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rae-gar-targaryen · 4 years ago

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alight with the lights out | diego hargreeves x reader [tua]

A/N: Thank you for all of your interest after I posted the teaser! It was VERY surprising and humbling; I’ve NEVER had so many people ask for a tag before. I only ask that if you asked for a tag, you interact with this fic SOMEHOW. And go find another story you love and REBLOG IT! LET THAT WRITER KNOW YOU LOVE THEM!

I’ll be honest, I’m very nervous about this one. I’m not sure if it turned out as good on paper as it did in my head. Please let me know what you liked and what you didn’t!

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x vigilante, powered!Reader; this one may read a bit more like an OC because I’ve given the reader backstory, powers. She’s (you’re) a vigilante who regularly runs into Diego. I keep the physical description vague, so I hope you can still imagine yourself!

Warnings: Language; who doesn’t love getting a little sweary? Violence, fighting, references to a shitty childhood, and separately, implied sexual assault (nothing graphic, I promise); angst and angsty dialogue; SMUT-- 18+ ONLY PLEASE; lots of cocktease dialogue, fingering, pierced nipples (the reader’s not Diego’s-- sorry), biting, rough sex, choking. Romance is its own warning. Fluff.

Word Count: 12.1k of sexy, self-righteous vigilantism, half-baked metaphor and of course, at least one literary reference.

Summary: Diego Hargreeves, aka The Kraken, is secure about few things in life; one of those things being his vigilantism. He’s a hero. Until he meets a fighter who shares the same hobby, albeit with different methodologies. Diego isn’t quite as certain about her, but her mysterious abilities make him think he and his siblings aren’t the only ones in this world with power. If only she and Diego could just stay out of each others’ hair. It’s a good, old-fashioned ENEMIES TO LOVERS, lads!

Link to my playlist of songs that inspired this fic: here

NOT MY GIF

----

You wouldn't hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. That was rule number one. Hell, if you could get away with it at all, you wouldn’t hurt anyone.

But Mr. Adler hated children. And he had made it his mission to not understand you. To regard you with the utmost disdain. And unfortunately for you, Mr. Adler had married your mother when you were six years old.

You had never known another father. Your mother refused to talk about the circumstances of your birth, or of the man who had supposedly been responsible. The lack of identity loomed like a large question mark over certain portions of your life.

And Mr. Adler, that loud, controlling lout, was not about to fill that void.

When you were in elementary school, you began to feel like you were different from the other children. Watching them carry about their days with their steel-pressed pop culture lunch boxes and not a care in the world. While you sensed your music teacher’s sadness when her cat had died. You could feel every anxiety that passed through your classmates on the day of a spelling test. You didn’t know why you could feel these things. You just could.

Prominently above them all, you could feel Mr. Adler’s hatred for you, like a thick, toxic wall every time you passed through your front door and into what was supposed to be your sanctuary.

He shouted at you for inane things, like the pantry door being left open, or the fact that your mother was tired after cooking dinner, insisting you never did enough to help. As a child of eight, what did he expect you to do? You kept your room clean, cleared and set the table, helped your mom water the plants in her garden. What more could Adler want from you?

Still, Mr. Adler’s hate for you colored your every interaction with him, the world you saw him through tinged with an orange-red lens of rage.

You had never tried expanding upon your grasp of others’ feelings until you had witnessed a boy in your class push your pigtailed classmate, Annabelle, down on the playground. Anna’s shock, fear and sadness had bitten into you from the other side of the sandbox like an unwelcome spider bite, sudden and itchy.

It didn’t sit right with you. To you, how was this boy any different from Adler? Reigning terror over someone else just because he thought he could. You’d recognize that red-orange tinge in another person anywhere.

You stood, marching over to the boy, gripping his wrist firmly in your stubby, grubby fingers. Quick as a flash, you were met with every emotion this boy had ever felt -- annoyance at Anna (she wouldn’t share her toys. How selfish, the boy had thought); anger (how dare you grab him!); and finally, prominently, fear.

Fear looked different for everyone, you had noticed. For some, like this boy, it was an ugly green, so like jealousy. For others, like Adler when he’d been drinking, it was an inky black you could drown in. Fear was clearly the strongest. You knew that now.

You gripped the boy’s fear in your own mind, pushing it to the forefront until he began to cry, his eyes welling with the sudden fear he couldn’t understand.

“You won’t do that again,” you said. Turning to Anna, you offered a hand to help her up, but she just shook her head, pigtails flying, and scampered away from you.

Your teachers were clearly afraid of you after that. Could sense that something wasn’t right. Anna? You thought she’d be grateful ... but the chilly pale yellow of her fear, and everyone else’s, followed you wherever you went.

Fine, you thought. If they wouldn’t be grateful for what you could do, you may as well help yourself.

From then on, you exploited your teachers’ happiness -- pop quizzes became less frequent. Everytime they wanted to scold you for incomplete homework, they were left grasping at straws and with the daze of an emotion they couldn’t name.

Adler hated you for it.

“I knew there was something wrong with you,” he sneered over your mother’s weeping objections. “I don’t know what it is, but I know there’s something.”

Once you reached 18, you left for the neighboring bustling metropolis and didn’t look back. The world was full of people like Adler, like the boy in the sandbox, like your teachers, who tried to use their own fear to feed their hate, to exploit others. To exercise false power over them.

Well, you wouldn’t have it. If it meant a few of those assholes got hurt, well, so be it.

You lived like that for years. Until --

---

"I hope you choke on it," you hissed, watching the smoky black tendrils slither their way around the man, constricting -- bringing him to his knees, hacking and gasping. "I see your fear, I feel it all. You deserve this, you know you do," you lectured, advancing toward the man, your hands raised.

He was seconds away, you knew it-- and then one more scumbag would be off the streets for good ...

Things were going your way, you were in your favorite position in an altercation-- you know, the one where you had the upper hand? Everything was coming up you, until--

Your ears were met with a whizzing noise mere seconds before a sharp, shiny something nicked your cheek and lodged into the wooden beam just past you.

Your gaze left the piteous man before you long enough to see what looked like a small, but dangerously sharp, knife embedded in the beam. You reached up and plucked it from its resting place, spinning it in your palm before catching the hilt in a clutching grip. You turned to see where it had come from, your eyes catching a dark blur flipping from the fire escape of the opposite building, before said blur landed at your feet.

Standing at his full height, the blur-- no, the Kraken himself-- towered above you.

You had to admit, the stories didn't do him justice. Standing before you in head-to-toe black and a harness replete with shimmering, twinkling edges and danger, you could've sworn he was your knight in shining leather. His cropped hair and facial scars gave him the air that he was every bit as sharp and deadly as the many blades that adorned his body. His oilslick eyes so like mirthless pits of danger, daring to suck you beneath their surface. He was, in a word, imposing.

Regarding you from behind his Venetian domino mask, he spoke, "Miss I'm gonna need you to drop the knife and let this man go."

You snorted.

"You're joking, right?" Not giving him a chance to respond, you chuckled as you swung at him with the hand still holding what you now knew to be his blade.

You'd give credit where it was due, Diego Hargreeves, aka Number Two, aka the Kraken, was every bit as fast as they'd said. In this regard, the stories and Umbrella Academy-related media hadn't been wrong.

Diego dodged your swing, bending his body back before twirling around to strike at your torso, like a snake, with his heavy, hammered fist.

The hit knocked the wind out of you, effectively breaking your concentration, and, devastatingly, your connection with the previously fear-choked man cowering in the alley behind you. As you recovered from Diego's hit and swung around to check your quarry, you could only watch as he shook himself from your fear-induced trance.

He scraped and scrabbled to get up off his knees as Diego shouted at him to "Go, just get out of here!"

You snarled and swung a well-aimed high kick at Diego's head, connecting with just enough of his jaw to drop him. As soon as your proverbial window opened, you turned from Diego to run after the man. But even grounded from a blow, Diego was formidable. He shot his arm out and snagged your ankle, yanking you to the ground.

The gritty pavement scraped your palms as you attempted to catch yourself on your way down, growling as you glanced up to see that loathsome cockroach of a man slip out of the alley, huffing as his bloated legs carried himself far away from you.

You tossed a glance over your shoulder to see Diego righting himself as he stood up, looking down at you before shrugging, offering you his hand.

"Not a chance," you scoffed, knocking his hand away. You rolled slightly back, arched up, and used your hands to help you spring as you lept to your feet in one smooth movement. You landed with a thud of your boots, your feet spread apart, and arms raised in a boxer's stance.

Diego had the decency to look slightly surprised at your obviously-dangerous athleticism. He shook himself slightly as he regarded you.

Besides, he thought, taking in your stature, it's not as though you were any match for him. No way.

"Why would you get in my way, Umbrella douche?" You bit out harshly, glaring daggers at the knife-wielding Kraken.

"Come on, hot stuff," Diego shrugged. "If you know who I am, you gotta know it's not like I can just let you mug that man with … well, whatever you were doing to him." What he had seen you do in the alley seemed to be catching up with him as he cocked his head and queried, "What exactly were you doing to him, by the way? I mean, other than hurting a civilian?"

"A civilian?" You spat. "You don't know what you're talking about, do-gooder. If you knew what he was, you wouldn't be defending him so staunchly."

“And what was he?” Diego pressed.

“That dickless fuckhead would-be-rapist isn’t worth the shit on your shoe,” you snarled. “And you let him get away. Nice job, hero,” you sing-songed the last word mockingly, taking advantage of Diego’s lowered guard to level a swinging hit to his nose.

Your punch landed with a satisfying crack, Diego stumbling back, shaking his head.

“What in the ever-loving FUCK is wrong with you, lady?” Diego shouted.

“Take your hits like a big boy. Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of ‘Big Deal?’ ” you asked, advancing toward Diego, fists raised.

“Honey, my reputation precedes me for a reason,” Diego quipped back, blocking your next swing and making one of his own toward your gut.

The two of you sparred in the alleyway, whirling and spinning in a very violent dance between two unwilling partners -- Diego, clearly pulling his punches, while you were obviously preoccupied with your rage at your escaped quarry.

Diego flipped and spun and swung his fists with a speed that bordered on unnatural. His jabs and kicks annoyingly landed, as you were really only able to block just about every other hit. Fuck him for being so fast.

So it was true, you thought, the superpower hype was real. Well, two could play that game.

At Diego’s next hit, you caught his fist, allowing the contact to create the connection you needed, feeling for Diego and any underlying emotion that would be his undoing, before latching onto your favorite-- past the overstuffed confidence, you tasted simmering rage. Beyond that? A tiny prickle of … was that??…Ah, yes, the stinging, burns-so-good zip of lust... File that one away for later … and beneath it all lay Diego’s stammering, stuttering, suffocating fear.

You dug your proverbial claws into it once you found it, bringing it to the surface, manifesting it into your signature smoky tendrils.

Drag them down with their own fear.

Diego’s eyes widened as he looked down to see his legs wrapped in what looked like snakes. Suddenly, his worst memories of fearful days under his father’s tyrannical reign were the only things in his brain. The shouting proclamation his own inadequacies in his father’s too-posh voice pounded within his skull. It was all he could think about -- Your presence before him seemed to dwindle, he couldn’t focus on you, try as he might-- when he was overcome with the feelings of every bad memory he had ever suffered through bearing down on him like the crushing weight of the ocean, pulling him under with the riptide of his own panic and inadequacies.

What the fuck was this shit?

He pushed through his sudden indifference toward you to regard you, the woman stood before him. Diego’s fist clenched as he took in your own grip clutching around his wrist. Your eyes were closed as your face was screwed up in concentration.

Repulsive. You were repulsive, he suddenly thought. How could he have cared so much about hurting you when his own terror and agitation sat heavy on his tongue, like ugly curdled cream?

But he hadn’t always felt this way-- not his usual modus operandi, was it? So what was this? Was this-- you?? Was this what you had done to that man?

Diego began to dredge himself through his own agitation, past his father’s lilting abuse… through the mire of never-quite-being-enough against Luther... dragging his proverbial feet through a bog of his own self-hatred. Just long enough to wrench his wrist from your grip, grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning around, slamming you probably a little too hard into the wall behind him. Your eyes snapped open as your head made a minor thwack off the alleyway-- you had just enough time to tilt your head to the left as Diego brought one of his knives down, driving it into the wall a sliver from the space your face had previously occupied.

Diego bore his weight on his toes, leaning his imposing height into and over you, panting and snorting heavily through his nose. You looked at his eyes behind his mask-- hardened flints of pissed-off-superhero glared back at you.

“W-wh-What the F-f-UCK was that?” Diego spit, lip curling over his teeth in a gruesome snarl.

A fleeting flicker of shame passed through you. He hadn’t really done anything to deserve that, had he? Before you shook yourself out of it-- No! He let that rat-faced motherfucker get away!

You fixed your face into an impassive mask of your own before you chirped, annoyingly, “What was what?”

Diego chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head. “Nuh-uh. How did you do that?” Diego pressed, leaning even closer to you, if that were possible.

“Do what?” you chimed innocently, tilting your chin up, eyes meeting Diego’s from beneath your lashes. Maintaining your feigned ignorance.

“Don’t do that,” Diego snarled. “Don’t play dumb. I think we both know at this point-- you’re alot of things, and dumb isn’t one of them.”

“You’d know all about playing dumb, wouldn’t you, pretty boy? Or for you, is it not really playing?” You reached up and ran a finger along his sharp jaw before tweaking his chin and dropping your hand back to your side. You sighed at Diego’s stone face. Honestly, it was so boring when they didn’t bite back.

“I don’t know what to tell you, cutie pie. I can’t help it. People are just drawn to me,” you quirked an eyebrow. “Or repulsed by me. I really haven’t decided.” You fluttered your eyelashes at him, ever the pretty picture.

Diego leaned further into you, pressing your back further and further into the wall. All the while, his leather-gloved grip creaked around the handle of the knife he’d plunged into the wall next to your head as he gripped it tighter.

“Huh,” he mused, scoffing at you lightly. “Ya know something, doll? I just don’t fuckin’ buy it.”

“Babe, if you wanted to play bad cop, all you had to do was ask,” you smirked as the stone face slid from his features and gave way to "surprised face."

“Honestly, honey,” you slinked up Diego’s body, propping yourself onto your toes and brushing his lips ever-so-lightly with your own as you spoke into his mouth, “Did you really think you and your reject siblings were the only ones in this whole wide world with a little … taste … of power?” you purred.

Ah, you thought, and there it was.

The warming, zinging hum that your ability recognized as Diego’s lust crept through your fingertips that were currently resting on his chin. You were sure if you took the time to analyze exactly who was feeling what, that this feeling of craving wouldn’t be as one-sided as you’d otherwise have hoped. Diego was, you had to admit, very pretty -- for a man.

The swirling galaxies in his midnight eyes regarded you with confusionangerwant. Had you really just -- kinda kissed him?

You took advantage of Diego’s surprised state to knock his grip from your shoulder and shove -- hard. Diego toppled back, and you took off as fast as your enhanced body would carry you, cutting down the alley and away from your fascinatingly frustrating new rival.

Diego took in your retreating form from his final resting place in the disgusting alley’s concrete. Slamming his fist into the rough-gravel ground, groaning out his frustration and anger.

You were gone.

What were you?

Were you really like him? Like the others?

---

Diego shuffled into Hargreeves Manor, determined to see who else was around. Surely they, or Pogo, would know if there were others like them out there. Had he been the only one to run into one? Was it all a hoax?

As he wandered into the cavernous, but simultaneously stuffy, living room, sure enough-- there was Klaus, sprawled across the couch, arm slung over his face in a restless nap.

“Klaus!” Diego barked, startling the spindly man from his perch on the couch and onto the floor.

Klaus looked balefully up at his brother from his spot on the carpet. “Jeeeesus, Diego, really? What do you want that made that necessary,” Klaus grumbled.

“Have you seen Pogo?”

“I haven’t seen anything but the back of my eyelids for the last several hours, thank you very much,” Klaus replied, “Although, I did have a very good dream about running into an old friend of mine in the grocery store. He was always so convinced he was straight. But I think the rest of my dream calls bullshit.” Klaus chuckled to himself.

“Yeah, whatever, man. I need to talk to Pogo,” Diego stressed, turning to leave the living room.

“Well, wait, wait, wait. What is so important?” Klaus queried, clambering up and lumbering across the room to catch Diego’s arm.

Diego sighed, facing his brother.

“Do you think … Do you think we’re the only ones like us?” He asked.

“Well, there’s no one like you, brother,” Klaus chuckled, taking on a rumbling, Diego-esque mocking tone, “I’m Number Two!” He cackled to himself for a moment before coming back to himself with a sigh. “And honestly, we all know I’m an original. So I’m not sure I take your meaning.”

“I mean… it couldn’t just be the seven of us, right? There’s a lot of other people in the world… it just makes sense others could do things like what we can?” Diego pressed.

Klaus started. He had never seen this look in his brother’s eye before. The unhinged mania of a fight? Sure. Crushing doubt? Obviously. But not this … fierce certainty buried beneath a question. This was new for Diego. He must be serious.

Klaus blinked, regarding his brother, before slowly nodding. “I mean… sure… theoretically, there could be others. But I don’t know any. Why? Did you find someone?”

Diego drew in a breath, unsure of how much he wanted to reveal to Klaus. After all, you were his nemesis. His pain in the ass. His whatever you were.

Diego crossed the room again, back to the couch Klaus had previously occupied, before sitting down in a creak of leather and clink of blades still strapped to his harness. Propping his elbows on his thighs, he placed his head in his hands.

“I don’t know. I think so? I found her while I was out patrolling, and I … I don’t really know how to describe what I saw.”

Klaus placed himself next to his erstwhile sibling, tucking his feet beneath himself as he sat, reaching up to pat Diego on the shoulder.

“There, there, big guy. Just… tell me what happened,” Klaus crooned.

Diego launched into the story of finding you in the alley, choking the man with your smoke without even laying a hand on him. He described to Klaus how the two of you had fought, and how you had called the man a “would-be-rapist” before knocking Diego to the ground and making your getaway.

“Well, she sounds hot.”

“Helpful, Klaus,” Diego deadpanned.

“Oh, isn’t it obvious, sweet Dee?” Klaus chimed at the end of Diego’s story. At his brother’s nonplussed look, Klaus continued. “She’s just like you! She likes to put on her Batman underoos and fight crime,” he chuckled. “Even if she is like… us… she clearly can do something different. But I think the most telling thing is how obviously into her you are.”

Diego sputtered, “Wh-what?? I am not into that … psycho. Whatever she can do, that’s all I want to figure out.”

“The lady doth protest too much,” Klaus sing-songed. “Whatever you say, brother. But I think the only way you’ll really figure it out is if you run into her again. I mean, we know dad had his secrets. If he knew about other powered children, don’t you think the Umbrella Academy would’ve been a lot bigger? The world is a big place. I’m sure there’s more out there, but, um… we just didn’t know about it until now?”

Diego sighed deeply. “Oh, joy,” he muttered. Ignoring the tinge of excitement that passed through him at Klaus’s suggestion he seek you out.

Klaus clapped his hands joyously, cuffing Diego’s shoulder, shaking him.

“A nemesis, Diego! How sexy! How exciting!”

---

Your encounter with one of the Umbrella Academy had left you slightly shaken, to say the least. You were so careful when you went out. No one missed those assholes you took care of. Honestly, you were doing the city a favor.

Patrolling on any given night would yield one or two men who were plotting something less than savory. And all it took was a brush of skin to determine their true intentions.

You sighed angrily, ripping off your bodysuit and stomping across your apartment to your shower, yanking back the curtain and twisting the knob forcefully.

Hot water began to pour from the showerhead, steam filling your bathroom. You regarded your reflection in your bathroom mirror, a distinctly palmlike-bruise adorned your shoulder from where Diego had clutched it, not to mention the scrapes that lined your body from your repeated meetings with the concrete during your sparring.

You met your own eyes in your reflection, regarding yourself as balefulness gave way to venom.

Honestly, that toadlike little nobody had deserved what you were about to do to him. You had watched him from the back of the bar as he had annoyingly pressed his presence onto a poor girl who was just trying to enjoy her drink. Her drink that the toad had slipped something in when he thought she wasn’t looking. He even went so far as to grab her wrist with his stubby little hands. That was the final straw.

You steeled yourself, letting the lustful, rowdy feeling of the other bar patrons that permeated the air like thick smoke take you over. Putting on your best, beguiling smile, you crossed the room and brushed your hand over the man’s bare arm, letting him feel the tingling want that you had absorbed. Simultaneously, you felt everything of his disgusting intent-- the hateful, possessive desire for the girl, the hurt he intended to inflict to trample his own inadequacies and sadness.

Oh, yeah, you were right about this asshole.

He looked up at you, disgusting gaze lingering on you, before forgetting all about his intended prey, pushing back from his barstool and venturing behind you out into the alley.

The rest, as they say, is history. And an annoying vigilante type who had an ass that just wouldn’t quit once encased in black leather just had to rain on your proverbial pain parade.

Diego Hargreeves… Of course you knew who he was. Everyone knew about the Umbrella kids. And you knew the man once-dubbed The Kraken was still doing his best Caped Crusader (sans cape) and kicking ass by night. Annoyingly self-righteous, really, you thought. Choosing ever-so-delicately to ignore the hypocrisy laden in your thought. Is that not, in effect, what you were doing? Albeit with a little more emotional manipulation and bloodshed.

As you thought of Diego, your fingers traced the slim, sharp cut his knife had made in your cheek as it surged past you.

You let the remnants of Diego’s rage that you had felt overtake you, amplified by your own, as you slammed your fist into the small mirror over your sink, letting the shards clatter to the ground around your feet.

Payback was a bitch, and so were you. You didn’t know if Diego Hargreeves was a praying man, but he had better hope to whatever deity would listen that he didn’t run into you again.

You wouldn’t be so kind twice, you told yourself, climbing into your shower and letting the blood and grit from your body swirl down the drain.

---

As luck wouldn’t have it, your gods were decidedly not on your side. And clearly whatever deity you had mentally implored Diego to pray to was on vacation.

Because you ran into that maddeningly beautiful dipshit, several times over the following weeks. He would do his best to bust up your party, stopping you from exacting your special brand of vengeance. You’d exchange a few quips and blows before running off before he could ask you the question you knew was burning in his mind.

You managed to evade prolonged encounters with Diego until about another two weeks later. Too soon, honestly.

Or not soon enough? God, your inner voice was desperate and annoying.

You encountered Diego again while you were propped against the wall of a seedy dive on the other edge of town, assessing each person as they passed. While your power worked best if you could touch, some feelings were perfectly easy to pick up from a distance.

So far, nothing. Just a few gross, horny bikers and depressive barflies. It was a maddeningly slow night. And you doubted you were needed here.

Just as you were about to call it and head to another hotspot, a familiar prickle passed through you. You glanced up, across the street.

Sure enough, on the neighboring rooftop, perched Diego Hargreeves in the flesh, surveying you like some kind of Great Value Nightwing.

You sighed, pushing off the wall and crossing the street. Diego watched as you clambered up the fire escape to meet him on the rooftop.

“Of course you would be here,” you chastised. “Are you fucking following me? I’ve been a good girl. Haven’t killed anyone in a week. I promise!” You held up your hands in mock surrender, coming to stand in front of Diego’s gloriously firm, leather-clad figure.

“If you say so, Princess. Maybe I’m just here for a drink?” Diego cocked his head toward the shitty bar whose entrance you were haunting mere moments ago.

“Doubtful, Underoos. I think…” you trailed off, circling Diego, tapping your finger to your chin in a pondering gesture. “I think you’re babysitting me. Making sure I don’t do your job for you and clean up the streets too well.”

You ceased your vulture-like circling, coming to stand before Diego. His eyes bore into your own, once again partially obscured behind that stupid mask. As if you didn’t know what he looked like without it. Your eyes weren’t deceiving you when you saw Diego’s eyes flash a quick up-down of your body before resuming his stern visage.

Oh good, you thought. You recognized the latent feelings buried beneath Diego’s anger. A new one brushed over you-- confusion… He still hadn’t figured you, or, more than likely, your power, out…

You weren’t left in suspense too long.

“Tell me about what you can do,” Diego pressed, advancing toward you. You took a step back to maintain some distance… best if you can perpetuate some veil of advantage.

“Ah, ah, ah, baby. It doesn’t work like that,” you chided. “You think I’m just going to spill all of my secrets because why? You’re cute? Try again. Ask nicely,” you smirked, pushing your lips into a tantalizing pout.

Diego rolled his eyes. You weren’t going to play fair? Fine, neither was he. Honestly, his fuse was too-fuckin-short for your shit. He wanted answers, even if he had to beat them out of you. Quick as a flash, he strode toward you, jumping into a flip and kicking you down to the ground upon his landing.

You looked up at him, standing over your body as it lay on the gravelled rooftop, bringing your hand up to touch your jaw, where his boot had collided with your face not moments ago.

You grinned widely, savagely, around bloodied teeth and split lips. "So that’s how we’re going to play? Do your worst, Big Deal. I like when it hurts."

With that, you swung your leg at Diego’s, causing him to topple beside you, where you promptly rolled over, coming to straddle his hips, bringing your hands to his wrists, the direct contact allowing you to bring his fear to the forefront.

Just as you were about to choke him with the smoke of his own fear, Diego surged upright, his arms breaking free from the grip of your wrists, his own hands coming to close around your throat. He squeezed insistently, enough to break your concentration-- the smoke dissipating as soon as it had come. With that, he had managed to roll the two of you over, you flat on your back as one of his thighs came to rest between yours.

You gasped, looking up at Diego with fiery shock looming in your eyes.

“Wow,” you rasped, “I told you before-- if you wanted to play bad cop, all you had to do was ask.”

Diego removed one hand from your throat, bringing it to his own head and ripping off his flimsy excuse for a mask. He regarded you with nacreous, tarpit eyes that glowed and glittered with the streetlights, his breath coming in ragged, uneven puffs through his sinfully full lips. His cropped hair was glistening with sweat borne equally from the heat of the night and your encounter.

“Baby, I think you owe me an explanation first,” He pressed, squeezing your throat lightly, free hand pulling a knife from his harness that he spun in his fingers while gazing down at you.

You whined, rolling your hips against where his thigh rested between your legs.

“This would be so much more fun if you’d just do things my way,” you pouted at Diego.

“Maybe I would, if you would bother to tell me what your way is,” Diego retorted.

“I could tell you, or I could show you,” you purred, rolling your hips again. “I’m all about more fun.”

Diego sighed. The familiar buzz of lust radiating from your skin-- or was it his own-- that always seemed to hang over your encounters was pressingly prevalent and it was all he could do to not just give in. He gritted his teeth, and shook his head.

“No. Come on. I know what you’re doing… whatever it is. Just … tell me what it is you can do. Tell me why you’re hurting those people,” he implored.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, using your free hands to knock his grip from your throat and coming to a sitting position, as Diego remained crouched over you.

“All you hero-types. You’re no fun. You want to know what I can do? That pleasant little hum you feel? That’s you. Well, it’s me. But it’s you. I don’t make anyone feel what they don’t already… but I can use it against them. That first night at the bar? That,” you shuddered, “That rat was going to force himself on some poor girl. I could feel his every feeling as he was preying on her. I had to stop it. It’s simple, honeybunch. I do what you do, but better. I’ll make them choke in it, their own fear, their self-hatred, their inadequacy, their lust, I’ll drown them in it, and they’ll thank me for it. Because I’m nothing if not merciful,” you gritted out.

Diego’s mind reeled, jaw slack from your confession. He knew it! You were an empath, an enhanced emotional manipulator. Except you seemed to be able to manifest emotions into something tangible, something harmful.

Suddenly, the weight of your confession seemed to crush Diego, you had exploited every feeling of his during your encounters to gain an upper hand. And he hadn’t truly known about it until now.

You felt the surge of his rage, his disgust, his fear with you before he could say it--

“You c-can’t-- you can’t do that,” Diego said. “Kililng people who haven’t even done anything yet? It’s w-wrong. Y-you’re w-wro-wrong,” He stuttered out, clearly distressed, but advancing even further into your space.

“As opposed to you?” You bit out. “You wait until someone’s already hurting or hurt someone else to do something. How are you any better? Who are you to judge me,” you spit through gritted teeth.

“You’re a killer,” Diego pressed, pushing back from you and coming to stand.

“Sticks and stones. So are you. But I don’t hate you for it,” you snarled, jumping into a standing position, squaring your shoulders before Diego’s imposing form.

“You could always work with me,” Diego offered, “ We could take what you can do and just… re-tool it a bit.”

You ground out a harsh laugh.

“Unlikely, you absolutely patronizing dick. You don’t want anything to do with me other than to change me, control me. You’re just like them.”

With that, you unleashed a slew and flurry of attacks on Diego, swinging your hips around to level a kick at his gut, knocking him to his knees, where your arm was ready to strike a heavy blow against his cheek, your rage fueling the unnatural strength behind the hit.

Diego sprawled against the concrete of the rooftop, half conscious after blows you’d dealt him.

You stood over Diego now, looking down at his prone form.

“I would never want anyone who only means to stifle me. To take me apart until there’s nothing left. Never.” You spit a glob of bloodied saliva at Diego’s feet, leaving him in his semi-conscious, battered state-- the guilt only slightly prickling you.

His fear-- choking on half-gasped words from behind the tremulous task of tripping over his own tongue-- followed you like a stuttering stormcloud. It stung. Knowing that he was afraid of you.

---

Okay. The guilt was more than slight.

All he had wanted to do was help, right?

Years alone with your power, the sting of Adler’s rejection as a child, it all weighed down on you like the crushing magnitude of Atlas. You didn’t really want to hurt him.

You sighed, resolute. You just needed to make sure.

With that, you headed out in the storm. Headed toward Diego.

---

The rain pounded on the walls of the Fighting Lion, plunking heavily like half-hewn nails tossed onto the small window in Diego’s back bedroom. He could hear as it landed on the brick, the wet stone and stormy atmosphere making the air thick with the scent of sagebrush and rain.

A kind of whoosh passed through the room, prompting him to turn from where he was folding his laundry on the bed to see you propped against the door, legs crossed at the ankles, looking every bit as if you belonged.

“Wow, Big Deal. Nice digs,” you said as you sauntered in the room, staring at the case at the foot of the bed that was full of Diego’s knives. “Not what I’d expect coming from a dude who hails from the city’s biggest mansion. But still -- homey.”

Diego ignored the jab about his upbringing in favor of the real question.

“How did you get in here?” He asked, seemingly --and to you, maddeningly-- disinterested in your presence as he continued stacking his paired socks into their rightful place in his bureau.

“Uh, have you seen this place? It’s not exactly rigged with ‘Entrapment’ levels of security,” you snarked, folding your arms across your chest.

“Does that make you a cat burglar? Are you Catherine Zeta-Jones in this scenario?” Diego glanced at you from his socks, cocking a strong eyebrow.

“If you want me to be, sweetie,” you shrugged. “But, uh -- and don’t take this the wrong way, Diego, but you don’t exactly have anything I’d want to steal.”

“Then I’ll amend the question. What are you doing here?” Diego asked, finally turning to fully face you, taking in your form as you stood by his bed. The sight causing a pleasantly-unpleasant little something to prickle across his skin.

No, no, it’s not like that, he chided himself. Besides. You were an absolutely monumental pain in his ass. And his head. And basically every other body part of his you came in contact with. Nope, nope... Don’t think about her body parts “coming into contact” with anything of yours, he scolded.

“Aw, well now, Big Deal. Maybe I just missed you?” You mused.

“Doubtful. Did you come back to kick my ass with your freaky little homicidal chokehold some more?” Diego snapped.

Ouch. Maybe you had gone too far in your last little encounter. After all, wasn't that why you were there? To check on your favorite knife-wielding antagonist? To make sure you hadn't actually hurt him?

But what came out instead was--

"Is there any other kind of chokehold?" You hummed, arching your brow.

Before he could stop himself, Diego retorted, “Based on our last meeting, I think you know there is."

Momentarily stunned into silence, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks at the memory of his hands on your throat, you dropped your arms from where they were crossed at your chest down to your sides, hands flexing nervously. You chuckled.

"Heh. As tempting as that offer is, pretty boy, I only came to make sure I didn't ring your bell too bad."

Diego leaned against his dresser, tilting his head back and looking down his perfect, strong nose at you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I must be going fuckin' deaf. Did you just say you slunk in here with your little kitten tail between your legs to say you were sorry?" Diego snorted, obviously pleased with himself as he saw the obvious fluster cross your face.

Okay, now he was pissing you off. You came here with good will and he sasses you? Two can play at that, as you two so often do...

"You must be fuckin' deaf, dipshit. I didn't say I was here to say I was sorry. I did say I wanted to make sure I didn't kick your sorry ass into oblivion. Which, you're obviously fine, so I'll just be going." You crossed Diego's room, breezing for the door.

Honestly, why did you think this was a good idea? Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Diego caught your arm as you passed him in your hurried attempt at an exit. You gave a half-hearted tug to pull your arm from Diego's grip, surprised to find how firm it was. You turned your head to meet Diego's gaze, throat closing around your sudden nerves. Diego's eyes were molten, boring into you with quizzical questions and low-burning heat. His grip on your arm afforded you an insight into the unique blend that was his confusion and simmering passion.

"What are you doing?" You asked.

"Come on," Diego drawled. "You clearly know what I'm feeling. But I have no idea what you're feeling. You have me at a disadvantage. I don't like it."

"Every time we meet, I have you at a disadvantage," you snarked. At the brief hurt that flashed across Diego's face, you sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I meant what I said when I told you I was coming to check on you … I just--"

You looked down at your feet, the laces in your boots suddenly incredibly interesting to you. Diego's other hand gently gripped your chin, his thumb pressing into its apex, fingers curled beneath your jaw.

"D-don't do that-- keep going. Tell me what you're feeling for once," Diego implored, eyes meeting yours once more, lips ever-so-close to yours. “Please,” he added, softly.

Had your heart been thudding like this the whole time?? Was your jacket always this hot? All you could hear was the pounding sheet of rain, pressing itself into your brain, growing fuzzier. Diego's proximity to your person was decidedly distracting. Wholeheartedly overwhelming.

Could he really not tell what you were thinking? You were certain at this point it must be written all over your face. Were you not being obvious?? Your burning ardor for him creeping through every inch of your person, drowning your intentions and better sensibilities in anything and everything Diego Hargreeves. You swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking.

"I'm feeling-- was feeling … guilty. The last time I saw you.. I h-hit you... pretty hard. So, you win. I guess I am here to tell you I'm sorry." You brushed your fingers softly over the bruise that adorned his prominent, proud cheekbone. "I… I just wanted you to be okay. Because I think you were just trying to help. And that's stupid. It's stupid. I'm sorry," you hurriedly stammered.

Diego relinquished his grip on your arm, allowing his hand to travel down your side until it met your waist. He cocked his head and studied your eyes with his own mercurial ones-- searching for any hint of mistruth in your confession, but seemingly finding none.

After all, he too knew the honesty behind words that struggled to come out.

"You were… worried about me? You?"

"Let's not make a big thing of this, big boy. You're obviously fine. I shouldn't have come… An honest mistake. Won’t happen again," you started to turn your head, breaking his gaze.

But Diego's grip on your chin firmed, forcing you to look at him again before surging forward and crushing his lips to yours.

And, oh, this was bliss-- you were just sure of it. Your yearning manifested itself in the hand you had placed on Diego's cheek, cupping your hands to the sides of his face before dragging them back to thread through the closely-cropped hair at the nape of his neck, then passing your hands up through his longer hair toward the top of his head and tugging. You took advantage of the gasp Diego elicited at that sensation, sweeping your tongue into his mouth.

Your shared lust bled through your connected skin, hands on faces and elsewhere… washing over you both like warm static, a pleasant buzz akin to drinking just a little too much champagne.

