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bowdownbucky · 3 years ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐃, 𝐁𝐀𝐃, 𝐁𝐀𝐃 !

part 2 <3

summary: you have an encounter with your best friend’s brother bucky!

pairing: innocent! reader x college! bucky

warnings: cursing, asshole! steve rogers, kissing, drug use, oral (female receiving) fingering.

your heart began to beat heavily, bucky didn’t care that his sister was outside of the door but you started to feel guilty. this was so wrong of you and you didn’t even want to look at yourself. “you better answer her sweethear, she’s not gonna leave.” bucky taunts you, he hand trails your stomach, groping your breasts hard. “uh-im almost finished, i h-had to ohhh.” you slap you hand over your mouth, bucky smirks as he pinches you nipple again.

“what?” rebecca moved closer to the door. “are you okay? i’m coming in.” your eyes widens, you pushed bucky away and slowly cracked the door. “i’m f-fine, the um…pizza! the pizza went down the wrong hatch.” you lie. rebecca’s face screws up. “ew i did not need to know that y/n” you watch as she walks into her room. you close the door, leaning your head back onto the wooden frame.

you closed your eyes and hoped that this was all a dream, that you didn’t actually kiss your best friends brother. you slowly open your eyes only to meet a pair of blue eyes, bucky laughs at you. “went down the wrong hatch? seriously?” you cross your arms in front of your chest. “well what was i supposed to say, sorry can’t talk now i’m making out with your brother. she’s kill me!” you exclaim, you ran your hands down your face in an irrational manner. this was too much for you and bucky didn’t see anything wrong with it.

“would you chill out? here take a hit, it will make you feel better.” bucky offers the small bud once more, you smack it out of his hand. “do you always solve your problems with weed!” you hiss. his eyes were low, he watched as the joint flew onto the ground. you hitch your breath realizing what you did, you see his tongue rub his lower lip. you almost melt at the sight.

“your gonna regret the doll.” he seethes into your ear. he pushes you against the door, you let out a yelp but he covers your mouth. “i know a way you can make it up to me, and you are gonna make it up to me. you know why baby?” you shake your head. “because you don’t want to get on my bad side. i would hate to ruin that innocence of yours.” he whisperers, he hands managed to find their way to you ass, giving it a light squeeze before letting you go.

you move from the door and he exits the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts. you could barely comprehend what happened let along what he meant by his bad side. you grabbed the nail polish remover and walk back to rebecca room. “finally! you took forever.” you mumble a small sorry and sat on her bed, she lends you her hand and you get to work on her nails, she chose a peach color and wanted you to add a french tip, such a classic.

as you continue painting her nails she squeals making you mess up the curved line. “becca! your nails!” you groan. “i don’t care! why didn’t you tell me?” you tilt your head confusingly. “you and steve hooked up and you didn’t tel me?!” you eyes go wide. “what! no! where did you get that from?” you ask her. she huffs. “no, no, no, no don’t try to act all innocent! you and chris did it and there is evidence on your neck. i rest my case.” you rush off the bed and check your neck, you internally face palm seeing dark purple marks all over your neck.

“i had no idea steve was like that. i guess i have to stop making fun of him now.” she chuckles. “just taking me home my ass! so how was it? was he big? why arent you giving me details.” rebecca whines, kicking her feet in her bed. you ignored her and attempted to kneed out the hickies. as you run the marks you notice bucky staring at you from his room door, you could practically feel his smirk as you watched his reflection go back to his room. you heart raced as you tried to come up with an excuse.

“it’s no big deal i just burnt myself with a straightener.” you curse to yourself knowing she wouldn’t fall for that. “fine don’t tell me! i’m going to sleep, all this secrecy has made me tired.” rebecca yawns, you hoped she wouldn’t ask you about the hickey again because lying was never your forte. you lie in the large bed, clouded in your own thoughts.

did he like you? was he just messing with you? you had so many assumptions of why he kissed you, what bothered you the most was that you had steve. steve was a jock and you were an outcast, you didn’t know how it would work. even though you and steve hadn’t officially said you were together, you still respected him and wanted to be faithful.

the next morning at school, you kept your head down and didn’t talk to anyone for the most part. no one really seems to notice because you were kind of a nobody. you sat in your forensics class, jotting down notes here and there. you stop writing when you feel a hand creep up your thigh. you turn your head toward steve, he kept a straight face and didn’t acknowledge how unamused you were.

“what are you doing?” you whisper. steve’s hand tries to travel up your skirt but you close your legs firmly. “steve!” he turns to you. “we’re in the middle of class.” you point out. “i’m sorry you know i can’t resist you baby. let me make it up to you but taking you out after homecoming.” you hault yourself as you almost roll your eyes at him. steve could be pushy sometimes especially when it came to losing your virginity to him. you hated that rebecca told him that, now he wouldn’t leave you alone.

“oh really.” you say pretending to be intrigued. “the guys and i bought hotel rooms for tonight and we get to bring a special girl along. and you know since your my favorite girl, i thought we could go together and have fun. go swimming, watch movies, kiss, cuddle, the whole nine and maybe some other stuff if you want.” you remove his hand from your thigh and continue writing notes. “i told you steve i’m not ready for that stuff yet.”

steve huffs, returning back to the lesson. your virginity wasn’t something that you kept sacred but you wanted you first time to be meaningful and steve hadn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend yet so your answer would always be no if he asked. when school ended you took the bus home, you quickly packed a bag full of makeup, hair supplies and your clothes for homecoming. you checked the time, almost cursing yourself seeing how you were going to be late to rebecca’s house.

you ran as fast as you could to the barnes’ house, you could practically feel the lecture rebecca was going to give you. luckily, you live a few blocks down from the barnes so it wouldn’t be too long of a walk/run. when you arrived at the barnes’ you quickly rang the doorbell. the door opens’ revealing a shirtless bucky who looked like he just got out of the shower. “can i help you?” he smirks looking down on you.

“becca t-told m-me to come, for homecoming.” you gulped attempting to maintain eye contact. his couldn’t help but peek at his glistened abs, you really hoped he didn’t catch on to you checking him out. before he could let out a snarky comment rebecca came gritting down the stairs with curlers in her hair. “there you are! y/n your late and we only have three hours to get ready.” you pushed pass bucky and ran up the stairs.

bucky watched at how nervous you were, it was like the fuel he ran on. rebecca closed her door and pushes you onto her vanity chair. “please tell me i have creative freedom tonight!” rebecca pleads with her big blue eyes staring at you. you sigh and nod. she kisses your forehead before beginning your makeup.

after a few hours of prodding, poking, blending, and brushing, rebecca finally finished your makeup and hair. normally you wouldn’t wear makeup because you didn’t know how to do it very well but when you did have it on you truly looked like a princess. “now carefully get into your dress y/n, i swear to god if you mess up an eyelash i will kill you.” she threatens you with her high pitched voice. you removed your jeans and shirt revealing your body, you quickly unzipped the dress as you start to compare your body to rebecca’s. becca was tall and slim while you were a little curvy. you had a small tummy with stretchmarks and she had a flat tummy with a slender waist. your best friend was beautiful and you didn’t want to see mom jealous, so you put up a front and delt with it.

you and rebecca were finally dressed, rebecca looked stunning in her white and pink dress. with the help of rebecca and mrs.barnes, you had pick a pale green dress, the curve of the dress fit you like a glove. the creases on the dress made you look more mature and sexier. you were never use to being sexy so the look on your face made rebecca freak out. “you totally hate it, i knew we should’ve gone with the black dress.” you shake your head. “n-no! it looks…great. thank you becks.” the door opens, your heart quickens when you meet a pair of bright eyes. you noticed bucky had put on a shirt, a part of you were bummed out. “would it kill you to knock! we’re girls who need privacy!” rebecca yells. bucky didn’t give his sister the time of day, his eyes were fixated on you. you felt self conscious as he stared at you long and hard. “mom and dad are going to a banquet dinner in manhattan. they won’t be back until tomorrow.” he tells rebecca. she crossed her arms in confusion. “what? no! i was supposed to have the car tonight. how the hell are we supposed to get to hoco?” rebecca flings her arms up dramatically.

bucky chuckles at his sister’s agony. “wait!” you spoke up as bucky was about to walk away. “c-can y-ou drive us?” you ask quietly. rebecca pulled your arm. “are you crazy? do you know what people say if we shows up to homecoming in a pickup truck?” rebecca vocalized. you couldn’t care less what people had to say, you just wanted and excuse to be see bucky. “becca this is important to you and even you said yourself we had to be there under any circumstances.”

rebecca whines. “fine but you’re dropping us off a block away. i need to retouch my hair, you’ve made me stress away the curls.” you watched as she pushes past bucky, leaving the two of you. you stare at him for a second then turn around, attempting to act uninterested. “you know you should skip this whole homecoming thing altogether.” bucky told you. “what! no, this is important to becca and i promised her i’d be there.” you felt his presence behind you, your back was pressed to his front. “come on doll, you never seemed like the type to be into this stuff anyway. i have a few places we could go instead. wouldn’t that be way more fun.” he was baiting you and hell, you were falling for it very hard. he pushed your hair to the side, laying a kiss on your shoulder. his hand cupped your waist, pulling you as close as you could get.

his pressed more kisses up your neck, he liked testing you, he would make you beg for it if you gave him the chance. “c’mom dollface, don’t you wanna have fun with me?” you almost gave him a nod but refrained. “i should go help rebecca, see you in a few james.” you walk away smiling to yourself, you won this round of the game but best believe, bucky was going to win the next level.

you sat in between bucky and rebecca once more, y’all were currently picking up nathan and steve, your dates for the evening. “you look beautiful beck.” nathan smiles at his girlfriend. rebecca left you in the front with bucky so she could kiss her boyfriend more. steve walks to the front car door but bucky locks him out. “hey man, open the door.” steve groans. the two had seem to have history and now you were going to be in between it. “you know the rules big guy, no douches in the front seat.” bucky smirks. “then why are you sitting up here asshole?” steve sarcastically jokes. rebecca huffed from the back, leaning in the front of the seat. “hey dickheads, we don’t have time for this, have your cat fight after hoco. let’s go!” she demands. steve huffs, taking a seat next to the couple who had no problem with pda.

the ride to the school was pretty silent except for the rock music playing from the radio. you stared out of the window, you could tell bucky was mad because of how tight he was holding the steering wheel, his knuckles were almost white from the tight grip. suddenly, his hand was on your thigh. your eyes widened, you quickly look back to make sure no one saw what was happening. “what are you doing?” you whisper. he doesn’t say anything to you, his hand stays on your thigh and his eyes stay on the road but you could still see the smirk on his face. you tried to push his his hand away but he only moves it higher, almost touching your core. you didn’t want to play games anymore, you were never built for them, you open your legs up more, instead of doing what you wanted, he removed his hand. “alright guys, have a good night.” rebecca and nathan were the first ones to leave the truck. steve exits the truck and stands by youre window. “you coming?” you nod to him. “i’ll be out in a second.” steve walks away from the window, bucky bursts out into laughter.

you throw a punch at his arm but he doesn’t flinch at you. “thats not funny! you’re so mean.” you pout. “no what’s funny is you actually going out with steve.” you eye him in confusion. steve was a good guy, he could be a little pushy but that was just high school boys. “he’s nice and he asked me to go with him. i really don’t see what’s funny bucky.”

“you think just because the guy asked you to a dance, he suddenly changes his player ways. i think you forgot i use to be one of those guys. guys like that don’t fal for girls like you” he pauses. “all he wants is to get you under him and then he’s gonna hop to the next willing participant. god you’re so naive.” you crossed your arms. “you’re such a jerk james! at least he has the decency to not play with my feelings! you’re sister was right! you’re nothing but a-an…asshole.” you yell, leaving the truck with a slam of the door. you surprised yourself at how you went off on him, what did he know about steve. you knew being involved with bucky was bad but now you officially got your sign to stay away from him.

you walked into the school looking for steve. you pushed pass people grinding and dancing on each other. when you find steve you see he’s not alone, he was dancing with lila miller. the two were close together, you turn you back in disgust once you catch the two of them share a very tongue-filled kiss. you sit at the table in annoyance. of course bucky would be right about steve, you hated the fact that he was right.

it took an hour and a half for steve to find you sitting at the table, watching everyone have fun. “hey y/n sorry i was waiting for you but then the guys wanted to go take some shots in the bathroom.” steve leans over to kiss your lips but you dodge him. he looks at you with a confused face. “come on let’s go dance.” he offers you his hand, you play with the fork that was covered in strawberry cake. “i’m good, maybe you should go dance with lila instead.” you say. steve sits back down in the chair, he cleared his throat. “you saw that? i didn’t think you’d be mad, it’s not like we’re together or anything.”

you roll your eyes, pushing your plate away from you. you get up and begin walking to the double doors. as you enters the hallways you ignore steve calling your name. “y/n! can you just wait a minute!” he yells, pulling your arm back causing you to hault. “it was just a dance, i was being nice. you can’t just get mad at me like that, i asked you to be my girlfriend more than once and you said no.”

“because all you want from me is sex which is not ready to give to you. you don’t think i hear about you hooking up with girls in the gym closet. i don’t want to be the next dumb girl who becomes a play thing for you.” you snap on him. “oh come on, sex is just sex, why do you make such a bug deal over this?” he groans.

“it’s not just sex steve, i want it to be meaningful and memorable. i’m sorry if i don’t want to hook up in a sleezy hotel.” you yell, your faces were extremely close. “and you think barnes is gonna make it special? god you’re so naive.” you furrow your brows, what did bucky have to do with this situation. “he has nothing to do with this steve! you asked me to come to this dance with you only for you to dance with another girl and make me look dumb sitting there waiting for you. you can’t take your hotel invite and shove it up your ass.” you walk away from steve, this time he didn’t bother calling your name. after he heard you curse at him he knew you guys were not going to work this out

you sit on the stairs of the school, tears slowly slid from your eyes. you felt so stupid and used, you knew steve was right but it still hurt. you two weren’t together and if he wanted to take another girl to the hotel he could because you weren’t together. you cringe at how bucky was right about steve, you wanted to be angry at him but he did warn you.

you decide to head home, walking alone the lonesome streets of brooklynn. you were wet due to the copious amount of rain fall, you shiver once more and continue to walk to your house. you noticed a familiar truck driving beside you. bucky rolls down his window. “get in.” he tells you. you continue walking, deciding to ignore the older boy. “come on doll it’s raining. a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be walking alone.” you couldn’t believe he as trying to flirt with you right now. you were hurt by his words and you were standing your ground, well that was until you heard a loud crack of lightning. you quickly rushed into the truck, slamming the door behind you.

before bucky could speak you began to talk. “just because i’m sitting in here with you, doesn’t mean i forgive you.” you seethed. bucky nods at you. “okay.” you angrily slap his arm. “okay? are you serious right now? how about a sorry for being a jerk!” you yell at him. bucky doesn’t acknowledge you, he starts looking for something in his truck. “god! boys are stupid! all you do is crave sex and hurt girls!” you rant, arms crossed over your chest. once you finished your rant you peek over at bucky holding two blunts. “wanna get high?”

you later found yourself in bucky’s room, high as a kite. you didn’t know what effect he had on you but you gave into his temptation. you sat on his bed, letting him shotgun smoke onto your mouth. “god you’re so hot.” bucky kisses your right shoulder. you softly hum in response, he trails his kisses to your exposed neck. you knew this was wrong on so many level but it felt so right.

“kiss me.” you whisper against him. the drugs in your system had your hormones at an all time high, you needed him to touch you. bucky locks his lips with yours, tongue roaming each other’s mouth in such a sensual way. bucky’s hand roams your body, cupping your breasts then your neck. you moan as he applies pressure to your throat.

he slides down you dress straps, with every kiss and touch you felt your dress being pulled lower and lower. bucky lifts you up on his lap, helping you out of the green champagne dress. you were fully exposed to him, his large hands grope your ass. he slaps the soft skin sending your lower half to grind against his tight jeans. bucky groans, pulling you closer to his bottom half. you felt the jean material rub against your clothes clit, your body shakes at the new feeling. “god you have no idea what you do to me princess.” he moans into your neck. his right hand unhooks your bra, you let the bra fall off of you. bucky eyes your bare chest, his blue eyes darken filling with lust.

he pulls your breast into his mouth, twirling his tongue around your swollen nipple. you grip onto his shirt, when moves your ass back and forth on his pants. “p-please bucky.” you whine, your body was aching for him to touch you. “what do you want doll?” you grab his, guiding him to your clothed cunt. you slip his hand under you, allowing his to grope your pussy. your mouth gapes open when bucky slowly rubs your clit back and forth.

when he notices you like the feeling of him touching you, it sends him into a deep lustful trance. he flips you over, bucky’ dog tags dangle over you. he kisses between your breast, trailing down to your stomach then he comes in contact with your laced white panties.

you can feel his breath on your wet core. he inhales you, moaning as if your cunt was the drug he was addicted to. he removed your panties from your body, bucky’s cock hardens once he caught a look at your pussy, your cunt was glistening from how wet it was, it took everything in bucky not to dive right in. “your so wet for me baby, and i haven’t even touched you yet. your pussy is begging for me to devour it.” bucky taunts. he slips one finger in your folds, your back arches at the finger passes your clit.

“bucky…please. i’ll do anything.” you beg. bucky perks an eyebrow at you. “anything?” you nod vigorously. “you’re going to cum for me three times. understand?” you nod your head. bucky licks a stride up your cunt. he moans at the taste of you. bucky wraps his pink lips around your clit, your legs spread wide as you beg for him to devour you. your back arches more, his hands pin your waist down to keep you steady, you screw your eyes shut as he sucks your clit into his mouth softly.

you moan out in pleasure, letting your hands grip his soft brown hair. you tug on his roots, attempting to push him closer to you. bucky pulls away earring a whine from you, he slips his middle finger into your core. at first his movements were slowly, he was preparing before adding his ring finger. you rode his fingers, moaning as he pumped you. you watch as he spits on your core, watching his saliva mix in with your cunt. you felt your stomach tighten, bucky felt your pussy clench around his fingers, imagining you around his cock.

he wastes no time, diving into your pussy. his tongue rapidly worked your clit, his fingers pumping you at a fast pace. your body was overwhelmed by all the stimulation. “bucky!” you scream at the top of your lungs. you were now grinding against his face, he didn’t tease you anymore, now he was on a mission to give you your orgasm. your legs shake, you cry out for bucky, your toes curled and your back arches to its full extent. bucky slows his movements as you come down from your high.

you collapse on his bed, you shiver as you feel bucky remove his hand from your pussy. you try to catch your breath, bucky hovers over you. “who knew my babydoll had that in you.”

#bucky barnes headcanon #marvel imagines #winter solider imagine #best friend!bucky #bucky barnes drabble #dad! bucky barnes #bucky barnes #avengers endgame #bad boy! bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #college! bucky barnes #bestfriendsbrother! bucky barnes

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spookysmujer · 4 years ago

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All the Stars, O. Diaz

Summary: After having a stressful week dealing with the Santos, you try to make Oscar feel relaxed enough to get him to open up.

word count: 1.3K

warnings: cute s h e t, fluff, vulnerability

a/n: Hello babes, I am putting in some weRk over these next few days! Also who has been super excited after hearing it’s official: ON MY BLOCK SEASON 4 IS HAPPENING. Our papichulo returns! Don’t worry, angst coming up next, some smut and the whole spiel, hehe. As always please: follow the blog, heart/comment/reblog my work and turn on notifications for when I post new content!

requested by @justatiredfool

(gif belongs to unknown 🥺)

You were told you were silly to move in with Oscar during senior year of high school. That you had to be knocked up. Even though your parents gave you the OK, they always made it their mission to remind you that there are more important things in life than having a boyfriend. But no one understood just how deeply you connected with him. And to those who claimed it wouldn’t last, here you are 5 years later.

And with living at the Santo trap house came with its occasional inconveniences. Such as Oscar having the stress of ‘work’ follow him home all the time. And mostly, there was no problem in solving them. He did his best to separate business and pleasure. But there were days where he couldn’t and it would take a toll on your relationship. Days like today, so you want to help him relax and relinquish any stress.

When he gets home, he stops in the kitchen to press a kiss to the top of your head. He goes to the bedroom and strips down to his white tank and basketball shorts. You take the liberty to get him a beer, he thanks you with a touch when you hand it to him, “Long day?”

He hums in response as you run your hand over his head, he loves the feeling of you touching him. Touch for him is his love language rather than speaking. Which no doubt was hard for you in the beginning considering that for you, you were heavy in verbal communication. You need lots of reassurance and it was a big adjustment to learn that he likes to reassure you in a different way.

After mindlessly thinking, you reach over and take the remote to turn off the tv. He scrunches his eyebrows together and looks at you, “Com’n, let’s go.”

“Go where? I just got home, com’n.” You gather your purse and go stand by the doorway, looking back at Oscar who is still laying back on the bed. He looks at you, trying to tell you I ain’t going nowhere with his eyes. But your eyes tend to be more deadly than his. He groans before getting up and grabbing his wallet, “You don’t need it, let’s go tortuga.”

He pinches your behind as he approaches you, you squeal a little as you get away. Though he didn’t want to, Oscar knows there are days where you don’t see him much except for when he climbs into bed next to you. So instead of complaining, he just follows in pursuit.

You snatch the keys from his hand and jump into the driver’s seat. He won’t admit it but he loves to see you drive his car, it wasn’t always that way but to see you leant back, wind in your hair and head bopping to music, it’s a sight for sore eyes. Oscar keeps quiet as co-pilot and lets you take him to wherever you have planned.

Oscar doesn’t think anything when you pull up at a taco truck, you tell him to wait in the car that you phone ordered food for the two of you. When you get back to the car, he half expects for the two of you to eat in the car. However, you place the bag of food in the back seat and take off again. You drive for a bit more, taking a turn pass the sign that says “Hollywood Sign Ahead”. Most tourists have a designated area to part and hike near it. You know a way to drive up to it. Call it your rebel memory of high school. “Where are you taking me, hm?”

You look over at Oscar and smile, continuing the drive in silence. Oscar quirks his eyebrows when pulled up near a cliffside. He looks to you then tries to look over the ledge, “Com’n.” And when you walk over to his side to pull him closer to the edge, he feels a certain weight leave his shoulders. The sight is literally breathtaking. Los Angeles in a whole view makes everything that has been happening seem so miniscule. He lefts out a breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

“That’s why I brought you here. That release of breath you just let out that you have been holding in for God knows how long. Up here it’s different from the beach, down there you can release it but still gotta be cautious. Here, there is literally no one to see you be… you.” He keeps looking at the bustling city below. A small smile forms on his lips before looking at you. His hand cups your cheek, thumb gently gliding across the warm skin. You melt into his touch and smile.

So you both get comfy of the hood of his car and get to grubbing on the tacos. It’s nothing but silence as you eat first. You want Oscar to feel comfortable in this safe space. You have learned that the best way some people release all the pent up frustration is in silence while in the presence of others. It seemed out to you when you learnt this but sometimes it’s just another's presence that can be a tremendous help.

He finishes first and you offer your other taco, he denies it and chugs the rest of his drink. “Cuchillos put me second in command. Lots of new territories to cover. More business to handle and it’s been a fucking rough trip so far. Turning against long time allies. Taking fathers from little ones. I knew what I was getting when taking on the job but…” He shrugs, clearing his throat.

You watch him closely and quietly sighed. Not pushing him to talk more, you wait it out patiently. “I just need to know you can stick it out with me during times like this.” He says and you stop chewing your food, taken back a bit.

Oscar finally looks at you and you swallow. You set your food down to slide off the hood to stand in front of him. He watches as you step between his legs, he looks at your lips as you rest your hand on his thighs. “Remember when we had that pregnancy scare half way into senior year? Or when Cesar ran off from us at the fair? We didn’t know what to expect to have next then, just like you don’t know right now. But we always did something that no matter the outcome we knew we’d be okay, we always stuck together and did our best. I am here. I am not going anywhere, I won’t run when the going gets rough. When every single day life tries to throw us a curveball, I’m gonna be right next to you. I promise you that.”

Those special moments in life that automatically engrain themselves into your brain, the times where it becomes such a significant moment that you can later anchor yourself to. And right now is one of those moments. Oscar knew from the get go that you would remain a faithful companion in his life the moment you took a leap and moved in with him. Unknown where the future could lead the two of you. Here you are in the moment that you never saw coming all those years ago.

“Thank you.” He grabs your hand and presses a kiss on the back of it. You blush as he pulls your arm around him to get a hug. Oscar inhales your scent which has always consisted of vanilla and brown sugar. The feeling of your embrace keeps him at bay with the uncontrolled thoughts. The two of you share a few kisses, “Despite all this shit, it’s not a bad thought you know.” He tells you and you look at him quizzically.

He chuckles, “A baby, you pregnant. Doesn’t sound bad at all.”

The warmth in your cheeks makes you look away shyly. But the condensation that spread across the windows later showed no signs of shyness.

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sassyduckqueen · 3 years ago

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Screw Destiny- For LBSC Lukanette Sprint Challenge

Soul-mark/mate AU with a twist.

Prompt: 'We are written in the stars' 'Yeah, well, the stars are stupid' and 'We're not soul mates but we still love each other'

Warning!!! Self Harm is shown and mentioned in this story. While it isn't too graphic, please be aware that it might act as a trigger.

