#i played against the same annoying person two times in a row and they kept spamming your turn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

troubatrain · 4 years ago

Text

want you to want me - m. tkachuk

a/n: i’m awful at intros but this fic is my whole ass child. i started it months ago and i picked it up back and then i just couldn’t stop writing. now we’re at a whopping 10k words and i’m really happy with the way this one came out. i hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it.

big thanks to @hookingminor @igor-shestyorkin & @tkafuckit for reading this as i wrote it and gassing me up ily all sm

warnings: smut

You were Matthew’s dream girl, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. You were leaning against the cold metal bleachers of your former high school, chatting with whatever teacher probably wanted to hear all about that shiny NWSL contract you signed right out of college with the Chicago Red Stars. It was well deserved, a few national titles in college put you in the position in the first place, and Matthew respected the hell out of you. You wouldn’t know, by the way he never seems like he actually wants to speak to you and the few snide remarks about your sport in general. That started forever ago, when Matthew royally fucked up any chance he had with you later in life because he was a competitive asshole.

It started when you were twelve, and middle school was nothing short of a mess. Matthew was growing into his own, adding a near foot to his height over one summer while his father and coaches doted on the fact that he was getting bigger. Getting bigger meant getting better, and for a few years winning was the most important thing in the world. But, becoming a hormonal preteen came with something else, feelings about the girl who sat three rows behind him in almost all of his classes.

Then third period gym class came around, and Matthew was a competitive monster. The kind of kid who took that way too seriously, and you accidentally became public enemy number one. You were the only person in his class who could even come close to beating him at anything, because you were just as much of an athlete as he was. Soccer had become your craft, and much like Matthew, you declared you’d go pro one day. So, Matthew did what any other insecure twelve year old boy would, he teased you relentlessly. It was awful, but by the time Matthew had gone off to play for the National team you had forgotten about his bullshit.

Apparently, you’d done something in a past life to warrant dealing with Matthew for longer than you ever anticipated. Jamie was your little sister, and Taryn’s best friend. Best friend was probably understatement, the pair were inseparable on and off the field. They trained together, they played on the same teams and that meant way too much time with the rest of the Tkachuk’s. You learned quickly, that the rest of their family was wonderful and Matthew seemed to be too thick headed to fall in line.

You tolerated Matthew, brushing his silly remarks off just like you did when you were younger. The thing was, Matthew didn’t want you to just tolerate him, but he didn’t know how to get you to stop hating him. You make your way over to Matthew who’d been standing next to his brother since the start of your sister’s game.

“Hi Brady,” You greet, tapping Brady on the shoulder who pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That annoyed Matthew the most, the way you seemed to love his siblings and despise him. In your defense, nobody was more supportive of your professional career than Brady, who’d made a promise to catch a game the second he could, “Hi Matthew.”

You were waiting for something from Matthew, an acknowledgement for finally achieving a dream of yours. You’d gotten the congratulations from the rest of his family, a massive celebration because Keith thought you deserved it. Matthew probably didn’t think you did. You could practically hear his smug little voice about how much his recently inked contract was compared to yours, because you’d heard it since you were kids. He used to rip on your athletic abilities every chance he could, something about how it didn’t matter how hard you could kick a ball you couldn’t hold a hockey stick so he was just better.

“You’re here!” You hear the chipper voice of your little sister approach, Jamie’s sweaty postgame arms wrapped around your waist. You’d been in Chicago, signing some paperwork and looking into finding a place to stay when you had to go for camp. You promised you’d make it back in time, and your flight landed less than five hours ago but you made it.

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself, watching his own sister push past him to see you. Taryn loved you, because sometimes she just needed a big sister and her brothers were in another country most

of the time. It was the part that killed him the most, seeing you with his family. You fit right in, a fierce athlete with drive that rivaled his own. Brady side-eyed his own brother, watching him instead of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was frustrated with his own brother for not just telling you the truth, that he teased you because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to handle having a crush on you.

But Brady was going to do it himself if his brother didn’t.

***

Matt, you don’t have a girlfriend right?

Matthew knew damn well he should not have answered his sister’s question, but when he realized her best friend had been sitting right next to her in the kitchen, his curiosity got the best of him. So he did, telling his sister he was single and sparing her details of any of the girls he’d gone on dates with the past year. That was his life is Calgary, a constant revolving door so no one would see what was underneath layers of sarcasm and angst. But every summer, he’d come home and wonder when he’d start to build a life for himself, and if he’d ever find that person to do it with. That was when his brain would start to wander, fantasies of a future that always seemed to involve you. He loved to imagine it, the years that you’d both spend supporting the other’s dream. Matthew would do anything to make sure you achieved yours, and he thought you’d do the same. Then you’d both settle down, the big house with the white picket fence and a shiny ring on your finger Matthew put there himself and years of arguing about what sport your future children would play - he’d even consider letting you have just one.

Unfortunately, none of that could be real until he figured out how to get you to hate him less. Taryn apparently had the same idea, and had been scheming with your sister for months. The two girls were looking at Matthew with devilish grins on their faces, like whatever they came up with would totally work.

“Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Your sister hums, sipping the smoothie they forced Matthew to drive them to go get, “It’s sad actually-”

“We think you should date,” Taryn explains, Matthew’s eyes went wide. His sister didn’t know the whole story, or just how far back this stupid fued went. Taryn always loved you, so Matthew just kept his remarks to himself.

“I know you know Y/N doesn’t like me very much,” Matthew explains, “So tell me how that’s going to work.”

“Apologize to her, if she can forgive me for anything she’ll forgive you,” Jamie sighs, thinking of all the times you’d shown her mercy when she didn’t deserve it.

“You’ve got to be sorry,” Brady interrupts, mouth full of food while he goes to go look for more in the fridge. He turns around, Matthew’s eyes giving him daggers, “What? You were a dick to her for years, you’ve got to fix that first.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that, Taryn had already planned out what Matthew should say to you. Matthew wasn’t going to repeat those words, because he knew exactly what he’d say to you if he ever got the chance. He was trying to fix his past, because the way he acted towards you was the one thing he regrets.

So with the help of your little sister and the Find my Friends app, Matthew was pulling up to a soccer field he’d been to plenty of times. He used to run through the park nearby, catching a glimpse of your practices when you were in high school and Matthew was an afterthought. He hops out of his car, smiling when he could see you running drills alone. You were dribbling the ball, counting to yourself while you were weaving through cones you set up.

“I’ve never been good at those,” Matthew calls out, walking over to you while you stopped and caught your breath, “I kick the cones with my skate every single time.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” You tease, grabbing your water and guzzling it down, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize?” Matthew admits, knowing his face was probably bright red. He was nervous, the good kind like he got before a big game, “I was just an insecure kid then, and you didn’t deserve what I did just because I was afraid you’d beat in something.”

Matthew left out the part where he felt like he was still that kid all the time. All of those insecurities about himself seemed to be picked up by every reporter in Canada when he was there. You bit your lip, pretending like you were trying to debate whether or not you should forgive Matthew at all. In reality, you would have forgiven him ages ago if he’d just apologized sooner. It was so long ago, and sometimes you thought Matthew’s constant taunting made you better. He was pleading, baby blue eyes staring at you sadly while he waited for your answer. He looked like he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven, shoulders slumped while he tried to read your body language. It was something you noticed about Matthew forever ago, he could have everything in the world but when he looked at you he seemed almost sad.

“I mean I could forgive you, but only if you beat me,” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Matthew, “If I win, I don’t have to and if you win all is forgiven.”

“Really? Isn’t that why we were in this situation to begin with?” Matthew points out, crossing his arms at you.

“I thought you weren’t that kid anymore,” You remind of his own words, testing him to see if he’d put his money where his mouth was. Matthew smirks, chuckling to himself, “C’mon Tkachuk let’s see what you got.”

Matthew shook his head, laughing and lining up next to you. You both counted to three, sprinting down the field at full force. Matthew knew his height was the only thing working to his advantage while he tried to keep up with you. You were nearing your finish line, and Matthew didn’t think he was going to win. You were going to forgive him regardless, but Matthew didn’t know that. His arms stretched out, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his chest. Matthew turned his body around, stepping over the line before you did.

“God, you’re such a fucking cheater Matthew,” You hit his chest, Matthew’s hands still firmly placed on your hips.

“I didn’t want to lose,” Matthew admits, all of his smug attitude diminishing immediately, “Just want you to forgive me.”

“I’ll forgive you if you never pull that shit on me again,” You poke his chest, slipping out of his grip and running to your stuff before he could notice how nervous he was making you.

No. Absolutely not. You told yourself while you checked your phone, rolling your eyes at the warning text from Jamie that Matthew was on his way, you couldn’t have anything but indifference to Matthew Tkachuk. It got harder everytime you saw him, the past few years had been nothing short of kind to him, he was growing from a dumb immature boy to a man more and more every summer. You turn around, peeking at Matthew who was sitting down and catching his breath, a winning smile on his face, the same kind he had the very first time he schooled everyone at floor hockey in middle school.

Maybe you could be friends.

***

Matthew liked having you as a friend, mostly because as of right now that was all he was going to get. You definitely didn’t trust him, which was valid considering Matthew had been a dick to you for years, but he was working on it. He had to, that uncontrollable feeling that he cared about you was getting harder to shove back down with every year that passed.

“You’re friends now, you don’t need to stare at her like a creep anymore,” Brady scoffs, watching his brother gawk at you from afar. Matthew couldn’t help it, you just had a glow about you, you always did, but somehow in the summer you were golden. Tonight you looked even better, maybe it’s because you smiled at him when he walked instead of scowling like you usually did.

“He’s in love with you,” Steph giggles, sipping her drink and giving Matthew a side eye, “He’s been staring at you all night.”

“He apologized to me,” You confess, holding in that little secret about Matthew’s visit to the field even from your best friend. You had the same friends, the same group of people who’d been pushing the two of you to work it out for years. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know that they no longer had to worry about one of you blowing up because the other was there, you just wanted everyone to let it go too. Matthew deserved a little forgiveness, you could only imagine the pressure he felt on himself back then, and while he didn’t totally deserve your protection - you were going to give it to him, “Don’t-”

“Oh wonder why, I know it’s because he looooves you,” Steph teases, “Did you forgive him?”

“Yeah I mean we’re both older and I’d like to think he’s wiser, and besides our parents are way too close,” You knew this was going to be your excuse for a while. It was better for everyone that you forgave him, Jamie and Taryn spent more time together than you’d spend with anyone and you're just as close with the rest of their family. It wasn’t untrue that it was in fact for the best, but that didn’t mean Matthew’s stupid dimples didn’t persuade you before you could think about anyone else, “Can we stop talking about this?”

Matthew’s eyes didn’t leave you once that night, especially after the way Steph downed tequila shots and convinced you to join her. You deserved to celebrate, you’d accomplished something Matthew knew was your biggest dream because it was the same as his. He was proud of you, not that he’d gotten a chance to show it.

“If you’re going to go pro Y/N, you’ve got to start keeping up,” Brady chirps, watching you stumble over your own feet to walk over to him and Matthew. Matthew had seen this once before, a level of drunkenness where you turned into bambi but that was so long ago he never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ll go pro in beating your ass Brady,” You snap back, shooting daggers over Brady who was already cracking up, “Hi Matthew.”

“Hi,” Matthew’s voice was small, a weird sound considering he was usually the loudest in the room. Brady scoffs, walking away from the two of you before he snaps at how hopelessly in love his brother was. You turn your head in confusion, your mind far too hazy to realize why Brady was so annoyed in the first place, causing Matthew to chuckle, “Want to play? Might be best if we’re on the same team.”

Matthew’s thumb shot over to the beer pong set up on the other side of the room, a mischievous smirk on face, “I mean if it’s for the best.”

Matthew’s arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you close to his chest while you both played pong was definitely not for the best, and it wasn’t helping that stupid crush you had on him. You could feel Steph’s stare from the corner of the room, and you look at her to mouth a don’t at her. It was nice having Matthew on your team, finally a moment where instead of arguing with each other about who’s elbow was clearly over the table - you got to do the same thing to Brady.

“Brady you’re cheating,” You call out, Matthew’s head thrown back in laughter at your seriousness.

“You heard her Brady, elbows over the table,” Matthew breathes out, his body still rumbling with laughter at his little brother’s expense.

“Oh look at you two, you’re just gonna raise some winners one day aren’t you?” Brady chirps back, both happy to see you getting along and annoyed once he realizes that means he was going to get roasted by both of you now. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, tucking your face into Matthew’s arm in hopes no one saw the way you shrunk at that stupid joke.

“We’re winners right now,” Matthew calls out, his last ball landing in the cup and sealing the game for the two of you. Matthew would raise winners with you, it was something he thought about from time to time, but those thoughts were never going to see the light of day, “Alright drunky I think it’s time to get you home.”

“You can stay, I’ll just catch a ride with someone,” You waive Matthew off, who shook his head no at you before you even started speaking.

“One, my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left you,” Matthew starts with, holding up one finger with another on the way, “Two, we’re friends now and I’d like to make sure you don’t die before you see a pro game.”

Matthew had seen you this drunk before, but what he didn’t know was that getting you home would be more difficult than he thought. You started in the direction of your house, but apparently you were a runner and a speedy one at that. Now you were barely two blocks away from Matthew’s parents place and if he could at least get you there he’d be able to call it a night - which wasn’t fucking easy.

“Alright I’ve had enough,” Matthew huffs, jogging to catch up with you and scooping you into his arms. You were hanging over his shoulder, Matthew making his way down the street with the house in his sightline. You could have cared less, laughing your ass off while Matthew walked up the stairs and finally placed you back down on your feet, “Be quiet, go up to my room and get some clothes and go sleep in the guest room.”

You weren’t quiet, not at all and Matthew was amazed not one of his parents came down to see what all the chaos was about. After Matthew had to walk you up the stairs, running back down for some water and hoping you weren’t a disaster by the time he got back - he found you in his bed. You were curled up right in the middle, an old London Knights shirt on your body, Matthew’s favorite. Matthew grabs his comforter, throwing it over your body. He sighs, leaning against his door frame and smiling to himself at how comfortable you looked, flicking off the light and retreating to the guest room.

Matthew hated the guest room. He hated how hard the mattress was and after a few hours of no sleep and tossing and turning - he gave up. Matthew hoped no one else was up, but not to his surprise his mother was already in the kitchen, and judging by the look on her face, she knew who was upstairs.

“Care to explain?” Chantal smirks, raising her eyebrows at her son. Matthew’s face got red, his landing on the back of his neck to cover the blush.

“She fell asleep before I could even get her to the guest room,” Matthew shrugs, hoping his mom wouldn’t push it any further, “I, uh, apologized the other day.”

“Good,” Chantal hums, a knowing look on her face. She didn’t like to push Matthew, her one kid who seemed to be a little rougher around the edges than the others, but that silly feud never sat right with her, “Here, bring her a coffee, I’m sure she needs it.”

Matthew nods, grabbing the mug his mother was holding out and starting to make his way up the stairs. He heard the tell her you made it from his mother and shook his head. He knew what she was thinking, especially with the way Chantal seemed to talk about you. His mother thought you were nothing short of perfect, and Matthew would be a liar if he didn’t think the same thing.

“Did I fall asleep here?” You’d woken up confused, your question only answered by the jerseys hanging on the walls, you were in Matthew’s room. You rub your eyes, the door creaking open way too loudly for how dead you felt.

“Only after you almost fell down the stairs and ran three blocks in the wrong direction,” Matthew chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the mug, “You know you’re fast right?”

“Yeah,” You muse, smirking to yourself and taking a sip of coffee, “I’m sorry I did that to you, and stole your bed - I can go.”

Matthew stopped you, telling to finish your coffee and relax and he’d drive you home after. You fell into a comfortable conversation, something Matthew never thought would happen.

And watching you walk up to your steps in his shirt still wasn’t something he thought he’d see, but it was better than he imagined.

***

“Hey it’s Jamie, can’t get to the phone right now…”

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and continuing your pace around the room. It was well after midnight, and your sister had been out all night, and past her curfew. Usually you’d cover for her, definitely taking the prize home for the cool older sister who picks her siblings and their friends up from parties. That’s what had you so worried. Sure, Jamie was a teenager and she snuck in a few little white lies with your parents just like you’d done, but Jamie always told you the truth. She’d check in with you more than her parents, letting you know that she’s going to be out late but she’s safe and if she needed anything she knew who to call. You texted sometime around ten, just checking in since it was Saturday and you were sure she had a more riveting social life than yourself. No answer. Then eleven rolled around and you didn’t hear anything, so naturally you double texted and now it’s twelve thirty and you still haven’t heard anything. You cross your arms, looking at your phone as if you could will an answer into existence. You grab it, dialing a number you weren’t even sure would work.

“Hello?” Matthew’s voice appeared on the other side of the line, clear confusion in his voice. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping Matthew would have the answer you wanted to hear so desperately.

“Is my sister at your house?” You ask, biting your lip and throwing on a pair of sweats so you could pick her up and murder her for scaring you like that. You were sure it was innocent, Jamie slept over at Taryn’s all the time, staying up way too late watching movies or when Jamie would hide going to a party from your much stricter parents.

Matthew tells you to give him a minute, and you can hear him walking through the house. By the time you heard a door open and a small fuck under his breath, your stomach dropped, “She was supposed to be home by midnight.”

“Alright, thanks anyways,” You sigh, “Do you know where they might have gone? It’s just, Jamie hasn’t answered me in hours and she usually does even if she’s out past curfew and I’m just-”

“I’ll be at your house in ten,” Matthew says, his keys alright in his hand and his foot halfway out the door. He was more mad than worried, sure his sister was out a party past curfew. Matthew was her biggest brother, and he was far more protective over her than Brady ever could be. He hated when she did this, and Matthew was pissed. You waited on your steps, Matthew car coming into view while you sprung up and practically sprinted into his car.

“You look mad,” You observe, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. You knew why, trying countless times to remind Taryn that her brother loves her and that’s why he’s like that. You thought he could go a little easier on her, but you wouldn’t dare get in the middle of that.

“I am mad,” Matthew grits out, knuckles white on his steering wheel while he drives slowly down the street. You just drove, in hopes you’d find what was obviously a house party and hopes your sisters were inside. You squint, hoping your eyes weren’t fooling you.

“Wait, pull over I think I see my neighbor,” You yell, Matthew’s foot flying on the break and you hop out. You were right, the bright orange tuft of hair you saw was like a miracle, “Hey Henry have you seen my sister?”

“Oh yeah I think she’s still inside,” Henry points to the house behind him, music blasting and a party in full swing, “I think she’s with Taryn.”

Matthew hops out of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the house with him. Matthew’s fingers were laced with yours with every step he took, weaving through the crowd in hopes you’d see them. It took three bedrooms and a laundry room until you finally saw Taryn standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and you pushed past them both to see Jamie with her head in the toilet. She was fine, well she was definitely in deep shit, but it wasn’t the worst thing to stumble upon. You throw her hair up, your attention moving to Matthew yelling at his sister in the hallway.

“Why didn’t you call someone,” Matthew yells, trying so damn hard to not completely snap on his baby sister. Taryn yells that her phone had died and then Jamie got sick and she didn’t know what to do. Of course they didn’t. You were probably more sympathetic, and you knew just how pissed off Matthew could get. You get up, pushing Taryn back into the bathroom and telling her to watch your sister.

“Calm down before you talk to her, please,” You plead, grabbing Matthew’s shoulders, “Besides, I sort of need some help right now.”

There it was. The very moment Matthew realized all along you could’ve been helping him. Your hands were wrapped around his biceps, a finger gently rubbing the skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. Every bit of anger disappeared from his body, a calm feeling replacing it. He knew you were right, and he’d be thankful for it later. Matthew knew he had to do the right thing by you, and he nodded, willing to follow any directions you gave him.

Matthew carried Jamie out of the house, getting both of your sisters in the car and finally heading back to your house. You knew he was still pissed off, a present frown on his face so you just took the chance. Just like he’d done before for you, you grabbed one of his hands from his steering wheel, lacing your fingers together. You caught the smile on his face, your thumb rubbing over his hand while his shoulders seemed to just relax. Once

Matthew finally helped you get Jamie inside, a night of laying on her floor to make sure she was okay ahead of you stood in the doorway with Matthew across from you.

“Thank you, I know we’re working on this friendship thing but you really didn’t have to do that,” You were eternally grateful, wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist and tucking your head into his chest.

“You’d do the same thing for Taryn,” Matthew hums, knowing full well he definitely owed you for being Taryn’s replacement sibling with him and Brady in Canada for most of the year, “Get some rest okay?”

“Wait,” You stop Matthew, grabbing his hand one more time, “Don’t kill your sister, please she’s just a kid-”

“You’re way too easy on them,” Matthew chuckles, shaking his head at you. He knew Taryn was probably scared, and after he calmed a bit he understood where you were coming from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tell her that if she ever pulls that shit again - he was going to rat her out to their parents.

And when Matthew finally got back in the car, he could see his sister’s grin in the backseat, “Don’t say it.”

She held your hand, are you sure you’re not going to malfunction now?

***

Maybe you were spiraling.

You’d been waiting for this moment your entire life, now you had a few more weeks until camp started and you were afraid. You knew you were good enough, you had to be. But what if you weren’t? You could feel the anxiety settling in, a feeling you hadn’t felt since Matthew told you soccer wasn’t a real sport in fourth grace. It’d been eating at you for weeks, deteriorating any confidence you had left in yourself. So you started pushing yourself even harder. The harder you worked the less like you were to fuck it all up. Your muscles were sore, your body was tired and it was just all becoming too much.

And Matthew noticed.

You were pushing yourself too hard, even the time you were supposed to relax with your families before your seasons started was being spent training. He understood it, the term first round exit lived rent free in his head every single time his skate hit the ice over the summer, but that didn’t make it okay. You looked tired, sluggish while you moved because you were running twice a day and training in between. And he was pissed everyone seemed to be fine with it. You should start working harder then Matthew. If it bothers you so much maybe you could join her. It wasn’t that he was jealous of your work ethic, he was worried. Matthew’s eyes followed you as you ran past his house again. The third time in one day, he’d finally decided he had enough.

Matthew took the walk to your house, charming the pants off your mother for her to tell him you were upstairs because you just got back in. He knocks twice, hearing a come in from the other side.

“What are you doing here?” You question, rolling one of your ankles that just seemed to be getting more swollen every time you started to practice. Matthew noticed it, your hands freezing one you caught his gaze.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Matthew stands his ground, he knew you could have told him to fuck off because no one hates advice they didn’t ask for quite like him, “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s rich coming from the kid who’s played with more broken bones than anyone I know,” You remind him of a few mistakes Matthew’s made playing through injuries he really shouldn’t, “I’m not fucking frail.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Matthew scoffs, it never once crossed his mind that he thought he was tough enough to play through injuries but you weren’t, “It’s about taking a break so you don’t get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” You huff, getting up and trying your best to hide the pain in your ankle when you stood on it. You fell forward, Matthew catching you in his arms and putting you back down the edge of your bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” Matthew asks with soft eyes, he bent down to take your ankle in his hand and inspect it the best he could. It was swelling, probably from the amount of pressure you’d been putting on your body with no breaks.

“What if I never score a goal?” You whisper, teary eyes finally meeting Matthew’s. His brows shot up, alarmed at how one of the best athletes he’s ever seen could feel the same way he felt right before his first NHL game. Matthew sits down next to you, hand on your thigh while you let out a cry, “What if I’m just a bust? Like I get there and nothing works and I suck.”

“You’ll score eventually,” Matthew scoffs, understanding how ridiculous you sounded but just how you felt at the same time, “Everyone does.”

“You scored like four games into your fucking career Matt,” You remind him, Matthew smiling a bit that you knew that to begin with. It would have been impossible not to know, or pretend like you didn’t keep a few tabs on his career. Matthew Tkachuk was a legend in the making, and whether or not you could feel butterflies in your stomach every time he dropped the gloves was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“I got suspended my first season too,” Matthew jokes, a teary eyed laugh escaping your lips, “I’d put down money you score in your first game.”

“Well good thing you have money to lose,” You sigh dramatically, the fear of fucking up still on your mind.

“You’ll find your groove, all legends do,” Matthew promises, throwing his arm around your shoulders. You snuggled into his side, a realization that he was becoming a comforting presence in your life with each passing day, “And if you don’t, you can always hide out in Canada with me.”

“Matty!” The same silly nickname Matthew introduced himself to you on your very first day of kindergarten slipped through your lips without realizing it. Matthew hadn’t been called that in ages, but it was welcome from you. You push his chest, “That’s not making me feel any better.”

“What if I told you the only reason I was so mean to you was because I was intimidated by how talented you were?” Matthew confesses, scratching your head with his fingers, “If I win a cup one day I think I owe you one.”

Matthew didn’t mention that in his wildest fantasies of raising that cup over his head, you were there. He’d owe you one and he hoped it was because you were there for him until he got there. Matthew saw it the same way every time, you’d tell him to go see his parents first but he’d fly right past them to get to you - the person who accidentally pushed him to be his best. He had plenty of daydreams about you winning too, remembering times you used to brag you’d go to the Olympics one day, and he hoped you were right. He wanted to see you succeed, more than anything, and he thought it would work.

“Legally you have to let me drink out of it,” You muse, shutting your eyes and letting yourself just rest against Matthew.

“It has to be Bud Light,” Matthew teases while watching you fake a gag. You grab his outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. His hands rested on the side of your face, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second. He wanted to kiss you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait for you to be ready. Wait for you to settle down. Or even just wait until he thought he had a real shot at forever.

Forever with you.

***

Matthew was kind of pissed off.

The press didn’t bother him, none of that mattered and at the end of the day Matthew was able to sleep at night knowing he was a good teammate and a decent person most of the time. This one got him though, some writer criticizing the A on his jersey, and how someone who plays like he does didn’t deserve a letter.

A letter he earned.

You could tell something was off, the way Matthew had been running alongside you was aggressive to say the least. He insisted he came with you, something about forcing you to take breaks. He was being your friend, even though your sisters seemed to disagree. Taryn’s words were replaying in your head, Matt doesn’t even care if I get hurt. That didn’t mean anything, those two had no idea what love was and Matthew caring about you a little bit didn’t mean he loved you. Besides, the way he was acting right now told a completely different story.

“Are you mad at me?” You finally slow down, sitting on a rock that was next to the hiking trail you were on.

“No?” Matthew stops dead in his tracks, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach that he fucked this up too, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” You push, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at Matthew. You could tell he was pressed about something, his neck covered in a red flush the same way it used to.

“Some stupid article about my letter, don’t worry about it,” Matthew grits, repeating his words again. His defense was up, even after you confessed to him that you were scared of not being enough.

“Get the fuck out of here with the tough guy act Matthew,” You challenge him, poking him right in the chest, “If we’re going to be friends you need to cut that shit out.”

“You really want to hear it?” Matthew barks back, fully yelling at you, “I’m tired of people thinking I don’t deserve things because I threw a few bad hits. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think you’re shitty? No you don’t, because you’re so fucking perfect that my own parents like you more than me.”

You stood there, silent while you tried to figure out how to tell him that simply wasn’t true. His entire body was shaking, the anger coursing through his veins like you’d seen many times before that. Matthew looked like he did the first time you hit a homerun in gym class, except this time it was because that same pressure never got released. You couldn’t come close to understanding the way he probably felt. You didn’t have the comparables in your own family, the constant reminders of Brady’s points tally compared to his, let alone the career his father had.

“Matty,” You whisper, grabbing his hand and running your fingers over the scars on his knuckles, “Why is this bothering you so much?”

You were sure this wasn’t the first time someone’s said he was a pest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Matthew sighed, the better part of his brain screaming at him to stop before he lost you too.

“I’ve felt like this forever,” Matthew whispers, eyes fixated on your hand in his, “From the moment I started getting bigger, there’s just been this pressure to play a certain way and act a certain way. I was a fucking kid, and while all of my friends got to go wherever they wanted all I ever did was practice. Then I finally get to where I wanted and I’m still getting shit on.”

“Except no one thinks you don’t deserve to be where you are,” You whisper, quiet words as if you were going to startle him, “And I know it doesn’t make up for things people say, but the people who love you think you deserve it.”

Matthew nods, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his words mumbled against your forehead, “I needed that.”

“I know,” You nod, smiling wide up at him, “And we need to practice more because you’re too slow, soooo catch me if you can!”

You slipped out of his arms, running away with a giggle and a smile. Matthew stopped for a second, his Neanderthal brain checking out your ass while you jogged away and his more logical one trying to process what just happened.

But what mattered most was that whatever you did worked and that meant something to Matthew.

***

Just admit you think he’s hot.

You wanted to kill your sister for making this weekend harder than it had to be. You were doing a good job at just friends with Matthew until Jamie was curled up in your bed while you packed for a lake trip with your friends. She pushed it for hours, rambling on about Matthew is actually your type and Taryn swears he’d be a good boyfriend if someone just understood him. The problem was, you were starting to see her point. Matthew had a glow up a few years ago, like one summer he’d gotten home and you were infatuated with him. It used to annoy you, because he’d been such an ass to you that you hated how attractive he was. Then things changed, and now looking at him was just frustrating you. You were terrified about the way he made you feel, like everything would be okay with one look of those blue eyes and a smirk. You felt like he had your back, a vast change from how you used to feel and it was just getting hard to hide it anymore.

Especially when Matthew looked like he did right now. He was holding himself up on the dock, shoulders broad and glistening in the moonlight above you. All your friends were inside, moving their party away from the water as the night lingered on. You wanted to run your fingers through his wet curls, the temptation was almost too much.

“I’ll be in Chicago a few times you know,” Matthew hums, enjoying the time alone he was getting with you. Anytime without Brady teasing him about what the Tkachuk’s had been referring to as the hand holding incident. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t want you, because he did, but he just needed to move at his own pace.

“You want to come see me play?” You ask, leaning back on the palms of your hands. You were surprised by the kind of man Matthew had become, it was a completely different person that he used to be. He cared so much about his loved ones, and you were starting to feel like maybe you had a place there.

“Actually thinking you could come see me play,” Matthew teases, sarcasm dripping from his words. You lifted your foot up, kicking some of the water below you to splash him, but he’d caught your ankle before you could. He stopped for a moment, running a thumb over your skin, “This looks better.”

“Don’t make you admit you were right,” You whine, Matthew swiftly pulling you into the water with him. You yelp, the water way too cold for any normal person, “It’s freezing.”

“C’mere then,” Matthew grabs your waist, pulling your body against his. His hands were splayed across your back, heat radiating off of them. One of your hands was on his shoulder, your other on his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly, his eyes locked on yours, “Middle school Matthew would be so jealous of me right now.”

“Why’s that?” You hum, running your fingers along Matthew to play connect the dots with the beauty marks on his skin.

“Because he had the biggest crush on you,” Matthew confesses, his grip on you a little tighter, as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers again, “But he was too thick headed to do anything about it.”

“What about grown up Matthew?” You ask, biting your lip. Matthew was practically holding you both up in the water, pressed so close together you could hear the hitch in his breath at your question, “Is he too thick headed to do something too?”

You wrapped your legs around Matthew’s waist, pressing your lips to his and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. He pushed you up against the dock, helping you back up and pulling himself up next to you. You grabbed the back of his neck, latching your lips back on his. His hand was on your back, fingers toying with the back of your bathing suit, “Think we can get upstairs without anyone noticing?”

Matthew was cool most of the time. He never faltered under the pressure from his career, most of the time, and he definitely didn’t fold when it came to a pretty girl. You had him in the palm of your hand, every part of his brain malfunctioning in response to your words. You bit your lip, wondering if you’d read this entire situation. Matthew rubs a thumb along your lip, “When are you going to realize I’d do whatever you asked me to?”

The two of you snuck up the stairs, giggles and stolen kisses left in your wake. You open the door, Matthew’s hands still toying your bathing suit top, “Just take it off already Matty.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Matthew breathes, his lips pressed against your neck while the garment falls to the floor, “So fucking beautiful.”

You back hit the mattress, Matthew’s hands running up your body slowly. Slow wasn’t in Matthew’s vocabulary, but he was taking his time just in case he never got this opportunity again. His fingers hooked under your bathing suit bottoms, sliding the wet fabric down your legs. You looked so beautiful, spread out just for Matthew like he’d dreamed about numerous times. His lips moved down to your breasts, teeth grazing against your skin while his tongue swirled against your nipple. You let out a breathy moan, Matthew’s ego boosting from the sound. You plucked at his curls while his mouth moved down to where you were craving him most, a gentle kiss to your clit, “Matty, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to beg,” Matthew hums, pressing feather light kisses around your core. He stopped, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, “You sure about this?”

“Yes, please,” You whine, pussy dripping from Matthew’s hot breath fanning over it. Matthew chuckles darkly, fingers digging into your thighs when he flicked his tongue over your clit. You moan, completely unbothered by the blaring music a floor below you. Matthew didn’t seem to be bothered either, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit, living for the way you were whimpering above him, “Matty-”

“Close baby?” Matthew groans, slipping a finger inside of you and curling it. You back arched, his name falling through your lips was enough to answer his question. Your legs shook, pleasure washing over your body from Matthew and all of it just felt so right. Matthew’s lips were latched to your skin until he finally met your eyes again. He smiles softly, nudging his nose with yours while you caught your breath, “So good for me.”

“Should’ve known you were that good with your mouth with the way you run it,” You tease smiling against his lips.

“Not with you, not anymore,” Matthew promises, soft blue eyes looking into yours, he meant it. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer, he wanted you. You kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his abs and stopping where his shorts hit his waist. Matthew kicks off his swim trunks, cock springing free. You grab the back of his neck, pulling your lips to his and rolling over top of him and straddling his waist. It was criminal how good you looked on top of him, “Gonna ride me babe?”

You nod, lining his dick up your core and lowering yourself on top of him. You let out a whine, Matthew’s smug smile on full display once he realized it was because of how big he was, “We don’t have to if my dick’s too big.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your hips, watching the way Matthew’s head fell back, smirking because he really thought he had control here. Matthew’s hands gripped your waist, moving your hips faster. His finger flicked over your clit, causing you to lunge forward on top of him. Matthew flipped you over, wrapping a leg around his waist so he could hit your g-spot. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails leaving scratches Matthew was going to wear pride later. You were seeing stars, noises leaving your throat you’d never even heard yourself make, “Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Look at me,” Matthew grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours and watching while your eyes roll back with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around him, his own cum spilling into you from the sensation, a loud groan following. Matthew pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried inside of you, “I wasn’t bullshitting you, I mean every word Y/N.”

