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xoxo-teddybear · 4 years ago

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Viagra Prank - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: smut, f!receiving, male masterbation, needy Bakugou, sexual touching

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Summary: After a dumb argument, Y/N decides to punish Bakugou by avoiding him while he’s superrrrrr horny

A/N: NOT SPELL CHECKED

Bakugou and Y/N had been arguing for an hour already. They have been talking about Y/N cheating on him.....IN A FUCKING DREAM. Yes it really scared Bakugou and he did wanna talk to Y/N about it, but he just went about it in the wrong way and so, this led to the arguing and yelling. Bakugou knew he was in the wrong, but he was too stubborn to apologize, at least verbally. Usually, that was okay for Y/N, because at least he showed when he was sorry. But this time, all she wanted was a soft and genuine “I’m sorry.”

Instead of apologizing verbally, Bakugou attempted to make up for it through his actions. He bought Y/N another teddy bear to go along with the others he got her, bought her a bouquet of roses and gourmet chocolates, and spent the entire day with her. At night, he held you close and filled your ears with sweet nothings like “I’m so lucky I have you,” “I don’t know how you deal with me, Teddy Bear, but thank you,” and “I’ll forever love you, Y/N.”

After seeing he put a little extra effort into this very “Bakugou” apology, Y/N forgave him, but she still wasn’t letting him off the hook. She wanted to punish him at least a little, but the question was “how?” She discussed it with Bakugou’s closest friends to give her ideas.

“You could ignore him all day.” The red head said, “he has a free day tomorrow, so I can imagine he plans on spending every second of it with you.”

“Nah, since he has a free day, I would love to spend time with him too. I don’t wanna ignore him, just mess with him a little to get back at him.” You said.

“What about one of those kinky couples do? A sexual punishment. Orgasm denial, overstimula-“

“NEXXTTTTT” you, Kirishima, and Kaminari said, cutting off Sero’s nasty thoughts. Besides, you and Bakugou were that kinky couple. And you knew he enjoyed all that stuff. The freaky bastard. You were getting nowhere until Kaminari said something unexpectedly smart.

“What about viagra?” He recommended.

“What?” You questioned.

“Viagra. You can buy it at any pharmacy and just crush up the pill into a powder and give it to Bakugou in a drink. It’s gonna make this man insanely horny, and to punish him, just deny him every time.” He said sipping his drink.

“I-.....that’s perfect!” You said

“Wow Kaminari, nice plan.” Mina said.

“Thank you.......hey can I get some more boneless ice?” Annddddd dunce face is back. Someone get this boy his water.

Doesn’t matter though, now all you have to do is buy the viagra and you’re set. That night, you and Mina went to the pharmacy together and bought the pills. When you went to sleep, you saw Bakugou waiting for you in the room.

“Jeez babe, what took so long? I was waiting here for like 2 hours!” Bakugou pouted. You laughed and kissed him.

“I’m sorry Suki, but not everyone goes to bed at 8 on a Friday night.” You said taking off your jacket and changing into your pjs. You climbed into bed as Bakugou defended himself.

“Well neither do I, but I woke up mad early today.” He said wrapping his arms around you. You pecked his forehead and tried to get some sleep, excited for the next day.

“Yeah, yeah you big baby. Just get some sleep.” As you both cuddled up, you layed with a devious smirk as an unknowing Pomeranian slept peacefully above you.

——————————————————————————

That morning, you woke up early with Bakugou to work out together. As Bakugou got ready, you prepped his drinks. You placed 3 bottles of water in Bakugou’s gym bag and opened up one of them. Taking the viagra pill out, you placed it in a bowl and used the bottle cap to crush the pill to a powder. You poured the dust into the water, put the cap back on and shook the bottle. After seeing the bottle still looked normal, you subtly marked it and placed it back in his bag. When he came, ready to go you gave him the bag and you guys made your way to the gym.

After working out for a few minutes, Bakugou took a huge gulp of water. You noticed it was the bottle you marked and smiled. After a few minutes, Bakugou was starting to feel...something. He didn’t know what it was, but now he was staring at you...more than usual. Your body covered glistened in your sweat and the image of you like that was burned into Bakugou’s mind. The heavy breathing you did only accentuated his need for you and the way your body looked everytime you stretched or moved. God, he knew you were hot, but something about you today just hit different.

Bakugou walked up to you and held your waist.

“Suki?” You looked up at him with an innocent face that made him bite his lips.

“Do you wanna get outta here? I think we’re set on workouts for today, Princess.” He said while staring at your body and chest.

“Oh, sure! Let me just get my stuff and-“ you were cut off when Bakugou gripped your ass with both hands and tongued you down, he pushed you up against the wall and began grinding into you. You felt his growing erection press up against your sensitive heat which made you moaned into the kiss. This made Bakugou even needier. Unfortunately, you weren’t giving in so easily today.

“Hah...S-Suki..” you breathed out while pushing him off you slightly. “C’mon..can we at least get out of here and wash up.”

“Why? We can do that after I completely ravish you,” Bakugou smirked as he attempted to kiss you once more but you pushed him back smiling.

“Sorry Suki, but we need to get back. Okay?” You said and walked away as Bakugou rolled his eyes taking another sip of water. You both walked out but with Bakugou being a lot more handsier. You walked and he would jog up behind you and grab your ass, he would walk with his arms wrapped around your waist while standing behind you, and once you reached your dorm room, he shut the door and slammed you against it grabbing your chest and kissing you again with fervor and tongue. Sadly, once again, you pushed him off.

“Shower first Suki.” You said and walked to get some clothes out of your closet. Bakugou just sighed and banged his head against the door. He looked down and saw his friend creating a tent in his sweatpants and he let out a breath a horny frustration. Then an idea hit him.

“Shower sex?” He said hopefully like a happy puppy, and if he had a tail, please believe it’d be wagging.

“No.” Bakugou just growled and flopped onto the bed and face planted down on the cushion.

“Fineeeeee!!!!!” He complained while his voice muffled by the mattress. While you showered, you left a needy Bakugou on the mattress. He could only imagine what you looked like. Curvaceous body, covered in droplets of water, steam all around you making your cheeks red. Bakugou rubbed at his face. Why the fuck was he this horny?

When you walked out, you were wearing a small towel as you seemed to have used your wind quirk to dry your hair. Bakugou licked his lips as he walked up to your almost naked body and felt you up. He kissed up on your neck as you tilted your head to give him more access. You pressed your ass into his crotch as he grinded into you. You could hear his soft moans. His hand traveled to grope your chest and the other hand went to your clit.

“You want me to feel up on this sweet little cunt?” He asked as he pressed two fingers into you and you gasped.

“A-ah...” you moaned out as your tongue rolled out of your mouth and eyes rolled to the back of your head. You almost gave in to his desires until your phone rang, snapping you out of your trance. You pulled his hand away from you and walked to your phone but not before Bakugou tried pulling you back.

“Hey..where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you.” He said pulling you towards him.

“Katsuki..”

“Please, Princess. I need you..now.” He said as he grabbed your ass.

“Baby, seriously. Get washed up and let’s continue our day. Please?” You pouted and Bakugou sighed and gave in. He grabbed some clothes he kept in your closet and went to wash up. You sighed in relief and checked your phone only to see it was spam, but still glad it snapped you out. As you got dressed, you cursed yourself for falling so easily for Katsuki.

‘That damn Katsuki. Knowing my body, using it against me. Who the hell does he think he is being built like a Greek god like that?’ You thought as you dressed yourself.

While Bakugou was in the shower, he realized he needed to calm down. Yes he has an amazingly hot girlfriend he could fuck to settle him down, but it was clear she wasn’t down for morning sex today so he had to solve it himself.

He let his head rest under the hot water as his hand went to grab at his length and move vigorously. He imagined the way Y/N would look with her pretty mouth wrapped around his cock, swallowing all of him. How she would take his entire length in her tight little cunt, squeezing him perfectly.

“Y-Y/N...fuck..faster..” he moaned out with a breathy voice as he moved his hips, fucking his hand. He groaned and threw his head back.

“C-C’mon baby...s-shit, c’mon. Oh fuck..I’m cumming! ....a-ah!” He said as his hips stuttered and his release covered the shower floor. He sighed as he tried to regain his breath from his orgasm. It wasn’t as good as it would’ve been if it was actually you, but nonethe less, he came. Sadly, he still wasn’t satisfied.

As Bakugou walked out in nothing but a towel, he tried to get dressed but the second he saw you, his hard on returned. Oh, this was gonna be a long day.

——————————————————————————

All throughout the day Bakugou tried his best to get you in bed, and when his advances always failed, he resorted to feeling up on you or running to the bathroom for release.

You had to admit, rejecting Bakugou’s attempts had gotten harder and harder. For each time he touched you, you basically had to leave yourself hanging. You felt yourself grow wetter each time to a point where even you almost went to hide away in your room and please yourself. Thankfully, it was almost midnight, meaning the day would be over and your punishment for Bakugou would be done. Then, you both can explore your desires.

It was late LATE into the night when Bakugou busted into your room as you were watching a movie. You paused the screen and spoke to him.

“Suki! You can’t just barge in like that, you’re gonna break my do-“

“Shut up” he said as he made his strides over to you and shut you up by tonguing you down. You fell into the kiss and returned it, kissing him with just as much passion. You peaked open your eyes and looked at the time. 11:47. ‘So close,’ you thought to yourself. You reluctantly pushed him away again.

“Suki..no,”

“Suki, yes.” He whined back as he attempted to kiss you again but you stopped him once more. He was getting fed up. He lifted you by your hips, tossed you flat on your back on the bed, and used his arms to cage you in. His hands pinned your wrists to the sides of your head and his knees were pressed into the mattress at the side of your hips. He got close in your face before speaking.

“You owe me an explanation, princess. I get not wanting to fuck on busy days or during a certain time but all day? I’ve tried to get you right here where Ive wanted you and you rejected me each time. Tell. Me. Why.” He said each word with poison on his tongue. You cringed at what you thought his reaction would be, but soon came to the conclusion that you’d have to tell him at some point.

“...Punishment” you said with a hopeful smile, praying that your boyfriend won’t fling you out the window. Bakugou looked at you with wide eyes.

“What?” He squinted his eyes at you and asked.

“You were acting like an idiot the other day and it pissed me off. I accepted your apology and forgave you but you weren’t completely off the hook. So I put viagra in your drink to turn you on and deny you as a punishment.” You cringed at how easy it was for you to tell him the truth. Bakugou looked at you with a confused look, then a smirk.

“So...you drugged my drink to get me riled up so I could fuck you? Didn’t know my teddy bear was so freaky,” he said licking your neck.

“What?! No! It’s not like tha- ah!” You were interrupted as Bakugou gripped into your chest.

“Then whats it like, teddy bear? Rejection? Well you’re not denying me now. Why not?” He asked you. But you had no answer for him anyway, so as far as he knew, he was right.

“That’s what I thought,” he said while continuing the attack on your neck. “I’ve been so neglected all day, I think as an apology gift, you should let me have my way with you. Doesnt that sound fun, princess?” He said the last sentence while letting his finger press against your clothed clit. You moaned at the feeling and felt yourself growing wet.

“K-Katsuki!” You moaned.

“Please, Princess?” He asked..practically begged.

You bit your lip and closed your eyes. Enjoying the feeling of his pads rubbing into you. You arched your back and gave in, spreading you legs for him. Bakugou smirked and was quick to remove your shorts and panties. Excited, he went to feast right away. No teasing, no waiting. He’s right into it, enjoying his meal. Sucking and kissing your bud, his eyes shut as he enjoys hearing your moans and tasting your sweet nectar.

The sudden feeling of his tongue hitting you and eating you out had you shivering. The massive amount of pleasure was so sudden, you could’ve cum right then.

“S-Suki! ...m-more!” You said as your hands went to grab at his hair. Bakugou groaned as you tugged and sent his tongue right into your hole. You cried out in such ecstasy that you legs began to shake.

“Cum on my tongue, Princess. Let me taste you,” Bakugou said before he went right back in. When you came, Bakugou lapped up every drop of you, savoring your flavor. He went up to kiss you and allowed you to taste yourself.

“God I want you so bad princess..” Bakugou breathed out as he released himself from his pants and lined up with your cunt. He rubbed his tip up and down your opening and you moaned in excitement.

“Let me have my way with you, Y/N.” He said in your ear as he pressed in. You wanted and needed him now. You looked at the time and saw, 11:56. Screw it.

“Please Katsuki! Use me! Please fuck me!” You begged. Smirking at your neediness, Bakugou slammed into you. Not giving you any time to adjust, Bakugou kept to his word and had his way with you. His pace was going so fast it had you seeing stars.

“Y-yes Katsuki! F-uck.....Mm,” you cried out. Bakugou lifted your hips to hold onto you and fuck you in a deeper angle.

“Shit....like that, Princess?” He said said with a smile as he kissed your neck.

“M-more Katsuki!” You begged again. Bakugou held onto your hips and kept his steady pace for awhile. He smacked your ass and kissed you deeply, exploring every inch of your wet cavern.

“You thought it was okay to fuck around with me like this? Huh princess?” He said smacking you again. You moaned at the contact and he gripped your ass. He grabbed your legs and put you in a mating press. The new angle reached deep inside you and hit the most sensitive spots. You screamed his name as he continued to fuck you with his head thrown back.

“Gotta keep quiet now...can’t let the whole class know what’s happening in here,” he huffed out “or maybe you want them to know. Yeah? You want them to know how much of a slut you are just for me?” He teased.

“Ohhh..yesss Katsuki.” You moaned. His cock was sliding into you perfectly, making you dizzy and drunk on euphoria.

“Yeah, but you’re my slut. Right? My dirty little slut. All for me, and me only.” He said as he placed his arms next to your head.

“I’m yours Katsuki! Just yours...ah!” You clenched around him. You could feel the way his balls slapped your ass everytime he thrusted into you. The sounds of skin slapping and your wet cunt filled the air and made a melody you’d never forget. In the heat of the moment, you began to feel the familiar knot in your belly.

“F-fuck. Cum for me princess, I want you to spill in on me.” Bakugou said. He went deeper, harder, and faster. Whatever it took for your pleasure. As he went in, you felt the knot become loose as you came on Katsuki’s dick and your legs shook. You cried out in pleasure as Bakugou continued to chase his own release. After a few more deep strokes, Bakugou met his high and climaxed. He filled your womb with cum and layed there as he emptied his load. You both layed there in silence, catching your breaths as you both came down from the high.

Instead of pulling out, Bakugou stayed where he was and just leaned in closer to you.

“You done messing with me, Princess?” He asked you. You let out a breathy yes as he kissed your cheek and pulled out. He layed beside you and cuddled into you as he held you close.

“I don’t know. I’m kinda satisfied with how this turned out.” You teased. Bakugou only let out a quick laugh in disbelief at his wild girlfriend and just kissed her.

“You’re crazy.” He said while holding you closer.

“But you love me,” you said.

“Yeah..I do.” He said as he rested his head against you. While basking in the glow of the after sex peace, Bakugou realized something.

“Umm..Y/N?” He started.

“Hm?” You said in a sweet voice, with your eyes still closed and you still cuddled into his chest.

“I’m, uh...I’m sorry..for how I was acting.” He apologized. This made your eyes burst open. He was apologizing..verbally. You looked up at him and gave him a sweet, passionate kiss.

“Thank you Katsuki, but I already forgave you. Remember?” You giggled. A sound that Bakugou will forever remember. A sound he will forever enjoy hearing. He just sighed and leaned into you even more, trying to communicate all his love through the physical contact you were both having.

“I don’t deserve you, Princess” he said as his eyes began to fall heavy into a deep sleep.

“You deserve me and the whole world Katsuki.” You said with love dripping in your voice.

“You are my whole world,” he mumbled in embarrassment as a blush adorned his face as he attempted to hide away in your neck. You blushed and smiled at his little confession and allowed him to sleep. It was past his usual bedtime after all.

“Get some rest, Hero.” You said, pecking his forehead with a loving kiss. As he drifted off, you just smiled and rested your eyes as you thought about the next time you would drug his drink. This little viagra prank turned out amazing.

A/N: y’all this was so sloppy😭 it could’ve been so much better but it’s been sitting in my drafts mocking me. I just had to get it out here. I’m sorry it’s not spell checked but I hoped you enjoyed it none the less. (The smut was so bad😭😭) see you next time, Cubs💗🧸

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

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The upcoming visit of a particular Noble has Merlin on edge;

Gwen has to explain why to an incredulous, soon to be horrified, Arthur.

TW: Physical abuse.

Arthur doesn’t question it when Merlin drops an empty tray moments after he was told of Lord Dunstan’s upcoming visit, he simply rolls his eyes and mutters something about incompetence.

Merlin wordlessly cleans up the mess as Arthur goes on to tell him to make sure the Steward was aware, and to have a servant ready for him.

Merlin’s... subdued, behaviour in the following weeks however, does invite question, but Arthur quickly drops it when Merlin snaps at him. It’s rare that Merlin gets angry (or openly angry), so The King shrugs his shoulders, and stops pushing it.

If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed that all the servants seemed a little muted, not even Gwen was holding the long conversations with him that she usually does. But Arthur was a King, preparing for the visit of a long-standing family friend he hasn’t seen since Uther died.

He had more important things to worry about than the conspiratorial whispering between Merlin, the Steward, and George. So he left it. He figured Merlin was just finally getting in trouble for being a shit servant, and deserved whatever he got.

When the morning of Lord Dunstan’s arrival finally came, Merlin was unusually quiet as he dressed and readied Arthur; but Arthur was so preoccupied by complaining at the small portion of his breakfast, he didn’t notice (or at least didn’t comment on) Merlin’s lack of sarcasm or witty insults.

Just as Arthur finished eating, a knock resounded from the chamber entrance. Arthur frowned in confusion, he wasn’t expecting news of Lord Dunstan’s arrival for another hour or so, but Merlin seemed pleased as he opened the door.

A young servant boy, who Arthur vaguely recognised as being called Tristan, walked in. He seemed nervous, but smiled when Merlin patted him on the shoulder, whispering encouragement that Arthur couldn’t quite hear.

Arthur raises his eyebrow at Merlin when he turned back, but before the King could question him, Merlin spoke:

“This is Tristan, My Lord. He’ll be serving you during the day whilst Lord Dunstan is here. Be nice to him.”

Arthur frowned, sternly saying:

“Well, where will you be? I don’t recall giving you any time off, Merlin.”

Tristan gulped, but Merlin ruffles his hair as he rolls his eyes, before heading towards the door, replying over his shoulder:

“It’s my turn to serve the visiting noble and there’s a few things to sort out before he arrives. The servants have a rota.”

He shuts the door behind him briefly, before opening it and sticking his head back through, giving Arthur a pointed look before repeating:

“Be nice to him.”

The door quickly shuts again, and Arthur sputters indignantly. Tristan cleared his throat slightly before shyly asking:

“Is there anything you require to be done today, My Lord?”

Arthur’s attention is quickly drawn back to the boy, around fourteen summers old, and he fixes him with a confused stare before his brain seems to catch up, and he responds:

“Uh... yes, there’s a... wait, do you.. do you know how to read and write?”

Arthur doesn’t really think about it often, he doesn’t need to, but he was aware that most commoners, even servants working in the castle, didn’t know how to read.

The nerves seem to drain from Tristan’s face as he gives the King a wide smile:

“Yes, Sire. Merlin started teaching me when I first started working here last summer. I’m pretty good at it now, as long as it isn’t too complicated.”

Arthur is taken aback at that. Of course, teaching peasant children to read and write sounds like exactly something Merlin would do, so he’s not sure why he’s surprised.

Arthur nods, returning the boy’s smile with an unsure one of his own:

“Right. There’s a list of chores on the desk. Try to get as many of them done as you can but... uh... ask the Steward or Merlin if you need any help, or if you can’t do something.”

Arthur had no real concept of what commoner boys of Tristan’s age were capable of. When Arthur was fourteen, he could recite the names of every Camelot Noble, and decapitate a training dummy without breaking a sweat, but he knows that’s not... normal... for other children.

Tristan nods enthusiastically, and goes to the desk, picking up the list and reading it with furrowed brows and a bitten lip. Arthur sees the deep concentration on his face and the slow pace of his eyes moving over the page, and makes a mental note to allow Merlin an extra few hours a week, to give more official lessons to the younger servants.

Arthur clears his throat, standing from his place at the table and gesturing at the empty tray in front of him:

“Take this down to the kitchens, then get started on the list. I’ll be working in here until Lord Dunstan arrives, make sure to come and inform me as soon as he approaches the castle, I wish to meet him in the courtyard.”

Tristan’s eyes go wide, and his face loses a bit of colour, but he gives Arthur a smile that’s only slightly shaky as he bows, and slips the list into his pocket:

“Yes, of course My Lord.”

The boy’s miniscule change in disposition doesn’t strike Arthur as odd until the door shuts quietly behind him, leaving The King alone in his chambers.

He hums thoughtfully to himself, everyone seemed to be acting strangely this morning. Though perhaps Merlin, and a boy who was spending a lot of time with Merlin, acting strangely shouldn’t be... surprising, to Arthur.

He shrugs his shoulders slightly and sits at his desk, resigning himself to at least an hour’s worth of boring paperwork.

When Tristan came back around a candle mark later to inform The King that Lord Dunstan’s carriage was approaching the castle gates, he seemed even more nervous and tense than earlier.

Arthur noticed, but payed no mind. He figured the boy was just a little overwhelmed with his duties, and made a mental note to ask Merlin to check in on him, the next time he saw the gangly manservant.

He had no time to do so however: the next time Merlin was in Arthur’s presence, he was unloading Dunstan’s baggage as Arthur greeted the Lord.

The two men clasped arms, wide smiles on their faces as Arthur said:

“Welcome back to Camelot, Lord Dunstan. I hope your journey wasn’t too difficult?”

The man’s smile grew as he shook his head:

“No, not difficult at all, we made good time. It’s an honour to be back, My Lord.”

