forcing yourself to look away from him, you eyed the horizon, the far off shoreline growing larger by the second. Soon. Soon… I’ll know everything.

—

You docked a few hours later, and from your vantage point near the railing, you decided that you liked Tyrosh even before you’d left the ship.

The people you saw on the dock were a surprise to you - their hair and clothing bright and stylish, many unnatural colors dotting the familiar deep hues. It was loud, too - you could hear the city’s chatter even over the sounds of the waterfront… and a small part of you was excited.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Daavos and his crew, it was just that you were curious about how the Tyroshi behaved, and what their city had to offer. “Are you ready?” He was beside you again, Daavos’ voice low. “I know I am ready to be on solid ground again.”

“Yes.” You smile, the expression genuine. “Where will we go first?”

“To get your answers.” He took a long breath, eyes locked on your face. “But there is something I need to give you before we go.” He moved as he spoke, raising one hand and then using his other one to remove the ring he wore on his thumb, holding it up. “Wear this.” What? “In case we get separated, all you’ll need to do is show it to anyone that tries to cause you trouble. They’ll know not to bother you.”

You took the golden band from him and eyed it for a few seconds before it dawned on you. “It has your sigil on it.” You followed the delicate pattern with your gaze, lingering on the emblazoned sun at the center. Or maybe it’s not his sigil. “Your reputation must be very fearsome if simply seeing this would stop someone from -”

“You have no idea.” He sounded almost dangerous, but moments later the mood lightened when Daavos winked again, following it up with a smile. “Daylight is fading. And we are wasting time.” You slipped the ring on - situating it on your middle finger with the sun visible beneath your knuckle - and then nodded, closing your eyes.

“We are. I’m ready.” You weren’t - and you knew that he knew it, too. But there’s nothing that I can do about it now.

—

The two of you made your way into Tyrosh from the docks, and every second you spent in the city made you like it more.

The people you passed were friendly and welcoming, men and women alike dressed in bright colors and wearing unique clothing. You smelled things that you didn’t recognize - the aromas of meat and spices wafting to where you were with each step you took. Daavos remained right next to you, one arm protectively looped through your bent one.

You didn’t know where you were going, but he seemed to, the two of you passing storefronts and pleasure houses, men openly carrying large weapons and women in various states of undress. It was a bustling place, and part of you was disappointed that you couldn’t linger, especially when you passed a tavern with no door, and the sound of music floated out. Maybe we can stop later. Maybe while he does … whatever he is going to do, I can come back here.

“This way.” He guided you down an alley, which was somewhat less busy than the main street. After only a few minutes, you stopped in front of a small shop, the windows covered in deep green curtains. “Here.” He pointed. “She can help us.”

He waited for you to move first, but when you ducked your head and then turned toward the door, Daavos did, too, reaching for the knob and pushing it open.

When you stepped inside, you immediately felt calmer, the warmth and dim lighting cutting you off completely from the rest of the city. The room smelled sweet, but there was an undertone of flame to it, too. As your eyes adjusted, you realized that the walls were covered in dried herbs and flowers, shelves and tables stacked high with various items and folded animal pelts and bones. Magic. He wants to use magic to get my memory back.

“Welcome. I am Kaelys.” The voice you heard was soft but strong, and when you turned toward the sound, you gasped at the sight of a beautiful woman with purple hair, her curls stacked atop her head. “What brings you here?”

“We’re hoping you can be of assistance.” Daavos reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch, holding it out toward the woman. Why is he paying her? This should be my burden. “My friend here does not remember much about her past. We were hoping that you might have something to change that.”

The woman peeked into the bag and then nodded twice, her eyes moving between you and Daavos, lingering on him before they settled on you. She set her shoulders and then tipped her head to the side, frowning. “Lost memories? That is simple. It will not take long for me to help you.” Why is she frowning? “But maybe you do not want to remember?”

“I do.” You stepped forward, holding out your hands. “Please. I need to know who I am and where I’m from and what … what the future holds for me.”

“The past is one thing. Those answers exist.” She held out her hand to you, waiting until you took it to close her fingers around yours.”But the future? I cannot help there.”

She urged you forward and into a smaller back room, and you and Daavos followed, the spicy scent intensifying. Kaelys busied herself at a counter for long moments, leaving the two of you to look around. Daavos didn’t stray far from you, the man leaning against one wall with his arms crossed, though his eyes didn’t stop moving as he eyed the room.

It, too, was filled with items that you didn’t recognize - and some you did, but when she began to hum as she measured ingredients into a golden goblet, you finally spoke up. “This is not … blood magic, right? I want to know more, but I’m not -”

“No.” She laughed, tossing her head. “This is just herbs and some powders that will help you relax.” She paused, reaching for a jug and pouring clear liquid into the mixture. “In many cases, people don’t remember because they try too hard. This …” She stirred and then leaned in, sniffing. “Will help you not try.”

It seemed too easy, and when you turned toward Daavos to murmur that, you caught the shake of his head, his smirk smaller than usual but still there. “Trust me.” He believes in her.

You did - explicitly - and so instead of saying anything, you moved toward him, holding your hand out and waiting for him to take it. He did, linking his fingers between yours and tugging you even closer. His eyes never left your face, and even in the low light, you could see the concern in them. It seemed genuine, as had everything he’d done since you first met him. Why wouldn’t it be? He has nothing to gain from me staying. I’m just taking up space.

“Drink this.” Kaelys stood beside you, holding out the goblet. “You won’t like the taste, but it is your best option.” Without hesitation, you took it from her and tipped the edge to your lips, swallowing it all before you had a chance to register the taste.

It was bitter, and as you finished you spluttered, dropping Daavos’ hand and reaching up to cover your mouth with it. Oh, that’s … I’m glad there’s not more. You wondered what was going to happen - if you’d have visions or if everything would come back to you at once, overwhelming you with the truth. Kaelys took the goblet from you as you questioned her, but she didn’t reply until she’d rinsed it out and began to wipe the inside with a cloth.

“Nothing like that.” She shrugged, sliding her hands against her thighs to dry them. “Now we just talk.” She looked at Daavos and cleared her throat. “You are free to go. This may take some time, and -”

“No.”

The two of you spoke at the same time, Daavos moving closer to you and reaching forward to wrap an arm around your waist. It was more familiar than he’d been with you previously, but you were thankful for it. Especially in front of someone else. “No, I want him to stay. He’s… He’s the only one I know, and what I learn here is important for him, too.”

“I just wanted to make sure.” She looked between the two of you, her smile growing. “Alright. I should have known. Then … let’s talk.” She gestured to a table and chairs that you hadn’t seen previously, and the three of you took seats. The flickering candlelight cast shadows over everything, and for long moments, you were silent. I don’t know where to start.

“You should repeat the things you do know.” Daavos took your hand again, his thumb pressing down and spinning the ring on your finger. “It may help to give you a place to begin.”

So you did - talking out loud and answering questions, mostly for your own benefit.

It was difficult to believe that he’d found you only a little more than a week earlier. It was even more difficult to think that in that time, only the briefest pieces of information had come back to you, and even those were in no specific order.

“I am from Essos. Braavos, to be exact.” You looked at your hand, eyeing the way it looked against Daavos’ larger one. “My parents arranged a marriage for me in order to help out with finances. I am an only child, so it falls on me to do what is necessary.” You let out a breath. “My new life was to be in Oldtown. I was on my way there when my ship sank in a storm.” You nodded, looking briefly at Kaelys before you turned back to Daavos. “My husband’s name was Perle. I was on a ship called the Sea Spider.” When will this work? Shouldn’t I feel something?

“Were you sailing to Oldtown?” Kaelys cocked her head to the side. “That is a long journey from Braavos. Maybe months.”

“No, I was going to King’s Landing. I was going to travel on the Roseroad to Oldtown.” You gasped. “That’s new.” You bit your lip, eyes going wide. “It was still a long journey, but it was … safer. There aren’t pirates on the road.”

“You can never be too careful.” Daavos mumbled the words, his grip on your hand tightening. “Pirates.” You fought back a laugh at that, humming in agreement.

“The Sea Spider was one of my parents’ ships. They … I think they’re merchants. They are in the shipping trade.” Your heart was pounding, but you didn’t know if it was doing so because you were in awe that the elixir had worked, or because of what you were remembering. Both. I think it’s both.

“Were you on the ship with anyone you knew?” Kaelys traced over the scarred surface of the table with two fingers, her eyes on you. “Were your parents with you? Your husband?”

“No.” You were certain of it - flashes of memories coming back to you. “No, they were coming later, for the actual wedding. They were … they were going to sail with the second part of my dowry.” You gasped. “They were giving him a ship, Daavos. That was …”

Trailing off, you went silent for a few minutes, thinking. Things were clearer than they had been but still not entirely certain to you. Your parents maintained a small fleet of ships, and had made a name for themselves as reliable merchants. Tough times had meant that they weren’t able to keep up with the repairs on all of them at once, which meant less reliability over time. And it meant finding a way to finance the repairs to to keep themselves in good standing.

“He wasn’t on the ship.” You wet your lips. “And he wasn’t in King’s Landing,either. I was going to travel with some of his people from the city.” You pulled your hand free from Daavos’, using the fingers of it to encircle your opposite wrist. “The wedding was going to be held next spring. That would give us time to get to know each other as adults before we married.”

You winced at the words, your hand leaving your wrist and moving down your arm, toward your elbow. There was no scar there - no lasting mark, but you could almost feel the pain radiating from the joint. I didn’t want to go because I knew what kind of man he was. He was - “He was cruel.” Daavos leaned in, his hand sliding across the table so that his fingers could stroke along the bare skin of your forearm. “Wasn’t he.”

“Yes.” You lowered your eyes and nodded, unable to look at him as you answered. “I knew him when we were children. Our parents were … p-partners.” You felt the tears gathering in your eyes. “He married someone else. His father sent letters. But she died young a few years ago.” And that’s why I was set to marry him.

You remembered everything - the first time young Draman Perle had grabbed hold of your arm and yanked, the boy laughing it off later, and your parents dismissing it, though you’d had to keep it immobilized for weeks afterward. You remembered how it had been discussed throughout the years that you’d marry him to unite the families, his iron grip on your arm or hand possessive in a way that made you sick during each conversation you were forced to endure.

But when he’d fallen in love with a young woman in Oldtown, those plans had been dashed, her family wealthy enough to satisfy his and his father’s need for more. You remembered feeling relief that you’d dodged that arrangement, the few years of reprieve shattered in an instant in your garden when your parents told you about the contract.

You remembered the last time you’d seen Draman in person, his smile not reaching his eyes as he congratulated you - and your parents - on finally making the right deal. He’d touched you that night while the two of you strolled through the garden, your parents waving off the need for a chaperone - fingers gripping your chin as he forced you to look at him, his lip curling up and into a sneer at the sight of the unease in your expression at his words about your upcoming wedding.

“Do you remember what happened to the ship?” Daavos’ voice was soft, and you realized that he’d moved closer while you were deep in thought. You could smell him - the sea air clinging to his hair, even in the fragrant room. “Do you remember how you came to be in that boat?”

“There was a storm.” You turned your thoughts from Draman, trying to remember the time you’d spent at sea. “It was the second night, and it woke me up, and …” You could smell the smoke and see the burning sails, the rainwater cold as it hit your skin. “The sails were on fire. Someone told me to go back to my room and I did, but then…” You gasped, head whipping toward Daavos. “I sent a raven. I sent a raven home to tell my parents about the fire, to warn them that the ship might be delayed, and …”

You trailed off at the memory of a screech, your fingers curling against the tabletop. “What? Daavos leaned in, reaching out to set one of his hands gently on your knee. “You remembered something else. Tell me.”

“There was a storm. And there was lightning…” You spoke slowly, giving yourself time to think. But you were certain when you continued, finally looking back at him. “But it wasn’t what caused the ship to sink.” He was confused, the furrow of his brow deep as he asked what else it could have been. “Dragons. There were two dragons, and they set the sails on fire. I watched them eat…” You shuddered at the memory.

That was why you’d been the only survivor. You’d gone unconscious in the boat, unmoving while the others flailed around in the water. They were easy targets. “She must be in Dragonstone.” He murmured the words, nodding. She? “Interesting.” You didn’t know who Daavos was talking about, and before you could ask, he cleared his throat and looked at Kaelys. “Your payment ensures your silence, correct?”

“For you?” She bowed her head and nodded, her smile soft. “Of course.” You had no idea what that meant, but didn’t want to question it, especially since she’d been such a help to you. “Is there anything else?”

“How long will the effects of this last? Is it a truth serum? Will I -”

“It will wear off as soon as you are no longer settled.” She stood, beginning to clear the table in front of you. “You may still feel more … open to answering questions, but it was not a truth serum.” She paused in front of you, holding the goblet in her hand. “When we push ourselves too hard, we forget things. You stopped doing that, and you remembered. It’s as simple as that. Unlocking what you have tonight should help you more later, too.”

Daavos stood then, holding a hand out to you and helping you to your feet. “Thank you, Kaelys. You have my gratitude, and hers, too.” You agreed, nodding as you crossed your arms and chewed on your lower lip, still thinking. What am I supposed to do now?

You kept quiet until the two of you were outside again, the sounds of the city filling your ears. It was almost jarring after how silent the inside of the shop had been, but Daavos didn’t stay in one place for long, the man leading you back toward the busier main street before he gave you a chance to speak.

“What now?” You leaned against a building, taking a deep breath. “I remember, so -”

“Do you remember your name?” He moved to stand in front of you, his dark eyes searching your face. “All of those other things came back to you, but you didn’t say your name.”

“I do.” Your heart raced, the unease lessening. “I remember my name, and how old I am and -”

“Tell me what it is.” He stepped closer, raising his hand and letting his knuckles trail over the curve of your cheek. “Tell me what I should call you.”

You did - the words coming out without hesitation, and your knees actually buckled the first time he spoke your name back to you, the corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile.You tried not to let that fact get to you, because it didn’t matter. Not only did he have someone waiting for him, you knew that you did, too. Even if it’s not someone I want, it’s someone that I must go to. “Daavos, now that -”

“You do not need to go to him.” He shifted, his eyes narrowing. “You have many reasons not to, and remembering does not mean that you must act. Not if it will put you in danger.”

“But he’s waiting. It is done. I cannot break a contract.”

“The ship is at the bottom of the Narrow Sea. You sent a raven to your parents. If it arrived, they will know something happened. Ours cannot be the only ship that sailed past debris. Someone will report it. You were going to King’s Landing.”

“If the wedding doesn’t happen, Daavos, my family will lose everything.”

“They were willing to sell you to save their business.” His upper lip curled, his eyes darkening. “They must have known this man was -”

“I never told them all of it.” You looked down, absently twisting the ring you wore with two fingers. “I never told them why I didn’t want to go, or what he actually did, or what he was like. Not as an adult, anyway.” You spoke quietly, but you knew that he’d heard you. When he touched your chin with two fingers, gently urging you to look up again, you also knew that he could see the tears in your eyes. “I told you before, not all of us have the freedom to make our own decisions when it comes to marriage.”

“What if you did?” He inched closer, sweeping his thumb over your lower lip. “What if you could choose your future?”

“Daavos.” You blinked and the tears began to fall. “When the ship was sinking? I didn’t even try to get into one of the rafts. I just stood by the rail and waited. And…” You gave him a sad smile. “And I hoped it would be quick. Because that was better than -”

“But you are still here. And now you are here with me.” He settled his other hand on your hip, “And that is better than drowning or being consumed by dragonfire.”

“Until I set off for Oldtown and leave you behind, or you decide you want to go home. Then we’ll see if it is truly better.” Tilting your head back, you looked up at the sky, the blue darkening into black as night fell. “What are my other options, Daavos? You said it yourself - my coin will not last. There is only so much I can do to earn a living. At least if I go to Oldtown and marry him, I will not have to -”

“I studied at the Citadel, remember?” He whispered your name, drawing your attention back to his face as his hand dropped, fingertips curling around the back of your neck and his thumb extended behind your ear. “I spent time in Oldtown. I got to know the people there. I know this man you speak of. The name seemed familiar to me when you said it earlier, but it wasn’t until …” His eyes flicked down to your arm and then back up, his expression troubled when he met your gaze again. “I wanted to be sure. But I know exactly who he is and what he is like.”

You’d never heard his voice sound the way it did then, Daavos’ words coming out like venom. But it doesn’t matter. “What would you have me do, then? We’ve been talking in circles, Daavos. You tell me I have options, that I do not need to go to Oldtown and marry him. But what else can happen? Where would I go?” You touched his chest, pressing your palm flat against it to keep some distance between you. “Would you have me stay on your ship? Take me on as a member of your crew?”

“Yes.” He nodded, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “If that is what you wanted, I would.” You’d assumed that would be his answer, but as he spoke the words, you laughed, closing your eyes. It’s absurd.

“I am strong, but I am not that strong. It is hard enough to say no to you now, and I barely know you. What would happen if we spent more time together?”

“Only what both of us wanted to happen.” He leaned even closer, his chest pushing against your palm. “It is always going to be your choice.” He went silent then, his face only inches from yours. Daavos’ touch was gentle - and despite the fact that he was holding you more intimately than was appropriate, you didn’t want to pull away. Because I’ve felt this before.

You’d been with a man in Braavos, despite what your parents and future husband likely assumed. It had been only a handful of times, and always quick, you and one of the young men from the docks stealing time together whenever you could. But it had never been so public; no one had ever touched you the way Daavos was, especially when anyone could see you or interrupt.

“And what do you want?” It was a dangerous question to ask him, but you wanted to know the answer. And he’ll tell me the truth. “What do you want from me?”

“Right now, I want to kiss you.” He didn’t hesitate with the admission, Daavos unblinking. “And I know you’re going to say ‘well what about the woman you told me about’, and that is fair. You may not believe this, but she would encourage me to do it. She has in the past.” He took a deep breath, his fingers tightening against your hip. “There is no room for jealousy in our relationship, and there never has been.”

You also wanted him to kiss you. You wanted Daavos to press you against the rough wall of the building until you were breathless. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair and find out if it was as soft as it looked. And why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I give myself a moment of happiness while I can?

“I want that too.”

It was a relief to admit it, and even though it made you feel weak, you didn’t care.

You were attracted to Daavos, and you had been since the moment you’d first seen him, even though you’d been delirious at the time. There was something about him that pulled you in, and it was more than his appearance. He’d been respectful of you the entire time you’d known each other, giving you options and treating you like you deserved the opportunity to make your own decisions, no matter how small. He treated you like a person, not just a commodity, and though there was plenty you didn’t remember, you knew that that was rare.

His eyes widened, but Daavos didn’t waste time, closing the distance and pressing a brief kiss to your lips. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but when he backed off and eyed you, you understood that he’d only done it to give you a chance to react.

You felt guilt - but only a little.

The woman encouraging him to engage with others was likely only a line, as was the promise that jealousy didn’t exist between them. How could it not with someone like him? “That was no kiss, Daavos.” Your smile widened as you lifted your free hand, combing your fingers through the hair at his temple. “I think we can do better than that.”

It took him by surprise, but when you pulled him back in, tipping your head to the right in order to get a better angle, he didn’t try to stop you. Instead, he groaned as your mouths connected for a second time, the hand on your hip sliding around to settle against your lower back.

His hair was soft - the strands slipping along your palm as you tightened your fingers in them. I knew it. Unlike the first kiss, he didn’t try to pull away after only a moment. Instead, you got your wish when he crowded your body against the side of the building, the man drawing your lower lip between his and then grazing it with his teeth.

Your grip on his shirt tightened, one of the buttons digging into the center of your palm. He wants this as much as I do. You sighed against his lips, and when you felt them part enough so that his tongue could poke through, you responded in kind, giving him an opening - and hoping that he would take it.

He didn’t.

Instead, Daavos broke the kiss and then moved down, mouthing at the line of your jaw and lingering there, his hold on you tight. “Not here.” He murmured the words and then straightened up, pressing his forehead to yours. “Not like this.”

“But -” You were confused, especially since he had been the one to confess his desire first. But maybe it’s for the best. Maybe … we need to think this through. Releasing his shirt, you nodded, dropping both of your hands back to your sides as he settled his on your hips, sighing. “Alright.”

Neither of you spoke, and as your heart rate slowed back to a more typical rhythm, you attempted to sort through everything that had happened in the previous hour. It’s too much. “We should go and get a drink.” He broke the silence, sighing out your name. “Sit down. Maybe order something to eat. You’ve learned a lot today, and…” He tugged you away from the wall and you went willingly, stepping beside him as he turned toward the far end of the alley. “This is not helping.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” You took his hand, squeezing. “This has been very helpful.” His chuckle was quiet, Daavos urging you forward. It was the truth - though you were overwhelmed with the information you’d been able to recall, and the fact that you now knew what it was like to kiss him, it did help. Just not how I’d hoped.

You went into the first tavern you passed, which turned out to be the one you’d heard the music from earlier. The musician was still playing, the young man tucked into a corner of the room and plucking the strings in a familiar melody. You focused on that while Daavos ordered your drinks, handing you a mug of ale before leading you to a table and sitting across from you.

You sipped from your drink as you scanned the room. There were a few people you recognized - some of the crew were seated at a table and drinking together, another group was standing by the doorway. They all looked happy and much more relaxed than they did on the ship, and you wondered if Daavos was, too, despite what the two of you had experienced with Kaelys.

“You know, you never told me where you’re going after Tyrosh, Daavos.” Clearing some foam from your lip with one thumb, you eyed him. “Will you keep sailing south toward the Summer Islands? Will you head east, or go west?”

You wanted to know because selfishly, you wanted more time with him - and on the ship. You wanted to delay making a decision about where you would go for as long as possible. Not forever. Just … for a little while. You were also curious, because after the Stepstones, there wasn’t much further south aside from open water.

“My brother’s health is … not good.” Daavos sighed, taking a long drink. “It has been that way for years. The truth is that we are sailing south so that I can pay him a visit. I have not been home in a very long time, but he sent a raven to the Three Sisters, and I cannot avoid it any longer.”

“But you said you wouldn’t get to see your -”

“No, I never said that. You just assumed.” Thinking back to your conversation, you realized that he was right. He invited me to stay with him. If he’s going to see her and go home, then… “The offer still stands. You can come with me. You can -”

“Father?” You watched Daavos’ eyes widen as he stopped mid sentence, his head turning toward the sound of someone’s voice. “Is… are you really here?” His lips parted, and for the first time, you saw the man look uncertain, though the expression changed entirely when his head stopped moving.

You looked in the same direction he was, and you gasped at the sight of two young women with his dark hair and eyes, both of them frozen in place only steps from where you sat. He said he had children, but I thought … I thought they were small. “Obara?” He rose to his feet. “Nym?”

The names sounded familiar to you, but before you could think too much about it, Daavos was stepping away from the table and toward the pair, his arms outstretched.

—

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn x reader #fool's gold #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #writing #pedro pascal masterlist #oberyn martell masterlist #fool's gold masterlist #pirate oberyn #pirate au #game of thrones #game of thrones au #the red viper

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carrotmakar · 4 years ago

Text

baby

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: pure smut

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Harry wants a baby, and you’re more than happy to help him make one.

Warning(s): slight mention of oral (m receiving), boot humping, slapping (face, thigh, pussy), degradation, breeding kink, choking, orgasm denial, overstimulation,

A/N: listen, i know the title is :/ but who cares? not me! anyway yeah here’s a piece that’s literally just smut because i was talking to some of my friends about harry having a breeding kink and here we are :))

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“Fuck, just like that, puppy,” Harry pants as you slide your tongue along the vein that runs from the base of his cock all the way to the angry red tip.

You look up at him through your lashes, blinking slowly as you take the head of his prick into your mouth. He hisses at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth enclosing around him, and the sound makes your thighs clench together. He growls when he catches sight of the movement. He grabs ahold of your hair, tugging you back as he forces your legs open with the toe of his boot. The stiff leather grazes against your clit, causing you to whine high in your throat.

He chuckles darkly, tutting lightly as he tightens his grip on your hair. “You’re so fucking needy, puppy.” His words cause your cheeks to burn, but there’s something about the embarrassment that makes your arousal soak your panties even more than it was before. “You’re so desperate for anything that I give you that my boot touching your cunt gets you all fucked out.” He releases his grip on your hair to cup your face, leaning down to smear his lips against yours for a split second before taking your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging. He stays close to your face, close enough that you’re breathing his air. “You’re so greedy for it, puppy, so go ahead and grind your pretty little pussy against my boot until you cum, alright?” You nod eagerly, and he smirks. “Then go ahead, but just know whatever mess you make, you’ll be cleaning up.”

He pulls away and takes a seat on the bed, leaning back on his hands as he waits for you to begin. You crawl towards him, the soft carpet rubbing against your hands and knees as you make your way over to him. He watches you with hungry eyes and a wolfish grin, taking in every movement that you make. Once you’re finally close enough to him, he cups your cheek once again as you mount his boot. Letting the leather press down on your clit, you begin to grind against him as you look up at him through your lashes. His mouth is slightly ajar, heavy breaths escaping his lips as he watches you get yourself off.

A dark smirk comes across his face as you breathe out moans of his name, the pleasure from rubbing yourself against him getting the best of you. “You’re so fucking easy for me, pet. Just a little whore that would do anything I asked of you, yeah?” He chuckles demeaningly when you whine high in your throat, nodding vehemently in agreement. “Pathetic little thing, I could tell you to bring yourself right to the edge while grinding on my boot over and over again and you’d do it.” You open your mouth to speak, but he stops you quickly by leaning forward and sticking his thumb in your mouth. He pushes down on your tongue as he slides the digit further into your mouth. You feel yourself gag lightly, but you can’t pretend that you don’t enjoy the absolute power he has over you at this very moment. “Should I make you do that, puppy?”

“No!” you all but beg around his finger, the word coming out a garbled mess. He laughs, mocking the sound. The embarrassment that courses through your veins sends flames licking up your spine, the feeling causing you to grind down harder on his boot, your arousal slicking your path even through your panties.

He tuts, shaking his head. “What happened to that ‘whatever you want, daddy!’ attitude that you had when I walked through the door a few hours ago?” he pouts mockingly as he removes his thumb from your mouth, dragging the slick digit down over your lip and letting the skin catch there. He groans lowly as he notices your thrusts begin to falter, your steady pace becoming messy as he clutches your jaw in his hand, squishing your cheeks together so that your mouth is puckered open just the slightest bit. He lets his arms roam your face for a moment before puckering his lips and letting a trail of his spit fall from his mouth into your awaiting one.

“Swallow for me,” he commands, but the grip he has on your face makes it hard to do so. He watches you struggle for a few moments before retracting his hand and letting it come back down onto your cheek. The smack isn’t hard enough to hurt, or to even leave a lasting mark, but the impact and the complete submission that it pushes you into makes your back arch as pure pleasure washes through your body. You swallow the spit in your mouth before gasping for air as your entire body is overtaken in a white hot ecstasy that only Harry can bring you to.

“So fuckin’ pathetic for me,” he drawls. “Cumming all over my shoe because I smacked you around a bit. What a fucking whore,” he spits, pure dominance radiating through his tone. When you look up at him, he’s got his hand around the base of his cock, and the sight alone makes you whine. He drags his hand up to the tip, collecting the pre cum there and dragging it back down to the base in one languid stroke. He continues, repeating the actions as he looks down at you. “Now clean me up, puppy. Want you to lick up your mess. You wouldn’t want my boot to be dirty, would you?” His voice has a teasing lilt to it, and it makes you just that much hotter as you look up at him. You shake your head quickly before backing up and leaning down until you’re face to face with the toe of his black leather boot. You press the flat of your tongue against the material, licking it clean. You can taste smoky leather mixed with your arousal and the taste makes you groan as your eyes roll back into your head.