“Matthew,” You whisper, running a finger along his back, “The distance…”

You didn’t mention everything, the way that if this was real it meant it would end up ripping you both apart. You were set to live in a different city, Matthew all the way in another country. The way your dreams included a spot on the U.S. National team, and the idea that wanting to be with Matthew would hold you back was terrifying. The way his dreams probably meant staying in Calgary forever, a C on his jersey and a cup over his head. It wasn’t going to be easy, you weren’t ever going to be the doting girlfriend he probably needed. There would be years of travel schedules and games that overlapped, and a part of you thought that maybe Matthew wouldn’t be able to do it. You’d get a year in and he’d find someone who would be there more and finally you’d end it.

“We can make it work, baby I want you, I always have and I probably always will,” Matthew starts, baring his soul to another person for the first time in his goddamn life, “I want to support your dreams and have you be there for mine. I’m all in here, I don’t know how else to tell you.”

“Can I have some time?” You plead, holding onto Matthew’s shoulders because you knew he could leave and tell you to never speak to him again. Matthew sighs, understanding the way you were shitting yourself about starting your own professional career, remembering the way rookie Matthew would have died before he considered settling down that first year, “Please don’t leave me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew promises, rolling over and letting your rest on his chest, “I’ll wait for you.”

You smile, snuggling closer to him. Matthew didn’t sleep a minute that night, running every single scenario that could possibly happen with the two of you. Matthew was sure it would work out, it had to, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.

So now all he could was wait.

***

You know this is creepy right?

Matthew stares at Sam, punching his teammate in the arm lightly and telling him to shut up. He had a night off in Chicago, and after four straight hours of staring at your contact in his phone, Matthew finally just bought the tickets. He’d been good at keeping his distance, you needed space and he respected you enough to try and give it to you. He wasn’t doing so hot, Matthew consuming more soccer games than hockey games at this point. It started with your first game, because how was he supposed to just pretend like it wasn’t happening? You scored too, and it took everything in his power not to call you to tell you that not only was he right, he was insanely proud of you.

And he’d been hearing it from everyone. Your sister thought it was bullshit, Taryn and Jamie almost had Matthew on a flight to Chicago ready to show up like a terrible Lifetime movie. Brady thought it was hilarious the way Matthew was simping like this for one girl. Now, his teammates were on him, wondering why on Earth their friend who historically ran through women faster than he did mouthguards could be this hung up on someone he had a crush on in middle school.

“What number is she?” Sam asks, sipping the beer he forced Matthew to buy after making him go along with this.

“Nineteen,” Matthew smiles, pointing down at you on the field. You looked so happy, warming up with one of your teammates and a bright smile on your face. It seemed like a good fit, your team and your new city, and it made Matthew’s heart grow four sizes.

“Did she choose your number?” Sam jokes and Matthew mumbles something under his breath, “What?”

“It was her number first,” Matthew admits, not wanting to ever confess to another soul that you crossed his mind when he kept that camp number. Sam howled next to him, leaning over his seat and cracking up at his teammate.

You looked out in the crowd about halfway through the game, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. That tuft of curls was hard to miss, not to mention you knew just how big Matthew was. He was far too into the game to realize you caught him, up in arms about a call against your team that was valid but he’d argue it wasn’t. You asked for space, and it was getting harder to stick to your guns. Especially when he was making it so clear that he wanted this.

And whether or not you went to his game the next night, was a secret you’d take to the grave.

***

You were so close you could have tasted it.

While the final seconds of your season came to a close, all you could do was hold your head in your hands and hope no one caught the tears. A semi-final loss was devastating, but a semi-final loss where there wasn’t anything you could have done differently was even worse. Every athlete had off nights, a point Keith pushed right before you left to start your season, and he was right. Unfortunately, that was this game. Your biggest fear had come true and there was nothing you could do about it now. The game was over and you weren’t moving on.

And Matthew watched it.

Matthew promised you space, and he swore he’d give you the time you needed to settle down. But, this was something he couldn’t ignore. He could tell you were off, your entire rookie season was almost perfect and watching the way you folded during this game was gut wrenching. Matthew knew better than anyone, losing sucked. So he took the chance, grabbing his phone and shooting you a text he’d been waiting to send.

Doors open in Calgary.

and I’m so fucking proud of you.

It was the very last text you saw before you went to bed that night, tossing and turning for a few hours thinking about that loss. You couldn’t stop, every bone in your body was aching and you didn’t know what to do. So you bought a flight, packed your shit and was walking down the hallway to Matthew’s apartment without a second thought. You’d left him on read, calling Brady in the middle of the night and asking for his address, who gave it to you reluctantly with a reminder that if you needed to see him this badly you should rethink the needing time thing.

Matthew let out a groan when he had a bang at his door at three in the morning. Noah definitely was trying to walk into the wrong apartment again, and Matthew was grouchy when he whipped his door open. Except it wasn’t Noah after he’d had too many. It was you, teary eyed with your shit in a suitcase and a broken heart.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” You admit, whispering something you never thought you’d say to anyone, “I just didn’t do enough-”

Matthew didn’t say a word, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and holding you as tightly as he could. You didn’t need to hear it from him, about how things were out of your control and you did your best. You didn’t want that right now, you wanted him, “Baby…”

“Everything hurts,” You whimper, finally just letting it all out. You were bruised and battered from the season, the physical pain alone was enough to upset you, let alone the loss you just took. Matthew carded his fingers through your hair, letting you soak his bare chest with your tears because he wouldn’t have it any other way. You came back to him. You came back to him when things got too tough because you trusted him to bring you some peace, and he was happy about it.

You passed out sometime after that, your tears finally running dry and the exchaustion taking over your body. Matthew woke up early the next day, grateful for the optional morning skate so he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains in his room, a calm snowy morning in Calgary so the city was just a bit quieter.

Matthew settled on breakfast, working away in his kitchen with the only thing he knew how to make. Tell her you made it, his mom’s words from just a few months prior in his head while he cooked. You padded out his bedroom, one of Matthew’s god awful beer shirts hanging from your frame while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his back, “It’s cold here.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Matthew hums, internally pumping his fist when he felt your lips form a smile against his skin. You turned your head, pressing your cheek against his against and letting out a laugh, “What’s so funny?”

“You framed my jersey?” You ask, your eye catching a jersey that was way too familiar. It was hung up beside Matthew’s from his first all star game, both number nineteens staring back at you.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite player,” Matthew hums, a blush covering his cheeks, “I’m so proud of you.”

“You keep saying that,” Matthew finally turns around, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“I’ll keep saying it long after we both retire,” Matthew speaks, words clear and sure because he’s had plenty of time to practice this one, “I’ll say it when you win a World Cup gold, I’ll say it when we have kids, I’ll say when you play at the Olympics. I’m going to say it over and over again.”

“But…” You trail off, all of those same demons you’d been fighting when it came to your whatever this was with Matthew, “What I’m not around enough for you?”

Matthew knew what you were thinking about, he’d thought about it plenty too. There were countless sleepless nights where all he did was wonder if you’d find someone in Chicago who could support you better than he could. He’d do his best, he swore he would, but in order for you to be happy, your passion came first. There was always going to be times when he couldn’t be there and it killed him.

“You’re more than enough,” Matthew promises, his lips ghosting over yours, “I want you to seize every opportunity in the world, I just want to be there to tell you that I love you and use the goat emoji on Instagram when you do.”

You let out a laugh, Matthew’s smile wide enough to see his dimples you loved so much, “I think I want to stay a little while.”

“I think you should,” Matthew agrees, capturing your lips in his, “Besides I’m playing tonight and I think I need to show off now.”

“You’re a cocky asshole.”

“But now I’m your cocky asshole.”

***

One year Later

You had a good reason to be late.

You swore Matthew couldn’t possibly be mad at you for this one. You’d missed your flight to Calgary, a few days post a second loss in the semi finals that you’d been taking much better this time around. Mainly because Matthew wasn’t there, but his stupid smile and words of encouragement where there on facetime hours later. That wasn’t the reason you were late, the reason you were late was because you’d received the most insane news of your life and it was an important phone or that flight. You’d caught the next one, legs shaking not to just call him and share the news, but you needed to tell him in person.

You’d finally gotten by the doors to the locker room entrance, out of breath from spriting there from your cab. There was Matthew, tapping his phone and staring at the clock on his phone with furrowed eyebrows. He was still in his suit, tie pulled a little looser, a nervous habit you realized he had some time ago, “Matty-”

“Don’t call me that just because you know you’re late,” Matthew huffs, already ready for the pout that would have followed so he’d forget all about the fact that you promised you’d make it on time. He holds his hand out, waiting for the handshake he made up in the car on the way to the first game you went to after he finally locked it down. You laugh, slapping your hand against his and letting him pull you closer for a kiss.

“They want me on the National Team,” You mumble against his lips, the words spilling out of your mouth when you pull away with an excited smile. Matthew stood there stunned, while you shuffled your feet in the little dance you did when you were really happy. He grabs your cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips again and again.

“We’re celebrating after this, holy shit,” Matthew cheers, still stunned by your news, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now go score a few goals so we have even more to celebrate,” You kiss him one more time, pushing him before the door before he was late.

“Anything I do seems unimportant now!” Matthew calls out, a light laugh to his voice as he watched you walk away to go sit in the stands.

And that’s how Matthew thought it should be.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

973 notes · View notes

something-fanfiction-ie · 5 years ago

Text

The Years

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: *SMUT* So you embarrass yourself in front of Derek and Spencer, the details of the case are mentioned and are a little intense, and smut. Like, rough, Spencer smut because there is nothing you can say that could convince me that Spencer Reid is a bottom. And swearing.

A/N: AH THE ENDING PROBABLY SUCKS BUT I TRIED REALLY HARD I PROMISE. Also, this is ridiculously long and not all of it is smut. For a hot second this WAS an OC story but I thought you guys would enjoy a self-insert more so I changed it. LOTS AND LOTS OF THANKS TO MY FAV FIC WRITER AND NEW TUMBLR FRIENDS, @reidmorefanfics and @pomsephone Y’all are the best. Also, remember to shower me in reblogs, comments, asks, messages, likes, and anything else you can think of to boost my ego. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING!!!

___

“Actually, that reminds me of a joke that I know.” At the front of the crowded lecture hall, a young Dr. Spencer Reid looks over at his partner eagerly, a smile already splitting his lips apart. Derek Morgan, however, looks over at his partner with a mixture of fear and secondhand embarrassment.

“Reid, I don’t think-” Morgan tries to save him, he really does, but Reid tucks his hair behind his ears and ignores him by starting the joke.

“Einstein, Heisenberg, Newton, and Pascal are playing hide and seek. Einstein covers his eyes and begins counting. While Heisenberg and Pascal run off and hide, Newton takes out some chalk and marks a square on the ground with a side length of exactly 1 meter, then sits down inside the square. When Einstein is finished counting and sees Newton sitting on the ground, he yells, "Ha, I've found you, Newton!". Newton however replies, "No you haven't! You've found Pascal!’”

A short, surprised laugh joins Spencer’s small chuckles, dragging his eyes to the location the sound had come from. Derek looks too, completely taken aback that anyone other than Reid had actually understood the joke. Yet, lo and behold, a young girl sitting in the front row with her cheeks stoplight red and her hand nervously covering her mouth.

Proudly, Spencer nods for Morgan to end the talk, his chest a little puffed out and a smug smile twitching at his lips. They wrap things up quickly, eager to grab some food after leaving campus and before heading back to the BAU.

When Spencer turns to gather his things, grabbing his bag, he notices the soft shuffle of feet against the hardwood flooring of the stage. A pair of black converse peek into his peripheral vision, attached to a pair of long legs that make Spencer blush for noticing at all. Lifting his eyes further, he meets the shy gaze of the only person who had laughed at his joke. It came as no surprise when he sees that your tee shirt had a picture of a cat with the words ‘Wanted: Dead and Alive’ in block lettering.

“Dr. Reid,” Your left hand comes up to push a stray lock of hair away from your face, a single gold band wrapped around your left index finger, “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I just, uhm, I had a couple questions?”

Looping the strap of his bag over his head and letting the familiar weight of it settle against his hip before he responds, Spencer ignores the way Derek looks at him by pretending he isn’t there at all.

“Of course,” Spencer meets your eyes, which are a beautiful shade of (y/e/c). “I like the shirt by the way. I’m not usually much of a t-shirt person, but I might wear one like that.” You laugh, shifting on your feet and twisting the ring on your finger.

“Thank you, I got it as a Christmas present. Along with ten billion other nerdy t-shirts. But uhm, I was curious how old you were when you joined the FBI?” Morgan holds his tongue, pretending to shuffle papers around and not pay attention to the poor girl’s crush.

“I was twenty-two. I finished two of my doctorates the year prior.”

“I thought you had to be twenty-three? I’ve always wanted to join the FBI as soon as I could but I thought I had a little more time. That’s what I read anyways. I could be wrong, you would know more than I do.” You looked down at your shoes, kicking the toe of one converse into the wood, your hair falling forward over your shoulders.

“No, you’re right. I had an age waiver. You’re eighteen? Nineteen? You’ve still got some time to prepare.”

“I’m seventeen, actually.” Your lips skewed to the side, the confession barely above a whisper as you continued to stare at your feet. Spencer blanched, unable to contain his surprise. He was quick to school his features, though, when you finally looked back at him.

“You’re seventeen and you understood his joke?” Morgan couldn’t help but cut in now, stepping away from the table he’d been pushing papers around on and toward the two younger people left in the room.

“A pascal is a unit of measurement equal to one Newton per square meter. By sitting in a square meter, Newton was being one newton per square meter. Which is, again, equal to a pascal. So he was Pascal.” A smile had worked it’s way past the nerves that jumped around your body. You weren’t very used to talking to young, attractive, intelligent doctors who worked for the FBI.

“Although, even if I hadn’t understood the science behind the joke I might have still laughed. You see, there is this thing called the Halo Effect, which is basically a cognitive bias you might develop based on your initial impression of someone that can change how you feel about their specific traits. Essentially, one example would be that someone you find attractive may seem funnier or more intelligent simply because you find them attractive.”

It takes all of a second for your face to turn beat red as you realizes your nervous ramblings have made you reveal the silly crush you had started to develop on the young doctor. Derek’s lips purse in amusement when he sees the similar shade of red that has colored his partner’s cheeks.

“Not that I’m saying I find you attractive,” Your heart stops cold in your chest and you are quick to retract the statement. “Not to say you’re ugly either, because that’s not what I’m trying to say at all. Just that my first impression of you as a nice and attr- I mean, intelligent man could have very well made my amusement slightly biased because I was more willing to like you based solely on my first impression of you. Which was that you are very nice and, and intelligent.”

It takes all the willpower in the world for you not to throw yourself down the stairwell later that day, the embarrassment having barely faded even hours later. The two men had been quick to assure you they knew you weren’t saying you had a crush on Dr. Reid, but they were obviously just trying to protect your feelings. They wouldn’t be FBI Profilers if they couldn’t tell you had a crush on him. The conversation was pretty much over after that, you being suddenly desperate to make an escape and Dr. Reid just as eager to leave the campus grounds.

The whole team teased him about his teenage fan for months after it happened, Derek had been quick to let everyone know when they came back. Reid had tried to hide from them by scrunching down into his seat and covering his face with a book, but it hadn’t helped him at all.

Eventually though, both you and Spencer were able to move on from the embarrassing moment, though neither of you forgot it. Those moments where you’re all alone and the most embarrassing moments of your life come to creep up and embarrass you all over again? The memory always came back during those moments.

The team, however, seemed to forget about it, Gideon and Elle leaving and Rossi and Prentiss replacing them as the years faded the memory for them.

It wasn’t until JJ took her new position at the Pentagon and Ashley left after her brief consultation on the case in New Mexico that the memory came back to truly haunt you both.

The whole team had heard whispers of a ‘probationary agent’ that would be stepping in to assist wherever needed. Hotch was good at keeping quiet and avoiding questions on the matter, somehow keeping Penelope just as much out of the loop as the rest of the team.

No one was even sure when the new agent was supposed to be coming until the glass doors to the BAU opened and in stepped a young woman with (y/h/c) hair and (y/e/c) eyes. Derek squinted his eyes, your face tickling the back of his memory in a way that annoyed him. Spencer tensed, his eidetic memory quick to remind him of the seventeen year old girl that had basically confessed she thought he was cute, and then called him ‘not ugly’ to try and cover her tracks.

“Agent (Y/L/N), nice to finally meet you.” Hotch said, holding the door open as you nodded your thanks and slipped inside his office with a box in your arms.

“That must be the probationary agent.” Prentiss directed the comment at Reid, oblivious to the resurfaced embarrassment that boiled his cheeks to that same shade of red he’d been in that lecture hall seven years ago. He kept his book up in front of his face while he tried to cool his cheeks, looking over the top of the binding and into Hotch’s window.

You’re sitting ram-rod straight in the seat in front of Hotch’s desk that is closest to the door, your box of things clutched tightly in your white-knuckled hands. Your hair is still the same length, swaying at your shoulders. You’ve switched the Schrödinger’s cat shirt for a deep velvet red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled at your elbows.

But even with the obvious nerves displayed in your current body language, it’s easy to see you aren’t the same stuttering seventeen year old Reid remembers. You holds steady eye contact with Hotch, nodding and fluidly responding in such a way that the usually stoic unit chief actually breaks into a grin that dimples his cheeks. When he stretches over his desk for a handshake, your left hand comes up and grips Hotch’s firmly.

“I’m glad it’s a girl, it was starting to feel a little too testosteronie around here with JJ gone.” Garcia had made her way into the bullpen, a cup of tea balanced in her bejeweled fingers as she, and the rest of the team, size up the girl heading for Hotch’s door.

“I don’t think ‘testosteronie’ is a word, baby girl.” Derek teases, trying to ignore the nagging feelings that he knows this girl from somewhere. Maybe they’d met on a case? But no, that doesn’t feel right.

“It is now, Derek. Don’t argue with me or I’ll have to punish you.” She brings the lip of her cup up, sipping at the lukewarm tea still inside and patting Morgan’s cheek with her free hand. Hotch’s door finally opens again and you step out after Aaron.

A hush falls over the room, all eyes trained to the newest and now youngest member of the team.

“We’ll do introductions on the plane, for now I need everyone in the conference room for a case.” Hotch is quick to make eye contact with everyone, his gaze stern and demanding.

Spencer is the last one into the room, practically dragging his feet to one of the chairs around the circle table. Thankfully, you were sitting across the table. Somehow you haven’t seemed to notice him.

“Yesterday Dawes County police found the body of Julia Hastings along a hiking trail in Kladon. This is the second body they have found in the area in two weeks, the first belonging to Heather Greenaway. Both victims are in their early to mid twenties. Hands and feet bound, buried face down. Each victim was struck once in the back of the head, making cause of death blunt force trauma.”

From your spot at the table, you glance up with narrowed eyes as you open the file you’d been given at the beginning of the meeting.

“Where did they disappear from?” Reid asks, a connection forming in his brain as each picture and detail flies up from Garcia’s tablet and onto the projected pictures before them.

“Night clubs around the area, they were working on the night they each went missing. Both girls were bartenders, had been working at their new jobs a week before they were kidnapped.”

“Justin Millers had the same M.O., kidnapping new female bartenders fitting this exact victimology and holding them hostage for a course of five days, beating and raping them before eventually hitting them on the back of the head with a tire iron.” You don’t look up from the file as you speak, flipping through the pictures and quickly noticing the small odd similarities in the victims between this case and Millers’ case.

“Millers has been locked away for a year and a half.” Derek pointed out, using the opportunity to stare at the face of the girl he was sure he knew but still couldn’t place. When you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed in a way that reminds him of Reid and your head tilted just a little to the side, he can feel his brain grab onto the memory just before it slips back through his fingers.

“I’d guess a copycat. Something seems different, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Your gaze slides over the table, looking at faces to get a gauge of their opinions on you. When you make eye contact with Reid, your eyes widen just a little before you duck your head. You should have known he was still here at the BAU, you’d only hoped he’d went to another unit out of desperation for this job.

“We’ll look into that theory, for now I just want a profile as if this unsub is working from his own killing preferences. We’ll discuss more on the way there. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch stands, flipping the cover over the top of his iPad before making his way out of the room. Go bags are grabbed, certain persons avoid bumping into other certain persons, and then the eight hour plane ride to Kladon, Nebraska begins.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Emily tests the name on her lips, having chosen to move by the younger girl after the fourty five minute theory discussion that started the plane ride.

“You can call me (Y/N/N), that’s what my best friend calls me.” You had popped the first two buttons open of your dress shirt and slipped your shoes off to tuck your feet underneath you. Tucked between your thigh and the arm of the seat is a book with a Greek title, in your hands is the open case file.

“Just your best friend?” Rossi asks from across the way, just as curious about the new girl as the rest of them, but a little better at hiding it.

“She’s really my only friend.” You shrug, but not in such a way that you seem bothered by the fact. You reach up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. Reid notices the gold ring that still circles your left index finger, light coming from the window glinting off the metal when you move. It’s the only jewelry you wears.

“A bit of a loner?” Derek joins the conversation, moving up the aisle of the jet with a cup of something hot cradled in his hands. He takes the seat directly in front of you, blowing at the liquid in his cup.

“I was more focused on getting through school than making friends. Emma just happened to be the only person who wouldn’t let me shake her.” There’s a smile on your lips as you talk about your best friend, your eyes soft.

“What did you go to college for?” Derek is fishing, looking for something to tell him where he knows you from. It amuses Reid, who has sequestered himself into a corner a little further away from you than everyone else.

“I have a masters in philosophy, with a focus in Ancient Greek philosophy. I have a bachelor’s in Greek, which is the only other living language I can speak and read outside of English, and I have two doctorates; one in Classic Studies and one in Criminology.” Rossi whistles, shaking his head and leaning back into his seat to express what everyone else is feeling.

“You young people just keep getting smarter and smarter. You know how many doctorates I had at your age? None. You know how many I have now?” You look at him with genuine curiosity, drinking in all the information you can about the people around you like it was a class you were taking to survive.

“None.” The laugh that bubbles from your lips is infectious and carefree, it pulls Reid’s attention away from his book and it drags Hotch from the constant state of worry that he mentally paces in. Emily, Derek, and Rossi all exchange looks before their own laughter fills the air. It’s nice.

The feeling reminds you of that scene in Mary Poppins where Dick Van Dyke and Ed Wynn laugh themselves into the ceiling. So light and carefree that it could lift them into the sky.

“Why all the attention on the Greek?” Prentiss manages when the laughter subsides, reaching down for the book the young doctor has tucked away. Η φόνισσα, it reads with a black and white picture of arms twisted to the side of the bookcover. You make no move to grab for it, letting the other woman flip through the pages.

“My father was a Greek Philosophy professor before he died, I suppose it’s my way of trying to stay close to him.” Prentiss looks up from the pages, a look of sympathy in her eyes.

“And your mother?” The change in your entire demeanor is like cold water on the conversation, freezing the group in their spots. You reach for the book, tucking it back into the space between your thigh and the seat.

“I don’t know.” It’s the only blatant lie you’ve told since they started talking to you, averting your eyes and shifting in your seat. No one presses the topic, giving the new girl the space you need.

You take the case file with you when you go to make a cup of coffee in the small kitchenette situated in the back of the plane. Reid is already back there, pouring a steady stream of sugar into the otherwise black liquid.

“Dr. Reid.” You nod your head in greeting, avoiding his eyes by setting your folder on the counter and pretending to read it. You’ve been going over every detail of the case for so long that you’ve memorized everything there is to know. There are notes and theories scribbled into the margins and little sticky notes with questions scattered around the papers.

“It helps to step away for a little bit, that way when we land you come back to it with fresh eyes.” The utensils drawer clicks shut as Reid grabs a spoon to stir his coffee, risking the chance to finally look at you.

You’re twisting the ring on your finger and chewing the inside of your cheek. Without your shoes on, the top of your head comes to his shoulders.

When you look up at him, (y/e/c) eyes thoughtful and just as curious as the day they met, Reid can’t fight the urge that draws his gaze to your lips. The skin there is so very soft looking, surprising him when the thought of kissing them hits him like a train.

He clears his throat, focusing all of his attention on the coffee cup in front of him. The sugar is completely stirred in at this point, but he kind of wants to stay in the hopes that you’ll strike up a conversation.

“But everyone is different so you don’t have to listen to me, just do whatever helps you.” His shoulders lift in a shrug and he’s glad that nobody is there to see him interact with this girl. They would know how he felt before he could even come to terms with it himself.

As quickly as you are there, you leave. Completely flustered and unsure how to go about navigating a relationship that’s foundation was an unintentional love confession. Maybe, you thought as you leaned into your seat and closed your eyes, if I just ignore him then everything will be fine.

By the time the jet touched down in Nebraska, you had fallen into a dead sleep with your book sitting open in your lap. Emily was the one to reach out and gently shake your shoulder, the smile on her face gentle and motherly. Still blinking away sleep, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and book before rushing for the exit.

Unfortunately for you, the shoe laces on one of your shoes hadn’t been completely tied. Add that to the speed in which you were trying to separate yourself from Reid, and you managed to trip over your feet and right into the person you were trying to avoid.

Your bag hit the ground, the book following suit as a warm hand grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled. When you collided with someone’s chest, you didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Reid smelled like old books, laundry detergent, and cinnamon.

“Your shoe is untied.” He said, his voice rumbling in his chest. You didn’t look up, afraid the heat in your cheeks would give you away. You looked down instead, noticing the way your feet were inside the breadth of his stance. One shoe’s laces laid precariously around your foot as if mocking you. Quickly, you took a step away and almost tripped again on your bag. You caught yourself on one of the seats, holding a hand out to keep Reid from grabbing you again.

“Thank you, I’m okay. Really.” You didn’t meet his eyes, every lewd thought you’d had during that stupid lecture about his lips and hands and hair came rushing back at you with every glance. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could see each fantasy written on your face like a lusty, ten-cent romance novel.

Morgan, having stopped to watch the two doctors in your clearly flustered states, suddenly felt it click in his brain. Sure, you were older and not as squirrelly as he remembered, but the way you were looking at his partner was nearly the exact same as you had seven years ago.

Feeling smug for finally figuring it out, he walked up to Spencer with his bag thrown over his shoulder, stopping beside him as they both watched you rush for the exit.

“Can you imagine someone having a crush on you for seven years? Oh, wait.” Bending down to grab his bag, Spencer shook his head in such a way that a few loose curls tangled on his eyelashes. A simple sweep of his hand across his face helped to push it away.

“It took you long enough to figure it out.” Spencer took the lead, dreading the car ride with Derek to the medical examiners. He had been hoping his older partner wouldn’t remember who you were, at least, until the case was solved.

“Oh ho ho, don’t think you can avoid this conversation with insults, pretty boy.” Morgan was hot on his tail, and that was exactly where he stayed for the next three days that the team was in Nebraska.

The killer was, in fact, a massive fan of the infamous Justin Millers. It was just a matter of pinpointing which of the crazy fanatics he was, which might have been easier if the local populace was more open to talking to law enforcement.

It was by a brilliant stroke of luck, or rather misfortune, that the team realized sending you undercover would help on many different levels. Not only did you fit the victimology, (all they needed to do was get you a ‘job’ at one of the local bars) but you would also be able to get information from the civilians that were unwilling to talk to the FBI.

Four days into your undercover mission, you found yourself wiping down the counter after closing. The band was packing up their equipment on stage and your boss had already left. Laily, the only other bartender here tonight, was flirting with the drummer while you closed things up behind the counter.

As was customary, the members of your team had taken turns following you around everyday just in case anything happened. Today just so happened to be Spencer’s turn, you’d managed to slip him into the back room before all the customers had left for the night. It was the only reason you gave Laily the okay when she asked if you would be cool closing by yourself tonight.

“I can’t believe after five years of college, I’m back to bartending.” You grumbled, shouldering the backroom door open with a box full of beer in your hands. Spencer jumped up from the crate he’d been leaning against, holding the back of the door open so you could get in a little easier.

“You were a bartender before?” He asked curiously, trying to ignore the way the low-cut black uniform shirt you were wearing fit against your figure and twisted his insides. Factor in the tight jeans that hung on your hips and the sheen of sweat on your skin from the hot summer night and he could barely focus, let alone protect you from any possible threats.

“The years between my college graduation and my joining the FBI, yeah. I could have done something different, I guess, but I wanted to have a normal young adult job before I spent the rest of my life chasing serial killers and such.” You turned to face him, actually meeting his eyes for the first time this week.

Unlike you, he was wearing his FBI Kevlar. The navy blue tie that he wore was tucked into the top of it, the baby blue sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up around his elbows. You, yourself, were having an awful time trying to keep from getting all kinds of flustered just looking at him.

The young profiler you remember was all wiry and clean cut, the man in front of you is more scraggly. His hair curls around his jawline and his forearms are far more attractive than anybody’s forearms ought to be.

His parents were just showing off, casually bringing a child into the world that looks like that.

“I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He blurted, surprising himself. You could tell by the way his brows dipped down and he took a step back immediately after saying it. Even his cheeks were a little pink.

“What happened between us was like seven years ago and all you did was tell me you had a crush on me. And then take it back. I just don’t want it to affect our work relationship because everyone already likes you a lot and I want to get the chance to like you as well.” For someone who always seems so very shy and awkward, his eyes look directly into yours, narrowing just a little. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and turns all of your bones to jelly underneath you.

He just ages like fine wine and you know that, should you be offered a permanent position at the BAU, that you would have to spend the rest of your working days keeping yourself in check while the man in front of you continued to evolve into a more gorgeous version of himself every year. The Spencer you remember had felt like peak Spencer, now this Spencer felt like peak Spencer, but who is to say that five years from now, when he decides to grow a little stubble and style his hair differently, that he wouldn’t somehow get even more attractive?

You open your mouth to come up with some bullshit answer that you didn’t really mean in order to smooth things over, when the door opens again. Spencer, standing directly infront of said door, looks not unlike a deer caught in the headlights of a truck barreling right at him going way too fast on a backroad.

Time crawls at an unusual pace, the door slowly creaking open and Laily’s voice filtering in the opening. Why did he have to wear that stupid vest? Surely the FBI has bullet proof vests you could wear under your clothing. The only idea you could come up with was, honestly, not a very good one. But it was the only one you had.

Practically launching yourself across the room, you catch Spencer’s lips against your own like the world depends on it. Using your own hands, you position Spencer’s arms around you with one hand on the back of your head and the other grabbing underneath your leg that hooks around his waist. The vest uncomfortably digs into your chest with how close your bodies are against one another, your arms now thrown around his neck, but if he keeps kissing you like this then you’ll be inclined to ignore it.

Just seconds ago he had been begging you to have a normal relationship despite your silly ‘past’ crush, now his tongue was fighting for dominance in your mouth. The irony was not lost on you.

“Oh.” Laily gasps a little when she sees you in such a compromising position. The lights from the bar illuminating every detail so that she could see the way Spencer’s fingers desperately tangled in the strands of your hair or how the muscles in his forearm strained as he hungrily pulled your body even closer than before.

The blush on your cheeks and neck are real when you pull your lips away, fire erupting in the pit of your stomach when Spencer catches your bottom lip in between his teeth for just a second. The look in his eyes is devilish when you tilt your head over your shoulder to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry Laily, this is my boyfriend, Lance. I just- I heard about all those girls that have been going missing and I asked if he would drive me home.” The look in your coworkers eyes is all you need to know that this does not look like just a ride home. Although, it very well could have led to a ride somewhere if she had been just a handful of minutes slower.

“Nice to meet you, Lance. Gwen, I’ll see you tomorrow. Just,” the mischievous twinkle in her eyes does not go unnoticed by the two doctors in the room still tangled around each other, “maybe clock out before things get anymore heated.” She teases, the tone of her voice suggesting that you will be hearing more of this tomorrow.

“Bye, Laily!” The door clicks shut behind her, followed by the chuckles and giggles of Laily and the band as they leave for the night. You relax into Spencer’s arms, moving as if to pull out of them before they tense around you.

“We should be safe now.” You whisper, looking up into his eyes that burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in them before. That damn tongue sweeps across those perfect lips again, drawing your attention and reminding you that you now know what they feel like locked with yours.

“I think I hear somebody coming.” He whispers back, aware that you can both hear the soft bang of the front door closing and locking shut from the outside. Since the killings, the door was always locked if employees were still inside, as a safety precaution. Nobody else was coming in tonight unless they had a key.

Your lips meet his anyways, too tired to pretend that the heat between you wasn’t there. If this was the excuse he needed to kiss you, then you were all the more willing to give it to him. His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, causing them to open against his mouth and deepen the kiss.

Both of his wide hands splay against your hips, curling into the soft skin there and pulling you toward him with such force that you nearly trip. The hard edges of his Kevlar vest dig into your ribs and collarbone, the rough material scratching against your exposed skin as you push yourself up on your toes. When he breaks from the kiss, both of you gasping for air not from the length of it by from the passion, it is not to end your tryst.

His lips find the pulse at your neck, sucking a bruise at the soft skin there and pulling a moan from deep within your chest.

“Won’t- Won’t Morgan and Prentiss get worried,” your brain feels like the motherboard of a computer that Spencer has taken into his hands and slammed into a countertop, you can’t think when his teeth nip a love bite to the hickey he’s made on your neck, “if we, uhm, we take too long?”

If you thought the Spencer you met seven years ago was different from the Spencer you knew now, it was only because you’d never seen his bright hazel brown eyes darken with lust from beneath those impossibly long golden lashes. He was a completely different person as he unstrapped himself from the Kevlar, laying it on the floor with a solid thunk before gathering you back into his arms.

“They’ll be okay,” He said in between kisses trailed along your jawline. His movements are confident as he dips a hand down the front of your jeans and into your underwear. Your arms tighten around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck when his fingers find the already wet entrance to your sex. His answering growl does nothing to keep you from coming undone as he presses the pad of his thumb to the bundle of nerves there. “I’m guessing it won’t be long before I have you in the palm of my hands, anyways.”

You rock your hips into him, your eyes fluttering shut with a gasp when he thrusts two long fingers inside of you. His other arm is wrapped around the center of your back, holding you to him because lord knows you can’t be trusted on your own two feet at a moment like this.

“Is this why you planned on ignoring me? Because you wouldn’t be able to handle it if I didn’t give you this?” You whimper a response, too focused on the relentless pace he has set with his fingers to come up with anything coherent. Everything about the moment is raw and animalistic, every fantasy you’d had about him during the fifty minute lecture did not even begin to touch on the feeling of his hand actually inside of you.

“Spencer, please.” You whined, dropping your arms from his shoulders and gripping onto his biceps like it will keep your soul from leaving your body. Yet, as heavenly as this felt, and as much as it exceeded your fantasies, you wanted more. Every part of you craved the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, sticky with sweat and feverish to the touch.