Diego’s hands tugged at the hem of your rain-dampened hoodie, tugging it over your head. Your newly-exposed skin prickled with goosebumps at the sudden chill. You had run over here in the rain, after all. Diego’s darkened, honeyed gaze reverently took in your form.

Never one to waste an opportunity, you took the break in action as your chance to respond in kind-- peeling his skin-tight black crewneck shirt from his own gloriously-sculpted body.

The two of you stood, staring at each other’s exposed torsos, ragged breaths dragging through the air of passion so-stifling the room like incense you’ve left burning for too long.

Diego stared at your chest, breasts heaving from behind the scrap of lace that constituted your bralette-- were those piercings that made your nipples poke so prominently through the lace? WIth this realization, Diego felt himself harden. He lunged for you with a growl, scooping you by the waist and dropping you with a bounce onto his bed.

His mouth latched onto your throat, sucking insistently while his powerful hands rested at the edges of the delicate lace trim of your bra, passing almost reverently across your ribcage.

You gasped as he brushed a thumb over your nipple, feeling yourself growing wet beneath your leggings. You hmm’d a whine as Diego’s mouth found that spot on your throat, his thumb still rolling circles over your nipple.

“D-Diego,” you gasped, sucking in air like you’d never properly breathed before.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Take it off,” you glanced down at the scrap of lace that adorned your chest. “Please,” you intoned, sweetly.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Diego said,” creeping his fingers beneath the lace to lift it off your skin. Suddenly, with that preternatural speed he’d come to recognize as a gift of those who were enhanced, like himself, you seized his wrist and squeezed.

“It wasn’t meant to be nice,” you ground out. “Take. It. Off. Now.”

With that, you released his wrist, and Diego gripped the lace where it rested beneath your breasts with this two hands and tugged, ripping your bralette cleanly in two, exposing your tits to his roving gaze.

“There you go, Big Deal,” you preened in satisfaction, taking your own hands from where they had previously been resting along his strong abdomen, trailing them down to the top of his jeans. You popped the button on his fly and began tugging his zipper down, before Diego caught your hand as quickly as you had just done to him.

“I’ve got this, baby,” Diego assured.

With that, he brought his mouth down to your left breast, swirling his tongue around your nipple, taking the hand still clutching your wrist and planting it above your head. He released your wrist, trailing his hand, down your side until it met the waistband of your leggings. He pressed his fingers beneath the waistband, raking his fingers under your panties, to where you wanted him most.

As he dragged a finger through your wetness, you gasped out a keening sigh. Diego’s long fingers working magic against your center, rubbing up and down your slit before pressing one, long finger inside. He lifted his mouth from your breast, pressing it to yours to swallow your moan with a searing kiss.

After a few more moments, Diego slid his finger from your center, retracting his hand from your pants, his other hand coming to meet it, peeling your leggings and panties from you in one fluid motion. You lifted and wiggled your hips to assist him. As soon as the leggings were free from your legs, you wasted no time in wrapping your bare legs around Diego’s waist, locking your ankles behind him and pulling him to you, dragging your hands up his neck and into his hair, hissing in pained pleasure as you rolled your hips against Diego’s still denim-clad hardness.

Diego groaned as he felt your hardened nipples press against his chest, the microscopic bite of cold from your piercings as they touched his warm skin made him sigh.

The room felt like it was bordering on a hundred degrees, the previously champagne-drunk feeling of your shared lust now replaced with a frantic urge to taste and mark every inch of the other as their own.

As you continued to grind your hips into Diego, he kissed you deeply, tongue sliding into your mouth, running along your own tongue and teeth, tasting every bit of your want for him as he succumbed to the heated buzz of the room.

Your power had its benefits, he reasoned, if it meant this would feel so… resplendent.

The mutuality of your shared passion was enough to do you in. You couldn’t be imagining that Diego wanted you as much as you wanted him. If that wasn’t the case, you both wouldn’t be burning like this, writhing atop his bed with pent-up passion and aggression.

Diego broke his hands from where they had previously been digging bruises into your hips, coming up onto his knees to start shucking his own jeans and underwear off.

And oh, he thought, you were a vision. As he looked at you while he stripped himself, he was overcome. Your half-lidded gaze swimming with hazy, unfulfilled promises, swirling lazily like the drizzle of sinfully sweet syrup over something forbidden. Your lips were flushed, swollen and lightly bruised from the punishing pace of your shared kisses. Your wickedly luscious curves and the glimmering slick between your thighs on display for only him. In this moment, he felt he could die under whatever your power would dish out, if it meant he died feeling like this.

Now bared to you in his entirety, Diego positioned himself once more between your legs, his impressive length sliding to where he had guided it along your opening.

You tossed your head back, eyes closed at the glorious feeling of his skin finally meeting yours where you wanted it most… but, still, it wasn’t enough.

“Di- eh - go,” you panted, your glimmering gaze meeting his lustrously darkened one. “P-please, I need it. I need you,” you cried piteously, clutching his shoulders and grinding your hips once more against him.

Diego chuckled, only to happy to oblige. With a guiding hand and a smooth flex-and-thrust of his hips, Diego entered you with a powerful, needed thrust. You cried out, sound going straight to his cock, twitching from its rightful place inside of you.

“There, now, baby,” Diego crooned, bringing his mouth back to yours and humming into your open lips. “Doesn’t that feel ... So. Much. Better?” He punctuated each of his last few words with hard, firm thrusts of his hips.

You nodded, eagerly fusing your mouths together, rolling your hips in kind to meet Diego’s sweet, but punishing thrusts.

“After all that shit you pulled with me,” DIego ground out, “It’s nice to know-- this is what you really wanted. Fuck--” he broke off as you clenched around him just right. “This is what you needed.”

You whined your assent, keening and high-pitched.

“Mmmm, I want y-you, as much as you want me,” you gasped out, Diego’s brutal thrusting brushing your clit with his pubic bone, bringing you ever closer, closer, closer to that teetering edge. You lifted yourself up to balance on one hand and meet Diego’s face where he was hovering above you, your sweat-slicked bodies pressing into one another with a delicious, filthy heat. You looked into his eyes, your jaw slack with the stupidly good feeling of everything he was doing to you.

You turned your head to face his sculpted shoulder, and grazed your teeth there, biting into the apex of his arm. Diego hissed, obviously pleased with the feeling, bringing his hand to your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat and tearing your teeth away from his shoulder, guiding your mouth back to his with the pads of his fingers lightly pressing into your airway.

You gasped, the combined feeling of his kiss, his pressing, insistent touch, and his cock inside you brushing repeatedly against that spot of your inner walls causing you to clench, crying out your sudden, gushing release.

Diego guided your head back to his pillow, clenching his fist, the same battered-knuckled boxer’s fist that had previously clutched your throat, now clutched around his bedframe as he hammered his final thrusts, pounding into you until he met his release, groaning as he came down from his sudden, bursting high.

He sighed into your neck, the lovingly sticky heat of your sweaty bodies pressed together as he eased himself from you, pulling you into his side.

You sighed in contentment.

Was everything Diego Hargreeves did punctuated with such beautiful, forthright power?

---

You both lie in the after, bodies pressed firmly together. It would have been romantically intimate had the primary motivator not been the lack of space on Diego's too-small mattress squeezed along the wall in his room.

Nevertheless, you lie there in complete contentment, basking in the afterglow and Diego's delightfully even, rhythmic breathing.

Said lothario had his head turned into your cheek, nose brushing against your hair. His arm around you, curling you to him and trailing his fingers up and down your side at a slow, steady pace.

Why couldn't it always be like this?

After all, fire doused with water still burns brightly at one time, but loses its penchant for destruction, tampered in cool, calming depths and leaving behind cooling steam. So, too, had you and Diego drawn a peaceable, but joyfully sweaty truce.

In that moment, you could see yourself loving him. You know he'd let you, if you gave him enough time and enough of yourself. The man had not had enough love given to him in his life-- he fought for it, tooth and nail. And had come up woefully empty, like clutching at soft sand that slips through your fingers. He'd had the love of his siblings, sure. But this was -- understandably-- different. You recognized a chasm in him that you often thought you'd never mend within yourself.

But he was so deserving of love. Whereas you? Well, the jury was still out.

When you think of Diego, you couldn't help but think of strength. Assuredness. Agility. His aura burned red in your deeper sentiments. Power. You do associate his memory with annoyance, sure, but also a biting wit that he so-oft concealed. And an endearing sentimentality. And an iron will suffused with stubbornness.

You had gleaned some of this from your foray into exploring his emotions, sure. But you don't use your power at every turn. The rest of it was every impression Diego had devastatingly left you with. You had learned so much of him, you yearned to share a piece of yourself, similarly eager for acceptance. Which then prompted you to share--

“You know,” you piped up in the dark, “You remind me a bit of the main character of my favorite books series-- Ever hear of ‘The Dark Tower?’ You know, the legendary Gunslinger?”

Diego scoffed at that.

“Guns are for pussies, real men throw knives,” he stated primly, but still unable to conceal the smile in his voice.

“That sounds a little rehearsed, Big Deal. But I’ll let it slide. Besides, you don’t know what you’re missing,” you acquiesced, turning your head to face him, your noses brushing.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m not into all that bookworm stuff. Cuz, ya know, I’m not a fuckin’ virgin,” he chuckled. Obviously pleased with his middle school-grade burn.

You met his eyes, yours widening in mock surprise. “Oh no?” you gasped. “Well, then why do you dress like one?”

Honestly, it had to be some kind of world record, how fast Diego’s face fell.

"I'm kidding, big boy. You know I dig the black leather," you crooned. Ever eager to smooth the waters of this moment, of his now furrowed brow, back to the placid lake it had been.

"You're goddamn right, you do," Diego chuffed, his grin now prominent in his voice.

You looked at him, your eyes travelling between his shining, ochre eyes and his full lips.

"I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye.

“I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I shoot with my mind.

"I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart," you recited.

Diego regarded you for a moment before brushing his lips across yours, kissing you warmly.

"What was that?" He asked.

"'The Dark Tower,'" you replied. "What? I like to read. You really do remind me of him. Surly, but just. Lost, but ever-searching. Pinpoint accuracy. Deadly. But hasn't lost hope."

Diego kissed you again, running his hand down your body beneath the covers to grip your bum and roll your body over his, urging you to tarry with him on another burning exploration of one another's bodies.

Yes, you think, sighing as Diego's teeth graze that spot on your neck, his warm palm on your breast. You could easily fall in love with him… if you let yourself. You were probably more than halfway in love with him already.

Oh, no.

---

You awoke to the early-morning sun peeking weakly behind the remnants of fat, overstuffed rainclouds from the night before, purpling the sky as sunlight met grey.

You took in Diego’s, sweet sleeping form-- his long lashes fringing his sweetly-closed eyes, his cropped hair mussed from a night of tugging, rolling, writhing. He breathed deeply, evenly, peaceably, as evidenced by the repetitive motion of his muscled torso, his long-fingered hands resting along his stomach.

You couldn’t do this. Couldn’t taint someone so noble and beautiful with your special brand of poisonous manipulation.

You couldn’t stop yourself as you spoke softly to the sleeping man beside you, coming to sit on the edge of his bed and brushing one hand through his soft hair.

“You wanted to know about my power? It’s a curse. You think I want this? This? It’s isolation, Diego-- it’s eternal damnation. I shouldn’t be able to do what I can do … No one should. It’s not a gift, it’s a curse. And it dooms me to a life alone,” your voice cracks as your breath catches in your throat, hitching over tears that were now, suddenly pooling in your eyes. “There’s no trust. It’s what I … It’s what I deserve.”

With that, you left Diego’s room. Leaving him to wake alone to a cold one-half of his bed, fingers clutching over air and the warm memories of the night before. He blinked in confusion, the sting of your rejection settling beneath his skin.

---

When you saw Diego again, it was nearly a month after your last… encounter. The sharp knife of anxiety and longing you so regularly felt in yourself since that day, you recognized immediately as emanating from Diego as you watched him limp away from what you assumed was a particularly nasty fight.

“Big Deal!” You shouted across the street and through the darkness.

Diego’s head whipped up, head turning to the direction of your voice, before meeting your gaze. He shook his head, looked away, and kept walking. Away from you.

Ouch.

Honestly, you could understand why he would. You had done the same to him a month ago. Walked away. But the pinging sting of his rejection dug at you, like glass into the thin skin between your knuckles.

All you had ever wanted was for other people to understand. But mostly, now, you realized… You really only cared that Diego understood.

You took off after him, enhanced speed helping you catch up to his limping form outside of a boarded-up, long-closed bar.

“Diego!” You called, stopping in front of him, causing him to halt.

“What could you possibly want with me, after all this time?” Diego spit.

“I.. I deserve that, Big Deal. I do,” you glanced at your boots, scuffing the toe into the pavement. “Please, just… hear me out?”

You looked up at Diego. Really looked at him. His beautiful, tawny skin damp with sweat from a fight, his usually bright and mischievous eyes sunken under the weight of tired bags that sat beneath them. He looked drawn, more exhausted than you remember. You caught sight of a particularly nasty, jagged cut on the side of his neck that had clearly only recently stopped bleeding, the splotching clot like a raised, splintering cut from a large cat’s claws. A particularly nasty bruise was already forming around his left eye and onto his beautifully-sculpted, prominent cheek.

You rushed to meet him, your fingers coming to brush along his cheeks, mindful of the bruise. He closed his eyes at your touch, lashes fanning downward in defeat.

“Who hurt you? What did they do, Big Deal? Who the fuck did this? If anyone hurt you, I would make them hurt. I’ll make them pay”

Diego dropped the knife you now noticed was previously-clutched in his right hand, bringing his hand to meet your wrist.

“Don’t do that,” he whispered.

“Don’t do what? Kill the fucker who hurt you? Fine, I’ll just break their knees--” you started, before Diego shushed you.

“No,” he said, “Shut the fuck up. D- Don’t act like you give a shit. Someone who gives a shit wouldn’t bounce for a fuckin’ month. Not after a night like that.”

Your hand left Diego’s face.

“I… I deserve that,” you said. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” And with that, you plopped yourself onto the pavement, sitting on the sidewalk at Diego’s feet. Annoying? Sure. Dramatic? Sure. But if something is stupid and it works, then it isn’t stupid.

Diego sighed at you, rolling his eyes before coming to sit beside you, gasping out in pain and clutching an obviously bruised rib or two on his way down.

“Fine. Tell me what the fuck happened. Why’d you go?”

“Diego--” you started… “I-- I can’t be with someone when I’m like this. It never works,” you confessed.

“Like what?” He pressed, bringing his hand to your knee.

“I’m-- I’m a monster,” you cried. “Adler knew it. Everyone I meet knows it. It’s only a matter of time before you know it too. I just… I don’t know how to stop.” The tears you thought you could hold at bay were now creeping up and causing your throat to close around your words of contrition.

“You’re not--” Diego began, but you silenced him with a harsh wave of your hand.

“You don't understand. You wanted to know how it works? I’ll tell you. The power works based on the other's emotion, sure. I amplify what they feel. Cripple them with it, even. But that's not all… it only works, really works, if it's something I can draw on. They feel what I want them to feel-- because I feel it too …" you admitted. “Everything I ever do to someone else I can only do because I know how it feels. If I want someone to hurt, they’ll hurt… I -- I don’t want to do that to you, too.”

“You won’t. Not with me,” Diego pressed.

“And how can you be sure? Even now, I feel how pissed you are at me for leaving. It’s humming beneath your skin. I can feel it.”

Diego nodded, picking up the knife he had previously dropped and beginning to spin it around in his hand.

“I know it because I felt it. When we were together,” he sighed. “We both, we both can do these things. Anyone else would piss themselves if it was turned against them. But you look the danger of what I am in the face, and you laugh. When we’re together, we’re matched. The way that room felt? I know what that was.”

You sat, stunned at Diego’s read of the situation.

“I take back what I said the first night we met,” you said. At the question in his eyes, you continued, “You’re not dumb. That was… that was… something. But I know how to flex my power. I know what fells all men. Fear is a powerful emotion."

Diego smiled at you.

“I hate to break it to you, princess, but I’m not scared of you. I know you think I am, but I’m not. And you know what's even stronger than fear? Love."

You looked at Diego, blinked. He blinked back. You then turned your head with a mocking, retching, gag.

"Jesus, Big Deal. They teach you ‘Hokey Catchphrases 101’ at Dysfunctional Superhero Camp?"

“Hey,” he jostled your shoulder with his. “You know I’m right.”

You stood, offering Diego your hand.

“Come on, big boy. Walk me home?”

Diego acquiesced, coming to stand with a stifled grunt.

“You’re lucky I heal quickly.”

With that, the two of you walked down the street. You matched Diego’s stride, mindful of his injuries. As you walked side-by-side, your fingers brushed. Before you could stop yourself or think better of it, you took Diego’s hand.

When you reached your door, you turned to Diego, fiddling with your keys.

“Everyone’s distinct, you know? Everyone feels differently. Wears their hearts on their sleeve, so to speak. But with everyone, it’s a different emotion. Some flaunt pride. Some are more passive. Do you want to know what I feel when I see you?”

Diego glanced down to where your hands were still joined. He brought them up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I want whatever you’ll tell me. You’re such an open book,” he admitted sarcastically. You rolled your eyes.

“Come on, I’m being serious here. You feel... you feel...”

At Diego’s urging look, you continued.

"You feel like warmth. Like I could wrap myself in you and never feel the biting cold of my heart again. And when you're not around? The absence of you is worse than any feeling I could ever exploit. I hate it when you aren't here."

Diego stared at you in silence for a moment, before he spoke, “I really think you should open the door now and let me take you inside.”

You smiled, pleased that your honest confession had gone over well, the smile morphing into a smirk.

“As you wish, Big Deal.”

And in the morning? Well, In the morning, you and Diego were still wrapped up in one another.

You looked into Diego’s swimming, honey-and-tar eyes, tracing your palms down the sides of his jaw and cupping his cheeks as you told him, “You have my whole heart. It’s yours -- crush it, hold it, bury it in whatever you feel ... Do whatever you want with it, I don’t care. Just say you want it-- that you want me.”

“I want you.” With that, he kissed you deeply.

---

You were a master of emotional manipulation. To do that, you had to have a decent handle on your own emotions. For years, you’d rested on your own laurels of your mastery of self, indulging only in the most passing of forays into others’ feelings for the sake of your own.

So why on Earth were you so fucking nervous? Why couldn’t you get it under control?

Yet, here you were, hand in Diego’s, fingers laced, on your way to Hargreeves Manor to meet his siblings, months after your mutual confessions of want. The two of you had been inseparable.

Diego clearly sensed your unease, because he turned to you, squeezing your fingers in his own, planting a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“They’ll like you,” he promised.

“How can you be so sure?” You worried, trying to keep all of them straight in your mind based on Diego’s stories, anecdotes and descriptions.

“Because I like you, and they love to annoy me. So they’ll definitely want to buddy up,” he chuckled with a shrug. “Baby, you’ll be fine.”

With that, you found yourself standing in the ornate living room with five nonplussed persons who introduced themselves to you one by one.

As the largest of the group approached you, you beat him to the punch.

“You must be Luther,” you said, pumping your arm in a handshake where his hand comically dwarfed yours.

Luther blinked. “How did you know?”

"Easy,” you said, “You look like a 'Number One.’ "

Luther straightened, obviously pleased. "Important?" he asked.

"Self-important."

This caused the lithe one with the smudged eyeliner who had introduced himself with a wink as, “Klaus, darling,” to howl with laughter.

“She’s fuckin’ got your number, Luther,” he gasped out between his chuckles. He turned to the seemingly-empty air beside himself and said, “I know! She is fun!”

The group found itself sitting around the living room on the various, overstuffed furnishings, in a fun little Q-and-A circle, which was only getting easier all the time, as you found the Hargreeves siblings’ obvious bond to be so endearing. The glamorous one you knew to be Allison had queried about your power, curious as to how you and Diego had met.

Diego had recounted your first meeting to the group, and proffered an explanation of your powers with, "She takes the idea of 'wrapped up in your emotions' and makes it literal."

“And how did this come about?” Klaus queried, gesturing his long fingers between you and Diego. “It’s not like that first meeting was full of warm-and fuzzies.”

“I don’t know … We’ve … run into each other a few times,” you offer with a shrug and a shy grin.

Klaus clapped his hands, a large grin adorning his face.

“Oh-ho! I like this. Diego’s girlfriend beats the shit out of him on the regular!” Klaus happily sang to the massive living room. “Or is that how you two, you know, keep it exciting?” he intoned to Diego in what must have been the world’s loudest and worst attempt at a whisper.

“She does not beat the shit out of me,” Diego protested, rolling his eyes at his brother’s swaggering antics.

“Right, right, you beat the shit out of each other. Honestly, I get it. Kinda hot. No judgment from me, you crazy kids,” Klaus smiled and held up his hands in surrender, flashing you the “Hello” and “Goodbye” on his palms. “Diego told me about you the day after you first met. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it myself when I’m ever-so-alone at night,” he added with a wink.

All you could do was chuckle. Who couldn’t love Klaus Hargreeves?

After that, the questioning from the gathered siblings dissipated into a casual little party, with people pairing off to speak in groups of just them, and with drinks from the open bar being passed around amongst the siblings. Even Five. If you were honest, it was strange to see a thirteen-year-old boy drink frozen margaritas. But you’d had to remind yourself that he was actually older than all of you. Honestly, you’d tried not to think about it too hard.

In between drinks, you found yourself engaged in silly banter with Klaus and Vanya, laughing at Klaus’s stories of eating bagels from dumpsters and his bantering memories with their brother Ben. You responded in kind with stories of your own-- making your elementary school teachers believe they’d had crushes on one another by exploiting their repressed desires, making your classmates piss themselves every Halloween with some prank or another ...

While Vanya was a bit more reserved with her amusement, you’d caught a smile playing at her lips. Klaus outright howled.

“Oh, you truly belong here, don’t you? Reggie would’ve haaaated you,” he gestured at the stern portrait of their father. “Which means you’re absolutely perfect for our dear Diego,” Klaus proclaimed, lacing his fingers through your own.

With that, Klaus turned to you with a conspiratorial giggle and hmm'd into your ear, "You know what they say, peaches. 'A scrub is a guy who thinks he's fly.' And if we're being honest, Diego deeeeeeefinitely thinks he's fly."

You laughed, choking on your sip of margarita. You’d never felt a kind of discordant unity like this one.

With Diego’s family… with Diego, you felt like you truly did belong.

As you and Diego lay together in bed after the day with his family, he’d asked if you felt comfortable.

“Of course, love.” You pressed a small kiss to the tip of Diego’s nose, nuzzling your own against his. “They were wonderful. You’re wonderful. Thank you for sharing all of this with me.”

Diego gazed lovingly at you, eyes, a deep, endless pit of an eclipse, brimming with golden honey streaks of mischief.

“I can’t wait to share everything with you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into your shoulder and settling beside you comfortably.

Ah. So that’s what that warm, soft, cotton-y, cloud-like feeling you had begun to experience since you’d began your relationship with Diego was ... Comfort. Funny how it blended so seamlessly into the burning, cinnamon-tinged, blooming one you’d come to recognize as his love.

---

Tagging: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @winters-buck @qveenbvtch @forever-rogue @ali-cide @fleetwoodmactshirt @stellarkyun @zeldasayer @ayeayecaptaingally @nappingtopknot @holographic-carmen @mandaloriane @pascalplease @phoenixhalliwell @white-wolf-buckaroo @melon-eyes @pancakepike @noturjacky @johnc0nstantine @amarachoren @outrebanx @yespolkadotkitty @agentpike @cryptkeepersoul @netflixandzayn @deadpoolcouldshootme @manchuria @flhorah @halerune @spideymanreads @athousandbuckys @imagining-constantly @dovesgrangers @ravenoussss @pyrosag @rzrcrst

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flourgirl · 4 years ago

Text

Sleepyhead

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter will try just about anything to help out the very pretty insomniac from his math class.

Work Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Just some sweet, pure fluff with a few curse words every now and then.

A/N: Either the tags aren’t working for me or you guys just didn’t like it, but the final part of “Even If It’s a Lie” has been out for a few days now if anyone’s interested in reading it 🥺 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this super long piece I’ve been working on to help me get through finals <3

“Touch you softly I call you up late at night No doubt it isn't right But you could be my one and only” -Softly, Clairo

Peter had seen you around campus a few times, but it wasn’t until you started sitting two rows ahead of him in his linear algebra class that he really started to notice you.

He thought you were really pretty, and he liked how cozy you always looked in the puffy winter coat you kept on in the perpetually freezing lecture hall. You took a lot of notes, which told him that you cared about the class, and never showed up without a giant cup of iced coffee.

You’re being a creep, Peter told himself. He had thought about switching seats to somewhere in front of you, so he could actually listen to his professor discuss permutations instead of staring at how you chewed on the end of your pen when you were thinking.

It was even worse when you started sleeping in class, your soft hair falling around your shoulders as you leaned your head against your desk. It seemed like all the coffee in the world couldn’t keep you awake, and Peter wondered if he should ask if you wanted to borrow his notes or something. But that would mean him admitting to looking at you way more than he needed to, and that was weird, so he quickly dropped the idea.

Still, he was worried about you. So when he came back from patrol in the middle of the night and bumped into you outside of the dorm kitchen, he figured it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce himself and maybe even find out why you were so tired all the time.

The only problem was that he had accidentally knocked your pan of banana bread out of your hands, and you were currently staring at it laying on the floor with your sleepy eyes, not saying anything.

“Shit, uh, I’m so sorry,” he told you, crouching down to scoop up the remnants of your late-night snack into the pan. “Were you really up baking at 3 a.m?”

You blushed a little, starstruck that the cute guy from your math class was talking to you. “Um, yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come down to the kitchen while nobody else was here and make something. Baking always helps me calm down, and so here I am. And here we are. And there’s my bread, all covered in whatever kind of dust the custodians refuse to sweep down here.”

He offered a soft smile, and it made you feel better about the fact that you were rambling way more than you wanted to.

“I’m Y/N,” you continued, gently taking the pan from his hands. “You’re in linear algebra with Professor Meyers, right?”

“Yeah, you, um, you sit right in front of me. Well, not right in front of me. Two rows in front of me. Shit. I’m not creepy, I promise. It’s just… uh… My name is Peter and I’m going to stop talking now.”

That couldn’t have possibly gone any worse, he thought. You were probably thinking he was a serial killer or something.

“It’s okay. I know you sit behind me,” you reassured him. “You answer a lot of questions.” He was cute and smart, and you hoped he couldn’t notice how flustered you were to be this close to him.

“What are you doing up so late?” he asked, which made you laugh at how ironic his concerns were, considering he was also wandering around the dorm basement at this hour.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, sitting on one of the benches that jutted out of the walls of the corridor. “I mean, you’re here too. At least I was baking. What’s up with you?”

You had a point. “I had an emergency… with my internship. I work for Stark Industries, and Mr. Stark rang me in the middle of the night to come to the lab immediately for something, so, yeah. That’s why I’m awake right now.”

“Okay,” you said, not buying his story. “So that’s why you have a black eye and you’re lurking in the basement hallway? Did Tony Stark punch you?”

Fuck. Did he really have a black eye and not notice? He didn’t think that Doc Oc’s stupid mechanical arm had punched him that hard, but apparently, he was wrong. And now he had to come up with some reason as to where it came from, although he could already tell that you were about to call his bluff.

The only solution he could think of was to change the subject. “Why are you always asleep during class?” he blurted out, causing you to give him a funny look before frowning down at your slippers.

“Isn’t it obvious,” you yawned, stretching your arms out in front of you. “I’m an insomniac. It’s actually kind of funny. I never really had any problems with falling asleep until I moved here. Maybe it’s the cold weather or the constant pressure to get good grades, but I just can’t sleep anymore. It sucks.”

Normally, you’d never tell this much about yourself to somebody, let alone a complete stranger. But somehow, you felt really comfortable around Peter. There was just something about him that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Peter caught himself staring at you again, your baby pink pajamas a far departure from how put together your usual outfits were. Even without your makeup or hair done, you were still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. For some reason, even the dark circles under your eyes were really cute to him.

“You never answered my question,” you reminded him, hoping that he’d say something to fill the awkward silence. “What’s with the black eye and wandering around in the middle of the night? Are you some kind of superhero?”

“What? No! That’s crazy. Me, a superhero,” he laughed awkwardly, wondering if you had somehow figured out his secret identity. Had you spotted him that one time he made sure that you and your friends got home safely from a late-night study session? Even so, you totally couldn’t have known it was him, right?

“Relax, I’m just joking,” you giggled, thinking about how cute he looked when he was flustered. “Although my friend did tell me she thought she saw Spider-Man a few weeks ago on her way back from a party.”

“Haha, yeah,” he breathed out, a wave of relief washing over him. It was times like these that he really started to appreciate how well-hidden his muscles were underneath all of his oversized sweaters.

“Does that hurt?” you asked, bringing your hand up to lightly brush his lip, which was bleeding. He flinched instinctively before settling under your touch, your eyes focused on the small cut. “I have a first aid kit in my room if you want some help cleaning it up.”

“Oh, no, it’s cool. I wouldn’t want to bother your roommate,” Peter told you, scooting further away on the bench, nearly falling off the edge of it. Ned hated it when he stumbled in at some ungodly hour after patrol and woke him up.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and gesturing for him to follow you. “I have a single.”

Peter looked at you in awe. Freshmen never got rooms to themselves, and yet somehow you had one. “Okay, fine. But only because I’ve never actually seen a single in this building before.”

“That’s cool with me,” you smiled, reaching for his hand so he could keep up with your pace. He noticed that you were chewing some of the banana bread, which he really hoped was from the part that didn’t fall on the floor. To be fair though, it did smell really good.

Not only did you have a single, but you lived on the first floor. Peter couldn’t believe how lucky you were, considering the building that the two of you lived in didn’t have any elevators to traverse its seven floors.

He was even more shocked when you opened your door, revealing the coziest dorm room he had ever seen. How on earth did you transform the glorified prison cell into something that felt so... comforting? From the twinkling lights that were wrapped around everything and the soft rug under his feet, Peter found it really hard to believe that you had trouble sleeping here.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” you apologized, piling your many throw pillows and blankets into a basket to clear up some space on your bed. “You can sit here.”

If this was messy, then Peter and Ned’s room needed some serious help. “No worries,” he said, watching as you rummaged around your drawers in search of your first aid kit.

Eventually, you found it hidden under a bunch of graph paper and colored pencils, untouched ever since your overprotective grandparents had helped you move in. “Here we go,” you mused, now looking inside it for alcohol wipes and band-aids.

He winced as you rubbed the little cloth against his lips, and you made sure to be more gentle as you cleaned up the other cuts on his face. Thankfully, nothing was bad enough to require stitches, something you were seriously under-qualified to do.

All Peter could focus on the entire time was how close you were and what it would be like to just kiss you right then and there, but he knew that was way too forward of him. Plus, he didn’t even know if you liked him like that. Surely you were just being nice.

Still, the way he caught you staring into his brown eyes after smoothing a band-aid on his forehead made him think otherwise.

“You’re going to have to tell me eventually who beat you up,” you sighed, gathering up wrappers to throw away and tucking the first aid kit back into its place in your drawers.

“It’s a long story,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your stare.

“I’ve got time,” you replied, climbing onto your lofted bed to sit next to him, innocently brushing your bare leg against his jeans, which made his breath hitch. “Tell me about it.”

“Uh, how about another time?” he stammered, hopping off the bed and running his hand through his hair. “After class tomorrow, or something. It’s getting pretty late. We should, um, go to sleep.”

“You can stay here if you want,” you offered, his eyes widening at your invitation. “On the bean bag, I mean. It’s actually really comfortable. You mentioned something about bothering your roommate and I figured that maybe you’d like to avoid the trouble tonight.”

“Oh…” Peter hesitated, looking for a reason to say no. He knew he’d never be able to sleep knowing that you were in the same room as him. “I don’t have any pajamas.”

“True,” you agreed, a little disappointed that he wasn’t interested in sticking around.

“I don’t actually even wear pajamas to sleep,” he continued, making you look back up at him instead of playing with the hem of your shirt. “It’s just… I sleep in my boxers.”

“I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” you sighed, your face hot with embarrassment.

“It’s not that! I mean, I do want to stay here. But, uh, you… well, you make me really nervous, Y/N,” he muttered, his glance bouncing around the room.

“Why?” you asked, your brows furrowing. “Did I do something?”

“No, no! Nothing at all. I promise, okay?”

“Okay. You can, um, get ready for bed, I guess. I promise not to look,” you assured him, turning on your side to face the wall.

“Thanks. Yeah, alright.” You heard him fumbling with his clothes, his sneakers making a soft thud on your floor. You did your best to resist the urge to glance back at him.

“Can I just use any of these?” he asked, although you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Peter, I’m not looking, remember? You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“The blankets. Do I just pick one, or are you particular about them?”

“Oh. You can use whichever one you want to. But the coral one’s the softest and my personal favorite.” Peter stared at the basket in confusion. To him, they were all just pink. But based on touch alone, he pulled one out that he figured was a little more orange than the others.

He walked over to the light switch and flipped off the overhead fluorescents, letting the room be illuminated by the warm glow of your fairy lights, which weren’t too bright, but still twinkly and beautiful.

“Goodnight, Peter,” you whispered, snuggling into your comforter in the hopes that your heartbeat would slow down and let you fall asleep for once.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” In a matter of minutes, you could hear his soft snoring, and you figured that it would be okay just to take a quick peek since he’d probably be bundled up in one of your blankets.

His hair was perfectly messy, and he looked so cozy wrapped up in the blanket you had recommended. Still, as much as you could stare at his adorable face all night, you were exhausted. Burying your face under the covers, you did your best to calm your nerves and get some rest before class tomorrow.

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

“Peter,” you whispered, jostling him lightly by the shoulders in the hopes of waking him up. “Uh, we have an hour before class. I was thinking that it would be enough time for you to go shower and change, and then we could go get coffee or something.”

He blinked back up at you, amazed at how well he slept on your bean bag. You had already gotten ready for the day, doing your makeup and picking out one of your many fluffy sweaters to keep you warm in the New York snow.

“Thanks, that sounds awesome,” he yawned, accepting the hand you held out to help him up. The blanket fell, and you stared at each other in shock, having forgotten that Peter was in nothing but his underwear.

You dropped his hand as fast as you could, covering your eyes. “Oh my god! I’m sorry. Shit, I completely forgot, Peter. I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get dressed.”

Peter watched as you stumbled around the room, your eyes squeezed tightly as your hands attempted to guide you away from him.

“Y/N,” he started, catching your attention as you nearly ran into your bed frame. “You can open your eyes. Really, I don’t care if you see me like this if it means I can keep you from breaking your nose.”

You hesitantly opened your eyes, relieved that Peter had already managed to pull his pants back on. Still, he was completely shirtless, and you found yourself staring at the abs you would have never expected to be hiding underneath his clothes.

Moments later, you averted your gaze, although you knew that he probably noticed you looking at where was now covered by his plaid button-down and dark blue sweater.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” he muttered, before practically sprinting out of your room and up the stairs. You groaned in embarrassment, burying your face in a pillow before attempting to take a quick twenty-minute power nap.

Peter couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had thought one time about you seeing him without clothes on, but this wasn’t how he thought it would go at all. Still, the image of you staring at him shirtless, your face flushed, made him feel like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Dude! There you are,” Ned screamed, startled at his roommate’s unexpected entrance. Peter panted, having run up four flights of stairs as fast as he could. “Wait a second. Did you finally get laid? Is this a walk of shame?”

Before Ned could praise him any further, Peter was grabbing a change of clothes and sprinting towards the bathroom. Don’t think about her, he begged himself.

The memory of your leg touching his last night immediately came to mind, and Peter was so angry at himself for being this starved for physical intimacy. To be fair, though, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and so he cut himself some slack.

Shit, he told himself, making sure the water was set to cold. He needed to calm down, but instead, his thoughts were stuck on how good you looked in your pajamas, but also how good you would look without them and—fuck it.