Arthur nodded in satisfaction, and resisted the urge to frown when he noticed how tense Tristan and Merlin seemed, instead keeping the smile on his face:

“Well, lunch will be served in a candle mark or so. You’ll be seen to by my personal manservant for the duration of your stay-”

Arthur gestures loosely at Merlin, who doesn’t react at all as he quietly informs George and one other servant to take Dunstan’s belongings up to the chambers he would be staying in. As the two of them ascend the castle steps, bags in hand, Merlin moves to stand behind the Lord, giving George a knowing look before focusing his gaze on the floor, jaw tense and face blank.

Arthur doesn’t manage to avoid frowning at Merlin’s odd behaviour this time, but covers it quickly before continuing:

“-let him get you settled and then you can join me for a meal in the dining hall. If you require anything at all, do not hesitate to ask him.”

Dunstan looks to a still non-reactionary Merlin, and Arthur takes advantage of his distraction to glance at Tristan, whom he had noticed take a subtle gasp at Arthur’s words. He frowns slightly at the boy’s apprehensive face and strained posture, but looks back as Lord Dunstan drops a heavy hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

Arthur can see the bob of Merlin’s throat as he swallows and winces slightly, but stays otherwise still. The King doesn’t have time to think about it before Dunstan joyously exclaims:

“Yes, I remember him from last time. I will take full advantage of your hospitality, My Lord.”

Arthur returns his smile, and gestures to the castle entrance, Merlin’s odd demeanour immediately forgotten. Dunstan removes the hand from Merlin’s shoulder, and the two of them follow Arthur through the large doors.

They separate in the corridor, Merlin stiffly leading the Lord to the guest chambers, and Arthur and Tristan heading back up to The King’s chambers.

Both of them enter the room, Tristan standing still and tense, expression drawn and concerned as he makes a point of staring at the floor submissively.

Arthur frowns in confusion, trying not to sound accusing as he asks:

“How are you getting on with the list?”

Tristan replies in an even voice, obviously making an effort to sound blank as he keeps his gaze on the floor:

“I’ve crossed off the first three tasks. Is there anything specific you require now, or would you like me to continue with the chores, My Lord?”

Arthur’s eyes widen and he smiles:

“Three? In one hour? That’s brilliant. No I don’t need anything, keep going with the list-”

Tristan bows, still not making eye contact, and wordlessly goes to leave, but Arthur calls him back:

“Wait! What’s gotten you so tense all of a sudden? Speak freely, you won’t be punished or anything, is there a problem somewhere?”

Tristan tenses even further, and turns around with wide eyes. He shakes his head roughly:

“No Sire, no problem.”

Arthur frowns and furrows his eyebrows, but before he can reply, a frantic knocking comes from the door. Before Arthur can ask who it is, the door bursts in harshly and Gwen rushes in, looking panicked:

“Merlin?!-”

Her eyes land on an awfully confused Arthur and she bows very briefly before hurriedly saying:

“-I apologise for the intrusion, My Lord, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Mer-”

Her frenetic gaze lands on Tristan, and she lets out a breath before rushing over to him. She puts one hand on his shoulder and one on his cheek. She tilts his head carefully, as if looking for something on his face as she says:

“-Oh, Tristan thank the Gods. Matron just told me that you had been assigned to Lord Dunstan. You haven’t been hurt have you?”

Tristan smiles nervously and takes Gwen’s hand from his face as he shakes his head softly.

Arthur looks on in unconcealed bewilderment as the boy quietly replies:

“No. Merlin swapped with me. He’s with the Lord now, and I’m serving His Majesty. I told him I could handle it, but he and George insisted.”

Gwen’s jaw tensed slightly as she shook her head:

“Hmm. You’re not even of age yet Tristan, we won’t let you-”

She looks up nervously at Arthur, seeming to only just remember that The King was in the room with them. She gulps slightly, before plastering a smile on her face and looking back down to the boy:

“-why don’t you run along and finish your chores. I can deal with anything His Majesty needs right now. And stay out of our guest’s way.”

Tristan tilts his head in question, but at Gwen’s slight nod he turns and bows to Arthur, before leaving the room. Gwen watches him go with a concerned frown on her face, but her attention is quickly caught by Arthur again as he suddenly exclaims:

“Right, are you going to tell me what that was about? Why did you think he had been hurt? And Merlin told me it was his turn to serve the visiting noble?”

Gwen looks back to him nervously:

“It’s nothing, My Lord. Do you require anything?”

Arthur scoffs disbelievingly, looking annoyed as he retorts:

“Yes. I require that you answer my questions.”

Gwen frowns again, looking desperately worried as she replies:

“Really, Sire, it’s not anything you should have to concern yourself-”

Arthur holds a hand up, his face morphing from annoyed to worried as he interrupts her:

“Colour me concerned. Speak freely, Guinevere. What’s going on? You, Merlin, and Tristan have been acting noticeably odd all day, and it isn’t even noon yet.”

Gwen gulps, before seeming to sag slightly in resignation. She lets out a breath and looks to the floor as she quietly replies:

“The servants look out for one another, Sire. George is the best servant, gets things done the quickest, but Merlin can... Merlin is the best at taking hits, better than all of us. So whenever a noble is particularly... demanding, they tend to work together, to keep the younger or more inexperienced servants out of harm’s way.”

Arthur’s expression morphs once again, this time to one of puzzlement, and Gwen looks up at him apprehensively as he replies:

“What do you mean, “taking hits”, and since when has Merlin worked with George?”

Gwen tilts her head, before slowly replying:

“I... I don’t really know what to say, My Lord. Whenever a noble is aggressive, George will do his best to make sure everything’s perfect, and Merlin will stop the noble taking an interest in any of the other servants; he’ll take the hits. Lord Dunstan has a- you said I could speak freely, My Lord? I know Lord Dunstan is a friend of yours-”

Arthur nods firmly, muttering an “of course”, starting to realise with numb horror what Gwen might be talking about:

“-well, Lord Dunstan is always rather... violent, with the serving staff, especially the younger ones, so whenever he visits, Merlin takes over serving him, and the rest of us try to keep out of his way, and patch Merlin up at the end of the day.”

Arthur looks shocked, and Gwen frowns as he collapses back into one of the chairs at the table. She slowly walks over, sitting opposite him. When Arthur stays silent, seemingly staring into the distance, Gwen clears her throat and speaks up quietly:

“Surely you knew, My Lord? That we get hit?”

Arthur looks at her in shock, shaking his head incredulously before replying:

“No! No, I didn’t know. Why has no one said anything?”

Gwen tenses her jaw, suddenly looking like she’s trying to control her anger, before she replies harshly, but still quietly:

“What would you have us say, Sire? We’re just servants. Nobles can do whatever they want to us without punishment. And even if abuse of the staff was illegal, who would believe the word of a servant over that of a Noble? Like I said My Lord, we look out for each other. None of us like it, but Merlin is the best at working through injury, so he always takes the violent ones whilst the rest of us do his other duties for him.”

Arthur slumps back in his seat, thinking for a moment whilst Gwen stares at him with an odd mix of anger and pity.

He speaks up again after a few minutes, barely audible:

“Merlin takes the violent ones...”

Gwen nods sympathetically, before replying in a quietly disbelieving tone:

“Yes. Do you actually believe Merlin every time he says he fell down the stairs, or ran into a door, or something else equally stupid and clumsy??-”

Arthur nods wordlessly and Gwen sighs:

“-He disappears for hours at a time, and comes back with all those bruises and injuries because he takes over someone else’s... difficult assignment. We used to try and take turns, and still do very occasionally, when Merlin can’t, but he usually insists. He can take beatings that no one else can; he can somehow work with a fractured jaw and a concussion and all manner of other injuries, children who are barely fourteen summers old can’t.-”

Gwen sighs once again, and Arthur looks up at her in shock as she stares at the table and sniffles slightly, tears filling her eyes as she quietly continues:

“-He’s always been stupidly proud of his ability to work after being thoroughly smacked around, AND hide it from you, but it worries me. One day he’s going to take a hit he can’t get up from.”

Arthur gains his ability to speak again, muttering in a horrified tone:

“Gods. I had no idea. I mean I knew a few of the Lords were a little handsy occasionally, but I put a stop to it when I see it. I didn’t think it was this... widespread.”

Gwen tilts her head, catching Arthur’s eyes. They meet each other’s gaze as Arthur quietly asks:

“Does anyone else know?”

Gwen gives him a weak smile and gulps before she replies, equally quietly:

“Gaius knows. After the first time we had to carry Merlin back to him to get patched up, we started warning him when anyone particularly... violent, was around, so he could prepare.-”

Arthur flinches and looks away slightly at that, the image of other servants having to carry a beaten and bloody Merlin back to Gaius replaying over and over in his head.

Gwen takes his hand sympathetically as she continues:

“-A few of the Roundtable Knights look out for us. We try to keep Gwaine and Elyan away from it because they just get angry and accusing and of course the servants face the repercussions for that later. Leon, Percival, and Lancelot are pretty good at distracting them, so we can escape, but it doesn’t work long-term. Sometimes the Nobles are less willing to be violent in front of others, so some of the guards hang around wherever possible, to keep an eye on us, but they can’t do that all of the time. They do what they can, when they can.”

Arthur nods mutely and Gwen stares at him as he gathers his thoughts. He straightens his back and takes in a deep breath before looking Gwen in the eyes, and firmly asking:

“How bad is Dunstan? Compared to others?”

Gwen winces, glancing away briefly before looking back to Arthur’s determined face:

“He’s... one of the worse ones. Last time he was here, he gave the first servant a broken nose and a concussion, and when Merlin took over, he bruised four ribs, fractured his wrist and collarbone, and ended up with permanent scars all up one of his arms.”

Arthur let out a breath and cursed:

“How did I not notice that? Or did I just take some stupid excuse at face value, again?”

Gwen pursed her lips, replying softly:

“Everything was bandaged up under clothing, and there were no visible bruises. Merlin is... skilled, at hiding his pain. You couldn’t have known.”

Arthur stands suddenly and begins pacing. He huffs before turning back to Gwen, ranting slightly:

“This is unacceptable. This is ridiculous. I want a list. Of all the violent ones, all the even mildly aggressive ones. Nobles, Knights, hell, even royalty, I don’t care. I want to know the names of everyone who thinks it’s acceptable to beat my staff.”

Gwen smiles sadly, and joins him in standing, but shakes her head slightly:

“It’s not that simple, that would be a very long list, Sire. I can think of maybe ten nobles who have never laid a hand on any of us, and one of them is Leon.”

Arthur goes pale and deflates, tears coming to his eyes as he whispers:

“Would... would I be on that list? I’ve thrown things at Merlin before but I didn’t... I never wanted to to hurt him, I never meant to be violent.”

Gwen steps forward and puts her hands on Arthur’s shoulders, giving him a soft smile as she says:

“Arthur, you throw pillows at Merlin when he calls you fat. You definitely wouldn’t be on the list. Merlin put Tristan with you because he knew that was the safest place for him to be whilst Dunstan was here.”

Arthur relaxes and nods slightly at her words, but still looks troubled. He looks up at her after a few moments:

“How long until lunch? Merlin will be with Dunstan until then.”

Gwen grimaces:

“Another half a candle-mark, Sire.”

Arthur huffs again, but begins walking towards the door purposefully, Gwen trailing after him worriedly:

“We’re going to pay him a surprise visit. I can hardly make an announcement, or accuse him with no proof, but if I catch him in the act...”

They both hurry down the corridor, Gwen rushing to catch up after the shut the door behind her. She can tell that Arthur feels guilty, but he was right in his assessment: the only way he could do anything about it is if he walked in on his manservant (and best friend and possibly love of his life) being beaten. And that’s not exactly something one wants to see.

They finally reach the hall that Lord Dunstan’s chambers were in, to see George approaching from the other end of the corridor. The servant’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of them, but he covers it quickly, moving to stand in front of Dunstan’s door, water pitcher clutched tightly in his hands. He bows at the King, and glances nervously at Gwen before saying:

“Is there anything I can help you with, My Lord?”

Arthur sees the way he’s stood in front of the door defensively, and whilst it frustrates him slightly that his servants think him incapable of protecting them, he understands. Apparently, this had been happening forever, and they all thought he knew and just didn’t care.

Gwen speaks up, quietly so they can’t be heard through the door, before The King can reply:

“It’s alright George, he’s here to help. How was Merlin last time you saw him?”

George goes a little pale, wincing slightly as he looks to Gwen at Arthur’s side:

“He was... alright. A few bruises, but nothing serious.-”

He tacks on a quick “-My Lord.” as he looks back to Arthur.

Arthur’s face goes red and he looks furious, Gwen has to tug his sleeve to stop him from shouting as he angrily whispers:

“A few bruises?? He’s only been here for half a candle mark!”

George gulps, and looks to Gwen for support. She pulls Arthur around to look at him, and the barely concealed devastation in her expression drains the anger from Arthur’s face:

“I told you, Dunstan is one of the worse-”

She gets interrupted by a muffled thump coming from the room behind George, and Arthur’s gaze whips to the door. George flinches slightly at the noise, biting his lip as he looks to the floor, as if trying to block the sound out. Gwen clamps a hand over he mouth, tears filling her eyes as they vaguely hear someone yelling in anger.

Arthur hesitates for only a moment in his shock, before pushing behind George and ripping the door open.

He stalks quickly into the room, Gwen and George on his heels as his gaze is immediately drawn to Dunstan drawing his fist back for the second blow.

Arthur is completely taken aback by the sight in front of him. Merlin was straightening up, recovering from the first hit, turning to look Lord Dunstan in the eyes with a blank expression. The Lord hadn’t noticed the other three enter the room, and Arthur has no time to yell before Merlin’s face is struck once again.

His head rocks to the side violently, and Arthur can see the spray of blood coming for the cut that Dunstan’s ring had left. Merlin takes a stumbled step back, but only looks to the side for a moment before taking a deep breath and, like before, returning to his original position with a blank look on his face.

Merlin notices Arthur, Gwen, and George over Dunstan’s shoulder, and his eyes go wide, but before he can say anything, or Gods forbid be hit again, Arthur speaks up.

His voice is low, and angry, but he just about manages to keep himself from attacking the Lord whilst his back is turned:

“What is the meaning of this?”

The Lord turns quickly, shaking his hand slightly to rid his knuckles of pain. Arthur has to resist the urge to launch himself at the man when he gives him a wide smile, as if he hadn’t a care in the world:

“Ah, King Arthur! I wasn’t expecting to see you until lunch. What can I help you with?”

Arthur’s jaw tenses as he glances quickly at Merlin’s bleeding cheek, before looking to Gwen and nodding in Merlin’s direction. Gwen takes the prompt with no hesitancy, moving quickly around the Lord to stand at Merlin’s side.

She tries to reach up to check his face, but Merlin gives her a short, reassuring smile before waving her off and fixing Arthur with a questioning stare.

Arthur ignores him, knowing that if he looks at him any longer he’ll fly in to a rage; choosing instead to direct a harsh gaze at Dunstan, who still has an innocent grin on his face:

“You can help, by explaining why on Gods Earth you thought it appropriate to lay hands upon a member of my staff.”

Dunstan looks a little confused, but doesn’t drop the smile entirely. He glances back at Merlin absent-mindedly before looking to The King once more:

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with-”

Arthur’s hands clench at his choice of words:

“-there was simply a mix up that required punishment.”

Arthur bristled, and took a menacing step towards the Lord, who at least had the decency to look a little self-conscious at the movement:

“No mistake that isn’t worth concerning myself with, warrants the physical beating of my employees. If you have any problems with the service, you are to bring it up to the Steward, or me directly. You are NOT to take it upon yourself to dole out punishment, am I understood?”

Arthur resists the urge to look at Merlin when he takes in a shocked breath, keeping his vicious gaze focused on Dunstan. The man sputters slightly, going red in the face as he rather indignantly retorts:

“Well, you’ve never had a problem with it before, Sire.”

Arthur takes a fortifying breath clenching his hands tighter as he grinds out:

“So you admit to physically abusing my staff?-”

Without waiting for a response, Arthur turns to Gwen:

“-Take Merlin to see the Court Physician,-”

He then looks to George behind him:

“-Inform the Kitchen, the Housekeeper, and the Steward, that Lord Dunstan will not being staying with us after all.”

Gwen takes Merlin by the arm, dragging him to the entrance despite his protests. George gives Arthur a brief bow, before rushing out the door behind them, leaving the furious King alone with the red-faced Lord.

Arthur turns back to look at him once again:

“I was, until recently, unaware of this ongoing problem. The people who work in this castle are under my protection, and they are not to be harmed under any circumstances. Until you can refrain from beating my staff, you are no longer welcome in my Kingdom. I want you out of the city by noon. I will be sending guards to help you find your way out.”

Without waiting for a response, Arthur turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, before he strides quickly out of the castle and down to the training grounds. He gestures Leon and Percival over, and the confused knights rush to his side, Leon asking what’s wrong.

Arthur tenses his jaw slightly before quietly saying:

“Have Elyan take over training. I want you and Percival to go and supervise Lord Dunstan pack his things, and make sure he makes it out of the city before noon. I want him gone.”

Leon widens his eyes slightly, but covers it quickly. Percival is not so quick, looking concerned as he asks.

“Is Merlin alright??”

Arthur sighs, a little upset that his most loyal knights were aware of the situation and he wasn’t, but he covers it well, looking to the floor briefly:

“It could’ve been a lot worse. Gwen took him to Gaius, I’m going there now.”

The two knights nod at his response, before rushing back to the other knights. Arthur doesn’t bother to hang around as Leon talks to Elyan, choosing instead to head straight in the direction of the Physician’s Chambers.

Servants, guards, and Nobles alike jump out of his way in the corridor. Whether news has spread of Lord Dunstan’s essential banishment, or the angry look on his face scared them, Arthur didn’t know. But it didn’t matter, he payed it no attention, focussing only on the quickest route to Gaius’s chambers.

He meets George at the door, and the normally uptight servant gives him only a shallow bow before shakily saying:

“The kitchen and heads of staff have been informed, My Lord-”

He glances nervously to the door, before looking back to The King and continuing:

“-Is there anything else you require?”

Arthur immediately picks up on George’s desire to see if Merlin was alright, and shakes his head:

“Come in and help Gaius with anything he requires. After, I’d like you to find Tristan and see if he’s alright, he seemed a little shaken earlier.”

George nods very slightly, grateful, understanding that The King had just given him an excuse to check on Merlin before he had to continue with other jobs.

Arthur gives him a strained smile before entering the chambers without knocking, George hot on his heels. The servant shuts the door behind them, and they see Merlin sat on the table looking put out, whilst Gwen insists on holding his hand and Gaius bustles around.

The three of them look over when the door is opened, Gaius giving them barely a glance before going back to flitting about, Gwen giving them a small smile before looking back to Merlin, and Merlin nodding briefly at George before settling yet another questioning gaze on The King.

George stays in place by the door, his concern well-hidden as he stares at Merlin. Arthur takes a few more steps towards his confused manservant, clearing his throat before saying:

“Lord Dunstan will be gone by noon. I told him not to come back until he could refrain from hitting my staff.”

Gwen gives him a grateful smile, and Arthur hears George let out a relieved breath from behind him, but Merlin just tilts his head in confusion:

“I don’t know why everyone’s making such a fuss. I’ve definitely had worse, he doesn’t even hit that hard.”

Gwen groans and gently smacks him on the arm, muttering:

“That’s not the point, Merlin.”

George huffs quietly, before saying, louder than Gwen:

“Guinevere is right Merlin. Gaius, do you require any assistance?”

At Gaius’s casual wave of denial, George turns to Arthur, giving him his normal deep bow before glancing at Merlin once more as he leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

Arthur was taken aback at Merlin’s casual reply, and when Gwen notices the pained shock on his face, she pats Merlin’s hand softly before whispering:

“It’s not ok, Merlin. I’ll leave you two to talk.”

Merlin gives her an incredulous look, but before he can retort, she’s gone from the room. That woman can move quickly when she wants to, but Arthur hardly notices as he continues to stare at the cut on Merlin’s cheek.

Gaius finally finds what he’s looking for and rushes over to Merlin, tilting his head so he can look at the cut properly, and cleaning it with a strong smelling alcohol as the younger man winces.

Gaius speaks slowly as he works, and Arthur moves closer, to stand next to him:

“Hmm. You’re lucky you didn’t fracture your cheekbone. There’s no concussion either, just make sure to keep this clean, my boy.”

Merlin goes to nod, but stops with a smile and roll of the eyes as Gaius huffs at the movement.

Arthur waits patiently, but gives Gaius a pointed look when he finishes. The aging physician gives him the patented eyebrow raise, before leaving the room without a word. Merlin ignores Arthur, watching Gaius walk out with a frown on his face and a muttered:

“Where’s he going?”

Arthur shakes his head, putting a forceful hand on Merlin’s shoulder when he goes to stand up. The manservant flinches away and Arthur retracts his hand quickly, as if he’d been burned.

Gods. That had happened in front of Arthur. He’d seen it, and shrugged it off, like Merlin’s pain was nothing. No wonder none of his staff came to him.

Merlin gets the idea nonetheless, and stays seated, furrowing his eyebrows:

“Why’d you make Dunstan leave? It’s only me he’s hit, people have done way worse.”

Arthur takes in a harsh breath, planting his feet to stop himself from pacing as he shakes his head:

“I didn’t know, Merlin. Gods, if I’d known that my staff were getting beaten I would’ve done something earlier.-”

He looks up, and Merlin is slightly taken aback by the desperation in his eyes:

“-I swear, I had no idea.”

Merlin tilts his head in confusion, talking slowly, as if to a child:

“But you... accepted all my excuses? I thought that was our way of acknowledging that it was happening and that we couldn’t do anything about it?”