On a tight time constraint, Spencer doesn’t make you beg anymore than that. Instead, he delights in the way you cry out when he pulls his hand out of your pants and up to his lips. Your own lips part with a tiny popping sound when you watch him put those same fingers into his mouth with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Strip.” He commands, licking the taste of you off his lips and leisurely working at the knot of his tie. You don’t waste a second in crossing your arms over your body to pull the black material over your head and drop it at your feet. Next to come off is your shoes, clattering across the wooden floor when you kick them to the side.

By the time you make it to your pants, Spencer has only undone a quarter of the navy blue buttons on his shirt.

“I need you now, Spencer.” The buttons slip through your fingers, your hands shaking with excitement more than nerves. Although, the nerves are definitely apart of it. Never in a million years did you think you would be here; in the backroom of a bar in Nebraska, with Spencer Reid doing salacious things to you. While on your first case with the BAU, nontheless.

Doing a complete one-eighty, his hands come up to cover your own just before the last button comes undone. His touch is gentle and prompts you to look up into his coffee colored eyes. The light from the single bulb dangling from the ceiling is no good, and yet somehow he manages to look like a piece of artwork painted by the most skilled hand known to mankind.

“We don’t have to do this here. We don’t have to do this at all, if you don’t want to.” You squint your eyes up at him, using your fingernail to pop the last button through the hole on the other side of the shirt. When you let go, the pieces fall away from his chest like he’s caught in slow motion on a Calvin Klein commercial.

“I said I needed you now, not later.” In response, he scoops you into his arms and wraps your legs around his hips. The electricity that pops and crackles between you is nearly visible in the dimly lit room, the fabric of your bra skimming against his collarbone when you breath.

The little whines and whimpers that fall from your lips are driving Spencer crazy, forcing him to push through the door and lower you to a shorter countertop meant for making drinks. Tonight it would be used for other, more wicked things.

“Someone’s a bit excited.” You breathed. There was no way you could take a full breath in a moment like this. Everything was so heated and yet nothing was really happening.

“Shut the fuck up.” And then he was kissing you, his lips warm against your own. Despite the fact that you didn’t think it was possible, he pulled you closer. You knitted your fingers into his curls and gave them a slight tug. God, you loved these curls.

He began sucking a heated trail down your throat, quite possibly leaving a pathway of hickeys. You would be putting makeup over them for at least thirty minutes before you left your hotel room tomorrow, but for now they were heavenly fire against your skin.

Spencer took away his lips long enough to strip from his remaining clothes and throw them over his shoulder. When he stood in front of you looking like a Roman god, bared to no one but yourself, it made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

“I’m so in love with your body.” He groaned just before his lips found your breast, sucking on your nipple. Your head fell back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You fumbled for a moment, patting around the countertop before your brain turned on long enough to get your hand between your legs and down to his naked erection.

He moaned into your breast as you began to move your hand. He let go of your boob and went straight back up to your mouth. His whole body was tensed up but his lips were soft as they parted against against your lips. The whole world felt like it was on fire, and his every touch was another lick of flames.

You move your hand faster, enjoying every groan and grunt and moan that finds it’s way out of his mouth and into yours. He’s already close to orgasm, you can tell by the way he breaks from the kiss, your foreheads pressed together and your breath stirring in the small space between your faces. His grip is tight when he grabs your wrist to make you stop.

“No.” Every nerve and thought and feeling was consumed by you and everything else short-circuited. Spencer couldn’t get the words out of his mouth to properly express what he wanted, it wasn’t often that the young genius was rendered speechless.

But you knew, you knew that he wanted to be inside of you. You knew that because you wanted him inside of you just as much, if not more, than he did. You shift your hips around on the counter, getting closer to the edge as you widen your legs.

“I’m on the pill.” You whisper, watching the sudden realization that he hadn’t come prepared widen his eyes for just a small fraction of a second. Just as quickly, the fear turns into that devlish grin you weren’t aware someone so beautifully shy and awkward could possess.

“Thank you, Pincus, Sanger, and McCormick.” You barely have time to question the comment, although later you’ll realize he’s probably talking about three of the minds behind the invention of the birth control pill. No longer taking his time, Spencer positions himself right at your entrance before running the tip of his cock along your wet folds.

“Fuck!” He slams into you, running his entire length into your body, hitting depths you didn’t even realize had never been touched until he was thrusting against them. It sends a wave of pleasure through every cell in your body as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him like you’re running out of oxygen.

He holds onto your hips as he repeatedly rams his hips into yours. He has buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting every curse and moan muffle into your skin. The glasses under the counter jangle with every merciless thrust inside you. The sharp bite of his nails digging into your hips makes you hiss, but it’s more from pleasure than pain.

There’s no dirty talking anymore. Every ounce of pretend you both go through while around one another is shed like seconds skins, leaving two people so hungry for each other that it had been too much to bare.

Your fingers are twisted around the short curls at the nape of his neck and your teeth are biting into the solid muscle at his shoulder. The bar always had whiffs of sex and sweat in the air that mixed with the smell of alcohol and perfume, but now it was the strongest scent in the room.

Even as your orgasm starts to build in your belly, you want more. You want to hold him so close that your brain wouldn’t be able to distinguish where you ended and he began. Letting go of his shoulder, your head lolls back and your own nails draw long lines of red down his neck.

“Spencer!” His name leaves your lips in a mix of a sob and a moan, the ecstasy of just his touch alone driving you higher and higher. The sting of his nails leave your hips, one hand reaching to the place where your connected and the other coming up to grip your jaw in his hand.

His thumb rubs against the little button of pleasure that causes your legs to start to tingle like they’ve been asleep for too long. All the while, he ruthless pace doesn’t falter. Sweat sticks a few of his curls to his temples, providing a beautiful glowing effect across the smooth planes and angles of his shoulders and collarbones.

He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss that ends much too quickly for your taste, but you can feel the rapid exhalation of his breaths as it fans across your cheek.

“Come.” Usually a man of so many words, you had always assumed it would be the same in his sex life. Maybe it was true in most cases, but right now his desire to see you succumb to the pleasure of him inside of you outweighs the need to taunt and tease you with words.

Meeting his eyes, getting off on the smug look that twists his lips as much as you are getting off on his dick actually inside of you, you let yourself fall into the sweet release of your orgasm. Spencer doesn’t stop as you come around him, instead he quickens the pace as his own release works its way to the edge.

Your legs are still shaking when he buries himself into you with one final thrust, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He chases the sting of his teeth away with the softness of the kiss that follows, loosing himself in the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

Neither of you move, although he ends the kiss to gasp for air with your foreheads once again pressed against each other. His eyes are closed, the dark pink on his cheeks and neck making him look so much younger than he was. You keep your eyes open, trying to drink in every second and commit it to your memory the way it would forever be in his.

When he steps away, leaving you feeling much more empty than you’d felt in a really long time, the cocktail of your orgasms spill down the inside of your thighs. Suddenly feeling a bit self conscious, you slip off the counter with your arm wrapped around your bared breasts.

The air seems too cold, the bar too quiet, and your mind was too loud with insecurities as you tried to steady yourself on wobbly knees. Nevertheless, you attempt to make a beeline for the backroom door. If you go and put your clothes back on then maybe you could go back to pretending like he doesn’t exist and everything will be fine.

That is until one of those solidly handsome arms come out to stop you in your pursuit of denial.

He’s still naked, standing next to you like a statue carved by the hands of Michaelangelo himself. Although, you aren’t sure the renissance artist would sculpt nail marks into his skin, the signs of your heated escapade only darkening with time. You can only imagine what your own neck looks like, several spots of sensitive skin still overly stimulated from his wandering mouth.

From your vantage point, you can see his swollen lips open to say something, probably that this had been a mistake, when his phone rings from the pair of pants he’d so carelessly thrown to the floor earlier. A small frown mars his angelic features, the side of his mouth twitching with aggravation.

His lips on yours are a surprise you weren’t expecting, despite the sexual encounter you’d just had. This kiss speaks more words than he could ever possibly say, easing all the post-coital dysphoria that comes with the sudden fall from the high you’d been on. It’s gentle and warm, the hand on your arm squeezes reassuredly before he breaks away with one last peck to your forehead. It nearly tears your beating heart out of your chest.

“Come to my hotel room later.” And then he bends down to snag the phone from his pants with an aggravated growl, turning away from you as he lies through his teeth to a worried Prentiss on the other end.

In the backroom, having shimmied back into your pants and going to put your shirt back over your head, you fingers find your lips. They’re just a little swollen, exactly like his, but you wonder if he can still feel that final kiss against them the way that you could.

Oh boy, were you in trouble.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spence reid #dr spence reid #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds smut #smut

10K notes · View notes

bakugohoex · 4 years ago

Text

“we’re you two...from the future”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: language, violence, fluff

word count: 3800+

a/n: umm sorry for not posting requests, im getting through them all, so hopefully they’ll all be done by the end of the month

summary: in which you and bakugo sneak out intending to go see some stars but are met with the unlikliest of people, explaining their situation, you end up fighting alongside them, and realising just how far your relationship will go with the blond

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

You laid sprawled against Bakugo, his finger flicking through Tiktok which you had forced him to get. One hand playing in your hair whilst he did so, you were reading some manga that had come out for your favourite series. It was a peaceful mood between the two of you, no shouting, no anger just the sound of the soft music playing from your speakers and the Tiktok sounds off of Bakugo.

His rough hands felt warm in your hair, massaging the scalp occasionally which gave you a burst of love. He looked down dropping his phone to the side as he watched you read. The way your eyes would crease when a serious panel was occurring or loosen when something more joyful happened.

“Stop staring, it’s creepy.” You muttered playfully.

He scowled at you, letting go of your hair and moving his legs to make you fall on the bed. “That’s what you get for calling me creepy.”

Chuckling at the boy you drop the manga to the side, moving back between his legs as you rested your head against his chest. He wrapped his hands around your waist and put his chin on top of your head as he let you on his phone.

The boy who had no apps and only cared about the health one. It worried you and forcing him to get Tiktok had made him hate his phone even more due to spending a whole night just scrolling without realising.

“I heard there’s a new exhibition opening up tonight, we should sneak out and go.” Your soft voice contrasted his much louder one. It was angelic almost feeling like he was around an unearthly presence when you were around.

He raises an eyebrow at the thought, “if it’s another shitty exhibition then were not going.”

“It’s not, they’re doing a midnight watch the stars thing.” He smiled watching you try to find the article but unable to. The photo on his home screen reminding him of how much he actually did love spending time with you.

Another late-night outing to get ice cream and it was a photo of the both of you watching the sunset. It was cute enough, but he’d hate if anybody saw it and tarnished his reputation as confident and independent which you’d often refer to as being a dick.

“Yeah, yeah we’ll go then.” He sounded bored of the situation, but you knew him better than anybody through the unamusement he was melting inside. He would get to watch the stars with his love, and he wouldn’t have to worry about anything else.

Midnight arises quicker than usual, Bakugo was normally asleep by 8pm so nobody bothered to question him leaving early. And you, well he’d probably want you beside him, so nobody questioned that either.

Instead you were met by the balcony, Bakugo’s arms around you as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You both had done this too many times to count, you guessed Aizawa knew and didn’t care. As long as you two came back safe than everything would be fine.

The fall from the balcony sent a rush of wind through your hair as Bakugo’s quirk activated and you felt yourself in the air. He had gotten used to using his quirk to fly and was able to do it with a lot more ease and precision. If you let, go you’d be a goner and he’d probably have to save you.

Seeing his lips twitch he was trying to suppress a smile but instead he stayed stoic as usual. Inside his heart was aching at how you looked in the air. It was his favourite time with you, the way you looked so utterly magnificent in the air. It was a true sight for sore eyes for the blond.

Finally landing, you felt the ground under you wobbling a bit. Bakugo grabbed you which helped you a lot more than you realised. His arms holding you upright just as you two were outside the exhibition hall.

Seeing the line, he sees your bright smile and heavy breaths through the air. “i want a good seat.” You take his hand dragging him towards the line as you both stood and waiting in line.

You could hear the line shuffle before hearing a familiar voice behind you. “Baby, we always miss the midnight showings, come on whilst we’re here.”

It sounded too familiar even, like it was your own. You were about to turn around to see but felt Bakugo drag you forward. The voice ringed through your head, it could’ve just been your imagination, but it was weird. It felt like an echo of the future.

The hall was almost empty, a lot more people had bought tickets to the other exhibitions rather than the planetarium one which made it a lot better for the two of you. Underneath the stars alone would be perfect especially if Bakugo could freely watch you as well.

“Two tickets to the planetarium.” Bakugo had already bought the tickets inside but the sound of the same voice again was heard. Trying to look back to see, people had begun crowding around to get other essentials, mostly food. The person was no longer visible, and you turned to face Bakugo.

“What’s wrong?” He crossed his arms waiting for an answer.

“I keep hearing someone, she...she sounds like me.” He comes closer giving you a look before hugging you.

“It’s probably your imagination, it’s late that’s why, come on dumbass.” He let’s go of you right at the end of his talk and takes your hand. Kissing the back to bring some comfort.

You both walk in seeing an almost empty room. It was midnight on a Tuesday you didn’t really expect a lot of people but nobody really.

Both you and Bakugo sat on the back row. It was the perfect sear for him to watch the stars but also see how beautiful you looked under the white light. The sound of more people coming brought relief that this event would still occur. Bakugo’s hand rested on top of yours he watched out how there was only natural light from outside but even then, the moon did little against the darkness.

“Just sit down, we can’t be worrying about seats.” You heard the voice again and this time it seemed closer than usual, almost next to you.

Bakugo’s thumb rubbed circles on the back of your hand. A comfort but as you turned to finally meet the woman you were met with a heavy shock. A scream belched through the room, everybody had gone silent, Bakugo in an instant was up ready to fight whoever it was.

“Bakugo.” The two of you shouted, the woman in front of you looked at you with cares as you looked back at her. The same eyes, same nose, same mouth, hell even the hair was a bit longer for her, but it was there. And the voice, the same shout for your loves.

“Y/n.” This time the two guys who had been standing up ready to see what had happened had spoken and this time a confusion settled between the four of you.

“Outside now.” The blond said, it sounded exactly like your Bakugo but didn’t. Rougher around the edges an even deeper voice. But it couldn’t be, the two had gotten up scurrying outside and you followed.

Apologising to the others as you left, the opened the doors again and were met with the inside of the yellow lamps. It helped to see better and this time you and Bakugo had a full view of the two.

Your eyes widened at her, the hero costume exactly like yours but more seductive, professional even was around her. She stared back at you, the younger her, the one who hadn’t experienced what was to come.

The two men stood in front of each other, Bakugo’s winter outfit on the much taller man. You had remained the same height, but it seemed Bakugo had grown to over 6ft and his much smaller self looked with a snarl. But even then, he looked the same, the same look of disgust, the piercing scarlet eyes along with the same hero costume. He may look more built and even more intimidating but having her beside him making him look almost sweet like a lost puppy and she was his master.

“It can’t be.” You whispered out.

“Oh but it is.” The woman spoke out, “i missed that ugly haircut you used to have.”

She had said it to Bakugo’s older self who remarked back a scowl and crossed arms, something your own was doing himself, “I grew out of the Pomeranian look dumbass.”

“What the fuck shitty woman? Fucking explain what this is.” Bakugo growled, he was annoyed and confused two emotions he hated being.

You went to grab his hand and he became a lot more settled at that touch. “Did i really only settle down if you were there?” The older Bakugo muttered, he had more of an undercut but even then, you could tell it was Bakugo.

“Yeah, you were a pussy back then.” The older him glared at her, she glared back but even then, he softly pushed her to the side. “Fucking twat.”

“Don’t fucking swear in front of kids.” You and Bakugo stood in confusion at the squabble going on between the older versions of yourself.

“If you hurt me ill wake up from this horrible nightmare.” You kept whispering but even then, it was real.

The two-stop fighting and looked back at the both of you. “Let’s get ice cream, you’re paying.” She pointed at the version of Bakugo before taking your hand. “We have so much to explain.”

“Her younger self was so much better why’d she have to fucking grow up.” The older version spoke with a pissed off tone, he watched the two walk away before looking at his younger self. “The hair was shit, kid.”

“What the fuck, shut up old man, and stop talking about my girlfriend like that.” Your Bakugo remarked back, always the hot head.

The ice cream shop was only a few minutes away and both the older versions of yourself went to order. “Katsuki, what the fuck is happening?”

“They’re us Y/n.”

You pushed his arm which went back around the back of the booth. It skimmed back and forth onto your shoulder as you leaned into his side. “Way to state the obvious.”

“They could be villains, who have some sort of transformation quirk, whatever it is, the first sign of danger I’ll kill them.” Bakugo looked outside, he felt your soft fingers on his thigh out of reassurance that he was real.

The two came back with a tray of both your favourite ice cream. “We did like this when we were kids right?” She said to her Bakugo, he shrugged picking the ice cream and taking a bite of it.

“Who are you two?” You questioned taking the ice cream and mixing it with your plastic spoon to become softer. You watched the older version do the exact same thing and knew it couldn’t have been a villain.

“Younger you sure was fucking unaware.” The older Bakugo spoke a loud.

“Don’t be a twat.” She hit his arm, making him wrap his arm around her as well.

It was like an exact copy of you two on each side and it felt eerie. “We need proof you ain’t villains, if you are, I’ll kill you both.”

“We understand that but let us explain what happened first Katsuki.” She spoke his name with the same love and ease, it felt too familiar to him, like he had heard it so many times before.

You nod starting to lick at the spoon as you waited to hear, “quick version, we were trying to catch this villain, he has a quirk that can send people back in time, and the fucking asshole sent us back in time.”

You smiled at the older boy, how similar Bakugo remained in the future. How he still had the same look of disgust but when looking at you, he saw hope and love. “That’s a shitty explanation.” She continued, “he sends people back in time and follows them to kill their past self to create a loophole.” She plays with the spoon taking a hesitant pause, “we’re you two...from the future.”

“You two idiots got caught.” Bakugo began laughing as if he was making fun of your classmates before he realised. “Wa...” Bakugo kicked under the table at his older self, “you got fucking caught you dumbass.”

“It’s fine, it only lasts an hour, that’s why normally those who get sent back come back to their time but then begin to disintegrate as there younger selves died.”

“We would’ve heard about these cases.” You were confused at how this hadn’t been mainstream news.

“With no culprit, it won’t make the headlines.” She licked the spoon before setting the container onto the table. “Any questions?”

“I don’t believe I’d be that much of a dumbass to get caught, prove you’re us.” Bakugo proposed, his hands had been playing in your hair and he really wanted to imagine this was some kind of dream he was in.

“God kids are fucking annoying, remind me to never give you one.”

“He’s you.” You and your older self-speak in unison and the look of horror at the angry boy in front of him was something else.

“You better not get her pregnant at...” Bakugo mutters seeing your older self, he sees the beauty you retain. How you look like a goddess to him and how you always still remain his love.

“26.” She says smiling happily.

“Are you two married?” You ask, hoping something had occurred by now.

She goes through her pockets, the boy next to her doing the same before finding what she’s looking for. A silver band with a crystal in the middle. it was beautiful, Bakugo’s own having something inscribed on it.

“Engaged.” She shows the ring to you on her finger, it fitted her finger perfectly. Your fingers perfectly. Your Bakugo looked at the sight, he had gotten the courage to do it, to make you permanently his. You both would last forever.

Bakugo coughs to try and get out of his happiness and go back to his angry self. “Go on then, ask us the shitty questions?”

“Why were you at that event?”

His older self looking at her before rolling his eyes leaning back on the booth, “her and her obsession with the stars.”

“We had to time to kill.” She elbows his side making him give a glare to the woman. Not his normal disgusted one but one that you all knew he was joking and mocking the woman.

“What are you both in the Hero Charts?” That was the question Bakugo really cared about; he didn’t need proof anymore he just wanted to know if he made it to the top.

“I’m 5th and umm, Suki...” She let him speak, you were happy to be in the top ten that was an achievement, but you could tell the words that would come out of his older self would not be happy ones.

Before any words could come out the sound of lightening sprung out through the street. “It can’t be, he said he wouldn’t bother killing our younger selves why is he here?” She said seeing the man in the dark black cloak. “He said he just needed us gone for an hour, why is he here?”

“He’s the asshole who sent you back, let’s go capture him then.” Your Bakugo got up and but was stopped by himself.

“You’re a child, I’m not letting myself go out there and die.”

“Let go of me old man.” The tension between the two was thick enough to cut through. But there were bigger issues at hand here. The sound of the villain prowling the street, a menace ready to attack.

“You two are staying fucking put.” Bakugo’s older self-looked tired, it was in his eyes, you could see it, the years getting to the pro hero but at the sight of your older self running out, he followed.

Bakugo tried to get up but you put your arm out to stop him, “wait.”

“Y/n, I’m not letting our future selves die out there.” He grumbled swatting your hand away.

“I want to see how they work together, how we work together.” Of course you and Bakugo had fought alongside each other, but watching them, it would show the progress, your aim and how far you had gotten.

“Hiding your younger selves won’t help you both.” The villain remarked, his hand in the ready with a knife.

She grabbed a hold of him with her quirk smashing him into a wall. The way he indented the wall showed you the sheer amount of strength you had with your quirk. Your ability to not only move him with your hand but also put enough force onto the wall to break around him.

Bakugo’s hands turned yellow, you could almost see the power seethe from him, your own looking at himself, watching intentively at how his explosions had become bigger and bigger in his palm. Even without the gauntlets he had power, an excessive amount that fuelled his rage. He began to attack whilst she remained on defence, but the villain just skimmed past the explosion charging at her.

She grabbed the discarded bricks from the floor bringing your hands up to make them float and tried to encase him, but his pure strength outweighed her own as you could see him nearing her through the window. You ran out, Bakugo running with you as the four of you stood. “I told you to brats to stay inside.” His older version shouted, fire fulling him as he attacked the man who neared you. Your own allowed his quirk to activate and this in turn led to fire and explosions burning the street at how both tried to stop the villain.

You ran up to the older woman, she looked at you with care, “I’m going to teach you something.” She grabbed your hands, and you could feel a warmth from between your fingers. “Think of the rubble, the discarding bricks, anything that has broken off Y/n.”

You did so staring into her eyes, the pools of depth seeping out as she spoke with such confidence. “Keep thinking about it.” You did, thinking of the fallen rubble and discarded bricks and when you opened your eyes, it was up in the air. Both your quirks coming together to allow for it all to surround you both. You both saw the two boys hit the villain missing the reckless knife and knew that the villain was out of breathe from the force of it all.

But now there was you two, and in an instant, she shouted at you, “push it all onto him.” You followed through, everything felt heavy under the movement of your fingers, you could see her own becoming ashy and scarred but she kept a hold of the majority of the weight. You felt the weight of it all and as you pushed it onto the villain, Bakugo’s older self grabbing him to move out of the way. The villain became trapped onto the wall, the two boys came up to you both as they both went to their respective partner. “Are you okay?”

It was in unison and they both grabbed your hands, the ash and spilt skin between your fingers was evident. The action was the same and you knew it would never change, your older self turned to face you both as she glared. “You shouldn’t have come out but thank you.”

“You both did okay, it doesn’t mean anything though, you’ve both got far to go.”

“Shut it old man.” Your Bakugo grinned out, his arm around your shoulder lazily.

His older self tilted his head back in a chuckle before grabbing her hand. “We’re running out of time.”

“But we still have so many questions.” You were hesitant to ask before but now working alongside the two pro heroes you wanted to know more.

“We’ve got two minutes make it fast.” They both walked towards the villain, grabbing the unconscious body from the side. The excessive heat from both the Bakugo’s had caused fires and you could hear the police and heroes come to see the scuffle. Walking into an alleyway, you both stood in front of your selves.

“I guess I only have one question.” You looked at Bakugo and he looked back at you, his hand resting on your shoulder bringing warmth to you.

“Are we happy?” Bakugo held you tighter and the two smiled at you.

His older self began talking, kicking the villain to make him shut up. “There’s ups and down, a lot more to come but we’re happy, aren’t we?”

“We are.” He smiles at her, love in his eyes, even after 10 years of being together there was still love and adoration for her. It was something Bakugo had for you, but it had intensified along the years. It was almost too beautiful, there eyes on one another, how perfectly they fit together, it was perfect.

“Well I guess this is goodbye, have fun and…” You trailed off as Bakugo’s older self interrupted.

“Don’t do anything stupid, and wear a con…” Before he could finish the three disappeared and you and Bakugo were left alone in the alleyway. A confusion between the two of you as you both walked out of the alleyway.

“That was weird.” You muttered grabbing the boys palms.

“You’ve got that right, stupid old man bossing us about.”

“Did you just indirectly call yourself stupid?” You laughed as he rolled his eyes.

“Whatever at least I know your mine forever now.” He spoke softer, something he did when around you as you both walked through the street. The darkness around you as you had walked the opposite direction of where the fire had occurred.

“You’re such a sap.” You chuckled tilting your head backwards, he saw how strong you’d become, and it lightened a fire in how you both were so utterly in love, a perfect pro hero couple.

He held your hand tighter giving a glare, “you’re the fucking sap, baby.”

“Let’s watch the stars.” You hummed having ignored the comment and dragging him up the hill where you could lay on the grass and look right up to the sky.

“Yeah, yeah.” He held your hand tighter before you dropped to the ground and he sat beside you. You laid down looking at that the speckles of white throughout the hues of black and blue. A sight to the say the least and as you stared at the sky all he could do was stare at you. His girl, his love, his future.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @katsuhera @answer-the-sirens @animexholic @wapbenders @the-shota-king-masayuki

434 notes · View notes

hournites · 3 years ago

Text

Bait & Switch

Hournite Week 2021 - Day 3: Secret Admirer

~.~

“And then we can head to the Pit Stop for—eeep!!” Beth jumped from her locker as a piece of white paper landed in her hair.

“Oooooh!” Yolanda poked her side. “Is that another letter?”

Beth reached up for the standard printed paper sheet folded in three. She glanced at it, biting her lip as she scanned the page. “Looks like it, yeah!”

“I’m sorry,” Rick interrupted when Courtney grabbed Beth’s arm to squeeze. “Another what?”

“Beth’s been getting letters in her locker.” Courtney pointed to the little green shelf attachment Beth had on her inner locker next to magnets and pictures of Yolanda, Court, and Rick. A small pile of like creased letters accumulated there, sitting innocuously.

“Love letters,” Yolanda chimed in.

Rick’s frown stayed in place. “Since when did Beth have a boyfriend?”

“I don’t,” Beth corrected him. “I mean, not yet? I don’t know? I haven’t reached out or anything, I just started getting them a few days ago. I’d ask Chuck to scan them for fingerprints or something, but...you know.” She laughed a bit, pushing down the way Chuck’s blown in frames still stabbed at her heart. “Anyway, there’s no handwriting since it's printed, see?” She handed it to Rick.

“Hey Beth, I notice your yellow shoes.” His eyebrows raised past his hairline. “Why does this kid have a foot fetish?”

“Rick!” Courtney scolded.

“Sounds like Bowin.”

Yolanda scoffed at the Isaac comment. “As if Isaac had the balls.”

“To you, maybe.” Beth took the letter back when she realized Rick wouldn't appreciate it. “To me, it’s kinda sweet?” She flashed her friends a shy smile. “They always have something to say about what I’m wearing.”

“So they’re watching you,” Rick deadpanned. “Not creepy at all.”

Her face fell. “You think it’s creepy? Like ISA creepy?”

“Rick!” This time it was Yolanda. Courtney swatted his arm.

“Hey!”

Yolanda veered Rick off to the side, speaking in a hushed tone. “Believe me, you and I both know the guys here can be horrible, but this all seems very PG. I don’t see anything wrong with it, and neither does Courtney. Can we not ruin this for Beth?”

Rick pursed his lips, but Yolanda crossed her arms until he gave in.

~.~

One letter turned into two, and then three. Rick leaned against the metal row of lockers as Beth tried to catch the fluttering paper before it touched the dirty floor.

“More mystery mail?”

“Second one today, I didn’t get one yesterday, I was wondering if they forgot.” She tucked it in her pocket and went for her lunch bag.

“You’re not going to read it?”

“I thought you weren’t interested.”

Rick straightened his back. “No no, I’m interested! I’m very interested.”

“You just want to make fun of what they said.”

“No!” Though he was lying and Beth knew it.

They walked to the cafeteria, Yolanda and Court were already eating their lunches.

“C’mon,” Rick pestered the girls. He leaned his arms on the table conspiratorially. “Don’t we all want to hear what Beth’s secret lover has to say today?”

“I don’t have a secret lover,” she protested, but the girls got excited at the news of Beth getting locker mail twice and Rick leaned back in his plastic chair, satisfied.

“Secret admirer, then.”

Beth shot him another look of exasperation, but he merely raised his eyebrows at her.

“What,” he countered. “Is that not what it is?”

“Um, yeah,” she scooted in her chair, pressing the letter down and smoothing it out, refusing to look up at any of them, embarrassed. “We can call them that. Aw! They said I’m pretty!” Beth squinted at the paper. “Oh, they spelled it wrong.”

As much as he found Beth’s notes weird as hell, he got a rise out of watching her stammer and flush at all the attention. Courtney’s usually the one to flail around with massive blushing and her awkward high pitched voice when confronted about Cameron. In all honesty, hearing Courtney gush about Cameron without either of them making real moves on each other got tiring. Yolanda never looked like she wanted to talk about a love life for herself ever again, so Beth’s bright eyes reading out loud her dumb letters were new. He’d never seen her so eager to get to her locker. She’d drag him out of their class together to make a beeline for it. Really, it was cute. Maybe that’s why Rick couldn’t stop teasing her.

~.~

Later that week, the group sat together at lunch as usual. Courtney’s hair would not stay up in the messy bun she’d been trying and failing to pull off. She kept wrapping a hair elastic around the ball of blonde curls. Rick watched as she huffed out an annoyed breath at the fifth time it flopped over the front of her face.

“You need a mirror,” Rick pipped in unnecessarily. He smirked when she glared at him.

“I give up!” Courtney reached across the lunch table to grab Yolanda’s wrist when she gave up for the sixth time. “Help?”

Yolanda laughed, scooting her chair over and said, “I’ll just give you a braid.”

“Oh!” Beth jumped in her seat as if she just remembered something. “My letter today said something really nice about my hair!” She unzipped her school bag to bring it out. Yolanda peered over at it while she continued to fix Courtney’s mess. She read it out loud for them.

“That’s not even that great,” Rick pointed out when Beth finished. “They like your hair. So what? Your hair always looks great, there’s no effort involved on their part.”

Beth frowned at her letter. “Really?”

“It’s superficial, don’t you think? They don’t say anything about why they like you as a person.”

“Yeah,” Courtney cut in. “Probably because they don’t know her that well? Cut them some slack?”

“I don’t need to cut anyone any slack.”

Yolanda took a bite out of her apple. “If you liked someone, what would you do?” She batted her eyelashes at him as she chewed on her snack, clearly expecting a lame answer.

“I don’t like anyone.”

Yolanda shared a look with Courtney. Courtney would do that a lot with Mike and Beth would do that a lot with himself but when Yolanda did that with Courtney, Rick always felt a bit paranoid.

“Is that illegal or something?” Rick muttered, stabbing his fork into his food.

“No,” Yolanda replied, dragging out the syllable carefully. “But let's say hypothetically that you did, would your answer be the same?”

Now Beth was waiting intently for his answer as well.

Rick pushed his plastic tray away, no longer hungry. “If I liked someone I’d let them know… like a normal person.”

Courtney stifled a laugh that irked him. Her ice blue painted nails covered her mouth to half hide whatever joke she had within.

Yolanda tugged at one of her stray curls as a warning. “Court.”

“What now?” Rick groused.

Courtney leaned forward, gripping the edges of the table. “Would you actually?”

“No offense Court, but if I liked a girl, I wouldn’t run off to tell you about it.”

Now Courtney really did laugh, but Rick was dead serious. If he liked someone, he wouldn’t make it overcomplicated. If it were someone that could actually like him back, he’d just be honest with them. No frilly notes or secret rendez-vous.

He pushed Beth’s little love letter across the table. Beth took it wordlessly, mouth pressed in a careful line, eyes inquisitive.

Not that Rick had much time to think about what he’d do if he did like anyone. There wasn’t much time for Rick to develop feelings other than the deep-rooted anger and hatred that brewed for years over the conditions of his life.

Rick shook his head at her. This wasn’t anything complicated. If he were the one secretly crushing on Beth, he’d tell her. He said as much to the girls when they pestered him some more. “It’s not that hard.”

~.~

Beth got new letters every day for the next week. It became routine for her to read them during their lunch period. The girls pushed their chairs closer together to scrutinize the text, eyes peeled for anyone they might think to be the secret admirer. Rick played along half-heartedly, though mostly ate his lunch suppressing eyerolls.

“That top looks great on you. Also, why did you take off your rainbow necklace? It's cute.”

“Hmm,” said Yolanda. “Maybe it’s a girl.”

Rick scraped his plastic fork against the paper plate on his lunch tray. “Maybe they should stop staring at Beth’s shirt.”

“I don’t mind,” Beth said, looking up at him.

Rick scraped the styrofoam plate again. These letters weren’t amusing anymore.

~.~

Beth approached him that day after training. She drummed her fingers against the green cloth of her cape along her arms, craning her neck up to look at him as he raked through his upswept hair. They were in the loft of the Pit Stop where they’d dumped their bags. Beth was on the couch, in no hurry to change into fresh clothes because she hadn’t sweat through hers the way he had. Chuck was still offline, so she had been cautioned to stay a few paces behind the others for protection. She usually chose to stick by Rick.

Rick shook out his aching fingers. His hood was hanging low over his shoulders and the heaviness of his suit weighed after the effects of his tapered strength.

“What?” he asked after several moments, acutely aware that she just stood there, staring.

“Is there anything you’re not suspicious of? Sometimes you just have to trust people.”

Rick sighed, turning around. He thought this was about the training or the sweat or the way his hair stuck up like a cartoon and he didn’t have enough gel to smooth it back down, but Beth clearly wanted to revisit their conversation from lunch. He’d rather not. “If this is about the letters—”

“It is. What’s your deal with them, really? Even my mom knows! She thinks it’s funny! I’m having fun!” She grinned widely and threw out her hands to back up her words. Like he needed to see her laugh off the fact someone was following her around the school without coming forward about it to prove it wasn’t something to be reasonably concerned about.