After a few minutes, you pull away as you look at your work. Finding it satisfactory, you lean back on your heels as you wait for his approval. He just removes his hand from his cock and curls his fingers in a ‘come hither’ movement. You automatically obey, scrambling to your feet and into his arms. He pulls you into his lap and he groans at the feeling of your slick folds rubbing against his aching cock. He captures your lips in a searing kiss that has you breathless in moments.

When he pulls away to let the both of you catch your breaths, he flips you both over so that he’s on top. Running a hand up your forearms, he stops at the wrist, holding both of them together in front of you with just one of his large hands. He pins them above your head and you gasp at the sudden change. He grinds his hips down into yours, eliciting a wonton moan from your lips.

“Do you want it, puppy?” he asks, grasping your hip with his free hand in order to hoist himself up into a sitting position. You nod eagerly, raising your hips from the bed. He brings the hand that was on you hip down onto your thigh, smacking the skin. The impact makes you jump, but the heat of the spank goes straight to your core. “You know better,” he spits, voice hard. “Use your fuckin’ words.”

You rush to comply, but when he releases your hands and slides that hand down to your throat, squeezing hard enough to restrict your air flow the slightest bit, it becomes hard to choke out the words. “P-please, want you to— want you to fuck me,” you gasp and he chuckles, loosening his grip on your throat but still leaving his hand around it, letting you know that he’s in charge, that you’re his.

“You want me to fuck you, puppy? Want me to fuck you like the little whore that you are for me?” he asks, bringing his free hand down to stroke his cock as he waits for an answer.

“Please, daddy. Want you to fuck me. I need you,” you whine and he groans.

“How can I say no to my baby begging for my cock?” he asks, teasing slightly as he guides his cock into your weeping entrance. He groans, grip tightening on your throat as he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Your wetness makes it easy for his length to fit inside of you, but the stretch still takes a moment to get used to.

He falls onto his forearm, propping himself up with the one arm while the other one tugs you closer by your throat. He dips his head, bringing his lips to the shell of your ear. “Haven’t even done anything besides slide in and you’re already gone for me,” he teases, nipping at your ear and making you clench around him. “Can’t wait to see how you are when I cum inside you, puppy. Do you want that? Hmm? Want me to fill you up until you’re dripping with me and there’s no way you don’t make me a daddy?”

You moan unabashedly at the thought, nodding as you claw at his back. “Please, fill me up daddy, wanna be full of you.”

He groans, dropping his head to the mattress beside you as he begins bucking his hips into yours. You wrap your legs around his waist to get him impossibly closer, and he raises from his spot to look at you. Squeezing your throat, he pistons his hips, fucking into you with no mercy. “You’re gonna look so fucking pretty dripping with my cum, puppy. And when I’m done I’ll fuck it into you with my fingers until I’m ready to fill you up again.” You clench around him, crying out at the pleasure that courses through your veins at his words. “Yeah, you like that don’t you?” He brings his hand down to your puffy clit, circling the nub repeatedly and applying just the slightest bit of pressure. The combination of that, his thrusts, and his grip that’s progressively getting harsher on your throat has you seeing stars. “My little fuckin’ slut.”

“I’m gonna, gonna—“

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” he spits, removing his hand from your clit just to bring it back down harshly, smacking the bundle of nerves. You cry out at the sensation and he smirks when you clench around him. He brings his hand down once more, repeating his action and you whine high in your throat. Looking down at your swollen clit, he spits on the nerves and continues rubbing against the bundle with the pads of his fingers. “You’ll cum when I tell you to, if I tell you to. After all, you have acted like a whore all night. Do you think pathetic little whores get to cum?”

You want to say yes, because you want to cum more than anything at the moment, but you know the answer. He knows that, too. So if you look at him and say yes, you really won’t get any release tonight.

“No, daddy,” you whine, grinding your hips down to feel him deeper.

“Then I guess you’re not cumming.” He shrugs, thrusting into you harder and applying more pressure to your clit. “And if you do,” he warns, “I’ll make you keep cumming until you’re begging me to stop.”

As he continues his ministrations on your clit, you decide that maybe him making you cum over and over again isn’t that bad of an option, so without a second thought, you let go. Your back arches as you cry out his name, repeating the syllables until they’re nothing but incoherent mumbles. Your thighs shake around him and his hand tightens on your neck, cutting off your air supply just the slightest bit. He applies more pressure to your clit, rubbing harshly as you ride out your orgasm.

He doesn’t let up when you’re finished, he does exactly what he told you he would do. He continues his actions, grunting out a quick “Keep cumming, puppy. You fucking wanted it so here you go.” and rubbing quick circles. You continue to convulse around him, cumming over and over again as he thrusts into you.

“Since you don’t know how to fucking listen, I don’t know if you deserve my cum, puppy. What a shame, I wanted to fill you up so bad.”

You immediately begin to babble on, almost incoherently, “No, no, please! Want— want you to cum inside me. Please, daddy. I’m sorry I didn’t listen, it won’t happen again,” you beg as his hips begin to falter in pace.

You shudder around him, clenching his cock with your walls as he brings you to get another orgasm as he buries himself to the hilt and let’s go. The feeling of his warm spurts of cum filling you up make your eyes roll back in your head. Grasping onto any part of his body you can reach, you pull him closer to you as he calms down from his high.

Before you can say anything, he slowly pulls from you and slinks down your body. His eyes are wide as he watches his cum drop from your hole, and before you know it, he’s rubbing his fingers through the mixture of your releases with his fingers and fucking it back into you. Your breath hitches and he chuckles, letting his head come to rest on your thigh as he continues his harsh thrusts. “Told you I’d fuck it back into you until I was ready to go again. Wanna make you a mommy.”

Your back arches at his words paired with his fingers curling up to graze against that spongy spot inside of you that has your legs shaking and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He continues his ministrations as you clench around him, shaking in pleasure and right on the edge of another orgasm before he pulls away completely.

You whine, but the sound gets caught in your throat as he runs the head of his cock over your folds and smirks at you. “Ready for me to fill you up again?”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry smut #harry angst #harry fluff #harry writing #harry styles writing

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baepsaesbae · 4 years ago

Text

Babysitters Club

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— SMUT, fluff, babysitting au, strangers to lovers au

Warnings— Dom!Taehyung, roleplaying, face fucking, oral sex (m and f), bondage, explicit rough unprotected sex please stay safe irl, squirting, choking, hickies, a surprise cameo from Spring Will Come Again!Jungkook because I have no self control

Word Count— ~7.6k

Summary— A generic summer job hunt leads you to babysit rowdy (but still cute) kids alongside the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. What shenanigans will you get into with Taehyung by your side?

A/N— HUGE shoutout to the lovely @kimtaehyunq for making this beautiful banner for me! This was literally the Taehyung I had in mind while writing this uwu. This fic is the epitome of self indulgence but I truly hope you guys like it too! Please let me know what you think! My askbox/inbox is always open, don’t be afraid to come chat with me. Love you all, hope you guys are safe <3

Crumpled up newspapers littered the floor as another ball was apathetically tossed aside. A sigh of defeat escaped your lips as you looked up at the ceiling in desperation.

“Still at it with the job hunt, huh?” your roommate, Hyuna, said when she saw your mess, “I told you to search online. Or try to get a job at a cafe or a boba shop or something.”

“Easy jobs online seem sketchy, and I told you I don’t want to work in the food industry ever again,” you groaned.

“But you’d rather...be a babysitter?” she questioned as she held up an ad, “Wait you could get paid up to $15 an hour? That’s pretty good.”

“I didn’t see that one. Is it an agency or something?”

“Not sure, take a look,” she handed you the paper.

“Oh, it seems like it’s a daycare run out of someone’s house. They’re looking for multiple applicants. You wanna do it with me?! I think it could be fun!” you ask excitedly.

“And spend most of my summer vacation with a bunch of snot nosed brats? I don’t think so. You have fun though!” she blew you a kiss as she walked away.

You whipped your phone out and immediately called the number in the ad. This job was the only one that seemed bearable, and you thought kids were cute for the most part. You’ve had a few babysitting gigs in the past so this shouldn’t be too bad.

“Hello?” a deep voice answered the call.

“Hi, I saw your ad in the paper! I was wondering if there was still a babysitting position open?” you inquired.

“Oh yes! Yeah there’s still a spot open. Um, can you give me a sec?” the man said quickly as you heard wailing kids in the background. After two minutes or so he returned to the phone.

“I’m terribly sorry about that. You don’t have a criminal background or anything right? Gosh, I’m sure this sounds unprofessional but--”

“Nope, I don’t have any charges or anything like that. Should I call back later?” you offered since it seemed like the man was a little preoccupied.

“It’s like this all the time. Why don’t we do a practice run tomorrow? Oh! I mean, whenever you’re available to start. Or technically have an interview? I guess? Hey, don’t put that in your mouth!” the man chastised at someone in the distance.

“I can come in tomorrow!” you said.

“Great! Just use the address in the same ad you got this number from! Oh, and please get here by 9am! See you soon!” the man hung up abruptly.

“That was chaotic…” you said to yourself.

A moment later your phone began to ring. It was from the babysitting guy.

“Hello?” you answered.

“I realized I never got your name! I promise I’m not always this frazzled,” he laughed as rambunctious laughter erupted behind him.

“Oh, I’m ______,” you gave him your first and last name.

“Cool. See you tomorrow Miss ____!” he said before hanging up again.

You were actually excited to babysit. It had been a while since you had done it, and playing with kids was usually fun. Then again, you’ve never had a bad experience with babysitting before. You prayed that this gig would continue the positive trend.

Donning shorts and a simple Mickey Mouse t-shirt, (you figured some kid was bound to like the mousey character) it was time to head off to your potential workplace. The babysitting place was actually fairly close to you, only about a 10 minute drive. It was 8:55am by the time you arrived. A couple of parents walked past your car to drop off their kids. All of the kids seemed to be pretty excited to enter the house, which was definitely a good sign.

You gently knocked on the door at exactly 9am. There was no response as you awkwardly waited for about a minute or so. All you could hear was shrill laughter and thumps that you presumed was the kids running about. You realized there was a doorbell, and sighed at your foolishness.

The door opened seconds after you rang the doorbell. A tall man with dark hair greeted you with a warm smile. You were taken aback by the handsome guy, suddenly questioning whether you were at the right place or not until a child popped up from behind his shoulder and yelled out a loud “Boo!” that caused you to jump.

“Ah, sorry about that! This one is always trying to play pranks,” the man laughed as he playfully jostled the child that was latched onto his back, “You must be ______?”

“That’s me!” you say with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Cool. C’mon in, I’ll introduce you to the kids,” the man led you inside.

The living room was littered with toys, from cars to building blocks to barbies. This place was definitely a kid’s happy place. Four little kids were playing with various things when you walked in. All of the kids there seemed to be between the ages of 4 to 6. At a glance, it seemed like they were all playing house. It took you a few seconds to realize that one of the kids was actually playing by herself; she was just physically close to the other kids.

“Everyone! This is our newest helper! Her name is Miss ____. Let’s all play nicely with her okay?” the man announced.

The kids playing house immediately stopped what they were doing and rushed to you. Two boys began asking you questions in a rapid fire succession, while the little girl merely clung to your leg.

“Those two are Kota and Bel,” the man pointed to the two boys, “The little girl stuck to you like glue is Ava, and the one playing over there is Lucy,” he continued to name each child.

“AND I’M SAM!!” the last boy exclaimed over the man’s shoulder.

“Yes, this troublemaker here is Sam. That’s basically the whole gang! We could get a few more additions as the summer goes on, but these guys are the OG crew. They’re all really sweet kids, once you get to know them. Any questions so far?” your employer asked.

“I don’t think I ever caught your name, sir,” you say politely.

“Oh! No need to call me sir. I think we’re probably around the same age? Not that I’m assuming your age or anything but--”

“He’s my horsey!” Sam interrupted.

“No, he’s the chef!” Kota yelled.

“No, he’s our dad who’s not our dad,” Lucy chimed in.

“My mom told me he was a babysitter?” Bel added, now visibly confused.

“I am all of those things,” the man reassured the children, “But my name is Taehyung. The kids call me Tae or Mr. insert whatever title I have in the game we are playing on that day. Pleasure to meet ya,” Tae extends a hand out to you, “Let’s see how your first day goes.”

The first few hours consisted of a rather intricate game of pretend set up in a fantasy world. You played a princess who was captured by an evil dragon, who was played by Taehyung (you couldn’t help but think about how you wouldn’t mind being his hostage).

The boys were valiant knights on their quest to rescue you. The girls played different creatures that aided the knights as fairies or unicorns or any other things they wanted to be. Most of the game consisted of you and Taehyung sitting together in a corner of the living room. Even though you didn’t have to do anything, it was fun watching the kids play. Their imagination amused you.

“Enjoying yourself, princess?” Taehyung asked as he also watched the children run around.

His deep voice sent chills down your spine. Something about the way the word “princess” rolled off his tongue was so enchanting. You cleared your throat before answering.

“This job has been pretty fun so far, Mr. Evil Dragon,” you smile.

“Hey! I’m not evil, just misunderstood,” he protested.

“Oh no! The dragon is about to eat the princess!” one of the boys cried out.

“What? No, I’m not going to eat her,” Taehyung said defensively.

“You need to pretend to eat the princess so that the knights save her,” Lucy, the quiet one, scuttled over to whisper to the both of you before hurrying back to her spot.

Taehyung turned towards you to appease the kids as they held their breath in anticipation.

“Rawr! I’m going to eat you!” he said in a deep voice.

“Oh no! Somebody save me!” you cried out, playing along.

A few moments passed but none of the kids moved. You both turned your heads towards them in confusion. They stared back at you blankly.

“You need to bite her!” Sam demanded.

“What?” you and Tae said in unison.

“Bite her! Bite her! Bite her!” the boys started to chant.

“But not too hard!” Ava expressed her worry for you, making you smile.

“I…uh…” Taehyung was at a loss for words.

“They’re not gonna stop, are they?” you whispered to him.

He nodded with a sigh as their chanting got louder. You offered him your arm. Kids can be crazy stubborn over silly things. Besides, you’ve done worse for less (college is crazy).

Taehyung shot you an “are you sure about this?” look, to which you just nodded. Once he got the okay, Taehyung grabbed your arm and pulled you harshly, causing your face to be a mere inches away from his.

“Fools! You think you can save the princess? I will devour her before your very eyes!” Taehyung declared with an even deeper voice. He opened his mouth menacingly, as if to show off his fangs. Then, he proceeded to bite your bicep. To be honest, he was being so forceful that you thought he was going to bite you for real, causing you to involuntarily close your eyes.

Instead, he gingerly placed his teeth on your skin so lightly that you could barely feel anything. You opened your eyes to see Taehyung grinning at you with your arm in his mouth.

“Aaaaggghhh GET HIM!!” Sam yelled, leading the other boys straight into Taehyung.

Taehyung quickly let go of you before he rolled out onto the floor. The boys began to pummel Taehyung with their foam swords and pretend bows and arrows. The girls came to your aid to help you escape during the battle.

The little boys triumphantly stood over their defeated babysitter who pretended to be passed out on the floor. You applauded their victory as the girls sat by your side.

“Okay! Good game, it’s almost lunchtime,” Taehyung announced as he quickly popped back up.

“Chef Tae makes the best mac and cheese!” Ava informed you excitedly.

“I wanted dino nuggies!” Sam puffed out his cheeks in disappointment.

“Sam, you know it’s Ava’s day to pick out lunch. It’ll be your turn tomorrow okay? I promise! You guys can stay here and play with Miss ____ till food is ready,” Tae called out as he walked to the kitchen. Lucy silently followed Tae.

“Lucy likes to help out in the kitchen a lot. She sets the table,” Ava explained when she saw you watching Lucy.

“You’re good at being a princess!” Kota butted in as he ran to hug your leg.

“I like your shirt! I like Mickey Mouse too. I saw him in DisneyWorld last year,” Bel said as he clung to your other leg.

The kids took turns holding onto your legs as you tried to walk around. Apparently the thought of making you tumble over was an exciting one, and that kept the kids busy until Taehyung called for everyone.

Five little bowls of mac and cheese were set up on the dining table. The kids took their seats as Taehyung handed out juice boxes. He positioned himself by your side as the little ones began to chow down.

“I normally just eat the rest out of the pot, but since you’re here I can get you a bowl. Sorry about biting you earlier, the kids really like it when I get serious about my roles,” Taehyung chuckled as he scooped out your portion.

“It’s no problem, you’re a great actor. Thank you,” you say politely as he handed you a bowl.

Lunch was spent making small talk with Taehyung. He was a newly graduated college student trying to make extra money before starting a real job hunt.Taehyung had been running this makeshift daycare since he was a senior in highschool.

“Summers are always fun with them,” Taehyung said while smiling fondly at the kids, “How has it been so far?” he asked.

“I’ve been having a good time. The kids are all really sweet! They have so much energy,” you answer.

“They do indeed, which is why playtime is so important in the morning! It makes what comes next easier,” he winked at you before collecting the empty bowls, “Okay kiddos! Who’s ready for nap time?”

Lucy quietly raised her hand while the boys groaned. You figured it would be hard to get those active boys to settle down, let alone to take a nap. You helped Taehyung set up blankets and pillows in the game room. The kids made a beeline to their designated blankets without a fuss.

“Do you sing, Miss _____?” Taehyung asked out of the blue.

“Um, not really?” you say hesitantly.

“Ah, I see. No worries. Everybody ready?” he said.

“Yes!” all the kids replied.

“Alrighty. Do you have any song requests, Miss ____?”

You thought about which songs would make for a decent lullaby, “Do you know Adore You by Harry Styles?”

“I’ll have to look up the lyrics but yeah I like that song! I like his whole album actually,” Taehyung nodded as he pulled out his phone and took a deep breath, “Walk in your rainbow paradise~”

You were shocked by his vocal talent. His voice control was superb and the quality of his voice was downright euphoric. Even though Taehyung’s voice is deeper than Harry Styles’, his range was incredible. He was still able to go as high as Harry without any trouble. All the kids had fallen sound asleep by the time he finished the song.

“This is when I typically have about an hour of free time,” he said after quietly leading you back into the kitchen.

“You have such a beautiful voice! Do you sing to them every day?” you praised him.

“Thanks! Yeah, I sing to them every day. They used to get duets actually,” Taehyung sighed.

“Did you have another coworker before?” you asked.

“Yep. My best friend actually. He’s my roommate too, but he landed an internship this summer so he couldn’t be here. I’m very proud of him! But usually this is a job for two people so I decided to put that ad out. I’m happy you came out! The kids seem to like you,” Taehyung gave you a thumbs up.

“I hope so! Lucy might be scared of me though,” you recalled the way she mostly avoided you all morning.

“Nah, she’s just really shy. She told me that she thought you were really pretty though, so that’s a good sign!” he tried to reassure you.

“I guess it must be true then. Kids are brutally honest,” you smiled.

“She definitely wasn’t lying,” Taehyung smiled back at you.

You had to look away awkwardly to hide your blushed cheeks. There’s no way you could handle a direct smile from this guy. How was it possible for someone to be that handsome without even trying?!

“So what happens after naptime?” you quickly asked to change the subject.

“Basically more playing until their parents come. It honestly just depends on what the kids wanna do. We can play inside, in the backyard, and sometimes we go to the park,” Taehyung answered with an amused smile, “Let’s use this free time to conduct a more formal interview, shall we?”

Taehyung then asked you a series of questions about your summer schedule, if you’re willing to work every day of the week, how you feel about the kids, along with other things. You answered truthfully and kept up a professional demeanor. Taehyung seemed to be satisfied with your answers and leaned back in his chair.

“That all works for me! The people who really need to approve of you are the parents. I’ll introduce you to them later this afternoon. I’m sure they’ll all be fine once I vouch for you,” he nodded.

Soft giggles caught your attention. Taehyung signaled that break time was now over and led the way back to the living room. Kota and Bel were wrestling each other while the others threw pillows at them.

“Did everyone have a good nap?” Taehyung sing songed.

“Yes!” they replied.

“Can we play house now?” Ava asked.

“Yeah! Miss ____ can be the mommy now!” Sam bounced up in excitement, “Our last mommy used to be a boy.”

“Jimin was a great mommy and I’m sure he misses you all dearly. Jimin is my roommate/best friend/ex-cobabysitter,” Taehyung explained.

The game of house was more hands on from your end. The kids demanded you to carry them and read them stories like a real mommy would. It was mainly the girls who wanted to play with you, while the boys took turns wrestling with Tae or riding on his back. You were braiding Lucy’s hair when the doorbell rang.

“Kota! Your mom is here!” Taehyung called from the front.

All the kids trickled out one by one as their parents arrived. Taehyung introduced you to each parent; their reactions were all positive, especially when their kids raved about you being the new Jimin.

“If she’s anything like Jimin, then I have nothing to worry about. I trust your judgement, Taehyung,” one of the sterner looking parents said (Sam’s father to be exact).

“Congrats! You got the job,” Taehyung congratulated you once all of the children were picked up, “We get paid on Fridays. I’ll basically just split what we earn 50/50, cool?”

“That’s fine by me! I’m looking forward to working with you,” you bow graciously.

“Ah! No need to be so formal. We’re partners now! I’m not your boss or anything,” Taehyung gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder, “See you tomorrow!”

Summer was about to get rather eventful. All of the children warmed up to you surprisngly quickly, even timid Lucy (who had arguably grown the most fond of you). As the days went on, you couldn’t help but admire Taehyung’s kindness and patience when it came to the kids. From firm to understanding, he was everything a caregiver should be. He handled spats between kids with ease, often by making them forgive each other then laugh at some silly joke of his.

One afternoon, the kids voted to watch a Disney movie. All seven of you curled up on the couch together with you and Taehyung in the middle. Lucy sat in your lap while Bel sat in Taehyung’s. Halfway through the movie, Taehyung fell asleep. The kids didn’t notice since they were so engrossed in the movie. You however, DID notice. Mostly because he rolled his sleepy head onto your shoulder.

Your heartbeat quickened as you slowly turned to take a peek at the handsome man sleeping beside you. He looked angelic, and you realized that he smelled pleasant too. He had a sweet scent that was uncharacteristic for a young man. You took a deep breath and pretended not to notice him. He didn’t wake up until the doorbell rang near the end of the movie.

He seemed to be confused and perhaps even slightly flustered when he lifted his head from your shoulder, but quickly shrugged it off to go answer the door. The incident (and the drool on your shoulder) was never mentioned.

It had been a month since you started babysitting with Taehyung, and it honestly had been a lot more fun than you expected. The kids are wonderful silly little beings and Taehyung is...well...Taehyung.

You were cleaning up the living room on a late Friday afternoon after all the kids had been picked up. Taehyung was somewhere splitting up the week’s paycheck. Once all the toys were back in their respective bins, it was time to gather your stuff and go.

“Great work this week,” Taehyung commended as he handed you your cut.

“Thanks! Same to you as always. I’ll see you on Monday,” you wave as you open the front door.

“Actually um--” Taehyung cleared his throat.

“Yes?” you whipped around with almost too much eagerness.

“My friend is part of an art gallery showing tomorrow night and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me? I heard there will be drinks and finger foods…” Taehyung trailed off, presumably due to imagining what kind of snacks will be served.

“I’d love to! I’m not an expert on art or anything, but it sounds cool,” you smile.

“No worries, I’m no expert either. I’m just a guy who appreciates neat expressions of creativity,” he nodded humbly, “I can pick you up at your place, if you’d like.”

“Sure, I’ll text you my address. Oh uh, what’s the dress code like? I don’t really attend these things,” you ask shyly.

“I’d say a step down from formal? Like no t-shirts or jeans. Pretend like you’re going on a date to some restaurant that isn’t a michelin star but is still classier than Olive Garden,” Taehyung tried to explain.

“I’ll do my best,” you smile at his peculiar way of describing the appropriate attire.

A smile never left your face as you drove home. A chance to hangout with Taehyung one on one without any kids around? All of his attention will be on you? Yes please. You love the kids and all, but you finally have a real chance to get closer to Taehyung. To be honest, you might have the teensiest little crush on him, but who could blame you?

The next day was spent preparing for your night out with Taehyung. It probably wasn’t a date (90% sure it’s not), but you wanted to look irresistible anyway. You put on a purple dress with flowy sleeves that made you feel like a princess. It was on the dressier side, but being slightly overdressed never hurt anyone.

You usually only had time to slap on mascara and a lip tint in the mornings before babysitting, but now you had abundant time to play around with your makeup. You settled for a soft yet glamorous look with shimmery eyeshadow and eyeliner. Sparkly lip gloss tied the whole look together and made your lips look tempting (or so you hoped). You decided to leave your hair alone since you were having a miraculously good hair day.

“Wow are you sure this isn’t a date?” Hyuna whistled when she walked into your room.

“It’s not! This is just the first time Taehyung will see me actually trying to look good,” you say defensively.

“You’re cute even in ratty t-shirts, but I get what you mean. Have fun tonight!” your roommate gave you a tight hug.

A strong knock on your front door indicated Taehyung’s arrival. Hyuna tagged along as you went to answer the door; she wanted to see the guy you’ve been gushing over for the past month for herself.

Your mouth hung open in shock for a split second when you opened the door. Taehyung also dressed up. He was wearing a bright sunflower shirt paired with a black blazer that perfectly combined fun with sophistication. He wore a red silky bandana looking belt for an added pop of color with his black pants.

“Hey Taehyung!” you greet him happily.

“Good evening, Miss ____. You look spectacular!” he complimented you immediately.

“So do you! It’s funny seeing you not in a t-shirt, though I’m sure you’re thinking the same thing,” you say.

“You’re charming even in your graphic tees, but this is a nice change of pace too,” Taehyung agreed.

“Hi! I’m Hyuna, ____’s roommate,” Hyuna butted in to shake his hand.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung, ____’s babysitting partner,” he introduced himself.

“We should get going,” you say politely before Hyuna could start to get chatty.

Hyuna mouthed an exaggerated “oh my god” coupled with a double thumbs up as you waved goodbye after Taehyung was already out the door. You playfully rolled your eyes but blew her a kiss anyway.

“I didn’t realize you lived so close to me,” Taehyung said as he pulled away from the curb.

“Yeah, it made the job even more appealing,” you nodded.

“I really am glad that you applied,” Taehyung said softly, as if to himself.

“Sorry, what was that?” you couldn’t hear him properly.

“Nothing! I said I’m glad you agreed to accompany me tonight!” Taehyung quickly stated.

“Thanks for inviting me out! I’m actually pretty excited,” you admitted.

The gallery was somewhere in the swanky part of downtown. You gazed out of the window at all of the high end stores Taehyung drove by. Everyone walking around the stores looked like supermodels, which was actually pretty intimidating. What if the people at the gallery looked like that too?

“We’re here!” Taehyung announced, interrupting your thoughts.

There was a decent amount of people wandering around the venue when you both entered. It was basically one big dimly lit room with spotlights on pieces scattered around on the walls plus some sculptures in the middle. Thankfully, the patrons already inside looked like normal people, most of them probably students like you.

“Taehyung!” someone called from the side of the room.

You both made your way towards the voice, only to find a man who was just as handsome as Taehyung greeting you with a bunny like smile. He had long hair that almost covered up his assorted dangly earrings. He definitely had art student vibes mixed with a dash of bad boy. The boys greeted each other with a ferocious hug, indicating that they’re probably good friends.

“Oh! What’s up, I’m Jungkook,” the boy shook your hand once he noticed you.