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Luka sighed as he looked in the mirror as he thought about his plan. It might not have been the best thing to do but he didn't know what else he was suppose to do. The last week had been awful and now he was faced with a choice that he thought he would never have to make. Either been unhappy or become a no mark. He traced his finger over the small bumble bee that rested on the inside of his wrist. It was his 'soul mate' mark. He didn't know why they existed, only that everyone had them. Some people loved the idea of been made for someone who was considered their other half. Of always been in love and together no matter what. His sister and her girlfriend Rose were those type of people but they had good soul mates. Rose was the sweetest girl he had met and Juleka was kind and gentle. Sure, she was shy but she was good. Their songs were as sweet as a bird's morning song and they balanced each other out. Rose brought Juleka out of her shell and Juleka calmed Rose down. They loved the whole soulmate thing. However, he was not that type of person. He didn't think it was romantic. He thought it was controlling and creepy. He didn't like the idea that he would be forced to be with one person for the rest of his life. It wasn’t that he was against marriage or been faithful to one person. He just hated the idea of that he couldn’t pick who that person was. It went against everything he was and all he believed in. He was what one might call a free spirit and believed in complete free will. As far as he was concerned, Fate could take it's plans and shove them where the sun didn't shine. He was the master of his life, destiny and will and no one in the universe could control him. However, he had hoped that his soul mate would be someone who was creative and kind. If he didn't get a choice in who they were then he hoped was like him. Unfortunately, his soul mate was Chloe Bourgeois. The very girl who bullied his sister, Rose and their friends. He felt sick the moment he realized. He had rushed to the bathroom and threw up after meeting her. Her song was awful and she was nothing more than a brat. However, she had been pretty pleased about him been her soul mate. She stated that he was attractive but commented that he would need to stop 'dressing like trash'. He didn't like how she saw his clothes as trash but due to the magic that binded their souls together, he had to agree with her. It felt forced and wrong when he nodded. After spending a day with her, he felt drained and there was no way he could do this for the rest of his life. Whomever had decided that she was his perfect match must have been high that day because they were completely wrong for each other. He always been taught that soul mates were meant to complete each other but he felt like she was a triangle and he was a circle. They didn't match and there would never been a true connection between them. Their songs would not sing in harmony and Luka would feel trapped like some beast in a cage. He would only ever be a piece of eye candy on her arm for all to see but he would never truly be loved by her nor would he ever truly love her. He couldn't do it. He was a free and creative soul and Chloe wasn’t. She was everything he hated. That had what lead him to where he was. He looked at his reflection again as he thought his choice over one last time. He was deciding if he wanted to become a no mark or a mark destroyer as they were sometimes known. A No Mark was a person who had destroyed their soul mark, breaking the magic and connection to their soulmate. His mother had done it with his father but she was the only one he knew of. The problem was that the only way to destroy a soul mark was to physically remove it and then there were the rumors. Some say that once you removed your soul mark, you lost the ability to ever love again. His mother had cut it out of her arm and had never bothered been with someone after that. Luka wasn't sure if it was because she couldn't love or because of choice but she was happy and free. He looked at his mark again before looking up at his reflection. He narrowed his eyes and picked up the lighter he planned to use to get rid of it.

"I am the master of my own life and destiny," He stated, holding his arm out and lighting it. He held it to his arm, causing it to burn. He cried out as the fire burnt his skin but he kept going. His eyes widened as he felt the connection shatter as his skin burnt. Soon, the bee was gone and all was left was a burn and blood where it had been. Luka shakily dropped the lighter and ran the cold tap before carefully placing his injured wrist under it, cleaning. He hissed as it hurt before he took out an antiseptic liquid and cotton wool pads. He used it to clear the wound before wrapping it up in a bandage. Once that was done, he ran water again and splashed his face before looking up at his reflection. He was afraid that it would feel bad and he knew he would be considered a freak but he honestly felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and that he was truly free. With a certain and determined look, he glanced back at his reflection and repeated the words that had become his mantra. "I am the master of my own life and destiny,"

~A Few Years Later~

"I am not in love with you anymore," Marinette gasped as she pulled away from Adrien. He had been her soul mate but she realized it had been come a burden that was slowly ebbing away at her and breaking her down.Firstly there were the people who wanted to have him as their soul mate. Some hadn’t been too bad but one girl had made it her life’s mission to harm Marinette because of it. Then there was the issue with Adrien himself. He was what you might call sunshine personified but not in the way she thought he was. He was burning her and destroying her. She thought he had been a dream come true but now he was a wish she wished she had never made. It was one of the reasons why she had decided to become a no mark. Another reason was because of how controlling his father had been. He understood that she was Adrien's soul mate but she had to meet his expectations. He had tried to mould her into someone she was not. She had learnt very quickly that the Agreste men had decided she should basically be a doll. She would need to look her best all the time, she would never speak out of term and she would never work. She was expected to provide an heir and act as the perfect wife but that wasn't who Marinette was. She was chaotic and smart. She loved getting involved and wanted to be a designer. She hoped to run her own fashion house one day under the name MCD but Mr Agreste had told her she would be a designer under his label and not her own. It was part of what would be expected about her if she married into that family. All of that plus the girl out to destroy had been enough to push her into thinking about becoming a No Mark but the final straw had been when he had insulted her family. Adrien hadn’t even tried to defend them and she was expected to accept what Mr Agreste had said. Well, no sir, she would not. That night she left with the intention of becoming a no mark and she did. It had hurt but she sliced across the paw print that was her soul mark to Adrien and severed their connection. Within minutes of tending to the wound, she had phoned him and broke up with him. Boy did it felt amazing. She felt truly free to become whoever she wanted. She had even met a lovely musician who she had started a budding romance with. However, even months later, Adrien still hadn't gotten the message. He stood there, looking at her as she tried to get into the cafe where she was suppose to be meeting her date. "Adrien, move,"

"No, I'm not moving!" He gasped as she stepped around him and inside. However, he followed her. "Marinette, please! Hear me out!"

"I'm not interested," She declared in an emotionless manner before seeing Luka by the counter. He was speaking to the barrister and dressed in a blue shirt and black pants. Her heart fluttered as she looked at him. He might not be her soul mate but she was definitely finding herself falling for him. The best part is she knew this was real. He was a no mark like her. Adrien, however, blocked her sight as he stepped into her vision, making her groan in annoyance. "Adrien, seriously. Go away,"

"I can't, mi'lady!" He gasped, actually getting down on his knee. She felt sick from the nickname he gave her. "We're meant to be! We're soul mates!"

"Not anymore!"

"Mari, you can't be serious!" He gasped as she walked away from him. He looked shocked as she did. He jumped up and grabbed her arm, making her roll her eyes. "But we're written in the stars!"

"Yeah, well, the stars are stupid!" She declared, shocking him again. This was not his Marinette. She torn her arm from him and rolled up her sleeve, revealing her damaged mark. He winced as he saw it. He had felt it when she had done it. "Did you forget that I became a no mark?!"

"Our love is stronger then a mark,"

"No, Adrien, our love doesn't exist and it never did! It wasn't even real!" She gasped, making him look back at her with hurt. If she still had her soul mark, she would have felt guilty and been compelled to say sorry and make it up to him but since she was a no mark, she wasn't bound to the same rules anymore. She was free. "You wanted a wife who wouldn't question you or your father. Well, news break, Adrien! I'm not that girl! Now get out of my face! I'm already late as it is!"

"Mari-" He started but a hand landed on his shoulder, making him look behind him as he came face to face with a young man with blue and black hair. He had a harsh look in his eyes as he started at Adrien before he looked over at Marinette. A soft expression took over his eyes. It made Adrien feel sick as he looked at her.

"Is this man bothering you, Miss?" He asked, making him blink.

"I'm not bothering her!" He gasped, yanking his arm from him. He frowned as he saw the scar on his inner wrist. Great, another no mark. "I'm her soulmate,"

"Hmm... soul mates are overrated," He stated as the harsh look returned in his eyes. "Now kindly leave my cafe and this young lady alone before I make you. She is obviously not interested in you,"

Adrien blanched in shock before looking back at Marinette. She turned her nose up before he let his shoulder sink and walked away, leaving the cafe. As soon as he left, the tension lifted and Marinette broke into a smile before gently kissing the young man's cheek. He smiled back at her as she blushed.

"I'm sorry that I'm late, Luka," She smiled shyly, pushing her hair behind her ear. His expression turned to one of ease and happiness as he held out his arm to her.

"Don't worry about it, Mari," He smiled, making her giggle as she took his arm. "I made your favorite today,"

"You're the best," She grinned, walking over to a table with him. They sat down as Marinette played with her hands. Luka reached out and gently took hers in his. She glanced at the scar on the inside of his wrist before looking at the cuts over hers. "That... that was my soul mate... Adrien..."

"He seemed delightful," Luka grinned sarcastically, making her giggle. "Mine use to be Chloe Bourgeois,"

"Oh no wonder you decided to be a no mark," She gasped before covering her mouth. "I mean-"

"Oh, it was exactly like that," He grinned, making her feel better. "Maybe it's because I am no mark but I don't get it. It seems so wrong and forced to have a soul mate already prepared for you,"

"Right?" Marinette gasped before looking at Luka. "But I like spending time with you, Luka. It feels real and genuine,"

"That's because it is, my melody," He smiled, making her blush at the nickname. She knew they weren't soul mates but she also knew she was falling in love with him and judging by the gentle look in his eyes, he felt the same.

#soul marks #soulmate au #soul marks au #soulmarks #lukanette #pro lukamari #self harm #sadrien #adrien agreste #past adrinette #lukanette endgame #real love #luka couffaine #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #lbsc sprint challenge #love bugs and snake charmers #past luka/chloe #mentioned chloe

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bubbleteaimagines · 4 years ago

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Meant to Be

Chris Evans Oneshot

Summary: In which you and Chris are meant to be, in one life or the other

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of an age gap, angst, mentions of death, this is so sad but listen to this song while reading to have your heart ripped out

you glared at the back of chris’ head, or rather the back of his plane seat.

you were mad, and you were mad because you didn’t even have the right to be mad.

he hadn’t done anything wrong, technically. if you subtracted the fact that he had broken up with you months ago and had started dating a new woman shorty after then yes, chris evans had been perfectly innocent.

but no, instead it had been you that messed up. it had been you that couldn’t keep her fat mouth shut, word vomiting all over chris just before the plane ride.

you still cringed as you remember the moment.

you were standing outside of the airport, all cast members of the avengers headed to tokyo for press and interviews.

chris had been standing alone and for some reason, you had decided to take your final shot. you walked straight up to him, puffed out your chest, and blurred out how you were still in love with him like an idiot.

honestly, if you could have picked a time for an asteroid to suddenly destroy the earth then that would have been it.

there were no words to explain the awkwardness of your words, and how chris’ face looked as he gently explained to you that he was with someone now.

someone that wasn’t you. someone that wasn’t twenty years younger than him, someone more mature and most importantly, someone that wanted all the things he wanted.

you had to admit, it stung.

it stung bad that the only reason he broke up with you was because of your age.

“we’re too different,” he had said, “you’re only twenty and i’m almost forty. we just don’t want the same things anymore.”

what he meant to say was that he just didn’t want you anymore. and it killed you, it tore you apart everyday that you had lost the love of your life over a damn number.

what was a couple years when you had a romance like yours and chris’? you were so happy together. you had so much fun. there was never a dull moment and you loved each other so passionately, so deeply, that everybody you met would comment on it.

or, at least that’s what you thought.

but months later you were still left with a bitter taste in your mouth when you remembered that wasn’t your reality anymore.

he wasn’t yours anymore.

“you okay kid?” rdj looked at you worriedly as you bit the inside of your cheeks to keep from crying.

“no,” you whispered lowly so that chris or anyone else couldn’t hear you. “i did a stupid thing today. before we got on the plane, i...”

“ah. that,” robert winced as he reminisced the moment, and the awkward silence that followed.

“yes, that,” you sniffled, still staring at chris’ head. “i-i can’t believe i did that. i’m so stupid. chris was right — how would he ever want me back when i keep acting like a child?”

“hey,” rdj frowned and shook his head. “you’re not stupid. you were emotional. it happens to the best of us.”

“does it really?” you wonder, not believing it. “because right now, it seems like i’m the only one suffering.”

it was true — chris seemed absolutely fine. you never saw him crying in the tabloids after the breakup. you never saw him posting sad quotes on social media or shutting down completely.

in fact, it was the opposite. he seemed happier without your relationship. happier without you.

a sob bubbled up in your throat. you quickly ran for the bathroom.

chris and rdj both frowned at your disappearing figure, but chris also felt a pang of sadness.

he couldn’t help it, — how could he? you were once upon a time the absolute light of his life. for two years, you were his anchor. his rock. his pride and joy, the reason he wanted to come home every night.

chris had loved you with everything in his being. more than any woman he had ever before. you were the love of his life, but you were also someone he had let go.

to this day, he still didn’t know why he did it.

he didn’t know why he left you in hysterics that faithful day, begging him for an explanation. begging him not leave.

it still hurt when he thought about it. it still haunted his dreams, still caused him to twist his face in pain.

he hated hurting you. he always did.

but in a way, letting you go was to help you more than hurt you.

he knew that you were significantly younger than him. but still, he had tried to fool himself into thinking you could both work when it was clear you wanted different things.

chris wanted a family. he was ready to settle down, ready for you to get married and have children.

but you weren’t.

like any twenty year old, you wanted to party and see the world and maybe adopt a dog. but kids? marriage? you had barely experienced anything. you wanted more time, you had begged him to give you more time, but time wasn’t something chris had.

he wasn’t getting any younger.

but you were. you still had a young and fighting spirit and chris didn’t want to dampen it by forcing you into a life you weren’t ready for.

so he ended it.

he met another woman. they talked, they wanted the same things.

chris was happy. or at least, he tried to tell himself that. he tried to tell himself that he loved his girlfriend, loved that she wanted everything he wanted. he loved that he could finally have the life he’d always wanted.

only...it wasn’t.

because you weren’t in it.

the plane rocked vicicously as you stumbled back to your seat, eyes red.

thankfully, nobody decided to comment on it but you could see the frown on scarlet’s face and the concern on jermey’s. you could feel anthony wanting to say something, but he was right by chris and he didn’t wanna risk any drama.

not now. you all were supposed to be happy — you were promoting the biggest movie of your lives!

but excitement hardly reached you at all. hardly touched you at all, sadness blocking away any positive emotions.

“you okay?” robert asked again as you sat back down.

you stared at the floor for a moment before letting out a small nod. “i will be,” you said, not bothering to hide your voice this time.

chris frowned at this. he gripped the seat a little tight as the plane shook again.

“why don’t you relax?” rdj suggested, “have some water. try to get some sleep. we’ll be in tokyo soon.”

“where are we now?” you asked, trying to distract your mind.

“i think maybe...somewhere over indonesia? i dunno, the pilot didn’t specify. she just said—”

“ah!”

robert was cut off by the plane shaking again, but this time, it was more deadly.

you jolted to the left, a scream escaping your lips as you went flying out of your seat.

it had seemed you had forgotten to put your seat belt back on once you got back to your seat, and you tumbled into the aisle as the plane tilted in a deadly position.

“y/n!” oxygen masks were quickly administered to everybody on the plane. anthony had to fight chris to put on his, stopping him from taking off his seat belt and helping you.

“chris, no! you need this!”

“like hell! y/n needs me!” chris panicked as he saw your frame go flying.

scarlet screamed as the plane began to twist, the terrified voice of pilot administering the worst news possible.

“the engines have failed! the plane can no longer support itself! we’re going down!”

robert tried his best to reach out for you; to grab you and pull you to safety.

but it was as no use. the plane hit something hard and in a split second your body disappeared as the plane was literally torn apart.

the last thing he remembered was chris screaming for you before it all went black.

chris didn’t know how long it was before he finally woke again.

all he knew was that when he did, everything hurt like hell.

he groaned as the aches began to spread in his body, slowly peeling his eyes open to face the bright sunlight.

“h-hello?” his voice was horse. weak. “i-is anybody there?”

he cried out as he tried to move and felt pain emitting from his side. but as painful as it was, he knew he had to get up.

“chris?!”

several frantic voices called out his name, gasps echoing throughout the air. he moaned as someone dropped down beside him, the embrace that they pulled him into causing pain to shoot all over his body.

“oh my god, he’s alive!”

the voice belonged to scarlet. he could vaguely make out her blonde hair, and her figure as she stood over him.

“chris?”

anthony sooned joined her. “is that you buddy? can you hear us?”

“loud and clear,” chris moaned out. “w-what happened? why does everything...hurt?”

the only thing he remembered was seeing you run to the bathroom. and then, it all just went blank as if someone had erased his memories.

anthony’s face was as serious as he had ever seen it. but even more than that, it was grim. full of worry and hurt.

scarlet was the same. she had tears in her eyes and dirt on her expensive clothes that didn’t belong there. chris furrowed his eyebrows.

“we...” anthony swallowed thickly. “we were in a...crash. the engines — they stopped working. we barely had time to prepare before the plane...”

“oh my god,” chris was suddenly alert, panic filling very inch of him as he sat up.

he remembered now. he remembered seeing your figure flying all over the plane because you didn’t have a seat belt on. he remembered reaching for you, yelling your name and screaming for you.

he remembered begging any god that would listen to spare you before he blacked out.

“y/n!”

his eyes widened in horror. where were you?! he searched the premise quickly.

you weren’t anywhere sight. along with robert, jeremy, and hemsworth you were missing.

chris felt a feeling of absolute dread wash over him.

“no,” he whispered, quickly standing up. he ignored every pain in his body. he ignored scarlet and anthony’s warnings to take it easy.

he didn’t care. he didn’t care about himself anymore. his focus is was on you, and where the hell you were at the moment.

“y/n!” he yelled again, shaking his head frantically. “where is she? WHERE IS SHE?!”

both scarlet and anthony flinched at his tone. never, and they meant never, had chris yelled at them before.

“she’s alive,” scarlet answered immediately, trying to calm a frantic chris. “she’s alive, but...”

“it’s not looking good, pal,” anthony’s voice cracked, causing chris’ stomach to sink. “we found her but...she wasn’t wearing a seat belt. and when the plane crashed...she got stuck under some rubble.”

“oh god,” chris felt he was gonna be sick. “can i see her? where are the others? are they helping her? take me to her!”

“robert, jeremy and chris are all alive,” scarlet said. “they’re trying their best...”

scarlet’s voice fell on deaf ears as chris decided to just go see for himself. he was tired of them dancing around it. he wanted to see you. he wanted to know that you were okay, that you were alive.

“y/n!”

scarlet and anthony yelled after him but he paid them no mind, running through the rubble to find you.

the entire plane that they rented for you guys was in pieces. the wings had been ripped off, the cockpit was miles away, and the back of the plane, where you were sitting, was scattered everywhere.

“y/n!” chris tried again, his voice nearly going hoarse from yelling so loud.

but then this time, he did get a response.

he whipped around as someone called out his name, but disappointment filled his veins as he saw that it was only jermey.

“chris, buddy...” rdj and chris hemsworth ran up to him, holding him back.

“chris, you don’t need to see this,” hemsworth told him grimly.

so that meant you were nearby. but where?

scarlet said you had been trapped under some rubble. but what chris expected time was maybe a seat, or a small piece of metal.

a strangled cry left his throat as he saw that you were trapped under one of the plane wings.

“y-y/n,” nobody could stop him as he fell to his knees by your head, the only visible part of your body.

you didn’t even know what to say as the love of your life came into view.

you wanted to say everything — so much — but your body was on fire.

if chris thought he had it bad, then you were ten times worse.

not only were your legs pinned, but also your ribs and your left arm. the only thing that hadn’t been trapped was your right arm, which was completely numb, and your head.

you were still conscious, but not by much.

you could feel it.

the sensation everyone always talked about. the tingling in your brain. the white light behind your eyes.

you were close.

“c-chris,” so help you god, you were not gonna leave this earth without speaking to him one last time. you had said your goodbyes to everybody else. as soon as they realized that they couldn’t get the metal off of you — that they weren’t strong enough, and that help wasn’t coming — you had decided to make peace with your remaining breath.

but not with chris. with chris, you didn’t want peace. you wanted love and the happiness of seeing his eyes one last time.

“y/n...” the strangled sob that left his lips wasn’t human. it was gutural, animalistic. chris was crying out for you, he was in pain. “no!”

“i don’t...have much time,” you sputtered out pathetically, blood spilling out of your mouth. “i-i’m dying.”

the revelation was clear to see, but chris still refused to accept it.

“no!” he repeated the word once again. “no, you’re not dying! y/n, you can’t die!”

“c-chris please,” black spots began to cloud your vision. but chris didn’t give up.

“what are you all just standing there for?!” he glared angrily at his friends. “help me! help me get this shit off of her!”

everyone stared at chris with a gutted look in their eyes. they turned away as he tried to lift the wing, as he tried to accomplish what they already failed at hours ago.

“mate, we tried...” hemsworth sniffed. “it’s not coming up.”

“no!” chris turned to him with such fury, such denial that it actually made hemsworth stumble back. “no, you don’t get to decide that! you don’t get to just stand there while she’s dying!”

“we didn’t!” rdj quickly stepped in. “we tried to help.”

“well then try again!” chris snapped again, pushing against the metal. scarlet sobbed as it stayed in the same place.

“t-they know it w-won’t help,” your sad voice whispered out, causing chris to pause. “t-they know i-i’m a goner anyways.”

“don’t say that,” chris sobbed as he dropped to your side again, hands reaching out to stoke your numb cheek. “don’t say that you’re dying. you’re gonna be fine...you’re gonna be f-fine.”

you could tell that even he didn’t believe it. the damage was too extensive. there was no way you were getting out of there alive.

“t-tell my family that i l-love them,” you mumbled, coughing up blood. “and sebastian a-and tom and—”

“don’t,” chris cut you off. “don’t do this.”

he wore the expression of a man being burned alive. he was in pure agony, pain clawing at every inch of him. consuming him faster than it was taking you.

“r-remember that,” you ignored him, the ringing in your ears getting louder. “remember that i love...you.”

there it was.

chris finally broke upon hearing these words. so painful for you to spit out, but yet they were important enough to waste your last breaths on. he was important enough.

“i love you too,” chris broke down, sobs racking his body as he held your hand. “i love you, so much. more than you’ll ever know. i love you for everything that you are. you’re the love of my life. i can’t live w-without you baby.”

“y-you don’t have to...s-say it back...” you gave him a pained smile. “just because i-i’m dying...i know you love h-her now. s-she’s your f-future. i-i’m just sorry we never h-had a chance,” your eyes began to flutter.

“no, no, no, no!” chris whimpered. “it was never her, baby. i don’t love her. it was always you. you’re my future. p-please y/n, you’re the mother of my kids. you’re my wife. it was always gonna be you, no matter what,” he shook his head. “always and forever, we’re meant to be.”

“m-meant to be,” you stuttered out, a ghost of a smile on your face. if you had to die again, you’d happily go out with those words being the last thing you ever heard.

chris bawled as he watched the light finally leave your eyes and your body slump. you almost looked peaceful, as if you were smiling in your sleep, but he knew better.

the love of his life was gone.

“chris? chris? look at me!” robert grabbed chris by the shoulders as he started hyperventilating, pounding at the soil with his fists. “look at me, buddy!”

“she’s gone,” chris cried as robert held him in his arms, “s-she,”

his eyes began to flutter close as he struggled to get the words out. suddenly, it became harder to breathe. black spots clouded his visions and chris’ body began shutting down with every breath, unable to cope with your death.

“what’s happening?!” anthony yelled as chris painfully slumped over, his body going limp in robert’s arms.

shakily, the older man held two fingers to his neck and prayed that he wasn’t gone, too. he prayed that the universe didn’t take chris and you, all in one day.

but they knew.

they knew the minute he pulled his hand back, dropping his head lowly in defeat. they knew before he even opened his mouth. they knew as he pulled away, resting chris’ body gently next to yours.

“he’s gone.”

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans angst

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 4 years ago

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What if... you are what we needed?

Corin keeps in the background when the kids are gathered, as usual, but his clever eyes are locked on Davarax and he’s hanging on his every word. Dulsissia can’t help but to smile at the sight of her son not only listening to what Davarax says, but how he says it, how he’s standing while he’s talking, his facial expressions, the gestures of his hands, everything. It’s like watching a baby bird imprinting in real time and Davarax being adorably oblivious to what is happening.

And Corin is not alone.

Din has begun to roll up the sleeves on his shirts like Davarax does, Barthor has adopted the same rest-head-in-hand-while-reading posture Davarax has, Paz suddenly decided to change his hairstyle into the very one Davarax has and Dulsissia had to send her embarrassed husband a pointed look when Raga had uttered some very salty and familiar curse words only yesterday.

But as cute and funny it is to watch Corin, it is also painful to see him desperately want Davarax’ attention but at the same time not dare to draw any attention to himself to get it. He will hover near him but with a skittish nervousness that Dulsissia knows comes from the years with Macero.

Macero had barely been present in the boy’s life, but whenever he was, Corin quickly learned that his father’s attention landing on him was rarely a good thing. Around Macero, it was best to be invisible. She’d tried to shield her son as best as she could, but it was impossible to block all of the cruel comments and mean remarks.

Today, Din, Raga and Barthor are going to head into town to pick up supplies, while she and Paz are set to do a complete check and cleaning of their weapons collection.

Corin is to accompany Davarax on some minor repairs on the Razor Crest and her soft heart aches with worry.

She’s not worried that Davarax will even think a harsh word in her son’s direction, but Dulsissia knows how anxious Corin will be with no buffer between him and Davarax. So she worries, but she also have faith in Davarax.

Carrying a large bag with equipment, Corin trails after Davarax, who has one in each hand and is leading the way to their ship.

Usually Din would be the first to volunteer when it is something related to the Razor Crest, but it was decided they all needed to learn about the ship and ships in general, so everyone has to take turns whenever some work needs to be done on it. Today is Corin’s turn and he’s more than a little nervous.

Corin knows he doesn’t have the knowledge that Din has about the ship and maybe Davarax thinks he does? There is no way this can end well…

When they arrive at the ship, to his utter relief, Corin is explained what they’re going to do, what the problem is and how to solve it, and in a way that actually makes sense despite him not being as smart as Din. And after getting a couple of easy tasks that he completes without any trouble, Corin starts to think it might not be such a horrible experience after all.

Especially after he’s finished switching a fuse and Davarax gives Corin’s shoulder an approving squeeze after he inspects the job.

The gesture brings a fierce burst of happiness inside his chest, it feels like he grows two inches taller, so Corin eagerly moves on to the next assignment given to him and then awaits Davarax’ verdict with a hammering heart.

Davarax reaches out, tugs gently at where Corin has attached the wire and makes a pleased sound when he finds it securely fastened. “Perfect. Good job. Keep this up and we’ll be done in no time.”

