#i am drunk please indulge me and pretend this makes sense | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

majesticwren · 8 months ago

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due to high demand - me. I'm high demand. this entire project is being written entirely for my pleasure, be warned I'm being extremely self-indulgent - I've decided to write a little prequel to the events that take place here. this is set in 2018 and is the beginning of Fletch x OFC. billy will have his own little prequel at some point. enjoy. a/n: please don't come for me I am heavily lingering into the angst and the toxicity and the drama only for the pleasure of it and this is my testimony be warned because we'll dive head first in it folks.

Trigger Warning/s: OFC is her own trigger warning she is damaged goods and slightly toxic and emotionally unavailable, kyle is a little baby, mark is being overprotective and extremely toxic sorry not sorry, alcohol consumption, mention of addiction, mention of heroin abuse, mention of sex, mention of trauma, mention of intentional overdose, swearing, smut!, unprotected sex (this is a fic, don't do this at home kids, know your sexed!), loss of virginity (Kyle's a baby, as already said), OFC is slightly dom, angst, mainly friends to lovers/impossible relationship dynamics.

nuclear season: part I -> | part II -> | part III -> prequel: <- part I | part III -> | part IV -> Masterlist

“I tell you,” Kyle chuckled, “you should have been there. I fell off the stool from laughter. I have never seen anything like it before in my life,”

They laid close to each other in a nest of covers and pillows on her bed in her messy hotel room. Music played in the background. Erika looked at his features, getting inebriated by the naïve, sweet look he had on his pretty face. His blushed cheeks and the lack of focus he had due to being tipsy were getting her drunk more than the alcohol.

“Well, then,” Erika raised the half-full bottle of tequila in a cheer, “I suppose that requires a hooray!” giggling to herself, she let her head fall heavy on the nest of pillows. She wasn’t even sure what they were talking about anymore.

She had tried so hard to stay as far away from heavily drinking for so long, that she almost got back to being able to feel tipsy and enjoy it. She hadn’t been completely clean, but she hadn’t gotten drunk in months. Until tonight.

Sobriety would have meant for her to have a clearer mind to take sensed, thought-through decisions, considering a whole lot of consequences and people involved. But that also meant she was supposed to face her emotions, which Erika had no intention of doing. Not after she had to face Mark’s words.

If her brother didn’t believe in her, what chance did she have?

She tried to escape her past, but it was just as her brother had said. A tiger wouldn’t lose her strips. She would have never become anything better than who she was. Forever branded like the unreliable troublemaker unworthy of the benefit of the doubt or any hope.

She had been so stupid for believing anything could change. That she had a chance to become something better.

And then there was Kyle. She didn’t even want to think about how heartbroken she was. It hurt so much to want someone so desperately and knowing so well she’d never have him. It hurt too much for her to bear. If she had been given the chance to be someone different from her past, maybe she would have thought she could make it. Maybe she would treat him well, give him the affection he deserved and trust him to give her the respect she needed. But she wasn’t different. She was the same girl she left in Australia, only lived in the United Kingdom and pretended to be someone else for kicks.

And now, she just knew she was going to break Kyle’s heart. It was a conscious decision she had made.

Instead of considering her options, Erika decided to take the familiar route of drowning herself in a bottle of tequila and making bad decisions. It was easy enough to forget about her dreams and expectations. And the more she fell into her drunkenness mess of incoherent stormy emotions, the more she became erratic and unpredictable, spiralling into a dark void. She was stuck in an ouroboros where she became the thing she feared the most to escape it.

And now, she was ready to stand by the rubble of everything she was going to ruin.

Before Kyle could grab the bottle from her grasp, Erika retrieved it to her chest, sending him a teasing look, challenging him to come and get it as she drank more of the bitter liquor herself. She hid her grin behind the bottle, chugging down a big gulp. No salt. No lime. No shame.

The liquid felt hot as it slid down her throat and into her stomach. Its warmth spread quickly through her and into her mind, making it difficult to focus on much more but Kyle’s lips.

“You are so pretty,” she whispered, deciding to push herself to break the distance between them and tracing his jawline with her fingertips. “Beautiful, actually.”

Kyle’s face became red all over. “Not like you,” he dared and then stole the bottle off her grasp and hid his timidity behind it.

She felt every inch of her skin itch to be touched. The small distance dividing them was so painful to endure. She felt the need to feel him. To have him. Hanging between their words and in their crossed gazes there was everything she tried to deny herself from feeling and all the space he allowed her to have, respecting her wishes. The difference was she was done being mature. She had taken her decision. Trying and act like the bigger person, getting away from everything toxic in her behaviour, didn’t bring her anywhere. So why keep fighting?

That was her last chance to make a sensible decision before ruining everything.

Fuck Mark.

She thought impulsively, getting distracted from Kyle.

Fuck him and all his empty promises and his pretended love. He didn’t deserve her to try. He didn’t believe she could, anyway. So, he wasn’t going to have the best version of her. He ripped her hope away and threw her in the dark. So, she was going to hurt the only person he cared about. And she had every intention of liking it. Kyle would have been delicious; she just knew it.

“I am so glad you are here,” she didn’t need to lie about that. She was aware of what she was walking into and what she would have done. But she truly liked him.

This time, she traced her fingers to his chin, close to his lips.

Kyle popped a timid smile, as he looked at her face. Words didn’t come out of his mouth. He was fiddling with his hands. So nervous and pretty, made her smile widen. Delicious.

Erika was naturally prompted to move to him, placing a hand on his chest. “What is it, baby?” She wondered in a low purr, pushing herself closer to him. “You are so nervous.”

“I didn’t think you’d call; you know?”

“No?” Erika decided it was time to get rid of the bottle of tequila, which she leaned over to leave on the bedside cabinet, before quickly going back to snuggling by Kyle’s side. “You haven’t noticed how I look at you?”

“I have. I do. I hope that you’ll notice me all the time,” he admitted, “but you made it clear you need distance, and that’s what I gave you.”

“And I appreciate that,” Erika wasn’t lying. Nothing of what she felt for him was constructed. She was truly enjoying spending time with him and wanted so much more from him that it felt difficult to breathe; even though she did ask him to join her only because of her quarrel with Mark, to prove a point, and was determined to break both their hearts.

If she was supposed to end up suffering, she was gonna do it in the sweetest and most prohibited way possible.

“I don’t want to have distance anymore,” Erika suggested, her eyes crossed Kyle’s face, soaking up his sweetness. She decided to encourage him to follow her queue by grabbing his hand and gently guiding him to place it on her stomach. He watched her do it holding his breath in his chest.

His touch was extremely attentive. Kyle laid his large hand flat on her abdomen, not daring to move. His skinny fingers were spread across her, feeling the soft material of the extra-large t-shirt she was wearing above a simple pair of booty shorts. Then, his hand moved ever so slightly, feeling her body underneath his touch.

A shiver crossed her. They were barely touching and she was already on fire. A soft sigh left her as the pleasure of his touch, even just so small, was already enough to make her stretch under him. She desperately wanted him to touch her all over and to feel him everywhere. She was ready to beg and had to bite her tongue not to. Not yet. That simple caress wasn’t enough – not even remotely.

Erika kept her hand on his, pushing him down into her belly, making him feel her. She needed him to explore her. She wanted him to desire to feel her just as badly as she did. Her other hand was still on his face as she was carried away by his timid look as he followed everything she did. There was uncertainty behind his eyes, but it was the edge of expectations he hung on that attracted her the most.

“Tell me what you are thinking,” she pulled his chin, making him look back at her. “I need to know what’s going on behind those beautiful eyes.”

Kyle tried to hide behind a chuckle, but his blushed cheeks gave him away. “What do you think I am thinking?” He wondered, trying to outsmart her.

Except Erika wasn’t playing. “I hope you are wondering what I look like when I am naked.” She dared, not stopping at how he choked on his breath. “And I am hoping you are going to put those pretty hands and lips into use soon.”

“God, Erika,” he whispered, trying to escape her gaze.

He hissed when she didn’t let him get away. “Tell me. Please, baby, I need to know. I need you.”

The way he shivered made her body react. Warmth flooded right through her, charging up her nerves and making her belly ache and her abdomen feel heavy. God, nothing about her desire needed to be forced in any way, Erika truly liked him and had been wanting him for a long time now. Only she had stopped hiding it away. Now it was her time to be selfish.

“Me too,” he admitted, leaning closer to her, enough to press his forehead on hers. “I want you so bad it hurts.”

She smiled victoriously and decided she was done waiting around. She pushed herself closer to him, brushing her lips on his.

Kyle took another few moments to warm up. He was awkward and uncertain, but surely ready to follow her queues, because, as soon as he battled with his shyness, he dived into her lips, kissing her with a hunger and desperation Erika was more than ready to match.

It had been so long since they kissed and she had missed his lips ever since.

There was a force pulling her towards him. How did she believe it possible to fight against her deepest desires?

She was such a fool.

Erika’s hand cruised across his neck and around his shoulders, pulling him down on her. She avidly studied the slim edges of his body, admiring the feeling of every muscle and bone she found, desiring to feel more. She needed his naked skin. His warmth. His everything.

Kyle weighing on her as they made out was so sweet and ravaging. She was already pretty unhinged and self-destructive, but now, nothing was stopping her.

Erika bent her leg and slid it around his thin waist, branching around him like ivy. She then guided his hand from her belly to her thigh, needing to feel his fingers on her naked skin. This time, Kyle was more courageous and took the initiative, squeezing her soft flesh into his hold. The soft moan he released, pushing himself against her, further into her arms, sent her ballistic.

Erika pushed him down on the mattress and hopped over his hips, straddling him. This time, lowering herself back down, she pushed her face into the crook of his neck, avidly kissing his skin and adoring feeling him tensing up underneath her, his choked breath was music to her ears.

Kyle took a few long seconds before feeling confident enough to wrap his hands around her hips. But then, he rewarded her by letting his hands explore her body, feeling dauntless enough to cruise up her spine and down one leg.

Erika pulled herself up sitting back into his hips and enjoying every inch of his body she felt underneath her. He was aroused. She felt his trapped erection poke her through their clothes. And, God, that was enough to make her head spin. Not thinking too clearly, she pushed her hands in between them, reaching for his belt, feeling the need to touch him.

However, before she could even realise her desires, Kyle froze and was quick to stop her. His hold on her was gentle but firm as he grabbed her hands and pushed them off him.

Erika sat back up on him, frowning. “What is it, baby?”

“Nothing,” he huffed, avoiding eye contact, “I just- would like to take it easy, for a moment.”

Looking down at him, she suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable with the idea that he may have not wanted the same thing she did, despite his clear arousal and desire for her. Though there was something in him, in his quickened breath and pink cheeks, and in the way his eyes were drawn away from her, that intrigued her even more.

She slipped a hand of his grasp only to grab his chin and pull him to look at her. “What is it, Fletch?”

“Nothing-” he choked. His entire face was becoming red.

Erika leapt into his eyes. “No. That’s not nothing.” She leaned in, brushing her lips over his softly, “Tell me.”

Kyle hesitated, looking at her for a long moment and then, with a defeated sigh, he shook his head. “I think I need a minute before we start doing stuff.”

“Ok,” she nodded, understanding and encouraging, not forcing herself on him. “Why? Are you ok?”

“More than ok,” he nodded, “please, don’t think I don’t want this. You.” He released her hand only to place his around her hips, giving her an encouraging squeeze. “Because I do. More than the world.”

“Then what is it?” She wondered softly, kissing gently his forehead and then cheeks, loving the way he moulded into her like a cat bumping his little face into her.

“I-” he choked on a secret.

“You can tell me,” She encouraged him softly, sliding her hand across the back of his neck and up his shaved hair, gently cradling him. “You can tell me anything.”

“I may not have as much experience as you think I do,” he revealed speaking quickly.

“That’s ok,” Erika pulled a gentle smile, willing to make him feel at ease. She had suspected it by the way he was attentive and soft and, if anything, it only made her more feral.

Though Kyle still shook his head. “No, you don’t understand.” He took a deep breath like he was trying to gather all his courage. “I’ve never done this before.”

Erika was stricken.

She froze on the spot, looking down at him.

However, her shock was soon gone. She was quick to cup his face into her hands, holding him ever so gently. “Are you a virgin?”

Kyle quietly nodded, face still red all over and puppy eyes so sweet her heart couldn’t take it.

Her chest was quick to warm back up and fill with a feeling so strong it made it hard to breathe. It was respect. It was affection. It was straight-up devotion, the second she realised the meaning of his words. And then it ripped her apart, as she realised he wasn’t only a sweet-looking boy she fancied. He wasn’t only a prohibited fruit she wanted to defile to prove a point. He was so much more than that. He was everything she wanted. What she felt rolling out of her chest, made her have to bite her tongue not to tell him how deep she was falling for him.

She attentively caressed his cheeks.

That wasn’t going the way she had planned. She had planned to do what she was used to, which was charming a boy into bed with her and watching her world burn. But now all of that was gone in the back of her mind. Now there was only their moment.

“Would you give it to me?” She wondered pulling his chin up, brushing her lips against his.

Kyle nodded without a second of hesitation. “Yes. Yes, please. I have thought about this so much. I just need you to go slow on me.”

“Oh? You thought about this?” Kyle whined and nodded in her hold, only attracting her attention more. Erika kissed the sides of his mouth, “When?” she wondered in a whisper, “touching yourself?” He whimpered, and then nodded again, only prompting her to pull his chin softly. “Use your words, pretty boy.”

“Yes. I did.”

Erika rewarded him with a soft kiss. “Thinking about me?”

“Mh- yes, it’s always you.”

“Fuck, Kyle,” she hissed as a shiver crossed her back, making her skin ripple in goosebumps.

There, right at that moment, as they both stood over an edge there was no coming back, Erika decided there was no past or future. They were only a boy and a girl who liked each other. There were no consequences, no regrets. Only what they felt and what they wanted.

And she desperately wanted him to be hers. Only hers.

Erika pulled him up in a kiss, starting with her plan by taking his lips. He melted underneath her, now wrapping his arms fully around her, caging in a hug and holding onto her like she was a lifeline.

This time, he was the one taking the initiative. He traced her chin with his lips and down her neck, pushing her to bend in between his arms, assaulting one of her most sensitive spots, tasting her skin.

“Yes,” she cooed with a proud smile on her lips, enjoying feeling his mouth on her. “I like that. Keep going.”

Kyle followed her words gladly, taking a liking to nibble on the sensitive skin under her ear only to feel her shiver and sigh in his arms. She whimpered when his hot tongue passed over the spots his teeth marked.

“Did you ever have a girlfriend, before?” she wondered breathlessly, sliding a hand through the longer hair on top of his head, feeling the need to grab on something.

“I am not that naïve,” he pointed out, looking up at her with a small grin, “I did stuff before, only not everything.”

God, he was breathtaking with his puffed-up lips, blushed cheeks and glimmery eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” Erika brushed her lips on his forehead, “what stuff?” She found it so arousing for no reason in particular, if not that he just became a thousand times more delicious to her. She wanted to eat him up.

Kyle went red again. “Everything else but sex.”

“Everything?” She kept wondering, tracing circles with her fingers across the back of his neck. “Like what? You had a little girlie who showed you how she liked to be touched? Or more than one girl, maybe?”

“Are you taking the piss out of me?”

“No.” She simply said looking down at him. “It turns me on. Tell me, I want to know.”

“Just one girl,” he sighed, giving her exactly what she wanted, “We were high school sweethearts, we were together for a little over one year, though it didn’t work out as soon as I started travelling with wrestling. It’s been some time now.”

“Was she pretty?” Erika causally played with his hair.

She wasn’t jealous. She had never been jealous once in her life, her ego was big enough to give her the confidence to know there was no competition with her. When she wanted something, she simply would have it. There was no other way about it. But she was proud, arrogant even, and she needed to know; she needed to hear it from his lips.

“Yes,” he nodded, “she was a pretty girl. Too pretty for me. But nothing compared to you,” Kyle didn’t disappoint her. “But you know that, don’t you?”

She pushed her index under his chin, making him lift his face. “I like to hear how pretty you think I am.”

“Breathtaking,” he revealed. The way his honest eyes glimmered, as he traced the soft lines of her features, gave her a shiver. “You look like you came out of a dream. But it isn’t only your smoky hot body or the way I’d fall on my knees every time you smile. It’s your eyes. When you look at me, I feel seen. I feel important.”

“You are seen,” Erika slid her hands around his face, making sure to be as close to him as possible, “You are important to me, Kyle.”

She shouldn’t have said it. She was well aware. But there were worse things she wanted to say just as badly. She wasn’t only falling for him; she was already there and had those three words on the tip of her tongue. She couldn’t keep it in anymore, her heart was leaping out of her chest and pouring straight into his. Erika had no control over the emotion that just overwhelmed her. But she forced herself to silence.

He may never know it. She had never been no one’s before, but she was his now. No matter about tomorrow or the consequences of all those damned choices they were making in that bed. A piece of her just left her and he had it to keep forever.

“I want to take off your clothes,” she instructed softly, her hands sliding down on his chest, hinting at her words. “Would that be ok?”

Kyle nodded quickly, only prompting her to reach for the helm of his t-shirt and pull it up and over his head. She then gave him a gentle push, hinting for him to lay back down under her. Kyle followed her queue obediently and let her feast on the view.

She saw him shirtless all the time while they worked. Sometimes around the house too. It wasn’t news. But it was entirely different now when she had his consent to study, tease and taste every centimetre of his exposed skin.

Her fingers followed attentively her gaze across his torso. His skin was soft and warm under her touch, feeling thinly stretched over his slim body. She followed the edges of his thin pecs and down the sternum to his abdomen. As she teased him, tracing her fingers lower to his belly button, Erika enjoyed seeing how his breath trembled in his belly. It gave her a hot shiver that crossed her spine and nested right into her abdomen, giving her the primal need to lower herself and leave a deep bite mark on his belly. Before she could get distracted over, her fingers cruised back up across his sides and ribs, feeling every bone under her fingertips, counting them.

Erika leaned down on him and, before he could move his arms to reach for her, she gently interceded him and made him bend them over his head. A confident smirk on her lips as she looked at him as she crossed his wrists and pinned him down, looking at him like he was his most precious possession.

“Do not move. Can you do that for me, Kyle?”

“Yes,” his voice was bent in a whimper that made her thoughts fog up.

“Good boy,” Erika rewarded him with a kiss on the lips and then moved on his neck. Her hand clawed around his jaw, pushing his head up, making him expose as much of his throat as possible just so she’d have free access to it.

She kissed and nibbled over his soft skin, having to assert the utmost control over herself so as not to leave visible marks. Even though marking him was the only thing she could think about. It was possessive, maybe wrong even, and yet, she wanted his skin to present the traces of her nails, teeth and hickeys.

Kyle moaned and stretched underneath her, bucking his hips up at her, trying to find some kind of release, as she sucked his soft skin into her mouth. It was enough to send them both insane. Erika passed her tongue from the base of his neck up to his chin. Feeling his Adam’s apple move under her muscle made her growl like a feral animal.

She then moved down across his body. Her lips moved to his shoulders as she nibbled on his collarbones and down his chest, where she enjoyed toying with his nipples, licking and sucking, only bringing him to arch underneath her and huff, blinded by pleasure.

“You need to stay still for me, baby,” she hinted as she moved down on him, crossing his abdomen with the tip of her nose.

Kyle still arched underneath her, extremely reactive to her touch.

God. And she hadn’t even got to his cock yet. She wondered what kind of little whimpers he would have offered as soon as she did.

Her hands moved across his hips and followed the edge of his jeans, moving slowly to the buckle of his belt. She looked up at him, making sure to study his reaction so she could stop if he froze again.

He didn’t. He hissed instead, arching and throwing his head backwards, letting her have a perfect view of his stretched-up body caged by the invisible chains of her will.

“Give me permission to take your pants off, baby,” she begged.

Kyle looked down at her, looking pretty and desperate, lust glimmering through his beautiful light eyes. “Yes,”

Erika started to undo his belt; her savvy fingers had no trouble with the buckle. “And then,” she started, looking back up at him, “I want to take you into my mouth. Would you like that, baby?”

Kyle let his head fall back, his chest trembled in a small whimper.

“Use your words, pretty boy,”

“Please, Erika,” he whispered, still keeping his hands above his head like he was tied down. “Yes. Do whatever you like to me.”

Erika acted frantically like her life depended on that moment. She opened his jeans and pulled them down on his hips, not letting herself look at him. Not just yet. She wanted to savour it. She pulled them down his legs, helped by him lifting his waist. They giggled innocently to each other.

Finally, once he was naked under her, Erika slid her hands across his thighs, feasting on his body.

A proud grin crossed her plump lips as she shamelessly looked at his erection. “What a nice surprise,” she teased, biting down on her lip, “such a big pretty boy with a big pretty cock,” she spaced her words willingly, adoring seeing him hang from her lips.

Kyle was flustered, red all over his face and neck, and breathless, but didn’t hide from her. There was a certain level of expectation and ego hiding behind his curiosity. He wished to be praised. “All yours.”

His words crossed her like a spike, hitting her straight into her lower abdomen, and making her tremble. She felt her inside squeeze under the desperate pressure of feeling him inside of her. She had never experienced desire quite like that before.

“Mine.” She agreed.

His virgin skin was milky pale, making her feel the savage need to bite down on him, nibbling along his leg and up to his hipbone. A desire she gave into and responded to Kyle’s little whimpers with moans of her own.

She looked up at him, making sure he was just as lost in the moment as she was, as her lips traced across his lower abdomen. Erika was attentive as she rolled her hand around his cock, allowing Kyle to settle down into her touch. He flinched, but almost immediately relaxed under her, releasing a pleasureful sigh. Erika gently squeezed him in her palm, rolling her hand across his length.

A sharp smile crossed her lips. “Did I get your dick wet?” It was a rhetorical question. He was, in fact, wet, so to speak. But she still wanted to see him nod for her. “You are so fucking desperate; I haven’t even done anything yet.” Her hand followed her words across his cock as she dared to kiss its base, feeling the need to have a little taste of him.

Kyle moaned shamelessly. “I-” he tried to formulate words that only escaped him, mixing with whimpers.

She had never heard a prettier sound.

“What, baby?”

“Please, Erika, I can’t take it anymore,”

She was the one who whimpered now. Having him begging under her made her go feral.

Erika looked up at him, nodding. “I want you to do something for me,”

“Anything,”

“You are free to move your hands now. I want you to grab my hair as I suck on you. And I want you to pull it. And I want you to push me down on you anytime you want to go deeper into my throat.”

“Fuck-” he choked.

“Can you do this for me, baby?”

“What if I choke you?”

“God, baby,” she flicked her tongue along his length, stealing another moan and all of his focus out of him. “That’s the entire point. I want to choke on your cock.”

Kyle sounded like he could cry and she was done wasting time.

She knew well he wouldn’t have lasted long. And she was intentioned to milk every drop of the pleasure of his first time out of him. But she also wished to take it as slow as possible, just like he asked.

Erika traced his length, base to tip, with her tongue and then, she gently took him into her mouth, again allowing him to get used to the feeling of her hot mouth around him. Kyle moaned loudly, not losing a second to slip both his hands into her hair, grabbing on it more to brace himself than to control her movement. As he looked down at her, his mouth was open, pretty lips puffed and wet, his face bent in pleasure.

When she started sucking on him, Kyle was completely gone. He let his head fall backwards on the pillows and arched underneath her, whimpering and softly moaning to her every movement. Erika slid her hands up his chest, digging her nails into his skin, as she took him a little deeper into her mouth with every thrust.

Kyle followed his instinct, Erika’s lips closed around the base of his dick and he, holding her head firmly in between his hands, pushed himself as deep as possible into her throat. A shiver crossed as she felt him so deep inside of her. She released a suffocated moan that slipped right through him, shaking Kyle too.

“Fuck, baby I’m-” he gasped for air, “so close.”

Erika pulled back, releasing him and catching her breath. Looking up at him, she whipped out another sharp grin. “Do you want me to stop?” she wondered only pretending to be innocent. She had no intention of stopping.

“Not a chance,” Kyle then surprised her. He grinned too and, pulling on her hair, he hinted to her to climb back over him. “You are still wearing clothes,” he whispered as soon as she was close enough for him to kiss her.

Kyle took over. He moved her hair out of the way and kept a hand dug deep into it. She started to suspect he liked it to hold her like that. And Erika had no complaints about it. Erika threw her arms around his shoulders, enjoying his initiative. With his free hand, Kyle guided her to go back straddling him and then wrapped his arm around her hips, pushing her to sit as close to him as humanly possible.

His erection pressed on her hot core, making her head spin. It was the first moment she realised what kind of mess she was already. Her pleasure had been forgotten for a second, but now, she realised she had soaked her pants. Erika released a soft moan into his mouth as she rubbed herself against him, only giving him a hint of what to expect. She wanted to drive them both insane.

Kyle’s fingers squeezed the material of her large t-shirt, he then tugged at it and pulled it up on her figure. Erika helped him remove it and then welcomed how he moved on her with a giggle. Her body moulded on him as Kyle kissed her neck, down to her collarbones and shoulders, and lower again. His warm hands were quicker to cup her breasts, squeezing them; he followed quickly, not losing a second to suckle on her tits.

Erika’s head fell heavy as his tongue played with her hard nipples. Her stomach was invaded by a heavy wave of pleasure that slipped through her, making her skin feel tight as she stretched against him, looking to find release. A louder moan escaped her lips, only prompting him to grunt on her.

“Look at you,” she whispered brushing her smile on his forehead. “Little virgin pretty boy knows what he’s doing, uh?”

Kyle shamelessly bit her nipple, in return to her words, and then offered a cocky smirk. “I know some stuff.”

“Clearly,” she smiled, pushing a finger under his chin making him lift his face. “Can I fuck you, now?”

He trembled under her touch; his fingers squeezed her hips as he softly nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.”

“Yes, you would, baby.”

Erika downed on his lips, trapping them into a kiss. She caged his head between her arms and squeezed him against her as if she could push him into her chest and never let him go.

Kyle’s fingers hooked on the band of her booty shorts and pulled on them, teasing her. To which Erika reacted moving her hips, rubbing herself on him.

She broke their kiss, trying to catch her breath and think clearly, even though common sense still escaped her. It was too hot, he was too sweet and inebriating, and the tequila didn’t help.

“Ok,” she huffed, “do you know how it’s going to work?”

“I have access to the internet, babe. I’ve seen porn before.”

Erika smirked, shaking her head as they both blushed. “Ok, little smartass, don’t get an attitude with me,” she poked his chest, “or I’ll make you regret it and beg until you apologise to me.”

Kyle smiled, so smitten as he looked at her. “You like having control, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.” That being said, she pulled his hair, making him bend his head for her. “I’ll give you a pass because I am about to take your virginity,” only thinking about that made her stomach tremble, “but remember it next time. A brat gets punished.”

Kyle still smiled, testing her. “Careful, I might decide to punish you, one day.”

A shiver crossed her. They had no future, she was aware, and yet she hoped for it. She wished that one day, he’d make her whine and moan desperately under his control. “Let’s see if you can take it from me, pretty boy.” She decided she rather keep pretending that was only the beginning for them.

Erika pushed him down on the mattress and then got rid of her shorts, throwing them somewhere in the room. She was quick climbing back on him and, as soon as she did, she grabbed Kyle’s cock, massaging it into her palm and silencing whatever he was going to say. “You are so hard for me, baby.”

Kyle hissed, nodding as his hands cruised on her thighs. He bit hard on his lower lip, looking so pretty underneath her, it was insane. Erika pushed him against her bare core, rubbing herself against him and immediately was shaken by a wave of pleasure, feeling how hot and heavy his flesh was. “Do you feel how wet you got me?”

He whimpered softly, looking down at their bodies meeting. “Fuck, Erika,”

Every time he called for her name, she felt transported to another dimension.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

“Come here, baby. Sit up for me,” she suggested and was ready to catch him as soon as he did as she asked. She rolled an arm around his shoulders, keeping him as close as possible. She needed it. She had no intention of having an inch of space in between them as she took him deep inside of her. “I want you so bad.” Erika brushed her lips on his chin, accompanying her words rubbing herself against him once more.

Kyle trembled under her and then hissed, nodding. “Me too. Please, just fuck me.”

She didn’t let him ask her again. She was done waiting and teasing. It was time and there was no going back. She was already his. And he was hers. Only for that night.

Erika lifted her hips and positioned herself on him. She looked straight into his eyes, getting lost in them as she slowly lowered herself on his erection, taking him inch by inch as slowly as she could. Pleasure shot through her immediately, connecting her to him on a deeper level. She mirrored his expression as Kyle opened his mouth, welcoming feeling her squeezing on him and taking his virginity with a silent moan. She wasn’t quiet. He was shaken by a shiver as pain and pleasure mixed through him.

Erika sat still on him, giving him the time to process how it felt. He stretched her nicely, making her feel breathless. A proud smile quickly followed as she nodded, encouraging him. “Good boy,” she whispered, kissing the sides of his mouth, hugging him. “Pretty, sweet boy. All mine.” Erika kept lulling, getting lost in their moment.

When she moved on him, she watched him take a deep breath and hold it in his chest. Pleasure was slipping through her, making it so difficult for her not to get selfish and just take what she wanted.

“Tell me how it feels, Kyle.” Her words were accompanied by another slow thrust.

He rolled his eyes in the back of his skull as a small whimper shook his chest. “You feel-” his words were choked, “Hot. And wet. And so damn tight I can’t breathe.”

“Good?” She wondered brushing her lips across his forehead and down his nose, enjoying how he moved under her, responding to her naturally.

“So, so, good, baby.”

Erika hid her proud smile into his lips, kissing him deeply.

“I will go faster now, is that ok?”

“Please,”

Erika proceeded to ride him, bucking her hips up and down his cock with increasing speed, following the pleasure quickly mounting into her lower abdomen and spreading through her as he stroked her most sensitive spot inside of her. She didn’t care about being quiet anymore. On the contrary, she was as vocal as possible. She wanted him to hear exactly what he was doing to her.

She held onto his shoulders as her pleasure only grew, making her fingers claw. She dug her nails into his flesh, willingly leaving marks across his back.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” she cooed to his ear, enjoying the little noises he made in response.

“I am so close,” he whispered sounding so desperate it sent her feral.

“Do you want to come, pretty boy?” She wandered making him look at her.

Kyle nodded, letting her see how the pleasure of being lost inside of her shaped his face.

Erika pulled his hair, making him bend his head backwards and riding him mercilessly, determined to take what she wanted. Every drop of it. “Then let it go,”

He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing his fingers on every inch of skin he could grab. He pulled down on her hips, burying himself as deep inside of her as humanly possible.

“Kyle,” she welcomed him with a moan, letting her head fall backwards. She felt him in her stomach. He choked the breath out of her chest and she loved every second of it. To the point, she started wondering how she could have got back to normality.

Kyle quivered underneath her. His breath was shaken and broken, as he erratically mumbled her name, chanting it like a prayer. And then she felt him get stiffer as pleasure shook him. He found his release quickly and violently, suffocating a loud moan into the crook of her neck and letting himself go in between her arms.

Erika felt him unload inside of her; she felt every inch of him shake in waves of pleasure, that crossed straight into her flesh, pushing her over the same edge. Her pleasure caught both by surprise. She didn’t count on coming. Not the first time anyway. Instead, her orgasm mounted violently inside of her just a moment after him. Erika came calling his name in a soft whimper, praising him and cradling him into her arms. Her quivering body squeezed him into overstimulation, making him extremely reactive to her spasms, as he gifted her with small, pretty whines, not daring to push her away but letting her ride her high.

“Fuck,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath, “you are pretty good for a good, little, virgin boy.” Erika pressed grateful kisses on his forehead and cheeks, not hiding her proud, lovestruck smile.

“I can be even better,” Kyle looked up at her, so devoted she felt his gaze into her heart. His hands cupped her face as he pulled her into a soft kiss. “You know,” he began, stroking her softly, “what I feel for you, don’t you?”