“She’s my babysitting partner this summer,” Taehyung said proudly.

“She’s replacing Jimin huh?” Jungkook laughed, “Taehyung and Jimin are like my brothers. We were all pretty close in college and are batchmates, even though I’m younger than them,” he stuck his tongue out at Taehyung.

“Yeah yeah okay whatever. Skipping grades in elementary school and bringing in a ton of transfer credits will help you do that I guess,” Taehyung shook his head even though he was still smiling.

“Are these your pictures?” you asked Jungkook, motioning to the mounted pictures behind him.

“Yeah! I took most of these in Madrid, I’ve been working abroad for my dream company,” Jungkook answered you proudly.

“Who’s this?” Taehyung pointed to a picture of a girl laughing by a giant tree.

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous!” you added.

“She’s um...a good friend. She was the perfect model,” Jungook said with a faraway look in his eyes that told you there was more to the story.

“Tell me more about her on our next phone call. Tonight is for celebrating you!” Taehyung picked up on Jungkook’s sudden change of tone.

You enjoyed listening to their old college stories as the boys reminisced about their past together. Jungkook relished telling you all of Taehyung’s embarrassing moments at various parties. Taehyung returned the favor by recalling Jungkook’s past run-ins with women. Despite his natural charm and god like looks, apparently Jungkook gets really nervous around girls.

You and Taehyung were on your own once Jungkook was flagged down by an older patron interested in purchasing some of his work. Taehyung stayed close to your side as you explored the rest of the gallery. Each artist was so incredibly talented as their pictures told stories with just a single frame.

“____ look! They have those fancy charcuterie boards!” Taehyung grabbed your hand and excitedly dragged you over to the snack table. You couldn’t help but smile at his childlike elation.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ve been getting tired of being force fed fruit snacks every day,” you laughed as you ate the assorted appetizers.

“I completely understand. Unfortunately, the kids are too sweet when they want to share. I don’t have it in me to turn them down,” Taehyung agreed.

Once the food was eaten, you resumed walking through the gallery. It was fun making up stories to go with each picture. Taehyung seemed to gravitate towards adding a romantic twist to each story, while you opted for a bit of mystery. At the end of the event, Taehyung met up with Jungkook once more to say his goodbyes.

“Thanks again for coming with me, I had fun! I hope you enjoyed yourself,” Taehyung said as he drove you back.

“It was really neat! I liked hanging out with you outside of work,” you nodded.

“Would you say it was a successful date then?” Taehyung raised an eyebrow with curiosity. Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes widened with surprise.

“Was...was this a date?” you asked quietly.

“Did you want it to be?” Taehyung teased.

“I wouldn’t have gotten so dressed up otherwise,” you said defensively, taken aback by his sudden cheekiness.

“I realized I should’ve clarified that after you had already left. My bad,” Taehyung shot you a boxy grin, “But then I figured maybe you would be more relaxed if I didn’t mention it.”

“That’s odd logic, but I guess it worked,” you admitted begrudgingly.

Taehyung walked you back up to your house. He sweetly kissed your cheek and bid you goodnight, leaving you frozen in place.

“S-see you on Monday!” was all you were able to stammer out, to which Taehyung just smiled and waved back.

Hyuna happily freaked out with you once you were back inside. She was watching you from the moment Taehyung pulled back up. She shrieked with excitement once you told her that Taehyung confirmed that it was a date. Hyuna didn’t let up with grilling questions about how your night went. She even asked if the Jungkook guy you met was single, to which you truthfully answered that you didn’t know.

“Besides, he told me himself that he’s scared of girls. You’re scary enough as is,” you teased her.

“Oh shut up. So is Taehyung like, your boyfriend now?” Hyuna asked the million dollar question.

“I don’t think so. I think it was just a date, but that’s a good start!” you declared optimistically.

Babysitting on Monday went on like normal. Taehyung didn’t act any differently, which was both concerning and relieving. You were in the backyard pretending to eat whatever dirt concoction the little kids were serving you.

“This one is for you,” Lucy quietly offered Taehyung a clump of dirt sprinkled with blades of grass, topped with a dandelion.

“Oh, how pretty! What is it?” Taehyung played along.

“It’s a love potion. The next person you hug will fall in love with you,” Lucy smiled.

A smirk crept on Taehyung’s face as he pretended to eat Lucy’s love potion. He made a satisfied “Ahh” sound that made Lucy giggle.

“Tae has to hug me now! He loves me the most!” Sam yelled as he ran over to latch onto Taehyung.

“No, Tae loves me!” Bel argued as he pulled on Taehyung’s shirt.

“That’s not how it works!” Lucy huffed as she yelled at the boys.

You watched with delight as the little kids chased Taehyung around the backyard, demanding that he has to hug them. It was easy for him to juke them out as they constantly ran back and forth. You were content with just watching them until Taehyung began to make a beeline for you.

“Oh no no no,” you cried as you got up to run.

Taehyung (and the kids) chased you around for a little bit. The backyard was on the smaller side, so there wasn’t much space to evade all of them coming for you at once. To make matters worse, Taehyung actually started to try and catch you. His speed was no joke; he was much more agile than you gave him credit for.

With one pounce, Taehyung tackled you to the ground. Somehow he managed to whip himself around while you were falling, so you ended up falling on him. Now wrapped up in his arms, Taehyung smiled up at you with a shit eating grin.

“I guess you have to fall in love with me now,” he smirked.

“You wish,” you laughed as you pulled yourself up.

“Aw now he loves Miss _____,” Sam pouted.

“No, now Miss ____ has to fall in love with Tae,” Ava corrected him.

“That’s dumb,” Kota shook his head.

“Tae! Kota said a bad word!” Bel immediately tattled.

“Kota, remember what I said about bad words. No one wants to play with someone who says mean things,” Taehyung chided him.

“Sorry,” Kota mumbled.

“Let’s play go play inside. Who wants juice?” Taehyung patted Kota’s head.

The kids followed Taehyung inside like little ducklings. You loved that sight, you always thought it was the cutest thing. The rest of the day went by without a hitch.

The topic of favorite movies came up during lunchtime the next day.

“I like Frozen 2,” Ava stated, and Lucy nodded furiously in agreement.

“Detective Pikachu was better. Pikachu is funny,” Sam interjected. The other little boys then began to argue about which pokemon was better/stronger.

“I’m not really a big movie watcher,” Taehyung confessed as he took a bite of a dino chicken nugget.

“Have you at least seen the classics? Harry Potter? Lord of the Rings? Star Wars?” you listed with concern.

“I’ve seen Harry Potter and Star Wars. I think I saw the Lord of the Rings? I can’t really remember. I know I wanted to watch the newer Lord of the Rings movies,” he chuckled at your growing disbelief.

“Newer Lord of the Rings? You mean the Hobbit series?” you were disgruntled.

“Yeah those. I didn’t realize you were a nerd,” he nudged you.

“What of it? All of those are great movies. I have copies of the Hobbit series if you ever wanted to watch them,” you offered.

“Do you wanna watch them with me?” he perked up.

“Sure, I love them! You wanna do a marathon? It’ll take up a full day though,” you warned.

“I’m down. Are you free this Sunday?”

“I believe so.”

“Great! I’m excited to see you geek out over hobbits. Okay kids, naptime!”

You drove up to Taehyung’s place Sunday morning, you weren’t kidding when you said it would take all day. Taehyung said to dress comfortably so you showed up in your sweatpants and oversized college tee. He answered the door wearing gray sweatpants and his favorite CELINE shirt. His dark fluffy hair fell over his forehead and was almost long enough to cover his eyes.

“Good morning! I hope you’re hungry. I made some waffles to eat while we watch the first movie,” he greeted you.

His humble abode smelled heavenly as the scent of dough tinged with a hint of cinnamon wafted through the air. The soft belgian waffles were delicious as they practically melted in your mouth. Taehyung asked a ton of questions with nearly every scene, but you didn’t mind. You were happy to flex your knowledge of Tolkien lore.

Hours later, you found yourself cuddled up with Taehyung as the final credits of the Battle of Five Armies began to roll. Taehyung was still trying to process everything that happened as he asked you clarifying questions about each character.

“Well crap, now I’m sad,” he pouted.

“Yeah, the ending is kind of a downer, but that’s what makes it so good! The Lord of the Rings has a happy ending if that makes you feel better,” you look up at him from his chest.

“You look cute like that,” he observed.

“Like what? Tiny from your angle?” you tilted your head.

“I guess so? Tiny, maybe submissive,” Taehyung’s voice lowered with his suggestion.

“Submissive? Is that how you see me?” you sit back up completely with defiance.

“Not at all. You’re pretty feisty, which is why making you be submissive is even more alluring,” he raised his eyebrow in a suggestive manner.

“Do you want me to be a damsel in distress for you? Not happening,” you smirked.

“Pretty princesses are good for one thing,” Taehyung hopped off the couch.

Before you could say anything, he promptly grabbed you and swung you over his shoulder. You were too shocked by his boldness and physical abilities to retaliate.

“They’re perfect for kidnapping!” he let out a dramatic evil laugh as he carried you off to his bedroom.

Once there, he roughly threw you on the bed. You couldn’t help but look around curiously since this was the first time you’ve ever seen his room. It was surprisingly neat; his bed was made and there were no messy clothing piles in sight.

“Are you an evil dragon then? Capturing princesses and such?” you teased.

“Evil dragon, dashing captor, I can be anything you want me to be. Just please not an orc,” he let out a chuckle before getting back into character, “Just know that you’re trapped here with me. No one is going to rescue you.”

“Oh no! What a terrible situation to be in! What on Earth is this extremely handsome dragon going to do with a poor defenseless princess like me?” you taunted.

“Ok this is all very hot but before we go any further, are you okay with this?” Taehyung asked sincerely.

“I can’t think of anything that I’ve wanted more,” you nodded.

“Perfect. Safe word is red,” he winked at you, “Now strip for me, princess.”

“And if I don’t?” you challenged.

Taehyung grabbed a fistful of hair on the back of your head and forcefully brought you up to his face, “I suggest not making me angry,” he sneered.

You didn’t think you were one for being manhandled, but god damn that was hot. There was already a tingle between your legs and he hadn’t even really touched you yet. You complied with his request, and quickly tore off your shirt and pants. Though you weren’t wearing any fancy lingerie, you were wearing a gray bra and gray panties that could pass off as matching.

“Mmm what a pretty treasure. It would be a shame to let it gounappreciated,” Taehyung stretched out that last word as he gently ran his fingers from your torso up to your neck before firmly grasping it.

Taehyung straddled you as his long fingers were wrapped around your neck. Slowly, he leaned down to kiss you. Though apprehensive at first, he gradually got more bold with it. His tongue dipped into your mouth the instant your lips parted. His other hand crept under your bra to fondle your breast.

“You take your clothes off too,” you said as soon as the kiss broke.

“You don’t get to make any demands, silly princess,” Taehyung shook his head.

You pouted and reached out to tug at his pants anyway. Big mistake. Taehyung slapped your hand away and slammed you back onto the bed.

“You don’t listen, huh? I’ll have to do something about that. Stay still or else you’ll make things worse for yourself,” he ordered.

You reluctantly obeyed, partly because you were curious about what he was going to do, and partly because you were actually intimidated by him. He returned back to the bed a few seconds later, but with a familiar silky red belt in hand.

“Give me your hands. Good girl,” he smiled deviously as he bound them together, “Remember the safe word is red, okay?” he gently reminded you.

He looked down at you with a satisfied grin as he began to take off his sweatpants. He had an obvious bulge in his underwear that outlined his massive dick. You were further entranced by his physique when he took off his shirt. He wasn’t ripped, but he was still fit, as you could plainly see when his chest was finally revealed.

“Open wide, princess,” he demanded.

You opened your mouth, and even flattened your tongue out a little bit for him. He pulled his cock out of his underwear, finally exposing his full length. You doubted you could fit even half of him in your mouth, but at this point it wasn’t up to you.

Taehyung lowered himself down to you, and teasingly tapped the tip of his cock on your tongue. He slowly eased himself into your mouth, forcing you to open your mouth even wider to account for his girth. He made his way back out once you gagged. He grabbed your head to hold you steady as he fucked your mouth once more. He got closer and closer to the back of your throat until he finally hit it. All you could focus on was breathing as tears welled up in your eyes. Taehyung thrusted a couple more times before he pulled out completely.

“Good girl indeed. Well done, princess,” he softly stroked your chin before wiping your tears away. All you could do was smile meekly back at him.

“Don’t worry, it’s time for your reward,” Taehyung smiled down at you as his hand slipped under your panties, “Oh you’re so wet. I can’t wait to taste you.”

He positioned himself between your thighs after he tore off your panties. His thumb fiddled with your clit, causing you to squirm. He placed a strong grip on your thigh to hold you down as he circled your clit faster. Your helpless whimpers were music to Taehyung’s ears.

Without warning, he easily stuck two fingers into you. He didn’t even let you adjust as he rapidly fingered you, his fingers curving to graze your g-spot with every stroke. His tongue swirled around your clit, adding even more toe curling sensations.

Him adding a third finger was the catalyst for the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had in your life. There wasn’t even a build up, everything just hit you at once. Suddenly you were crying out even louder as you violently came. Did it occur to you that you were squirting all over Taehyung and his bed? No. Were you doing exactly that? Absolutely.

“Delicious,” Taehyung said as he licked his lips, “Look at the fucking mess you made.”

“I-i’m sorry,” you managed to stutter, you were still recovering from your orgasm.

“It’s only fair that it’s my turn to make a mess now. Do I need to get a condom, princess?” he cooed.

You weakly shook your head. You needed to feel all of him, right now. Taehyung chuckled at your neediness as he aligned himself with your pussy. He slowly inserted his entire length into you until the base of his cock touched your soaked pussy. You moaned together as he stayed still for a second. You looked up to see Taehyung’s face lit up with pure bliss.

“You’re still so fucking wet,” he growled as he began to mercilessly buck his hips into you.

You moaned with every thrust as Taehyung shook the entire bed. Taehyung placed both of your legs on his shoulders, allowing him to hit you even deeper from this new angle. He leaned over to plant his lips on your neck as he fucked you. What started as a gentle peck took a violent turn as he harshly sucked on your neck. He left dark spots wherever his lips touched, and soon you were covered in dark blooms.

“Do you want me to soil your back or your chest?” he asked in a guttural tone.

“Back?” you answer dubiously.

You were immediately flipped over. You were laying flat on your chest waiting for him to prop up your ass, but he never did. Instead, he simply spread your legs wider and fucked you flat against the bed. Taehyung grabbed your ass and spread your cheeks to get a better view of your sopping pussy. You could feel another orgasm brewing as he fucked even deeper into you, and his cock was continuously dragging against your g-spot.

“Taehyung, I--”

“I know, princess. Let it all out. I want to feel you come on my dick,” he demanded.

A few more strong strokes was all it took for you to go limp under him as your orgasm took over. Seconds after you hit your high, Taehyung pulled out and came all over your back.

Once you were all cleaned up, Taehyung untied you and kissed your forehead.

“How was it, princess?” he asked as he stroked your hair.

“I’ve never been fucked by a beast before, but now I don’t want anything else,” you admitted before kissing his neck.

“Good. I was worried about going overboard. As I told you before, I really like getting into character,” he laughed.

“I’ve never been into roleplay but I’m willing to change for you. Oh shit, it’s late already,” you noticed the time on his alarm clock.

“Just stay the night. I don’t think the kids will care if you’re wearing sweatpants or not. I can lend you a turtleneck to cover up those hickies though,” Taehyung yawned.

“Are you sure?” you questioned.

“Yeah, I don’t mind. Be warned, I’m a cuddler,” he pulled you closer to him.

“I guess I can sleep in a little later then,” you reasoned.

“Perfect. Goodnight, princess,” he quickly kissed your lips.

“You’re sleeping like that?”

“Like what?”

“Butt naked?”

“I can put clothes on if it makes you uncomfortable. I just figured it would make things easier for tomorrow morning,” he said sleepily.

“Tomorrow morning?” that got your attention.

“You’ll see! Be patient, princess. Night night.”

Never in a million years would you have guessed that applying for a babysitting job would result in this, but you weren’t complaining.

#bts smut #kim taehyung smut #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #btscreatorscorner #bts fanfic #kim taehyung fanfic #v smut #v fanfic #bts fluff #kim taehyung fluff #kim taeyhung #v #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #purplearmynet

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rubysunnday · 4 years ago

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orion and pleiades

Request by Anon - prompt #2 just screams Colin Bridgerton to me “Don’t say a word, just dance with me.”

A/N: I hope this is alright, anon! These requests (and the few in my inbox) will probably be the last few I write for sometime x

Colin was enjoying himself.

He’d found a nice spot in the far corner of the ballroom where he could drink and watch the dancing without being cornered by the mamas and ladies. Anthony and Benedict had been apprehended by their mother and were currently being paraded around the room like dresses in the modiste. Colin was trying not to take too much pleasure in the discomfort of his brothers but it was actually a very difficult task.

Benedict kept sending him glares and looks of hope at being rescued but Colin was strategically ignoring him.

Penelope Featherington weaved through the crowd, in the direction of what Colin had named ‘Colin’s corner’.

“You alright, Pen?” Colin asked as Penelope walked up to his corner.

“Mmhmm,” Penelope hummed, nodding as she poured herself a drink. “Why do you look so pleased with yourself?” She asked, side-eyeing Colin suspiciously.

“My mother has accosted Anthony and Benedict,” Colin said, chuckling as Penelope glanced over at where his brothers were and tried not to laugh.

“I feel for them,” she said. “Mama has just dragged me around the ballroom for most of the night.” Penelope paused. “Have you seen Y/N at all tonight?”

Colin shook his head. “No. She said she was coming, however. Perhaps she’s been held up.”

“Or perhaps she’s running in your direction right now?” Penelope suggested, gesturing to the left.

Colin turned and saw Y/N running towards him, looking increasingly panicked.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” He asked as she all but collided into him. He caught her by the arms and caught her as she skidded to a sudden halt, her balance off by her sudden halt.

Y/N grabbed his hands. “Don’t say a word, just dance with me,” she said, dragging him towards the dance floor.

Colin let himself be dragged through the crowd and, to his credit, said nothing. He noticed that Y/N didn’t relax until they were well ensconced in the middle of the crowd and were well into the dance.

“Do I get the pleasure of discovering why I was accosted and dragged onto the floor?” Colin asked, his eyes glinting with delight as Y/N groaned and dropped her head onto his shoulder.

“My mother,” she said, dragging out the last word to add more emphasis. “I have been dragged around this room all night, being forced upon every single eligible man within a five mile vicinity - including your brothers.”

“That would have been the highlight of the evening for them, I guarantee you, Y/N,” Colin laughed. “There are far worse people they could’ve had forced upon them.”

“Including Philippa Featherington? Because I saw Anthony dancing with her when I was trying to escape my mother’s clutches.” Y/N looked at Colin’s terrified expression and giggled. “The terror on behalf of your brother is very amusing, Colin.”

Colin twirled Y/N and then dipped her. “What can I saw, I know how my fellow soldier feels.”

Y/N laughed and the sound was like music to Colin’s ears. “Are we really that bad?”

“Your mothers are,” Colin replied. “The ladies... depends. You, Miss Y/L/N, are a goddess.”

“Do I have a halo?” Y/N asked, letting Colin lift her up.

“A beautiful, sparkly, golden one,” he replied. “And a beam of sunlight follows you everywhere you go, lighting up the entire room.”

Y/N smiled, entirely unfazed by the shower of compliments. “Ok, what do you want?”

“Nothing!”

“Colin, you only ever compliment me when you want something,” Y/N replied, giving him a raise of her eyebrows and an unconvinced stare. “So, what is it?”

“Well, I did save you from your mother by dancing with you,” Colin countered, realising he had leverage against her.

Y/N paused and sighed, cursing softly. Colin heard her curse and, whilst his eyes widened, he just snorted. He'd grown use to hearing her curse, even if it was extremely un-ladylike.

Y/N was just like his sister, Eloise - a woman who didn’t conform to society and didn’t, particularly, care what people thought of her. Colin liked her for her honesty and for the fact she didn’t spend the balls sucking up to men and pretending to be something she wasn't.

“Ok, fine,” Y/N said and Colin blinked, trying to remember what they’d been talking about moments earlier. “I owe you. What do you want?”

Colin smirked. “For you to be glued to my side the entire night.”

Y/N stopped dancing for a split second. “Have you been talking to Hyacinth?”

“No, why?”

“Because the girl is obsessed with the word glue and all connotations that go with it,” Y/N muttered, shaking her head. “Glueee. Anyway, so, my challenge is to not leave your side, is that it?”

“Well, it’ll keep my mother off my back,” Colin said, smiling.

“Oh, and here I thought you just enjoyed my company, Colin,” Y/N said, pouting.

The dance came to a grand finish and Colin bowed to Y/N as she curtsied to him.

“So, glue,” she said, grabbing his arm and allowing him to lead her off the dance floor. “What, precisely, does being glue entail?”

“Oh... well, it mainly entails not leaving me alone with my mother,” Colin replied, leading them over to where Anthony and Benedict were hiding from Violet.

“Well, there’s all sorts of things I could do to be glued to your side all evening,” Y/N said, making great effort into looking like she was thinking hard. “I could fake swoon -”

“We both know you’re better than that -”

“ - I could take you for a turn around the room -”

“Please don’t -”

Y/N stopped, turned, and looked up at him. “Or, I could just say I twisted my ankle dancing with you and since you feel like it was your fault, you don’t want to leave me alone and that my wellbeing is your top priority.”

Colin raised his eyebrows. He’d known Y/N for many years and also knew when he teasing was also partly true. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you twist your ankle?”

Y/N avoid his gaze. “No.”

“Y/N.”

“Ok, I rolled it a bit,” she said, meeting his gaze. “It was when I ran into you, I had a little too much momentum and went over on it.”

“Of course you did,” Colin muttered. “Come on then, my little invalid, let’s sit you down.”

“I’m not a child, Colin,” Y/N grumbled.

Despite her complaint, however, she still allowed him to guide her across the room and to the safety of the terrace outside.

It was a beautiful evening and the stars were visible up above. Y/N sat down on a nearby bench and tilted her head up at the sky, her hair falling over the edge of the bench the further she titled her head.

“I wish we could see the stars from London,” she said softly.

Colin sat down next to her - his leg brushing hers. “Have you ever heard the tale of Orion?”

Y/N turned her head to look at him, eyes filled with curiosity. “No.”

Colin smiled and looked at her. “Well, as the legend goes, Orion was a great hunter who fell in love with the seven sisters.” Colin put his arm around Y/N’s shoulders and took her hand. “He was after them for twelve years. For twelve, long years, he chased after these sisters, trying to gain their favour and affection, However, Zeus, king of the gods, found out about Orion chasing after them and turned all of them into stars.”

Y/N was too enamoured with the story and looking at Colin’s beautiful face to sat anything.

“Orion can chase the Pleiades - the seven sisters - forever, but he can never catch them. He'll follow them across the sky and beyond the horizon in his attempt to catch them.”

Y/N smiled softly at him. “Well, isn’t it a good job I don’t have any sisters, then?”

Colin chuckled. “Isn’t a good job we’re allowed to be together.”

Y/N said nothing. She smiled and felt her cheeks grow hotter. “Colin -”

Colin leant forward and kissed her on the lips. He moved back, shot her a beautiful, mischievous smile, and then kissed her on the cheek.

Colin stood up and sighed. “I’m hungry,” he announced to no one in particular.

Y/N tried not to glare at him as she stood up. She huffed out a laugh and followed after him. “Colin, if all the food in the world was turned into stars, you would turn into one and follow it all around the skies.”

Colin paused and turned to look at her. “If you turned into a star, dear Y/N/N, I would follow you no matter where you went.”

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader

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blossom-hwa · 4 years ago

Note

a little birdie told me to request surfer san at a party idk what that was about but i do kinda want to see skater boy yeosang there too if you're up for that 👀👀👀 heheheheh love u linaaaa <333

/chants/ surfer san surfer san SURFER SAN thank you very much mai for putting this in my inbox I adore you <3 skater yeosang will be up next so I hope you enjoy what I end up spitting out for that one too !

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

Set in the same universe as Kickflip (My Heart) (skater!Yeosang) and Hey, Hey - Let Me Kiss You (surfer!Juyeon) :)

I’m gonna cry this ended up being way longer than I thought it’d be but you know what I’m 100% turning this into a full scenario so fuck it it’ll be as long as it has to be

Title: Truth or Dare

Pairing: San x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Triggers: cursing, alcohol, shirtless woosan for a hot minute, implications of sex towards the end (NOTHING GRAPHIC)

Okay, so in hindsight, maybe coming to Hongjoong's party knowing you were going to be here was a mistake. In his defense, the water probably wasn’t out of his ears when he told Wooyoung he would come, despite the latter having told him specifically you were going to be there. It probably caused some temporary brain damage. That, and San has never really made the best decision when it comes to crushes.

Especially you. You’ve been the worst so far. Around all of the others, he’s been able to keep a measure of his confidence, able to flirt a little and initiate something here or there, if it’s reciprocated. But you...

You’re something else. Always have been, ever since Hongjoong introduced him to you in all your gorgeous glory. Which is probably why Wooyoung looked so surprised that San agreed to come without much trouble - he probably thought San would be chicken out immediately and he’d have to convince him.

San’s here, though, several drinks in and very much buzzed if not drunk, sitting in a circle of people that includes you. Even five or six drunk adults away, San can feel his face heating up when you look in his direction and throw him a wink with that gorgeous smile spread across your face.

His heart thumps a little faster.

“You look like an idiot,” Wooyoung hisses, jabbing him in the side. “What did I tell you about playing hard to get?”

San rolls his eyes. “Since when did your advice ever make enough sense for me to take it?”

Wooyoung huffs. “You look like a lovesick idiot,” he sniffs.

San doesn’t deign to reply.

“Okay, okay.” Hongjoong comes back from wherever he was and settles between Seonghwa and Mingi, a bottle in hand. “Shut up, everyone. We’re playing truth or dare.”

Someone raises an eyebrow. “What is this, high school?”

“The way you all act, I wouldn’t be surprised.” San stifles a laugh at your reply.

“Says you.” Hongjoong snorts.

You grin. “Did I ever exclude myself?”

Everyone breaks into laughter that Hongjoong has to calm before setting the bottle in the middle of the circle. “Rules are the same. Spin the bottle, if it lands on you, pick truth or dare. If you chicken out, take a shot.” He raises an eyebrow. “Got it?”

They all get it, even the ones who look a little like they’re on the way to passing out, and so truth or dare begins.

It’s fun. That might just be because San has been drinking, but when Seonghwa is dared for the second time to write some gross in the air with his butt, he and Wooyoung are falling over each other with tipsy laughter. Hiccuping with giggles, San answers a question about who in this room he’d lick peanut butter off of - “Hongjoong, I like his body.” - and then takes off his shirt for five turns and keeps it off because it’s kind of hot, anyway, and he doesn’t really want to bother putting it back on. Wooyoung isn’t much better - he got dared to take off his pants but Seonghwa forced Yunho to amend it to his shirt, and San pats his friend’s pecs affectionately before the next person goes.

Eventually, the bottle lands on you. You raise an eyebrow. “Truth.”

“Is there someone you like in this room?” Mingi blurts.

There’s a chorus of groans, complaints of ‘Okay, this is too high school for me,’ and ‘For real, Mingi? Seriously?’, but San’s attention is on you and the way your expression has turned slightly uncertain for the first time tonight. You bite your lip, staring at the shot glass in your hand like you’re really contemplating chickening out, but then your eyes flicker up and in his direction.