Rick sat down beside her on the couch, taking a moment to articulate his phrasing. He didn’t want Beth to bristle at his tone or words. He’d made the mistake enough, seen the hurt written on her face way too many times. She could handle his heat, but it always left Rick feeling shitty to realize she needed to guard herself around him. Steel herself to get offended. He needed to stop offending her, Beth was quite frankly the kindest person Rick knew. This was why Rick felt strongly about the twenty-seven ways this secret admirer situation emerged red flags. “Don’t you want to know who they’re from?”

Beth shrugged. “It’d be nice.”

“Would you date them if they revealed themselves?”

“Um.” Beth flushed. “Maybe? I don’t know. I’m not planning any weddings but I’ve thought about it, I guess.” She side-eyed him. “Are you going all big brother on me now?”

Rick almost said yes, but bit his tongue at the last second, making a face. It didn’t feel quite right. He opened his mouth instead to retort about protecting the team. Beth accepted it well enough, wrapping her arms around his middle to thank him for bothering enough to care. Rick stiffened at her hug, thrown off by the carefree way she clung to him. He placed his hand on her back and she pushed her head further against his shirt.

“I don’t want you upset with me.”

Her words stabbed at his gut. “I’m not,” he said, surprised and dismayed. Of course she’d perceive it that way even after he tried. “I’m not, Beth. Though I guess you’re right, trusting people isn’t my thing.”

“I know, I didn’t mean to be so defensive about it.” She looked up at him and removed her cowl. Her hair sprung out high, decompressed from the tight, restraining fabric. “It’s just that I wish when a note makes me smile...You’d smile back at me.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Beth crossed her legs, eyes and hands now at the clasp of her vintage cape. Her hair expanded, reclaiming its crown over her head. It bloomed in front of him. Not just the hair, her wisdom and hope and trust to share that so candidly with him.

“I’ll try?”

A tiny pleased smile began as her thumb looped through the hook. “You will?”

“Yes,” Rick said.

The green of the cape flashed in front of them. Only a trace of that smile remained once it was neatly folded on her lap. “Thank you.”

~.~

Rick tried.

It was like now that Rick gave her his disgruntled blessing of the elusive secret admirer, Beth no longer capped the word count on her inner novel of thoughts about it. She’d speak freely without checking back or worrying that Rick would make any comments and Rick had pretty much shut up about it to her face.

This was her thing, and it made her happy. Why did it matter what Rick thought about it anyway?

Though it did matter, exactly because of how happy those typed letters made her. It wasn’t wrong that Beth saw the best in people or found cheerfulness in all uncertain things. Rick was glad for it, honestly. That persistence in her wrestled with his own stubbornness— somehow it evened each other out. Beth’s drive blazed a fire that refused to be stomped out. Rick liked that drive in her. He appreciated it, even, just as much as it sometimes drove him insane. He didn’t want to be the one to smother that flame— Not him, or anyone else.

~.~

Rick didn’t realize he was intentionally hanging around Beth’s locker to scout out her secret admirer until he caught them in the act.

He straightened up from his slouched position against the wall across the drama room, taking in the uneven dirty blond haircut and letterman jacket worn by the person in question.

At first, Rick figured the guy was at the wrong locker. He stood there rummaging into his gym bag for something. But then he produced a familiar folded paper and Rick realized this was the guy. Beth’s guy. It got very real. Beth had a guy. This guy wanted Beth. Liked her. He liked her and wrote stupid letters every day with things in it that actually made her want to like him back. And he had freckles and looked pretty short, and would probably make her laugh and would offer her his jacket to show her off to the dicks on the football team.

Rick’s eyes narrowed, seizing him up. That was right, the guys on the football team were dicks. Beth’s secret admirer was friends with them?

She wouldn’t take that well.

He looked new. Young, even. Not any of the faces he’d cataloged that tormented Yolanda over the last year and a half. Should he follow him?

Rick lurked.

The kid glanced around nervously, letter slotted in the hinges for the locker. How many days had it been? Two and a half weeks? How was this guy still skittish for sneaking around the school to send love letters to a girl? Wouldn’t he know one of these days he’d get caught?

Alright, Rick had two options. He could turn around and keep this to himself. Never say a word to anyone and let this guy and Beth work out whatever they have and just.... watch.

Or he could walk up there right now and get information. What the hell is your deal? Do you have a foot fetish? Are you another supervillain freak? How did you meet Beth? Why are your notes so uninspired? Do you even know her? Are you embarrassed that you’re into her? Why do you care?

Rick's legs marched him over, having made up his mind.

“Hey!” It came out harsher than he intended by the reaction of the football player. He yelped, backing up against the locker and widening his eyes at Rick.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear!” This poor kid’s voice cracked.

Rick squinted at him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Huh?”

“Your name. Parents? Date of birth. Alien status?”

The kid didn’t say anything. Rick sighed, already regretting it but knowing he’d have to in order to speed this along. He slammed his fist against the nearby locker, cornering him. The kid looked properly terrified. At least it was something to know those Rick Harris rumors were still thriving. “Well?”

“Joe! Joseph Kindersef. Son of Harold and Shoan Kindersef. August 9th, 2006. Um, Non-alien?”

“Sounds like something an alien would say.”

“I swear I’m not an alien! I’m just a freshman!”

“If I back off, are you gonna run?”

“I’m on the football team!” he yelled out as if that question was undignified.

Rick rolled his eyes. “You’re fourteen years old. I don’t care what team you’re on. Are you gonna run?”

“No.”

Rick relented, pulling back to put some room between them. “So, you’re the one writing to Beth for the last few weeks?”

“Yes, but—”

Rick pulled a face. “She’s a bit old for you, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but—”

“Beth really likes the letters, okay? She doesn’t need someone that’s too much of a coward to come up and talk to her. So pick it up and do something meaningful or leave her alone.”

Joseph squeaked. “I can’t.”

“Okay so—She really likes yellow and cute shit so try sticky notes to include—“ Rick backtracked and paused. That didn’t sound normal. “What? You can’t? Yes, you can. You just have to find the guts to tell her who you are and ask her out so she can finally meet you so she can decide if you’re worth a—”

“No!” Joe cut Rick off. “I can’t leave her alone!”

Rick’s stomach sank. Joe heaved, eyes blown back wide as he grimaced as if waiting to get yelled at again.

But Rick lost the wind in his rant, lowering his voice to a shocked whisper. “What do you mean? You don’t…want to be Beth’s boyfriend?”

“No! I don’t really know her! I don’t get what the big deal is!”

Rick nearly slammed him back against the metal row. “Then why are you leading her on?”

“Oh my god!” He weaseled out of Rick’s grip, hands up in surrender. “I swear, I can explain! Just don’t beat me up, I get enough of that from the team!” He dropped his gym bag and kicked it, yanking off his letterman jacket. “God, I’m sick of this!”

Rick was at a loss for words. He clenched his jaw, keeping his fuming to a minimum to give Joe a chance. Not that he deserved one, in Rick’s honest opinion, but Beth probably would’ve wanted to at least hear his case before Rick undoubtedly scared her only potential prospect of a boyfriend away with a piss stain in his pants.

He furrowed his brows. “Sick of what?”

“This!” Joe gestured at the floor. “Blue Valley High! The goddamn team!”

It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. The thought of it all made Rick sick to his stomach. Of course, in a twisted way it all made perfect sense. There was no villain here, only two victims. Raze the newbie recruit on the team and mercilessly bully the girl that raises her hand one too many times in class all at once. Force Joe to do the dirty work and laugh at Beth’s disappointment when her non-existent secret admirer gets shoved in her face.

Wonderful. Great plan for a group of football meatheads that barely even grieved Henry Jr’s death. Rick hated this school so much.

“Can’t you just stop?”

“No!” Joe insisted. “I can’t, I would’ve if I could!”

“What are they doing to you?”

Rick knew the answer wasn’t going to be pleasant. He crossed his arms, eyebrows raised as he stared up at the ceiling while Joe lamented over the football hierarchy in disarray, wanting to make it past waterboy dweeb status, razing punishments incorporating the abandoned construction porta potty beyond the field parking lot, and the daily checks on Joe the team did to ensure he’s following their crazy rules.

“You know what I wanna say?” Rick told the guy when his sob story was over. “I wanna say that’s your problem.” Because after this and his last encounter with Sportsmaster Rick was very close to never watching any organized game in America ever again.

“It is my problem.”

“Actually, it’s not.” Rick scowled. “You’ve entangled Beth Chapel into this, so you’ve made it my problem.”

Joe stared at him. Rick muttered under his breath, dragging a hand over his face. For some reason he pictured Courtney. If she were here right now with him, Rick could perfectly imagine what she’d say: This was part of what it meant to be a superhero. You are a superhero now.

Rick knew this, theoretically, but thinking about that word in association to himself still felt beyond stupid. Stupid, but so painfully accurate by the way a feeling ate at his insides to help this pathetic freshman. Not just because of Beth. Rick had a magical hourglass and a skintight suit and belonged to a secret crime-fighting team. But it wasn’t just about crime, it was about injustice. And this fits that bill to a tee.

He flapped his hand at Joe before he could change his mind. “Go. I’ll take care of it.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to do this anymore.”

“But they check at lunch every day for the letters and there are still two and a half weeks left in the month—”

“I know!” Rick groaned just thinking about all the ways this was going to ruin his entire schedule. The sneaking and evasion. The random class cutting he’d have to pull off inconveniently now that Yolanda and Pat have drilled it into Rick that he needed to get a decent pass...

Joe stepped away, looking over his shoulder at the deserted hallway, unable to believe his newfound freedom. “You need to make it sound like you care or else they’ll get suspicious,” he stressed.

“I get it.” Rick shooed him away. “Trust me. I get it.”

The anxious red splotches all over Joe’s face faded away. He sniffed, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his varsity jacket. “You really want to help me?”

“Just tell me what I need to do to make this work.”

He pulled out his dad’s notebook from his bag as Joe ranted about the nonsensical expectations the football team had of him, and what they had planned for Beth via public embarrassment by the end of the month. His dad’s handwriting blurred past as he clicked the top of his ballpoint to start on a fresh page, jotting it all down. He ended up with over a page and a half. A page is more than he thought he’d need. It was excessive and tedious and stupid enough to put an end to today. He wouldn't, though, end it today. Because of one thing Rick knew for certain. He was going to one-up the Stockholm secret admirer deal Joe had going on. Two weeks of nice deeds weren’t completely out of his reach.

~.~

Rick stared at the blank word document in front of him, tucked into the furthest computer monitor desk at the very corner of the library. Sneaking in here was easy, though it was stressful enough to make Rick’s hands sweat. It was dumb, nobody questioned a student at the library over lunch. The tenth graders came in anxious packs to prepare for their PSATs, and the juniors freaked out over college pamphlets at the communal tables. Nobody would care that Rick Harris was hunched over a keyboard, glancing down at his lap to refer to an original letter for help.

Beth didn’t even notice Rick swiped a letter from her. Her locker door swung open while she chatted about the science homework and then the muffins she planned on making and then the recipe Barbara sent to her phone that she pinned on her Pinterest board. That Pinterest board was very important, something she’d curated since elementary school after her mom accidentally forgot to include a lunch for Beth, exhausted by the first surgery she’d operated on as the new head surgeon at Blue Valley Medical Centre. This was all new information Rick only learned from their walk to get her lunch box, so Beth’s talkativeness did have its advantages some days. Rick reached over and plucked a folded letter from the pristine metal basket right over her head to stuff in his back pocket. Even if she were ever tall enough to catch that, the muffin recipe had too many steps for her to list to ever let her take her eyes off her phone.

Rick stood firm in his belief that Joe’s letters were creepy and lame, regardless of how the creepy and lameness parts were now halfway excusable under Joe’s duress and whatever. Still, he couldn’t deny he needed one in his possession to study. At least as an example for formatting one correctly if he wanted to pull this off; the font and size had to be exactly the same. And, most importantly, the letter provided a base of comparison to work from to make the letters going forward less weird.

Rick knew Beth better. He could do so much better. And he should, anyway. There’s no harm done. He’s going to have to tell Beth at the end of the month what exactly happened to her secret admirer, so she’ll know Rick became the author somewhere along the line. He’d never be caught dead authoring notes that made it sound like he had a foot fetish or some other weirdness. And if Beth likes the letters more, Joe won’t get as much shit either.

So why wasn’t this working?

Hey, Beth.

Rick stared at the screen. His eyes were dry, he needed to blink. A Hey, Beth wasn’t going to get anyone anywhere, and this letter had to be slotted through that locker rust a good half hour before the class that went into lunch.

I just wanted to let you know how kind you are. I saw you today give away your extra hair elastic to the other girl in the hallway—

No.

Beth,

Your laugh is out of this world.

Rick slammed his palm against the backspace button, the stiff keyboard jam startled the senior girl half-napping over her notes beside him. He deleted the word document altogether and started over. Nobody needed to see that. That sentence came out of nowhere. Forget that it was bad and sounded like Hallmark garbage, reading the words on the computer mortified him. Maybe it wasn’t out of limit to find Joe and force him here to do the actual writing himself. At least as a draft for Rick to work with. No wonder Joe’s letters came out awkward and stilted. But where would he even find Joe and was the answer something Rick even wanted to find out?

Rick didn’t like Beth like this. How was he going to write to make it seem like it could be implied that he did? This was fucking hard.

“Since when do you study?”

Rick crumpled Joe’s letter into his fist. He minimized the tab for the Word document. Yolanda’s braids swept over the built-in camera of Rick’s computer monitor, peering down at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Since today.” He clicked on the school browser to type in one of the chemistry learning sites he went bleary-eyed scrolling through last semester late at night.

“When’s the test?”

He shrugged. Her braids swung over his screen again. Rick shot her an exasperated high brow, flicking them away.

Yolanda shook her head at him and took the next seat. The binders she pulled out for her math assignment told Rick she wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. Fine. Rick put the letter on hold. It wasn’t something he wanted to rush anyway.

~.~

Beth,

Your laugh is special. Because you can make anything sound great, and find laughter in everything. It’s what you do and who you are. I wouldn’t change that about you, ever.

Rick skipped the last ten minutes of class to get to Beth’s locker while the hallway was still empty. In slipped the letter. Out went his breath.

They were just words. Once he was able to wrap his head around that fact it got a lot easier. They were just words. Nice words. For Beth. It didn’t really matter if they were poetic or fancy. They were genuine, though, because Rick wasn’t going to lie on top of everything. But they weren’t in the sense Rick felt anything romantic for her. If Beth and the girls read it and felt otherwise, it was only because they were under a preconceived notion. One Rick would explain away when it is all over.

Above all, he was sparing her any humiliation by lifting her up and giving some nice compliments. It was a win-win situation. Once Rick was able to digest that, it got a lot easier to justify the emotional connection he teased out of himself to work the right sentiment he needed and had written down.

~.~

The problem was, sometimes letters didn’t cut it. Rick didn’t always have the right words. It was because he knew how Beth’s face brightened up when he wrote something right. She’d let out a breath that was almost a sigh, hugging the letter close. It would put her in a mood nothing could deter for the rest of the day. It’s what Rick noticed two weeks ago when these started, but it was all the better now, admittedly, when they came from him. She’d show them to her mom over FaceTime at lunch, to Barbara and Pat. Beth shared her secret admirer letter with anyone that had an extra second to spare.

When Rick missed the mark, that was too obvious. Yolanda and Court never seemed to pick up the difference, and Beth never appeared dissatisfied, but Rick knew it wasn’t what she deserved.

He’d tear out pages in his notebook before and after classes Rick took without her, practicing what he’ll type up by the time he gets to the school library. The pencil in his hand would tap against the paper as he ignored the lesson, thinking about how to best word how much it meant to him to see her turn around and flash him one of those breathless grins without giving himself away. He’d shred the paper after, stuffing it in the trash. The best parts Rick kept memorized to reuse the next day.

It took another three more neutral letters for Rick to change tactics. Instead of stressing over ways to tell Beth things he didn’t mean without revealing his identity, he found a way to work around keeping the secret admirer ploy alive while cutting out the amount of time he spent failing at writing. Small things he could afford like her favourite chocolate bars when he filled his car with gas at the station, or cheap bracelets from the dollar store to add when he wasn’t confident that he wrote enough.

He kneeled down in the wet grass by the bike rack behind the school on a Tuesday, weaving in the red and yellow roses he plucked from a nice garden a block down Main street through the handlebars of Beth’s teal bike. Beth was the type of girl to press flowers in books. She’d find the roses and would smell them and then keep them with the intention of saving them forever.

When he managed to get the stem properly wrapped around her handlebars, he realized Beth forgot to lock in her bike properly. He fixed it, then leaned back, appraising his work.

He froze when he felt a warm breath against his neck.

“I didn’t know you were a part of the garden club.”

Rick dropped his hands to his sides, gritting his teeth through a polite nod at Isaac Bowin, who was peering over the bike rack in his pristine band clothes. “I’m not.”

“I see.” He scratched his nose. “That’s Beth’s bike.”

Rick eyed him. “I know.”

“That’s a nice gesture. I didn’t know you liked her.”

“She’s my best friend.” Rick stood up and brushed the dirt from his pants. “It’s not like that.”

Isaac shrugged. “It looks like that.”

“Okay,” he replied lightly, rolling his eyes. Rick knew he was saving a high school freshman from being bullied by substituting his required secret admirer quotas because of his newfound moral superhero standards, but conversing with Isaac Bowin was something Rick hadn’t yet tolerated the patience for. He slipped his bag and walked around the side of the school building to go through the back. “Bye.”

Later that afternoon, Rick got tackled by Beth. He tensed as he always did when someone got a hold of him from behind, though he released the tension immediately when he looked up and saw her.

“I got flowers!” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders from his seat at their shared sixth-period class.

“Did you?” He replied, measuring his tone.

“Roses! They were on my bike. I wasn’t sure if I locked it properly this morning so I got a hall pass in geography and went to check, and they were there!”

“Wow,” he said. “That’s pretty thoughtful, right? Do you like them?”

“Are you kidding? The KitKat was great but the last time I ever got flowers was like, my fourth grade spelling bee from my mom!” Beth moved her hands from his back to slide into the seat beside him. “They’re so pretty. I love them!”

Rick glanced at her empty desk. She pulled out her school bag and pencil case. “So where are they?”

“They’re safe.” She hauled out the large math textbook and flipped to the middle, revealing the two roses, freshly pressed in. “I want to keep them forever.”

He knew it. Rick suppressed his grin. “Cool.”

~.~

“... You warm my heart, Beth.” Beth paused, taking it in. She looked dizzy. “Oh my goodness. This is a lot.”

“Stop. That’s stupidly cute.” Yolanda groaned as she ran a hand over her face as if the sweetness pained her.

“You’ve gotta write them back!” Courtney urged, taking a swig of juice.

Beth wrinkled her nose. “I dunno.”

“What! Why not?”

“I don’t want to scare them off?” Beth took her eyes off the letter at last, raising her head to meet Rick’s eyes. She straightened her back immediately. “Why are you smiling like that?”

In spite of himself, it grew bigger. “Like what?”

She didn’t reply for a moment. Her eyes squinted and she tilted her head as if to study him. “I can’t explain,” she said at last. “It’s just different.”

Yolanda and Courtney stopped talking to watch him too. Rick felt his face heat up at all of their attention. “Shut up. I’m being supportive,” he mumbled. “It’s what you wanted.”

~.~

The thing with Yolanda was that she didn’t fall for bullshit. Rick should’ve known. Books against the table with a slam, she leveled Rick a serious look of incredulity in their next class. “Who are you and what did you do to my best friend Rick Tyler?”

He stuck a hand in his pocket. Still grinning. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Says every suspicious clone, ever.”

“I’m not a clone.”

“Then what are you, sick?” She poked his cheek at the stretched corners of his mouth. “You’ve smiled more in two days than I’ve ever seen you smile in three years and in art class you were zoned out completely.” Rick batted her hand away when she clapped a whole palm over his forehead.

“I don’t have a fever.”

“You’ve got something .”

“I don’t,” he insisted again. “I’m fine.”

“Well I’m not an idiot,” Yolanda settled on as class started. “But whatever is going on, keep at it. It’s a good look on you.”

~.~

Three reasons why I’d date Beth Chapel

I’d be dating the smartest girl in school

I could share the homemade food she brings for lunch

I’d see one of those perfect smiles & it would be just for me

~.~

Three reasons why Beth Chapel should date me

I’d let her sit shotgun in my car

She could talk to me all day about whatever she’d like and I’ll listen to it all

She can stop wearing fuzzy sweaters to classes without heaters because I’d give her one of my jackets so she’ll stay warm

I actually really like her

“Ah shit,” Rick whispered harshly to himself at the computer monitor in the library. He buried his head in his hands, putting the computer to sleep. It was supposed to be generic. Nice enough that Beth would feel touched but not personalized enough that it could directly trace back to Rick. It was his ‘66 he was thinking about in the first sentence. Her effect on his mood was when she placed her arm on his during an imploring talk in the second. And the way Rick knew exactly which jacket he’d like to see her swallowed in with the pooling cuffs rolled up six times to reach her wrists for the third. And now that it was out in that 12 point font, Rick didn’t even want to delete it.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. I"m a fucking idiot.”

He whacked the side of the iMac too hard to wake up the monitor and printed the thing before he could incriminate himself more by adding extra lines. The heat that crawled up his face was sign enough that this was bad, but he’d felt that same sickly warm feeling drop in his stomach sometime before his brain kicked in to realize what he’d done. He was supposed to be doing a favour for his best friend to not humiliate her unjustly by being her pseudo secret admirer.

Not actually become Beth’s secret admirer.

The next morning, Rick waited until Beth raised her hand for a hall pass during their class before lunch. Their teacher handed over the laminated card for Beth to go to the bathroom. Rick counted five seconds then leaned over and dragged her backpack from the dusty classroom floor to his side.

She started keeping the letters she liked the most in the pocket folder of her agenda. Rick pulled them out, unfolding the papers as he read them over, eyes scanning over what he’d been writing to her, trying to find the moment in which his feelings for her morphed into something more. Rick felt stupid, reading back.

He never wanted to lie to Beth, so he hadn’t.

He couldn’t lie to himself either. This started before meeting Joseph. This started before the letters. Hell, it might’ve even started before the JSA ever stopped Project New America.

A part of Rick wanted Beth all along.

~.~

That evening, Rick locked himself in his bedroom and wrote a long and frankly terribly written letter to get his feelings off his chest. Staying up all night to perfect it, he overslept halfway through the morning. He drove to school late and worried over how to get through the day. His entire schedule was thrown off and he needed to both find a way to get his letter in and survive seeing Beth that afternoon. Bad turned to worse when teachers chased after him to pile on detentions for skipping class after he’d just started to improve his attendance.

If he wanted to make this work he was going to need support. He needed Court.

The only time Rick found Courtney alone was during dodgeball in gym class. They were somehow the only ones left on their team. Courtney used handsprings and cartwheels to avoid the red rubber balls as though her gym mark should be the deciding factor of her Stargirl training success. Rick didn’t take it as seriously, but that’s exactly why he was still winning. He launched the ball to the other side, hitting Cameron Mahkent square in the face.

“Court, get Jenny out, and then we can free the rest.”

“Good plan.”

Rick picked up another that ricocheted off the wall, missing both targets. “Hey, you know Beth’s letters?”

“Yeah?” Courtney hit Jenny, who yelped in her expensive tennis skirt, manicured hands protecting her face even though she got her hip instead.

“They’re me.” Rick caught a ball and everyone came hollering back into the game. Courtney gaped at him, motionless in front of the red line. Rick tried to warn her when another ball came flying, but it bonked the side of her curly hair before Rick could push her out of the way, and then another ball assaulted Rick from the other side, disqualifying them both.

Rick explained it all once they got to the bench. The important parts, at least, without any of the messy stuff. Joe’s razing and the awkward excuses to use the library computer every day.

Courtney grinned so wide. “Shut up!”

Rick regretted telling her immediately. She shook his arm like she wanted to make a protein shake out of it. “Shut up! Stop! Are you kidding me? That’s so sweet!” She slapped her hands to her cheeks. “Oh my god. Oh my god! That’s why you’re smiling so much! You like her!” She gasped. “You love her?!”

“Woah,” said Rick, grabbing her wrist to keep her from bouncing off the gym walls. If he wasn’t careful she’d text Pat this for his advice or something which would be horrifying. “I didn’t say anything like that.”

Courtney rolled her eyes, undeterred. “Okay okay okay but you totally are into her. Like a lot!!! A lot a lot, oh my god, Rick this is such big news! You’re falling for Beth!”

“Oh my god,” Rick muttered to himself, wanting to disappear. “Court, if I say yes will you please be quiet?”

Courtney squealed, dancing in her seat on the bench. “You didn’t deny it!”

“Okay calm down.”

“Why are you telling me? Are you going to confess? Do you need help?”

“I need you to print out her letter for today and get it in her locker. I don’t have the time.”

Court clapped her hands and squealed. “Yes! Deal! Done!”

~.~

“You know what?” Beth layered on an extra woolly sweater over her already thick-fabric shirt. Just by looking at it Rick knew it was expensive and set off some type of fashion pattern-texture dichotomy scheme. Though, what mattered was how warm it made her after shivering all throughout their homeroom period. What mattered was how she clutched at her sleeves now, creating friction to sweep out the cold that seeped into her bones. The way she held herself in front of him and how she’d feel if Rick hugged her like that soft-spun sweater instead. She pulled a sticky note out of her school bag’s front pocket and stuck it to her locker door then stepped away from it, nodding along for Rick to follow her down to their first class. “You’re right.”

“I’m right?” For his credit, Rick was cold too. The school heater conked out over the weekend and the weather was abnormally cold, even for their chilly Spring Nebraska. He shoved a hand in his pocket so he wouldn’t feel the joint pain settling into his bruised knuckles.

“You are.”

“About what?”

Beth half-spun on her heel, facing Rick in the thick of the school crowd. “My heart is in this. I need to know who my secret admirer is.”

The immediate nausea Rick got from that sentence nearly stopped him in his tracks. He couldn’t stop though, it would be suspicious and then Beth would know and then Rick very might well be sick. So he jerkily forced one foot in front of the other and swallowed the lump down his throat. “You...do?”

“We always find my letter after our fourth-period class right before lunch. So they have to be sending it out before then, right? If we both subsequently skip our third-period classes respectfully--”

“How does one skip class ‘respectfully?’” Rick used air quotes around the last word.

Beth elbowed his side lightly. “When a straight-A student like myself has love on the line!”

“ I’m not a straight-A.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be with me so I’ve got you covered.” She linked her arm in his. “It’s a buddy system. I posted a sticky note on my locker for my secret admirer to visit this morning!”

Oh no. Which meant Courtney was going to find it soon and pressure him to tell Beth too. God, no.

“And you need me there...why?”

Beth furrowed her brows, fidgeting with her rainbow necklace. “I haven’t completely ignored what you said to me this whole time. I don’t know who it really is. What if I put myself out there and they show up only to hurt me?”

“Beth, they won’t.”

“But what if you were right and it was the ISA, and they were waiting for me to lure them into a trap to kidnap me because they discovered I’m Dr. Mid-Nite without Chuck?”

“Where was this support when I suggested this as an actual possibility four weeks ago and you all ignored it and called me an asshole?” He was teasing her, honestly, but it was wild to Rick he was finally hearing her address some of his previous legitimate concerns. What good was she doing bringing this up now if she already made up her mind?

“We didn’t!”

“Yolanda did!”

“Yolanda doesn’t use that word.”

“She doesn’t need to say it! You’ve seen her glare, right? Yolanda could glare at you and brand you “ asshole ” just with her eyeballs.”

“You are ridiculous.” Beth huffed out an indignant breath. “And I wasn’t ignoring it completely.” She tugged on his sleeve. “So you should come.”

“I swear you’re going to be fine by yourself. It’s just some person here that likes you. It’s not a criminal. No need to suit up.”

“I want you there.”

He wavered at her pleading face, her big eyes hopeful sucking him into dangerous territory. “Fine,” he relented, dooming himself. “I’ll come.”

~.~

Courtney did not know how the printer at the library worked because she never used the computers at the library because she never came to the school library. Like. Since she moved here. She banged her hand against the table when she got prompted for her Blue Valley High School student account password to access her printing credits. Was she supposed to pay for that? She didn’t know. She promised Rick to get his letter delivered and he was counting on her so there wasn’t any time for messing this up.

“It’s just your initials and the last 3 numbers of your student ID card number.”

A thousand butterflies let loose in her stomach at the tell-tale sound of her crush’s deep voice.

“Cameron!” she greeted with a nervous laugh. “Hi! What are you doing here?”

“It’s the library.”

“Right!” She smacked her head. “Dumb me, of course. You must be studying.”

“Actually, I have an oral presentation after lunch and need to reprint my speaking notes. I spilled paint on my cue cards this morning. What are you working on?”

“Oh!” Courtney laughed it off. “It’s not important. Thanks for the login info!”

“No problem. Maybe we can see each other later after my grief counseling?”

Courtney nearly knocked the magic mouse off the surface of the table. “I’d love that!”

“Awesome, I’ll text you?”

“Great!” She waved as he turned around and sat down at the next computer. Courtney pulled up the tab she had with the word document of Rick’s letter to Beth and fawned over it, imagining herself in Beth’s shoes with Cameron. She printed it out and ambled over to the printing center while it was still warm. According to the school clock, which was probably ten minutes fast if it were anything like the other clocks in her classrooms, she had twenty minutes to find Beth’s locker and get it in securely without being seen. Courtney packed her bag and folded the sheet in three like Beth had been getting since the beginning of March, sticking it between her teeth as she got that bag over her shoulders.

“Court.”

She twirled around at the tap on her shoulder, not expecting to find Cameron waiting for her with a grim look on his face. “Huh?” She removed the paper and crinkled her eyes at him. “Hey!”

“Hi,” Cameron said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I think my essay got mixed up with your uh….letter…”

“What?” Courtney checked Rick’s letter in her hand. “No! This is um, uh it’s ‘ The Republic of Marino is a small country in the region of--’ oooooooh crap.”

Courtney snatched it from him, giving herself a papercut in the process as she swapped sheets, mind racing when she put two and two together. Oh no. Oh no oh no. The blood drained from her face.

“That’s not mine!” she yelped.

The librarian barked at them both from across the room as Cameron blinked at her with a complicated expression.

“I mean!” Courtney added in more quietly but equally harried, hissing at the stinging from her thumb. She sucked at the blood that trickled down her palm. “I printed it obviously! Because we were here and I was at the printer and you were at the printer and I wrote it!” She was going to get blood on Beth’s love letter and make her think that she’s being stalked by an ax murderer or The Gambler’s personal hitman. “These words aren’t from me ,” she stressed. “I didn’t say these things!”

Dang it, this was bad. He wasn’t going to draw her flowers anymore or cute stars passed in notes during their shared homeroom. She continued to ramble when Cameron didn’t say anything. “Actually!” She wiped her palm on her jeans and returned it. “It’s for you!”

Cameron maintained cool and collected when he pointed at the opening address, becoming amused. “It says ‘ Dear Beth ’”

“Does it!? Typo!”

“Look, I don’t blame you for developing a crush on a close friend. It happens, you don’t have to explain it to me.”

“But!”

Cameron backed away. “I’m gonna go.”

~.~

Rick let Beth drag him out of class so they could meet up with her secret admirer in the empty hallway at her locker knowing this wasn’t going to end well.

Beth tapped at the yellow sticky note on her locker that had the details of her rendezvous.

“What happens if he doesn’t show up?” Rick crossed his arms awkwardly when Beth turned around to look at him. “If they don’t show up.”

He should’ve noticed the second that he saw Beth that this had been her plan since she got out of bed. She was wearing a dress and tights that perfectly so matched her colour, it took a second glance to confirm it adhered to the no dress on skin school dress code.

Her hair had clips in them too, a moon clip that parted the left side of her afro in a way that let it drop slightly over her face like her mom’s weave. It was beautiful and she looked beautiful and Rick got stuck in those thoughts all over again when she slid down the lockers to wait, drawing up her knees.

“They will.” She patted on the dusty ground for him to sit.

“You’re not going to check your locker first?”

“You want me to?”

“Do you want to?�� Rick countered.

Beth scrunched up her face at him. “I asked first.”

His face warmed and he finally sat down across from her. “Usually you rush to it, that's all.”

She stretched out her legs, pulling at the hem of her dress. “It’s not going to matter what was written in whatever they put in my locker when I get to see who they are. Meeting them in person will be more exciting.”

Bold words to say to her secret admirer, sitting right in front of her. Rick sighed and stretched out too. He drew up one leg, the other bent at the knee. “What if they’re really ugly?”

Beth rolled her eyes.

“Just asking. You can like someone’s sentiments but not their face.”

“I’m going to like their face,” she reassured him. “Even if I’ll have to learn to.”

“Okay,” Rick drawled. He was hoping if he extended the talk long enough, Beth would grow bored and give up. Just because the secret admirer won’t show up today doesn’t mean that they did so with ill-intent. Rick tried to remind Beth of this as they sat around alone. The secret admirer could’ve got swept up in a test in class or had an early dismissal. Beth wouldn’t know the difference. Rick wasn’t hurting her by playing along.

When an hour passed and Rick saw how determined she was to stick this through, the internal panic ramped up.

Of course, the thought came to him that he should come clean. It’s just that. That meant Rick would have to come clean . He hated that Courtney was right to laugh at him over this. It freaked him out to just blurt out the truth. It would take Beth by surprise. Rick hadn’t planned yet how he was going to wind the secret admirer thing down to prepare her about it all. He thought she’d get to read his letter today to gauge how she’d feel.

He stared up at the ceiling thinking through five hundred strategy plans to get out of this mess while untangling the secret as Beth played a game on her phone.

“Soooo,” Beth said some while later. “Are we going to be waiting another hour or…”

Rick jerked up, saucer-eyed and mouth agape. His brain short-circuited.

“Because we can take all the time you need, Rick.”

“You knew?” He banged his head against the metal behind him. She didn’t need a supercomputer to figure out Rick liked her before Rick figured out he liked her, did she? “Of course you knew,” he muttered to himself. The shock wore off as the embarrassment settled in, his face flushing as bright confirmation. A massive shot of adrenaline flooded through him, similar to the rush of his hourglass.

“I pieced it together a few days ago,” she admitted. “I don’t think you realize how much lighter you are now.” Beth picked herself up and crossed the hall to sit by his side. Her hand went to his right knee and she leaned forward. “Rick, it’s okay. It’s okay to like me.”

The words clogged up in Rick’s throat as she spoke softly, overwhelmed. He wanted to explain everything but it was complicated and delicate and if she’d only read his freakin letter trapped in that locker maybe he’d have a chance to get her to understand-

“Oh my god, you’re really nervous.” She lifted her hand up to give him room. “Rick, it’s just me. I like you too, I’m just a bit confused about how this all makes sense.”