Peter liked you a lot, and if thinking about you like this in private kept him from being a complete weirdo in person, then maybe he just needed to get his feelings of desperation over with.

When he came back down to your room about thirty minutes later, you were still super tired. You trudged your way towards the door, your hair now noticeably messier than earlier, but at least that meant your nap had been a success.

His hair was still damp and this time he was wearing yet another blue sweater, which made you wonder if he ever wore any other color. He had his backpack slung over one of his shoulders and a nervous smile on his face as he locked eyes with you.

“Hey,” he said, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “Are you ready to go?”

You leaned against the doorway a little bit, letting out a yawn that was literally the cutest noise Peter had ever heard in his life. “Yeah, let me get my backpack.”

“It’s so heavy,” you continued, rightfully complaining as the weight of all its contents practically pulled you downwards. “I think it’s so stupid how almost every professor bans computers from class. Like, it’s not fair that I have to lug around three textbooks every day. I don’t have time to run back to my dorm in between classes like some people!”

Peter frowned. Three textbooks were nothing to him, but he knew that you didn’t have spidey-strength and that you were also pretty tiny compared to him. It must’ve been hell on your back to be carrying all that stuff around every day.

“I can carry it for you,” he offered, holding out his hand to switch with you. “Here, you can take my backpack if it’ll make you feel better. I have a lot of programming classes today, so I’ve only got my laptop and a notebook in there.”

You gave him a look of gratitude as he traded bags with you, literally taking the weight off your shoulders. He was right. His backpack was much more manageable for you, even if the dark grey contrasted with the light colors you always wore.

In contrast, it looked kind of odd for him to be walking around with a backpack that was covered in a soft pink floral pattern, much like everything else you owned, but the sight of him carrying your books brought a smile to your face.

It was one of the sweetest things a guy had ever done for you, and Peter wasn’t even your boyfriend. He probably didn’t even think of you in that way.

“Uh, where do you usually get coffee?” he asked, slowing his pace so you could keep up. He felt bad seeing how tired you were, no doubt due to the lack of sleep you got last night.

“The Starbucks next to Hendrie Hall,” you replied, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “You?”

“I don’t drink coffee,” he admitted. “I’m actually more of a tea person.”

“Oh,” you hesitated, wondering if it was worth it to walk all the way across campus just for a caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino. “We could go somewhere closer then.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassured you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along to your destination. “I like walking.”

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

You hadn’t really talked to Peter since that morning before class, but sometimes you would peek behind you and catch him stealing glances at you. Eventually, he had started to feel brave enough to give you a little wave whenever you caught him looking at you. Well, at least the times when you were awake.

One day, not even the loud shuffling and growing chatter of your classmates exiting the lecture hall could wake you up, and Peter figured he better do something before you got chewed out by one of the TAs.

“Y/N?” he said, leaning closer so that you could hopefully hear him. “Y/N. You gotta wake up. Class ended three minutes ago.”

He shook you a little bit, nervously hoping that you wouldn’t mind him touching you. Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled softly as soon as you realized it was Peter.

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, standing up to slide your empty notebook into your backpack. Your hand brushed the side of your mouth, making sure you hadn’t drooled onto yourself.

“You can borrow my notes,” he offered, glancing at you sheepishly as you gathered up your coat and fixed your hair. “If you want to.”

“That’d be great,” you sighed, wondering whether you should skip your next class and just go take a nap. At this point, you weren’t even bothering to put on makeup and you basically wore whatever clothes you had that weren’t already sprawled across your room.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, walking close to you to make sure you didn’t fall over. He knew you were an insomniac, but you looked seriously sleep-deprived today. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?”

“Nope,” you huffed, lugging your perpetually heavy backpack along. “But I’m skipping the rest of my classes today. I’d rather lie that I’m sick through an e-mail than have to explain to my professors why I was sleeping during their classes.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, stopping you in your tracks to take your backpack from you. “I’ve actually got some time before my next class. I can walk you back to your room and give you my notebook if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you told him, reaching to take your bag back from him, although he didn’t let you.

“Y/N. Come on, you’re exhausted. At least let me carry your stuff, alright?” He had such a kind look in his eyes, and you certainly didn’t have the energy to keep arguing for no reason.

“Okay.” You crossed your arms, the cold air slowly waking you up as the wind hit your face. Your ears were super cold, but you were glad you had pulled your hair into a quick braid to keep it from flying everywhere.

It wasn’t long before you were kicking your boots off in your dorm room, your teeth chattering as you wrapped yourself in a blanket.

“Do you want some tea?” you asked Peter, inviting him to sit down wherever.

“Sure, but I thought you drank coffee,” he reminded you, watching as you pulled an assortment of tea bags for him to choose from.

“I do,” you said, handing him the box and running to your bathroom to fill up the electric kettle. “But you drink tea.”

Peter’s ears suddenly felt hot. You had gotten tea just for him. Or maybe you were just a really good hostess and kept some around for all of your visitors. Probably the second option, he thought.

“Are you even allowed to have one of those?” he asked as the two of you waited for the water to boil.

“No,” you laughed, sitting next to him on your bed. For someone with so much space to themselves, you really needed to invest in more places to sit. “But you can’t have candles or fairy lights either, so I guess I’m just a rule breaker.”

“Guess I’ll just have to report you to the RA,” Peter teased, getting up to make himself a cup of earl grey. “Do you have any sugar?”

“Top drawer on the right,” you replied. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes.” You watched as his lips blew on the tea to cool it down before remembering that it was weird to stare.

“You should let me bake something for you. What’s your favorite dessert?” You were kicking your dangling legs, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than this morning.

“Chocolate cake. With chocolate frosting,” he said in between sips, walking back over to you. With you on the tall bed and him standing, your faces were level with each other.

“I’ll have to make you one to thank you,” you smiled, peering into his eyes. Peter felt your heartbeat quicken, and the grin on your face as you stared at each other made him weak in the knees.

“Can I get those notes?” you asked, making him remember that people don’t just look at each other and say nothing like that.

“Oh! Yeah, definitely.” He quickly set the mug down on your nightstand to rummage through his backpack, flipping one of his notebooks open before handing it to you. “There are the ones from today, but all of the ones I’ve taken this semester are in there too.”

“Wow,” you laughed, making a worried expression form on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are they not good?”

“No, it’s not that. They’re just, uh, very thorough.” He had basically transcribed your professor’s lectures onto the pages. “You must write really fast. But thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.”

Peter nodded before nervously gulping down the rest of his tea, not even noticing how hot the liquid still was as it nearly burned his throat.

“I should go now,” he started, looking around the room for his things. “I want you to get some rest, Y/N. Please.”

He had this look in his eyes that was so genuine—so full of care and concern—that it made you want to do whatever he asked you to.

“I’ll try,” you told him, awkwardly rubbing the top of your arm in the hopes that you could actually fall asleep after he left. “Have a nice day, Peter.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll stop by later,” he said, already halfway out the door. “For the notes, I mean! Uh, bye. Again. Okay. I’m going to go now.”

You giggled, giving him one last wave before he left. Like magic, the more you thought about how Peter was worried about you, the easier it was for you to drift off into a peaceful sleep, finally feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.

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

You woke up later that day to Peter knocking on your door, this time standing next to some guy in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.

“Hi, Y/N,” Peter greeted you. You looked a lot less tired than when he saw you this morning, which relieved him. “This is my roommate, Ned. He just wanted to know who I’ve been hanging out with, so I hope it’s okay that I brought him here to prove you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.”

Ned leaned closer to you, your hair still a little messy from your nap. “Blink twice if he’s paying you,” he whispered, causing you to giggle. Peter looked on nervously, unsure of what his best friend had just said to you.

“What did you say!?” he asked, lightly pushing Ned on the arm, knowing that it was probably something meant to embarrass him.

“Ow! Okay, now I’m really not telling you,” Ned replied, rubbing the spot where Peter had just hit him.

“Y/N, what did Ned say to you?” He turned to you, a worried look on his face as you and Ned held back your laughter. Peter’s face turned as red as a tomato, making you instantly feel a little bit bad.

“It was nothing, Peter. Really,” you said, pulling him into the room with you. “It was nice to meet you, Ned. I’ll make sure he’s back before curfew.”

Ned laughed, offering a quick thumbs up and mouthing “I like her” to Peter before you shut the door on him.

“I knew that was a mistake,” Peter sighed, his back against the door. You were still a bit giddy from the exchange, giggling softly as he slowed his breathing.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed around me,” you reassured him. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s just that…”

“What?” You could barely hear him as his voice trailed off.

“Well, uh, not all of my friends are, you know…”

“Spit it out, Peter,” you said, leaning closer so that you could hear him better.

“They’re not as pretty as you,” he muttered, making you blush at his words. Did he really think you were pretty?

“Oh. Thanks,” you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Peter lifted his head up, relieved that you didn’t think he was a creep or something.

“Your notebook’s on my desk,” you continued, stepping back a little to give him some space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the distance between you and him grew. “I just took a bunch of pictures, so I can look at them on my computer whenever.”

“Alright, awesome,” he said, walking over to collect it before turning back to you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well, actually. The best I’ve slept in a while. I think you’re some kind of good luck charm.”

“Really?” he asked, a little surprised that he had been helpful.

“Really. You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’d be nice if we hung out somewhere that wasn’t my room all the time,” you said, a hopeful look in your eyes. “If you want.”

Peter had never noticed it before, but the two of you really did spend most of your time together in your room. It really was a nice room, but it made sense that you’d want to get out of it every once and a while.

“I’d like that. What did you have in mind?” Play it cool, Parker, he told himself. You can freak out with Ned later.

“How about ice cream on Friday?” you suggested, which came as a bit of a surprise to him.

“In the middle of winter?” As far as Peter could remember, you were always cold.

“Yeah. I really love ice cream,” you added, smiling up at him.

“Okay, then. Ice cream it is,” he agreed. There was absolutely no way he could ever say no to you when you looked at him like that.

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

“May! No, it’s not a date. She’s just a friend. Yeah, I got it. Open the door, pay for her, don’t be an idiot!” Peter sighed into his phone, hoping his aunt’s unwarranted crash course on first dates would be over soon. “Yes, I’m wearing the green sweater. Thanks, love you. Bye!”

“I have no idea who told her I had a date tonight,” he groaned, slumping down onto the couch next to his best friend.

“I texted her,” Ned replied nonchalantly, not even looking away from whatever video game he was playing. “Knew you’d need some kind of pointers. Y/N is way out of your league.”

“Hey!” Was he right? Yes. Did Peter need to be reminded of it right before his not-a-date date with you? Definitely not.

“Come on, you know I’m right. It’s Liz Allan all over again. I have no idea how you keep pulling all of these pretty girls, but hey, credit where credit is due.”

“You’re so mean.”

“I keep it real and you love it. Good luck, man.”

“Bye,” Peter grumbled, slipping on his coat and walking out of their room. Four flights of stairs later, he was at your door.

“Hi!” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around him. This was the first time the two of you had ever hugged and Peter was not going to forget about it anytime soon. “Come in. I have a surprise for you!”

“Here,” you continued, holding out a blue and white beanie for him. “I made it for you. To match all those blue sweaters you wear all the time.” Except this time, he was wearing a forest green one, which brought out the slight hazel tinge in his eyes.

“You made this for me?” he asked, eyeing the different stitches you had used and fiddling with the pom-pom on top. It looked store-bought.

“Well, yeah, silly. I just said that,” you replied, hoping that he liked it. With all the time you didn’t sleep, you were knitting anyway, but this was a special present for him. “Try it on.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” he sighed, pulling the hat onto his head. He looked really cute, the ends of his wavy hair peeking out from underneath the brim.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, pulling him out of your room and towards the front of the dorm building. “Getting to hang out with you is good enough for me.”

“Where’d you learn how to knit?” Peter questioned, walking alongside you on the snow-lined sidewalks. With how cold it was, and considering he didn’t have a hood on his coat, it seemed like perfect timing that you had given him a hat.

“My grandma taught me,” you shared, taking in the twinkling of the streetlamps and how they bounced against the snow. In New York, that was practically the closest you could get to stargazing. “My, uh, grandparents actually raised me.”

“Oh. I was raised by my aunt and uncle,” Peter confided. It made you feel not so alone to find out that he didn’t grow up with his parents either, even though you knew firsthand just how hard it was.

“Do they live around here?” you asked, stealing glances at him and how rosy his cheeks were in the cold air.

“Yeah, my aunt lives in Queens,” he told you, staring at his feet to both avoid eye contact and make sure neither of you accidentally slipped. Not that he wouldn’t catch you, but he wanted to be safe. “My uncle actually passed away a couple of years ago.”

You stopped walking, immediately feeling a sense of regret. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. There was no way for you to have known that,” Peter reassured you, his warm breath coming out in clouds, and he reached for your hand to run his thumb across your knuckles. He gently pulled you along, keeping you from dying of embarrassment in the middle of campus.

“What about you? Are you from around here?” he asked, hoping to break the silence and make you feel a little bit better.

“No, I just moved up here for college. I grew up in Texas but moved to North Carolina when I was 13, so I finished school down there,” you explained, Peter suddenly noticing a slight Southern twang to your voice. “I just really wanted to go to school in a big city and not next to a farm for once in my life.”

“That makes sense,” he laughed, wondering what it would be like to live somewhere else. “I’ve only ever lived in New York City.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I love it. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, to be honest.”

“Me either,” you sighed, squeezing his hand tighter as the two of you enjoyed your walk in the snow.

It seemed like forever before you reached the ice cream shop, but you didn’t mind. That just gave you and Peter more time to get to know each other better. Turns out you both competed in academic decathlons, although you were more of a math person and he preferred science.

“Okay, you’re wrong. Night at the Museum 2 is so much better than the first one. I mean that kiss between Ben Stiller and Amy Adams? The Jonas Brothers as little cherub angels? Name one thing from the original that tops that,” you ranted in between spoonfuls of peppermint ice cream.

“I just really like when the little cowboy and gladiator are driving that toy car around,” he reasoned, subtly admitting defeat.

“Don’t even get me started on why the second Shrek movie—”

You were interrupted by the sound of Peter’s phone ringing, and you immediately recognized his ringtone as the Coconut Mall theme from Mario Kart. He peered down at his phone screen, sighing and mouthing an apology to you as he accepted the call.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Stark. Did you need something?” Well, at least you knew he wasn’t lying about his internship at Stark Industries. “Toronto? Tonight? I’m kind of busy.”

There was a long pause as Peter mentally kicked himself for talking back to Tony, resulting in an earful about how being an Avenger should always be at the top of his priorities.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right over… but I need a favor. Could you send Happy to pick my friend up? Yeah, it’s the ice cream shop on 1st. Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Bye.” He frowned at you, and you could tell from what you had heard that he had to go.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s just, something came up last minute and Mr. Stark really needs me to go on this business trip with him,” he apologized, pulling his coat on. “But, uh, he’s sending a car for you. So don’t worry about walking back alone, alright? I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay? Bye!”

“Oh, okay. Bye!” you managed to call out before he was running out the doors and down the street. Lots of customers were staring as you awkwardly gathered your things and went to go wait on the sidewalk.

A few minutes later, a shiny black car had pulled up to the curb in front of you, a man rolling down the window.

“Miss Y/N? I’m Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark sent me to drive you home,” he called from the driver’s seat, before getting out to open your door for you. You stepped in, a little starstruck at how nice the car was. You had never been in anything this expensive before.

The two of you were sitting in silence until you finally got the courage to speak up.

“Mr. Hogan,” you started, causing him to turn down the smooth jazz that had been playing on the radio. “Do you know why Peter has to go to Toronto?”

“Yes,” he replied, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “But I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh, okay,” you accepted, shifting to look out the window at all of the places in the city that you hadn’t yet gotten the chance to explore.

Eventually, he was dropping you off in front of your dorm, and you were trudging inside to your room to sulk about how your not-a-date date with Peter had gotten interrupted. You stared at your ceiling all night, wondering when the next time you’d see each other would be, and whether or not he’d come back with the same cuts and bruises as when you had first met.

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

Peter had been gone for six days and counting, and you were starting to worry that he might never come back. You had already started missing him the night he left, and now it was just some agonizing waiting game for him to return.

You must have spent hours in the basement kitchen before deciding to visit the fourth floor where Peter lived. You knocked on the door and was quickly met with Ned’s shocked expression.

“Uh, hi, Y/N. Peter’s not here right now. Did you need something?”

“I know,” you acknowledged, holding up the plate in your hand. “It’s just, well, I’ve been baking a lot and I didn’t really know who to give all of these cookies to, so I was wondering if you wanted any.”

“Oh, in that case, sign me up!” You watched as his face lit up as he noticed the assortment of chocolate chip, sugar, and snickerdoodle cookies all still warm from the oven. He offered his hands out to take the plate from you, which you happily relinquished.

“These are really good,” he complimented, his mouth full of a sugar cookie. “Can I keep the rest of them?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered, doing your best to smile despite how much you wished it had been Peter opening the door. “I’ll see you around, Ned.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he called out to you, making you turn around on the stairwell. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Peter’s going to be back any day now.” You nodded, offering him a wave and walking back down to your room.

Turns out Ned had been right. The strange noises outside of your window were masked by how loud you were jamming out to We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel, jumping around and listing off the lyrics that had never made much sense to you. Peter knocked louder on the glass, startling you as you quickly switched off the music to investigate.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, squinting your eyes to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. “Spider-Man? Is that really you?”

You fumbled to push up your window, extremely confused as to why one of the Avengers was outside your bedroom this late at night.

“It’s me, Y/N,” he explained, his voice suddenly becoming extremely familiar. Your eyes widened as you realized who was behind the mask.

“Oh my god! PETER?” you screamed as he slipped through the window, pulling off his mask and clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t freak out. It’s okay. It’s just me, okay?” he stammered in an attempt to get you to calm down before an RA heard. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really wanted to tell you, but we were in public when I left, and I couldn’t risk it. And I didn’t want to text it or do it over the phone because it’s kind of a big deal, so I figured I’d just come to see you as soon as I got back and Mr. Stark said that you have to promise—”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you interrupted, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the very weird material of his spider-suit. “I won’t tell anybody.”

He softened under your touch, resting his head on top of yours. “I like your dance moves,” he whispered, making you glare up at him, your face suddenly very red.

“How long were you watching?” you groaned, dramatically throwing yourself onto your bean bag, your face covered by your hands.

“Only for about a minute,” he answered, pulling your hands down so you could see him grinning at you. “I especially liked how you used your hairbrush as a microphone. Plus, I thought we agreed to stop being embarrassed around each other?”

“Well, that was before I knew you were freaking Spider-Man!”

“Okay, fair enough,” he agreed, nudging you to scoot over and make room for him.

“So, that’s what that whole Toronto thing was?” you asked as he sat next to you, your knee touching his.

“Yep. There was this thing about aliens and these guys that could shapeshift. It’s a lot to explain.”

“Are you going to keep that thing on all night?” you asked, gesturing at his outfit, which was very tight and very distracting from whatever alien story he had to tell.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugged. “I don’t have anything on underneath it.”

“How scandalous,” you teased. “Not so family-friendly after all, huh, Spidey?”

“Oh, shut up,” he quipped, rolling his eyes as you let out a long yawn.

“Have you been sleeping much?” he continued, suddenly remembering the issue that had brought the two of you together in the first place.

“Of course not. I’ve been too busy worrying about my classes and, oh, just some idiot I know that abandoned me in the middle of an ice cream shop. Pretty sure he said he’d make that up to me, by the way.”

“Okay, okay. Message received. What would you like?” Please say a kiss. Please say a kiss. Please say a—

“Can I meet them? The Avengers, I mean. It’s not like anyone else really has a secret identity except for you.”

“Oh. I mean, I’d have to ask Mr. Stark and the rest of the team and see if they’re cool with it, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome! You’re the best,” you chimed, wrapping your arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

It was then that Peter decided he would just never be able to wash that side of his face again, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Peter,” you said, breaking the silence he had left the two of you in. “I’m tired.”

“Me too,” he sighed. “I should head up to my room. Gotta make sure Ned knows I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, standing up to see him out. “Aren’t you worried somebody will see you, though?”

“Y/N, it’s 4 a.m. I’m pretty sure that you and I are the only people on campus that are awake right now.”

“Oh, right. Still, be careful, okay?” you told him, slightly worried at his secret identity being found out by some college kid that just couldn’t stay off Twitter.

“Will do,” he said, smiling and giving you a little salute before leaving.

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

A few days later, before you could even greet him, Peter was already walking into your room. It was 10 p.m., a little earlier than when he usually came over, but by now you were used to him showing up at your door unannounced.

He was already wearing his pajamas, a t-shirt with a science pun and some flannel pants that he had invested in to avoid any more awkward moments between the two of you. You were dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, the clothes you usually threw on after class just in case you fell asleep on accident. There had been more times where you had woken up sweaty with your jeans stuck to your legs than you were willing to admit.

“Okay, so I asked Mr. Stark about your request and he told me he doesn’t think now is a good time, but…” he grinned, holding out a giant cardboard box with some kind of minimalist home appliance on the front for you to look at.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” you blinked back, trying to figure out what the hell you were staring at, considering that all of the text written on it was in a language you didn’t know how to read.

“It’s some fancy white noise machine from Japan. If I remember correctly, Mr. Stark said he made Pepper order it because I wouldn’t shut up about you, and it would be in everybody’s best interest if you got some sleep, so I could stop annoying him and the rest of the team.”

“Oh. That’s pretty thoughtful, I guess,” you said, gathering things off your floor to make space for it.

He set the box down on your rug and got to work opening it. Meanwhile, you were busy translating what exactly Tony Stark had so generously gifted to you.

“Peter, wait. This thing is like $300. Doesn’t he know that you can just look up whale noises on YouTube for free?”

“Yeah, but this one adjusts its volume based on the noises around it, has a light that simulates the sun rising, and has an alarm noise that’s supposed to support healthy cortisol levels.”

Peter peered up to see your arms crossed and brows furrowed, it suddenly becoming clear to him that the things he had just listed meant very little to you.

“Plus, he’s a literal billionaire, so I don’t think it was that big of a loss for him,” he added.

“Fine. Let’s just hope this thing works,” you sighed, watching as Peter leafed through the instruction manual before tossing it behind him. “It’s a little early to go to sleep, though.”

“Y/N, plenty of people go to sleep at 10. Not everybody is nocturnal like you.”

“I guess you have a point,” you agreed, kneeling down beside him as he fiddled with all the settings.

“I know,” he said with a smirk as you rested your chin on his shoulder to get a better look at what he was doing. “What time do you want to wake up? 7 a.m. would give us time to go get breakfast before class, but we could do 8 if you wanted to sleep in.”

“We?” you mused, liking the sound of that. “I guess that means you’re staying here tonight?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not letting you have all these overpriced rainforest noises to yourself.”

“Do 7. We can go get those blueberry muffins that you like,” you decided, standing up to get Peter’s makeshift bed on your bean bag ready. “Do you actually like sleeping on this thing, or were you just trying to be polite the first time I asked?”

“Dude, that thing is awesome. It’s like I’m on this little cuddly cloud, and then you add all those warm blankets and the twinkly lights and it’s the perfect recipe for me to fall asleep.”

“Wow,” you nodded, looking around your room to see all of the things that Peter was talking about. “I wish it worked that way for me.”

“Maybe it will, tonight.”

It didn’t. You were tossing and turning for nearly an hour to the agonizing sounds of birds cawing and the occasional monkey chatter, all set against the backdrop of a heavy thunderstorm. To be honest, it was something that would’ve given you nightmares when you were little.

“Y/N?” Peter whispered from the floor. “Are you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Could you turn that thing off? It’s really distracting me.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, leaning over to switch the noise machine off. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

He hesitated, not really sure if he should ask the question that he had been thinking about for a while now. “How old were you when your parents died?”

You had to think for a moment, not really sure about the answer. For as long as you could remember, you just lived with your grandparents. “Um, well my mom left when I was a baby. And I think my dad passed away when I was four.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a parent leave you, but he didn’t want to pry just in case it was a sensitive topic. “Are your grandparents from your mom or dad’s side?”

You rolled over to rest your head on the edge of your bed so that you could see him better. He looked so cute bundled up in all of your blankets, his hair already a bit messy. “They’re my mom’s parents. It’s weird. I see a lot of pictures of her from when she was growing up, and I look so much like her, but she’s basically a stranger to me.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but there was a long pause and he decided not to.

“What about you? How old were you when your parents passed away?”

“Five or six. They met while working at the C.I.A. together, but most of my memories are from the stories my aunt and uncle told me when I was growing up.”

For a moment, neither of you could find the right words to say to each other.

“Peter,” you spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I’m really glad I met you too.”

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

Peter’s next plan of action involved even more advice from his fellow Avengers, and you were not looking forward to trying out any of their suggestions.

“Okay, so, Steve—I mean Captain America—said that when he was little, you know, in the 1940s, all he had to do was drink a glass of warm milk before bed.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” you groaned, crossing your arms.

“I just saw you eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting the other day.”

“Regular milk has almost 15 times more lactose than ice cream. You’d think a science nerd like you would know that.”

“I’m a geek,” he scoffed, clearly a little bit offended. “Not a nerd.”

“Yeah, I can see that now. It’s okay, though. At least you’re pretty,” you said, pinching his cheek.

“Just try it,” he grumbled, handing you the warm glass and waiting impatiently for you to take a sip. If anything, the milk did a better job at keeping you up that night than putting you to sleep. Not even thirty minutes after you had gone to bed, you were feeling sick to your stomach.

“I hate milk,” you gagged, Peter holding your hair back as you kneeled over the toilet bowl. “My grandpa could never get me to drink it as a kid.”

“Is that why you’re so short?” he laughed, helping you up. You glared at him as you moved to the sink to wash the acidic taste out of your mouth.

“Shut up, Parker,” you quipped, tired and grumpy from how terrible you felt. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”

“Alright, munchkin,” he smiled, pulling you out of the bathroom and back towards your bed.

Somehow, the warm milk wasn’t even the worst of Peter’s ideas, because a few days later, he was standing at your door with a bottle of some Asgardian sleep aid from the lightning god himself.

“Are you sure this is safe for me to drink?” you asked, your eyes widening as you stared at the silvery liquid that was almost shimmering.

“Uh, I’m about 87% confident you’ll live,” he said, “But I’m 100% sure that it’ll work.”

“Gee, thanks. Now I really want to drink this weird alien potion,” you sighed, looking at him nervously.

“Just drink a little bit and see if you feel anything,” Peter encouraged, leaning over your shoulder. You nodded, hesitantly bringing the drink up to your lips to take a sip.

“This stuff tastes amazing,” you mused, taking a bigger gulp this time. “Like a blue raspberry slushie.”

“Whoa, that’s enough,” he warned, taking the bottle from your hands before you could drink any more of it. “We don’t want you to go into a coma.”

“I don’t feel anything,” you shrugged, frowning back at him. “Maybe I should—”

You stopped mid-sentence to let out a loud yawn, the potion starting to take effect. Peter caught you as you slumped down in your chair, helping you into bed.

“Okay. I definitely feel it now,” you admitted, already half asleep. Peter tucked you under your blankets, placing a kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispered, turning off your lights and softly closing the door behind him.

For a moment, Peter had thought he had finally found a solution to your insomnia. At least before you slept through class the next morning. And then the day after that. But it wasn’t until the third day that he really started to freak out.

“Where’s Thor!?” he panted, having run all the way from his class over to the Avengers Tower. Wanda and Vision stared back at him from the kitchen, very confused at what he was so panicked about.

“He’s in his room,” Bucky called from the couch, his mouth full of popcorn as 13 Going on 30 played on the big screen. “What’s going on, kid?”

“No time to explain. Gotta go!” Peter called, sprinting up the stairs towards Thor’s room. He knocked frantically until the door finally swung open.

“Greetings, young Spiderling. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Thor smiled, his long, golden hair shiny as ever.

“I think I killed my almost-girlfriend!” Peter blurted out, practically sweating from how stressed out he was. “She drank that stuff you gave me and she hasn’t woken up in three days now!”

Thor chuckled, patting Peter on the head. “Do not worry, my brother. I’m sure she will wake up given time. It was a very potent drink, after all. Calm yourself.”

“Okay,” he sighed, relieved to know that he hadn’t poisoned you to death. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Thanks, man. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Farewell, Peter. May we meet again soon,” he grinned before closing the door in Peter’s face.

On the way back down the stairs, Peter figured he’d give you a call and see if you were still sleeping.

“Hello?” you groaned, your throat dry from just waking up. “Peter, what the hell happened to me?”

“THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE!” Peter yelled into the phone, making you recoil from the volume of his excitement. “You’ve been asleep for three days, Y/N. I thought you were dead.”

“I am very much alive,” you laughed, slowly feeling the potion wearing off. “Where are you?”

“Uh. I may have run all the way to Midtown to ask Thor if I had killed you,” he admitted, feeling you roll your eyes through the screen. “I was worried, okay?”

“Now you know how I feel whenever you leave for a mission,” you countered, glad that Peter couldn’t see how much you were blushing. “Hurry up and get your butt back over here. I have the weirdest dream to tell you about.”

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

Even if you still weren’t getting a full eight hours of rest at night, it was obvious that all of Peter’s efforts had vastly improved your sleep schedule. Over the past few months, you had gone from staring at your ceiling all night to actually being able to stay asleep for small periods of time.

“Your eyelashes are so long,” you mused, playing with Peter’s hair. He was sitting in between your legs and How the Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on your TV.

“Really?” He tilted his head back to look at you, batting his eyelashes and making you giggle.

“Yes. It’s not fair that boys get all of the pretty eyelashes,” you pouted, watching as the Grinch explained his plan to steal all of Whoville’s presents to his dog.

“I think yours are pretty,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. “But there’s a rogue one just hanging out on your face right now.”

“Can you get it?” you asked, your eyes still glued on the TV screen. Peter nodded, twisting around to gently brush the eyelash from your cheek.

“Do you want to make a wish?” he laughed, holding the little eyelash on the tip of his finger in front of you.

“Okay,” you agreed, squeezing your eyes shut and blowing it away. When you opened them, Peter’s face was only inches away from yours.

“What did you wish for?” His gaze shifted downwards to look at your lips for a split second, before returning to look into your eyes.

“I can’t tell you, dummy. Then it won’t come true.” You weren’t about to tell your best friend that you wished for him to kiss you. At least not now, while the two of you were stuck in this really weird “not dating, but more than just friends” limbo.

“Fine,” he frowned, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that you recognized had been mimicked after you.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you said, mirroring his stance. Your puppy dog eyes were definitely a lot more convincing than his.

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You smell really good, by the way. Well, your hoodie does. I could just wrap myself up in it and fall asleep.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned that before? You could’ve been out cold every night months ago!”

“Guess I was just too distracted by your dreamy face,” you teased, causing Peter to blush.

“Whatever. Seriously, though. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I think it took me a while to realize how sleepy I got whenever you were really close to me,” you shrugged. “You’re not mad at me, right?”

“Of course not. But if I had known sooner I would’ve just given you one,” he said, slipping the hoodie over his head and handing it to you. “Here, put it on. You better fall asleep instantly or I’m calling bullshit.”

“You caught me, Peter. This was all some elaborate plan for me to steal one of your hoodies.”

“Just put it on. The suspense is killing me.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled his hoodie on. Just from looking at Peter and how slim he was, you never would have guessed that it would be this oversized on you.

“How do I look?” you asked, striking silly poses in front of him. Peter involuntarily licked his lips and he knew he’d be replaying this image of you in his head for the next few weeks.

“You’re going to have to keep that,” he stammered, doing his best to hide how much he really liked seeing you in his clothes. “It looks a lot better on you. I, um, have to go do my homework. And call my aunt. And walk my roommate.”

Peter stumbled to his feet, staring at his wristwatch to maintain his act that he was late for something before grabbing his things and heading out the door, making sure to hold his backpack in front of him. “Let me know if the hoodie thing works. Bye!”

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

Brushing off Peter’s strangely abrupt departure from last night, you nuzzled into your pillow, the warm morning light spilling through your curtains. Last night had probably been your best sleep in months, and you even got to wake up late since it was Saturday. Things probably couldn’t have gone any better.

Before you knew it, you were running up to Peter’s room and banging on his door. He opened the door on your fourth knock, right after Ned had chucked a pillow at him, and you were met with his sleepy eyes and messy hair.

“It worked!” you yelped in excitement, twirling around and still wearing his hoodie. “Well, kind of. I fell asleep after about an hour, and then I slept for maybe three after that. But I had to pee in the middle of the night, and when I got back into bed I couldn’t fall back asleep until 6 a.m.”

“That’s some good progress,” he yawned, stepping out into the hallway to keep your little celebration from bothering Ned too much. “If only we could get you to sleep the entire night.”

“I know right. But I’m so happy!” you cheered, wrapping your arms around him. “We finally did something right!”

“We need to celebrate!” you continued, grabbing Peter’s hand and dragging him down the stairs. “Come on. We’re making you a chocolate cake!”

You stopped by your room on the way to the kitchen, piling a bunch of ingredients into Peter’s arms from your mini-fridge and various shelves.

“Okay, eggs, flour, butter, sugar, chocolate. Damn it. We’re all out of milk.” You side-eyed him, remembering the whole Captain America induced fiasco from a couple weeks ago.

“I think we might have some in our room,” Peter laughed. “Ned drinks a lot of milk mixed with Milo powder. It’s some obsession he picked up when his family took a vacation to Australia. I’ll go get it.”

He set all of the ingredients you had given him on your desk and sprinted back up the stairs to raid Ned’s stash, already thinking of ways to apologize for it later.

A few minutes later he was knocking on your door, out of breath, and dressed to brave the many inches of snow that had fallen overnight.

“We didn’t have any milk,” he panted. “But I can run to the dining hall and get a few cartons.”

“I’ll go with you.” You quickly pulled on your snow boots and layered your puffer coat on top of Peter’s hoodie, wrapping a hand-knit scarf around your neck just to be safe. “All ready.”

Getting the milk was the easy part. Making sure you didn’t die of frostbite was another story. By the time you and Peter got back to your room, your nose was super red and you couldn’t feel your toes.

“Okay,” you said, your teeth chattering. “I thought I was used to the snow by now, but that was something else.” You dropped your coat on the ground and climbed into your bed, burying yourself under your comforter.

“I thought we were making a cake,” he laughed, walking over to see you peeking out of the pile.

“Cake will have to wait,” you whined, your voice slightly muffled by the blanket. “Come here. I need some of your body heat.”

“Okay,” he stuttered, kicking off his sneakers and climbing in beside you. He had sat on your bed a lot since the two of you met, but this was the first time that he was actually laying in it. You snuggled up to him, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you.

“This is nice,” you sighed, nuzzling your head into his chest. “Is this one of your superpowers? Spidey-warmth?” Peter let out a soft laugh. It was silly but true. Ever since the bite, he never really noticed how cold it was outside anymore.

“Y/N,” he whispered, tightening his grip around your waist. Your head was nestled underneath his chin, and he could smell the faint citrus scent of your shampoo. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Pete?” you yawned, your eyelids heavy from how comfy Peter’s cuddles were.

“I love you.” He held his breath, nervously waiting for you to respond.

“I know,” you giggled, intertwining your legs. “Sometimes, you talk in your sleep. You’ve probably professed your love for me at least eight times by now.”

“Oh.” Peter had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that.

“Don’t worry. I love you, too,” you assured him, grinning and placing little kisses on his jawline. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Maybe you could make it a little more obvious,” he mumbled, his heartbeat getting quicker as you shifted up to kiss him on the lips, your hand running through his hair.

“I will,” you smiled, your forehead resting against his. “But after we take a nap, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, snuggling as close as he possibly could to you, never wanting to let go. In no time at all, he watched happily as you fell asleep in his arms, wondering how the two of you hadn’t thought of this sooner.