There is that fierce burst of happiness in his chest again. Corin nods.

Davarax absently twirls his welding gun when he looks at the next panel, considering what to do next, so Corin does the same thing with his wrench and feels incredibly cool.

They work together in the cargo hold for a while. Davarax opens panels, points and explains, then often steps back and lets Corin do the actual job, only offering advice or coming in to help when Corin meekly asks for it. It goes so well that Corin actually forgets to be afraid and just has fun.

“I need to head up into the cockpit and check out some data. You okay here? You got this?” Davarax asks while Corin is halfway into an open panel to try to reach some wires.

“Yup.” Corin replies, making a triumphant sound when he gets a hold of his prey. He hears the man walk away but he’s too busy focusing on doing a good job to get anxious over it. He can do this.

Turns out, he can. Corin fixes the problem with the wires, checks they are securely fastened before putting the panel up again and fastening it as well. When Davarax is not back by the time this is done, Corin simply moves on to the next panel.

Removing the bolts, he lowers the panel to the floor and Corin eyes the now revealed wires with a critical gaze. Yeah, there is rust and muck on them as well, so they definitely need changing too. He gets to it, eager to show Davarax that he can manage on his own.

He has just managed to loosen the wire at one end when Corin somehow manages to drop his wrench into the mess of wires below where he’s working. It must either tear something loose or connect something that shouldn’t be connected because only half a second after the wrench falls, there is a fierce crackling of electricity, sharp glimpses of light, and just as Corin makes a panicked grab for the wrench; flames jumps into existence and forces him to withdraw his hand with a pained cry.

Cradling his aching hand to his chest, Corin backs up to the opposite wall and stares with wide-eyed horror at what he has done.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” Davarax slides down the ladder, lands on his feet with a heavy thump before trotting over to where there now is a thin line of smoke emerging from the wall. He grabs a small bottle of something that is hanging on the wall and he sprays the content on the fire that is quickly extinguished.

Tossing the bottle away, Davarax turns to look at Corin.

“I’m sorry!” Corin blurts out before Davarax can say anything. “I didn’t mean to-It was an accident and, and I’m sorry!” He heaves for air, struggling against tears. “I’m sorry!”

Davarax merely shakes his head and grabs Corin’s wrist to pull his hand out to inspect it. “Did you get burned?”

Corin yanks his hand free, cradling it protectively once more, backing away from him. He can’t even look at Davarax and has to stare at the floor. “Please, I’m sorry.” Why did Corin have to mess up everything? Davarax had been so nice to him and now Corin has angered him. He’d set fire to his ship! Davarax had to be furious. Everything is ruined because Corin can’t hold on to a kriffing wrench! Stupid, stupid, stupid! ��I’m sorry!”

“Corin…” Davarax takes a step after him but stops when that makes Corin back up again.

“I’m sorry!” Corin shouts, really on the verge of crying now.

“Corin, it’s okay.” Davarax says.

Knowing how this will not only make the man angry with him, but also ruin his mother’s happiness as Davarax is bound to turns his bad mood her way as well, just like his father always did, Corin almost buckles under the weight of the guilt. “Please…” He whispers, agonized. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know you didn’t mean to, Corin. I know it was an accident. Hey, come on, look at me.” Davarax’ voice is gentle. “Don’t worry. It was an accident.”

Corin dares to steal a peek up at Davarax and is surprised to see no trace of anger on his face. If anything, there is concern and… sadness? It gives Corin hope that maybe he can take the brunt of the anger and spare the others. “I’m still sorry. I’m sorry I set your ship on fire.”

Davarax nods and gestures towards one of the fold-down seats. “Could you just… take a seat? Let me look at that hand of yours? Please?”

Corin shuffles over and sits down, like a doomed man going to his execution. It’s difficult to breathe. If feels like someone is sitting on his chest.

Davarax crouches down in front of him and eases Corin’s hand into his to examine it. He hums at the sight of it. “No burns, that’s good. But you got awfully close.”

Corin stares at the floor and shrugs. Maybe if he’d been burned then that would have been punishment enough and Davarax would be pleased?

Sighing, Davarax pulls out a thin strip of a bandage from his belt and begins to wrap Corin’s hand. “Corin, listen to me. I need you to really listen to me. Okay?”

Corin glances up at him and when their eyes meet, he gives a faint nod. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to make up for what he did.

“I will never, and I do mean never, be angry with you over an accident.” Davarax fastens the bandage and gives his wrist a light pat. “You hear me? All I care about is that you’re okay.”

That… does not make sense to Corin. But he’s kind of afraid to anger Davarax further by asking what he means. So he merely nods and hopes that is good enough.

It clearly isn’t, but this time Davarax is the one to look down at the floor. “Was… Was your dad like that? Angry over things that wasn’t your fault?”

“It was my fault.” Corin whispers. It always was. Otherwise his father wouldn’t have been that angry with him, right? And his parents wouldn’t have been arguing so much if not for him.

Davarax shakes his head and sighs, still looking down. “I don’t think it was, Corin. Not then. Not now.” He pats Corin’s wrist again. “I don’t mean to speak ill of your dad, Corin, but he was a complicated man and he made mistakes too. Getting angry with you was a big mistake.” He finally looks back up to meet Corin’s eyes again. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Corin. I promise.”

Tentative hope flutters in Corin’s chest as he hears how sincere that promise is. And Davarax really isn’t angry with him. He’s not. The relief makes Corin a little dizzy as well as giddy with joy.

“And you can always talk to me, you know? Tell me things. Ask me questions.” Davarax says.

Back on Seswenna, Corin learned the hard way to never ask his father any questions, but seeing how not even setting the ship on fire had caused Davarax to become angry, Corin does not hesitate to make a grab for the wealth of knowledge Davarax is offering him. There is one thing...

“Can you show me how to shave?” Corin blurts out in an eager rush. Ever since Paz started shaving, he has ‘complained’ every morning about the hassle of it. Corin suspects Paz only has about six strands on his chin and does it to rub in the fact that none of them have reached that stage yet. But, it would be cool to know how to, for when the day comes. He’s fairly sure not even Din knows how to shave.

Davarax bursts into a brief laugh at his question, but it doesn’t hurt as there is no trace of malice or mockery in it. He reaches out to pat Corin’s shoulder. “Absolutely. First thing tomorrow.”

Fire all forgotten, Corin grins and sits up a little straighter.

“Now, do you want to wait here while I do the rest of the repairs, or do you feel like going back to work? Your choice, Corin. Either option is fine.”

“I think I would like to go back to work. If that is okay…?” Corin says. “I promise I won’t drop the wrench again.”

“You got this, no problem.” Davarax reassures him. “And if you need a little help, I’ll be right here.”

Dulsissia is on her way back to the room where Paz sits half-asleep over the dismantled blasters, oiling each part meticulously and bored out of his mind, when she sees Davarax and her sweet boy returning from the ship.

There is an instant stab of worry as she sees the bandage of Corin’s hand, but that is quickly drowned out by relief and raw happiness as she sees her son march next to Davarax with a confidence she’s never seen before. He’s doing something close to a swagger! And he’s chattering away like he usually only does with Din.

It’s hard to believe it is the same boy who had looked at her with anxious eyes before following Davarax to do the repairs on the ship. Her son looks proud. He looks confident and happy and shining in the spotlight of Davarax’ attention.

That man had made her baby walk tall and she had thought she couldn’t love him any fiercer?

Wiping away a tear, Dulsissia heads to the room where Paz is currently lamenting his fate and decides to make this a memorable day for everyone. She hands the puzzled teenager some credits and tells him to bring Corin along, head into town, find the others and have fun. Dulsissia even grants them permission to try out the speeder-bike grounds as long as Paz promises to make sure nobody gets hurt. He nearly hurts himself eagerly nodding his promise.

The boys are out of the door and heading towards the town before Davarax is done washing his hands.

“Dulcy?” Davarax calls out, somewhat confused by seeing the dust in the boy’s wake, walking out of the refresher room while absently drying his hands on an old towel.

She grabs a hold of him when he walks by their room and yanks him inside, causing Davarax to drop the towel with a startled sound and stumble to regain his balance. The unexpectedness of it all makes it easy for her to push him lightly against the wall and crowd up against him with a smile. “I just sent the kids to find the others in town and gave them some credits to burn. We’re all alone, for once. You want to fool around?”

It’s not like her to be this direct and his face is a mix of surprise and fascination. “Uh, yes, please?”

Dulsissia takes a hold of his shoulders and jumps up to wrap her legs around his waist, which she knows will cause him to automatically reach out and take a hold of her hips to hold her up. He does. That frees her to lift one leg, get the bottom of her foot against the wall behind him and give it a firm push. Davarax makes another surprised sound as her act makes him stumble towards the bed with her. Oh, the sweet man... He has no idea what is about to hit him...

Later, while he’s lying on his back in bed, still trying to catch his breath with a slightly shell-shocked expression on his face, his body covered with nothing but sweat and a flimsy sheet, Davarax watches her as she gets up and puts on a robe.

“You have to be hungry after fixing the ship. I’ll get you something. You stay and rest and I’ll bring it here. I think we have more of those spicy noodles you like so much.” Dulsissia adjusts the robe and tightens the belt before heading for the door.

“Dulcy, wait…” Davarax eases himself up his elbows, looking hilariously dishevelled with his dark hair poking up at every angle. “What… what did I do? What did I do to be blessed with this?”

Dulsissia glances back at him with a grin before she merely slips out the door.

“Dulcy, tell me.” Davarax whines, but when there is no answer, she hears him flop back down and start mumbling to himself; “I gotta know so I can do it again. And again. And again.”

But Dulsissia knows she doesn’t have to tell him, because he will do it again and again anyway. Being an amazing father is in his nature and he will continue to bring out the best in those children without being motivated by anything but love.

Which is why they all, her included, love him.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #What If #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Teenage Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU #Macero's A+ parenting

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aonogifreactions · 4 years ago

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Minecraft headcanons no one asked for

a/n: olcvfgmlkfm this hit me so randomly i dont even know. enjoy!! under the cut due to length!

★ Characters: Rin, Yukio, Mephisto, Amaimon.

★ Words: 1,6k.

Rin:

this sweetheart loves playing with you whenever you ask him to! it relaxes him a lot, plus just having fun with you is making him really happy.

he stays somewhere near you, ALWAYS. he’s way too embarrassed to admit he’s scared (same Rin, same), so whenever he yelps or jumps on his bed because he heard a zombie growl, you can laugh as much as you want, but don’t be surprised if he shoots a glare at you and pouts.

he’ll bring you whatever you want. wood? fine. iron? no problem, he’s already on his way to find a cave (even if he’s afraid of caves.. he’ll do it for you).

he’s not very good at building, so usually he leaves it to you, and it doesn’t really matter whether you live in a “house” made out of dirt or a full ass mansion; no matter what your building skills are, he’s gonna praise you anyway.

sucks at parkour. DON’T ask him to play a parkour map, he’s gonna whine and barely make one jump.

speaking about bad jumping, he’s really clumsy and somehow always ends up with the highest death streak. for example, he’s sprinting to kill a pig, but somehow doesn’t notice a fucking lava pool below him and jumps right into it. accidentally hits a zombie piglin (or pigman, depends on what version you play on) and he’s dead.

HOWEVER, he’s the guy who gets really lucky. do you remember/have a person/friend that always manages to get diamonds first? yep, it’s him. gets the best enchants. both on books and tools or armor. he also gets the ender dragon kill first too.

he won’t play without optifine and texture pack other than the default one. he hates it. his fave is faithful and if it doesn’t work, he’s constantly commenting on how the default one is hurting his eyes.

he will NOT survive listening to both disc “11″ and “13″ he hates it. don’t play it unless you want him to cry.

hasn’t played alpha nor beta versions, but he likes watching vids of it! he gets very nostalgic, which honestly bewilders him because he started playing way after beta. sometimes you can catch him listening to the old soundtrack all teared up, or falling asleep to it.

LOVES GREEN PARROTS. one of them is named after you.

MAY I INFORM YOU, HE DOES PLACE HIS BED TOGETHER WITH YOURS.

Yukio:

unlike rin, he’s always complaining about you asking him to play, but he’s obviously gonna do it (because he loves u,, even if he says he doesn’t). it also relaxes him, but mostly, he likes it because he’s able to get his mind off of “adult things” and finally get some rest.

wooo, he’s the brave one. he isn’t afraid of zombie gurgles or anything like that, so he’s always going to caves first (and gets lost because he’s literally going deeper and deeper FDMKFMV). however, there’s one thing that always startles him... cave sounds. he doesn’t scream, but if you’re near him, you can sometimes witness his character spinning or jerking his head in another direction because of it vcxkvnjhbv

don’t, i repeat, dON’T make fun of him afterward. he’s gonna go all the way back to you and kill you (and then go back mining.. like nothing happened).

the perfectionist. always mines all the resources he sees; during building something he also always makes sure everything’s proportional. gladly counts blocks for you, if your brain can’t work anymore.

now, building! not very skilled with building houses, but he likes building simple decorations, like fountains, gardens or farms. despite him always claiming it’s bad, his work always looks very detailed. not very good with ideas of those things at first, so mainly at the beginning he always finds some inspirations on the internet, but later gets the hang of it and builds his own ideas!

his favorite place to have a house in is somewhere near the ocean.

likes default textures. too used to have anything else.

doesn’t like listening to in-game music, unless it’s something from beta or alpha versions (like “Haggstorm” or “Wet Hands”). Usually listening to his own favorite songs on Spotify.

His favorite disc is “Far”. It used to be “Cat”, but due to him obtaining it like 3000 times he stopped liking it. nor hearing it anywhere near.

when he goes out to get resources and/or food, he comes back with full inventory and shulkers, just like a father that’s about to feed his kids. minimum 10 stacks of iron, coal blocks and food. the nearest 10k chunks of caves is already explored, so you better be ready for a long, lONG WALK to get something new.

he’s also fond of beta versions, but rarely plays them without you.

Mephisto:

this motherfucker wants to literally speedrun every fucking game. meanwhile you’re busy making a wooden pick, he’s out there typing “can’t wait to beat the dragon and get elytras~! ★”

remembers literally every recipe for all items and alchemy. personal minecraft wikipedia right there.

he MUST have a fucking mansion, otherwise, he isn’t playing. fortunately, he’s tried building before, so he’s perfectly capable of building one himself. it’s all made out of pink wool and concrete, along with white concrete accents here and there.

adding to the previous one, he also has a great decorating sense. the rooms look very good, space is filled nicely and is both pretty and practical. the mansion itself looks very good on outside and inside.

of course, the main bedroom that’s designed especially for you two looks WAY TOO GOOD. I'm not even gonna start on him messing with plugins and making it even prettier.

his skin is a random, pink anime girl.

master with redstone. everything’s automated, there also might be hidden rooms with surprises. there’s a hidden shrine dedicated for you. he hasn’t told you about that though... >_>

even though he gets many useful things from the swamp biome, like lily pads or that cyan flowers, he hates this biome with a burning passion. if he sees it anywhere near his render distance he’s spasming and immediately voicing his annoyance. hates that specific, “dirty and unsightly” green water and grass color.

he doesn’t do much mining, but happily goes with you if you ask him to. even if he has no armor on, he never dies. NEVER. there might be 6 creepers but he somehow survives their explosion.

not scared at all. he knows this game like the back of his hand. he might, however, attempt to scare YOU instead. on purpose. or accidentally hit you so you fall from a large height and die. if you get upset at him afterward, he’s gonna give you even better stuff you’ve had before.

HE LOVES PLAYING ALPHA AND BETA. he started to play probably around very early alpha, so coming back to such simpler times is making him somewhat nostalgic (even if he denies it). on those versions, he builds things that used to be popular back in the day, like simple towers of cobblestone or houses inside mountains. it hits him hard when old soundtrack plays.

Amaimon:

he’s very, very confused. first off, he’s not used to the game at all, but then, he googles almost any recipe or asks you thousands of questions about how to make things. after some time, he finally figures out that there’s a book with recipes in game.

he might steal your items, but usually, he gives you back better items. for example, you notice your iron pickaxe is missing, but suddenly he sprints into the house and throws at you diamonds.

oh, he’s aware of the existence of chests, but for some reason, he likes throwing various items at you. he runs off afterward, leaving you with everything on the ground.

don’t introduce him to bedrock edition, he hates playing minecraft with a gamepad, and will smash it immediately. java edition is the only help for this man.

he’s also clumsy, like Rin. he manages to do that less than him somehow, but he tends to die pretty often anyway. his deaths are the stupidest, sometimes he doesn’t even bother explaining it. he literally can die with gravel suffocating him.

once he goes to the nether, he doesn’t wanna go back to the overworld. he says something along the lines of it being similar to gehenna or whatever, but. no matter what version it is - pre- or post- update 1.16, he likes it and that’s it.

his favorite biome in the overworld is jungle - mostly because of the lively color of grass, but also tall trees. he likes having there treehouses and always asks if you can build one (because he sucks at building. even worse than Rin >_>). his fave in the nether is blue forest or basalt biome - however, he becomes mad quickly on the second one due to frequent gaps filled with lava and magma cubes.

he likes normal slimes though. he even has a pet slime!! QwQ

he named his pet slime after Behemoth. keeps it safe in a glass cube and checks on it regularly. Behemoth doesn’t know about it doe.

he bullies every single villager that’s within his sight. burns their homes. the only thing that survives is the iron golem because he thinks it’s cool.

plays with the basic Steve skin. partially because he doesn’t know how to change it and that he isn’t determined enough to look for any.

forgets that crouching exist and falls off almost every cliff or anything that’s considered high.

#Ao no Exorcist #blue exorcist #rin okumura #Rin Okumura x reader #Yukio Okumura #yukio okumura x reader #mephisto pheles #amaimon #Headcanon #Pure

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mushroom-cartel--writing · 4 years ago

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begrudging (love-)blindness

Summary: You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

Relationship(s): Gojo Satoru & Reader, Gojo Satoru/Reader

Note(s):

Here’s the link to read this on AO3! (You know the drill, extra tags, different notes, the format I intended, etc.)

Personally, I think this is hot garbage in terms of structure and pacing (it’s loosely all strung together is what I’m saying, but I just needed to get it off my chest before I wrote anything else. Yet... I guess I had fun? Yeah. I did!

There's spoilers from the manga mixed with headcanon.

I still hate spacing and formatting on Tumblr, it sucks. Please, please, please, this is for your own good, click the AO3 link, this fic is such an eyesore on this platform.

|||

There’s a tug at your chest, sending you hurtling backwards and into something hard. A wall. Tiles. Smooth.

The heavens and the earth view one another through a layer of haze of light at night.

There are thousands of people gathering, their footsteps thundering echoes in your ears. Their chatter is a constant hum in the air. It stinks of sweat.

(“The train will be arriving soon. Please stand behind the yellow line—”)

You sigh.

“Dammit, Satoru! A little warning would be nice,” you hiss to the man. You hear him whisper something back but his voice is swallowed up by the crowds and then he, too, is consumed.

You feel him wander farther away from you; not left with much choice, you follow him. And down, down, down you go.

You pause when there’s an invisible wall blocking your path of his own making. “Hey!!” you shout, starting to scream expletives at him from the top of his lungs and he doesn’t look back.

A few seconds pass. The people, these poor, clueless civilians who just want to go home for the night are like sardines in a can, their bodies pushing and shoving. For space. For air. Requiring neither, you phase through the wall and the remaining levels to catch up to him, the thoughts going through your head solely focused on figuring out why he has let you out. He wouldn’t do something like this without warning you beforehand.

Why now? What now?

You pull out from the shadowed cracks of the feeble curtain set up along the fifth floor underground, suddenly feeling a heaviness you hardly ever experience. You run a cursory swipe over his teeth; the blood in the air is fresh, there are more civilians down here than up above, more sardine-ing (their presence is fading away, the above platforms’ panicked din becomes extinguished, it’s ghastly quiet, a moment frozen in time), but no Satoru. Not physically.

He loves you, you know. (You don’t understand though… Why?)

It’s a burden, draining you of what vigour is left in your soul, barely just clinging on to this plane itself.

His love is a curse in itself, really.

"I don't want you to see me hurt," he had said often, back when you were children, oblivious to the power of those words until you got older.

What they meant.

What they did—to him and you.

Still as the wind, you stand together, hands brushing up against each other's, your fingers infected with poison where his is not; the calloused skin and scars shared between you weaving a tale for the ages that will never be told.

You’re both nineteen at heart but certainly not in spirit.

You lean against him, completely unseen, waiting for him to flick his finger back.

Waiting for him to obliterate the first person he thought he could trust outside.

He doesn’t. You disappear for another time, expectant.

His love is a burden and you're not sure where you would be without it.

If he hadn't looked your way, would you be the same person you are today?

It's frightening, these thoughts of yours, but he usually chases them off when he senses them bubbling to the surface. (You want him to be annoyed.) A casual grin and stance, a flick of his wrist, a rush of wind by your side, then the phantom pressure is gone, yes, gone, however—it's never banished completely. It never can be.

You don't remember the colour of his eyes but there's a memory of you claiming they looked like marbles, buried somewhere (somehow), in the back of your mind. Like the marbles you'd smash glass bottles to obtain, their fizzy contents only drained seconds beforehand; stubby, sticky, small fingers sorting through the shards, squashing ants in the process.

Those very same fingers, now, haven't changed a bit, save for the chipped nails and whatnot duress they’ve sustained throughout his life.

You use them to push the blindfold up to his forehead, taking in the surrounding sights.

Why now? The fact that you can feel them, his fingers and everything else—that’s a bad sign. A very bad sign.

You breathe, inflating the faux lungs.

Finally, you see it. The reason why you’re walking and talking and fully corporeal.

You gulp at the living corpse, its stitches wonky and fresh. Cerebrospinal fluid spills from its face in fat droplets and lands upon the clothes of a dead man. Disgusting.

“So I was right in the end,” you say, more for yourself than anyone else. “You’re not Suguru.”

(Satoru owes you a thousand yen. You told him to burn the body immediately. Or, you know, the usual. But what’d he do instead? He went and passed it off to a third party! Man, why’d that old hag have to kick the bucket so soon… If she was still around she’d probably kick Satoru’s dumb ass for trying to be decent.)

“How are you free?” Not-Suguru asks.

The real Suguru wouldn’t ask about your appearance. He would make a comment about how the temperature has dropped and burrow into his collar. He wouldn’t question things.

The real Suguru never acknowledged you, but he knew there was something in the corner of his eye that took the image of his friend and laughed alongside them when they pulled their antics during missions.

The real Suguru is gone.

Who the hell knows where Shouko is.

Yeah. A little warning would have been nice. Real fucking nice.

There’s a cube with a dozen eyes between the two of you, the crater on the ground betrays its unassuming weight. Satoru’s muted presence, a shrunken pearl of light, emanates from the cube.

Not-Suguru follows your line of sight to it.

Giving him an answer would be a waste of your time.

You can’t, they say.

Young master, please, don’t go there, implores the servants and guards.

The elders, his grandmother especially, tell him not to enter the storehouse tucked away in the garden behind an avenue of camellia trees because that’s something they’ll discuss when he’s older.

He doesn’t listen to them, the curiosity of a three-year-old child cannot be satisfied by mere words. (“Let this be known,” the gardener says in his defense, one cold summer’s day. It is raining outside. His grandmother shoots the only person in the compound that doesn’t treat him like a blind fool with a withering glare. He does not see them again until—)

What’s in the storehouse?

A library of cursed objects? Spiritual remnants, artefacts, texts, poisons, weapons?

Maybe the mummified corpse of an ancestor whom they keep around to ward off evil?

Perhaps a curse, frozen in time forevermore?

Maybe it’s nothing and the adults are all in on some kind of elaborate hoax, he figures. Mm, yeah. Sounds about right. No one else knows about the storehouse.

It’s old and earthen. Wild plants curl the walls to one side and splotches of moss grow on the tiled roof. Where the sun hits least is pristine. Clean. He wonders if that’s where the wards are placed, out of sight, out of mind.

Oh.

Standing in the entrance of the open door with bare feet, at the threshold of the aged structure, fulfilling his desire, he learns why they wanted him to remain ignorant.

It’s a child. (A human…? This whole situation is off.) A kid his age. He can’t tell whether or not they’re older or younger. They might be a bit taller, though.

No, he wants to shout, this can’t be it! He stomps his foot. That’s cliché! Boring, boring, boring! Again, he strikes the ground. Ugh, whatever—

A sigh escapes the emaciated figure sitting in the darkness, hunched over themself against the wall of the bare storehouse.

“Ah, my f̶̥̍r̵̝͐̏i̷̳end,” they start, softly. “M̶̹̦͒y̸͍̮̋̚ f̸͉̓̋r̴͇̦̕ǐ̴̦͇e̵̫͠n̷̢͉̅̓ḍ̸̅, my very dear, old friend. You have returned.

“My e̷̳̭̿y̶͈͂e̷͔̭̎͘s̴̭̄̊, have you come to give them back? Ask for several others?

“I have waited for you, as promised. Come. Closer. Please. I do not know how long has passed since I last gazed upon your visage. Do not be afraid.

“I no longer lust for flesh as fervently as before, I will not ask of y̸͖͔̒o̵̳̍u̵͍̘̓ ą̴͕̈́n̵̫̓d̸̛̳͛ y̵̻͑̎o̵̖̥͒͌ų̴͋̐r̵̦̩̓s a sacrifice to please me.”

Their voice is garbled, the resemblance to a broken radio off-pitch jarring his reaction time, a music box opened underwater gurgling, ghosts beat to the rhythm of the blood in his ears and titter buried mysteries.

In the corner of his eyes distant stars burn, galaxies explode to life and die repeatedly, the vast cosmos is shredded apart. Universes are swallowed whole. The plane he stands upon bends to the will of the one whose gifts he uses carelessly to play the role of a deity and dictate the balance of the world.

People have said [they] reflect the very heavens.

