#its been hitting me bad enough that i spent a lot of time considering reaching out to my mom | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

comfortbucky · 4 years ago

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Hey! If requests are still open I was wondering if I could request a fluffy fic where reader is having a bad day and Bucky notices and cheers them up? 💗💗

HELL YEAH!!!

REQUESTS!!! ARE!!! OPEN!!!

𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗲𝘁 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚

pairing: bodyguard!bucky x fem!reader

warnings: anxiety, anxiety attack

tags: grumpy!bucky, bodyguard!bucky, fluffy bucky!!!

A/N: okay i have never written bodyguard!bucky before but i just thought it would be such a sweet concept to see him being soft🥺

sorry if the ending is kind of bad😭 i didn’t know how to quite wrap it all up, but i hope u enjoy!!!!!!!! <3 i had so much fun writing about bodyguard!bucky!!!!!

word count: 2.9k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

Y/N groaned as her phone alarm went off and hit snooze for the fifth time. She reached her hand out, head facing away and resting on her pillow, fumbling for her phone to turn off the incessant sound. Before she could shut it off, the noise stopped. Y/N turned her head slightly to see a large, dark figure in the corner of her eye. She turned her head fully to see her bodyguard with a frown on his face as he shut her alarm off.

“Your alarm, it’s annoying,” Bucky grumbled. “You should get up anyways, busy schedule today.” He walked out of the room before she could respond. Super soldier hearing was no joke if he was able to hear her alarm from his bedroom down the hall. Y/N sighed as her face planted into the pillow.

She was not looking forward to the events planned out for the day. During the day, there was a slew of interviews she had, back to back, and at night, a gala she was being forced to attend by her father.

Being the daughter of a wealthy tech tycoon had its perks for sure, but Y/N did not consider all of the press she did as a part of them. She never liked being in the spotlight but was forced to be, a birthright she had. Growing up with her dad, she’d developed a fascination for tinkering with computers, game consoles, and everything in-between. She spent a lot, practically all of her free time, with her dad when her mom had passed away. Her dad ended up throwing himself into his life’s work and she worked with him closely in the beginning, but slowly started to drift apart from him as she started to make a name for herself.

Earlier that week, her dad had sent her a text, informing her that a big announcement would be made at the gala. Big parties and large crowds weren’t really her thing, but it seemed like she didn’t have the option to avoid this one.

She got ready for the day, walking down to her kitchen to see her bodyguard, Bucky, sitting at the table, reading a book. As soon as he heard her come down the steps, he stood up and put his book away.

“C’mon, we’re already running late,” he mumbled, making his way to the door. Y/N rolled her eyes in response, grabbing a granola bar as she briskly followed behind him.

When her dad became a big name in the world of tech, the last thing Y/N thought she needed was a bodyguard, but her dad felt otherwise. It took one, very close call, of her almost getting mugged for her dad to immediately assign a personal bodyguard for her. She insisted that it was unnecessary, seeing that she was a fully grown adult, but her dad refused, as he was the one paying for Bucky’s salary.

Bucky had always been rather closed off since the beginning, and not much had changed since he was first assigned to her a little over a year ago. He kept their relationship very professional, only speaking when necessary and leaving the room whenever he wasn’t needed. She had tried to get him to open up more, learn about his past, but he always shut her questions down by either ignoring her or changing the topic to discussing something work-related. He was an enigma to her, which only left her wanting to solve the mystery that was James Bucky Barnes but couldn’t seem to crack the code.

Her first two interviews went smoothly, exactly what she was used to. A couple of questions about her current projects at work, some about her dad sprinkled in, and what she had planned for the future. It was a format she was used to and had come to appreciate, not exactly enjoying being the center of attention. During her last interview, however, she was caught off guard by one of the last questions she was asked.

“I know this might be an awkward question to ask, but I just have to! The people want to know: do you think your dad’s ever going to return to the dating pool?”

Y/N choked on her saliva. She knew her dad was an attractive man, seeing posts on social media of people fawning over him. Although she found it to be very weird and uncomfortable, she just brushed it all aside, not wanting to think about it as it only led to her thinking about the loss of her mom, a sore spot for her.

Y/N cleared her throat and forced out a chuckle. “I think that’s a question only he can answer, I don’t always know what’s going on in that crazy head of his.”