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

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman x reader #marvel #mcu #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff

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20moonchild21 · 4 years ago

Text

𝗦𝗲𝗵𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵𝘁 [𝗯𝘁𝘀]

⇉ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 3

[Pairing]

Jungkook x female!oc, bunny!JK x human!oc

[Warnings]

mentiones of abuse, abuse, traumatized JK, humiliating, breakdowns, past sexual harassment, mentiones of violence, violence

[Words]

4.6k

[author]

Here is the next chapter. I really hope you like it. It is so fun writing new chapters and creating a new story.

Check out my recommendation below this chapter! My personal favorite is Inferiority Complex by @starlightauroras-writes. It‘s well written and so exciting to read. Make sure to leave her a lot of likes and comments! She deserves it so much!

Also, leave a like or comment, if you like this story. This makes me happy!

Stay safe and healthy!

Mꨄ

[chapter 2 ||| chapter 4]

It had been six days, since the girl had found him inside the dark alley way. Six days since she had taken him in with her, and six days since his world had been turned upside down.

Everything he had ever learned in his life, from which he thought they were right and normal, suddenly seemed to be so wrong and cruel. He wasn’t stupid. Of course, in his past he also had wondered if there was a life for him, in which could just be him.

Bred in a laboratory near Seoul, the capital of South Korea, he was soon adopted by a rich couple from New York who were looking for a rare bunny Hybrid. His younger him was so excited to finally be adopted and have a family, instead of some scary people in white coats.

God, had he been wrong.

He was nothing more than a pet for their pleasure. In every way.

A shiver ran down his spine, when he thought about the times the man had run his hands over his sensitive ears, pressing and twisting them. Or when his hands had gone down over his back and into his pants, so he could pull the soft fur of the boy’s fluffy tail. Sometimes, his hands had gone even further down, pinching or slapping his butt cheeks.

The boy felt his cheeks redden at this memory.

At first, he had thought it was an accident. He had made sure to leave some space between the man and him, or wriggle himself out of the man’s grip. Little had he known that he had made things worse by that.

He had gotten many punishments. Some of them were okay for him. They would made him clean the house or the laundry, and sometimes they had would lock him up in the small chamber next to kitchen without some food or drinks for several hours.

This had been some of the harmless punishments.

If he had been really bad, they would made him take of all his clothes, serving either them or their friends as they were over. Other days, they would punched him with this heavy belt or with a bat.

His eyes swelled with tears at this memories. He had always thought that he deserved all of this. He thought it was normal for Hybrids to be subordinated to human. He thought that every time he got a punishment, it had been his fault because he was such a bad Hybrid.

How could he had been so wrong?

Since the girl had taken him in with her, there had been no point where he had felt the urged to hide himself from her. Not even when he accidently dropped the whole package of flour over himself and the floor, while trying to put it up into the top shelf.

The kitchen had stayed silence for a few seconds, before she broke out into the most beautiful laugher he had ever heard. It was not played or evil or meant to hurt him. It was a real, clear laugher, about a funny situation.

He felt himself warming more and more up with every day, getting more and more comfortable while being around the human girl. He also loved the apartment she lived in.

It definitely wasn’t as big as the former house he had lived in. The apartment was small, but he loved anything about it. He loved the soft sofa that was placed in the middle of the living room that was so soft and warms with all its cushions and blankets to wrap oneself in.

He loved the small kitchen that would send out the mouth-watering smell of food every evening.

He loved the white hallway with the photo framed wall that he loved to look at when he was bored, because every time he discovered a new detail of them. Like two day ago, when he looked at the picture of Hope and the older women and suddenly realized that they actually have exactly the same smile.

He loved his own room with the big, soft bed in the middle, on which he loved to lay and read a book when Hope was busy. He had often wondered when she knocked on the door, but she had told him that this room was his private territory, and no one was allowed to enter if he didn’t want to.

Together, him and Hope even had created some kind of a daily routine.

In the mornings after he would wake up around 7.30 am. he would wait for Hope to be done showering. When she was done, she would leave the bathroom for him to go his routine, while starting to prepare the breakfast.

In the bathroom, he would take a quick shower, brush his teeth and hair and change into some new clothes.

Then, he and Hope had some breakfast together, before they both made the dished and he helped her to clean the table. After the dishes were done, Hope would sit down on the same kitchen table, writing something into her laptop, which she said was very important for her university graduation.

He often was a little bit sad that they couldn’t talk to each other while she was working on her essay, but he still tried to be as quiet as possible.

He then would either try to read one of the books standing in her bookshelf, try to sleep or he would watch some TV with the minimum of volume. But yesterday, he had found something more interesting to occupy himself with.

In the corner of the living room, he had spotted Hope’s old guitar. He was so curious that he had carefully asked her about it, and she immediately showed him how to use it. She said that she hadn’t played it in years, because she was too busy with university. But when she had pulled some strings of the wooden instrument, she created such a beautiful melody and Jungkook thought that it sounded absolutely amazing.

She even said, that him practicing the guitar, would not be bothering her while she wrote her terms. So, he tried to play the instrument while she worked. She had showed him how to google for tutorials on YouTube. At first, he was sceptical when the human in the TV screen began to talk to him, but soon, he had realized that he wasn’t actually talking to him, but for everyone who clicked on the video.

Sometimes, he would catch himself how he watched the girl working at the table. He would just stare at how she cringed her nose while her fingers slide over the keyboard, how she chewed on her lips as she read through the thick book, or how her tongue would stick out of her mouth when she was concentration really hard.

Beside the wife of his owner, he had never seen a human girl before. He only had seen some visitors of his owner, with all their make-up, pushed up breasts, heavy perfume and fake laughers. He never had thought at one of them to be beautiful, but Hope was.

He found out that she actually was a year younger than him, but her personality seemed to be much older than his. She never wore too revealing clothes or heavy make-up, nor did she ever covered her scent with perfume.

When he noticed how creepy he would stare at her, deeply absorbed in his thoughts, he would turn his attention back to whatever he had been doing before spacing out.

Once she would be done, usually around noon, they would both go into the kitchen and bake a cake together, that would be eaten in the afternoon. While waiting for the cake to be done in the oven, they would sit on the soft couch and talk about random things.

Jungkook had to admit that talking to the girl was one of his favourite things to do each day. Not only because she was a really funny person, or because her voice was so smooth and soft, but also because she actually talked and listened to him.

In the beginning, he sometimes had hesitated, not wanting to speak too much. But by now, he wasn’t afraid of talking too much and being punished for it. He just could talk as much as he wanted without being stopped.

Hope had told him some stories from her childhood and live. He listened to every detail carefully, wanting to give her the same attention she giving him all the time. She would tell him stories about different items in the house, and she even explained him the photos on the wall next to his room when he had asked about them.

Now he knew that the older women was her mom, who had sadly died a few year ago during a car accident. He felt sorry for her when he saw a tear leaving her eye and for a short moment, he had thought about hugging her. But only for a second. The pain and fear were still bounded too deep onto his bones.

The younger people next to her were her best friend from High School. He didn’t miss the sad tone, as she told him that they hadn’t had talked recently, because every one of them was busy with university and their own lives.

She had also told him about her college life. From what she told him, he assumed that she must be really smart.

But he was even more amazed when she told him about her future plans. Hope wanted to be a lawyer for Hybrid rights, because she thought that they deserve more rights than they have now. She thought that they should be equal to human and that she wanted to give them a voice by standing up for their rights.

He couldn’t believe that she actually was fighting for Hybrids to have all the same rights than human have.

He imagined himself and how he would leave the house to go to work every morning, like every human did each day. He imagines himself and how he would go shopping all by himself, or how he would just walk around the park whenever he wanted to. It must be great to fell that free.

When they would be done eating their cake in the afternoon, Hope would always clean up the apartment a little bit. She said that she didn’t want the house to be sterile, but she wanted it to be tidy. She would use the vacuum to clean up the floor in every room, while Jungkook cleaned up the kitchen from when they had baked.

In the evenings, they would both prepare their diner, before eating it together, making the dishes and watch some more TV, until they both were tired. They would brush their teeth again, before changing into a pair of pyjamas and then go to sleep.

“Jungkoooook! Can you come here for a second, pleeeaaaasee!”

The Hybrid’s ears shot up high in the ear when he heard the girl’s voice coming from the living room. He quickly closed the book he was reading on his bed and laid it onto his nightstand. Slowly and a little bit scared that he had done something wrong, he walked out of his room. He carefully peeked his head around the corner, looking into the living room.

“Hey Jungkook.” The girl waved at him when she saw him standing in the hallway.

The boy gulped. Hope didn’t look mad or angry, so he assumed that he didn’t do anything wrong. Rather than mad, she looked really excited and happy as she made her way over to the couch where the boy suddenly spotted something big.

He curiously made a step further into the living room, slowly making his way up towards her. His mind was filled with questions when he saw the girl walking up to the big, brown box next to the sofa. It was much higher than the small girl, almost his hight, and printed with many different signs and…warnings?

Don’t shake. Caution, heavy package! Lift with care.

“Don’t look so scared, Jungkook.” The girl smiled at him when she saw how he hesitated to come near her. “I have a surprise for you.”

He watched as she pulled a small pocket knife out of the pocket of her jeans. She stepped closer to the package and quickly slide the sharp blade of the knife over the plastic strings that were wrapped around the big box.

“A Surprise?” He whispered in disbelieve. “For me?”

“Yes, for you, silly.” She smiled again, as she cut the last string, leaving only the tape wrapped around the box. “Now come over here. I need your help with this.”

He made two big steps until he had reached the girl and the package. Hope was already pulling at the tape trying to rip it off. He lifted his arms up to the top of the box, pulling the tape that was placed there.

His mind was still filled with questions. Never in his life had someone bought him a present, not even on his birthday. He wondered why she had decided to buy him something this big and heavy, after all, she already shared her apartment with him, and this was more than he could ever ask for. He wondered what was hiding inside the brown cardboard, but he knew that whatever it was, he would love it.

He ripped the last piece of tape off, throwing it onto the pile on the ground. The girl was already holding her knife, slicing open the brown cardboard of the box. When she was done, she laid the piece of metal onto the dining table, before turning around. Her eyes were flickering between the Hybrid and the still closed package.

“Come on. It’s for you.” She said after a few seconds of silence. “Open it.”

He was still looking at the girl with wide eyes, before he snapped out of his trance, and just pulled the brown cardboard away carefully.

He gasped and took a step back. Now standing in the middle of the living room, was a big, red sack. It was round and about his height, with a big metal chain on the top, along with some red, big gloves. He didn’t know what this was supposed to be. Never in his life had he seen something strange like this.

“Do you like it?” The girl squeaked excitedly while jumping up and down.

Did he like it? He didn’t even know what this things was used for. What was he supposed to answer? She looked so excited and happy, and the last things he wanted was to hurt her feelings.

“I – ehm…” He hesitated for a moment. “I like it?”

His answer sounded more like a question, and the girl didn’t miss that.

“You don’t know what this is, do you?” She pulled her left eyebrow up, while she watched in amusement as the boy struggled to find an answer. He was too adorable. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I will show you.”

She walked up to the red sack, standing onto her tippy-toes to reach the red gloves from the top. She pushed them into his arms and gestured for the boy to pull them over his hands.

“This is a punching bag.” She said as she walked behind the so called punching bag. “You can punch and kick it to get stronger, or when you are angry. I just thought – you once said that you think of yourself being too thin, and since you can’t go out, I thought that you would like something like that. We can hang it up in your room if you, but if you don’t want it it’s okay, then I will send it back. Come on, punch it.”

The boy stared at the red gloved that were now covering his hands, before looking up at the girl, checking whether she was serious or not. When their eyes met, she smiled and nodded at him to go on.

He carefully lifted his left hand in the air and pushed it forward. His punch was weakly, as if he was scared to hurt the bag.

The girl encouraged him to hit the bag harder this time. Insuring him that he was not hurting someone.

Jungkook lifted both of his hands this time, like he was actually preparing to fight someone. He threw another punch at the bag, which was much harder this time. Then he threw another one with the other hand.

Something inside him had just been woken up, and he was surprises by the power behind his punches. Before he had come to Hope, he was thin and weak, almost too weak to hold himself on his own legs.

Though he had gained some more weight over the last 7 days, he still was not happy with is body statue. He didn’t want to seem weak anymore. He wanted to be strong and powerful, so he could protect himself so he would never had to fear some human ever again in his life.

Being roommate with the small girl, he had recently developed the primal urge to also want to protect the female from all intruders and dangers coming from outside. So this punching bag could be a good chance to actually gain some muscles.

Over and over again, he punched the bag harder and harder, until the girl, who was still steadying the heavy sack, stooped him.

“Okay, okay!” She laughed, and immediately, Jungkook stopped. “I think it is better to hang it up in your room, or else you will punch me around the room. Come on, help me carrying it.”

Together, they carried the bag into the Hybrid’s room. The girl also brought a hammer and a hook for hanging up the punching bag onto the ceiling. The boy watched in amazement, as she climbed up onto a chair and bringing the hook into the ceiling all by herself.

When she was done, he helped her to lift up the bag and hang it up onto the hook. Proudly, she stepped off of the chair and rubbed her hands.

“Do you like it?” She asked again, this time more referring to the position they had hung up the red bag.

“Yes. I like it very much.” He just whispered, not knowing how to thank her appropriated. “Thank you…Hope. Thank you so much.”

They looked for another seconds at each other, before she said that she had to do some more work. She was about to leave, when she suddenly turned back.

“I forgot something.” She spoke more to herself, as she ran out of the room, leaving the confused boy behind. She came back a few minutes later, holding something black in her hands. “I actually have another surprise for you. Well…it’s not actually a surprise but more like a recommendation from me to you.”

She walked back inside the room, making her way up towards his bed. She asked him if she could sat down and he nodded, taking a seat next to her. Jungkook could sense her racing heartbeat and her nervousness. She lifted the black object and placed it on his lap carefully.

“This is a notebook. I – I know that you have been through some tough times, and it’s okay that you don’t want to talk about it with me. But if you ever feel like you need to get something off of you mind, you can just write it in here. Believe me, it helps very much to organized one’s mind into a notebook. I used one for myself when I was younger and didn’t want to talk to someone. So – here.”

Carefully, she lifted her hand and laid it on his for a moment. She knew that he was still afraid when it came to physical affection, but she just needed him to know that she cared.

Jungkook just stared at the notebook and then at her hand that was covering his. His cheeks blushed slightly when he realized that they were actually touching. But somehow, he didn’t feel the urge to pull away.

“The Simpsons, again?” The girl groaned and threw her head backwards, closing her eyes. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

When she opened her eyes again, she immediately was confronted with those big, brown orbs staring into hers. How could she say no? She sighed loudly, while pressing the right button onto the remote.

“Your play wasn’t fair.” She muttered, as she bent over and snatched the bowl of popcorn out of the Hybrid’s hands.

This day had been more then exhausting for the girl, but also a day of many happy occasion. First of all, she had finally finished the majority of her paper terms. It wasn’t perfect yet, but being done so early she had plenty of time for working on the details.

Jungkook wasn’t so pleased when she had worked twice as long for finishing her terms, meaning that he had to bridge twice as much time alone. He had tried a few times to convince her stop working for today, but when he realized that she wouldn’t go after his demand, he just pouted and went to his own room.

Hope had noticed the process Jungkook had made over the past two weeks which made her extremely proud.

Not only mentally, he became much more confident, but also physically. Since the day she bought him his punching back, he had been practicing almost every day. She would hear the dull tones of his gloves hitting the bag, while she would sit in front of her laptop in the dining room.

His skin and body looked much healthier, now. With his cheeks red and more plump, and with his shoulder and arms that seemed to get much and much broader every day, there was nothing left from the shy, injured boy from two weeks ago.

She had also noticed, that he actually wasn’t too averse to physical affection as she had thought. She thought that she had crossed a border when she touched his hands without his permission a few day before, but since then, he only seemed to trust her more.

He wouldn’t pull his hands away anymore, when their hands accidently touched. He also wouldn’t sit on the couch as far away from her as possible, instead, he even agreed to share the same blanket two nights ago.

He also had taken in her recommendation when she had given him the notebook. She sometimes watched him as he was bent over the small book, writing something in with fast and hectic movements. Sometimes, she wondered if he was actually writing, or if he was just sketching some pictures or signs. But then, he could read, so she assumed that he had learned how to write, too.

When he was done, he would just lay his pen aside, and stare at the book for several minutes, completely spaced out. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking about, but decided to not go for it. He should always have the chance to organize his thoughts without her bothering him.

The second exciting thing that had happened this day, was Jungkook accompanying her towards the grocery store. It wasn’t planned at all, but lately he had asked her more often if there was a chance that he could leave the apartment. At least one time.

Lucky for him, he had a short fluffy tail that was normal hidden by his shorts, and his ears could be easily covered by a beanie. He had looked like a normal, healthy and happy young man, when he had strolled behind her through the hallways of shelves.

It made her even more sat that he indeed was a normal boy. He had never asked to be bred in a laboratory. He had never asked to be threatened like a slave in his own home, and he especially deserved nothing mor than to feel normal. One day – One day he would get the chance to feel normal. She would to anything in her power to give him that chance.

“We can also watch something else if – if you want.” Jungkook ripped her out of her thoughts.

He had curled up under the blanket beside her, nudging his head into the soft pillow behind him. His ears were sprawled out to one side and all over the soft cushion, as well as his deep brown hair. The day in the supermarket had really worked him out.

The boy was so focused on the TV playing his favourite cartoon, that he didn’t notice how the girl took a quick picture of his being curled up on the couch. She looked at the taken picture for a few seconds, before closing her phone and throwing into onto the couch.

A sudden idea came into her head. The boy’s birthday was coming up soon, and she was still thinking of a nice surprise for. She knew he loved all of the photos that were placed all around the apartment. He loved to look at them every morning while she worked, and he loved even more when she told him the story behind every single photo, even if she had told them to him for several times.

What if he would wake up on his birthday, leaving his room and seeing a photo of him framed and hung up onto the wall? She actually like that idea.

She snapped out of her thoughts and looked for her phone. Why did she had to throw it away so far from her? She groaned. If she wanted to memo her idea, she needed to move now. She pushed the blanket away and bent over to reach her phone.

While doing so, she accidentally pushed her hand onto the remote, that laid next to her. The TV screen went black for a moment, before popping up with a new picture.

In the middle of the screen was now a news reporter talking. Hope didn’t pay him any attention. She was still occupied with her phone, when suddenly the Hybrid next to her shot up from his lying position.

He sat straight up, his mouth slightly open and his ears high up in the ear. Like paralyzed, his wide open eyes were fixed on the screen where the report was still talking about something the girl hadn’t caught yet.

“Jungkook?” She asked quietly, but he didn’t’ move an inch. “Jungkook, are you –“

“Shhhhh!” He didn’t even looked at her, as he shushed her shut, pointing his finger wildly onto the TV screen.

“…Unfortunately, the police had not been arriving in time. Witnessers though spotted some of the rarest breeds under the illegal participant Hybrids. Among them were Asiatic lions, some Azawakh dog and even an Amur Leopard. All of these Hybrids belong to the rarest breeds of the world. Dealing or participating them in illegal fighting clubs is highly is highly punished…”

Bullshit. None of those people will ever be arrested, and this guy in the TV knew it. If illegal dealers or ZCM’s, so called ‘Zoo Club Members’ or owners who send their Hybrids to illegal fighting clubs, were caught, there was neither someone who wanted to defend the Hybrids in front of the judge, nor no one even cared to actually bring the case in front of a judge.

She turned her head over to the hybrid sitting on her couch, but she wasn’t prepared for what she saw. When he had jumped up from the couch, she thought that he got scared because of the sudden change of the TV channel, but what she saw broke her heart.

The bunny Hybrid had laid his ears flat against his head, while big tears were spilling out of his eyes. Between short sobs and gasps he whispered two words all over again.

“Jin Hyung.”

[inspirations | recommendations] ⇉ 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘀!

@wishesunderthestars

@agustdakasuga

@ditttiii

@angelicyoongie

@starlightauroras-writes

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multisfabulis · 3 years ago

Text

Only Through Acceptance Will Love Find Us

Hopeless (Chapter 3)

Word Count: 3361

DISCLAIMER: This chapter contains a sexual assault scene that may be potentially triggering. While it is only an unwanted kiss, it is still abundantly clear that it is non-consensual and the imagery used can be considered as too graphic; thus, the reason this disclaimer exists. If you are not comfortable reading that, feel free to skip this chapter. Otherwise, please exercise caution and take care of yourself.

Oh, look! Another chapter that didn't take almost a year to come out! I'm getting better at this!

Seriously, though, I'm glad there wasn't too long of a break between chapters this time. This was originally going to be super long but I decided to cut it into two because there would've been too many things going on in this chapter and I thought it would be better story-wise to end this with Ven lamenting over the state of her life in despair. Next chapter does get better but we'll have to wait till then!

As for the Scene between Ven and Renard, I hope I did a good job in conveying the horror being in that position brings. It's a situation that, while I'm thankful I've never been in and hope to never be in, many people unfortunately have experience with. This kind of disgusting behavior doesn't discriminate and it brings trauma to the people who have been in Ven's position. At the very least, I believe this may be my only time writing any thing like this because I don't like putting my OCs into this kind of situation. It makes it too real, in a sense.

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“All right, that should about do it!”

Standing up straight, Ven wiped the sweat off her brow as she looked upon the fruits of her labor with pride. She had just finished planting seeds in the garden and the pansies were sure to start sprouting in a few weeks’ time. She couldn’t wait to see her mother’s reaction when she returned from her business trip and was greeted by an iridescent sea of flowers throughout the homestead. It would be a nice reward for all the hard work she’d done over the last year.

She glanced up at the sky. It was only a little past noon, with clouds drifting to and fro as the sun beamed down upon her. Her stomach growled seemingly right on cue and she realized just how hungry she was. She had gone straight to her garden after coming home from work today so she hadn’t eaten anything since this morning. Now was the perfect time for a break, she thought.

She walked inside and to the kitchen with purpose. Humming a little tune to herself, she took out the footstool and put it in front of the counter to reach one of the cabinets above her. Inside was a mason jar full of blackberries she’d been wanting to eat since around lunchtime yesterday. Dinner wouldn’t be for another few hours yet so these would be a good snack to help tide her over till then. With that out of the way, she hopped off the footstool, unscrewed the lid, and popped some of the delicious berries into her mouth.

What else was there to do on her checklist? She fed the animals their breakfast, headed off to work, gave the other half of bread she baked to the bookshop owner, and tended to her garden. As far as she knew, the only task she had left would be to feed the animals their dinner in the evening, which meant she had the rest of the day to do whatever she wanted. Realizing that, she had already decided how she was going to spend her newfound free time.

She walked over to the table where her book was lying. There was a folded up piece of paper slipped between the pages, acting as a sort of bookmark since she didn’t own a proper one yet. She picked it up and brought it with her to her chair, opening it to where she last left off at. With all the preparations complete, she began reading, feeling herself being sucked into the fantasy world once more.

It was the climax. The heroine and the beast had been reunited, only for it to be tragically cut short by the villain before falling to his doom. Despite doing everything in her power to try and save him, the beast succumbed to his mortal wounds in the arms of the woman he loved. Ven’s heart ached for the heroine as she grieved over the loss of the one person who truly understood her. Then, by her declaration of love, a miracle was brought about, restoring both the beast’s life and his humanity. Ven read on with bated breath, waiting for the two to finally kiss when---

Loud knocks broke through her reverie. Were those from outside or was there someone at her door? She strained her ears for a minute or two, listening to see which of the two was correct. When she heard her answer by the door, she let out a low groan in annoyance. It was one thing to be taken out of her immersion while reading but did it really have to come at such a climatic moment? Regardless, it meant she had to go see whoever was here. The sooner she helped them with what they needed, the sooner she could dive back into her story.

As she hastily tidied everything up, there were even more knocks, leading her to shout at the door with, “I’m coming, just hold on, please!” Whoever they were, they sure were impatient.

Then it hit her how strange the whole situation was. People normally never came to her house, whether it be out of fear or for some other reason. Both her and her mother’s reputations made it near impossible for them to have customers come visit so who could possibly be at their door? She needed to exercise caution here; she may have been acting paranoid but it was better to be safe than sorry.

She tiptoed over to the window, pulling the curtain back just a sliver to see who her mystery visitor was without alerting them to her presence. She grimaced upon finding out their identity. What the hell was he doing here, she wondered as she begrudgingly went to answer the door. She had an idea of what his reasons for being here were and she really hoped she could somehow convince him to leave her be. The last thing she wanted was to upset him, especially after what happened yesterday. Steeling her nerves, she opened the door to greet him.

Forcing on the friendliest smile she could muster, she asked him, “Renard, what brings you by today?”

“Oh, Thea, you can’t even say hello to me?” He put a hand over where his heart was, as if to say she had wounded him. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Well, no matter. You see, I have come to apologize to you.”

“...Really?” She was taken aback by this development. Of all the things she expected him to be here for, that wasn’t one of them.

“Yes, I realized yesterday I may have been too harsh with what I said about your mother. I should’ve reserved my judgment instead of lashing out like I did.” He seemed sincere enough but it was hard to tell whether it was real or not. “I see how my words have hurt you and for that, I truly apologize.”

After ruminating on it for a moment, she said, “Well, thank you, I appreciated that. On that front, perhaps I should’ve held my tongue as well before letting my anger get the best of me so…I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology.” Maybe she was wrong about Renard. There was still something off about him but she was willing to dismiss it as her being overly suspicious of anything that might give her trouble. Then he immediately disregarded any good will he could’ve had by asking, “Anyway, can I come in? I also wanted to make good on my promise.”

Renard all but barged in, practically shoving her to the side as he slammed the door shut behind him. Panic bubbled up inside her, realizing how quickly the tables had turned on her. How was she going to get him out of her house? While she wanted to believe he wouldn’t dare hurt her in her own home, she definitely didn’t want to test that theory in case it was proven to be false. There was no telling what he’d do if he desired something badly enough.

As he walked about the living room, she asked in a nervous voice, “Um, if I may, uh, what did you mean by ‘making good on your promise’?”

“Exactly what I meant, Thea.” He sat down in her mother’s chair, casually reclining back to cross his legs. “I wanna take you out on a date.”

“Oh, that’s…” she paused, scrambling to figure out how she should proceed onward, “sweet of you, Renard, but I’m afraid I must decline. You caught me right when I was about to get back to work and---”

“Come on, it’ll only be for an hour, I promise. Let me make it up to you.”

“Again, I must decline. I have chores to take care of, what with my mother not being here for the time being, and I simply can’t leave them unattended. You know how it is, I’m just too busy!”

God, she hated being on this invisible tightrope. Her mother always told her to be careful when it came to men who were either too slow on the uptake or too stubborn to get the hint. She needed to let Renard down gently but make it clear she held no romantic interest in him. She had hoped she’d never find herself in this position but the universe seemed to love tormenting her. Of all the times this could’ve happened, why did it have to be now?

“All right, I’m giving you one last chance to answer me.” He stood up from the chair, the lit fireplace casting his tall shadow across the floor. “Will you go out with me?”

“Now’s just not a good time.” He was starting to get annoyed, she had to defuse the situation before it had a chance to ignite. “I have work to do and…” She gulped, her eyes flitting around the room for anything to help her out of this.

“And what?”

“And…” She glanced towards her book currently lying in her chair. That’s when she had an idea. “I have to return my book soon! I told the bookshop owner I’d give it back to him today so I would really appreciate it if you could please leave.”

The silence was deafening. It wasn’t the best lie she could’ve fed him but she was desperate. Every second that passed felt like an eternity and she prayed to whatever god there was to make Renard leave. Then he breathed in deep as if mulling over what she just said, giving her hope he finally got the message.

“You know, Thea, I really don’t like it when people lie to me,” he said, sending shivers down her spine. “I’d rather you tell me the truth instead of beating around the bush.”

Even if she dug the hole deeper, she attempted to save herself by stammering out, “B-but I swear, I’m not---”

“As much as I admire your learnedness, it’s becoming quite the detriment for you now.” He picked up her book and held it, causing fear to wash over her like she were taking an ice cold bath. “You seem to believe this piece of trash will give you everything your heart desires when that will never be the case. I can give you more than whatever this garbage can.”

“Renard, please, we can talk about this,” she begged, her voice rising in pitch.

“It’s because I’m looking out for you--” he turned slightly towards the fireplace and her eyes widened in realization-- “I’m doing this.” Then he threw the book into the fire without any hesitation. “You can thank me later.”

The world seemed to be going by in slow motion. She watched as her beloved book, her dearest companion, was set ablaze and reduced to cinders in her fireplace like it was simply nothing. She wanted to scream, cry, hurt Renard just as he hurt her. Instead, she clenched her hands, met his gaze, and gave him a glare that had risen from the very depths of her rage.

“I will say this once and only once.” She took a step forward. “I am never going to go out with you. Whatever you think is going to happen between us will never happen, especially not after what you did. Do I make myself clear?” She pointed a finger towards the door. “Now get the hell out of my house and don’t come near me ever again, you stuck up son of a bitch.”

The room fell into silence. How she wasn’t beating him senselessly right now, she had no idea. The only thing she was focusing on was not letting him see the tears brimming her eyes over the loss of her most valuable treasure. She vehemently refused to give him the satisfaction of being able to break her down. After the weight of her words appeared to have sunken in, he responded.

He advanced towards her slowly. There wasn’t a hint of emotion present on his face, weakening her resolve. It was then she became acutely aware of the sheer difference in size between them. He easily dwarfed her in almost every physical quality there was, from height to weight to even strength. He could do anything he wanted to her and she would have no chance in hell of fighting him off. That little epiphany scared her more than death itself.

“You know, Thea, I don’t think you understand the position you’re in. Do you even realize just how many people would kill to be you right now?” She backed away from him as he continued to approach her, trying to create as much space between them as she possibly could. “You’re either too dim or too naive to see and I know you’ve got a brain inside that pretty little head of yours.” She hit the front door and he put both arms up on either side of her, effectively trapping her. “I must say you’re even more beautiful up close like this.”

Her heart pounding against her chest, she fought to keep her voice steady as she said, “W-what are you going to do, hurt me? I’ll scream if you do.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you will but the real question is--” he leaned in, looking down at her-- “would anyone believe you?”

“W-what are you talking about, of course they would!” she exclaimed, feeling a sense of dread building within her.

“Are you sure about that?” He sounded almost gleeful in the face of her growing fear. “Think about it, if I did anything to you and you came out about it, would anyone really believe you? Believe that I, Renard Géroux, the savior of Belleurseul, hurt you, the local witch?” He scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

He was right. His words shook her to her core, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over as the floor felt like it had gone out from underneath her. If he attacked her, she wouldn’t be able to tell anyone. It’d be her story against his, she’d draw the ire of the whole village down upon her with her accusation. Any strength she had in her legs vanished and it was only by her leaning on the door she stayed standing. She wanted to throw up; no one was going to save her.

“You’re trembling like a scared rabbit.” He raised a hand to cup her cheek but she recoiled away from it. “Truly a shame you think I’d hurt you.”

Gathering her courage to speak, she asked him, “Wh-what do you want from me?”

“I think, since you seem to be on the verge of a fit, all I want is a kiss.” He brushed a thumb across her bottom lip. “I trust you know what I mean. We’re both adults here and I believe we should act as much.”

This was hell. Everything was just getting worse and worse and she wanted nothing more than to die at that very moment. Renard had her in his grasp, free to do whatever he pleased with her. Her first kiss was going to be with a man who only saw her as a trophy he felt entitled to if she didn’t stop him here. She may not have been strong enough to push him off but she had to do something.

He leaned down as her hands searched for anything that could help her. Her fingers swept against a metallic object, cool to the touch. She realized it was the knob to the front door. Now all she needed was to wait for the right opportunity to show itself so she could free herself from this position. She couldn’t afford to waste what could be her only ticket out.

His lips were nearly upon hers. She could feel his warm breath fanning out over her mouth and she knew then it was now or never. A split second before they were about to kiss, she twisted the knob to thrust the door open. She pressed herself flat against its surface to avoid flying out, which was exactly what Renard didn’t do. He stumbled forward with such force, he ended up tumbling over the stone half-wall outside and falling into the small, murky pond below.

She had just enough time to head back inside and lock the door. If Renard decided to retaliate against her, she wasn’t taking any chances. Minutes passed as she stood mere meters away from the door, unsure on whether she should run upstairs to fetch her dagger or not. When it became clear he wasn’t going to do anything to her, she breathed a shaky sigh of relief. Her reprieve was short-lived, however, once she remembered about her book.

She rushed over to the fireplace. A part of her clung to the hope her book could potentially be saved but it was all for naught. The once small yet exquisite book was no more, its burnt remains a gray ash spread amongst the firewood. She dropped to her knees in despair. Her one ally, her source of comfort in a cruel world, was truly gone, never to be seen again.

A broken sob slipped out of her mouth as tears slid down her cheeks. The pain felt insurmountable and she could do nothing except scream at the top of her lungs till her throat was hoarse. She wanted so many things yet what she wanted most of all was her mother. She wished she was here to console her instead of being on a business trip to god knows where. Grief then gave way to anger.

She hated this. She hated Belleurseul, hated living in it, hated the villagers, hated everything that had to do with this horrible hellhole. She wanted it all to disappear, to drown in the deepest bowels of hell where it could never hurt her again. She hated herself the very most, for looking the way she did, being the way she was, for even existing in the horrid life she had.

She asked herself, why couldn’t she be normal? Why couldn’t she have looked like other girls and not stand out? That way, no one would hate or fear her and Renard would be some other person’s problem to deal with. Why was she cursed to be like this, what god did she unknowingly offend, was she put here just to suffer? No matter how much she begged, her questions would never be answered. She had gone through her whole life without them, why not the rest of it then?

She sat in front of the fireplace, mourning the loss of her only friend all the while wishing for a new life.

#airi's writing #oc; Venlithea #oc; Renard #beauty and the beast au

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extravaguk · 4 years ago

Text

santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series.

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones.

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks?

But apparently, you did.

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone.

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve.

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat.

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin) falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now. Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence.

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question. Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips.

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall.

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby."

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes.

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you.

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck.

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace. It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing.

"Let me take you on a date."

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week.

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away.

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right.

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be.

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes.

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony.

"N-no!"

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out.

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed.

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful.

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one.

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance.

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible.

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth.

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future.

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you.

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

#jimin #park jimin #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts smut #bts #pjm #pjm smut #bad bunny is retiring like who the fuck does he think he is to decide when he gets to retire???#nah bb WE decide when you retire

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yslkook · 4 years ago

Text

gorgeous

#corporate masterlist

summary: it’s the office holiday party, and when you show up wearing this dress, jungkook doesn’t know what to do with himself. (jk pov) word count: 3014 warnings: alcohol, cursing, smut 18+- jk jerks it in a bathroom, he’s very into oc and she doesnt know it, jk is pining a/n: here is a lil holiday-esque drabble. this story takes place about a month after the team returns to seoul from ch 6. pls enjoy this first attempt at smut for jk. ty to @taestybae for her endless support <333

Jungkook doesn’t know what to expect from this office holiday party- apparently there had been a huge budget surplus this year and the regulatory department had decided to go all out. The party planners had booked an evening at one of the ballrooms in one of swankiest hotels in Seoul. Meaning that the party itself was semi-formal, or close to it.

Meaning that Jungkook would rather be at home playing video games and eating pizza than dressed in a suit. He’s tired, it’s been a long few months, and he just wants to go home.

But he plays the part, and he plays the part well. Namjoon introduces him to a few people, higher ups, after he grabs a glass of spiced wine from the open bar.

Maybe he can at least get a little drunk. As a treat.

His thoughts drift to you for a moment. He wonders what you’re doing. Maybe he’ll text you later, if he’s feeling a little brave. Maybe with some liquid courage.

He’s already looking forward to it. But he doesn’t have to, because you walk in through the doors with Seokjin on your arm.