His faith wanes.

a trio of ragtag orphans,

escapees, survivors and starved,

on the verge of being

no better than beasts,

happen upon a traveller taking respite from the winding roads.

a foreigner no doubt

they guess from the strange hued garb;

rest, everyone around these parts,

they know comes not

easy to scum, scoundrels, sinners and

deceivers alike.

mad ones, rushing to death

—without protection i must add—

oh my darling children, you are!

consume my flesh,

defend those unseeing,

purge the blight

and you shall witness

my return before long, indeed?!

They do not move and neither does he.

What he assumes to be their head tilts ever so to the side, gauging him, this fool of a boy trespassing on their domain. This part of the garden, the little boy realises too late, is theirs.

This, the storehouse and now him.

(—the gardener finds him sprawled out on his back come dusk. They help him to his feet and dust him off, the sparkle in his eyes an unusual occurrence; they ask their precious young master what happened and he points them in the direction of the doors sealed shut.

“I took a peek inside,” he lies. Children are supposed to do that, right?

“And what did you find?”

“Nothing.” The gardener knows he’s a bad liar.

“Good. Now come.” They lead him away from the path of the camellias. “Lady Mitsue has been beside herself over you, mister.”

His grandmother hasn’t. She probably knows what he has done and will instruct him to feed the council what they want to hear. My son was too soft, she asserts before and after every meeting with those windbags.

You have to do better.

And his father is dead, so only time will tell who’s right.)

He starts having weird dreams (memories?) several days later.

Trying to ignore them doesn’t work.

Every waking moment is subject to gore.

He has to resist the urge to scratch his own eyes out while he trains.

In the world beneath his eyelids, there are shadowy figures claiming it best he is blinded and locked away and fed what no other soul could hope to consume without issue. And just as they force open his jaw—every night, every time—he wakes up.

Satoru doesn’t know what to make of it. Doesn’t know what to make of you.

One day, he dreams of years of living without sunlight causing you to screw your not-eyes shut and look away upon the opening of a door into your domain. When you recover, you turn to the door, the emotion of curiosity tugging for your attention out of the myriad of beings you’ve eaten.

Standing at the threshold, ethereal, desperate and short of breath, is a young man. In his arms is a woman, his wife, you presume. They’re stark shades of white, binary stars of a celestial system long dead.

You smile, recognising them in an instant. “Ah, my old friends, children of my children’s children a dozen times over, tell me, what is it you wish for?”

“My wife and our child,” says the man, “please, I beg of you, save them!”

Oh? A healing? It’s been quite some time since that was last requested of you.

You skitter to the pair’s side and shut the door gently behind them, ushering them further in.

You click your not-tongue at the woman’s state, wondering why no one thought to come to you earlier. If they did, the price they’d have to pay would be much less than what you’re about to tell the man. Humans are such prideful creatures, Satoru knows this, but he can’t help but feel tense as you instruct the man to lay the woman down and state your cost.

First, he opens his mouth. Then it shuts. Opens. Shuts. The man regards his dear wife with something Satoru has never seen before in the eyes of those around him.

His reply?

“I accept—”

A harsh smack to the head disrupts the memory; he looks up, unsurprised to meet his grandmother’s gaze, wrinkled eyes so very much like his own piercing his soul.

“Being distracted in the middle of a fight is unbecoming of you, boy,” she says. “What seems to be the matter?”

He can’t tell her.

He stays silent.

“Satoru.” She raises her hand, fingers crossed, indicating the void’s opening. “We Gojou pride ourselves on our ability to adapt. That is why, in fact, I say my son was too soft. He could not accept that he would lose my daughter-in-law and the child she carried in her womb to common illness. He could not accept that it was impossible to cheat death. He could not accept the position he was placed in. And for that, he died and of the aforementioned two, only you lived. Do you understand?”

No. He doesn’t want to understand.

What is adaptation if they’ve yet to rid themselves of and bow down to your constant presence? Is that not their most fatal flaw?

You eat them.

One life in exchange for another; you told his father it was the only way.

You were given the corpse of his mother a hundred days after his birth by the elders.

Every Gojou after death, you grind their bones between your teeth and their flesh rots at the bottom of your belly. Their soulful essence fights for dominance against the forces of the innumerable curses the clans feeds you—the hate, the sentiment, the sheer bursts of techniques and mighty powers clashing, click, click, click—you embody and absorb the aftermath of each childish scuffle, playing the bored jailer adjudicator. Corpses, tools, objects, energy and flesh. It’s how you’ve lived for so long without light or human thought to taint you: the jujutsu world’s dirty little secret, waste disposal.

You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

He loves you for that one reason.

A means to an end, forever.

(The boy, a few days shy of his fourth birthday and inauguration, does not know what love is. He thinks he does, having read the definition in a dictionary in order to familiarise you with modern speech, but love is not a word to be thrown around lightly the way he does.)

“I do,” he lies again, this time, to himself. “I understand everything.”

His sight is black.

He pushes back against the current, against instinct telling him to relinquish control and reaches forward for the dream that he was ripped from.

Your true form towers over his mother’s prone form, dripping ichor and the fluid of loose entrails all over. His father stays seated even when you lift an arm to draw blood, the man facing you without a trace of fear.

“I accept—but on the condition that my child receives your protection.”

“My p̶̹̽r̴̽ͅo̵̠͐ť̷̬e̶̺̊c̶̻̒t̷̙͑i̵̮̓o̶̱n̷̖͂?” Do they not teach the younger generations what that entails?

“Yes. My ancestors wrote that you were a benevolent being in a past life. That you were a kind-hearted human who accidentally drank poison before being found and buried alive, condemned and reviled, forcing you to become what you are now. Does that still not hold true?” His father’s face is hopeful.

It doesn’t. But who are you to tell him that? That ‘benevolent being’ never existed in the first place. You’ve always been this.

The vivisepulture part was true, but the beginning? Debatable. Your memories of ‘being human’ are foggy; you’re not sure if they’re real or someone else’s. Satoru’s is the clearest thus far because you abide within him. And he’s young, there’s little to garner.

What other nonsense has been made truth in the time you have withdrawn from the world?

He wants to go down that rabbit hole.

You grab the cube and run, warping reality in your wake.

You are many things.

Alive, you are first; secondly a parent, a teacher and a friend; cursed thrice times over; quarter something-something or rather by this point; and last, your hollowness complements the damned hallowed.

You are Gojou Satoru but not.

His skin peels off in delicate scales from the speed you’re going.

The first and last time you puppeteer his body, Satoru invokes his father’s contract with you for the second time in his life.

Like the first occurrence, it happens by accident.

(The first occurrence is a stain on your memory.

Mitsue looked her grandson in the eye and tasked him with a futile quest, one that would decide the future headship of their clan. You personally thought such practices outdated but you held his tongue and grit his teeth, faking laughter for the audience they had.

She reminded you too much of your youngest, both in the way she cobbled herself together and how she suspended time long enough to catch a glimpse of you hunched beside him, flickering in and out of her void domain with the ease of a toddler climbing free of their crib.

Beautiful and deadly.

He nearly died.)

He is unaware of the finer details, but where his consciousness ends at getting a scalpel to head, it rouses again with him standing before the man who has the blood of Satoru’s friends on his hands and left him to bleed out undecapitated.

On a high from escaping Izanami’s clutches, he sprouts math and whatever nonsense off the top of his head and ragdolls up, down, across and through the air.

He feels like a being higher than the gods. Doesn’t mean he is, though.

He’s barely in control.

Violent swashes of red and blue fill the sky. He sees beyond his opponent rising from the earth the heavens condemning his breaching unto their space.

“Hey, stranger, did you know purple was her favourite colour?”

“Whose?”

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“You are Satoru, right?”

“Yessssss?”

“You… you’ve got a bit of…” Suguru gestures vaguely around the lower half of his face.

“Oh.” You rub the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and see it come back tinged pink. The drying drool on his sleeves is used to rub the rest of the blood away. “Thanks.”

“Have you found her?”

“Amanai? Her body?” Suguru flinches. Your gaze is drawn to the cultists clapping. “Yeah, I did. Sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?”

“I don’t know,” Satoru says. “I feel like killing these people. Should we?”

“Why?”

“I’m still h̸͓̟͐u̴̦͗n̴͇͈̅͛g̵͔̒̕ŗ̴͕͂͘y̸͚͍͘͘.” Two wasn’t even a snack.

“I’m angry that we failed too. But we can’t do anything now, it’s out of our hands.”

Several days later finds him back at the entrance of the storehouse, none the worse for wear.

In the shadow of the building grows a lone weed.

“It’s changed.”

“Of course it has.”

“Will I end up like them?”

“Yes.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gn!reader #gender-neutral reader #gojo satoru x reader #reader insert #one-shot #originally posted on ao3 #jujutsu kaisen #this is a dumpster fire

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Sub Rosa [89]

v. welcome to bardo

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: language, death, blood, violence, anxiety, angst, sadness.

Summary: finally, after five years of training, you arrive in bardo. unfortunately, nothing goes according to plan.

a/n: thank you guys so much for the comments on the last chapter! I’m glad you all liked it! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

As the four of you move through the Anomaly, you switch into ghost mode so that you’re invisible when you arrive.

The move has the desired effect as the 4 people in the room, 1 conductor and 3 disciples, stare at the closed space of the Anomaly, confused as to why no one came through. You all creep across the room, taking the person in front of you, and you motion to attack all at the same time. Three bodies silently hit the ground at the same time, stunned and knocked out, but the fourth body lets out a groan, thudding as it hits the floor. All of you turn towards the body, eyes falling on the conductor, who is now bleeding out, and Gabriel calls out in shock, “Echo, what the hell are you doing?”

You all start to pull your helmets off, glaring at Echo until her voice comes from behind you, “It wasn't me.”

You turn and lock eyes with Echo, who is standing over the disciple that she knocked out, a man that is still very much alive, so you turn back to the figure standing over the dead conductor, staring at Hope in surprise. She takes in your expressions, before turning to stare at the dead body at her feet. “Without Orlando, we don't need to take unnecessary risks.”

“Leaving Orlando was the unnecessary risk.” Gabriel turns when he hears a stabbing sound to find Echo now killing the disciples. He glares at her, growing exasperated. “Echo, enough!”

She ignores him and glances over at you and Hope. “Take the conductor.”

You sigh, aware that there is not enough time to argue about this, and you walk over and grab the man’s legs as Hope hooks her arms beneath his. The two of you carry him over to a small storage closet located in the Stone Room. You hit the button and place the man inside as Echo and Gabriel bicker in the background. “Focus, we're on the clock.”

“Clock? We drilled for five years. We have thirty minutes to get to the cell block, get our people, and get back here before shift change. With Orlando opening the doors, the best we ever did was 28 minutes.”

Echo pauses and gives Gabriel a hard look. “Then I guess we'd better hurry.”

She drags one of the other disciples towards the closet, and you step out of the space to grab one of the others. On your way over to him, you see a scorch mark on the ground near the stone, one that you didn't notice before. “What the hell happened there?”

Gabriel comes up to your side, staring at the mark, before ignoring it and turning to look at you, appealing to the part of you that felt bad for Orlando. “Look, we all know this can't be done without an inside man.”

You shake your head at him. “Maybe so. But we have no way to get back to Orlando now.”

Echo pipes up from behind you, as she and Hope tuck the last body into the storage closet. “We have an inside man.”

You think immediately of the stories that Hope told you from her first rescue mission to save Octavia and Diyoza, and of the man that took a liking to Octavia: Levitt. You look between Echo and Hope, both of them clearly on the same page as well, and you ask, “What if he's not in M-Cap?”

“What if who's not in M-Cap?”

“The man who helped before, Levitt.” Gabriel nods at Hope in understanding, though you can tell that he doesn't like it. But he’s right, you all need an inside man, and without Orlando, you won't survive this mission to Bardo. And with no way to get back to Skyring to grab him, Levitt is your only option.

The two of you exchange a look, agreeing before you look to Hope and Echo. “Let’s go. M-Cap's close, we won't lose much time.”

You all grab your helmets and pull them on, and then everyone follows you from the Stone Room, aware that you know the map of Bardo’s layout better than anyone. You could recite it in your sleep if you needed to. The four of you move through the halls quickly, making your way to M-Cap as fast as you can, your anxiety on high alert as you turn every corner, prepared to run into danger. On the speakers overhead, some sort of speech or prayer is being read out, though you tune it out, focusing on your current mission. You make it to the door of M-Cap with 28 minutes left, according to the timer counting down on the screen in your helmet. There are identical clocks in all of your helmets, just in case you get separated.

But as you lift your hand to hit the button and open the door, an unfamiliar voice calls out from behind you, “You four, fall in. We're late.”

You turn and see a woman you don't know, a disciple, her helmet off and her expression stern. She is standing with a large group of disciples, their helmets still on, clearly headed somewhere. You, Hope, Gabriel, and Echo all exchange a look, and though you can't see it through the helmets, you know that all of you are looking at each other in surprise. The energy shifts, a collective decision being made that there are too many of them to fight off, so for now, you have to fall in line. They start heading towards the group, and you turn and look back at M-Cap one last time, itching to get the door open and see who’s inside. Levitt with Octavia? Or Diyoza? Or Bellamy? Your fiance, strapped to a chair, tortured for his memories as you stand just on the other side of the door, unable to reach him.

The woman at the end of the hall calls out, “You too, disciple. Fall in!”

You turn and jog towards them, afraid to push your luck, falling in with the others as you march down the hall to an elevator, which carries you to the level containing the oxygen farm. You all file out of the elevator, the prayers and chanting growing louder as you follow the woman to a door, which she opens before turning and commanding, “Helmets off.”

You hesitate, worried that they’ll immediately pick all of you out as imposters, but you see the others removing their helmets, so you ultimately do the same. Nobody says a word, and you’re suddenly thankful for the sea of faces around you. Every single one of them is your enemy, but right now, they are helping to give you some much needed anonymity. You exchange a quick look with your friends before you follow the group into the arboretum, the chanting now reaching its peak volume. Situated inside a clearing of trees is a small stage, a man in all white standing upon it. Surrounding him is a large group of people, some in guard suits, some in white uniforms, all of them watching the man on the stage with awe. Something about it reminds you of Wonkru’s dedication to Blodreina, which immediately puts you on edge.

You and your friends move through the crowd, stopping near the middle as you watch the scene in front of you. As Hope stares at the man on the stage, she mutters angrily to the rest of you, “That's Anders.”

You feel a chill run down your spine, aware of the role he plays in Hope’s stories from her time on Bardo, and you know that this is the last man you want to pick up on your presence here. You make a mental note to stay out of his line of sight as you listen to his speech. “Let's first take a moment to acknowledge our newest class of level 9s. You've each demonstrated impressive devotion to the Shepherd. Our predecessors on this planet did not share that faith. Like our ancestors on Earth, they destroyed their world. Even before they were wiped out by Gem 9 and turned into crystal giants, their atmosphere was so polluted, they were forced to build forests underground in order to breathe. Even the rain that should fall from the sky falls instead by their technology.”

You look up, towards the ceiling, towards the artificial rain that now hits your cheeks. It makes you long for Earth, wishing for nothing more than to be home, with everyone you love, all of this behind you. You shake the thought free, not wanting to get distracted from your current task, redirecting your focus back to Anders. “For that, we thank them, but where are they now? We know that by the time the Shepherd delivered us with the stone that the Bardoans were gone, extinct. Why is that?”

“They didn't have the Shepherd!”

Anders, and the crowd around you, laughs. Your expression remains stony, and you can hear Anders continue his lecture, though you don't notice, because Gabriel turns to you with a look of revelation. “He said the stone delivered them.”

“So?”

“So they weren't Eligius like I thought. There was a stone on Earth.”

You feel a look of surprise pass over your face, realizing that the whole time you lived on Earth, there was an Anomaly Stone somewhere with you, and you had no idea. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined any of this. But the realization comes with a darker truth, as you realize that maybe you weren't as close to Orlando as you originally thought. You turn to Gabriel and mutter, “That means Orlando didn't tell us everything.”

Echo, who is standing on Gabriel’s other side, looks between you both and mutters, “We should go.”

You nod in agreement, and you turn to your left to pass the message onto Hope, only to find that she is no longer standing in the same spot beside you. You turn back to Echo and Gabriel with a look of alarm. “Where's Hope?”

All of you look around, finding her signature short hair closer to the front, creeping towards Anders slowly. Echo jumps into action first, discreetly slipping through the crowd and reaching out for her, stopping her from whatever she’s planning to do. You and Gabriel watch on anxiously as they have a quiet conversation, and seconds later, Hope nods. Even from here, you can see tears in her eyes, and you can only imagine what is going through her head in the moment. As they start to slip back towards you, Anders' speech on stage starts to crescendo, steadily growing louder and more charged. “We're close now. We've located the Key. After hundreds of years, it has returned to us. Ours is the generation that will win the last war! As we fight this fight for all mankind!”

The Key? Your brows pull together, wondering what they’re talking about, but you don’t have time to consider it, because Echo and Hope finally reach you and Gabriel. At the same time, the crowd around you explodes with chaos. Everyone is yelling and jumping and cheering, one steady chant heard above the rest. “For all mankind! For all mankind! For all mankind!”

You start to get the same creeped out cult vibes that you got when you first landed on Sanctum, your early judgement of the people of Sanctum ultimately turning out to be correct after they tried to kill your twin and steal her body. You start to feel uneasy, the hairs on your arm and neck lifting in alarm, and you give the others a look before you motion towards the exit. They all nod, and you use the chaos of the celebration to sneak from the arboretum and back into the hall.

Luckily, everyone seems to be pretty preoccupied with the meeting in the woods, leaving the halls empty and easy to maneuver. You all move quickly through the levels, making your way back to M-Cap, reaching the room with only two minutes left. “We’re almost out of time.”

None of you want to spell out what that means for you or those you’ve come to rescue, so Hope mutters, “We’ll figure it out.”

You nod and place your hand on the scanner for the door, watching as it slides open, revealing a large white room. In the middle of the room is a chair, with a large scary needle hanging above it, and in that chair is a woman, her arm tattooed, her dark hair spilling over the sides. You pull off your helmet and run towards her, ignoring the man in the room as you stop at Octavia’s side, smiling down at her. “Octavia, it’s me.”

“I am not afraid. I am not afraid. I am not afraid.” She stares into the distance, repeating the mantra that she used when she would hide under the floor on the Ark. She doesn't seem to hear you, because she doesn't react to you at all. You put your hand on her arm as Hope comes to her aunt’s side, looking at her with worry. You turn your focus to the man in the room, calling out, “Levitt?”

He turns to face the four of you, and Hope shakes her head. “It’s not him.”

You step away from Octavia, letting Hope and Gabriel take over as you and Echo approach the man in the room. “Her brother, where is he?”

The man stares at you, saying nothing, fear evident in his eyes. Echo’s anger explodes, and she closes the space between them, pulling out her knife and pressing it to his cheek. “Show me, or I take an eye.”

He nods, his voice shaking with fear, “It’s on the security cameras, I have to pull it up.”

Echo gives him a look but releases him, standing close in case he does something he shouldn’t. He pulls up a folder, scrolling through until he clicks on a file titled ‘explosion’. You feel your stomach drop, your brain already moving back to the scorch mark in the Stone Room, and panic squeezes your chest tight as he enlarges the screen, moving the holographic picture until it’s in front of you. Just as you feared, the camera is in the Stone Room. On the picture in front of you, Bellamy stands beside the Anomaly Stone, a knife held to the conductor’s throat, and three injured disciples lay at his feet. The camera picks up on movement near the door, and Anders strolls in, followed by Octavia, a disciple holding a knife to her throat. Behind her is a dark haired man in all white, and you get the feeling that he is Levitt. As Octavia steps into view, you can see Bellamy’s expression change into one of shock, and she holds up her hand in a wave. “Hey, big brother.”

“Let her go right now.”

“We can't do that. These good men, who you killed, brought you here from Sanctum for a reason. Let the conductor go, and then we can talk.”

Bellamy tightens his grip on the conductor, “Her first.”

“There's no other way out of this for you, Mr. Blake.”

Octavia, seemingly calm despite the tension in the room, adds, “Bell, he's right. Open the bridge and send him back to Sanctum. I'll tell you everything you want to know, even about Clarke.”

Clarke? What the hell do they want to know about Clarke? You turn and glance at Echo, who has now stopped at your side, looking equally as worried. On the screen, Bellamy seems just as confused at the mention of your twin. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Anders seems to consider the events in front of him, and he moves towards the stone, tapping symbols and activating the Anomaly, a green portal opening at your fiance’s back. Octavia glances at it, and then turns her pleading expression to her brother. “Bell, it's okay. I can't let you die to save me. Jump through, I'll be okay.”

“No way, not without you!”

And everything after that feels like it’s in slow motion for you.

You see movement at the bottom of the screen, as one of the dead disciples turns out to be not quite dead, and he reaches for one of the grenades pinned to his side. He yells something about the Shepherd, but your brain doesn't process it, because your eyes are solely focused on Bellamy. The pin is pulled, there’s a flash of white, and as the light fades and the camera comes into focus, Bellamy, the pile of dead bodies, and the conductor are gone. Everyone else in the room is on the floor, Octavia included, recovering from the explosion, but Bellamy is gone. Killed before you could get here. Dead, because you couldn't save him in time.

You feel emotion well up within you, too fast for Wanlida to stop as you turn your teary expression to Echo, who stands at your side, tears falling down her face. And seeing her crying confirms that she saw Bellamy die in the explosion too. Meaning it’s not some terrible dream that only you experienced. It's real and he’s gone.

You turn to glance back at the others, not wanting to believe it. “That can't be real.”

They look over at you with pity, clearly sorry for you and the loss you're experiencing, but they say nothing. Octavia is sitting up, and now seems to be out of her daze, though she still seems groggy as she struggles to come to. But you don't focus on that, pain and anguish and anger bubbling up inside of you as you turn to look at the man in the room, not wanting to accept that your fiance is dead. “Is that real?”

He nods, confirming that it is, and the emotions inside of you explode. It’s like a volcano, spewing up and over the surface, too much for your mind or body to comprehend. You see a flash of red before the world clears again, and you realize your body is crossing the room, on autopilot, clearly honing in on one of the emotions. As you reach the man, you realize that your body has chosen anger, and your skin is electric with it. All of your pain and anguish is being transformed into sizzling, white hot anger, crackling around you and making you burn so bright you can't take it. You need to get it out, because you don't want to feel it anymore, all of it too much. The loss too much, the pressure too much, too much, too much, too much.

Wanlida takes over and channels your anger for you, and it's like you're watching your body move while you’re in the passenger seat. You see your arm grab the front of the man’s clothes before your other arms swings a punch towards him, hitting him in the face, knocking him off balance and into the chair that Octavia vacated a few moments ago. You can hear an alarm blaring in the background, and Gabriel yelling your name, telling you to stop, mentioning something about time, but you process none of it. You only process the emotions you feel, the anger inside of you, as you kick and punch the man repeatedly, watching as blood rises to the surface of his face and spreads with each new hit. You sense movement across the room, but you ignore it, only paying attention to it when strong arms wrap around you. Gabriel pulls you off of the man, the way he did when you were beating up Orlando five years ago, and just like then, you kick and flail and fight against him. “Let me go, Gabriel! God damn it, let me go right now!”

“We need him! They know we’re here and we need him as a hostage!”

“I don't care!” The scream that breaks free from you is guttural and heartbreaking, the sound of your loss laced throughout it. “They killed Bellamy, and I’m going to burn Bardo to the ground, starting with him!”

You fight against Gabriel harder, but years of sparring has made him aware of your moves. He keeps his head away from you, out of reach from your headbutts, and he keeps your arms pinned securely at your sides. Your kicks have little impact because of the way he’s holding you, so fighting him is useless, though you do it anyways. And as Hope holds up Octavia and Gabriel holds you back, there is no one to keep an eye on Echo. She takes one look at you, and your desperation to destroy Bardo and avenge Bellamy, and she makes a silent vow to help you achieve that goal, no matter what.

She crosses the room towards the man, hitting him a few more times as Gabriel calls her name. Something in the tone of his voice stills you, and you watch as Echo reaches up and grabs the large needle of the machine. Gabriel drops you unceremoniously onto your butt in a frantic attempt to reach Echo and stop her, but he’s too late. By the time he reaches her, she has already let out a bloodthirsty scream and stabbed the needle through the man, quickly killing him and damaging the M-Cap machine in the process.

Everyone looks on in shock and horror, except for you, your expression grateful as Echo finishes what you tried to start. She turns to look at you, tears in her eyes, and you nod your thanks before the reality sets in again. Bellamy is dead, your fiancee is gone, the love of your life has disappeared. Obliterated by Bardo tech, taken from you. Because you were too slow, too stupid, and you didn’t make it in time. You didn't save him, couldn't save him, and now he’s gone.

A sob tears its way from your throat as your mind struggles to process your loss. You fall forward, onto your hands and knees, your vision blurring due to the tears in your eyes. You sit there sobbing, surrounded by the others, who all watch on in their own stages of shock and grief, but you are unaware of their presence. You cry hard as you think of Bellamy, your stormy love, the man of your dreams, now dead. Everything you went through, all the battles and war and forgiveness, all the times you managed to save him in the past, every single bit of it for nothing.

It’s almost too much for you to handle, and you swear you feel your heart shatter into pieces as you cry, the little la lune now left without her world bearing Atlas.

next chapter

#the 100 #the 100 rewrite #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction

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kaekiro · 4 years ago

Text

Lest

Pairing: Eren/Mikasa II Rating: T II Words: 3032 II [AO3] Warnings: Mentions of blood and death A/N: In which Eren thinks Mikasa is dead and he doesn’t know how to cope. Instead, he acts a bit aggressively out of despair and frustration. Alternate canon au where EM is 19 yo and are already together.

A few months ago, an AO2 user by the name of Lola left a comment on chapter 49 requesting that I write this! I don't think I've written one of these before, so I took all the pent up angst from the recent manga chapters and dumped it into here 😅 Hope you like it! P.S. I threw in a reference from the Netflix Series Dark! If you know the series, see if you can spot it!

The news didn’t quite register in his mind. He fell out of touch from reality, hoping that this was some kind of nightmare that she’d wake him from, like she always did. The messenger left in a rush soon after the written note was handed off to the Captain, and he felt his body go stiff the moment the paper was lowered and Levi glanced to him, then to Armin. Levi’s eyes betrayed nothing, but he knew deep down that something was wrong. And when his fears were confirmed, his blood froze over, stilling every limb and breath and bodily function for a long moment.