“I didn’t know,” he managed out, stilted. “I really didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“I’m not your real secret admirer.” Rick corrected himself. “I wasn’t your first.”

“Okay…”

“There were those weird letters at first. The random ones. And I didn’t understand why they got under my skin so much. But they did. So I found the guy who was making them and I-"

"Really," Beth deadpanned.

"I know, I know." Rick scowled. "I found out it was that they were being forced to.”

Sourness etched over her mouth as it pulled her lips thin together. “Oh.”

“And I wanted it to quit but by then it was involving the bullying of that other guy, not just you.” Rick sighed. “So I took over to help.”

“Rick.”

“I just didn’t want you to get crushed!” he told her, going into more detail about Joseph and the football team. “I was going to explain when it was all over what happened, and you were going to laugh it off and thank me and then I would’ve shrugged that off because it was whatever. It was the right thing to do.”

“But?”

Rick rolled his eyes at himself. “But I liked what I was doing too much for it to be normal.” He raised his head to give her a crooked smile. “I like you. ”

“You are so ridiculous,” she giggled out. She stood up and leisurely made her way to the locker. “So you have this important letter in here for me that you want me to read?” She toyed with her combination lock. “What’s in it?”

“Uh. A mess?”

“I’ll keep it for later then,” she decided and grabbed his hand. He stood up and followed her, hyper-aware of the way she led him away with her hand in his. “Come on, we have something we need to do.”

She brought him to the school library, which Rick did not understand. She sat him down at a macbook and darted in to kiss his cheek. Rick stuttered, lightheaded as she booted up his computer.

“Uh- What exactly are we doing?”

“Writing.” She tapped on his keyboard and moved his still hands over them with an exciting squeeze. “There are four more days left in the month and I don’t know about you but I’d really rather spend our free periods and after school with you on a date.”

"That is...a really good idea."

She glanced up from their screen to find Cameron watching them oddly.

Beth awkwardly waved.

“Why is he looking at us like that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care.” Rick put his arm around her, ignoring everyone else. He leaned forward to steal her move, gently kissing away her curiosity.

Beth grinned and leaned her head against his shoulder as he typed lines and lines of compliments. “Then I don’t care either.”

#beth chapel #rick tyler #hournite #rick x beth #hournite week 21 #hournite week 2021 #secret admirer au #hournites fic

30 notes · View notes

haikyuuhoo · 4 years ago

Text

Contemporaneous - Chapter 1

Pairing: Atsumu x F!Reader

Summary: In which you are so incredibly lucky to exist at the same time as Atsumu Miya. Or, perhaps, it’s the exact opposite…

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: Swearing, inconsistent chronology (sorry I just liked it better that way), that’s about it so far

A/N: Okay, here’s ch. 1 finally! Mostly background, setting the stage, all that. Things will probably move quicker in upcoming chapters because I’m busy and have a hard time thinking of filler plot lol. Enjoy, please let me know what you think!

Prologue | Chapter 2

All of your best memories were with the twins.

Not like that was a hard thing to accomplish—pretty much all of your memories were with the twins.

The good memories, the bad memories, and all the ones in between. They were the biggest constant in your life and you felt so lucky to have them.

Sometimes you got emotional about it, and they teased you for it, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“H-Hey, why are ya crying?” Atsumu had asked one time at fifteen when the three of you sat outside of the 24-hour convenience store near your house at 2 in the morning, each of you holding your own popsicles you’d snuck out to get.

“I just love you guys so much,” you said with a sniffle, wiping your nose on the cuff of your sleeve.

Osamu grimaced, looking down at you. “Y-Ya don’t have to get all emotional about it. We’re kind of stuck with ya.”

You frowned, giving him a light punch in the shoulder. “Just say you love me too, dummy,” you huffed.

His eyebrows knitted together. “We love you,” he sighed before wrapping an arm around you to give you a side-hug.

Atsumu wrapped his arm around you as well and gave you a grin. “Yeah, but please don’t cry anymore. It’s kinda embarrassing,” he laughed.

“Oh, shut up,” you whined, though you felt comfort flood through you at the feeling of being sandwiched between your two best friends. “You know I get sentimental when I’m tired.”

“Doesn’t make it any less embarrassing,” Osamu mumbled, but a smile played on his lips.

You hummed and closed your eyes for a moment. “Well get used to it, you’re not getting rid of me.”

The twins were like your personal bodyguards. If someone messed with you, they messed with the Miya twins—and no one wanted to mess with the Miya twins. You first learned that when you were nine years old.

The air left your lungs, palms and knees scraping against the ground as you were pushed from the swing you’d been sitting on.

“You’re so lame!” one kid teased from behind you, shrill voice barely making its way to your ears as tears began to prick in your eyes.

“Yeah, where are your dumb friends? They must not like you if they aren’t even playing with you!” another said as the three kids who were picking on you moved to stand in front of where you still remained on your hands and knees, head hung in an attempt to hide the way you were crying.

Atsumu and Osamu had been punished for fighting during in class and the teacher made them stay inside for the first ten minutes of recess. You told them you’d wait for them by the swings; you didn’t really hang out with anyone else anyway. This group of kids didn’t like that though, telling you that the swings were their hangout spot during recess. You told them you’d leave after a couple minutes—you didn’t really want to just stand around and wait for the twins. What was the harm in swinging for a bit?

The harm was too great for the kids currently bullying you, apparently, and they decided to shove you off of the swings.

Your hands and knees burned from the scrapes you’d gotten, and you pushed your palms against your legs to try to make it stop stinging.

“Aww, are you crying?” the third kid laughed, and you looked up at them, face wet with tears.

“Oh my god, she is crying!”

A chorus of laughter sounded in front of you, making you cry even harder. Your face grew hot with embarrassment, tears leaving silvery streaks on your skin. And then suddenly, the figures of the three kids in front of you were shadowed as someone approached them from behind.

Two someones, in fact.

“Leave her alone,” Atsumu said, his voice causing a terror to run through the bullies in a way you didn’t think was possible for a nine-year-old.

The twins had a few bandages decorating their arms and faces, evidence of all the spats they got into with each other. But even after being kept in from recess they were already willing to fight again—just not with each other this time.

“You’re really pathetic,” Osamu continued, arms crossed over his chest as he gave the terrified kids an apathetic look.

“Yeah, get lost before I punch yer stupid face.” Atsumu stuck his tongue out, and somehow, the intimidation worked.

The bullies scurried off and Osamu helped pull you to your feet. “I’ll take ya to the nurse,” he offered, looking at the scrapes on your hands.

“And I’ll go beat them up,” Atsumu said, eyes still angry as he watched the kids run to the other side of the playground.

“No, it’s okay,” you sniffled, reaching up to wipe your eyes.

“Yeah, you’ll just get in trouble again, dummy,” Osamu reasoned with his twin.

Atsumu sighed and turned to you, shoulders slumping when he really took a good look at you. “’M sorry we weren’t here,” he said as the two of them started walking you back to the building so you could get your cuts cleaned up.

“‘S okay,” you said again.

“No it’s not! They’re dumb for picking on ya,” Atsumu argued. He let out an annoyed grunt when the three of you got inside. “Wish they’d get kept in from recess for being idiots…”

Being a family friend also meant that you got along with the twins’ parents too—especially their mom. She treated you as if you were her own daughter, and sometimes she joked that she wished you were because the twins were so hard to handle.

You were so close with them that sometimes you would go over to their house even when you knew the twins were at volleyball practice.

When you were twelve, she’d decided you were probably old enough to watch one of the shows she enjoyed, and so you started going over to their house after school to watch TV dramas with their mom while you waited for them to come home from practice.

“Y/N,” Atsumu whined one day as soon as he saw the two of you. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off and he was already complaining. This was the fourth day in a row they came home to find you watching television with their mom. “What’re ya doing? Yer supposed to be our friend!”

“Shut up,” Osamu mumbled, taking his shoes off and removing his jacket. “You’re so embarrassing.”

Atsumu frowned, eyes going wide as if he was pleading with you to come hang out with them instead.

“‘Tsumu, you just got home. We’re almost done with this episode, and then I’ll come hang out!” you reasoned with him.

He huffed, finally reaching down to take off his shoes. “Sometimes I feel like ya like her more than me,” he grumbled, earning him a smack on the back of his head from his brother.

“Keep up the attitude and she will start liking Mom more,” Osamu hissed.

You were always at their games. And when I say always, I mean always. You were the loudest member of the cheering section, and there were countless times when you didn’t even have the voice left to congratulate them on their victories.

One thing you never did, though, was boo them. They were your best friends—and you were close with the rest of the team too—so you never had the heart to boo them when they messed up.

Atsumu confronted you about it once when you were seventeen—they hadn’t even lost—after he’d had a tough game.

“Y/N,” he said, face stuck in a frown as he approached you.

You gave him a grin, wrapping your arms around him as you pulled him into a hug. “Congrats, ‘Tsumu!”

“Don’t congratulate me,” he hissed, stiffening in your hold.

You frowned and pulled away from him. “Why not? You won.”

“Because I sucked. You should have booed me.”

You rolled your eyes, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re so dramatic. Everyone messes up, ‘Tsumu. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It was close! I could have cost us the match!” he argued.

Now it was your turn to frown at him. “So you botched a few serves, it’s not a big deal. Your sets were great. Besides, I’m not gonna boo my own team, Atsumu—” He grimaced at the sound of his full name. “—and I’m most certainly not going to boo you.”

“Losers don’t need applause.”

You scoffed. “You aren’t a loser! I swear sometimes you’re so hard on yourself for no reason. People have bad games. I’m not going to ridicule you for it.”

“You should!”

Your jaw clenched. You hated when he did this to himself.

“I deserve ta be booed, ta be yelled at, ta be told what a piece of trash I am because I almost screwed this up for us!”

“It’s not going to make you better, you dumbass!” you finally shouted, shoving his chest.

Atsumu stumbled backwards a few steps, heartrate increasing. He couldn’t tell whether it was from the adrenaline of the game, his disappointment in himself, or your actions. You’d never pushed him like that. Sure, you bickered and things of that nature, but this time you seemed genuinely angry.

“You’re one of the hardest working people I know and seeing you put yourself down like that when all you had was one bad set makes me want to punch you in the face!” Your heart was pounding, the sound deafening you as your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “I don’t give a shit about those people in the stands, they don’t really care about you. I’m your best friend! I’m not supposed to beat you down, I’m supposed to pick you back up!”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, words getting caught in his throat as he tried to gather his thoughts.

You pushed past him with a scowl. “I’m gonna go congratulate ‘Samu. Don’t talk to me until you’ve got your shit together.”

Osamu had been standing with Aran, Suna, and Kita by the entrance to the gym. They’d been chatting, but it had gotten cut short in favor of watching your interaction with the setter.

Osamu was in shock. He’d never seen you like that, which was saying something considering how long he’d known you, and it was kind of refreshing to see his brother get put in his place like that.

“That was kinda hot,” Suna said absentmindedly, eyebrows raised in amusement.

The gray-haired twin turned to glare at his friend. “Say that again and I’ll punch you.”

“Osamu,” Kita scolded.

“Sorry, Kita-san.”

Of course, with years and years of memories and friendship with the twins, you couldn’t help but think it was more than luck that brought you together. And even though you believed the three of you were fated to be together, as you got older something just felt different.

The summer before you started high school you had started to think that maybe you were fated to be more than just friends with Atsumu when feelings for him started to blossom. You tried to ignore them, far too shy and inexperienced in the ‘liking boys’ department to know how to deal with this new sensation.

You tried not to let it change your friendship with him, but there were times when you’d feel your face grow hot or your stomach flutter when you were around him.

At first, you didn’t like this feeling at all.

The twins had always been your comfort—your safe space. And now you were nervous to even be around Atsumu. But at the same time, all you wanted to do was be around him.

You hated it.

You hated the way you immediately perked up at the sound of them coming home when you should have been watching TV with their mom, now too distracted to even pay attention to the end of the show.

You hated the way you wanted to comfort Atsumu in a way that was so much more than friendly when he was beating himself up.

And you loathed the way you felt jealousy bubble in your veins at the thought of Atsumu liking someone else.

So you did your best to push the feelings away when you were around them.

But when you were alone, they all tumbled out, and you decided to take up journaling as an attempt to deal with the feelings. You felt embarrassed, as a teenage girl does, to have a journal filled with all of these thoughts, so whenever you were finished writing you hid it in your sock drawer lest one of the twins find it and tease you about it for weeks.

When you started high school and the twins joined the volleyball team, they were instant phenoms. And in turn, they garnered a lot of attention—especially from girls.

It upset you, if you were going to be honest with yourself. Not only because you couldn’t really hang out with your friends in the halls or during lunch without being interrupted by their gang of fan girls, but also because you despised the girls who flung themselves at Atsumu. It killed you to see them batting their long eyelashes and talking to your best friends with their cute voices, all while you sat to the side like some kind of unwanted piece of stale bread. And it especially killed you when Atsumu started returning their affections.

It scared you. It all scared you. The feelings, the girls, high school—you were terrified. You didn’t want to ruin things between the two—three—of you with your feelings, but the girls made you so insecure. So instead, you wrote in your journal.

You wrote down all of your feelings for three years.

You didn’t speak a word of them to anyone, no less the twins.

And there was a page you came back to almost every day, even though you had written it during your first year:

The odds of existing are slim,

so the odds of you and I existing at the same time

must be next to impossible,

and I think that’s beautiful.

Maybe the universe does work in my favor after all

because I got the chance to get to know you.

You stared at the page, not even realizing tears were forming in your eyes until one fell and landed on your hand that pressed down on the page. It was a habit to hold it open, but it wasn’t even necessary anymore—you’d opened your journal to this page enough that it stayed open on its own.

When you’d written it, it was a happy thought. But now, three years later, it didn’t feel so happy. Atsumu was getting busier and busier with volleyball, and that meant he only got better, and when he got better his fanbase grew.

You were starting to feel like a second choice.

Scratch that, you were starting to feel like a tenth, twentieth, fiftieth choice.

You craved the attention he gave those girls. You wanted him to grin at you like that. You wanted to be more than just his best friend.

But you felt like you were running out of time.

It was ironic, considering you believed the universe brought the three of you together with the intention of you being side by side forever.

Maybe, after all this time believing it, you were finally starting to realize that you were wrong.

#atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #atsumu #atsumu x reader angst #angst #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader angst #haikyuu angst #miya atsumu x reader #my writing

121 notes · View notes

slashersteve · 5 years ago

Text

Some Kind of Disaster

pairing: Steve Harrington/Female Reader, Past!Billy Hargrove/Female Reader

summary: Reader and Steve have been together for a few weeks now, and she runs into a person she had a fling with once. That person was Billy Hargrove, and it’s the first Steve’s hearing of this.

warnings: swearing, Billy being a douche saying douchey things, Steve being cheeky and cute (is that even a warning), sexual themes and mentions

note: my good friend @dearneverlander gave me this idea in my time of need and assisted me in figuring out the asshole language, you’re a life saver, really. also if you’re a billy stan im sorry but i am not so he’s bad in this- also this is a no upside down au so the mall is still open

***

(y/n) was leaning against Steve’s car in Starcourt Mall’s parking lot, the window cracked open a little as the car shook. An older couple walked by when the car jerked and someone cursed. They looked at the car, then gave (y/n) an odd look.

“Hi, how are you all doing tonight?” (y/n) asked, crossing her arms, they didn’t reply and kept walking, she turned and called, “Steve, would you hurry up, we’re going to miss the movie!”

In the car, Steve was struggling to put on his jeans as he replied, “We can miss the previews, don’t worry!” (y/n) grumbled and leaned back on the car again.

“I don’t see why you have to change, I don’t mind being seen with you in your scoops uniform,” she stated, Steve scoffed.

“I mind,” he said, finally getting his pants on and buttoning it. He opened the car door now, she grabbed it and pulled it more open for him, revealing her boyfriend, hair an absolute mess. He leaned downward to put his shoes back on, then looked up at (y/n), who was just staring at him, he smirked and said, “Stop checking me out or we’re going to miss the movie.” (y/n) blinked and rolled her eyes as he got out, and locked and closed the door. He held his hand out for her to take. She took it, their fingers lacing together as they returned to the mall for their movie date.

At this time of night the mall was still quite packed with shoppers, they had to navigate through the crowd while still holding hands to make it to the theater. (y/n) had bought the tickets earlier in the day so they wouldn’t have to wait in the long line and just go in and pick their seats.

Because it was a late showing, and on a school night for those still in school, she was hoping it wasn’t so packed so they could get their back row seats and kiss a little without someone to her immediate left or something.

They were a few weeks into their relationship, so it was fairly new and she’d never been in an actual relationship before, hadn’t even thought about it until she started to talk to Steve, someone she liked to avoid in high school, because her closest friend Robin worked and they became friends. Of course, that meant they had to see each other often, and one thing led to another, and here they were, standing in line at the snack bar holding hands while he whispered about how he can’t wait to pretend to watch a movie when they’re actually going to make out.

God he made her so happy.

“Down boy,” (y/n) said as they approached the cashier, Steve stuck out his bottom lip then chuckled as he pulled out his wallet.

“It’s payday, get whatever you want, I’m buying,” he said smugly, (y/n) was going to decline and pay for it herself, but then he added, “Also you paid for the tickets so it’s only fair.”

They got a large drink to share, a medium popcorn, and some licorice. Steve grabbed the peanut M&M’s, setting them down on the counter and said, “I know you’re going to make me go buy you some in the middle of the movie.”

“You know me so well,” (y/n) said as he winked. They got their snacks, and started to walk towards the theater their movie was being shown in. Steve walked a little ahead in order to open the door for her, (y/n) was about to enter when someone got in her way, leaving the theater.

“Oh sorry-” she started to apologize but stopped when she saw it was Billy Hargrove. Instantly her face flushed, she hadn’t seen him since she quit her life guard job at the pool when she got the job at the GAP, it meant more hours, more money, and less sitting in the sun. Thinking of the time she spent with him there made her inwardly cringe, and the surprise then smug look in his eyes said he was reminded of it too.

“Are you going to move Hargrove or are you going to stand there like an idiot?” Steve deadpanned, letting go of the door, not wanting to hold it open for that guy. (y/n) took a step large step back, and Billy pushed the door open, glancing at Steve then at (y/n) incredibly amused.

“Well shit, are you two here together?” he asked, (y/n) put on a straight face and Steve didn’t hide the look of distaste on his features.

“None of your damn business, get out of the way,” Steve said, Billy licked his lips as he looked at (y/n), making Steve clench the drink in his hand tightly.

“You know I’m a better time than him, (y/n),” he smirked as her eyes widened, he reached out and almost touched her chin, to which Steve dropped the candy in his other hand, and instantly caught his arm, shoving it aggressively back down.

“Back off, Hargrove,” Steve growled, Billy chuckled.

“What are you going to do about it then Harrington?” he taunted, Steve’s face hardened angrily. (y/n) reached out and put her hand on Steve’s shoulder, saying, “Steve, come on, he’s just being an asshole per usual.” She glared at him, Billy clicked his tongue and she sucked in a breath in an attempt to keep her temper as ease.

Steve eased off when she did so, and nodded, (y/n) didn’t give Billy another look as she walked by him with head up high, Steve shoved Billy in the shoulder when he walked in.

The previews were still playing, and just as she suspected there was hardly anyone in here, scattered across the theater. They chose to see in one of the side seats in the corner, (y/n) by the wall and Steve by the aisle.

“I can’t fucking stand him,” Steve grumbled angrily as they sat down, “He doesn’t know when to to shut his damn mouth.” (y/n) chuckled nervously and nodded.

“I agree,” she replied, still feeling her heart beating out of her chest. Steve looked at her, and tilted his head curiously because he noticed how timid and overly annoyed (y/n) had become, plus she wouldn’t look at him, just staring blankly at the screen.

“Hey, did he really bother you because I can do something about it you know,” Steve said as he wrapped an arm around her, (y/n) leaned into him and replied, “Oh-no, well yeah- but uh-” She wasn’t sure what to say, not wanting to tell her boyfriend who happens to hate Billy like she did, if not more, that she hooked up with him not once, but twice during her time as a life guard. Once in the showers after hours, another in his car in that same week in front of her house. After that one week, they made out once or twice and she started, much to her dismay, like him. Of course, she found out he was hooking up with another life guard the same time as her, and she stopped seeing him. He said some stuff to her, ones that pissed her off for months. God she hated him, but not more than she hated herself for allowing herself to sleep with him two times.

Steve stared at her, clearly seeing her struggle to the find the words, it took Steve a moment to figure out why, and when he thought he did, he raised a brow and said, “What did he mean when he said that you knew he was better than me, which we know is a lie,” he added, (y/n) half-smiled at that because it was true, “Did you two used to date or something?” He said it in a joking tone.

(y/n)’s smile and eyes fell and so did Steve’s small grin.

“Oh...oh shit,” Steve said, blinking rapidly and looking down for a moment to take in this new information. (y/n) perked up and looked back at him, “We didn’t date, it was just- it was stupid and- it was before I even met you, well officially anyway! I haven’t talked to him since, oh god you’re gonna think differently of me-”

Steve shook his head, “No- why would I? I mean, I hate the guy, but I’m not going to judge you on your past uhhh relationships? I mean- it was Billy, which is-”

“Oh god you are judging me and I don’t blame you,” (y/n) almost cried, Steve shook his head once more.

“I’m not!” he said, perhaps a little too loudly because the group of teens sitting a few rows in front of them turned around, Steve cringed and turned back to (y/n) who had her hands in her hair, completely embarrassed, “Hey, you’re with me now, I don’t care who you were with in the past, even if it was Hargrove.”

(y/n) dropped her hands down to her lap, and let out a sigh, “That’s good to hear, just you need to know that it was nothing, and I absolutely can’t stand him too.”

“Then why did-”

“It was a dark time okay, it was so hot, I was probably dehydrated or something, I don’t know,” she was rambling now and Steve chuckled, leaning in to kiss her on the lips.

“I got it, we all make mistakes,” he teased, (y/n) smiled weakly and nodded, “Let’s just forget about it and watch the movie, or whatever scenes we can watch when we take a break from this.” He caught her lips in his again, making her melt in her seat. His kisses always managed to take her breath away. He leaned away slightly, and she nodded dreamily.

“Okay,” she replied.

Talking with Steve made her feel better because he was right, it was in the past and it wasn’t like she was talking with him. That was the first interaction she’s had since then with him, and ever since she started dating Steve it was like some kind of bad memory. Throughout the movie, or their make out sessions, she didn’t notice that Billy was sitting in the same row, arm wrapped around another girl who he managed to ignore half the night, glancing over at (y/n) and Steve to roll his eyes.

After the movie was over, Steve and (y/n) threw their trash away, and as they began to leave, walking past Billy and his date, (y/n) didn’t even look at him, her arm hooked with Steve’s as he suggested they see another movie since he didn’t want the night to be over.

“Well there’s still the backseat of your car,” (y/n) said suggestively, making Steve smirk and begin to walk faster.

That bothered him, a lot. He left his date, stalking after the both of them.

(y/n) and Steve didn’t even know, not until he spoke, “You like having my sloppy seconds Harrington?”

His words hit (y/n) instantly, Steve took a moment to fathom what he just said, and they both turned around, Billy tucked his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and said, “I promise she won’t moan your name like she did mine.” His eyes flickered to (y/n)’s, “Isn’t that right princess? Where was it, the shower, then my car- that was my favorite-”

“What the fuck do you want Billy?” (y/n) snapped before Steve could, Billy grinned widely.

“Oh you know what I want-” Billy bit his lip, and (y/n)’s fists clenched, “Come on, you know you want me again. Why are you with pretty boy Harrington when you had me?”

“Fuck you!”

“You already did. Twice.”

At that point, (y/n) was fuming and Steve was about ready to attack Billy in the middle of this hallway in the theater, but to his surprise (y/n) had slapped him. His head turned to the side, the slap echoing down the hall and others standing in the snack line's heads turned to see what just happened.

Billy’s turned his head back to look at her, “Always the feisty one.”

Steve had enough, going between her and Billy, “Enough Hargrove, she doesn’t fucking like you so how about you go cry about it somewhere else in private.” Billy chuckled.

“Oh she liked a whole lot of me, Harrington,” he winked, Steve pushed him harshly backwards that he stumbled and grabbed (y/n) by the wrist gently.

“Come on,” he said, and (y/n) agreed, satisfied with the slap she gave him. It felt like therapy, really. They started to walk away, but then he decided to open his mouth again.

“When you’re done being disappointed by Harrington, I’ll be here waiting for you princess,” he said it so smugly and at that moment (y/n) just lost her temper, turning around and practically about to run at him, but Steve was fast, wrapping an arm around her waist and saying, “He’s just trying to get a rise out of you, (y/n)!”

Billy looked amused at that, wanting Steve to let her go, but Steve kept a firm grip, even though he wanted to see him get punched in the face this time by his girlfriend, but they were in the middle of a hallway with others looking at them, probably about to get kicked out at any second.

Billy didn’t say anything, eyes glimmering with excitement for some reason. Now Steve wanted to be the one to punch that look off his face. Fuck that guy, really. (y/n) let out a sigh, and looked at Steve, “Let’s just go.” Steve nodded, shooting Billy a glare before they finally left, this time with Billy not saying anything.

When they were out of the theater, and mall, still holding hands, Steve couldn’t help but say, “You slept with that guy twice?” (y/n), who was still mad, looked at Steve with wide eyes.

“You said you wouldn’t judge,” she said, frowning deeply. Steve shook his head.

“And like I said I’m not! Just god he’s such an asshole, you must’ve been really dehydrated,” he said with a shake of his head.

“I know, I’m so embarrassed,” she admitted, “Also don’t tell Robin,” she said, realizing what a mess that would be, Steve was being oddly nice and nonchalant about it but she knew Robin would roast her to death and she wasn’t ready for that.

Steve laughed, “I won’t, I promise!” (y/n) sighed.

“I totally ruined the night.”

“No you didn’t, he did, nobody told him to say shit like that,” he said as he leaned on the hood of his car, pulling (y/n) against him, her hands resting on his chest, “I’ve dealt with that prick before, you know, and I’ll deal with him more if it means defending you and your honor- even though you clearly don’t need it.” He referred to the slap, and her almost pouncing the guy. (y/n) chuckled.

“I don’t want to get banned from the theater for punching him,” she said, Steve nodded.

“That would be rough,” he rested his hands on her waist, leaning in to kiss her. She kissed him back, resting her hands on his shoulders before moving them to meet at the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her to deepen their kiss, “Then again, we can still kiss like this anywhere else.”

“Clearly,” (y/n) said, pecking him on the lips, she leaned away for a second, looking at Steve very lovingly, “He was a mistake, Steve, from a time in my life I’d rather forget. I...I love you.”

Steve looked pleasantly surprised by her words, cheeks turning slightly red, and he smiled, “I love you too.”

They kissed once more, deeper than the first time and only stopped because a group of teens whistled. (y/n) felt her cheeks heat up, kissing in the dark in the back of the theater was different than kissing out in the open like this, Steve chuckled and moved forward, saying, “What did you say about the backseat before Hargrove interrupted?”

(y/n) smirked and said, “You know what I said.”

Very quickly the both of them got into the car, Steve speeding out of the parking lot attempting to park somewhere where they can get a little damn privacy.

#steve harrington/reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #st imagines #st x reader #stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargrove/reader #yikes i say yikes im out of practice

540 notes · View notes

catsandstrawberries · 4 years ago

Text

Rogue Firebender

Pairing: Firebending! Jeon Jungkook x Firebending! Fem! Reader

Summary: After spending time as a fire nation general you decide to go rogue and rebel against the genicide the nation is causing against the other elements. But a mission to save an earth bending group goes wrong when your worst enemy shows up. Jeon Jungkook.

Warnings: Enemies to lovers (Enemies to sex friends?), vaginal sex, oral sex (fem receiving), spit kink, slight FemDom, Violence, some mentions of gore but nothing to bad, swear words, Jungkooks kind of an asshole.

Based on Avatar the Last Airbender

Part 2

This wasn't my best plan.

I'd like to say I'm good at making plans, and by making plans, I mean split minute life or death decisions, but today was going downhill fast.

I didn't calculate a multitude of things that day.

I didn't calculate how absolutely frustrated I would be and how that would cloud my mind.

I didn't calculate the sheer amount of earthbending slaves the squadron had captured, and I definitely didn't calculate the firebender that would ambush me.

Jeon Jungkook.

The issue with Jungkook was that despite being the same age as me he was practically the fire lords next in line. A dog, willing to bend at the rules and orders as long as he was given a treat and praised like a good little puppy.

Jeon Jungkook was also one of the most talented firebenders I had ever met, and it was a shock to the four nations that I had escaped him for so long.

But that was their fault for underestimating me.

Shackles clanged against the ground, the sound reverberating through the mountainside as soldiers led woman, men, children all in a line towards deaths row.

I defined myself as a freedom fighter, fighting to free those enslaved by the fire nation who used them for their personal gain.

But I was more commonly known as the rogue firebender on every wanted sign in the four nations.

A small child grasped onto his mother's hand, elephant tears slipping past his eyelashes, a monkey stuffy clutched in his hand as he scanned the empty scenery.

Empty, save for me.

I had intercepted a fire nation transcript of them transferring and killing slaves, but there were three times the amount then I expected. Freeing them would be a hassle if I wanted to bring them all back to the mainland and away from fire nation reign.

I grumbled in frustration under my breath. Getting frustrated had always been an issue of mine and my mood just seemed to boil with annoyance.

Four guards led the group, four guards are easy when they don't involve innocents, but I had a sneaking suspicion these guys wouldn't play fair.

I had learned from my previous encounters that jumping up and shouting 'hey ugly!' wasn't the best way to get their attention, so I'm attempting a more solid approach.

My foot made direct impact with the soldier's face and I smirked at the harsh smack that followed.

I threw a serious of fireballs towards the three soldiers, screams, and shouts from the earthbenders filling my ears as fire soared over their heads.

I leaned back as colors of red and orange flew by me, barely evading the destructive flame. I dropped to my knees and swung my leg out to knock the solider off guard, smirking in satisfaction while they all groaned in pain on the ground.

Breaking away from the soldiers I rushed to the group of earth benders, wincing when they all recoiled back from me.

"I won't hurt you, I want to help you."

That was another issue with being a rogue firebender, nobody trusted you, even if you were saving people's lives. I was still a fire bender.

I held my hand below the chains, a small flameworking at the metal until it seared and broke in half.

"Listen, get to the checkpoint, someone will be there to help you cross back into earth kingdom territory, but you need to hurry."

They nodded as a collective and went running in the opposite direction, the little boy giving me a shy wave as he disappeared. Relief passed through my body as I watched them leave, well...until I heard his voice.

"Such a noble act, little rebel."

My body froze and a tingling feeling spread over my skin. The fire in my bones warming at the sound of his voice.

"Taking out four soldiers at once, impressive. But hears the thing, I may be one person, but even you know I'm stronger than all four of them combined."

I slowly turned around, a mop of black hair and olive skin greeting me, red eyes filled with speckles of gold gleaming my way. His fancy robes of red and black stuck to his skin, his mark of nobility. I hated him.

"If you're stronger than all of them then how come I've won every fight?"

His calm composure faltered for a moment, a snarl curling onto his face, "because you love to run."

Speaking of running...

Although I loved getting in a brawl with the attractive 21-year-old who had a jawline sharper than any cooking knife, I was exhausted.

Tracking down secret human trade routes was a lot of work, and though I made fighting four men look easy it took energy.

So for the first time in my life, I took Jungkooks advice,

I ran.

"Shit." I briefly heard him mumble followed by the harsh sound of his boots on the dirt.

I kept a strong pace ahead of Jungkook, I was more agile than him, faster than him, everything was stacked on me getting away.

Except for terrain.

Leaves and branches cut against the skin of my arms as I pushed through the multicolored forest near the edge of the mountainside.

Prickly bushes and plants caught on the fabric of my pants and rocks stung against the bareness of my feet.

Despite the not so good situation, I was smiling. Maybe I was cocky, but I was happy because I knew I was gonna win. I knew that I was faster and better then Jungkook and he would never, ever, bring me back.

But the sudden terrain no longer held flat ground but a deep drop towards a glistening pool of water. My heels dug into the ground as I skidded to a stop, my heart rapidly pounding in my ears as I looked for an escape route. Just before I could jump, a body collided against my back, and a scream escaped my lips. The two of us tumbled down towards the water, dirt sticking to our skin and rocks cutting against our bodies as we rolled and eventually hit the water.

My vision exploded with colors before briefly going black, my senses only comprehending my heavy breathing and the dragging and pulling consciousness of my mind.

Did I mention I fucking hate Jeon Jungkook?

My back stung as if hundreds of needles were being stabbed into my skin, my throat constricting as a pressure pulsed on my chest. My vision which had previously consisted of darkness suddenly sprung to life when I rolled on my side, coughing out the water that had invaded my lungs and rubbing at my red eyes.

Then I noticed him.

Hovering directly above me, his mouth glistening with water and his hands hovering over my chest. The realization suddenly dawned on me and I harshly pushed him, my hand swinging back to spew a fire attack on him only for his hand to catch my wrist. Calloused fingers tightening around my tensed arm.

"I save your life and this is what I get?" His gruff voice showed no ounce of sympathy and I fired back,

"you were the one who pushed us off that cliff, you idiot." At my words, I fully take him in, a layer of clothing is missing so now he's only in a simple black tunic and his normal fire nation general pants. His hair is dripping with water and a trail of blood leaks from a cut on his lip. I openly smirk at his wound.

"Thanks so much for trying to ruin my life, but I'm leaving."

As soon as my body puts pressure on my right ankle, a broken sob is escaping my lips and I'm collapsing back onto the pebbly surface.

Jungkook stands and watches, a blank look on his face until I collapse and his lips curl in a smirk.

"I don't think so little rebel. You're coming with me back to the fire nation."

My blood turns cold, my eyes gaping at the man who I had so expertly evaded for so long, had finally won?

"You are a monster." I seethed, wide eyes now narrowing in on him as he kneeled down to my level, fingers harshly grabbing at my chin,

"there's a reason you're on every wanted poster in the nations. If anything, you're the monster (y/n)." I hate the way he says my name. I hate the way he looks at me as if he can control me, and as if he's won. The fire nation will never win if I have anything to say for it. So I do what any other person would do, I spit in his face.

Jungkook had another thing coming if he thought getting me back to the fire nation would be easy. I couldn't bend myself out of the situation because of the fact I couldn't walk. No walking means no running. So instead I decided to be the most annoying prisoner he ever had until I figured out a way to escape.

"Get on the stupid horse."