Jungkook audibly chokes on his wine when he spots you. Namjoon gives him a strange look but Jungkook ignores it, in favor of staring at you. Jungkook’s throat goes dry the closer both you and Seokjin get to him, Namjoon and Sana.

He can’t be next to you, not when you look like that. Not when you look so much more pretty than anything his own dreams could have conjured up.

“Hi, Jungkook,” You say, your voice low and sweet at the same time.

He nearly faints.

“Hi,” Jungkook mumbles, “What are you doing here?”

“Huh? Should I leave?” You tease, pointing at the door with your thumb.

“No, I just- I thought this was a reg thing?” Jungkook asks desperately, digging himself into a deeper hole. You only smile even wider at him.

“Oh, am I not good enough company for you people then?” You scoff, “Maybe we should leave, Sana.”

“No,” Jungkook nearly whines, “That’s not what I meant-”

Jin is having a blast watching Jungkook tripping over his words as the younger man confirms his own already existing suspicions.

Namjoon tells Jungkook that he had invited you and Sana and you reply saying that you had come along with Jin.

What you don’t say is that Jin probably would have found a way to drag you to this party regardless. His jaw had dropped when he had picked you up from your house and you’re flustered under his gaze, something that has only happened a handful of times since you’ve known Jin-

“What? Is it too much? I thought they said semi-formal,” You panic, “Jin, I don’t have anything else! Should I go change? Fuck it, I’m not coming. Jin! Will you say something!”

“You look good, stupid,” Jin says easily and unabashedly lets his eyes roam, “You’re sexy.”

“Oh.”

Your dark green dress hugs your curves but still leaves enough to the imagination. Jungkook’s eyes dart to your shoulders and the dip of your chest, where he sees more of your tattoo that he’s ever seen before. He swallows nervously and when you walk with Sana to the bar, he sees the slit in your dress and an eyeful of your thigh.

Jungkook chugs his drink. The pink flush of his cheeks can be attributed to alcohol after all.

You’re perfectly elegant and sexy, unaware that Jungkook is having a minor breakdown while trying to stave off popping a boner at this very public event.

He’s not having much luck.

Jungkook is now on his third glass of spiced wine, in an attempt to stop himself from searching for you. No matter where you are in the room, you seem to pop up in his periphery. Whether you’re speaking to Hae-ri, or you’re shoveling appetizers into your mouth with Seokjin, or you’re speaking with Namjoon’s boss… you always seem to be in his line of vision.

He seems to be one of the youngest people in the regulatory department, a fact that Jungkook’s colleagues seem to always want to bring up. Remarks of how they’re old and of ‘kids these days’ as they look pointedly at him, saying that he’s young and spry are the norm.

It’s annoying and he resists the urge to roll his eyes. He just grins and bears it, going through his third glass of wine much quicker than expected.

These people always say they want change and fresh ideas and somehow refuse to embrace them. It makes Jungkook scoff. He’s happy with his small team of Namjoon, you and Sana. He’s happy that you’re all young at heart and that things aren’t so competitive. He knows he’s blessed in that aspect.

Jungkook is thankful when Seokjin pulls him away to introduce him to his own boss-

“You’re Namjoon’s golden boy,” Seokjin shrugs, “Everyone already knows you.”

He wants to ask, do people know you? But he refrains, not wanting Jin to get the wrong idea. Jungkook shouldn’t be as surprised as he is when he sees you standing next to Namjoon with Jin’s boss and one of her colleagues.

Now he really has to keep himself in check. You make him weak and despite his best attempts to avoid looking at you, his eyes land on you anyway. And how can he not turn his gaze to you?

He’s a goner, and he knew it from the minute he saw you walk into the venue.

Jungkook watches your red lips move as you speak with Seokjin’s boss and he vaguely wonders how your lipstick has remained intact this long. Your laugh is like music in his ears, you even throw your head back in genuine mirth at something that Seokjin’s boss says.

You’re not watching him. So he sips his wine and allows himself to enjoy your presence, all wrapped up in front of him in possibly the prettiest dress on the prettiest woman he’s ever met.

Your whole body shakes as you laugh unabashedly and fully and Jungkook dares to ogle your chest for longer than he should of a colleague. But you’re you, and he’s just a boy.

You’re his dream girl and he’s just a boy.

He wonders what your skin might taste like- you always smell so good, the faint scent of something warm and comforting always surrounds you. Your skin is glowing, the ink on your shoulders shining with the light from the chandeliers above.

And then your thigh peeks out and the sight of your leg sends an arrow of arousal straight down his spine. Jungkook thinks he catches a glimpse of color on your upper thigh but it’s gone as quickly as it comes.

His throat is dry again. He needs another drink.

While he wants to look at you in peace as if you were a painting made just for him, he wants your attention too. Before he can slide into the conversation and see your pretty eyes light up for him, you turn to him on your own.

“Hi,” You murmur to him once it’s clear that Seokjin has steered the conversation with his boss away from you, “Feel like I didn’t get to say hello to you properly earlier.”

“O-oh,” Jungkook mumbles, “No worries.”

“Got any plans for the holidays?” You ask softly. Your voice rings loud and clear in his ears, the sweet taste of wine on his tongue has nothing on what he imagines your lips feel like against his.

“J-just goin’ to my parents’. My brother’s coming for a few days, with his girlfriend,” Jungkook says, letting himself relax around you. It’s easy for him to do, when you give him a smile and a laugh that makes his heart lurch.

“Oh! You have a brother,” You reply, “Older or younger?”

“Older.”

“Ah, so you’re the baby of the house,” You tease, looking at him over the rim of your glass. Jungkook is momentarily distracted by the glossy taupe of your nails. And then his eyes travel up your fingers, as he catches exactly two small tattoos over your knuckles.

“I’m not the baby,” Jungkook complains and your teasing eyes melt away, instead replaced by a warm ember of something more. Your eyes are dark and hooded as you take him in, and it sets his blood alight.

“I know, Jungkook,” You murmur, your voice low and raspy. The corner of your lips quirk up into a smirk and all Jungkook can do is swallow his nerves down. He feels like he’s vibrating, just from your simple look. He preens in your gaze, wanting any and all of your attention.

Not for the first time, he struggles to keep his eyes above your neckline. Jungkook chugs the rest of his wine hastily and your eyebrows raise in mild curiosity.

Jungkook is struggling to maintain his composure and if he doesn’t get his shit together, you’ll surely notice the small tent in his pants. Only you, looking so gorgeous in green can pull this kind of reaction from him with just a few words.

Jungkook is a sucker.

The hungry look in your eyes passes and instead you ask him about his brother and his family. He falls into easy conversation with you, telling you about last year’s holiday and how he had baked about fifty cookies too many for his family so he had eaten them all instead. He asks you what you usually do for the holiday, to which you reply that sometimes you and Grandma spend it with Seokjin and his family.

The lines between colleagues and friendship have long been blurred between you and Jungkook. At least, that’s how you feel. Normally, you wouldn’t offer that kind of information up to a colleague. But Jungkook feels like a little more than a colleague to you.

“Uh. Do you want to sit with me and eat?” You ask almost shyly and Jungkook feels his cheeks heating up. He nods immediately and follows you to the buffet line, enjoying the way your ass looks in that dress and eating up any glimpse of your leg he can get.

Happy holidays, indeed.

“How messy do you think these people get after a few glasses of wine?” You muse, observing the higher ups chatting with each other on the other side of the room.

“Pretty damn messy,” Jungkook replies, “Look at Hae-ri, she’s wasted. And Yunho too-”

“Maybe there will be a day where we can act like that and not worry about whether we’ll be fired or not the next day…”

“It’s all about control,” Jungkook says knowingly, “You just gotta fake it till you make it.”

“Don’t gotta tell me that twice,” You scoff, “I feel like I can never get drunk at these things. Feels like big brother is watching, you know?”

“Can’t relate,” Jungkook says smoothly, “What’s the point of a work party if you won’t take advantage of the open bar?”

You laugh loudly, and Jungkook nearly jumps when your hand floats over his forearm to steady yourself. Jungkook sharply turns his face towards yours, meeting your electric eyes. You cross one leg over the other, the skirt of your dress falling a little bit to the side.

And Jungkook sees even more of your upper thigh tattoo than he had before. Now he knows for certain that your ink wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.

“Sorry,” You mumble.

He doesn’t know what you’re apologizing for, but he misses the heat of your hand when you place it back in your lap.

When you ask him if he wants to get seconds at the buffet with you, he immediately nods. You say nothing as he reflexively puts his hand at the small of your back. He’s a man, but he’s a gentleman, after all.

The simple touch and heat of your skin through the fabric of your dress is enough of a memory for him to store for later. He allows himself the luxury of it and when you stand a little closer to him, he can’t help himself from letting his thoughts wander.

Jungkook needs to leave. He needs to either find a bathroom or get his ass home, because the longer he’s in your presence, the harder it is for him to conceal himself from you.

Specifically, his boner. His cock seems to jump whenever you’re in his line of sight and it’s messing with his head.

He’s painfully hard by the point in the night when speeches from the higher ups are being made. They’re thanking the department for their hard work for the year and wishing everyone a prosperous new year. Meanwhile Jungkook isn’t paying attention.

He’s tipsy and he’s thinking about how you’d fit in the crevices of his hands. He’s thinking about how your hips might feel in his hands, how the column of your throat would taste, how you’d look with his head buried in between your inked thighs.

He wants to shove his face into your tits and he nearly groans out loud at the thought. He wonders how his cock would look in your hands, how you’d stroke him, how your mouth would feel…

Jungkook sneaks away from the ballroom in search of a private bathroom. He leaves quietly, not wanting to answer questions. Not when he’s this painfully hard, and the mere thought of you in that dress is seemingly enough for him to cum in his pants.

He swiftly walks through the halls with his jacket subtly covering the front of his pants. He’s mortified that it’s come to this, but if he doesn’t make himself cum in the next ten minutes he might explode.

Jungkook finally finds a bathroom and shoves himself inside, immediately standing in front of the mirror and pulling his belt off.

He’s so desperate. He wonders if you’d like that, if you’d like his desperation that stems from you.

Jungkook pulls his cock out of the confines of his boxers and strokes himself slowly at first. Teasingly. He sighs softly at the relief that his right hand gives him.

Fuck. Would you like that? Would you like that he’s this desperate for you? Would you praise him?

He squeezes his eyes shut, pretending that it’s your hand on his cock and not his own. He can see you in his mind, your lipstick beyond smudged, eyes watery and your dress rumpled.

He can see your tattoos on display for him, the ones on your shoulder, your chest and your thigh. Maybe you’d even tell him that they all mean.

The thought sends another rush of blood to his cock. He pumps himself faster, groaning softly and biting his bottom lip.

He imagines you telling him to be loud for you, to let you hear him. In that low, sexy voice.

Jungkook moans your name into the empty bathroom. He’s long been leaking precum from his cock, perhaps since the moment he laid eyes on you. He’s so close…

Everything suddenly feels magnified- his touch on his cock, the thought of your tits spilling over the bodice of your dress. The feel of your lips on his.

His mind runs wild when it comes to you.

Jungkook strokes himself even faster, only to stop abruptly. Start, stop. Start, stop. He whines to himself and peels his eyes open to watch himself in the mirror. His eyes are hooded, cheeks reddened and lips pouty and swollen from biting down.

He needs more than his own hand. He needs friction.

Without a second thought, he plasters his hands over the counter and rocks his hips into the edge of the surface. With a loud, broken moan he grinds into the counter. Wondering how your pussy might feel instead of the cold surface. Or your hands. Or your tits.

He slows down to a slow grind, teasing himself with the thought of you. What would you look like when he made you cum? What would you look like when you came on your own fingers?

He speeds up a little more, groaning and whimpering as the need to cum quickly approaches. The knot in his belly has become even tighter, ready to burst. Jungkook feels like his skin is on fire, his hands doing little to alleviate it.

He pulls off of the counter and strokes himself harshly with rough tugs, groaning your name under his breath. Jungkook thinks about you, waking up next to you after a nap together, bringing you ice cream after a long day, kissing you just because he can in his fantasies.

Thick ropes of white coat his hands and spray across the counter recklessly as he moans brokenly for nobody to hear.

Jungkook’s knees feel weak as he tries to regain his breath. He braces himself on the counter before taking a paper towel to clean himself up. After, he wets a paper towel with soap and cleans up the counter and the mirror.

His cheeks are blazing once the gravity of what he just did hits him. How is he supposed to face you now?

He doesn’t regret it. You’re his dream girl.

It’s no surprise that soon after Jungkook emerges from the bathroom, the closing remarks are just about to finish. That’s great timing because once they do, he’s booking it out of the hotel as fast as he can.

And that’s exactly what he does. He leaves, only saying goodbye to Namjoon and makes a beeline for the exit. His Uber is already waiting for him.

He doesn’t notice you looking for him to say goodbye.

It’s later, when he’s in the safety of his bedroom and in his pajamas, that his phone lights up-

you: hey, u must have left before I found you. Just wanted to say bye and happy holidays Jk 💓

Jungkook can’t help his heart doing cartwheels or the smile on his face at your text.

He also can’t help his cock from jumping, either.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #bts x reader

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lover-of-skellies · 3 years ago

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Marked

So uhh, this isn’t off the prompt list thing and literally no one asked for it, but I decided to go back and edit a super old thing I wrote. It’s supposed to be part of something a lot bigger, but for now, the whole thing’s been discontinued

Essentially, this is an OC insert kinda thing with my girl Adrienne. She’s been trapped in Horrortale for a little while, and since Sans decided to be merciful, she’s been allowed to live in a spare room in his and Pap’s house. She has free roam of the house and can do pretty much whatever the hell she wants (as long as it doesn’t involve getting into the pantry and digging into their reserves), and in exchange for all of that and being allowed to live, he and Papyrus have some super basic rules they expect her to follow

Rule number 1 is that she is to be helpful, and try to maintain the house while they’re away. Rule number two is that she’s not to leave the house without covering her face and hands. Rule number three is that she’s never to leave the house alone, without one or both of them nearby

Out of boredom and hunger, she leaves the house one day, following the smell of food. This doesn’t seem like it’d be anything huge, but it’s a major no-no, and it doesn’t go unpunished

Papyrus is also surprisingly good at giving advice, too. He might not have much experience with dating, but he knows exactly what he's talking about

If you make it to the end, I have to give you kudos because this is a complete cringe-fest ^^"

((Gonna add some potential trigger warnings for: angst, slight violence, and public humiliation))

Pain.

Searing pain.

The once blue-nette had been exploring the town, much to her guardians’ displeasure. She’d known it wasn’t a good idea, and for what reasons, she was well aware, but she had to do something. Staying holed away in the house every moment of every day was a completely new level of boring, one that she hadn’t even known existed. Her guardian had made it very clear that she was to never leave the house unless he or his brother were to accompany her, but today… well. His brother was away, probably at the capital getting physically and verbally abused by their queen, and he himself? She wasn’t sure what he did while he was away, but she’d learned not to ask too many questions. The first few times she tried asking, he’d been quick to change the subject or dodge her questions entirely, or he’d simply laugh and make a joke which he deemed hilarious when in reality, it wasn’t. Once he got tired of her asking, his humor quickly dissipated and was replaced by anger. He didn’t even have to look at her for her to know he was upset; all it took was a few short, clipped responses, and how she could practically hear him frown when he spoke. That’s beside the point though.

At the moment, she was suspended in mid air by her throat, her legs flailing as she began clawing at her assailant’s arm, her teeth bared as she struggled to free herself. The slightly withered fire monster shrugged off her attempts to attack him as if they were nothing at all; even though his strength had been diminished and was now only half of what it used to be, he was still far tougher than she could ever hope to be. Having smelled food, she made the mistake of slipping into the bar he owned, her hood tugged as far over her face as possible. She had glanced around the establishment, taken note of the other monsters nearby, and made another mental note of where all the exits were, should she need to run. After very cautiously crossing the bar and taking a seat at the old, worn counter, the flamesman had wordlessly poured a glass of water. He nudged it in her direction, and she’d eagerly accepted it, being mindful of how much of her face was concealed as she sipped the cold beverage.

For a moment, she was relaxed, and she nearly forgot the very real danger she was in. She was snapped out of her brief feeling of serenity as the Grillby fully shifted his attention to her. He made a soft, questioning sound, and she kept her head low, speaking just barely loud enough for him to hear, “What’re ya serving, Grillby?” He grunted, well prepared to offer her a short, yet simple answer, but was cut off by another monster who seated himself beside the girl, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around these parts before, friend… where are you from?” The teen lowered her gaze to the countertop, catching a glimpse of what looked to be faded blue fur. She didn’t know what monster could possibly want to talk to her, but she remained as calm and casual as possible in hope of not drawing any more attention to herself, “The ruins.”

With their interest now fully piqued, the monster beside her hummed incredulously, “The ruins, huh?... I take it you’ve met our former queen then. Toriel.” Upon hearing the familiar goat monster’s name, the teen saw images flicker in her mind; memories of her time in the ruins before she managed to escape. How Toriel had guided her through all the traps and puzzles that laid in waiting. How she held her close and allowed her to sob into her shoulder. How she’d convinced Adrienne to go back to her house, where there’d be a warm bed, food, and all the love and care she could ever want. Toriel had baked a cinnamon and butterscotch pie, very excited to share it with her, but not long after the teen had eaten a small slice, she’d felt her stomach turn. Her world went black, and when she awoke, she was tucked into a bed in a dimly lit room, which looked as though it had once belonged to a child. She felt incredibly ill and had almost no strength, and she could barely stand without feeling light headed. To her surprise, however, her willing ally, Flowey, had made a surprise return. Adrienne had seen Toriel had burn him alive, so she didn’t understand how he was even still alive.

Flowey had been through this exact same situation too many times to count, as it turned out, and he’d revealed Toriel’s true intentions: make the teen weak enough to require constant care and attention, and make her stay in the ruins forever. Or at the very least, until she died. Taking advantage of a distraction provided by Flowey, she’d waited for the goat monster to disappear to another part of the house. She’d then made her way to the kitchen and began to search around the floorboards. According to Flowey, there was a panel that could be removed, and underneath it, she’d find the remedy she needed to regain her health. She’d found the vial and downed it without question, only to look up and see the crazed goat monster staring at her from the doorway. The look on her face was one that still occasionally haunted Adrienne's dreams, and she’d been trying to go as long as possible without thinking about it. It appeared as though she’d be getting no such luck today, though.

Clearing her throat and trying to force down her growing anxiety, she nodded, keeping her head down, “Yeah, I have. I’ve met her.” The blue furred stranger watched her with an unnerving amount of intensity and she fought the urge to squirm and lean away from them. As they spoke again, their voice held a curious edge, “Huh. I can only imagine how that went.” Nodding silently, the teen returned to her glass of water, more than ready for the stranger to go away. She knew what would happen if she was discovered, and she wanted no part of that whatsoever.

The monster leaned closer to her and sniffed the air, letting out a pleased sigh before mumbling, “Friend… you don’t exactly smell like one of us. Monsters have their own natural and unique scents... But you, however,” A fuzzy paw-like hand seized her arm with a vice-like grip, and the stranger's voice shifted from a mumble to what was more like a hiss, “you smell like you belong on the grill.” Adrienne began attempting to yank her arm back out of the monster’s grasp and they laughed, simply using their free hand to tug her hood down, revealing her identity to Grillby and the other bar patrons that surrounded them. Her faded grey eyes widened in fear as the monsters began to shout at the flamesman, excitedly demanding that he cook her for them. Despite how the teen shook her head in protest, the mass of living fire moved closer to her, rapidly snatching her up by the throat. She was lifted off of the ground, and he ignored her pained screams as the heat from his hand began to scorch the skin of her neck.

With adrenaline now coursing through her veins, she let out a string of expletives and pulled both of her legs up until her knees touched her chest. The flamesman took a single step toward his kitchen, and then froze as both of her deceptively weak legs shot toward him, delivering a sharp kick to the space just below his chest. She didn’t expect her little stunt to actually work, but to her pleasant surprise, he’d released his grip on her out of shock, gingerly touching the now injured part of himself. Adrienne dropped to the floor and quickly regained her balance, paying no attention to the few monsters who rushed to Grillby’s side. She proceeded to climb over the counter and sprint toward the door, the footsteps behind her a clear indicator that she was being pursued now. Not that she could blame them for any though; food was insanely hard to come by, so if you had a chance to eat but the food got up and ran, wouldn’t you go after it too?

Reaching out with a clawed hand, some unseen monster snagged a fistful of her hair and harshly pulled, causing her to yelp and almost tumble to the floor. She glanced around, surveying her surroundings and checking the exits again. Part of what looked to be a dog’s muzzle could be seen in her peripheral vision and she winced, struggling to free herself from the creature's grip. She only received an amused cackle from the monster in question, followed by him instructing some of the others to grab her and haul her back to the kitchen for Grillby. Looking around again and seeing them approaching her, she stuffed her hand into one of her pockets and fished around, searching through the various items inside for a moment before revealing a pocket knife. Unsure of what she might do, some of the monsters around her stepped back, but the one still pulling her hair only growled. Though she felt the hair on the back of her neck raise at the sound, she lifted an arm and made one single, fluid slicing motion with her hand, the blade of the pocket knife slicing through her hair. While she hated having to cut her hair and knew it’d take forever to grow back, she bared her teeth at the large dog monster, her lips curling into a smug grin as she noticed the look of surprise on his face.

Taking advantage of the moment, she darted to the nearest door, fully prepared to run out into the freezing streets and make a mad dash back to her protector’s house. Freedom and safety were so close and within her reach now, but as she whipped the door open and scrambled to get outside, she slammed face first into yet another monster. Letting out a frustrated and startled screech, she began trying to squeeze past them. They simply chuckled, wrapping an arm around her nearly size-zero waist and pulling her flush against themselves. Hearing the chuckle, realization dawned on her; this was her protector. She would be safe now.

She stole a glance up at his face and his scarlet iris flickered briefly down to her, his amused grin shifting into a taut line. Oh, she knew that expression all too well by now.

From that look alone, she knew someone would be hurt today.

Though his arm was almost uncomfortably tight around her, she said nothing, only turning her body slightly and burying her face in the front of his heavily blood stained shirt. The teen whimpered, wordlessly admitting just how scared she really was at the moment. He shifted his focus entirely to the other monsters that were now staring at both of them, and sensing their gaze, the teen whined faintly, her guardian lightly squeezing her in an effort to reassure her.

Thoroughly confused as to why she wasn’t dead yet, someone called out to her protector, “Perfect timing, Sans. Now how about you kill her so we can all eat already?” The skeleton’s normally rough voice held a bitter edge and he practically growled, “She ain’t free game, pal. I’m sorry ta say it, but I won’t be hackin’ this one ta bits for ya.” A crowd was beginning to form now and Adrienne tried to press as close to her friend as she could, wishing everyone would hurry up and leave. She already hated crowds on their own, and knowing that this particular crowd all wanted to see her get roasted alive didn’t exactly make her feel any better. Clearly taken aback, the same monster that’d addressed Sans spoke up again, “Oh really? And why’s that? You never helped the humans that fell before her, so what makes her so special?”

Curiosity piqued, she glanced up at the skeleton again, though he didn’t return the gaze. He just continued staring the other monster down, his iris nearly glowing now from the extent of his agitation, “Because she’s mine. Ya hear me? This little slab a’ meat belongs ta me.” A tiny burst of heat rushed to her face upon hearing his response; was he really claiming her right now? Claiming that she was his, and using his power over the others to coerce them into sparing her? Unbelievable.

Another monster decided to interject, countering Sans’ statement with, “Then how come you haven’t marked her yet?”

Oh boy. Of course someone would ask. Why wouldn’t they? She had no idea what she was expecting, but it clearly wasn’t that. With an annoyed huff, the skeleton spun her around, making sure everyone could see her face as he fired back with another sharp retort, “Heh, funny you should ask. I was on my way home with the intention of doin’ just that, but I guess we won’t have the privacy now. Oh well. All you fuckwits better be watchin’, because I’m only gonna do this once.”

Wait, he was going to mark her? Here? In front of everyone?

Face burning with embarrassment, she dropped her gaze to the floor, letting out a soft squeak as he grabbed the collar of her shirt and jacket and pulled them aside to reveal her shoulder. Not bothering to give any indication of what he was about to do, a faintly glowing blue tongue snaked out of his maw and traced over a very specific patch of her skin. The feeling of his tongue - which consisted solely of highly concentrated magic - on her skin was like nothing she’d experienced before. There was some warmth to it that was followed by a tingle, which was likely caused by the magic itself, and another involuntary whimper slipped past her lips. Her face grew hotter at hearing herself make that sound again, which to her horror, Sans had also heard. It earned a soft chuckle from him and his mandible shifted into a pleased grin.

And then he sunk his teeth into her shoulder.

It happened so fast that she didn’t even have time to register what happened, but at the lack of the expected pain, she unconsciously fidgeted. Wasn’t this supposed to hurt?... What was preventing her from being in pain right now? She felt his tongue trace over her skin again, accompanied by more tingling and… numbness? Had he intentionally numbed her shoulder before biting her?

Seeing that he had been true to his word and had in fact marked her, the other monsters quickly grew bored, the vast majority of them also visibly disappointed as they returned to their prior activities. A sense of relief washed over her and she sighed, stealing a quick glance at her friend as he slowly released her. His tongue lingered behind momentarily and lapped up the blood that seeped from the injury, and his voice took a husky tone as he purred, “Ya taste good, kiddo. I think I could get used ta this.” Her already flushed face became a much brighter shade of red than before and she scoffed, refusing to look at him, “Don’t count on it, mister.” “Awe, c’mon Addy. Help me out here… it’s not my fault that ya taste as good as ya look.” Growling softly, Adrienne scrunched her face up into a look of annoyance in hopes of masking her embarrassment as she rolled her eyes, “Pervert.” “No idea what you’re talkin’ about.” “Uh huh, right. I definitely believe that.” He lightly jabbed her side with the tip of a phalange and she squirmed, yelping in surprise. She tried to twist her small frame away from him and he laughed softly, “Whatever. How about we ditch this place and head home now? This bar is no place for a little lady like ya.” Looking back at him over her shoulder, she flicked her tongue at him.

They’d left the bar and began to walk home in uncomfortable silence. The moment they made it back to his house and he’d set her down, she found herself being roughly shoved against the closed front door with one of his large hands catching her wrists and pinning them above her head. Her eyes widened in shock and she squirmed, “H-Hey, what the hell are you-” Meeting her gaze, the look he wore was enough to silence her, his completely dilated red iris both captivating and terrifying her all at once.

Then he spoke, his gruff voice low, “You disobeyed me, Adrienne.”

Forcing her voice out and reaching nothing louder than a whisper, she frowned, “I… I know I did. I’m really sorry, Sans. I won’t do it again, I swear.” “Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if I didn’t get ta you in time?” “Yes, I do! Really!” “If you knew the risks, then why’d you do it?” Feeling much smaller than before as he continued staring her down, Adrienne sheepishly looked away from him, “There’s just.... Not a lot to do here when you and Paps are gone, and I was bored. I did a bunch of cleaning and reorganizing, and I even tried to fix the TV. I dug through the hallway closet and looked through the games, but do you have any idea how hard it is to actually play a game by yourself and have fun at the same time?”

With his free hand, the skeleton cupped his face, letting a deep sigh, “You risked your life… you risked dying, because you were bored? Am I hearin’ that right?” Feeling guilty, she slowly nodded, choosing to keep her mouth shut this time. Catching her completely by surprise, what sounded like a giggle could be heard, and though it took a moment to fully register, she had a realization that made her blood run cold; the giggle came from Sans.

Nervously lifting her gaze again to look up at him, the only thing that began to pulse within her was regret. Regret that she’d disobeyed him, regret that she went against his wishes, regret that she’d upset him so badly, regret that she even opened her mouth at all to speak to him, and most of all, regret that she’d decided to look at him.

He leaned back the smallest bit, one hand still firmly pinning her wrists above her head. Her eyes widened in complete terror as his giggling began to escalate, growing louder and louder until he was roaring with laughter as blue tinted tears pricked at the rims of his sockets. Not bothering to wipe away the tears, he placed his free hand on his face. His open palm rested on his cheek as he curled his fingers, the first two settling inside his empty socket; judging by the slight movement his arm made, he’d begun lightly tugging on the rim of it. That was never a good sign. Yes, she loved it when he relaxed enough to laugh with her from time to time, but this display right now? This was the stuff of nightmares.

Then almost as quickly as it’d started, his laughter came to an abrupt halt and his wide grin vanished, leaving only a resentful scowl behind in its place. As his focus shifted back to the teen, her heart began to race. She honestly had no idea what he planned to do now. He then began to slowly tighten his grip on her wrists, a soft growl rumbling from within his chest. Paying no attention to the grimace of pain she wore as his phalanges began digging into her skin, he leaned down, the space between them reduced to almost nothing as he hissed, “You’re an idiot. Get out of my goddamn sight, human.” Adrienne opened her mouth to force an apology out but was quickly cut off, crying out in surprise and pain as the skeleton dug his phalanges even further into her wrists and began to break skin. Rolling his single eye light, he scoffed, stepping back and suddenly yanking her to the side, releasing his grip on her wrists in time to make her small body become airborne. With the sound of something cracking and collapsing beneath her, she knew she’d landed at least partially on the coffee table.