“Mikasa is missing.”

He blinked rapidly, unbelievingly, and he almost wanted to laugh because surely the Captain was just making another bad joke. Mikasa and her going missing is something that did not go together, it was impossible. Unthinkable. He looked to Armin for assurance, expecting him to voice these exact thoughts. But his best friend’s face reflected the anxiety he struggled to repress, and that was when he began to realize the gravity of the situation. Levi wasn’t joking, and Mikasa was missing.

He stood and walked out of the room with firm intent, ready to get his gear together and leave to go find her.

“Eren,” Armin called, following him out of the room, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “Eren,” he said more sharply, moving to quickly jump in front of him and block his path. He glared hard, wondering why he wasn’t as eager to help or even join him.

“What?”

“I know what you’re planning. You can’t go out there.”

“And why not?” he challenged, his frustration and impatience flaring. “Mikasa could be hurt and she needs me. She needs us.”

“Or,” Armin began, stepping to block his attempt to get around him, “she could be okay. It takes time for these messages to be delivered. During that time, or even right now, she could’ve already used a flare to signal her and her squad’s location. Or they could have been found by other scouts. This is Mikasa we’re talking about. Have some faith in her. Who knows, she could return here by tomorrow morning after they check her health. Just -- don’t do anything rash. We don’t have the resources to help keep you safe out there. And we don’t need any more people going missing, you of all. ”

He saw reason in what Armin was saying, he truly did. But the sense of alarm did not falter. Instead, it kept nagging and screaming that something was not right. It wasn’t easy, but he stayed quiet and swallowed a whole lot of what he was feeling, knowing and repeating to himself that Armin’s instincts hardly missed their mark. He also knew that he could trust in Mikasa’s abilities, trust in her to come back. He had to focus on that, lest he go insane with worry.

-----

Without waiting to be told, he woke up earlier than his squadmates and began chopping wood outside. The exercise helped burn away the stress he still couldn’t shake off, but the real reason he was out here so early is that he wanted to be the first to greet Mikasa. He pictured lecturing her for scaring him, checking over her injuries himself if she had any. And perhaps, when they were alone, he’d take her in his arms just to feel her’s wrap around him, to prove that she was really okay and that he didn’t need to get as worked up as he is. The thought makes his face warmer but heart lighter. Yeah, he would definitely do that. All he needed to do was wait for her.

Yet, no one showed up that day.

-----

He didn’t mean to do it.

This realization dawns on him when the room falls silent and he feels Jean restraining his arms, sees Armin gazing down at the broken teacup with tears in his eyes.

The liquid that dribbled from the wall and seeped into the floorboards used to be warm. It was the Captain that had heated the tea, suggesting that Sasha bring it up to him as he hadn’t left Mikasa’s room since they all found out the news. Unable to sleep, he was the one a new messenger delivered the news to early in the morning. He should’ve given it to the Captain as it was his message, but desperation took over and before he knew it, he lost complete sense of balance and stumbled until his back met something solid, eyes wide but unseeing as the unfolded paper fell to the ground. Some of the corpses retrieved were scouts that were part of her squad. The mission had transitioned from a search to a recovery effort for Mikasa’s and the others’ bodies. Involuntarily, he recalled what the bodies looked like during the recovery missions he’d been a part of, imagined seeing a bloodied sheet with a tattooed wrist peeking out. He distantly heard a shout of his name as he doubled over and vomited out what little he had in his stomach.

He doesn’t remember when or how he got to her room. But his body was curled on her bed, stiff, unmoving, and to his misfortune, awake. Sasha must’ve known this as she quietly stepped into the room because she offered words of comfort, trying to sound optimistic yet her voice lacked the hope he desperately needed. He didn’t reply to her, did nothing to acknowledge her presence at all and she had in turn understood, whispered her condolences after setting down the steaming cup on the desk, and shut the door behind her. There was a fleeting feeling of guilt in his stomach when he ignored Sasha and let the tea go to waste, but it couldn’t be helped. The only thing that managed to bring him some semblance of consolation was turning further into Mikasa’s pillow and breathing in softly, the pleasant scent of her hair and clothes barely there, but there nonetheless.

Falling asleep had been a slow and painful process for him, his mind and thoughts consumed by worry and memories of her. In his dreams, she was beside him as she’d always been, weakly scolding him about something he didn’t pay any mind to because she was so close and cleaning his cheek with her handkerchief. He wanted nothing more than to grab hold of the front of her jacket, to tug her closer and press his mouth to hers just to see her surprised reaction. But when he did, what he thought was a dream instantly turned into a nightmare. He pulled back to look at her and suddenly found himself kneeling over her body, his hands and her clothes stained with her blood. She tried to tell him something and he knew it was important with how she was clutching onto him, but she could only manage a terrifying mix between a gurgle and cough before the light left her eyes. He shook terribly, would have screamed if the pain hadn’t made it impossible to breathe. Tears fell from his eyes as did promises from his lips, whimpers of I’ll make it right filling the space between them as he clutched the hand that fell from his cloak, his other hand moving to gently close her eyes.

He woke up in a panic then, became even more frightened when Jean and Armin came into his line of sight as they shook him awake.

“Eren!” Jean whispered harshly, “snap out of it! It’s just us!”

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face as Armin helped steady his breathing, both of them taking in lungfuls of air and breathing out slowly, over and over and over. Eventually, with his legs tossed over the edge of her bed, he buried his face in his hands, rubbing furiously at his eyes to try and erase the remnants of his nightmare. Jean and Armin carefully sat on either side of him, offering their presence as he grieved.

“Why did I let her go?” he asked tearfully, to neither of them in particular.

“...Eren,” Armin started slowly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t give up hope just yet. It’s only been a couple of days. There’s no confirmation that…” the last words of his sentence, the ‘she's dead’ remained unspoken, but the three of them were painfully aware of it. Armin continued.

“A-and besides… there was no way you could have known that—”

He startles both his friends when he stands up, grabbing the cup full of tea and smashing it against the wall. He completely ignored the cries of his name and would've swiped the books and sewing kit off Mikasa’s desk if Jean hadn’t forcefully held him back.

“I did know!” he cried, tears dripping from his chin. Armin was telling him to be hopeful, but he knew that tone, knew that it meant that his best friend was assuming the worst, just like him. “From the very beginning, right when the three of us agreed to join the military! I just knew that something like this would happen, and I still let her follow me here!”

The deafening silence that follows is what slowly drags him back to a more sensible state, enough for him to realize what he’s done. He takes in the scene before him, the broken glass, the tears in Armin’s wide eyes, Jean’s hands struggling to keep their grip on his forearms. What would Mikasa think…

His arms go slack at that thought. He wishes she was here to hold his hand like she used to when he was overwhelmed, and tell him that even if things didn’t turn out alright, she’d be right there. Perhaps she was there with him. Even if he couldn’t see her. He never believed in those kinds of things if he was honest, there wasn’t anything to prove it was true. But… there wasn’t anything to prove it was entirely false either.... and the idea that she might be here made him shift entirely. She wouldn’t want him to react this way, yet here he was, making a mess and about to damage her belongings.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he murmurs, to Armin and Jean, to Mikasa. The hands holding his forearms let go. “I didn’t mean to…”

He sees Armin nod, quickly wiping at his nose. “I’ll get something to pick this up—”

“No.” He reaches for the candle one of them had set on Mikasa’s dresser, using the light to carefully step around the broken glass. “I made this mess, I’ll clean it up.”

“Eren,” Jean says as he clamps a hand on his shoulder. “you look like a pile of shit and you’re not doing well. Let Armin and me handle this.”

He sniffles, looking down. “You forgot to say ‘no offense.’”

“I fully intended to offend you.”

Though he can’t bring himself to smile, Jean acting like a jackass the way they always did with one another helped him a little bit, and it was enough to convince him to agree. When everything was picked up and fixed, they coaxed him to sleep in a different room, reasoning that he’d been in there all day and it’d be better if he was with them, in case of another nightmare. He takes one last look into her bedroom before leaving, an ache spreading within his hands and chest as he remembers sneaking in there late at night a little over a week ago, letting her head rest on his shoulder and arm sling over his abdomen. She was so warm, and the steady rhythm of her breath lulled him to sleep just minutes after laying next to her. He can’t imagine what he wouldn’t give just to be like that, at least one last time.

-----

His eyes feel swollen and uncomfortably dry when he opens them, doing so long enough to notice the unmade sheets on the mattresses and floor, how he was the only one in the room. The morning light becomes too much after a few seconds and he closes them once more, his exhaustion from yesterday making him slump further into the flat pillow. I’m so tired… I wouldn’t mind if I could stay just like this for a while…

He doesn’t know how much time passes but eventually, he feels his hair, outgrown and tangled, being pushed away from his face. The gentle nature of the touch is light but so familiar that he immediately peeks his eyes open, the silhouette blurry but undoubtedly her. His lips curl into a lazy and content smile before they part to say her name, his voice raspy but soft. Bit by bit, his vision clears until he can finally see her small, pretty smile.

“Eren,” she responds evenly, her fingers carefully untangling the lock of hair caught on them. Her other hand is pressed against the floor she’s sitting on, supporting her weight as she leans heavily to one side. What he wants most is to nudge his way over and rest his head on her lap, but he hardly has the energy to keep his eyes open. And the soothing feeling of her movements was not helping at all.

“Why are you on the floor? And not in your bed?”

Not entirely sure himself, he makes a noise that, if anything, only tells how tired he is. She seems to leave the short line of questioning at that, successfully untangling another knot. “Well… you should start waking up so you can eat something before Sasha helps herself.”

A sense of anxiety washes over him for reasons he can’t fully remember at the moment, and he only shakes his head like a stubborn child, burying half his face into the pillow as if it helps make a point. All he knew was that if he listened to her, what has been happening the past couple of nights would happen again; he’d wake up from his dream and she would disappear along with it.

“I don’t want to wake up. I want to stay in this dream,” he says quietly, wistfully, closing his eyes tighter.

“...What?” he hears her ask, feeling her shake her head as she reaches down to touch his face and swipe her thumb across his cheekbone affectionately. “Eren… you’re not dreaming.”

He frowns and he opens an eye to look at her as if she’s said something crazy.

“What do you mean I’m not dreaming?”

“....You’re not dreaming? I don’t know a simpler way to say it.”

It takes all his effort but he pushes himself to sit upright then, a little more awake and even more confused. He takes in the sight of her, the concern on her face, and remembers thinking that he’d never get to see it again. That’s right, Mikasa was “missing,” but scouts were looking for her body. He had lost her. He briefly glances around the room, noting the white sheets and how they reflect the sunlight in a way that makes the room seem unnaturally bright, like he was in some kind of dream. Was this heaven? The afterlife?

“Am…. am I dead?” he genuinely asks, eyes widening.

Mikasa looks at him as if he suddenly sprouted an extra head, fixing herself into a kneel and pushing her palm against his forehead, the back of her other hand checking the temperature of his face and neck. “Do you have a fever or something? Why are you asking such strange things?”

The firm and real touch of her hand snaps him out of whatever delirium he’s experiencing and he just stares at her, watches how she frets over his unkempt state. He couldn’t pay any mind to his dumb and embarrassing questions because this wasn’t a dream, and he wasn’t dead. This is real. Tears start to pool in his eyes, falling from them in thick droplets.

She looks even more worried, opening her mouth to probably ask more questions but before she can, he grips her arms and pulls her close to wrap his arms around her waist, his entire being weak and ready to collapse at the relief that pulses through him. He clenches his jaw tight, stifling his sobs but unable to control how they wrack his body. Her scarf catches the tears that won’t stop falling, and he only embraces her harder as he manages a barely audible, “I thought you weren’t coming back… I thought I lost you…”

He knows that she finally understands the reason behind his bizarre behavior when she relaxes against him, her arms curling around his shoulders and head resting against his.

“I’m sorry, Eren...”

They stay like that for a few moments longer until her left hand coaxes him to look at her, her thin fingers wiping at the wet and darkened skin beneath his eye. “Plans were compromised, and we lost more than expected,” she explains regrettably, her gaze fixed on her movements. “A small group of us were stranded for a short while, but… but I’m here now.”

Her voice and words reverberate so nicely in his ears after spending so many hours longing to hear them, and yet there is a part of him that still feared that somehow this wasn’t real. Even awake and wound up in each other's embrace, he wasn’t entirely convinced, and he was becoming acutely aware of how he craved something more. So, in response, he nudges her hand away from his face so he can cup her cheeks and swiftly guide her lips to his. She inhaled sharply through her nose, clearly blindsided by his kiss and he would’ve felt more sorry if it wasn’t for the soft sensation of her lips, her breath and skin reassuringly warm against his face. His slight regret for surprising her (especially in a way neither of them was used to) diminishes entirely when her hands rise to wrap around his wrists and she kisses him back, over and over. When he pulls away, greeted by the sight of her blush and shy gaze, he takes in a lungful of air, finally feeling like he can truly breathe.

#eremika #writing #requests #text #i have so much angst from current manga events and i'm always like #'wow ouch okay i should try to write something lighthearted maybe that'll help me feel better'#and a lot of what i've been writing is just angst akjdbah #*sigh*#also #i feel like i kinda suck at lighthearted/fluffly things so i unconsciously steer from it 😅#kaleidoscopes

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kittenofdoomage · 4 years ago

Text

Traps

@badthingshappenbingo Prompt: Compelling Voice

Fandom: Supernatural

Ao3 Link: Traps On Ao3

Rating: Mature

Summary: She’s on Michael’s trail to get Dean back (spoilers for S14)

Characters/Pairing: Michael!Dean, Dean Winchester x reader

Word Count: 2344

Warnings: angst, angst, angst, mind control, character death. This really is angsty, guys.

She’s too late again. The small cabin - more of a shack really - is empty except for the corpse on the floor, his burned and hollowed out gaze fixed on the ceiling. Michael’s gone, Dean with him, and she’s only following a trail of bodies.

With a weary sigh, she sinks down into the armchair by the door, sliding her hands along the upholstery to clutch the arms tightly. Her phone beeps, so she pulls it out, finding another hit, Singapore this time. There’s no pattern to his movements, except that there’s a body or sometimes bodies, wherever he goes.

Sam’s left voicemails again, begging her to come home. It feels like forever since she’s seen him, but it’s only actually been three weeks. A little more since she’s last laid eyes on Dean, stumbling through the portal from the apocalypse world. She promised Sam she’d go home but she can’t, not until she has him back.

She doesn’t bother telling anyone about the body in the shack, putting her foot to the floor of her battered Honda and gunning it away. Within hours, she’s got another possible sighting, and she’s turning East, still hoping she can get back the only man she’s ever really loved.

Sam calls. She ignores it. Pulls into a motel about sixty miles from where she needs to be because her eyes are closing on her and she can’t try and pretend she doesn’t need to sleep anymore. She manages four hours, still too much, and she’s back on the road, gas pedal pressed down, not even the radio for background noise.

There’s a good chance any song she hears is gonna remind her of Dean, and she’s not sure she’s strong enough to not cry.

The sun’s coming up as she pulls into Bridge Falls, over the steel construct that passes the waterfalls that gave the town their name. It’s picturesque, small-town America, and she hasn’t got a clue what Michael would want here.

A few hours of driving around leave her with nothing but an empty gas tank. She finds a motel, books a room, and tries to contact the witch who’s been tracking Michael for her. He doesn’t answer, and she’s left alone in the quiet, unsure what to do next.

The bedside lamp flickers and she hears wings before she sees him; her breath catches in her throat and she grips the edge of the bed she’s sitting on, staring at him in disbelief.

“You’ve been looking for me,” Michael drawls, inspecting his fingernails as he casually leans against the divider by the door. “Why?”

“You know why,” she rasps back, reaching for the pistol in the back of her pants.

Michael’s not dumb enough for that. She’s surrounded by grace in the next minute, suffocated by it, and the archangel steps towards her, finally looking right at her. Those green eyes she’s so familiar with hold nothing but contempt and amusement, glowing blue as he exerts his power to get into her head.

He’s watching her memories of Dean, right down to the explicit stuff, making her watch too, and there’s curiosity now when he looks at her. “What do you want?” he asks in a low growl.

His question is an order that burrows into her skull and forces an answer from her lips. “D-Dean,” she chokes out, and Michael pulls her to her feet with the squeeze of his hand around thin air.

“And what makes you think I’ll give him back to you?” he murmurs, inches away from her now. He doesn’t even smell like Dean - he smells like burned ozone and embers, like destruction on her tongue. “What makes you think,” Michael continues, lifting his chin, looking at her like she’s a bug that needs to be squashed, “he’s even still alive?”

She doesn’t. But she’s never stopped believing in Dean. She’s seen the things he and Sam have done, the things they’ve defied, and she refuses to believe that this is how it ends for him. Tears are clinging to her lashes as she fights Michael’s hold, staring him dead in the eye.

“I have faith,” she spits bitterly.

Surprisingly, he laughs, and it’s a foreign, stiff sound from Dean’s lips, almost as if the archangel hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it yet. He moves with a mechanical smoothness that belonged to Dean first, turning his back on her but keeping her in his celestial grip.

“Your witch is dead,” he comments; she thinks she might have known that already. “I thought it was Sam at first, he’s usually the one who comes running after Dean, right?”

When she doesn’t say anything, he glances at her, his lips quirking into a smile.

“Answer me,” he commands, and the order is too powerful to resist.

“Yes,” she squeaks.

“Imagine my surprise when it’s you,” he continues, tilting his head as he finds her duffel bag on the floor. “The girlfriend.” He spits it like it’s a bad word, and she’s helpless to do anything but watch as he rifles through her belongings, finding her wallet and the stupid photo booth picture of her and Dean she’s kept tucked in there for twenty years.

Can Dean hear her? See her? Is he even aware?

“He’s not,” Michael informs her and she grinds her teeth together, willing him out of her head. He finds that funny, chuckling as he tucks the photo into his pocket. “I should send a message,” he whispers, drifting back towards her. “A way to tell Winchester junior that he’s not going to get anywhere,” his hands lifts and he drags his thumb over her bottom lip, “by following me.”

The pinning warmth of his grace recedes. He knows she’s not strong enough to fight him now, he’s seen every corner of her mind. She doesn’t move when he releases her, remaining on the spot, his fingers curled around her jaw now.

“I could snap your neck right now,” he hums, tracing the line of her cheek with one long finger. “Let Sam know where to find your corpse.”

His hand drops to her chest, sliding against the exposed skin where her stolen flannel is hanging open. It’s warm against her collarbone, and so much like Dean that she feels herself weakening, ready to beg for his life.

“I could keep you,” Michael continues. He’s pressing under her shirt now, his hand is almost right over her heart. “You’d do whatever is necessary to get Dean out of this alive, wouldn’t you?” There’s a lie on the tip of her tongue but she doesn’t let it fall, shaking as his fingers tuck underneath the strap of her bra. “I can see why he enjoys you,” he purrs. “You’re warm and soft.” He’s closer now, his nose pressed to her cheek as he inhales deeply. “He likes the way you smell.”

Please stop. Please stop. She can’t bring herself to voice her plea. If he’s going to kill her, she wants him to get it over with.

“I don’t think I’ll kill you,” he chuckles.

His hand gets warmer, and it doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel good. It’s starting to burn, and she whimpers, trying to pull away.

“Stay still,” he orders, and she can’t help but obey.

The burning gets worse, like it’s reaching into her chest but worse, and she can feel memories slipping from her grasp, stolen away. Each little piece is hacked at, gnawed, burned out of her, and when Micheal finally pulls away, there’s a blank stare on her face.

He’s left a handprint that she’ll forget about in the morning.

“You’re going to sleep now,” he murmurs, the power of his voice just as strong even though he’s stepped away. She blinks three times, and the room is empty, and she doesn’t remember why she was even there in the first place. For a few seconds, she looks around, before a yawn splits her face, so she lies down, drifting off fully-clothed.

When she wakes, it’s daybreak. She packs her bag and checks out, trying to remember why she was even in Bridge Falls. There’s no hunt here, not even a whiff of demonic possession, so she’s back on the road by lunch, pulling into the next store she sees to buy a replacement cellphone. It’s easy to reload the numbers onto it, and almost instantly, she’s barraged by messages.

<<It’s Sam, can you please call me?>>

<<Sam again, just getting worried, it’s been three weeks, can you please call?>>

<<Y/N, please ->>

There’s text messages too, referring to someone called Dean, but she doesn’t know any Sam Winchesters or any Deans. As she’s mulling it over, her phone rings, and she answers, hearing a male voice on the other end.

“Thank god,” he sighs. “I was starting to think you were dead.”

“Who is this?” she demands, frowning at the familiarity in his tone.

He’s obviously surprised by her reaction as he stutters out his name. “It’s Sam, Y/N. Sam Winchester.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong number, dude,” she scoffs and hangs up. He rings twice more, she doesn’t answer and blocks the number.

By nightfall, she’s picked up a case in Lousiana. The odd phone calls have stopped and though it puzzles her, for some reason she doesn’t dwell on it. People are dying, and she’s got a job to do.

Two weeks later, she’s on the trail of a ghoul pack in Minnesota, and she’s stopped for some supplies at a local Walmart. She’s standing in the snack aisle, debating the merits of Cheetos vs Doritos when someone calls her, and at first, she thinks it’s her imagination. It’s repeated, closer, so she turns, raising an eyebrow at the slightly breathless and absolutely gorgeous man standing in front of her.

In the next second, he’s got her arms around her, and she reacts the only way she knows how; she flips him and puts him on his ass, swiftly pulling her gun free from her pants and jamming the muzzle into his chest.

“Who the hell are you?” she demands, and the guy splutters, staring up at her in shock with his hands by his face in surrender.

“Calm down, Y/N!” he stutters out. She narrows her eyes and jabs the gun in harder.

“How do you know my name?”

He seems confused, tilting his head, squinting at her like he needs to double-check what he’s seeing. It’s too familiar, it hurts her head - she pulls away, putting the width of the aisle between them. A security guard appears, giving her a quizzical look. “We all good here?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she snaps back, and he doesn’t seem to particularly care too much, wandering back off to his station.

The guy hasn’t moved from the floor, though he’s lifted himself up onto one elbow, and he’s still staring at her.

“You know me?” she grunts out, retrieving her basket of purchases as he gets to his feet, brushing himself down. His shock seems to have worn off but he’s still giving her a look that makes her feel like he knows her, intimately. The throb in her head becomes a burst of pain, and she hisses, pressing the heel of her palm to the middle of her forehead.

“Hey, you okay?” the man asks, concern in his voice, one hand touching her shoulder.

Someone’s laughing at her, a deep, throaty chuckle, but there’s no one there except her and the guy.

“You know me,” she whispers, blinking at him, and this time it’s a statement, to which he nods, visibly swallowing.

“Let’s get you some air,” he murmurs; she stops him with a hand to his chest.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

He smiles, and it’s a fucking gorgeous smile, reaching right to his eyes. “Dean,” he replies.

There’s a thousand images associated with that name, and it’s too much. He’s got her as far as the salsa aisle, and she’s flagging, the pain in her head like a flood, freezing every muscle, constricting her chest. Dean catches her when she falls, cradling her like he would a lover.

Which is exactly what she was, before Michael stripped away two decades of friendship and their final attempt at something real. He’s given it back to her now, but she’s not gonna be able to do anything. It’s a punishment, for not letting him go.

Dean’s begging, crying her name now - there’s a crowd gathering, none of them willing to approach - and she can feel tears in the corners of her eyes. How the hell could she forget him? Dean’s been the center of her universe for so long, she should have known something was wrong.

He’s crying. This punishment wasn’t just for her. The first thing Dean would do is look for her, and Michael’s just reminding him that he’s never going to be free.

She can’t even get the words out for the pain.

She wasn’t supposed to go like this.

Her chest slows and stops, and Dean cries harder, cupping her cheek as his tears mingle with hers. Someone’s called an ambulance, they’re on their way, he hears it but he doesn’t really hear anything. He tells her he loves her because it might bring her back, he’s managed bigger miracles before, except her skin’s getting cold already and her eyes don’t see anything.

Sam’s there by the time they’re pronouncing time of death, and Dean’s got one of those stupid foil blankets around his shoulders. The EMT tells him it’s shock, and he’s very sorry for his loss; Dean’s quiet, staring at the covered lump of a body where Y/N used to be.

He doesn’t drive home. He lets Sam take care of him. Stays in his room and looks at the picture he found in the pocket of the tux Michael had been wearing. The photo of them, so long ago, when their friendship was the only thing that got him through. Now he feels like he’s got nothing.

Nothing except revenge.

#supernatural #bad things happen bingo #bingo entry #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #michael!dean #apocalypse world michael #revenge #character death #angst #memory loss #mind control #pg-13 #but angsty #fanfic #fanfiction #dean winchester

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lightneverfades · 4 years ago

Text

That Damned Gazebo

Frostiron Holiday Wishes Challenge ❆ 🎅🎄 Prompt by @snarkyship Fic written by @worstloki Note: AH! So sorry this is a late post, tumblr messed up and I didn’t receive this on Xmas day! Ah! Thank you @worstloki for resending! TwT <3333

Wish (Prompt/Idea): Human/no powers AU. Sort-of-enemies to friends to lovers.Tony rents this house/bungalow by the sea for the summer, with a kind of private beach where there is also a cute gazebo. Only that the gazebo is exactly halfway with the other property (by some mistake?). And the tenant of the neighbour bungalow is Loki, who's not so keen on sharing. So Loki&Tony will start a "war" to gain possession of the gazebo, doing their worst using the excuse of "this is my half, I can use it as I want". ((Optional: there is a table right in the middle, so at the beginning they sit at their own side glaring at each other, before starting deploying more convoluted tactics)).Mischief after mischief, they will start to know each other and of course everything will end with one of them inviting the other to their half for a romantic dinner and they'll end up sharing more than the gazebo <3((I hope it's enough clear and but also not too detailed??))