Arthur exhales forcefully, but fails to stop himself from pacing this time. Merlin’s eyes follow him up and down the room as he speaks quickly:

“No! I really just thought you were that clumsy! Gods above Merlin, why didn’t you just tell me? The staff are under my protection, you should NOT have to volunteer to take violent masters just to protect the younger ones. No one should! There should be no violent masters in the first place!”

Merlin huffs and rolls his eyes as he replies:

“I’ve had worse, Arthur. And besides, this has always happened, it’s the way of things. The rich and noble get to do whatever they want to the... not-so rich and noble.”

Arthur turns to him in shock, upset that Merlin seems to have no problem with regularly being beaten for no reason:

“Merlin! That shouldn’t be the way of things.-”

Arthur takes a step towards him, and puts a hand on his (uninjured) shoulder. Merlin’s eyes soften at the touch, and The King takes a deep breath before continuing:

“-And it stops now. If anyone, and I mean anyone, is violent or needlessly aggressive with the staff, I want to be informed immediately, no matter what. Even if you have to walk out on your duties or interrupt a meeting, I don’t care.”

Merlin shakes his head, laughing slightly, much to Arthur’s confusion:

“I don’t see what the big deal is?! No one but me gets hurt anyway, and it’s not like telling you will make them stop. I’m perfectly capable of filling in for the others, I have a high pain tolerance-”

He nudges the cut on his cheek slightly with a finger:

“-I can’t even feel it, see?”

Arthur growls slightly, slapping away Merlin’s hand before roughly saying:

“It is a big deal Merlin. You shouldn’t have to fill in for the others, because they shouldn’t need protecting from their own masters in the first place!-”

The anger drains out of Arthur suddenly and he sags, before looking up to Merlin with unconcealed sorrow on his face, and continuing in a shaky voice:

“-Just because you can take it, doesn’t mean you should have to. I’m not questioning your strength or stupid pain tolerance here Merlin, I’m trying to help. Frankly, I don’t want to trust the safety and well-being of my subjects to men who beat them just because they can anyway. Will you please just accept that I don’t like seeing you, or any of my other staff, in pain, and do what I ask for once?”

Merlin tilts his head, as if still struggling with the idea that this shouldn’t be happening, but at Arthur’s pleading eyes, he sighs and nods, before speaking quietly:

“Alright, fine. But if you put me in the stocks for accusing one of your Nobles of being an arsehole in front of the council, then I’m going to be pissed-”

Arthur shakes his head roughly, responding with conviction:

“I wouldn’t.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow in amusement, before shrugging his shoulders slightly. His eyes harden, and he takes a deep breath before saying, in a voice that invites no argument:

“But I won’t ever stop protecting the others. I’ll always volunteer to serve the aggressive ones, and if you try to stop me, I’ll do that thing you hate where I completely disobey your orders.”

Arthur lets out a gentle laugh, shaking his head slightly:

“I wouldn’t expect you to anyway.-”

The King looks back up at his manservant, an assessing look in his eye as he says:

“-It seems that you’re quite... paternal, when it comes to the younger servants; protecting them from violence to your own detriment,-”

He raises his eyebrow slightly as he continues:

“-teaching them to read and write?”

Merlin blushes slightly and looks down, mumbling:

“I was lucky in Ealdor, my mum taught me the basics; I wasn’t very good, but Gaius helped me when I got to Camelot.-”

He shrugs slightly before continuing, still refusing to look up at the man in front of him:

“-I just think everyone deserves a chance, so I teach them when I’ve got time.-”

He does look up now, smirking slightly as he says:

“-a good thing I learnt as well, otherwise who would proof read and improve your God awful speeches?”

Arthur looks indignant and offended for all of two seconds before he laughs and nods his head reluctantly:

“You have a point. You know, if you want some time in the week to give properly structured lessons, I could figure something out. I’m sure we can find an empty room in the castle for you to use, and the crown will pay for anything you need.”

Merlin brightens noticeably, a wide smile on his face as he rushes to say:

“Really?! That would be great, I know they really want to learn but it’s difficult when I only have an hour here and there, especially when they all have jobs to do as well.”

Arthur laughs gently as he nods his head, deciding that it’s a little ridiculous, how desperate he is to keep that smile on Merlin’s face for as long as possible:

“Of course. We can discuss it with the Steward, but how about... a morning one day, and an afternoon another day? You can split the group into two, that means the castle isn’t missing too many staff at once.”

Merlin nods, not dropping the enthusiastic smile once, and Arthur chuckles fondly.

Yes, Arthur thinks, yes, that smile, for as long as possible.

THE END!

Maybe it’s a tad anti-climactic, but some fluff is just like that I suppose ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Same as always, if you wanna write it out properly, go for it! Credit and tag me ✌

Let me know if y’all want my thoughts on anything in particular:)

623 notes · View notes

helloalycia · 4 years ago

Text

teenage dirtbag [three] // wanda maximoff

summary: Wanda's boyfriend continues to be an aggravation in your life, causing some distance between you and Wanda

warning/s: none

author's note: i really appreciate the feedback you guys gave in the last part – it’s always motivating to read your reactions/comments 🥰

Sorting things out with Wanda made everything return to normal in no time. So much in fact that she decided I was worth inviting to her and her brother's birthday party.

Never in a million years did I expect the most popular girl in our grade to know who I was, let alone invite me to her birthday party, so to say I was surprised was an understatement.

"It's not a big deal if you can't make it," she said when she handed me the invitation in class. "I mean, I'd love it if you could, but yeah, no pressure."

I was in awe, accepting the invite and reading it quickly. It must have been a pretty expensive party if she was giving out special invites, that's for sure.

"You want me to come?" I asked, still unsure whether this was a joke or not.

"Only if you want to," she said quickly, eyes darting around the room and anywhere but at me. "Like I said, you don't have to. It's not a big deal and– I– yeah." She pressed her lips together and stopped rambling, offering me a small smile.

"Thanks," I said quietly, slotting the invite in my notebook. "I'll, er, I'll think about it."

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and faced forward, nodding. "Yeah, sure, no rush."

After that awkward conversation, I discovered she'd also invited Y/BF/N, the two of them developing a little friendship the more she'd hung out with me. He didn't mind going, but only wanted to do so if I went.

"I feel like I kinda don't wanna go," I admitted to him after school as we were studying in the library.

"Oh?" He rose an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

I played with the pencil in my hand. "I don't know, it's just– it's gonna be full of all of her other friends. And they don't really like me. Plus, her dick of a boyfriend is gonna be there. I just think she might have invited me to be nice. Like she might have felt like she had to because we sit together, y'know?"

"I think you know that isn't true," he said knowingly. "Maybe, just maybe, she actually wants us there, wants you there, to celebrate her birthday."

I chewed the inside of my mouth, giving it some thought. But the idea of going to Wanda's house party and seeing a bunch of people I didn't care about getting pissed wasn't comforting. Besides, even if I went, I'd probably see Wanda once before she'd get scooped away by Nate. What was the point?

"Nah, I don't think I'm going," I decided. "She won't notice. I'll just get her a present instead."

Y/BF/N sighed, clearly not impressed with my answer. Nonetheless, he said, "Okay, suit yourself."

"You can go if you want," I added, knowing his presence wasn't linked with mine.

"No Y/N, no party," he said with a dismissive shrug, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Such a good friend," I said teasingly, but there was truth to my words. And I knew he knew that.

When I saw photos and videos of Wanda and Pietro's party all over my social media the day after, I knew I'd made the right choice in not going. It was the same visuals of everyone getting drunk, doing stupid shit and making a mess. Call me a loser, but that wasn't really my scene. Pietro and Wanda both seemed to enjoy it though, judging from the pictures.

Instead, I bought her a birthday present, knowing I didn't have to but I kind of wanted to, and planned to give it to her when she turned up to class. It was her birthday today, despite throwing the party over the weekend, so I hoped it would make up for my absence (thought I doubted she noticed).

She showed up and settled beside me as I was writing the date in my notebook, making me look up to see she'd made an extra effort to dress up for her birthday, looking fancier than usual. I couldn't help but smile at the giant '18' birthday badge pinned to her jacket.

"Happy birthday, Wanda," was the first thing I said when I saw her. "You look amazing."

A bashful smile appeared on her lips. "Thank you, Y/N."

"I hope your party went well," I said, giving her my full attention whilst trying not to drool over how beautiful she looked.

Surprisingly, her smile faded and her eyebrows knitted together. "Yeah, it did... could you not make it? I tried looking for you and– yeah..."

I opened my mouth to speak, admittedly a little embarrassed that she'd caught me out. I was sure she wouldn't notice – the pictures made it seem like there were loads of guests, I'd definitely have blended in if I were there – but clearly I was mistaken.

"I just thought–" she began, before shaking her head. "Never mind."

"Sorry, I thought–" I started, but like her, didn't know what to say. "Parties aren't my thing," I admitted truthfully. "But it looked fun. You enjoyed it, right?"

She nodded, a small forced smile on her lips. "Yeah, right. It's cool. No biggie."

I swallowed awkwardly. It seemed like a biggie and now I felt bad.

"I, er, got you a gift," I blurted, hoping to change the subject. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out the terribly wrapped present and held it out nervously. "I hope you, er, like it."

Her eyebrows raised as her eyes flickered between the present and I. "Oh? You didn't have to. I wasn't expecting anything."

Was it hot in here or was it just me?

I pulled my collar away from my neck, hoping to circulate some air. "I wanted to. It's not a big deal."

She accepted the gift, fingers brushing mine and making me even more nervous, before opening it up. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she revealed a brand new leather paintbrush carry case.

"The one you always carry around is tattered and falling apart, so I thought I'd get you a new one," I explained, feeling like I had to. "I mean, unless the other one has some sort of sentimental value, then in that case, I can just return this."

"Are you kidding? I love it!" she exclaimed, looking to me with a grin. "It's beautiful, Y/N. I don't even know what else to say."

My shoulders relaxed, a relieved smile tugging at my lips. "Good. Th-that's good. I'm glad you like it."

Without warning, she moved forward off her stool and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. I was startled, unable to think straight with her body pressed so close to mine and her floral perfume wafting into my nose. Why did she have to smell so good?

"Thank you," she muttered, pulling away but not quite letting go. Her eyes were glowing as they watched me carefully, accompanying her weak-in-the-knees smile. I was sure I'd melt. "It means a lot."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak for fear I'd say something stupid. I resisted the urge to look down at her lips, which were pulled into a small, appreciative smile. She let go of me, looking to the case again and unravelling it. I caught my breath meanwhile, my senses still on override as her perfume lingered.

She was just so damn beautiful.

—

"Okay, how about this – robotic or organic aliens. Which would you rather invade our planet?" Y/BF/N asked.

I chuckled at his question. "Definitely haven't thought about that one, but let's see..."

We were hanging in the bleachers out near the football field as we waited for football practice to end. Y/BF/N had a Film project to do and needed to film the field, so I offered to help like the good friend I was.

"Probably organic," I answered as I balanced on the bleachers, standing up and tiptoeing down them like steps. "At least we could reason with them if they tried to kill us because they'd have a conscience. Robotic aliens would just be programmed to take over and that's it."

Y/BF/N seemed against the idea as he played with his camera. "Yeah, but if they were robotic, all we'd have to do is launch a missile at them and they'd explode. You can break metal. It's harder to break organic matter."

I stifled a laugh. "You've given this much thought, I see."

He gave me a knowing look. "You telling me you don't think aliens exist?"

I stopped tiptoeing and stood still as I looked down at him with humoured eyes. "You know I know aliens exist."

He waved his hand like that was enough reasoning. "There you go then!"

I laughed, wondering how he thought of this stuff, then continued to balance as I walked down the bleachers. Probably the wrong choice as when I heard a voice call me, I looked up, saw it was Wanda, then proceeded to miss a step and fall onto my arse.

"Oh God, Y/N, are you okay?" she asked, moving forward to help me.

My face heated up as Y/BF/N laughed his arse off beside me. I accepted Wanda's hand and let her pull me up, before letting go immediately when I could handle it myself. Her presence always made me nervous, but this was just terrible.

"Yeah, I'm good," I said, glancing at her and freezing at her piercing gaze and suppressed smile.

"You sure?" she asked, glancing at Y/BF/N, before trying to hide her own laughter.

Fuck me, why was I such a mess whenever she was around?

"Very sure," I said, though my back began to ache from where I hit it. "What's up, anyway?"

Y/BF/N finally shut up, to my relief, and Wanda minimised her laughter before scratching her head.

"I'm waiting for practice to end so I can take Pietro home," she said, nodding to the field. "I saw you both sat here and thought I'd say hi. Are you guys watching practice?"

"Not really," I answered, before tilting my head to Y/BF/N. "We're just waiting for it to end so Y/BF/N can film for his project."

"Ooh, that sounds interesting," she said, intrigued and looking to him now. "What's that about?"

As he caught her up on it, I found myself checking Wanda out without realising. She was animated as she listened to Y/BF/N talk about his assignment, eyes giving him all of her attention, and a permanent smile was fixed on her lips as she listened to him. Though it wasn't directed at me, I felt butterflies swirling a storm in my stomach and clutched it, hoping they'd go away. I loved and hated the feeling all at once.

Breaking me from my reverie, a football flew past all three of us and hit the bleachers, startling us all. We looked in the direction it came from and saw the football team looking back at us, some laughing and some disgruntled. Two players ran towards us and when they got close enough, I made them out as Pietro and Nate.

Nate was laughing as he looked between us all, before his gaze fell on me. "It's Y/N, right? I feel like I'm always throwing that thing at you. Sorry about that."

But his constant laughing and lack of guilt refuted his words. I merely clenched my jaw and narrowed my eyes his way, not that he seemed to care nor notice. I was a mere fly in a world that revolved around him. He'd never notice.

"Babe, I'm sorry, I didn't even know you were over here," he added, looking to Wanda. "You okay?"

Wanda crossed her arms and seemed frustrated. "I'm fine, Nate. Just get your ball."

He shrugged and grabbed his ball. Before leaving, he pressed a kiss to Wanda's cheek which made me wince, but she made no attempt in enjoying it. He didn't seem to care as he took off running back to his team. Pietro smiled apologetically at the three of us.

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "He can be such a dick sometimes."

That was the understatement of the century.

With that, he turned and ran back to his team to finish up. Wanda sighed, running a hand through her hair, as Y/BF/N and I exchanged glances.

"I should get the car running," she said awkwardly, pointing a thumb over her shoulder and towards the car park. "Good luck with your assignment, Y/BF/N. And I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N."

Waving goodbye with an awkward smile, I watched her leave and wondered the same thing I always did whenever Nate decided to make an appearance in my life.

How could she be dating such a dick?

—

Apart from the birthday party I didn't go to, I'd never been invited (or had a reason to go) to Wanda's house. I'd seen it, rode my bike past it, but never actually been in it. So, when she invited me to her place to work on a project we'd been assigned in class, I was unsure how to feel. She was adamant though and I had no reason to say no, so the only thing left to do was say yes. Even when she offered to drive me there after school.

"This is your car?" I asked with disbelief.

I knew absolutely nothing about cars, but I wasn't blind. Hers was a gorgeous deep red colour with a convertible roof that was currently lowered so anyone in it would feel the sun on their back and wind in their hair.

"Yeah, you like it?" she asked as she got into the driver's seat.

I gulped and sat in the passenger's seat, throwing my backpack at my feet. "It's so nice. You sure you don't mind me drinking in this?"

I had a Pepsi bottle in my hand and was deathly afraid of opening it now in case I spilt it and the cleaning bill would be more than I made in a year at the pizza parlour.

She laughed, already pulling out of the car park. "Of course. Don't be silly."

I glanced in her direction, trying not to get distracted by how good she looked in the driver's seat. She was wearing a red leather jacket, funnily enough, matching the exterior of her car, and she had dark eyeliner around her eyes, accentuating the shape and colour of them and leaving me speechless whenever she looked my way.

"There's CDs in the glove compartment," she was saying as she focused on the road. "Or you can mess around with the radio. It's up to you."

"CDs?" I asked, it piquing my interest. I reached into the glove compartment, adding, "What is this, the 2000s?"

She rolled her eyes playfully, accepting my teasing, as I flicked through the small stack of albums.

"I don't know, I guess I just like having the physical version," she said with a shrug. "It's kind of like a collection."

I chuckled at her need to explain herself, watching the way she rubbed her neck nervously, smiling with embarrassment. Looking back to the albums, a particular one grabbed my attention and I plucked it out with raised brows.

"Oh my God, you like Paramore?" I asked, looking to her with surprise. "Now it's definitely the 2000s."

Her cheeks flushed as she grew flustered. I nudged her in the side gently, getting her attention briefly.

"I'm kidding," I reassured, tilting my head her way playfully. "I actually love Paramore. They're my favourite band."

"Really?" she asked with surprise as I put the CD in her car. I hummed in response, to which she continued, "Have you ever seen them live?"

As For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic played quietly in the background, I nodded my head. "Yeah, once. It was a few years ago, but the tickets were shitty and I could just about make them out on stage in the distance."

Wanda laughed, the sound making my heart skip a beat. "No, that's so sad!"

I chuckled in agreement. "Yeah. It was, but oh well. They have a tour coming up this summer, right? Maybe I can get better tickets this time 'round... what about you? Have you ever seen them live?"

She hummed, making a turn at some traffic lights and chewing her lower lip as she focused on doing so. It was definitely the wrong time, but I found myself admiring how attractive it was, especially when her jaw tensed and her defined jawline was on display.

"Yeah, I saw them a few times," she finally responded, pulling me from my stupor. "Some really good seats, some really shitty ones." She giggled at the end, making me smile. "Maybe we could go to that concert in the summer. If you're up for it?"

This seemed like one of those times where you made plans with a friend that you knew would never happen, so to not cause an awkwardness in the conversation, I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, maybe."

She glanced at me and I mirrored her smile, the flash of excitement in her eyes knocking me breathless.

When we reached her house, I was awestruck at how big it was from the inside. I mean, it looked huge from the outside, but the inside was even better. Her family were rich, I knew that, but this was some other level of rich.

"Here, c'mon, I'll get you a drink, then we can go into the dining room to start," Wanda said, failing to recognise my amazement and instead leading me to the kitchen. "We have tropical juice, apple juice, water, Sprite, Cola... which d'you want?"

I settled at the island, taking a seat and subtly admiring her kitchen. "Er, apple juice is fine with me."

She smiled brightly before pouring me a glass, whilst pouring herself some Sprite. Standing opposite me, we both took a moment to have a drink, but didn't get chance to exchange words as her mum entered the room and noticed me instantly.

"Y/N, it's so lovely to see you again!" she said kindly, patting me on the shoulder before heading to the fridge. "You girls hanging out? Studying?"

"We have a project," Wanda filled in as I nodded in agreement. "We alright to claim the dining room?"

After grabbing some water from the fridge, Wanda's mum pressed a kiss to her daughter's cheek. "Sure thing, sweetie. If you need anything, just let me know." Smiling once more at me, she said, "It's good to see you, Y/N."

"You too," I said with a friendly smile before she left.

"Come on," Wanda said, motioning for me to follow. "We have tons to do."

The next hour and a half was spent with Wanda and I planning out our project, our work sprawled along the dining table messily. We were making progress, until she got a call suddenly. It seemed serious as she gave me an apologetic glance and excused herself. I let her go and leaned back in my seat, wondering what I could do as I waited for her to return. That thought was resolved quite quickly when Pietro popped his head in the doorway and spotted me.

"Y/N! What an honour to welcome you to our humble abode," he exclaimed, entering the room fully. "What brings you here?"

Pietro's presence always brought an amused smile to my lips. "Wanda and I are working on a Chemistry project. She's just nipped out for a phone call."

He tutted dramatically, crossing his arms. "Well, well, well. We can't have that! Wanda needs to learn to entertain her guests. C'mon. I was about to head to the gaming room and could use the company."

I was visibly surprised. "You have a gaming room? Dude, that's awesome!"

He laughed. "C'mon."

Joining Pietro, the two of us headed to this so-called gaming room and I was not disappointed. There was a huge TV with a PlayStation and Nintendo Switch connected to it, a snooker table, a foosball table, a dart board, some old arcade games – it was amazing, any gamer's biggest dream.

"What you feeling, princess?" he said with that flirtatious smile of his.

I rolled my eyes playfully. He was being overtly flirty, more so than his sister was – was it a Maximoff personality trait or something? – and I wasn't sure whether he meant it or was just being his usual self.

"Are you flirting?" I deadpanned, tilting my head curiously. "I can't tell."

He pocketed his hands, swinging back on the heels of his feet. "That depends. Is it working?"

Despite my lack of interest in him like that, I felt my face heat up at the attention. "Pietro, I must tell you that any moves you attempt to make kind of won't work."

"And why's that?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the snooker table with a cheeky smile on his lips. "Am I not your type?"

"Unless you change into a girl, then no," I played along, making him flush with embarrassment. "Hate to break it to you, but I'm gay."

"Okay, I guess that makes sense," he mumbled to himself, before sighing and meeting my eyes. "We can still be friends, right? Or is that forbidden since you're already friends with my sister?"

I laughed and approached him. "Friends works. I don't think Wanda will care. I certainly don't."

He grinned. "Awesome! Well, d'you wanna play a round of foosball?"

"Sure," I said with an amused expression. "Bet I can kick your arse."

He pushed himself off the table and feigned surprise. "Oh? Game on, Y/L/N."

I didn't realise how long Wanda had been on the phone until I managed to get through three rounds of foosball and was in the middle of a snooker game with Pietro.

"You may have beat me at foosball, but you're terrible at this," he pointed out with stifled laughter.

I'd missed my third shot and it was more funny than it was embarrassing.

"Your talking distracts me," I said dismissively, before lining up the next shot with my cue.

He watched as I tried to take my shot before sighing loudly. I glanced at him with a quirked brow.

"You have a thought you'd like to share?" I asked playfully.

He hesitated, moving forward to correct my posture. "Look, if you just aim it like this–"

"Don't even think about it, Romeo," I said jokingly, standing up straight and pushing him away gently. "I know what you're thinking."