The interviewer laughed and proceeded to transition into the next segment. Y/N quickly thanked the interviewer and left, Bucky swiftly following behind. He had a feeling that something was off, as Y/N would typically stay behind to chat with the interviewer, crew members, even the service staff, whenever she finished an interview. It was always something he admired about her, how down to earth she remained, despite all of the privileges she had. She went out of her way to thank everyone on set, no matter how small their role might seem. He always told the drivers to pull the car up a little later than originally planned, just so she would have the extra time to talk.

Y/N pushed the doors open, only to find an empty street. She turned around and gave Bucky a curious look.

“Sorry, the driver just texted me,” he said, as he sent a text to the driver, telling him to come now. “He’s running late.”

Y/N nodded and leaned against the wall, looking down to fiddle with her hands. Bucky leaned against the opposite wall, facing her, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You okay?”

Y/N looked up at Bucky to find a gentle look in his eyes, slightly taken aback at the sight. She always found herself drawn to his piercing blue eyes, but they usually had a colder glint to them. This was a look she’d never seen before.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” she replied, averting her gaze down as she felt her cheeks flush at the sight of Bucky’s soft gaze.

The car arrived, cutting off Bucky’s train of thought as he was thinking of what to say to her. For a moment he debated on continuing the conversation in the car but figured she already had a long night ahead of her and didn’t want to push any further.

After a quick pit stop back to Y/N’s place, allowing her to change into an evening gown, the car headed to the venue of the gala. Bucky got out of the car before her, walking around to the other side to open her door. Before she stepped out, Y/N took a deep breath in and exhaled, plastering a fake smile on her face as a surge of flashing lights from cameras greeted her. Bucky watched, seeing her seamlessly transform from Y/N, the girl who needed to set a million alarms before actually waking up, to Y/N, tech extraordinaire, one of the most powerful people in the tech world.

Once they were inside the venue, Bucky stuck to his usual routine. Scope out the exits, look for any potential threats, and make sure Y/N was in his eyesight. Bucky kept close by but also kept his distance. He wanted to make sure that he gave her enough space whenever they were out, knowing that having him around was her dad’s idea and that she wasn’t too fond of having security detail in the first place. So he did everything he could to make himself blend in with the crowd, allowing her to roam freely, only following her when she moved out of his line of vision.

Y/N walked around, not knowing a single soul but making polite small talk with the rest of the guests. She became accustomed to knowing how to act at these types of events over the span of her adult life. Food, drinks, more food, home. Crowds made her uneasy, but she always felt calmer when she saw Bucky in her peripheral vision. Y/N would never admit it out loud, but over the last year, he had become a constant source of relief at these public events. Just knowing that he was there if she felt uncomfortable, unsafe, or wanted to leave early made her public outings much more bearable.

“Hey, sweetie! I’m so glad you made it.” Y/N turned around at the sound of her dad’s voice and smiled, moving in to hug him.

“Yeah well, you said you had a big announcement, so I figured I’d stop by,” she joked, eliciting a chuckle from her dad as they pulled away from each other.

“I’m about to make it now,” he started, placing his hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “And I was wondering if you could join me on stage for it? I know that’s not your thing, but it would mean so much to me, Y/N.”

While she absolutely hated the idea of having to stand in front of thousands of people, she reluctantly nodded. Y/N and her dad had slowly grown apart the past several years, only talking a couple times a month to catch up. With both of their busy schedules, they always seemed to miss each other. Despite their growing apart, she would do anything for her dad, especially if it meant so much to him.

Bucky slowly followed behind, as Y/N and her dad walked up to the stage. Y/N glanced behind her to give a slight smile to Bucky, to which he nodded back. He stood backstage, watching them from behind the curtains.

“Hi everyone, thanks so much for coming out tonight,” Y/N’s dad spoke into the mic. She was standing beside him, hands clasped in front of her, trying to look calm and not totally anxious.

“Since the success of my brand, people have said that I am a man who has everything. And I definitely have a lot to be thankful for, my company, my friends, and most importantly, my daughter.” Her dad extended a hand out to point to Y/N and the crowd cheered. Bucky couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. Despite his brooding attitude, he had come to grow fond of Y/N, being able to see her for who she truly was. She was smart, witty, and had a heart of gold.

“The only thing I’ve been missing,” her dad looks down at the ground for a second, before looking back out at the crowd. “Is someone to share it all with.” Y/N’s smile faltered and felt her stomach drop. She couldn’t fully register the words coming out of her dad’s mouth.

“After Sarah, my wife had passed, I didn’t think I would be able to love again. Until I met Alyssa.” Y/N was frozen in place upon hearing her dad’s confession. She’d never heard of anyone named Alyssa during any of their catch-up calls and now he was saying he loved her? Y/N quickly turned as a woman walked out on stage. The woman walked over to her dad and he wrapped one of his arms around her waist before speaking.