Erika had to fight against the need to hear him say it. She knew. She knew so well. Her heart sang for him. She didn’t need his words to know that if she was ready to fall he’d be there to catch her. But she couldn’t afford to hear it. Erika pressed her fingers on his lips, gently shutting him up. “Whatever, you know? Don’t say it, Kyle.”

“Why?”

“Because if you say it, I’ll have to say that I do too. And that won’t be fair.”

“We just had sex. You were my first. And somehow this is worse?”

“No. Not worse,” Erika kissed his lips softly, “I can deal with sex. I know sex. I don’t know feelings. Don’t say it, Kyle, please.” She sounded so desperate.

“Ok,” the look he sent her was just as intense, “Whatever.”

Later, that same night, Kyle laid heavily on her, fast asleep. He passed out pretty quickly after their third round. Which was another surprise he had in store for her, just like the amount of pleasure he was able to give her. He was a quick, eager learner.

She wouldn’t have forgotten that night easily. Surprisingly, the good sex her little virgin pretty boy gave her wasn’t the only reason.

Erika was lost in the quietness surrounding them. Time had slowed down. She listened to his soft snoring and softly played with his hair with one hand and stroked his back with the other. His head was nested on her chest, arms caging her under him.

It was pretty good, she thought. It was something she so desperately wanted to get used to.

Maybe, she should have revised her entire plan. Maybe, she could have stood up to her brother and faced the consequence of accepting to be in love with that sweet boy. It could have worked. She could, maybe, deserve to be happy. If only-

Erika brushed her lips softly on Kyle’s forehead. “I love you,” she whispered ever so softly. A secret no one else could know.

The bright sun flooded the room. The morning was well started as birds sang outside, traffic flowed on the road by the hotel and people walked up and down the rooms, closing doors and dragging suitcases.

But the same couldn’t be said for the occupants of the bed. Erika was oblivious. Lost in her lazy slumber, drowning in soft pillows and even softer arms. She had woken a couple of times already but had decided to roll over and ignore responsibilities, only finding Kyle’s arms ready to hug her and pull her in a deeper, warmer hug. Why would she ever consider waking up when the alternative was that sweet?

A singing maid pushed her wonky trolley through the corridor. Erika vaguely heard it creak as it moved. But it was when it got slammed carelessly against the wall just outside her door that she was finally startled awake.

As Erika jumped up, Kyle too moved, rolling on his back and taking a deep breath in. Senses came back slowly to her at first; she had a second to recollect her memories, the room looked just as messy as she was used to having it, but she knew she wasn’t home, she was in a hotel somewhere in England. Essex maybe? Or Suffolk, it didn’t matter much. Then Erika was hit by a massive headache that weighed her head down. She felt it in her teeth. Behind her eyes. Under her ears. Into her fingertips and toes. Her stomach twisted.

“Ugh,” she hissed, letting herself fall back on the mattress, covering her eyes with her arm.

“’orning,” Kyle mumbled, stretching on the mattress next to her. “Did you sleep well?”

It took her a second longer to remember everything else. Mark. Kyle. The sex. The feelings. Panic started to set inside of her, making adrenaline fire up in her veins, giving her the familiar fight-or-flight feeling she was so used to dealing with running.

“Shit,” she kicked her sheets off, jumping off the bed looking for something, anything, to wear to cover herself up.

Kyle sat up, frowning, rubbing his hands on his face.

Erika took a moment to look at him, not even realising she had stopped only to think how pretty he was just awake, skin kissed by the sun. Or maybe it was everything they shared that made her want to drop everything else, slip back into bed and let him know how much she had no intention of letting him go, ever.

“What is it?” He wondered, leaning his head to the side, puzzled.

Erika got shaken back into reality and went back to her hasted movements. “You weren’t supposed to sleep here all night,” she warned directly looking at him.

“OK? So?”

“Get up,” Erika threw his t-shirt back at him. “You went M.I.A. all night, you know what that means? Mark has probably lost his mind by now.”

Kyle shook his head. “I don’t care, I am an adult. He’ll be fine.”

“No. He won’t.” Erika shook her head, “Trust me, Kyle. He won’t. Not about this.”

Kyle shook himself awake, trying to connect her words to a deeper meaning, even though his face remained only puzzled. “Slow down,” he hinted, moving to the edge of the bed to grab her by the arm and stop her erratic moving around. Kyle pulled her closer to him, and, against her better judgment, she let him. “Explain what’s going on to me, please?”

“I am kicking you out.” Erika sighed sadly. “And Mark can never know this happened,” she pointed in between them, “He won’t forgive me, ever. He doesn’t want me to be with you. He made it pretty clear last night.”

“Is that what happened at the pub? Why you left?”

“Yeah,”

“Erika,” Kyle tried to catch her gaze, “I don’t care what Mark thinks, I want to be with you.”

“No. You don’t. I have a past. I did terrible things. Mark knows every single one of those things. He knows better what’s good for me. You might be good for me, there’s hardly a person you wouldn’t be good for. But I am not good for you. He’s right on that.”

“Do I get an opinion about this?”

Erika looked up into his eyes, silently begging him to stop. “Please, Kyle, don’t go there.”

“Hey, hey,” Kyle cupped her face, making her look at him, trying to scoop her out of her panic. “I don’t care about all of that. Whatever you were before I met you won’t change the girl I fell for now. You don’t want to tell your brother? Fine by me. Just tell me you are ok.”

“I’m,” Erika was ready to slip off his hold and yet, somehow, there was something in his gaze that hooked her. “I’m ok,” she whispered leaning in to give him a quick kiss, “But you need to go.”

“Ok,” Kyle still pulled a cheeky smile, pulling her into a kiss. Then, he hopped off the bed and back into his clothes. “I’ll see you at breakfast?”

“Food. God, yes. Let’s hope we’ll be on time for it.”

He still hung by the door, looking back at her. His lips were bent in a stupid smile, his gaze, as he looked at her, was completely smitten. “For what is worth, I am glad we did what we did.”

She stood by a forked road; she was looking at her options and felt like both led to ruin. One represented something sweeter, that would have hurt so much more when everything would have gone up in flames. The other was jumping into the void now.

Erika was well aware of what she had been telling herself all night. She knew what she was supposed to do. What she thought was the best course of action. And yet, now, standing there, she was just a lovestruck girl, looking at a boy she liked so much her chest hurt only thinking about it. It was hard to breathe. She told herself she would have been able to shake herself back to normal. She was convinced she could have scratched that itch for him and then go at breaking his heart as if nothing mattered. Except she lied.

Her itch to scratch was only becoming bigger. About a lifetime size, right now. How would one shake that?

“Me too,” she admitted, pulling a soft smile. “Now go, you idiot,” she chuckled, hinting at the door. “I’ll see you later.”

As soon as Kyle left the room and Erika was left alone, her despair and torment took over her, stripping her of every good feeling and intention that was giving her a shred of hope.

She wasn’t going to be able to make him happy. Maybe for a few weeks, it would have worked, but not for long. She wasn’t enough for him. She would have never been enough, and when Kyle realised that too, it would have been the end of her. She was addicted to how he made her feel, now, because he didn’t know who she had been before and made her feel so good about everything she was and did. But what about when he’d look at her with regrets and resentment, realising he had made a mistake trusting someone like her?

Erika forced herself to shove those thoughts to the side and got in the shower, doing her best to delay the panic attack she felt mounting into her chest.

Breathing in the steam and getting lost in the soft smell of her fresh shower gel that always reminded her of a shower took in the evening after a long summer day spent at the beach was reassuring. She let the hot water run across her skin. It was a compromise between the sadness of washing away the traces of the night she spent with Kyle and the relaxation her tensed nerves found.

By the time she was done with the shower and brushed her teeth, it was almost ten o’clock and Erika had barely time to dress up and ran out of her room if she wanted to catch the breakfast. She needed it. She realised that besides a few chips and the tequila she drunk last night, she had been fasting since lunch the day before. She needed to eat some solid food, to drink a coffee and possibly some orange juice. God, she hoped to find some.

Erika entered the restaurant on a trot, welcoming the familiar smell of the breakfast canteen every hotel seemed to have with a soft smile. Most tables were being cleaned up. Most food from the buffet was gone, like the fresh pastries. But she made it. Nothing else mattered. She could see the filter coffee pot on the side and thought “life is good”.

She turned over, looking into the room, finding both Mark and Kyle sat at a table by the window. The table was a mess. Mark sat in front of Kyle, he had several stacked-up plates in front of him, already empty, probably from a while, and was enjoying some coffee, while Kyle was deep into his full breakfast. They were chitchatting joyfully, big smiles on both their faces. And Erika took a moment to just enjoy seeing them like that. She wished she had her camera on her. They were both so beautiful and without a worry in the world.

Her chest ached.

As soon as she moved, Kyle caught a glimpse of her and his eyes didn’t leave her. His cheeks immediately blushed softly as his bright eyes glimmered. There was something, in his gaze, that couldn’t be mistaken. He looked like someone who’d seen her naked. He gifted her a large smile as she approached the table.

“Hey,”

“Good morning,” Erika avoided eye contact, pushing her damp hair behind her ear as if that could mask the guilty look she had on her face. She knew Mark was looking at them, she felt his eyes suspiciously moving on her.

“Saved you the last croissant,” Kyle pushed the little plate with the golden pastry cooked to perfection closer to her.

Erika wanted to smack him, and at the same time, everything she wanted to do was to kiss him and express her utmost devotion to his sweet concern. She had to bite her tongue not to. Not when Mark was there.

They had no chance of trying to hide anything from her brother.

“Thanks,” again, she ignored Kyle as much as she could. Clearing her voice, she finally looked at Mark, finding him waiting. He read right through her. Erika immediately looked away, regretting every decision she took in the last twenty-four hours. “Ok, then, I’ll go grab myself some coffee.”

She turned over, leaving them both and went hiding at the buffet counter, weighing her options.

She could have made a run for it; the door was just to her left. Maybe there was a way to never face the consequences of her actions. Cowardice, for sure. But also, she felt it could have been easy to pack her stuff, drop her job and disappear. After all, how many times did she think about it before?

Erika made herself a glass of orange juice and gulped it down and then made another.

No. That was ridiculous. She could never do that.

Fake even when brought up in front of the crushing evidence that she was, in fact, in love with Kyle and nothing could erase what they did last night? Yes. That was better.

Erika poured herself a cup of black filter coffee, wondering if it would have tasted just as disgusting as any other hotel breakfast buffet filter coffee.

“The fuck is up with you two!?”

Mark’s sudden interruption startled her enough that she almost dropped her cups. “Shit, mate, you scared me.”

He casually poured himself a cup of coffee, even though Erika suspected that was just an excuse to get closer to her. “Don’t deflect, sis. What did you do?”

“Nothing,” she lied, shrugging.

Mark grumbled, shaking his head, so disappointed in her he didn’t even need to say anything to hurt her. “The way he looks at you it’s not nothing. And since when you are fucking shy!? C’mon, cut the crap.”

“What do you want me to say!? If I look at him you come at me because I do. And if I don’t you still-”

“Hey,” Mark pointed a finger in her face, “you think I am an idiot? I know you. What did you do!? Are you trying to stand up to me or something, playing with him in the process?”

Erika put her cups down and decided there and then that she was done. She wasn’t a coward who’d run away so easily or ignored the situation forever. Not anymore.

Anger flooded straight through her, firing up her nervous system, and making her squeeze her fists. “You think so little of me?”

“I think I know you. I think I’ve seen enough of your little whims and games. I think I don’t want to see you play with him and end up ruining him, just like you do with everything.”

“Mark,” Erika gasped, hit deeply by his words, shaking her head. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Can you blame me, sis?”

“You are supposed to be in my corner,” she was the one pointing at him now, openly confronting him. “You are supposed to support me.”

“Not with Kyle, I don’t. We both know you’ll get tired of him so quickly. As soon as you are done getting your ego fed by how differently he treats you, you’ll go back to seeking the thrill like you always do. Just leave him alone.”

“Say it,” she hissed. “Say how you think a good-for-nothing, junky, slut like me will never deserve someone like him. I fucking dare you.”

Mark huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll never say that to you.”

“Well, you already did. You are thinking about it. Might as well use the real words you are thinking, uh? Have the guts to go all the way, at least.”

“Fine,”

Erika gasped, feeling the air being taken out of her chest. She hoped until the end he wouldn’t agree with her. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, grasping on her last shred of trust in her brother, that he’d never go so low. And yet, she was wrong.

Of all the people in her life, even Kyle, Mark was the one most capable of destroying her.

And he just did.

“Fuck you,” Erika fought back her tears, not intentioned to give him the satisfaction to see how deeply he just hurt her. “Anything that will happen now it’s your fault. I want you to know. I want you to feel it. And regret it.”

“Erika,”

The second he tried to hold her, she pushed him back, spitting in his face. “No. You fucking bastard. You don’t get to annihilate me and shit all over everything I have done in my life, the good and the bad, in one minute, and then feel better about it.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? What are you going to do?”

“Break his fucking heart for one. I could have made him happy. Maybe,” this time she didn’t hide her tears. “But you had to happen to me. I hate you. And then I am going to shoot some heroin,” Erika smiled maniacally, “Hope to die in the process and stay on your fucking conscience forever,”

Pushing Mark off again, Erika stormed out, too shaken to even consider staying, too distraught to remember about her hunger or dehydration. Who cared about those things? They weren’t important anymore.

She needed to think. She needed space. She needed a smoke so bad.

“Erika, wait,”

“Kyle, get fucked,” she hissed, not stopping her march through the lobby.

“Baby, hold on,” he caught up on her easily and tried to grab her, only for Erika to immediately fight him too.

“What!? What do you want from me, Kyle!?”

Her harsh tone clearly hurt him. Part of her wanted to apologise and hold him and let him hold her and give her all the love and support he had in him. But the rest of her didn’t allow it. She wouldn’t have allowed anyone to hurt her like Mark did. She couldn’t trust anyone, ever. It would have made her only vulnerable. Weak.

Hurting Kyle got rid of the problem. He was the only person left who saw something in her. She sure didn’t anymore. And hurting him would have hurt Mark, just like he deserved.

It didn’t matter how much it would have hurt her. She was already in hell by that point, reliving everything she had done, everything she was and wondering why she ever tried to become better when there was no chance for her.

“I need to make sure you are ok.”

“Well, I am not ok. Do you know why? Because of you. Do you want to know what!?” She burst out, “I didn’t want to say anything before because I didn’t want to hurt you, but I want nothing more to do with you. We had sex, it was fun, thanks, I needed it. And now I got what I wanted and you lost your shine to me.”

“You don’t mean that, I know you don’t.”

“Watch me meaning it.” She turned over, walking out of the hotel, only to grumble when she realised Kyle was still there. “Stop following me around like a lost puppy,”

“Erika, stop for a second, will you?”

“Why?” She did stop. And she did face him. Ready to regret everything she was going to do from there to a minute time. “So that I can look you in the eye and tell you I don’t want to see you anymore? I’ve got everything you had to give and I am done now?” Erika’s conviction in the terrible things she was saying was so true all her lies seemed real. Even to her, for a second. Enough for her not to feel her chest being ripped apart by her own hands. The world was going up in flames around her and she was ready to dance in it. “I don’t need a lost little boy who still has to learn everything in my life. I need myself a man.”

“I-” he stumbled in his own words, genuinely hurt now.

“Make everyone a favour and go back to your silly little life, playing pretend on rings in small gyms in forsaken places around the country, and leave me alone,” she dismissed him turning around, digging into her hoody pocket in search of her cigarettes. “Go back to Mark.”

She knew it took him some time to decide to retreat back inside and when Kyle finally did leave her alone, Erika felt free to let her pain slash through her. Her shoulders bent under the weight of the rubbles of her crumbling world. Hope was lost. And she found some sort of comfort in her despair. It was something familiar that she welcomed like an old friend.

She cried quietly, hiding behind a corner, finishing her cigarette, hanging desperately on the nicotine fix like it was her only lifeline. When she was done, she immediately lit herself another and waited. She wasn’t enjoying it. She wasn’t taking the moment in and soaking under the morning sun, enjoying the warm air smelling of spring. The only thing she wanted to do was to run. She was only taking a second to gather her nerves up and make a plan.

Maybe it was time to disappear. Maybe it was time to go home. Who did she think to fool? She wasn’t so strong as she thought. She would have never escaped her past. It would have always ended up that way.

#kyle fletcher #kyle fletcher smut #kyle fletcher x reader #kyle fletcher x ofc #aew fanfiction #kyle fletcher fanfic

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ohtobealady · 3 years ago

Note

Oh my gosh yes I am going to send a prompt! Can your glorious talent indulge me in #17, things you said that I wish you hadn't

Oh my friend! I’m so sorry this isn’t quite worthy of your request, but here it is nonetheless!

——————--

#17 - Things You Said That I Wish You Hadn’t

Robert laughed at the weight of her as she leaned against him. Her jasmine scent, made earthier from the dancing and late hour, was nearly as intoxicating to him as the drinks had been to her, and he grinned as she kept turning her face toward him, her earring jangling between them.

He wasn’t sure how she’d gotten so inebriated so quickly. In the course of only a few hours, she’d gone from ideal hostess and Viscountess — smiling politely, making soft conversation, wishing merry Christmas to all the tenants — to, well, what she was when they were alone: his twenty year old American wife.

Not that he was much better, a tipsy, twenty-two year old Earl-in-waiting, laughing aloud, the sound of it echoing, as his wife stumbled up the servants’ staircase toward her bedroom. One of his hands held tightly to her velvety, small corseted waist and the other helped as he held the length of her skirts that she continuously stumbled upon, swearing a quick “This darn dress!” under her breath.

It probably shouldn’t have, but it made her all the more endearing to him, and he smiled as they burst through the door at last and onto the gallery.

“Come to bed,” he heard her whisper, as if at a distance, and Robert felt himself nod stupidly, directing her - rather poorly - to the correct bedroom door.

“Yes, nearly there,” he returned as he opened her doors and led her inside.

But she turned on him as they entered, and angled her face up to his. “No.”

Her face, that usually looked so darling and sweet, tonight looked … Robert swallowed. She looked at him now how he sometimes pictured her in dreams, dreams that he woke from hot and rather embarrassed.

Her breath smelled of wine, and he could feel the heat of it on his chin. “I mean, come into my bed. With me.” And then she was on him, her soft, warm lips on his, puckering for a moment at his bottom one. He felt her body grow less rigid against him, and he could also feel a breathy rumble in her throat.

His body reacted at once.

“Cora,” he managed, pulling away from her. “Perhaps it best to sleep, hmm? Shall I ring for Perkins? I’m sure someone is downstairs who can fetch her. Or does she expect to be at the party —“

“— I see.”

Robert blinked at her interruption.

“Well-bred ladies aren’t supposed to throw themselves at their husbands.”

Just as he had pulled himself away from her, she jerked herself even further away from him, stumbling her way over to her bed. Grumbling. He watched her in slight awe as she somehow managed to climb upon it, rolling herself to her back, and then lying flat, her head falling off the side he now slept on. Her chin angled upward and, again, his body tingled at the sight of the long expanse of her neck, her corseted breasts.

“No,” she continued. He heard her satin heels hitting the carpet on the other side of her bed, “Well-bred ladies aren’t supposed to like it. Aren’t supposed to long for it.”

He stared at her. He wanted her. She wanted him! Oh, if she was offering, was it wrong to accept? After all, she was aware enough to ask? And he was neither entirely sober. That made it alright, didn’t it?

“Do you?” Again, his voice spoke without his conscious permission. “That is, are you certain?”

She answered with a smile, her eyes finding his, though at this point she looked at him nearly upside down. “Oh, Robert. You needn’t always be so proper.”

He crossed to her in a fraction of a second, somehow immediately settling between her legs, enjoying the feel of her mouth on his lips and tongue, being spurred on by the way she hitched her hips slightly and whimpered from desire.

Her tried to find the opening to her combinations she wore beneath all the layers of skirt, and cursed under his breath when the stiff shirtfront he wore inhibited his bending to better suckle at her throat.

“What if I…” He felt Cora maneuver herself at an angle and then laugh lowly. “Is that? Easier?”

He felt with his fingers at the softness of her inner thigh and moaned, nodding furiously against her chest, for now they were not face-to-face, the volume of her skirts causing his arm to bend and reach annoyingly. But she didn’t seem to mind, again arching her back, Robert’s fingers finding her warmth and he pressed his lips together.

“Kiss me,” she rushed at the contact, her voice breathy and low. But Robert had just managed to find where he was now. Sensing it, Cora sat up instead, or at least tried, before having to roll herself to a position nearer to his lips, but missing them before falling back down.

“Oh, come to me. Please.”

He pressed a knee down to anchor and hoist himself upward, but it caught on a fold of her skirt, pulling down her knee she’d spread and lifted to grant him access.

They both groaned.

“Shall I be atop of you?” She suggested, and Robert smiled and reached down between them to unbutton his trousers. And then made to roll, but alas, his shirtfront, once again, and also his collar — it cut at his throat.

“Oh,” she whimpered again. But even in his fog of drink he could hear it was not from pleasure. When he peered down at her, her face was slightly pained.

“I need to be unlaced,” she complained. “I suppose we should ring for Perkins.”

Robert dropped his forehead to hers and sighed. He was disappointed. Of course there had been passion in the ten months they’d been married, but this had been different. He didn’t want it to end yet, he wanted to be swept up in it, to undress her himself, to be totally alone with her from the spark of passion to completion.

His disappointment was evident, he assumed, because just as he was adjusting his weight off of his wife, he felt the softness of her fingertips and palm on his jaw and cheek. He looked down at her. The dream-version he had of her, the way she had looked earlier, no - it didn’t hold a candle to this face, to the red of her kissed lips, the flush of her cheeks from the effort, the mess of her dark curls beginning to fall from their careful coiffure. How was she possibly so lovely? Beautiful of course, truly, but also lovely, a lightness shining from her very heart.

“Oh, darling,” she slurred.

Oh. But he’d also forgotten how drunk she was, her eyes bleary and swimming, her smile more lopsided than usual.

“When you look at me that way —“ she exhaled. “—it makes me feel as if you love me too.”

His breath hitched.

“I know you don’t, but it’s nice to pretend.”

And it burned.

He drew himself up and away from her, then, his small buzz of drink immediately sobered by the ache in his chest. Because how could he possibly tell her now? Now, when she was drunk and silly and now rolling toward the pull to ring for her maid. How could he possibly tell her that she was wrong?

She was. She was so very, very wrong.

Robert watched her sit up and then swing her legs over the side of her bed. “Shouldn’t you call for Watson?”

He only stared at her as she began to remove the jingling earrings, watching the soft lines of her long fingers, the soft shadows that played at the curve of her jaw.

“Yes.” His heart pounded madly against his ribs. “I do.”

But she only nodded, not realizing at all what he really meant.

#downton abbey #cora crawley #robert crawley #cobert drabbles #thank you for the request!

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that-good-trash · 4 years ago

Text

Trust Me?

Bakugou x reader / Shinsou x reader

Warning: Hurt/comfort, Angst, Mentions of cheating, Happy Ending?

Word Count: 6.5k

Summary: You love your boyfriend more than anything but it seems he might not feel the same way anymore. When the same friend that planted the seed of doubt ends up your shoulder to cry on where do you go from there.

Authors note: I’ve been dealing with a lot of stuff and this was kind of my self indulgence fic. Please Enjoy!

P.S: I was thinking about jumping on the kinktober bandwagon but I’m worried I can’t do kink justice. Maybe look out for some quick one shots if I do. I am also having to rewrite the fourth chapter of Burn Away With Me because the original file somehow ended up freaking deleted (note to self and others always back up files or make a copy).

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Saturdays were meant for relaxation, for hanging out with friends without a worry. The weekend was meant to provide a chance to shed your hero uniform and trade it for a cute comfy outfit. Well that’s how weekends should be, that’s what you wish you were able to do. Instead you sat on your couch scrolling through your phone watching your friends have fun without you. Pictures of dancing and drinking continuously pass as your fingers move absentmindedly. A picture of Mina taking shots followed by photos of Kaminari on a tabletop. This always happened, you had been missing out for weeks now. However, this problem went deeper than missing a few weekend hangouts. Your boyfriend, whom you had been with for almost three years, had been canceling plans with you for the last few months. Every time you both had a day off, he always got called in or he had made previous plans. It was starting to get old. Had he always been so flaky? Had you just not noticed before or was this new. Either way you were now fully aware of his behavior and how little attention you received from him. Your screen lit up with messages from friends telling you to ‘get your ass to the club’ immediately. Oh, how you wanted too. You wished you were wearing a skimpy outfit grinding against your besties laughing and enjoying yourself. Instead of getting into your club attire you put your phone onto the coffee table. Your back hits the cushions behind you as you fall backward. A sigh slips out and you’re ready to reevaluate your life. What kind of relationship was this? You felt like you were alone, and it was starting to seep into your conscious letting that little voice grow louder and louder with doubt and self-deprivation. It took every ounce of your being to reject the thoughts, to lull yourself back into a false sense of security. Your phone ringing disrupted your thoughts good or bad.

“Hey, I was just thinking about you! I miss-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before the deep grouchy voice of Katsuki Bakugou interrupted you.

“I won’t be home tonight. Don’t wait up for me, just eat dinner and go to bed.” He sounded like he had been sounding. He sounded tired with a swirl of irritation and it took a lot to convince yourself that it wasn’t toward you. You had to bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from screaming at him for doing this again. You loved him, did so much for him, that it hurt for him to just blow you off. What was even worse was he didn’t even tell you why he wasn’t coming home. He just expected you to turn in early without even an explanation. You wanted to cuddle or go out with friends and he wanted you to spend the night alone.

“Suki… Why aren’t you coming home? You said last week that you were going to try to come home early.” A growl of frustration could be heard on the other side causing you to tense up. You knew you were upsetting him but that wasn’t fair. He had no right to be upset with you since you were only asking him a simple question and stating a fact. He had promised you that he would start coming home early to spend time with you. You knew that being a hero was hard, you were one. However, you also knew when someone was just making excuses and that’s what this was becoming.

“Christ woman! I have work to do! I said I would try, and I have tried. Obviously, I couldn’t make it home tonight so just listen for once and don’t wait up.” No chance of rebuttal, he had hung up immediately after snapping. That was it. The last straw. You let the tears you had been suppressing fall freely. Your phone was aggressively tossed to the ground and unfortunately your body followed it. Your knees hit the ground first before your clenched fist dug into the carpet. Your head buried itself into the carpet before a scream escaped. It was one of filled so much pent up emotion. A scream that needed to be freed, to help release you from this torture he was putting you through. You sat back on the balls of your feet, your hands swiping at your eyes rubbing the tears into your skin. You cried more causing your hands to rub harder, your skin stung and burned from the aggressive motion. Your phone chimed bring your attention back to it. Your hand held the device hoping for an apology but instead read the newest text from Mina. It was another invite, but the party had moved from the club to Yaoyorozu’s house. A smirk replaced your previous forlorn look. You stood up from the floor letting all sadness be hidden away by pettiness. If he could ditch you like that, go back on a promise so easily then you could go against him. He wanted you to stay home like a good girl, but you didn’t feel like being that good girl. You had never changed so fast in your life. Your pajamas were traded in for a formfitting outfit, one your kept for special Mina party occasions. You looked at yourself in the mirror with gleaming confidence. You outfit accentuated all your nooks and crannies. You looked smoking hot and with some simple yet stunning makeup you were ready to go. A quick text to Mina and you left the cold lonely apartment

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The party wasn’t over the top and thankfully everyone there was a former classmate. You waved as a few people turned to look at you. Sero had to do a double take to make sure he was witnessing reality and not a ghost. You rolled your eyes as his tape grabbed your wrist before a swift yank had you in his arms. A soft chuckle escaped from your lips that were buried in his chest. He smelled like cedar and felt warm. You let your body relax against his as he let you go but kept his hand on your waist. Kaminari had abandoned his post next to Jiro and rushed over. Before he could try and snatch you away from Sero a new pair of arms circled you. Mina was smiling against you neck as she stuck his tongue out at a now pouting Kaminari.

“I’m so glad you actually decided to make it tonight. We were starting to think you hated us.” You shook your head at the fake hurt in her voice. The boys weren’t helping since they nodded along with Mina. You pulled out his grasp backing away so you could see all three of them. They really had changed in the short span of time since you had seen them. Sero was rocking a cool new undercut while Kaminari seemed a little more built. Mina had also cut her hair, but you knew that since you basically stalked your friends.

“I’m so sorry guys. It’s been crazy, work and home have been a little hectic.” A scoff could be heard behind you. Everyone’s eyes shifted to Uraraka who had her arms crossed. Midoriya stood behind her awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Uraraka’s puffed out cheeks mimicked that of a chipmunk. You raised a brow at her strange behavior. “Did I say something to offend you.”

“No but why lie? We all know that the reason we don’t see you anymore is because of Bakugou.” Your eyes widened at her straightforward accusation. You looked at Midoriya waiting for him to comment but he remained silent, probably in fear of getting involved. You narrow your eyes trying to hold some dignity. “Bakugou and I are fine okay. I just haven’t had the time to make it to any hang outs because I spend time with him.”

Now everyone was looking at you. For being the only sober person in the room you were sounding like the drunk one. Everyone knew that Bakugou had been blowing off plans with you. It was inevitably that they found out since most everyone talks, and things get around. A sigh that matched the one back at your apartment came out. You looked defeated as you returned to Sero’s side. He rubbed your side while Mina shooed everyone’s attention off you. “You don’t have to talk about it but we’re here for you.”

“Thanks guys…” You closed your eyes trying to let your emotions settle before returning to the fun party you had yet to enjoy and partake in. When you reopened your eyes, a smile followed. You were going to have fun even if it killed you. Mina squealed when you asked for a drink and before you knew it one turned to three. Uraraka had ditched her sour attitude and replaced it with giggles as the two of you danced together. You broke free from Uraraka as you watched Kirishima walk through the front door. You didn’t even give the boy a chance to take off his coat before you were tackling him. He was shocked to see you at the party just like the others had been.

“What are you doing out so late? Isn’t Bakubro’s bedtime at 8pm.” Kirishima was able to get a laugh out of you along with the other members of the Bakusquad.

“Yeah his bedtime would be 8pm if he ever came home. He’s always working late. I never see him anymore.” As the words left your lips you felt the air grow cold. Tension was evident. You froze as you felt your blood run cold. There was an unspoken understanding, but you knew that Kirishima wasn’t going to remain silent. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly which was accompanied by a shaky laugh that turned into him clearing his throat.

“I might be wrong but Bakugou hasn’t been working late… I was one of the last people to leave the office. Bakugou left at his usual time…” You wanted to pretend to be ignorant, but this couldn’t be swept under the rug. You couldn’t act like you hadn’t just been told that your boyfriend had been lying to you for months. Oh god your stomach began to churn, and you pushed passed him and through the front door. You ran into someone before turning and throwing up into one of the planters. Sero and Mina ran after you. Kirishima stood in the doorway feeling guilty but also pissed knowing that the person at fault was his best friend. You felt a comforting hand on your back rubbing it gently. You assumed Mina but when you finally turned around your eyes met with lavender ones. A broken smile cracked across your face. He held his arms open and you ran into them without hesitation. Shinsou had always been there for you when you were both attending UA, but time was cruel, and you couldn’t remember the last time you felt secure in his tight embrace. You sobbed and he just let you. Your friends stood by watching with conflicting emotions.

“What the hell did that asshole do now.” Shinsou was never one to speak to you like you were fragile; he was always blunt and honest. He also never approved of your relationship so of course he’d blame your current state on Bakugou. You wanted to tell Shinsou but couldn’t get the words out. Thankfully you had friends who could speak for you. Sero was the one who spoke up. “She found out that Bakugou hasn’t been staying at work late. She is obviously thinking the worst but he’s probably training or visiting his parents.”