He laughed. "What? I was just going to help you aim!"

I gave him a knowing look. "So holding me close is just a bonus?"

"Fine, take your shot without my help and see what happens," he said dismissively, waving his hand.

"I'll do just that," I said with confidence, before bending down and taking my shot. The ball hit the other and neither were pocketed, which was an achievement as I'd got the cue ball in several times before, but still pretty shit as I didn't score any points.

Pietro smiled with satisfaction, leaning on his cue. "You happy with that?"

I held in a laugh as I looked to him. "Shut up."

He chuckled before bumping me out the way. "Now for the professional."

Bending down to take his shot, he pulled back his cue before hitting the balls. They rolled around on the table and one ball was about to go in, but I quickly grabbed it before he could get the point.

"Y/N!" he shouted between laughter. "That's cheating!"

"Technically we didn't establish rules," I pointed out, before moving backwards as he tried to grab it from my hand. "What do you say to calling it a draw and playing something else?"

"I say that's a childish way to admit you've lost," he responded, before moving forward quickly. I dodged his attempt and he pursed his lips. "Y/N."

"Pietro."

He smirked. "Seriously?"

I grinned.

He tried to grab it again and ended up chasing me around the room as I avoided giving in. Taking the piss out of Y/BF/N enough times had prepared me for moments like this, so I was able to avoid Pietro long enough to run into whoever walked through the door.

"Shit, Wanda, I'm sorry," I said between laughter, steadying both me and her.

She smiled with confusion, about to speak, but Pietro caught up to me and lifted me up, throwing me onto the couch before I could protest.

"No more cheating," he said sternly, as I lifted my head from the pile of cushions on the couch to look up at him.

"You're an arse," I said, pushing myself up off the couch.

"And you're a sore loser!"

We had a mini staring competition before the two of erupted into laughter.

"You're not half bad, Pietro," I complimented as he helped me up.

"Thank you, princess," he said, the flirtatious smile on his lips again.

I shoved him in the shoulder playfully before looking to Wanda, who was chewing on her lip as she looked between Pietro and I with an unreadable expression.

"So, what prompted you to leave Y/N alone for an hour?" Pietro asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, making me shove him away. He grinned at me before looking to Wanda.

"Nate called," Wanda responded carefully, arms crossed as she continued to look between us. God, I hoped she didn't think Pietro and I liked each other. That would be embarrassing.

Pietro scoffed from beside me, making Wanda sigh with annoyance.

"Don't start, Piet," she said and gave him a look which he seemed to understand.

By the sounds of it, Pietro didn't seem to like Wanda's dick of a boyfriend either. That was strange since wasn't impressing the brother the first part of being in a relationship with someone? And they were on the same football team, so I figured he'd at least tolerate him.

"Are we alright to get back to studying?" Wanda asked, directing her stare to me. The annoyance she held for Pietro was still present in her eyes and I suddenly felt nervous when she looked my way.

"Yeah, of course," I said, before giving Pietro a half-smile. "Rematch at snooker next time. Sound good?"

"Try to keep the balls on the table and we'll see," he teased, before nodding to Wanda. "You should get back to your project before Wanda kills us both with her deadly glare."

I smiled awkwardly, looking back to Wanda as she was indeed glaring at her brother. Clearly there was some sibling rivalry going on here, and I definitely didn't want to get in the middle of it, so I headed to Wanda, signalling I was ready to leave.

The two of us headed back to the dining room in an uncomfortable silence. I felt like I'd done something wrong and she was giving me the silent treatment which was strange. Then I figured it was probably something with Nate that made her annoyed, so didn't question it too much.

We sat back down and I looked at what we'd done so far to try and pick up where we left off, but then she spoke out of the blue, taking me by surprise.

"Do you like my brother?"

It was so abrupt that I took a moment to acknowledge it, blinking. "What?"

"Pietro," she clarified, saying it with such dismissiveness like it wasn't a big deal. Her attention was on the books before us as she continued, "Do you like him?"

I tried not to laugh as I shook my head. "No, Wanda. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's a great guy. But yeah, no, I don't like him like that."

She chewed her lip, nodding, but I swear I saw a hint of a smile on her lips. I hoped it wasn't the thought of Pietro and I that made her annoyed. I wasn't that bad, was I? I know she cared about her brother and was probably overprotective, but me being his girlfriend couldn't have been that bad, right?

We got back to work in no time, getting a lot done. I didn't realise how late it was getting until Wanda's mum poked her head in, asking if I wanted to stay for dinner.

"Dinner?" I asked, eyebrows raising with surprise. I checked my watch and realised how long I'd been here. "Damn, maybe I should head back."

"Nonsense, you must stay," her mum insisted. "Y/M/N won't mind. A daughter of hers is a daughter of mine."

"You can even sleepover if you want," Wanda offered, and I almost choked on my own spit. "It's getting pretty late."

I shook my head, forcing a small smile so they wouldn't get offended. "Honestly, it's fine. I can head back."

"Please?" Wanda asked with a hopeful expression. "It's the least I can do. I kinda wasted your time for an hour earlier..."

"I should ask my mum," I said, chewing on the inside of my mouth.

"Oh, I'll ring and let her know," Wanda's mum said breezily, before looking to Wanda. "D'you think you can clear your things up? Your brother is gonna set the table."

"Sure, mum." Wanda smiled her way as she left, before looking to me. "I've got clothes and a spare toothbrush you can use tonight."

I smiled awkwardly, nodding. Sleeping over at my crush's house wasn't how I thought I'd be spending my Wednesday evening, yet here we were.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #marvel #mcu

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thatrandomwriter · 3 years ago

Text

Rooftop Romance

merle x reader

warnings: swearing, gore, sexual language

“You sure he’s worth it?” T-Dog asked, skepticism written across his face.

“Him and Daryl are our best hunters. They may both share about three brain cells, and Merle is about the biggest asshole I’ve ever met-“

“Hey, fuck you,” Merle cut in. I ignored him.

“But the fact is we need them to survive. We’ll make it out of the city, but you need to go before the others leave without you,”

T-Dog looked conflicted, but after a few seconds he dashed out of the door, racing down the stairs. I pulled the door shut, locking it behind him. There was a strong chance that I had just ensured my own death as well as Merle’s. The sound of the dead beating on the door almost as soon as T-Dog had left seemed to give Merle the same idea.

“Well fucking come on then princess, I ain’t getting any younger over here.” He had that god awful smirk plastered across his face. “You know, there’s a lot I can do with these hands. Maybe I can show ya once I’m free,” he made a crude gesture with his cuffed hand.

“Maybe if you didn’t say shit like that all the time, someone might actually wanna fuck you. You’re disgusting, you know that?”

Instead of waiting for his no-doubt even worse reply, I walked over to see what had been left in Dale’s toolbox. It was mostly screwdrivers and spanners, nothing of any use to me, but I noted a hammer and most importantly a hacksaw. Hopefully it would be strong enough to get through the metal of Merle’s handcuff.

“Call me disgusting all ya like, everyone knows you want a piece of this,”

My cheeks grew hot and I fumbled the saw, almost dropping it as I walked over to him. It was a humiliating feeling to know that he was right. To know that despite what a piece of shit he was, over the few weeks I’d known him, I had developed some form of feelings for him. Merle had found me while out checking the camp’s perimeter with Shane. Having just escaped the city, I was exhausted and terrified, and just about ready to collapse on the forest floor and give up. Of course, Merle’s reasoning for taking me back likely had more to do with wanting to fuck me than anything else, but I wasn’t entirely convinced that Shane would have taken me back if Merle hadn’t been there to bear witness. We weren’t exactly close, but we shared a fondness for drinking and he taught me a few things about using a crossbow. I didn’t fool myself into thinking he wanted anything more than a one time fling with me; he flirted with just about anything with tits. But some small, stupid part of me still hoped for more.

I sat next to him, pulling his hand toward me to get a better look at the handcuffs. When I looked up, he was staring into my face with another stupid grin. I sent him a glare back.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. Last I checked we’re all alone up here, no-one needs to know, part from maybe a few walkers,”

“Would you quit it? I’m trying to save your life.”

“Jus’ trying to lighten the mood. You should really try lightening up sometime, wouldn’t kill ya,”

I rolled my eyes, corner of my mouth twitching upwards slightly.

“Looks like cutting through the cuffs is gonna be a no go, but this pipe you’ve been cuffed too looks pretty old. It’s worth a try at least,” I lined up Dale’s saw, and began working at the metal.

“So I’m gonna be stuck with a friendship bracelet from Officer Friendly?”

The thought made me laugh a little.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve it; threatening everyone with a gun wasn’t exactly your best moment.” I teased. In his defence, he had most definitely been high as a kite when he’d started pointing the gun. Not that that really made it any better.

“I wasn’t gunna shoot em. Definitely wasn’t gunna shoot you, ya far too beautiful,” Merle said.

“And so’s Andrea, right? And Lori, and Jackie, and every other woman who isn’t trying to eat us,”

“I dunno, some of those walkers ain’t too bad,”

I hit him on the shoulder.

“Can’t I make a joke? Or are ya gunna get jealous, hmm?”

I stopped talking to him after that, focusing instead on trying to make any headway with the pipe he was handcuffed to. After an hour or so, I had only made a tiny dent in the metal. Merle was getting increasingly annoying, and the sun was starting to slowly set in the sky. If we wanted to leave today I’d have to hurry; travelling the city in the dark was a death sentence. At least the walkers at the rooftop door seemed to have given up, or gotten distracted by some other unfortunate souls. They had stopped pounding on the door some time ago.

The saw blade bent slightly, but I persisted, determined to succeed, speeding up. Under the strain of my sawing, the blade bent sideways, and suddenly snapped under the pressure, coming clattering to the floor.

“The fuck did you do?” Merle demanded.

“The blade wasn’t strong enough. It couldn’t get through the pipe. I’m sorry.” I felt suddenly numb. I couldn’t look at him. I’d failed. I’d failed him. He was stuck here, to starve or to be eaten by walkers.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m gonna fucking die up here, god fucking damnit. Look at me, the fuck did you do?” He grabbed my shoulder with his free hand, gripping me hard, shaking me, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” It was one of the first serious, genuine things I’d said to Merle, and it was a death sentence. Tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t have the energy to hide them.

“No. Fuck that, we’re ain’t done yet. You got a knife, right?” He was still staring into my face, but desperate anger had shifted to urgency.

“Yes, but it won’t cut through metal,” I said.

His grim expression told me that he had already figured that out.

“You can’t be serious. You want me to- I can’t,” There had to be another way.

“You got no choice. It’s my hand or my life.”

It took me a few seconds to process this. The only way out would be to cut off his hand. And I would have to be the one to do it.

“Fine. But I’ll do it first thing in the morning. We don’t have time to get out of the city before it gets dark, and I don’t want you bleeding out overnight.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you cared about me,” His shit eating grin was back. Only Merle could look this smug after discovering his hand was about to be cut off.

“Good job you know better then,” I smiled and sat next to him, looking out over the darkening city. At least we were stuck somewhere with an impressive view. The setting sun sent orange streaking through the sky, bathing buildings in a warm glow. I glanced to my side. Merle appeared to also be taking in the sunset in a rare moment of silence.

“I’d do the same for you ya know,” Merle said, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

“No you wouldn’t.” I replied. It wasn’t something that upset me, it was just a fact - if the roles were reversed, I had doubts that Merle would have stayed on this rooftop even for Daryl.

“Course I would. Yer one of the only people I can stand in that group, not to mention ya got a mighty fine ass,” He grinned over at me. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, course I do. I could stare at it all day,”

I hit his shoulder with mine.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I ain’t good with the mushy stuff, don’t push it,” He was still smiling, eyes looking into mine for once instead of straying to glance down my shirt.

“Sounds like you care about me, Merle. More than you usually let on at least,” I was teasing him but this moment meant a lot; in short, Merle was shit at showing anyone affection. For him, this was like a declaration of love.

“Yer not gonna make me say it again so drop it,” he huffed.

“I’m just kidding around. And I didn’t just stay here because you’re a good hunter,” I confessed, staring pointedly into the distance to avoid his eyes.

“Course ya didn’t, ain’t no way you’d let me die without getting a piece of this,” It seemed to be his way of lightening the mood, diverting the seriousness of the conversation.

“We should get some sleep, busy day tomorrow.”

When the hot sun awoke me the next morning, I found myself nestled into Merle’s side, head on his shoulder, his free arm wrapped around me. I took a moment to enjoy the feeling of his broad body against mine, before pulling away to wake him up. The sooner we were gone, the better.

“Mornin’ “ he grinned lazily.

“You ready?” I asked, and his expression dropped to one of determined focus.

“As I’ll ever be,”

I retrieved my knife and a lighter from one of the pockets of my rucksack. It would have to do as a means of sanitising the blade as I had very little in the way of medical supplies. Shrugging off the button down I wore over a tank top, I folded it ready to use as a bandage for Merle. I could have sworn his eyes slipped down to my cleavage, far more noticeable now the shirt was off, but I wasn’t in the mood to bring it up.

“Can I have your belt?” I asked.

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” He said, the implied innuendo obvious. He unbuckled it with his free hand and tugged it loose.

I strapped it around his forearm, tight as I could make it, a makeshift tourniquet that would hopefully do something to stop the bleeding. It had to be enough.

Merle reached inside his pocket, and withdrew a small bag of white powder.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, very aware of the dangers we’d face in the city even if he survived losing his hand. Merle being off his face wouldn’t do us any favours.

“Need a little somethin’ to take the edge off,” He tried to form his usual smug grin, but his mouth wavered slightly. I nodded. Who was I to make that decision for him?

I gave him a minute or so, and when he nodded at me, I took my knife to his wrist and began to cut. There was far more blood than I had thought. And despite Merle’s best efforts to remain stoic, and the effects of the drugs, he was in an unbelievable amount of pain. I had to fight the urge to just give up and cry in a corner, but I did it for him. Even when he begged me to stop, to just make the pain stop. His yelling had begun to attract walkers, a few were banging on the rooftop door and the longer this took the more there would be. He gripped my arm as I cut, hard enough to bruise.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I muttered over and over again as I finished, his hand dropping to the floor with a sickening thunk.

Merle was breathing heavily, gasping through the pain. I pressed my shirt against the wound, tying it tightly and leaving the belt in place. There was so much blood. On my hands, my pants, the rooftop.

“Stay there. I’m going to clear the stairwell, I’ll be right back.”

He nodded.

I unlocked the door and wedged my foot under the door to prevent it opening all the way, a walker slamming forward and right onto my knife. It slumped to the floor. Another was quick to take its place. I worked my way through several before they finally stopped coming. Hopefully only a few had been close enough to hear Merle.

I hurried back toward him. The bleeding seemed to be slowing slightly, though it still showed no signs of stopping. He was losing too much blood. But I wasn’t willing to face that reality.

“You think you can stand?”

“Course I can,” he replied through gritted teeth.

I grabbed his good arm and pulled him forward, helping him stand, putting the arm around my shoulders so I could take some of his body weight. He was heavy, but any help I could give him I would.

We walked to the door and I lead him down the stairwell; it wasn’t wide enough for the two of us side by side, but he leaned on my back and I did my best to steady him on the way down. He stumbled a couple of times, no doubt the blood-loss making him dizzy, but we moved as slowly as I dared, me supporting him when he needed it. At the bottom, another walker lunged towards us. It took me a moment to grab my knife and stick it between its eyes, and I kept the blade in my hand after that. One free hand would have to do to help Merle. It was strange, having to protect him like this. Normally I was certain he’d object to me coddling him like this, but he had no choice but to rely on me for once. We made it to a fire exit around the back of the building in a room with several gas stoves. Merle wasn’t looking his best, blood dripping through the makeshift bandage on his arm. He seemed to have the idea at the same time as me.

“Do it,” He nodded grimly and I grimaced, but didn’t hesitate to light the nearest stove, placing a metal tray on top on the flames to heat through enough to cauterise the stump of his wrist.

“We’re gonna make it back, you know. “

“I know,” He said, but it was easy to see the uncertainty in his eyes.

The metal tray seemed hot enough, and I could tell he was gathering the will to do it, slowly, reluctantly unwrapping the open wound. I wasn’t entirely sure Merle could bring himself to. Gently, I took his arm in my hands, unwrapping it myself. Instead of watching the shirt unravel, he stared down into my face. Despite the circumstances, he still made my cheeks hot with the intensity of his gaze which I somehow managed to meet. I reached up, hooking an arm around his neck and a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. He waited for me to move closer first, and when I leaned my face towards his, he wasted no time in bridging the gap between us with a searing kiss. He was perfectly distracted. It was a shame to waste this moment but I did what had to be done, and drove his wrist down onto the hot metal on the stove.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” He exclaimed, yanking his arm away from the stove, and I winced.

“Shit, I’m sorry, but the bleeding’s stopped, right?”

He glared at me through the pain. “You serious?”

“I said I’m sorry, and I did just stop you from bleeding to death,” I smiled tentatively, and he shook his head, still cursing.

“So ya kiss like that fer a distraction? I’d love ta know what the real thing feels like,”

Kissing him had been stupid. But I was in the mood to be stupid, and I couldn’t resist kissing him again. He somehow mustered up that stupid, endearing grin as I pulled him towards me, lips meeting as his good arm found my waist. I could lose myself in the feeling of kissing Merle, all teeth and tongues colliding with no need to be gentle. His hand scooped me in closer until I was pressed up against him, before drifting to my ass with a squeeze. I hummed in pleasure, forgetting to breathe as he kissed me harder. When we finally broke apart all I wanted was to lean back in and kiss him again and again, to stay like this, pressed as close against him as I could be, not thinking about anything else.

“Knew ya wanted a piece of this,” Merle smirked. God he was insufferable. But I was willing to suffer, so long as he kept kissing me like that.

#the walking dead #twd #merle dixon #merle dixon x reader #daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #t dog #oneshot #imagine #rick grimes #reader insert

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mintmatcha · 4 years ago

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reupload because tumblr decided my readmore link on the original shouldn’t work anymore!!!!

Late Night Chat

MattsunxReader

CW: mentions of depression, established relationship, angst/fluff (happy ending)

You know Mattsun’s awake before he even speaks. The way he’s lying- face up, hands neatly folded in his stomach- is so strangely stiff compared to usual, it makes your skin crawl with worry. It’s cold without Issei wrapped around you, without his soft steady breathing, without his nose buried into your hair. You can hear the soft sound of fingernail against skin and, even with sheets and night shrouding him, you can tell he’s picking at his hang nails again. Your eyes dart to check the clock. 3:14. Has he slept at all?

“Can I talk to you about something? It’s important.” the shake in his voice, the unfamiliar tremor that immediately shakes off the cobwebs of sleep, tells you he can’t wait until morning. You turn, admiring how the ambient light peeking through your blinds from the street below catches his profile. His brows are knitted together, lip is caught between his teeth. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, something about the soft orange glow, but he seems older now, almost worn.

This is unfamiliar territory. Mattsun is always so nonchalant with his feelings, so dismissive about any sort of concern. It was rare to see him upset about anything; in fact, you could count the number of times he was anything other than pleasant on one hand. If you noticed a distant look and heavy sigh, Mattsun would consistently dismiss your concerns with a peck and a hollow laugh. The laugh. It made your brain buzz with worry whenever he pulled it out. It was high and tinny, obviously practiced. He was a bad liar, you knew something was weighing him down from the droop of his shoulder, from the scabs on his nail beds, but it seemed wrong to press further. Every time you did, he would retreat further from you, reinforcing his facade, hiding behind a wall impossible to break.

“Of course, Issei.” you murmur, somehow feeling if you raised your voice louder than a whisper, you would break the spell.

“I just.. Sometimes.” His eyes shift to meet yours, then dart back to the ceiling, like he was caught breaking some unspoken rule. “Ah, geez, can you turn around, maybe? I can’t say it when you’re looking at me.”

Your own anxiety is building, fears that you can’t quite form into tangible thoughts squirming around in your head, but you oblige, turning face the wall. He shifts as well, mirroring you. Pressing his back against you, he loops a leg between yours, tangling himself. You turn your head slightly, catching only the outline of his shoulder against the darkness.

“Hey, no peeking.” With every breath he presses farther into your back, searching for the comfort of your presence. Silence weighs heavy between you and, for a second, you fear that the moment has passed- that Mattsun has retreated back into his shell. “I just wanted to let you know…”

He breathes out slowly as he pulls the blanket closer to him.

“Sometimes, I get sad.” he’s almost swallowing his words, trying his hardest not to be heard, face pressed against the pillow. The soft picking sound of his nails against skin grows faster as he continues. “Like, really sad. So sad my body aches ‘nd my brain feels numb.. And there’s no reason to feel like that, but I do.”

You resist the urge to turn over, instead just tilting your head back into the space between his shoulder blades. He only hums at the contact before continuing.

“It’s just hard.” he continues. His voice is so unusually delicate, teetering on the brink of breaking. “Because sometimes I- I- god, it sounds so stupid,” he hisses out ‘stupid’ like it’s a curse. “but I get so tired. I can’t even bother to do basic shit some days. It’s pathetic.

“ They said the meds would help, and they do mostly, but sometimes it still feels like there’s this- this- blanket over my head, weighing me down and I just wanna lay down and sleep. But, I’m trying not to be like that, for you, ‘cause-."

“Can I look at you now?”

Mattsun snaps his jaw shut so hard that the sound makes you jump. “Fuck. Not yet, I just-” Silence lulls over him before he draws in a shaking breath. Mattsun rolls over carefully, enveloping you in his long limbs. One arm drapes over your chest limply, as if he’s afraid to hold any tighter. You lift your head instinctively to let him prop his arm underneath, but instead his fingers find your hair. He twirls a loose strand between his fingers, inspecting the way it moves with almost too much curiosity. He’s distracting himself, you decide. Even though he’s next to you again, the comforting feeling of warmth against your skin back, he feels so far away. “I just wanna say a little more. I can’t say it if you’re looking at me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to look disappointed.” he breathes, “And that’s gonna hurt me.”