Stupid cute bungalow. Stupid cute gazebo. Stupid cute neighbour.

All Tony wanted was a vacation; a break from running a business and having to argue for his ideas to get accepted by the marketing teams and just some time to lay low and relax.

All Loki wanted was a break from being upstaged in his section of the family business by his brother; some time off to cool down and de-stress and lay low and relax.

But instead only half their regular favourite beach house was available no matter how much cash they offered to throw at the real estate company renting it out. Could they have picked a different place to stay? Maybe. But none of the other decent rentables this far west have a gazebo, and they would have nowhere to sit alone and admire the waves from afar if they took a place without one.

And, of course, that’s where it all started— that gazebo.

That damned gazebo.

———

Day 1

Tony Stark, genius, entrepreneur, philanthropist, makes his way unsteadily down the sandy-grassy slope from the bungalow to the beach, arms filled with an excessive amount of floating supplies, a personalized towel, sunglasses only half on, a fun-sized bottle of the finest sun lotion, a laptop because he may leave the stock market but the stock market may not leave him, a black Prada shirt over khaki Hawaiian shorts, a speaker for music, hot-rod red flip flops, a bag of snacks, a thin multipurpose blanket, and a polaroid.

He almost slips a few times on his way down, and he thinks he sees a crab and swears, but he does make it down to the brilliant white-sand beach of Malibu unharmed.

His plan is simple: spend the day in the shade of the wooden gazebo, sneak a peek at how his business is holding up, check his emails, play some Tetris, sunbathe around noon when the sun is highest, back under the shelter till the sun starts going down, into the water for some splashing, drying off as the sun sets, listen to some tunes while laying under the stars for a while.

Just a regular day off at his favourite beach.

He walks to the shaded gazebo area and draws the curtain to enter, and dumps the entire contents within his arms over the table in the center. He turns to open up the curtains on all sides but is interrupted by an ahem.

Tony turns, and, in the curtained darkness, makes out the figure of a person.

He must be the one who booked out the other half of the house, Tony thinks, eying the stranger sitting at the opposite end of the table with only a book and bottle of water. Show-off minimalists, Tony thinks, saltily.

“I would prefer if you didn’t open those,” he says, and Tony doesn’t recognize the accent, but there definitely is one. Maybe it’s a blend?

“But what’s the point of sitting under a gazebo on a beach if you can’t see the view?” Tony asks, pulling one open, letting in some light.

The man practically hisses at Tony for doing it, which, okay, weird, but that’s normal when you’re assaulted with bright light and have been sitting in the dark.

“How were you reading in the dark anyway? Don’t you know it’s bad for your eyes?”

“I assure you I was able to read just fine.”

“Yeah… I’m opening the rest of these too…” Tony says, reaching for the curtain by the other side.

“Not if you wish to share this table, you won’t,” the man threatens.

“Are you… trying to bribe me?” Tony asks, shocked, because who does this guy think he is?

“Compromise with,” the man has the gall to say. “And with table space, yes,” and Tony sputters. What can he even say to this. He’s here for a vacation, not to argue with strangers who are taking up half the gazebo space that should be his!

“Half,” Tony suggests, because he will not sit in the dark all day and miss out on his beach-view just so he gets to use the table. “You get half of this space, and I get the other half, and we can do whatever we want on our sides.”

The man sighs. “Fine. That sounds fair.”

The two of them spend the entire rest of the day sitting at opposite sides of the table pretending they’re not intentionally glaring and making crazy faces and trying to telepathically get rid of the other when they’re not looking.

Tony doesn’t comment on how the man barely gets any reading done and the man in turn doesn’t comment on how much equipment Tony brought down that he doesn’t use at any point in favour of using the laptop to retain his spot under the gazebo.

Schedule be damned, Tony is going to enjoy his vacation, and that means enjoying his duplex bungalow, even if someone else is renting half, and enjoying his gazebo that may be in-between the properties and they both may be paying for but is 100% actually his.

They wait each other out, and both head up to their houses at the same time; around midnight.

———

Day 2

Loki wakes at his usual time, showers, pointedly gets dressed into anything but the black shirt he has that matches what the man had on yesterday, and grabs his book before he heads down to the beach.

Having to share the same table was, simply put, incredibly awkward, but Loki has faith in it not happening again. He’s just going to make his way down to the gazebo and spend the day relaxing and rereading his favourite series without a pretentious-bearded neighbour showing up and making things weird.

“YOU!” Loki hears, and turns to find the same man from yesterday rushing down the slope towards him, “WHY ARE YOU UP AT THIS TIME?!”

Loki takes in the sight of the man dressed in a half-buttoned-up hawaiian shirt and pajama pants, with only a laptop and towel in hand, hair clearly fresh from bed, and, before he thinks better of it, counters eloquently with, “why are you half dressed?”

The man waves his arms in frustration, “I was tired! And in a rush! You don’t get to judge me, you’re the other f*ck who woke up this early!”

“I… normally get up this early…” Loki informs him, backing away slowly.

He can’t believe he’s going to have to deal with this guy again.

At least his sweatshirt has a green hood so he can block the guy out of his sight, right? He won’t spend the entire day rereading paragraphs because the man at the other end of the table is making him feel anxious, right? Surely the man is bringing the towel to lay in the sand which means he won’t be needing the gazebo, right?

Loki literally booked this bungalow because it’s in Malibu, and no one pays for a place like this in Malibu when you can rent a lower quality place and spend the money on beach parties and drinks. The fact that it’s far enough from home to make him feel safer was a bonus, but he really just wanted to be alone for a few days.

Loki takes a seat, and crosses one leg over the other, getting comfy so he can lean the book on the table. He tries not to get annoyed that the curtains are still parted halfway. He wouldn’t mind if the ones on his side were open too, but at this point he’s not acquiescing a point to the stranger.

The man pulls the wooden chair out and sits down opposite him.

Of course he does.

Why wouldn’t he.

“So you’re really going to keep reading in the dark?” he says, flipping open his laptop.

“Yep, and that suits me just fine, thank you,” Loki answers neutrally.

“Does my no-light-reading-neighbour have a name?”

“Do you?”

“Tony.”

“Loki.”

“Nice to meet you, Loki,”

“Thank you.”

Loki uses his bookmark to flip to his page, and starts reading. He will not get distracted by this Tony. It’s totally normal to share this table. It’s not huge, but it’s built for at least six, so there’s space. Maybe not enough to lay on, but it’s enough distance to ignore the clicking of Tony’s keyboard as he frantically presses keys.

Loki is two hours into enjoying his reading time, and he thinks he was doing well.

He’d smiled every time Tony yawned because with eye-rubbing and deep sighs that man was not used to getting up early, but he’d actually gotten through nearly three chapters without incident.

Then, the infuriating man had plunked a speaker onto the table and started playing AC/DC.

Now he’s reread this one line at least fourteen times and still doesn’t know what the red-head was doing with Jon.

“Why?” Loki asks, “Why must you do this? You can see me reading, you’re blocking out the distant sound of waves hitting the shore, it’s not even at a decent volume, so, why?!”

“Sorry, what was that?” Tony answers, “Did you say something? Because I couldn’t hear you over the music, but it sounded like you had an issue with what I was doing on my side.”

“Your music is not staying on your side!” Loki argues, but only receives a shrug and an increase in volume.

He presses his lips together.

Fine. If you’re going to be petty about this, then I can too.

Under the table, Loki kicks Tony.

He hasn’t got shoes on, but he’s always had a knack for aiming very well, and Tony’s whimper (?) (it’s hard to tell with the music so loud) assures him he hit the shin bone well enough.

By the time Tony is done cradling his leg and looks up at Loki with a mix of anger/betrayal, Loki is already reading again, the perfect image of serenity.

Loki tries not to laugh as Tony discovers his legs are not long enough to kick back.

———

Day 3

Tony didn’t bother trying to wake up before Loki this time.

He went at his own pace, and remembered to change out of the pajamas, brushed his hair, had coffee, and took the time to make himself a few sandwiches to enjoy through the day.

Yesterday he even went for a quick swim around ten at night and headed straight back up to his side of the bungalow, because he’s a responsible adult who doesn’t need to out-do a stranger’s sleep-schedule. Or leg-length. Or laugh.

It isn’t a competition or anything.

By the time he makes it down to the beach, he finds Loki sitting under the gazebo, alone, with all the curtains tied open.

He’s also... wearing a black Prada shirt which matches the one Tony threw on this morning?? What?! Taking up half the space on his side of the table with 1 (one) bottle of water wasn’t enough, he also has to taunt him by wearing the exact same thing?!

He storms to his side of the gazebo and slams his palms down, taking satisfaction in the fact that Loki was startled and drops his book onto the table. Tony hopes he’s lost the page he was on.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Hello, neighbour,” Loki greets, gingerly picking up his book again and giving a hesitant smile. “I didn’t realise you would be wearing the same shirt again, but I was hoping we could get off on a different foot today?”

Huh, well, would ya look at that, Tony thinks, I actually won. The sucker is gonna admit I’m too much and wave the white flag.

“That... actually sounds great,” Tony answers with his award-winning client-smile, sitting down opposite him. “This whole thing with splitting the table and curtains in half was a bit ridiculou—”

Tony yelps and stands up and starts frantically rubbing his hand over his butt which is stinging— he looks down at his seat and sees the culprit —a crab, menacing in all it’s crabby glory.

“Are you... okay?” Loki asks, far too confused, far too innocently, far too worried for it to be genuine, “what’s wrong?”

Tony, outraged, yells at Loki, “DID YOU FRICKIN PUT A CRAB IN MY SEAT?!”

“I— what?”

“WHO THE F*CK CALLS A PARLEY AND CRABS SOMEONE?!”

“No! I didn’t— are you okay??” Loki says, and he’s gotten up and rushing over and...okay, MAYBE he didn’t mastermind the crab.

“NO, I AM NOT, BUT THANK YOU FOR ASKING,” Tony screams, backing away from Loki, and running towards his bungalow.

Running in sand is hard, but Tony discovers it’s much harder when your butt is stinging.

———

Loki… did not put a crab on Tony’s seat.

He’d honestly wanted to draw up a truce, maybe have an actual conversation with Tony, and he even brought a towel and wore a change of clothes underneath in the event that the man wanted to go for a swim and wouldn’t mind if Loki joined.

He’d even brought snacks to share.

But now he feels bad.

Had kicking him under the table every time Tony had put the volume too loud or managed to slide low enough to kick him back or played We're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard been bad? Had it been too much? Why else would Tony assume he’d actually try and hurt him?

The glare-offs had just been fun, faces when they thought the other couldn’t see wasn’t bad-intentioned, the kicking hadn’t meant to injure. Loki had thought they were getting along. Perhaps he had misunderstood? Perhaps the other had not felt they were fun little pranks?

He owes Tony an apology.

———

Tony has been icing his butt for an hour. If he had any duct tape, he would’ve duct taped the peas to his butt.

Tony is thinking about how if he had any duct tape he would’ve duct taped the peas to his butt by now when someone bangs at his door.

Gee, I wonder who it could be, Tony thinks, as he goes to answer the door. Just so many people who visit this private beach residence. In all honesty it’s kind of sweet that Loki would turn up to check on him at all really.

Tony leaves the pea packet on the nearest counter and goes to answer the door. Good thing about this bungalow: it has many spare counters for things like dumping peas. An excessive amount of counters, even, and he questions what the designer had been thinking.

Tony swings the door open, “Hey there, crab-man.”

“I’m sorry,” Loki blurts.

“Hey, it’s okay, it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore, but at least you’re owning to it.”

“I didn’t set that up! I wouldn’t actually try to cause any lasting damage,” Loki explains.

Tony sighs.

“Yeah, I figured, I was just caught up in the moment and shouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Would’ve been a very Shakespearean betrayal too…” Loki muses.

“So… anything else you came to say?” Tony asks. Although he’s not sure why.

“Would you be feeling up to sharing the table like normal people?”

“Oh, come on, where would be the fun in that?” Tony jokes.

“You… weren’t hurt or offended when I kicked you or said your music taste is dumb?”

“Course not. We’ve all had wild college nights out, believe me, kick to the shins was nothing.”

“Crab grabs though…”

“If you want to share the table like normal people we will not be mentioning the crab grab.”

“Deal,” Loki says, and he’s beaming as if he’s won a prize. Which is really cute. Which is why Tony doesn’t regret slamming the door in his face.

Stupid cute neighbour.

He needs to change anyway.

———

Loki and Tony hang out under the gazebo, and they share the table.

Every so often Loki will read a line or two aloud and Tony will find himself snickering in response to Loki’s comments on the lines if not the lines themselves. Every now and then Tony tells Loki to look over at his screen as he invests in either the stock market or a round of Tetris.

Around noon Tony asks if Loki would like to sunbathe with him and Loki sees no reason not to join in. He doesn’t have any sunscreen of his own but Tony has plenty and is happy to share.

They talk about their work, and what they’re avoiding (family) in their little getaways from home, just things about life generally.

The sun is going to set soon when Loki asks if Tony would like to spend some time by the water with him.

The two of them spend a good thirty minutes hitting each other with floaties when they aren't sitting around in them, and, despite wading in till their knees, and flinging water at each other, they manage not to get too wet.

They sit in the sand watching the sun set in beautiful streaks of purples and orange as they dry off their feet.

Loki brought two towels in case of such a scenario (which Tony finds very endearing and sweet) and they lay on them as they watch the sky darken to reveal the stars. Loki tries to point out some constellations but Tony is convinced he’s making them up. Maybe he is.

The two of them share sandwiches and chips and chocolates and decide to head up early at around nine.

Tony invites Loki over for a movie, and how can Loki say no? He only just met him, but he’d rather be stuck sharing this bungalow and beach and gazebo with him than have to return home in a few days.

The house is huge, and there is plenty of room on the couch for them to be spaced out, but they choose to share a blanket and stay close because they want to.

Loki hadn’t planned on sleeping over, but he stays late and falls asleep in the middle of a movie and Tony doesn’t mind at all. It’s hard for him to mind when he’s also fallen asleep.

———

Day 4

Tony wakes early.

Not Loki-early, but earlier than usual, because he’s looking forward to spending time with Loki.

Hmm. Maybe it is technicallyyy still Loki-early. Whatever.

Except, Tony wakes up alone and walks down the slope to the gazebo, and finds it empty. A quick scan of the beach also yields no results. Which is concerning, but not overly so. Maybe he just has something else to do today?

Tony gets through a few hours by rotating through Tetris, League of Legends, and Galaga, before he gives in and walks up to Loki’s half of the duplex bungalow.

He bangs his fist on the door and waits.

About a minute later, Loki answers, in green-plaid pants and a vintagey AC/DC band shirt, hair looking only half brushed.

“Are you seriously wearing that kind of shirt as pajamas?”

“Yes. And good... morning?”

“Morning!” Tony cheerily greets in return, before his expression gets less so, “why aren’t you out today?”

“Good afternoon? I... just wasn’t feeling too well, a bad day I guess,” Loki explains, which Tony understands. “And I already over-lived my stay with you yesterday, so I thought you could have the gazebo all to yourself today, since I’m not really in a beach mood anyway.”

And that’s a big no in Tony’s book because no he didn’t go too far or over-stay anything and no he doesn’t owe him anything and no in general because Tony liked spending time with him! He’s fun and caring and Tony’s wondering where this guy was for every other vacation he spent here because Tony considers him a friend!

“That’s sweet,” Tony lies, “I’m not really in a beach mood either.”

“Ah. Would you… like to come in?” Loki asks, hesitant.

“Of course buddy, if my friend wants to stay home I’m sticking with him.”

Loki stands aside, letting Tony into the bungalow that he’s used to owning on his own, but, shockingly enough, doesn’t mind sharing anymore.

“Would it be bad to ask what kind of bad mood?” Tony questions, taking a seat by the TV. It’s off and he doesn’t see a remote.

“A bit, yes, but I value the thought,” Loki answers, checking the kitchen cupboards.

“So what were you doing in here all alone without me, beach buddy?”

“Reading.”

Hmm. Tony considers. They did do what he had wanted yesterday.

“Can I join?” Tony inquires, “if you have any spare books, that is.”

“I didn’t know you could read.” Loki says with half-hearted disgust, walking behind the couch to a small bookshelf.

“Harry Potter, you got me,” Tony states in the driest tone, “Ha ha.”

“I’ve got the second Game of Thrones—“

“There’s a book?!”

“And the series hasn’t updated in years.”

“Bummer, hate when they do that, but at least the show ended?”

“Yeah, badly,” Loki points out. “I’ve got the Lord of the Rings trilogy.”

“I thought you didn’t like the hobbits being taken to Isengard,” Tony pouts.

“Not when it’s on loop and happening the sixth time in a row,” Loki says, dropping the book into Tony’s lap roughly.

Yeah, okay, the man isn’t feeling well, maybe he should leave? But Tony doesn’t want to leave him alone if he’s feeling bad either!

Tony opens the book, skipping through the contents and prologue-y pages. He will enjoy the book and he’ll do it while sitting on the opposite side of the couch because if Loki doesn’t want to lay across and tangle their legs under a blanket that’s up to him. Besides, that’s more an afternoon activity, and Tony isn’t tired at all, so he’s sitting up properly. Which contrasts with Loki’s slouchy leaning-into-the-couch.

“You know, if it’s too quiet, or the book doesn’t interest you, you can just watch something, I won’t be offended.”

“Not so fast, crab-man, I’m doing this to have fun and try something you enjoy, because I like spending time with you, and think that’s fair,” Tony states, and oh sh*t Loki looks devastated. Quick, something fun, something fun, “So I will definitely be trying to read it... at least a bit, before I do anything else… because I may vehemently not-like reading, but I do enjoy your company.”

“Okay,” Loki verbosely replies.

Tony tries to figure out what he’s done wrong but Loki’s opened his book up already.

Tony manages to get through the book in about two hours. Which means he didn’t actually read through it, he just tried, and kept skipping to pages further along that looked more interesting. To be fair, there is a lot of exposition and world building that he knows doesn’t matter because it’s not in the movies.

Loki’s been shifting how he’s sitting at twenty minute intervals, but Tony hasn’t moved lest he come off as restless and not loving the book.

“You can put something on,” Loki suggests, having noticed that Tony is done.

“It won’t disturb you?”

“Not if you don’t have it unreasonably high.”

Tony looks around for the remote, and doesn’t see it. “Any idea where the remote is?”

“Eh, it’ll be lying around somewhere. Maybe check the kitchen?”

And so, Tony sets out on a quest to find the remote.

He doesn’t find it.

He looks through every inch of the couch and in every kitchen cupboard but all he finds are pop tarts and pennies.

At some point Loki puts his book aside and decides to watch him look. He’s even smiling a tiny bit which Tony takes for a good sign.

“Hey, so, I couldn’t find the remote.”

“That’s a shame,” Loki says, and he’s definitely smiling, “would be horrible if someone knows where it is.”

“YOU!” Tony says, rounding in on him, depression be damned, he’s been looking everywhere for an hour now! “Where is it?!”

“Wh— why do you think I would know?” Loki says, turning his face away, his arms crossed pretentiously.

“You’re laughing!” Tony says, pointing a finger at him. “I spend ages looking for this legendary remote and find out you’ve been playing me the entire time” —Tony pokes a finger in the center of his chest for emphasis— “and you’re laughing!”

And okay, it’s a little funny, and Loki’s having fun, so Tony huffs a laugh too.

“I’m not laughing,” Loki tries to say flatly, face turned away, as he clearly tries not to laugh.

Tony being Tony does the only respectable thing in this kind of scenario and jumps onto the couch, straddling Loki, so he can turn his face back towards him.

“Where’s the remote!” Tony yells, to no avail, not even a reaction to having sat on his legs. Is Loki even breathing? His smile is clearly becoming harder to hold…

“Tell me where the remote is” — Tony grabs the thick novel Loki had been reading — “or I’ll take out your bookmark!”

“No!!!” Loki says, trying to grab hold of his book. “Not the bookmark!!! That’s my one weakness! Please, no! Anything but the bookmark!!!”

“Don’t make me do it!! Because I will!!”

Loki chuckles.

“Fine, you win, here” —Loki reaches a hand under the pillow behind him, and holds up the remote.

Tony snatches it immediately, and gives Loki a peck on the cheek thanks before getting off and going back to his side of the couch.

If Loki looks a little confused about the quick kiss, it’s gone by the time Tony is done flicking through the channels and decides a nature documentary is something they could both enjoy. When Mr Attenborough mentions otters holding hands when they’re happy and Loki asks if he can hold Tony’s hand of course Tony says yes.

Later, when Loki insists on cooking for the two of them he throws together some instant noodles and adds in carrots and peas and egg and mushrooms, and he asks if Tony would like to share the meal down by the beach, he agrees.

“You sure you’re up for this? I don’t mind eating back in the bungalow, and if you’re feeling uncomfortable I’d rather just go back,” Tony makes clear.

“I don’t actually know why I thought staying home would make me feel any better,” Loki says lightly.

“Hey man, sometimes you’ve just gotta stay home, it happens, don’t worry about it,” Tony consoles, carefully going down the sandy grassy slope to the beach, his huge bowl of noodles held in both hands. It smells great. “Besides, focus on the date for now.”

“This isn’t a date, I just asked you out to the beach to eat some comfort food with me.”

“The very definition of my ideal date,” Tony says, listing, “I was invited, there’s comfort food, we’re both already in our sexy pjs, there’s a beach, I think you’re a great friend and we could be more if you wanted, I’ve got my speaker in case we want some romantic classical music, the sunset will happen soon, what more could I want?”

“We also held hands for ages earlier and you kissed my cheek.” Loki winces, “this is totally a date.”

“Sure is.”

“How did I miss that?”

“If it’s any consolation, I was kidding, but you seem on-board, so… it’s a date?”

“It’s a date,” Loki confirms.

“Noodles on a beach is actually one of my secret fantasies,” Tony says, deadpan.

“Well,” Loki suggests, also deadpan, “there’s plenty of space under the gazebo.”

“Table is kinda obstructive,” Tony points out.

“Only if you’re not creative,” Loki counters.

Tony wriggles his eyebrows, and they both laugh.

———

Loki twists the last of his noodles and stabs his last carrot on his fork and puts it in his mouth. He looks into Tony’s bowl, and finds he’s actually finished first.

“You’re an even slower eater than me,” Loki notes aloud.

“Am not!” Tony blubbers out through a mouthful of noodles, “I’m just taking my time to savour it.”

Loki hums, and puts an elbow on the table to watch him finish up.

“So, what do you want to do now?”

Tony slurps up the rest of his food. “Well, now that I’m done, kiss?”

“I was thinking we could stand by the shoreline and get our feet wet, maybe walk up and down the beach a bit…”

“I mean, I’d rather walk up and down you,” Tony says, making a show of looking over Loki, who in turn snickers.

“I’m sorry, that was terrible,” Tony laughs, “it’s just, walk on the beach, that’s so freakin romantic, yeah I’m up for that.”

And it’s nice knowing that they can still hang out as friends, even if Loki is admittedly also intent on the kissing part.

They leave their bowls and flip flops in a pile in the sand and walk to the shore together.

Tony’s hand is warm in his as they swing their arms gently and just take in the salty air and talk about things; just facts about themselves and stories about life and things they like.

Loki’s not sure how much time has passed but it’s dark and only the night sky and it’s reflection on the water provide any light when he presses a hand under Tony’s chin to tip his face up so he can kiss him. It’s slow and sweet, and Tony— even though Loki finds it hard to believe in the moment —kisses back.

They pull apart, and everything is irrelevant in the face of the happiness they feel in having found each other, even by chance.

They kiss again; slower, deeper, and with an urgency ill-befitting of the time and space they have available.

———

Day 5

All records of the final entry have been [REDACTED] until further notice to maintain the rating of this fic.

It can be recalled that the [REDACTED] information featured notable involvement of local gazebo space not limited to below, above, and/or against the table, various uses of the excessive counters both halves of the rented space, more than banging on doors, and future plans for the continued entanglement of [REDACTED] leg distribution underneath blankets.

The reader is warned not to attempt searching for and/or to develop any interest in a desire to search for [REDACTED] records in future placements.

(The End.)

#frostiron holiday wishes challenge #frostiron #OMGGGGGGAWD #SO CUTE #SOOOO CUTEEEEEEEE #prompt #fill

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ri-ahhh · 4 years ago

Text

bad day

MJ has a bad day dealing with her snotty coworker, who wants MJ’s promotion and her boyfriend.

4.8k

warnings: potentially triggering BD thoughts/language; smut; obnoxious amount of fluff cuz idk about you but I need some softness

“Hi sweetheart,” Grayson says with a smile as MJ stalks into the living room with a scowl. She plops next to him on the couch and hurls her heels off with a flourished kick, glaring at where they land a few feet away on the shaggy rug. His grin falls when he notices her pinched face and lack of returned greeting. “Rough day?”

MJ nods and curls into his side, silently pleading for him to wrap her in his arms. Grayson obliges immediately and pulls her into his lap, tucking her as close to his chest as he can. When MJ asks for physical affection as comfort, which isn’t as often as you might think considering that’s one of the best ways she shows love, Grayson knows she really needs it.

“’S the matter, Peach?” he asks gently with a kiss to her forehead. He smooths her long hair down and scratches his nails lightly on her thigh as she snakes her arms around his waist. ��Chanel again?”

Chanel Marten is MJ’s coworker and a petty, idiotic thorn in her side; every bit the LA bimbo with the stereotypical Barbie looks and meanness to match. When she isn’t calling MJ fat behind her back or constantly trying to undercut her to their bosses in light of an upcoming promotion they’re both up for, she’s actively hinting at how much she disapproves of MJ and Grayson together. She’s been a fan of the twins for years, and doesn’t make it a secret that she is very much attracted to Grayson, which MJ finds partly amusing and wholly fucking annoying.

“God, how do you let him go to those influencer parties alone?” Was what she asked earlier today at their office. She was scrolling through the series of photos on Grayson’s latest Instagram post from the night before, looking his sexiest in that half-open linen button-down and his Louis pants. “I wouldn't let him out of my sight in public if I were you.”