San’s breath catches in his throat. You didn’t look at him. You definitely didn’t. That was just coincidence. Don’t get your hopes up, San.

“Alright, alright, shut up.” You raise your voice above the noise of people teasing Mingi. “The answer is yes. I do.”

The complaints turn into oooooohs and wolf whistles and ‘Who is it? Who is it?’ but you’ve already got the bottle in hand and are spinning it in the center of the circle. San barely notices, even when Wooyoung’s hand squeeze his knee - who is the person that you like? There’s like fifteen or twenty people here. It could be any one of them. It’s probably Yeosang. He’s pretty and everyone has had a crush on him at least once. Or Seonghwa? Maybe even Wooyoung?

Cheers erupt all around him and San looks up, startled, to see you glaring at the bottle like it personally wronged you in a past life.

Because it’s pointing at you again.

“Truth or dare, Y/N?” someone yells.

Next to you, Yeosang whispers something in your ear. Your eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would.” Yeosang grins.

You glare at the bottle some more. “Dare.”

“Everyone shut up, I’ve got this.” San watches in confused silence as Yeosang sits up. “Y/N...” A grin that looks more suited to Wooyoung spreads across his lips. “I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in this room.”

San’s heart drops with every second that passes. He wants it to be him, badly wants it to be him, but in a room full of people who look like Seonghwa, who look like Dahyun, who look like Juyeon and Chaeyoung and Yeosang and - god, San can’t even list all of the names -

How would it ever be him?

You make a very rude gesture to Yeosang that has everyone cracking up, but you don’t eye the shot glass this time. Instead, you throw your shoulders back and let your eyes rake over the room.

“Wooyoung.”

San’s heart drops. Of course it’s Wooyoung, his best friend in every life, one of the prettiest people San himself has ever laid eyes on -

“Move over.” Suddenly, you’re up in San’s face, pushing Wooyoung away. He blinks. When did you come all the way over here? But he doesn’t even have time to ponder the answer to that question because your smile is so close, now, just half a foot separating your lips, and you’re reaching out a hand to cup his cheek and San is short-circuiting as you say -

“Stop me if you don’t want this, okay?”

San blinks. Don’t want what? His heart is beating so fast, faster even than when he catches the highest wave of the afternoon, you’re so close and this is all he’s ever wanted, why would you even imply that this is something he doesn’t want -

Your lips press against his, and San’s mind goes blank.

You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him because you think he’s the prettiest person in the room - he, San, Choi San, surfer boy who turned into a mess the day Hongjoong introduced him to you - you think he, of all people in the room, is the prettiest -

It occurs to him that he’s still shirtless. He doesn’t exactly know what to do with that information.

You pull away and San gasps for breath, eyes staring wide into yours. You smile at him softly, lips slightly swollen with the kiss, and like he’s underwater, San can kind of hear everyone screaming and whistling and whatever in the background, but when you speak, suddenly, everything is crystal clear.

“Was that okay?” you whisper.

Yes. Yes. Oh, God, yes - San nods once, twice, three times and then blushes when your smile grows wider and the sparkle he likes so much turns brighter in your eye.

Nothing he’s ever seen could be more beautiful than you right now, eyes sparkling and lips smiling under the dim lights of the party, pulling him forward for a second kiss.

. . .

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Truth or dare ends, San takes another couple of shots, and you’re somehow by his side the entire time until the party’s over. Both of you stay behind to help clean up a bit, but at around two, Seonghwa shoos the rest of you home, and Wooyoung meets up with San by the door to walk back to the apartment.

“Move it, Woo.” You appear again, shoving Wooyoung out of the way. “I’m sure San won’t mind if I walk him home instead.”

A horrible grin splits Wooyoung’s features and he nods quickly, giving San a very unsubtle wink made worse by the fact that he drank way more than San did after the game. “Sannie, do you mind?” he asks. Then, not waiting for an answer, he loops an arm through Yeosang’s, who looks very confused. “I’ll see you at home! Or not!”

You and San walk out of the house in silence, mostly because San has too many thoughts at the moment and they’re all jumbling up into one big mess. The euphoria from kissing you earlier has worn off slightly as the alcohol left his system - he’s mostly sober now - which means he’s thinking. Too much.

“San.” You look over at him, a streetlamp lighting your face. “Come on, I won’t bite.” You smile. “If you have something to ask me, you can say it.”

He blinks. Blinks again. Then, as though your words unleashed a flood in his brain, he asks -

“Did you really think I was the prettiest person in the room?”

You stare at him, eyes narrowed and surprisingly lucid given how the party went. “Yes, I did. I still do.”

Oh. Oh, okay. San feels a little like he needs to sit down. So the kiss wasn’t just a one time thing - you’d do it again, probably, if he’s interpreting your words correctly -

“Why?”

This time, you look a little incredulous when the word leaves his mouth. Then you shake your head. “You really don’t think you’re beautiful, do you.” It isn’t a question.

San ducks his head. For all his usual surfer bravado, the confident face and smile he presents when he’s about to hit the waves, he can’t seem to find the courage to look at you in this moment, to let you really see everything brewing behind his eyes.

Fingers settle under his chin and tip it up so that he’s looking at you again. “I don’t bite, San,” you remind him again, still smiling. “I happen to think you’re very pretty. Beautiful. And even though I still want to slap Yeosang over the head, I’m very glad he gave me the opportunity to show that tonight.” Your fingers walk upwards to cup his cheek the same way you did when you kissed him. “In case you were wondering, by the way, you were the one I was talking about when I said I liked someone. And I didn’t only kiss you just because you were shirtless.”

A small smile settles on San’s face. It’s strange, the way you seem to be able to read his mind without him saying anything, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it. “I like you too.”

“I know. It was a little obvious.” You laugh when San whines, going red under your touch. “I wanted to say something before, kind of ever since I saw you in that wetsuit when Hongjoong introduced us, but it felt like I’d scare you away.” You raise an eyebrow. “Am I scaring you away now?”

Are you scaring him? A little, kind of, but not in a bad way. It’s more like you thrill him, make his heart race faster and faster the longer your fingers linger on his skin. You’re not scaring him away. If anything, you’re scaring him towards you - it’s weird, but that’s the only way San can describe it. He shakes his head. “No.”

“Good.” You grin. “Because if I was scaring you, you probably wouldn’t want to kiss me, and right now I really want to kiss you again.”

Your lips meet once, twice, three times under the dull glare of the lamp on the empty street, San’s arms settling around your waist, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck. When you break away after the third kiss, eyes hooded and lips swollen enough to make San’s mouth go dry, a soft glint appears in your expression. “Want to come home with me?” you ask. “My roommate’s out of town.” San follows the movement of your eyelashes as you blink. It’s captivating. “Feel free to say no. I won't take offense.”

If it were anyone else, San doesn’t know if he’d believe them. He might stop it here politely, even tipsy as he is, and ask to just go back to his place instead. But he trusts you. Has trusted you from the day he met you. Because nothing in your words or your face ever seems to mask a lie, and besides, his fingers are itching to find their way up your shirt and somewhere else as he kisses you again and again -

He kisses you, laughing against your lips. “I guess I should let Wooyoung know I’m not coming back tonight.”

“Oh, he’ll get the message even if you don’t say anything.” Your grin is brighter than the stars. “Come on, pretty boy.” You kiss him again. “Let me show you how beautiful I think you are.”

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nowoyas · 5 years ago

Text

This is Home (NSFW)

A/N: Title references the song This is Home by Cavetown, which you can’t tell me isn’t an entire trans mood. Give it a listen, y’all. It’s one of my faves <3

This fic is part of @birds-have-teeth‘s Izumonth collab to celebrate Izuku’s birth month. For the lineup, head over here!

(izuku with binder edit and overall banner both made by me)

Summary: When your boyfriend starts distancing himself not long into your relationship, you decide to confront him and remind him just how loved he is. (trans!Izuku x reader)

Notes: Izuku is a pre-op, pre-T trans man for this fic. Reader is implied to be a cis girl. I am trans. In this fic, I am writing Izuku experiencing something I have and do struggle with and I swear to god if anyone clowns in my inbox because I wrote this I will literally fling them out the window, killing them instantly. Not on this one, assholes.

Warnings: smut, oral (reader giving), gender dysphoria, smut smut smut, I cried but you might not

Word count: 5555 (sexy)

Izuku has been avoiding you.

It's not obvious, not at first. Your honestly wonderful boyfriend is more than happy to text you good morning and good night as always, even on the nights where he goes to sleep at 4AM, and it's not as though the amount of cute emoji following the texts has changed. He still eats breakfast with you after his (very early) morning run, still eats lunch with you and your combined friend group, still eats dinner with you whenever he doesn't forget to eat. (You're working on getting him to remember to eat at all the right times.)

But one-on-one study sessions get cancelled. He now trains seemingly whenever you can't, even though you used to train together all the time. It's all the small things, like how he used to kiss you suddenly all the time whenever it was just the two of you, but now, you're hardly ever alone together often enough even if he still did. And maybe you're imagining it, but the usual sleep and wake texts are less enthusiastic than before.

You want to believe that maybe the two of you are just progressing from the honeymoon stage of your relationship, but this doesn't feel like progress.

This feels like distance.

This feels like he’s afraid to be alone with you.

You don't want to pry, but something's up with him, and you've got an inkling of exactly what. One thing's for certain, though—you're not letting him go another day thinking he can't talk to you about it. Knowing him, no matter what the issue is, he's convinced himself it would bother you for him to ask for reassurance or something to that effect.

And so, perhaps a bit shamelessly, you corner him.

Well, not physically. You're not that mean.

But when you knock on his door when you know he's there alone and he answers, you don't give him a chance to brush you off. You shove your way right into his room and take a seat on the edge of his bed.

"Talk," you demand, crossing your arms as he flusters and shuts the door behind him.

"[n-name], is something wrong—"

"Talk," you repeat, leveling a glare at him. "You've been acting weird around me lately. If it's something you're not comfortable talking about, that's okay, but if I've done something to make you avoid me, I want to talk about it and figure out how to fix it."

Izuku flinches, taking an awkward seat on his bed. (The other end of his bed. You try not to let show just how much that stings.)

"Y-you haven't done anything wrong," he forces out evenly, not looking at you. "I swear."

You shift closer to him, placing a hand over his own. "Izuku, look at me."

Green eyes meet yours. There's guilt there, and an underlying fear with a source you can only guess at.

"I love you, babe. I want to help you. You don't have to let me, but I really—fuck—" You sniff, pulling back to wipe at your eyes before you let any tears fall. "—shit, sorry. I just... I'm worried about you, and I don't want to lose you, y'know?"

He panics, crossing the distance between you within moments to pull you into a tight hug. His hand winds into your hair, the other settling in the small of your back and rubbing soothingly as he shushes you. "No, oh my god, angel, I-I never meant to make you think you did anything wrong. Really, it's not you, it's me!"

Your blood turns to ice in an instant at his words. "T-that's the kind of shit people say when they're explaining why they're breaking up with you, Izuku."

"N-no! That's not—That's not what this is. I love you too, I love you so much, I just... I'm scared, okay?" he admits, face pressed into your neck.

"Scared?"

He nods, hugging you just a smidge tighter. "Yeah. Scared."

"Of what, handsome?" You finally relax into his hold, snuggling into his shoulder with a sigh as you try to rein in the tears.

"It's probably stupid, and it doesn't really matter that much."

"Izuku babe."

"Yes?"

"Did it make you feel something?"

He hesitates before nodding slowly.

"Then it's not stupid, and it matters to me."

Izuku shudders in your arms, mumbling something you don't quite catch.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

He shifts, repeating himself just loud enough to be heard. "I wanna go further with you but I hate my body and don't want to take my clothes off to do it," he says, speaking so quickly you almost miss it a second time.

You freeze, a light blush on your cheeks. It's true that you've not gone that far with Izuku—he always seemed content just to kiss and cuddle and exchange sweet words behind closed doors, and god, you were happy just to have him in any capacity. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—there's bigger problems at hand than "your cute boyfriend wants to fuck you".

"Oh, Izu," you breathe. "You know you don't have to push yourself, baby. It's okay if you're uncomfortable with—"

"B-but I shouldn't be!" he insists, wriggling away to look into your eyes with a pained look. "I don't wanna be uncomfortable. Not with you. I just... don't know how to... how to not be, and I didn't want things to escalate if I got alone with you because then I'd probably panic and push you away and then you'd probably feel hurt a-and it'd be my fault so I was avoiding you so I couldn’t hurt you before I was ready and then–"

"Izuku," you say firmly. "Don't push yourself for my sake. I'd feel awful knowing you did something like that for me. It's okay if we just kiss. It's okay if we never kiss. What's not okay is you forcing yourself into a dysphoric breakdown because you wanted to please me. If we fuck, I want it to be something we both enjoy, and I can't enjoy it if it's upsetting you or making you uncomfortable."

He tears up, yanking you back into a hug. "I'm s-sorry, [name]."

You laugh, tangling your hands in his curls and gently working knots out with your fingers. "You don't need to apologize, baby. I love you. And you know..."

"Mm?"

You smirk, looping a curl around one finger. Perhaps deliberately, your voice drops into a seductive, teasing voice. "If your biggest problem is either of us seeing your body, there's a few solutions. No one said you had to take your clothes off when we fuck, handsome."

He squeaks, and you swear you can feel his face heating up in your shoulder when he whines. He doesn't protest, so you continue, a grin spreading across your face.

"If you don't want me seeing you, you can always blindfold me," you offer, "or we could turn the lights off, or if you don't want to have to see yourself, I could blindfold you..."

"[N-name]!" Izuku yelps, burying his face into your chest to hide. "Stoooop, oh my god–"

Laughter bubbles from your throat. "Sorry, sorry. But those were honest suggestions. If you really wanna mess around with me a bit, I'm happy to let you set the pace. We kiss as much as you want, however heavy you want... Hell, I might even be into it if you order me around a little. Who knows?"

"O-order you?" You don't have to see him to know how red his face is—you can almost feel it through your top, the rush of embarrassment displayed on his freckled cheeks.

"Mhmm. I won't do anything you aren’t explicitly okay with. And the moment you want to stop, you tell me as much, and we can stop. But you know, I'm in love with you no matter what, and that includes your wonderfully strong body and your cute, handsome face. You light up any room you enter and make me want to work hard for my future. It’s not about your body. The fact that you're hot is a bonus, not the selling point."

He sniffles gently. You carefully go back to working through his hair. "But again, no matter how you want this to go, I'm okay with it. Your comfort first, baby."

He pulls out of the hug, worrying his lip between his teeth as he watches you. "If you're really okay with it, then... i-is it okay if I just kiss you, and we feel it out from there?"

You smile softly. "Go ahead, handsome."

Despite all the kisses you've shared before, every new kiss between you is charged with affection. Izuku can't help it if he melts into every kiss you share—your lips are so soft and you smell so nice and he loves you so much! Before he knows it, he's smoothing a palm against the back of your neck and deepening the kiss, moving his lips hesitantly against your own. He parts just enough to murmur against your lips: "I love you" and "tell me if you want me to stop" and "you can touch my arms if you want". (He knows you do. You only confirm it when your fingertips immediately drag along his upper arms, appreciating the muscles there.)

Before he knows it, he's swiping his tongue against your bottom lip tentatively and pulling you into his lap. You've been more than charitable—your hands remain carefully on his arms, your tongue in your own mouth even as he explores yours. You really won't go a step further than he asks for, and his heart swells at the confirmation. When he breaks the kiss, both of you are breathing heavy, a fact which draws extra attention to the fact that he's still wearing his chest binder.

"I-I want to kiss your neck. I-it's okay if you touch me, j-just please not my chest o-or my... Um, you know."

You mock-salute, a comically serious look on your face that clashes with your flushed cheeks. "Yes, sir! No chest, no ass, no between-thighs!"

The smile that pulls at his lips is utterly love-drunk as he leans back in, first pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips and trailing tiny pecks along your jawline. When he reaches your neck, he hesitates, and you wait to slide your arms over his shoulders. "Hun?" you say gently. "Still good?"

Green eyes flick up to yours, intense but wavering. "Y-yeah. I can do this."

Without any other warning, he places a hot, open-mouthed kiss directly onto your pulse, drawing a gasp from you when his teeth graze you just enough for you to feel it. Your hands slide down his back to find purchase as he continues, switching between peppering light kisses to your neck and honestly, doing pretty much anything that won't leave a mark.

Meantime, it's all you can do to gasp and whimper as he finds all your soft spots and goes on the full attack, and his hands roam your sides, climbing up until you're sure he's going to grope you–

And then he flinches and pulls back, just slightly. There's a quiet hiss through his teeth at the movement.

You'd love to whine at the loss, and normally, you probably would. But this is Izuku, and if you're going to let him set the pace, you're damn well going to let him set the pace.

You remove your hands from him completely, watching him with concerned eyes. "Everything alright?"

His heart twists at how gentle and concerned you are. One moment, you're huffing and looking at him with nothing but lust as he kisses your neck, the next, your brow's furrowed as you search him for any signs of fear or panic.

He really doesn't deserve you.

"Do you want to stop?" you ask, voice soft in the way he's seen you use to talk to frightened animals.

He shakes his head, flattening a palm against his chest. "Sorry, sorry. M-my chest is just hurting a little."

"How long have you been binding today?" you ask without missing a beat.

A hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. "I, uh, I took it off during Hero Basic earlier..."

"And had it on all day before?" you ask, hands on your hips. "And all day since then?"

He nods sheepishly, refusing to meet your eyes.

"Izuku..." You sigh. "I said I wanted you to be comfortable, but I also want you to be safe. Please take your binder off? I can look away while you do, I just don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I..." Izuku sighs, twiddling his thumbs nervously. "A-actually, could you, um..."

"I can leave the room if it'd make you feel better," you offer.

"N-no! That's not what I meant." He wraps his arms around your waist, refusing to let you leave. "I-I, um, wanted to try..." His face is beet red, and in a panic, he buries his face in your chest to hide his embarrassment. "C-can you help me out of it?" he finally squeaks out.

"Oh, Izu. Of course I can help you." You gently maneuver his face away from your chest, carefully reaching up to work at his tie. "Let me know the second you want me to stop, okay?"

He nods, squeezing his eyes shut. "Okay."

"Would it help if I kissed you while I get your top off?"

After a long moment, he nods, hiding his blushing face in his hands. His hands stay there until you gently pull them away with a soft giggle. "I can't kiss you if you're hiding your perfect face, handsome."

He gives you a wobbly smile, and you pull him towards you with a gentle tug at his tie. You're careful not to push too far as you kiss him—soft, open-mouthed kisses that have him whining as you try furiously to get this damn knot untied. How'd he even manage to get it like this?

Nevertheless, eventually you do manage to get the knot undone and start working carefully on the buttons of his school shirt. Once you're halfway down, you pull back to murmur a soft "are we still okay?" against his lips.

He responds by crashing his lips back onto yours, a hand roaming up your side until this time, he does actually begin to palm one of your breasts over your shirt. Soon, the other hand joins him in just feeling you, and you can't help but sigh against Izuku's lips.

When you reach the lower buttons, you're careful to not let your hands get too far down as you carefully un-tuck his shirt from his pants. You have to force him to stop massaging your breasts long enough to slide his shirt off his shoulders, stopping to roll your eyes in amusement when you find him wearing an undershirt above the binder. You carefully slide the tank top off, leaving him in just his pants and the colorful All Might-themed chest binder you'd sewn for him shortly after he came out to you. Fingers reach for the zipper tab on the front, but don't close around it just yet. Not when Izuku's breathing quickens the way it does, not when his eyes widen in panic.

"Do you want me to step out while you get out of this and put something else on?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head in silence. "Please just... Wait a minute." You nod, hand slowly retreating as Izuku calms himself.

"C-can we, um, l-level the playing field a little?" he asks when his breathing is a bit steadier.

You blink in surprise. "In what way, 'Zuku?"

He drapes both arms over his face as he answers in a truthfully adorable squeak. "L-like, um, s-so I'm not the only one t-topless..."

Your smile is fond as you pat his cheek and lean in. "Can I give you a show?" you whisper.

He shivers, nodding almost too excitedly, and you pull away with a little giggle. "Stay right here." You scamper to the door, making doubly sure it's locked, and turn back with a sparkle in your eye. With his full attention on you, you cross back to him and tease at the edge of your shirt. You're slow in your movements, teasing, and his eyes are glued to you, jaw slack as you give him a mini strip-tease.

Man, it's hard to have low self-esteem with a boyfriend like yours. He drinks in the sight of you like it's the first sight of water he's had in months, adoration and awe and lust and all things positive written plain as day in his expression. When your shirt's properly discarded, you give Izuku a little wink and press a gentle, sweet kiss to his lips. "How are we feeling?"

"Good! G-great! T-this is—yeah. Yeah." His face is flushed, pupils blown. His eyes keep darting between meeting yours and somewhere lower

You quirk a smirk at him, trying not to laugh. "So am I good to unzip you, baby?"

His hands come up to cover his face, green peeking out from between his fingers as he nods. "I-I-I think I'm good."

"You sure? I don't want you to push yourself if you're not comf—"

His hand snatches your wrist, forcing the palm of your hand flat against the center of his chest. You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips. "I-if it's you, I can do this. Please."

"Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?" you hum, carefully pinching the zipper tab and pulling it down slowly. His hand doesn't leave your wrist, but he lets you, exhaling softly when you unzip his binder all the way and free his chest from its confines after a long day.

Izuku panics. Not in the way he feared—he doesn't shove you away, doesn't run, doesn't freeze. But he panics all the same, dragging you into a hot, open-mouthed kiss before you can look at him, before he can see your disgust, before you can make fun of him or change your mind or or or or—

Gentle hands slide the binder off his shoulders with an appreciative hum. You're gentle as you straddle his waist, hands tangling in his hair, and when you go to pull back, he chases your lips. You giggle, trying to pull away to speak, but Izuku's too scared to let you—he almost whines as he continues pressing his lips against yours.

"Everything good, sweetheart?" you ask as best you can amidst his onslaught.

"No—" slips out from his lips. "—I need you to keep kissing me."

"Hm, I can do that. But tell me if something's wrong, okay?" You punctuate your question with a kiss to his nose. He responds by meeting your lips once more.

He pauses, tugging you into a hug moments after breaking the kiss. "I'm a little scared right now," he admits. "You wouldn't... Hate me for how I look, right?" Tears brim in his eyes and wet his voice as he whispers.

"Never in a million years, Izuku. You're always going to be my handsome, strong boyfriend, until you decide you don't want me around anymore. I love you for who you are, not who you want to be, and I'll tell you as many times as it takes."

His arms shake around you. "Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too," you whisper, slowly pulling back as he releases you. "Is it okay if I kiss you, baby?"

"We were already kissing," he says, trying not to laugh.

You press a slow, sensual kiss to his neck. "I know," you breathe out in open, hot breaths, delighting in the way he shivers. "I meant... escalating."

"O-oh." His face is red, as if it could ever stop being red, and you break into a grin when he nods sheepishly. "I-if you want..."

"I very much want." You nod quickly, dragging your nails along his upper arms and around to his shoulders. Goosebumps follow in your wake. "If you'll let me, I'd like to show you all the parts I love about you. But first?"

"M-mm?"

"Say 'yellow' if you need me to pause or 'red' if you want us to stop entirely, alright? The moment you want me to stop. If you aren't sure, 'yellow'. Please? I don't want to cross any boundaries with you."

"Safewords. Okay, I-I think I can do that. Yellow to pause or slow down, red to stop." He nods slowly, a determined pout on his face. You grin and shoot him an adoring gaze before returning to his neck, one hand finding his to intertwine your fingers. His hand trembles in your grasp, but when you squeeze his hand to reassure him, he's quick to squeeze back. "Green to keep going?"

You nod.

"Okay. I'm okay."

You're slow and careful as you begin to kiss down his body, trailing along his jaw and each shoulder. The pads of your fingers massage along the lines where the seams of his binder had been digging into his skin, eliciting shivers beneath your fingertips. Intermittently, he squeezes the hand you've kept intertwined with his, letting out shaky gasps when you drag your tongue back up to his neck.

"You're doing so well," you purr. It's hard to keep your free hand in one place–you drag it back up to indulge in the fluffy curls atop his head only a moment before lightly dragging your nails down his spine.

Next, you trail your lips back down to his chest, pausing to toy briefly with his chest as he lets out a cascade of moans. "[N-name]..."

"Mm?" Your eyes meet his innocently as you lathe your tongue over his nipple, your heart skipping at the lusty, adoring look on his face. You release him from your mouth with a small pop!, tilting your head. "Still good?"

"No, come back," he whines, tugging at your hand.

A giggle escapes you. "Well, since you asked so nicely..."

He shudders as you dive back in, switching to take his other nipple into your mouth. With your closest hand still occupied in holding his, you aren't able to play with the side you'd previously been kissing at, but Izuku doesn't seem to mind as he practically pushes his chest into your face with another gasp.

Soon, all too soon, you continue in your journey to kiss every inch of Izuku's body, palming at his chest and placing one soft kiss against a freckle situated just above his heart. You giggle when you feel his pulse jump beneath your lips before moving on, pressing kisses in a line down the center of his chest until you've found soft skin.

Your free hand finds his belt, toying with the buckle as you get off his lap and rest on the floor in front of him. "Color?"

He eyes you warily, running his thumb across your hand in a way that feels more like he's soothing himself than you. He doesn't answer.

"Izuku, I need to know if this is okay. If you don't answer, I'll stop."

"Y-yellow," he admits meekly. "I-I think it's easier if I don't think about it, but I just... I want this to happen but every second I'm reminded of all the ways this could end in you leaving me, a-and..."

You immediately move your hand away at his admission. "Thank you for telling me. You’re overthinking it, hun. I’m not gonna leave you. Can I help you at all?"

"Distract me?" He pouts at you, leaning down for a kiss. He's even so bold as to slip his tongue into your mouth as you fumble with his belt buckle one-handed, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down your bare back until you finally manage to get his belt unbuckled and his pants unbuttoned. Once he's unzipped, you smooth your hand over the small of his back, sitting up on your knees to press into the kiss.

Getting him out of his pants with one hand is a challenge, but you make it work, leaving him to toe off his socks and sit there in a loose pair of boxers, looking nervous and innocent and adorable but mostly just scared.

Now that you've got him mostly undressed, you can finally move back to your mission of making him feel utterly loved and working away that fear of his, littering his stomach and sides with tiny pecks and nibbles that have him giggling as he tries (and fails) to squirm away from your onslaught.

"Great job so far," you mumble, nuzzling your nose into his side playfully. "You're really brave, 'Zuku."

He gasps for air between his laughter, scarcely gaining enough time to breathe before you finally relent enough to let him catch his breath. "I love you," he pants out when he finally gets a chance to look down at you. "Thank you."

"I love you more~" you practically sing, punctuating your sentence by blowing a puff of air at his stomach. He squirms, trying not to laugh any more than he already has. You reach up, gently caressing his cheek, and he presses into your touch. "Color?"

Izuku gnaws at his lip. His face is flushed, cheeks flaming red as he pants. After a long moment that you can only imagine is filled with thoughts too fast for anyone else to understand if only they could hear, he speaks. "Green."

A single soft kiss as your hand slips beneath his boxers, giving his ass a teasing squeeze before sliding them off his legs. His tongue slips in your mouth and roams freely as your hand caresses his inner thigh, until all that's left for you to do other than tease him relentlessly is go for broke. You break free from the kiss, watching his face with a smile as you drag a single finger up his slit, finding his clit with ease once you dip between the folds.