“Bakugou? I just saw him at that fancy restaurant that we went to for Midoriya’s birthday. He was there with some busty bimbo. They seemed pretty interested in the conversation they were sharing. She must be a client or some woman after an interview.” Shinso knew exactly what he was doing when he told you about the mystery woman. He hated hurting you, but it was a necessary evil. Shinsou had always had feelings for you even before he understood them. You were always by his side cheering him on and now he was going to do the same for you. Before he could build you back up, he’s having to let you crumble under the lies Bakugou told you. Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears and a storm was brewing. Your fists were clenched, and your friends hesitated to approach you. You swiftly turned around walking passed everyone back inside before grabbing your keys and leaving. You could hear your friends yelling for you, but you never stopped. Shinsou watched your car drive off into the distance. He knew this was going to end terribly but he would be there to catch you. Thankfully since the ground was already starting to give out.

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“Where the hell have you been!” Bakugou almost dropped his keys as you tried to quietly enter your shared apartment. He turned growling at your accusatory tone. He slammed the door before turning to you. In the light that was cast from the hallway you could see his hair was disheveled, his shirt was wrinkled, and you could swear he smelled a little sweeter than usual. The signs all shone brightly in front of you. Bakugou approached you ready to start an argument over your attitude but stopped when he saw your eyes. They were sunken in, bloodshot, and lifeless. He had never seen you like this. His expression softened before he reached up to cup your cheek. His hand never got to touch you before it was smacked away. “What the fuck Y/n!”

“Who is she… Actually, I don’t want to know. I just want to know why.” Bakugou wasn’t expecting your accusation so he couldn’t help but look shocked. Guilt seemed to creep over him before it was covered up with denial and anger. He scoffed and walked past you toward the bedroom. He didn’t make it before you had spun him around yelling this time. “WHY THE HELL DID YOU CHEAT!”

“SHUT THE HELL UP WOMAN! I DIDN’T DO SHIT! Who the fuck filled your head with such idiotic thoughts? Did you go out with those idiots again? Was it raccoon eyes or maybe that shitty Deku. Whoever told you that is a liar and needs a fucking hobby?” Bakugou yanked his arm away before heading into the bathroom to shower, no doubt to hide the evidence of his infidelity. You wanted to keep shouting and accusing him, but you knew it was pointless. If Bakugou thought he was innocent then he was no matter what kind of proof you had, which was none. Giving up was not an option and as much as this was your home you had to leave. Your chest tightened as you packed your bags. The only sound keeping you company was the shower Bakugou was currently occupying. You wrote a note and gently placed it onto your pillow before turning to leave. You felt your heart stop as Bakugou stared at you wide eyed. You felt like a deer in the headlight. He walked toward you, his hand reaching behind you to grab the note. He read it to himself before burning it in his grip. You flinched at the heat the radiated directly to your left. Bakugou growled as he loomed over you. “So, you’re leaving huh. You think you can just write a fucking note and disappear into the night. You aren’t going anywhere.”

A scream escaped as he grabbed you pushing you into the bed. His hands holding your arms above your head. He smirked as his towel fell at his feet. His grip tightened when you resisted. His knee pushing your legs apart. He shifted onto the bed never letting go of you and never moving his knee which was painfully pressed against you. “What the fuck are you doing Bakugou!”

“You think I’m cheating? Then I’ll just give you the attention you seem to be so deprived of to come up with such bullshit accusations.” You didn’t want this. You didn’t want his hand aggressively holding you down, you didn’t want his knee pushing against your crotch, you didn’t want his teeth biting into your neck like some kind of feral animal. You needed to get away. Your head smashed into his face allowing you the time you needed to get out from underneath him. He cursed while holding his bleeding nose. You grabbed your bags bolting to the front door but before you could open it, he caught you. His arms holding your waist from behind. You let out another scream of fear and agony before the back of your head smashed into his nose, again. A growl slipped out and you finally got the door open. Before you could make your escape Bakugou’s fingers slipped into your hair yanking you back. His lips touched your ear and you could smell the blood flowing freely down his lips. “She felt a million times better than you.”

No words came out instead a choked sob and a whimper as you felt him let you go. You didn’t even hear the door slam you were already out of the apartment complex and in your car. Your hands shook as you called the only person you could think to be awake. “Hey Y/n, what’s wrong?

“Shinsou, I need you.”

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Bakugou tried to call you a million times after you left but to no avail. You had even blocked his number. He tried to find out where you had gone but no one would share that information with him. He had even gone to your agency but all they could tell him was that you were on a leave of absence. Bakugou truly had fucked up with no sign of reconciliation. It had been a week of trying to find you and failing. Mina, Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima claimed that they hadn’t heard from you which wasn’t really a lie. They knew that you left Bakugou and that you were crashing at Shinsou’s, but they had yet to visit. Everyone was worried about you, but they didn’t know the truth. They knew you had some kind of falling out but that was it. They had no idea what had actually happened.

“Are you going to lay in bed all day or are you going to actually get up.” Shinsou was teasing you as he slipped on his hoodie that he had to steal back from you. The day that you called him he was ready to break Bakugou’s jaw. He couldn’t believe what you had gone through and he partially felt like he was to blame for telling you about the girl, however you had the right to know that your boyfriend had been cheating on you. Shinsou had tried to make you as comfortable as he could but you were starting to get stir crazy.

“Why am I hiding when he’s the jerk who hurt me!” Shinsou shrugged as you threw his blanket off your body. You rolled out of his bed and stood in front of him pouting. He ruffled your hair while rolling his eyes at your outburst. He had dealt with multiple versions of you over the last few days. Sad, angry, regretful, spiteful, and any emotion in-between.

“Y/n, you don’t have to hide. You are safe with me, but you shouldn’t feel like you aren’t safe out there either. You can go back to your normal life. He won’t hurt you. I promise.” You knew that Shinsou was right and it was time to return to your normal life. Your arms wrap around him before you kiss his cheek thanking him. Before he can respond you run off to shower. He smiles to himself before calling out to you that he’s leaving and will see you later. After you shower you spend some time laying in bed texting Mina that you needed a girl’s day. She was in no way against it and told you she would meet you at her favorite coffee shop downtown. You changed into a cute skirt and one of Shinsou’s shirts that was a little baggy, that you tucked into the skirt. It was a casual and comfy outfit. You grabbed your purse and your phone before leaving the comfort of Shinsou’s apartment.

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“Y/N!” Mina had trapped you in her hug eliciting a laugh from you. She pulled away and grabbed your face looking you over for any sign or marks that you could have possibly obtained from Bakugou. “You’re okay right?”

“Yes Mina. I’m… I’m not really that okay. I’m still coping with Bakugou using me, cheating on me, just overall destroying me. I’m mad at myself for trusting him for as long as I had.” You leaned your head into Mina’s hand feeling shitty once again. Mina pinched the cheek against her palm causing you to groan in slight pain. She looked sad; she was sad. She cared so much about you and it broke her heart knowing that you were still suffering. She was still missing details of what happened, but she was able to piece some things together after Bakugou drunk called her apologizing for what he had done to you. She was sick to her stomach and wanted nothing more than to call you and apologize herself. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you.”

“Mina you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m a big girl, I’ll be okay. And I haven’t been dealing with it alone. I’ve been staying at Shinsou’s.” That once sad look was quick to change into one of cat like curiosity. You had said the magic words.

“Shinsou hm.” You shoved Mina as the two of you entered the shop to actually get coffee. “I NEED ALL THE DETAILS.”

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“Bakugou you can’t be serious.” Kirishima had been following Bakugou after they ended an all-nighter at work. Bakugou was ignoring Kirishima while heading to his destination. He had gotten a text from Kaminari that you were meeting with Mina. Kaminari hadn’t meant to send that information, he didn’t even remember sending it until Kirishima called him screaming about it. Bakugou already made up his mind, he needed to see you. To tell you how much he fucked up. He needed you back, for you to understand how much he loved you. He regretted everything he had said, he had done. Kirishima had tried to talk some sense into him but he failed. Bakugou thought what he was doing was right and stopping him meant nothing. No one gets in his way.

“Mina wait up you are walking to fast.” Mina had run ahead after seeing something in the widow of a shop that she thought would look amazing on you. You had to stop and let a few cars pass before trying to cross to meet your overly excited friend. The moment your foot moved forward your arm was yanked backward. You gasped before trying to pull it away from whoever grabbed you. As you turned to free yourself you came face to face with something worse than a stranger harassing you. Bakugou’s piercing red eyes were staring into yours, a jolt of fear rushed through you causing hair to stand up and your muscles to tense. People walked by with curiosity since neither of you tried hard to hide your identity. What was ground zero doing with Hero/Name? You didn’t care what random people on the streets were saying or thinking. What mattered right now was getting the hell away him. You yanked harder but his grip just tightened.

“Please, Y/n I need to talk to you.” His voice came out pleading. He was begging you to stay and listen but every fiber in your body told you to run or fight. You let your arm go limp like you were giving in. “Thank you.”

Bakugou smiled but that was literally smacked off his face when you swung your free arm back before delivering a swift punch. Bakugou grunted in pain letting you go so he could touch his hand to his nose. You hadn’t meant to hit him that hard but technically he shouldn’t have touched you, so it was justified. “Y/N!”

“Don’t Bakugou!” Bakugou had reached for you again while Kirishima ran at him trying to prevent this from escalating. Mina had realized what was going on by now and was running toward you. Her and Kirishima were trying to prevent exactly what was about to happen. Bakugou caught you before you could run. His hands held your arms tightly, the fingers digging aggressively into them. You could feel how hot they were, and you were scared that he would use his quirk. You didn’t want to show fear to him. Instead you mustered up a face of pure disgust. “You don’t get to touch me. LET GO OF ME!”

“Will you shut the hell up for a fucking second. I just wanted to talk to you. You disappeared and I had no idea where you went, and I was worried believe it or not. I’ve been kicking my own ass over the shit I said to you.” You stood there letting a man who cheated on you, a man who used you and hurt you, tell you that he was worried that he was regretful. He held you like you owed him this. That was all bullshit. Your shoulders shook as you dropped your head biting back tears that you felt he didn’t deserve. “I love you Y/n.”

The world had been moving just a moment ago and yet now everything seemed to stop. Time stood still but the words echoed. Mina and Kirishima faded out of existence leaving only you and Bakugou. If this was a romance movie it would be followed by you throwing your arms around Bakugou before kissing him. This was real life and you felt no positive emotions. Bakugou’s grip never loosened and his eyes remained staring intensely into your own. He wasn’t going to let you go till you responded. However, no matter how you responded if it wasn’t in favor to what he said then you may as well have remained silent. You felt your heart race from the stress he was forcing onto you. The regret reflected in the crimson orbs almost made you feel guilty. You had loved him. You had given him years of your love and he shattered in along with your trust. You had spend the week crying till your eyes were swollen, screaming until your lungs begged for a break, pleading with some other worldly being to help you get over this pain, and wondering what you could have done to prevent this from ever happening. To say you didn’t love Bakugou would be a lie. You loved him more than some stupid romance. You loved the way he growled in response when he was bothered, you loved the way he never gives up, you loved his honest laugh in which he truly thought something was funny or enjoyable, you loved the way he would kiss you and run his hand through your hair when he thought you were asleep. You loved and still love so much of him but as you look at him those feelings twist like gnarled tree branches and you feel yourself choking back vomit. When you closed your eyes you could picture a woman running her hands along Bakugou’s exposed body, you could hear them panting and moaning, you could hear the secretive whispers, and you could smell the sweet and salty after sex scent they would leave behind. These things were what you dealt with, they hallucinations that haunted you after his cruel revelation. The cheating wasn’t the only thing haunting you. His hands holding you against your will, his teeth biting into you with no consent, and the fingers that entangled into your hair pulling with enough force to bruise. You had experienced fights before, but this was had been different, you were afraid and disgusted with that version of Bakugou. This Bakugou in front of you was the same one just using sad eyes and words of endearment to trap you so he could lock you up properly and punish you for leaving.

“Y/n… please say something.” The world was moving or at least is seemed like you were a part of the rotation once again. People were watching the two of you, but you didn’t notice. You couldn’t break eye contact. Your lips were pressed so tightly together that you were afraid if you tried to open them, they would be glued shut. A dry mouth and cracking lips prompted you to have to unseal your lips as your drying tongue attempted to rehydrate your lips. What could you say that would make any of this better? Was there anything that could even be said anymore. You wanted this to just stop but didn’t know how to make that happen.

“Pro hero Mind Control has everybody on edge with the news of this important somebody he’s been hiding from us.” The moment you heard Shinsou’s hero name the world was back to normal. Your eyes broke from Bakugou’s turning to look directly at the large screen across the street. Shinsou’s figure stood proudly on the screen before it changed to an interview. You watched the woman across from him ask questions. “So, who is this mystery person that you claim means the world to you. Someone so important that you have taken off a week of hero duties to be with them. “

You were the only person on the street watching this interview play. Mina’s voice once again crossed your ears as she yelled at Bakugou to let you go. Kirishima was going to grab his friend but stopped when you gasped. Bakugou had harshly shook you to return your attention to him. His eyes held a little anger and he seemed to have lost patience. “Y/n –“

“This person is someone I love deeply; someone I’d do anything for. I want her to know what love truly is. I love Y/n L/n. Many of you know her as Hero/name…” The rest of the words faded off as you cried. Bakugou had you at the brink of them but hearing this message broadcast to the world had them freely spilling over. A laugh broke beyond your splitting lips. Your fingers dug into Bakugou’s hands yanking them off you. He looked co conflicted, anger and fear blended. You didn’t care about what he was feeling because you finally felt like something was okay. Your hands covered your mouth as you tried so badly not to squeal. You felt the happiness fade as your wrist was trapped in Bakugou’s grip. He wasn’t going to let you go without a proper answer especially now that the world knew what Shinsou thought of you. “Bakugou please let go of me. This… this is crazy. You need to let me go because I… I’m letting you go.”

Bakugou watched you pull your wrist free. He watched you look up at the screen as it played the end of the interview. A smiling Shinsou stood on the screen giving you the confidence you needed. Bakugou wanted to let you leave but he couldn’t. When he looked at your smile, he couldn’t help remembering the times it was for him. You were his everything and now you were slipping from his fingers and into the arms of another man. You turned away from Bakugou smiling at Mina who was also shedding tears. Kirishima finally moved forward and caught his best friend’s arm. Bakugou looked back at Kirishima who mouthed for him to stop. He quickly looked back at you. You were now wrapped safely in Mina’s arms. The two of you sharing a moment that would live with you forever. He let his shoulders drop before turning around. He shoved off Kirishima’s arm before his hands found a home in his jacket pockets. He left you under the screen, now playing an advertisement for some useless product, hugging your best friend while crying over a happiness that you deserved. He walked away, one million regrets coursing through his veins. The one thing he wouldn’t regret was you.

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“Where the hell are the rest of the guests.” You rolled your eyes while Momo held your face still. You could hear Mina bitching in the background about the missing members of your former class. She had made sure that everyone had been invited and was keeping tabs of who had arrived. You could hear Uraraka enter the room with an excited scream. She could see your refection in the large mirror in front of you. Mina grabbed onto the girl so they could be over excited together. You felt so much joy watching them feel this happy for you. Momo had been doing you hair and makeup for what felt like hours and you needed to get into the dress hidden behind the bag hanging on the door. You felt a million things; nervousness, excitement, utterly in love. Not once did you feel regret. You could never regret this. You were about to spend the rest of your life with the person that you loved and truly loved you. It had only been six months since the day you and Bakugou had the confrontation in the middle of a busy street, the same one that broadcast the life changing news.

“Y/n!” You turned after the third time your name was yelled. Mina was pouting holding up the dress. She had a shimmer in her eyes and you almost told her not to cry or she’d ruin her makeup. She’d just tell you to shut up. “Yes Mina.”

“It’s time.” All three girls in the room with you had that glossiness to their eyes as they watched you slip the dress on. It fit perfectly, like it was meant to. You were a different person as you stared at your reflection. This was something you had always dreamed about and here you were living a fantasy, but it wasn’t. It was reality. A knock on the door was followed by the voice of Sero. “Let’s get this show on the road ladies.”

The girls opened the door shoving through the waiting boys who were cackling until they saw you. Kaminari pretended to faint while Sero whistled. Both boys admired you and they honestly thought you looked beyond stunning. You were a single star in an almost pitch-black sky, you just needed to walk down an aisle to find another star so you wouldn’t be so lonely. The music started up and you nodded at your best friends. They smiled back leading the way to your destiny.

“Nervous?” Midoriya had whispered to Shinsou as he stood next to him. He looked over the crowd or friends and former classmates. They all watched with bated breath. You were the star of this event. Of course, Shinsou was nervous. He was marrying the girl of his dreams, the person that gave him purpose. Shinsou watched and when you arrived at the end of the aisle, he felt everything disappear. The guests were gone, his friends gone, the whole world meant nothing. It was black and you were the only light he could see. The way your hair was styled held together by pins and clips hidden underneath a white veil. You were a mystery that he already knew everything about. Like a child who still waited for gifts on Christmas but knew Santa wasn’t real. The way your skin shimmered like rare and brilliant gemstones made Shinsou feel like he wasn’t worthy. Your dress moved so smoothly around and against every curve and bump your body had. Your body made the dress gorgeous, gave it value. He couldn’t see your eyes behind the veil, but he could imagine them. They held stars in them, creating galaxies that he had gotten lost in so many times. Your eyes had depth to them, they told a story and its cliché but its his favorite story. Shinsou hadn’t realized he was crying until your hand gently touched his cheek. Your veil had been flipped over your head revealing your own tears. Shinsou leaned into your touch his own hand moving to cup your face as well. If it hadn’t been for the vows, he would have kissed you right then. You both shared a silent moment of unconditional love before the wedding continued.

The vows could have been skipped because anything you both had to say then you had already said before. No words could ever truly describe how you felt about each other because it was more than just words. Your relationship was based on actions, words, looks, gestures; everything and anything you both did for and around the other mattered as an expression of love. He had tried so hard to make up for everything you had to suffer, and he knew that you might have moments where you questioned him, but he always made sure to have answers or words of reassurance. He never wanted to hurt you and he swore on his life that he wouldn’t.

“I do.” You had spoken the binding words and Shinsou followed. The kiss was simple and yet it held so much meaning. It meant more than the rings. It was something Shinsou would never forget. Everyone cheered and some people cried. Mina was holding onto Uraraka both girls sobbing, Midoriya squeezed Shinsou’s shoulder giving him a thumbs up while his own ducts betrayed him.

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

“You look so god damn beautiful.” A drunk Kaminari was hanging off you while you chatted away with guests. Mina yanked him off scolding him for his behavior before shooing him away. You laughed not minding at all. While you stood amongst friends who showered you with congratulations and compliments, Shinsou stood leaning against one of the walls near the bar. He had watched you cherishing these moments. He turned when he heard a familiar voice enter his vicinity. He turned in time to see Kirishima and Bakugou walking toward you. He was quick to make his way back to your side in case of any bad blood. Bakugou scoffed when Shinsou appeared but didn’t give him any attention. You smiled at the blonde and red head. Kirishima told you how happy he was for you before leaving the three of you alone.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.” It was the simplest exchange you had ever had with Bakugou, but it meant a lot to you both. He needed to know that you had finally found the love and happiness you desired and deserved. You needed to know that he was able to let you go without fight. He nodded and hugged you whispering his congratulations. You thanked him before Momo’s voice came over the speakers announcing the first dance starting. Shinsou waved you to the dance floor promising to join you in a moment. He waited for you to leave before looking at Bakugou. Bakugou waited for a threat or some kind of scolding but nothing came. Shinsou remained silent. Bakugou took this opportunity to speak.

“Thank you for taking care of her. I can tell you make her happy and that’s what really matters.” Shinsou still remained silent and Bakugou continued. “I do have a question though. Y/n said I had been cheating and in an angry moment I basically said I was even though I hadn’t done so. Shitty hair told me you told her you had seen me with some woman. I don’t remember going to that restaurant with anyone other than coworkers or interviewers.”

“I lied.” Bakugou stood there frozen with wide eyes. He slowly turned to catch a glimpse of Shinsou’s smirk and a slight darkness behind his eyes. “I lied to Y/n about seeing you with some broad. I knew she would believe me, and I had my doubts about your faithfulness. I should be thanking you for verifying my lie. You made a single lie into an irrefutable truth all because you wanted to hurt her”

Shinsou walked away heading toward you. He never spared Bakugou a second glance as he grabbed your hands kissing them. You giggled before the music began. Bakugou stood with Shinsou’s reveal on his shoulders. In the end he was the one who destroyed your trust but Shinsou admitted to planting the seed of doubt. But all that mattered now was your happiness, right?

#bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #bnha #bnha shinsou #mha #mha imagines #shinsou hitoshi #bnha imagines

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thorinthehottotty · 5 years ago

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Thorin Thursday - Battle Scars

A/N: Someone teach me how to do the 'keep reading' thing. Please. These are too long...

Summary: You find a drunk Thorin and decide to join him. It leads to you two showing off your scars and tattoos.

Warnings: Smut... Thorin falls asleep when he's not supposed to.

When you went in search of the king late in the night, you didn't expect to find him toasted in front of his fireplace. You suspected him to be awake, he usually was these days. He just wasn't wired for sleep. So when you hear him muttering beyond his door you open it with a knock.

"Hey, honey, who are you talking to?" You ask, looking around, half expecting Dwalin to be here.

"Y/N!" He cheers, shocking you. Your eyes find the empty bottles of ale near by. He was drunk? The king was drinking? That was new. "Dwalin has retired to his room! Join me!"

With a grin, you approach where he's lounged across a love seat. You gladly joined the king, sinking into a chair nearby as he passed you a bottle. You popped it open and he reached forward to tap the bottles, a grin stretching across his flushed face.

"What's the occasion?" You ask, smirking at the loosened king.

"We were celebrating. We've recieved word that the dwarves of Eren Luin will arrive in a few short days. Enough renovations have been completed to support the new subjects."

"Congratulations!" You eagerly respond as he begins to babble on about his uncertainties to the cause. He wasn't sure he would finish in time, that they could make it all that way. Only when you giggled did he stop.

"What?"

"I didn't expect you to be so cute when your drunk." You respond. He blinks in surprise. He tries to look angry but it's too playful in his drunk state. You take a swig of the ale.

"I am hardly 'cute'."

"No, no. You're absolutely adorable." You argue. He laughs back at you, shaking his head.

"I think you mean 'breathtakingly handsome'!" You burst into genuine laughter, not expecting that response.

"Thorin, you are the handsomest little shit I know." He grins proudly, proping himself up on an elbow.

"What makes me so 'cute'," he asks.

"The constant jabbering was not expected, honey. I like it. Its nice to see that smile." He flops back with a groan.

"I decided to indulge. My old wounds are stirring with the oncoming winter." You blink in suprise as he drags his loose tunic up, exposing his ribs and abdomen. He'd finally started filling out like dwarves were supposed to. Instead of just muscle. He had a healthy, and sexy bit of fat on his fuzzy belly. It made you incredibly happy to see it. But the scar on his side was still dark in color. You nearly reached out to touch it, already feeling the buzz of the strong dwarvish ale.

Instead, you tilt the bottle back for a long swig. The bitter taste increasingly delicious as you nursed the bottle. "That's healing nicely," You respond, peeking a bit lower than necessary.

"Aye. How is yours?" He asks, not drawing his top back down. He was refering to the two arrows you took during the battle of the five armies. One went right into the back of your thigh, at an angle. It had grazed the bone but effectively made it all the way through. The other nailed you through your shoulder.

You reach for your skirts, dragging it up your thigh. He doesn't seem phased as you show off your leg. The scar is still dark purple. "At least it went all the way through," you chirp and twist to show him the back as well.

"And your shoulder?" He ask.

"That one's been acting up too." You let the skirts drop and unlace the top of your dress a bit. Dwarven fabrics were thick and sturdy so you had to force some give to it. When it's unlaced enough, you slide the fabric over to see it. It dented in just a bit still.

"You've finally got some battle scars then." He chirps.

"Just because that was my first battle doesn't mean I don't have others!" You protest and lift your hands toward him. "Most of these are bites from animals!" He leans forward to inspect them.

"Shouldn't be shoving your hands near their mouths."

"Oh, I'd like to see you pull a chicken from the jaws of a wolf." Thorin gives a great belly laugh and reaches down to pull his whole tunic off. Oh, it was like a candy shop. You can see where the white warg tried to take a bite of him. "YOU CHARGED RIGHT AT THAT WARG! DON'T EVEN GO THERE!" You say, shoving him back on the couch. He laughs as you pretend your hands didn't linger on him.

"Fine, I'll give you that! This one is from the battle of Moria, where I fought the pale orc." He gestures to his back as he twists. A large gash of a scar stretches over his shoulder. With a tipsy grin, you tug at the ties of your dress and push it down to your hips. Then you push for the corset beneith it.

"Back when I was a barmaid in a town of men I got shanked a few times in a bar fight." You drag open the corset, uncarring that your top half was fully exposed as you show him the three seperate occurances of being stabbed.

Thorin stood then, directly in front of you as he kicked off his boots. You could see his foot healing nicely. Then he reached for his trousers and you, the bottle he dropped his drawers and stood before you naked in all his dwarven glory.

"When I was young, I got in a fight with some stupid young men. They attempted to jump me. As they were running, one of them drove a knife into my leg." He points out the thick scar on his thigh. "These are also from tussels with men." He gestures to a spot on the back of his arm and one so close to his neck you feel the twist of your gut.

You finally kick off your own shoes and step out of the dress your in, standing as naked as your king. Turning around, you gesture to your back where one streaked down your spine messily. "That one is from where one of my brothers pushed me off an outcrop in Eren Luin. Carved my back up on the stone."

"And what of this one?" He asks, you feel him brush a knuckle over the top of an ass cheek. You twist to look.

"Huh. I don't remember having that one." You laugh. He chuckles too and you feel how close he is. You turn back towards him and take a swig from the bottle. He snakes it from your grasp to steal a drink. The way he's watching you has you shivering. He settles the bottle to the side and drops to the couch behind him. You gasp when he grabs one of your legs and drags it up on the couch beside him.

"This one?" He rumbles, brushing his hand over the inside of your calf where one ran the length of it.

"Dropped an unhappy cat, back claws caught on his way down." You try to ignore the exposure of your most intimate area as he gazes over you. But the thrill of Thorin leaning in to roll his tongue over it emboldened you.

"I have another you might want to see," his eyes raise to yours, mischief glittering in them. You drop that thigh and lift the other to his other side but turn it out more to expose the jagged one that stemmed away from the groin and down the thigh. His eyes hooded as he lifted an eyebrow. "I see, what incident befell you?" He murmured before leaning in to roll his tongue slowly up that leg.

You moaned, tilting your head back. "Fell from a tree and into an unforgiving bush." The words came breathy and soft as his tongue traveled inword more. You moaned louder when he licked the first swipe up the middle. Your hands tangled his hair as he spoiled you with his mouth.

"How unlucky," he mused.

"On the contratry," you sighed, "I think it very lucky." Thorin rumbled against you and pulled you down into his lap. You happily oblige and twist your hands around his neck.

"You'll have to tell me why that is." The king rumbles. It's your turn to make him moan though, and you're already lined up with him. He clenches his teeth as you sink down on him happily. He leans his head against your neck and shivers. Perhaps you should drink with him more often. It'd been a long time since you'd taken a lover but the stretch of it was delicious. The sear of pain mixed with the feeling of being filled to the hilt had you whimpering.

Thorin gripped the back of you neck with one hand and wrapped the other around your back. It crushed you together as he dragged you off him and then pulled you back down. You gripped him hard as the two of you rolled hips against each other.

Moans and grunts and gasps filled the air as you both rutted against each other. Sober you would never be able to be so bold with your king. You took what was offered, whimpering when he snatched a nipple up in his mouth.

All movements were rough and messy and you'd surely be sore tomorrow but that didn't matter. Not when your fingers were worshipping every scar on his body. That did the trick, he shivered and with a jerk and a low groan, he filled you. You rode him through his orgasm, slowing so his over sensative flesh wouldn't be forcing his body from yours. His face crumbled into a desperate look as he leaned into you. He was still hard as you rocked against him at a leisure pace. He leaned his head against your chest, groaning into you as he cups your waist, stroking whatever skin he could find.

You brushed his hair from his face as you slow to just settle against him. "Do you want rest first?"

"For just a moment." He replies, nuzzling you bosum sweetly. He was being so tender, it was a moment you'd never forget. Because he was slumping and snoring.

It was funnier to you than irratating. Poor drunk bastard, you laugh at him and slide off him. It makes him twitch as you lean him down to the couch. You carefully grab a blanket and pull it over him before snagging your clothes off the floor. The dribblings down your thighs was uncomfortable but your room wasn't far.

You'd speak to him tomorrow. Certainly when he wasn't so toasted. You peck his lips one time before slipping from his chambers and going for your bath.

You entered the dining hall late the following morning and smirked upon seeing the king. He looked ornary and tired and irrate, no doubt dragged from his bed long before you had risen.

His eyes raise to you and they widen. You can see the blush rising on his face as you approach where he's sat with Balin filling him in on official business. You throw him an amused smile and move toward the kitchens for whatever Bombur made for breakfast this morning.

Thorin eyes you when you sit by yourself instead of at his table. He's perking up, and ignoring Balin by the looks of it. Balin glances between you both, trailing off it would seem. Then smiles, knowingly.

"Y/N, won't you join us?" He asks.

The king simply raises an eyebrow to you in question so you grab you plate and move toward them. Thorin stares and stares and stares. "Sleep well, Thorin?" You chirp, amused at the shocked look he gave you.

"I don't recall when sleep took me."

You dig into the food of your plate with a grin, not bothered in the least by Balin's presence. He was a close friend and based off his face, he was already picking up on the context.

"You were pretty drunk."

"Aye. How did you sleep?"

"Well, after a bath." You give him a hard look that's ruined by how funny you find this. His cheeks tint again as he drops his face to his hand.

"I fell asleep on you." He murmurs.

"Mm," you hum taking a final bite and rising before you had cleared it. You'd finish your food in your work space while you began. "Correction, you fell asleep in me." Thorin and Balin gape at that comment. With that, you scoop up your plate.

"Oh, lad. You're in trouble," Balin calls.

"Tell you what, Thorin. You can make it up to me later if you're not too tired. Have a good day, Balin." Balin tips his head at you, laughing greatly and Thorin looked mortfied but he had full intentions of making it up to you the first moment he could.

#thorin imagine #thorin durin #thorin thursday #thorin fanfiction #thorin #thorin oakenshield #smut #the hobbit thorin #the hobbit #balin

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boogiewrites · 4 years ago

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No. 9: The Body

Chapter Three

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary: Diego confronts Eve about the strange events that have surrounded him when he’s with her. Will he find the answers he wants?

Warnings/Tags: Angst. Talk of injury and past trauma.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT! If you’d like added to the tags, just let me know. This is a multi-chapter fic.

Finally, she had a day off, where she could indulge in the tiny bit of irresponsibility her life and career balance allowed. She’d prepped an ice bucket to allow for maximum laziness, shoving her wine bottle into it. She looked at the wine glass she’d sat out and wondered how long she was going to lie to herself and pretend she wasn’t going to be drinking straight from the bottle. She had sweets, snacks, and a jug of water and she was ready to settle in and binge and stay up as late as she possibly could. She’d probably pass out around dawn then figure it out from there. She had no plans, no drinks with coworkers, no fitness classes, just a hot date with her comfy couch, and a heavy pile of blankets.

She’d fulfilled a small portion of this goal, an hour or two into her ‘Scrubs’ marathon when there was a tapping on her window.

“Oh, kitty! You’re back!” She says quickly sitting down her wine and rising from her cocoon on the couch. “You’ve been gone a few days I was getting worried about you with the snow. I kept some fish from my leftovers for you.” She coos as she makes her way to the window, unlatching it before turning on her light to show a large black figure. “You’re not a cat.” She states plainly.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Diego says with a sarcastic expression as she blinks and in her buzzed state processes this information.

“What are you doing here? You’re not due for another few weeks at least, right?” She asks, hand on the window sill still, not being raised fully.