Despite the pain that shot through her with even the smallest movement, the cold stare she was receiving from the skeleton was enough to make get back up, her head hung low as her eyes began to water up. Not wanting to show him this weaker, more vulnerable side of herself, she darted up the stairs, her feet padding across the slightly creaky wooden floor for only a brief moment. She then took refuge in the upstairs bathroom, slamming the door shut behind herself and flipping the latch, locking out the world. Trying to force down the very minute amount of guilt that began to bubble up within him, Sans let out an annoyed huff and glanced at the now completely busted coffee table. He was going to have a hell of a time explaining that to Papyrus later.

~~~

What seemed like a century had passed before the youngest of the two skeletons finally returned home, the sight of the smashed coffee table still lying on the floor enough to induce a sense of dread within him. Normally when he came home, his elder brother would greet him, or at the very least, be lazing about on the couch and offer him a half hearted wave that was usually followed by some sort of pun or terrible joke.

But no. Nothing. Sans was nowhere in sight, and neither was Adrienne. This only made Papyrus’ concern grow; he hoped beyond all hope that his brother hadn’t done anything to her.

The tall skeleton let out a soft sigh and crossed the living room. The exhaustion from the long day began to set in as he ascended the stairs, eager to take a shower and change into something more comfortable. He loved his battle body immensely, but sometimes his sore, tired bones made the item feel as though it weighed a thousand pounds. He wished he could simply change his clothes and climb into bed so he could go to sleep, but life wasn’t that simple for him; before he was allowed to relax, he needed to shower and make dinner for his brother and Adrienne, then the teen was to help him clean up the dishes once the three of them had finished eating. After all that, he was to take Adrienne to the backyard to test prototypes for new puzzles and traps. She was kind enough to help him make sure they worked correctly, so he was always vigilant, always watching to make sure she was never injured on any of them. Aside from being a puzzle and trap tester, his rather small human friend also delighted in helping him think of new puzzles, and she even designed some of her own. She seemed to enjoy partaking in games of pretend when they messed around with the action figures he’d collected over the years, and when Sans wasn’t around or flat out refused to do it, she didn’t mind reading to him before he fell asleep each night, either. They’d grown very close, and he cared for her almost as much as he cared for Sans. It was for all those reasons why he promised to protect her; he had to protect her. He’d become used to her presence and had grown to appreciate their friendship very much, and having her as his friend helped fill the void in his soul that was once occupied by the queen herself. He still considered Undyne a close friend, but the way she spoke and treated him now was… Execrable.

As he twisted the knob and nudged his bedroom door open, the scent of blood hit his nasal cavity and he felt his body tense. Gently pushing the door shut behind his massive frame once he’d crossed the threshold, he made his way to his desk and flicked on the small lamp that resided on its far left corner, the light illuminating his multitude of action figures and an old map.

The faint sound of movement caught Papyrus’ attention and he looked down toward the source, almost unable to believe what he was seeing; the human was in his bed, lying on her side and wrapped in his old blankets. An open first aid kit sat on the floor next to the bed, and cloth bandages were wrapped loosely around her slender neck. Her hair, which was once nearly long enough to reach her lower back, was now much shorter; it looked as though it was cut hastily by some sort of blade. While her arms were mostly concealed by the blankets, he could see that her wrists had also been wrapped in bandages, a familiar crimson threatening to seep through the material. As she shifted again in her slumber, her shirt began to slip down her shoulder and revealed another large bandage, more crimson staining the fabric. His brow bones furrowed as he took note of how the crimson staining it formed a half circle… as if the injury was because of a bite.

In his consternation, Papyrus reached out, a single gloved hand settling on her uninjured shoulder. He leaned down, his spine already aching from the awkward angle as he lowered his voice and did his best not to startle her, “Human?... Adrienne? Please, I Need You To Wake Up. Come On Human, Please.” As she slowly began to stir, he fought the urge to scoop her up into his arms and shelter her from whatever had left her in her current condition.

As her eyes fluttered open and she took notice of the skeleton towering over her, all traces of exhaustion vanished and her eyes widened, a sound of surprise slipping past her lips. In her momentary panic, she’d sat up and tried to move away from him, her chest heaving as she drew in one deep breath after another. Papyrus gently shushed her, offering her a weak, apologetic smile, “Hey, Hey, It’s Alright. It’s Just Me, Adrienne. I Didn’t Mean To Startle You, I Swear. I’m So Sorry For Scaring You.”

Registering who was with her, the teen released a deep sigh of relief. She gave Papyrus no time to prepare himself before she practically threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around whatever she could reach before clinging to his battle body. Though he was visibly caught off guard, he delicately encircled her with his arms, one hand finding her uninjured shoulder again before he lightly squeezed, his voice laced with concern, “Adrienne?... What’s Wrong? What Happened To You?”

The only response he received from the girl in his arms was a muffled sob and he frowned, moving his hand from her shoulder to her face. He used his index finger to tilt her head back, allowing him to see her tear stained face, and as her bottom lip twitched and another tear rolled down her cheek, he frowned; normally she was such a strong, upbeat person. To see her this way was heartbreaking.

The skeleton lowered his voice even further, reducing it to a whisper, “Adrienne, Please… Tell Me What Happened. I Want To Help You.” Her lip twitched again and she sniffled, reaching up to wipe her tears away with her sleeve, “I just… Papy… I just wanted to go outside... I just wanted some fresh air… I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Still frowning, Papyrus gently ran his fingers through her hair and tilted his head, his voice remaining low, “What Do You Mean?... Did Sans Do This To You?” Upon hearing the name of the older skeleton brother, Adrienne tightened her grip on Papyrus, her voice beginning to waver as more tears rolled down her face, gathering at her jaw and dripping down onto her shirt, “Papy… I was so stupid. I made him mad at me. I upset Sans.”

Papyrus’ frown deepened; he knew how his brother could be whenever he had one of his episodes, and never in a million years would he wish for anyone to become the recipient of Sans' delirium. The skeleton sighed as he gently stroked the teen’s hair, “It’ll Be Ok, I Promise. You May Stay Here Tonight If You’d Like, And I’ll Be Sure To Speak With Him About This. Do You Think You Could Tell Me Everything, Though? I Can’t Be Of Any Help To You If I Don’t Know All The Details.” With a heavy heart, she slowly nodded and looked up, meeting his gaze, “I… I went outside today... by myself. I went into town, and I went to Grillby’s. It smelled like food in there, and I was so hungry… I thought I’d find something to eat. I kept myself as covered as possible, but I was caught and got grabbed by Grillby,” she paused, visibly ashamed as she gestured to her neck, “…I got burned.”

The skeleton made a soft sound in understanding and nodded, silently asking her to continue, which she did, “Someone else grabbed my hair and I had to cut it to get away from them. Then when I opened the door and went to run outside, I ran face first into Sans. He told everyone there not to mess with me, that I wasn’t free game because I belonged to him. Then he marked me. Right there, with everyone watching. He was a little flirty afterward and he seemed happy enough, so I thought everything was ok, but when we got here, he… he had an episode.”

Papyrus didn’t know what to make of everything he’d just been told; on one hand, she suffered numerous injuries and nearly died, and on the other hand, she was marked by Sans.

Normally whenever a monster marked someone, it meant that they saw that person as their mate and that they wanted to claim them as their own. That they loved that person with every fiber of their body and soul. Being marked also served as a way to protect someone from other monsters, but there had been cases of a mark not being enough to guarantee the safety of a monster's mate.

Being marked was not only a big deal, but it was also something that every self respecting monster knew should be done in private. The fact that Sans marked her in the first place was absolutely astounding, but the fact that he had the absolute nerve to take something that was meant to be special, shared between mates and no one else, and turned it into some obscene gesture that he performed in front of a crowd, undoubtedly humiliating Adrienne in the process… It was unacceptable.

He needed to speak to Sans, and he needed to do it now.

Releasing a deep sigh, Papyrus lifted a hand to idly rub the back of his neck, “I See… I Cannot Apologize Enough On My Brother’s Behalf. I’ll See If I Can Get Anything Out Of Him That Would Explain Why He’d Behave This Way. Hopefully… Hopefully He Doesn’t Clam Up, Like He Seems To Always End Up Doing. Will You Be Alright Here While I’m Away? I Don’t Want To Leave You Alone If You’re Still Feeling A Little Too Overwhelmed And Freaked Out By Everything.” The teen sniffled, absentmindedly wiping her face with her sleeve again as she nodded, “Uh huh… I think so.” Catching the slight uncertainty in her voice, he offered her a reassuring smile, “I’ll Try To Be Back As Soon As Possible, Alright? How About You Pick Out Some Puzzles For Us To Work On When I Return? A Few Good Puzzles Always Help Me Feel Better Whenever I’m A Bit Rattled, So I’m Confident They’ll Do The Same For You, Too!” Adrienne couldn’t help the small smile that curled her lips upward at how eager he was to help her, and she nodded again, “Ok, Pap… that sounds good to me. When you get back, do you think maybe you could help me fix my bandages a little? Some of them are still too loose and I dunno if I missed any little spots anywhere.” Perking up at the request, Papyrus beamed, gently unwrapping his arms from around her and ruffling her hair, “Yes, Of Course! The Great Papyrus Would Be Happy To Assist You, Adrienne!” Letting go of the skeleton, Adrienne smiled up at him; he was such a sweet guy, and despite their circumstances, he was always so optimistic. He still maintained a sense of morality as well, unlike the other monsters. She honestly wasn’t sure what she’d do without him at times.

Reluctantly parting from his small human friend, Papyrus slipped out of the room, carefully closing the door behind himself. Once he was gone, Adrienne sighed, climbing out of his bed and making her way over to a shelf. As she looked over the various boxes and puzzle books, she came to the conclusion that it probably didn’t matter which one she chose; as long as it’d keep her and that goofball busy for a while, it was good enough for her. As she reached out to grab a thick puzzle book, she winced. Her free hand moved to gingerly touch the bandage on her shoulder; at the twinge of pain, her mind drifted to Sans. After earlier, she should’ve learned her lesson and given up on disobeying the very specific rules that her friends had established. She was a curious being by nature though, and she’d be damned if she had to go on without receiving any answers.

Her curiosity and desire to know why Sans would mark her grew even stronger. She grabbed the puzzle book and dropped it on Papyrus’ bed, before peeking out of the room and glancing around the hall. Against her better judgement, she began to search for the pair of brothers. The most logical place Sans would be at this time of night would be in his room, or downstairs on the living room sofa. If those two places weren’t it, then she’d have to check the basement. No biggie. As she tiptoed down the empty hallway, she briefly paused to look over the railing and down into the living room, and found that Sans was nowhere in sight. On her way toward the stairs, she caught the sound of a mumbled conversation through Sans’ closed bedroom door and froze; she knew better than to go into his room without knocking, so she opted to stay in the hall and eavesdrop, rather than barge in on whatever he and Papyrus were talking about at the moment.

Inside the closed off room, Sans rolled his eye light, trying his best to brush off the lecture he was receiving from his younger brother. It’s not like he did anything to Papyrus personally, so he didn’t understand why Pap thought he needed to get involved. Not in the slightest. Completely exasperated with Sans’ stubbornness, Papyrus pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep sigh, “Sans, Honestly. You Didn’t Have To Take It That Far. The Poor Girl’s Probably Traumatized And Too Ashamed To Ever Want To Leave The House Again.” Sans grunted, flopping down onto his back on his old, worn mattress, “Remind me how that’s a bad thing again, Pap. So far, I’m not seein’ any problems with it.” The taller of the two inhaled deeply, briefly closing his sockets as he tried to gather his thoughts, “Sans… Brother. I Love You, But What You Did Today Wasn’t Ok. I Don’t Understand Why You’re So Calm And Casual About It.” Gaining a very clearly agitated edge, Sans practically growled, “It’s really fuckin’ simple. If she’s too ashamed ta leave the house, then good! At least she’ll stay put then and save me a lot a’ trouble in the future.”

Not even remotely threatened by his older brother’s tone of voice, Papyrus snapped, suddenly shouting, “LANGUAGE, SANS. MAYBE SHE DIDN’T LISTEN TO YOU, BUT THAT’S NO REASON TO TREAT HER THIS WAY. IT IS MOST CERTAINLY NOT A VALID REASON TO GO AND PUBLICLY HUMILIATE HER, THEN COME HOME AND SCARE HER HALF TO DEATH, EITHER. YOU ALSO BROKE THE COFFEE TABLE, SANS. SOME OF US HAVE TO PAY FOR THINGS LIKE THAT, YOU KNOW!”

From her spot in the hallway, Adrienne flinched, her eyes widening. Not once had she ever seen Papyrus so upset that he shouted like this. This was a whole new experience, and she could already say that it was both surprising and terrifying all at once.

The shorter of the two let out an exaggerated groan, beginning to absentmindedly tap the tips of his phalanges on the bed as he stared up at the ceiling, “As far as the table goes, I’ll replace the damn thing if it really means that much ta you. What am I supposed ta do about the kid though? If I really scared her as much as you’re sayin’ I did, then she won’t want anythin’ ta do with me. It’s not like I can just walk up to her and go, ‘hey, you know that day when I got mad at you? I’m sorry and I won’t do it again.’” Papyrus hummed, crossing his arms over his chest, “Well… A Sincere Apology Is Only Half Of What I Think You Owe Her.” “Yeah? And what’s the other half?” “To Be Completely Blunt About It, She Knows What It Means To Be Marked.”

The older skeleton brother nearly choked on air, his cheekbones dusting a soft shade of blue, “What the hell?… Ok, then… What about it? Everyone probably knows what it means.” “What I’m Saying Is That She Knows Monsters Wouldn’t Mark Anyone Unless That Person Was Tremendously Important To Them, And Unless They Saw Them As Their Mate. Not Only Is There That, But She Told Me That You Were Somewhat Flirtatious Toward Her After The Incident Today At Grillby’s. You’re Sending Some Incredibly Mixed Signals, Sans. She More Than Likely Was Under The Impression That You Have Some Very Strong Feelings For Her, But Then You Came Home And Basically Told Her To Get Lost Before Throwing Her At The Coffee Table. She Has No Idea Where She Stands Right Now. The Other Half Of What You Need To Do Is Be Honest With Her. Tell Her If You Feel Something For Her, Or Tell Her If You Don’t. Just Make It Clear To Her So She Knows What She Is To You.”

Bolting upright into a sitting position, Sans stared up at his younger brother in disbelief, “So you’re suggestin’ that I go confess my love ta her or somethin’? Is that what you’re tryna tell me right now, Papyrus?” “If You Love Her, Then Yes, That Is Exactly What I’m Trying To Tell You.” Pressing his index and middle finger to one of his temples, the older of the two narrowed his sockets, grumbling under his breath, “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me… this is so stupid…” Taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside Sans, Papyrus arched a brow bone and tilted his head, “Language, Brother… All Of This Might Seem Stupid To You, Maybe, But It’s A Big Deal And It Needs To Be Addressed. If You Really See Her As Your Mate, She Needs To Know. And Hey, It’s Alright To Feel Embarrassed About This Sort Of Thing. It’s Completely Natural. For Starters, Maybe You Could Try To Help Me Better Understand Your Reasons For Marking Her? I’m All Ears! In A... Manner Of Speaking.”

Sans snuck an uncertain glance up at him and let out a deep sigh, leaning forward to cover both eyes with his hands, “...Don’t make me talk about this right now, Pap. Please. I can’t do it. I just can’t, what if I-” Papyrus was quick to wrap his arms around his older brother, lightly squeezing his shoulder, “Sans, No. Stop. You’re Overthinking Again. Take A Deep Breath And Try To Relax. It’s Just Me Here, And If You Preferred That I Don’t Tell Her What You Say, Then I Won’t. You Have My Word. Just Trust Me… That’s All I’m Asking Of You Right Now. Please, Just Trust Me.”

#writing #tw angst #tw mild violence #tw humiliation #oc insert #undertale #undertale au #horrortale #horrortale au #horrortale sans #horrortale papyrus #horror sans #axe sans #crooks papyrus

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truglori · 4 years ago

Text

Homebody (Ch.4)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick OC

Warning: Language, teasing

Her Spotify playlist resonated through her speakers in her room. Going back and forth between baking her face with a setting powder and checking the time on her Alexa, Amiyah prayed that she still had plenty of time to get dressed.

“Why the hell is time moving by so fast today?” She stressed walking to her closet. It was now 6:34pm which gave her lest than half an hour to finish.

Taking in consideration to what Erik asked her, she made sure to go out her way to put together a bomb outfit for the night. Amiyah didn’t want to be extra but she wasn’t trying to look boring either. After taking almost two hours to decide, with her ranksacking her wardrobe and overthinking she settled for a chocolate off the shoulder jumpsuit and paired them with a clear short heel.

Walking to her body length mirror Amiyah checked both side profiles before standing in the middle.She tried her best stretching out the fabric just a bit to prevent it from making it seem like she had no breathing room. Then going to her breast she pulled it up to not show so much cleavage but contradicted her actions when she slipped it down trying to even it out.

“I want him to see them but not SEE them.” Slapping her hands on the side of her thighs she sighed.

She was overthinking again and her insecurities was starting to show. Reminding herself about the meditation tips she once read on she copied some of the steps that she could remember. Inhaling for three seconds and exhaling for five. She calmed her nerves.

The ringer from her phone echoed in the room. Looking at the caller Id it was Kelley FaceTiming her.

“Okay sis you look cute. Where we going?” Kelley asked as, from what it looked like from Amiyah’s view, she was getting into her car.

Unable to hold back her cheesy smile Amiyah informed her best friend ,with details, about what she was going to look forward to for the night. She felt like she was on cloud nine and she couldn’t come down.

“Wait so he’s taking you on a date?” Kelley asked genuinely happy that her friend was finally starting to put herself out there in the dating world.

“Well...” Amiyah hesitated.

“Oh God! What is that pause for?”

“I mean he asked me to hangout...isn’t that the same thing? Right?” Amiyah, completely oblivious of anything that had to do with dating or relationships.

“I don’t know honestly..but if he wants to see you then he HAS to be interested.” Kelley wanted to make sure that Amiyah would take in her friendly words of affirmation, not wanting to her to stress and end up renigging.

“Okay you’re right. But he should be on his way now so I’ll talk to you later and let you know how it went.” She blew air kisses to her.

“Alright babes have fun.”

Their call ended and it was a minute later she got a text from Erik letting her know that he was ten minutes away. She walked to her dresser and picked up her Carolina Herrera Good Girl perfume and sprayed on all of her pulse points so that the fragrance would emanate from her skin and into the air.

Throwing on her black waterfall duster coat she got one last glance at herself before walking into the livingroom. As she waited on the couch while taking pictures on Snapchat she heard a set of keys. Snapping for head towards the door she watched the bolt lock turn with the handle of the door and in came her brother.

He had his phone squished between his shoulder and ear showing that he was listening to someone on the other end of the call. His hand holding a Versace bag while the other closed the door locking it behind him. Eventually he glanced at her for a good three seconds and then looked away as he walked to his bedroom.

Amiyah sat confused as for the very first time her older brother didn’t bombard her with one hundred questions. But even though this was a first she still kept her guard up.

Hearing his footsteps again he appeared in back into the living. Phone still up to his ear, this time with him holding it. She studied as the expression on his face change from how he looked earlier which was, heedless to now showing curiosity. He stood there staring at her.

Maybe she spoke to soon.

“Hold on..hold on. I gotta call you right back.”

Without even waiting for a response Durk ended his phone call. Placing the phone back into his jeans front pocket he cocked his head to the side taking in the view of his little sister.

“What?” Amiyah spoke nervously as she kept her eyes on her phone and every now and then she would glance at him.

“I’m just trying to figure out where you think you going, and who you think you going with? That’s all?” He sat on the love seat across from her waiting on an reply.

Knowing that there was no way that she was going to tell her brother the truth about her going on a date with his right hand man/best friend, Amiyah had to make up a lie. That was essentially committing suicide for the both of them. Aside from that she wasn’t even sure if it was worth the risk to even tell him about was going on between her and Erik. She didn’t know if this would be something that could turn into a serious situation or ended up to be nothing at all.

“I’m going to dinner with Kelley.” The lie slipped easily through her lips.

“Dress like that?”

“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” She questioned really wanting to know from a mans perspective?

“Like you bout to go out to eat just to end up at some random ass nigga place to get fucked.”

Her mouth dropped opened. Tightening the belt on her jacket to close it she stared at her brother, shocked from his words. Taking a couch decorating pillow she threw it at him.

“Don’t talk to me like that Derrick.”

Whenever she would call him by his real name she was upset with him for real.

“Why you hitting me..you the one with ya tittes all out and now you sitting here lying talking about you going with yo friend.” He waved her off.

“I am. We planned this about a week ago.” Amiyah didn’t like to lie to her brother but she had to make it seem believable.

The familiar IPhone ringtone went off and she looked down and saw that it was Erik calling her. Being so occupied with her brother insulting her she didn’t realize that he sent her two text messages letting her know he was there.

Erik 💕: I’m here..ready when you are.

Erik 💕: I see your brother car out here. You good?

‘Oh my gosh not now Erik.’

She quickly declined his call. Amiyah looked at her brother with guilt written all over her face.

“Why you ain’t answer the phone? That’s yo nigga waiting for you? Pick it up!” Durk relaxed against the couch eyeing her.

“I don’t have a nigga and I already told you that I’m going to dinner with Kelley. That was her and she’s waiting for me now. Bye!”

Picking up her purse she walked to the front door. Before she even got a chance to unlock it, Durk was right next to her with his hand against it as he blocked the exit.

“Aight so I’ll walk you down.” He shrugged his shoulders.

Amiyah’s face scrunched up into a scowl.

“No! I don’t need you walking me down like I’m some child. I can handle myself. You’re always trying to control me-“

He cut her off. “Miyah don’t even start that shit. Just because I look out for you doesn’t mean I’m controlling you. I know how these niggas are around here and seen how they treat they shorties. So my bad if I’m helping you.”

“Okay and I understand but you have to trust me too. I’m very responsible and you know this. If I tell you I’m going one place than believe it...damn Durk sometimes I feel like you treat me like I’m your property instead of your younger sister.”

Amiyah expressed her true feelings. She felt as if she had no breathing room. Deep down she knew that her brother just wanted to protect her but she was getting older and due to his overprotective-ness it was causing her missed opportunities.

“Durk I never go anywhere. You know this. All I want to do is just hang out with my friend without you hounding me.” She gave him her best pout.

“I don’t hound you.” Shaking his head he sat back down on the couch.

“You’re right you don’t.” Amiyah stated sarcastically but agreeing just to get his approval.

There was a silent pause for one minute.

“You taking yo ass to dinner and coming right back?”

Nodding her head rapidly. “Yes.”

“Miyah let me find out you lying to me I’ma get my homeboy Erik to follow yo ass and find out who you fucking around with.” Durk scolded her.

“Okay, gotta go!”

‘Boy only if you knew.’

She thought to herself as she bit her lip to refrain from smiling. Unlocking the front door and opening it she wave a quick goodbye and began a fast pace walk to the elevator pressing on the down button. Not taking any chances she wanted to get out of the building as quickly as possible. The doors opened and she walked inside. Picking up her phone she called Erik. It only rung two times before he answered.

“Hey you still alive.” He gave a soft chuckle.

“Whatever. I’m coming now. I’m in the elevator. Can you do me a favor?” She asked with a soft tone.

“Wassup?”

“I need you to park a little bit further down. I’ll walk to you.” The elevator doors opened and she stepped out strolling to the entrance.

“Yeah. I got you. I’ll be two houses down to the right.”

“Okay thank you.” She ended the call.

While in his car Erik reconnected his phone back to the USB charging cord. He sighed as he took his car out of park and moved up to the location where he told her he was going to be. Shaking his head with the realization the he really had to sneak around with this girl. He was a grown man hiding from another grown man the fact that he wanted to take his younger sister out. Never in all his years of dealing with the opposite sex, he had to be this discreet. This was a new level.

Finding a place to park he left his car running and got out. Walking to the passenger side he leaned on the hood and waited for her to reach him. She came into view a minute later. Checking her out he noticed that she had make up on. This was the first time he saw her with it. It wasn’t a need for her though because she was already stunning with her natural features.

“Look who made it out alive!” He grinned poking at her.

Rolling her eyes but still blessing him with the sight of her beautiful smile she hit him playfully.

“Shut up.” Her laughed echoed through his ears.

“C’mere.” He clasped her hand bringing her body into his. His arms embrace her as they found their way around her waist.

Amiyah welcomed the act of affection swaddling her arms around his torso. He chuckled removing her arms. Lightly grasping her wrists with both of his hands he brought them around his neck before returning back to his previous position. It was his way of teaching her how to hug him correctly for next time.

Leaning in her neck Erik whispered against her supple skin.

“Hold me like this mama.” His body rocked them side to side.

Amiyah almost felt her eyes rolled to the back of her head when she felt his lips touch her neck. He was the epitome of being a tease and knowing what he was doing to her body. If this man was to tell her to jump she was going to take off her heels then asked him how high. Erik was the walking definition of having a sex appeal without even trying.

Their movements ceased and came face to face with one another again. Erik’s hands now relaxed on her hips. He leaned against his car to give himself room to fixate his eyes over her body. Her black coat covered her outfit. Taking his hand he began to untie the jacket belt.

Amiyah grabbed his hands halting his actions. She looked around before bringing her eyes back to his.

“What are you doing?” Her voice shaked.

“Let me see you.” His hand went up to her chin tapping it gently.

Being successful this time, he unfastened the waistband and revealed her wardrobe. Erik’s eyes gazed at her figure. Her tittes sat up flawlessly. The way her cleavage showed had Erik tempted to pull the fabric down and suck on the pillowy like flesh.

“You look too good right now.” His dimples appeared as he spoke. He closed her jacket and tied her belt.

Amiyah bashfully looked away. Butterflies being introduced to her stomach.

“Thank you...it was just something I threw on.” She nonchalantly responded pretending to be unbothered from him practically eye fucking her.

Erik’s eyebrows raised. “ Oh just like that make up too, huh?”

“Whatever Erik can we go before my brother come chasing after me?” She slipped her hand into her jacket pocket to make it warm as she waited for his next move.

“My bad mama. Here you go.” Erik opened the car door for her. Waiting until she was inside safely he closed it after her and strode to the drivers side.

“I like your outfit by the way.” Amiyah chose to make conversation once he got settled in.

“Thank you. I can’t even lie I was tryna look good for you.” Speaking honestly as he observed his outfit. His head then relaxed against the seat. “What you think?”

“You look really nice to me Erik.” She shyly retorted but giving a sincere opinion.

Prior to getting acquainted with Erik, Amiyah always found herself intrigued with his sense of style. Making that another reason for her to be attracted to him.

“Damn just nice..I was going for fine but fuck it I’ll take it” He fastened his seatbelt, drove off and en route to the movie theater.

“Oh my God. You are so extra.” Laughing she made herself busy with her phone, going back and forth between scrolling and taking small glimpses of the road.

“Can I ask you a question?”

His deep voice had her melting right in the front seat.

“Yeah but you just asked one.”

He snickered. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Purple, why?”

“ I’m trying get to know you that’s all.”

“Oh okay well it’s purple. What’s yours?” Pressing down on the power button of her phone she place it in her purse.

“Black.”

“Black? Really?” She stated questionably.

“Amiyah don’t start no shit with me.” Erik laughed as he looked at her.

“ Erik, me and you both know that black is the most basic color you can think of-“

“And purples not?”

“No it’s not and it’s actually the color of royalty thank you very much.” She fluttered her eyelashes sarcastically.

“Okay princess, you got it...It’s still ass.”

Amiyah grew warm from the new nickname in spite of the insult he made about her favorite color.

Erik laughed as she rolled her eyes for the umpteen time that night. He wasn’t actually making fun of her color, he just wanted to help her calm her nerves with some light play. She looked tensed to him just sitting there on her phone. If he didn’t know any better he would have thought that she wasn’t feeling him at all but he knew it was just her introverted ways.

Turning on the radio to break the silence, he went to the local hip hop station. Juicy by Biggie Smalls resonated through the vehicle. Bobbing his head to the beat with a little bounce of his shoulders Erik started rapping the lyrics.

“This my shit. You don’t know nothing about this, huh?”

“Whatever yes I do. This a classic.” Amiyah bobbed her head as well grinning.

“Nah you too young.”

He rapped a bit more before Amiyah jumped in and joined him.

“I'm blowin' up like you thought I would

Call the crib, same number, same hood

It's all good

And if you don't know, now you know, nigga”

Erik’s eyes lit up surprised she knew the words. Most of the ladies he been out with in the past always pretended to have the same interest in music as him but would never be able to recite one line from the song. His lips curved into a smile.

“Okay you valid. But that don’t count because everybody know that song.” He joked

“Why you always trying to play me Erik.” Amiyah sighed playfully.

They finally arrived at the movies. It was Saturday night so of course the parking lot was overfilled with cars. Finding a parking spot close to the entrance, Erik turned his car off and hopped out strolling to Amiyah’s side and opened her door. He held out his hand to assist her.

“Thank you.” Her eyes gleamed.

He drew his lower lip between his teeth. “I got you.”

Closing the door behind her, he clicked the lock button on his key fob. Amiyah started to walk to the building. She was stopped in her tracks. Erik grasped her hand intertwining their fingers and began to walk next to her. She peered down at them and beamed.

“What movie you want to watch?”

They were now standing in front of the movie display booth where you could purchase a ticket without waiting in line. Erik kept scrolling until she spoke up.

“I want to watch that one. Monster Hunter.”

He gave her a blank stare.

“What?”

“Do you even know what it’s about?” He chuckled.

“Yes a little bit. All I know is that it has T.I and Megan Good in it, so I want to see it.”

“Wait you said Megan Good. Bet.” His lips formed into a smirk.

Erik’s fingers tapped on the movie icon. Purchasing two tickets he waited for them to print before separating them and handing her one. Amiyah received the ticket as she gave him a dirty look. Jealous about his comment she walked to the concession stand to wait in line without him. Erik felt the feeling of jealousy radiating off her body language. She had a little attitude on her. Following her footsteps he stood behind her invading her space. His chest to her back. Erik’s head dipped down between the area of her neck and shoulder that was exposed laying a soft kiss on it.

“What you mad about....Hm?” The breath from his words bounced off of her skin.

Amiyah felt her pussy jump. Crossing her right leg over the left she clenched her thighs. Too afraid to even speak she bit her inner jaw and shook her head instead. Not long after she felt his strong hand travel around her waist to her front slipping in the inside of her jacket. He gripped her pudge. Amiyah’s small hand quickly wrapped around his forearm bringing it down.

“Erik!” She gasped out loud. Looking around and hoping she didn’t draw any unnecessary attention.

Her head tilted up due to the height difference to stare in his eyes. She was surprised she could even make contact after that stunt.

“I asked you a question so answer me.” His low voice demanded her.

“Nothing.” Hers barely coming out as a whisper.

He knew she wasn’t telling the truth but he didn’t want to push it out of her. Erik wanted her to be the one to make a decision about being honest with him. She had to make that step. But along with that he knew that she would have to trust him first. His hand roamed up to her exposed neck and lightly clenched it forcing her to move closer to his body as if was anymore capable. Amiyah felt the chill of his ice pinky ring as it laid against her skin. The sticky lipgloss that she wore created a tiny saliva string as her lips parted. Erik eyed the full plump flesh feeling enticed to suck on them.

“Chill, aight.” He waited for her to nod before he removed his hand as the line moved forward.

Fuck me. Were the words she wish she could tell him if she had the confidence to. At this moment she felt her natural sticky lubricant attach to her panties. She created a wedged with her underwear between her lower lips from all of the thigh clenching. None of it helped at all, it only generated a small amount of friction leaving her wanting more. She felt the walls of her vagina contract around nothing.

‘Did this nigga just grab my throat in the movie theater?’

She thought to herself touching the area where his hand left. Amiyah kept her eyes fixed on him as he ordered the drinks and snacks for the movie. She watched the way he would point at an item whenever he wanted the employee to get it for him. The way his jaw would tighten every now and then. Not in an angry way but out of habit. She took note of all these things.

“You ready?” Erik wandered back to her handing her some candy and a medium lemonade.

“Yeah. Thanks for buying the ticket and this other stuff.” She moved a piece of hair behind her ear looking away sheepishly. Her mood switched from a few minutes ago.

Erik sipping from the straw of his Powerade observed it.

“Told you I got you.”

_______________________________________

Bendix Diner was one of Amiyah’s top five hidden restaurants in the city where she loved to eat. It was and old fashioned style restaurant that always gave her an aesthetic vibe every time she went there. Currently seated at their table she flipped over the menu searching to see what she might have a taste for. Their family made apple cider donuts were her favorite item from the desert section. It’s been a few months since she had one and now being here she craved it.

Looking up at Erik she monitored his activity. He was checking out the art hanging on the walls seeming to be amused by it. His eyes shifted back to her. Wanting to pretend she wasn’t staring at him like a creep she informed him about a dish on the menu.

“Their Turn Me Loose meal is really good. It comes with catfish and jalapeño hush puppies. You should try it.” She gave him her recommendation.

Erik made a face. “I don’t fuck with seafoood.”

“Oh I’m sorry.” Amiyah apologized feeling embarrassed from assuming.

Erik picked up on. “Don’t stress it. How were you supposed to know I don’t like seafood? Don’t be to hard on yourself mama.” His hand reached across the table and caressed hers lightly offering his reassurance.

She sent a half smile. “What do you like then?”

Erik paused and bit his bottom lip. Deep dimples showing themselves from the action.

“You.”

Her eyes shifted towards the window seeing that it became fogged up due to the pouring rain that was coming down relentlessly. With nothing but the barely audible music coming from the intercom through the restaurant, Amiyah felt as if he can hear her heart beating through her chest.

“I meant food Erik.”

“You can be that too. Ain’t never have nobody eat you like you was a full-course meal before?” He asked her on the spot.

“You..are..” She shook her head. “Ridiculous. You know that.” Not having a comeback, those were the only words she could produce without stuttering.

Sighing and smirking he leaned back. “I’ve been called worst. But how you find out about this place. It’s low key as fuck. I like it.” He changed the subject.

Pleased with the compliment she responded. “I used to come here with my dad when I was younger. That was before he went to-“

“Prison.” He finished her sentence.

The look of confusion approached her face.

“Durk told me about him a few years ago.” He informed not meaning to alarm her.

“Did he tell you he was doing life without parole as well?”

Erik nodded his head.

She scoffed. “They said that he was the head of a drug ring but I don’t believe it. I mean I never remembered him being away from us long enough to even have the time to do that.”

“Sometimes we hide certain things from the people we love so that they won’t get hurt. And I’m not trying to insinuate anything when I say that.” He spoke honestly.

“No you’re right. But the last time we were here together I was thirteen. He took me here after picking me up early from school. It just sucks that I can’t even remember anything about that day but I want to so bad.”

Erik nodded his head totally understanding what she went through. He dealt with his own lost at a young age as well.

“I lost my father too. I was eleven when it happened. He was murdered. So when I tell you I know what you been through I’m not just saying that shit.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Her face soften when she seen his eyes sparked with hurt.

“You gotta learn how to live and heal right?”

Nodding her head in agreement she used her thumb to tenderly stroke his fingers. They were still holding hands the whole time as they shared a moment to be vulnerable with each other. It was intimate. That’s when she realized she had more in common with him than she thought.

“What about your mom? If you don’t mind me asking?” She desired to know more about him.

“I never got to know her. She passed away while giving birth to me.”

Erik felt his mood change with the thought of never being able to experience a true mother’s love. After the death of his father he was tossed back and forth from home to home in foster care. None of the caretakers genuinely cared for him, all they thought about was a paycheck.

“My mom overdosed when I was in high school. That’s why I live with Durk now. He’s been taking care of me ever since. I guess with everything that happened he had to find a way to survive for the both of us which lead him to the streets. Durk had his run in with the law but after our mom he became someone different.”

Amiyah spilled everything out on the table not holding back. She never had someone who she could vent to that would actually listen. Kelley was her best friend but she even kept some secrets from her. Amiyah was always afraid that one day the same person she trusted with everything would turn around and hurt her. From the moment she laid eyes on Erik she never thought that. In her eyes he looked as if he was a walking journal that she could expose all of her deepest darkest secrets to and not have to worry about one of them getting leaked.

“Now I see why your brother protects you the way he do. He just don’t want to see you hurt anymore.” His eyes gazed into hers making her feel small.

“Well, sorry If I ruined the mood. It’s been a minute since I’ve talked to someone for real.”

“I’m here for whenever. Only a phone call away.”

The waitress came around and sat a vanilla milkshake with whip cream in front of her and a water with lemon in front of Erik. Amiyah recognized her from the many times she been there.

“Are y’all ready to order.”

“Yeah, let me get your Turkey wrap heated up with a side of french fries.” Erik picked up his menu handing it to her.

Writing it down she took his menu and smiled.

“Okay and for you miss Amiyah.”

Her lips curled up bashfully.

“I’m going to get the honey dipped chicken with French fries as well. Thanks Stephanie.”

Going back to her pad she marked it down. “None of our famous donuts today?”

Erik looked over and read the hesitation over her face so he answered for her.

“We’ll take four of whatever they are.”

“Alrighty. I’ll be back with your meal in fifteen.”

The waitress disappeared into the kitchen.

“You didn’t have to do that, Erik.”

“What? I wanted to try their famous donuts. Oh you thought I ordered them for you?” He laughed.

Rolling her eyes she heard her phone buzzed. Reaching inside the pocket of her coat that was laying next to her she got a text from her brother.

Durk 🤬: When you comin home?

She sighed and text back.

Amiyah ☔️: I’ve only been gone for two hours..I’ll be back soon.

Placing the phone back in her pocket she put her attention on her milkshake taking her first sip of the night. Erik watched the way her lips wrapped around the straw as her cheeks sunk in whenever she sucked to taste some of the creamy treat. His tongue swiped over his top lip lightly.

“Let me get some..” His eyes darted between the milkshake and her lips.

Laughing she shook her head. “No, why didn’t you order one?”

“Because I was thirsty and I needed some water. But that looks good as fuck.”

“So then just order one Erik.”

He smacked his lips. “I don’t want a whole one I just want some.”

Giggling she pulled her beverage away hiding it from his view.

Erik’s eyes glinted before he got out on his side and slid next to her in her part of the dining booth. His right thigh hitting her left plush one causing it to ripple from the sudden movement. Having one arm behind her and the other reaching for her drink he leaned in.

“Stop playing and give me a sip.”

Now being backed into the corner she was trapped. Still firm with her answer she shook her head sipping once more.