“Now I feel complete, now I have everything.” He pulled Y/N to him and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, smiling for the cameras ahead. There were a lot of strategies Y/N had devised over the years to deal with potential unexpected and uncomfortable situations in a composed manner to avoid having a PR nightmare.

She didn’t have one for this.

Tearing herself from her dad’s hold, she ran off stage, heading towards the exit that led to the outside. Y/N took in the fresh air, trying to stop her hyperventilating. It wasn’t working. Her chest felt tight as she began gasping for air, struggling to take in oxygen.

She was having a panic attack. It was nothing she hadn’t experienced before, but it had been so long since she’d had one. The last time she remembered, was at her mom’s funeral.

Her mom. Her dad. Alyssa.

Her thoughts were pushed aside as her vision blurred, her eyes swelling up with tears. Y/N felt like she had no control over her body and shut her eyes, allowing the panic to consume her.

Then, a firm, but gentle, warm feeling in her hands.

Y/N blinked her eyes open to reveal Bucky, standing in front of her. She looked down and saw that it was his hands in hers, holding them tight.

“Can you breathe for me, honey?”

His voice came out in a soft whisper, accompanied by the warmest and welcoming smile. She shook her head, unable to control her quick and rapid breaths. Bucky squeezed her hands a little tighter, rubbing his thumb in small circles on the back of her hand.

“Yes you can, just breathe with me, okay?”

He started to breathe in and out slowly and eventually, she was able to follow his lead, deciding to focus on his eyes. There was that look from before the ride to the gala, the gentle look in his eyes. She’d always felt that his blue eyes reminded her of stormy seas, but now, now they made her think of the calmness of the ocean in the early morning, waves crashing softly on the shores.

As she regained her composure, she realized she’d been staring into Bucky’s eyes for, probably, far too long. Bucky felt her tight grip on his hands loosen and reluctantly let go of her hands. He immediately missed the softness of her hands and how small they were in comparison to his much larger, calloused, hands.

“T- Thank you,” she stuttered out, her gaze locked on the ground, as she placed her hands to her sides.

“It’s no problem. I get them too,” he replied. She looked up at him as he clarified. “Panic attacks. PTSD from serving overseas.”

Y/N face drops, her stomach churning at the thought that Bucky had ever experienced panic like she had. She returned her gaze to the ground as a silence washed over them.

“He didn’t tell me about her,” she spoke in a quiet voice. “Never brought her up once. But I guess she must be pretty special for him to do all of this.”

Bucky stood a couple steps in front of her, seeing teardrops fall from her face. She lifted her head up to wipe away her tears, her hands shaking from anxiety. Y/N placed her hands on her face and started to sob.

She was slightly hurt by the idea of her dad loving any other woman than her mom but knew that he’d have to move on eventually. What hurt her the most was the fact that he didn’t tell her, not until they were on stage, standing before a crowd of people. It was too much for her to handle and she reached her breaking point.

Bucky’s heart dropped at the sight. He cautiously stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her tightly. Something his PTSD had taught him was how pressure from a hug could help relax the nervous system and calm him down. He held her firmly in his arms until he felt her breathing slow. She looked up at him, remaining in his embrace, her eyes glassy from crying, nose red and sniffly. Bucky felt his heart skip a beat and immediately pushed the thought away.

“You wanna leave, honey?”

She nodded in response, staying in his arms for just a second longer before pulling away. Y/N longed for his warm touch, feeling like a child who had their security blanket taken away. It didn’t help that it was also cold outside, sending a chill down her spine.

Bucky noticed and shrugged his suit jacket off to wrap around her shoulders. She beamed a smile at him and he smiled back.

The pair walked around the outside of the venue to find the car when they ran into a mob of paparazzi, shouting questions at Y/N about her sudden exit. Like a reflex, she grabbed hold of Bucky’s hand and he gave her a comforting squeeze as he cleared a path towards the car.

Bucky and Y/N were sat next to each other in the car, which was not the typical seating arrangement they usually had, usually sitting on opposite ends of the car. But Y/N hadn’t let go of his hand, not quite ready to separate herself from his warmth. Bucky had absolutely no problem with that, mindlessly rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand. She felt safe. She always felt safe with Bucky around.

Y/N felt her eyelids become heavy, struggling to keep them open. She was exhausted from her long day, and her panic attack had taken most of her energy away.