“No I uh… wanted to have you look at that wound again.”

“Oh is it-?” Her mind switches naturally to doctor mode, even if she wasn’t sober and wasn’t nearly as quick or graceful. “Come on in then, let me pause this.” She pushes the window up as he slinks in behind her and she fumbles with the remote. “What seems to be the problem?” She asks with her eyes on his covered torso and hands on her hips. He seemed to be moving fine.

“Is this a bad time?” He asks seeing the food and wine bottle on the table.

“No, well… I’ve been drinking but I’m FINE.” She insists with a wave of her hand. “Sober enough to help you out at least. I was just watching tv.” She excuses herself.

“Well, I was making sure no one was here with you.”

“HA!” She laughs a bit louder than intended, then clears her throat. “Um, no, no one else here. There never is.” She chuckles.

“What about the cat?”

“Oh! Well, I suppose he would count as having a man over.” She offers a warm, sleepy expression that gave away that she was a bit drunk. “Well I mean there’s you. But I don’t know if you count as having someone over since I’ve never invited you.” She makes herself chuckle.

“You told me to come in just now didn’t you?” He teases.

“Yeah but...you came through the window I don’t think that counts.”

“Window? Door? Both lead to the same place, what’s the big difference?” He asks sarcastically, he was a bit relieved she seemed in a good mood but was hoping she wasn’t a mean drunk if she got mad at the topic of discussion he had on the table tonight.

“Societal expectations? Cultural… rules?” She offers and waves her hands. “Don’t make me think of words right now just- what do you need? What's wrong?” She moves towards him focusing herself up.

“The wound was a gunshot wound right? We pulled the slug out?”

“I pulled it out, but yes, go on.” she waits for him to raise his shirt as he talks.

“I’ve noticed something weird when I come to you for help Doc.” He lifts it to show a recovered body. “These things keep healing... and fast. I need to know how you’re doing that because I’ve been losing sleep over it.” His tone was harsher and she felt the energy in the room shift.

She leans forward to make sure she’s seeing clearly. They were healed. Pink scars over the newest and the wounds from over a month ago now we’re barely visible.

A bubble of acid rose in her throat as she stood back up, and it wasn’t from the drinking.

He sees her body language change drastically. It’s like he’d hit her the way she slunk back to rest on the back of the couch.

She takes a shaky breath to compose herself as a lifetime of fears and questions flood between her now glassy eyes. “I... don't know…” she forces out a whisper.

“I think I deserve an explanation here.” He says taking a step towards her as she quickly wipes away a falling tear to hide it from him.

“I don’t have one.” She begins to cry. The past trauma of being confronted and abused for the weird things that happened to her when she was young come at her as his intimidating body language moves closer.

“I think you do…” still going with intimidation just in case she was faking. Hand ready to grab a knife if she flinched to attack.

“I don’t.” She shakes her head and covers her face in her hands. “I don’t mean to…” she sniffles and moves to teach for a tissue. “It’s just... a thing that happens sometimes and I don’t… I don’t know what... why…” she cries harder this time and his tension shifts. “I’m sorry I’m… I've just been able to get by hoping no one notices it and asks and now…” she motions towards him. “I don’t want it. I don’t want anyone to know, please.” She reaches out and takes his hand. “I don’t want to have to run again. Please.” She holds his forearm as she cries and boldly meets his eyes.

“What do you mean run?”

“My mom she… I did weird things as a kid and she…made me so scared of it, of myself...of her.”

“What’d you do?” He quietly asks. Now moving to put his hand over hers and felt her shaking.

“Afew times when I’ve had traumatic things happen I’ve… had weird stuff happen. Brought animals back.” She uncomfortably rubs her arms.

He was piecing it all together in his head. Her career choice made sense, an easy cover for her to just be good at her job and not have to address her abilities since she’d had such fear put into her about it. No father, uncontrolled powers during emotional outbursts. It was all adding up.

“Eve?” His voice was softer this time. “When’s your birthday?”

“My...birthday?” A confused brow appears as she looks up at him.

“Yeah just...humor me.”

“Uh...okay?” She answers shakily. “October 1st-“

“‘89?”

She nods. “How did you-?”

He sighs and puts a hand to her back and pats it supportively. “Eve. I think it’s about time we talked.”

Eve watched him curiously, his face seemed to pity her and she hadn’t expected it. He thought he’d either tell her she was full of shit and not believe her. That was her first assumption. The second was he’d kill her because he was an assassin to kill people like her. Some Men In Black type shit. And while she didn’t expect that theory to play out, the arrival of the third option of total acceptance was baffling her.

“Why did y- how did you know?”

“Because it’s my birthday too.”

“Huh? What are you insinuating?” She wears her confusion unfiltered on her face as she looks up at him and rises from the spot on his chest.

“Remember when I told you my name? What did you say about the kids in the 90s? The crime-fighting super powered ones…?” He winces.

He sees the realization wash over her face.

“We all had the same birthday...October 1st, 1989. I was that Diego... I Am that kid….was that kid. right? I mean I’m a man now-pfft obviously-“

“You’re the fucking Kraken?” Was her loud response as she pushed away to look at his face.

“Yeah…” he draws out the word and gives a nervous forced smile. “Or Number two… as Dad called us.”

“You...you’re…” she begins repeatedly as she fidgets her fingers in thought. She huffs out a nervous laugh suddenly. “Well, that would... make sense wouldn’t it?” She looked around the room as if it might hold some answers to her bewildering flow of thought. “I just... hold on.” She says with a head shake, the emotional rollercoaster sending her spinning and no longer the alcohol as she moved to fix that. “If I’m gonna deal with this level of shit I’m going to drink more. Because... fuck doing it sober.” She says as she leans to take a bottle of bourbon out of her cabinet and sit back on the couch before cracking it open and downing a large drink.

“You seriously didn’t know you had powers?”

“No! I just thought...I don’t know. I thought I was a good doctor? I guess?” he sighs and takes another shot.

“You are but... I mean you… really didn’t notice?”

“It has rarely happened at work… and normally I don’t have much of a reason to try to heal people outside of work hours. Until you showed up.”

“So any other times you’ve used the powers?”

“Not at work. Or when I was a kid. I thought I must’ve grown out of it.”

“So..” he twitches his nose in thought, lips parted slightly. “Would that fall under “...occurrences at peak emotional environmental stress instances”?” He repeats back from lessons.

“Yeah…” she groans and slumps against the couch looking away and shamelessly pouting because denial had been nice. “Fuck.” she shouts up at the ceiling. “I have fucking… “powers”? What the fuck is that even-? I’m not... this isn’t...Nah, it can’t-”

“Eve.” he sits down next to her and grabs her shoulder. “It’s fine.”

“How are you so calm?” she asks almost angrily. “Did you know other people had powers? Like what… how many of us are there? Was I supposed to be adopted? Do I get adopted now? I’m way too old to-“

“Woah. Breathe.” He demands as she begins talking a bit too fast. “I can only answer one at a time.” He extends a supportive raise of his brow.

“So is there like... a book you can give me. “So you have super powers? A How-to In-depth Guide” by chance?”

“Nope. Just gotta fuck up a bunch trying to figure it out.”

“Oh, that’s just wonderful. I needed more stress in my life.”

He smiles and huffs out a quiet laugh. “So no one else knows?”

“No just… my mom…” she trails off and runs a hand through her hair, covering her almond-shaped eyes for a moment. “This...would explain so much and yet somehow I have even more questions.” She sits up and takes a good long look at her hands. “What’s your power again?” She whispers and turns to face him.

“Trajectory manipulation mainly.”

“Oh right...yeah, duh the knives.” she hits her forehead and it makes him grin at her. “Sorry I’m a little... this is a lot.”

“Which is why I think we need to try something.” He announces as he stands.

“What?”

“Prove you have powers.” He says standing between her kitchen and living room.

“I don’t… uh..”

“Every time you’ve used them you’ve been emotional right? A sudden trigger?”

“Yeah…”

“Then there’s the only way to find out.” He says as he quickly takes a knife and cuts his hand.

A loud protest from Eve as she jumped to her feet to react before she even had time to think about it. She took his hands into hers and pulled them to her chest and applied pressure. “You idiot! What are you thinking? There are plenty of other ways to find out!” She shouts as she feels the rush of emotions that come with this unstructured and sudden need for her skills. She’d been off the book when she’d been with him. She’d never had a man stumble to her apartment asking for help, this was something new and it’d made her feel a bit more alive. Like some energy tingling around her nerves inside. She felt the cool flush over her face as they stood close.

“No other way that would get you to react.”

“We really need to discuss your impulsiveness.”

“Focus. Focus on healing it.”

“How?’ I don’t-“

“Yes you do, c’mon. I believe in you.”

She met him with unsure eyes but did as he said. He would know best in this instance, wouldn’t he? If he believed in her, she supposed it was best to follow his lead and believe in him back.

She holds it close and he feels his muscles twitch. The pain had ceased when she’d clasped him to her, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. She needed to know she could do it. And tough love was the only way he knew how to make powers work because that’s all he’d ever known. She focused and he soon felt a warm wave of contentment wash over him for a fleeting moment.

“Was that you?” He asks her, her eyes still shut and brow concentrated.

“I…think so?” She says before looking down at his hands with a sigh before revealing them. “Okay,” she whispers before removing her hand where he cut himself. “Is it?” She begins softly, hands gently wiping the blood away. “Let’s wash it, come on.” She drags him steadily to the kitchen sink and there the answer was underneath. The cut was gone. “Holy shit.” She heavily exhales and lets his hand go.

“That’s… good work.” He says moving his hand in and out of a fist. “Good as before.” He nods in approval as she leans against the counter in shock. “You okay? How ya feeling?”

“Tired.” She nods slowly and meets his gaze. “Shocked. And… hungry.”

“You wanna do something about any of those?” He offers, smiling at her and nudging his head towards the fridge.

“Yeah.” She nods and turns to splash her face with water. “Some real food. Uh, get the blue container and I’m gonna…” she looks around and makes a straight line for her water bottle. “Sit down.” She says to herself and takes a good long drink. He follows her orders and sits next to her, two forks stabbed into a plastic container of noodles. “Yeah, that…” she nods and smacks her lips. “Made me surprisingly tired.”

“That’s normal. Carb up here.” He moves the food to her lap and she doesn’t hesitate.

After a big laborious bite, she shifts the container between them and offers him to join in. “So what now?”

“Whatever you want.” He shrugs.

“There’s not like some registry I have to get on is there?”

He laughs in response and assures her there isn’t.

“Does using yours make you tired?”

“Sometimes. If I have to do a lot at once. Like, stop an army’s worth of bullets in mid-air.”

“You’ve… done that?” her eyes stare unblinking.

“Oh yeah.” He nods as if it was nothing. When in fact it was one of the harder things he’d ever done with his powers.

“I want to be able to do that.” she looks at him pitifully. A touch adoringly. “Or whatever my equivalent is to that.”

“You can, you’ve just gotta practice.” She nods as she tries to envision a new future that involved this new knowledge of herself she’d gain. “Start with controlling the emotions. Then learn how you wield it without them.”

“So you don’t have to be, like, angry to throw knives you can just do it.”

“Right.” He smirks and throws a knife with little effort that curved and lands in her coffee table.

“Did you have to stab my coffee table?”

“It’s a casualty you’ll learn to deal with it”.

“I do at work already.” She frowns and takes the knife.

“How’d you even become a doctor anyway? Were you so good at keeping people alive they just gave you a degree?”

She sputters out a laugh. ”I fucking wish.” The first big laugh he’d seen from her unfolds as she shakes her head not knowing whether to be insulted or not. “I was, am...naturally gifted for it it seems.”

“Isn’t it hard? How’d a girl like you manage to get into med school? You’ve made yourself sound like some little badass.”

“I was a badass.” She grins. “So much so that they threw my badass in jail.” She laughs. “You couldn’t tell my punk-ass nothing. I was a statistic waiting to happen. A young runaway, abusive home, repeat offender, all that shit.” She motions with her hands as she speaks. “But...there was a very tough but fair veterinarian that took me on to do some work for community service and all that. And I ended up being surprisingly good with the animals. She gave me more responsibility, I took it all on and got better. She gave me a chance to be somebody. To prove I was more than stat for the system, y’know. She told me I could do anything I wanted and she’d pay for my tuition. So I did. She got me into college and...here I am.”

“Why a Doctor?”

“To help people.” She shrugs. “As cliche as it is. Thought I was good at it, was told I was a good role model for kids that were like me”

“Yeah, you are.”

“No, I’m just some juiced up mutant with powers to heal. My career is a fraud.” She says only half-joking.

“Power doesn’t make you good at math. Just ask my brother.” He kids with a smile.

“Oh god, how many of you were there?”

“Seven.” He nods an answer.

“And now there’s an 8th-“

“Ninth.” He corrects. “Yeah, there was another, uh person with powers we...met.”

“Oh. Are they a member of the...Uh…?”

“Umbrella Acad-“

“Umbrella academy” she finishes.

“No, they’re not.”

“So you don’t have to be?”

“No, but...she kinda disappeared so she couldn’t join.”

“Oh sorry.”

“Nah, it’s cool. No thang.” He badly jokes and he sees she’s already seen through him. “They wanted to leave. So it’s… fine.” He tries to dismiss the subject.

“So uhh…” she pauses and fights a yawn. “I’m really tired. Like, need to sleep right now tired. So…”

“Oh! Do you want me to? Yeah-You need some rest.” He awkwardly separates himself.

“Before you go-“ she says, turning to face him by the window. “I don’t… want to do this alone.” She says with twiddling fingers. And I’d like your help.”

He nods, “I can help.” He assured her.

“So is there a way I can get ahold of you? A large spotlight I can put on the roof perhaps?”

“Can’t make those jokes anymore since you’re one of us now.” He wags a finger her way.

“Actually I think that means I can make them all I want.” She grins.

“I have a cell phone. Like a.. normal person.” He grumbles and takes it out. “What’s your number?” He puts her into his phone. Hers dings from the coffee table. “Problem solved.” He nods and slips it away.

“I’ll... see you... soon?” She asks with a tilted head.

“Guess we’ll find out won’t we?” He gives a precocious smile and slips out the window silently.

“This mysterious bit is not as charming as you think it is.” She sass's back to an empty fire escape. But he heard her. And knew she wasn’t being entirely convincing.

@s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s @jaegeeeeer @diegos-butt @anglovesthis

#diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves fic #diego hargreeves fan fiction #the umbrella academy fic #diego hargreeves #diego gargeeves x ofc #diego hargeeves au #tua #the umbrella academy #tua fanfic #tua fandom

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impossible-rat-babies · 4 years ago

Text

quarter past (two am)

word count ~4891 | angst pre-hb | chargestep | mostly under the cut!

read on a03

The streets in Los Diablos are rarely deserted at two am, the headlights dazzling as they pass by, bubblegum pink and electric green neon lights in store windows scattering hues across puddles on the concrete. Gasoline and spilled oil refract in electric rainbows, fine leather dress shoes scuffling and stuttering, disturbing the kaleidoscope.

“Y-You are....my bestest friend...! You are my bestest, best friend!”

Pollux rolls his eyes behind the mask, adjusting Ortega’s arm draped over his shoulders, keeping a hold on his wrist. He keeps blabbering on his ear, trying to rock them side to side across the sidewalk, kicking up water with god knows what in it. Pollux struggles to keep them from falling into a heap, cursing under his breath. Ortega would find it down right hilarious if they took a tumble into one of the heaps of trash, or perhaps smacked right into a telephone pole, the drunk bastard. He’d be finding their current struggles hilarious too if he didn’t have his pea sized drunk brain occupied singing to the heavens of his adoration.

“Hey....hey there, Lux?” He cajoles with a poke at his cheek and Pollux jerks away, giving him a grimace even though the mask. “Y-You know you’re my best friend, right?”

“Yes, you’ve been singing about it for the past hour, ass.” Pollux shoots back, sighing out of his nose.

They’re still a couple blocks away and all he wants to do is dump Ortega on his couch, make sure he won’t throw up all over himself and drag his own ass back to his bed. He blinks quickly to dispel the creeping heaviness across his eyelids, adjusting Ortega once more as he goes into another verse of the same made up jabbering nonsense.

Pollux glances up at Ortega as he keeps going, his brown eyes staring above and all around, glassy and vacant from the eight or so beers he’s had. Maybe a few other drinks bought for him in between; he’s not paid to watch how much Ortega imbibes.

But there’s honesty in his eyes, in how despite the awkward looks and snickering laughs from the few people still out as they clumsily pass by, he means every word of his stupid ballad. Drunk Ortega isn’t suave, isn’t the actor, wearing his heart on his sleeve instead of a mask on his face, looking picture perfect, taking it all in stride. It’s honestly slipping out of his mouth unbidden, the facade peeled back, the lies stripped away. The pretense and the formalities all gone and he’s just some drunk guy draped over a friend taking him home.

Pollux likes the pretense, when they don’t say the things they want to say--when he won’t drape himself all over him. Makes it easier to pretend he doesn’t feel like he does--makes it easier to lie to himself.

“I-It’s...it’s true, ya know? You are my, uh, my best friend.” Ortega waves his hand around theatrically, tripping over his own misplaced feet with a giggle. A giggle. God so help him. “An-And I don’t think you hear it enough. From anyone. You’re special, Lux.”

Oh he’s heard plenty of how he’s special--her words purred in his ear, fingernails digging into his shoulders, urging him on--more and more and more. Pollux swallows hard, smothering that voice in the back of his head.

“Oh I hear plenty from you about how special I am, lover boy.” Pollux huffs because as much as he is an honest drunk, he’s also stupid as shit and mushy as fuck. He doesn’t have the space in his head to think about how differently it sounds when Ortega says he’s special, how his ears are burning and the strange roll of his stomach.

“It’s-It’s because it’s true, Pebbles.” Ortega objects, rather loudly and pointedly. “You really are my best friend an-and I care about you. A lot.”

“You’ll be caring a lot more about the toilet than me in a bit.”

Ortega blows a large raspberry and waves his hand, Pollux dragging him away from yet another hapless pole he’s aiming to smack into.

Going to Hoots on Friday nights is both equal parts exciting and the worst thing he gets talked into doing; the music leaves him with a pounding headache and the flurry of so many minds leaves him damp with cold sweat and shaky hands. Still its Ortega’s favorite place to go on a Friday night, plus Anathema had volunteered to come along and Pollux was feeling indulgent. Fat lot that did when he drew the short straw.

Should’ve told Anathema to do, damn them when they winked and smirked, ducking out the door in a flash, leaving Pollux to wrangle Ortega.

Pollux sighs and he swallows down the lump, Ortega still mumbling away at his song as his building comes into view. Thank god--it’ll be easy to dump him at home and leave behind the weird feeling that refuses to go away. Going out with Ortega is always dangerous. It’s far too easy for Pollux to convince himself to give up some of his boundaries and self imposed restrictions—the things that keep him from saying things he shouldn’t. Doing things he shouldn’t. Like walking Ortega home.

He gives an inch and Ortega takes it for a mile, drawing him out bit by bit like thread unraveling from a spool and he uses it to tie them in closer. Convinces him to stay for a little while longer, one more longing look.

One more chaste kiss...or maybe not so chaste kiss.

Ortega nearly falls and Pollux curses, half dragging him up the stairs to his building and he wrangles him through the door to his building. He’s half slumped over him now along with most of his weight on Pollux’s shoulders and he might as well be dragging his feet.

“Can you please stand on your own fucking legs?” Pollux huffs, knees groaning and he’s only twenty two--his body shouldn’t groan like that.

“Gravity is too much, Pebbles.” He mumbles against his shirt near his neck and that is most certainly not helping the situation, his face flushing the under mask.

“I’ll dump your drunk ass on the floor.”

“Please Lux don’t do that.”

Thankfully there’s an elevator or he might have sooner just dumped Ortega in the lobby and left rather than drag his ass up the stairs. The doorman knows Pollux well enough by now that he just waves them on and shakes his head, grinning to himself. Oh the indignity of the Marshal of the Rangers being dragged drunk through his apartment lobby, but the doorman has tight lips. Plus there’s undoubtable amusement in watching Ortega getting wrangled into an elevator when his feet aren’t working correctly.

The door closes before Ortega can spill his guts about how much he likes him to the doorman, or spills his guts all over the tile floor. That would be a mess and Pollux wouldn’t be the one to clean it up. He’s had enough of cleaning up vomit, acid dripping down his chin from his nose, the corners of his mouth..

“Please tell me you have your keys.” Pollux nudges him off and leans Ortega against the elevator wall, patting around his pockets. He finds his wallet—thankfully tucked in his back pocket still—but no keys.

“I got em Lux don’t worry.” Ortega oh so helpfully pats his butt and Pollux rolls his eyes.

“That’s your wallet, you ass.”

Ortega snorts. “You touched my ass.”

Pollux groans loudly, face flushing under his mask and Ortega laughs in self satisfaction. A sharp pinch of his side and he yelps, grumbling under his breath as he rubs the tender spot. His coat pockets next and Pollux finds the jingling ring of keys--thank god.

“At least you have some sense of hindsight...” Pollux grumbles to himself and the elevator dings. He helps him out of the elevator and they drift side to side down the hallway, Ortega mumbling something or another in his ear the whole time, oh so helpfully close like earlier. Pollux tries not to care--his cheeks are most certainly not warm--fumbling with the lock until it clicks open and he pushes Ortega inside. He kicks the door shut and miraculously Ortega is standing on his own two legs and even more miraculous is that he’s looking at him.

“Can’t believe it took this long t’get you to come to my house after Hoots...” Ortega mumbles with a lopsided grin, subtly lost when he’s still got that drunk look to him--the smell of beer and stale french fries still on him. Pollux’s face flushes and his ears burn, quickly squashing down *those* sprinting thoughts.

“Save the drunk flirting for someone else, lover boy.” He helpfully turns him around to push him towards the living room, putting the keys down. Ortega somehow manages to not bump into too many walls along the hallway, hands outstretched to guide him. Pollux sighs and quickly squashes the little soap bubble thoughts of his goofy sashay down the hall--he was not staring. Not at all, no wandering eyes.

Ortega is reasonably safe in the living room. Not like he can go many places--he could fall down and break his head open on the coffee table his head helpfully tells him--and Pollux heaves a deep, long sigh.

There are pain killers and other meds he’ll need in the cabinet above the bathroom sink; Pollux picks out the ones he’ll need for tomorrow among the menagerie of orange bottles, sifting through what it means to keep a modded body running--thousands of dollars tucked away in that cabinet. They’re the ones he’s watched him take when he won’t stop complaining about the pain in his back and elbows. Others he’s listened to Ortega lament at how bad they taste.

Pollux pulls the throw blanket from off the bed where he’s held frozen peas to the side of Ortega’s head, listening to him talk about how the fight went--the good parts and the bad parts. He’s stitched bleeding wounds there and gathered up stained blankets to clean later, wrapped gauze over washed abrasions, keeping chiding words tucked behind his teeth.

A cup for water in kitchen and he’s sat on the counter top and watched Ortega cook him all the foods he’s never tasted before. Pies that tia Elena makes, a beautiful cake that his cousin’s aunt makes which reminds him of this tiny hole in the wall place in downtown Los Diablos. He could rant for ages of all Pollux has missed like a fool, how he hasn’t lived until he’s tried this, or tried that. It’s sad just how close is accidentally gets to the truth.

Laughter calls from the living room and Pollux peeks his head out of the kitchen, finding Ortega sprawled out on the couch, one shoe on and the other off, holding a decorative pillow under his chin. Who knows what he’s laughing about now, something stupid inevitably.

“You need to take off both shoes, Ortega.”

Pollux reminds him, picking around for the biggest bowl and settling on a rather large sauce pan instead. By the time he comes back he’s figured that out along with getting his jacket off, leaving it in a heap on the ground. Pollux knows he’s watching him, setting both the painkillers and the water on the coffee table for when he gets the sense to need them.

“Hey, hey Pollux?” He pauses putting the pan down. “Why do you always got your mask on?” Ortega asks, brows furrowed like a puzzle he’s trying to solve. Pollux mirrors the expression behind his mask, lips slipping into a familiar frown.

“My face is a secret.” Pollux retorts and Ortega grumbles.

“Friends don’t keep secrets...!”

“Oh yeah? I’m sure you’ve got plenty of secrets you don’t tell me.” Pollux gives him a pointed look and Ortega waves his hand dismissively.

“Nothing like my entire face, Pollux.

“You’ve seen the lower half of my face.”

He’s kissed him too, cupped his face and the back of his head and held him like he was all that mattered in that moment. But Pollux isn’t telling him that at all. He certainly does not want to think about that right now and he scoops up Ortega’s jacket, balling it up in his arms.

“That doesn’t count!” Ortega laments and oh this is just a piss poor attempt to cajole him into showing his face that’s for certain.

“Well tough luck lover boy.” Pollux heaves a sigh and sits down on the floor near Ortega’s head, face resting against couch cushion, jacket still balled up in his hands. He has half the mind to take it with him, as payback for making him drag his ass through the street at 2am. He’d be looking for it up and down his apartment tomorrow and the thought of the frantic text he’d get makes him bite his lip to suppress a smile.

Plus it is a nice jacket--a pretty leather bomber style, well loved and well taken care of.

“You’re so mean to me.” Ortega grumbles, playing with his lip between his teeth, and Pollux ugly snorts, dramatically rolling his eyes.

“Oh, I’m just the worst best friend huh?”

“Yes, the absolute worst best friend. You’re so awful and mean to me in the worst ways imaginable, Pollux.” He can’t help but snort and that sets Ortega off with a loud groan.

“I *cannot* believe that you are finding this funny, getting all this amusement out of you being so mean to...”

Pollux zones out watching Ortega rant, the clumsy way he’s speaking and the way he moves his hands like he needs them to speak, snapping for the words he’s struggling with. It’s...interesting watch the facade crumble, how he’s so perfect with words and oozing charm for crowd and cameras, but just the two of them in his apartment and he’s stumbling, stuttering.

He’s not the Marshal when he’s sprawled across the couch, one foot dangling off the edge, slurring and tripping over his words, little unabashed laughs slipping out. It’s more real seeing him like this, less questions to ask, more straightforward. There’s no guessing here, no games of chess to play where he needs to be five steps ahead, no guessing his thoughts by the tilt of his brow or the quirk of his lips.

It’s just the calm even breaths between them, enough space to breath the same air and yet it’s still like an ocean dividing them.

Pollux swallows against the lump in his throat and he pushes the thoughts out to sea, staying on the shore where he keeps watching Ortega talk, the turn of his lips and the slope of his neck, down to the hint of collarbone. Places where Pollux has put his lips and felt Ortega’s breath hitch--his pulse race. Put his hands and felt him breathe in his chest, the rise and fall of rushing breathing, the scratch of five’o clock shadow on his cheek, under his nose, the gasp of air in the space between wet lips.

If he was the betting kind of person, he’d put money on Ortega not remembering anything tomorrow and it would so easy...could pull the mask off and let him see for a bit. His hands sweat at the thought, giving an inch and losing a mile to a silly drunk man’s smile and how comforting it is--how is so completely and utterly easy to lose himself.

H’s betting on him not remembering and Pollux is running low on chips. Either and neither way he’s screwed and he takes a long breath. Steadying his hands and he reaches under his mask, pulling it up and over his head.

He blinks, adjusting to the soft hazy light of a nearby lamp, the flush of alcohol and cologne in his nose. Cool air on his sweaty face and he resists the urge to sneeze. Ortega keeps talking, eyes even fluttering over to him once, twice, three times and...there he gets it, brown eyes growing big.

He blinks once, twice, three times and a wide smile breaks across his face, eyes focused on him. With difficulty, Pollux shoves down the urge to yank the mask back on, cover himself back up and hide; he worries the jacket between his thumb and index finger instead, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Happy?”

Pollux chokes out past the lump, face flushing. Ortega keeps staring, keeps his eyes focused on him and it’s because he’s drunk, Pollux tells himself, and he’s never seen his face before, and he’s staring at him like he’s something far too precious--a twinkle in his eyes, the curl of crows feet. Pollux’s skin itches and he resists the urge to scratch and pick, tear and yank yank yank--

“You have red hair...” Ortega mumbles and instinct makes him take a deep breath to quiet his nerves. Neither here nor there and Ortega’s hand twitches like he wants to reach out, but he can’t quite get there

“Nice observation there captain obvious.” Ortega snorts at his reply and Pollux runs his fingers across the fuzzy curls starting to grow back in.

“Do you know how many freckles you have?” He still has that half stupid grin on his face, eyes darting about his face, taking it all in like he’s piecing together the person he’s always wondered about under the mask. Fitting him into the image he’s made of him, constructed in his head.

Pollux is too used to that and he fights the roll of his stomach.

“A million.” Pollux grumbles and Ortega whistles dramatically. “You’ve seen them on my hands before, don’t act so surprised.” Tacking that on and he rolls his eyes too.

Ortega found his hands fascinating back then too, his fingers long and slender compared to his palms, compared the whole of him. Piano fingers Ortega had called them as they measured palm to sweaty palm one lonely day in the break room. Ortega’s fingers daring to slip a fraction, to slip his fingers into his, to hold his hand palm to palm, five fingers interlocking. It was enough to set a fire in his gut then, like pressing his hand to a stove and he’d yanked his hand back and shoved his gloves back on too. Too much of a touch--far too real and new with skin pressed to skin.

“You’re very handsome, Pollux.”

He blinks, tossed from his thoughts by the sudden admission, scrambling, eyes shooting up to look at Ortega.

That wasn’t what he was expecting--not the words like that, for Ortega to blurt that out and there’s that damn honesty again.

Ortega is staring at him, eyes more focused than he should for how drunk he supposedly is...or was, for that matter. Damn it. There’s the truth wrapped around his tongue, coating his words and fuck Pollux doesn’t like how it makes him feel, not one single bit.

He blushes deep red and his ears burn, tucking his chin against his chest like that will do any good. If pulling the strings on his hoodie tight to hide his face would do any good he would.

“Shut the fuck up, Ortega.” He manages and fuck his voice shakes more than it should—more than he wants it to.

“I’m not lying.” Ortega’s got that stubborn look in his eyes and there’s a frown of his own on Pollux’s face, lip twitching in an almost sneer.

“I...” Pollux snaps his mouth shut and bites his lip hard. “I don’t care if you’re lying or not, just shut up.”

That’s a lie of his own and he pinches hard between his thumb and index finger, worrying his lip.

“Just because you say that doesn’t mean I’m lying. I am being honest, Pebbles.” He presses further and Pollux looks up at him and he shouldn’t have because Ortega is leaning in far too close.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t get to call you a bastard.” Pollux replies, breathing harder than he should, less butterflies and more like a beehive in his stomach, waiting to be shaken.

“You would call me a bastard no matter what.”

“That’s because it’s the truth, Ortega.” Pollux doesn’t lean away even though the rational part of his brain is screaming otherwise. Ortega’s breath still smells like booze, but he smells more like cologne this close, the subtle musk that tickles his nose, stale french fries a thing of the past.

“Do you want the truth?” Ortega asks and that is the question.

It’s always been the question, the one he can’t find answers to no matter where he goes looking—what is the truth? What does he need to know the truth about? What happens when the truth is laid before him--or if it’s set in front of too many people, naked and exposed. Far too many questions for the skinny space between them right now, breathing in sync.

“Could I stop you from saying it?” Pollux asks in return, eyes sliding down the slope of Ortega’s neck, fingers itching. He can’t remember if he wore a necktie or not, but the top buttons are undone regardless. Pale pink cotton sharp against deep brown skin and Pollux swallows against the lump in his throat.

“No...” Ortega grins, a soft flush on his cheeks that isn’t from the alcohol. “But I would very much like to kiss you.”

Pollux bites his lip and he’s still, holding himself just so he won’t bolt from the floor, knuckles tense in the jacket. He steals a glance at Ortega’s face and fuck that isn’t any better than staring at other parts of him, his stomach twisting itself in knots of indecision.