MJ glanced over at her blonde coworker and couldn’t believe the audacity of this woman to go through her man’s Instagram right in front of her. She didn’t acknowledge it, answering her question instead. “I trust him. And he’s not alone, he’s always with Ethan.”

Chanel twirled her hair and sighed, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. It was the end of the day on a Friday, and she probably could have gone home already, but had instead chosen to wheel her desk chair into MJ’s office across the hall from her own. For what, exactly, MJ didn’t know; they were far from friends, barely amicable coworkers at best. Antagonizing MJ was probably the start of a good weekend for Chanel.

Her suspicions were answered a moment later with Chanel’s next choice of words, her irritating vocal fry even more prominent than usual. “Yeah, but all of those IG models in one room, and you guys aren’t, like, super public. What if he wants a taste of what he doesn’t have?”

MJ squeezed her mouse in a death grip, but didn’t divert her gaze from her screen. “What are you implying, Chanel?” she asked irritatedly, her patience running at the thickness of a piece of paper for the bitch by then. She had already thrown MJ under the bus in their morning meeting with their bosses for something MJ’s intern had screwed up in their presentation, and MJ had caught her making snide comments in the break room about her ‘birthing hips’ and ‘thunder thighs’ to Annie the Asshole from Accounting. Annie was another coworker who, upon learning that MJ wouldn't invite Grayson along to after-work drinks simply so she could meet him, had immediately put MJ in her hypothetical burn book.

Right then, she finally had a moment to go back into their projections and fix what her intern Alessia had mistyped in the final presentation copy, and Chanel was only serving as both a reminder of her actions in the meeting and a distraction from her getting her work done.

MJ wanted nothing more than to be at home with Grayson by then, a tension headache creeping steadily up the back of her neck and into her temples. She had been the lead on this client presentation, so staying at the office until nine or ten at night hadn’t been an unusual occurrence lately; she was only glad by then that this was the end of a rough few weeks of work as soon as she was done fixing Alessia’s errors.

Chanel smirked but hid it as a simper of sympathy, clearly thrilled she was visibly getting under MJ’s skin. “I’m just saying, MJ, you’re super pretty, but, like, you don’t work out that much, right?I never see you in the gym here, or hear you mention going to one after work. I mean, Grayson being surrounded by girls who do fitness for a living would have to be like being in a candy store for him. We both know how much he cares about living a healthy lifestyle.”

She double-tapped the post, her too-long nails that were clearly trying to emulate Kylie Jenner’s or the like clicking obnoxiously against the screen, and sat back in her office chair. “I think if I were you, I’d quit this place and concentrate on building a following. Maybe try the fitness influencer route, yourself. It’s a pretty good trade-off, if you think about it; Grayson gives you clout, and you get snatched for him. And, you’d be able to keep a close eye on him. Boys will be boys, after all.”

That did it. Chanel Marten didn’t know her life, and she sure as hell didn’t know Grayson’s character. MJ finally took her attention off her iMac to give Chanel a glare that rivaled Lily’s ‘you’re dead to me’ look in How I Met Your Mother. It took every ounce of self control she possessed to hold herself back from acting on the overwhelming urge to punch Chanel’s newly-doctored nose.

Upon realizing MJ was done fucking around, Chanel’s smug smile slowly faded, until all pretenses were dropped, and the two women just stared at one another. No more fronts — not cordial coworkers anymore, but rival ones.

MJ knew what this girl was doing. Trying to make her insecure in her relationship with Grayson, and question her position in the firm so she wouldn’t go for the promotion. Chanel was as dumb as she looked if she thought either of these would work, but MJ had had enough of both her intelligence and her appearance being so blatantly insulted. She swiveled back to her computer and started doing the last couple of tweaks to the report that she had started before Chanel so rudely barged in.

“You know, next time you wanna pull a fast one and make me take the fall for an intern error, I’ll be happy to let Lacey know you’ve made us all rush this presentation by turning your last three sections of analytics in late, which is why I didn’t have time to review Alessia’s portion since I had to work your shit in last minute. I have time stamps on my email to prove it. Not to mention, the screen recordings of Snapchat stories of you at Saddle Ranch that someone showed me from the same nights you sent them. Should be pretty beneficial for my interview for Executive VP next month, don’t you think?”

MJ smiled and emailed the altered report back to her boss, Lacey, and made sure her computer was completely locked down before reaching into a cabinet for her purse and lunchbox. She stood and looked down at Chanel, who had her arms crossed tightly and her overfilled lips pursed so they were unusually pale and thin. MJ was going to leave it at that, but she was very much done being the bigger person, and a brief moment of pettiness came over her.

“And I hope you do find a man as good as Gray one day; maybe having someone as kind and real as him will make you less of a cold-hearted bitch.” MJ dug her keys out of her purse, motioning with her eyes from Chanel to the open door. “Now, please get out of my office. I’m ready to go home to my amazing, faithful, sexy boyfriend.”

Chanel scoffed and rolled her eyes but did as she was told, rolling back to her desk and giving MJ the cold shoulder as she breezed past her office.

“I didn’t fucking do anything to her,” MJ whines into Grayson’s neck after relaying all of this to him. Her bravado and smugness towards Chanel had dropped almost as soon as she reached her car in the parking garage of her downtown office building. Her insecurities had crept into her brain to join her full-fledged migraine and made driving home in traffic an even bigger nightmare than usual. “She’s hated me since the day I started there, no matter how nice I’ve tried to be.”

“She’s jealous, baby,” Grayson murmurs at once, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “You’ve come in and been there half the time she has, done the same job way better than her, and got recognized for it. Nobody likes to be outshone.”

MJ sighs and squeezes him reflexively as she moves on to the other half of Chanel’s dislike for her. “And it’s like getting bullied by the head cheerleader in high school. She basically told me I was too fat for you and that I don’t work out enough to ‘keep up with your healthy lifestyle.’” She lets out a little mirthless huff of laughter. “I mean, usually she says it behind my back to Annie the Asshole from Accounting, so I guess I should be appreciative that she at least had the decency to say it in so many words to my face tonight.”

Grayson sits in silence for a moment, seething internally at the thought that some dumb bitch who doesn’t know him in the slightest could have the nerve to talk to and about his girlfriend like that. He reaches for his phone on the couch next to them. “First of all, you're not fat, and I’d love you just the same even if you were. Second, give me all her at’s. I’m blocking this girl on everything.”

God, could the man get any more perfect? MJ sits up some and cups his face, shaking her head with a small smile. “No, no, it’s okay, Bear. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she got to me. If anything, I’d want you to post a thirst trap just so she can see what’s not her’s. What’s mine.”

“I think that could be arranged tonight,” he smirks, giving her a chaste kiss.

She attempts to smile back, but it turns into a grimace as her head gives a massive throb out of nowhere. “Shit,” she mumbles, pressing her fingertips against her temples. Grayson gives her a concerned look before she explains, “Headache.”

It takes all of three seconds for Grayson to secure one arm around her back and hook the other under her knees, standing and holding her bridal style. “Come on,” he says, like she really has a choice in the matter, and starts carrying her to their room. MJ wraps her arms around his neck and nuzzles her head into his shoulder with her eyes closed to block out the evening sun. “We’re taking a bath, then I’ll order dinner to eat in bed while we have a movie night.”

MJ nods gratefully. As usual, he knows exactly what she needs. “Ratatouille?”

Grayson chuckles at the hopeful tone in her voice. Ratatouille is one of MJ’s ‘sick’ movies; something quiet and nostalgic that offers that weird feeling of peace that you need when you just don’t feel good. “Of course, Ratatouille.”

He sits her on the counter once they reach the ensuite bathroom and pinches her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, planting a warm, lingering kiss on her lips; not heated, but comforting. Just what she needs in that moment.

“Stay put,” he commands quietly. MJ agrees and starts to unbutton her blouse as she watches Grayson step into the closet, pulling out one of her favorite t-shirts of his and a pair of his boxers. He puts the folded items next to her on the counter and helps her untuck the shirt from her cigarette trousers, tossing it in the dry-cleaning pile before reaching into one of her drawers and retrieving her makeup wipes.

MJ sighs and closes her eyes as she lets him gently drag the fresh-smelling cloth against the skin of her face. They aren't part of her usual skincare regimen, but Grayson has been exposed to her routine long enough and is perceptive enough to know that they’re for late nights, or ones like tonight, when she just doesn't have the energy to do more.

It feels better than if she had been able to get herself to use face wash and toner and such, anyways. The coolness of it and pressure of his fingers feel wonderful against her eyes and cheeks, alleviating some of the pain there momentarily.

MJ flutters her eyes open when he’s done. “Thank you, Bear,” she sighs, which he replies to with a kiss before walking over to the soaking tub. She hops off the counter and unbuckles her belt and pants, then unhooks her bra and steps out of her underwear.

Her reflection in the mirror glares back at her, Grayson in the background fiddling with the knobs on the tub to get the temperature of the water just right. She watches his muscles ripple with the slightest movements, his abs outlined through the fabric of his t-shirt, and can’t help but focus back in on herself. There’s some extra squish around her upper thighs and arms that no amount of training would get rid of; a softness to her tummy that probably comes from her undying love of Oreos, which are her nighttime vice. When she compares the two of them in this intimate space, maybe Chanel was right…

“Stop that.”

MJ startles a little and looks up in the mirror from where she had unconsciously started pinching and picking at what were really the bits of healthy pudginess under her skin, to find Grayson standing directly behind her. The harshness in his tone makes her withdraw and blush some, embarrassed that he had caught her at such an insecure moment.

He wraps his arms around her middle, his open palms brushing against the skin of her belly. His touch both warms her insides and causes them to erupt in nervous tingles. For some reason, MJ has a hard time seeing the two of them like this, with her completely naked and him fully clothed. She isn't afraid, never with Grayson, but she feels incredibly vulnerable in a way she isn't used to with him.

Grayson presses a kiss to the back of her head and makes sure they have eye contact through the mirror before he continues. “I’ll be damned if I let some idiot girl who doesn't matter to either of us make you feel like you’re not enough, MJ. You’re perfect, you hear me? You’re perfect, and I wouldn't change one inch of you, inside or out. Please don’t pick yourself apart like that.”

His voice holds a mixture of conviction and sadness, and MJ bites her lip as she sinks her back into his chest, her arms folding around his at her waist. She brushes her palm across the crisp, dark hairs covering one of his forearms.

“I could work out a little harder, though,” she murmurs after a few seconds of silence. “And cut back on a few carbs.”

Grayson looks at her incredulously. She’s lean and athletic, but it’s impossible to have the juicy, natural perfection of her ass and those breasts without a little extra, which he actually adores; she’s the very definition of slim-thick, a beautiful personification of the word.

He isn’t sure what kills him more inside: to think he hasn’t made it abundantly clear to her that he loves every square inch of her body; or if girls, society, whoever it is, make her think that the hard work she puts into her physique isn’t enough simply because she has a body type that isn’t what Instagram or people like Chanel deem ‘perfect’.

Either way, he’s going to rectify things right this instant.

“First of all, MJ, I know exactly how hard you work out; I’m doing it every morning with you, five days a week at 6 AM, remember? I’m the last person to lie to anyone about how much effort they give in their fitness. I know how hard you push yourself.”

He spins her around and cups her cheeks in his big hands. His stomach withers and his heart hurts when he sees the faint glitter of tears illuminating her emerald green eyes, making him want to be extra sure his next words are heard loud and clear. “Second, if I ever see that family sized box of double-stuffed Oreos in the trash, not empty, I’ll have a meltdown wondering where the hell my girlfriend went. Please, MJ. Those girls at your work are miserable cunts who only want what they can’t have. Don’t bring that energy back here, on us. I love you, exactly as you are.”

MJ takes a moment and considers his words before relenting with a nod. He’s right. Chanel and Annie should be the last things she’s thinking about when she’s got the man of her dreams right in front of her, saying all the right things and bringing her back to reality with his sweet, supportive words.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs, leaning in for a tight hug from him. “I love you, too.”

“Don’t apologize,” Gray assures, rubbing her back soothingly. “Let’s have a nice, relaxing night now, okay?”

MJ nods, pulling away enough from his body to grasp the hem of his t-shirt. He wags his brows playfully as he lifts his arms so she can pull the garment over his head, and gives her a quick smile before ducking down to kiss her.

She seems to be feeling slightly better, and a weight lifts from his chest at the realization. “Don’t distract me,” he mumbles against her lips after they make out lazily for a few moments. “Or our bath will overflow.”

“Don’t be so perfect, then,” she says back with a smirk, giving his ass a little swat as he returns to the tub and drops a Lush bath bomb and a chunk of bubble bar into the water.

While he does that, MJ opens one of the medicine cabinets. She isn’t big on taking pills, but she relents today and pops an Excedrin as her head pounded again. Once she swallows it with a handful of water from the sink, she starts to pile her hair into a bun, but is stopped by Gray’s grip on her forearm.

Her eyes had zoned out on a random spot on the counter, but at the pressure of his hand she looks up in the mirror to see him as naked as she is. “Don’t be silly,” he chides lightly, a smile toying at the corners of his lips. “You’re getting the full treatment tonight, Peach. I’ve got your shampoo and conditioner ready to go over there.”

He pulls gently down on her arm, and her hair tumbles back down over her shoulders and back as she lets him tug her to the warm, foamy water.

Ten minutes later, the Excedrin has kicked in, soft music from their ‘chill’ playlist plays through Grayson’s phone on the edge of the tub, and his strong fingers are creating heavenly relief for her as they scrub at her scalp. She’s totally relaxed in front of him, letting his broad chest and shoulders cocoon her smaller frame as her eyes droop and she moans lightly.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day, sweetheart,” he whispers in her ear, making her shiver despite the steaming water they sit in. She snuggles closer to his warmth. “And I’m sorry you have to deal with those assholes every day.”

It takes a moment for her brain to form the words, but she hums contentedly in reply. “It’s okay. Don’t know what I’d do without you, though, Gray.”

It’s so true. She has never been the girl to be codependent on anyone, let alone the man she’s in a relationship with, but Gray has achieved that honor in a matter of a year and a half. Probably earlier, if she were being honest with herself, but her adult life before him was a blur. She’s forgotten what it was like to not have him by her side, and she doesn’t want to imagine a scenario in the future where he isn’t.

He finishes washing her hair, lulling her into an even deeper trance when he moves her dark, wet locks over one shoulder so he can massage her neck with deep presses of his thumbs into her tight muscles. His fingers are nimble and dexterous, strengthened by his renewed passion for rock climbing, and are perfect for loosening the tension under her skin.

“Mmm, fuck,” she moans, not meaning for it to come out quite so pornographic, but she feels nearly orgasmic in the relief his hands are bringing her. Speaking of… “You’re gonna get the best head tomorrow, I promise.”

Grayson chuckles, squeezing her shoulders now, too. MJ feels him twitch against her lower back, but he says in her ear, “I’m not doing this for you to return the favor. I just want to be the one to make you feel better. Because I love you, and you’re mine, and you deserve it.”

“I know you’re not,” MJ smiles. “That only makes me want to do it even more.”

He grins and moves his hands further down her back beneath the water, massaging his knuckles into the soft skin there as well before coasting up her sides. He cups her breasts as MJ sinks back against him, her breathing picking up the slightest bit as his hands work magic there, too.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his hot breath flowing straight into her ear and sending goosebumps flaring over her skin.

More than okay, she thinks. MJ nods, and gasps when his hands pinch her nipples gently between his ring and middle fingers, tugging slightly. She takes his large hand off her right breast and sinks it into the water, straight to her center, her legs already parting to welcome him.

“Just rub me,” she whispers, eyes closed as he doesn’t hesitate to obey. “Circles, like this.”

MJ guides his fingers over her clit for a moment to show him exactly what she wants, but this isn’t their first rodeo and Gray knows perfectly well what he’s doing. She lets him take over and simply lies back against him as he expertly brings her higher and higher, until she’s falling over the edge, twitching in his arms and moaning sweetly.

Grayson tilts her head back to kiss him, sighing into her mouth as she twists in his arms to straddle him. He’s completely hard now, and she takes him in her hand instinctively. Twenty minutes ago, sex was the last thing on her mind, but she feels so good and relaxed now that she doesn’t hesitate to line him up and sink down slowly on his dick.

She grins smugly when his eyes fly open and he lets out an embarrassingly loud moan, completely surprised by a warm wetness that is vastly different from that of the bathwater. When she had stroked him in her hand he thought she might jerk him off, but her pussy, still deliciously tight from her orgasm, isn’t what he’s prepared for as he becomes slowly encased in it.

It’s a good thing she doesn’t meant for it to last long, because he’s so overwhelmed and caught off-guard it only takes a couple of minutes max of her grinding up and down on him while she whispers hot, dirty things in his ear, for him to shoot deep inside her.

“Shit,” he huffs out with a little laugh as she raises herself up enough for him to slip out of her pussy. “Did you just give me the equivalent of a hand job with your vagina? I know that wasn’t for you.”

She giggles and sits back in his lap, shrugging as she nuzzles his nose with hers. “What can I say, I’m feeling lazy tonight and that seemed like the faster option. Are you complaining?”

Grayson shakes his head vehemently. “Of course not, but I didn't want you to do any work tonight.” His brows pinch a bit and his lips turn down into a pout. “Are you okay? How’s your head?”

MJ smiles softly and brushes his cheek with pruned fingertips. Even post-orgasm, he’s still concerned only about her. “Better, Gray-bear. Thank you.”

God, she loves him so much. She can’t resist wiping her hands on the towel and reaching behind him to grab his phone to capture him in that moment. His hair has gone curly in the humidity of the bathroom; the light from the window shines perfectly on his chiseled face, making his sex-eyes nearly pure green and illuminating his full lips that have curled into a small, crooked smile as he realizes her intention. She laughs when he takes it upon himself after a few serious snaps to play up to the camera, scooping up some of the bubbles and blowing them off his palm while giving her a joking, coquettish expression. Finally, she puts her back against his chest once again and they take a couple of goofy, up-angle shots, close-ups of their faces.

Photoshoot over, Grayson sighs and hugs her tight to him as he sucks kisses up and down the sides of her neck while she goes through the pictures. He’s making her head swim, but she manages to determine three of her favorites and doesn’t even bother editing them before adding a simple heart emoji in the caption and posting them to his Instagram once she earns his approval.

She turns around to put the phone back on the ledge before leaning in to plant her lips on his, slipping her tongue between them sensually. She could kiss this man forever, but eventually they start slowing down. MJ moves her kisses to his sharp jawline, trailing her mouth across and down until she gets to his neck freckle. She gives it a peck before pulling back, meeting his hooded gaze with warm eyes. It feels so good to just give each other these little bouts of physical affection with no real end goal. Just enjoying each other’s company, in their own space, caressed by the comforting warmth and scents of the bath.

Eventually, MJ peels herself away from him and stands up. Grayson stares up at her adoringly, admiring the way the water cascades over her body and rains down back into the tub. “C’mon, I’m hungry.”

She looks like a naiad with her long, dark hair covering her tits and dripping sensual trails of warm water down the dips and curves of her body. As if she doesn’t look delectable enough to him right now, her pussy is inadvertently right in his face, and his hand instantly reaches up to touch her. “Me too,” he growls, his fingertips tracing her lower lips and parting them so her clit is exposed. His mouth literally starts to water as he thinks about her earthy taste and her slippery arousal coating his tongue.

Just as he’s ducking in to swipe his tongue over her slit, MJ grips a handful of his hair and stops him, tilting his head back with that grip to make him look up at her questioningly. “Not now,” she says, taking her turn to scratch her nails along his scalp for a moment. “Still sensitive. And actually starving; I had to spend my entire lunch break fixing part of that report.”

Grayson nods understandingly and lifts the plug in the drain before standing up as well. “Then let’s get some Monty’s in you, hm?”

“That sounds amazing,” she agrees, her stomach growling right on cue.

They both chuckle and Grayson helps her step out of the tub before wrapping her up in a big, fluffy towel. He kisses her nose, then her lips, and retreats into the closet with his own towel to find fresh PJs for himself.

An hour later, they’re chowing down on some burgers and shoestring fries together in the fresh blankets of their bed while Ratatouille plays through the projector. And Chanel’s stupid username hasn’t popped up once in his likes or comments.

#only posting this now bc ive been in a funk the past few days #and i need some soft over romantic fluff #also when i made my masterlist i realized there were 6 posts #and the number 6 is a huge trigger for my ocd i hate it #also this was already written haha so yeah #dolan twins #grayson dolan #ethan dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan oc #dolan twins fanfic #grayson mj

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pinkja · 4 years ago

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Sports, Crushes, College and All Other Things Stressful (Nora x Black Female Reader)

AU where Nora is a stressed out college student and you are a simple black girl who has no time management.

Nora felt like she was a simple person.

She grew up in a small town near Salt Lake City, made it through the akward teenage phase, and graduated high school with honors.

Does it matter that she was always so close to pulling her own hair out in frustration? She doesn’t think so.

She liked to think that her high school years went swell.

She was captain of the swim team, played in both tennis, chess, soccer, and volleyball. She was also co captain of the debate team, won the Reading Bowl in TOME for three years in a row (she didn’t join freshman year) and did a bunch of community service at the homeless shelter every other Saturday from 9am to 3pm.

Yeah, Nora was a simple person, she thinks.

Does it matter that she barely had time to sleep? She doesn’t think so.

She got into college with a full ride scholarship (which her family celebrated for two days straight. It practically turned into a block party.) She was on the Pre-Med track, wanting to become a pediatrician like her grandmother had been, and like her mother had been, and like her older sister had been as well.

Wait…who exactly was she doing this fo–

Doesn’t matter!

She got to get an apartment on the campus housing first year with her best friend, Abby, who’s a biology major of all things, when Nora was pretty sure she was gonna be an English major. Her room was pretty average, but Abby often made comments about how it really needed some personality.

“You don’t even have a poster!” Abby remarked one day while she was laying on Nora’s bed. She had an old copy of Lord of the Flies in her hands, read and re-read about eight times.

“Not everyone needs a poster, Abby.”

“Yeah, they do. Especially when you don’t have a book or a video game, or even something to play music on-”

“Isn’t it enough that I have a phone?” Nora placed her head on Abby’s lap. Abby rolled her eyes and sat up on the bed so Nora would be more comfortable.

“And you had to beg your mother for it. Now hush and let me finish this chapter.” She leaned against the headboard and made a comment about how she was going to buy her a poster for Dirty Dancing or something.

Now that freshman year was almost over, and tennis season for the school had started up again a month prior, Nora, being captain of that and many other teams, was starting to feel even more stressed. She has to aid the coach in training the less athletic recruits, plan their next meeting, and prepare for their next game which was in two weeks, which was a few days before a big biochemistry test.

She was out by the track, the slightly warm early April air hitting the side of her sweaty face after almost an hour of staying out in the sun. There was another hour of practice left, and with a clipboard, a pen, and a timer in her hand, she watched the baby-faced girls run laps around the field.

“Ok, the game is on a Saturday, it takes around 30 minutes to get there by bus, so 30 minutes to get back… but the game ends at 6:30 so I have to give at least another 30 minutes to an hour for traffic, not including the time it takes to shower and pack our stuff up so the latest I’d get home is around…” She looked up from her clipboard, tapping her feet on the floor. “Jackson! If you want to play in the next game you gotta beat your record! Pick up the speed!” She called out to a red haired girl.

God, I really hope I’m not sweating out my hair, she thought, brushing a few stray hairs back in her ponytail. Nora went back to muttering.

“Ok so that means I’ll be home by 8 at the latest, and if I lock myself in my room and pull an all nighter, I could probably get all my studying done by 6-ish? Maybe… I would have to stock up on coffee. I’ll stop by the store on the way ho–”

Nora’s quiet rambling was interrupted by a voice.

“Hey, Captain!” Nora didn’t turn around, already knowing who it was by the voice alone.

(Y/n) (L/n).

Ah, Nora’s feelings for you were…complicated, to say the least. But we’ll get to that later.

“Sorry I’m so late.” You rubbed the back of your neck with a sheepish smile.

“Fourth time this month, (Y/n).” Nora’s voice was stern, exasperated and a bit annoyed.

“I know. I know, but–”

“You know the drill. 10 extra laps and you have to beat your record or else you don’t play in the next game. Go.” Nora didn’t look up from her clipboard, but knew you were pouting anyways.

Your footsteps echoed in Nora’s ears as you ran to the field, smiling at your teammates as they passed you. She marked off your name on her clipboard and wrote “Late” next to it, again, with furrowed eyebrows and annoyance tickling the back of her brain.

When 4 o’clock came, the girls all filed out of the field and towards the locker room, feet tired and sore. You were still running, of course, doing the 10 (plus 10 extra) laps you were assigned. Although you weren’t, Nora felt like you were taking your time, acting as if you hadn’t a care in the world.

“God, I have to get home and study…” Nora whispered and rolled her eyes, even though only 5 minutes had passed. By 4:15, you were done, walking back to her while rubbing your left thigh.

“How’d I do, Captain?” You asked while wiping the sweat off of your forehead. You balanced yourself on the balls of your feet. Nora clicked the button on her timer once again and finally looked at you.

You had sweat stains on your blue shirt, and you picked at the edge of your shorts that rode up your thigh just a little bit.

“Two minutes under your last time. I guess you get to stay in this time around.” Nora said curtly, pursing her lips while doing so.

You smiled as if you already knew the answer. “Aw come on, Captain. Have a little faith in me, yeah? I’m not all bad.” Your nose scrunched you as you pouted.

God your lips were so cu–

“But I do stink though. Imma hit the showers real quick. You coming?” Nora gulped, mind going a little to the left as she snapped out of her thoughts.

“Yeah.” Was all Nora could say in response.

They walked into the locker rooms, all of the girls clean and gone. Nora placed her things on one of the benches, opening and looking into her locker for clean clothes. You did the same.

“Jeez, all that time I put into doing my hair only to sweat it out in less than 10 minutes. I don’t know how you do it, Captain.” You remarked, looking in the mirror of your locker. Nora hummed, but didn’t respond. She grabbed some fresh clothes from her gym bag and started stripping.

Nora peeked into the mirror in her locker at you. Yours was diagonal from hers. You were still looking at yourself, not at her. Part of her wanted you to be.