Bucky felt a weight on his shoulder and turned his head slightly to see Y/N’s head resting there. He felt a warmth rush to his cheeks and smiled, resting his head on top of hers.

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes closed. “You always make me feel so safe.”

Bucky felt a surge of tenderness rush through him. That was all he ever wanted to do. He wanted to keep her safe. He kissed her forehead, causing her to snuggle closer to him.

“Of course, honey. I’m here, always.”

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larrietalk · 3 years ago

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Well. I don’t think this is an unpopular opinion but, the push and pull they have been using on us is just boring and laughable this time. For the past year it seems like all we had was pushing larries to their limits (and they are succeeding) I’m surprised even myself is still putting up with this. But like, all the hit them with bad then give them a taste of good is so ??? It used to work before but now its 🥴. I’m not gonna be happy when you give me blue green socks right after holivia premiered or give me happy louis on twitter after he suddenly found out hes a father after 4 years of nothing and acting as if nothing just happened like ? I do wonder if if that’s actually their goal and if it is then 😂 because good luck with having a fandom without larries. And I love HL and they probably us and they deserve the world but this love is not stopping us from being the only punching bag there is.

Hi nonnie! Yeah... I think it may not be an unpopular opinion and probably a lot of larries have recently thought or talked privately about it at least once. The fandom experience for us, especially last year, has been just waiting for another punch to come. Larries have always been taken for granted but this year, looking at the fandom, it feels like a graveyard. Almost like a lot of larries have reached their limit.

For me, it also feels like somebody in lthq or hshq finally picked up on all the little things that make larries stay and started to erase them. We barely get warnings now. Shirts and hoodies don't hold the meaning they used to, sometimes it feels like there's no follow-up on anything we think they may symbolize. Months spent trying to change the narrative regarding Watermelon Sugar, thrown out of the window when a het Harry StylesTM (with dead-looking eyes) said it's about the female orgasm. Years of us using the argument that Louis hasn't seen the kid in years mocked with whatever it was that happened with babygate this year...

I know people will be saying that we can always leave or take a step back but no one actually wants to do that, right? We want to see how it'll end and we don't want to abandon them. But at some point it has to be enough. Blue-green socks are not enough recompense for having Harry look the most miserable he has in ages for more than a year. Faith in the future starts losing meaning when we don't see the future we should have hope in. And, in my opinion, we should not be afraid to admit it. How long can we endure the unnecessary shitty treatment?

At the same time, it feels like a lot has happened in the span of a year with stunts ramping up quite dramatically and very quickly. It could mean that change is right around the corner and the change of pace is all for show when they end. It could go both ways I think. The way larries are feeling is completely valid, but looking at the big picture (or maybe considering the narrative they’re trying to build) may help how some fans are feeling about stunts. Nevertheless, larries are feeling beaten down trying to defend themselves. That much is true.

#larry discussion #larrie discussion #larry stylinson

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hhjs · 4 years ago

Text

love or lack thereof.

pairing — felix x reader

genre / trope — angst, fluff / exes with benefits.

word count — 7.7k

warnings — suggestive, heavy implications, swearing, some making out but no actual r rated stuff but i will say this is suitable for 18 and up audiences.

note — this is unedited, subject to change. spare me lol

There are two sides to every person. The side that you want people to see and the side that you keep to yourself.

You think you've come to discover all those aspects of Lee Felix. Given that he's sweet, unassuming and inexplicably kind to the naked eye but you know, the rising anger in you knows he's only ever been cruel to you.

"Move," you seethe, he moves to let you in but you unintentionally knock your shoulder against his. There's people on the subway, and you hate the way Felix's innocent gaze finds yours for a second and it makes you look like the bad guy.

You feel the disapproving glare of a grandma who has a crumpled catalogue about seasonal pie recipes on her lap, as if she can't believe how much of a cunt you were being to an absolute stranger.

A roll of eyes follows, fishing for your ear phones, if only they knew.

Seeing your ex boyfriend outside of your casual deal hits you with the force of a punch to the gut. But you hid it exceptionally well. Arrogantly jutting your chin upwards. Whilst he cowers beside you, having supposedly caught your sour mood.

To think you had spent an hour with him in a bedroom just formerly...is rather strange. You've been sleeping with him for the past few months now and where it had begun is slightly mysterious to you — was it Chan's birthday party or a clubbing gone wrong one night stand just after Felix had come back to town....? You aren't entirely sure.