“You smell like beer.” Pollux skirts the question, Ortega’s lips just inches from his--breathing in time, breathing in the same air and if it were anywhere but here, anywhere but this moment. If he was anyone--anything--but what he is.

“Is that better than blood?” He asks and Pollux quietly snorts. Bastard.

“I’m used to blood.”

Pollux unknits his hand from the jacket, reaching and pulling back and he knows he’s touching what he shouldn’t be--feeling what he isn’t mean to feel--but he’s doing it regardless. Reaching again, his fingertips ghost up the side of Ortega’s neck. He smooths his fingers up bronzed skin to the curve of his jaw, jagged thumbnail slipping along the rough line of stubble there, thumb finding his chin. He swears there’s a sharp intake of breath, but Ortega is still, staring, eyes searching his.

He knows it’s almost three am and he doesn’t know how he’ll drag himself back to his bed with how tired he is now, tired enough to think that kissing Ortega is a good idea, tired enough to loose his inhibitions. He’s seen his whole face and he hasn’t run, trembling fingers still holding his face in a gesture far more intimate than palms pressing together, fingers almost linked.

Pollux supposes he’ll wake up the next morning and if his phone isn’t dead he’ll have a slew of text messages waiting for him; supposes Ortega will remember and ask a dozen questions, or he won’t and still ask a dozen questions like he’s used to. Either way Pollux supposes he’ll lie to him, tell him that nothing happened, that he just dumped him on his couch and got him settled in. He supposes they’ll both know better than that, but neither will say anything. Supposes Ortega won’t even remember his face in the morning, or remembering kissing him.

His thumb is still stroking his chin, eyes staring at his lips.

“But I can make an exception. Just this once.”

Pollux lies to himself, to both of them. Another one to add to the dozens, a pile like he’s digging his own grave.

He crosses the gap between them and he pauses just enough to know how bad of idea this is--how screwed he’s going to be. Ortega doesn’t give him time to back out, cradling the back of his neck and he yanks him close, lips pressing against lips.

He tastes of stale beer--better than fresh blood, the taste of metal and electricity on his tongue. Here he feels the shape of his chapped lips against his, the curve of his jaw, hand curling sharp into the nape of Ortega’s neck, fingers slowly bunching in his hair. Ortega’s hand cupping his cheek and jaw, hand warm against his already flushed skin. Nose bumping nose to try and fit lips together and it’s soft, tender, worming into the dark places he’s hidden away, pulling lengths of thread to bind them together. Pollux pulls away, forehead to forehead, biting wet lips.

Oh he’s certainly going to be cursing himself later, Ortega pulling him back in for kisses upon kisses that keep bleeding into each other, one after another, tongue and teeth and he wonders how much Ortega is trying to memorize the shape of him, the flush of his lips against his, fitting puzzle pieces together. Ironic considering he wasn’t meant to be remembered and here Ortega is, slowly, achingly, trying his best to do just that and fuck it *hurts*.

It isn’t fair, kissing Ortega when he’s drunk on his couch, Pollux’s fingers knitted tight in his hair, hand finding it’s way under his collared shirt to press against his chest, needs these needy kisses. Hands holding his own face, the back of his own neck, hands daring--wanting to explore more. Fuck he wants to hold him tight, let him keeping touching him, drink in every single kiss and then maybe he won’t feel so empty.

Maybe he’ll feel like an actual person, like he’s more than what’s on his skin, what’s buried deep down--the terrible, gut wrenching truth.

And that is one of the scariest thoughts he’s ever had.

He pulls away from the kiss, peels his hands from Ortega and Ortega’s hands away from him, hiccuping with each time he tries to breathe, trying to hold the panic steady in his gut.

“Stop.” His hand is firm on Ortega’s chest, keeping him at bay as he tries to lean back in, to try and kiss him again. “You’re far too drunk, Ricardo.” Pollux whispers, sense crawling back up his spine, a cold weight filling his gut.

“Just drunk on you.” He’s trying for smug and the way he’s looking at him through his eyelashes would almost be charming, but it’s just not fair, not fair at all.

(It’s always the almost, isn’t it?)

“Stop, please...” Pollux presses his hand firm against his chest, enough to push him back a bit and Ortega’s brow scrunches together, confusion slipping into worry and further into scarier emotions.

“Pollux? Are you okay”

“You’re drunk and I’m going home.”

Pollux says again, trying to be firm, to hold his ground, despite knowing what he wants to be feeling, his chest tight. He needs to go, needs to leave before those feelings get the better of him, before he decides to do dangerous things--things that come attached with regrets. Things he can’t even fathom, ones that leave his skin like pins and needles.

(Needles under the skin, needles in veins, wrists chafing)

“Pollux, please, I’m sorry...what did I do?” Ortega tries again and Pollux gets to his feet to stay out of reach of scrambling hands, jacket knitted in his hands once more, knuckles squeezed of their blood.

(blood on white tiles, muffled screeching and sobbing)

“You didn’t do anything, I’m sorry.” Pollux chokes out, pursing his lips into a thin white line, looking everywhere but at Ortega.

“No, I-I did something...I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you--” He tries to get up, but Pollux puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him back down, quickly pulling his hand back out of reach.

“No, I’m...I’m going back home. You’re drunk and didn’t do anything wrong.”

That’s right, it’s always him making the bad choices, going against the boundaries he’s set for himself and they’re there for a good reason--to keep him safe. Keep his secrets safe, locked away behind his teeth and his lips still taste like Ortega.

“Pebbles, come on...pl-please...”

“No, I am going home, Ricardo. I’m sorry.”

He takes his mask out and slips it back over his face, adjusting the fabric and he can hide again, pretend like he’s calm and not that his stomach is still twisting itself into knots upon knots, that he doesn’t want to bolt down the stairs and out the door.

“Don’t throw up all over yourself, please. Take your meds. Call Steel in the morning so you don’t cause a panic when you don’t show up at eight am.”

Pollux speaks quick, sliding the pan closer towards Ortega with his foot and he skirts around the couch, jacket still locked in his hands. He hears Ortega scrambling to extract himself from the couch, still whining for Pollux.

Pollux reaches the door and disregards his pleas, opening the door to the cold hallway bathed in green florescence from the flickering lights overhead.

“Bye Ortega.”

He slams the door closed behind him, the sound ringing in his ears over and over again, a rhythm as he takes the stairs in sets of threes and he’s out into the night, disappearing into the dark.

#fallen hero #fhr #chargestep #owen writes #oc tag #oc: pollux #okay to rebloog go wild #this is the mostly done wip i was lamenting about #i've been meaning to finish this for days #but yeah. pollux hurts even back before hb can you imagine that #pollux voice i will apologize i will apologize i will apologize

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justwritethatdown · 4 years ago

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Bechloe Week 2020 – Day 8: Wedding

The Wedding

Nate’s wedding day is finally arrived! Beca and Chloe's morning after and some unsolved family business.

I'm sorry if this is ridiculous 🙈

Rating: M

Words Count: 1.5K

Read here or on AO3

Beca always loved waking up into Chloe’s arms; the warmth of the redhead’s body pressed against hers and the sweet scent of her skin surrounding her. Beca usually let herself indulge in it, until it became too much and had to move away and be her grumpy self, pretending to hate being touched. This time was different though; this time their naked bodies were intertwined together and Beca didn’t have to pretend. She didn’t have to protect her secret, Chloe knew Beca loved her and Beca knew that Chloe felt the same. So Beca pushed her face further into Chloe, inhaling deeply. Chloe let out a soft hum and tightened her arms around the brunette’s middle.

Beca smiled into Chloe’s skin and blindly started to pepper lazy kisses on her Chest and neck, the memories of their night together giving her a sense of calm. Chloe’s nails lightly scratched at her back making her shiver and push her head back. The redhead took the opportunity to place a soft, lingering kiss on her lips

“Good morning” mumbled Chloe against Beca’s lips

“Morning” smiled Beca finally opening her eyes to see Chloe looking at her with a fond smile

“You’re so cute” whispered Chloe brushing a lock of hair away from Beca’s forehead, and the brunette let out a strangled growl hiding her face into Chloe’s neck again. The redhead giggled and gently kissed her temple “I wish I could lay here with you all day”

“What time is it?” huffed Beca, knowing very well that they had to get up and start getting ready for the wedding

“it’s...” grunted Chloe reaching for her phone on the nightstand next to Beca, hovering over her “oh, sorry” she said when she noticed she’d literally pushed her breasts in Beca’s face

“Oh, I don’t mind” smirked Beca, moving her hands on Chloe’s side, at the height of her ribcage, to keep her there. Chloe chuckled and stared at her biting her bottom lip as she was considering something

“We have to get up though” she sighed “it’s almost half past eight”. Beca groaned at that but let go of Chloe to let her move away from her body. She kept her eyes on Chloe as the girl stood up.

Beca felt every inch of her body catching fire while her eyes traced every curve of Chloe’s naked body, her toned abs and perfect legs, but what turned Beca on the most was the lust she could see in Chloe’s eyes and the girl’s smirk when she noticed Beca staring at her

“Come shower with me” she offered with a hypnotizing look to which Beca could have never said ‘no’ to.

It turned out to be the best shower of Beca’s life. It begun with Chloe pushing her against the shower’s wall and getting on her knees, she brought Beca’s right leg over her shoulder to open her wider and buried her face between Beca’s legs. After making her come, she rose to her feet and started to spread soap all over Beca’s body, making her turn to face the wall. She started rubbing her back and hips, going down to squeeze her ass, before moving around her body, to pay attention to her front. The redhead pushed herself against Beca’s back while massaging her breasts. Beca rested her forehead on the wall before her when she felt Chloe’s hand traveling down her body to reach her center. The redhead took Beca’s left arm and pushed it against the wall, while bending her slightly further, Beca did the same thing with her other arm to brace herself and Chloe pressed their bodies together and started to trace slow circles on Beca’s clit, while gently nibbling her ear. Chloe made Beca come two more times before even allowing her to touch her.

The ceremony was on the beach and the bride was barefoot under her long, cream dress that was shorter on the front – almost too short, for Mrs. Beale’s likes – while Nate was wearing black converse under a white tuxedo. The unconventionality of their clothes was far from being what upset Chloe’s parents the most that day.

During his vows, Nate talk about how he was so lucky to marry his best friend and Beca felt her throat tightening, she slipped her hand into Chloe’s and leaned in to kiss her cheek, but she noticed it was wettened by tears

“Hey” she whispered, having to clear her throat “are you okay?” she asked worried while whipping tears away from Chloe’s face. Chloe nodded trying her best to hold her sobs

“I just-” she squealed “I just love you so much” she breathed out in a way lower tone, but a loud sniff escaped her. Beca dragged Chloe’s face towards hers and kissed her deeply, hushing a sweet “I love you, too” when they parted.

They must have missed the rest of the vows, because now Nate was lifting his bride to be in the air, and they were sharing a not-T rated kiss in the general disapproval of both of their family and the whistles of their friends. The priest had to divide them and remind them they weren’t married yet. Beca chuckled shaking her head.

After the ceremony, Chloe’s mom approached them, she seemed very upset, frustrated even. Chloe swallowed hard, bracing herself

“Why do you have to always make everything about yourself?” she spat out

“What? I-”

“I noticed, you know? During the vows you were trying to draw attention so that everyone could see your inappropriate kiss”

“Our kiss was inappropriate!?” spat out Beca incredulous

“Becs” shushed her Chloe, but Beca was furious

“No, Chloe. It’s obvious that she’s just trying to take out on you her rage because God forbid her perfect son did something that upset her”

“Beca, please” begged her the redhead, literally holding her back by the arm

“Hello guests, can you all come around here” asked Nate, speaking through a microphone “specially my mother, who is as always tormenting my poor sister. Mother please get off her case” he chuckled, but it was clear how serious he was

“Nate, son. You’re drunk, give me that” begged his father

“No father, I am very sober, and I’ve been waiting this moment for so long” he said “finally, there’s nothing you can take away from me. I had to wait this day to tell you to go fuck yourself because I was afraid that you would have somehow stopped my wedding” he paused looking at Serena, who was looking at him with a proud smile on her lips “but now we’re married and I can finally tell you, that you both have made my life a fucking nightmare”

Chloe was looking at him in shock, dropped jaw and widened eyes. She’d never considered the pressure he was under; she only noticed the praises he got, the ones she could never have.

“If it wasn’t for Chloe, and then Serena, I don’t know how I would have survived. So, since this is a speech of thanks, I want to thank my sister, for being always there for me and for suffering through this week with you, just to attend my wedding, thank you baby sister, I love you” he ended looking at Chloe before literally dropping the mic and accepting Serena’s hug before shouting “let’s go swimming!”

Beca and Chloe reached Nate who was undressing, and Chloe hugged him tightly “I love you, too” she squealed

“nice speech, dude” praised Beca gently punching his arm, a little embarrassed by the abs showing through his open shirt, but then the sight of Chloe slipping out of her dress made Beca’s mouth go dry

“Come on Becs, swim with me” offered the redhead biting her lip

Beca never thought she would add ‘bathed in the ocean in underwear’ to the list of things she’d done, but by now she was used to the idea that Chloe could make her do just about anything.

It took Chloe five whole minutes to get bored and decide to make Beca add something else to her list

“I want you” she whispered to Beca’s hear, making her choke on hair

“We are in public” hissed the brunette looking at her with wide eyes

“I miss your fingers” teased Chloe “I want them inside of me” she added before swimming away from Beca

“Beca” called out Chloe, almost like an order, and Beca struggled to reach her. When they were – according to Chloe – far enough from the group, the redhead wrapped her arms around Beca’s neck and her legs around her middle, pressing her pussy against Beca’s pelvis, waiting for Beca to give her what she wanted.

Beca licked her lips looking into Chloe’s eyes, her hands were already making their way around the girl’s ass, squeezing it gently and making Chloe hiss “be quiet” ordered the brunette, letting her fingertips slide beneath Chloe’s costume

“uh-uh” promised Chloe closing her eyes and bending her hear to rest on Beca’s shoulder, just for it to shot back up when her back arched as Beca slipped two slender fingers inside of her.

#bechloe #bechloeweek #bechloe week 2020 #bechloe fluff #bechloe smut #beca mitchell #chloe beale

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skyking91-archive · 4 years ago

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the fallout || skam

Discord thread featuring: Sky & @samuelburton

When: October 24, 2020 - after the halloween party

Where: sam’s apartment

mentions: @ellicfm

Description: sky and sam fight, then they agree to take a break

Trigger Warnings: brief mentions of past trauma, arguing, feeeeels

Sky

Admittedly, sky was a little drunk. She had to be when she was around mat. Like. Damn. She was thankful thought that the Uber dropped her and Mat off at different places. The last thing she wanted to do was spend any more time with him. And he seemed a bit off after the party was over anyway. She hopped out of the car when it arrived at her boyfriend’s place and she went right up, opening the door with the key he’d given her not that long ago. “Hi baby.” She spoke like she had had the longest day at work. She had been thinking about the conversation she’d had with Sam all damn night and had a really hard time enjoying herself. The corn maze with Jess was definitely the highlight of her night though. Still, she couldn’t get same off of her mind.

Sam

sam had stayed at the party longer than he’d intended and while he’d thought ditching would be a good idea, sitting alone with his thoughts while he waited for his girlfriend arrive hadn’t worked out all that well either. especially after that conversation he’d had with ellie about what sam deserved in a relationship. it was a relief to be pulled from his thoughts when he heard a key turn in the door. “hey love,” he smiled tiredly at her. he was genuinely excited to see her but he was also exhausted and the unopened bottle of whiskey beside him hadn’t helped matters. he’d managed to stay relatively sober the entirety of the party but as soon as he was home and didn’t have to worry about out his girlfriend and her fake boyfriend’s pretend relationship, he’d felt free to indulge.

Sky

Sky found Sam sitting on the couch. He seemed relatively comfortable; like he had been there for a while. He looked sad, but just his presence alone made Sky smile. She sat her bag down and took her shoes off before she walked over to find Sam next to a bottle of whiskey. This...didn’t look good. The actress straddled her partner before sitting down on his lap, rubbing his tense shoulders out. Something was off. And it was more than just the conversation that they had had in the kitchen. “I’m really sorry about earlier. I know this sucks...” her dark eyes dropped as she spoke. “I’m sorry we couldn’t go together.” She said with a sigh.

Sam

sam’s hands landed on sky’s thighs as she sat in his lap. he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch, relaxing as her hands went to work on his shoulders. it was a comfort to have her home in his arms again, especially after things had been so tense earlier that evening. still, he couldn’t shake ellie’s words from earlier. “s’okay,” he shrugged lightly, eyes still closed. “it’s all part of the agreement, right?”

Sky

Sky wasn’t totally sure how to respond to that. Was he being sarcastic or...? Sky furrowed her brow in response and dropped her hands from his shoulders. “Im sorry...” she apologized again, looking away from him. Her heart sank. “Sam...I don’t know what you want me to do. I don’t want you to be miserable jn this. I know you wanna take me out with you, and like...post pictures and stuff. Just...tell people about us.” She didn’t even know where she was going with that but it was something that had been in her mind for a while. She’d try to make up for it with presents, but that only went so far.

Sam

sam opened his eyes, his heart sinking a little when he saw the sad look on her face. he didn’t like making her feel that way. but this was a conversation that needed to be had or else they’d keep circling back round to this same shitty feeling. with ellie’s words fresh in his mind he looked at her questioningly. “can i ask... why are you doing this? because i thought i knew but i don’t really think that i do anymore.”

Sky

Sky was just now realizing how drunk she was when she felt like she was going to start crying. Fuck. She tried to hold it in, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to for very long if this conversation was headed where she thought it was. She rolled over his lap and leaned her head against the back of the couch and huffed, racking her brain for an answer to his question. Why was it so hard for her to come up with an answer that didn’t make her sound like a self centered bitch. “It’s my job.” She finally said after a few moments of silence. “I...it’ll really help me with my career. This’ll open a lot of doors for me.” What a self centered bitch. Still. It was true.

Sam

sam nodded slowly, listening as she spoke. he hadn’t been far off. “i guess i just feel like... i mean you’re so talented, love,” he told her, turning his body to face her on the couch. “i mean really, you’re brilliant. and i don’t understand why you feel that you need to do this to further your career.” sure it would get her a lot more exposure a whole lot quicker. but was it not more rewarding to come by it organically? sam truly thought she was talented enough to make it on her own.

Sky

“You don’t get it.” She said immediately, without really thinking about it. “It’s not just talent that gets you famous and successful. You have to have the right connections, the right exposure.” She stood up and huffed, pressing her hand to her forehead in frustration. She paced slowly because now she was getting frustrated. “Thank you, but there are a lot of talented people in the world and only a select few can actually make it.” Now she felt like she was lecturing him, which she didn’t do it on purpose — she was just so frustrated. “What do you want from me, baby?” She sighed.

Sam

sam knew that it took an awful lot of luck to break into the business. he wasn’t so naive to think that all you needed to have was talent and ambition to make it. it also took a lot of luck. if it hadn’t been for eevee’s wealth and connections, he doubted that the band would have made anything of themselves, as short lived as that was. but was it really worth all of this? we’re there not other ways to go about building status and gaining exposure? but her final question to him had sam furrowing his brow in hurt confusion. “i guess i just hoped that this was enough,” he said, gesturing between them, his own frustration as the situation creeping into his voice. “you are all i want, and i feel like i can’t even have that. at least not all of you. not the way i want.”

Sky

What Sam said next make her heart ache. They had agreed to this. Sure. But it was turning out to be much harder than what they had originally thought. Sky hated Mat. Sure, he was a dick. But she hated looking at him and knowing that he was the one keeping her and Sam from being happy together. Or was she the one that was doing that? “Sam...” she sat down next to him again. “I’m sorry. I want to be the one that makes you feel happy and loved. But...can I ask where this is coming from? Was it just what happened tonight with us? Or is there something else?” Sky empathized with how he felt, she tried to at least, but she still wasn’t sure where this was all coming from. “Please talk to me.” She begged, grabbing his hand with both of hers.

Sam

sam hesitated, looking away from her but allowing her to take his hand in hers. "i guess it started in the dining room," he began. "what mat said- it got to me. and i was starting to have doubts, not about us but about... i mean we really should have thought this through... and then i ran into ellie and we got to talking about what i deserve and i can't help but wonder..." sam's blue eyes met sky's. there was an apprehension there, like he was afraid that what he was about to say would change things between them, though he wasn't sure how. "am i not enough for you?"

Sky

She looked away from him, her heart skipping a beat once their eyes met. Sky took a sharp breath in at the mention of his ex. So that’s where all of this was coming from. What a fucking bitch. How dare she try to sabotage her relationship like that. But also why was Sam talking to his ex about their relationship. “Why the fuck were you talking to Ellie fucking Robertson about our relationship?” She deflected, standing up in a huff. “Sam, I love you. This is just a damn job. You are endgame. This job is not.” She said, pointing to Sam.

Sam

anytime sam mentioned ellie in the past to sky he’d gotten little short responses like “i like ellie” or some other noncommittal comment. while he didn’t expect the two to be best friends he definitely didn’t expect sky to be so pissed about sam talking to her. “what..?” he asked, kind of taken aback by her response. “she’s my friend, sky. one of the only friends i have left and the only other person in my life aside from my aunt who knows what the fuck is going on,” he said, standing as well. “if i can’t talk to her about us who am i supposed to talk to? nobody knows about us. and you know what?” sam asked, eyes growing dark with anger. “i think a lot of the things she was saying made a whole lot of sense.” he huffed at her response about the job, having a difficult time not rolling his eyes at her. “if this is just a damn job, why were you so desperate to take it? the day i come to you to talk, to see if we can get past what separated us in the first place, you tell me you want to take on another job! but i was so...” sam gritted his teeth, taking a hand through his hair as he tried to collect himself. he was having little success. “i was so stupid! so desperate to hold on to you that i said yes! only for this to happen,” he said, gesturing wildly around them. “and we’re right back to where we were the first time around.”

Sky

Sky was a big drama queen, so as one can imagine her reaction to what he was saying may have been a bit over the top. But sky was hurt. Mostly because she know that Sam was right. She hadn’t been fair to him, and he did deserve better but sky wasn’t ready to admit that even to herself. When Sky decided to take the job, she had no idea how hard it would be on him. On their relationship. Sky looked like a hurt puppy as he spoke, then let some silence fall over them for only a brief moment. “I...” she stuttered. “Why did you say something? Why didn’t you tell me not to take it? Why did you wait until you got pissed to say something? You wait til things blow up before you actually say something. You’re right. Now here we are. Back to where we started.” She huffed, trying to hold back those damn tears but the spilled over her eyes and down her cheeks. “What do you want me to do, Sam? I can’t lose you.”

Sam

sam’s jaw set and he gave her a long look. the anger had mostly faded into sadness because he really hated seeing her like this and he hated even more that he’d been the cause. “i wanted to be better. i wanted us to be better. and after losing eevee like that i-“ he looked down at his feet, heart heavy in his chest. “i couldn’t lose you sky. i would have said anything to be with you. i love you.” he looked up at her, his eyes pleading. he didn’t know how to fix this but he so desperately wanted to. his heart clenched at the sight of her tears and he wanted more than anything to take her into his arms and hold her. but he knew it would only make this harder. “you can’t quit... not now, not after signing a contract. i’d never ask you to do that. but maybe...” he sighed, feeling his own eyes prickle with the beginnings of tears. “maybe we should take some time?” he hadn’t meant it to come out like a question. but the words coming out at all had already been a struggle. and he knew that he had drink in him and that emotions were running high... but it was hard to see another solution.

Sky

That was it. That’s when sky absolutely lost it. Her stomach actually hurt and she felt like she was going to vomit. This wasn’t happening. He was right. She couldn’t quit. She’d be breaching her contract and she’s be our hundreds of thousands of dollars. As much as she wanted people to believe it, Sky wasn’t rich and there was no way she’d be able to pay that. She sat down across the room from him, looking anywhere else but in his eyes as she reminded herself to breathe. “You-you’re...breaking up with me?” The words coming out her mouth didn’t even seem real, and — fuck — they hurt so much. Sky loved Sam more than she had loved anyone in her entire life, and sky didn’t always know what to express that. Damn trauma. She cried into her hands for a significant amount of time, before wiping the tears off of her swollen face. She wanted to protest, fight for him...but she also wanted to save at least some of her dignity. “I don’t know what to say, Sam...I love you. I...don’t want this. But I also hate what this is doing to you...” she admitted. Sam really had gotten the short end of the stick in this agreement, and it wasn’t fair of her to ask him to suffer in silence for her sake. “Will it make you happier? If we take a break?” She rasped.

Sam

fuck. as soon as he’d said it he wanted to take it back for this very reason. but he knew that this was probably the best for the both of them or else they might make themselves so miserable that it wasn’t worth the fight. sam didn’t want to believe that was true but with each passing day it was getting harder and harder to cope. he crossed the room and knelt beside her, hesitant at first, though eventually he put a hand on her knee. “hey,” he said to her, his voice a small whisper. “don’t think of it like that. i love you so much, sky and i want to be with you. you make me so happy. but this...? this isn’t good for either of us. i mean look at us.” he was quiet for a moment. “how much longer until the deal is done..?” the last time sam had asked the question sky had told him it could take a year’s time. that seemed excruciating but sam knew that he loved sky so much that he could wait. “once this is over and done... maybe then we’ll really give it a fair chance.” this was probably one of if not the hardest thing sam had ever done. he was so used to people in his life leaving him and here he was, letting go of the thing that made him the happiest.

Sky

"A...A few more months." It didn't seem like that long, but she didn't want Sam to feel like this a minute longer. Sky hated that she ever made the love of her life feel that way. Had she really been so self centered that she didn't stop for a moment to think about what this was doing to Sam? She tried to covered it up with gifts and pretty words, but that only went so far. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry." She said between breaths. "Th-this is all my fault." Even though, realistically, they both agreed to this without really thinking twice about it. They were just so eager to call each other theirs again that they didn't think about the logistics of all this. She finally took her head out of her hands and looked up at him. "I love you so much." She did. She really did. Even though she had a real shit way of expressing it. No one, except Sam, had ever taught her how to love so she was really just winging this.

Sam

sam couldn’t hold back any longer. he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close, closing his eyes as he nuzzled her head with his cheek. “hey, none of that now...” though it had been good to get everything out there, he regretted being so harsh with his words. he cared about her so much. “we both agreed to this, yeah? a few more months isn’t bad at all. i’ll be working, you’ll be working, and before you know it i’ll be cheering you on at opening night for rent, okay?” and then hopefully things would be right between them and they could finally be happy with no conditions. “i love you too. so so much.”

Sky

Sky sobbed into his shoulder, probably getting his shirt all gross and snotty but she couldn't seem to find the energy to care about that now. "o...kay." she sobbed, her breath hitching. She hated this. She hated Mat. She hated Ellie. And there was a large part of her that hated herself for letting things get this out of control. She regretted ever taking that damn job in the first place. They stayed in that embraced for a while. It seemed like neither of them wanted to be the first to let go. At least that was Sky's interpretation of it. If they let go, then that meant that this was really over.

Sam

sam held her close to him, rubbing her back soothingly as he tried to calm her down. this all really sucked but sam wanted sky to know that this wasn’t goodbye. he quietly began humming her the melody of the song he’d written for her. he’d hoped the gesture would be both comforting and reassuring though he managed to bring himself to tears in the process. once he’d finished, he planted a small kiss to the top of her head before pulling away to look at her. he wiped away a few of her stray tears and smiled sadly at her. “this isn’t over for us, yeah?” and he held out his pinky to her. “you and me forever. promise.”

Sky

It was probably impossible for Sky to stay mad at Sam for long. Especially when he hummed to her like that, held her like that. It seemed he was always her rock - he'd held her like this and hummed to her while they were in the hospital waiting to see Eevee. Sam cared about other people more than he cared about himself. He also didn't see his worth, and Sky knew that she had done a bad job of helping him see it. Sky was fucking blessed to be loved by him, and even though that it may have been over for them now, Sky wasn't going to stop fighting for him. He deserved that much.

#discord #sam #not sam and I making each other cry at 1am

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ahsana · 4 years ago

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Rehab ~ Dean Winchester

Chapter 1 - The Party

Summary: Gwendolyn Anderson is in her early twenties. For most people that age, they're in college or just starting to find their way. For her, she lost the person closest to her in the universe and she has to find a way to pick up the pieces because everything as she knows it as about to change. After a few events that are less than coincidental, the only thing that seems to make sense anymore is a man with green eyes and a twelve step program.

Pairing: AU!Gabriel Novak x OC!Gwen, AU!Dean Winchester x OC!Gwen & possible other variations. Stay tuned to find out ;)

Word Count: 2038

Chapter Warning: Just like every other chapter in this book so far, there will be detailed drug use, mentions of drugs, paraphernalia, mentions of death and other very sensitive topics. If this could trigger you or set you off in any way possible, I urge you not to read it. If you or someone you know is struggling with addiction, please reach out and get help. You are not alone. Always keep fighting.

Even when things were okay, I still never feared death. I've been on the edge many times; never quite falling off, but never quite holding on either.

A lot of people say overdosing was their rock bottom. It wasn't for me. Heroin is a strong word, and sometimes it even shocks me when I say it. Weird, right?

In health class as a teenager, I saw the pictures of drug addicted people and made a pact with myself in my head that I'd never become one of those people and here I am. I guess I should explain how I got here, though.

« FLASHBACK »

Why did I snort that line? My nose burns, my brain hurts, and my whole body feels like it's buzzing. I'm not exactly sure where the cocaine came from or why exactly I did it but I know that I have to get out of here and fast.

Parties aren't usually my scene, but I figured since it was my last day as a teenager I might as well indulge. My surroundings aren't familiar, just some college frat party that I knew of because I attend school here, but other than that I really have no idea where I am or how I got here.

I'm searching for the exit, pushing past sweaty bodies and other young adults who reek of alcohol and marijuana. I gave up hope halfway through the search because it feels almost as if though it's impossible, so when my eyes land on the staircase in front of me I sigh gratefully.

The door at the end of the hallway is propped open slightly; a large rock wedged between so it couldn't close. The loud music was causing my ears to ring so I walked as quickly as I could and became elated when I realized the door at the end of the hallway leading to outside, giving me a chance to get some fresh air.

I push the door open and realize it's heavier than I first assumed, so I try and let it close behind me gently so it doesn't knock rock out of place. I inhale deeply and look around, only to be met with the fact that I'm on the roof somehow.

"Wow," I mutter, and make my way towards the edge of the building; my shoes making the gravel of the rooftop crunch along the way. I peered over the ledge, and for a second considered flying.

Worse case scenario, I land flat on the pavement, ultimately dying in the process or I make it to the rooftop across the way. I step onto the ledge, squat and then sit; dangling my legs over the side of the building.

My heart is pounding a hundred miles a minute, and all of a sudden tears start streaming down my face.

"I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend," I gasp out of shock because I didn't realize that I wasn't alone up here—and also because a random man is singing to me. I turn my head to face the mystery man and am pleasantly surprised. "You could cut ties with all the lies, that you've been living in," He continues, and I recognize the song and join in with him.

“And if you do not want to see me again, I would understaaaand. I would understaaand," We both sing in unison, and the stranger lets out a fit of giggles which makes me laugh in return.

"So Miss, how are you on this lovely night?" He questions.

"You aren't even going to ask me my name?" I inquire with a grin.

"Nope, don't need to." I nod in response, pretending to understand why.

“I'm doing well, by the way." I add.

"That's amazing.. or.. would be, if you were telling the truth." I cock my brow up, and he quickly adds, "I mean you wouldn't be sitting on the ledge for nothing, right?"

I shake my head in disagreement. "That's where you've got it wrong, sir."

"Sir? Do I really look that old?" He jokes.

"No, but I'm not sure what to call you since we don't need to know each other's names." The stranger sits beside me and lets his legs dangle over the building as well. I take a closer look at his features that are illuminated by the street lights below and I am captivated.