Instinctively, you begin to move again, but the way Mattsun recoils, fingers flexing, shoulders bunching, reminds you of the boundaries. “Issei, why would I ever be-?”

“Because…” he grumbles, trying to gather his words, “I’m going to keep talking and you’re going to realise you’re too good for me. That I’m not as good as you think I am.

His hand flexes into a fist, resting under the soft dip of your breast, with a heavy sigh. “I just wanted to let you know now.” he says finally. “Before you, like, plan a future with me or something.”

“Issei, don’t say that.” you whisper, placing a hand over his. He tenses for a moment, before pulling you into him, tucking his knees into the backs of yours.

“I’m sorry.” he says to the hair in between his fingers as he continues his ministrations.

“Issei.” strain your neck to see him, searching his surprisingly flat expression for…. Something. Anything. "Can I please turn around now?”

Mattsun answers by relaxing his grip, giving you the freedom to roll into his chest and clutch at the fabric of his shirt. For a split second, you’re acutely aware of how he smells- the lavender body wash you had bought him to replace the 3-in-1 he used to love, the dryer sheets that he always uses too many of, and, underneath it all, the scent of him. Breathing deep, you nestle further into him. Despite how composed he managed to keep himself, his heart betrays him; you can feel the way his heartbeat tattooed across his skin even through his clothing. You open to speak, but words fail you.

Instead, you tug on his shirt and in the dim, you can see his eyes widen ever so slightly as he comes to you. With only the tilt of your head, your lips meet, only slightly off the mark from each other. The kiss is sloppy, disjointed and desperate, barely clinging on to each other. His breath, hot against your face, hitches as he swipes his tongue against your own and you can’t ignore how he tastes like cinnamon and salt. The kiss says nothing, but everything you couldn’t all at once. The kiss dissolves, along with some of the tension in the air, but he doesn’t pull away, instead resting his nose against your cheek bone.

“I’ve already planned a future with you.” you say after a beat, blindly reaching up to wipe his cheeks, the moisture there surprising you. A finger brushes too close to his eye and he flinches with a broken laugh. “And nothings going to change that.”

Mattsun just nods. He audibly swallows before letting out an airy laugh, cracked slightly from his tears. “Fuck, this is why I asked you to turn around. I didn’t want you to know.”

“Hey, now, don’t cry. I’m here.” he tightens his grip around you, crushing you into his chest. Whether the shake of his limbs is from effort or emotion, you can’t tell.

“I was worried.” he admits, “Fuck, I was so, so worried you’d, you’d-”

His lips find yourself this time. It’s deeper, searching for an intimacy neither of you can vocalize. “I’m right here.” you whisper into him. “I know I can’t take it all away from you Issei, but I hope I can at least make it a little better.”

“You always do.” he presses a kiss against your brow. “You always do.”

#mattsun #matsukawa x y/n #matsukawa issei #mattsun x reader #mattsun x you #depression #haikyuu fic #haikyuu #seijoh #cryings #mattsun fic #mint's musings

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eliemo · 4 years ago

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Permafrost: Chapter 1

Summary: After Virgil agrees to follow Roman into the Imagination, a shift in the weather and an unfortunate misstep sends Virgil plummeting into uncharted waters. If only it didn't take a matter of life or death and a race against time to realize the Prince might not hate him after all.

TW: Drowning, progressing hypothermia, effects of severe cold

Notes: Romantic Prinxiety (pre relationship, they’re pining idiots) Right now I think this will only be a couple chapters, but let me know if I should make a taglist for this story!

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“This is stupid,” Virgil said for the third time in the last ten minutes. “We’re gonna freeze to death.”

It was very clearly pissing Roman off, and if he wasn’t so miserable he’d be grinning like an idiot at the Prince’s clear exasperation. “We’re not going to freeze. Don’t be dramatic, Negative Nancy, that’s my thing.”

Virgil scoffed, glancing up at the expanse of snow covered trees towering overhead, branches bare and twisted, coated in sparkling white. It felt endless, everything around them perfectly identical and a little overwhelming.

He shuddered as the wind picked up again, drowning out anything he might have been about to say, and he absently shook off snow sticking to his shoes, really wishing he’d decided to wear his combat boots today.

Then again, he hadn’t expected to be trapped in the Imagination in below freezing weather.

“Let me complain, Princey,” he said, hoping that their familiar banter could make this whole thing suck a little bit less. “You’re the one that trapped me in here.”

“You’re the one that agreed to follow me,” Roman shot back, a little more sharp than Virgil had been hoping for. “You didn’t have to.”

“You invited me. And someone has to make sure you don’t get killed in here.”

“I’m perfectly capable,” Roman said. “The cold is no match for a dashing Prince! Besides, the beast is dead, my realm is perfectly safe when I need it to be- if it weren’t for someone refusing to enjoy the scenery, this might actually be a nice walk.”

“It’s freezing and we have to walk for another hour,” Virgil argued. “How the hell am I supposed to enjoy this?”

It hadn’t been snowing when they’d first stepped into the Imagination, some two hours ago now. It had been warm and sunny, the world around them lush and green, bright and inviting as Virgil followed Roman on his apparently routine adventure.

He hoped it hadn’t been obvious how excited he’d been when Roman had asked him to come along. He and the Prince had never been close, (that was putting it lightly, Virgil was all too aware of how much Roman hated Anxiety) but ever since Virgil had revealed his name things had been...better.

Not great, nowhere near perfect, but better. Their fights had started to devolve into banter, and Virgil found he actually enjoyed talking to Roman now. He wasn’t reduced to a villain anymore, and he’d never actually realized just how much he hated the tight feeling in his chest when Thomas had always dismissed him as the bad guy. He’d been pushing the hurt down for so long and now…

Now wasn’t the time to think about it. Now was the time to focus on moving forward, as shaky as the progress was sometimes. It was still progress.

Virgil knew Roman didn’t like him, and he probably had no intention of even being real friends, any effort to be polite for Patton and Logan’s sake only.

Which Virgil might have been able to live with, if he hadn’t recently figured out that he really, really liked Roman.

He’d sort of...not actually hated the Prince for a while now, just another hopeless, gnawing feeling that drove him to consider ducking out in the first place.

The feelings had come out of nowhere, slowly sneaking up on him and only growing now that they were closer, and he still wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it.

The things Roman did that Virgil had once thought were annoying became...begrudgingly endearing. His rants, his dramatic gestures, the constant singing and humming under his breath...it was all so stupidly charming. Roman was funny and kind and passionate and brave and...and Virgil might have developed a little bit of a crush.

Dammit.

He knew nothing would come from it. He could be pretty stupid, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think otherwise. Roman had declared him an enemy since day one, and Virgil was just beginning to hope the Prince might actually tolerate him enough to call him a friend. Just a friend.

But Roman had invited him into the Imagination today, to be an extra set of eyes while he slayed the monster patrolling the realm, and Virgil had agreed without a second thought. If he and Roman could just learn to coexist...Virgil didn’t need anything else. Anything was better than being hated.

And having Roman as a friend was far from the worst thing in the world. It still gave him the Prince’s smiles, his laughs, and his company.

That being said, trudging through the snow and freezing his ass off for the next hour was not how he’d like to be spending the day. Why couldn’t Princey invite him to do something normal like watching a movie?

“Aren’t you supposed to be Creativity?” Virgil called over the wind picking up. God, it was cold. “Why can’t you just change the weather back?”

Roman had his back to him, keeping a few paces ahead, but Virgil could practically feel his eye roll. “I don’t control the weather here. Thomas does.”

“Thomas?”

“Not intentionally,” Roman said. “When it’s snowing like this, it probably means he’s worried or…or stressed about something.”

Virgil didn’t miss the slight hesitation, the way Roman glanced back at him, and he instinctively hunched his shoulders and pulled his hood tighter around himself.

It wasn’t his fault. He knew everyone liked to point fingers and place the blame on Anxiety whenever Thomas wasn’t feeling his best, but Virgil wasn’t here to hurt him. He just wanted to help, and he’d been trying so hard to be better lately, but he still managed to be the bad guy.

He opened his mouth to mutter an apology the Prince would probably only scoff at, but Roman beat him to it.

“Ignore that,” he said quickly, tone suddenly nowhere near his usual bravado. “I didn’t mean to imply...nevermind. Sorry.”

It was clearly forced and a little desperate, just like it had been in front of the others whenever Roman would catch himself on an insult or a nickname, but Virgil found he appreciated the effort all the same. As awkward as it was.

“It’s fine,” Virgil said. “Seriously, it’s whatever. I’ll...I can check on Thomas when we get back.”

Roman didn’t respond, but he did look over once again to flash Virgil a genuine smile, and he forcibly pushed down the butterflies rising up in his chest. It was just Roman. He was not about to get flustered because Roman had smiled at him.

But maybe it was a sign that they were getting somewhere. Maybe-

“Shit!”

Virgil froze, Roman’s curse almost drowned out by the sudden CRACK that echoed through the snowy forest. A chunk of ice broke under Roman’s boot, just big enough for him to stumble, his leg disappearing up to his knee.

“God dammit that’s freezing!”

“I thought the cold didn’t bother you,” Virgil teased before he could stop himself. He moved to help, only for Roman to hold out a warning hand. “You ok?”

“I’m fine.” The Prince wobbled a bit before he managed to pull his leg up and out of the ice, the soaked and dripping cloth clinging to his skin. “Except that my leg is going to fall off!”

Virgil couldn’t imagine how cold that must be, to feel icy cold wind against soaked clothes, but he could recognize that Roman wasn’t actually hurt or scared, despite the way he’d started shivering a bit. Thank god the water was only up to his knee.

“Stop panicking,” Virgil said, and smirked despite his own rising worry. “That’s my thing, Princey.”

Roman scoffed and shook out his leg, drops of water seeping into the plush white snow. The ice they hadn’t even realized they’d been walking on creaked under the movement and Virgil paled, eyes flying to Roman who quickly noticed the anxious side’s distress.

“Relax,” the Prince said. “It was just a weak spot, and it’s only a couple inches deep. I could reach the bottom.”

“We should still be worried about getting our clothes wet in this weather.” It seemed to have gotten colder, even as Virgil remained perfectly dry. “Didn’t Logan do a whole lecture about hypothermia a few years ago?”

“We’re not getting hypothermia, Panic at the Everywhere. Logan gives a lecture on everything. Worst case scenario is I come down with a little cold, and our dear Patton feels guilty and smothers me for a few days.”

Virgil laughed, carefully stepping around the hole Roman had created. “I’m pretty sure it’s not Patton’s fault you’re so clumsy.”

“No, but he practically forced me to bring you out here.” And just like that Virgil’s good mood was gone, stomach twisting uncomfortably as the words set in.

It shouldn’t be a surprise- of course Roman wouldn’t voluntarily spend the day with him. Patton wanted everyone to get along for Thomas’s sake, and he’d made Roman drag Virgil along like an unwanted nuisance.

“Oh.”

“So if we look miserable enough when we get back, we can coax Pat into making us cookies and hot chocolate,” Roman said, and he didn’t seem to notice Virgil’s shift in mood. “Just try to watch your step, ok?”

Roman clearly didn’t think he had said anything wrong, only scowling at his now soaking wet pant leg before turning to continue forward. He obviously thought Virgil knew this, that he wasn’t stupid enough to think he was actually wanted.

Well, at least Roman was giving him the benefit of the doubt. Even if Virgil apparently was that stupid.

They kept walking, Virgil ending up trailing a bit behind with slightly numb hands stuffed deep into his hoodie pockets. Roman managed to make it even farther ahead, humming some vaguely familiar tune as he watched the snowfall, and Virgil wondered if he should just let the Prince make the rest of the walk by himself, kind of wanting to just lay down and let the snow bury him.

The wind was picking up, and Virgil was clearly finding it more difficult to trek through the snow than Roman was. The Prince didn’t seem inclined to leave him behind though, slowing down and smiling patiently at the anxious side every few moments, letting him catch up on his own time.

He wondered why Roman didn’t just quicken his pace and leave him. It wasn’t like Virgil would go tell Patton just to get him in trouble. As much as it hurt knowing Roman wanted nothing to do with him, that someone had to make Roman spend time with him, it hurt worse to think that the Prince had just been faking it.

He’d thought...God, he’d actually thought they might be getting somewhere. That maybe, maybe Virgil’s feelings for the Prince weren’t as pointless as they’d once been.

The soft little smiles sent his way, the light touches on Virgil’s back or shoulder, the quiet jokes meant just for him, the way Roman’s eyes would linger for just a second…

He noticed it a second too late, caught up in his own head instead of paying careful attention to where he was stepping like he usually would, only pulled from his thoughts by another ear splitting crack as a piece of ice gave way right where he’d stepped down.

It was sudden and loud, and Virgil yelped when he stumbled and fell to the ground, hands losing feeling completely as they grabbed at the snow and his foot disappeared under the ice.

“Fuck- Roman!”

He heard Roman laugh, but it was almost impossible to make out over the howling of the wind and the pounding of his own heart. The water was so cold, (thank god he’d managed to stop himself before it went past his shin) like a million little knives dancing along his skin, paying no mind to what little protection his clothes offered.

“You’re fine,” Roman called, voice small and distant like he’d kept walking. Virgil didn’t dare look up, eyes on the ground beneath his hands. “It’s not deep, Virge, you can stand up.”

Virgil nodded even though he doubted Roman could see it, his voice refusing to cooperate. He squeezed numb hands into shaky fists, took a breath, and pushed himself up to stand on his free leg.

The next moment happened so fast, Virgil didn’t even register that more ice had broken under his weight until he felt himself falling, and suddenly the icy cold water was much higher than just his leg.

It felt like he’d been hit by a bus- a very, very cold bus- and Virgil gasped as all the ice below him gave way, the water rising up to his chest, wrapping around his body like a vice and yanking him forward without warning.

It was like hundreds of frozen hands were grabbing at him and tugging viciously, shoving him along with the water’s surprisingly violent current while trying to drag him down below the dark surface. Virgil barely had half a second to force his arms to move, frantically reaching for the nearest chunk of intact ice.

He couldn’t feel his fingers, and his hands were shaking so bad he almost didn’t make it, but he managed to get a grip on the edge just in time.

He gasped as he pulled himself to a sudden stop against the relentless current, weakening arms protesting the sudden strain, choking and coughing on the frigid water that managed to lap at the corners of his mouth.

“Princey!” he tried to scream, but he could barely hear himself over the roar of the river. The water hurt, the cold seeping into his skin and stealing his breath, and it took all of his quickly fleeting energy to keep holding on. “Roman!”

There was no response, at least not one that Virgil could hear, and he couldn’t bring himself to lift his head to see if help was coming, terrified that if he looked away from his hands he’d forget how to hold on.

He had to strain to keep his head above water, and he felt like there were boulders in his pockets weighing him down. He was left kicking desperately against the water, because it was definitely not shallow enough for him to stand.

Roman had said it was. Roman had laughed and kept walking and he’d...he hadn’t...he hadn’t left, had he? If he’d done this on purpose-

The dread and fear that came with the thought was almost more overwhelming than the thought of drowning, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut as he tightened his hold, because Roman wouldn’t do that. He may not like Virgil, but he wasn’t cruel. He wouldn’t...he wouldn’t do this.

A grim voice in the back of his head told him Roman wouldn’t care, that Virgil would never be worth worrying about. Maybe it wasn’t the wind and rushing water blocking out the Prince’s voice...maybe he’d really just already walked away.

He choked back tears and put all his fading focus into staying above the water, the current’s pull growing stronger as his kicking became weaker and weaker. He couldn’t keep holding on. It was so cold and he was so tired-

“Virgil!”

Roman? It was so hard to tell for sure, everything distant and hazy compared to the roaring in his ears and his own too shallow breaths.

Oh god, he couldn’t hold on, he was slipping, he was going to fall-

“Virgil! Hold on, I’m coming!” Either that was Roman, or Virgil’s brain was being very cruel to him right before he died. The latter honestly seemed more likely. “Hold on, please just- I’m coming just hold on!”

He couldn’t feel his hands, barely able to comprehend anything around the all consuming pain settled around him like a blanket, leaving him shaking and numb, teeth chattering in his skull louder than a gunshot and he couldn’t do this- he couldn’t hold on he couldn’t-

“Virgil!”

Virgil didn’t even register what had happened, left only to wonder why the strain on his arms had suddenly been lessened for a single blissful second before realizing his frozen hands had slipped from the ice.

There wasn’t time to take another breath, the river seizing its opportunity to rise above his head and push him under the dark and freezing water, everything suddenly horribly silent.

#fanfiction #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #thomas sanders #sanders sides #hurt/comfort #this fic is so self indulgent you guys #writing

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itcameuponamidnightqueer · 4 years ago

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beau wakes up calm.

it’s a feeling so pervasive that she’s almost unsettled by it. their lives aren’t calm right now, between eiselcross and vess de rogna and now these eyes that keep popping up all over her and caleb. any calm she feels is usually immediately overshadowed by guilt for feeling it.

but beau can’t find it in her to feel guilty right now, not when the tower is quiet and there is a large, warm arm thrown protectively over her stomach. not when beau can feel the tickle of hot air at the back of her neck as yasha breathes, steady and restful in a way she doesn’t get to be when she’s awake. beau considers learning magic just so she can stop time and give yasha all the rest she deserves.

for now, she slowly rolls onto her back, taking care not to jostle yasha or slip out from under her secure embrace. she rolls over and doesn’t open her eyes until she’s on her back, the mirror directly above her, waiting.

it’s a sex mirror. of course it’s that, because caleb said as much when he told her about it, and god, does she owe him a week’s worth of uninterrupted research or whatever nerdy thing he wants in return. it’s a sex mirror and she and yasha have checked that off their list already, at least for the first time. second, fourth, something--they have definitely checked that off their list for a quantifiable number of times, it’s just that beau doesn’t quite know the number.

it’s a sex mirror but it’s also not because it’s more, because beau opens her eyes and can see the two of them as they are now--wrapped together, heavy and sticky in the illusory sunlight, sheets draped carelessly across their legs. they look good together. it isn’t the first time beau’s thought that, and with any luck (and a lot of hard work), it won’t be the last. but this is the first time that beau’s had the chance to really sink into that feeling, to see the reality of it and commit it to memory.

beau takes her time looking, glances over her own familiar body and the way it melts against one she can’t wait to know better. she should be a little cold perhaps, given that the sheets don’t go any higher than her hips and she hasn’t been wearing clothes for a good couple of hours. but yasha is so very there, so wide and curled around her in a way that seeks comfort as much as gives it. she’s on her side, the parts of her that aren’t touching beau sprawled greedily across the expanse of the bed. beau could spend hours looking at this reflection of them, of yasha and the curve of her muscles; the way her skin actually seems to create a glare in the early morning light. it’s so bright normally, even brighter now for the nearness of beau. time is fleeting and the tower will disappear soon and so beau is greedy--she looks at the angle of yasha’s legs, the way she twitches her toes on the one foot that hangs over the edge of the bed. beau looks at yasha’s back, the slope and strength of it; she remembers how solid and warm it felt under her fingers just a few hours ago. beau has known how sturdy yasha is since they met--has lusted over it since then, to be honest--but to feel it within her grasp, to be pressed against it and to have it soften and yield at her touch…

beau would learn magic to give yasha the peace she needs. she would learn art to memorialize this moment and the way they look together.

she watches yasha sleep, clocks the way her nose is pressed into the crook of beau’s neck. she almost cries at the drape of yasha’s arm across her chest--a few inches down and she’d have a handful of boob. as it is, beau’s heart is beating a rhythm right into yasha’s palm.

beau turns her head away from yasha and clears her throat. “hey.” she clears it again when it becomes clear just how ragged it’s gotten. “dachsies, can you hear me? or do i have to yell.” she waits, straining to listen for the soft clink of a tiny bell or two. “frumpkin?” she tries again.

there is a faint ‘mrrp’ and the door to her bedroom opens slightly, just wide enough for a lithe fey cat to slip through. she can’t see frumpkin as he enters the room, but he’s there all of a sudden, jumping noiselessly and weightlessly on top of the bed.

he stares at her expectantly and beau wishes very much that caleb isn’t snooping, too.

frumpkin walks forward and sits next to her, the not-quite-fur of his tail swishing against her side. beau can’t help reaching out with the hand that isn’t trapped by yasha’s body and giving him a few scratches under his chin. he preens, closes his eyes tilts up to give her a better angle, and settles right back into his serious face when she pulls away.

“can you get the hot tub going again,” beau murmurs, “with some nice shampoos and shit? and maybe start working on a few dozen pancakes; i’m sure the others are gonna barge in here soon. make sure there’s a stack of spider ones for me and yash.”

frumpkin chirps again, butts his head against her chest as he jumps off the bed. beau reaches out to affectionately grab his tail, chuckling as it slips through her hands.

yasha is awake when beau turns back to look at her.

“hello,” yasha whispers. “good morning.” beau cuts her off with a kiss. “i love you.”

beau smiles at that, rolls over and presses herself firmly into yasha. she repositions yasha’s arm to wrap around her back, laughs when yasha drifts downward and squeezes her ass. beau kisses her again and again, slow and firm, catching any inch of lips or neck that she might have missed before. her hands roam without any destination, traipsing over the plane of yasha’s stomach, tickling at the dimples in her shoulders underneath which her wings sprout. beau knows how sensitive those spots are now, and she presses her fingers against them, syncs that up with another determined kiss. she doesn’t miss the way yasha’s tongue stutters against her own, the brief loss of contact she sacrifices to gasp, just a little.

yasha’s nails turn inwards and dig into beau’s hips, and beau returns the favor.

beau reaches upward and grips yasha’s chin, marveling at the fact that her thumb seems to fit perfectly over the line of black beneath yasha’s lip. she pulls away and tickles the skin there, can’t resist one more kiss, especially when it elicits that special, breathy kind of laugh from yasha.

she makes sure yasha’s eyes are open and looking at her before she speaks.