No anxiety rears its head now. His jaw goes slack, eyes squeezed tight with pleasure as you slowly rub his slit, a red flush crawling from his cheeks and down his neck as he tries not to moan too loudly. "[n-name]~"

"Hm?" you purr, pausing your finger as it circles his dripping heat teasingly. "Do you need to stop, green bean?"

"N-no!" His eyes snap open, shooting you a pleading, desperate look. "P-please, green, I need more—"

You drop to sit on your knees in front of him, gently spreading his legs to sit between them. "If you're sure, baby. Thank you for asking nicely."

The only sound that escapes him when you finally, finally lean forward and dart your tongue between his folds is a drawn-out moan. Instantly, his free hand finds your head, tangling through your hair and pulling you close. You welcome the momentum, slipping your tongue inside him and using your thumb to rub small circles against his clit. He moans and writhes against your mouth, hips bucking so uncontrollably you're half-tempted to wrap your free arm around his waist and hold him down as you work him up. (If he didn't still have his fingers entwined with yours, you probably would.)

When it gets too much and you're running out of air, you pull back, panting and gazing down at him in appreciation as he whines. "[naaaaame], I was so—"

"Shh," you coo, replacing your tongue with two deft fingers. "I just need a sec to breathe. You're doing so well, Izuku."

His walls pulse around your fingers at your words, green eyes shining with tears that almost make you stop completely if not for the fact that he's still trying to fuck himself on your fingers. You curl them experimentally, brushing against a spongy spot inside him that has him keening and thrashing against you. You re-position clumsily, dragging him into a kiss to muffle his noises as you continue to assault his g-spot. It’d be bad if someone heard the two of you, after all.

It's not long after that that you manage to push him over the edge, his pleasured moans spilling into your mouth as his walls flutter around you. A scarred hand squeezes around yours tightly as he manages to babble your name. You pump your fingers into his dripping cunt just a little bit longer, giving him something to ride out his orgasm on until his moaning turns into whimpers and his hips still. You smile softly when, upon trying to pull away to sit in a less awkward position, he pulls you back to kiss you again

You slowly remove your fingers from him, taking the small window he gives you to sit beside him on the bed and kiss the scar on his hand. His shoulders shudder as you pull him into your lap and a tight hug. "You did so well, Izuku," you coo into his ear.

He sniffles and would have launched himself at you if not for the fact that he was already as close as he could get—his arms lock you into place, snuggling into you tightly as he sobs.

"Is everything okay, Izu? What’s got you upset, green bean?" You carefully wipe your fingers on the sheets before beginning to card your fingers through his hair.

"I-I don't—I don't know! I'm sorry, I—"

"Shh, it's okay. You're okay, Izu. You did so well." You begin to pepper his temples in light kisses.

"I-I always thought that—that I'd never get any of this. That if I ever—ever found someone like you and loved them and they actually loved me, that they'd never... 'cus I'm... f-for a lot of reasons, they wouldn't ever want to do anything like this with me," he babbles, finding every word more difficult to force out than the last. "They'd... they'd get to this point and then they'd realize that this isn't... that I'm not what they want. What they ever wanted. But... this is real. It is, isn't it?"

"It's real, Izuku."

He breaks at that. "Thank you. I'm sorry. I love you."

You patiently run your fingers through his hair, working through any knots you find and trying not to let yourself cry with him. "It's okay, baby. I love you too."

"I'm sorry," he repeats. Hot tears begin to drop onto your shoulder as he tries to bring himself even closer. "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for, honey," you insist. "Really."

"I-I never thought I'd be..." He trails off, lets out another sob.

Your heart wrenches, and you smooth your hand over his back. "Loved?"

His silence speaks volumes.

"Oh gosh, Izu." You want to hold him close, to kiss him until he forgets every self-deprecating thought he's ever had. But you're already holding him, already as close as you can get, and genuinely, if you see his face right now, it won't be long before you're also bursting into tears. So you stay there, rubbing circles into his back as you search for the words—any words—to help him understand just how you feel. "You know I love you, right? I said it earlier, and I'll say it as many times as you need me to."

"I love you too," he mumbles, his tears finally beginning to subside. You wriggle your way from him, just enough to press soft kisses to his face.

"I mean it. More than anything, I love you. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for being honest with me, and thank you for confiding in me." With every "thank you" and "I love you", you pause to press another kiss to his face. The wrenching in your chest finally subsides when, after the fourth tiny kiss, he lets out a giggle. "Thank you for existing, baby. I'm so fucking glad I met you, and even if we'd never done this, even if we'd never gotten together, I'd still be glad I met you. You're loved, Izuku, and I'll remind you every day, every hour, if you need me to. As often as it takes for you to never question it again."

"Thank you. Sorry."

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his nose. "Stop apologizing. We here at [name], Inc. are of the official opinion that Mister Izuku Midoriya has never done anything wrong, ever, and will not be accepting constructive criticism at this time."

Finally, a proper laugh bubbles from his throat, and he finds it in himself to smile at you—complete, adoring, loving. He even lets himself believe it as the two of you lay down cuddled up to each other.

As long as he's by your side, he thinks he can continue to believe it.

He's complete. Adored. Loved.

#midoriya izuku x reader smut #izuku midoriya x reader smut #deku x reader smut #trans izuku midoriya #bnha x reader smut #not sfw #my fics

844 notes · View notes

relaxxattack · 4 years ago

Note

(i dont care to do c! tags bc theres. so many characters. if i dont say cc! then im talking abt the characters) normally i am not one to think much about the syndicate bc outside of ranboo being there to protect tubbo the syndicate Frustrates me a bit but. if phil starts to realize just how fucked over tubbo got by schlatt being erased from the narrative (and especially how shittily techno has treated tubbo) then i really hope they lean into like. the fact that the syndicate may soon turn into phil, niki, ranboo, and possibly the mystery member (im including mystery member mostly because i think tubbo is on good terms with almost everyone except like. dream, possibly wilbur but we'll see, and like the eggpire ppl but none of them are likely options but it is possible that the mystery member could just be neutral) all like. wanting tubbo to be safe and phil is *just* reasonable enough that i think he'd realize how unfair it is for tubbo to have been subjected to so much shit just for techno to introduce even more fear and the need to hide in his life

like phil already keeps the bee duo marriage and michael a secret, he lets tubbo come over and while of course its mostly from the semi lore vibes phil seems vaguely fond of tubbo already (i dont think phil and tubbo have father/son vibes tho, more just like. tubbo is just That Kid that adults cant help but adore even though the kid will rob them of house and home. slightly amused elder watching a tiny fucking gremlin make sex jokes and talk about soviet russia), niki from what i remember still cares about tubbo (probably because she cant redirect any anger towards him without realizing how unjustified it would be kcnsks she can come up with excuses for hating tommy but tubbo didnt do anything that niki has a problem with outside of her maybe having a bad view on butcher army if she knows about it?), ranboo is. ranboo. i dont need to clarify. and then like said theres a very low possibility of the fifth member *disliking* tubbo or being unable to sympathize with him.

people talk a lot about how techno needs to lose in a way that he cant easily come back from without introspection and i think while the rest of the syndicate standing up for tubbo would increase technos grudge against tubbo initially its also like. something that i think would maybe force techno to see tubbo as a person because now theres nothing techno can box (haha gettit. tubbox tubbo in a box tubbo getting boxed into certain roles by people who refuse to let him out techno esp doin this teehoo) tubbo into that wouldnt just. acknowledge that tubbo is a person. hes not apart of the government anymore, not planning any failed revolution, the most negative title to his name is being one of the nuke makers but even then thats out of fear and safety and techno knows that. otherwise tubbos current crimes are nothing thats special to tubbo (like. stealing and searching for evidence in ppls homes and stuff, the latter of which techno doesnr even know about). right now tubbos a husband, a father, a friend, a kid, *ex*-government, a person. and just.

i think that with how much foreshadowing about tubbos execution no longer being a secret amongst the witnesses and tubbo himself and soon being something that people close to techno like phil and ranboo know about as well (in that i want phil to learn that techno did it and for ranboo to learn about it in general bc hes just biased enough for tubbo and just smart enough that i think even if somehow he wasnt told who did it he could figure it out), and with the fact that tubbos lore has been confirmed to now be something thats actively going to be played into? i think (or at least hope) that it might spur phil and techno into finally seeing tubbos side of the story (and probably also get into the possibility of tubbo opening up to tommy and ranboo but i do think realistically either tubbo will try to play it off/not truly open up about how much its effected him or tubbo will at first shut down or go into complete repression mode, especially if phil and ranboo get the story from other people rather than tubbo himself [but god do i hope they confront tubbo himself]. either those two or tubbo talks about his emotions through fucking snapping at something/someone like he did at quackity when reminded of his execution, which as long as its Not tommy or ranboo ill absolutely be cheering on him for)

which is all a very convoluted way of saying uhh. *grabby paws at the ccs currently involved in the arc of clearing up personal misconceptions about l'manberg (and especially tubbos involvement and how easily those around him judged him based off of their versions of the story)* tubbo lore? tubbo healing tubbo talking about his problems? characters learning to see him as a person and recognizing how traumatized he is and that hes not uneffected but actively repressing any effects? please? (also ending note as the cherry on top of this essay that im sorry for dropping into your inbox: im kind of glad that tommys healing arc and tubbos possible healing arc are going to happen at similar times but are still separate. something something its nice to see acknowledgement that tommy and tubbo wont heal in the same way and arent going to know how to help each other but theyre still going through it together. their arcs are intertwining without removing their individuality and as someone w major co-dependency issues its kind of nice idk. you can be there for someone and still acknowledge that you have your own things to go through too and that while you wont be alone you shouldnt force those around you to support you. the bench trio are all helping each other out of free will and genuine love for each other while still realizing they have some problems they arent ready to talk about yet that arent forced to the open because theyre all doing their best to handle each other with care and i just. bench trio my beloveds. the kids are alright.) -🎭🎪 (also as the actual end note if theres ever a need to refer to me as something other than the emojis mask or eyez works fine but the idea of my name being the emojis is also Very Funny to me so do what you will)

im working on my aperture camera college assignment rn and my brain is sort of fried so i dont have an intelligent answer, but i got the happy chemical reading this.

yeah. i think we all know here that my favorite character is tubbo, and i REALLY hope we get him addressing anything that’s happened to him in canon. pretty much all of what you said sounds very good. *grabby hands* spare tubbo lore? please? spare tubbo lore?

perhaps during the three weeks wilburs off in the fucking woods (/lh) we could have a the-others-find-out-what-happened-to-tubbo-(and in DETAIL)-arc. pleaseeeeeeeee and ty

#🎭🎪#lol #anonymous

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jasontoddiefor · 5 years ago

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anakin/hugs is my otp please give this man all the hugs ever he is so touch starved

Since you’re literally the only person in my inbox who suggested he get a hug instead of more pain, you get the first reply of the day.

Ahsoka knew that her apprenticeship was anything but ordinary. Her Master hadn’t picked her out of her clan after seeing qualities he thought he could nurture, but Ahsoka had been chosen by Anakin nevertheless. At the beginning of their partnership, she had had her doubts whether they had been truly made for one another or if Anakin wouldn’t see another Initiate at the temple when they were allowed shore leave and found somebody stronger, better. But her Master, unconventional as he might be, had picked her again and again. Perhaps bonds forged in the aftermath of tragedy and victory were stronger than any other. Nobody could doubt that when watching Obi-Wan and Anakin fight together. They continuously supported one another, made up for each other’s weaknesses and strengths.

Ahsoka wanted Anakin to be able to rely on her like that as well. She wanted, no, needed to be a pillar for him.

Now more than ever, or so it seemed.

Anakin had always been unusual. He was the Chosen One, even if he disliked the title and would prefer it if everybody just forgot about it. He also had a very loose relationship with the code and how a Jedi should conduct themselves in public. He taught Ahsoka mantras about while they were practicing ‘saber stances in mock combat. He also never had a problem with openly showing his affection. If anything, he had a hard time avoiding doting too much on the people he cared about. Whenever they had made it out of another bloodbath with death still clinging to them, the last words of dead soldiers still echoing in the Force, he made sure to hold her close.

“Stop listening to that,” he said. “Focus only on me.”

It was easier to let go of it all when Anakin’s warmth and heartbeat reassured her that this battle at least was over. They didn’t always win, they didn’t always lose. It was difficult to see a silver lining when every battle appeared to have the same result. But as long as enough people survived and they were still here, Ahsoka thought he could keep marching for another day.

Most Jedi divided their lives into before the war and after. Ahsoka couldn’t do that, not anymore. The peaceful days of her childhood seemed so far away. For her instead it was now before when Anakin was still alright and after when he was hurting. She didn’t entirely understand what had happened, why exactly he had collapsed on that battlefield. She had gathered the basics, learned about visions of a horrible future lived, but Ahsoka didn’t understand how it could be so horrible that her Master could forget how to walk and eat, treated his body like an extension of his blade.

“This lightsaber is your life,” he had said after she’d lost it for the first time in his presence.

Now it appeared as if he thought his life was the blade instead.

He still checked up on her, ensured that she was healthy, but even the softest and most gentle of touches made him uncomfortable and freeze up. It was easy to see how much he longed for contact, yet he seemed terrified of it. Ahsoka hated it. A good Jedi didn’t hate, but her lineage was made up of mavericks, even Master Obi-Wan. For all that he claimed to be the sane one, Ahsoka saw the looks other Jedi sent him when they thought he wasn’t looking. So Ahsoka figured this distance, this pain Anakin was experiencing, she could be allowed to hate.

For all that her emotions ran so deeply though, Ahsoka couldn’t bring herself to knock on Anakin’s door. She knew he was awake. She could count the hours she had caught him sleeping in the last weeks on two hands with fingers left over. It was ridiculous. She shouldn’t need comforting because of a stupid nightmare. She had had plenty of those since the war began. They didn’t even include any special warnings of the Force, just endless battlefields and ruined planets.

Mind already half-made up, Ahsoka turned around when the door suddenly opened. Anakin looked tired, he always did. The deep bags under his eyes had become pretty permanent and he had lost weight as well.

“Credit for your thoughts?” He said.

His voice was so flat. He made breaks in his sentences in regular intervals that made no sense to her and added a strange intonation to it all.

“I- I couldn’t sleep,” Ahsoka admitted. “I had a nightmare.”

She sounded like a helpless youngling, it was awful. She should be stronger than this. She was a Padawan already.

Anakin studied her, then stepped away from the door to let her inside, all while making sure that he was within arm’s length distance, never touching her.

Anakin’s bed was freshly made, or perhaps he had never even sat down in it. The sight offended Ahsoka so much, she decided to claim it for herself and dropped down on the blankets. Anakin meanwhile kept standing. That was another habit he had picked up since Ahsoka’s new divide.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

Ahsoka shook her head. She didn’t want to describe how she had seen Obi-Wan getting impaled on Grievous’s stolen lightsabers, Barriss being locked up and tortured, Anakin burning-

“Can I- can I have a hug?” Ahsoka’s voice sounded so small, even to herself.

Anakin’s eyes widened and surprise, fear, and apprehension took over his expression. That was another new thing. He couldn’t really keep the expressions he made under control. It was getting better already, but it was far from the usual calm and neutrality Jedi tried to show.

“Ahsoka, I’m not-“

“Please? I don’t want to be alone in my head.”

Silence followed her statement, then Anakin slowly sat down next to her. Their thighs were touching. He was so tense as if he was ready to bolt any second, afraid of being hurt or hurting her- she couldn’t tell. He put his arms around her shoulders and Ahsoka buried her face in the crook of his neck. She didn’t cry, didn’t want to show how everything was too much. Her shoulders trembled either way.

“Focus,” Anakin mumbled, half-order and half-plea. “Just focus on me. The universe becomes smaller. There is just this planet. Just this ship. Just this room. Just me. Focus on nothing but me. There are no nightmares here.”

Anakin’s hold on her slowly became a little tighter, a little more comfortable, a little more like the hugs they used to share.

They were going to get there again. Everything would be alright.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #medical trauma time travel au #fanfic #ask #anon #in this house we remember that Ahsoka is a child and should not be fighting a war #anyway they are a FAMILY #and ahsoka is worried about her space big brother/dad/jedi master #Anonymous

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tmngoose · 4 years ago

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Cause for Concern: an OC one-shot

Alternate Title: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Rikki, Red Fox, Jupiter Jim, Clem, Rikki's mom (mentioned) Tags: ANGST, Anxiety, Distress, Poor familial relationships, Abuse, Minor Injuries/bruising/scabs, Hurt/Comfort, Blanket forts, Lots of comforting, Additional Tags to be added... Summary: Rikki gets a letter in the mail and Red has a right to worry. Word Count: ~1,799 -x- A/N: I know what you're thinking. "Goosey! This isn't any of the updates you promised us >:C what's up with this OC baloney?" -- Ok, yes, but listen; I wrote this mainly to practice writing Red Fox and Jupiter Jim since I'll be (ahem) writing them very soon for a certain somethin'-somethin' (Also? I need to update Let's Make a Deal and this was good practice to get back into writing for Rikki). I won't be uploading this to my Ao3. Read Cause for Concern under the read more:

It started with a letter—a small black envelope that came in with the rest of the mail: the bills, the take-out menus, and the weekly Stock and Shop circulars.

It was addressed to Rikki, which was odd to Red since Rikki never received mail; at least nothing intimate.

"Hey, Rikki! You got mail today!" Red said as soon as the mongoose returned from her shift at Clem's. She presented Rikki with the black envelope, her tail swishing excitedly.

"That's for me?" Rikki raised a brow.

They settled down at the kitchen table. Red sat across from Rikki, who examined the mysterious piece of mail. There was no return address, and the envelope was perfumed with something that made Rikki's nose wrinkle. She turned the envelope over, and that was when she saw it; the ivory wax seal depicting the image of fang—her family's crest.

Red's grin shrank as Rikki tensed, the color draining from her face, "Well? Who's it from, Rik?"

"It's… ah…," Rather than answering Red, Rikki reached for their salt shaker and unscrewed the metal cap. She poured a perfect circle onto the wooden surface, then dropped the envelope into its center.

Suddenly, it burst into a column of purple flames.

"Oh, my stars!" Red gasped. Her red banded-tail morphed into a giant hand and reached into the cabinet under the sink for the fire extinguisher.

"Don't worry, it'll put itself out," stated Rikki, unbothered by the phenomena. "It's a hex message."

"A 'hex message?'" Red furrowed her brow as the flames flickered before them, contained within the circle of salt. "I've heard of chain letters cursing folks, but this is just plain rude! Who would do such a thing?!"

"My mom."

"Oh," Red's tail twitched. It was a touchy subject they never discussed, mainly because Rikki avoided any conversation regarding family relations—especially if they were about her mother.

When the purple flames disappeared—embers and all—a scorch mark was left behind; Rikki buffed it out with the sleeve of her hoodie. Now that the letter was 'cleansed,' she sliced open the side of the envelope with her claw and emptied a folded piece of parchment into her hand.

The apartment fell silent as Rikki read the letter. Red knew better than to pry, even if the suspense kept her at the edge of her seat.

"Mom wants me to come home—for a visit, not to stay," Rikki grimaced, "She wants to 'talk.'"

"When?" Red asked while Rikki calmly tore the letter into tiny squares.

"A-sap," Rikki brushed the bits of paper into her palm and stuffed them inside the pouch on her hoodie. She went over to the tiny coat closet by the front door and retrieved an old backpack that would suffice as an overnight bag.

"W-wait, you're leaving now?" Red pushed back her chair. Her stomach twisted, and a feeling of dread penetrated her bones. She had no idea where the influx of anxiety came from, but it was enough to get her fur to stand on end.

Rikki shrugged, "I can't keep the lady waiting."

"What about work?"

"I'll tell Clem somethin' came up. Besides, that's what PTOs are for..."

"Is everything alright?" Red's ears flattened, perturbed. "You're not in trouble, are you?" Why would she think Rikki was in trouble? Maybe Rikki's mother always communicated via hex messages. Perhaps that was just how yūrei's spoke to one another; a cultural thing.

Rikki didn't answer. She quietly stuffed her toiletries into a plastic baggie, then went into her bedroom to gather a change of clothes. The silence between them only told Red that she was right to fret about her roomie's well-being.

"… It's nothing, Red," Rikki answered, slipping her headphones around the back of her neck. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

Red's unconvinced by the string of reassurance; they sound a lot like empty promises, "Rikki…."

"Red, I'll be fine," Rikki crammed her chargers and electronics into the small pocket of her backpack. "I should be back sometime soon-ish. We'll order sushi and throw ourselves a little party, ok?"

"… okay," Red stepped out of Rikki's way, reluctantly letting the mongoose pass by. She escorted Rikki to the elevator down the hall and playfully elbowed her in the arm, "Call me if you need back-up, yeah?"

"Whatever floats your goat, space ace," Rikki snorted as she waited for the elevator's arrival. She slung her bulky backpack over her shoulder, "And speaking of goats, I better call Clem…."

Rikki forced a smile as the elevator doors slowly closed. Red saw past the mongoose's attempt at feigning confidence; the distant, fearful look in her eyes gave her away. Red suppressed the urge to summon the elevator and prevent Rikki from leaving.

Red told herself that it was all in her head, the idea that nothing good would come from Rikki's trip to her mother's. She knew Rikki could take care of herself.

Rikki will be back before you know it, Red thought to herself. It'll be alright. I'm sure her mother's a lovely person...

__________

Rikki didn't come home the next day. Or the following day. Or the day after that. When Red tried reaching Rikki on her cell phone, her attempts led her directly to the mongoose's inbox.

Not even Clem heard from Rikki, although he was instructed to 'use her sick days if she ran out of PTO.'

Red kept herself busy with menial chores to steel her nerves and stop her imagination from crafting worst-case scenarios. When she wasn't cleaning the apartment, the yōkai volunteered at the community theater, ran errands, and hunted for Scor-Pion with Jupiter Jim.

"Why so blue, Red?" Jupiter Jim asked during one of their stakeouts atop the eccentric actor's apartment building. "You mustn't let Scor-Pion get you down. The elusive fiend will show himself soon enough!"

"It's not that," Red sighed. "It's my roomie/friend! She's been gone for almost a week, and I've lost all forms of direct communication with her! And even if I wanted to go searching for her, I have no idea where she could be!"

"Hm, that is quite the predicament. I wouldn't be surprised if Scor-Pion is behind your friend's mysterious disappearance!"

"I doubt it…," Red peered through her binoculars and scanned the city's skyline, hoping to spy Rikki. She perked up when she felt Jupiter Jim's hand clasp onto her shoulder, "Sir?"

"Have faith in your friend," Jupiter Jim consoled. "The universe is a vast place, yet we all find our way home sooner or later. We must welcome the weary when they return, but to do so, it's crucial to keep our spirits high."

Red smiled weakly at the profound piece of wisdom, "Thank you, Sir."

The mood was ruined when Jupiter Jim mistook an old lady with a green skin complexion as Scor-Pion. Fortunately, Red's prehensile tail was strong enough to hold the space adventure back from ambushing the strange senior citizen.

If only Red used her tail to keep Rikki from leaving...

_____________

It was Wednesday night. Red had finished washing the dishes and was now standing at the kitchen counter, prepping vegetables for dinner. She was so preoccupied with peeling potatoes that she failed to notice someone unlocking the front door.

And that someone was Rikki.

"Hey, I'm back," Rikki announced as she closed the door behind her.

"Rikki!" Red exclaimed, dropping the potato peeler and spud into the sink. She ran over to Rikki and hugged her tightly, "Leaping light-years, you have no idea how worried I was! You didn't call or text, and Clem said—"

Red froze. Her eyes darted from Rikki's black eye to the bruise on her cheek. Several small knicks speckled the side of her brow. They were scabs now, but the implication that Rikki had bled was still there.

So this was the kind of relationship Rikki had with her mother: a bad one.

Rikki isn't put off by the horrified look on Red's face, "Honestly? It's not as bad as it looks. In fact, I think things went better than I expected." She tried maintaining a modest tone, but it faltered.

I knew I shouldn't have let you go, Red frowned. Hesitantly, she tried reaching up to touch the bruise on Rikki's cheek.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Rikki said as she casually ducked away from Red's hand. "I had to take the long way back, and I'm kinda gross. Do you need the bathroom?"

"N-No, you go ahead. I'm making stew for dinner. Would you like some?"

"Naaah. I'm not that hungry…."

Red nodded, "Copy that." She watched Rikki's bushy tail drag across the floorboards on her way towards the bathroom.

The universe is a vast place, yet we all find our way home sooner or later…

"Hey, Rikki?"

"Hmm?"

"Welcome home…"

It's such a warm, simple greeting, yet it meant so much to Rikki. She got as far as the hallway before she grabbed onto the wall for support. She sank to the floor and curled in on herself, trembling.

In a split-second, Red's beside her. She held Rikki close, protecting her by wrapping her striped tail around her body. She never heard Rikki cry before; the mongoose is quiet with the occasional whimper that breaks Red's heart.

Red held her tighter, "… We can still order sushi if you want…."

Rikki sniffled, "Yeah, I-I'd like that."

"Heh heh, good! Honestly, I was getting tired of peeling all those potatoes!"

_____________________

Stacks of aluminum take-out containers are left on the kitchen table with empty plastic cups of soy sauce. They make good on their promise to throw themselves a party. So Red and Rikki dragged their mattresses out from their bedrooms and constructed a blanket fort around them.

Once their nightly bathroom rituals are completed, they pile into their fort. Red noticed a few more bruises on Rikki's forearms that were previously hidden by the mongoose's hoodie.

"Clem said he'd give me the day off tomorrow," Rikki said as she slid her phone underneath her pillow. "I told him I had a rough trip. He understands."

"Aw, that's nice of him," Red yawned as she rolled onto her side, facing Rikki. Goodness gracious, who would've thought all this worrying could be so exhausting...

"Hey, Red?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," apologized Rikki, her voice hoarse. She stared up at the canopy of mismatched blankets and bedsheets, "I'm sorry I didn't keep you in the loop..."

"Don't worry about it, Rik," Red scooched over towards Rikki, "I understand."

They nestled against each other, their tails entwined--another layer of comfort. Red felt obligated to ensure Rikki fell asleep and didn't stay awake to think about whatever cruelties she endured at her mother's. Only when Red was sure Rikki was fast asleep did she finally allow her eyelids to shutter.

#rottmnt oc #Rikki #rottmnt Red Fox #Jupiter Jim #rottmnt Clem #(not a shipping fic! they are just roomies who care about each other I swear to pizza supreme in the sky)#tmngoosepost #tmngoosefic

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ktheist · 5 years ago

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saving grace | 5

muses. duke!yoongi x lady!reader

universe. arranged marriage / minor traces of magic in history

concept. driven into a corner with the new king, seokjin, offering to marry you off to a prince in a foreign land and a persistent mother who would seize the chance of a lucrative marriage for her daughter, you’re forced with the only other option to secure your freedom ‒ enter into a beneficial agreement with the man who reaped the seeds of war, the duke of cralon, yoongi min.

words. 6.7k

warnings. mentions of war, it’s cliche and cheesy all in one package

index. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / finale

after your return from the min mansion, your mother, ever the loving parent, greets you at the door. her bright smile can be seen from miles away as she stands with her hands planted on her hips like someone who’s looking at her life’s worth investment.

“well?” she urges with an unfaltering smile.

“well?” you blink once, head lulling to the side as you stare at her for an explanation.