The ridge of his nose, the length of his lashes and his eyes—Wow, his eyes. It's dark, but I can tell that they're brown with a swirl of honey and it reminds me of a Hershey's bar.

"So, did you find what you were looking for?" He asks, and I shake my head no for the second time. "Well then what are you doing?" I shrug. "You're not very talkative, are you?" He asks, seeming genuinely curious.

"I am, but I'm not sure what to say. I'm at a party, drunk and high off coke, sitting with a stranger on the edge of the roof; trying to come up with something I could tell you but I'm at a loss for words here." The man gives me a goofy grin in return.

"Well. We'll probably never see each other again, so why don't you tell me your biggest secret?" I laugh out loud.

"Sir, I've known you for mere minutes and you want me to do something like that? Strange." I mumble in awe.

"I'm not from around here, so I couldn't possibly hold it against you in any way."

"Why did you come here then?" I ask.

"Free booze."

"Interesting. Here—I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." I whisper cheekily to him and he nods his head, agreeing.

"Sure. Okay. Let's start," he thinks for a moment, "My guilty pleasure is Lazy Town, the kids show."

"Ha! That's an awful secret, shame on you!" I reply but laughing while doing so.

"Fine, fine. Um, when I was seventeen I slept with my best mate's girlfriend. He still doesn't know." He whispers guiltily.

"Wow, that's pretty deep. Are they still together?" He nods.

"Been together for eight years, married for three—with two kids."

I chuckle, "How do you know you aren't the baby daddy?"

"Timeline doesn't add up—trust me, I did the calculations as soon as she told everyone she was pregnant the summer after we graduated high school," He trailed off but then turned his head towards me, "Your turn."

I gulp, and try and think of something.

"Um... Well, I might as well go all out then. My parents are both government officials. Amelia and Doug Anderson?" I throw the names out to see if he recognizes them.

"Holy shit," He marvels. "You're Gwendolyn Anderson. I should have recognized you as soon as I seen you! You and your parents are all over TV." I sigh.

"Yeah. But call me Gwen, I hate it when people call me Gwendolyn. Anyways—That's not exactly my secret." I look towards him and he motions for me to continue.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this but.. here we go. My entire life, I've felt like the weight of the world has been on my shoulders. Ever since I was a kid my parents have been pushing me to be the best in every category there has been or ever will be. My senior year of high school was the worst, obviously because of the impending doom of getting into the best college and working on getting scholarship offers; meanwhile keeping all A's, playing volleyball and volunteering."

I continued, glancing back now and then to see if he was still paying attention and he was alert the entire time. "It got to the point where.. I needed some extra help. Adderall was basically my scapegoat and how I functioned for the entire year. My parents were so busy being wrapped up in their own lives and pushing me to my limit that they never discovered I lost myself along the way. Now I'm in college, and I'm still trying to find my way back to a happy medium. But when I looked down at the ground, I realized that for some reason it doesn't even matter anymore."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Have you ever gotten to the point where you feel like you're just numb? Everything is grey scale and there's no color at all? I'm just going through the motions. There's no highs or lows; only this weird middle ground. I thought coming to this party tonight and getting trashed would make me feel better but it didn't change anything." He nods, knowingly. I can tell he understands. He rests his left hand on top of my right one and somehow it felt like my body couldn't get any hotter.

I should be scared, uncomfortable even. I just met this guy and don't even know his name but I'm letting him touch me like we've been friends all our lives. A sudden thought makes me speak up.

"You know, it's not really fair that you get to know my name and I don't know yours." He chuckles.

“It's Gabriel." I smile because it's very fitting. He looks like a Gabriel.

"That's a beautiful name."

He laughs, "Beautiful? More like average. Your name is beautiful."

"I wholeheartedly disagree. I have a grandma name, at least yours fits your age no matter how old you are." He smiles. We sit in silence, his hand still resting on top of mine and I take another look down at the ground.

"How long do you think it would take to reach the ground?" I ask as if he'd actually know the answer.

"For a suicidal person? Too long. For a person just looking for some answers, too fast."

“How do you know which is which?" Gabriel lets out a grunt and laughs.

"Well, do you want to die?" He asks, raising his voice but continues smiling; which is oddly contagious.

"I don't think I'd ever do anything to speed up the process, so ultimately no. Probably not."

"I guess there's an answer then." Gabriel replies.

"An answer?"

"Yeah, the one of many you're looking for. I won't have them all, though."

"B-But I thought you were an all-knowing wizard!" I gasp out sarcastically.

"No, no. But... I maybe might have one.. just for now,"

I raise my eyebrow again and ask, "What might that be?" Gabriel reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny baggie with pills inside of it.

"You might like these," he whispers gently.

"Ah, man. I don't know--"

“I'm sure drugs weren't the first thing you thought of, but maybe they'll help you forget until tomorrow." I sigh and stick my hand out apprehensively.

"What are they?" I question.

"Percocet. Strongest prescription." I nod, remember hearing some of my peers talking about it previously this week. I swallow two of them without a second thought.

« FLASHBACK OVER »

I look down at the person who brought me into this mess, and his face is quickly turning a light shade of blue.

"Gabe, God, You fucking idiot! I told you not to do that much!" I shout and dial 911 as quickly as possible.

The next thing I know, I'm sitting on the front porch steps of his apartment as they're carrying him away on a stretcher. My best friend is dead, and I can officially say I'm terrified.

#dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #gabriel novak #castiel #fanfic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #rehab au #crowley #charlie bradbury #au #slow burn

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aaallliiieee · 4 years ago

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I had too much wine at lunch and it was only one glass lmao but honestly I think I'm gonna go straight edge for the next few months/years bc I do feel better without substances and I'm tired of getting stuck in my head and feeling unsteady/disconnected when what I really want is to be connecting with people... (The problem is when the bad vibes come up, the only way I've learned how to deal with them is to smoke weed until I get over it, but I also know that there's probably better coping mechanisms like dancing/making art and I need to start indulging in those activities rather than just covering the problem in cobwebs and pretending they're not there...) Anyway I have a lot of little things that feel like problems that I want to get sorted out and tuck in all the loose ends of my life etc and I think the only way to really make progress is to just stop smoking/drinking/overthinking and just deal with things head on one at a time...

Just saying this here makes me anxious bc on the surface I don't want things to change and I want to keep everything the way it is but also deep down I know I've been suffering with this chronic anxiety/depression and the only way to move past it is to get to the root of the issue and take control and hold myself accountable for my own happiness... I'm always waiting for permission or acceptance or approval from others and the thing is everyone else just wants me to be happy and figure out what I'm doing lol they don't care what it is they just want some sense of security that I know what I'm doing and I'm in control... People get antsy at the idea that I don't know what's going on and I'm just waiting to see what the world wants from me; people like to feel like you know what's going on and you're in control of yourself and you're doing things on purpose with intention and care...

Anyway I'm drunk what am I saying the point is I'm allowed to be happy and I'm allowed to change the things I don't like and I'm allowed to be in control and take charge of my life and spend more time with my grandparents... I owe it to them more than I owe it to anyone else, right? I owe it to myself more than anyone though... Of all the people in my life that I'm trying to please or prove myself, I owe it to myself to be happy and find my calling and feel fulfilled with my work every day.

I'm an artist god damn it and when have you ever seen such an insecure baby make it as a successful artist! (That's not true a lot of successful artists are insecure babies actually...) I'm not trying to be a successful artist I'm trying to be a fulfilled human being and I'm going to figure out the meaning of life and I'm going to help other lost souls find their light and it's going to happen by the time I'm 45 but that's only 20 more years so I have to get started right away and never waiver in my mission bc 20 years ago I started off on this path and I'm halfway and now we have the uphill journey and it's gonna be hard work but what else can we do, we made it to the bottom of the canyon and now we have to climb back up the other side... Take it 10 steps at a time and rest at every corner and you'll be at the top before you know it

#personal #update #rambling #life goals

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daenyara · 6 years ago

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Multifandom writing challenge?

Thank you all for 1.2k, you’re awesome and I hope you know how much I appreciate you! Well, it’s been a whole year since I first started writing, and my birthday is in like, 2 weeks, so I thought: why not organizing something very self-indulgent? And that’s what I did. (I totally had this prepared since I hit 1k back in February)

Rules are pretty much the usual:

NO paedophilia/predatorial; NO rape/non-con nor romanticized toxic/abusive relationships; NO incest; NO smut for underage characters, even though the reader is underage as well;

Also: no monster sex; no rpfs (real person fiction); no A/B/O dynamics

Smut is welcome, but I won’t reblog it unless it’s under the cut

Use the proper warnings!

Max. 3 prompts for each person

You can interpret the prompt as you want; aus and crossovers and encouraged

500 words min. and please use the ‘keep reading’ feature

Can be a one-shot or the first chapter of a series

No deadline. We’re all busy with our lives, just write it when you feel like it! If, like me, you’re one of those people who need a deadline to function, then let’s say 6 months?

All things related will be tagged #ro’s 1.2k challenge

Tag me in your fic and let me know if I don’t reblog it within 3 days

You don’t have to follow me but please reblog this as a signal-boost

You can write for:

Marvel, DCEU [all the characters and ships], Supernatural [Cas/Jack/Dean x reader; Destiel], Brooklyn Nine-Nine [Rosa x reader; Peraltiago], Criminal Minds [Spencer Reid x reader], The 100 [Bellamy/Octavia/Clarke x reader; Bellarke].

Platonic/non-romantic pairings are fine

On with the prompts! Send me an ask with the prompt(s) you want.

Dialogue prompts:

You might recognize some of these (if you recognize all of them I love you)...

❝Besides, I could use a break from keeping you alive❞ ❝Thank you. For keeping me alive.❞ ❝You don’t make it easy.❞ ( @ourdreamsrealized w/ Tony Stark)

❝My mother, if she knew what I’ve done, who I am. She raised me to be better. To be good. And all I do is hurt people. I’m a monster.❞ ( @ruckystarnes w/ Bucky)

❝If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven.❞ ( @teenybucks w/ Bucky)

❝You know what I love about funerals? Everything I own is black.❞

❝Actually, I’d rather be Mary Shelley; she died a widow.❞

❝What are you doing in here?❞ ❝Eating cookies and avoiding confrontation.❞ ( @221bshrlocked w/ Steve Rogers)

❝This may be shocking for you, but I don’t trust you.❞

❝Big mistake. Big. Huge. I have to go shopping now.❞ ( @mattaretto )

❝I am a witch. A real house-haunting, broom-riding, cauldron-stirring witch.❞

❝In this country, sometimes the only place you can find a brave and honest person is in prison.❞

❝I do not know how to use my fists, but that doesn't mean I don't know how to fight.❞

❝Oh shit, four guards!❞ ❝Is that all?❞ ( @bb-8dameron )

❝Too drunk is why karaoke was born!❞ ( @dirtytomatoedwrites w/ Bucky)

❝It worked better in the movie!❞ ( @officially-tonynat-shrine w/ Loki)

❝I don't know what they taught you in med school, but the word "helping" doesn't mean handcuffing people and chopping up their brains.❞

❝At least you're wearing clothes.❞ ( @brooklynbarrnes w/ Bucky)

❝What are you doing?❞ ❝I’m practising.❞ ❝For what?❞ ❝My future as a homeless, unemployable failure.❞ ( @thebookwormslytherin w/ Bucky)

❝What does that say about you?❞ ❝I'm sure it speaks volumes about my poor choices, my own dishonesty, indecency, and general lack of good character.❞ ( @the-canary w/ Bucky)

❝You're awake?❞ ❝If I had to hear one more of your confessions, I was going to kill myself.❞

❝How long are you gonna hold my hand?❞ ❝Until we’re dead and buried!❞ (@thegirlholdingbooks w/ Steve Rogers)

❝How did you get everyone to help you?❞ ❝I appealed to their sense of teamwork and camaraderie with a rousing speech that would put Shakespeare to shame.❞ ( @itsbuckysworld )

❝Do I even weigh anything to you?❞ ❝No. It's like holding a couple of grapes.❞ ( @bb-8dameron )

❝How do you like my new office? Twentieth floor.❞ ❝Yes, I never thought I'd see you this high without a broom under you.❞

❝Start the car. Or I'm gonna rip your throat out. With my teeth.❞

❝You think you're funny?❞ ❝I think I'm adorable.❞ (@montechristos)

❝This new-found heroism is making me very attracted to you.❞

❝I’m 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone, okay? Sarcasm is my only defence.❞ ( @spiderrpcrker w/ Peter Parker)

❝The point is, you’re cool, dope, fresh, and smart-brained. I’ve never seen you dance, but I bet you’re good, cause you’re good at everything. You’re awesome! Be nicer to yourself.❞

❝You gotta let me help! There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you.❞ ( @helplessly-nonstop w/ Rosa Diaz)

❝You're a little scary sometimes, you know that? Brilliant... but scary.❞ ( @khaleesi-marvel w/ Loki)

AUs and scenarios

Modern cowboys

Soccer team

Hotel/ B&B

Out-of-body experience

Music band ( @buckyssoul )

High School reunion ( @itsbuckysworld )

Sensate cluster

New in town ( @jupiterbucky w/ Bucky)

Hackers

Post-apocalyptic world ( @helplessly-nonstop )

Dojo

Hitchhiking

Music:

What’s Up by 4 Non Blondes

Mr. Brightside by The Killers

Almost (Sweet Music) by Hozier ( @trashpanda-barnes w/ Bucky)

Eye of the Tiger by Survivor

Lean On Me by Bill Withers

Can’t Pretend by Tom Odell

Too Much Love Will Kill You by Queen ( @oh-snap-bucky )

Dancing in the Moonlight by Toploader

Fast Car by Tracy Chapman

I Will Take You Home by Ed Sheeran

And I Love Her by Passenger

I’ve Just Seen A Face by The Beatles ( @hufflebucky w/ Bucky)

She Is by The Fray

#rossana celebrates #writing challenge #multifandom #multifandom writing challenge #marvel writing challenge #ro’s 1.2k challenge #ginatoldmeso

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yoon-kooks · 6 years ago

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Strawberries & Cream

Pairing: Angel!Hoseok x Devil!Reader

Genre: EnemiesToLovers!AU, Fluff, Crack

Summary: You’d think stealing a couple of strawberries from your local farm wouldn’t hurt anyone, but some people like to think otherwise. And after your strawberry heist doesn’t go as planned, you plot your revenge against the angel who ruined it all–Jung Hoseok.

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: i posted this yesterday but t*mblr somehow managed to fuck up the formatting, so im reposting it now! happy bday hoseok! 👼💕

At sundown, when the Kim brothers take off their dirt-stained gloves and wipe the sweat from their sun-kissed cheeks, you watch from atop a neighboring tree until they disappear into their farmhouse. Once laughter and shouting echo out from the household, you know the Kim brothers will be far too drunk to give a flying fuck over what happens on that precious farm of theirs. So you hop down from the tree and over the fence to where your nose leads you. Because after a long exhausting day of playing games and lazing around, you think you deserve to treat yourself.

You scurry from crop to crop, in search of your favorite fruit. Bananas… melons… apples… no, no, no… Aha! Your pupils dilate at the glossy red berries in front of you. The sweet aroma alone is enough to have you foaming at the mouth. With no time to waste, you pick the finest strawberry from the shrub. And like with everything you steal from the Kim’s, you press your ruby lips against the fruit to pay your respects—you may be a devil, but at least you’ve got class!

“Mmm~!” You can’t help but squeal at the first bite, sweet and juicy with a hint of pesticides. As much as you want to chow down on the entire shrub, you only allow yourself to eat a single berry and pick a few more to indulge on later in the night. After securing your little strawberry pouch to your hip, you take a moment to admire the success of The Great Strawberry Heist. What a sneaky little thief you are! You giggle into your hands.

“I hope you choke on pesticides, Little Thief,” a voice scoffs at you. You don’t know the Kim brothers too well, but you’re sure it isn’t one of them speaking.

“I can’t choke on pesticides. A devil’s body is immune to toxins,” you answer back, although you aren’t sure where or who to direct your attention. As far as you can see, there’s no one else on the farm besides one (1) sneaky thief. “And wishing for someone to choke is kind of rude, you know.”

“Stealing the fruits of someone else’s labor is also kind of rude, don’t you think?” The voice suddenly materializes into a bright object—a rather handsome boy with white wings, to be exact. The stern look on his face kind of turns you on.

“Stealing is harmless as long as no one notices their stuff is missing~” you shrug. “But I think your brightness is going to attract attention from the Kim brothers. So can you please leave? Asking for a friend.”

“I’ll leave… but only after a warning, Y/N.” The boy stride over to you and gives you a long look as you blink back at him. He’s got quite an attractive face for sure.

“How do you know my name?” You slide your naughty hands from the boy’s chest to around his neck. The white wings peeking out from behind his shoulders catch your eye. “Oh, are you my guardian angel?” You already know devils aren’t assigned guardian angels, but maybe you just got lucky. Maybe this hottie of an angel is all yours.

“Not quite. I’m just here to keep devils like you out of trouble,” he says, nonchalantly peeling your hands off him and taking a step back. “So you better be a good little devil, or else I’ll be back, okay?”

“Yeah yeah sure, I promise to be a good devil, so can you please leave now? Thanks.” You start pushing the angel out of sight from the Kim brothers, but he puts on the brakes in front of the fence.

“Wait, one more thing.” He points to the strawberry pouch at your hip. “Empty that out so I know you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Or…!” You take a single berry out from your pouch and extend it to the boy. “How about I give you this strawberry as a peace offering and we pretend like this whole thing never happened, yeah?”

The angel gives the luscious fruit a good look, perhaps debating on whether or not the pesticides could be harmful to a divine being like himself. And just when you think your last-ditch effort is a bust, he speaks.

“Feed it to me.”

“Huh?” you reply with too big of a smile. Was it really that easy to swindle an angel?

“Feed it to me and I’ll let you go.”

You nod, leaning in closer to press the berry gently against the boy’s cute heart-shaped lips. As you close the gap between you and him, however, you’re distracted (and a tiny bit tempted) by the dark eyes watching you. You could’ve sworn he smirks before taking a bite out of the fruit. But once the deed is done, he backs away and lets out an innocent chuckle.

“Okay, I’ll let you go this time, but remember to be a good devil from here on out unless you want me showing up again,�� he says with a charming smile. You almost feel bad about swindling such a nice boy. But a devil’s gotta do what a devil’s gotta do to protect your precious strawberry stash.

“Pleasure doing business with you… uh…” you tilt your head when you realize you haven’t learned the boy’s name.

“It’s Hoseok,” he helps you out. “See you around, Little Thief.”

When it’s all said and done, the angel disappears as promised and you hurry home to make some chocolate-covered strawberries.

“FUCK,” you scream as soon as you step into the kitchen. Your hip is bare and your pouch is gone. Hoseok must’ve snagged it while you were too busy staring into his eyes. And to think you were nice enough to share one of your strawberries with that filthy monster.

But you suppose you’re gonna have to make him regret ever crossing paths with a naughty devil like yourself… And it starts with summoning that fool again.

“I guess I better go stEAL SOME MORE STRAWBERRIES,” you announce for the whole world, and more specifically Hoseok, to hear.

“What did I tell you about theft, Y/N?” Aha, the angel finally decides to show his face again, this time materializing right inside your bed.

“You’re the one who said stealing the fruits of someone else’s labor is rude, but guess what? You stole the strawberries that I worked so hard to get, Hypocrite.” You huff and puff, but also roll into bed with the hypocrite and cuddle up to him.

Hoseok watches as you sniff him like a hungry puppy for any lingering strawberries. “I didn’t steal the berries. I simply dipped them in chocolate and dropped them back off to their rightful owner.”

“You made chocolate-covered strawberries for me?” Your eyes light up and suddenly you’re on top of the boy.

“Fuck no. The rightful owners are the Kim brothers. Not you, Little Thief,” he says with a scolding voice. He rolls his body over you and stares down at your pout. “Anyway, if you aren’t actually executing a second strawberry heist tonight, I’m going home.”

“Actually! I made a plan for us!” You sit back up and regain your ambition. “We’re gonna go back to the farm, steal some more strawberries, milk the cow, and make chocolate-covered strawberries.”

“We? Why am I being dragged into this?”

“Because you need to be around when I’m doing something naughty right? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Well yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m your accomplice-”

“You don’t have to be my accomplice. I’m basically just making you watch me do naughty things as punishment for stealing my strawberries,” you pause to make sure your twisted logic makes sense. “As long as I’m being naughty, you can’t go home, right? That’s your punishment. Jokes on you.”

Hoseok blinks at you, probably doing his best to untwist all of your logic. And then he smirks. Never a good sign. “Oh I get it. But what if I don’t mind being around you? How will you punish me then, Little Thief?”

“Ha? You like being around me?” you press a finger to your duck lips. “If that’s the case, then I guess your punishment can be milking the cow.”

“Wait, what does milking a cow have to do with anything…?”

“We need milk with our chocolate strawberries, duh.” You shake your head at the boy’s ignorance and pull him up so the two of you can head back to the farm.

“Or…!” Hoseok pulls you back for a moment to suggest something else. “Instead of stealing farm crops and violating a cow’s udder, we can buy some milk and strawberries at our local market and make the chocolate strawberries in the morning.”

You nod along, although your mind remains unchanged. “Yeah… I like my idea better.”

You just can’t help it. It’s not your fault that you were born a devil. Naughtiness runs in your blood, and that’s something that will never change.

But maybe you’re willing to negotiate.

“Hmm, hypothetically speaking, if we followed your plan and went to the market, then what do I get in return?” You stroke your invisible bead. “Would you be willing to do something naughty for me?”

“That would depend… I’m not 100% opposed to it.” Perfect. Just the answer you were looking for.

“Nevermind~!” You shake your head with a giggle. If an angel can have an open mind about naughtiness, a devil can be open-minded about good behavior. And maybe it’s for that reason that you’ve developed a tiny soft spot for the angel. “We’ll just go to the market tomorrow, Hoseok~”

He raises an eyebrow at your sudden change in behavior. “Okay, but I better not catch you stealing anything off the shelves if that’s what you’re scheming.”

“I won’t, I promise (as long as you’re paying for everything)!” You snuggle up in bed only to fall into the embrace of warm angel wings, where perhaps naughtiness shall one day ensue. For now, however, you’re content. “But maybe we can play with the cows some time?”

“Y/N.”

“At least consider it!”

“Fine.”

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts enemies to lovers #hoseok fanfic #bts imagines #hoseok x reader #hoseok #bts #bangtan #strawberries & cream #bts angel au

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theforbiddenfruitily · 6 years ago

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likes me / likes me not

pairing: yoonkook, side vmin rating: e words: 10.7k tags that aren’t actually tags: makeup/nail artist jungkook, humor, fluff, smut, mutual pining, sexual & romantic tension, pigeons for some reason, yoongi has tattoos for purely self-indulgent reasons

for cypherkooks ♡

summary:

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” yoongi says elusively.

“hyung,” taehyung sighs, “you literally come here to hold hands with the pretty nail artist.”

“what are you doing here,” yoongi says bluntly when he finds kim taehyung hanging out with some pigeons outside his apartment on a cloudy saturday afternoon at exactly 3:05 PM.

“good afternoon, hyung, so nice to see you too, i’m good, thank you, how are you?” taehyung rattles off, and yoongi rolls his eyes as he nudges the door shut behind him. he buries his hands into the pockets of his embroidered leather jacket and skips down the stairs, taehyung casually awaiting him down the courtyard. “your text said you were going to the beauty salon today. so here i am, ready to rock’n’roll.”

“yeah,” yoongi knits his brows, “that wasn’t an invitation?”

“oh, i know,” taehyung says in a pointed tone as he falls into step beside yoongi, “because you never invite me. why do you never invite me, hyung? i thought i was your best friend. yet here you are. ditching me weekly to go drink margaritas on a poolside with cucumber slices over your eyes and five fit dudes massaging your feet.”

yoongi glances at him incredulously.

“do you think that’s what happens in a beauty salon?” then, “why would it take five dudes to massage my feet?”

“i don’t know why it takes five dudes to massage your feet,” taehyung says, “because you never ask me to come with you.”

yoongi groans quietly.

“i didn’t think you’d be interested?” he offers.

“in self-care?” taehyung asks in the driest tone known to man, and, fair.

“maybe it’s one of those things that i’d rather do alone,” yoongi tries again, “me time?”

“your idea of me time is downing a bottle of whiskey while watching reruns of home renovation shows and then sending all of your friends long-winded messages where you go into detail telling them why you love them,” taehyung remarks as they stop at a red light. he looks at yoongi, and pokes him in the arm with an index finger. “i know you, hyung. i know when something’s up. i know you have a specific reason for always going alone. a secret reason. i’m also pretty sure i know what it is, and i’m here to confirm my suspicion.”

“what are you talking about,” yoongi sighs, “it’s really not that deep.” taehyung makes an unconvinced sound. the feeling of his eyes on the side of his face is unnerving, and yoongi shifts uneasily, pretends like he isn’t sweating under the leather jacket. “since you’re coming, you should decide what you want in case they take walk-ins. they do manicures, facials, hair, makeup. pretty much everything.”

“do they do feet stuff?” taehyung inquires, and yoongi makes a face at him.

“yes, but please don’t call it that.”

the bell on the door chimes gently. the scent of fresh shampoo and essential oils rolls over him in a wave, drowning him in a good way.

“damn, it smells good,” taehyung mumbles as he trails in after yoongi. “and i smell like pigeons, oh my god.”

“i really doubt you smell like pigeons,” yoongi comments, sparing a glance back over his shoulder, “but, dude, you have to stop feeding the pigeons in my yard. it’s technically not allowed and they’ve started acting real bold. in the last tenant meeting, the lady with all the hats complained about ‘intimidating pigeon behavior’.”

taehyung pshhs. “the lady with all the hats complains about everything. my pigeons only intimidate those who deserve it. they can see into your soul.” after a beat, he adds: “she’s got cool hats though.”

“yeah,” yoongi says distractedly as he surveys the space. everything’s located on a single floor; a few of the hair and makeup stations are busy. yoongi’s become quite friendly with a couple of the hairdressers here; hoseok, who’s currently buzzing some girl’s undercut, and—

“welcome—ah, yoongi. not letting your drunk friends cut your hair again, i hope?” park jimin, forever reminding him of the time he let seokjin cut his hair with kitchen scissors and had to have jimin do damage control. jimin seems to have sort of assumed seokjin must have been drunk because of how fucked up his hair was. he’d been completely sober and on top of that claimed he’d done a fantastic job. jimin eyes yoongi from behind the reception desk, chin propped up on the heel of his palm, mouth curving into a lazy smirk. “you’re here for jungkook, right? he’s keeping you all to himself, lately.”

“my hands happen to be very important for my work,” yoongi says mildly. “my hands are insured for two million dollars.”

“wow, jungkook’s a lucky guy, getting to exclusively enjoy such expensive hands,” jimin grins.

“here’s a glimpse,” yoongi says as he flips him off. jimin laughs delightedly, tipping his face towards the ceiling, eyes squeezing into tiny lines.

“jungkook will be with you soon,” jimin promises, fixing his hair by shoving fingers through it, and then dances around the desk not unlike a beam of moonlight or some semi-real faery creature. he stops with a hand on his hip, and gives an intrigued glance at taehyung. “and who’s this?”

yoongi waits for taehyung to introduce himself for three full seconds before realizing it’s not going to happen. he turns to him with a raised eyebrow; turns out taehyung is busy staring at jimin like jimin is the headlights of a sexy truck and taehyung is a gay deer in the middle of the road. ah. yoongi should’ve anticipated this. jimin tends to have this effect on people. he kind of had an effect on yoongi, when he first met him, but thank god that only lasted for about two seconds and then yoongi realized the thing jimin makes him feel is not lust but some repressed primeval rage. and, well. then he met—

“kim taehyung,” taehyung blurts, jolting out of his trance. “is… my name. has been, for twenty-three years. hello. how are you. i’m single.”

yoongi’s mouth falls slightly open as he looks at taehyung. then he looks at jimin, who looks vaguely amused but mostly just enchanted.

“pleasure to meet you, taehyung, my name is jimin,” jimin murmurs, and something about the way he’s smiling at taehyung is making yoongi feel like he really shouldn't be here. “can i do something for you today?”

taehyung takes a deep breath.

“not to sound creepy or inappropriate,” he says very calmly, “but you can do anything you want to me.”

“oh, my god,” yoongi whispers.

“yoongi-hyung,” a bright voice calls from across the room, and yoongi immediately thinks, oh, thank god, while another, just as prominent part of him goes, oh, no.

jungkook is a beam of light and a set of offensive body proportions across the room. yoongi feels instantly a little bit warmer, feels a whole bunch of prickly fluttery things at the mere sight of him. jungkook’s grinning at him, and yoongi can’t help but smile back, can never help; he ducks his face, rubbing at the helix of his ear for no reason, and the thing is that he’s aware how disgustingly obvious his crush is to someone like taehyung who’s known him since grade school.

somehow, though, the stars aligned. the gods decided to favor yoongi. park jimin decided to exist. taehyung is oblivious to everything that isn’t jimin, in the process of repeatedly running his hands through taehyung’s hair. taehyung looks like he might pass out. yoongi decides it’s time to leave. he gives a small smile and a wave to hoseok on his way to jungkook.

he’s observed everyone here has their own style when it comes to physical contact. hoseok hugs each of his clients before and after like he’s known them for twenty years. jimin goes for the hand-clasp shoulder-bump thing.

jungkook and him—they bump fists. yoongi recognizes they’re like one step away from calling each other bro, which is hilariously sad on many levels. he sort of likes it, though. it’s like easing into the amount of touching that would occur in the next hour.

“your friend?” jungkook inquires with a nod past yoongi’s shoulder after rapping his knuckles against yoongi’s.

“at least he invades my home on a regular basis and eats all my food,” yoongi shrugs, “so like, a pest or a best friend. he’s also in cahoots with all the pigeons residing in the vicinity of my building.”

“oh, my god,” jungkook wheezes as he leads the way to his corner of the shop, “i’ve never heard a real person say in cahoots before, hyung, what are you?”

“i know you think i’m cool,” yoongi only says, and more sees than hears jungkook laughing, his shoulders shaking.

jungkook’s nail studio is its own secluded area in the salon. there are no walls or doors but there are screens and abundant houseplants to give a sense of privacy.

jungkook listens to the most infuriating, least relaxing music in the world. bass-boosted edm and justin bieber remixes. yet yoongi honestly, genuinely doesn’t hate it.

that’s a pretty good indication of how deeply fucked he is.

right now there’s some top 40 list playing on the bluetooth speakers as yoongi shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over the back of the chair. gives himself a quick once-over in the mirror on the wall, roughing up his black hair. the black t-shirt hangs loosely off his frame, in contrast with the bright red of the old school roses barely peeking out of the neckline and sleeves. so maybe it was on purpose. jungkook said he liked his tattoos.

be it the tattoos, be it his outfit, be it something else—as he turns, he catches the tail end of what was jungkook’s eyes on him. he watches jungkook busy his hands with his tools; in his mind, picks petals off a daisy: he was checking me out / it’s wishful thinking; i’m not reading this wrong / i’m imagining it.

jungkook gives him a smile as he sits down cross-legged across from him, and places his hands palm-up on the table between them as if he were about to predict yoongi’s future.

“let’s get it,” he says purely because he knows yoongi hates it.

“why do i come here,” yoongi says dryly.

“‘cause i’m amazing at what i do,” jungkook says without a hint of irony, “give me your hands.”

yoongi licks his lips, slowly lowers his hands into jungkook’s.

“before you say anything—”

“ah, hyung,” jungkook scolds, “stop gnawing on your finger.”

“sorry, sorry,” yoongi snorts, and then falls silent as jungkook carefully strokes along the chewed edge of his thumb. can’t take his eyes off the delicate sweep of his eyelashes against his cheeks.

“you’ve been stressed,” jungkook says. a statement, not a question. he spends enough time with yoongi’s hands to be able to read certain things from them.

he knows that when yoongi is stressed and worried, he bites his thumbnail down to nothing. knows the remnants of old nail polish mean he’s been too busy and overworked to get rid of it and do his nails properly. knows ink stains on his fingers mean he’s writing again.

it is sort of like having his palms read, that way.