“You not gon give me nun.” Biting that bottom lip Amiyah felt that came out as a double meaning.

Tired of going back and forth she gave in and slid her drink to him.

“Just a sip. That’s all!”

Erik nodded but not really listening, took the straw into his mouth and sucked the liquid. He didn’t have a big sweet tooth but he had to admit that the milkshake was fire. Taking more than what he was told he sat it down after gulping more than half of it. He leaned against the booth. One arm still around her.

Her mouth dropped as she studied that half her drink was already gone.

Smacking her lips she pushed at his chest. “Erik I told you not to drink that much...now look.” She whined picking up her cup to show him.

“Damn you can’t be hitting me like that on the first date, Amiyah.” His free hand rubbed the area pretending that it hurt.

She caught his words that slipped from his mouth. “I thought you asked me to hang out? You didn’t say nothing about a date.”

“What you want it to be?” Erik sized her up with his deep throaty voice close to her ear. Her scent filled his nose making his dick twitch.

She gave him a once-over before looking a way.

He grabbed her chin gently bringing her face millimeters away from his. “What you want it to be baby girl?” His eyes drawing her in with a lustfull gaze.

“I want a date.” Her lower lip quivered and skin apprearing flustered.

“Then let it be that.”

Erik couldn’t hold back anymore as his lips connected with hers. He gave her two soft pecks at first just to warm her up before giving a full lingering kiss. He tilted his head going to left making hers do the same. The taste of the vanilla coming off of her mouth drove him crazy. She was tasting as sweet as she looked. Her kissing compared to his were lighter and didn’t apply enough pressure like they should have.Letting his free hand travel up to her neck for the second time that night, he lightly squeezed before pulling away from her lips.

“Kiss me for real...” He bit her bottom lip and tugged it while watching her reaction. Her body shuddered.

Amiyah’s toes curled. Her stomach filled up with butterflies as she felt his hand around her throat. Her mind at the moment felt high. She didn’t really know what she was doing, just trying her best to keep up with the man in front of her. Mocking his actions she pressed more into the kiss and brought her hand to his cheek to give herself leverage.

Breaking them apart was the sound of a phone ringing. Erik reached in his pocket and pulled it out. Reading the caller ID he threw his head back blowing out air.

“Fuck..” He stated agitated.

Wiping her lips she looked at him. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s your brother, Durk.”

_______________________________

Please excuse any mistakes!

Tag-list

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @uzumaki-rebellion @blowmymbackout @curls-and-crosses @madamslayyy @goddessofthundathighs @eriksjournal @wakandamama @wawakanda-btch @wakandas-vibranium @wakandaforeverwrites @ghostfacekill-monger @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink @migosis @raysunshine78 @alookintohersoul @popcorn803 @just-juicee @mllover260 @kimmyblckswan2 @koriiii @tchallasbabymama @toniilaney @marvelmaree @mia-faith @adreamsublime @queen-b1 @mcdesij @vintage-pvssy @viewsfromrose @ceeverse @smuttywriter @harleycativy @callmemckenzieee @theblulife @bvssmob @everything-is-awesomesauce

#erik killmonger #black panther #erik x plus size reader #erik stevens #erik smut #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #truglori

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pulchrasilva · 3 years ago

Text

Rye Bread

Fandom: Roleslaying with Roman

Relationships: Ryker/OC, Ryker & Patty

Characters: OC, The Goat, Ryker, Patty

Summary: Ryker never found out what happened to his partner, who disappeared one day without warning. Little does he know, Hircine isn't as far away as he assumed.

Warnings: Isolation, mourning for a missing person, pregnancy, worries about raising a child as a single parent . I think that's it but please let me know if I missed something.

Notes: This fic is based on the idea that the figure from Roman’s vision in ep 4 is his 2nd parent, who was turned into The Goat

Read on AO3 // My Masterpost

It was a good day, as most days in Reston were. Bird song twinkled from the trees, mingling with the ringing of a goat’s bell to create a magical melody. A light breeze carried the scent of freshly baked bread throughout the town. The sun left the world golden, coating Hircine’s back like honey as they trotted along.

That was one of the things they liked best about this new form. Before, they couldn’t bask in the sunlight like this without ending the day burned. But now they had all this fur, which kept the worst of the sun from their skin so they could just enjoy the heat.

It was nice to have those little things to appreciate about this form. Hircine was still getting used to having four legs and no hands – seriously, they’d never fully appreciated just how useful fingers were until now. The adjustment period had been difficult so far, so even small pleasures did wonders to ease the way.

Burgundy was a blessing in that regard – offering them a job, and then being surprisingly patient while they were finding their feet. Having hooves instead of hands, they had to be very resourceful to help out in the bakery.

At the moment it was noon, so everyone was taking a lunch break. Hircine was on their way to that perfect patch of grass behind the bakery. They’d been saving it, and today seemed like a good day to give themself a treat.

Hircine trotted round the corner and stopped short. Because there were people, two of them, standing on their grass.

At first, irritation flared up inside them. They had just wanted to take a nice, relaxing break but now they’d have to figure out how to get these people to go away without being able to speak!

But that annoyance was immediately doused when they heard a muffled sniffle.

Drawing closer, Hircine realised that they recognised these people. They looked so much taller, more looming from this perspective, but it was clear who they were.

Ryker, hiding his face in his hands. Patty, with a comforting arm over his shoulder.

Now Hircine felt like they’d stumbled in somewhere they weren’t supposed to. Now they were the intruder.

It had been a while since they’d gotten so close to Ryker or Patty. Any time they saw one of them, Hircine turned and ran. They just couldn’t face the reality that neither of them would ever recognise Hircine inside this goat form. That they could be so close to these people that meant the world to them, and nobody else would ever know.

But now they were here, so close yet so far, and Hircine couldn’t bring themself to leave.

Suddenly the day was not so good.

“I just- I don’t understand, Patty!” Ryker snapped his head up, and even from this distance Hircine could see the glitter of tears in his eyes. “Are they- are they okay? Are they hurt? Are they…” he took a shuddering breath. “Why would they disappear like that? They said they would only be gone for a minute, so where are they?”

“I don’t know,” Patty said. “I’m so sorry, dearie, I just don’t know.”

Oh. Oh. They were talking about Hircine.

Somehow, amidst everything that had happened, Hircine had never stopped to think how their sudden disappearance would affect their friends – their family. How did they not realise the sheer pain they were putting Ryker through?

“Was it deliberate? Did they know they weren’t going to come back?” Ryker stops, falling still, heartbreak painted across his tear-stained face. “Patty. Patty. Do you think they left because… because…” his voice trailed off and his hand drifted to his stomach.

It was unbearable. Hircine was left trembling in the force of the very idea of it. By the gods did it hurt that Ryker thought they could do something like that, that Hircine had left him in a situation where he’d have to consider the possibility.

Patty’s face crumpled as she realised what Ryker was implying, tears beginning to well up in her eyes too. “No. No, I wouldn’t believe that for a second. Ryker, you know better than anyone that there was nothing Hircine wanted more than a family. You said they were so excited they could hardly speak when you told them. There’s no way that was an act. Whatever it is that happened to them, you can be certain that Hircine would have loved to raise this child with you.”

Ryker nodded shakily. “Yeah. Yes, you’re right. I don’t know why I even…”

“It’s okay. I understand, Ryker, really.”

“I just- what am I going to do, Patty? I don’t know if I can do this without them,” he dragged a hand down his face, shoulders slumping. “I’m trying so hard to hold it together but I feel like I’m going to fall apart at any moment. I can’t let that happen though! The town needs me to be strong or how can they trust me to protect them?” he cried.

“You’re doing a wonderful job, dearie, truly,” Patty’s voice was soft, soothing.

But Ryker just continued as if he hadn’t even heard her.

“And how am I supposed to raise this child by myself? That’s a whole life I’ll be bringing into the world, a whole mind I’ll help to shape – I can’t do it, Patty, I’ll get it all wrong. I just can’t do this alone.”

“Well, who ever said anything about alone?”

“What?”

“Well, I'm going to be helping you, of course I will. You think I was ever going to let the two of you raise a child alone?”

Ryker huffed a laugh, surprising himself. “Yeah, that would have been a disaster.”

“Don’t you worry,” she said, elbowing him lightly. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“Thanks, Patty,” he said, smiling shakily.

She grinned back. “I’m going to be an aunt!”

Unseen, Hircine watched their friends as they learned to live without them.

Hircine turned to go. This was private, after all. They didn’t have a place in this family anymore.

Isn’t it lucky, they thought, that goats can’t cry?

***

The following day the sky was unusually overcast, but Hircine wasn’t going to let that stop them. Today was going to be a good day.

Their bell chimed as they trotted along, the handle of a wicker basket held between their teeth. They had a delivery to make.

They made the short trek to Ryker’s house – the one they had been planning to move into together. And there, sitting on the front step, was Ryker.

He had his sword laid out across his lap, one hand slowly dragging a cloth up and down the blade. There was a vacant look in his eyes as he watched his hand move, as if sitting down to polish the sword had suddenly left him with too much time to think and those thoughts had quickly turned dark.

Hircine stopped short. Ryker always did try to keep himself busy when he was upset – the moment he stopped to breathe was the moment his feelings overwhelmed him.

They shook off the sudden heaviness that came over them. They weren’t going to keep avoiding him any longer.

Ryker looked up at the jingle of their bell, his eyes landing on them. He set the sword and cloth to one side as they approached.

“Hello there,” he said. “You’re that goat from Burgundy’s bakery, aren’t you?”

In lieu of a response, Hircine deposited the basket in his lap.

“What’s this? A gift?” He lifted the covering to peer inside and smiled. “Rye bread! That’s my favourite, you know.”

Hircine huffed and rolled their eyes fondly. Of course they knew, that’s why they’d brought it.

Ryker eyed them. “You’re one strange goat. It’s almost like you can understand me.”

Hircine only huffed again.

Grinning, he stretched a hand out and patted them between the horns. Hircine almost trembled at the touch. It had been so long since they’d had any kind of contact with him that they were starved of it.

They couldn’t help it. Impatiently, they nudged at the basket with a hoof until he moved it, then clambered into the empty space in his lap like they were always meant to be there. A fully grown goat was heavy but Ryker didn’t seem to mind. He only laughed and moved his hands to stroke along the length of their back. Contentment settled over the pair like a blanket.

Hircine pressed the side of their face against the slight swell of Ryker’s stomach, where their child was growing.

They’d lost their place in this family when they disappeared without a word. So it was time they made themself a new place. They might not be able to be there as Ryker’s partner, let alone as a parent, but by the gods Hircine would be a part of their lives anyway.

#roleslaying with roman #roman of reston #rswr ryker #rswr patty #rswr roman #oc x canon character #fanfiction #roleslaying with roman fanfiction #angst #hurt/comfort

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selfships-in-spanish · 3 years ago

Text

The Queen of Demons 4/?

Pairing: Erwin Smith x OC, Levi Ackerman x OC

Rating: Mature (the rating will go up as the story advances! But it will totally be explicit ;D I even have some smut chapters already half written woooo! But right now just in case)

Warnings: None for now, but sexist and misogynist upbringing (Eva's father is a huge asshole).

Word Count: 8885

ALSO POSTED ON AO3

A/N: FUCKING FINALLY. I was so stuck and had a severe writer's block, but here it is! Part 4! I feel like my writing went down a bit but I hope to make up for it on the next one. Finished, not perfect! I hope you enjoy this one and were we can see a bit more of the vets and the 104 kids ôô

CHAPTER 4: WINTER BLOOM

The pale morning rays of sunlight woke the Princess up, mumbling and turning to her side. Eva heard the distant chirps of birds flying by, as well as the sounds of the village being already busy. The neighing of horses, carts being pulled around, setting up the shops, the rooster screeching…

Wait.

That’s not what she usually woke up to.

Back home she only heard the birds and some maids, especially Flora when she would come barging in and opening the thick curtains of her windows, letting the sun hit right in Princess’ face as she knew how much Eva despised being woken up like this, hollering: “What–”

“–A great morning this is, your Royal Sleepy Highness!”

Ah, there she was.

Eva attempted a reply but curled up further into the duvet and blankets.

“Oh c’mon, Princess! We’ve got a busy day today! Lots of exciting things!”

“Exciting for you.” Eva mumbled covering her head with the thick bedding.

Flora snorted, rolling her eyes. Without any kind of remorse, Flora grabbed the end of the duvet and blankets and unceremoniously pulled them off the Princess, enjoying the irritated groan she let out as Eva tried to blindly find something to cover herself with.

“Rise and shine!” Flora said in a singsong, stepping out of the Princess’ reach as she tried to kick her leg.

“How can you be so happy and chirpy so early in the morning?” Eva gave up, sighing and rolling out of the oddly comfortable bed; Eva fell asleep earlier than she anticipated.

“Oh, spare me the dramatics! We gotta get you to eat breakfast and prepare you for—“

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yeah, sure thing Princess, as if you don’t gobble up like a duck when you are nervous.” Flora handed Eva her robe, guiding her to the bathroom where a basin already filled with water and a cloth awaited her.

Once her morning routine finished, Eva padded to the living room where breakfast had been already served. It smelled heavenly.

“I don’t gobble like a duck.” Eva sat down, huffing displeased.

The Princess served herself some warm bread, eyeing the jams and butter with a watering mouth. Flora set a steaming cup next to her before sitting down in front of the Princess.

“Sorry, not coffee yet.”

Eva sighed.

The Princess cut some more bread for her handmaiden, sharing the spreading knife after she was done with it. On the first bite Eva hummed, satisfied with the taste and texture. Freshly baked bread was the absolute best. Flora leisurely poured sugar over the butter, her smile widening at the sugary mess. Eva frowned, chewing.

“It’s still a wonder how your teeth haven’t rotten out yet.”

“Ah, family thing for sure!” Flora took a heartly bite of the sweet monstrosity in her hands. “Gramps still has his teeth intact and covers everything in sugar when he gets his hands on some.”

Eva’s lips curled into a grimace.

“I love sweets but I don't think that is healthy.”

“You just don’t appreciate the flavour.”

“I sincerely doubt there’s any flavour left in that.” Eva nodded towards Flora’s loaf of bread.

The handmaid shrugged, biting down on it and making a show just to irk the Princess further. Eva exaggerated a gag which made Flora giggle.

Three knocks on the heavy wooden door announced the Eldians coming to pick her up. Eva sighed as she watched Flora stand up from the chair next to the Princess and walk to the door, opening it with a short bow and a smile. Eva sat straighter as the looming and bulky figures of the Eldian warriors came into her view, entering the lodgings provided temporarily for her and her handmaiden. They were the same as yesterday, the giant called Mike, the female warrior that caught her attention, Nanaba, and another man Eva couldn’t remember the name right now.

The three warriors bowed, Nanaba and the other warrior waiting right next to the open door as Mike approached her. The giant warrior waved to the door, the message of “you have to go outside” quite clear in his movements. His face did not give away any of his thoughts, keeping a neutral expression as he watched the Princess stand up and follow him, Flora right behind her with giddy steps.

Flora should have been born a Princess or a noble, her happy and open disposition towards everything and everyone would win anyone over, as well as the way she found happiness in the little things of life. How Eva wished she had Flora’s positive mindset.

“Alright, ready for your big day?” the handmaiden asked in hushed whispers, something both women mastered from years of court banquets.

“Of course not. I want to run right back inside.”

“You’re such a big—” Flora was cut off by Eva’s gasp.

Flora raised her eyes just in time to see the giant warrior leaning way too close to the Princess’ personal space and… sniff. The Princess had turned around, disbelief and stupefaction etched on her face at the nerve this big, brute man had to go sniffing people without… without their consent. Eva found it uncouth, impolite, and her cheeks blazed in indignation.

Mike leaned back, humming, pleased at something Eva wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Nanaba immediately chastised the big man, kicking his leg and nagging at him as he shrugged, crossing his arms and looking slightly guilty. At the scene unfolding right outside the house, people began to stop and watch, and Eva felt her blood run cold at the sound of the Chief’s laugh coming from down the stairs. Hans and Friederich were already there, and the youngest of the two brothers was about to march upstairs, his displeased frown deepening. The Chief nodded to Moblit, motioning him to rush to them and clear misunderstandings. Levi rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue.

“Your Highness, please accept our deepest apologies.” Moblit hastily bowed, an apologetic smile in his lips. “Mike here has this habit of… uh, sniffing people.”

“Is he implying I smell?” Eva’s mouth was pulled into a tight line. Flora did not spend as long as she did grooming her and using those soaps and perfumes Eva loved for this man to mock her handmaiden’s efforts. Besides, she kept her hygiene up to date, thank you very much.

“No! Not at all, Your Highness. Mike has a great and sharp sense of smell, like a… ah, what’s the name... ah, wolf! Like a wolf, and although I do concede that it may be considered rude, he just does it from force of habit.”

Eva raised her brow skeptically.

“He meant no disrespect, Your Highness. It’s his way to say that he uh… he welcomes you.” Moblit ventured a quick glance towards the man in question, muttering something as he almost imperceptibly nodded towards the Princess with wide impatient eyes.

Mike huffed, but muttered something back to Moblit in a deep voice. Next to him, Nanaba nodded, pleased.

“He apologises, Your Highness, and compliments you.” that piqued Eva’s curiosity. “He says you smell comforting, of lavender and honey. That’s something he appreciates, with his sharp sense of smell he can easily get overwhelmed by strong scents.”

“Ah, that must be troublesome.” Eva turned to face Mike and inclined her head. “My apologies for acting harshly.” But Eva still thought her response was totally justified. A warning beforehand would have been nice, and she still had her pride.

Mike answered with one curtly bow of his head of his own.

“Indeed.” Moblit decided the issue was resolved and lifted his arm towards the Chief and the Gottesreichan Princes, watching the whole ordeal with amused expressions sans Friederich. He still looked murderous. “Please, after you, Your Highness.”

That shocked Eva. Normally back at Gottesreich she would walk behind the men and respectfully listen to whoever was talking, and even after visiting other countries, that rule still applied, or maybe they weren’t willing to go against Gottesreich. Either way, Eva was taught to never disrespect its citizens and rulers when visiting foreign kingdoms from her brothers, and the Princess always willed herself to follow the Kingdom’s culture and customs out of respect, despite what her father said on more than one occasion. Her brothers taught her to be respectful, and she would not ignore them, and even less be an embarrassment for her brothers. Summoning with all her will a composed mask on her face, Eva dared to take the lead and walk down the snow covered stairs to where her brothers and Chief awaited. Flora walked right behind her, always keeping a watchful eye to her skirts and cloak, in case they may get in the way.

The crunching of her steps on the snow were deafening for the Princess. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch. She was used to having all eyes on her, from courts and dances and banquets, from nobles and princes trying to win her father’s good graces, but having the people of Eldia stop and observe every single move she was doing felt suffocating. One slip and she was probably doomed in their eyes.

Eva stopped right in front of the men, bowing respectfully.

“Good morning, my Lord. Brothers.” Moblit’s voice softly translated for the Chief, who didn’t take his eyes away from her the entire descent.

The Chief returned the greeting, bowing as well.

“I hope you had a pleasant sleep, your Highness.”

“I did. Thank you, my Lord.” Eva did not find the need to tell him how she tossed and turned around, her mind restless, musing over yesterday’s events –his touch– or how she missed her pillows back at the palace. The Chief seemed pleased, although there was a glint in his eyes that he most certainly caught the lie. Damn it.

“If there is anything we can offer to help you get settled and to further accommodate you, please do not hesitate to say so, your Highness. I understand it may be unpleasant being so far away from home and your people.” Eva was slightly taken aback at how the Chief seemed to be understanding of her situation, contrary to what she had heard and been told a husband would be once she married. The Princess didn’t want to let her hopes up in case the fall was to be harder than it would already be.

“Thank you for your consideration, my Lord. I will do so in case I need it.” Eva knew she wouldn’t say a thing, her stubbornness always playing against her favour.

The Chief seemed pleased enough with her answer. He turned slightly so he was facing the three Gottesreichan siblings, addressing the rest of the foreign party as well. Moblit translated for them all, and Flora managed to contain her excited hops when the Chief officially announced the start of their walk around the village.

Much to the Princess’ dismay, the Chief had offered up his right arm for her to hold on as they began the tour, an encouraging smile on his lips as if saying “go on, I will not harm you”. Eva had hoped her brothers would keep him distracted enough so she could trail behind and listen, observing her surroundings, but no such luck. It seemed like here in Eldia they weren’t as reticent of closeness as they were in Gottesreich, and women were treated differently.

The Chief was still as big and massive as the Princess remembered from yesterday’s banquet, thinking it was her own nerves and wine that exaggerated her memories, but the way her hands had trouble meeting on the Chief’s arm told her otherwise. The Eldian leader kept a slow pace, mindful of his companion and her shorter legs, as he began explaining their village and the way it was structured.

The Eldian architecture was entirely different from the one used in Gottesreich, as well as the distribution of the village itself. Where Eva was used to narrower streets with houses sharing walls, clustered, messy (although the closer to the castle, the better were planned the streets and districts), mossy cobblestones, puddles around the corners with barrels and wooden crates, the townspeople walking as merchants and shopkeepers yelled their offers to the passersby, pennants hanging from side to side of the streets with the Kingdom’s colours… Here in Eldia the streets were wider, the buildings lower in height which gave a sense of the town being less claustrophobic since you could easily see the scenery and the sky. Wooden fences, dark roofs made of slates, the streets made of the earth itself with grass heartily growing on both sides and wooden planks on the floor to help create a more visible path on certain parts, but one could clearly see the cart’s marks as well as the horses pulling them.

Although everything was covered in thick layers of snow, Eva had no doubts it would be a magnificent sight in spring, with the imposing mountains surrounding the village and the vast fields littered with the farmer’s homes composing a picture deserving of a painting. It was rurally beautiful. Different, more primitive, if she took into consideration her own Kingdom’s ways, but efficient. The Princess was sure this level of coordination would not be able to be achieved without years of honing this lifestyle, and it honestly intrigued her, her curiosity piqued. Eva hoped this curiosity and wonder for the novelty wouldn’t disappear quickly and would stay with her until her situation was more bearable, or grew accustomed to.

Moblit’s gentle voice guided the Gottesreichan guests through the Chief’s explanations, looking at the direction where the Chief pointed with his free hand while speaking, often stopping to further go into details about their dwellings, their storage facilities and barns, the marketplace with the villagers already busy with their daily chores. The town’s market was lively and uniquely beautiful, wooden stalls standing proud with all the goods on display. There was all kinds of variety, going from food to parchment and candles and clothes, to jewelry or tools for butchers or farmers.

The Princess’ heart thumped wildly on her chest, trying her hardest not to show her rising panic at the fact that she was walking around the village on the Chief’s arm, having everyone’s eyes on her as they kept their tour. The villagers stopped their chores midway to stare at them, whispering and chattering as they went through. Some respectfully greeted their Chieftain, mostly the warriors patrolling the streets doing a particular salute upon seeing them, but the villagers smiled and bowed, the children present doing the same as they tried to contain their laughs while not being able to keep their eyes off the scene in front of them. The Chief continued their walk after answering the greetings.

An excited giggle, followed by a shriek of what sounded like a name, startled the guests and their hosts, even. The Gottesreichan soldiers took a defensive stance, ready to pounce on the source of it as well as attack if necessary; their priority was defending the monarch's lives at any costs. Eva couldn’t help the scared jump her body did upon hearing the childish laugh and running steps on frozen ground getting nearer, gasping loudly in fear and tightly clutching the Chief’s arm with her tiny hands as she unconsciously leaned on him, seeking protection.

The Chief was ready to make her stand behind him and face the attacker, but stopped immediately upon seeing it was one of the children from before. The boy had rosy cheeks, the colour intensified by both the running and the cold, and probably the excitement too, and had a wide smile that was missing a few teeth. The kid was holding something in his hands, hidden behind his back, and with the eagerness of a child waiting for the exact moment an adult would pay them attention to show them what they got in their hands, the little boy almost shoved his possession to the Chieftain and the Princess.

Once he saw what the boy had in his hands, the Chief visibly relaxed, shoulders shaking in silent amusement at how a little kid got the best of them all. The Princess still looked uncertain, clutching and pressing herself into him. Eyes wide and breath a little bit short, Eva looked down at the kid’s hands. He was holding a… flower?

A flower in the middle of winter? How was that even possible?

The kid kept his eyes on the Princess, urging her to take his present with quick words and lifting his hands further up, his smile widening. Eva thought herself of a stupid fool. How could she have been scared of a child? What harm could he do? Unless… No, unless nothing. This was a little boy offering a flower, a beautiful one that Eva had never seen before. Father would not tarnish the good intentions of a child.

Upon not having, still, immediate response from the Princess, the kid hopped on his spot, irremediably making Eva show a timid smile; she could never resist a toothy grin and sparkling eyes.

One look at the mother told Eva how this was not planned and how the kid had ran off on his own volition. Everyone on the street stopped dead on their tracks and silently watched the exchange, not even daring to breathe. The mother’s wide eyes jumped from the Princess to the Chief, then to his child, not knowing if she should run and apologise to their guests or wait and have faith in their leader and his soon to be wife.

Eva understood quickly this was to be a decisive moment for her and her stay in Eldia. One wrong movement that led to misinterpretation could be beyond disastrous. She had to be good, she had to fulfill her duty and be a good wife and—

Eva took a deep breath. Focus. Don’t succumb into panic.

Fighting her burning cheeks out of her own embarrasment, Eva let go of her almost deadly grip on the Chief’s arm and faced the little boy alone. Keeping her smile on her lips, Eva approached the child with small steps, stopping right in front of him and elegantly folding her gloved hand on top of the other. The kid kept talking at a dizzying speed, and when he noticed how the Princess furrowed her brows in confusion, while still maintaining her smile, he understood not a word he was saying reached her.

Humming to himself while thinking hard, the kid’s face illuminated itself when an idea came to him. He hastily pointed to the flower and then to the Princess, practically shoving it in her hands. Eva looked down and then up at the kid, pointing at herself with a questioning look. The child nodded effusively, shoving the poor flower again.

Eva couldn’t help the soft chuckle upon his enthusiasm, never being able to resist a kid. The Princess took it, making sure to do a slightly exaggerated bow, lifting slightly the skirts and careful enough to not crumple the flower, so the little boy understood her gratitude. The kid happily ran back to his mother, skipping and laughing as he began talking at that incredible speed while his mother looked beyond relieved. Eva did a curtly bow to her too, trying to show the mother no offence of any kind was taken.

Returning to the Chief’s side, Eva brought the flower to her nose. She always did that whenever she came by one, out of habit, and was surprised by the faint but sweet fragrance it emitted. Eva would have to ask about them, knowing Gottesreich did not have any flowers blooming in winter.

Just when they were about to resume their walk, more excited giggles and shouts could be heard. Other children ran away from their mothers and fathers, holding the same flower in their tiny hands. Eva found herself surrounded by eager eyes and smiles, shoving their flowers up so the Princess would pick them up too. Some would tug at her cloak so she would pick theirs first, others jumping on their spot, other’s patiently waiting their turn as they marvelled on the fabric and embroidery of her pale blue winter dress.

The Princess ended up with a small bouquet of flowers, the children shouting and running happily back to their parents once they delivered their gifts. She did not know what to do with them now, and frantically looked at the Chief and her brothers, then to Flora when her siblings had confused expressions, for a clue. The Chieftain had an amused glint in his eyes, but half his mind was busy thinking about something. Finally, Flora took pity on her Princess and walked up to her with a smile on her lips.

“Let’s show off those gifts, shall we, your Highness?”

Flora expertly secured the flowers on the Princess’s up braid, the pure white and calm blue of the flowers an unexpected but welcome complement to the Princess’s own choice of wardrobe. Moblit later explained, upon inquiring about the flowers herself, that they were a special kind of flower that bloomed on their woods only during the cold season, earning the name of “winter miracle”. It also symbolized the welcoming of new people into their tribe, as its sister in the warmer weather.

Eva was touched, knowing not that those kids wanted to welcome her upon hearing she was to become one of them soon. The Princess only wished the adults would have the same feelings towards her.

Thankfully the walk around the village suffered no more incidents and surprises, and Eva was able to delight herself on the market and what it had to offer; she definitely had to go there often and take her sweet time. The quills looked absolutely exquisite, and those were the famous travelling books she heard so much about! Even the jeweller had a beautiful selection of earrings, bracelets, necklaces and rings that the Princess had no idea the Eldians were capable of such craftsmanship. She particularly liked the brooch with the silhouette of a bird resting on a golden branch, the gold of the bird expertly mixed with beautiful midnight blue gemstones, resembling feathers. Also the hairpins! They were absolutely marvelous. The jeweller himself was both pleased and proud that the Gottesreichan Princess liked his products.

Their next destination amazed and terrified the Gottesreichan guests.

Eldia’s military prowess was legendary, and right now, they had its base and core right in front of them. The training grounds were a massive expanse of terrain, with barracks, thoroughly used wooden dummies, racks full of well-cared training weapons of all kinds, archery ranges, horse-riding training fields… and each and every single space was filled to the brim with warriors and trainees.

It was frightening to see how Eldia’s army was composed of perfectly trained warriors with wide expertise in the arts of combat. Not a movement wasted, not a single error in the placement of their feet to maintain balance. Strength, power, endurance, knowledge— every skill needed to become a perfect warrior, it was taught here in the massive training fields.

The Chief walked them right through the training grounds, nodding towards the warriors and fresh trainees who ceremoniously saluted him and the entourage he was leading. It was the same salute the Gottesreichan guests had seen in their entire walk around the unexpectedly gigantic village: right hand closed in a fist over their hearts, left hand on the back, and a proud stance full of tenacity and devotion. The newest recruits surprised the royal siblings, full of young faces who couldn’t be older than 15, but with a fierce determination to learn and to prove themselves. All sizes, shapes and forms– if you were up to it, were ready to go through an intense training, it did not matter who you were: a farmer’s son, a baker’s daughter… if you dedicated your heart, trained hard and understood what values had an Eldian warrior, what a life meant, you were fit to become one.

They stopped to observe the fresh batch that just started training a few months back go through a hand to hand combat. The instructor, a tall and intimidating man, bald with prominent wrinkles on his forehead and very notorious dark circles under his eyes, yelled out orders to the recruits. Some flinched, some fought every fibre of their beings into not taking a step back –a few of them failing–, but some stood their ground with confident and resolved stares, bearing down the drilling of the grim and frightening man.

Upon seeing that their Chief, the veteran warriors and the Gottesreichan guests where watching them, the recruits swallowed down their fears and tried to impress their leaders and royal guests, trying to make a good and fearsome impression of what the Eldian training grounds and warriors were made of. Punches, kicks, throwing the opponent on the floor… the field became a controlled battlefield of snarls, growls and frustrated shouts that developed into determined grunts. The recruits’ clothes soon became soiled by a mix of sweat and dirt, as a result of their vigorous and energetic try of today’s exercises.

The Princess did not dare to voice it aloud, in fear of her thoughts being perceived as a critique and direct attack on the Eldian ways, but her heart shrank inside her chest at the sight of what must be the smallest, tiniest of the new recruits, a blonde girl with wide blue eyes like the sky above, go against a trainee twice her size. Eva involuntarily clenched her hands in apprehension on the Chief’s arm, eyes not able to look away from the imminent tragedy. She was too tiny to be there! That poor girl was surely to be beaten into a pulp, taken advantage of the fact that she was much weaker, much more smaller–

A large hand squeezed her tightly clasped ones, making the Princess tear away her concerned gaze, even if she thought it was impossible for her to do so, to look down and see the Chief’s one bury her own. The Princess immediately searched for the Chief’s eyes, surprised at how he was already gazing down on her and had a small reassuring smile on his lips, nodding towards the training field. Eva looked straight ahead, just in time to see the petite girl dodge and deliver a solid punch to her opponent, making the cadet stagger backwards and clutch their stomach in pain. It was still far from being perfect and devastatingly powerful, as Eldians were known for, but it was good enough for a start and for the tiny warrior’s size. A small breath of relief released itself from the Princess’ lungs.

It still shocked Eva to the core to see women amongst the military ranks and files of Eldia, and nobody questioning it. Apparently there weren’t any kind of laws to forbid them to enlist, or to do any other job that back in Gottesreich it was meant only for men. How could they do it? How could those brave women endure it? Eva had always been taught how them, the lesser, weaker sex, could not what a man could do, just because God said so in his holy words. Father was the High Priest of Gottesreich, Father preached the word of God, the Holy Scriptures, that he made memorise Eva the moment she began her intense training as the third Princess of Gottesreich. It was so deeply ingrained in her mind that the mere thought of thinking herself above a man and their role made the Princess want to get on her knees and beg for forgiveness from her God.

How far did the dissimilarities run between their nations? How could Father entrust her with his desire to enlighten the Eldians into the correct, pious path? Just the simple thought of questioning her husband-to-be and his ways chilled her entire body and soul. She just… couldn’t. Her father’s will confused Eva.

But still, deep down inside her, locked down and not even daring to let it see the light, she couldn’t help but to… envy them. Envy their freedom of choice, of options, of life. Could she ever be like them? Aspire to have their wide range of choices? Alternatives? Could she choose her own path? She had been taught since she was a little girl that she would spend her life in a home, with her husband and a child in her arms. Not travelling, not expanding knowledge, or meeting new people and cultures… Everything Father and the Governess told her reminded little Eva of a bird cage. Pretty, comfortable, enough to see what was beyond the bars… but a cage.

She learned to accept her fate quickly, not daring to cross Father ever again in her life.

Eva knew she was born in a privileged home. A castle. A Princess. Never hungry, never cold, only the best of the best for her. It only took a quick look beyond the capital to see how privilege fed and took care of her. All her whims and wishes met without hesitation. Not a single patch to fix on her dresses, her hairbrush not missing a single bristle and made of the best silver— a perfect, content life. All you have to do is your duty, Father said. Do what you were born to do. Your only purpose.

Make me proud of being your Father.

Bring glory to the Holy Kingdom.

She was made to be bred, she was made to bear children, heirs, she was made to be a leverage for deals, a bargain chip, as her mind whispered to her in her darkest moments, to bring prosperity and glory to the Holy Kingdom of Gottesreich. She was… She was…

“Your Highness?”

The Princess was brought back to the present by Moblit’s placid voice and the Chief’s gentle tug, as if she had been rooted there, staring at the warriors, and getting lost in her troubles instead of following her fiancé and Eldian hosts. They were staring at her. Everyone. At least it felt like everyone, even the animals. Her breath had caught in her lungs, her throat a hard knot she forced herself to swallow before speaking.

“My deepest apologies, my Lords.” Eva’s mind scrambled to find an appropriate excuse for her lack of manners and being caught zoning out. “I did not mean any disrespect by my actions or to show an unwillingness to follow this pleasant walk. I was simply transfixed by your warriors, admiring their tenacity and will.”

What a load of bullshit.

They all seemed to buy it. Not Flora, though. She could see right through Eva as if she had been made of glass. Her handmaiden would probably ask her about it later in the privacy of their own lodgings, but let it go for now, knowing it was no use to inquire about it in the middle of the village tour, even less in front of their hosts.

They resumed the walk, passing through the training grounds before turning to their right, strolling until they reached one of the biggest houses of the village. Moblit informed them it was where the sick and injured were taken care of. A house for the sick, a hospital. Gottesreich had its own physicians and doctors, but never a house dedicated for the sick, the poor. Eva knew the Palace had their own royal physicians, dedicated only to them, and the people needed to rely on the town’s doctors.

Eva wondered how did this hospital work. Did they dedicate a part of the taxes to it? Was it free? What remedies did they use? What—

One of the windows was slammed open, an excited yell coming out of it. Moblit let out a tired sigh, mumbling in Eldian, as if he knew exactly what was that about. Levi spoke too, the tone in his voice denoting annoyance. Eva felt the Chieftain chuckle, answering his right-hand man with something that made Levi snort.

A head poked out of the window, messy brown hair tied up in a scrambled ponytail. The stranger kept shouting, excited, continuous noises of delight coming out of their mouth. The person noticed the small entourage right down their window, and quieted down instantly, curious as to who were the ones standing there. Then, another excited screech, lurching their body almost out of the window as they enthusiastically waved down. Moblit let out a strangled noise, uselessly raising his arms as if he wanted to catch the over excited person dangling off the window.

Eva discreetly looked to her side, looking for an answer or explanation in the Chief’s eyes, but he was looking up with an amused smile. She used his distraction to look behind her, finding the exact confused expression on her handmaiden and brother’s faces. The Princess saw Flora quietly shrug her shoulders, and she was so tempted to join her, but refrained in case the Eldians caught her and found it impolite. The person on the window shouted something and disappeared inside, sounds of furniture being moved around reaching their ears. Moblit groaned, rubbing his temples.

A few minutes later the same person who had half their body out of the window came out from the main doors of the hospital. Levi discreetly stepped away, not wanting to be involved with the newcomer and the imminent events. He really wanted to go back to the privacy and tranquility of his own home, drink a nice cup of tea…

An excited exclamation followed by a strident laugh broke Levi’s long desired daydream. He watched their eccentric approach, wondering how their guests would react to them. Judging by how the delicate Princess gasped at anything that came running and loud, Levi guessed it would not go right. Mike silently joined him, crossing his arms as he, too, observed the catastrophe about to happen.

“Bets?” Mike’s low murmur made Levi snort.

“She will freak out.” Levi turned his head to amusedly stare at his fellow warrior. “Like she did with you.”

Mike scoffed, crossing his arms.