Albeit the arrangement is ingrained in your head — what you have with him is a secret strictly kept from your friends who otherwise if even caught air of a mere conversation between you two would invite an influx of queries. This is simple, physical, you don't have time for a relationship, let alone one with him and to mend how utterly lonely you are with someone who hasn't already seen you naked, someone who you couldn't blindly trust, is too much work.

Even though Felix is indubitably affected by your unwavering indifference, something he wasn't used to when you were together because of how giving you were to sate his utterly needy tendencies. Now he feels himself clawing at your hardened exterior in search of just those affections to no actual avail —hurt crossing his eyes when you sneak out of bed without saying goodbye, when days pass and you don't call or text and most importantly, when you're in public and you can't be bothered to spare him as much as a glance. To you, it's nothing more and nothing less. You make it a necessity to keep reminding him.

See you liked to pretend you're a resilient person. That in your heart you really do forgive people and move on.

But he is an exception.

"Did you eat?" He perks up, his voice is small. Careful.

You keep your stoic expression, looking ahead. "No."

Then he blinks, like he usually does when he doesn't understand why you act the way you do. Impolite, communicating only in monosyllables.

Do you really hate him that much?

There's a hoodie pulled over his black hair, longer along the neck,headphones dangling from his neck and his backpack in his hand, he hopes when he holds onto the same railing as you are, that your fingers should brush just a little.

Despite the way you adamantly ignore him, Felix opens his mouth to utter a passing inquiry. Your jaw clenches. And you desperately begin to scan the city map plastered inside to navigate passengers to their destinations.

"Can we...do you want to get something to eat..." He swallows, "together?"

As if he's crazy for even making such a proposition, you look at him once but from the corner of your eye and he thinks that's a lot considering how often you look past him, through him, never at him. You shake your head, giving him a warning stare.

Across from you, his reflection is frowning at your negative response. Still staring at you with a marveling gleam in his eyes, how much you've changed over the past two years just as he has....still takes him by surprise. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his eyes flicker to yours and he finds you staring at his image against the glassed doors. And like a deer caught in headlights, your heart drops to the depths of your stomach.

The announcement above falls deaf to your ears as you exit in a blind rush of sheer panic. Ignoring the biting cold and unfamiliar station. Your stop is still quite far. Maybe you'd have to take the taxi... or walk.

But in the face of all those hassles you sense yourself feeling incredibly relieved...because frankly, you think, you could go to hell and back if gets you away from him.

—

"So you came to tell me you're just gonna give up? Is that it?"

Felix carefully glances at you through his lashes, silently pursing his lips as to convey the answer.

You stare at the speckles of light kissing up his freckled cheeks, his big beaming eyes, a slightly low bridge but rounded tip of his nose paired with a small upturned mouth.

You can't believe you won't see him again.

Whenever he'd catch a break, he'd take the 2 hour bus to town and come see you, meet you and those once in six months meetings alone, to you, compensated for his lengthy absence.

So it couldn't be the distance, you thought, if that were the case he'd have dumped you when he moved to the capital for university.

Felix just doesn't want to be with you anymore.

"You don't get it...." He closes his eyes, as if he doesn't want to see himself saying what he is about to say, you almost don't get the resistance in his tone. The subtle drop of his Adam's apple. "I don't want to hurt you." He starts, "Just think about this rationally... we're so young, what if I find someone else there?"

Someone...else?

Is it that easy to dispose of you? Aren't you enough?

How foolish of you to only ever think of him.

It felt like Felix was kicking you where knew would hurt the most.

Your sardonic laugh is cracked, garbled and it's so fucking embarrassing that you're crying in the middle of a fast food joint, your fries have gone cold. Had you known seeing him this time would be vastly different from usual, you wouldn't have ordered at all. Why didn't he tell you before? Why had he insisted on catching you unawares?

But then again...this isn't about you at all. This is about Lee Felix. This is about him reducing your worth to make room for himself.

Ultimately, you understand, what is worse than not being loved back is being loved by someone who doesn't love you as much as you do them.

"Well I won't stand in your way then,"

You clear your throat,

"Fuck..." you rub your temple, the sadist in you coughing up hysterical laughs. The ache inside your heart at this point has turned into physical pain, cracks fissuring out against its surface and gnawing at the flesh like its being torn apart at the seams.

You should've seen this coming.

Everyone told you and told you you could only drag on an opposites attract sort of relationship for so long before you start to realise how incompatible you are.

Felix has the audacity to reach over and place his fingertips on your knuckles,his eyes are sad, overflowing with pity. It makes you feel small, the way he looks at you, small, sad and abandoned.