“had some trouble with a track,” yoongi murmurs as jungkook wipes his hands down with sanitizing wipes. “it worked out, though.”

“a track… for a new mixtape?” jungkook glances up, eyes bright. yoongi’s heart leaps in his chest.

“maybe,” he hums, tries to suppress a smile. jungkook makes a pleased noise as he reaches for the nail polish remover pads.

“i love your stuff, hyung,” he chats, “i really do. and so do others. i played your song here. um, so far away? and my client asked who it was. she said she’d check you out.”

“oh,” yoongi breathes. is a little bit speechless. navigates through a maze of feelings, and after a minute, comes out with: “see, you do think i’m cool.” what he means is thank you. is pretty sure jungkook can hear it.

“i think agust d is cool,” jungkook says with a sly grin. “min yoongi is the type to say in cahoots with pigeons.”

yoongi rasps out a laugh.

“yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

jungkook smiles in that endearing, uneven way, his front teeth poking out. yoongi swallows, his smile muting into a soft close-mouthed thing as he averts his gaze to their hands.

“so, how are you, otherwise?” jungkook asks as he works. his hands are always gentle and warm and soft, and yoongi thinks he might be slightly addicted to them. or maybe—just jungkook. he makes yoongi feel so at ease and so tight-wired all at once, like there’s dormant fire beneath his skin.

sometimes he only lathers yoongi’s hands in soap water and scrub that smells really good and massages the exhaustion out of them. sometimes he goes all out in the nail art department and does the most beautiful, intricate designs out of the vaguest, most unhelpful prompts from yoongi. (maybe something, uh, like, dark blue? got him the entire fucking night sky, complete with constellations and the wisp of aurora borealis. another time he said flowers but make it punk and jungkook gave him the life cycle of a rose from his pinkies to his thumbs.)

sometimes they carry an easy-flowing conversation for an hour and sometimes jungkook senses yoongi would rather not talk, and works quietly or humming along to a song while yoongi watches on the brink of falling asleep with his knees drawn to his chest and his face tucked into his knees.

this time, yoongi tells him a little bit about the projects he’s working on, then his trip to daegu to see his dog last week which gets them sidetracked for a minute because jungkook demands to see pictures and yoongi’s never going to not show someone pictures of holly when they ask; least of all jungkook. yoongi’s pretty sure it’s actually illegal to deny things from him when his eyes are shining like that.

“you look really happy when you talk about your dog,” jungkook grins, “ah, hyung, your smile—”

likes me / likes me not

“my smile is what,” yoongi prompts, barely louder than a whisper when jungkook doesn’t finish.

“c’mon,” jungkook huffs, face tipped downwards, but yoongi can see the small smile pulling at his mouth. “you know. you’re just looking for an ego boost.”

“i don’t read minds, jungkook-ah,” yoongi arches an eyebrow. jungkook rolls his eyes slightly.

“terrible,” he says, still not looking at him. the tips of his ears look slightly red. “just terrible, your smile.”

“is it, now,” yoongi says quietly, heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

“yes,” jungkook says very resolutely, biting down on his bottom lip. finally glances up at yoongi; stares him down for a couple of seconds, looks almost conflicted. then he stands up so fast yoongi nearly snaps his neck following the movement. “i’m out of hand lotion,” he murmurs, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “i’ll go get more. just a second.”

he slips out like a river. yoongi releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

he was blushing / it was the lights; he finds me attractive / he’s just nice because it’s his job.

“ha!” someone whisper-shouts, and yoongi jumps, curses roughly under his breath. taehyung’s poking his head in behind some houseplants. his head that is covered with a see-through plastic cap.

“dude,” yoongi says, “did you run away in the middle of getting your hair dyed?”

“i knew it,” taehyung announces, swooping in and pointing a finger at yoongi. yoongi spreads his hands to indicate he has no idea what he’s being accused of. taehyung stops directly in front of him. “i knew you looked less i’ve had this eye makeup on for a week straight and more sexy grunge goth vampire on the days you had an appointment.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” yoongi says elusively.

“hyung,” taehyung sighs, “you literally come here to hold hands with the pretty nail artist.”

yoongi feels a flush creeping onto his face. his eyes dart past taehyung as if expecting jungkook to materialize behind him in that second. obviously taehyung is not wrong, but he doesn’t have to be so loud about it—not when he has no idea which petal is the true one and is testing waters, is honestly content with nothing ever happening because jungkook is more than yoongi’s feelings of attraction towards him.

“shut up before i cram this entire thing of cotton balls down your throat,” he hisses.

“you’re threatening me with cotton, hyung,” taehyung shakes his head, “cotton. even your hypothetical attempts on my life are soft.”

he flinches when yoongi dips his fingers into the bowl of soap water and splashes him.

“begone, demon.”

“your attempts are futile,” taehyung narrows his eyes, “that’s lavender-scented soap water, of the ordinary unholy kind. why won’t you go for it, hyung? jimin said jungkook’s a great person. jimin said lots of things, actually.” he knits his brows thoughtfully. “damn, he did not hesitate to spill his long time friend’s secrets to a guy he just met.” he pauses. “i might be in love with him.”

“congratulations,” yoongi says, “and it’s not like that. he doesn’t—i’m just a client. i’m literally paying him to—”

“jimin knew you had tattoos on your back,” taehyung cuts him off, and yoongi freezes. “he knew because jungkook knew. there are two things we can draw from that. one: at some point, you were here shirtless, showing jungkook your tattoos, probably because he asked. two: he was thinking about it enough to talk to jimin about it, probably along the lines of oh my god, jimin, he has tattoos, he’s perfect, what am i gonna do, he’s so fucking hot—”

“kinda sounds like it’s you who thinks i’m hot?”

“please,” taehyung says, unfazed. “i’m an actor. i can easily adopt people’s mindsets and become them. and i also think you’re hot, on a good day. i have no problem admitting that.” yoongi’s feeling pretty defeated at this point. taehyung tilts his head and gives him an intrusive stare. “i can’t believe you took off your shirt for him and you still think he only sees you as a client. do you think he just does that with everyone?”

“alright, sherlock,” yoongi bites, “get out before—”

“taehyung-ssi?”

of course jungkook is standing right there behind taehyung eyeing him quizzically and yoongi has no idea if he heard that. he buries his face into his hand as taehyung spins around.

“ah, good,” taehyung says, clapping his hands together, “i’m here to invite you both to jimin and i’s wedding. may fifteen, 2025. yes that’s seven years from now because i am unemployed and cannot burden jimin with supporting us and our five children alone. also we met like half an hour ago.”

“yep,” yoongi says lifelessly.

“children?” jungkook asks blankly.

“my five blue-tongued skinks,” taehyung elaborates, touching his fingertips to his chest, “but we’re going to share custody, obviously. so. may fifteen, 2025. save the date.”

he shoots finger guns at both of them and slaps jungkook’s shoulder on his way out. yoongi pretends not to see him in the entryway miming something potentially inappropriate. it’s hard to tell because it’s a lot of violent pointing and incomprehensible facial expressions.

“well,” jungkook laughs quietly as he comes to sit back down, “i’m happy for them. i think jimin really likes him, too.”

“they’d go well together, i think,” yoongi hums low, eyes carefully following jungkook’s movements, desperately trying to determine if he heard something, if he’s aware, at this point, that yoongi thinks about him too much, likes everything about him, likes even the parts he hates, like his terrible song choices and embarrassing catchphrases, and when yoongi took his shirt off for him and felt his fingers trace the flowers on his shoulder blades, he felt like an entire meadow, felt it blooming everywhere, everywhere, with every heartbeat a new flower pushing through his skin.

likes me / likes me not

he wants to ask so badly, but instead he’s talking about jimin and taehyung, pretending like the question isn’t hanging on the tip of his tongue. instead he’s saying, “taehyung is… pretty much the most amazing person in the world. and i’m sure i could learn to tolerate jimin.”

and jungkook is not saying whether he knows these things about yoongi. instead he’s massaging the hand lotion into yoongi’s skin with care, huffing out a soft laugh. “i know you guys like each other, even if you pretend you don’t.”

yoongi makes a noncommittal sound. jungkook’s hands on yoongi’s are warm and soft and slow, slower, until they are not moving at all. he’s staring down at his own hands covering one of yoongi’s, and yoongi is staring at his face, breath held captive in his lungs, heart skipping beats left and right.

“hyung,” jungkook says, and yoongi sees him swallow, his fingers curling against yoongi’s hand for the briefest moment. jungkook lifts his face, looks at him with his eyes wide and starry. “can i do your makeup sometime?”

yoongi blinks. once, twice. he couldn’t have anticipated that.

“you want to do my makeup?”

jungkook clutches at his hand and nods timidly.

“really want to. been thinking about it for a while. been thinking about… this one look on you. and if you let me, i’d like to try it. you don’t have to pay me, obviously, since you didn’t book it.”

“you don’t do makeup here, do you?”

jungkook shakes his head. “not professionally. i have a flat upstairs? i do makeup for my friends there sometimes.”

“—sure,” yoongi says after a moment of processing, all in vain because he’s still stuck on been thinking about this one look on you. “yeah. why not.”

jungkook exhales softly.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” yoongi confirms with a nod. jungkook’s fingertips are still gently touching him. “when do you want to do it?”

“you’re my last appointment today,” jungkook says, teeth sinking into his bottom lip briefly, “are you on a tight schedule?”

yoongi hangs out in the front of the shop while jungkook closes up, spinning around in one of the empty salon chairs, annoying hoseok and not thinking about going up to jungkook’s apartment. he hasn’t figured out how to achieve either of those things yet, but hoseok has to have a limit, and focusing on finding it helps with the second part. his natural target was jimin, but jimin’s nowhere to be seen. neither is taehyung, who hasn’t replied to yoongi’s text telling him to leave without him.

“oh, yeah, that was weird,” hoseok furrows his brow while snipping at a pixie cut. “he said he was going to show jimin his lizard, and then they disappeared. i haven’t seen them since, so i’m guessing… lizard is a euphemism for something else.”

“oh, no, he means his actual lizard,” yoongi says in an enlightened tone, tipping his head back against the backrest. “he’s showing jimin pictures of his lizards somewhere. and he’s got five. so it’s going to take some time to go through each of their backstories, personalities, and future plans.”

“ah,” hoseok says, staring at yoongi with his brow still creased. yoongi figures he’s not a fan of reptiles. he then spins the scissors in his fingers with practiced ease, and flips them into the tool belt on his hip. hoseok is one of those people who can be openly scared shitless of most things in the world and still appear effortlessly cool. “you’re waiting for kook, right?”

“...yeah,” yoongi says, warily glancing up at hoseok. he doesn’t say anything, but there’s a subtle hint of a smirk on his face. yoongi spins away from him.

“hey,” comes hoseok’s voice, firm but gentle, and yoongi makes his way back around. hoseok’s combing slender fingers through the client’s hair and applying hairspray, but his eyes are on yoongi, a funny look on his face. “i know you’re a good guy,” he begins, and pauses. yoongi waits, confused, not sure if he should thank him. “i know you’re a good guy, and it’s not really even my place to give you the whole speech, but still… jungkook’s like family. and, just, uh. be good to him?”

yoongi blinks up at him for several seconds. he opens his mouth twice before sound comes out.

“he’s just… going to do my makeup.”

“hmm. i see,” hoseok says, completely unmoved. “i think you should still remember that, just in case. i know 37 ways to kill a man with scissors and make it look like an accident.”

yoongi thinks maybe he doesn’t want to annoy hoseok anymore.

by the time jungkook comes out, his bag slung over his shoulder and keys jangling in one fist, yoongi has quite successfully mastered not thinking about him or his apartment because he’s now just thinking about hoseok stabbing him to death with barber scissors. he gets up, rubbing at the back of his neck, and jungkook gives him a gentle smile.

“ready?” yoongi’s already turned his back so he doesn’t see them, but hears jungkook mumble to hoseok the same thing yoongi said: “i’m just going to do his makeup.”

“you guys have fun with that,” hoseok says like he’s holding back a laugh. when jungkook breezes past yoongi and shoulders the door open for him, he looks faintly pink.

“you don’t have a jacket?” yoongi notices.

“we’re only going one door down,” jungkook says, “seems redundant.”

and he really shoves the key into the more plain-looking door next to the beauty salon, but yoongi still wants to give him his jacket with the way the hairs on his forearms stand up.

they trudge up two narrow staircases. the building looks fairly old and doesn’t smell like the shop downstairs; it smells more like setting powder and mild perfume. as yoongi hangs back and waits for jungkook to unlock his door, he realizes he’s nervous. of course he’s nervous. he’s liked jungkook for ages and he’s now alone at his apartment and they are going to be physically closer than they’ve ever been.

“sorry if it’s a bit messy,” jungkook murmurs, letting yoongi in, “um, make yourself at home? i’m just going to change out of work clothes quickly—do you want something to drink?”

yoongi nurses a glass of water by the kitchen counter as jungkook disappears into the bathroom, and scans over the room. it’s a small studio apartment, but plenty of space for one person; it has a high ceiling, lots of windows, and a classic french vibe with the decorative wrought iron balcony railing. yoongi can see jungkook’s personal touch and the resemblance to his studio; succulents on his bedside table, a shelf of music, half-burned candles and the remnants of a sweet vanilla scent. the only part that is messy is the makeup desk by the far right wall.

yoongi instantly loves it. but he also feels like he’s stepped into some very private part of jungkook’s soul, and is afraid of touching anything.

jungkook comes out of the bathroom—he’s changed into a plain white t-shirt, the front tucked into his jeans. he wears dark shades at the shop—for nail polish stains, he told yoongi—but light looks good on him. really, really good.

“you should wash off your makeup,” jungkook says, and yoongi realizes he’s very much staring. he bites his lips, turns to set his glass on the counter.

“sure.”

jungkook left him a face wash and a towel in the bathroom, and yoongi gets rid of the subtle makeup on his face, the black around his eyes. taehyung was right. he does put a little more effort in on days he sees jungkook.

he rakes a hand through his damp bangs and tries to decide how weird he’ll look to jungkook without makeup. it’s not that yoongi thinks he looks bad bare-faced. just different. more… well, bare, in every sense of the word.

jungkook’s organizing his myriad things on the desk, and it looks considerably neater already. he looks up at yoongi when he exits; just looks, his mouth slightly open like he just forgot to close it. then he snaps out of it, eyes flitting to the desk and back to yoongi.

“good, um. sit down please?”

yoongi lowers himself into the desk chair next to jungkook’s stool, feet planted on the floor instead of instinctively lifting off the surface like usually and that may be visual proof of how nervous he is. their knees knock together when jungkook shifts, chooses a moisturizer from the products on the desk.

“i like your place,” yoongi murmurs. jungkook gives him a small but genuine smile.

“thank you. i used to live here with jimin, if you can believe it. back when we were just starting out at the shop. all this tiny space.”

“yeah?” yoongi hums, watches jungkook dispense moisturizer on his fingers. “what was that like?”

“probably exactly what you’re picturing,” jungkook snickers softly. “you good to go?”

“kinda self-conscious,” yoongi admits, shoulders jerking as he breathes a laugh, a shy gummy smile directed at jungkook’s collar bones.

“don’t be,” jungkook says, and when yoongi glances up, he’s watching him unexpectedly intense and serious, with something indescribable and sincere. he swallows, adds quietly: “you look good. you always look good, hyung.”

when he says it, yoongi believes him.

his heart hammers restlessly as jungkook leans closer, hands hovering up to his face, tells him he’ll start with moisturizer. yoongi closes his eyes just so that he doesn’t have to watch jungkook watching him.

“let’s get it,” jungkook mumbles as he gently pats down the moisturizer, and yoongi laughs despite himself.

jungkook goes through the steps meticulously. his hands are still gentle and warm and soft as he applies the base makeup, and yoongi mostly keeps his eyes closed. it’s nice in a way where it also hurts; just how gentle he is with yoongi and how he tenderly brushes his hair out of the way. it makes yoongi’s chest overflow painfully.

“i’ve been thinking about what kind of makeup i want to do for you.” jungkook’s voice is a soothing low murmur. it makes him feel like he’s dreaming. “your face is—it’s—intriguing. it’s… captivating. it’s very… it’s soft and sharp at the same time, you know? so i want to… emphasize that softness and sharpness. i want to do something… delicate. a soft plum smokey eye and a bit of a wing. shimmery highlighter. rose pink lip tint.”

“sounds like you know what you’re doing,” yoongi mumbles, “i trust you. make me pretty.”

“because that’s, like, a challenge,” jungkook mutters. yoongi cracks his eyes open as jungkook’s hands leave his face—he only has time to kind of see jungkook, jungkook with that look in his eyes, faint red blossoming on his cheekbones—”close your eyes,” he tells yoongi, the words tumbling from his mouth in a hurry, “i’m gonna do your eye makeup.” only saw him briefly, but the image sticks to the backs of his eyelids, sends his heart running. his nails curl into his palms on his thighs.

he thinks i’m pretty / doesn’t mean he wants me like that

jungkook shifts closer. yoongi doesn’t see him but he hears and feels him. his leg is slotted in between yoongi’s, yoongi’s knee pressing up against the inside of his thigh. feels him hover, feels his fingertips gently ghost against his brow to move his hair; he’s pretty sure he shivers, and prays to whoever’s listening that it’s not noticeable. feels the feathery bristles of the brush on his eyelid. so, so careful and yoongi can’t stand it.

jungkook doesn’t say much as he does yoongi’s eyes; it requires concentration, yoongi supposes. as he’s applying the winged eyeliner, a couple of soft, frustrated grunts escape his throat, though, and a smile rises to yoongi’s face, slow and silent like the moonrise because he doesn’t want to fuck up his work.

“god, hyung,” jungkook whispers, so quietly yoongi almost thinks he imagined it. jungkook doesn’t elaborate. breathes in, and leans away; yoongi can somehow feel him leaving his perimeter. “open your eyes.”

yoongi opens them slow. blinks languidly at their knees still slotted, adjusting to light. jungkook is waiting for him to look up so he does. jungkook, for a moment, doesn’t say anything. stares at him, wide-eyed, lips parted, as if he’s been put under a spell.

“hyung,” is all he says, “fuck.”

yoongi subtly raises his eyebrows.

“i, um, i’ll just.” jungkook turns towards the desk and manages to knock a bunch of things over. “don’t look yet! let me just finish.”

yoongi doesn’t close his eyes this time when jungkook swipes shimmering powder highlighter on his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, and his cupid’s bow, or when he takes the lip tint, touches fingertips to yoongi’s jaw, murmurs, part your lips. he keeps a careful hold of yoongi’s jaw, his eyes carefully fixed on yoongi’s mouth, and he’s so close yoongi can see every beautiful detail of his face and the warm flush standing out fiercely against the white of his shirt.

yoongi wants to kiss him. really badly.

“can i be honest?” jungkook asks suddenly, his tone low and quiet. it’s probably a rhetorical question, but yoongi makes a short affirmative sound. “i wanted to do your makeup since the day i saw you. from the moment you walked in—it was so hard not to look at you.” he’s still holding the applicator to yoongi’s bottom lip, but yoongi doesn’t think he’s doing much with it. “you—your face, your hands, everything about you... is so pretty.” yoongi watches the tip of his tongue glide across his bottom lip. “your voice, your music. your tattoos. you... drive me insane, hyung. and it’s not only…” he lowers the lip tint, but still stares at the same spot on his mouth. “when you walked in, i thought, maybe he’s an asshole—not that i thought you were, but that would’ve been… easier for me. but you weren’t, you weren’t at all, you turned out to be… you, the kindest, softest...” he breathes in, and finally meets yoongi’s eyes—his brow twitches, almost as if he were in pain. “i don’t do that with everyone.”

yoongi can barely remember how to speak.

“what?”

“i don’t just ask people to show me their tattoos, i don’t ask to touch them like that, oh my god, hyung—”

yoongi hooks a hand around the back of his neck, pulls him in, and kisses him.

eyes closed, just the press of their lips, until yoongi eases his grip slightly, and ventures a tiny tentative movement against him. jungkook’s lips, like his hands, are soft—

the lip tint clatters somewhere on the floor. jungkook makes a tiny sound, and only a second later, he’s kissing yoongi back fervently, so hard it almost hurts.

“oh,” yoongi breathes, jungkook’s fingers clinging onto his shirt front and digging into his thigh.

“yoongi,” jungkook says like a plea. oh, yoongi thinks again, and pulls him back in, his heart beating out of his chest. holds his face in both hands and kisses him properly, or as properly as he can with jungkook so eager, crashing into him first like a wave and then like rain, coming down on him ceaselessly and with abandon, making yoongi dizzy with every kind of want. he pries his lips apart with his own, licks into his hot mouth, and the sheer noise jungkook makes is enough to make heat coil in his belly.

“fuck, jungkook,” he groans into his mouth, “fuck, what the fuck, are you serious—”

“what do you mean am i serious,” jungkook laughs, but it’s half breathless gasps. he pulls back to look yoongi in the eye, and fuck, he looks beautiful, looks like a mess already, his pupils blown, his mouth swollen and red—an imprint of yoongi’s lip tint probably somewhere on it. “i’ve liked you since forever, how could i not—i was trying to muster up the courage to ask you out for coffee, this isn’t really—how i meant for it to happen—”

“we can do that,” yoongi agrees hurriedly, only sort of processing what he’s saying, “coffee, yes, let’s do that—but can i kiss you more now? really wanna kiss you more—”

“yes, yes please,” jungkook breathes, and then his mouth is back on yoongi’s. jungkook kisses with the intensity and heat of a thousand burning suns, and it’s the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to yoongi, even if he thinks it might kill him. he thinks he knows how icarus felt for the first time in his life.

jungkook’s trying to tug him close, but the chairs and their legs are in all the wrong places, and after some frustrated fumbling, jungkook pulls away again, their mouths separating with a wet sound; looks at yoongi with dark eyes, panting, and before yoongi can make himself form words to ask him what he’s doing and why he isn’t kissing him, jungkook mumbles, hold on, and leans further back. at first yoongi thinks he’s asking yoongi to wait; then it occurs to him he might also be literally asking him to hold on, because jungkook draws his knee up towards his chest, the sole of his foot aimed at the edge of the chair between yoongi’s legs, and breaking into a blinding grin at the last second, kicks yoongi across the room.

the chair rolls to the far wall, gradually slowing down until it’s not so much a collision as it is a gentle bump.

yoongi is astonished.

his mouth falls open first; then a single disbelieving laugh punches out of his throat. jungkook follows after him in unhurried strides, still grinning wide—but as he comes closer, it morphs into something slightly different, something that makes yoongi close his mouth and swallow. he allows his gaze to trail down and back up jungkook’s lean body, his teeth unconsciously sinking into his bottom lip as he locks eyes with him. jungkook’s eyes are magnetic and dark and his smile is almost a contradiction, close-mouthed and pretty, and yoongi reaches for him automatically.

“you,” he huffs, and sounds absolutely gone for him but doesn’t even care right now, “you’ll pay for that.”

“yeah?” jungkook grins. yoongi’s hand finds his waist, and without hesitation, jungkook climbs into his lap, knees on either side of him, forearms bracketing yoongi’s head on the backrest. yoongi sucks in a breath; with his eyes never leaving jungkook’s, wraps his arms around his middle, palms traveling firm and slow across his ribs and the expanse of his back over his shirt, feeling how he fits into his arms, feeling his lithe body respond to his touch. “hyung,” jungkook gasps, apple red mouth parted.

“kiss me,” yoongi asks quietly, and jungkook surges down, kisses almost like he’s angry, deep and thorough and bruising, hands sliding into yoongi’s hair and tugging just enough to make him groan, make him tighten his hands around jungkook’s waist. jungkook’s thighs slide farther apart until he’s fully seated in yoongi’s lap, heavy and solid against him, and yoongi makes a pained noise, fists the back of his shirt. he tugs at jungkook’s bottom lip with his teeth, drawing a soft whimper from him, and it pours down his throat like hot liquid, pools in the pit of his stomach. “fuck, jungkook,” he manages, and jungkook makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

“touch me more,” he whispers, arching in his touch, “touch me more, please, yoongi—”

yoongi is more than happy to comply. slips his hands under his shirt, splays fingers across his back, his hot-running skin and the hard muscles. jungkook feels so good, his ridiculous tiny waist fitting into yoongi’s hands perfectly; jungkook, he mumbles into his mouth in some kind of awe, and jungkook moans, fingers tangled in yoongi’s hair and clinging to his shoulder, dipping under his neckline. yoongi drags nails up his abdomen, feels the muscles constrict, and he wants more, wants to see—

“can i take this off you?” he whispers, and jungkook wastes no time sitting back to pull the shirt over his head, giving yoongi no time to prepare whatsoever. suddenly he’s got a lapful of half-naked jungkook, and yoongi knew he was hot, but this is just—this is outrageous.

“oh,” he says, strained, and clutches at jungkook’s hips as though hanging on for dear life, “warn a guy, jesus christ, jungkook—”

“are you angry at my abs?” jungkook asks breathlessly, laughter in his voice, and yoongi looks up at him, brow furrowed and swollen mouth open.

“yes,” he bites out, “they are just—unreasonable, and you can’t just—do that, you’re sitting on my damn lap, think of my, my pulse—”

jungkook laughs with his eyes closed, barely making a sound, flushed cherry blossom pink, and yoongi’s never wanted to kiss someone’s teeth before yet here he is. he’s, like, in love, he’s completely and utterly gone and they haven’t been on a real date yet.

“i take that as, mm, as a compliment?” jungkook hums, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, and instantly the heat is back as he leans over yoongi, shifts in his lap, and yoongi is reminded he’s been half-hard since jungkook straddled him. he makes a low soft sound from his throat, runs his hands over jungkook’s thick thighs, up his sides. jungkook brushes his lips against his cheekbone, drops devastatingly gentle feathery kisses along the side of his face. “‘m not prettily inked like you—”

“you don’t need it,” yoongi tells him, and he has no idea when his voice got so rough, “don’t need it to be absolutely fucking gorgeous—” jungkook makes a breathy high-pitched sound and rocks into him at the praise, face tucked into his neck, and so yoongi keeps going, hands sliding on bare skin, keeping him close. “so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, “been wanting you for ages—”

“yoongi,” jungkook grunts, and crashes their mouths together again, kissing with fervor, with teeth and tongue, his fist in yoongi’s hair keeping his face angled the way he wants, body rolling against him, hips grinding down, and yoongi loves it, this insistence and intensity, it’s so fucking hot; he moans into the kiss and grabs jungkook’s hips, encouraging his movements.

jungkook’s hands between their bodies are tugging on yoongi’s shirt.

“hyung, yoongi, take this off, please—”

it takes a bit of maneuvering, and jungkook almost clocks him in the jaw as he yanks the shirt off his body with more force than necessary, but after apologizing profusely whilst giggling helplessly, he’s back in yoongi’s lap and skimming his fingers over the roses on his collarbones and upper arms, making yoongi shiver.

“pretty,” he’s whispering, “pretty hyung, so pretty—”

yoongi flushes even more just from that, and tugs him back down by the back of his neck.

he thinks about the coffee date for a fleeting moment, and wonders if they’re moving too fast—decides fuck it approximately 1.8 seconds later, because they both want this, and the way jungkook sighs into his mouth is a pretty compelling argument. he glides his hands up jungkook’s stomach, his chest, teases fingertips over his nipples, and jungkook squirms against him, gasps into his mouth, and yoongi definitely wants to explore his unexpected sensitivity more, can’t wait to learn what makes him writhe and gasp, what makes him feel good and what makes him feel like he’s been sent to heaven—preferably when they aren’t making out in a creaky office chair.

for now, jungkook grinds against him increasingly desperately and yoongi grazes his fingers just above his waistband, mumbles, “what do you want? tell me what you want. anything.”

jungkook inhales unsteadily.

“touch me,” he whispers, “please—”

gently, his fingers wrap around yoongi’s; yoongi lets his hand be guided down, down where he is hard in his jeans; his own dick jumps, arousal so tightly-wound in his belly he thinks he might burst. he applies pressure, palms him slowly, and jungkook lets out the most beautiful ragged moan, clings to his shoulders and rocks into his palm. yoongi slides his other hand into his hair, mouths along his jawline, presses teeth and tongue against his skittering pulse until jungkook’s breath stutters.

“more—yoongi, wanna feel your—your hands—”

“fuck,” yoongi manages, and fumbles with the button of jungkook’s jeans. employs both of his hands to tug them open because no one’s grading technique here. “okay?” he checks, barely dipping a fingertip under the elastic waistband, and when jungkook rattles off a litany of yes yes yes, slips a hand into his briefs. his other palm firm and grounding against jungkook’s back, merely strokes him gingerly with his long fingers first, taking it slow more for himself than for jungkook, because his heart is about to punch out of his ribcage. jungkook makes breathy little sounds, and yoongi sees his toes curl and uncurl behind him. it’s the most devastating thing he’s ever seen.

he wraps his fingers around him, and takes him out. jungkook is leaking, hard and heavy, and yoongi swears roughly into his sweat-coated neck, leans his forehead against his shoulder to watch his own fingers skim over the flushed tip, slick and sticky, watches precum string between them. jungkook’s gripping his hair so tightly it almost hurts.

“pretty,” yoongi tips his face up to mumble nonsensically into the hollow of his collarbone, “you’re so pretty, kook-ah, so beautiful.”

jungkook moans weakly into his ear, his hips stuttering forward into the ring of his fingers. yoongi pumps him loosely a couple of times and rubs his palm over the wet head, trying his best to take note of his reactions and learn what he likes, jungkook’s nails scraping across his shoulders, jungkook gasping hyung or yoongi or fuck fuck fuck.

he’s sure jungkook has lubricant in some shape or form somewhere around here, but he also doesn’t see either of them getting up in the near future; so he briefly takes his hand off of jungkook to bring it up to his mouth, and rather unceremoniously licks a wet stripe across his palm, all the way up to his fingertips. tastes jungkook on his tongue, and while he’s never been a fan of the taste of precum or cum, jungkook doesn’t taste bad.

“oh, my god,” he hears a strained gasp, and locks eyes with jungkook, who sits back to watch yoongi. he looks so wrecked with his bitten mouth and glazed-over eyes that yoongi isn’t half as embarrassed as he usually would be, but instead finds himself wanting to put on a show; looks at jungkook under his lashes as he sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, gets them wet and messy, and pulls them out slowly. jungkook looks dazed, his fingers working against the muscles of yoongi’s shoulders; finally he blinks, tugs his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down hard.

“fuck, yoongi,” he says low, a dark shadow passing across his face, and closes the distance, kisses him the most urgent yet, so much power behind it that yoongi forgets what he was doing for a second, just groans and gives into it, mouth pliant and inviting the drag of jungkook’s tongue against his own. he remembers soon enough, with jungkook poking wetly at his abdomen, and reaches back down, takes him into his fist. jerks him fast and tight, wanting to give him what he needs, wanting to see him come apart.

jungkook’s getting close, there are several tells: his body squirming so erratically yoongi thinks he might fall right off of him, his thighs shaking, the continuous whiny aah aahs from his mouth. coming in his pants like a sixteen-year-old is a very formidable threat to yoongi.

“wait, wait,” jungkook breathes, seizing his wrist, and yoongi stops moving immediately; waits in the silence of their heavy breathing, and jungkook swallows, blinks at him, eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings, so, so pretty. he releases a laugh in the form of an exhale, and looks at yoongi, the flush on his face darkening like ripe cherries. “didn’t wanna come yet—wanna touch you first.”

“oh,” yoongi says, and sounds like he’s in pain, “oh, god, jungkook—”

jungkook drags a hand down his chest, fingers skittering at his waist, hooking over the waistband of his jeans.

“wanna touch you, hyung,” he mumbles, kissing the corner of yoongi’s mouth sloppily, “can i?”