"It's not a horse, its an alpaca, and they have feelings unlike you so stop insulting it." Jungkook spluttered while I sat on the ground in front of the barn we had found.

Since I couldn't walk Jungkook had forcefully carried me on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes until we found civilization, and we just so happened to stumble upon an alpaca farmer willing to sell.

"I don't care what it is, get on it or your gonna be dragged back." He seethed and I held up my bound hands, nothing but a rope that I could easily burn through stopping me from escaping. Well, that and my twisted ankle.

"You expect me to get on that thing by myself? I'm incapable." I said with big eyes and a pout forming on my face.

Jungkook, ever the gentleman, picked me up suddenly and threw me onto the alpaca, an oooof breaking from my mouth at the sudden change.

"Their. Let's go."

Jungkook had, for some reason, taken a long way around, and before we could cross into fire nation territory, we would have to pass an earth bending town run by the fire nation.

The closer we got into town the more Jungkook seemed to tense. Steering the alpaca closer to him by the reigns. Jungkook gave me a glare and mumbled,

"I'll be right back." To where I have no idea. The fact he was leaving me alone was unsettling on many fronts, but I had a sneaking suspicion he was still watching me.

People walked by in waves, barely paying any attention to me who had one of Jungkooks generals robes pulled on my shoulders. If anything they refused to look at me assuming I was a fire nation general than an ally.

I hated it.

"Did you hear about what happened? They found a few of them."

A stranger spoke and without anything better to do, I listened in.

"That's horrible! What's happening to them."

"The fire nation is taking them to the town center probably for an-"

Jungkook suddenly appeared in front of me, a black hat in hand while he attempted to fit it on my head.

"Stop moving." He grumbled.

"Why do I need a hat?" I asked while he messed with strands of hair, his face inches from mine.

"Because if people recognize you they'll be a riot." I scoffed and tore my face away from him, tempted to spit in his face again.

"(Y/N)." For the first time since we've been together since the fall, he spoke earnestly, softly.

"Don't do anything stupid, I won't stop them if a guard tries to kill you." The feeling of hope that Jungkook had changed, suddenly disappeared and a frown spread on my face.

Jungkook led the alpaca in silence, bordering around the large crowds that started to form in the center of town.

"What's happening?" I asked. Jungkook disregarded my question, nothing but a silent look given to me before he responded,

"nothing."

A scream erupted from somewhere and the crowd started to murmur,

"What aren't you telling me!?" I whisper shouted above the noise.

Jungkook opens and closed his mouth, suddenly at a loss for words, and on my own accord, I scanned the crowd, searching for answers or a sign, and then I saw it.

A small monkey stuffy and elephant tears.

"This is an execution. They're gonna kill them." I spoke breathlessly.

"People of the earth kingdom, these slaves were found on the run, and by order of the fire nation, they are to be publicly executed. Rebellion is unacceptable and anyone associated with the rebellion will be killed."

My head shot to Jungkook at the soldier's words,

"Jungkook we need to do something. They're innocent." Jungkook refused to look at me, the only answer I got from him was the head of black hair.

"Jungkook there are children about to be murdered."

"I know! But we need to ignore it!" He shouted, sounding as if he needed to convince himself rather than me.

"Ignore it? Jungkook you will never be more than anything but a dog to the fire nation. A rug the fire lord will wipe his feet on, simply because you are too blind to the injustice around you."

Hurt flashed in Jungkook gold-flecked eyes, his eyes going wide much like a puppy. I didn't dote on it and instead lit the rope tying my hands together, kicking fire towards Jungkook who barely avoided the attack.

I hopped off the Alpaca, pain shooting up my leg as my ankle throbbed against the ground. Instead of putting pressure on it, I started to hop forward, ignoring Jungkooks shouts and swears from behind me.

I pushed past the crowd, tripping over people, and racing to get to the child before the guard could.

It was my fault they were found, I couldn't let them die.

It was the boy and his mother, both hugging each other as a fire nation guard stalked around them. Taunting his prey before he would publicly burn them to a crisp.

That bastard.

I saw the flame escape his palm first, a grunt escaping my mouth as I lunged forward towards the mother and son. Sweat dripping down my skin as I caught the flame, redirecting it back towards the solider.

Murmurs spread across the crowd, a few shouts of the rogue firebender igniting the area before the general let out an annoyed shout, a flame spreading around him in a circle.

I must not have realized how much energy I used because before he even stalked towards me my legs were collapsing under me. I weakly pushed a flame toward the general stalking towards me, blocking my body in front of the duo behind me.

He ignored my weak attempt to protect them and grabbed me by the throat. I scratched at his hands while he lifted me into the air, my windpipes struggling to take in air.

"You think she can save you?!" I gasped in pain when my body slammed into the ground, fighting to gather my breath as my body blended into the dirt. My body igniting with shock at the sudden drop.

"She is nothing. Anyone who associates with her will die." From the corner of my vision, I watched him reach out towards the boy, his stance flowing backward in a sign of pre-bending. Before I could do anything a voice broke through the crowd.

"Stand down general." Jungkook appeared in the center of the ring, his hand enclosed around the wrist of the general while the boy and his mother cowered behind him. Sobs escaping their mouths.

"Major Jeon-" The general fell into a low bow.

"Sir these slaves were found running from the fire nation, punishable by execution under the fire nat-"

"I've pardoned them." I would have had a similar reaction to the general if I was able to fully move. His head whipping up and his brows furrowing in confusion.

"But-"

"I am taking the rebel to fire lord Ozai, he will need witnesses and requests to speak to the slaves themselves."

"Sir-"

"Are you defying a direct order from the fire lord?" Jungkook maintained a calm composure, an annoyed scowl on his face while the general groveled on the ground at his feet.

"Of course not sir-"

"Leave, all of you!" Jungkook shouted unemotionally to the crowd who filed out as soon as the command left his mouth, the general following after them.

Jungkook walked over to me, kneeling down and placing one of my arms over his shoulders.

"You're an idiot." He mumbled while I leaned on him for support,

"look whos talking Mr. 'I won't stop them if a guard tries to kill you'." The mother shook violently with tears as we approached them, the boy looking at us in confusion as he clutched his monkey.

"We aren't taking you to the fire nation," I spoke with earnest, Jungkook shooting me a look that I ignored.

"But you do need to leave, get as far away as you can, and don't stop until you're in Ba Sing Se." The mother fell into my arms, a difficult position considering I was still leaning on Jungkook, 'thank you's' spewing from her mouth and a combination of snot and tears wetting my shirt. When she had collected herself the little boy stepped forward, and for a moment I thought he was going to hug me. But his little arms wrapped around Jungkooks leg, a smile on his face as he peered up at him, "thank you for saving mommy, monkey and me." He snuggled his face into Jungkooks leg and I analyzed Jungkook's reaction, watching his shoulders slump and his eyes fall before he gently placed a hand on the boy's head full of blonde hair.

Once the two had successfully left, Jungkook silently forced me on his back, leading us down a random trail through the woods.

"What are you doing?" I asked. He didn't respond and only started to walk faster.

"Jungkook where are you going?"

"Shut up."

Jungkook walked ahead another mile or so before he finally placed me down in a clearing, the sun starting to set behind us.

"Jungkook?"

"Do you ever shut up?" He said as he started a fire, sitting down directly in front of me and placing my ankle onto his lap. He handed me a stick and gently prodded my mouth open, his thumb tracing the outline of my bottom lip. "Bite down on this."

I followed as he said until a strangled scream escaped my throat, my back flinging backward as Jungkook suddenly snapped my ankle back into place.

"Fuck you, Jeon!" I heaved out, crawling onto my knees and glaring up at him.

"I just saved your life." He fired back, eyes raging,

"You didn't save my life you saved yours! If I died there then you wouldn't get to bring your prize back to daddy Ozai!"

"Shut up!"

I rolled out of the way as a red and orange flame shot towards me, and without thinking I flung my body at Jungkook, the two of us falling to the ground. I threw a series of punches at him, most of them hitting his chest and one hitting him square in the jaw. Jungkook grabbed at my waist and flipped us, his fingers grabbing my wrist and pinning them against the ground.

Our chests rose and fell with exhaustion and Jungkooks face suddenly fell into the crook of my neck, his grip still strong on my wrists.

"What happened to you? You used to be the best major in the fire kingdom?" He spoke softly while my brain went haywire. My past in the fire nation was dark, I did things for them I regret. Bad things I believed to be good, but even when I started to suspect they were bad, I still did them. I used to be the best, yes, at killing people, hunting people down.

"Look at my stomach." Jungkook looked at me wide-eyed as if asking for confirmation before letting go of my hands. Peeling away the fabric against my torso only to suddenly pull it down.

"Who did that to you?"

My fingers softly played with the fabric,

"Ozai. I publicly disobeyed his orders, he wanted me to teach his son a lesson. Beat him up. I couldn't. So he burned me." I lifted the fabric over my head, Jungkook harshly looking away from me.

"Jungkook. Look at me." Jungkook slowly took me in, nothing but a bra, pants, and a scolding burn against the skin of my torso.

"The fire nation kills innocents, and he's gonna kill you too if that means he gets his way."

Jungkook looked at me with unshed tears in his eyes,

"It's all I've ever known."

"I know." My answer was automatic because I've been in Jungkook's shoes. Faced the issues and controversy in my own mind, but I no longer saw it as betraying my own nation but helping save it.

"C'mere." He mumbled, pulling me into his lap. The soft pads of his fingers tracing the outline of my scar that glowed by the light of the fire.

His hands caressed the sides of my ribs leaving ripples of touch in his wake. His eyes straying upwards to my eyes, big brown doe eyes locking onto mine as if I was the key to all of his issues. All of his pain.

"Let me touch you." Jungkook was straightforward in life, and I don't know why his words shocked me so much, but they did. The want pouring from his eyes and the warmth emitting from his body clouded my brain, clouded my mind until I whispered,

"Okay."

Jungkook leaned forward, his mouth ghosting over mine before he leaned in, connecting our plump lips to one another. Melding our moves in a dance of fire and passion. My hands traveled up towards his head, curling my fingertips around his dark hair and pulling when he knawed against my bottom lip.

He groaned under my ministrations and gave me a half-lidded look,

his hands picking at the fabric of my bra.

Getting the message I grabbed at the fabric and pulled it overhead, Jungkooks eyes widening at my breasts that bounced with the freedom. His hands traced upwards until his thumbs toyed with my nipples. A hiss passing through my lips while a smirk spread on his face.

"Look at you little rebel, getting all red and responsive under me. I'm gonna make you feel so good." He mumbled just before taking the bud in his mouth, sucking and grazing it with his teeth.

"Kook" I muttered while I watched him switch breasts, my legs twitching at the sight of him looking up at me with my nipple in his mouth.

"Take your shirt off." Jungkook gave me a wink at my command and reached for the back of his shirt, pulling it up and over his shoulders.

"Yes, commander." I paid little attention to his joke, my eyes tracing the ridges and outlines of his stomach. Admired his toned section as well as the beautiful tummy fat that had started to form.

"I want to make you scream, little rebel." His fingers pushed down at the pants that stuck to my skin and he gently pushed me down on the ground, the dirt scratching against my bareback.

"I want to see this beautiful little pussy."

Self-consciousness suddenly passed through my body in waves and my legs crossed at the sudden chill of the night air. A red flush spreading over my face as memories of the girls Jungkook attracted through his time as a general. When we were both at the fire nation Jungkook was known for getting the prettiest girls, fucking the best girls. Was I a good fuck?

"Hey." As if Jungkook could sense my stress his hands cupped at my cheeks, his eyes locked onto mine.

"You're beautiful."

The redness of my checks only seemed to darken, and I twisted my head to the side so he wouldn't get the satisfaction of looking at me.

"Shut up and make me feel good."

I didn't hear a response from Jungkook but I felt his response. His fingers trailing down to between my legs. His other hand spreading my legs apart while he laid himself down on his stomach, fingers gently spreading my folds apart in front of him.

"So pretty." He mumbled above the ringing and embarrassment in my ears.

"Jungkoo-ok." I half groaned half moaned while he inserted his middle finger into my cunt, adding his ring finger with the help of my wetness forming around his fingers.

"You're so wet for me rebel." A wet feeling spread from my inner thigh to the edge of my folds, my body jerked at the feeling.

His fingers spread in v like motion and a broken sob escaped my mouth, an annoyed yell following when he pulled his fingers out.

"Jungk-!" I gasped as he dragged me closer to his mouth, his fingers wrapping around my hips and a quick slob of spit falling onto my clit.

"I can't wait to taste you rebel, are you gonna cum on my mouth? You better." His thumb rolled around the bud of my clit, the moisture of his spit allowing his thumb to roll in all directions.

And then his mouth was on me. His tongue licking a long strip up my pussy, encircling my folds and sticking it in my hole as if it was his fingers. My back arched under his ministrations and tears formed in the corner of my eyes,

"cum baby" Jungkook muttered against my pussy, wiggling his lips further into my cunt, glistening juices covering his lips and dripping onto his nose.

"I'm so close," I mumbled out incoherently while Jungkook added a ring finger, his mouth engulfing my bud into his mouth and sucking harshly.

My mouth fell open and my legs shock while Jungkook coerced my orgasm, my head falling back onto the ground and a broken moan responding to the juices that flew through my body. My hips grinded upwards before falling to the ground, twitching in the aftermath of my orgasm.

"I was right. You taste like heaven little rebel." Jungkook wiped at his glistening mouth and my belly couldn't help but do flips at the sight, energy shooting down to my core despite the exertion I had just been through.

"Take your pants off Kook." Jungkook smirked at me and raised an eyebrow, "I'd rather have you take them off." I glared at him but he still listened, but before we could do anything I suddenly winced at the soreness of my back. I couldn't stay like this for another round.

I flipped myself over Jungkook, his eyes widening in surprise as we switched positions.

"That's better."

My eyes traveled downwards to Jungkooks dick. It was long and curved, the girth enough for my hand to fit around it, enough to fill me up and give me relief.

I threw a leg over his hip and pumped his length twice, watching his eyes clench, and his tongue pokes against the inside of his cheek.

"As much as I'd love to get a handjob right now, I really want you to sit on my dick."

I took Jungkook advice to heart, rubbing myself against his head and finally sinking down on his dick. A moan escaping the two of us as I bottomed out on his lap.

"Fuck you're so full."

I clenched harshly against him, the new feeling of being filled sending my senses into overdrive as they tried to accommodate to him inside me.

"Fuck." Jungkook whined, his head falling backward,

"if you do that again I'm gonna nut inside you." I almost chuckled at his statement but my body was working before my brain could process, my hips lifting before pushing back down. A constant flow starting while Jungkooks hands gripped at my waist, helping me bounce against him.

"Fuck Jungkook, why do you have to be such a fucking idiot." I breathed out in between moans.

"Do we really have to do this now?" He spoke in gasps.

"Maybe if you came with me..." Jungkook thrust upwards and my hands shot to his chest to sturdy me.

"I don't want you to die (y/n)" he growled and thrust upwards once more before I caught my bearing, flipping my hair to my right shoulder and rolling my hips against his while he stuttered.

"Fuck I'm cuming." Jungkooks cum shot through me in waves, squirting into my body, just as he suddenly sat up and rubbed his thumb against my clit in harsh circles.

I grabbed at his wrist to anchor me while I sobbed at the onslaught of pleasure, my own orgasm shortly following while I collapsed onto him.

After a solid minute of the two of us catching our breath, we rolled onto the ground, our chests falling and rising in sync.

"Go rogue with me," I whispered, afraid of his reaction while his eyes downcast.

"I can't, we still have to go back. I'll help you though, I'll tell Ozai you should be commissioned back into a position of power. You can be a general again."

Hurt washed through me in waves. Hurt at how naive Jungkook is, and how conditioned he had been by the fire nation, he was the golden boy of the fire lord. How could I think he would change for me?

"I'm sorry Jungkook."

"For what?" The rock in my hand slammed against the side of his head. Hard enough for his eyes to fall shut and for him to have a horrible headache in the morning, but not hard enough for him to die.

I dressed quickly, sending Jungkook one last look before racing into the forest. I knew this wouldn't be the last time I would see him, I just hopped one day he would change, for his sake and mine.

"See you later Jungkook."

Taglist: @rebeccawoodrow @gee-nee @koochiekoo

319 notes · View notes

bigkyloenergy · 4 years ago

Text

𝙃𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙔𝙀𝘿 𝙑𝙀𝙉𝙊𝙈

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕: 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃.

a witcher!kylo x reader fic. dark themes, smut ahead. 18+.

summary: you are a barmaid / stablewoman at an inn in toussaint, kylo ren, one of the last of the witchers from the school of the viper regularly stays at the establishment. you wonder what keeps him coming back.

read on ao3.

Empty mugs piled the tables faster than you could keep up tonight, collecting them in your arms and being forced to inhale the putrid smell of ale that should’ve gotten familiar by now. You wrinkled your nose, hoping no leftovers would splash on your clothes as you journeyed to the kitchen. The first snowfall had hit, and it was heavy, the windows covered in blankets of fluffy white curtains. Men huddled near the fire, booking more days than normal, waiting for it to pass. While your impatience wore differently.

Subconsciously, your mind could conjure the exact days since you’d seen him.

But the last few days have been check in, check out — change sheets, check in again, check out early — is that person even still here?... and repeat, your body was a machine catered to serving.

Seemed like useless tasks now that you knew what it was like to awaken every nerve ending that you possessed. For what seemed like millionth time, you damned the Viper who had found routine passing in your workplace, leaving you with this cursed form, like leftover ash from a campfire.

You counted the keys gone when you slinked back behind the counter, wiping your forehead on the back of your sleeve, grateful when you found only a few missing. The last week they’d been emptied, along with your sanity.

“Pst, missy,” Ruek whispered from behind you, and you turned to see his fuzzy face peeking from behind the heavy kitchen door, “you got anymore orders?”

“No,” you gave him a tired smile, “just checked out ten guys in a row, who I swear were the same person.”

“Beards’ll do that to ya,” his kind eyes squinted as he emerged, and you leaned against your station, giving your feet a slight break, “they make us pretty. Here, close your eyes and open up. I’ve got a surprise.”

Hesitating, you gave him a look, tipping your chin as you tried to see what he was holding behind his back. He clicked his tongue, “Come on, your cheating nature is showing, close your damn eyes it’s not gonna kill ya.”

Finally, you sighed, doing as he said. You could use a bit of a distraction from work anyway, all you did was go home, plant your face into the pillow only to wake up to the same programming.

“Open,” he reminded, which only made you more annoyed. It was Ruek, so you inevitably gave in to avoid the argument. You felt something cold on your lip, reaching your tongue toward the ‘special’ treat, and biting into… chocolate? Quickly, juices poured into your mouth, which urged you to finally open your eyes.

The cook stood, grinning proudly, a dipped strawberry in his hand. “Eck, Ru, you should've warned me, you know how I am about stuff that sweet.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but what followed was not from him.

“I used to think this inn had good service,” Kylo’s voice strapped you to an invisible post, straightening your back, choking on the leftover flavors.

The Viper wasn’t looking at you, he was staring straight at Ruek, exigently demanding a response.

“My fault, thought Miss could use a little break.”

“Hm.”

You wanted him to look at you, your very soul was demanding it, to be drowned, the striking yellow in his eyes two suns that burned everything in their path, and you the phoenix who rose under them.

How long had he been here?

“Do you need a key?” You finally spoke, trying to sound nonchalant, licking the bits of chocolate off of your lips as you reached for one.

“No. I already have one.”

What? Betty wasn’t even here. You had been the only one checking anyone in and out for the last couple days. Your brows furrowed.

“There’s a spill near the gwent tables.” He added.

“Is that why you came over here?” You could feel Ruek looking at you, wondering why the hell you were questioning the man in the first place. Of course, The Viper didn’t answer, nor did he fully acknowledge your presence.

“I got it. If we have no more orders. No problem. Just — uh let Jerrid know if you need anything from the kitchen.” Ruek shuffled away while you were too busy playing stare off with Kylo’s mask.

“You let everyone’s fingers in your mouth, little müna?”

“What? No. He has me taste test stuff all the time,” gods, this man kept you oversharing at any crumb of attention he gave you, still severely irritated with overgrown mutant though you began to smirk, “is that why you came over here? Are you.. are you jealous?”

“You expect me to play cards next to someone’s secretions.”

“It is, isn’t it? You can play Mr. Keepaway all you want, you think you have this affect on me where you can use me to your will. But you wanna know what I know that you don’t?”

He didn’t respond, eye twitching, which only aided you, leaning over the counter that Kylo could very easily hop, and this was when he finally met your eyes. Though your traitor of a body screamed with validation, you only grinned.

“I know this isn’t one sided. What would you do if you knew I fucked him?” You didn’t, of course, but the thought of making The Viper jealous thrilled you to the core, “If I let him cum in my mouth without having to force my jaw open? If he was the one I was fallin—”

Your chin was grabbed, keeping you still over the counter, your feet almost hovering on the floor. Leather squished your cheeks, his gaze scooping your bravery from you in a single second.

“Careful.” The Witcher warned, studying your face, tipping it slightly in his grip, reviving the soreness in your jaw.

“Or what, Kylo?”

He paused, and for some reason you knew you weren’t going to lack a response this time. Dropping you, he left you to land against the bartop, and his broad shoulders turned toward the small crowd.

“Leave.” His voice was a crack of thunder, splitting the customers' relaxation in half.

Most scattered to their feet, afraid of why this King of the Abyss was evicting them, not wanting to take the chance. The men who were brave enough to stay were met with a glint of silver, only to follow, and you heard the silence from valleys away.

Your eyes darted to find Ruek, there was no living thing in that room except you and Kylo.

If he was even living.

“What the hell? What’re you doing? Are you trying to make me lose my job?” He caught your neck again, like it was a new skill he was practicing, then pulled his mask down over his chin.

The whole world stopped. Your breathing was arrested in your lungs, feeling a rush of awareness cut off your circulation and leave you dizzy with the sight of perfect, scarred lips, remembering how earnestly they had caressed your breasts atop of his horse. He was grimacing, wrinkles near his nose as he looked down at you. A lost warning.

He slammed you into the nearest table, not paying mind to any of the silverware that was under you nor the plates he had just shattered on the floor. Standing between your legs that hung off the end of the it, the fireplace triggered the iridescence of his armor, another engligment to why he wore his title so well.

You couldn’t stop studying his face, mapping every curve, and you were needy as you leaned up in an attempt to capture his mouth, find every ingredient of what made up this man that haunted you, possessed you.

Not a ghost, but a demon.

Just as your lips brushed against the tip of his, your tongue an anxious explorer, he pressed you back down into the oak.

“You are mine,” He spat, his lips curling around his teeth as he let the word marinate on his tongue.

“No,” you gasped, “f—fuck you, I’m not anyone’s, and you out of everyone has shown me that.”

“No? So your cunt isn’t soaked for me right now?” Your thighs pressed together, lips parting just at the words rolled off his venomous tongue, yet you shook your head in pure denial. “Liar. I can smell you. Can practically taste it.” The unoccupied hand ran along the outside of your thigh, under your skirts, til he pinched the fat between his fingers.

The way his mask hung at his chin was just as sensual as his voice, you didn’t even know how that was physically possible, then again this man broke the rules of reality every time you saw him. He pulled you down further, pressing his hips into yours, “Say it.”

“I won’t,” your voice broke with a whine as you felt the bulge in his pants, your legs wrapping around him without a second thought, he smacked your calf, forcing them to hang once more. You groaned, yearning to feel some sort of pressure at your pulsing clit, your body’s temperature spiking by the second.

“Hm. We’ll see.”

The Viper plucked the string that held your bodice together, pulling it until it completely unraveled, your blouse the only thing that hid your perking breasts. You looked down to his gloved hand, then back to him, hair skating over his shoulders, gods-made handles for your undoing. You let out a sigh as he thumbed your nipple through the material, keeping his palm wrapped around your throat. Your hips buckled, finding nothing, the beast keeping his hips perfectly spaced from yours so you couldn’t use him for any sort of pleasure. You felt your blood boiling, and not just from the intricate torture he was inflicting. No man had ever had this affect on you, but he was not any man.

A low growl came from deep in Kylo’s throat, and your eyes opened, not realizing you shut them in the first place. He was unblinking, watching your reaction as the stitch of his glove rolled around the bud.

“Please, Kylo,” you begged, shattering every restraint you had just from seeing him so immersed in you like this, still clothed yet utterly hopeless, knowing he was your only salvation.

“Say it.”

You whined, one of your fists hitting the table, not wanting to give into him. But you weren’t the only one suffering. Pulling your top down, he released your tits from their confines, and immediately consumed them. His mouth opened, hot and wet, leaving easy marks as he glided from one to the other, tightening his hand on your neck every time your chittering frame squirmed.

One of your hands found his hair, and you were surprised when he didn’t pull it from his head. You took the opportunity earnestly, digging your fingers through the raven locks, breaking through knots to find a good grip. He sucked on you like he was getting oxygen straight from your skin, popping a nipple from his mouth only to give the same attention to the other.

Your cunt was pulsing so badly it hurt, every flutter mocking the emptiness of it, so much that you had to swallow down noises at every flick of the Viper’s tongue.

Leather fingers danced back down your form, parting your thighs, not hesitating as they peeled your panties from your saturated pussy. The first time you had his cock, you fucked yourself into a rage trying to mimic the way it felt, three fingers wasn’t enough for the fantasy and you knew it. Being so close to that now left you ravenous, forgetting the challenge that was imposed in the first place.

He ran the tip of his finger down the line of your lips, collecting the juices at the end of it with a single scoop before he pushed it back inside of you. Barely spreading you as he toyed with your entrance, circling and stretching it open, already making wet noises in the emptied inn.

“Fuck! I — please fuck me, please. I’ll do anything. Please just — fuck Kylo, please.” The words could barely be made out through insistent whines, he stayed silent, his mouth and finger working diligently to send you over that edge, into the pool of his domination.

He reached his thumb up to press pressure on your clit, never moving it, while the finger hooked inside of you, and your whole body jerked forward. Kylo quickly put your back in your place, mentally and physically, forcing you to remember his promise.

“I’m yours! Okay! I’m yours, puhleaaase, just please…” You couldn’t even properly be convincing, though you meant it, even if you didn’t want to admit it outside of him fucking you sensless.

He yielded both of his hands, lifting his face from your chest and ridding you of the secure grip you had on his head. Honey yellow eyes surveyed you from your heavy lidded gaze, all the way down to your lifted skirts, then back up again.

“Hm. I suppose I need to be more convincing.” In one languid motion, he had your dress above your head, corset falling to the floor with it, leaving you completely bare on top of the main round table in the dead center of your job. Ruek could be watching from the back for all you knew.

Kylo leered above you, his chest filling, consuming your gaze as much as he did your mind. His teeth pinched the middle finger of his glove, pulling it off with his mouth.

Your stomach flipped.

He grabbed the amulet that hung at his neck, snapping it off and rolling it around in his hand, examining it the same way he did you. You could swear you saw his eyes glisten with… something, before his focus was back.

The Viper’s large fist started to glow, and soon so did the metal.

Anticipation tickled the back of your neck, your heartbeat similar to an approaching wardrum as it filled your eyes the more you watched, “what’re you doing?”

“Showing you.” He didn’t blink.

“Showing me what?”

“Who you belong to.”

The metal of the viper face was red hot, smoking nearly. He held it between two fingers, grabbing your thigh in one hand and tugging you as you began to crawl up the table. You obediently stilled.

“Don’t move or we’ll have to do it again.”

You sucked in a breath of air, senses filling with his scent — pine, mint, leather, the very earth. Just as you did he began to line his cock up with your entrance, rubbing against the folds. He hushed you as you squeaked, and began to lower the medallion down between the hills of your chest. He perfectly lined it up, not having to look twice before he dropped his hand down, and you cried out. The flesh boiled and singed, and the entire map of your skin feeling the aftermath.

The pain was quickly distracted by another as he split you open, a growl being spat between his teeth as his cock sunk all the way into you, giving no time to adjust to the overwhelming size of him. Your nails dug at the stained wood, scratching for some kind of stability as your skin bubbled, painting a gift made by the Viper himself, all while the tip of his dick began to wrack against your cervix.

Your eyes rolled back completely into your head, nimble fingers finding straps of his armor to hold onto, which only assisted him in beating his hips off of your cunt. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, your knee barely making it to curve, it only helped the Witcher angle you to his pillaging.

The smell of burnt flesh filled your nose, truly you almost forgot about the branding he had just centered on your torso, meeting euphoria with the way his cock worked inside of you. It sent you to another plane, both of his large hands gripping your hips as he forced your smaller frame to bounce off of him. Forks and other leftover dining ware pinched at your back, ridding them off the table the more he pounded you.

His eyes were blazing carnality, encapsulating the definition of primal.

“You are mine,” he spoke through each stroke of his hips, dropping the carved metal to hold your body still with the familiar hold on your neck, “every inch of you… you are a hole for me to fuck. And that is all you are.”

You whined, specks floating in your sight as you kept alert, eyes so heavy with pleasure it was damn near blinding you.

“The next time you let another man touch you,” a sharp smack of his hips, pain crawling up your spine, threatening to quite literally break you, “I will fuck you atop of his carcass.”

Another plunge of his cock and the table was splintering under you, until it snapped in two. Kylo didn’t care — in fact, it was as if it didn’t even happen, the perfect savage beat he was plowing you with was never broken.

He just used his own body as a kickstand for your lower half, the persistent assault keeping you where he wanted, finding no need in his hands other than to appreciate your body.

Kylo twisted your nipple, sliding across the spot he had just engraved, your lips parting in return. You heard another grunt from him, forcing your dazed focus on his face, which would forever be your most vivid memory, and you couldn’t even bring warning for the orgasm that he was inducing.

Just as it creeped up, his bare thumb was circling expertly over your swollen knot, breaking the dam. Your climax poured in, walls clenching and milking his cock in the process.

A gritty groan was dropped into your ear, and it only served as a catalyst to your silent screams, legs shaking while your cunt became much more sensitive. You tried to pull up, away from his relentless motions, he didn’t let you, just chased you along the broken table, filling you to the brim.

Lewd sounds began to echo with the crackles of the fire, and all you could focus on was him — he was watching his cock go in and out of you, holding your skirts above your waist to get a good view of his slickened dick, pushing him toward his own finale, using you every inch of the way.

You could barely tell from his face when he finished, you studied the Viper like it was your true passion, fossilizing his mannerisms, expressions, even his voice. You ate up every moment, the threat of them being memories a looming shadow of presence. The tiny twitch of his nose, deep wrinkle of his forehead, subtle signs he was coming apart for you.

He pulled out of your fluttering cunt, after leaving a lazy kiss on the scabbing mark of possession he’d left, being more gentle with that than any part of you.

Kylo pulled his mask back over his face before he was tucking his cock away. You were almost sad to see it go.

If he didn’t come back after this, maybe you’d be okay. You looked down at the piece of himself that he permanently placed on you, your finger running on the curve of its open mouth. It didn’t hurt, maybe due to the adrenaline pumping through your veins. By the time you looked back up, he was turned.

“What’re you—”

“Sh.”

Your lips pressed together, wanting to reach for your dress, yet something about him told you not to move a muscle.

The door pushed open, a panicked villager entering, tripping over themselves at every step.

“Help, a monster is attacking the town! It’s killing everyone, my family, please!”

#kylo ren fanfic #witcher fanfic #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren smut #ben solo x reader #Witcher AU #witcher!kylo #hv.#dead dove elements #tw branding #tw noncon #tw violence

77 notes · View notes

bitchapalooza · 4 years ago

Text

Hetalia nekotalia headcanons(covering just a few of them)

It seems weird that the cats would just be called "Italy-cat" by the actual nation whose name is already Italy so I wasted my time in figuring out their possible breeds and searching up acceptable names(unless stated otherwise) for them that the nations may pick for them and even where the nations obtained these cats. I think they've come to value these cats on the same level as themselves due to how long they may have been around(the same goes for whatever other pet(s) they may own). I thought this was a fun thing to do and honestly it was! :)

Might do more when I get the time again~

***Tw for mentions of animal abuse***

Americat:

Domestic long hair, possible Maine Coon mix!

I think America adopted his cat in the 1980s. He was just a kitten, abandoned outside a supermarket in a box with a sign with one other kitten inside. At least 2 months old. America, having a big heart and soft spot for animals of any kind, took them both in. However he was already struggling to buy proper food for his other animals so he needed to find a different home for them. America ended up keeping one, as he fell absolutely head over heels for him, and named him Liberty— for obvious personal reasons. America raised him for the majority of his life as an indoor cat but with how much energy he has he decided to train him to be an outdoor cat as well, even teaching him to use the doggy door. This gave him enough room to actually grow faster into the adult cat he is now compared to if he'd ALWAYS be around America(as in staying small due to the slow aging around America).

Canacat:

Domestic longhair, possible Maine Coon mix!

Canada adopted him after America offhandedly asked. Canada was pretty stuck when it came to naming him. It was 4 weeks into owning him, mostly calling him a range of names such as Paul and Rookie but never sticking to one for even one whole day, but when Canada was just sitting there eating breakfast before leaving for his daily duties, just a normal quiet morning it came to him. Again, he was just sitting there. That is until the kitten figured out how to climb onto the chair next to him that is. He sat there meowing and pawing at Canada's thigh for 10 minutes while Canada ate. And then he tried to jump onto the table 3 times in a row. Canada gave in and allowed him up there for a minimum of 3 minutes. Not even 1 second passed and suddenly the little rascal is trying to steal the last couple bites of pancake. That was apparently what he wanted. And so Canada named him Pancake! Pancake was an energetic little kitten that a spring in his step but he did mellow out as he grew into adulthood. He's mainly an indoor cat. Come winter time when it snows, Pancake has a tendency to forget the existence of snow so he goes bolting for it only to regret it later.

Germany-cat:

A black or gray German Rex!

Germany isn't exactly a big cat person, he prefers dogs. But after this kitten followed Prussia's cat all the way home and noticed how thin he was he couldn't resist taking care of him. Germany ended up naming him Maus in reference to how tiny and often silent his meow was as a kitten. Now it's just a hilarious name as he's grown quite big and has a very strong meow! Maus is a very well behaved cat although it seems he doesn't favor being played with. He's most often seen at the top of his cat tower or in the window basking in the warm sun. As he was previously found as a stray outside he still does favor being outside. He tends to escape whenever Germany unlocks the doggy door or when Germany let's the dogs out in the backyard to run around for a bit. Maus may be a very mellow cat but he does tend to be loud when he wants food and doesn't want to wait for it. He also tends to attack people when suddenly being pet.

Prussia-cat:

An albino German Rex!