What tips you over the edge, however, is how calm he seems, as if he had been precisely planning to dump you for days and months and years while you continue to make a fool out of yourself never have forseen his decision.

There are tears running down your cheeks, abusing your vision with a vicious sting. You bring your sleeve to collect the needless moisture in a sudden rise of temper that is oh so typical of you.

You snatch your hand away from his touch.

"Don't touch me." You say, the simple comment transfers pain to Felix's eyes, mouth parting in silent words. You want to scream at him, you want to shake him by the collar and tell say something, just say anything at all and I will forgive you. Goddamnit.

In a perfect world, you think, a world where things happened exactly the way they should, you wouldn't have said, instead,

"And don't you fucking dare come back here...ever again."

And...in that very perfect world, he would've listened.

—

Felix thinks he could, dare he say, love everything about you. Even though you most certainly deserve someone who hasn't hurt you the way he has.

Now it's funny actually, how the tables have turned...back then, he wasn't sure about you and now you aren't about him.

Felix doesn't really blame you though...because he knows he asked for it.

Your presence in his life has somehow become an absolute necessity to say the least. And ironically enough, while he had so confidently pushed you to let go of him, he realises he had been holding onto you all along.

Now what was he saying...again?

Right. Felix loves everything about you.

But what he loves most...is the way your hand instinctively finds his heart when you're kissing. It's just a simple movement of your fingers splaying against his chest, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't even know why it means so much to him.

His hand drops from your ass to the back of your thighs to situate you closer to his chest. He moans into the kiss when your teeth comes to scrape against his bottom lip, your ministrations are typically rough and speedy but he is seemingly far too absorbed by the exhilarating feeling coursing throughout his entire form — it's not just blatant lust, he knows, but a much deeper understanding that he is inexplicably gladdened by the fact that he's touching you and you're touching him.

A shaky breath leaves Felix's parted lips as he cranes his neck to allow your lingering kisses to shift along his angular jaw.

Then without quite meaning to, his vision focuses on the table clock that reads it's well past midnight...you had run late tonight for reasons you neglected to disclose. Now that he really focuses, a strong musky fragrance akin to unfamiliar men's cologne wafts up his nostrils.

It couldn't be....

As Felix's suspicions run deeper, he restlessly begins to search up every aspect of his surroundings as best as he can in the limited provision of light. There is a large coat discarded on his bed, one he hasn't seen you wear before...then again it might not be yours at all...

You notice how he's stopped responding to you, so you pause, leaning back, still on his lap. "Is something the matter?"

Felix swallows, blinking up innocently at you. This deal is simple, isn't it? He knew what he was getting into the first time you got together and the second and the third and so on, so why had the possibility of you getting involved with someone else even bother him then?

Both of you knew why.

And what's worse is that Felix is sensitive by nature, never truly succeeding to hide his emotions, especially intense ones when faced with them. So he is hyper aware of the fact that what he is feeling in the moment is not jealousy, it's neither anger nor resentment but a deep seated insecurity that he will lose you.

Again.

"Were you...with someone?"

As expected, your hands resign from cupping his face, you avoid looking at him.

"What?"

Felix clears his throat, his accent thicker, voice heavy from disuse. He thinks about something being with you in the same way only he has...and it causes a dull ache inside his chest.

He rests his head back against the sofa and shrugs lazily. As if to prove a point, as if to say did he touch you here? his fingers ride up your t shirt, gently cupping your ribs, he tries not to look too satisfied when you quiver under the touch.

Still you lift yourself up and the sudden lack of contact almost makes him whine.

You stand before him. A hand at your hip.

"Why are you acting like this?" You say and he notes you sound more... curious than annoyed. Though what frustrates him is that you hadn't answered his question. "I thought I made myself clear...there are rules we agreed upon."

Oh he knows — no staying over, no personal questions, no jealousy.

Felix purses his lips. The downside of your forwardness, the same utterly admirable trait he finds really fucking hot, the one that conditions you to tell Minho off when he hogs all of Felix's brownies though the latter himself is too much of a pushover to say anything, the same one which had in times of recurring doubtfulness assured him of your strong feelings towards him, is that you say whatever comes to mind without sparing anyone's feelings.

"I'm just asking, [........]," he lies, trying to control the pain from projecting itself onto his voice. It hurts to see the way you jump to defend yourself around him, as though you're scared he'll hurt you again. The lack of faith you have him, after all this time, causes him hurt. "Why are you getting so upset...."