“i love you, too,” beau says, her voice deeper and hoarser than usual, even for the morning. “last night was...i won’t ever forget it, yash.”

“me either.”

“might have been the best night of my life.”

“not if i have anything to say about it,” yasha winks. “i wish we didn’t have to leave.”

“yeah,” beau sighs--breathes, really, and she falls a little more in love with the way yasha doesn’t turn her face away from what is definitely a bad case of morning breath. “we’ve still got some time before we have to, though. the dogs are setting up the hot tub right now.”

yasha laughs, deep and rumbly and beau feels it in her chest. “before all of you i never would have understood that sentence.”

“right?”

“mhm. it is--a very fun thing to think about.”

yasha gently lifts a strand of hair from beau’s face and tucks it behind her ear. beau watches the entire time, so entranced by the size and safety of yasha’s hands, so determined to follow their path with a kiss, that she misses yasha’s other hand coming up to rest behind her legs, and beau lets out a very uncool yelp as yasha lifts her from the bed.

yasha drags them across the mattress, stands and gets herself situated, and it isn’t until they’re halfway to the floating pad that beau clocks exactly how she’s being carried.

yasha’s arms are confident beneath her shoulders and legs, and beau has looped her arms around yasha’s neck instinctually, and tears start to well up in this moment of realization.

“yasha…”

yasha stops walking, leans down and kisses her, and it isn’t because they’re naked that beau is glad no one can see them right now.

beau flutters through her feelings and rests her head against yasha’s chest, silently, as they float gently down to the hot tub.

everything seems more muted in the daytime--the lionesses aren’t as imposing, the slides aren’t as tempting. but the steam and smells are just as inviting, and beau lets herself be carried into the water, settling into the warmth as yasha reaches for the soaps.

they both slip under the water; beau shakes her head and scratches at her scalp while she lingers, getting out the last of her restless energy. she pops back above the surface and drifts over to yasha, who has settled into the corner, her arms resting elegantly atop the stone edges. beau drops into yasha’s lap without a word, humming, content, as yasha’s arms slip back into the water and wrap around her body. yasha snakes her legs over the parts of beau that her arms can’t reach until beau is completely covered, completely enveloped in her love.

beau has always been attracted to women who could break her--big, strong women whose bigness and strength almost always equated to a good, long time in the bedroom. and yasha has that in spades--probably invented it--but it sure is fuckin’ something else to know that breaking is only half of it, that the flip side is that beau can be fully contained and sheltered in yasha’s arms. bigness is a comfort as much as it is a challenge. yasha uses her size to hold and cherish just as much as she uses it to fight.

beau sinks down so that her nose is just above the surface of the water, and tries her very best to pretend she isn’t crying. the effort is abandoned when she gets out of her head and realizes yasha is very carefully and very thoughtfully soaping up her hair with thick, gentle fingers.

beau sits up a bit and spits some water from her lips. “how come you’re so good at that?”

yasha takes a moment to think, tilts beau’s head back so she can rinse the shampoo out. “zuala and i didn’t have as much time together as i wanted,” she answers, “but we made sure to treasure every moment we were allowed.” she rubs her hands together, presumably spreading conditioner over them; beau can hear the slickness of it echo through the air. “i am able to follow a god because i had a wife once,” she says, quiet and matter-of-fact, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

god.

“well, fuck.” beau closes her eyes and tries to relax her shoulders as yasha’s hands knead through her hair again. “did you--i mean, i don’t want to overstep but--it was like this? all the time?”

yasha is quiet again, patient with her feelings and beau and the combination of the two. she slows her ministrations and rests her hands on the sides of beau’s face, her thumbs tickling at beau’s ears.

“the only similarity between the love i feel for zuala and the love i feel for you is that it is coming from me,” yasha finally says. “it was like this, yes--and it wasn’t like this at all. it was different because it was her. the whole world was different because it was her, you know?”

beau nods. “hope so,” she replies. “trying to, at least.”

yasha squeezes her cheeks, presses a kiss to the top of her soapy head. she gently pushes beau underwater and scrubs her hair clean with a little more force this time. beau lays back and watches, smiles as yasha scoops a hand underwater and brushes it over her lips.

beau sits back up feeling more refreshed and loved than she ever has in her whole life.

she swirls around to face yasha, lets the water guide her back to yasha’s lap. beau hooks her legs around yasha’s torso, lets the water hold her up as she drapes yasha’s hair over her shoulders.

“your braids could use a little touch-up,” she murmurs.

yasha, so sensitive and careful about her hair, simply nods and watches as beau lets it out, making tidy piles with the ties and ribbons on the ledge. yasha’s hair billows out once the last bunch is free; in the water, she looks beautiful and serene.

beau rests her hands on either side of yasha’s face, swipes her thumbs under yasha’s eyes as they kiss. “thank you,” she says, softly, “for loving me.”

yasha sighs and kisses her again. “you make it easy, beau. you don’t have to thank me.”

“i do,” beau insists. “for now, i do.”

she directs yasha away from the wall, takes her place in the shampoo corner. it’s a little different this time--beau can’t surround yasha quite as fully, and she has to wrap her legs around yasha and float to get a good angle to wash her hair. but yasha doesn’t complain, and she rests her arms on beau’s thighs and slides her hands over her legs, soothing and present. the water never cools off and the dogs are somewhere else, and for a few quiet moments, nothing in the world exists except this tub in this tower, hidden in a smelly, dirty tavern.

they’re clean and laughing in the kitchen by the time the rest of the party trickles in. beau can hear jester and veth speaking at cartoonishly loud volumes, announcing themselves just in case beau and yasha are doing anything worth being interrupted.

beau smiles, grabs a spider-less bite of pancake, and squeezes yasha’s hand.

“oh, here they are,” caduceus says as they file in. he takes a deep breath and smiles at the spread of food. “what a feast.”

he disappears, probably to make some tea, and beau looks at yasha for just a moment longer before the energy is too much to ignore.

she turns and almost bursts out laughing at the sight of everyone, lined up in front of the table, watching the two of them intently. veth’s eyes are as big as saucers and jester’s are shimmering, her hands clamped over her mouth. next to her, fjord is blushing and even caleb is sporting a smile, reluctant though it may look.

“hey,” beau says. she smiles casually and she means it.

“you’re so cute!!” jester shouts, flinging her hands away from her face. “oh my god, you guys, you have to tell me everything; i’m so happy for you even though we had to sleep in that super stinky room. please tell me it was worth it.”

beau laughs, winks as she tickles yasha’s hand. “totally worth it, jes,” she promises. she gets up from the table, kisses yasha’s knuckles as she does, and gestures for jester to take her seat. “talk to yasha for a sec, okay? i left you some spider-cakes.”

beau is too focused on grabbing caleb to notice the way jester scrunches her nose.

she doesn’t catch fjord’s eye as she leads caleb out of the room and she definitely doesn’t look anywhere near veth. she just drags her cranky wizard to a corner out of eyesight of any window in the kitchen and crosses her arms.

“if you’re about to tell me everything,” caleb says, “please don’t be offended when i say that i would be happier not to hear it.”

“what? no, gross. i mean, not gross-gross, but because--you, gross, right?” beau clears her throat, gently punches caleb’s shoulder to center herself. “i don’t...wanna tell you stuff. i just wanted to do this away from everyone else.”

caleb narrows his eyes. “do what?”

beau steps forward and hugs him. there’s no hesitation or coaching this time, just a strong press of her arms, and she stays there as long as it takes for him to hug back and mean it.

“thank you,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “this was….very special to me.”

“of course,” caleb mutters. “you need only ask, beauregard.”

“yeah, you say that, but it’s like--i know it, now.” to her horror, beau sniffles.

“i am glad you had a good time.”

“the best.”

“you smell very nice. thank you for bathing before hugging me.”

“i got you, dude.”

“can you let go of me now?”

“yeah, sure.” beau steps back and gives him one last shoulder squeeze.

caleb nods and squeezes back. he snaps his fingers and frumpkin is there, leaping onto his shoulder as they walk back toward the kitchen,

#critical role #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #this is??? soft and gay and so much???#idk you guys i had a lot of feelings and this is what happened #i'll post it on ao3 later but for now i must eat something #long post #tumblr fic #cr: regular nein

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anna-kendrick · 4 years ago

Photo

holding my breath ('til i can say all of the words i wanna say)

Beca goes home with Chloe for thanksgiving.

For @beca-mitchell

Read on AO3, or below.

Chloe regrets asking the moment it comes out of her mouth.

“Come home with me.”

It's not that she doesn't want to bring Beca—her wonderful and loving girlfriend of over a year—home to visit her family, it's more the fact of how do you tell your wonderful and loving girlfriend of over a year that you didn't actually tell your parents that you two were dating because they're homophobic.

Yeah, she has a slight problem.

Chloe wasn't even sure if Beca would even say yes to begin with. It's her third year at Barden, and her third thanksgiving that she'd be spending on campus. Rather than taking a trip back to Seattle to visit her mother, Beca had explained that she prefers her alone time in the comfort of her room, away from all the reminders of her rocky childhood. Chloe gets it.

But more selfishly than not wanting to leave her girlfriend back in Atlanta alone—aka with most of the Bellas and very much not alone—Chloe didn't want to spend a week away from Beca. That's what brings them to this very moment.

Beca’s clearly taken aback by the question, and Chloe finds the slight blush that's creeping across her cheeks absolutely adorable.

“You're serious?” This is her out, Chloe thinks. Make it sound less appealing, tell her the truth, or just completely take back the offer and—

“Totes serious.” Well fuck.

The smug grin that grows on Beca’s face is enough to vanish all her worries for the moment. Chloe’s quick to reflect one back as Beca pulls her in for a kiss, a version of a ‘yes’ in her own, sweet language.

When Beca mumbles an “I love you,” against her lips, Chloe feels her knees go weak.

***

She doesn't bring it up.

It's sitting in the back of her mind at all times in the weeks following, but she doesn't bring it up.

Beca's seemingly excited to go on this trip to Portland. She says she's never been, and Chloe finds herself looking forward to showing her all of the places where she grew up. She ignores it when Beca tells her that she's excited to see her parents again, and jokingly teases her that she thinks they like her better.

Beca really has no idea.

It's on their final descent when Chloe realizes her mistake. She feels Beca’s hand squeeze in her own, looking over to see her wearing a soft smile—one of comfort and warmth—as if Beca could read her mind. She wishes it were true, it would make things so much easier.

But Beca simply mouths ‘you’re okay,’ and attributes Chloe’s nervous energy to flight anxiety. That’s truly the least of her worries right now, honestly the plane crashing to the ground seems like it could be a better scenario to what she’s going to have to do. Easier, and chances are less painful, too.

Beca squeezes her hand again, waiting for Chloe to squeeze back—their own little form of communication, a way for Chloe to say ‘I’m okay,’ without saying it aloud. Chloe shakes herself from her morbid thoughts, and kisses Beca’s cheek instead, before nuzzling herself into Beca’s shoulder. She feels herself relax slightly as Beca drops her head onto hers, and lets out a quiet hum.

She knows she's messed up. She goes over all the possible outcomes in her head as she watches other passengers deboard the plane. It's the one where she breaks Beca’s trust, and her heart that sticks out the most to her.

Beca never lets go of her hand as they walk off the plane. Chloe can hear her speaking, probably talking about all the new music ideas she thought of on their long flight over, but she can't make out any of the words—she's too lost in her own mind.

“Chlo?” She’s snapped out of her non stop reel of scenarios when Beca stops in place, tilting her head in concern. Beca knows her so well, it makes her want to cry. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” She lies, and offers a smile. It seems to satisfy Beca, who grins back and squeezes her hand again gently before going to resume their trail to the baggage claim.

This is it. She has to do it.

“Bec, wait—” Her voice catches in her throat when Beca looks back, eyes full of questions and concern—so patient and so loving. She thinks she might throw up.

She lets go of Beca’s hand.

“They don't know you’re my girlfriend. Please don't tell them, I’m sorry.” Chloe takes a deep breath, fighting back her tears, because God forbid she cries in the middle of this damn airport.

One glance at Beca’s face and her heart feels like it's being crushed inside her chest. She can't say anything else, she can't even look at her.

“Um— Our bags, lets go get our bags.”

***

They meet Chloe’s parents outside of the airport about a half hour later, the silence that had been deafening between her and Beca finally breaking.

Alice greets Beca with a smile and a tight hug. “We’re so happy Chloe was able to talk you into coming home with her.”

“She didn’t have to say much, I’m glad to be here. Thanks for letting me stay with you guys.” Beca says it so sincerely, it only makes Chloe feel worse.

“Please, Beca, you know you’re a part of the family. You can visit anytime, even without this one here.” Dale points to Chloe, giving Beca a wink and one of his signature Beale smiles. Beca giggles and looks over to her Chloe with a soft smile.

Chloe turns to look out the window instead.

The drive to the Beale family home is longer than Chloe remembers—louder too, as her dad sings along obnoxiously to the songs on the radio, and her thoughts continue to echo inside of her head. Beca’s more silent than usual though, and Chloe takes the risk of glancing over to check on her.

Beca’s the one peering out the window now, headphones plugged in as she listens to her own music. It almost makes Chloe smile, just seeing Beca next to her, as they drive through her hometown. The feeling is fleeting however, as Chloe takes note of Beca chewing the skin on her thumb—a nervous habit most likely brought on by all of the shit Chloe sprung on her at the airport. She wants nothing more than to reach over and pull her hand away, entangle their fingers together and squeeze Beca’s hand tightly.

She meets her mothers gaze in the mirror, and immediately realizes how bad of an idea this was.

***

It’s later that night—after Chloe had spent ten minutes convincing, more like begging, her mother to let Beca sleep in her room upstairs and not in the basement

(“It’s freezing down there. I’ll just make a bed for myself on the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Chloe.”)

—that Beca finally broaches the subject.

“Chloe?” She hears Beca whisper through the dark. She lays silently, debating whether or not she should answer, or pretend to be asleep and hope that Beca lets it go—she already knows what she's about to ask.

“Baby, I know you're awake.” She could insist that she is asleep—continue to hold her breath and fight back the tears that are already pricking from behind her eyelids—but she knows that Beca knows her better than anyone else, knows that Beca’s worried about her from the way that her hand now softly brushes through her hair.

“Chlo—”

“Yeah, I'm awake.” Chloe whispers, rolling around to face her girlfriend. She feels the guilt swirl in her stomach immediately with just one look at the sad eyes in front of her.

She knew it was coming, but when Beca mumbles “Why didn't you tell them? I—I don't mean to pry, I’m sorry, I just—Are you okay?” tears immediately spill from her eyes, and she has to choke back the sob that threatens to come out.

It makes her heart clench to think about how far her and Beca have come since that day at the activities fair. It had taken so long to get Beca to open up to her, to even just accept a hug from her. It makes her sick to think about how disappointed her parents would be if they walked in on the two of them at this moment—their daughter wrapped up in her girlfriends arms as Beca continues to rub her back soothingly.

She feels so fucking guilty. A disappointment to both her family, and towards the woman she loves. She hates herself for it.

Beca's hands feel so soft against her cheeks as she holds them and lightly brushes her tears away. It's dark in the room, but she can still clearly make out Beca’s features in the moonlight that spills in from the window. Beca looks beautiful, she looks sad, but she’s so beautiful.

“I didn't know how to tell you.” Her voice sounds unrecognizable to her own ears, it's raspy with tears, and she can hear the lie within her own speech. It's not that she didn't know how to, it's that she didn't want to.

How was she supposed to tell her best friend—her girlfriend—that her parents would hate her? How was she supposed to explain that yes, they had met her before and treated her like a second daughter, but as soon as they found out Beca was more than just a friend, they'd look at her with pure disgust and detest? How was she supposed to bring that up in a conversation where Beca’s telling her that her father has been putting more effort in, that he's happy for the two of them and that he’d like to have both over for dinner one night?

She's never wanted Beca to feel as if she was a secret, that their blooming relationship was something that Chloe was ashamed of. And now, Chloe doesn't even know why she invited Beca here in the first place, because while reserved, Beca’s the proudest of their relationship, and she can see it in her face right now how much she's hurting.

Chloe knows it's her fault.

“I'm not mad at you.” Beca's smiling softly at her—a sad smile—one of encouragement, or one to try to deter the situation, because she knows that Chloe’ll be upset if Beca shows that she’s upset, Chloe doesn't know. She doesn’t really care either, she just wants to go home. Atlanta home, away from this life she had so happily left behind.

What she does know, is that Beca is one of the most patient, and selfless people she's ever met. She knows she doesn't have to say anything, that she could simply ignore the situation entirely, tell Beca that she's tired, and it'd get dropped. She knows Beca wouldn't push her if she wasn't ready to tell her.

But she also knows that Beca deserves an answer.

“They would hate me if they found out, Bec.” She realizes that it's been a while since she admitted this dark secret of hers aloud. Not since her first year at Barden, when she confided in Aubrey over a bottle of cheap wine.

“It's not that I'm not proud to be with you, I promise. It's just that— I’m scared to lose them. I don't want to lose you, but I can't lose them either, Beca. I'm so sorry.”

She's crying again—she doesn't know if she ever really stopped—but Beca’s soft lips are soon pressed against hers; familiar, comforting, safe.

“You'd never lose me.” Beca whispers against her lips in between kisses, and it's like a blanket of warmth courses through Chloe’s body. It's still crazy to her how in the midst of feeling so sad and confused, Beca can make her feel so loved, make her thoughts that had just moments ago felt so jumbled, suddenly so clear.

“I will tell them.” She states, breaking apart from Beca’s kiss, nodding her head in affirmation.

“You don't have to.”

“I will. Eventually, I will. Maybe not this week, but one day I will.” And Beca’s smile in response is enough for her to know that she’s supported, that Beca will hold her hand through it all.

“I think you're really brave, Chloe.” She doesn't expect that as a response, and she's ready to open her mouth and argue against Beca’s words—tell her that she doesn't feel brave at all—but Beca beats her to it. “No, you really are, and it's one of the things I love most about you. Thank you for telling me.”

There’s something about Beca Mitchell that Chloe finds so captivating. Perhaps it’s the way she smiles so genuinely and so lovingly at her, before she breaks out into a cheeky grin and pulls Chloe back in for another kiss. Maybe it’s the trust that she seems to give Chloe unconditionally, something that she’s seen Beca struggle with so much over the course of knowing her. Beca’s passion, loyalty, determination… Perhaps it’s just Beca’s big heart, that tends to tug on her own, and make her feel weak in the knees.

“You know I love you, right?” Chloe can tell Beca’s getting tired by the pure laziness that’s beginning to leak into her kisses, her heavy hands that are no longer roaming, but holding her close and still against her.

“You’ve told me a few times. I love you, too. I’m fucking exhausted, your family is insane. Sorry that was—”

“Bec, it’s okay.” Chloe laughs softly squeezing Beca’s hand that continues to lay softly on her hip. “They really are, you’re right. But I have you, I think I’m pretty lucky.”

“Oh, my God—you’re gross. So gross. Go to sleep or I’m moving down to the basement.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #anna kendrick #brittany snow #au #i'm so nervous anytime i post stuff like this it makes me wanna vom #but theresa ily and this is for u #ignore the fact that they look like whole ass 30 year olds in this gift when they're supposed to be pp2ish era #anyway.. *logs off*#my writing #edits #mine #mine:au #mine:fic

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egcdeath · 4 years ago

Text

unwinding

summary: On Valentine’s Day, you receive a bit of a surprise.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.2k

author’s note: valentine’s day came early this year. like... over a month early i’m actually pretty proud of this! i hope you all enjoy :)

p.s. this is part of @syntheticavenger‘s lyric challenge, my prompt was: So let me take away your pain, give me all of your emotions (Victoria Monet ‘Moment’)

warnings: so much fluff. before you read this, ask yourself (and your dentist) if you’re okay with getting a few cavities.

Being engaged to a fugitive from the law meant a few things.

For starters, your fiancé was almost never home, and when he was home, he wasn’t there for long. Whether it be a 3 AM knock on the door from Natasha, or soft and apologetic eyes bidding you farewell after a 4 day tryst, everything always seemed to end too soon.

The second being that you often had little to no warning when he was coming home, leaving you to go on a mad dash to put on something nice before your partner arrived at your front door. Between random messages from burner phones, and random deliveries of local goods to your door, you were often given short notice of when you’d be able to see Steve again.

Finally, despite his best efforts, Steve was frequently absent from holidays that you used to gleefully celebrate together.

As the soft clicks of the clock increased, and night drew nearer, you feared that your Valentine’s Day would end the same as the aforementioned days, yet, after hearing the chime of your doorbell reverberate through your home, you were filled with a semblance of hope.

You all but skipped down to your door to see what (or who) had arrived, and lit up with glee when you were handed a bouquet of yellow roses with a printed note attached to it.

You didn’t think I forgot about my best girl, did you? Happy Valentine’s Day, Dear. I’ll see you in an hour.

p.s. I just learned that yellow roses represent welcoming someone back, isn’t that nifty?

-S

You couldn’t help but to grin at the note, quickly thanking the delivery person, then bolting upstairs to prepare for Steve’s homecoming.

——

After debating with yourself about which candle scent Steve would enjoy smelling most, and filling up your oversized bathtub with a cocktail of soap, essential oils, and an overpriced bath bomb, you heard the door ring once again. This time, you had a good idea of who you’d be seeing. Upon opening the door, you were far from disappointed.

In the doorway stood your greek god of a fiancé, a lopsided grin on his face despite the scratches, bruises, and dried blood that seemed to litter his body. You immediately reached up to wrap him in a tight embrace and he gladly accepted it.

“Steve!” You cheered, burying your face into his chest, “I missed you so much.” Your words were muffled, and you felt tear stains begin to latch onto his suit. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, before lightly pushing you further into the house.

“You have no idea of how much I missed you too,” said Steve in response. “I never wanna leave you again.”