“don’t pretend to be ignorant,” she clicks her tongue but the contorted expression on her face is short lived as the smile returns, its force almost compelling you to take a step backwards, “did you two-”

“oh, ___, you’re back. i heard that you stayed the night at the duke’s.” your father, having emerged out of his office on the second floor calls for you and for some reason causes the woman in front of you to freeze as though haunted by guilt.

oh.

with a disarming smile, you wave at your father before recounting the reason you couldn’t go back right away after the party, “oh yes, it’s because mo-”

“i’m sure our daughter’s hungry, i’ll have the chef prepare something right away and in the mean time, we’ll be having tea in my parlor,” with that, the woman who has her hand clasped over her mouth whisks you away and into a narrow corridor right under where your father was standing.

huffing, she fixes you a displeased frown, “gosh, i only wanted to help my beloved daughter secure a good future!”

“mother!” hands planted on your hips, you fix your mother an incredulous look, “by getting rid of any other means for me to leave the mention in hopes i’d seduce the duke to sleep with me and get him to marry me quickly in fear for my being pregnant with an out-of-wedlock child?” your shoulder line are stiff as you watch your mother not even batting an eye at the issues arising within that narration and instead grins in approval at what seems to be a mutual understanding between a mother and a daughter.

“i knew you were smart!”

not wishing to burst her bubble of joy, you excuse yourself to your room, saying the fatigue of hosting a garden party hasn’t entirely left you just yet. fortunately, she the matter of whether you’ve spent the night in yoongi’s room has dissipated in the air as she wishes you a good rest before murmuring something about writing a letter to marchioness jung to invite her to tea or rather, to boast about the daughter that’s marrying the duke who’s several ranks higher than a count’s.

you wonder how she would react once your matchmaking succeeds and krystal ends up becoming a candidate as seokjin’s queen but you decide that your mother’s wounded pride would be a matter of a future that you need not yet concern yourself with.

“leslie, prepare to go to vivian’s.” you question as the maid pulls down on the zip of your dress and allow you to step out of it until you’re staring at the woman in a white underdress in front of the mirror.

“but my lady, that boutique is...” the woman trails off, eyes slanted to the ground in search for the proper words to describe the handiwork.

you’re not entirely sure why she’s against it either but if there’s anything leslie’s good at, it’s being meticulous in her tasks which includes making sure you don only the best clothes, “don’t worry, i won’t be buying the engagement dress there. i just wish to confirm something.”

with that, her eyes lights up and for some reason, the same way your mother does when she offhandedly commends your ability to think just now, “right away, my lady!” the beam doesn’t go away nor so much as falter throughout the ride.

“we’re here to see mademoiselle vivian for my lady’s engagement party,” leslie approaches the worker that greets you when you came in.

you don’t miss the stare shot your way as you study the dresses wrapped around the mannequins until his jaw drops, possibly from the realization of who you are, “r-right this way, lady ___.”

the room you’re brought in is furnished with leather couches and extravagant patterns on its walls and curtains that make you wonder if there is such a thing as illegally pairing colors together.

only the higher ranking aristocrats, namely those from count families and above, would be able to afford clothes made by mademoiselle vivian, a foreign woman from a country across the seas who moved to cearis in search for a lover she’d met and fell deeply in love with but up until now, she still hasn’t found said lover.

or so the story goes.

perhaps it was a selling point to catch the eyes of helpless romantics - rich ones at that. but either way, she’s proved her talent through her intricate designs that time and time again sets off a new trend when a fairly influential noblewoman goes to a gathering in the dress she makes.

it’s no secret that krystal is a loyal customer to vivian’s. but then again, it has more to do about her looks than the dresses she wear. not that it matters to vivian because she’ll be dropping names of noblewomen who ordered dresses from her to gain trust from new customers.

but you’re not here for that.

“are the designs not to your liking, lady ___?” the woman’s bespectacled eyes bore into you after you let out a troubled sigh, eyebrows pulling together as though in deep dilemma.

“no, no, they’re all beautiful,” you let your words hang in the air for suspense before setting down the catalog and turning your whole body towards the woman, “it’s just... i want something that makes a statement, you see.”

“a statement...” she echoes.

“something like...” you murmur to yourself while she echoes your very words a second later.

“...a dress that tells other ladies that they can’t compare without being loud!” you clap your hands together, pleased that you’ve found the words you’ve been searching for.

it takes a moment of the woman burning a hole into the catalog of her designs while you take a sip of the lavender tea. it’s harder to find such tea and fewer can afford it because of the limited import and the high tax rate imposed seeing as only well-off nobles would usually have them at homes.

“i see it now,” she seems to have returned from a walk down the rabbit hole of laces and ribbons, “i don’t usually recommend this since the ladies that come to my shop need a little bit of help standing out - and my dresses do just that but! i think simpler designs would fit you and enhance your beauty like lady jung.”

you mentally cheer at the mention of the name, adding in a blink of surprise, “do you mean... krystal?”

“oh yes, she has the beauty of a crescent moon. a mysterious allure that attracts men and women alike...” vivian drones on with glazed eyes as though she’s descended over to another realm where the walls are tower high and plastered with krystal’s portraits posing in different dresses and her cat-like eyes seem to move wherever one goes.

“...but it’s a shame that her engagement with duke gillmore’s son’s been cancelled!” she ends with a dejected sigh as her shoulder line falls.

“the engagement’s been cancelled?” the fruit of your visit is turning ripe by the second as you clasp a hand over your ‘o’ shaped mouth.

almost as though realizing her slip up, vivian’s own hand shoots up to her mouth but for a different reason than yours, “oh, i shouldn’t be telling you this that since it’s not officially announced yet,” she meets your gaze with a hint of sparkle in them, whatever remorse she felt for revealing what isn’t due, has dissipated into the air, “bit to think the dress i made specifically for her engagement party would not be seeing the light of the day! it pains me so!”

the gillmores are the fourth and last of the ducal houses with the mins being the first and strong supporter of the royal family for hundreds of years. understandably, only two of the houses bear marriageable heirs to the title but with yoongi taking on the name grim reaper, naturally marquis jung would never allow krystal to marry him which leaves duke gillmore’s son as the only available candidate.

that was... until the crown prince who was engaged to a foreign princess was heartlessly murdered by his half-blooded brother. judging from how objective driven krystal is, she must have her eyes set on a bigger price than becoming duchess of the gillmore’s dukedom. and coincidentally so, as vivian mindlessly laments, the engagement was said to be cancelled two months ago which is around the same time seokjin must have called her to have her spread the rumor about you and yoongi’s engagement.

“my lady, have you gotten what you came here for?” the woman sitting across from you in the carriage finally breaks the silence after loyally following your lead as you bid vivian a half-hearted farewell because ‘i’ve realized i can’t make decisions like this on my own! please have the catalogs to the min residence. i’ll review them with my fiancee once he gets back.’

“leslie,” you feel a smile bloom across your face, “we’ve got ourselves a queen.”

for the rest of the week, you find yourself swarmed with letters and invitations to more social gatherings. back then, when you were just a marquis’ daughter and not a duke min’s fiance, invitations have not been scarce yet they’ve never been this overflowing. white envelops with varying house seals litter the white table in front of the window each day. before you can even finish reading those that accumulated in the inbox yesterday, a new bulk would have gathered by the end of today.

so when you hear the knock on your door, you don’t even bother asking who it was, only a short, “come in.”

in your engrossment in reading a letter sent from irene, you fail to notice the lack of footsteps after the noticeable click of the door swinging open and then shutting until it’s too late.

a black gloved hand props itself on the table while another gently settles on your shoulder, a distinctive scent of mint filling your senses. but the husky voice drumming in your ears is no stranger to you,“you’ve been busy.”

“yoongi!” the letter almost slips out of your hand as you crane your neck to gaze into a familiar pair of crimson eyes. but the surprise is short-lived as you become unnervingly aware of how close your faces are, so much so, you can feel his hot breath on your lips.

judging from how he still has his cloak and the formal knight uniform, he must have rode straight to your mansion after entering the boarders of the dukedom. why he chooses to do so, you don’t wish to indulge in.

“w-welcome back, how was the-” the words die on your throat as the coolness of his gloved thumb grazes your bottom lip.

you barely register the delicate “i missed you, ___,” that’s spoken within the minute space between his lips and yours before he closes the distance.

you’ve known those pink lips were soft from the kisses he leaves on the back of your hand but having them on yours are a separate matter altogether. it feels almost unfair that he’s the one who initiated the kiss but wouldn’t go further than a feather light peck before he pulls away, almost as though he thinks you’d break under the slightest pressure.

the faintest smile graces his features as though content to have felt you, to know that you’re not a dream. but on your part, it’s not enough and it will never be once you’ve had a taste of what sweet sacrilege tastes like.

you don’t have the time to admire the way those usually unbothered eyes widen, taken aback as your arm wraps around his neck, locking him within a birdcage large enough for him to stretch his wings but too small for him to escape.

when you break apart for air, you indistinctly register the burning sensation on your lips until yoongi’s eyes slants over them, finger hooked under your chin as he apologizes, “i might’ve been too rough.”

you’re not quite sure what he means, choosing to ignore such statements because he was every bit gentle - passionate, is a whole different story that you rather not think about as you invite him to sit in the chair across from you but instead, he drags it around and plops next to you. your knee brushes against his from time to time but you rather like the feeling of having a part of him touching you one way or another.

“your mother led me to your room,” he says simply, “i assumed you’d been informed.”

almost as though your mother’s scheming smile is ingrained in your head, you barely bat an eye at yoongi’s words as you sarcastically mutter, “i’m sure it must’ve slipped her mind.”

when leslie comes in with snacks, her lingering stare on your face does not go unnoticed but her free smile allows you to shake off the matter almost instantly.

“the inspection resulted in a graver findings,” yoongi apprises, blood red eyes holding your gaze as his next words sends a spear piercing through your heart, “we found children in the basement of the granary. the count’s been involved in human trafficking - nobody knows yet and the knights won’t say a word but once i report this to seokjin, it’ll be the only thing the capital will talk about for awhile.”

no nobility has ever truly lived an honest and clean life. if one were to dig even just the surface of a noble family’s activities, it isn’t hard to find corruption, bribery and even explanation to murders but to have been involved with human trafficking...

the smiling faces of the orphanage not too far from your mansion, flash at the back of your mind. the children had been in the poorest condition the first time you met them. but over time, they’d gained strength from the supplies you’d brought monthly and would come running to you and seokjin whenever you visited. it’s been awhile since you saw them after seokjin’s coronation and the distribution of supplies had been done by the people from the palace with the help of the servants from your house. the circumstances has significantly improved over the year but the thought of someone going as far as exploiting young children, those who were supposed to be under his care and protection makes your stomach churn.

you should have known. should have looked deeper into the activities of that degenerate count-

“not matter how much resource you have, you couldn’t have seen this coming.” the arms that wrap around your body are warm as they pull you flush against a chest. you don’t even realize you have your hands clenched into fists and trembling for the longest time until your shoulder line sags and all the strength inside your body seems to seep out your pores. if yoongi hadn’t held you, you would have hit the ground. either because of unbridled rage or unadulterated hopelessness.

you’re not sure how long time has passed with him holding you in his arms, but you don’t allow yourself the time to mope around more than you should. when you pull away, yoongi seems to have already expect the words that come out of your mouth, “i’ll make sure he’s stripped of his title and so are the people around him who stayed quiet.”

“i don’t doubt your capability,” his thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand, “but that would mean punishing every single commoner in his territory.”

the sound of your gritting teeth drums in your ears as your jaw sores, “they probably didn’t have anyone to turn to when their own lord was behind the atrocities plaguing their village,” a lump forms in your throat, you can only imagine the state the children were found in.

a hand wraps around yours, thumbs smoothing over each of your palms, “you saved them. if you hadn’t thought to suggest the trade, we wouldn’t have a solid reason to inspect the park family’s territory.”

“it was all his doing- he burst out first,” you swallow thickly, “i just reaped the seed he planted.”

a sigh drums in your ears, forcing you to look up and meet the duke’s molten gaze as his shoulder line falls. almost as though he’s surrendering to a fight he knows won’t be in his favor, “no words i say can possibly lift the heavy burden off your chest.”

you don’t deny it.

“would you like to come with me to the palace? i’ll be heading there in three day’s time to report our findings to the king,” his eyes doesn’t seem to search through the windows of your soul, perhaps because he’s learned that he’ll reach a dead end - a wall of thorns. the only way he’ll ever figure you out is if you let him through.

but he at least knows your answer if he’s leaning back against the chair, almost as though he’s turning his back on the wall and chose to tread back to the direction he came from, “i’ll pick you up some time at noon.”

yoongi is reluctant to leave the mansion - or rather, you. the look in his eyes when he looks back at you before mounting his horse, reminds you of the puppy you had when you were a child. she would always rub her head on your leg whenever she saw you dolled up to leave for a party your mother was taking you to. as though begging you not to leave. but she’d always been the first to ligh up when she saw you alight the family carriage when you returned.

you find yourself stepping past the doors of the mansion where you’d intend to wave him off and coming to a stop a few feet away from the horse, “yoongi, can i visit you tomorrow?”

the faint smile breathes fire into your soul as those blood red eyes bore into you like a molten lava, “i was hoping you would. every single day until we get married, in fact.”

it is only after you watch the sleek black stallion disappear through the gates and into the streets, do you notice the maids who have gathered at the doors since the beginning. but their huddled forms as they swoon is the least of your concern.

“so something finally happened.” your mother gathers, nodding in approval as you walk past her with full intention to minimize the interaction - you’ve still not forgiven her for failing to alert you of yoongi’s arrival but even if you quiz her about it, she wouldn’t be able to see the wrong in her actions even if it’d slapped her in the face-

“was that your first kiss as a couple?”

whirling around on your heels, you feel the heat creep up your cheeks almost instantly, “mother! wh-what are you talking about? a-and in front of the maids at that!”

it seems that’s all the answer she needs as she laughs to herself, “dear daughter, i’ve been alive longer than you- you think i would believe you if you said that cut on your lips was from you walking into something?”

“what cut-” the memory of yoongi’s unsettling closeness floods your mind before his peculiar apology echoes in your ears, ‘i might’ve been too rough.’

five minutes later, after you all but sprinted to your room and made a beeline towards the mirror that stands a head taller than you beside your bed, does a bloodcurdling scream fill the recesses of the mansion.

“luckily, it’s just a minor cut, my lady,” leslie assures, her ever smiling features doing better to calm your rapidly beating heart and increasing bashfulness than your mother ever could.

you silently weep at the minute red line on your bottom lip. she’s right. it’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of cut and barely stings as you lather a thin sheen of healing ointment the woman brought after you requested it.

“this is humiliating,” you announce, holding a half-hearted vendetta towards the man whose eyes occasionally glaze over your lips during his visit but choose not to say anything else besides a cryptic indication of his lack of self-restraint.

it takes a whole evening of refusing to have dinner at the dining room and a pity party for yourself with flower petals for the muscles in your body to finally relax.

“what of the report i asked you to gather?” you quiz, hearing the pitter patter of someone’s footsteps going around the bathroom.

“most of them come up with similar information - nothing my lady does not know,” leslie’s fluttery voice reverberates against the walls.

“as expected, i’ll have to ask consult seokjin,” the sound of your teeth gritting drums in your ears, “the thought of him getting so smug just because i had to go to him makes me nauseous.”

with the issue human trafficking coming to light, it seems you can’t go around investigating about the nobles as you please, nor can any of your maids be seen asking around about it. discussing the matter with seokjin and gathering the intel you both have to unravel the nobles’ hidden trails would be a more reasonable course of action since they’ll be on high alert of yoongi since he was the one who brought the crime to light. from now on, even your movements might be closely watched.

yoongi bursts into your room the next day in a similar manner - unannounced - with a sort of expression you can’t pinpoint.

“don’t tell me my mother-” at first, you’re just about ready to storm to your mother’s room like a child throwing a tantrum until yoongi refutes, “i let myself in, the countess wasn’t around and the butler was too powerless to stop me.”

it takes you a moment to register what you heard, an image of the old family butler flashing at the back of your head. perhaps, it’s because it’s been awhile since you’ve been on the receiving end of yoongi’s frightening glare that you forget just how terrifying it is.

you’re suddenly pulled out of your thoughts when a hand tilts your chin upwards, leaving you with no other choice but to study the yoongi’s handsome face as he inspects the cut.

“i’m sorry,” the ghost of his touch burns your skin as takes a seat in the chair next to you, “i should have been more gentle.”

silence stretches on for the longest moment as you gather your words and sort out your thoughts but most importantly, you make sure to sound nonchalant about it, “you don’t have to... i liked how you kissed me.”

your mistake is letting your eyes roam up to his at the low hum that escapes him. a smirk curls on his lips as he gazes at you with his head propped against his hand, “should we do it again?”

“th-that-!” you hastily reply only to stop dead as the words get stuck in your throat. averting your gaze to the italic writings on the paper, you murmur, “...i’m not opposed to the idea.”

true to your words, you too easily comply when his gloved finger twirls the end of the ribbon around your neck, pulling you to him until your lips meet. a familiar sense of butterfly bursts in your stomach as you savor the taste of something sweet like chamomile tea on his lips.

for the rest of the day, you spend it by walking down the same street you did when he whisked you away from a dreadful tea party held by your mother right after the rumor of your engagement was confirmed by you dancing together at the ball. except now, you’re wearing a black hat with a veil covering your almost healed lips.

the day you’re to meet seokjin, the carriage with the min crest rolls into your residence some time a little past noon. not matter how many times he’s shown his unfaltering interest towards you, you can’t help but be surprised. today, he’s donned in his black and golden yellow knight uniform, signaling the formal business he has with his the monarch of the kingdom.

he presses his lips to your gloved knuckles, murmuring a soft, “how have you been?” as if reserved only for you and him.

“better,” you say, holding in a chuckle when his blood rushes to his cheeks and paints them red at your next words, “now that you’re here.”

you don’t miss the way he peeks at something over your shoulder, possibly where your parents stand at the doorway you just passed through. the chuckle you’ve become familiar of and rings like chimes hits the air, “___, why don’t we quickly get into the carriage and away from the count and countess’ eyes?”

“careful, duke,” a grin spreads across your face, hidden underneath the fan you hold just below your cheekbones, “if one were to overhear, we’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”

and yet you don’t delay stepping into the carriage and plopping down next to the window where you can still see your father’s gentle smile that contrasts greatly with your mother’s deep frown.

“no! you absolutely will not go!” she hadn’t meant the palace - or perhaps, she did mean the palace since seokjin is the one who’ll ultimately decide whether you have permission to travel to-

“yoongi,” your fingers curl around the hand on your cheek, breath coming out heaved and eyes barely focusing as you pull away from the aforementioned man.

he doesn’t seem like he’s interested in a conversation but he’s not chasing after your lips either, almost as though his conscience is telling him to be the gentleman he’s raised to be and listen but the beast in his eyes is restless to continue devouring your lips.

so you go on, “i’m going to ask for seokjin’s permission to travel to the park family’s territory.”

the hand in your grasp remains still so does his entire body. the only indication that he’s affected at all is the way those crimson eyes widen with surprise, “what?”

almost as though belatedly registering the weight of your words a second later, he falls to the spot next to you, the legs cradling both your sides leaving you and even with these layers of clothes, you begin to feel the cold creep onto you, “sure,” he begins after what seems like a moment of pondering, “it’ll take a day at most to gather the knights but a royal notice takes at least three days to arrive-”

“i don’t need them... knights, royal notices... you might as well announce our arrival with horns,” you pause, studying the man’s gaze as it bores into you whilst you meet him head on. your deepset hesitance and worries still hovers over you like a haunting ghost, but you don’t want to keep any more secrets, “there’s something i need to tell you about my mother’s side of the family.”

your mother was from a nameless baron family. nobody truly knew them until she’d made her debut and started mingling with high society. just like you, she was the only daughter. the lineage was to end with her had it been just another penniless noble family.

“they run an informant group and call themselves the kairos,” the carriage shakes, as though trembling with fear at the mention of that name. you would have thought yoongi had known all along - that seokjin had told him, if not for the briefest twitch of his eye, “they supply information for anyone who’s willing to pay but keep an eye for those asking for information that could threaten the royal family - even though the queen was a noblewoman who married into the royal family, my mother, the leader then had been reporting to her up until...”

up until the bells that hung high in the tower at the entrance of the palace rung somberly that day.

all of a sudden, the sun that seemed to shine brighter than diamonds underneath the sky started shutting everybody out, including her husband and daughter. there were times when the door to her study was wedged open just the slightest bit. your mother who had noticed the creak of the hinges that needed oiling, wiped her tears and held her arms out for you.

the 10-year-old you didn’t understood what she meant when she promised she’d started living for you.

all you knew was, that was the point where she started becoming more present in your life. it took you another few years to learn that your family, greatly influenced by the countess rather than the count, had taken a full on neutral stance on the political matter and the rising rumor about the half-bred prince against the crown prince for the throne.

and a few more, after meeting said half-bred prince, to convince your mother to trust you for the decision you were about to make as the leader of kairos - to support seokjin as the next king no matter what it takes.

“i thought we eliminated scums like jimin as soon as seokjin took the throne but...” the words seem to be lodged in your throat, unable to slip past your lips.

yoongi heaves out a sigh, legs stretching over the space between the seat you’re on and the one across from it as he slumps against the cushioned backrest, silver hair brushing against his brows as crimson eyes stare at the cushioned ceiling, “so it was you? the one who tipped us about the king’s illegitimate son being sent to the battlefield?”

the war yoongi had been in had ceded faster than expected - though his victory was as sure as the ground you walk on. it was because yoongi and his men managed to single out the the warring king’s beloved son who he was forced to send to war because the palace had been a different battlefield that he still couldn’t fight, and held him as a war prisoner until the king surrendered.

“one of the enemy kingdom’s spy managed to infiltrate the palace and knew of our reputation from one of the maids who was sent by them since three years ago - we managed to dig out some information from him that not many outsider knew about before we eliminate him,” you muttered simply, the scream of the faceless spy had drummed in your ears and chilled you to the bones. unlike you who had to turn away in the last minute, seokjin had looked at the man’s eye whilst he thrust his sword into the spy’s gut.

he’d only sat on the throne for a month then but it was far from his first kill.

"when we first found the basement where the kids were held captive,” yoongi rasps somberly, “i was glad you didn’t come with - it wasn’t something i want engraved into your head.”

“i understand your wish to protect me from the viciousness of the world,” you slip your hand underneath the gap between his palm and knee, making him crane his neck to look at you, “i would’ve done the same thing even if you’d already seen them all at war but that protection we wish to cast upon each other only serves to paint a faux image of daisies and rainbows - an unrealistic euphoria.”

“your want to change things with your own hands will never cease, it seems,” he comments, crimson eyes clouded with a sort of reluctance yet he presses a kiss to your forehead, “we’re different in that aspect - you and i.”

“how so?” perhaps it’s the obvious question you’re asking the grim reaper that makes him laugh and flick your forehead right after he kissed it, perhaps it’s the childlike wonder but he explains it anyway, “you grasp fate at its neck and threaten to throw the entire world into chaos if it doesn’t let you decide your own path, and i...” callous thumb caresses your gloved knuckles, “...i follow mine with contempt and despise the goddess for the cursed blood that runs through my vein.”

“if it weren’t for that blood, i wouldn’t have considered striking a deal with you and end up marrying you,” your hand slips out of yoongi’s grasp only for it to wrap around his hand with your free one, “the blood that grants the power for its master to swing his sword and protect his kingdom could never be a curse.”

“that’s not what the rest of the world thinks,” he refutes, a dry laugh escaping his lips.

“does what the rest of the rest of the world think matter more than of those who actually know you?” you’re not sure of his answer. or if what you’re asking is even appropriate. the organ beating in your chest writhes with agonizing anticipation as the man’s crimson eyes bore into you like a liquid fire.

but if there’s anything you’re more sure of, it’s the fact that the servants at the min mansion has never shown a shred of fear while you worked with them to prepare for the garden party. the same couldn’t be said for the other noble families who were infamous for their ill treatment towards those who serve them.

grim reaper is but a name that does yoongi no absolute justice. he’s possibly the most dignified noble you’ve ever met.

“no - not anymore,” he murmurs, the faintest hint of smile curling on his lips as crimson eyes melt like ice come autumn.

he gathers you in his arms and you gladly let yours drape over his stomach, cheek pressing flush against his chest. you stay like that, in complete silence as the carriage shakes with each pebble and hole in the road, for the rest of the ride until it rolls to a stop in front of the palace walls.

“child trafficking is a serious crime,” seokjin speaks after a long, strenuous pause once yoongi finished reporting his findings within the park territory, “i bet park isn’t showing any sign of remorse, did he?”

a foreboding cloud hangs over the room as the man hunches over the oak table, elbows propped on its surface and clasped hands hiding half of his face. though he hides his expression well, you can see the way his shoulder line tremble with rage until he looks up at the silver haired man.

“actually,” yoongi’s lips press into a flat line as he seem to stare off into nothingness for the briefest moment before frowning, “he all willingly admitted that he’d committed the crime by himself.”

“what about his lackeys?” seokjin quizzes, fully aware that no lord does the dirty work.

“the dungeon was empty of save for the children - most likely they abandoned their lord for their own lives when they heard we were coming,” the head knight deduces.

a pause hovers over the as silence blankets the room.

“it’s suspicious no matter how you look at it.” your voice cuts through the air like knife.

“no man admits to his dirty crime just like that,” seokjin agrees and judging from yoongi’s knitted brows, he seems to know something you don’t.

“we didn’t believe it was that easy either but there was no proof of any other involvement besides the count,” he confesses - they must have raided nearby smaller granaries and questioned the people who you can easily guess, were tight-lipped.

“your majesty,” you take a step forward before dipping into a bow, an arm slanted over your chest as your hand clasps over the spot where your heart it, “i swear upon the honor of the leader of kairos, i will drag every last person involved in this to hell - please allow give me your permission to go to the park territory to investigate this matter further.”

this time, it doesn’t take long for seokjin to respond, “i was wondering why you didn’t storm over the moment you heard about the duke’s findings,” he leans back against his seat, eyes glazing with a ghost of the past, “love changes people, huh?”

“i-i’m not sure where you’re-” before you manage to barely calmly deflect seokjin’s ludicrous assertion, another voice speaks over you, forcing you to swallow the remaining of your words.

“your majesty, i ask your permission to escort lady ___ in her journey,” yoongi mimics your position in your periphery.

it takes a moment for his words to register and another for you to debate on the pros and cons of having a knight, bound to uphold the law, join you in a not so equitable quest for a justified cause.

yet you lower your head, “his grace will be my only other companion, your majesty. please allow it.”

but the answer you thought to receive isn’t one that he gives, “what about miss leslie? you always go with her.”

standing straight, you study seokjin’s deep frown before coming to a conclusion that you’ll probably never understand the man’s way of thinking even if you tried.

“i believe his grace will do a better job at guiding me since he’s been there before.” is all you say.

“this is unacceptable!” the sound of skin smacking a hard surface echoes against the wall, you have to resist to check if his hand is red from slamming it onto the table that hard, but he persists like without blinking, “an unmarried man and woman travelling together without servants... what would people think?”

“the question is, your majesty, why are you thinking anything would happen besides his grance and i working to unravel the people involved in this syndicate?” your voice takes on a dangerously low tone as you meet seokjin’s startled gaze.

“e-either way, i’m the king and i say jungkook will go with you,” he announces.

“y-your majesty? b-b-but-” the man in question’s head snaps in the king’s direction faster than you can blink. almost as though seeing a ghost, jungkook’s complexion pales instantly at the order.

“you’re sending the prime minister to do undercover work. outside of the capital, at that.” you point out in a matter of factly. as the silence stretches on, the more ridiculous the scenario seems to be but seokjin isn’t seokjin if he doesn’t try to refute you.