Felix is gentle. Communicating his feelings through his actions rather than words, cooly, slowly. And you are the exact opposite — there is an immediacy in your conveyance, a roughness. You mean what you say and you say what you mean so you think everyone does too. Which is why, he concludes, his present actions are insufficient to remove the seeds of resentment he'd left in the wake of his bitter utterances when you broke up.

But Felix was only 18 then, a kid completely unaware of his overwhelming need to have you in his life....what matters is, he's trying...he really is, to recover from his mistakes......shouldn't that least matter?

Thinking the slight inhibition in his tone is just a figment of your imagination and that he is simply and indifferently inquiring you, you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Then you drop down on the bed, feeling for his remote.

You sniff through your nose and against your better judgement say, "I went out with an acquaintance,"

On weekends Chan usually wasn't home, you could come over. This is the routine, it has been for some time now...so, you've come to know Felix's room more intimately than your own, the walls are a deep blue, like the kind of blue out of a Holly Warburton painting. There's an old Coldplay poster on the back of his door and X-Men action figures from eons ago lined on the edges of his bookshelf.

You know where everything goes when though it's dark. But that doesn't mean anything.

It shouldn't.

"A acquaintance who gave you their coat midwinter...you must be close,"

You ignore his pointed comment, he ignores the way your eyes light up when you talk about this acquaintance.

"He's nice." You say, "He walked me to the station and everything."

A happy hum comes in response.

Because when was the last time you talked to him as freely as you are?

Felix plops down on his stomach beside you, elevating his form on his elbows. His fingers come to brush loose strands out of your eyes. Your gaze meets his for the second time that week. Slower. As if you hadn't minded looking him this time. He feels his heart being tugged at all possible angles.

Then, because he can't stop himself — he leans down and kisses you, tentative and indolent, like he has all the time in the world, like all he wants to do is kiss. Don't get him wrong...you've done downright unspeakable things with him, to him...but nothing mediates his adoration for you without the employment of speech like these little chaste...purposeless movements. His fingers coming to splay against your neck, thumbing along your throat when you gulp, the tip of your nose brushing against his cheekbone, eyes fluttering shut. They're...they're intimate. Utterly special. He knows you feel it too, from the way you look slightly surprised, searching his face, eyes skimming up any fragment of emotion conveyed in his features. But you don't encourage it, slowly shifting to turn your back as you lay quietly against his chest.

"Let me stay here tonight," you say, "I'm tired."

"Okay,"

Felix thinks you've broken not one, but two rules now. He hadn't expected you to answer. He hadn't expected you to get into bed with no intention of departing either.

Though he doesn't hold it against you, this is what he wants, for you to open up to him again...after all. These changes can't be bad changes, even if they are little, it's still progress...right?

—

You wet your fingers, dipping the moistened muscle against the clay mold. All around you is not as eerily quite as it is in your apartment, footsteps thrumming against hardwood floor, kiddish humming from the kitchen, the smell of sugar in the air, you've never worked outside of your home station and well...in class. You thought of yourself as a self sufficient individualist, you liked to believe that you didn't enjoy other people's company like you did your own, with the exception of your roommate. But that's only since you aren't close enough for her to disturb you.

Yet with Soomi moved out for good, the place felt...odd to stay by yourself.

So you found yourself spending more and more time at Felix's. It's nice to have a place to crash in every now and then, the sex is great and when you get hungry after, you don't have to think twice about scouring the fridge.

You don't know why you put off spending time aside from sleeping together at all, more time spent didn't necessarily add to your deal or subtract from it....because the action itself doesn't really mean anything. Everyone gets tired of being alone at some point. That's a universal fact.

Initially, you told yourself your presence was a consequence of Chan catching you two in the shower one night...so now that the cat's out of the bag, you two figured his place could become the only premise you didn't have to play pretend in. You both knew the elder would be more than willing to keep the younger's secret even if he didn't exactly approve of it.

With the increased frequency of your visits, bits and pieces of you remain dispersed all throughout the apartment, your body wash in his bathroom, your underwear in his laundry, the smell of you in his sheets, on his clothes. You had relaxed yourself through the periphery of his life and he had small glimpses of yours, habits and flaws, unknowingly...or knowingly....whatever. — Felix could only thank God that Chan had found out, in spite of the revelation itself putting you both in a compromising position.

With time, he starts to keep a few secrets from you too, here and there, knowing that if you knew you will stop doing it altogether. He can't have that...