At this, you somehow managed to squeeze him tighter, and he let out a soft grunt, screwing his face up. “Are you okay?” You asked before letting him go completely. “Take off the suit, let me take care of you.”

----

That’s how you ended up soaking in a bathtub with Steve, running your hands up and down his chest while he leaned his head back and rested his eyes. It became more and more apparent with every second that he was completely exhausted, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Now usually, you liked to spoil your man when he came back home, but after seeing his pure exhaustion, you decided to go all out. If anyone deserved a few hours of pure relaxation, it was certainly Steve.

You stirred and sat up, sloshing around the purple water that had been dyed by the aforementioned bath bomb, and attempted to readjust yourself so that you could at least make eye contact with Steve, who had now opened his eyes from your sudden movement.

“What’s up?” He asked, breaking the prior comfortable silence, and running a large hand through your hair.

“How about we unwind. Like, really, really unwind. The whole nine yards. I completely meant it when I said I wanted to take care of you, and as much as I’m enjoying this, I don’t think that just a bath is gonna cut it,” you hummed while wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, attempting to bring your faces closer together.

“Hmm,” Steve attempted to look pensive, “Only if you insist.” At that, he gave you a toothy smile, then leaned in to close the gap between the two of you, and peck your lips.

Boy, was Steve in for it.

----

Sometime after the bath water eventually became unbearably cold, and your skin was so pruny that you swore it’d slip off, the two of you exited the bath.

The next task you set out to complete was a deep clean of your faces, which could only be accomplished with the help of a peel off face mask. You stood at your bathroom countertop and plugged in a facial steamer after filling the bottom opening.

“What’s that for?” Steve asked with a slight lisp, as he was currently flossing his pearly teeth.

“It’s a facial steaming thing. It’ll be good for your pores before the face mask, or some shit like that,” you stood back and allowed the small machine to make some strange noises as it started up.

Steve tossed the string into a trashcan before leaning over the counter and examining it, giving you the opportunity to press a button and turn the device on.

“What the hell was that?” He immediately recoiled at the sudden puff of steam, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“I can’t believe thee Captain America, who fights aliens and takes down governments on the regular is afraid of a little steam machine.”

“Hey, everyone gets startled sometimes,” he turned his head to give you a little pout. “How ‘bout you do it first, and show me how it’s done,” Steve stepped aside at this.

You shrugged a bit and nodded, then took his place at the sink to demonstrate how exactly to steam your face. After observing you for a few minutes, Steve motioned for you to move, and as you did, he made sure to give you a little ass squeeze, gaining him a side eye from you as a response.

“Just put your head right…. there,” you gently pushed his head down, then once his head was in the proper position, you pressed the button that turned the machine on.

“This feels kinda weird. It’s like, tickling me,” he mumbled into the machine while you reached into your medicine cabinet to grab a peel off face mask. Steve began to move his face back, but you shook your head and tutted.

“I mean, that’s kind of the point. Your pores need this. So keep that head down, big boy,” you giggled, beginning to apply the charcoal goop to your face while examining yourself in the mirror.

“Do they, though?”

“Yes! Those poor cells have probably been through hell and back with all of that fighting and… avenging you do.”

“You’re lucky that I love you. But know that I expect something in return for this hard work.”

You lovingly scoffed at this, but were pleased that Steve had found a reason to finally stop complaining.

Once a decent amount of time passed, Steve lifted his face and used the back of his hand to attempt to wipe away some of the dampness.

“Here,” you said softly, grabbing a towel, and softly patting his face with it. “Now the fun part,” you began to apply the facemask to Steve’s face, and he seemed to have no complaints.

“Hey, this feels pretty nice!” He exclaimed.

“Unless you want me to get this all over your beard, I suggest you move your face a little less,” you commented while putting the last of the mask on his left cheek.

He opened his mouth to respond, but decided it wasn’t exactly worth the risk of getting a strange substance in his sensitive facial hair. You finished up putting on the mask, then rinsed your hands in the sink while Steve checked his face out. “Ooo, I can feel it exfoliating already. Are you tingling too?”

You smiled fondly at him, then shook your head and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go to the bedroom. Since you were such a good sport, I think you deserve a little treat.” You all but dragged him out of the ensuite, grabbing a fresh towel on your way out, and setting it down on the bed.

“Take your clothes off,” you demanded. “Then lay on the bed face down. Ass up. I’ll be back in a minute.” You winked suggestively at him, then went back into your bathroom to search for the lavender scented body oil hiding in a cabinet.

When you arrived back in the bedroom, you were not disappointed by the sight of Steve with his sculpted back and perky ass out. You allowed yourself a moment to check him out before you spoke. “Hey honey…” you drawled out in a faux sultry tone. “A little birdy told me that you’ve got some sore muscles from all that crime fighting you’re doing…” You ran your hand up and down Steve’s back, and you felt his back heave as he attempted to hold back his laughter.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” He asked, not even trying to hide his chortling.

“Shhh, don’t think. Just let me take away your pain, give me all of your emotions,” you poured a bit of the oil in your hands, warmed it up, then placed your hands on his back. Steve involuntarily let out a full body shudder, and you couldn’t help but to smile at yourself with satisfaction. “Seriously though, try to relax,” you began to knead his upper back.

Steve let out a shaky sigh, and relaxed into your soft mattress. Although the tone of the massage started as a joke, he was feeling more relaxed by the second. Then those seconds seemed to turn into minutes, then… hours? Maybe even days. The point is, Steve fell asleep. Then woke up to the familiar tone of a phone alarm, and a gentle shaking on his shoulder.

“Hey, you can sleep later. It’s time to take off our masks.” You reminded him. “Meet me in the bathroom, but get somewhat decent first.” You gave a little squeeze to his shoulder before walking off.

Once Steve met you in the bathroom, he made a beeline to the toilet and sat down on top of the lid. “Will you take it off for me? I’m too tired to do it myself.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause I love you,” you teased, referencing his words from earlier before you leaned down to his level. You picked at a piece of the mask on his forehead, and began to peel it back, watching Steve screw his face and squeeze his eyes shut.

“Ow, what the fuck, Y/N,” he whined, giving you a little pout.

“I’m sorry. Just think of how fresh your skin will be after this, though. You’ll look so dewy, people will think you just came out of the ice.” You moved to remove the piece on his nose, and gained a similar response.

“Ouch! Double ouch. That was way too soon. Why can’t you be nice to me while you’re peeling off my face?” Steve looked deep into your soul while you peeled around the rest of his face, and you couldn’t help but internally melt a little.

“I only tease because I care. And I’m pulling your skin off because I care even more,” you finished up pulling the last of the mask off, then pressed the back of your hand up to some red parts of his face. “All done. You look like a whole new man, Stevie.”

You stepped back so he could stand up and look at himself in the mirror, and he rotated his face back and forth so he could examine himself.

“You’re so right, Y/N. Stark and the government will never catch me when I look like this,” he teased.

“I’m just a miracle worker, I guess.”

“Well is this miracle worker ready to head to bed? All this self care has been fun and all, but…”

“Say less,” you grabbed Steve’s hand once again, and paraded him out to your bedroom, before flopping on the bed theatrically, and grinning when Steve followed suit.

You rolled on top of your starfished fiancé, and kissed him passionately, threading your fingers through his long, sandy hair and sighing contentedly. He turned his head slightly for breath, then began to speak again.

“What I was saying was,” he said breathlessly, “All of this self care has been fun and all, but now I think it’s time that I show you how I unwind.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #nomad!steve x reader #nomad!steve #steve rogers x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #steve rodgers x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n #synth's lyric challenge #hey i wrote that lol

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stardusttrashed · 3 years ago

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Lovestruck (Finale)

Part 4

Pairing: Professor Erwin x Fem! Reader, Connie x Sasha

Word Count: 2K

A/N: A huge thanks to everyone who stuck around for this series and showed it some love. also, if you haven't already go check out the playlist I made that gives professor Erwin vibes :)

“Sorry I’m late, Mr. Smith,” you squeaked as you squeezed past the door into the old familiar room. “Hope you didn’t haveta wait too long,” you smiled apologetically.

Erwin turned around, looking up from the whiteboard he was writing away on. He smiled handsomely, quietly sighing in relief, “actually, you’re right on time as usual.” He closed the distance between you before placing a kiss on your forehead. “How much’d you spend? I’ll pay you back,” he reassured you as he led you towards his desk.

“You can pay me back by coming to movie night,” you purred, quickly throwing the idea out there as you took a seat on his desk. You rummaged through the plastic bag, taking out two to-go boxes as Erwin rolled his desk chair over. “You’ve been officially invited by Thing One and Thing Two. And they’ll probably lose their shit if I show up without you.”

“Sasha and Connie, right?” he confirmed. You hummed in response. Erwin tensed up momentarily once he saw you sitting on his desk, sinful thoughts running rampant in his mind. He was curious how much of a good girl you’d be for him. Or if you’d let him eat something else for lunch. It didn’t make it any better that you still had his shirt on. A blush painted his cheeks as he pushed the thoughts down, plopping in his seat and scooting closer until he was sitting between your legs, “I’d love to, darling.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, occasionally broken by strings of giggles as you stuffed your faces with the Chinese food you brought. You took turns feeding spoonfuls of each other's food to the other, goofy, uncontrollable, lovestruck smiles printed on your faces. There was so much you both wanted to say to each other, wanting to ask about the other’s day, or ask trivial things, or address what you were. But neither could muster the courage to break the moment. So instead, you spoke through lingering touches and longing gazes.

“Erwin,” a familiar voice said dryly, followed by the footsteps of them entering the room. “Found your sandwich in the fridge in the staff room.” Erwin’s eyes went wide, more surprised about being caught than the actual sandwich. “Figured I’d bring it before you starve.”

You sent Erwin a playfully threatening glare, “you had food?! I- you little,” you quickly hissed, stopping short as Erwin apologetically squeezed your thigh.

Erwin chuckled embarrassedly, removing the hand on your thigh to scratch the back of his neck. “I must’ve forgot.” He looked back and forth between you and Levi, both of you looking back at him with unconvinced expressions. He was busted for sure.

“Right,” Levi drawled out as his eyes scanned the desk, taking in the to-go boxes and how close you and Erwin were sitting. “At least you’re not starving. And glad to see the two of you finally grew a pair and made things official.”

“W-well,” you stuttered, to no avail. Levi was already walking out of the room, muttering something about how you should at least lock the door. Gradually, your shock shifted into overconfidence. “Missed me that much, huh? Pretty lame excuse if you ask me.”

“Shouldn’t be much of a surprise, darling,” Erwin cooed, his blue eyes practically filled with hearts. It felt like butterflies were coursing throughout his entire body as you leaned down to kiss him. It was short and sweet, just a lingering peck, yet you left him breathless. “Y/n, I- um.” He could feel the tips of his ears growing uncomfortably warm. Your soft giggles weren’t helping either. “Hold on.”

You watched as Erwin struggled to hold onto his cool. It was still weird, no matter how many times you saw him grow flustered. He was the gorgeous giant of a man that left men and women alike flustered, yourself included. Yet, you always seemed to be the one to turn the tables without doing anything but being yourself. He wasn’t some Greek God, okay, well looks-wise, yes. And personality-wise. Okay, maybe he was a Greek god, but that didn’t stop him from being a friendly giant or a big cinnamon roll around you.

“I, uh,” he quickly glanced up at you before returning his focus to the journal he pulled out of his desk drawer. “I got you this,” he held the small journal out to you.

You gingerly took it from him. A thin gold rope chain tucked away in the journal as a bookmark tapped your hand as it swayed from the movement. You prayed he couldn’t see the way your cheeks grew warm as you opened the journal to the page the chain rested against. In the center of the lined paper lay a key strung on the chain. The key wasn’t anything fancy, just a plain house key that covered a neatly written note. You glanced up at Erwin momentarily before moving aside the key to read the note aloud. “I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self-respect. And it’s these things I’d believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn’t all she should be. I love her, and it is the beginning of everything. F. Scott Fitzgerald,” you read, your throat growing tighter with every word.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m rushing anything,” Erwin quickly spoke up once you finished reading. “I just, well, I figured you could use my place as a place to write and get some inspiration. I don’t want to pressure you, though. This can be completely platonic, and we can ignore-.”

You set the journal aside and stopped his nervous rambling with a kiss. Your lips moved lazily against each other, savoring everything from the moment to the taste of one another. Time seemed to slow as you lost yourself in the softness of his lips and the warmth of his hands on your hips. You could feel him surrendering to you, giving you everything he could until he was left with nothing, not even a breath… until you reluctantly pulled away. You rested your forehead on his, your eyebrows knitted together as you tried to catch your breath enough to say something.

“And for a moment, I thought I loved him,” you breathed, altering the quote slightly to fit the situation more. Your breath fanned across his lips, giving him visible chills as you continued, “but I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires.”

“Committing Great Gatsby quotes to memory, are we,” Erwin teased, his voice husky as he finally managed to catch his breath.

“Only the most beautiful ones that’ll impress my professors, er, used to be professors.”

“Consider the job done then.” Erwin looked at you like you were the only one, not just now, but forever. His ocean eyes shone like he was looking at the sun, and in a way, he was. You always were a star that he couldn’t help but gravitate to. He lost you for a while, but just like the planets orbiting around the sun, he managed to find his way back to your warmth.

You reached out and pushed a stray hair back into place, “not polite to stare, baby. Even if ya look cute doing it.”

“Dance with me,” Erwin blurted. He needed to hold you, to bask in your warmth. He wanted to do what he should’ve last night, holding you close as you swayed to music that could better articulate the feelings he has for you.

“What?”

Erwin chuckled and shrugged, “dance with me, and I’ll stop.” He stood up with a devilish grin on his face. “Just one dance?”

“Erwin, I don’ think this is the place-” you were cut off by Erwin scooping you up into his strong arms bridal style. You held onto him despite feeling utterly safe as he maneuvered his way out of the classroom. “Baby, where are you taking me?” you squealed with childlike giddy.

“To a place we can dance,” Erwin looked down at you with a wicked smile as he walked out of the building with you still cradled close to his chest. The soft drizzle of rain welcomed the both of you, which made you squeal and hurriedly attempt to cover your head.

“Erwin Smith, take me back inside before I kick your ass!”

“No, can do; you said we couldn’t dance in the classroom.” He sent a kind smile to the people passing by. “Besides, as sweet and sugary as you are, you won’t melt.”

“You don’t know that.” You smacked your hand against his chest, “I hate you right now.” The soft drizzle was gradually becoming a steady stream of droplets that made any efforts to protect your hair futile. With a huff, you gave up, allowing the rain to return your hair to its natural state gradually. “Happy now?”

Erwin kissed the tip of your nose before gently setting you back on your feet underneath a large canopy tree. The twinkle of mischief in his eyes was a stark contrast to the soft apologies that tumbled from his mouth. “I promise, messing up your hair was not part of the plan.” His eyes flitted up to your curling hair, a proud smile forming on his face, “I was right, though. You look absolutely amazing, darling.”

You rolled your eyes, hoping it’d distract from the bashful smile tugging on your lips. “One dance,” you held up a finger for emphasis. “That’s it.”

“Just the one,” he gently pressed his lips against yours. “Unless you beg for more.” His laugh rumbled in his chest like quiet thunder as you playfully swatted his arm.

“Well, Mr. DJ, what’re gonna dance to?”

“No idea,” Erwin admitted with a bashful smile, looking up from his phone. “Just wanted an excuse to hold you close.” The soft, familiar strumming of a guitar filled the air before he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

With an outstretched hand, he looked at you with such genuine adoration that for a second, you forgot how to breathe. You slipped your hand into his, allowing him to guide your hands towards his shoulders. It felt silly, dancing in the middle of campus in the rain, and at the same time, it felt so surreal, like you two were straight out of a book.

“Only fools rush in,” Erwin quietly sang as he slid his hands around your hips. “But I can’t help fallin’ in love with you.” He had a smooth, calming singing voice like he was born to be a crooner. He didn’t sing around others often, not sober at least, but something about you made him feel like it was the right thing to do at this moment. Every word that fell from his lips was for you, and you only as you both sway in time with the music. He was yours, and the look in your eyes told him you were his.

You pressed yourself closer to him, the rest of the world slipping away. He was too warm, made you feel too secure for it to be reality. And yet, here he was, the man you secretly fell for years ago was in your arms singing Can’t Help Falling in Love to you. The increasing heaviness of the rain or people staring didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except him.

“I-,” you jumped at the sound of your ringtone, sending you plummeting back to reality with wide eyes. “S-sorry, I gotta,” you trailed off sheepishly as you pulled your phone out of your pocket before accepting the facetime call.

Erwin paused the music for you, trying to stay as quiet as possible as he played with your newly formed curls. It was hard for him to fight back the awestruck look on his face as your hair seemed to grow curlier by the second.

“Did you do it? Please tell me you did? I’ll do it for you,” Sasha bombarded you once you answered. She paused with wide eyes at the sound of Erwin’s amused chuckle. “Oh, my- is that him? Hi, Erwinie!”

“Wait, she did it?” You could hear Connie yell from somewhere offscreen. “Ha! You owe me twenty!”

You smiled apologetically at Erwin, who seemed quite amused with the situation. “Hi, Sasha,” Erwin cut in, laughing at the way she swooned after he said her name. “If we’re being technical, I was the one who did it.”

“Ha! I only owe you ten,” she exclaimed, sending Connie a face before focusing back on you and Erwin. “She invited you to movie night, right?”

“About that, why don’t you two come over to my place? I’ll even cook.”

“Careful before I steal him from you,” Sasha laughed. She was practically drooling already at the thought of free food.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but there’s only one girl for me.” He looked down at you with a confident smile, “she’s all I want and need.”

“What about guys?”

“Ew, you two are so cute it’s gross,” Sasha talked over Connie. “Get off my phone before ya make me sick.”

“Gladly,” you mused, giggles bubbling in your chest. “See y’all later.” You hung up before they could say anything else and turned your focus to Erwin. “I feel the same way, just so you know. Think you’re it for me.”

“I sure hope so cause I don’t plan on losing you again.”

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floralseokjin · 4 years ago

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⤑ made-up love song drabbles

First date: Seokjin’s POV

kim seokjin x reader warnings; none! words; 2,196 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

Seokjin felt like a drink. It was nine o’clock in the morning, so absolutely out of the question, but it didn’t stop him from craving it. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. Nana’s PA had just been to pick up Arin for the weekend – Thank God. Finally she would be able to spend time with her mom after a month, which he was over the moon about, and selfishly, that meant his date with you could go ahead. Even if he was so nervous he could throw up.

Work had been a great distraction for the past two days but once he’d woken up this morning the realisation had dawned on him. He was going on a date tonight. His first in a decade. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it and asked you to dinner. He’d faced his fears, possibly made a fool of himself and shared too much about his personal life in the process, but you hadn’t seemed to mind at all. You were so easy to talk to, it was refreshing. He’d felt brave for the first time in months – years. But it still didn’t stop him from being on pins as soon as he’d opened his eyes this morning.

He’d showered early, just after Arin had woken up and then he’d helped her get ready for the day too, allowing her to eat her breakfast in front of the television as he tried to swallow down his bowl of porridge too. It tasted like cardboard – but then again, it might have been his cooking. Misook usually made the food around her, when he wasn’t dining out or ordering take out of course.

Arin had noticed his strange mood straight away. Obviously.

“Daddy, what’s wrong with you this morning?” She’d asked, looking over at him warily before hesitating. “I am spending the weekend with mom, right?”

“Of course you are, sweetie” he’d rushed, shaking away the surge of anger he’d felt. It pained him to know she was always expecting the worst lately. “Your mom just text me to say Jia is on her way.”

She’d smiled then, her face lighting up and he couldn’t help but match it, his nerves disappearing for a while. That was until he was left all alone, the house now empty and silent. He eyed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter (where he’d left it after his small nightcap last night) and shook his head. He should drop you a text, just to check in and see if you were still on for tonight. He needed to find out what time to pick you up anyway. He probably should have messaged you the day before, he panicked suddenly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket. Oh well, there was no time for regrets, that’s what his father always said.

It took him at least ten minutes to figure out what to say. His first draft sounded too cheerful, too false, he was trying way too hard and had added an examination point. His second was too formal, fifteen years of sending business emails back and forth obvious. He settled on something in the middle – he hoped.

Unknown (9:32am) Hi Y/N, It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up. Regards, Seokjin

Only, reading it back after he hit send he began to second guess himself. Of course you knew who he was, his confidence might be lacking a little right now but he knew he wasn’t totally forgettable. What an idiot. Not that he could do much, there was no turning back. He’d committed.

He busied himself with a bit of Saturday morning cleaning while he waited for your reply, and by that he meant straightening up the pillows he and Arin had been sitting against earlier. When he returned to the kitchen, your message was waiting for him.

You (9:43am) Of course, send the details. I trust your taste!

See, exclamation points suited you. It was cute. He could just imagine you saying it in person, your dazzling smile, maybe that little giggle you’d made a few times on Wednesday. He felt something warm in his chest as he got lost in his thoughts, nerves easing once again. You were excited for tonight, he told himself. Maybe you were even just as nervous as him possibly…

He spent yet another few minutes composing his reply. A lot more casual this time, signing off with just his name. He didn’t always text like this, Namjoon could vouch for him, but he didn’t think you were both quite there yet. He wanted to show his best self after all. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to make you like him as much as he liked you.

Seokjin (9:50am) The sudden pressure… The restaurant’s name is KIM. I hope you like it. Is 7 alright to pick you up? I made reservations for 7:30. Seokjin

In truth, this restaurant was one he co-owned with his brother. Seokchul was the executive chef and they were both very proud of how successful their business venture had become. He knew taking you to such a place might seem like a cop-out – or worse, a brag – but that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to treat you in a place that meant a lot to him. He could have chosen multiple restaurants, he was a regular at quite a few and could easily get a great table, but see, that did seem like he was showing off and he did not want to give you that impression at all. It was the complete opposite of his personality. KIM was a good choice, he was sure of it, and it helped that his brother didn’t work weekends, so there was no risk of bumping into him. Although, he had let him know about the date (and had begged him not to spill to their mother).