“he hasn’t taken the governmental examination yet,” he holds his chin high like that of a king.

“he’s been filling in for the prime minister anyway,” you challenge, refusing to back down as you hold the king’s equally defiant stare, “and it isn’t so kingly of you to stop your most loyal subjects from serving the kingdom - his grace and i going as leader of kairos and head knight to carry out your bidding, your majesty.”

it’s the jab at his position that makes his eye twitch. after having spent over five years by the other’s side, you know each other’s strengths enough to trust the other with your lives. but the downside is, you also know the other’s weakness like the back of your hand.

“ah, that’s true,” when his tone turns sweet and his shoulder line relaxes, yours stiffen as you narrow your eyes at the man’s sudden shift of personality - and true enough, you don’t like how he decides to take a jab at your- “since members of kairos have been decreasing and as a result, the guild barely have any influence outside of the capital, i suppose you would benefit from having yoongi come with you.”

he knows full well you hate relying on others because of your chest full of pride. yet you force on a smile that points in all the wrong anger, head lowering as you mechanically mutter, “thank you for your consideration, your majesty.”

note. and that is all for this chapter! (apparently we’re not having just 4 chapters + finale).

taglist. @fanfuckingfic @ayujmi @deathkat657

#bts smut #yoongi smut #bts x reader #yoongi fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #bts scenarios #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts x you #bts x yn #yoongi x yn

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livesincerely · 4 years ago

Note

dude you should totally write a fic off run away w me if you like haven’t alr 👀👀

DARLING.

You know me. You know what I’m like. You know you can’t just drop amazing ideas like this in my inbox and expect me to leave them alone until I actually have time to do something with them... 😫😫😫

So.

Background: Davey makes it through his SAT, then exits the building, throws up, and passes out in the parking lot, which isn’t the first indication that something’s wrong but it’s the beginning of the end for how much Jack’s willing to let him get away with it. He’s been a nervous wreck for months, not sleeping and not eating, anxious and irritable and so obviously neglecting his health that it makes Jack wanna scream. No one else seems to see it—Davey’s not a great liar but he’s excellent at deflecting, though that’s never stopped Jack from seeing right through him. Davey manages to hobble his way through the fall semester, keeping his grades up and finishing all his college applications through sheer force of will. His parents are so proud of him, he’s set to be valedictorian and he’s expecting to get several college acceptance letters, and he’s so worried about not doing anything to disappoint them. He and Jack get into several arguments about this that never come to anything except teary, biting stalemates.

Until finally, Davey gets his college acceptance letters. The envelopes come over the course of several weeks and he can’t hardly stand to look at them. Full rides to NYU, Colombia, UCLA, and several other amazing schools. Davey gets halfway through opening the first envelope, hands shaking so bad he can barely hold onto it, before he’s running to throw up. He realizes, suddenly, that unless something gives, he’s looking at another 4+ years of this: of working himself into the ground and being miserable, of never feeling like his wants are valid enough, of always competing and working and grinding, against others sure, but mostly against this imaginary, perfect, unattainable version of himself, of always living the life his parents want him to lead, and he can’t hardly stand it. He can’t imagine going to college. He can’t imagine not going to college.

We open on him calling Jack, crying and freaking out. Because he doesn’t know what to do and he just needs someone to be in his corner and advocate for him, because at this point Davey’s not even sure if Davey’s in his own corner. Jack opens all the envelopes and he doesn’t tell Davey what they say, doesn’t confirm if any/all of them are acceptance letters or anything, just reads through them expressionless. Then he closes them back up, tucks them into the inner pocket on his jacket, and says, “Davey... run away with me.”

“What?” Davey whispers.

“Run away with me, Dave,” Jack says. “Let me take you away from all’a this. We’ll hit the road, drive ‘til the pavement ends, ‘til we’re far away from all these expectations and standards and supposed to’s. Because it’s crushing you. It’s making you fucking miserable, and if distance is what you need to find steady ground and make a choice for your own sake, that’s actually about you and what you want? Then I’m your ticket outta town.”

“Jackie...” Davey says, utterly floored. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, stuttering with something like anticipation and fear and terrible, terrible longing. “Jackie, we can’t.”

“And why can’t we?”

“Because,” Davey insists, because one of them has to be reasonable. “Because, we can’t just pack up and leave. It’s the middle of the semester, we’ve got another three months of school left, we need to graduate, and fuck, can you even imagine the fallout? My parents would kill me, just hunt me down and murder me if I left.”

“I’m still not hearin’ any reasons not to,” Jack says, and he keeps looking at Davey with those warm, steady eyes.

“I just told you—“ Davey starts.

“No,” Jack calmly interrupts. “You gave me a bunch of excuses for not going, not reasons. There’s a difference. I’m waitin’ for something more along the lines of ‘my stupidly long legs make roadtrips super uncomfortable’ or ‘our friendship won’t survive us traveling together for weeks in close quarters’ or ‘I wouldn’t trust your rusted old Chevy to take us to the state line, let alone across the country,’ or even just ‘Jack, I don’t want to.’”

Davey’s mouth closes with a soft click, swallowing heavily around a sudden lump in his throat.

Jack keeps looking at him, and the intensity of his gaze is almost to much to handle, simmering with something quiet but fierce.

“I’m not gonna stand by and watch you kill yourself over a life that you don’t even want. Not anymore. Not when it makes you call me at one in the morning, sounding like the weight of the fucking world’s on your shoulders and you’re terrified to set it down. Not after seven months of watching you waste away right in front of me, moving around like a goddamn shadow, pale as a ghost and hollow inside. Not unless you can look me in the eye right now and tell me that college is gonna make you happy.”

Davey can’t speak. Something’s gone taut in his chest, like a piano wire about to snap. Davey could prevent it. He’s not sure if he wants to.

Jack steps closer and takes both of Davey’s hands in his own. His palms are warm, or maybe it’s just that Davey’s freezing, has been so painfully cold and lonely these past few months, withering away in the shadow of his parent’s expectations. But the tangle of their fingers threading together is like a balm on Davey’s soul—the spark that reignites the embers of a dying fire.

He’s so tired of being cold.

“I just want to know that you’ll be happy,” Jack says after a moment—softly, like he’s afraid he might shatter Davey if he speaks any louder, sending the broken shards of him scattering into nothingness. Davey’s not sure he’s wrong. “And I know you, David, and this isn’t making you happy.”

“This is crazy,” Davey breathes out, and it’s not what he means to say but it comes out regardless. “It’s... Jack, this is insanity.”

“Who cares about what’s sane?” Jack says. “Fuck sanity.”

“Jackie.”

“Tell me you’re happy,” Jack says, and the gentleness of the command doesn’t make it any less compelling. “Tell me you’re happy, that you think you’ll be happy with all this, and I’ll drop it. I’ll drop it right this second, I swear.”

Davey’s eyes slip shut. He breathes in and breathes out, feeling his ribs press against that band in his chest, the last threads of it holding fast.

“Please, Dave,” Jack murmurs. “Please.”

In and out. In and out.

And the wire snaps.

“Okay,” Davey says, fingers tightening around Jack’s, his lone anchor as the world tilts out from underneath him. “Okay.”

“You’ll—?”

“Let me pack a bag,” Davey agrees.

Cue road trip shenanigans. The only people that they tell before they leave are Medda, Crutchie, and Les. Both boys have some money saved up from their part-time jobs but Medda gives them a credit card to use on the trip and helps them get things set up to finish out their last couple months of school through online/remote methods. Even still, it’s a lot of frugal, simple, happy living on the road. They drive without any goals or expectations, taking in the sights and the beauty of the countryside, sleeping in Jack’s car and in various motels.

Davey starts to get better. Just, the freedom of getting to make choices for himself and dropping some of the stressors in his life. His parents are angry, then confused, then worried, then begrudgingly accepting, then actually accepting. Medda helps mediate back home, and they eventually realize that they’ve been suffocating their son. Davey makes no promises about coming home or continuing on with college.

At some point, Davey realizes that he’s in love with Jack and has been for a while. He’s not sure what to do about this, or even if he should do anything about it. Because Jack is wonderful, he’s the best friend he’s ever had, the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and the thought of anything jeopardizing that makes Davey’s heart hurt. Until, one night they’re out somewhere in the desert, staring up at the stars from the roof of Jack’s car. Davey’s been telling stories about all the different constellations, pointing out each one as he goes, and he turns to look at Jack only to find that Jack is already staring at him, and the look on Jack’s face is just....

“Oh,” Davey says, and he’d always imagined that a realization like this would hit like a bolt of lightning. Instead it’s like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a long day. “You’re in love with me.”

Jack blinks at him, then lets out a soft chuckle, easy as anything. “Just now realizing that, are we?”

Davey stares.

“You didn’t say anything,” he points out, perhaps needlessly.

“I wasn’t exactly hiding it,” Jack responds, tilting his head back towards the stars. “And ‘sides, you weren’t ready to hear it.”

A length of silence stretches between them, not uncomfortable but more charged than it had been.

Eventually Davey says, “What if I am?”

“What do ya mean?” Jack asks.

“What if I’m ready to hear it, now?”

Jack turns towards him, and for the first time some of the relaxation slips from his posture, his spine straightening from it’s casual slump into something more active, more engaged, ready to pursue.

“S’that so?” he rumbles.

“Yeah,” Davey says, wetting his lips. “That’s so.”

Something something, getting together, romantic moments on the hood of/in the backseat of Jack’s car, something something ending.

The whole thing would be very dramatic and romantic, but ultimately about how home and freedom can be in the safety of another person, just like the song. Tada, I guess? 😅😅

Working title, “we’ll be on the road like some country song”

00000

@bound-for-santa-fe

#newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #javid #*ask #*the writing desk #*editor's note #ideas for later #run away with me fic #I realllllllyyyyy did not need this prompt in my life right now so I hope you’re happy lol #look what you did #this was just a stream of consciousness dump so please excuse any typos #🤗😅🤗😅

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sitcomified · 4 years ago

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fighting dragons with you

summary: amy gets injured on a case and jake pays her a visit. (pre-canon) word count: 3.5k rating: teen?

read below or on AO3

content warning for minor depictions of violence and general discussions of assault

Amy Santiago wrote her life plan when she was sixteen years old, and revisits it each month like clockwork. She figured out from a young age that if she could clearly define a set of rules to follow to a tee, then she would never fall off course. Most nights, the three inch purple binder lives on her bedside table, where after long days of life-threatening work, she can put everything into perspective. Most days, the plan works out great for her. But she’s not invincible. She still scrapes gum off her brand new shoes and wrestles with her too warm pillow.

It’s not that she can’t deal with unpredictable situations. If anything, being almost comically prepared for every possible situation has made the challenge of taking on these changes that much more thrilling. She knows she excels at tasks that demand quick thinking and efficient problem solving. Hell, that’s why she became a cop.

Amy clocked into work two minutes late that morning. She stared at her watch, already mentally preparing how she would make it up to her squad (even though a quick glance around the bullpen would let her know that she was still the first officer there for her shift.)

By the time her partner showed up nearly thirty minutes late—an occurrence so routine she’d be surprised if anyone even noticed—Amy was already wrapping up her first report of the day. As she reached across her desk for the folder containing crime scene evidence, her partner finally acknowledged her.

“Nice spiderman band-aid,” Jake greeted her, gesturing to her right hand. She sighed deeply. The band-aid in question is nursing a particularly nasty paper cut from when she tried to intercept one of her partner's paper airplanes (probably made from some actually important file) the previous day. Amy rinsed the cut under the precinct kitchenette’s ice-cold water, swearing she’d be fine for the rest of the day, but her finger still stung when she got home and discovered that her only first aid supplies were from the last time her nephews visited.

“Hello Detective Peralta,” Amy replied, trying to salvage any semblance of workplace professionalism. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure if her partner’s retort warranted a response.

“Aw, is that your pet name for me?” he joked, clearly not wanting to drop their banter, “I’m going to call you sugar...nose.” He extended a finger and lightly tapped her on the nose, to emphasize the point.

Amy flinched in response. “Sugarnose?” she repeated incredulously.

“Yeah I didn’t want it to be too sexual, and then I panicked,” Jake explained. Amy half expected him to follow it up with one of the “title of your sex tape” jokes that he was so prone to making, but thankfully, today she would be spared.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Peralta. At his best, he could be just as sharp a detective as she was. The problem was, that was rarely ever his goal. He showed open disrespect for any authority that would dare get in his way, almost as if it were a game to him. On the field, he spent more time trying to portray himself as an action movie star than trying to catch criminals, and she’d be surprised if he actually followed any of the NYPD’s safety guidelines.

Her day went on as it usually did. Finishing up reports, interviewing witnesses, investigating a crime scene—fortunately on her own. Amy had no idea why Captain McGintley was so adamant about partnering her and Peralta. Their approaches to every aspect of police work seemed fundamentally incompatible. Her captain probably just needed someone responsible to babysit New York’s Least Mature Detective (a title he had bestowed upon himself) in the field. It was a horribly sexist and insulting implication that gave Amy flashbacks to a whole childhood’s worth of classroom seating charts and group projects, where she was put in the exact same position.

That afternoon, just as she was getting into the rhythm of responding to the perpetual flood of emails in her inbox, Peralta tore her away from her work to go on a stakeout for a case they were working on, insisting that the new lead was “actually legit this time.”

When Amy left the precinct she was surprised to see that her partner decided not to “ball out” and instead opted for a sensible SUV for their stake out. “Nice ride, Peralta.”

“Thanks, I borrowed it from some guy Diaz is testifying against,” he said smugly. Amy raised her eyebrows in return. Of course there would be a catch. “Kidding,” he reassured her. “It’s the precinct’s, I’m surprised you don’t like have the license plates memorized by now.”

Amy wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved or insulted by that. She had only been there a couple months, surely that wasn’t an expectation; if it was, it was never conveyed to her in the brief amount of training she received. Regardless, she responded, “very funny, but I’m still driving.”

Jake soured with mock offense, “Seriously, Santiago? You think that my driving is more dangerous than that drug ring you busted last month?”

“I’m a detective. I know that I might die on the force. What I’m absolutely not okay with is dying because some idiot would rather play air guitar than follow basic road safety concepts,” Amy said, crossing her arms. On their last stakeout, they almost lost their perp during his particularly enthusiastic rendition of Lose Yourself.

“Too-shee,” he responded, with a smirk on his lips. He was messing with her. Surely, he wasn’t actually that dumb.

Amy corrected him, “you know it’s pronounced touché.”

“Ok nerd,” he replied, and tossed her the car keys. “But I get to stay on AUX.”

She was a bit taken aback by how quickly he agreed to cooperate with her. “You’ve gotta stay focused,” she added, as she climbed into the car. There was a foul smell that she couldn’t quite place. All the more reason to rush this.

“Of course I am a professional, Santiago,” he said from the passenger seat. He reached into his bag and pulled out a giant pack of Cheetos. “Want one?” he offered. She shook her head in disgust.

“Alright, so the informant, Dragos, said the operation is based out of a pharmacy on Atlantic, I assume that’s where we’re going?” Amy asked, as she started the car.

“Toit, and also holy shit is that his real name?” Jake questioned, eyes wide. “That’s badass.”

Amy frowned. “Did you even read the case file?”

“I skimmed it. Your sentences are all so long!” he complained.

“I’m sorry that I’m thorough and I actually follow procedure. Maybe you should take a cue from me, I mean that’s gotta be why McGintley assigned us to this case,” she said.

Jake laughed at her. “I have the most arrests in the precinct,” he bragged. Amy wanted to bring up that arrests weren’t actually a good indication of community safety, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to articulate the problem to him once more.

“That’s just because you make Boyle do all your paperwork,” she retaliated. “If you did everything you were supposed to, you know that I’d be ahead of you.”

Jake stopped fiddling with the car’s radio, and turned to face Amy. “First of all, Boyle loves paperwork. And for the record, I actually asked the Captain to put us together on this case.”

“Exactly, because you knew I would do all the work,” Amy said, smugly.

“No! It’s ‘cause I knew it was a tough one, and you’re obviously super smart.” Amy blushed a little. She assumed that Jake thought as little of her as she did of him. “Plus, I heard you talking to Diaz about how you weren’t getting any good cases,” he continued. She’s surprised, not at what he noticed, but the fact that he actually cared enough to try and fix her problems. It was true that McGintley was underutilizing her—the other day he had her spend an hour finding an anniversary present for his wife.

“Well, thanks,” Amy responded with an awkward smile. “I didn’t think you cared.”

“‘Course, you’re part of the 99 now. Anything for the squad.” he said. Right, Jake was just doing what any good cop would do for their team. He didn’t actually care about her, at least not enough to not get cheeto crumbs on the seat that she’d have to clean up.

Jake points at the car’s speaker system at the next red light. “Hey, do you know how this works?”

“Do you seriously not know?” she teased. It was a strikingly simple set up.

“Obviously not, or else we’d be listening to my sick beats right now.” Jake said. “My car still uses cassettes exclusively and I fear my mixtapes would cause this lame car to spontaneously combust.”

Amy sighed. “Here, give me your phone,” she told him, and plugged in the audio cable. Immediately music started blaring out of the speakers. She recognizes the opening chords instantly and starts laughing. “Is this what you listen to?” she asked.

Jake started frantically pushing buttons on the dashboard, only making the music louder by accident. “No. I swear I don’t know how this got on here.” Amy grinned. It was so rare that she had the upper hand in embarrassing him and she was already thinking of how to capitalize on it.

“Keep it on,” she said, guiding his hands away from the speaker system before he had the chance to break something. “I like this song.” He leaned back in his seat and helped himself to another handful of Cheetos. Amy returned her focus to navigating the complex puzzle of Brooklyn traffic.

Over the revving motors and honking of angry drivers, she heard him begin to sing along. It wasn’t obnoxiously loud and it didn’t feature impromptu parody lyrics. His voice was surprisingly soft, and she wondered if he was even conscious of his singing. She was perplexed by how he managed to focus on nothing and everything at the same time. How he managed to let loose in the most tense situations. Amy couldn’t even bring herself to have that kind of fun when she specifically scheduled it in her planner.

What the hell, they were still a fifteen minute drive from the pharmacy. She joined in with the chorus. He looked at her with a confused, yet happy, expression, and ramped up his volume, and even incorporated his own dance moves. “Damn, Santiago, didn’t know you had it in you,” he said, after they finished the chorus on a tone-deaf harmony.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Peralta,” she replied, raising her eyebrows with feigned confidence.

Jake chuckled and opened his mouth; she assumed to argue, but instead he just continued the second verse. She didn’t know the rest of the lyrics, and she certainly couldn’t decipher them from the dramatic voices he was adding into it.

“Hey isn’t that our guy,” he interrupted, pointing to a man who was standing by the trash cans on the corner, despite his right of way. Amy paused and took a closer look. Surely enough, their perp, Andrei Volkov, was standing there, waiting for the deal they had been told would occur miles away.

“Oh my god,” Amy said, turning to park their car just out of eyesight.

“Luckily he didn’t seem interested enough in the two adult Taylor Swift fans, to notice we’re a police vehicle.” Jake replied. He leaned towards the trunk window to sneak a better view of their target.

“Do you want to call for backup?” Amy asked. “How many guys are there?”

“Looks like about three, and it seems pretty exposed for back up unless they have access to one of the houses,” Jake said, propping himself back in the seat. “I think we should be good.”

Amy paused for a second. Her instinct was always to air on the side of caution, but Jake had proven himself to be more reasonable than she assumed. “Okay, I trust you,” she said.

“Take my lead,” he instructed, before she could argue, and secured his vest as he left the car. Amy followed him out hesitantly, one hand hovering protectively over her radio. They crossed the street while Volkov’s back was turned. As soon as they made eye contact, Jake whipped out his gun, and cornered him against the lamp post. “NYPD, you’re under arrest.” Amy instinctually dove behind the trash can. Through the grated metal she could see both of Volkov’s men pull their guns at Jake from behind his back. She can’t quite recognize exactly which members of the operation they are. He held one hand on Volkov while he turned to face the others. They kept their guns raised in his direction.

“Here’s the deal, come back to my precinct, and I won’t shoot. I’m all alone out here.” Jake kicks the trashcan Amy is ducked behind. Then twice, to get her attention. And again. The Funky Cold Medina, she realized. Amy felt her heart pounding all the way in her fingers and toes.

“What’s the matter with your leg, pig,” one of the men scoffed. She recognized the voice. Apparently Dragos was more involved in the operation than he led on, and had intentionally given her the wrong address. Amy reached for her gun and jumped up, turning to cover Jake.

“Hey, you’re the lady with the thank you notes,” Dragos said, as he lowered his weapon, “almost made me feel bad for lying to you.”

Amy fixed her eyes in his direction, “yeah well, thanks for nothing.”

“That was a pretty weak comeback, Santiago,” Jake muttered from her side. She shot him a nasty look.

“Your partner’s right,” Volkov added, still struggling against the lamppost.

“Nice try but you’re still arrested,” Jake said, as he reached for his handcuffs and began reciting the Miranda Rights. Amy stared down the other two men in the meantime, instructing them to drop any weapons they’re carrying. They obeyed and placed their guns at her feet. Just as they began to stand up, Dragos punched Amy in the face, his ring leaving a deep gash on her cheek. The metallic taste of blood floods her mouth. Her vision was blurred as tears welled up in her eyes, causing searing pain in the open wound.

Dragos started to bolt but Jake managed to trip him and keep him pinned to the ground. He struggled to handle both perps, however, and Amy watched as the third man ran away. She tried to chase after him, but she was too shocked to make it any farther. “Dragos, you’re coming with me,” Jake said, locking the handcuffs in place. “Amy, I’m calling you an ambulance.”

She was too dishevelled to protest.

That night, Amy’s brother drove her home from the hospital where she received seven stitches. Half her face was still numb from the anesthesia. Still, the second she got her phone back, she sent a text to her partner: “LMK if you need help processing.”

Half an hour later she heard her apartment buzzer go off. She paused her episode of Jeopardy, kicked on her fluffy slippers, and answered it.

“Delivery for Lady Amy Santiago,” Jake said, in a terribly butchered British accent through the phone.

“Come up,” she replied, stifling a laugh. The meds had worn her down enough that she could fully embrace his immature humor.

Three minutes later Jake announced himself with a knock on her door. “Alright, so I got you this. Hope you like shitty diner food because that’s all that’s open right now,” he held up two take out bags. Through the semi-opaque plastic she noticed two liters of the horrible orange soda he spilled on her desk once and still couldn’t get the stain out from.

“Yeah that’s fine,” she said, gesturing for him to come take a seat. She braced herself to be tormented for her decor. Suddenly she realized Jake came all the way to her house for her. He didn’t have to be here. Why was he here? “Thanks, by the way. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

He took a seat on her couch and plopped the bags on her coffee table. She never ate there, it was reserved for drinks, at most, but she didn’t correct him. Especially when he was doing her a favor “I know. I wanted to though. I also finished processing Dragos and Volkov, all by myself,” he said.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Amy asked flatly. She peered into the bag and examined the feast he brought: two cheeseburgers, a plate of chicken tenders, one hamburger, a salad, about three orders of fries, and of course the two orange sodas. For someone who was proudly in debt, he sure spent a lot on this meal.

“Cause it’s my fault you’re like this,” he said. Amy wanted to protest, he made a bad call re-backup, but she could have gotten injured either way. “Also you’re so hopped up on painkillers there’s no way you’ll remember this,” he added, cracking a smile. He really wasn’t capable of a genuine moment.

Amy rolled her eyes at him. “It’s not that much stronger than Advill, and memory loss isn’t a side effect,”

“Hmm,” he frowned, “we’ll see about that tomorrow.”

Amy froze. “I hope you’re not here to try anything,” she said, half joking. Jake was a jerk, but she never thought he would stoop that low. Even still, she couldn’t let her guard down that much.

“Oh, God no, absolutely not. I would never take advantage of you—of anyone—like that. Is that what you thought?” Jake stammered, scooching himself away from her on the couch. He looked as if he had seen a ghost or something, and his messy hair only added to the effect.

“I dunno,” Amy said, “I guess I can’t be too trusting.” She took out a container full of fries and handed him one as a peace offering.

“Right, right, men are a nightmare,” Jake agreed through a mouthful of potato. He even didn’t try to distance himself from “other men”, or go with the “but I’d never do that route”. Her chest was heavy with guilt at the thought of making such an implication.

“No, no, no, it’s fine, really. Sorry for accusing you.” Amy said.

“It’s not fine. And you shouldn’t apologize because that’s a real fear. It’s on me,” he replied. She looked at him with confusion. It was rare for guys to understand that much. “And I’m sorry for being such a dick to you these past few months,” he blurted out.

Amy couldn’t believe that the guy sitting in her apartment was the same one who decided to address her via paper airplane for a week, and only stopped when he ran out of papers on his desk. “Hey I wasn’t much better. I was so obsessed with out-doing you, I never went to you for help—” he shot her an expectant glance,“—also I’m sorry for ratting you out all the time.” He nodded, and helped himself to another fry from her container.

“Why are you so competitive?” he asked through a mouthful of potato. She noticed a bit of ketchup on his chin and reached for a napkin.

“I have seven brothers,” she provided him with the stock answer.

“I know that,” he said, “that doesn’t answer my question.”

She pauses. “My parents were always comparing us, so many siblings meant the bar for anything was set super high, I don’t know, that sort of stuff.”

“But why do you care?” he pushed. She hadn’t ever considered that before. The endless treadmill she shoved herself on was just always there. Even when she knew the goals she set were irrational she would just keep running, because the idea of falling off was so much worse.

“I guess it makes me worried, if I’m not measuring up,” she confessed. “I feel like I did something wrong.”

“You know you’re crazy, right?” he asked, smirking at her.

Amy rifled through the bottom of the takeout bag. “Did they give you any mustard packets?” she asked.

“Nah. But, as your self-appointed guardian angel, I will go to the bodega and get you some,” he said, picking up the jacket he threw on her floral carpet.

“You don’t have to do that, really,” Amy insisted.

He looked back at her as if the very notion were ridiculous. “Amy, you just got injured in the line of duty. If all you want is mustard, you can have all the mustard in the world.”

“Thanks, Jake. You’re a really good friend,” she ventured. She waited for a moment, to see how he would respond, hopefully solidifying their friendship. Maybe she was friendzoning advances she wasn’t even aware of. Maybe he was confused, and he was just doing a nice thing for a coworker.

“You too,” Jake said. However he interpreted all the implications, he didn’t let her know. “When I get back we’re watching Die-Hard!” he added as he rushed out the door. Amy smiled to herself as she heard the lock click into place.

#tropetember #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #b99 fic #brooklyn nine nine fic #jake peralta #amy santiago #tropetember day 1 #peraltiago #peraltiago fic #my fic

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shitty-marvel-fan732 · 5 years ago

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Guilty, Part 2

Title: Guilty, Part 2 of 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x Barnes-Rodgers!reader

Warnings: Bucky is a grumpy dad™️, Peter is an even sadder boy, and anxiety I guess??

Summary: Peter is worried the dangers of being Spiderman's girlfriend are too much for you.

Authors Note: Here's the second part to @lou-la-lou 's request. The italicized paragraphs are a flashbacks! If anyone has any other requests for me, feel free to send them in, and if you have them in my inbox already, know that I am working on them, I swear! 😂 I feel like its kinda rushed, ngl, but here we go! ENJOY!

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

"Come on out Parker, I know you're up here," Bucky called out to the outwardly vacant rooftop. He swung his legs over the side of the Tower calmly and waited.

"Uhm, I'm good. Thanks." he heard Peter squeak nervously from behind him. He chuckled a little at the evident panic in his voice, and patted the spot next to him.