“yes, please, kook-ah,” yoongi rambles, near delirious with how much he’s aching for it. jungkook works his jeans open quickly, and knocks their damp foreheads together to peer down at his hand as he rubs it over the soaked through spot on yoongi’s light blue briefs. a breathless haah falls out of yoongi’s mouth, and jungkook nudges at his face with his own, seeking his lips until he finds them. it’s less like kissing, more like them slotting their mouths together and panting, jungkook’s teeth grazing his bottom lip; experimentally, he bites a little bit harder, catching onto the fact that yoongi likes it from the filthy, unadulterated moan pouring from his throat and his hips rolling up into jungkook’s palm.

“yoongi, fuck,” he hears jungkook say, and his eyes have closed but jungkook sounds dark and ruined and like he’s witnessing something wondrous. yoongi tips his head back against the backrest as jungkook peels the thin fabric out of the way; jungkook’s saying more things, saying, pretty hyung, the prettiest, wanna make you feel good. yoongi swallows roughly, head rolling on the backrest in a way he can’t entirely control as jungkook takes him into his hand, mimics what yoongi did to him, running his fingers over the wetness and up and down his length. keeps his grip maddeningly light as he moves his hand rhythmically, caressing him more than anything else, and yoongi lets out a breathy whine, fingers digging into jungkook’s thighs, hips attempting to rise under his weight.

jungkook hums against his neck, and goes on to mouth at the roses on his collarbones, trace them with his tongue, and yoongi wonders hazily if he’s been wanting to do that for a while. he nips and bites and sucks at the skin until there are marks of a different kind blooming above the roses.

“is it good?” he whispers, breath tickling yoongi’s neck, and for some reason yoongi’s finding the fact that he’s seeking confirmation unbearably adorable. “does it feel good, hyung?”

“so good, kook-ah,” yoongi manages, and jungkook makes a pleased little noise. yoongi’s chest is so full it hurts. he blinks his eyes open, fumbles between their bodies gracelessly until he finds jungkook’s slick fingers. “here,” he murmurs, pulls jungkook’s hand up, and takes his fingers into his mouth. jungkook inhales sharply, and yoongi watches his face go through the five stages of grief as he sucks around his digits the way he did with his own. jungkook watches him darkly, presses the pads of his fingers against his tongue, and yoongi moans quietly, his dick twitching, finding the act of emergency lubing much more enticing when it’s jungkook’s fingers in his mouth.

jungkook mumbles something that sounds like killing me, and ruts against him, working his hips against yoongi’s in tiny circles, forearm propped against the backrest for support, his biceps bulging in a way that’s just uncalled for. yoongi pops his fingers out of his mouth, tugs him into a sloppy kiss, and guides jungkook’s hand back down, his movements hasty and urgent.

“kook, kook, kook-ah,” he’s murmuring for no reason, their tangled fingers closing around the both of them, and jungkook moans in arpeggios.

it’s so messy, there’s little to no finesse, but it’s so good, the feeling of them rubbing together and the slide of their slick fingers, jungkook fucking into their fists and letting out soft grunts and moans, biting on yoongi’s lips until yoongi whines and drags his nails down his side.

“‘m close,” jungkook mumbles, fingers curling in yoongi’s hair, pushing his face up into the nook of his neck, “yoongi, yoongi—”

“come on,” yoongi encourages, taking control when jungkook’s fingers stutter and slide away, dig into yoongi’s hip instead. keeps murmuring things to him, encouragements and praises pouring from his mouth in a steady stream, and yoongi never talks this much during sex but it’s effortless now, he doesn’t even think about it, feeds on the way it makes jungkook writhe and gasp.

jungkook’s moan sounds like it was cut clean off with a knife; his body tenses, arches, and then he’s coming all over yoongi’s stomach and chest. yoongi slips an arm around him and pulls him close, keeps him steady as jungkook goes boneless against him, catching his breath with his forehead sliding on yoongi’s shoulder.

“oh,” he gasps, “oh, shit.”

“yeah,” yoongi chokes a laugh, fingers skimming up his side, over the bumps of his ribs, his heaving chest. kisses his mussed up hair, his sweaty temple, then his slack mouth when jungkook lifts his face. “you good?”

“i’d say so,” jungkook says, and breaks into a grin, tired and happy and fucked out. yoongi’s looking at him like he’s in love.

he’s also still hard between them, which jungkook doesn’t neglect much longer. all he does, pretty much, is apply some pressure, scrape his fingernails against his scalp, murmur, come on, wanna see you come, wanna see you, and yoongi comes, just like that. feels like he comes for ages, feels like jungkook’s physical weight on him is the only thing preventing him from astral projecting right out of his body.

he doesn’t know what his body, his face, his voice do, but after the white washes over him, jungkook’s breathing, oh, oh, yoongi, running gentle fingers down his neck and shoulders. his hands: gentle and warm and soft. yoongi rolls his head down the backrest back onto his shoulders, waiting for his breath to calm, and jungkook holds his jaw in his fingertips, kisses him sweetly on the mouth.

“you know, i can’t even be bummed that your makeup is sort of ruined,” he hums, looking at yoongi with lidded eyes and softly caressing his jaw, “because you look so good like this.”

“oh,” yoongi blinks. “oh, my god. i forgot you did my makeup.”

jungkook laughs quietly. “i take that as a confirmation it was good?”

“so good.” yoongi swallows, closes his eyes, and lets the back of his head hit the chair with a muffled thud. “now it’s kinda gross though. sticky and cold.”

“i’m not sure my legs work,” jungkook evaluates. yoongi cracks one eye open to glare at him.

“are you trying to get me to wheel us to the bathroom?”

jungkook looks at him. “is it working?”

yoongi actually tries, after they are tucked back in and still kind of gross; spins them around and tries to use the wall as leverage to propel them across the floor, an attempt which ends in them almost toppling over after two meesely feet and then almost toppling over again when their laughing makes the chair wobble around uncontrollably.

when yoongi inspects himself in the bathroom mirror five minutes later, he determines the makeup still looks good. the eye makeup is a little bit smudged but the glossy highlighter has stayed on. some of it could be the post-orgasm glow, though.

“it looked good, i promise,” jungkook says, leaning on the doorframe behind yoongi. he’s cleaned up already, and looks wildly good, his hair swept off his forehead and tousled like it’s had wind in it. he’s wearing his shirt, and is holding yoongi’s in his hand. “i did an amazing job. you just have to take my word for it.”

“i guess you have to do it again,” yoongi hums, “and this time try not to, like, jump my bones.”

“wow, the nerve,” jungkook says, aghast, “you kissed me first.”

he pelts yoongi with the shirt, and yoongi grins, catches it before it slips to the floor. as he shakes it out, jungkook gravitates closer. yoongi meets his eyes in the mirror, and jungkook gives the smallest, softest smile, before dropping his gaze like he’s shy; he gently lowers his forehead on yoongi’s bare shoulder, and yoongi’s heart hurts.

“do you still wanna get that coffee?” jungkook asks in a tiny voice. he’s tracing the flowers on yoongi’s shoulder blades with his fingertips. yoongi doesn’t say i’d go anywhere with you. but he thinks it.

“let me just put on my shirt,” he says with the warmth of the thing making a home out of his chest. jungkook peeks up from behind his shoulder so that only his big eyes are visible. but yoongi can tell he’s smiling.

“wanna know something?” jungkook asks in the stairs that are almost too narrow to walk side-by-side while holding hands, but yoongi has been quoted as saying he’s willing to die for hand-holding, so it’s a challenge he’ll take. he hums affirmatively, adjusting his fingers in the spaces between jungkook’s. “when you came out of the bathroom after taking off your makeup… the first thing i thought was is this how he would look every morning.”

yoongi turns to look at him. jungkook’s looking at the steps, bottom lip between his teeth. yoongi looks forward again so as to not stumble and die.

“i wanted to… see you like that every morning,” jungkook continues quietly. “want to. um. not every morning. not right away. but… some mornings. as many mornings as you want. i’m saying… i want to wake up next to you and do all the boring morning stuff with you. oh my god.”

they are at the bottom of the stairs and they come to a stop. jungkook’s looking decidedly away from yoongi, at the opposite wall, and his neck is faintly pink. he’s holding onto yoongi’s hand really tightly, though.

“it wasn’t that embarrassing,” yoongi consoles, bringing the back of jungkook’s hand up to his grin, and pressing a fleeting kiss to it. jungkook makes a mortified sound. yoongi gently tugs him along towards where it’s still light out. “and i want the same thing.”

“you do?”

he pulls them into the street, and turns around to face jungkook, who’s finally looking back at him, bright and beautiful. yoongi tugs him close, and tells him, “i want to do all the boring morning stuff with you too. how could i not.” how could i not. he really means it. jungkook seems to think getting to wake up next to him every morning is anything less than a privilege.

he didn’t really consider it earlier because they were sitting. but he has to stand on his tiptoes to kiss jungkook. so he does just that. he holds his face and kisses him gentle warm and soft, and jungkook’s arms encompass him, and yoongi doesn’t really want him to ever stop holding him. he feels the outline of his smile in the kiss.

and it’s a good kiss but yoongi still doesn’t expect the eruption of cheers that abruptly rings out on his left. he jumps a little, and stares at jungkook, wide-eyed. jungkook blinks back at him. they turn to look at the same time.

it’s a jarringly familiar sight.

“what are you doing here,” yoongi says bluntly when he finds kim taehyung hanging out with some pigeons outside the beauty salon and also jungkook’s apartment on a clear saturday evening around maybe 7:30-ish.

“hello, hyung, very nice to see you, how are you?” taehyung grins up at them from where he’s squatting by the buildingside doing something that yoongi hopes to god isn’t hand-feeding pieces of bagel to street pigeons. “i’m just hand-feeding bagel to these pigeons.”

“i can see that,” yoongi says flatly.

there are two other people who contributed to the cheering. jimin’s endorsing taehyung, hovering at his side holding the bag of bagels with his other hand buried in his pocket, smirking at them knowingly. hoseok is eyeing the pigeons cautiously from a safe distance on the other side of the pavement, but still looks very happy for them.

taehyung’s hair is—different. it’s so light brown it might actually just be blonde, and whatever jimin did to it to make it look like it would smell like seawater and sand and the sun, works really well for taehyung. yoongi locks eyes with jimin when taehyung is focused on cahooting with pigeons, points at the surfer curls, and raises his eyebrows. jimin makes a pair of horn signs with his index and pinky fingers. it’s the closest to a civilized conversation with a heartfelt compliment and a thank you they’ve ever had.

“were you… waiting out here for us to come out just so you could prove i didn’t actually do yoongi-hyung’s makeup?” jungkook says with disbelief.

“of course not,” taehyung says, standing up and shaking bagel crumbs off of his palms. “we were waiting in the café across the street. but the rest was pretty accurate.”

“well, i did do his makeup,” jungkook narrows his eyes.

“yeah,” jimin begins, “either this really isn’t your best one—” he gestures broadly at yoongi’s general being, “or you were purposely going for this makeup was impeccable and then i had heated sex with my makeup artist in a desk chair which, by the way, is actually jimin’s and you were supposed to give it back a year ago.”

yoongi and jungkook share the same horrified silence.

“wait—” jungkook starts weakly.

“dude,” jimin sighs, and waves a hand at the building. “your apartment has, like, a billion windows.” jungkook goes pale. yoongi just stares at jimin, whose mouth quirks devilishly. “don’t worry, you could only see, like, the top of jungkook’s head. but i mean, no one has conversations that long while sitting in someone’s lap facing them.”

“yoongi actually does that, sometimes,” taehyung says contemplatively. “so i don’t know. we shouldn’t rule that out.”

“you can keep the chair, by the way,” jimin says genially.

“thanks,” jungkook says in a dead voice.

“oh, my god,” yoongi says, “i’m going to cross this street to the café now and i’m going to be hoping a car hits me.”

“wait,” yelps hoseok, who’s been chased by a pigeon even further down the pavement. he’s cornered at some motorcycles parked on the side of the street. “congrats! and i’m sorry i threatened you, yoongi!”

“it’s okay, no hard feelings,” yoongi shouts back. it’s very difficult to feel threatened by someone who’s shrieking at a group of pigeons and seems to think taehyung has some kind of control over them because he’s pleading, call them back, tae.

“if they intimidate you it’s because you deserve it!” taehyung’s yelling as yoongi escapes across the street, jungkook’s hand in his, jungkook’s breathless laugh in his ears and in some place more permanent, in a safe, in a box in his heart where he’ll reach when he needs it, when he needs to be reminded of the good things in the world.

jungkook slows them down outside of the café.

“before we go in, i need to do something,” he says, squeezing yoongi’s hand and biting down on his bottom lip.

“okay?” yoongi says as jungkook takes hold of his upper arms and steers him to stand in front of him in what feels like a very formal manner. he seems serious and vaguely nervous and yoongi finds it perplexing but also endearing. jungkook inhales deeply.

“okay,” he says, looking yoongi firmly in the eye, “so we already got each other off and established we want to be gross and domestic together. but i want to do this properly, so…” his posture shifting, relaxing, he rubs at the side of his neck, and he grins, slightly embarrassed but with the sun trapped behind his teeth. “min yoongi, i like you. will you date me?”

that’s how yoongi starts dating jeon jungkook: uttering the easiest yes he’s ever said, smiling like a lovestruck fool in front of some old guy just trying to enjoy a cup of coffee on the patio, with taehyung very distinctly screaming about pigeons in the background. it’s exactly what he pictured.

—likes me.

#yoonkook #bts fic #idk how i should tag this i dont have a system yet

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dork-in-a-trenchcoat · 5 years ago

Text

((Pulled from a very old relationship prompt because this was fun to do back in the day on Sev’s blog, so might as well do Casip because SOMEONE mentioned yesterday that she had been going back to re-read old Casip and I guess it’s about time to post something new.))

It bounces around a lot in timeline, but eeeehhhhhhh it’s fine. Only like 3 people don’t scroll past the Casip stuff anyway X’DDD There are probably typos.

Attack hugging them

Whether by nature of his patience, or by nature of his significant other’s impatience, Castiel was usually slow moving in comparison to greet his Mate after a long absence. His was the quiet embrace from behind. The hand gently tracing hair back from her face when she slept. Quite the opposite, and quite literally, this evening Flip had gotten the jump on him, leaping against his chest with all the grace of a stampeding linebacker down a staircase.

“If either of us were Human, we would need the emergency room after that.” he grunted, easing an elbow away from his Vessel’s groin.

--------

Falling asleep on or next to them

"I’m not tired.” Flip had protested.

“You are.” Castiel replied patiently.

They didn’t have many moments together. It seemed always that the Earth was on the brink of destruction, or the slumbering Humans of the world needed tending. Schedules being what they were, spare quality time was precious, though currently Flip was far too exhausted to indulge in it. Defeated, she curled into a ball on his chest, resting under the blanket of his massive (to her at least), warm hand. Castiel typically did not require sleep, but he was content to rest in a meditative state until such time that she would wake.

----------

Giving them the best back massage they’ve ever had

Though he’d repeatedly insisted that his muscles refreshed themselves constantly through use of his Grace, arguing with the Fairy was often a fruitless endeavor. Her stubbornness was deep and encompassing as the sea. With an overly dramatic eye roll, he finally shed his trenchcoat and jacket to sit backwards in a dining chair. Arms rested on the chair top, chin rested on arms. He could hear a faint jingling as she phased herself up and bespelled her hands for warmth.

Slowly, steady pressure worked its way across his upper back, across his shoulders, and along a tight section of muscles in the base of his wings. Completely involuntary, he groaned into his arms. He’d only ever seen the idea of massages as a means to an end for muscle therapy. They felt like this all along??? Why had it taken him so long to allow one? Her expert fingers worked and kneaded and molded him like warm putty, melting to jelly.

“Enjoying yourself?” Flip inquired rhetorically.

“Very much so~” Cas mumbled in hopes that this feeling could continue for quite a long time.

When she eased a soft vibration spell through her fingers, it was reasonably safe to assume that he was enjoying himself so thoroughly that in that moment she could have talked him into almost anything.

---------

Holding their hand for the first time

It had only been meant as a signal. Whilst posing as an unassuming pair in a coffee shop, Flip was brightly looking around as Castiel pretended to read a menu. When the necromancer revealed themselves in their habitual caffeine run, Castiel felt Flip’s cool fingers slide over his own under the table, gently squeezing to let him know the target had arrived. At first, he hadn’t recognized it as the signal. They were not yet involved as more than friends at this point, but it was familiar in a way which didn’t make sense, and comforting in a way it should not be.

“Thank you for the assist.” Cas had whispered awkwardly.

“Less bad Dreams triggered by that goon means less work for me, so trust me when I say it’s not a problem.” Flip whispered back.

---------

Hugging them from behind when they weren’t expecting it

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Cas struggled to explain.

“Then you shouldn’t have said it that way.” Flip quipped, angrily picking up the broken shards from the angelic liquor bottle she’d trod upon and crushed. “If you have to be drunk off your ass to tolerate spending the night, then why the hell are you even here?”

His head spun frantically, both from the alcohol and from panic. He hadn’t expected her to arrive back so soon. Everything was meant to be cleaned up and then he could just remain in a slightly tipsy stupor for a while. The truth was, things with the Winchesters were going haywire. Between tense attitudes with Jack joining the fold, complications with alternate universes, and the uphill struggles with his own depression, he’d only wanted to dull the upsetting thoughts buzzing in his mind so that they could enjoy each other’s company. But he’d worded it so poorly.

“I’m sorry. I was... trying to even out my mood. Everything has been remarkably stressful lately and I didn’t want to take out these frustrations on you. Angelic liquor has a calming effect on me. You’ve seen this. But I took it to excess, and I am sorry.” he unsteadily moved to the door. “I will go. I’m... I will go.”

Flip narrowed her eyes, watching him brace against the wall. It wasn’t particularly safe for him to wander out in that condition, regardless of whether or not she was angry with him. Castiel had the tendency to be thoughtless in the way he expressed himself from time to time, but it was rare that his intention was to be truly mean. If this was his poor attempt to avoid emptying frustrations onto their evening... then his Heart had been in the right place, even if his words had not.

When he felt her arms circle his middle, softly holding him in place, Castiel swallowed heavily and apologized once more.

“Next time we’ll make a drinking game of it, if you need it.” Flip whispered. “I don’t want to see you getting wobbly by yourself again, especially if your mood is south of sunny by this much.”

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

Hugging them way too tightly

“Hggn… Flippitn, please…” Cas wheezed. “My ribs are susceptible to breaks now.”

His injuries were minor as compared to many of the other patrons from the city’s commuter bus. The walk from Flip’s hideout to the Gas N Sip where he endured employment as a Human was not far, but the outlet mall he needed to visit was too far to walk to that day. Being that he needed to purchase a set of skid-proof shoes per his employer’s new uniform requirements, there was really no other option. How unfortunate that the bus driver was working his seventh double-shift in a row. The old man had fallen asleep at the wheel, and capsized the bus over the highway median.

Paramedics had swarmed the scene, going through the motions of onsite triage to discern who required the most immediate of attention. Castiel managed to heave several people out of the bus windows down to the people who were waiting on the ground.

By the time his minor head wound was being addressed, a woman with eyes just a little too bright to look natural had been seen pushing her way through the throng of people blocking civilians. He signaled that he would like to allow her near, if only to make sure that she didn’t get into a fight. That woman was now crushing him in a hug, sending a symphony of cracks along his ribs and spine.

“Ma’am, you’ll need to be careful. We think he might have a concussion.” a woman advised.

Flip looked back and waved to someone else. A person with neatly tied dreadlocks as well as the same unnatural eyes, his green rather than blue. Supposedly ‘help’ sent from the emergency room in the next town over. Strangely, each person he checked on seemed completely fine as soon as he touched them, as if by some miracle. Not really so much a miracle as a Healer Sprite. Not that they needed to know that.

“Thanks, Frizz…” Flip whispered. “Cas, you’re still taking off work tomorrow or I will re-concuss you for scaring me.”

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

Kissing their forehead or cheek

“You’re not going to get me sick. My immune system is mighty and yours is malnourished Human.” Flip insisted. “And if you don’t let me do it my way, I’m getting a rectal thermometer and you’re gonna have an awkward night.”

Flip was not a Fae of idle threats. As long as Castiel had known the Moon Sprite, she was always prepared to follow through on anything she put to the table. He sighed and dropped his hands.

“Fine.”

He waited as patiently as he could for the tiny woman to flutter up and press her lips to his burning forehead.

“One hundred and three,” she reported. “You HAVE to take a fever reducer because you’re going to risk brain damage if it goes any higher.”

“I don’t care for the taste of it…” he complained.

“Dean was right. You are a baby in a trenchcoat.”

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

Kissing their neck

“That is very distracting.” Castiel stated.

To all appearances, he was not at all distracted. He carried on writing down instructions from his online doula class as if his Mate was not tenderly working her mouth over the back of his neck and over the curve of his shoulder.

“I’m trying to determine how much time it takes for contractions to start after the mucus plug falls out. If I don’t scan in my notes before nine, my classmates will shun me in the message board.”

Flip paused in her endeavor to give him a deadpan look.

“You’re a real romantic, ne?” she sighed. “Alright. Do your homework. I’m going to go have a soak.”

“I could join you when I am done…” he called after her. “Perhaps you could pick up your affections then?”

“No, I’m warding the door.” Flip laughed, zooming off.

“Do not ward the door.”

“Nuts to you, I’m warding the doooooooor!”

“Mmph. She’s going to ward the door.” Cas grumbled to himself, rolling his eyes as if complaining to someone else in the room. Perhaps the powers that be.

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

Kissing them softly on the lips

“Thank you for the assist.” Castiel acknowledged, tilting the case of German beer in a gesture of gratitude.

As he could no longer fly, having his Mate pop overseas via Portal to retrieve a particular brand of beverage was certainly a boon. It would go over well with the Winchesters to bring something that wasn’t off brand from a gas station. Or so he’d assumed.

“Calling in Fairy favors for booze?” Dean asked dubiously. “What’d you trade for that, Cas, a kindergartener?”

“I did not trade a kindergartener for beer, Dean.” Castiel replied with a huff. “I asked that she pick this up for us after work because she was going to be in Germany anyway. Strangely, if you ask people nicely, they will sometimes comply with your requests.”

“How do you know where she’s working on a given night?” Sam puzzled. “You keep in touch that much? Thought you two were like… frienemies. No offense.”

“I have contacts outside of the two of you.” the Angel grumped. “Some of them are still alive. Some of them don’t hate me.”

Knowing that beer and Bonanza night was strictly a guy thing in the bunker, Flip decided to duck the conversation in favor of having a girl’s night elsewhere with Jilomena and Silt. Even with an adopted Human disguise, she didn’t need any further attention drawn to herself outside of a run-down Waffle House.

“Some of them have places to be.” Flip hemmed.

She tipped a finger under Castiel’s chin and softly pressed her lips to his. She then waved farewell before vanishing quite suddenly. Heaven help him.

“Cas... you bangin’ a Fairy?” Dean sputtered.

“The beer is getting warm, Dean. We should go.” Cas evaded, sliding the box into the back seat of the Impala.

“Cas,” Dean insisted. “Cas, what the hell?! When were you gonna tell us that you were off gettin’ a bowl of Lucky Charms in your downtime?!”

“Do you talk about every transient woman you’ve bedded?”

“YES.” Dean slapped a hand on the bumper. “That’s what men DO, we kiss and tell! Tell me about NeverNeverLand!”

For a long moment, Castiel stared from Dean… to Sam… to Dean again.

“Well, I’m not a man. I’m an Angel.” he said finally. He snapped the car door closed and buckled his seatbelt. “And I’m not telling.”

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

Playfully whacking them with a pillow

“What was that for?” Castiel frowned.

“Don’t worry about it. Continue.” Flip levitated the pillow up off of the floor and resumed her relaxed perch on the back of the couch.

“Um… I was saying that my excuse for being moody was that… I just need a win. I’ve spent so much time consistently screwing things up. The Winchesters have lost faith in me. I am tired of being a disappointment. If-“ PAP! “Nnnnn. You did it again.”

“Did what?” Flip prompted.

“You hit me with a pillow.”

“I did not. I enchanted a pillow to whap you every time you needlessly speak negatively about yourself.” she corrected. “Care to try again?”

Castiel grumbled, but cleared his throat.

“I need to reassure the others that I can be useful again-“ PAP! “I need to fail less.” PAP! “…I am frustrated with the way events have unfolded, and I would like to take steps to improve the situations I’m facing, as best I’m able.”

…No pillow. Flip scooted over and lightly bonked her tiny head against his stubbled cheek.

“As an aside, you can truly be a pest when you’re trying to prove a point.” Castiel mumbled affectionately.

WHAP.

“I didn’t say anything bad about myself.” Cas protested.

“No, that wasn’t the enchantment, that was all me. My whap. How dare you.”

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

Sneaking up behind them and blowing a raspberry on their neck

“Not yet. The locals seem reluctant to discuss details of the curses associated with the folklore of-“

Pppfffffffhhhhhhhh!

Castiel winced his shoulder up hard with a soft snort. He waved the Fairy away with a shooing motion. She’d have to wait her turn for attention.

“Wh-? No. No, Dean, I did not flatulate in the middle of our call. Someone blew against my neck. It is not of import.” he rolled his eyes up and sighed, handing over the phone. “Dean wants to say hello.”

“Hallo, Dean!” Flip peeped into the receiver.

I knew it! the voice over the phone crowed, followed by some muted words that Castiel could not quite pick up.

“Ah? What about NeverNeverLand?” Flip questioned.

“DO NOT!” Cas interrupted.

----------

Surprise kissing them

(Excerpt from “The Drawing Game”, pre Casip)

“FLIP.” Castiel stated flatly, pushing up to prop one arm over her torso to discourage rolling away. “Did you draw a posterior wearing refined attire on my face?”

“It sounds like something I would do.” she nodded thoughtfully.

“…Why?”

“Why not?” she countered.

Before Castiel could lay out a list of obvious reasons not to draw an ass over someone’s face, Flip tilted up and pecked a tiny kiss to his nose. Eyes wide, Cas pressed himself up and shuffled back away from her in complete alarm. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish pulled from water as his brain struggled to comprehend what had just happened. Obviously Flip had only done such a thing to shock him. To free herself. He’d seen many such occasions where she relied on surprise to escape various troubles.

“But… but… WHAT…”

“So eloquent. Toodles.” Flip snorted, vanishing away rather than using the door.

Recovery took a moment, but Castiel soon found himself padding into the restroom to scrub the drawing off of his face with one of the rough cloths folded neatly on the sink. Not too difficult to smear out of his faint stubble. He rolled his eyes and sat down on the edge of the bathtub propping one foot on his knee to remove the smiley face and cat drawings as well. Once finished, the other foot was brought up. He squinted at the writing. Enochian. Loosely translated to:

Forgive yourself, my friend.

Castiel slowly lowered his foot back onto the floor without wiping the words away. There was a little heart drawn on the heel that made him wonder if it was a simple embellishment or if maybe an extra sign of affection. He stared at his reflection and touched two fingers to his nose, slightly crossing his eyes to look at a very faint trace of glitter left from her kiss. Had he scrubbed his face too hard, or was that a blush? What a confusing night.

--------

Telling them they love them for the first time

(Excerpt from something I’m not going to post >_>)

“Excuse you???” Flip squeaked, spinning to face him and breaking off the sticking charm.

“You d-deserve to be… loved!” Castiel heaved.

Flip stopped dead and leaned over him, face to face.

“I am loved. People love me. A fair few people love me.” she said seriously. “What’s that got to do with anything, if people love me?”

“I know. I know people love you.” Castiel frowned, breathless. “I’m one of them.”

Flip pulled back fractionally, confusion and panic seizing her Heart. The look in his eyes wasn’t platonic, but neither was it lusty. Castiel had always carried a deep purity to him. But no. She knew that the wisest thing would be to vanish and never come back. Getting overly attached to a mortal always ended poorly for all involved, and whether or not she could find herself caring that way in return was irrelevant.

The silence was suffocating. Still, for whatever reason, Flip did not leave, and Castiel didn’t take back what he said.

(…Jump forward in the story)

He quietly cleared his throat, trying to think of the best way to approach the subject, but Flip kissed the questions away from his lips and pointed up.

Written in soft twinkles above his head were the words

I love you, too.

-----

Tickling them

The last lingering shafts of a Tuesday sunset washed the den in a romantic blush of twilight. Aside from the quiet tick of a grandfather clock, all was silence. When the creak and snap of the front door signaled that Flip had returned from the grocery store with supplies for the week, fully sized up to fake Human proportions. Castiel glanced over his shoulder with a quiet greeting. Lately he had taken to doing impressionist paintings in the evenings after his shifts at the Gas N Sip. It helped keep his mind away from troubling things as he attempted to adjust to Human life.

“That’s a pretty one. Where is it?” Flip rested her chin on his shoulder.

“It’s the Antigua Guatemala Cathedral. It is beautiful when lit up at night.” he replied, eyes soft with memory. “I very much enjoyed visiting it.”

“We could go there. We’ll wait until you get some vacation time in at work, set it up all Human-style.” the Fairy offered.

“I would like that.”

He shifted in place. And then again. Flip tilted her head, wondering if the thought of doing manual travel as opposed to Magical or Celestial made him uncomfortable to come to terms with. Then it became clear that he was trying to cope with an itch.

“Let me.” Flip scoffed, rucking the maroon sweater up and taking her nails to his upper back. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you. I have paint on my hands… new clothes. Ah… little lower, please. Lower. Good.”

“Why didn’t you wear something you could mess up?”

“I didn’t want to mess anything up.” Castiel explained. “The clothes will last longer if I care for them properly and I khhh! Wait!”

Flip rolled her eyes and did not wait. She let her nails dance and slide across his ribs and belly, nuzzling her nose against his neck. He twitched and wiggled against her, choked with quiet laughter as his hands fought the instinct to make a grab for anything lest it stain.

“Flippiti-hin, the PAI-heh-nt!” he squirmed. “Flip!”

“Yes, it’s a lovely painting, we covered that.” Flip nodded, carrying on.

“PleEEase re-f! Refrain! I can’t t-“ he tried again, sinking to the ground to attempt escape, even if logically he knew that she would follow him down. Which, of course she did.

“You know, in those hymnals you leave laying around, whenever it says refrain, it means repeat. Considering your background, that’s the definition I’ll assume you’re going for.” Flip laughed along with her Mate’s hysterics. “You’re mated with a Fairy. You’re getting tickles. It’s the law.”

When she reached out for a tickly grab to his thigh, playful squirming changed to no not there panic and a paint-covered hand flailed out to shove Flip’s arm away. She paused and looked at the blue smear on her forearm.

“That’s my favorite arm, I’ll have you know.” she advised cooly.

Without waiting a beat, Castiel was off, pounding through the house at top speed with Flip hot on his heels. By the end of it, they were both coated in paint splotches, breathless on the kitchen floor.

“You got paint everywhere in this house. I hope you’re happy.” Flip mock-reprimanded, idly picking at a wet patch of green on her shirt.

Castiel gave her a sheepish half smile and gently touched a matching shade of green to her nose.

“I am~”

-----

Waking them up by holding them and playing with their hair

It was unclear exactly how long he’d been out. His Vessel ached straight down to his Grace. Strangely, there was one pleasant feeling mixed in with all the unsettling pain. The last thing he remembered was getting slammed away with a banishing ward. It had been one of the most heavy duty ones he’d ever come across.

“How did you find me?” he squinted up at his Mate, shifting his head in her lap.

“I looked.” Flip shrugged, outwardly not belaying any true concern.

She continued to card her hands through his hair, mindlessly clinging to the only thing she could think of to soothe him. Her healing powers had never been particularly polished, and she knew it would be a bad idea to even attempt it.

For now, this was fine. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her belly, waiting for his own healing factors to pick up the slack. It would take a little while. Considering how lovely her nails felt across his scalp, Castiel was not particularly fussed with the idea of having to be patient.

#Casip #Cut for length #Relationship drabble prompt

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