You (9:52am) I will. 7 sounds perfect. I’ll send through my address. See you later!

You followed up with a Google Maps link to your home, and he sent a quick thank you – sans his name this time. With a quick sigh he pocketed his phone again, it was time to get on with his day. He had some paperwork from yesterday to complete by Monday morning so he should probably make a start. He stopped to order a light lunch at midday, ate it as he scrolled through his very limited social media before getting back to it.

He called it a day around 3pm, a call from his mom interrupting his flow. He spent an hour talking, their weekend phone calls were habitual by now and he enjoyed them immensely. He loved his father of course, but their conversations mostly revolved around work. Despite stepping down as CEO three years ago, he was still a vital member of the company, and Seokjin continued to consult him at every opportunity and lean on him for support when things got stressful. With his mom, she was the woman he could still be a kid around. They could talk about anything and everything, but for her own benefit he left out his plans for tonight. He knew what she was like, she’d get way too excited and overwhelmed and before long she’d be sobbing down the line while simultaneously asking to meet you. She’d been wanting him to meet someone new for so long, much like Mrs. Shin. It was a surprise the two women weren’t conspiring behind his back.

No, he’d keep it a secret for now. If things went well tonight, then possibly his mother would get to find out. He wasn’t getting his hopes up though – or at least he was trying not to.

It was just after four when he got off the phone, too early to start getting ready just yet, so he sat in front of the television and tried to concentrate on a series he’d recently started. (It wasn’t going well. He was on about one episode a week out of a nine season TV show.) It was no use though, the nerves were rearing their ugly head again.

He decided to choose his outfit. Seokjin wasn’t much of a thinker when it came to fashion, he just grabbed whatever he saw first that morning, but tonight he wanted to at least put some effort in. After much deliberation he decided on a navy two piece paired with a white dress shirt. It wasn’t over the top, he thought, but nice enough to make that impression that was so very important to him. He kept his hair simple. He’d managed to squeeze in a haircut yesterday so it made things easier, but upon closer inspection in the mirror he noticed those pesky grey hairs of his glittering in the sunlight. He grimaced, worried now. He didn’t know your exact age yet, but it was obvious he was a few years older than you. He was no spring chicken, especially with those wrinkles around his eyes. He had been called handsome all his life, no stranger to it, but right now he was dubious.

He pushed his trivial concerns away and concentrated on the next decision. What car he would take. He didn’t want to go too flash – again with the showing off thing – so the Aston Martin was definitely off the cards. He hadn’t actually driven that one much, going through some sort of so-called midlife crisis when he’d bought it straight after his divorce, so he made a mental note to take it out next weekend. He decided on the Mercedes convertible (roof on, of course). It seemed like a suitable choice, not too flashy at all really. He didn’t want to run the risk of putting you off him or overwhelming you with showy displays. He was well aware of the differences between your lifestyles, not that he cared at all, but it didn’t stop him from understanding. The things that seemed slight to him could very well be enormous for you. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape or form.

Shit, on second thoughts maybe his restaurant was a bad idea…

Seokjin was always punctual, he prided himself on it, but tonight it made him nervous. He’d said 7 but it had only just gone quarter to. He couldn’t very well stay in the car for fifteen minutes, you’d spot him out the window, so ever so slowly he opened his car door and stepped out, his heart thudding against his ribcage. He was sure he noticed his hand shaking as he closed it behind him. He was such a mess it was embarrassing.

You lived in a nice little neighbourhood, it seemed quiet, and he admired your pots of flowers in the patch of garden you had as he made his way up the path that led to your front door. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, adjusting his suit jacket as he waited for you to open up. It’s fine, Seokjin, he told himself. It’s just dinner. You’ve done much scarier things in your life. Pull yourself together, man.

A few seconds later the door opened in front of him and you came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I’m fucked, he thought immediately.

“Hi,“ he forced himself to say as he smiled. He was probably staring but he couldn’t help himself. You looked stunning, your dress deep red in colour and incredibly flattering. His throat felt dry and he swallowed quickly.

“Hey,” you greeted back.

“You look beautiful,“ he couldn’t help but awe, hoping he wasn’t stepping out of line with his compliment.

"Thank you,” you smiled almost shyly. It was adorable. “You look…really good.“

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, aware the sound was probably highly unfaltering, but he couldn’t help it. "I’ll take it. Thanks.” He tilted his head to the right then, composing himself. “Are you ready to go? I’m a bit early, I know. Sorry about that."

He really couldn’t tear himself away from your beauty, but luckily you didn’t seem to notice, busy nodding as you clutched your purse to your side. "I, uh… I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing.” Your voice raised as you continued, your head turning slightly down the hallway.

He raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but he guessed said best friend was in the house somewhere? He smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine.”

As you stepped forward, a breath of a chuckle slipping from your throat, he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to let you lead the way. You accepted with a brief nod of your head, your gazes catching for a split second. God, you were gorgeous.

His nerves might have eased a tad, but his heart was still beating just as fast – if not more.

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #mls:drabbles #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

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favefandomimagines · 4 years ago

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Be Kind (r.c)

Summary: the facade Rafe puts up has caused tension in your relationship

AN: this is inspired by the song ‘Be Kind,’ by Marshmello and Halsey. also threw a little klaroline quote in there

quick PSA, i don’t condone anything Rafe does in the show at all. He killed a cop and was just a sadistic asshole. SO THIS IS NOT CANON RAFE i just wanted to make that clear and i DO NOT condone domestic violence of any kind, verbal or physical.

You’ve put up with Rafe Cameron for two years. But you didn’t used to phrase it like that until recently.

Rafe puts on a mask when he’s with Topper or Kelce or any of his other Kook friends. He never used to do that with you. He wasn’t afraid to show how he was really feeling. But when he turned to drugs, that mask was kept on permanently.

He wasn’t kind to you anymore. Didn’t call to ask how your day was, didn’t stay up late with you combing his fingers through your hair while he vividly described your future after college.

It was almost as if the cocaine made that version of him dormant. It wasn’t something you ever planned on getting used to. But for the foreseeable future, you had too.

There was a huge Kook party that was being held at your house, your younger brother Topper being the host.

That’s how you and Rafe initially got together. It didn’t matter that you were one year younger. The connection was there.

All of your ‘friends’ were there and you somehow managed to convince Topper to invite the Pogues. They were more your friends than anyone on Figure 8 anyways.

You didn’t know Rafe had brought the drugs. Not until Kiara was the one to point it out. He had told you he quit a long time ago so you had to see it for yourself.

“Y/N, I thought you said Rafe quit?” She asked. You followed where she was pointing and saw your boyfriend doing a line off the glass coffee table.

Both Kie and JJ saw your face contorted with not just anger, but disappointment and disgust as well.

Rafe gets angry when he’s high so you knew you had to get him somewhere quiet until he came down. Usually he always started a fight with JJ or some other random person just for the sake of fighting.

You carefully approached him, him having at least four inches of height over you.

“Baby, maybe we should go get you some water.” You said sweetly, touching his arm gently. “I’m fine, Y/N.” He protested, pulling his arm back rather violently. “Rafe, come on.” You said, masking the fear you were feeling.

You kept pushing and hoping he’d give in to your pleas. “God, Y/N, you’re so fucking clingy! No wonder none of us like you.” He spat back at you.

By that point, everyone was watching in anticipation to see how you’d react to your boyfriend speaking to you like that. “That’s enough, man.” Topper interjected.

His words hurt you and that was clearly evident due to the tears that welled up in your eyes. “Alright, fine. You wanna be an asshole, that’s on you.” You snapped, turning to walk away from him. “Don’t turn your back on me!” Rafe bellowed. “I should have turned my back on you months ago with all the shit you’ve put me through!” You yelled back.

You thought he’d scoff and roll his eyes like every other argument. What you didn’t see coming was Rafe bringing his hand up as if he were going to hit you. Rather harshly by the looks of it.

The action made you flinch as Topper moved quickly to stand in between you and Rafe, as JJ and John B pulled you away.

The realization of what Rafe could have potentially done finally hit him when he saw the look on your face as JJ had his arms wrapped around you and his face softened.

“Y/N, I-I don’t know-“ He started before you cut him off. “Fuck you, Rafe. We’re done.” You sneered, before letting JJ and Kiara take you away from the party.

Once you had left, the mood of the party died completely. People beginning to clear out and Rafe standing there, trying to understand what just happened.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Topper yelled at his friend. “Topper,” Rafe started. “That’s my sister, dude! And she loves you, would do anything for you and you were going to hit her!” Topper said. “She was good for you. And you threw her away.” He added, before walking off to clean up the mess.

Rafe stood there, not a single ounce of a solution in his brain. Topper was right. You were the best thing that happened to him and he treated you like shit. And he knew he was doing it too. It was always after his dad tore into him about something he messed up. So he didn’t believe he deserved you so he pushed you away.

Ever since he started doing drugs, he gave you every reason to leave. But you never did. Not until you thought he was actually going to physically hurt you.

Rafe would never think of laying a finger on you in a way that would hurt you. But when he was on cocaine, he wasn’t Rafe. And clearly that didn’t stop him from hurting you verbally.

The Pogues brought you to the Chateau after JJ pulled you away from your own house. You hadn’t said a word since then and it was starting to worry JJ and Sarah.

JJ had known you just as long as he had known John B and he knew you better than most. You were a Kook but long before the prejudices started, you were their best friend.

Which was why he knew that when you weren’t talking, there was too much going on in your head.

The rest of them went inside while you sat on the front porch. JJ and Sarah stopped in the doorway and looked from you to each other.

JJ slightly nodded his head before walking over to sit by you.

“You can talk about it. You know you can tell me.” He said. You let out a deep breath before resting your head on your friend’s shoulder.

“He didn’t used to be like that. He was good to me but then he started doing the drugs and it just got worse.” You started. “Do you think it’s me? And it isn’t really because of the drugs?” You added.

JJ moved so he could look at you before he spoke. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. And I can tell you that it has nothing to do with you. It’s on Rafe if he can’t see what he’s had next to him for two years.” He said.

You have him a sad smile before putting your head back on his shoulder.

—

It had been two weeks since you had broken up with Rafe. His efforts to get you to talk to him happened every day, relentlessly.

Rafe showed up to your house not knowing that you weren’t there. When the door opened, Topper saw a very distraught Rafe standing there.

“What are you doing here?” Topper asked. “I need to see Y/N.” Rafe answered. “She’s not here. She’s with Sarah and Kie.” Topper told him.

That was when Rafe had taken off the mask, taken down the facade, and let all of his emotions show.

Topper had never seen his friend in such a fragile, emotional state before. “There’s no way out of this, bro. She’s never gonna come back to me.” Rafe cried.

“You know what you need to do then? Stop doing drugs. Stay sober and never even attempt to lay a hand on her again.” Topper told him. “I need to see her. I need to know that there’s still a chance.” Rafe said.

Topper sighed before checking the time on the Rolex on his wrist. “She’ll be home in fifteen minutes. You can wait for her upstairs.” He said.

Rafe thanked Topper quickly before rushing upstairs. He entered your room and felt the difference of tone in the room. It felt sad and different and he knew that he was the reason for it.

He could easily spot out the holes on your dresser where picture frames used to be. Pictures of the two of you that you couldn’t stand to look at anymore. He noticed the top drawer was open and empty. The drawer that held a couple of his t-shirts and sweatpants for when he’d spend the night. They were now in a duffle bag on the floor.

Another thing he noticed was the Midsummer’s dress you were supposed to wear to match him. It was placed back in the garment bag and hanging on the back of your bedroom door. Probably so your mother could take it back.

He remembered how excited you were to wear it, you tried it on for him and modeled it for ten minutes before he convinced you to hang it back up in your closet.

About fifteen minutes later, Rafe heard the front door open before hearing your voice call out to your brother, causing his heart to speed up.

“Topper, I’m home!” You called, as you walked up the staircase to your room. “Wait, Y/N, I need to warn you.” Topper stopped you. “About?” You questioned. “Rafe.” Topper answered.

Your face fell at his words, not needing a further explanation. “He’s here?” You asked. “Yeah. He’s in your room.” He said.

You sighed as you nodded your head curtly before continuing your trek to your room.

Opening the door, you saw Rafe seated on the edge of your bed with tears in his eyes. A photo of to two of you in his hands. It took everything you had not to just run over there and tell him everything was going to be okay.

“What are you doing here, Rafe?” You asked, keeping your composure. “I needed to see you. To apologize for-“ He stopped himself, not wanting to relive that night’s events.

“I’ve been clean since that night but I can’t do this without you. It’s so hard. I start thinking about you and then how I lost you and it makes me want to just forget about it for a while. I need your help, Y/N. Please.” He added.

You looked at him, the broken boy who sat in front of you and sighed. This was the Rafe you missed and it seems as if you were starting to get him back.

“No more drinking. And no more drugs. Rafe, what you did scared the hell out of me. I’ve never seen you like that before. Yelling at me and telling me that I’m clingy and bitchy is one thing but hitting me is unforgivable.” You spoke.

Rafe stood up and approached you feeling a sense of hope. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I will never do anything like that again, I promise. Just please forgive me. I love you.” He said.

You took a moment to process his words and to find any trace of a lie. But when you couldn’t find one, you gave in.

“If it happens again, I’m done.” You said quietly. “It won’t. I promise.” Rafe said. You nodded your head as Rafe pulled you into him. It wasn’t until then that you had let out the sobs you were so desperately trying to keep in.

The two of you stayed that way, holding each other and just crying for what felt like hours.

“You’re a mess.” You laughed, wiping the tears off of his face. “Yeah, you’re one to talk.” Rafe replied. “You know that I love you, right?” He asked. You nodded your head before speaking. “I love you too.” You replied.

#imagine #imagines #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey

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watermelonlipstick · 4 years ago

Text

Distraction (Request)

This was a request for @sergeantsea, who asked:

Hi angel!! I was wondering if you could write something with the reader slow dancing w Sam? Maybe they have to pretend to be together to do a mission?

It was a total blast to write--SUCH a cute idea. I hope this is something like you were thinking.

Title: Distraction

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1673

Summary: A misstep during a case requires a distraction and some quick thinking.

Warnings: canon-appropriate threat of violence, mention of alcohol, fluffy fluff fluff, a little teaspoon of smut-adjacent action 😜

You tried to make the quick strides across the room look purposeful rather than frantic and resisted the urge to check over your shoulder for whether the pair had followed you across the bar. It had been stupid to try to eavesdrop without the pretense of another conversation to cover, and when the vampires had both looked up at the same time, you were sure you were done for.

“Look alive,” you hissed, grabbing Sam’s hand and yanking him up from the cracked leather stool he was leaning on. He had to stretch against your grip to rest his pool cue on the wall, giving an apologetic smile to the denim-clad guys he and Dean had been playing. Didn’t matter much, Dean could hustle the two of them by himself anyway.

“What’s going on?” Sam muttered, low and serious as he caught up, trailing just barely behind you so that the words played against the back of your neck, the delicate heat of them along your skin already easing some of the panic you had been feeling.

“I might’ve just gotten us made—don’t look,” you said with a smile you hoped would look flirtatious to a bystander, turning to curl a hand around the back of his neck as a safeguard to prevent his inevitable impulse to check it out.

“Uh, okay. What’s the plan?”

“Just two regular people in a regular bar doing some regular dancing.”

You could feel Sam’s neck tense under your palm.

“You know, I’m really not so good at—”

“Sorry, you’re going to have to pretend unless you’ve got a better option. Smile, please,” you said through the gritted teeth behind your put-on smile, and Sam gave a tight-lipped facsimile as the song shifted, Lionel Richie singing “know it sounds funny but I just can’t stand the pain,” smooth as silk even over the dive’s old speakers . You took Sam’s hand and set it on your hip before floating your free fingers behind his neck. He followed suit somewhat tentatively, holding you with big paws as carefully as if you were some antique Christmas ornament.

“Can I look yet?” he smiled down at you, grin only partly exasperated. You moved a misplaced lock of hair back to the right side of his loose part and tried not to flush at the way he deliberately closed his eyes while you did.

One of your hands traced down the collar of his flannel, resting on his lapel and closing a few more inches between your waists. “Sure. Stocky guy in blue and a blond guy with a goatee.”

Sam checked back from where you’d come under the pretense of tucking you under his chin. When he spoke it was like stepping into a hot shower, soothing warmth flowing over the crown of your head. “They’re definitely watching. You sure it’s only those two? They’re sitting with a bigger table and no one’s talking.”

“Fuck. How many?”

“Uh, how fast do you think you can get to the car?”

“That bad? Spin me, I wanna see.”

He obliged, slipping his hand into your lax grip on his neck and guiding your hips around a small spin that was just enough for you to see the overflowing booth the two had slid into, at least 7 or 8 angry-looking probably-vamps with eyes trained on you and Sam.

When you turned back toward him, an easy, cheeky grin spread over his face as Sam slid an arm to your lower back and interlaced the fingers of his other hand with yours. “I didn’t realize you were this much trouble. What’d you do, spit in their beer?”

“Very funny. Are they buying this?” You rested your palm on his shoulder, feeling the ripple of the muscles as his fingers spread out over your back.

Sam chuckled and you felt the vibration of his chest into your forearms, starting to feel like a competition cheerleader with the plastered-on smile. “Gimme a sec, I don’t want to look suspicious.” He started incrementally rotating the two of you and you knew it was tactical, so he could see both Dean and the booth. Didn’t really help you either way, field of vision pretty much entirely blocked by the broad span of Sam’s chest. Knowing that he was trying to better his position signaled to you to get ready, and you held a deep breath in an effort to calm your racing heartbeat. He leaned back a touch. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just such a fucking rookie move, I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t sweat it. If it’s a rookie move, I must be a rookie too. And usually the warning Dean gives me for shit like this is yelling for me 6 punches in.”

You snickered a little into the flannel of his shirt despite yourself. “Thanks.”

The two of you swayed together through a chorus. “Come on Dean, you idiot, look up,” Sam murmured to himself. Dean was lining up a shot he could hit backwards with his eyes closed like he needed laser precision, blissful ignorance allowing him to concentrate only on hustling the guys he was playing for a couple hundred bucks and not the imminent danger. A few people got up from the booth and began making their way across the bar. You could see them in your peripheral vision and knew even if Dean miraculously glanced up now and got with the program lightning-fast you’d be in trouble based on sheer numbers alone.

“You trust me?” he asked fervently.

“Yeah, of course I—” you stammered, immediately cut off by the plush crash of Sam’s lips into yours, the deepened pressure of his hand sealing your torsos together. After the briefest stunned moment you got the picture, kissing Sam back cautiously. You let him pull you closer, relaxed into his arms and dragged the hand you had on his shoulder down to gently hold onto his lapel, feeling a little dizzy even through the relative chasteness of the kiss. He disentangled his fingers from yours and slid them to your neck, the tiny chill of each of his wintry fingertips sending goosebumps down your spine as he cradled your head. Hands on his collar, you didn’t even think to stop yourself when you wrapped the flannel up, pure instinct driving your motion. Sam wound through the hair at the back of your neck and those instincts betrayed you again, nipping at his bottom lip on reflex and slipping your tongue into his mouth, somehow sweet over the cheap beer you’d all been drinking throughout the night—perfect—and Sam was much less nervous than you would’ve thought when he took a sharp inhale in surprise but didn’t back down, met your escalation as readily as he supported your weight against him.

And then you were well and truly in it, Sam’s hand hitching up the back of your tee as he reached for a better grip on you, your grabbing at his shirt popping open a button so you could feel the impossible heat off his chest and get towed under by it like a current, like a magnetic field, and you couldn’t stop, needed more and more, mind a fuchsia cloud of want totally void of intelligent thought or awareness of your surroundings even as you had been so panicked minutes before.

The spell was broken by a wolf whistle from one of Dean’s opponents, and you broke apart with a lascivious pop of suction. Inches from you, Sam’s eyes were half lidded and kissed stupid, the pink of his lips feathered out to match the flush in his cheeks. You glanced toward the pool table to find the almost-hustled men leering at you and Sam from where they stood next to Dean, whose face had landed exactly halfway between stunned and disbelieving.

Addressing his brother, Sam cleared his throat and breathed, “We were just—” looking back toward where the crew had been closing in and finding nothing, the group now playing some rowdy game and crawling all over each other to stay in the booth, not paying any attention to you or Sam. “We were, uh, just—” he tried again, still at a loss for words.

“Get a room,” Dean teased, play-nauseated, eyebrows twisted so far up on his forehead you were surprised they weren’t pushing his hair back.

“No, it wasn’t—”

“In front of God and everybody,” he continued, roguish twinkle overcoming the surprise in his eyes. You could feel the heat rising in your face and hastily stepped back from Sam, yanking your shirt down the few inches it had risen. Sam seemed not to notice his open buttons as he froze, still facing Dean. “By all means, don’t let us stop you.” He supported his weight on his pool cue, face as clear a challenge as anything.

Sam ruffled the back of his hair sheepishly and took the ribbing with tightened lips. “Yeah, okay. Ha-ha.”

“I’m going to, uh, grab another beer. Do you want one?” you asked Sam quietly, hoping Dean and the pool players might lose interest.

“Sure, yeah. I—ah, I’m gonna—” he stuttered, face screwing up in a silent, bashful “help me?” smile while his shoulders bunched around his neck. You started to giggle, nerves finally catching up to you, and bit your lip to hold your smile together.

“Go finish your game?”

Sam chuckled and nodded, looking at his feet.

You took a deep breath. “Um, thanks for saving me back there. I won’t make the same mistake again, I promise.”

He flicked his gaze up, grin split open at the side to show a few teeth as he ran his tongue over his molars, framed by an impossibly sliced dimple. “I—ah, I wouldn’t mind if you made that mistake again.”

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