“C’mon, not you too. And I say she doesn’t, just to spite you.”

“Hah! Serves you right, you big-nosed moose.” Levi’s gaze fell back to the front.

“It was not my intention.” it truly hadn’t been. He couldn’t help it, Mike trusted his nose, knowing his instincts never failed him before. He had to know.

“Just, don’t go sniffing people.”

“I will not make such promises.” Mike’s lips curled into a smile, proud at the way he managed to make Levi’s shoulders briefly shake.

Both warriors kept watching the scene in front of them, with Moblit trying to save the situation from their beloved doctor’s clutches, quickly directing their attention to himself and his words. Everybody knew that Moblit had a reserved spot on their Goddesses’ paradise; nobody worked as hard as him, and was as skilled to manage the village’s resident genius doctor.

“Your Highnesses, it is my pleasure to introduce you to our doctor, Hange Zoë. They are the head of the hospital and–”

“IT IS PLEASURE TO MEET, HIGHNESSESES!” Hange cut the poor and exasperated Moblit out, excitedly looking from one sibling to the other. The royal hosts were surprised at the doctor’s broken Gottesreichan attempt, albeit enthusiastic.

Flora successfully covered an amused snort. Ardor! Fervor! Passion! Flora admired that in a person, and for now, Doctor Hange Zoë managed to catch her attention. The handmaiden was sure she could learn interesting things from this eager physician, and secretly wanted to see how Eva would react. It reminded her of her first week as the Princess’ handmaiden, chasing a scared and overwhelmed Eva down the corridors as she tightly clutched one of her precious books, wanting to volt out of any situation that involved a loud and chatty girl following her everywhere. Flora realises know that she had been a little bit insensitive to her poor friend, but in her defense she just wanted her Princess to live.

The eccentric doctor went from sibling to sibling, offering their hand for them to shake. Prince Hans took it surprisingly well, smiling warmly and shaking the offered hand with what would be considered a perfect grip, confident and secure, while Hange still kept letting out broken gottesreichan, not giving any thought to the mistakes. Friederich was confused, and as such, shook his hand with the same sentiment as he was feeling; the second Prince felt as if a strong wind knocked him out of his feet and all he could say was “huh?”.

But ah, Eva. Poor Eva. She had brief flashes of her childhood with Flora, of an overexcited girl running after her as she talked, and talked, and talked… until Eva began to enjoy her extroverted nature and secretly thanked her for dragging her out of her room or the library. But still, Doctor Hange Zoë managed to scare the living daylights out of her with their excited gasp and sparkling eyes. Eva clutched the Chief’s arm in a deathly grip for the second time that day.

Hange offered their hand out too, but then seemed to think about it. Did princesses shake hands too? Was it protocol? Well, Hange never truly cared about protocols, to be honest, Moblit usually took care of that. So maybe it was too forward? Should Hange bow? Did they thoroughly screw up in their eagerness–?

Eva raised her hand and took Hange’s as her brothers did, Forcing herself to paint a warm smile on her lips.

Her father and governess’ voices were screaming inside her head, louder than her own heartbeat. How dare you shake hands with a commoner, you, a princess of Gottesreich? A princess should never shake hands! Commoners must bow, must kneel, must–

“The pleasure is mine, doctor Zoë. I am afraid I do not know any word of Eldian yet, but thank you for your efforts. I hope to learn soon.” Eva would follow her brothers’ lead for now, as they discussed on their journey to Eldia. Father was not here. Father did not understand. If Eva was to settle here to start a new life and end it here, she could not start fights and discontent because of her father’s pride. It was the smart thing to do.

The coarseness of her father always upsetted her, even if she swallowed her discontent, not wanting to repeat that night.

Hange’s uncertain face instantly turned into a bright smile. They didn’t screw up! The doctor turned to say something to the Chief, who in return gained a brief smile. Then, Hange returned their attention to the siblings.

Levi was rendered speechless. He lost the stupid bet! Levi was sure the Princess would freak out upon Hange’s overly enthusiastic greetings, judging by how she had reacted earlier with Mike and his antics. He didn’t dare to turn to his left to see Mike’s moronic moustache smiling smugly at him.

“You owe me.” Mike’s grin could be heard in his voice.

“Shut up, you giant tree.” Damn it!

“Want come in? Show house?” Hange signaled to the main entrance of the Hospital, already thinking about the tour they would take the royal siblings and show how amazing their inventions and discoveries had been.

Should Eva say yes? No, that was arrogant of her, she couldn’t decide on a whim what or what to not do, even less without consulting it with her brothers or the Eldian leader. Didn’t the Eldians also have an itinerary already made for today? The people on the streets and outside the hospital were staring at them, curious about the scene in front of them. Eva was getting nervous. their stares were suffocating her, their attention adding more weight on her, her mind scrambling to find an appropriate response–

Moblit intercepted before Eva could begin, quickly saving the moment.

The Princess was grateful for it, feeling the weight of the decision on her shoulders diminish; she restrained her relieved sigh from escaping her lips, though. Moblit would handle it, thank God above! With a pang of pity in her heart, Eva watched Hange go from thrilled to crestfallen as Moblit spoke. Now she felt bad, knowing for sure they had the best intentions in their heart. Maybe the detour wasn’t that bad…?

But Hange immediately returned to their cheerful self.

“Must come other day! Question Erwin about it!” Hange clasped Eva’s hand in theirs, that exhilarated spark back in their eyes. “Must show you fun things!”

Eva pressed her lips into a tight, nervous smile and nodded, hoping it would be enough to quench Doctor Hange’s eagerness. Too forward! Too forward! Was this also an eldian thing? It seemed to do the trick, as they went back inside the hospital when an assistant called them from the door and enthusiastically waved goodbye.

“Apologies, your Highnesses.” Moblit deserved a raise and long vacations. It had been only a day, but it was clear for the gottesreichan guests that the poor man dealt with a lot, and it seemed that Doctor Hange occupied 80% of it. “I must ask for you to forgive Doctor Hange’s lack of protocol and take no offence by it. The Doctor really enjoys meeting new people and telling about their discoveries and new remedies.”

“No offense taken, Moblit. I’m sure Doctor Hange can make it up to us by showing us what they are so excited for, right?” Hans was genuinely interested, always asking the doctors and physicians back at the palace about everything, going as far as reading some books, although he understood half of it. He truly wanted to know Doctor Hange’s thoughts.

“Honestly, I’m curious now.” Friederich scratched his nose, mumbling. Hans sniggered, lowering his voice so only his brother and her sister’s handmaiden could hear him.

“You, willing to listen to non-battle-related things? Who are you and where is my dear brother?” Flora snickered, covering her mouth.

“Oi!” Friederich’s ears went red at the tips.

“We will have to come tomorrow, then.”

Moblit approached them, always with his calm smile on his face.

“May we continue, your Highnesses?”

Only when they resumed their tour, hearing Moblit talk with her brothers and the Eldian warriors escorting them, did Eva realise how Doctor Hange was wearing glasses.

Saying Eva was scared was not enough. Terrified? Frightened? Petrified? There was no adjective to describe the sheer terror those beasts instilled inside her heart. Those were not horses. No horse could be that monstrous size. Nope. No way.

She didn’t even reach the horse’s chest! And even one leg was as thick as her whole body! How did they even suppose she could get on one of them?

They were led to the village’s stables, where the stable hands and grooms had horses ready with their saddles. Each one of them had a different saddle pad, beautiful Eldian embroidery and motifs of golden and white thread on a teal fabric, most of them resembling the ones from the village’s houses, the themes of the needle work being mostly of mother nature herself. The leather of the saddles were beautifully taken care of, going from darker to lighter tints of brown, no doubt the artisans made a good work of the dyes and its delicate processes.

The horses looked healthy, robust and ready to be ridden by their masters. If Eva wasn’t as scared as she was, she would be admiring the animals and the pure strength they exuded.

Friederich was getting more invested into this part of the tour than the previous one. Yes, Eldia was beautiful and curiously different, but for Friederich, it was still boring; he had never been good at diplomacy and pleasantry visits. He had always heard of Eldia’s monstrous steeds, and was delighted to see such enormous and sturdy stallions, powerfully built and vigorous. You could see the raw power in them, and couldn’t wait to see what it felt to ride one of them. Maybe he could convince the Eldian Chief to trade some… Surely his enemies would piss themselves upon seeing a beast such as this charging against them. Yeah, maybe he could, preferably at the evening banquet. Now was not the time.

This was an important ritual for the Eldians.

Moblit gracefully explained how this was considered crucial when two souls got engaged in Eldia. Hunting was part of their culture, a huge one, and they would not bring shame to their traditions and ancestors. It was an art, and the Eldians deeply respected nature and what it provided for humankind, so the solemn air was palpable. For Eldians this was a trial, also. Those who proposed to their lovers would have to hunt a magnificent piece for their betrothed, to both show that they could provide for them and also have the strength, patience, wit and endurance used in hunting that would prevail in their lives.

Since the Chief was getting engaged to the Princess, he had to prove himself to her, so she would accept and approve of her future husband. This ritual held even more importance for who was performing it, and the villagers were actually curious about how well would their Chief perform; sadly, some couples had to use all three attempts to succeed. They hoped the Chief would succeed at his first try.

For Eva, it was basically a show to see how much of a peacock the man could be, not that different from those in court who would fawn themselves and their achievements to win her hand, and what came with it. Bitter? Maybe so. She was just tired of men, but would respect the Eldian tradition. After all, traditions were traditions, and one should always honour them, no matter what.

For Flora, it was just like her beloved romantic novels. A man proving their worth to their beloved? Man versus Beast? Oh, how she wished that for herself! Maybe one day she would find love here, in Eldia. Who knew what the future awaited for her?

“As tradition says,” Moblit spoke. “The future bride and groom must ride together, as the willingness of their souls to start a new journey.”

Eva froze.

No way.

No.

There had to be a mistake. She thought she would ride in a small carriage with Flora, as the men rode and discussed their matters. Her dress wasn’t suited for riding!

On cue, one of the stable hands brought a magnificent white stallion, it’s crest carefully brushed and not a single tangle and bit of dirt on it. It was bigger than the other horses, robust, and Eva understood now what people meant when they said pets and horses resembled their owners: a horse truly fit for a Chief; it had to be his judging by the proud look the man had on his eyes.

The beast patiently stood right in front of them, not showing an ounce of nervousness or uneasiness. How Eva wished she felt the same. She just wanted to bolt right out of there.

The Princess felt the Chief turn towards her, and automatically released her hold on his arm, although he kept her hand in his, gently guiding her towards the Chief’s own stallion. Eva didn’t want to get closer, even less mount on it. She was terrified! They stood in front of the beast’s head, admiring the noble profile and long golden lashes it had. Eva saw the Chief affectionately gaze at his horse, giving it a tender stroke on its muzzle. He looked back at Eva, inviting her to do the same, but the Princess remained rooted, frozen on the spot. The Chief nudged her to pet the stallion’s head by lifting her hand himself, slowly, always watching her reactions closely— the Chieftain knew he was pushing her, but Erwin believed this would help her lose a little bit of her fearful first impression.

Eva watched, between a mix of horror and wonder, how her gloved fingers brushed the horse’s muzzle, its heat warming up her palm. The stallion didn’t even flinch at the change, letting itself be pet. Eva was amazed, transfixed, not even aware of the Chief’s gaze on her. Slowly, a sensation of relief washed all over her body, feeling more secure now that the beast showed no trace of nervousness upon seeing a new face. Eva even let herself release a small smile, even though her heart was still pounding fiercely inside her chest.

More horses were brought to them, each warrior taking the reins of their own steed, as well as new horses for the Princes to ride. Friederich was beyond excited, eyes going from head to rear of the enormous beast he was lent to ride. He looked like a child in a candy shop back at the Capital.

Everyone waited for the Chief to mount first, as tradition dictated. The solemn air felt like a pressing stone on the Princess, not truly knowing what she was supposed to do besides having to ride with him. Should she say something? Perform a certain move? But the Princess stood rooted there, letting her never-fading anxiety begin to swallow whole again.

The Chief prepared himself to mount on, grabbing the pommel with his left hand and easily hoisting himself up when he set his foot on the stirrup. Every move he did looked effortless, as if even a child could do that with their eyes closed. If they thought Eva could achieve such levels, they were going to be thoroughly disappointed. The Chief extended his hand to the Princess, signaling her to come closer and join him on the horse.

The question is: how the hell is she supposed to get on it?

Moblit did not give any clues or hints about it, and everyone respectfully watched as the Princess approached the Chief with small steps. The Eldian leader never looked away from her, and she truly reminded him of a scared fawn.

What came next was a blur for the Princess. One moment she was standing right beside the Chief, timidly taking his hand and raising her other one to try to reach the pommel as the Chief did, her foot raising too to set on the lowered stirrup, and on the next moment Eva found herself being lifted as if she weighted nothing, strong arms pulling her up, easily turning her so she sat astride the horse with her back pressed against his chest.

Eva couldn’t focus on anything but the feel of his broad and strong chest snugly pressed against her back, despite the layers of thick clothing and cloaks between them. Eva did not pay attention to everyone else getting on their horses, or how Friederich couldn’t help the boyish grin on his lips, or how Flora turned beet red when she was made to mount on the same horse as the second Prince of Gottesreich, her confident and self-assured attitude gone for a moment. She couldn’t, not with how the Chief righted her stance with gentle hands, or how he straightened her own dress skirts and cloak without being prompted to do so, or how he guided her gloved hands to the crest and horn, so she had something to hold on to, even if the arms that caged her in wouldn’t let her slip and fall. The cold was forgotten for a moment, as well as her nervous tension.

Prompting the beast to an easy gait, the Chief led the party outside the stables and onto the main street. That’s when Eva snapped out of her trance and quickly ventured a look towards her handmaiden, seeing her grip the crest of the horse she was on with red cheeks. Both women crossed looks, twin bewildered expressions greeting each other. Eva silently cheered for her friend, but was too occupied herself with her own troubles to even waggle her eyebrows to tease her handmaiden.

This was going to be a long day.

The main street greeted them with the eldian villagers gathered on the sides of it, creating a passageway of curious and expectant faces. Everyone looked like they were waiting for a signal, eyes glued to the Chief’s horse and its riders, fingers and feet fidgeting. When the Chief and the Princess passed the first bystanders, the whole wide street exploded into cheers and shouts and blue.

The villagers threw flowers on them and the horses’ hooves, smiling and clapping as they passed by. Eva recognised the winter flowers from before, the same she wore now on her braid, and watched the villagers cover the entire street in a mantle of blue and white. The Chief did not turn to greet or answer them, keeping his head and eyes straight ahead in a solemn show of respect towards their faith in him. That’s when Eva understood this was part of the hunting ritual too, bidding farewell and good luck to the couple about to engage in the ritual. So, to not be disrespectful towards their culture and traditions, Eva did the same, looking straight ahead towards the main gate, into the sky blue path. A flash of the Chieftains’ eyes crossed her mind. The same blue.

It truly was a beautiful sight.

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taetaespeaches · 4 years ago

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“You did not just bring a fruitcake into my home.”

taehyung x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.6K

a/n: hi lovelies! I tend to just start writing my Tae fics with little plot in mind and see where it takes me and that’s what this is a result of. I wasn’t sure about it but it’s been both Chlo and Mads approved so I’ll trust them haha. Tae comes to Peaches’/reader’s place with a fruitcake and that’s basically it lmao. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

SITTING on the floor of the living room, Yeontan in your lap, you spread the pink watercolor paint across the paper as you hummed along to the music playing from your phone. It was a fairly new hobby still, but you were trying to experiment with all sorts of art mediums.

Your humming was cut off by your own small yelp when the front door suddenly burst open, your gaze snapping from the partially painted sheet to your boyfriend beaming at you brightly. The quirk of your lips in response to the man was natural as Yeontan bolted to greet his dad.

“Peaches,” Taehyung breathed out happily, your eyes widening as you watched him expectantly. “Tannie,” he greeted the pup, kneeling down to pet the dog as Yeontan wiggled with unbridled excitement. “Peaches,” he said again, standing back up to look at you.

“What is happening?” You asked curiously, a small giggle leaving you as he nodded to the kitchen before walking away. “Tae,” you called out, quickly standing up to follow him, watching Yeontan trot along behind Taehyung.

When you reached the kitchen, your boyfriend was holding the dog as he stood at the island, his expression gleeful and adorable. “Why are you in such a good mood?” You asked, searching his frame before your eyes fell to countertop, in which a particularly festive dessert sat. “You did not just bring a fruitcake into my home,” you stated bluntly, though you were mostly kidding.

“Have you ever had a fruitcake before?” He asked, you quirking your head at the baked good sitting on the counter.

“Unfortunately,” you replied, looking up just in time to observe Taehyung as his eyes widened adorably, making him look innocent. He was innocent. Innocently ignorant to the horrors of fruitcakes. “Tae, baby, why do you have a fruitcake?”

“Are they that bad?” He asked in shock, looking down at the cake, lifting the plastic wrap that was draped over it.

“They aren’t good,” you chuckled. “Dearest, where did you get this?”

“Your neighbor,” he answered, still staring at the cake curiously as Yeontan wiggled in his arms, wanting to be put down. “She was so sweet,” Taehyung said as he knelt down to let Yeontan go. “How come I’ve never met her before?”

“How come I’ve never met her before? Which neighbor?” You asked, surprised that he actually ran into one of them, as you rarely ever saw them out and about.

“A few doors down,” he told you, finally looking up from the cake to you. “Her grandkids are here for Christmas and they were doing all sorts of baking,” he informed you, obviously having had an entire conversation with the woman, in true Taehyung fashion.

Staring at the man, you couldn’t help but feel extremely fond of him for being so genuinely kind and approachable. Everyone felt comfortable in his presence, and it was always something you admired about him. It was a trait you wished you had yourself.

“I love you,” you confessed randomly, catching him off guard as a shy smile overtook his features, a low chuckle slipping from between his lips.

Dipping his head down, he looked up at you through his long lashes. “Why all of a sudden?” He asked timidly, only making you even more smitten as you looked at him.

“You’re so genuinely good,” you told him, your heart growing by the second the longer you stared at him. “I love that about you. I adore your soul,” you continued, Taehyung’s smile growing on his face until he was flashing you a bashful boxy grin, shy under your compliments but radiant as the comments penetrated his stature.

“I love you too,” he replied softly. “You’re good too,” he assured you, knowing you far too well as he realized where your thoughts were taking you. He was far too versed in your mind to not realize you were feeling insecure for your aloof and shy demeanor.

“I’ve never stopped to talk to her,” you told him, a sadness seeping into your tone.

Without a word, he stepped toward you and wrapped his arms around the back of your head, yours closing over his waist as he held you close to his chest, comforting you with sweet kisses to your hair. “They made the cake for you,” he whispered, you humming in question. “Yeah,” he told you, leaning back a bit so he could look at you. “The two little kids told me to give it to you.”

“They know me?” You asked in surprise.

“Of course they do,” he smiled warmly. “You’re impossible to miss, Peaches.” Coming from anyone else, the words would have felt empty, easy to negate, but you knew Taehyung very much found you to be unmissable. He’d been telling you since you first met him. It wasn’t just fate that you two met, but also the fact that he simply couldn’t miss you.

Pouting at him, Taehyung stole a kiss from your protruding bottom lip, causing you to smile as a small breathy laugh escaped. “Wanna know their exact words?” He asked, you nodding instantly. “Ahem,” he exaggeratedly cleared his throat, you giggling at him. “Mister, can you get this to the pretty girl with the cute little dog?” he mimicked the cute voices of the kids.

“They did not,” you laughed, your hands soothing over his lower back.

“They did,” he told you with wide eyes, defending himself. “I swear,” he added, a chuckle escaping his lips in response to your amused grin. “They really did,” he remained adamant, giving you a single exaggerated nod of his head.

“Well now I feel bad for saying fruitcake is bad,” you remembered your previous comment, Taehyung smiling widely as a breathy laugh left his lips.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it,” he assured you as you tugged on your bottom lip with your teeth.

“Thank you,” you nodded with a grin, looking back to the fruitcake on the counter. “Oh my god, fruitcake,” you exclaimed in feigned excitement, Taehyung watching you in pure amusement. “My favorite,” you added, Taehyung falling forward in laughter, resting his chin against your forehead as you giggled at yourself.

You both stayed in each other’s arms like that for a moment longer, Taehyung pressing soft kisses to your forehead as your fingers dragged across the expanse of his lower back. “We need to thank them somehow,” you suddenly spoke, Taehyung pulling back to look at you.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, squinting at you in thought. “Were you watercoloring?” He asked randomly, you cocking your head at him.

“Yeah,” you confirmed questioningly. “I was trying to make a sunset with like a pink sky but,” you dropped off, pulling a face of distaste. “I’m not very good,” you smiled shyly, Taehyung glaring at you.

“You just started,” he told you. “You’re learning.”

“I know,” you said with a small pout.

“You don’t get to determine how good you are yet,” he ranted. “Besides, it’s for fun. How could you ever not be good at something you do for fun?” He questioned, your lips curving into a smile as you stared at him lecturing you. “You’re amazing,” he assured you. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you giggled, Taehyung nodding at you.

“That’s all that matter then, isn’t it?” He continued.

“Yes,” you whispered fondly. “It is.”

“You should paint them a picture,” he suggested. “To thank them.”

You opened your mouth to tell him you didn’t think that was the best way to say thank you when you could barely paint a gradient, but the man pushed his lips to yours to silence you.

Smiling into the kiss, Taehyung giggled against your mouth. “They would love it,” he told you, kissing you once more before pulling away once again. “And if it’s really as bad as you think it is,” he gave you a sharp stare, “which it won’t be,” he interjected, “we’ll just bring Tannie to soften the blow.”

Letting out a breathy laugh at your boyfriend, you smiled widely. “Fine,” you agreed. “But you have to help me.”

“Happily,” he told you. “Should we try this cake?” He asked, looking to the pastry sitting atop the counter.

Taking a deep breath, you let it out in a rushed exhale. “I suppose,” you relented, Taehyung reaching under the plastic wrap to pull a piece off.

“I’ll go first,” he told you, bringing it to is lips. Placing the morsel on his tongue, he tested the taste, giving a thoughtful look as examined the flavors.

“You’re not going to give me any indication on how it is, are you,” you realized, Taehyung flashing you a bratty smile as you huffed. Grabbing a piece for yourself, you quickly tossed it into your mouth, your tastebuds actively trying to figure out what exactly you were exposing them to. “I-” you started, cutting yourself off as you pondered the taste. “It’s not the worst fruitcake I’ve ever had,” you said, trying to sound positive.

“It’s not good though,” Taehyung admitted, causing you to cover your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut as you began laughing at the comment. “We have to pretend we like this, she was the sweetest woman,” he told you in a hurry, feeling guilty for not liking the dessert.

“It was the best fruitcake we’ve ever had,” you nodded. “That’s not even a lie,” you pointed out, Taehyung shooting you a look that silently asked you to elaborate. “It’s your only fruitcake, therefore, the best,” you explained, “and like I said, it’s not the worst I’ve had,” you added.

Your boyfriend fell into a fit of giggles as he grabbed your body, wrapping his arms around your waist as he nuzzled his face against your neck, your arms draping over his shoulders as you laughed with him fondly.

“Best fruitcake we’ve ever had,” he repeated, his breath fanning over your skin in a light tickle.

“The best,” you added, both of you falling into more laughter as you held each other in the kitchen light.

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musehyacinthus · 4 years ago

Text

Shoot Your Shot: Part 1

This is my first published work in over a decade, and I'm so excited to share it with everyone! Dash is my oldest and most treasured oc, and I'm so happy that I finally have the confidence to allow everyone else a peek into her life. This was originally supposed to be a short one shot, but is now going to be a 2(?) part series. I will hopefully be posting more work in the future that explores more of her background, as well as introducing some of my other oc's.

It was June, and the air was warm and sticky, which wasn’t ideal; the humidity made Dash’s hair all frizzy, and it always seemed to happen on a day when she wanted to make meringue.

This morning in particular, her eyes snapped open, bolting upright in her bed with a gasp. She had been having the most amazing dream, in which she was about to take a bite of the biggest, most beautiful lemon meringue pie she had ever seen. However, just as the fork reached her mouth, she woke up, returning to the sad reality where she did not have a mouth watering dessert in front of her. She smacked her lips, trying to recall what the pie had tasted like, but it was already gone. Tragic.

It was then that it dawned on her that she had the ingredients to bring that beautiful pie to life in the kitchen. In an instant, she rushed to her bedroom window. Maybe, if she was lucky, the weather would be on her side today. She pried open the window, a warm, thick breeze blowing against her skin. She groaned. No good; meringue wouldn’t peak in the humidity. No matter how good at baking someone is, they’re no match for mother nature. Pursing her lips, she pulled the latch shut, deciding to settle for banana bread muffins instead.

A couple of hours later, the muffins were nestled in her bag as she hopped off the trolley that crossed the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Thanks!” Dash chirped to the driver, exchanging waves with the man before she bounced away, not noticing the large, gray clouds looming on the horizon.

She clicked her tongue rhythmically as she walked, matching the beat to her steps and scanning the docks for her friend, Twitchy. The purpose of her trip had been to return a book he lent her, but he was nowhere to be seen.

A group of four other teenagers had gathered nearby at the edge of the docks, crouching in a large circle on the ground. Curious, she inched forward, craning her neck to see what was going on.

As she approached, she could see they were surrounding a long piece of brown string that was tied in a circle, surrounding a cluster of marbles.

Her heart skipped a beat. She was fantastic at marbles! She always kept her own pouch on her in case of a marble emergency, which happened more often than one might think.

Now that she was closer, Dash knew the kids to be Newsies like herself from her other visits to the borough. Among the group was a short, round faced girl with glasses and hundreds of freckles who Dash remembered was named Abigail. Her curly, brown hair was pulled back into two braids, her eyebrows knit with frustration as she gazed down at the ring. There was also a pale, skinny boy with sandy, blond hair and brown eyes that Dash didn’t recognize, and a tall boy with broad shoulders and dark hair standing just behind Abigail and watching the game intently. The way he hovered over her, he seemed almost like a bodyguard. What was his name again? Something with a chuh sound…. Chuck? No. Chatter! That was it! She remembered now, she found it funny the first time she learned it because Chatter really didn’t say very much at all. He was a friendly enough guy, but he seemed to like observing and listening more than he liked talking. He and Abigail seemed to always be around one another when Dash saw them, their significant height difference almost comical. Finally, Dash’s eyes rested on the figure closest to her with their back turned. Their brown cap was pulled down low on their face as they knelt on the ground, but she could recognize those bright red suspenders anywhere. He was at an angle where she could just see that was holding a red shooter in his hand, weaving it through his fingertips thoughtfully.

Dash’s feelings toward Spot were… mixed; she could never stop herself from riling him up, and the two would often butt heads due to their wildly different personalities. Spot took himself so seriously, and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why. It frustrated her that he tried to make himself seem so high and mighty, and she knew the kids in Brooklyn respected him, but as far as she could tell, he was just… some guy. The way he constantly tried to have the attention of those around him was so silly, and just made him come off as a bit of a show off.

She hadn’t seen him do anything particularly intimidating, but the Newsies back in Manhattan would often go on and on about how nervous he made them. She just failed to see any real reason for their apprehension. Then again, she really hadn’t been living in New York all that long; his reputation had been around for a good while. Maybe they all knew something she didn’t.

In any case, as far as she was concerned, he was just a kid who wanted attention. That was fine, of course, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to tease him. It was fun to challenge him, and she found herself getting extremely competitive in his presence. Of course he wasn’t going to back down from a challenge.

Dash would come to Brooklyn every once in a while to exchange books with Twitchy, who she knew was pretty close with Spot. He never seemed to show any signs of being intimidated either, and was an even bigger culprit than she was when it came to pushing Spot’s buttons. He would go to great lengths to make him look silly, like the time he filled Spot’s pockets with bread crumbs and got the neighborhood pigeons to follow him around all day. There was also a time when he dressed up in the same clothes as Spot, and had bribed the other Brooklyn kids with candy to pretend that he was the real Spot for an entire day.

Dash watched as the boy she hadn’t recognized leaned forward, closing one eye and taking a deep breath. He flicked his thumb, his yellow shooter zipping forward and smacking into another large, purple marble. Both marbles rolled over the string, coming to a rest on the other side. The boy whooped with delight, and Abigail let out a cry of astonishment.

“That was a cheap shot, Sonny!” Abigail crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring daggers at the boy. “You know I just got that marble yesterday!”

“It ain’t my fault I got good aim!” Sonny grinned, shrugging and walking over to claim the purple shooter for himself. “Sorry, toots.”

Dash thought Sonny didn’t look all that sorry.

Abigail huffed, sitting back and crossing her legs.

“Fine, whatever. Your turn, Spot.”

Spot, who had been silent the entire time, was already leaning down to shoot his own red marble. He extended his arm, appearing as still as a statue as he aimed the little glass ball toward the center.

At that moment, an idea popped into Dash’s brain. Slowly, without making a sound, she crept up behind him, biting her lip to keep herself from giggling and giving herself away. Finally, just as Spot started to release the shooter, Dash exclaimed “HI, SPOT!”

The boy let out a rather undignified yelp and his hand jerked, the marble rolling into the ring and bouncing gently on one of the mibs. It hardly budged, and Spot’s shooter halted beside it. The other three Brooklyn newsies broke out into laughter, and Spot’s shoulders tensed, turning his head slowly to glare up at Dash.

Dash just smiled, waving down at him.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said hi.”

Spot grunted and rose to his feet, his hazel eyes narrowing at Dash. Despite his intense stare, her expression remained unchanged.

“I heard ya, I heard ya.” He grumbled, glancing her up and down. “You messed me up, y’know.”

“Golly, did I do that?” she feigned surprise, her eyebrows raising. “Whoopsie daisies. Can I play?”

“We’re in the middle of a game.”

“Actually, it’s just endin’!” Sonny chimed in from behind him with a smile. Spot glanced back and shot Sonny a look, who quickly clammed up.

“Aw, that’s okay.” Dash shrugged, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “It’s no big deal, Spot’s just afraid that I’ll beat him at his own game.” she looked back to Spot, and she swore she saw his eye twitch.

“No. I am not.” He replied firmly.

“Are too.”

“Am. Not.”

“Are tooooo.”

“NO, I am-” Spot’s voice had grown higher pitched in the heat of the moment, but he quickly paused, giving a sideways glance at his Newsies who were all staring at them. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, his voice now sounding much lower than it had a moment ago.

“Fine.” He said cooly. “Fine, you wanna play? We’ll play. Clear the ring, Sonny.”

In a matter of moments, the ring was reset, thirteen mibs resting in the center in a cross. Dash fished her sack of marbles out from her bag, a little blue pouch that her father had fashioned for her out of some spare fabric. She had about a dozen shooters she had collected over the years, but there was a very special one she wanted to use for this occasion.

She rummaged around in the pouch for a moment before pulling up a shooter that was minty green and blue with little white swirls. Sonny whistled, leaning in to look at it.

“That’s real pretty.” He mused. Dash beamed, tossing it up in the air once and catching it.

“Thanks! It’s the first marble I ever won back when I was younger.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow. “You sure ya wanna use that thing, then? Seems pretty special to be usin’ in a game. Don’t wanna end up like me and have it taken from ya.” She glared pointedly at Sonny, who only grinned back at her innocently with large, doe like eyes.

Dash nodded. “Oh, yeah! This guy is my go-to shooter, he’s real lucky!” She held it up proudly, admiring the way the colorful swirls glistened in the light. “I’ve never lost a match with him!”

Spot was also staring at the marble, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Huh. Oh, well, it’s your funeral, girlie.” He stretched his arms over his head, shifting his gaze back to her. “You better say your goodbyes now, ‘cause that thing’s gonna be in my pocket real soon.”

Dash stuck out her tongue at him. She wasn’t nervous; her lucky shooter had never failed her before, and this game would be no different.

The two knelt on opposite ends of the circle, and the others sat off to the side as spectators. Spot motioned his hand toward her.

“Ladies first.”

Dash positioned herself in front of the ring with her shooter. Without any delay, she flung her marble forward, grinning at the satisfying clack it made as it smacked into one of the mibs, sending two of them rolling out of the ring. Dash whooped loudly, and Spot continued to watched in silence with a serious expression.

“Nice!” Abigail grinned.

Her shooter was still within the circle, which meant she was able to shoot her marble again from the inside the ring. She hummed, hopping to the other side and returning to her knees to the left of Spot. As she reached for her shooter, her shoulder briefly brushed against his. Spot jumped as if he had been shocked, scowling and moving a few inches to his right. Dash barely even noticed him, focused on finding the right angle to shoot her marble. She flicked it once more and the marble struck another mib, but it didn’t have as much force as the first hit. It rolled a few inches and stopped just before reaching the edge. Dash shrugged, flopping backward onto her behind. “Oh well. Your turn.”

Spot nodded, adjusting his cap. Dash saw him glance over at the other kids for a fleeting second, then returned his gaze to the marbles. He cracked his knuckles loudly, which Dash found rather unnecessary, and flexed his hands at his sides. He scooped up his red shooter, assuming the position. His eyebrows knit together and he bit his lip.

This was ridiculous; the longer she waited for him to make his move, the more restless she felt. She drummed her hands on her lap as she waited. After what felt like centuries, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Can’t you go any faster?” She huffed.

“I’m focusin’.”

“Focus faster!” she urged.

Spot’s jaw clenched, still not looking at Dash. He exhaled, finally releasing his marble. It hit two mibs at once, sending them flying out of the circle in opposite directions. Sonny cheered loudly and Abigail nodded with approval while Chatter clapped politely beside her. The marble stopped right where it hit its mark, meaning it was still in play.

Spot grinned, clearly pleased with himself as he turned his attention back to Dash. She clapped, nodding slowly.

“That was great, yeah! Hey, at this rate, maybe we’ll have a winner by Thanksgiving!” she teased. Abigail let out a cough that Dash could have sworn was a laugh.

Spot’s grin snapped back to a scowl, squinting hard at her. Dash smiled back. Sometimes it was just too easy.

Spot closed his eyes briefly, regaining his composure. When he opened his eyes again, the look in his eyes had changed.

“Oh, I ain’t movin’ fast enough for ya?” he asked, stretching out his arms and making a big show of moving into shooting position once more. Slowly, he leaned forward, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time. “That’s no problem. I can go faster.”

He set his eyes on Dash’s lucky shooter, and before she could even process what was happening, he shot his red marble straight for it.

Dash’s eyes widened in horror, and she gasped as the shooter crashed into her minty blue sphere, causing it to roll right out of the ring.

Her heart sank, realizing what he had just done. She looked up at him in dismay and was met with a smug smile.

“Oh, would ya look at that? Seems like ya lucky marble ain’t so lucky no more.” He snickered. “Oopsie daisies.”

The other Brooklyn kids appeared stunned at what their leader had done, exchanging nervous glances with one another. Sure, he had joked about taking the marble, but it didn’t seem like they thought he would actually take it.

“Spot…” Abigail started, but Spot ignored her, plucking the shooter from the ground and rolling it across his palm as he stood.

“You were right, Abby. She shoulda listened to your advice, don’t’cha think?”

For a minute, Dash was speechless. Did that really just happen? Was he being serious right now?

Her shock quickly turned to rage. She rose and stormed up to him, lunging toward the marble.

“No! That’s not fair, you can’t-”

“What exactly ain’t fair here?” Spot interrupted, snatching it away and holding her prized shooter high in the air. “I ain’t no cheater, ask anyone here! I won this here marble fair and square!” He looked over at the others for confirmation, daring any of them to argue. “You all saw it, right? No rules broken, yeah?”

Reluctantly, the three nodded in agreement, which only fueled Dash’s anger. She grunted and jumped toward his raised hand in an attempt to grab it, but he stepped back, barking out a laugh.

“Better luck next time, short stuff!”

Dash grunted, jumping up and down as she tried snatch her marble. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you! You’re barely three inches taller than me at most!”

“Still, it’s three inches you ain’t got!” he snickered. “I’m playin’ the game the way it’s s’posed to be played! When ya shoot your opponent’s marble outta the ring, you claim it! That’s the rule!”

They danced around one another, Dash hopping up toward his hand and Spot pulling away at the very last second. Dash could feel her cheeks burning. She grit her teeth and let out a loud groan. “Why are you being such a jerk?!” She exclaimed, taking another swing just as he jumped out of the way. “You only shot at my marble to be mean!”

“I’m the jerk?” He scoffed, side stepping when she tried to snatch it again. “You’ve been pickin’ on me this whole time! ”

“Was not!”

“Were too!”

“WAS NOT!”

“WERE TOO!”

“Hey, now,” Chatter spoke up for the first time, stepping forward. His voice was deep and soft. “Maybe we should all calm down…”

But Dash didn’t want to calm down. She was fuming, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. Logically, she knew she shouldn’t be getting so worked up over a silly, little marble, but she couldn’t control it; she was livid! How dare he take something from her that he knew was special to her! How dare he hold it over her head and taunt her with it! The way he smirked down at her made her stomach bubble with anger. She wasn’t going to let him get away with this.

She lunged once more, but this time, she wasn’t aiming at his hand.

She reached for his head, plucking off the brown cap from his head in one quick swipe and scurrying backward with a triumphant “HA!”

Spot blinked in surprise, his free hand instinctively moving toward his head. His caramel hair was now in disarray, falling in wisps across his face.

“Ha ha. Very funny, girlie, give it back.”

“No.”

“Seriously? Dash, c’mon.”

Dash was already scooping up her bag of belongings and throwing it over her shoulder, a wild grin on her face. It was juvenile, sure, but it was the only thing she could think to do in the heat of the moment. She offered him a quick salute, then bolted from the scene of the crime, leaving a flabbergasted Spot behind her.

She was already halfway down the block before she heard an enraged bellow behind her:

“DAAAAASH!”

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End of Part 1

#newsies #newsies fanfic #newsies oc #newsies oc fanfic #hyacinthus writes #newsies original character #dash #spot #pls be kind this is my first fic since i was 12 asdfgdsa #oc x canon #cringe culture is dead oc x canon is cool now

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