"It's okay kid, I'm not here to hurt you, I just wanna talk."

Moments passed, and Bucky could practically hear the gears of fear and curiosity winding inside the young spiderling's head as he contemplated things. Bucky sighed, his patience running thin.

"Come on Peter, you know that if I wanted to harm you that I would've done it already."

After a few more moments and a mutter of something that sounded a lot like 'that's comforting', Peter eventually sat on the ledge next to Bucky.

Well, actually he was a good six feet away from being next to him, but Bucky would take what he could get.

"So," he broke through the silence, eyes focused out towards the sky rather than the blue and red clad figure sitting beside him. "What are you doing here kid?"

"Oh I was just out on patrol and so ya know I was like in the-- in the neighborhood so I just thought I'd drop by," Peter cleared his throat, stuttering awkwardly through what was so clearly an excuse. Bucky chuckled.

"Kind of a long way from Queens though," he drawled amusedly. "And I'm sure you 'stopping by' has nothing to do with the fact that you can very clearly see Y/N's bedroom window from here."

Peter's flush was instant.

"Oh no-- that's not -- I wasn't--" he stuttered frantically, waving his hands wildly. Bucky let him go on for a while -- a sick sense of glee filling his chest as he watched his daughter's ex-boyfriend panic. Eventually he raised his hand, and Peter instantly fell silent.

"C'mon kid, let's not start this out with a lie. Why don't you tell me why you're really here?"

"I just...wanted to check and see if she's okay," Peter murmured after another pregnant pause, voice so quiet he was barely audible. Bucky turned to face him more fully, and felt a little of his lingering anger dissolve at the look of utter sadness splayed across the young boy's features.

"She's not." Bucky replied firmly. "But I think you would've already known that, seeing as you were the one to end things."

"Yeah I know," he muttered. Peter's hand flicked towards his face, gloved fingertips batting away a few of the tears he'd let escape. "But I didn't really have much of a choice."

"So I've heard," Bucky hummed. "I think I know why that is, but why don't you tell me why you think that is."

Peter paused, tear-filled eyes staring off into the distance as he contemplated his next words carefully. Bucky let him think, taking the time to study Peter's face more fully in the meantime. His eyes were puffy and red from his tears, but the dark purple circles under them made it clear that this wasn't the first time he'd cried recently. The skin of his face was paler than usual, and his cheeks looked a little gaunt.

All in all, Peter looked miserable.

If he were being honest with himself, Bucky would have to admit that the sight of his pain was a little satisfying -- after all, he was the reason Y/N had been so heartbroken lately. But it was the look in the young boy's eyes that kept him from feeling too smug. It was the same dull, lifeless look that he'd seen in his daughter's eyes for weeks. Bucky couldn't help but feel his heart reach out for the kid as he noted his evident suffering.

"I thought she'd just be better off without me," Peter's soft reply broke him out of his thoughts abruptly. "I mean, you saw what happened with those girls. All because of me, because of Spiderman, and I just thought if I cut things off now then hopefully she could just...I dunno, move on? Find somebody new, someone normal, that way she'd always be…"

"Safe?" Bucky supplied quietly. Peter's eyes snapped to the older man's face, expression one of complete surprise. He nodded slowly before casting his eyes away once more.

"Yeah," he managed to reply, voice cracking as his tears began flowing once more. Bucky sighed, scooting closer to him and placing a comforting hand on Peter's shoulder. Peter jumped a little at the contact, but he didn't move away like Bucky expected. They sat that way for a few minutes -- Peter sobbing quietly and Bucky sitting stoically next to him.

"Did I ever tell you about the first time I held Y/N?" Bucky asked plainly. Peter sniffled, head turning upwards to face the older man in surprise.

"N-no sir. I don't think we've ever actually talked before today," Peter replied slowly.

"Yeah, that's probably true," Bucky chuckled. "But it's worth telling now."

Peter nodded, eyes still trained on Bucky, a look of confusion overtaking his features.

"Well obviously Steve was the first one to hold her -- he barely waited until they hosed her off before he snatched her up," he recalled fondly, chuckling a little at the memory. Peter too cracked a smile at the mental image, and Bucky scored himself an imaginary point for managing to keep the kid from crying for a minute.

"But when I finally managed to pry her away from him long enough for me to hold her, the very first thing I felt was this overwhelming sense of love. But almost immediately that love led to this feeling of terror," he continued, the smile sliding from his face. "I mean, there she was -- just the tiniest little thing you'd ever seen, her entire body fit practically in my hand she was so small. I was overcome with complete panic when I realized just how fragile she was. I just stood there for a minute, picturing all of the terrible things that could happen to her, that sweet little alien-looking thing. How on earth was I supposed to keep her safe, when so much of mine and Steve's lives were filled with constant danger?"

Peter didn't move an inch, his entire being enthralled by Bucky's story.

"I struggled with that a lot when Y/N was younger. Hell, I'd be lying if I said I didn't still struggle with it -- I think that's a big part of why I'm so protective of her now, as I'm sure you've noticed," Bucky smiled wryly. To his credit, even though Bucky could tell Peter was fighting the urge to scoff he merely nodded dumbly in response. “Yeah sorry about that I guess? I mean I’m not, but I feel like I should say that.”

Peter chuckled a little at the brutal honesty, the slightest hint of an amused smile quirking at the edges of his lips. Bucky gleefully scored himself another mental point before he continued.

“I spent every second I could with her after we brought her home, just watching her sleep and making sure she was safe. They say parents don’t get any sleep with a newborn, but I legitimately didn’t sleep for more than an hour at a time for almost a month. Unless I knew Steve was awake, I couldn’t bring myself to take my eyes off her. Eventually I got so burnt out that I had a full blown panic attack and Steve finally forced me to take a break. He all but locked me in our room, and wouldn’t let me come out until I’d finally gotten some decent rest. It was hard, but I knew in my mind that he was right -- while I was stuck in there I wound up doing a lot of thinking. And do you know what I realized?”

Peter shook his head, brown eyes wide and locked onto Bucky’s face as he breathlessly waited for the answer. Bucky looked him directly in the eyes, pausing for a moment. He wanted to ensure that Peter heard and understood everything that he was about to say.

“Even though bad things might happen to Y/N because of our lifestyles, she was better off with us than without,” Bucky stated firmly. Peter’s face scrunched in confusion for the briefest of moments but Bucky saw a flash of understanding pass through his eyes. The young boy glanced away, spurring Bucky to continue. “True, I couldn’t and can’t protect her from everything, but she was gonna grow up with the biggest, strangest, and most loving family a kid could hope for. Not to mention the fact that she was born into a family full of extremely capable superhumans and assassins that would literally kill for her. Sure she was going to inevitably run into problems from time to time, but as long as she had us to teach her and protect her then I truly felt she would be alright.”

Peter swallowed thickly and the two sat silently for a few minutes as they let the gravity of Bucky’s words sink in. Sometimes it was all too easy to forget just how young Peter really was, but he'd never looked more his age than in this moment. His eyes were cast downward and his tear soaked lashes were so long that they rested across his pink-splotched cheeks as he cried. Bucky patted his back comfortingly as he waited. After a few moments, Bucky internally wondered if he should continue, but Peter spoke up before he had a chance.

“But don’t you ever-- I dunno, feel like guilty?”, Peter blurted out curiously. “I mean even just that little fight was enough to freak me out completely. I can’t...I don’t ever want her to get hurt because of me.”

“I get it kid, I used to feel the same way,” Bucky exhaled through his nose, a soft chuckle unintentionally bubbling out of his throat at the insinuation. “But believe me, I learned very early on that if Y/N wants to get into a fight, then she will. I think she takes too much after Steve, the two of them are so damned stubborn that they almost make me seem like the level-headed one.”

Peter laughed out loud for the first time all night, and Bucky would be willing to bet it was the first time in much longer than that. He chuckled along with him, slightly proud of the look of fondness that took over his boyish features.

"Yeah. Yeah that's probably true." Peter chuckled.

"Mmmmhm. So, you feeling any better kid?"

Peter nodded earnestly, fingers brushing away the last of his tears.

"Good," Bucky hummed. "Now, I'm going to need you to fix things with my daughter, otherwise you and I are going to have a very different kind of conversation. Am I clear?"

"Y-yes sir," Peter replied meekly, an audible gulp escaping the poor boy. Bucky grinned widely, clapping his hand on his back once more.

"Knew I could count on you."

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

Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy.

Sitting on the couch, you were wrapped so tightly around him that he couldn't hardly tell where his limbs ended and yours began. You were curled up in his lap, his arms cadging your back firmly against his front as his face rested into the crook of your neck. There was some movie playing on the giant tv in front of the two of you, but Peter wasn't paying attention to it at all; he was too awestruck by his sheer luck, eternally grateful to be with you again after so long.

Even though he couldn't see your face from his position, he could tell that you were on the verge of falling asleep. Every few minutes your fingers would pause on their trek up and down his forearm and your head would roll even further backwards as you drifted asleep before snapping back upwards once more. He chuckled fondly at you, placing a sweet kiss to your cheek as a feeling of warmth spread throughout his entire body.

"You're exhausted sweet girl," he murmured into your neck softly. "Go ahead and sleep, I can tell you're fighting it."

You shook your head stubbornly, adorably clinging to his arms even tighter at the insinuation.

"M'not," you protested through a yawn. Little butterflies swirled in Peter's tummy at the sound of the pout evident in your voice. He placed another kiss to your cheek, unable to contain the feeling of joy that'd been coursing though him since he'd first gotten you back in his arms.

"You are though," he chuckled.

"I don't wanna sleep," you argued. "Too afraid this was all just a really good dream."

Peter's chest immediately felt heavy, arms winding around you more securely at your whispered confession. He understood exactly what you meant. To be perfectly honest, he was having a hard time believing this was real too.

He knew it was probably just teenage dramatics, but the two weeks that he’d spent without you felt like the longest weeks of his life -- weeks spent in absolute misery. It’d seemed like the only solution at the time, but he’d had an increasingly difficult time justifying that choice when not being with you had been so difficult. He was honestly reaching his breaking point long before your dad had sat him down to talk about things, so it didn’t take much convincing on Bucky’s part to get him to change his mind.

But now, as he found himself perched outside your bedroom window he couldn't help but worry that he might've done permanent damage to your relationship. He felt his heart shrivel and harden at the prospect that you may not forgive him, but he couldn't possibly blame you for it. Hell, he'd hated himself since the moment he ended things.

He was only outside your window in the first place because as soon as you'd realized it was him, you'd swiftly slammed the door in his face. He'd tried pleading with you through the wood, but he couldn't tell if any of it was getting through because (outside of some choice swears) you hadn't said a word in response. So, desperate and on his last chance, he'd crawled outside your bedroom window, hoping that even if you didn't speak to him that at least he'd be able to see your face again. Ignoring the weight that settled in his stomach as he took note of your reddened eyes and tear stained cheeks through the glass, he'd focused on saying what he came there to say. You simply stood in the middle of your room stoically with your arms crossed as he rambled on through the pre-planned speech he’d come up with as he tossed and turned all night.

Eventually he reached the end of his hastily prepared monologue, and he fell silent, waiting anxiously for you to respond. The seconds that passed felt like hours as you contemplated things, and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest as he cautiously appraised your every move. A stab of fear and defeat ripped through his chest the moment he realized that you weren’t going to budge. Fresh tears welling in his eyes, he turned to leave, the feeling of defeat and sorrow weighing heavily on his limbs until he felt an actual weight on his arm.

You grabbed his wrist before he’d even moved an inch.

Glaring at him as your own tears slipped silently down your cheeks, you dropped his arm before opening the window wide enough for him to fit through. He sniffled and shot you a desperate look, to which you responded only by rolling your eyes and motioning for him to come inside. Once he'd scrambled through, he could only muster up enough courage to stand wordlessly in the once familiar room as he waited for you to make the next move.

"You're an idiot."

Though your words were biting, Peter couldn't help but think to himself that, after not hearing your voice for weeks, they were the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

"I know," he swallowed thickly. You scoffed, fingers swiping your cheeks angrily to remove the lingering traces of your tears as you stared him down.

"What you did really sucked," you continued crossing your arms protectively in front of your chest. "And just because I get why you did it now doesn't change that."

"I know," he agreed, tears silently beginning to fall from his eyes. You sucked in a shuddering breath. "You're absolutely right, I'm an idiot."

You chuckled a little bit at his admission, your arms dropping by your sides.

"I wish you would've just talked to me. Told me what you were feeling, you know?" you replied in a near-whisper. "Cause just getting cut-off from you all at once...it really sucked."

Your bottom lip began to tremble and fresh tears began to run down your face uncontrollably. Peter swore he could actually hear a crack echo in the small room as his heart broke at the sight of you. Unable to physically handle the distance between the two of you for a moment longer, he wasted little time in crossing the short space and pulling you into his arms.

To his immense relief, you allowed him to pull you into his chest easily, your arms wrapping around his body just as tightly. He thrust his face into your messy hair, and your face buried itself into his chest instantly. It wasn't long before he felt your hot tears seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt, but he really couldn't care less at the moment. Especially given the fact that he was sure you could feel his own tears soaking through your hair.

"I-I'm so sorry Y/N," he sobbed, his voice muffled from the way he pressed his face to your head. "I'm s-so sorry angel, I'm such an idiot. I hated every single second I wasn't with y-you, and I swear I'll never do anything like that ever again."

Your only response was to pull him impossibly closer to you, your arms practically clawing at his back in the process.

The two of you had stood like that for an immeasurable amount of time, sobbing into each other in that dramatic way only teenagers really could, until eventually both your eyes had run dry. Then you just talked. First about the whole situation and then about everything the two of you had missed about the other in the time you weren't speaking. Peter had come to see you early in the morning, but by the time all was said and done it was already the early evening. Despite the fact that the two of you were exhausted, neither one of you were willing to part just yet and thus you'd wound up where you were now, cuddling in one of the Tower's many common rooms.

Peter exhaled tensely, your quiet admission sending a stab of guilt deep into his chest. He kissed the top of your head apologetically.

"I'm so sorry y/n," he murmured against your hair. "I can't explain how sorry I am that I've made you feel like you can't count on me anymore."

You were so silent that, for a moment, Peter thought you might've finally succumbed to your evident exhaustion. It wasn't until a few moments later that he felt you snuggle deeper into his hold and place a delicate kiss to his cheek that he realized you hadn't. He couldn't hold back the large grin that overtook his face nor the raging blush that began creeping up his cheeks at your sweet gesture.

"S'okay Petey," you mumbled, clearly on the verge of dozing. "I mean, it's not, but you can just give me constant cuddles from now on and then we'll be good."

Peter let out a breathy giggle, feelings of amusement and affection surging through his chest at the determined, and yet sleepy tone of your voice. He felt your breaths even out, and he placed a light kiss to your hair as he listened to the slow, comforting thumping of your heartbeat.

"Don't worry angel, already planning on it."

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

"Buck, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Steve whispered, stopping dead in his tracks and pulling his husband to a stop through their interconnected hands. Bucky frowned a bit as his eyes scanned the room, wondering what could've possibly been behind the pure shock lacing Steve's tone. They were on their way out, intent on spending some time alone together for the first time in a long while, and Bucky knew something big must've caught his husband's attention if he was making the time to stop.

"What?" he questioned confusedly after finding seemingly nothing amiss in the common room. Steve nudged him gently, wide eyes darting towards one of Stark's insanely expensive leather couches as if to say 'there, look over there dummy!'. Bucky felt his brows furrow deeper as he struggled to process what could possibly have his husband so worked up. It was just Y/N and Peter, the two of them sitting disgustingly close to one another as they idly watched some movie on the Tower's practically movie-theater sized tel--

Oh.

Steve grinned at the sight of the two of them, squeezing Bucky's hand excitedly as he watched them.

"That's great, I didn't know they were back together, did you?"

Bucky merely grunted in response, rolling his eyes and feigning nonchalance whilst internally feeling exceedingly relieved that things would hopefully go back to normal now. He felt so light, in fact, that a deep chuckle burst through his chest before he could stop it-- although he quickly covered it with a cough.

The sound of him clearing his throat did not go unnoticed, Peter lifted his cheek slightly from the top of your head to look at the two super soldiers. His face immediately broke out into a furious blush, and though he would normally scramble away from you at the sight of your dads, he didn't move a muscle. Instead, he simply smiled nervously in their direction.

Steve's face broke out into an even bigger grin, and he nodded curtly at the young boy before looking at Bucky with a very smug 'I told you so' face.

Bucky rolled his eyes in fake annoyance, but shot Peter a knowing wink once Steve turned away. He scored himself a final mental point for sorting things out with Parker as he allowed his husband to pull him towards the door. The teen smiled and returned his attention to your sleeping form, feeling much happier than he had in weeks.

Taglist: @beth-winchester21 , @peters-legos, @lou-la-lou

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renaxwrites · 5 years ago

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Hello! Can I request an hc with a BHNA x HQ crossover where Todoroki, Bakugo, and Amajiki’s s/o is a top U.A student with a powerful quirk (like Maleficent or Jean Grey), a Phoenix but is also famous volleyball player, trained in U19 and is titled as the Goddess of Volleyball. Also, their s/o is ranked in the top three aces in Japan. Sorry if its random hehe Thank you in advancee! 💜

BNHA x HQ Crossover:

Support for the Winged-Ace -

(Todoroki, Bakugou, Tamaki)

a/n: I’ve had this one chillin in my inbox for a minute, sorry about that 🥺 I tried to find a good balance between the two. For some reason writing this made me feel a little (soft) idk why lol. Anyway I hope you like it 🥺💘

Todoroki:

It was just any other day, and Todoroki was doing some self-training, to clear his mind

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He couldn’t really concentrate from the repetitive thuds coming from the other side of the training center, so he went to go investigate. In doing so, he almost got decapitated by you, his classmate. Or, to be exact, a volleyball going what felt like 100 mph.

“Oh my gosh! I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry!” You and a couple of your teammates rush over to see of he was alright

He chuckles, but is still feeling the rush of the ball flying by. “I’m alright, but what are you doing? Is this your new training technique?”

You begin to explain how you’re on a volleyball team on the side, and you practice in your spare time. Intrigued, he wanted to see more of your practicing. YOUR crush, wanting to watch you do what you do best? It took all your willpower not to lose your brain cells or magically forget how to spike a ball. “Alright, let’s take that play from the top!”

The ball is practically floating through the air between your teammates, until you, the ace, slam the ball down to the other side, from out of nowhere. Perfect for the unsuspecting opposing team. “Yes!” You squeal in triumph as your wings descend you down.

Todo is mesmerized with what you just did. Or more specifically, you. “What was that?”

You turn to him with a certain kind of hunger on your face. “That, Shoto, is what is going to take us to be the champs this year. Hey, we actually have a tournament this weekend, you should come watch!”

And so he did. Well, he also invited a few fellow 1-a classmates to come along. They’re all having a good time, with the whole volleyball world being a new venture for them. The lights turn down, capturing their attention. They were to introduce a new player.

“And now, you know their name! You’ve seen them in every tournament imaginable, trained in U19 this year, is one of the top picks for the country, and is battling it out to be Ace of the Year this time, give it up for your ‘Volleyball Goddess’, Phoenix!!!”

You step out into the spotlight, waving to the crowd, subtly looking for a specific pair of mismatched eyes

Once you do, you smile and blow a kiss, letting them know that this game would be for him

And there he was, sitting there dumbfounded at the fact that you really do look like a goddess, with wings, uniform and all

Throughout the tournament, your classmates could feel the same pains and triumphs you did, through all the highs and lows of the games, all the way until the very last

The suspense was killing the crowd, with the score being 26-27. It was gruesome, with the game never seeming to want to end. But this point, this one point was all on you, and every person in the stadium knew it

Your team forms a quick huddle, deciding to follow through with the play you did when you almost killed Shoto. This is it!

This whole time, you had kept a cool head, but with this one point being all-or-nothing, slight nerves began to creep up. And Todo noticed.

Use of quirks weren’t necessarily allowed for safety regulations, but he needed to let you know he was cheering you on, to calm your nerves

He freezes his arm, then softly blows a slight cold breeze in your direction, praying it would reach you just enough

You shiver at the sudden, slight drop in temperature. You look up in the direction it came from, and are met with a soft smile, silently telling you, ‘you got this’

That was all you needed. You wink back, thanking him.

The ref blows the whistle, signaling the start of the play. Your team serves, and is ready to receive it from the other team. The ball comes back, and is floating on your teammates’ fingertips. You rise up, and spike the ball down to the rivals’ weak spot. They were caught off guard, not seeing you coming.

Brrt!

The whistle blows again, ending the match. You won! You and your teammates jump and squeal for joy, and soon you and the other team thank each other for the game. Then, the awards began, rewarding the top players of positions in the country.

“And now, with the top scorer for ace, taking over the top spot by .5 points more than 2nd place…Phoenix! Your Goddess!” Tears cloud your eyes as you step onto the podium. Everything you’ve worked so hard for, finally rewarded. You are presented with a bouquet and gold medallion, and just as you begin to wave to the crowd, you unintentionally catch something hard and cold in your hand. You look down in wonder.

A rose made of ice.

Once again you lock eyes with Todoroki, a silent message passing between the two of you.

After the awards, he is the first to congratulate you, and after the formalities, there’s a quick awkward tension. So you decide to break it.

“You know, I may have won first in the country, but I’m still waiting for the results for something else too.”

He tilts his head in curiosity. “And what would that be?”

You intertwine fingers with the clueless boy, and a pink blush taints his face. “I’m wondering what place I am in your heart, Shoto.”

He seems astounded. You have no idea how long he’s been wanting to confess to you, and here you are, beating him to the punch.

He takes your hand and presses a light kiss to it. “Number one, of course.”

You both stare into each other’s eyes for what seems like an eternity.

You totally forgot that some of your classmates came along, so their cheers at you two finally being together broke your tance from Shoto’s eyes.

They all fangirled at the two of you and definitely had taken the opportunity to take pictures of your love-staring-contest

The picture is both you and Todo’s wallpaper now

Bakugo:

Homie sees everything as a competition, so when he sees how big you appear with your wings, he saw you as a threat

It got on his nerves when he saw you training more than usual lately, what was your deal?

No way was he mesmerized by the way your thunderous wings carried you into the air, allowing you to spike a ball at any volume he wanted…nope he definitely wasn’t into you, nah uh, no siree

You had permission to leave class for one of your tournaments, one that would determine your rank in the country. Aizawa was actually supportive, and got approval from the staff to allow a class trip to watch your games today

Needless to say, a certain someone was a little more eager to see your power than the rest *cough* Katsuki *cough* and everyone knew it too

The second you step onto the court, you’re met with the screams of adoring fans, those who have seen your growth for the past years, seeing you go from an average player to being one of the most recognized aces in Japan.

Eventually, it was between the final two teams in the tournament. Your team was at their top level, and it was up you, their ace, to determine this set point. With a few hand signals exchanged between the players, it was silently spoken that you would be doing your secret back attack play to get this win

The whistle blows. The whole arena goes silent, so quiet you can hear a pin drop.

Your classmates all hold each other in anticipation, silently praying for you to make this.

A pair of crimson eyes bore into you, transferring a strong desire to see you succeed

You toss the ball up. Your maleficent-like wings willing you into the air, and you spike the ball to the other side with a great force. As soon as you make contact with the ball, you speed over to the front to the net. By now, the opposing team had already set it to your side, where you predicted. You and your setter make eye contact.

They set it up to you, where you were already awaiting in the air. You slam the ball down with all your might. You get the point.

You and your team tackle each other in a group hug, with tears flowing all over the place. Thunderous applause fills the stadium, with your classmates being the loudest section.

Even Aizawa was clapping along, like the proud father teacher he is

For the awards, the hosts began to present the top 3 aces of Japan, based on the scores, and you scored second! You stood next to your friendly rival, who was number one, and the two of you exchanged playful banter, promising no mercy for the number one spot next year

Once the awards were over, you walk outside to greet your classmates, and they all suffocated you with prideful hugs and congratulations, and were all sweet enough to pitch in for a big beautiful bouquet

Bakugo was biding his time to the side, where you noticed he was waiting his turn to talk to you. You walk up to him, and all he says is, “Tch, couldn’t even get number one huh.”

You smile, then clench your fist in determination. “Don’t worry, I’ll be standing at the top next year, you’ll see!”

Your perseverance caused a glimmer in your eye, which in turn created a slight blush on Bakugo’s cheeks. “You better be number one, otherwise what’s it for?”

You think about it for a moment. “Well, I may have not gotten first this year, but I got you to notice me, at least. So I won something, I think.”

Baukugo.exe has stopped working. “Huh?”

You roll your eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me Katsuki.”

He grins and pulls you in, and you wrap your wings around the two of you to shield you from the surprised eyes of those watching.

Tamaki:

Soft boy™ had always admired your confidence, and the power you carried with your wings gave a radiance unlike any other

One day, you were working on your spikes at the training center, and he happens to be passing by. He heard the whoosh of your wings and the soft thuds of the volleyball, and once he saw it was you, his long-time crush, he couldn’t look away. Not when you looked like an absolute angel like that…

At some point, you felt a pair of eyes on you, so you turned to see your super-duper-secret crush Tamaki watching you with complete awe. “Hey Tamaki! What brings you over?”

His brain cells go haywire. He was trying (and failing) his best to act like his wsan’t watching you for a while. “Well I-I was walking by a-and I saw you doing yo-your thing with the ball I thought… thought it was k-kinda cool…” God she’s so cute and here I am stuttering like a love-struck fool…

He’s so cute when he’s flustered… you think to yourself. You calm him down by explaining what you were doing and going over the drills you just did. “I have a really important tournament this weekend, it can determine my rank of being an ace throughout Japan…I may not look like it, but I’m actually really nervous.” You laugh and rub the back of your neck.

Your laugh is like music to his ears. “I’m sure you’ll do great, y/n. You’ve always overcome any goal you set your mind to. I believe you could d-do it!” He is so sure in giving you positivity that his encouragement sparks an idea in your head.

“Tamaki…would you want to…come watch me at my match? I’d feel a lot better if you were there to support me…” you offer a wishful smile. That was all it took.

“A-are you sure y-you want me there? I m-mean I wouldn’t want to d-distract you or anything…” he’s a blushing mess at your offer.

Eventually, you convince him to come, with Mirio and Neijire tagging along for moral support. They watch in fascination as you step onto the court, with you creating a newfound presence for yourself in your volleyball uniform. You were truly a vision. Everyone knew you as the ‘Phoenix’, but you were given the nickname “Goddess of Volleyball” for both your radiance and talent combined.

You work your way towards the very end, with a little blood, lots of sweat, and a couple tears shed. But now, it has come down to the final point, the one point that would determine who were the champions.

You channel all of your focus to the ball. You take a deep breath. You look at your teammates and nod. Time for the secret weapon.

You toss up the ball, bracing your wings to get ready to fly. Once the ball reaches a certain level, you float up and point the ball so hard into the opponent’s side it almost breaks the gym floor. You get the point!

You become practically deaf from the amount of screams surrounding you. The one thing that kept you grounded was an indigo-haired boy that was now looking at you like you were the most gorgeous being he’s ever seen

Awards were given, and the second they were over, you sprinted off your first-place podium and headed toward the outside, where you knew your friends were waiting

Signature indigo-hair catches your attention, and you soon tackle Tamaki into a huge hug. “Tama-kun, I did it!!”

You release him from your grip, and he found some hidden courage and kisses you on the cheek, catching both of you off guard.

Mutual, unspoken feelings were finally understood, and so the two of you walked off with intertwined pinkies.

“I knew you could, angel.”

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