Prussia adopted him in 1998 after his and Germany's new home became a little overrun with mice. Prussia affectionately named him Gunther. Gunther was a spunky little kitten, in fact he was the runt of 6 other siblings and noticeably different to his siblings in appearance(originally thought to just take after the father's white coat despite the orange coats of his siblings and mother). Prussia chose him, the teeny little runt, after watching him easily sneak up and take down his bigger sister and win the play-fight he started. Prussia proudly took him home and trained him to catch the mice! Some years later, Gunther apparently got curious and brave and got loose outside. He was gone for weeks. He came back with a limp, a fresh scar, and a kitten clinging to his side. Gunther rarely escapes outside anymore. Prussia didn't know Gunther was albino until took he took him to the vet for his shots.

Itabby and Romano-cat:

They're both European shorthairs!

When the Italies were freshly unified and everything was still pretty awkward they were forced to go bond by taking walks every morning. Veneziano didn't mind this, he enjoyed the morning and even more so the countryside around them. Romano however could care less about it all and just wanted his bed back. Veneziano was all conversation, very observant of his surroundings as he commented on them to strike up an interesting conversation. And that's how he noticed a man cruelly stuffing two kittens into a sack on their way out of town. After alerting his brother, the two confronted the man. The man claimed these two were sick because neither were getting any of their mother's milk like the rest. Romano demanded he hand the kittens over or else he'd regret it. Veneziano annoyed him with his whining to the point where he gave in and handed them over quite harshly. Once they got them safely away from the man they took a look at the 1 week old kittens; they were both terribly skinny but clearly hanging on for dear life and the brothers both agreed, for once(well more like Romano kept saying "whatever the fuck you want"), that they wanted to help these poor creatures. Luckily for them they knew a stray cat that just had another litter of 3 and could perhaps try to get her to accept two more. And she did! Well it took a day but she did eventually take them in and feed them. Veneziano immediately decided that once they were old enough to eat solid foods he was going to keep one of them and name him Gino! It took a while for Romano to warm up to the idea of keeping even one but he eventually did. He took the other kitten and named him Sonno. They've lived so long due to just how clingy they are to the brothers. Their aging was so slowed down because of how often they're near the Italies that they didn't become fully grown adult cats until some time around 1932.

Japan-cat:

Japanese bobtail!

Named Yoshi* for being Japan's little lucky charm. Yoshi was left behind by his previous family after they moved away. He left his home and began wandering around until he got to Japan's house. Taking notice of how the cat stuck around his house, Japan began feeding him. And feeding him. And feeding him. And eventually he accepted the idea that he was now a cat owner. Not knowing his previous name, Japan decided to rename him Yoshi. Because of Yoshi, Japan began to come outside more and more each day as he is an outdoor cat that seldomly comes inside anymore. What's more is Yoshi came into his life in 1999, just a few months before 2000— aka when The Lost Decade was coming to an end as well as his personal on and off string of depressive episodes. Japan spoils Yoshi with treats and only the best cat food he can afford!

*The real name given to him by Himaruya is Tama, most likely a reference to calico cat Tama from Kinokawa, Wakayama Prefecture, Japan(that's at least what I've gathered). Before I knew this(in my early fandom days) I headcanoned his name to be Yoshi, as I said above it was a reference to luck(I didn't have as easy and unmonitored access to the internet as I do now so I never had a steady way to look these things up). I like Tama as well but I still can't get the name Yoshi out of my mind! I'm not sure if Yoshi and Tama can be combined like some names here in America can be combined(like Lilian Pad[as in Lily Pad] or Patches Poo) and I don't want to attempt it in case I get it wrong no matter how much research I do.

Austria-cat:

Domestic longhair!

Austria has quite the soft spot for this kitty surprisingly. He was born on his estate after his mother wandered in and settled between a couple bushes in his garden. He was born one of three kittens, almost entirely identical to his mother. Austria ended up giving names to all the cats but this one specifically was named Mozart— for very obvious reasons on Austria's part. The mother cat and two of the other kittens ended up moving along a year later after Austria decided to renovate part of his house; however the only one to stick around was Mozart. Austria would let Mozart come inside if only he could manage to pick him up. Mozart will jump into his lap outside, brush up against him, greet him in the morning, allow him to come near(especially with food and clean water) and even pet him but he won't ever peacefully allow Austria to carry him. Mozart was originally thought to be a Ragdoll however it was France who identified him to be a simple domestic longhair instead.

China-cat:

Burmese cat!

Originally a stray that endlessly bothered a shop owner and his own cat, China attracted his attention when he fed him only once. This cat followed him all the way to the hotel he was staying at not far from the little shop, which annoyed him greatly but honestly gave him a little laugh as well. As his car ride home was only going to be an hour at best he decided to at least attempt to bring the little fella home for proper care and attention. And obviously it worked. On his way home he decided a name like Zhi seemed perfect for him! Something told China Zhi was used to car rides and being around people, which told him Zhi was originally in a loving home. Feeling a little sad that this nice loyal cat was living on the streets he began to pamper him. Now Zhi expects to be brushed twice a day, let out at least once a day to soak in the sun's warmth and lay in the soft grass. He's fed the best food possible, has more toys that he knows what to do with. China's cellphone is overrun with videos of Zhi playing fetch— a trick he didn't teach him which, to him, is further proof he had a previous owner.

Russia-cat:

Siberian cat!

Taken in from a rescue shelter, at first fostered, then adopted. Russia kept the name the shelter gave him, Boris, as it fit him very well considering his past. Boris was unfortunately neglected when his previous owner was around. His fur was matted, he was skin and bones, upon pick up he had an eye infection. He was terribly scared of people. After being treated and showed kindness, it wasn't very long for him to open up. When Russia came along and took him in to give him all the proper attention he lacked, Boris fell in love with it. And Russia fell in love with having a cat around. Before anyone could swoop in and try to adopt Boris, Russia already put in to adopt. Now Boris is a happy healthy cat who's favorite toy to play with is Russia's supply of yarn. Boris loves bird or feather based toys the most, however, and will often drag his favorite feather wand over to Russia so he'd play. He's not much of an outdoor cat but after being kept mostly in a small cage since birth he does enjoy at least laying on the porch outside.

France-cat:

A Sacred Birman with light creamy point colouration!*

Obtained as a newly born kitten in 1992, France had offered to help nurture him as his mother had died shortly after giving birth. France named him Minou, more so in honor of his deceased mother Minet rather than it being a common French cat's name(some assume he was lazy with his naming). Minou grew up to be properly spoiled and loved by France. From the time he could see and walk properly, France began putting light outfits and accessories on him for very small amounts of time(like hats and ties mainly to avoid overheating). Minou often silently greets France at the door whenever he comes home, barreling through the hallway or off the couch in order to get some much needed love and attention. He surprisingly gets along very well with France's pet birds, only ever going after them once as a kitten. Minou can be found in his luxurious cat bed made of cardboard from the cat tower's box and a quilt France had crafted long long ago that's now drastically torn in various places. OR he can be found planting his fanny on France's face at night, nearly suffocating him. Minou seems to have a likeness for Russia and England.

*I know France-cat doesn't have any visible point colorations to him but him being a Persian doesn't fit him in my opinion, especially a blue eyed white cat. There's a high percentage of blue eyed white cats being deaf. However a common trait in Birmans are blue eyes so that, to me, fits better.

Iggycat:

Scottish fold-American shorthair mix!*

Obtained through a small litter from a colleague. England named him Lopsy immediately upon seeing him, completely falling in love with him. Due to Lopsy's health concerns(osteochondrodysplasia) he's strictly an indoor cat. He's not very playful due to the pain he endures so he's prone to lay about, especially in England's lap, in his cat bed that sits directly under the window to reach the sunlight, or under England's bed. Despite being on them for so long, it still takes quite the struggle to give Lopsy his medication as he's come accustomed to when England is preparing to give it to him. As he's not very active, Lopsy isn't too fond of France's, America's, or Canada's cats— all of which tend to love playing together. However there are times when Minou is in non-playful mode where Lopsy will lay near or eat with him, but will absolutely refuse to lay with since Minou does have a tendency to attack another cat's tail without warning.

*The reason I see him as a mix is due to the major health concerns breeding two Scottish folds together can bring. However, breeding a Scottish fold with an American shorthair or British shorthair is often the better choice as there's less issues involved. There's talk about banning the breed all together. Even with this talk, breeding persists, preferably for cat shows from the sound of it. There's even research going into fixing these health concerns but it seems incurable due to the Scottish fold disease seeming to be a very dominant trait no matter what secondary breed it's bred with. Scottish fold disease doesn't always occur in a litter, mostly being a 50% change.

Spain-cat:

European shorthair!

Named Vivo for his lively personality, this little guy was found in the rain, drenched and hungry. He looked to be roughly 3 months old, very well fed and groomed so Spain assumed he had a family he ran away from for whatever reason. Without any other solution, Spain took him in until someone came to pick him up. A few weeks go by without anyone coming to claim him, so Spain opted to keep Vivo. Vivo is very loving, he possess a strong purr and often falls asleep purring. He's a lap cat but also has a tendency to curl up on or near Spain's shoulder when he's on the couch. Vivo is mainly an outdoor cat, often chasing mice or other vermen away from the garden without ever destroying it. Spain is pretty grateful to of found him as it had gotten quiet with Romano gone and all. And Vivo defiantly brought some noise to the house! He's not always vocal but when he is he tends to run around happily meowing for attention. He's surprisingly very territorial however— when introduced with then young kits Gino and Sonno, the Italies' cats, Vivo almost attacked them. It took small steps forward to get the three of them to warm up to each other. It also took a while to warm Vivo up to Minou and Gunther.

53 notes · View notes

wormstacheangel · 4 years ago

Text

Almost: Ch 5

Chapter Summary: Dean hides in Cas's childhood bedroom during the funeral reception. He quickly finds himself having a nice conversation with Mick and - fuck- the dude's actually nice.

Read on tumblr Ch 1 link | Ch 2 link | Ch 3 link | Ch 4 link |

or read it on AO3 link (maybe leave a nice comment?)

Word Count: 2468 More Under The Cut

“Ah, this is where you’ve been hiding.”

Dean was sprawled across Cas’s old twin bed, one leg swinging off the edge as he laid on his back holding up one of his old X-Men comics. He muttered a “Fuck” under his breath as he put the book down on his chest before looking up at Mick. The happy husbands-to-be walked in and closed the door behind him.

While Dean wasn't a big fan of the Novak clan - they weren’t so hot of Winchesters and company either - Sam and Charlie couldn’t give a rat’s ass. They both stayed downstairs with Balthazar who’s been the only one to welcome them in. Finding them ‘fascinating’. Whatever the hell that meant. But they were having a good time and Dean wasn’t going to rain on their parade just cause he wasn’t in the mood to mingle.

Instead, he hid in a familiar room, Cas’s childhood bedroom, that looked practically untouched. Even their old snack drawer was still filled with old Halloween candy wrappers.

“Making yourself at home?” Mick asked as he looked around the room. His hands touching the items on the desk. “Oh, didn’t know Castiel read comic books.”

Dean sat up as he ran his hand nervously through his hair. “He - um, well - he doesn’t. I mean he does but he won’t buy them himself. Those are all mine.”

Mick looked at him, eyebrows pushed together as he squinted. “You brought comic books to read?”

“No!” Dean put the comic book he was reading down on the bed as he stood up to walk over to the bookshelf behind the door. He motioned towards the middle row. “These are all mine. I used to bring them so when Cas had to study I wasn’t so bored in his room.”

“Ah.” Was all he said as he looked back at the desk. “So you two spent a lot of time together?”

Dean shrugged, his hands awkwardly digging into his pant pockets. “Yeah, I guess. We did go to high school together.”

“Yes,” Mick looked over at Dean, a bright smile on his face as if he was excited that he knew something about Cas. “His first public school experience! He told me.”

Dean awkwardly chuckled. “Yeah, he got in real trouble when Chuck found out he forged his signature.”

“What?”

“Cas! He um, he forged Chuck’s signature on the school papers.” Dean laughed remembering and walking back to sit on the bed while Mick looked at him, eyes sparkling in curiosity. Dean hated it. “Yeah,” He cleared his throat. “Um, Gabriel and Raphael helped him keep the whole thing a secret from Chuck for almost two years. It wasn’t until Cas got suspended that-”

“Castiel got suspended! He never told me!” Mick grabbed the desk chair and moved it closer to Dean. He looked happy to know more things about Cas and Dean felt himself relax just a little. As much as he was jealous - he was practically hulking out by how damn green he was - he was glad that Mick actually seemed to care about Cas. “Well, go on, Dean.”

“Oh, yeah.” Dean blinked a few times to catch his thoughts. His face blushing at the memory. “Shit, well, Cas got into a fight.”

“A fight?!”

“Yeah!” Dean laughed. “Some guys were messing with me. Just some dumb guy shit, you know. And someone must have called Cas cause all I remember is my nose cracking under a fist and then seeing the dude get tackled down. Like Cas full-on body slammed that dude to the ground!” Dean’s face hurt from the big grin that stretched over his lips. “Then he was screaming! Man, it was some sight! Never seen him so damn rabid like that since but I had to drag him off the guy before he really gave the guy a concussion.”

“My Castiel did that?” Mick sat back in his chair, in amazement and shock while Dean tried to hide the flinch from those words. Rolling his shoulders back before rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Sure did.” Dean nodded before slowly standing up. “Well, we should head back down-”

“You know,” Mick sighed as he looked down at his hands. “I always feel that Castiel keeps me at a distance. As if he’s still guarding his heart from me.”

Dean falls back on the bed with a huff. For fucks sake, he really doesn’t want to play counselor to a guy he wants to hate. He could easily do the fake nice guy act and tell Mick that maybe Cas just doesn’t love him. That Cas was just a nice guy who has a hard time saying no to people and while that’s true he really doubts that’s why Cas said yes to him. Cas said yes because he loves this pathetic looking guy and Dean just wants him to be happy.

Even if it’s not with him.

Though Mick looked like he already trusted Dean wholeheartedly and it would be so easy - No!

Dean sighed as he scrubbed a hand down his face. Knowing damn well he was gonna regret playing nice but the guilt of being a part of hurting Cas would feel a shit ton worse. “Mick, man, Cas is complicated.”

Mick looked at him with soft round eyes. He was being sincere as fuck and it was annoying. “Not to you.”

“I had practice.” Dean smugly smiled and gave Mick a wink. “Cas is like - fuck how do you even describe that crazy asshole?”

Mick laughed, relaxing into his chair more. “I guess like that but I wouldn’t say he was an asshole.”

Dean laughed and reached to pat Mick on the shoulder. “Oh, then you really don’t know him! If he hasn’t kicked you out of his car in the middle of a rainstorm because you offended his favorite character then just count yourself lucky.”

“He did that to you?” His eyes widened in shock.

“Twice.” Dean held up the two fingers with a grin. “Had to walk home too because he didn’t come back for me.”

Mick and Dean both laughed.

Fuck. Dean thought as he saw the guy wipe tears from his eyes from laughing. Mick really is a great guy and now Dean just wants to help him. If it means he could make Cas happy then that’s all that mattered. He can at least do that for his old best friend.

“He’s an old soul.” Dean continued and pointed at the bookshelf again. “You can check out the rest of the books and see they’re all classics. He won’t admit to it but he also likes cheesy YA books.”

Mick got up to check out the bookshelf, his eyes scanning it up and down before he reached for a random book that caught his eyes.

“He’s a grumpy old man mostly. He hates being wrong and would fight you tooth and nail to prove his point.”

Mick looked up at him and shook his head. “I think me and you really do know two different, Castiels.”

Dean raises his eyebrows at that and hopes his heartbreak doesn’t show on his face. “Kinda curious on what your Cas is like.”

“He’s focused.” Mick nods stiffly at him before his face scrunches up. “That’s a sad first description of my fiance, isn’t it?”

Dean laughed before nodding. “Yeah, dude, it is.”

Mick looked so in love though as he smiled at Dean. “It’s stupid, Dean, but I just...since I met him I can’t think of anyone else.”

No. No. I don’t want to hear this. Dean kept that smile on his face as he stood up to maybe distract Mick with a book. Cas usually had dumb bookmarks maybe he can talk about the pressed flowers.

“What about you, Dean?”

“What about me?”

“Did you feel the same when you got married?”

“When I got what?” Dean froze in the middle of the room but before Mick could ask again the door swung open. Shielding Mick from view.

Dean’s eyes meet the baby blue’s that made his stomach flip.

Then Cas smiled at him and it wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t be smiling at him like that. Smiling as if Dean was his favorite damn person in the world. As if the hour separation from the last time he saw him was torture for him and seeing Dean was just pure relief. It wasn’t fair.

“Dean.” Cas sighed, his shoulders dropping as his whole expression softened. He looked so relieved and happy to see him that Dean didn’t know what to do with himself. He just stood there like a dumbass as Cas ran into him. Crashing his whole body against Dean’s own and into a big comforting hug.

Then Cas did this laugh - fuck it sounded so unrestrained and heartfelt that it made Dean feel like he was floating - as he hid his face against the crook of Dean’s neck.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.” Cas quietly says and the relief in Cas’s voice left Dean more dumbfounded than he already was.

“Wow! Am I getting one of those hugs too, sweetheart?” There was a small strain to Mick’s happy tone.

Cas froze in Dean’s arms - he even heard the dumbass cuss into Dean’s skin - before he pulled away to look back at Mick. Then looked back at Dean, his dumb head tilt - thank god that didn’t change - and squinty eyes asking questions that Dean could hear clear as day.

Dean rolled his eyes. “We were just talking. Don’t get your damn panties in a twist, Cas.”

“I was just asking.” Cas shrugged, a smile in his voice before he walked over to Mick. “I’m glad you two are getting along?”

Dean could hear the damn question in his voice and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His heart was still racing from the few seconds of having Cas so close again. Having him look at him like...like that.

Mick pulled Cas from around the waist and reached to kiss his cheek. It was sweet and Dean saw the red prick Cas’s cheeks.

“We are. I never had a best friend before but I am jealous of your friendship.” Mick looked over at Dean. “Must be nice to have that deep connection with someone.”

Dean looked away. Instead gave his attention to the desk that still had another comic book with a chip bag folded inside to be used as a bookmark.

“Yes.” Cas quietly said before clearing his throat. “Um, why are you both in my room?”

“I just followed Dean here.” Mick quickly answered while Dean nervously ran his hand through his hair.

“You know me, Cas. I can’t stay too long with that creepy vampire clan you have as a family.” Dean winked at him while Cas rolled his eyes.

“Vampires?” Mick asked as he looked between them.

“They’re not vampires.” Cas said at the same time Dean said, “Yeah, you know, bat wings and fangs. The full Twilight!”

“We don’t have...Dean! Stop telling people my family is made up of vampires!”

“I’ll be more worried at the fact that people always easily believe me.”

“Ah,” Mick awkwardly laughed as he wiggled a finger between Cas and Dean. “Is this like an inside joke?”

“No.” “Yes.”

Mick hummed as he dropped his hand. Clearly uncomfortable but he should try stepping into Dean’s shoes.

“How was the burial?” Mick turned to smile at Cas, leaning in to kiss his shoulder, and Dean had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

Just cause he thought the dude was nice doesn’t mean he wants to see that shit.

“It was fine. Nobody really talked.” Cas nodded, his eyes far away as he was thinking about it because he was unsure. Then he blinked a couple of times before turning to look at Dean again. “Which reminds me, Bobby and you are invited to Dad’s will reading tomorrow afternoon. Actually, invited is the wrong word. You guys have to be there in order for the testament to be read.”

“What?” Dean shuffled the weight on his feet awkwardly as he tried to process Cas’s words. “What - wait. Why do we have to be there?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Cas shrugged, “But I would steer clear of my brothers for a while. Probably Sam too. While Gabriel may think it’s funny, he is the only one. They already don’t particularly like you, Dean.”

“Yeah, Cas, I noticed.”

“Really? They like me.” Mick proudly said, cheeks high as he smiled.

“Shocker.” Dean muttered but by the look of Cas’s face, he must have not said it quietly enough. “Whatever. Maybe I’ll just get Sam and Charlie and go home.”

Cas tried to step forward towards Dean but he saw Mick’s grip around his waist tighten. Cas made a face but then he gave Dean one of those fake smiles. “Yeah, probably for the best. Don’t want Mike finding you and interrogating you all night.”

Dean nodded, biting the inside of his cheek before he gave them both the same cocky smile. “Yeah. Sounds like a plan then. I’ll head out then.”

Dean made his way out of the room, not wanting to meet the stare that was digging holes into him. He made it down the hall and was on the first step down the stairs when Cas called out to him. Dean turned around just when Cas stopped only a few inches away from him. From this angle, he can just take the next step up and have his lips pressed up against Cas’s skin. Against his lips. Pull him down for a kiss he desperately can’t stop selfishly thinking about.

At least he can imagine he was brave enough to do that.

Instead, he looked down at the piece of paper that Cas was handing him. “Take it, Dean, it won’t bite.”

Dean takes it and looks to see it was Cas’s phone number written in quick handwriting. That dumbass even drew a little happy face.

“Call me in the morning so I can give you all the details about tomorrow afternoon.”

Dean puts the paper in his pocket as he smiles up at Cas. “Sure, Cas. Thanks.”

Cas smiles back and Dean swears he blushes. Before Dean could enjoy the handsome sight, Cas ducks his head down to leave a kiss on Dean’s cheek. It was quick but it still felt lingering as it burned his skin.

“Night, Dean.” Cas whispers as he starts to walk away. “Um, and thanks for keeping Mick company. Give your family my best for me!”

Dean sucked in a shaky breath. “S-sure.”

Then he waves back at Cas, who looked like he was almost skipping before he disappeared back into his bedroom. Back to Mick.

#My Writing #WormstacheWrites #Destiel #Deancas #Supernatural #SPN #A More Profound OTP #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #mutual pinning #angst #slow burn #happy ending fic #fanfic #fanfiction

64 notes · View notes

garbagevanfleet · 5 years ago

Text

Sun King (smut)

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Alcohol is mentioned, unprotected sex, unprotected sun exposure *gasp* Word Count: 6654 Summary: Josh has been your best friend since middle school. Maybe a vacation to paradise could change that. Notes: @lantern-inthenight and @myownparadise96 both helped immensely with the ideas in this fic, so this one is dedicated to my resident Josh girls, Shelby and Kaja. <3

Thank you to the amazing Mimi ( @satingrass-maidensfair ) for betaing for me! You’re a peach.

Enjoy my first ever Josh fic, extra hot and wet

MASTERPOST

You had spent the entire day at the beach for four days in a row. It wasn’t often that you got to go on a vacation, so when you did, you really liked to forget the monotony of your everyday life. There really wasn’t any extra room in your head to think about your summer job or college applications with the ocean waves lapping at your feet.

Your parents had been promising you this trip the entire year so as long as your grades stayed up before graduation, and it had been a struggle, but you had succeeded - the real hardest part was waiting from the end of school until the actual trip came, which didn’t roll around until December.

Josh had been your friend since middle school, and an unlikely friend at that - or at least at first. See you’ve always had a really feminine lunar energy, a darker, deeper aura, but him?

Josh was the sun personified.

He had the most sunflower-petal-yellow personality you could imagine; his whole persona was a rainbow tie-dyed bed sheet drying on a clothesline.

But opposites attract, or they must anyway, because one fateful day in sixth grade, he had knocked directly into you. The force of it had thrown your tray down to the lunchroom floor, smearing mashed potatoes all over your new school shoes. You had opened your mouth to snap at him, but. Well, how could you? There was never any option but to forgive him when he flashed that big, blinding smile. Especially when he was looking at you like an apologetic puppy.

He had latched onto you after that.

Josh had attended every single birthday party since then and escorted you - as a friend, you assured your parents - to a couple of spring formals. He had been by your side when you tried summer camp and hated it, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been to a movie theater without him.

Your parents had been understandably suspicious at first, but after years of seeing his face at least three-quarters of every month, they had been given no reason to suspect there was anything romantic between you two.

So, that’s how he had ended up here in paradise with you. It was just a given that if you were going on vacation, so was Josh. Your parents hadn’t even asked; they’d just naturally bought an extra ticket for him.

He looked undeniably more well placed here in the tropical climate than you did, and you tried not to be envious about it.

You had spent a bit of time exploring the foreign shops and busy streets, but more than anything, you laid with him in the sand, staring out over the water and trying to get as much of the sun as you could, considering you wouldn’t be seeing it for at least another four months after you got back to the Midwest.

Luckily for you, your parents had not hovered at all. They had given you nothing but free time while they spent almost the entirety of the vacation at the hotel pool up to that point. Their distracted state had allowed you plenty of opportunities to find light beers and sneakily drink them with him. You had never really liked the taste of beer, but it was more for the novelty than anything else.

“Hey,” Josh said, gently pressing his fingertips into your side to get your attention.

You turned your head toward him and tipped your sunglasses down. They were the ones with the orange lenses that you had been absolutely intent on buying before the trip because they matched your suit. You decidedly did not regret your decision.

You hummed lazily in response. He was laying next to you on a teal blue beach towel under possibly the world’s largest umbrella, one tanned ankle crossed over the other. He returned his hand to where he had it folded behind his head, supporting most of its weight as he dozed in and out of consciousness.

His skin was kissed golden by the sun - almost from the minute you’d gotten off the plane- making him look a bit shiny the second he started sweating.

“What time is it?” he asked, voice a shade too concerned for your liking; although, in your lazy state, almost any level of concern was too much.

You glanced down at your phone which was positioned in between you, playing a very long playlist you had collaborated on for the whole car ride to the airport.

“Almost five.”

“Woah, really?” He looked around the beach, which was completely empty, saved for a couple of other stragglers that were staying well away from you.

You had five days worth of practice under your belt, and that had allowed you to find the perfect little slice of beach - secluded, but well kept. You hadn’t had to talk to another soul for the whole trip that you didn’t actively seek out, which was really what you had always wanted from a vacation.

“We should probably get back. Your parents said we were having dinner around six, right?” He nudged into your side, letting you know that he intended to move you whether you liked it or not, even if you had given him a lazy sounding groan for it.

There was no point fighting him (the boy was persistent if nothing else), so you slowly stretched out and prepared to be mobile again after barely using a muscle for days. He was right anyway - your parents weren’t strict in any sense of the word, but they were notoriously a bit picky about punctuality.

He helped you pack everything into your oversized beach bag and then tugged you up into a standing position. He looked just as stiff as you were as he walked by your side, neither of you concerned with keeping a straight line.

You both instinctively headed toward the shower area, all of your beach-going gear in tow, and when you got there, you each wordlessly headed to your respective shower stalls.

All the other showers you’d used the whole trip had been different, but here there were only two cubicles with just a couple feet in between them. You let your heavy bag drop to the pavement in the middle of the two stalls with a thud, and he did the same, propping the long umbrella up against the brick of the building.

You had wrapped your hair up earlier this morning to prevent it from getting salty in the ocean, but you could feel sand gritting against your scalp as you pulled the scrunchie out, so you picked the bottle of shampoo you’d packed away as you turned the shower on.

It wasn’t particularly warm, but the spray was nice and refreshing on your sun-touched skin.

You had just tipped your head back under the water when the curtain on your stall opened, causing you to jump and cover yourself, despite still being completely covered in your suit.

“Hey, I can’t get the water to work in mine - can I jump in with you?” Josh asked and when you gave him a scolding frown, he offered you a toothy smile back.

“Have you tried turning the knob?” you asked flatly, but you couldn’t help but laugh as he rolled his eyes.

“Wow, I didn’t fucking think of that,” he retorted. “Scoot over.”

There wasn’t a whole lot of room in these little shower stalls - they were definitely only meant for one person at a time, so you couldn’t clear much space for him, but you did your best. Once he was in, he had to stand within inches of you to prevent from spilling back out. You squinted accusingly at him, entirely unconvinced that either of you could get very clean this way.

“This could have been such a nice, relaxing shower,” you complained, popping the cap on the shampoo and squirting some out in your palm.

“It still can be!” he assured with a cheeky grin. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

Just for good measure, he mimicked zipping his mouth shut and tossing the key to the floor. You huffed a laugh at him, working the soap through your hair with your fingertips.

When you tipped your head back and let the water wash your locks clean, you let your eyes slip shut. You could tell that your cheeks were a little sunburnt because the water felt nearly ice-cold as it trickled across them, making you shiver.

Your eyes popped open again to find him watching your face. You huffed a breathy laugh at him.

“Hard to pretend you’re not here when you’re staring at me like that.”

“I’m not staring!” he scoffed, but his face turned charmingly pink despite his defense. “Where else am I supposed to look?”

You didn’t respond but instead decided to shake your head with a smirk. You handed him the shampoo bottle, but when you started to step aside to let him closer to the spout, he crowded closer to you. As he leaned in to wet his curls, your back hit the cold tile wall, making you gasp.

“Jesus, do you want me to just get out?” you complained half-heartedly, pressing a hand against his chest.

It wasn’t until he let out a wet sounding laugh that you realized he was jesting you.

“I’m sorry, am I in your way?” he asked coyly, ignoring your faux-annoyed groans as he leaned over you to steal the majority of the spray.

He was so close then that your nose hit his neck, his chest pressed flush against yours. The atmosphere in the tiny cubicle shifted dramatically for you at that moment, your breath catching in your chest.

“Josh,” you breathed.

You shivered again at the contact and, through your suit, you could feel your nipples perk up as your skin tightened into goosebumps. You could tell the exact second that he realized what he’d done to you because his whole body tensed and he took a step back.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be weird or anything,” he said, just loud enough to be audible over the white noise of the shower. His cheeks were flushed from embarrassment - even more so than before, keeping his eyes plastered firmly to the ceiling. Or, at least he was trying. Every couple of seconds, his gaze flicked down, almost comically across your body.

You couldn’t repress the breathless laugh as you watched him work to not look. Your heart was racing, making you feel jittery. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

Biting your lip anxiously, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks too. His eyes flicked down to yours and he gave you a look like he was trying to tell if you were being genuine - if it was really okay.

You reached up to pat his cheek, meant to be a reassurance, but you couldn’t prevent your fingers from lingering against his warmed skin. Touching him like this was nothing new - you were what one could call “platonically intimate”. You shared beds and clothes, and every now and then he’d ask you to brush out his hair, just because he liked the feeling. But this time - like everything else about this moment - felt different. He leaned into your touch a fraction, nuzzling into your palm like a house cat.

Despite your closeness - metaphorically and physically - in all the years you’d known him, you had never once tried to kiss. You had thought about it once or twice, but only because you had gone through a boy crazy faze at the start of puberty and it made you question whether every platonic male in your life could be your soulmate.

But for a second you stared at his plush lips and thought about what it would be like. If it was anything like you expected, then it would be toothache-sweet, because that’s what he was like. Like cotton candy.

You pursed your lips tightly, suddenly overcome with a feeling that you weren’t used to. It felt dreamy like the color rose quartz. Like butterflies were beating their dusty wings against your stomach lining.

He was giving you a questioning look - brows tipped up at the center of his face in a look of concern. You could only imagine what your face must look like to him. You certainly hadn’t been regulating it.

As he parted his lips to inquire, you brushed your fingertips across them, feeling his breathing go uneven.

“Josh,” you whisper, gingerly placing your other hand on the back of his neck. He was so close that you didn’t have to move much to do so. “Will you kiss me?”

He didn’t react for a second, just stood there blinking like the words hadn’t caught up yet. Then his mouth opened and closed a couple of times as he tried to think of a response.

“Of course,” he finally breathed, and the inflection in his voice - like you’re stupid to even ask - made you blush.

His face was already just a foot away from yours, so when he exhaled, the hot air hit your cheek.

The first brush of his lips against yours was experimental - just the ghost of a touch. You could tell that he wanted to, but couldn’t seem to bring himself to commit to it.

You scratched your nails gently against the back of his neck, urging him on.

He snaked his hand around your waist and pulled you in a fraction closer, hesitantly pressing your lips together, tighter this time. As you kissed him back, you could sense his apprehensions starting to melt away. He was gaining confidence by the second, letting his fingers play against the small of your back.

Giddy with excitement, you let him press you back against the tile again until he was standing slightly over you, your fingers wrapped in his wet curls. The water hitting the back of his head was dripping onto your face, and it reminded you of those movies where the romantic interest kisses the girl passionately in the rain before the credits rolled. You had never been very into lovey-dovey movies, but he had always been a sucker for big romantic gestures, so you ended up watching rom-coms quite often.

You parted your lips for him, and this time he kissed you in complete earnest. The rush of feeling behind it knocked the breath from your lungs.

His hand was carefully sliding up your back until your skin met the tile of the shower, and he was forced to snake it up your rib cage instead. You knew what he was going to do, even though you were sure he didn’t - that his fingers were dancing along your skin at their own accord. So when his thumb brushed over your nipple through the fabric of your suit it didn’t shock you, but the feeling forced a hum from you that he swallowed down instantly.

He rubbed over it lightly, and every touch made your whole body tingle.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your lips, sounding painfully shocked at the way this day was going.

You couldn’t say you blamed him.

The angle was starting to make your neck ache, but you could only move slightly due to the cramped space. As you shifted, you felt his hardened cock slide against your thigh and you sucked in a sharp gasp.

His whole body tensed like he wasn’t sure if he’d crossed a line, but he continued when you tugged on his hair - maybe a little too rough if you were being honest. He didn’t seem to mind at all; as a matter of fact, if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he liked it - if the suspiciously hoarse whimper he placed into your mouth was anything to go by.

The fingers of his other hand trailed down your other side, thumb rubbing against your hip bone and tugging you closer until your pelvis was pressed against his. The sensation was too delicious; you couldn’t help but grind against him, eliciting a moan from each of you.

When his lips moved to your neck, his teeth grazed the skin. You could feel him starting to bite in, and as good as it felt, you had to object.

“No, wait,” you breathed. “You can’t leave any marks.”

“Who said I was going to leave a mark?” he asked, sounding a little smug. You huffed a laugh at him, rolling your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were an expert at this.” The sarcasm dripping from your voice made him laugh into your damp skin. You opened your mouth to say something equally quippy, but the words got choked back as his fingers brushed against your core.

Your exhale hitched in your lungs, and when you were able to finally breathe again, it was in the sound of his name.

He added just a fraction more pressure, forcing you to bite your lip. He was about to go for it, you could tell, because he was slowly pushing your suit aside, and you were heavily anticipating his fingers touching your bare skin when-

Your phone rang, almost ear-splittingly loud as the tone echoed off of the tile. It caused you to yelp, and he pulled away instantly, face beet red.

Shakily, you bent down and reached past the curtain, pulling it out of your bag and answering it without looking at the ID.

He flipped the water off just as you said, “Hello?”