Once she was done, she wrapped a towel around herself and grabbed some soap and a rag. She showered in silence, only being interrupted by the pat pat of your footsteps on the floor as you hopped in the showers next to her. You tied your hair up and put a bandana around your head before starting the shower, and Nora looked away before she could see anything else.

She thanked whatever god there was that there was a wall between you two.

But what if there wasn’t?

Nora started to feel very self-conscious all of a sudden. She started to take note of the stretch marks and too thick hairs on her stomach and arms and legs.

Oh my god, is my hair presentable?

She went to smooth out her hair with a (thankfully) not soapy hand, but stopped herself. She wouldn’t want to ruin her hair now. She spent all morning getting it together.

Wait? Why am I worrying about my appearance? My body is fine.

After her little realization, Nora started scrubbing really hard at her arms and legs, preoccupying her mind with the upcoming test.

Nora finished before you did, wrapping a towel around herself and waiting until she was out of your sight to start drying herself. She put on some lotion and deodorant, got dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a green shirt and sneakers before grabbing her stuff and going to leave.

“Captain!” Your voice stopped her.

Dammit! She was almost free!

“Yeah?” Nora took a few steps back but didn’t look in your direction.

“Can you…um…stay?” Nora’s spit got caught in her throat. “I mean, until I’m done. I really don’t like being in the locker room by myself. My mom always told me don’t let myself be in a room alone.” You let out a laugh, albeit a bit nervous.

Nora nodded, spitting out a stuttered, “Sure.” She hopes she didn’t sound too excited. She leaned against the outside wall of the showers, facing away from you once more. Nora waited (im)patiently, suddenly remembering how she forgot her glasses at home and that’s why she hasn’t been able to see well all day. She also remembered the stain on the coffee table that she was too busy to clean up because she was rushing out of the house because she had slept through her–

The squeak of the shower faucet snapped Nora out of her thoughts as the rush of water stopped. Nora kept her eyes on her shoes as you passed her, suddenly very interested in the speck of dirt on the toe of her left shoe.

I should clean it later, Nora thought.

“Captain?” Nora’s head snapped up, looking towards you with large brown eyes. You brought a plump lip into your mouth before giving Nora a smile. You were done getting dressed, snatching the now-wet bandana off of your head.

God, is it hot in here? Nora feels like she’s been sweating oceans.

“Thank you for staying. I’m sorry if I bothered you.”

“No problem.” It’s not like she doesn’t have a test she has to study for or a meeting at 6 for a club that she really couldn’t remember the name of now which was really concerning, but Nora couldn’t bring herself to care because you were smiling at her and Nora’s heart was not working anymore.

Although part of her wanted to be mad at such a carefree attitude and your seemingly lack of schedule, she settled on scolding you instead.

“Practice is next Monday at 3. Try not to be late next time.” You nodded before grabbing your stuff from the bench behind you and walking out of the locker room in silence. Nora followed before you both split off in different directions.

Nora’s weekend was filled with nothing but meetings and studying and homework, with the constant repetition of “Game on a Saturday, test on a Monday” leaving her mouth. She started her mornings at 4 am, going for a 2 hour run around campus. At 6 she went back home and took a shower, answered a bunch of emails about things that Nora couldn’t bring herself to care about anymore, and then she spent a good 3 hours studying old material from her classes, read a book she was assigned for Lit, then she was back studying again.

Wait, did she eat anything?

She wouldn’t have if Abby hadn’t practically shoved a piece of turkey bacon down her throat because, “You literally haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon” which she should be grateful for her friend’s willingness to remember the important things for her when she forgot them. She had meetings for Spanish and French Honor Society, Creative Writing, the school’s green club, and she also had to tutor a bunch of kids who were failing their math classes.

And to top it all off, you were late to practice, again! God, Nora wanted to be mad at you. You were being selfish at this point. Didn’t you know that if you were late she had to stay with you until practice was over?

Well, technically, she didn’t. She could leave practice whenever she wants to but honestly she didn’t want to leave you to practice alone. Plus, you might slack off!

Nora’s eyebrows twitched at the thought. It’s like you didn’t have a care in the world! You just walked around wasting her time, your time even!

You arrived 15 minutes late, better than last time, but still late.

You were already preparing your excuses, but Nora shushed you, telling you to go and practice on your serves. You did just that. Nora had already completed her drills, now just waiting for you to show up. She wrote your name down and the word “late” next to it once again before she went back to observing her team.

Once 4 o’clock rolled around, the girls rolled out and into the locker rooms, while you stayed behind. Your serve was good, Nora thought, you were just a heavy hitter and would forget to try and get the ball into the court first.

After watching the ball fly past the court for the 3rd time, Nora sighed and made her way over to you. You spotted her and gave her a smile.

“Hey, Captain! You need something?” You asked as you threw the ball in the air. You hit it across the net and watched as it flew straight into the wall. You grabbed another ball from the basket next to you and went to do it again until Nora gently grabbed your wrist and pulled it back down.

“You hit too hard, (Y/n). Try it again, but with a little less force.” Nora stated, backing out of the court to watch you once more.

You tried again, only for the ball to land just outside of the court.

“That’s ok, (Y/n), just try again.” Nora encouraged you. You tried again and again, only for you to keep hitting it out of the court.

You let out a huff, frustrated. “Captain…” You whined, turning to her with dragged feet. “This seems pointless. I just keep hitting out of bounds.” Nora raised a brow, not taking you for the type to give up so easily.

“You know we can’t leave until you get it right.” You pouted at her answer before going to try again. Nora stopped you, walking up to you and grabbing the hand you were holding your racket in. “Here. Make your hand face the net. That always helped me serve better.” Nora turned your wrist. “Now plant your feet so they’re in line with your shoulders.” You listened. “Now breathe in, slowly, and as you breathe in, toss the ball into the air and as soon as you exhale, swing. Don’t focus on the force. Focus on how your hand moves to hit the ball.” Nora realized how close she was to you, how weird this must’ve looked to others and what they might think.

She was starting to get self-conscious again.

Nora cleared her throat and backed out of the court again. Once she was far enough, you served again, the ball just making it into the court. You jumped up in excitement, coily hair bouncing with you. Your eyes darted towards her, a wide smile on your brown face.

“Captain! Captain I did it! Did you see?” You spoke with the giddiness of a child with a new toy, and, suddenly, Nora’s anger at you disappeared. Nora nodded with a smile.

“I saw. Good job, (Y/n).” You smiled wider at her praise, going to pick up all of the balls you managed to drop. Nora helped.

After cleaning up the mess you made, you both walked to the locker rooms. You repeated your routine from Friday, with Nora finishing earlier than you once again. Nora remembered how you had asked her to stay, and decided not to leave you behind. She walked to her locker in silence, getting dressed in some jeans, a graphic tee, and her same pair of sneakers she always wore before leaning against the walls of the showers like she did once before.

She was still facing away from you.

“(Y/n)?” Nora called, despite the lump in her throat about having to talk to you while you were naked.

“Yeah, Captain?” You answered, stopping the humming you were previously doing.

“May I ask, um, why are you always so…late?” Nora tapped her fingers on the wall and hoped she didn’t offend you with the question.

You were silent for a moment before answering. “I just lose track of time, y’know?” Nora’s eyebrow twitched again. You spoke as if you knew what she was thinking. “Yeah, yeah. I know that’s not a good excuse. However, I get so caught up in the little things that I just forget to remember the big things.” Another twitch of the eyebrow.

God, was it gonna get stuck like that?

You turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around yourself as Nora moved to sit on the bench. She preoccupied herself with her shoes again and waited for you to get dressed. The buzz of your phone interrupted the silence between you two. You grabbed it from out of your locker and looked at the bright screen before scowling and placing it back in your bag.

“I wanna know, Captain.” You started, as you put underwear on. Nora cursed the human evolutionary habit of looking at anyone and anything that made noise, as she had turned her gaze towards you as you were putting on a dress and oh my goodness you weren’t wearing a bra. Nora’s face burned as she quickly turned back around to look at her shoes. “Have you ever had Mr. Lance before?” It took a few seconds for Nora to register your question, and once she did, she shook her head no.

“U-Um… no. No I haven’t, um… Why do you ask?” Preoccupy yourself with the test, Nora. Focus on the test.

Game on a Saturday. Test on a Monday.

“I wanted to thank you for once again putting up with me and helping me in practice. Other captains would’ve just left me there.” Now she felt bad for thinking about leaving. “You wanna go?” You turned to her with another smile, not caring that Nora wasn’t even facing you.

“You don’t have to. It’s really no problem.”

Game on a Saturday. Test on a Monday.

“Come on, Captain. Please. I promise you it’ll be worth your time!” Nora finally gained the courage to look at you, and you were pouting. Good god you were pouting and it was so adorable and Nora really has to learn how to focus again.

Game on Saturday. Test on Monday.

Nora was in a trance. Your eyes had caught her in a trance and she couldn’t get out but she had to. So she agreed to your little adventure. You jumped up again in excitement and Nora was once again reminded of the fact that you don’t have on a bra. You both walked out of the locker room and you led Nora down the street to one of the coffee shops about 7 minutes away.

“Mr. Lance is just a few minutes from here.” You started as you put your phone in your bag after checking it again. “And I know the name seems kinda boring, however, they serve the best ice cream there is.” You gave Nora another beaming smile to reassure her, even though Nora didn’t need any reassurance.

Once you both arrived at the little parlor, you opened the door for Nora and she was immediately hit by the cool air and the smell of mint. Nora scrunched up her nose a little bit and sat at one of the red chaired booths. You sat opposite of her and folded your hands on top of each other.

“What do you usually get here?” Nora asked you, pushing her glasses up to her face.

“I either get the triple chocolate milkshake or the extra cookies and cream ice blizzard. But that’s my personal preference. Get whatever you want.” You said nonchalantly, not even looking at the menu.

Would it be too embarrassing for Nora to admit that she didn’t know how to choose? Nora thought that yes, it would be. However she couldn’t just not order something after you had brought her all the way here. That would be rude! But it would also be rude to sit there and order something she wouldn’t want and then sit there and pick at it because she had never really had time to–

“And what about you, miss?” Nora jumped at the voice. She looked up from her death match with the colorful menu and at the waiter who was standing there with a notepad in her pale hands.

“Uh…oh! Oh! I would like a…” What the hell was that first thing you said? “A triple chocolate milkshake, please.” Nora’s face burned at her awkwardness. Maybe she didn’t leave that weird teenage phase at all.

“Coming right up! I’ll just take these off your hands.” The waiter grabbed the menus and walked off to the kitchen.

Nora tried to act like she didn’t feel your gaze on her while you waited, and felt grateful when your phone buzzed for the third time that afternoon.

“Guess I’m popular today, huh Captain?” You let out a chuckle as you turned your phone off.

Nora smiled back and she hoped it wasn’t crooked.

You pulled at a curl on your head and frowned. “I’m so glad tomorrow is wash day. My hair’s been so uncooperative lately.” You pulled at the same curl again and watched as it bounced back into place. “Captain.” You called her. Nora answered. “What do you think I should do with my hair? Twists or plaits? Ooh maybe I can do box braids instead.” You shot out ideas to her, hoping she would choose and make your life a bit easier.

“Um… I think you’d look good in–in twists.” Frankly you would look good in anything.

Wait, what?

“Don’t you have to set out the whole day for that? You have classes tomorrow, don’t you?”

“I have one class in the afternoon but it shouldn’t be a problem. I can catch up easily.” You said nonchalantly.

She looked at the clock on the wall to check the time. 5:45 p.m. She cursed how fast this day was going.

Their treats came a few minutes later and you popped open your straw and dug in. Nora did the same, eyebrows raising at the onslaught of very, very sweet chocolate attacking her taste buds.

“See. I told you it was good!” You said, licking a little bit of chocolate off of your lips. You swirled your straw around your glass. “I’m glad you decided to come with me, though.” You said offhandedly.

“Why did you decide to bring me here?” Nora didn’t mean for her voice to sound all nervous. She would roll with the punches.

“Hmm. I already told you earlier that I wanted to thank you for putting up with me.” You took another sip and stuck your tongue out a bit. “But also, and forgive me if I seem rude but, I thought this would relax you.” Nora raised an eyebrow. “You always seem so…pent up. Like a stiff. I just noticed that you might need some sort of release or something, Captain. That’s all.” Nora realized that you were the only one to address her as Captain after practice, and in that moment she started to feel very…different.

Was she uncomfortable?

No, Nora wouldn’t exactly describe it as that.

It was just that the heat creeping up her neck and the sudden realization that you were right and the idea of getting some sort of release, as you put it, was making her feel very, very weird.

It didn’t help that Nora’s gaze went back to your lips and eyes and hands and chest and the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra hit her again and–

Why the hell was she so focused on that? Of all the damn things to focus on? It’s not like the concept of not wearing a bra was foreign to her, she did it from time to time herself but what the fuck was so different when you did it?

Focus on something else, Nora. Focus on something else.

Like the test!

She had a game on a Saturday, and a test on a Monday.

Game on a Saturday, and a test on a Monday.

Game on Saturday, and boy were your eyes cute.

Game on Saturday, test on a Monday.

It’s not like she had a problem with it.

Game on Saturday, test on Monday.

She was fine. Nora was so fine. Nothing to worry about here.

Maybe she did need a release. A time for herself to relax.

Game Saturday, test Monday.

Oh god was she staring at you?

Game, test. Saturday, Monday.

Were you smiling at her? You look so sweet.

Monday. Saturday. Monday. Game. Test. Relax. Release. Relax. Relax. Game. Test. Saturday. Monday. Relax. Release.

Her glass was empty and you were smiling at her and UGH.

Nora stood up, her knees knocking into the booth as she did so.

“Is everything alright, Captain?” You expressed concern over her. Your eyebrows furrowed as your smile went away.

“I gotta go.” Nora managed to choke out. She reached into her back pocket for her wallet as you stared at her with confusion.

“What? Are you sure?” Nora threw $20 on the table and grabbed her bag from the floor.

“Yeah. I gotta… I gotta go…” Nora turned and sped out of the shop, leaving you alone.

She made it back to her apartment and unlocked the door with shaky hands. Abby greeted her from the couch, hair in a low ponytail instead of its usual braid.

“Hey, Nora you–“ Abby stopped herself when she finally looked at her roommate. “What’s wrong?” She turned to her and grabbed her before Nora could sped past the couch. “Come on. Around the couch you go.” Abby pulled Nora by her belt loop around the couch and made her sit down. “What’s up with you. And don’t say you have another test to study for because you’ve already studied enough.” Nora scrunched up her nose and looked away from Abby.

“There’s no such thing as too much studying.”

“Nora…” Abby’s voice was stern.

“Fine, fine… There’s this… this girl and she… she said I was a stiff and treated me to ice cream today and I can’t focus around her and also I can’t stop thinking about her and also–” Nora plopped herself face first into Abby’s lap, groaning loud enough for her roommate to hear.

“Does my Nora have a crush?” Abby teased at her, poking the back of her head. Nora sprung up.

“What! No! Of course not!” Abby didn’t believe her. “I just can’t focus around her, that’s all. And it’s frustrating me.” Nora defended herself, slumping against the couch.

“Hmm. Sounds like a crush to me.” Abby retorted, leaning her head on her hand.

Nora couldn’t have a crush! I mean, when has Nora ever had time to think about crushes? Or dating? Hell, with boys or girls!

“I don’t have time for crushes, Abby.” Nora slumped some more until she sat on the floor.

“You don’t have time for anything, Nora! All you do is work, work, work. And I know we’re in college but that doesn’t mean you have to give yourself to the seeds of capitalism just yet.” Abby kicked Nora in the thigh as a way of telling her to get off the floor.

Nora got up with a pout.

“All I’m saying, Nora,” She started, propping her feet on the coffee table, “is that maybe this could do you some good. You got to enjoy life, and you can’t enjoy it if you’re stuck hunched over a book all day.” Nora rolled her eyes before retreating to her room to take a cold shower.

The next morning, after her 4am run and a long shower, Nora got dressed for the day and sat down at her desk to study. She didn’t have any classes today, her professor for the day sending out an email to cancel class the night before. She opened the giant biology textbook that never left her desk and tried to remember where she had left off last.

I was writing notecards, she remembered as she searched her desk to find them.

Her search was interrupted by the loud ping of her cellphone. Nora chose to ignore it, thinking that it was probably just Abby trying to remind her to eat something. Her phone vibrated again and Nora rolled her eyes with a loud sigh and got up to check it out.

She walked over to her bed and picked the phone off the pillow, squinting her eyes at the sudden light hitting her face as another notification came.

“Hi, Captain!” It was you. You texted her.

Oh my god you texted her!

“I know you said only to use your number in case of emergencies but I guess this would qualify as an emergency because you kinda left in a hurry so!!!”

“Are you ok, Captain? I wanted to check up on you afterwards but I didn’t know whether you’d want me to use this number or not so I didn’t text you but I didn’t know what happened and I was getting nervous so I texted you.” God did you ramble.

“Sorry for rambling.” You sent a few seconds later. You added a crying emoji for effect.

It was then, in that moment, that Nora realized she didn’t know how to respond to you.

Why weren’t her fingers moving?

Why was she just staring at her phone with a stupid face?

Move, dammit! Move!

With a deep breath, Nora let out a big, long groan of, “ABBY!” Said friend was at her door within seconds, hair in a frenzy and protein bottle in her hands, ready to attack someone.

“Nora! Nora what is it? Is someone dying?” With wide eyes, Nora handed Abby her phone, to which Abby lowered her guard and grabbed it out of Nora’s hands. “Nora are you fucking kidding me?” Abby deadpanned after reading the messages, seeing it was only someone expressing concern over her friend and not like…cyberstalking her or some shit.

“I don’t know what to do please help me.” If Abby wasn’t so mad at her she'd tease her for her inexperience and compare her to a lamb. Abby flopped on the bed with a groan and started typing away.

“Wait, wait, wait! What are you doing?” Nora asked frantically as she tried to snatch the phone out of her hands.

“I’m replying. Duh!” She said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, but Abby! What are you saying to her?” Nora whined, attempting to grab it again only to fall on Abby’s lap.

“You know, for someone who denies that this is a crush you aren’t really helping your case all that much.” She continued typing, and Nora thought that whatever she was typing would be long and embarrassing and stressful.

“Abby!” Nora dragged out her name as she tried to reach for the phone again. “Come on! I know you’re gonna put something embarrassing!” Nora gave Abby a pout and made no move to move off of her friend.

“I’m not! I swear!”

“Then read it to me!”

“What?”

“Read what you wrote to her!”

“Ugh, you’re so childish.” She said as if she wasn’t the one typing something to Nora’s…Nora’s…well…Nora’s whatever. “Hey, (y/n).” Abby paused. “Such a cute name by the way. Good choice.” She continued. “I’m fine. Thanks for checking up on me. I was wondering if we could meet up later and–” Nora started to protest, reaching up for the phone. Abby held it away from her. “And I could, hey quit that–” Abby smacked her hand away. “I could explain why I’ve been acting so weird lately, if that’s alright with you–Nooooooo.” Abby whined like a child when Nora snatched the phone away and deleted the text message. “All my hard work! Wasted! Oh the inhumanity!” Abby fell on the bed, fake fainting.

“I don’t wanna meet her.” Nora muttered as she stared at the phone with a glare.

“And why not? I told you, this is good!” Nora looked at her in disbelief. “This is good! You need a break, Nora. If you don’t slow down now next time you have time for yourself you’ll be a bag of bones!”

“Not a bag of bones…”

“Yes, a bag of bones! So you are going to take this phone, text this girl back, and you are going to talk to her or by god I will throw your planners away. And I know where you keep them. All of them.” Abby pushed the phone up to Nora’s face.

“Even the Scooby Doo one?”

“Especially the Scooby Doo one. That goes first. Now type.” With a cry and a wail about how hard Abby was making her life, Nora started texting you back, giving the phone to Abby for approval.

“Hey, (y/n).” She started typing. “Abby please don’t make me do this.” Abby didn’t budge. “I’m fine. Thank you for checking up on me. I promise I’m ok and you don’t need to worry about me–”

“Don’t put that. You're invalidating her feelings.” Abby interjected.

“…I’m happy you checked up on me. If you want I’d like to meet–”

“Abby I’m nervous! Please can’t I just go back to studying?” Abby told her no.

“…up with you again. Maybe sometime this afternoon. Or whenever you want to it doesn’t have to be today it could be tomorrow or next week or–”

“You’re stalling.” Abby warned her, already reaching for her Scooby Doo planner hidden under her mattress.

“…Is this afternoon good?” Nora closed her eyes and hit send.

You replied within a minute.

“Sure! How about around 5. I should be done with my hair around then.” You sent a bunch of emojis afterwards and Nora plopped down in the bed with a groan after she agreed.

“See? You see how good things go when you listen to me?” Abby put the almost destroyed planner back in its place and patted Nora on the head. Nora groaned even louder. “Now. I want to know what time you’re going so you can have time to look nice.” Abby added emphasis on that last part. “And I mean it. No sweatpants or oversized jackets. I want you looking nice.” Nora’s face dropped at Abby’s constrictions.

“You’re already making me suffer by going outside but now you’re making me dress nice? You’re killing me, Abby!”

“No, I’m helping you. Now hold on for a second. I need to text the group chat about this historical moment.” Nora's eyes widened as she watched Abby get up and run back to her room before she could stop her.

When 4:30 rolled around, Nora patted herself down nervously and stared at Abby with a confused face.

“Come on, Nora. You look fine.” Nora stared at herself once more, her black jeans, light blue t-shirt and black shoes seeming too…boring for this.

“I-I don’t know, Abby. Maybe I should just cancel and say I got sick. Is it too late to hit myself with something?” Nora held her purse in shaky hands.

“No! You’re doing this. Now come on.” Abby dragged her from out her room and to the living room, where their friends, Manny, Owen, and Mel were hanging out and watching tv.

“You guys! Abby’s forcing me to go outside! Help me!” Nora tried to plead as she dragged her feet on the floor.

“Hmm… I don’t see a problem with that.” Manny spoked, looking at her with amusement clear on his features.

“Yeah, Nora. Owen and I for sure thought you were going to turn into a vampire or something if you stayed inside any longer.” Mel agreed while Owen nodded his head.

“That’s not how vampirism works and you know it!” Nora planted her feet into the ground and groaned. “Owen! Hide me! Help me! Save me!” Nora pleaded as Abby pushed her along to the door.

“Sorry, Nora. My expertise is animals not humans.” He said with a shrug and put his head on Mel’s shoulder.

“Traitors! Traitors! All of you!” Abby finally got her to the door and pushed her out with a huff.

“You be back no earlier than 6. Got it?” Abby ordered. Before Nora, could protest, Abby interrupted her. “If you wanna save the Scooby Doo planner you better start walking.” Nora closed her mouth and glared at her before calling her a muscle head and walking away. She heard the chorus of bye’s and have fun’s as she walked down the hall. You both had agreed to meet up at the campus park, and as Nora walked up, she saw you sitting on the bench with a book in your hands. Nora recognized it as Pride and Prejudice, something Abby had read a thousand times.

You looked up and spotted her. With a smile, you said, “Hi, Captain!” You placed the book beside you and waved at her. You had twists in your hair, and it went down to just below your shoulders.

“Hey, (Y/n).” Nora sat down next to you and placed her hands in her lap.

“I’m glad you decided to meet up! I was really worried about you yesterday.” You tried to keep the smile on your face despite the concern present.

Nora’s face burned as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“Yeah, um, sorry about that I…um…” Nora couldn’t really explain herself in that moment.

“No need to explain yourself, Captain. I’m just glad you’re ok.” Your smile never faltered and Nora decided to smile back.

“But-But thank you! For, um, taking me to the ice cream place yesterday. I really appreciate it.” Nora didn’t know why she was stuttering so much. If the group were here they’d be laughing at her.

“No problem. I like going there a lot. Not just for the treats but…it’s calming. Gives me time to get away.” Your phone buzzed and you checked it with a frown.

“Is everything alright?” Nora felt kinda sad when your attention wasn’t on her.

“Yeah. It’s just my stupid ex.” EX? Ex as in ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend? Ex-partner? Oh my god what was Nora thinking? She didn’t have time for crushes! Let alone any time for exes or dating of feelings or–

“Hey, Captain.” Nora perked up.

“Y-Yeah?” She could run. Nora could run and hide and go back to the apartment Scooby Doo planner be DAMNED.

“You remember when I told you about getting caught up in the little things?” Nora remembered, yes. “This is one of those little things. Just relaxing in the park, or going to the ice cream parlor, or staying after practice with you.”

Wait, what? Nora must’ve misheard.

“I could never share those little things with anybody else. Not even a person I had thought I liked. But I can with you.” You turned to her with a smile, moving a stray twist from out of your face. “I’m glad I was able to show you the things that relax me. Hopefully, Captain, they can relax you too.”

“Nora.” She blurted out.

“Hmm?” You titled you head to the side.

“You can call me Nora. I-I don’t mind.” You smiled at her, and Nora started to feel her heart burst in her chest.

“Ok…Nora.” Oh.

Oh.

Nora liked you.

Holy shit. She liked you.

“I-I’m glad you thought about me so much.” Nora played with her fingers as she spoke.

“Well, Nora. How about we go see a movie? I hear there’s this new mystery movie that’s so intense that people lost their senses when they left the theater!”

Nora laughed at your giddiness.

“Sure. I’d like that.” You stood up and grabbed your book to place it in your bag. You held out your hand to Nora and she took it, although a bit hesitantly.

“Cool. Let’s go, then.”

Maybe, just maybe, Nora could learn how to handle a crush this time around.

#the last of us part 2 #Nora x reader #Nora Harris #Nora Harris x reader #black reader #tlou2 nora #Nora Harris DESERVED BETTER BLACK GIRLS RISE #This is for the black girls and gays ONLY #the last of us part ii #tlou fanfic #tlou2 #tlou2 fanfic #Abby Anderson #tlou #fluff #gay sap Nora #gaydies let’s GO #Black reader #Nora’s stressed and gay and stressed about that

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