You silently prayed that your voice wasn’t as shaky as you thought it sounded.

“Hey, just reminding you that we’re having dinner around six,” your father said from the other end. It was quiet enough in the stall that he could easily be heard by Josh as well from where he was leaning back against the shower wall, breathing heavily and staring at the floor.

You swallowed the lump in your throat first before speaking again. “Yeah, we’re just getting changed. Probably be there in ten to fifteen minutes is all.”

Your dad quickly agreed, sounding none-the-wiser to your sins, and after you hung up, you tucked your phone deep inside the bag, like that would help keep everything a secret.

Josh’s eyes flicked up and met yours, his eyebrows raised. You were biting your lip, rubbing nervously at the back of your neck.

“Well, fuck,” he chanced, making you release a shaky laugh.

“Fuck indeed,” you replied, giving him a small smile. “We should get moving.”

He nodded in agreement, and after a second of staring at you, he stepped out, leaving you to change.

Neither of you said a word on the walk back to the hotel, but it wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable - just new. Uncharted territory.

Dinner was the same. The air felt heavy, but you did your best to not let your parents feel it, and you could tell he was doing the same.

He easily answered their questions about the day’s goings-on, easily navigating around the part where he almost slipped a finger into you in the shower.

Try as you might, there was no way you could prevent yourself from thinking about it. You caught yourself staring at his lips while he ate, and thinking about the way he tasted.

The light was catching on his tan cheekbones, making his jawline look razor-sharp, and all you could do was think about biting it. It was a big difference between just yesterday when he’d sneezed on you and then laughed about it.

You think that was what was most alarming - You’d never thought of him sexually in your life, aside from the time a friend of yours decided to date him and then attempted to tell you what he was like in bed. As you stared at him from across the table, your biggest regret was cutting her off before she could say anything actually worth knowing.

He stared at you over the rim of his water glass as your mom talked about the hotel bar margaritas, and for the first time in your life, you wanted to know what he felt like on top of you.

The closer dinner got to being finished, the more heavily your heart started to thud. By the time you were all standing and removing your napkins from your lap, you were sure everyone could hear it’s eclectic rhythm bouncing around in your ribcage.

You had never been more thankful in your life that your parents had insisted your rooms be in separate wings on the hotel - though you didn’t really want to think of the implications of that in and of itself.

Josh let himself into your room, asking your parents to excuse him. When your mother inquired about what you guys were going to get up to for the rest of the night, you shrugged and told her you were thinking about renting a movie and falling asleep to it - insuring her that you were beyond tired from all the fresh air and sun. She happily told you to charge it to the room and told you to text her if you guys needed anything, but after being here for five days, you thought you had it covered.

They hugged you goodnight and then retreated down the hall, and you waited until you were positive they were gone before you opened the door. He had left it cracked for you - no need for you to fumble with a keycard, for which you were grateful.

He was at the other end of the room, facing away from you. He had changed into his favorite pair of grey sweatpants and nothing else, and you took a second to rake your eyes up the muscles of his back.

When you shut the door, you leaned back against it, your heart fluttering. You were so nervous that your fingers felt numb, but it was the best kind of nerves you’d ever experienced in your life. You hadn’t ever felt like this about a guy before.

This certainly would not be your first time - by any means. But. Somehow it was.

When he turned around, he looked at you like he was viewing an art installation. It took a second before he could snap out of it, tugging a soft t-shirt over his head and smoothing it out.

You couldn’t stop yourself from following his hand down his chest with your eyes, a warmth rising on your cheeks away when you looked back up and he was wearing a tiny smirk.

“Do you want to go back down to the beach?” he asked, voice quiet, but audible in the - otherwise silent - room.

You weren’t expecting that, and you could tell by the way he smiles at you that he knew he’d take you by surprise.

“Sure,” you agree, nodding. You were honestly a little afraid for a second that he was going to just pretend like nothing had happened. Your chest was tight with hurt for a brief second until he reached for the blanket off the bed, tugging it off the bed and rolling it into a ball under his arm.

No one else on earth could tell that he was nervous, you thought, but he was infinitely more transparent to you.

Just the fact that he wasn’t talking a mile a minute in the elevator was a tell-tale sign. He kept dragging his teeth over his bottom lip; something that would be just a normal, mindless tick for anyone else.

He let you step out first and then held the door from the lobby open for you, which was nothing new, but the way he placed a hand on your lower back as you brushed past him was. The touch made your skin feel hot, even though it was over the fabric of the dress you’d put on for dinner.

You realized about halfway through the walk that he was leading you back to the same slice of beach you’d been lazing on earlier that day, and for some reason that gave you goosebumps.

It felt complete. Full circle.

Nearing nine pm then, the moon was high, and the only source of light as it threw white light across the waves. The wet sand on the shoreline shimmered with it like liquid metal as the water lapped over it.

There wasn’t a soul around. You two were well away from any kind of civilization, and that notion itself was comforting to you. Still, your fingers were vibrating as he laid the blanket out and sat, toeing his sandals off and dusting his feet of any sand before relaxing back.

You followed suit, smoothing out the skirt of your sundress over your knees as you knelt next to him.

You cleared your throat, looking up at him through your lashes.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he said, without a single hint of reproach. His voice was soft and caring, the way it usually was when he was assuring you of anything, except even deeper in its sincerity this time.

He continued. “If you’re having second thoughts or anything, then just tell me and we’ll move past this, no questions asked.”

You breathed a disbelieving laugh, suddenly feeling too big for your body. You weren’t sure why it took you off guard - he’d only ever been a perfect gentleman to you, and any girl he’d ever known, really.

“I want this,” you stated with a small nod. A smile that read something along the lines of relief spread over his lips, and he let out a held breath.

In the tenderest way you could imagine, he swept a lock of your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear. A light touch, he wrapped his hand around the nape of your neck then, pulling you in just a fraction at a time until you were face to face for the second time that day.

When your lips touched the first time, it was soft and sweet - clearly trying to ease each other back into it. But you were already there.

You pressed into him, slipping your tongue in his mouth, and he met it with his.

As he leaned into him, his fingers danced along your bare shoulder, slipping under the thin strap of your dress and letting it slide down your arm.

It was nearly a hundred degrees hotter there than back in the still-frozen midwest, but you found yourself shivering as you pulled away from him and shrugged out of the other strap, letting the top of your dress fall from your bare chest.

His lips fell open, and you waited a second for him to do or say something - anything, but when he didn’t, you huffed a laugh.

“Are you going to pass out on me?” you teased, cupping one of your breasts in your own hand and giving it a squeeze just to watch him swallow hard.

“Shit,” he breathed, licking his lips. He grinned at you, showing teeth and all as he ducked in and kissed down the side of your neck.

You let his hand replace yours, his rough fingers brushing over the plush skin.

He didn’t linger his kisses in any one place for too long, no doubt being mindful of your warning about love bites before. That is until he pulled away and placed both hands firmly around your waist, helping you off your knees until you were straddling his lap. When he got you into the position he liked, his mouth found its way to your breastbone, pressing a trail of kisses down.

Your face felt fire-hot, so you buried it into the curls on the crown of his head. His hair smelled like the coconut shampoo you told him to start using years ago. The scent had become a bit of a comfort blanket for you - always put you at ease because it meant he was close.

You had never stopped to think of the implications of that until right now.

A gasp escaped you as he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, tugging it between his lips. His teeth scraped around it lightly, making you whine, high-pitched and beyond lewd.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, pulling his face closer until you were afraid you were going to suffocate him, but knowing that if you did, he’d probably die happy.

He pulled away a fraction, just to flick his tongue against the other one, making your stomach tighten. You could feel yourself getting wetter, and couldn’t help but squirm against him, begging for some kind of reprieve.

You rocked your hips far enough forward that you caught his hard cock against your core, eliciting a choked moan from him. The tingly pleasure spread down your legs, to your toes and made them curl out of reflex.

His fingers dug into your sides as he pushed your hips back and then pulled them forward again, pressing you down harder into him this time. If you had any sense of reality, you’d know to be embarrassed about how wet you were after five seconds of grinding, but you were absolutely gone by then.

Slower this time, so you could really enjoy the fire, you rocked forward again. His fingers found their way to your thighs, sliding up the hem of your dress until his hands were cupping your ass.

Deciding that there were at least one too many layers between you, you pulled yourself up, untying the string on his pants and letting him wriggle to get them pulled down as far as he could in this position.

It was okay though, you had what you needed.

His head tipped back as his cock slipped against you again, this time only your collective underwear in the way. With his throat exposed like that, you bent to drag your teeth against it, not being as gentle as he had been with you.

“No marks,” he reminded, voice gruff, but his fingers painted a different picture - one even let go of your ass to tangle in your hair, spurring you on as your tongue lapped against his skin.

The collar of his shirt in the way of your path only served to annoy you, so you tugged it over his head with haste and let it fall to the blanket.

As soon as his chest was bare, your fingers were mapping it out, tracing along his collarbones and down his breastbone. Even in the dim glow, you could tell how sun-kissed his shining skin was.

The moon was illuminating his curls like a silvery halo, a sight so pretty that it knocked the breath from your lungs momentarily.

You were both breathing hard, not from exertion, but from sheer excitement, and you watched his chest rise and fall for a second before your fingers raked over his stomach and then across the outline of his cock through his briefs.

His hips tried to buck up into the touch in their constricted state, but even the minuscule movement made you blush. Knowing that you could have this kind of effect on him was absolutely surreal. Before today, you’d never even had the privilege of being able to dream about this moment, because it had never even been an option to you. But as you circled your fingertip over the head of it through the fabric, the possibilities seemed endless. When you looked up at his face, he was watching the movements of your hand with half-lidded eyes, seeming like he felt very similarly.

You leaned in and pressed your lips to his again, his mouth hot and sticky against yours. As you dipped your fingers under the hem of his briefs, you could feel him hold his breath. Your fingers wrapped around his cock, giving it a couple of painfully slow strokes and licking into his mouth as he opened it for you.

Neither of you really needed any more warming up, so you caught his eyes and lifted yourself up enough that he could pull your panties to the side.

When you slid down onto it, you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out. You hadn’t realized how wet you were actually getting until you felt how easily it slipped into you. You didn’t allow him a whole lot of time to collect his thoughts before you were moving again, starting to pick up a rhythm as you worked yourself onto his cock.

Your fingernails were dug into his skin, using his shoulders as leverage, and surely they would leave marks, but you couldn’t force yourself to care. He’d think of an excuse if and when anyone ever asked.

“Fuck,” you breathed, voice an octave higher than it usually was. “Oh my god.”

He nuzzled his nose into your cheek, letting his hot, humid breath hit your skin.

Your thighs started to burn from relying on muscles you never use, but the second he started to feel you falter, his hands cupped under them, happy to share the work.

It wasn’t until he starting thrusting his hips up to meet yours that you really knew what fucking him could be like. The simple movement set your nerves on fire.

“Josh,” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around his neck as your fingers shook.

“I know,” he hummed. “I know, baby.”

The pet name made your stomach flip. You’d never wanted someone’s affection as much as you did in this moment.

He pulled his hands from your thighs and held you firmly around the waist. With your arms around his neck, you were already perfectly set up for his next move. He tipped you back until your shoulders were pressed against the blanket, laying you out with him between your hips.

Your muscles were grateful for the reprieve, but the new angle had him driving into you differently, making your eyes roll back.

It had felt great before, but suddenly you could sense yourself working toward something more - a higher peak. Your body felt hot as you wrapped your legs around his hips, tugging him by the hair into a kiss.

He eagerly kissed you back, biting down on your bottom lip, but not quite hard enough to break the skin.

With him over you like that, hair framing his face, everything felt like a dream. It was dark, but you could see the light of the moon catching on a sheen of sweat on his face, making his features even more intense.

Every single thrust sent you closer and closer to a pleasure you hadn’t been acquainted with yet until it got so intense that you had to squeeze your eyes shut tight and just hang on.

You came first, trying and failing to stifle a cry on your own, so he pressed his mouth against yours, swallowing it down. The feeling engulfed you like a wave, your fingers digging at his bicep.

He held you close to him, but it wasn’t until you were coming down that you realized he was whispering encouragement against the side of your mouth, sounding a little fucked out himself.

When he came, he let out a few choppy, raspy breaths against your face, his fingers wound tightly in the fabric of your dress.

You watched him come back to earth, and you weren’t sure if it was a post-orgasm haze or a real emotional response, but you were convinced in that moment that he was the most beautiful human you’d ever seen. For a brief second, you hated yourself for not appreciating it for all the years you’d known him. You couldn’t make any promises to yourself in your heightened emotional state, but you wanted to tell him.

But what the hell would you say?

He pulled out, helping you sit up. Your whole body felt weak, so you both just sat there for a minute, staring at each other.

The silence was entirely comfortable for you, but you wondered for a second if it wasn’t for him. If you knew him like you thought you did, he was probably reading the silence as a sign of regret and the thought broke your heart in a way you hadn’t expected.

You leaned in and hugged him tight, pressing a kiss against his cheek and feeling him melt into it.

There was no stopping yourself from wondering if he was feeling the way you did. You wanted to ask, but suddenly you were faced with the possibility that he didn’t.

Heart racing as you pulled away, you nervously bit your lip.

“What now?” you chanced, voice so quiet it was almost swallowed up by the sound of the waves.

He gave you a sugar-sweet smile and dragged his knuckle down your jawline. “You tell me.”

After you both redressed and got yourselves looking somewhat presentable, he walked you back up to the room.

A shower sounded nice, but after a moment of consideration, you decided that you’d used all of the energy you were willing to give for the day.

So you changed into a pair of loose shorts and a t-shirt in the bathroom, and when you came back out, he was already snuggled into his bed, smiling at you sleepily.

You huffed a laugh at him, but when you pulled back the blankets to your own bed, his smile fell.

“You don’t wanna come over here?” he asked, sounding like a kicked puppy.

You looked over at him through your lashes. At least a quarter of the nights you’d known him had been spent sleeping within a foot or two of him, but this was different.

“Of course, I do,” you assured with a sheepish smile.

You weren’t sure if you had been expecting to feel differently once you weren’t actively having sex with him, but as you crawled into his bed, you realized that you didn’t.

Nothing felt different, and yet everything had changed.

You laid face to face with him, taking it all in.

Once he figured out that you weren’t going to make any moves, he reached past you and flicked off the light. He gave you one, chaste little kiss before pulling you close.

+++

Your flight home didn’t start boarding until 11 pm, but you’d never been good about sleeping on planes, so you settled in with a book and a can of cola.

The seats were set up in rows of three, so it ended up being you and Josh sitting together with a stranger and your parents in the row ahead.

He was sleepy - you could tell because he kept rubbing at his eyes like he was trying to keep them open.

“Get some sleep,” you instructed with a giggle as he leaned his head against the window.

“Wanna wait at least until we take off.”

The stranger on your other side, however, already had her head leaned back on a neck pillow, big headphones covering her ears.

Through the cracks in the seats, you could see your parents settling in for the night, getting ready to sleep through the nearly eight-hour flight.

Josh was just barely still awake by the time you were sure your parents were asleep, and you were comfortable enough to chance turning to him. You grabbed his chin with your fingers and kissed him slowly, feeling your heartbeat pick up.

You wanted him to know that you hoped this was the new normal - that back home, you wanted to stay this close.

He looked a little stunned when you pulled away, just sitting there blinking at you, but after his tired mind caught up with itself, he grinned at you, showing his teeth.

He pulled your head down to his shoulder and nuzzled his cheek against it, lacing your fingers together and letting them rest on his lap.

Maybe you were going to be able to sleep after all.

Note: thanks again to anyone that leaves any kind of note for me. I fucking love them and they keep me going. <3

#josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka smut #gvf smut #gvf fic #writing

763 notes · View notes

jtrokujo · 4 years ago

Text

𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

paring: Semi Eita x fem!Reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none

gerne: fluff, romance

summary: In the happy relationship, which did not have a good start, the couple gets ready for a date, but how it ends was different than expected.

—

In the back row I saw my friend's playmates, because today the Shiratorizawa were playing against the Karasuno.

I have to admit that even though I know the people on the Karasuno team, I still have no impression of the players.

But they seem to be nice people and the orange haired one doesn't seem to be a problem for almost any volleyball player until they meet him.

The team has an advantage for being able to jump pretty fast and high, but my gut feeling still tells me that the Shiratorizawa will win tonight.

When Semi scored a point, the students in our school stood tall and cheered loudly.

Just like her I cheered loudly and clapped for the team, to be honest I had to laugh a bit like lost Semi looked up just to see me, the reason I'm sitting in the back is very simple: I forgot.

I had an appointment with a friend, but when she reminded me we left quickly.

I can be a great friend sometimes.

However, I have to remember how much I hated Semi, no, seriously, the way he was.

He gave me the cold shoulder, treated me like dirt and when we were supposed to do partner work together, I wanted to jump out of the window.

Marked me as a bitch and didn't even do half of our delivered work on the grounds: "If you can talk so much, you can certainly do so much work too."

But it was only through this group work that we got close.

You could tell that no matter how callous he seemed towards you, he really cares about his friends and comrades.

My feelings towards him only came after our group work was finished, but shortly before that he seemed different to me too, almost nice.

He kept me and my friends company, which was a bit strange, but you get used to it quickly.

After that time we went to school together, I accompanied him to the sports hall and sometimes even was there because we often had an appointment after his training.

I always didn't care how I looked before, because he seems to accept me as a person as I am, it's nice to know that there is still someone in this world who is interested in you as a person.

I still remember our first date when we had a little bike ride through the city, the bruises and the sore muscles hurt, but everything has its price.

And besides, I wasn't the only one who fell off my bike about 5 times.

Back in the present, I saw that the last sentence was almost over, whoever got the last point won.

Restricting my fingers and looking at the players on the field, I saw that the number 3 still managed to prevent the ball from landing on the field.

That was close, but the ball was so high that Hinata herself didn't know where it would land.

It is not slow, but it is not fast enough to be able to endure it either. It landed on their field, causing all of my classmates to jump and scream.

I got up and cheered my friend's team.

The gray / white-haired man looked helplessly through the crowd just to be able to see his girlfriend, but he didn't know that she was making her way to the entrance so that they could leave the sports hall together.

Several minutes have passed and (Y / N) 's cell phone rang, immediately she saw his name on it and accepted it "Where are you?" she heard his voice right away, she replied that she was in front of the entrance and asked him where he was.

The friend in turn said that he would be there in a few minutes.

Said and done in less than 3 minutes, she saw her boyfriend, Semi.

Slowly she walks up to him and hugged him and said to his ear "Congratulations on your victory."

He looked at her lovingly and hugged her again, this time a little tighter.

In the middle of nowhere, someone kept us and our embrace company.

Semi and I quickly broke out of our embrace and saw his red-haired friend, Tendo.

"Come on, all things are 3." he sighed in disappointment, which made him lightly hit his red head by Semi.

Painfully he rubbed himself on the injured area and greeted me "Hey (Y / N) ... your neck has gotten longer."

Faster than lightning, Semi hit him a little harder.

Tendo held his head protectively and kept repeating "It's okay, I'll stop!"

After the two volleyball players had calmed down, Tendo asked us if we wanted to do something together, I nodded and answered his question.

At the same time, Semi stares at his cell phone and said that we have to go, we quickly said goodbye to Tendo and made our way to where we want to spend our date.

There was silence between us on the way, but that's nothing to complain about, no, on the contrary.

Apart from the different dates, we often spend a quiet togetherness.

I know where this silence came from, or how this silence became part of our relationship, but I know one thing, no matter where I may be, as long as Semi is by my side, there is nothing Semi nor I can complain about.

But as much as I want to have a conversation with him, I have to think about the fact where we want to spend our date.

It was Semi's suggestion and I agreed without hesitation.

Of course, I don't mind if Semi decides where we want to spend our date, but I also care where we spend it.

Ice scating.

That I don't like it comes out of the question, but I have to admit that I've never done it, we recently went to a water park even though Semi wasn't a big fan of it, but he said "As long as you're by my side , everything is perfect. ", so it would be a little shit of me to say that I don't want it.

I know he would have offered me to stay the night or something else, but he said he had a surprise for me.

"(Y / N), is something wrong?"

My friend looked at me in amazement and squeezed my hand a little tighter.

"No, it's okay. I was just thinking." I tried to calm him down.

Still, Semi was a bit persistent and asked again what was going on.

"It's just, I've never skated before, so I'm afraid that I might get injured or even hurt."

Out of nowhere my friend giggled, causing me to stare in amazement. "Since when have you been so soft?" his arm was on my shoulders and pulled me closer to him. "What does that mean?" I asked him in amazement.

"Do you remember our first meeting, that's all I want to say." answer Semi and took my hand.

TIME SKIP

"Well finally." I sigh, relieved, but the fact where we are leaves me with a strange tingling sensation in my stomach.

But as long as I have Semi by my side, I shouldn't be worried.

"Let's go?" Semi asked me, I answered bluntly with a nod and hold his hand a little tighter than before.

When I finished tying the laces together I wondered why I was so scared.

"(Y / N), do we want?" asked Semi and looked me in the eye, his eyes shone something, what exactly I didn't know.

"Yes." I answered and tried to get up "Shall I not help you?" he asked immediately.

"No, no, it's okay, come on."

We saw a lot of people, some of them were parents with their children, some teenagers and some couples in love.

Caution, Semi and I kept them company. "Are you sure not to help them?" "I'm not a toddler, semi and besides, maybe there is some talent in me." I said confidently and immediately took his hand.

Hand in hand we made several rounds together, but I would have fallen down several times if he hadn't had such a reflex.

I admired a couple who fascinated me, it looked like they would have been able to do it several years ago, but he doesn't know the saying "Practice makes perfect".

The boyfriend noticed that his girlfriend was paying him no attention when he was talking to her.

He looked in the direction and saw a couple, but since he didn't want to come across diagonally, he gently pulled his friend's hand and continued what they stopped before.

Less than a minute later, his girlfriend said with enthusiasm, "Shall we try it together ?!"

He looked at his girlfriend diagonally and answered her question with "I don't want to end up in the hospital."

She hit him lightly on his stomach and this time said a bit irritably "Don't think so badly. I can certainly do it and now we're going to show the others what the volleyball player from Shiratorizawa and his girlfriend can do."

As much as the volleyball player would like to deny it, he has to admit that he is afraid.

But not only for himself, but also for his girlfriend.

Sighing, he gave up and asked his girlfriend what she would like to try with him.

"I run, so to speak, towards you and then you catch me and turn me up in the air."

"(Y / N) what that 'Dirty Dancing'? Semi asked a little disgusted and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, if you put it that way ... yes of course. You only live once and no contradiction!"

In the positions (Y / N) started to 'run' towards her boyfriend, Semi was able to catch her in time, but unfortunately he lost his balance too quickly, which is why he and his girlfriend landed rudely on the ground.

The small crowd immediately helped the couple, but (Y / N) quickly lost consciousness.

TIME SKIP

In the white room the friend emptied his water-filled glass while the cold raindrops hit the large pane.

When he was about to try to get up, his left slightly broken foot stopped him and sat down again in vain.

Lost in thought, he was staring at us nothing.

"Semi?" his girlfriend asked tiredly.

"(Y / N)!" relieved that his girlfriend is awake again, he hugged her the next second.

She asks immediately where she is, Semi answered all the questions one by one and said that they can go back home after a little examination.

After the little examination, the couple was allowed to go back home, the parents and their girlfriends are standing in front of the hospital with their respective cars and immediately rushed up to the couple and hugged them.

When he arrived at his girlfriend's home, they lay down on the bed and fell asleep in just a few minutes.

The next day the sun shone out of the window, which woke the couple, Semi moans annoyed and covered his face with the blanket of his girlfriend.

However, she quickly landed on the ground.

Slowly he opened his eyes and saw his girlfriend "Get up it's 11 o'clock."

Together in the kitchen he sees the finished breakfast on the table. "You ... you did that?"

Annoyed, she looked at him and muttered "Yes, I did that and now eat."

"Yes ok thanks."

As they finished the meal (Y / N) started talking out of nowhere.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" he said, looking down at his girlfriend.

"You know about your ankle.

Now you won't be able to play volleyball for a while. "

Semi took his girlfriend's hand on his and said, "As long as you're okay, I don't care about anything in the world. Please know that, (Y / N)."

22 notes · View notes

assumingminds19 · 4 years ago

Text

anastasia's mate

“Anyone can play, right?”

Kara felt like she was going to bounce out of her own skin, finally daring to do this, sitting on her chair and whispering to the white-bearded man next to her. Eagerness vibrated against her ribs alongside her heart. She’d asked the same man she’d seen the dark-haired woman playing the most, watching from far away. But her eyes were on the woman herself, standing back as the row of old men set their boards.

“Of course, moy dorogoy,” he answered through a thick Russian accent, his hands shaking over his pawns. “But be warned, poteryannaya printsessa is playing all quickly today.”

“What-“

Before she could finish, the woman was suddenly in front of her, Kara’s breath and question caught in her throat at finally being so close. But she didn’t even look at Kara, only at her bright, shiny and unused board for a second, before making her move and rotating back down to the end of the line.

Even though she was playing seven of them at once, Kara could barely keep up, losing first, embarrassment twisting in her gut. The rest fell in quick succession, and before she knew it, the men were packing up. The woman had vanished, leaving Kara wondering what’d just happened.

“That’s it?” She asked. “But I-“

“Don’t be upset,” the Russian replied. “She always wins.”

Kara blinked, looking back to her board and the pattern of her loss.

“Does she ever speak?”

“Da,” he laughed. “Sometimes.”

xxx

The next time they played, it was just the two of them. Kara hadn’t been expecting to play her at all. For the past month, the woman had switched only between the Russian and another man with a thick scarf. But today, before Kara had even finished setting up her board, the woman landed in the chair in front of her, waiting silently. Kara’s mouth gaped, her eyes darted towards her new Russian friend, panicked. The man’s lips twitched, and he nodded in encouragement before returning to his own game.

Kara hesitated, waiting for some cue from the other woman, but she was still just watching Kara quietly. Kara rushed to set up the pieces, feeling obligated to give the woman white as thanks for choosing her.

It was the longest game Kara had ever played, all of fifteen minutes. The woman’s moves slow and deliberate enough for her to clue in that she was giving Kara a game without pressure. An unachievable goal, Kara barely able to focus on the pieces, distracted by the lavender smell her nose caught on the wind, wondering if it was the woman’s perfume.

Still, once she’d lost, Kara frowned at the board, trying to understand.

“You shouldn’t have castled.”

It was a lovely voice, smooth, husky and crisp all at once. Wrapped around the consonants and tilting them up in a distinctly un-American way. Kara had trouble believing it was directed at her.

“I’m sorry?”

She winced at the way her voice squeaked, but the woman didn’t seem to notice, just kept watching her with vibrant green eyes.

“In your game.”

Kara’s foggy brain tried to catch up. She looked back at the board, trying to see what the woman was telling her.

“I needed to get the rook out.”

The woman didn’t wait, fingers reaching and darting over the pieces, resetting the play.

“You lost your advantage,” she answered, moving the carved wood. “I played pawn takes pawn, you couldn’t take back. Your problem was your queen knight.”

Kara blinked, still not seeing it. At her non-answer, the other woman let out a soft sigh and stood.

“Think it out.”

She breezed away with the chill wind before Kara could reply, leaving her frustrated and mournful watching her go.

A deep laugh sounded. Kara looked to the old Russian, finished now and shaking the hand of his opponent.

“You are like sobaka chasing its tail.”

Kara scowled, annoyed and began to pack up her own pieces.

“What is with her?” She grumbled.

“Fascinated?” He teased standing, board under his arm. “You’re not the first, even though you are the first she’s shown how they lost.”

Kara scowled, feeling the butt of a joke she had no part of.

“She’s good, so what?”

The man’s bushy eyebrows reached his hairline.

“She’s three times international champion before she was sixteen, devushka,” he answered, making her feel thick for not knowing. “She beat Petrovick in Paris before she was a grandmaster. You’ve been playing with Bog shakhmat, my dear. The Lost Princess, God of Chess. Don’t wonder how you lose, just be glad she picked you.”

xxxxx

Lena Luthor was her real name. From there, Kara spent half a day googling everything she could about her. Chess champion, a child prodigy, winning more competitive games before she was fourteen then most played in their career. Article after article calling her the greatest chess player to ever live. All until her final match at sixteen, the first loss of her career, when she seemed to vanish from the chess scene and the earth. Except she hadn’t. She was here, in National City, playing in the park with old men and Kara.

Kara’s cursor hovered over the video of an old interview, Lena’s young face so sombre and severe for a child of twelve.

“It was the board I noticed first. It’s an entire world of just sixty-four squares. I feel safe in it. I can control it. I can dominate it. And it’s predictable, so if I get hurt, I only have myself to blame.”

“And what do you do for fun?”

“I stay awake as long as I can, reading my books, learning the Sicilian Defence. There are fifty-seven pages about it in the book I’m reading, with one hundred and seventy lines stemming from P to QB4. I’ll memorise them and play through them in my mind.”

“There’s more to life than chess, you know.”

“Is there?”

Kara absorbed the words, her curiosity ferocious before she closed her laptop screen and picked up the second-hand, dog eared book on chess openings she had bought, settling back on her couch to reread it again.

xxxxx

The third time they played, Kara was the one to choose Lena, marching right up and sitting across from her before Lena had the chance to choose anyone else. It sent a mutter through the crowd of old men, but Lena took it in her stride, a ghost of a smile on her lips and didn’t say a word as Kara set up the board, this time choosing white.

Kara made her first move deliberately, watching Lena’s face as she did, daring her with it. Lena’s eyes raked the board, then Kara’s face in turn, sparkling before she made her answering move.

It was long and complicated, and Kara spent more time hung up on moves that should have been simple when Lena countered with something that sent her in a whole new direction. By the time the game had stretched into an hour, none of the men were playing anymore. Instead, they gathered in a small crowd around them, watching quietly as their match ebbed and flowed.

Once, Kara was convinced she was going to lose, seeing Lena’s path to victory in three more moves when suddenly, Lena did something completely unexpected. Sacrificing her queen and leaving her king exposed. At first, Kara thought she had missed something herself, wondering if she had tripped into a mistake. But the more she looked, the worse it all became for Lena. It caught Kara off-guard. It would be a brutal play. It would be the kind of thing Lena did to other people, and for a minute Kara wondered if she should do it at all. But something was pushing her in the back of her mind—an urge for this to be more than a pastime. More then a compulsion or an addiction, and Kara wondered when this had become less about knowing Lena and more about knowing herself. It was a demand, an obsession—a thirst for something more.

Kara made the play, her fingers unable to let go of her piece as she watched, recalculated and watched again before she let it go. Kara saw it in Lena’s eyes then, a softness. An acceptance. And then, Lena was holding out her hand for Kara to take, her king in her palm.

“It’s your game,” she whispered. “Take it.”

Kara did, her skin tingling where their hands touched, a part of her was too dumbfounded to realise that the roaring in her ears was the sound of applause from the crowd around them. Lena dropped their joined hands with a smile and melted back through the group. Kara tried to follow as the men held her back, offering their congratulations. In an undoubtedly rude move, she ignored and pushed past them, head twisting around, scanning the people in the park, finally spotting Lena’s back as she walked away.

Kara ran after her, calling out.

“Hey, wait!”

Lena stopped, turned around, an eyebrow arched when Kara slid to a stop in front of her. Without the barrier of chess between them, Kara found herself at a loss for words, caught in Lena’s green eyes.

“I… uhhh… hello.”

It was all she could dumbly manage.

“Hello.”

There was a long pause, too long beyond comfortable, before the only thought Kara could think spilled from her lips.

“Did you let me win?”

“No.”

Kara hesitated, the insecurity mixed with the flush of victory banished at Lena’s quick answer. Somehow knowing without knowing that Lena wasn’t a person who’d lie.

“But you did before,” Kara continued instead, pressing, searching for something to hold onto. “Your game… when you were sixteen.”

Lena looked out and away from her for a beat.

“Yes,” she answered quietly, looking back.

Kara’s mouth worked silently, tasting the answer on her tongue.

“Why?”

Lena took another pause before she replied.

“When winning takes everything, what are you left with?”

Kara shouldn’t know what she meant. How could she possibly? But part of her felt it in her bones anyway.

“Chess isn’t always competitive though,” Kara whispered. “It can also be-“

“Beautiful.”

The bare branches of the park dusted light through their snow-covered boughs. They haloed them perfectly, Kara thought, capturing this moment, frozen eternal.

“Why did I win?” She needed to know, not fully understanding herself. “You’ve been playing all your life, I’ve only been playing for three months.”

Lena didn’t seem to think her question stupid, or ridiculous, or any of the things Kara feared it was. She just stepped forward, an inch, but enough to make a point, her eyes darkening to a deeper green.

“Because I was only playing chess, darling,” the final word rippled down Kara’s spine. “You spent three months learning to play chess with me. You’re very good. Raw, unpredictable… when you’re not overthinking. You made a marvellous recovery today.”

Kara knew. She’d almost opened herself up to check in five moves. But the fact that Lena knew that Kara knew and fixed it made her preen, a blush filling her cheeks.

“Thank you. I… I’ve been watching you, for a while on my lunch break,” she admitted. “You were always here, the only colour in a sea of silver.”

“You were fascinated by it.”

“Not it,” Kara quickened. “You.”

Lena’s head tilted, and not for the first time, Kara hungered to know what exactly was going on under that pale and beautiful mask.

“What’s your name?” Lena asked, voice soft, welcoming and unexpected.

“Kara. Kara Danvers.”

“Would you like to go out to dinner?”

“Like a date?” Kara blinked, wondering if she’d misheard.

“Yes,” Lena smiled.

“Ye.. yeah!” Kara stumbled, unable to reign in her enthusiasm. “Umm, tonight?”

“I have a standing engagement.” Before Kara could feel disappointed, Lena countered. “Tomorrow?”

Kara nodded, head bobbing like she was on the dashboard of a car.

“Ok.”

One second. Then two.

“Your number?”

“Oh, yeah…” Kara blushed again. “Here, I’ll um… put it into your… yep.”

She typed it dutifully into Lena’s outstretched phone, sending herself a text to make sure, before handing it back.

“Tomorrow then,” Lena answered, phone safely back in her pocket. “Kara Danvers.”

She leaned forward, brushing her warm lips against Kara’s cheek, her hand giving Kara’s arm a small squeeze through the fabric of her winter coat. Then she was floating away once more, Kara staring after her.

“Wow.”

That night Kara dreamt of rooks and castles and lost princesses, found again.

#supercorp #supercorp fic #kara danvers #lena luthor #chess #the queen's gambit inspired #supergirl

53 notes · View notes