You throw a leg around his hip when you're fast asleep, flinging an arm not a second later to cage him in your warm embrace. Felix likes the way your chest rises and falls against his back, how your breath tickles his skin and your mouth parts against his shoulder blade. Sometimes he stays awake and waits for you to do it, then when you do, he grins so hard his face hurts a little. Felix likes being the little spoon.

"Are you listening?"

His vision narrows down to the sight of you holding out your palms in the air, there's wet clay on them, as well on your cheek and legs, between them your pottery wheel is halted to desuetude, there's old newspapers layering the floorboard to prevent staining.

"Sorry...," he smiles sheepishly, "What did you say?"

It's your turn to shift your gaze to your feet. Felix thinks it's highly uncharacteristic, the way you seem almost...shy?

"Can you..." You eye the mug mounted on his study desk, he catches onto your request easily, "I'm thirsty—"

"Yeah yeah hold on... careful," Felix chirps, carefully guiding the rim to your lips to make sure it doesn't spill. He uses the tip of his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, you flinch first but then whilst the mild shock subsides, simply stare up at him as the pad of his thumb brushes against your skin. "There you go..." he trails, eyes bright with care.

You feel like a child being doted on, the mere emotion plunging you back to when you were 5 and had crushes on boys who shared skittles with you.

"Thanks."

Felix's ears perk up at the courtesy, you were never one to express yourself easily and when you did, every time, he felt inexplicably delighted.

The apples of your cheeks feel hot for some reason, by putting yourselves in in these small situations, you keep confusing him, you know, because you keep confusing yourself too.

You come out again that night but this time Bang Chan is shifting around in the kitchen. He hardly sleeps, you observe, but probably refusing to come out because he wanted to avoid bumping into you.

Chan doesn't seem to like you very much. Probably. You don't blame him. Before you came along, Felix and he spent more time together, now you had become a constant in his life without will.

You have to listen twice to realise he's speaking with you. Not an invisible being behind you.

"What?"

"I said..." His tone dropped dangerously low, he looks annoyed at something. "Listen I don't care what you're doing but don't hurt him." He's wearing a black t shirt and a pair of pajama shorts with cartoon wolves littered all across the baby blue fabric. He's trying to appear intimidating. It's not really working.

You stifle a laugh.

Frankly had you not known how deeply he cared for Felix, you'd not have cared about his advice. Or warning....?

"Fine," you respond, watching as the tension visibly left his body with one bating breath. "I hope this isn't about me stealing your yoghurt though."

"It's a little about stealing my yoghurt," he jokes, you think he's one of those people who'd apologise if you punched them in the face and spat in their drink. It's interesting...

Chan laughs a little. His eyes sparking with amusement for the first time of all the times he's looked at you. Did he trust your word that much?

—

"He talks about you a lot you know,"

You nearly spit out your drink. Seungmin isn't exactly the densest guy you know. Far from it exactly and he isn't discreet either. So your first instinct is to think he knows something.

You watch Felix from a distance, a solo cup in hand, he's laughing at something Hyunjin said, there's a crinkle along the bridge of his nose and his upper lip curls upwards to reveal his teeth. In reality, in everyone's eyes, your lives are separate. They walk on eggshells around you still...you assure yourself there's no way anyone could've guessed.

So you play dumb, glugging the whiskey into your cup. It spills around the edges, landing on the semi-lit neon counter.

"Who?"

Seungmin blinks at you. An unreadable expression on his face.

"Jisung." He says, "Who else?"

You feel yourself getting less excited, the breath you were unconsciously holding passing your entire form. Jisung is the newest addition to your life, a performing arts student who offered to portrait model for a project you'd been given in class. He's cute, forward, which you like a lot. And you notice whilst using him for inspiration, that he looks at you just as attentively as you had at him.

Only for different reasons.

Jisung asks for your number. You say yes. Half-heartedly. Though at the forefront of your mind you keep comparing everyone to the guy you go home to ever so often, you pick out their flaws and their perfections and you think to yourself he isn't like this, he is like this.

"Yeah?" You pose, sipping and wincing. "What did he say?"

"Just the usual stuff...." Seungmin tilts his head, he's not drinking tonight because he has an exam tomorrow. You think it's a little funny that he's carrying around water in a solo cup. "But I can tell he has the hots for you,"

You laugh this time. That's no surprise to you. "Well he's not so bad himself."

Seungmin narrows his eyes, shooting you a suspicious look.

"Of course you'd say that...." He taunts, "Heard you guys hung out...how was that by the way?"

"It was alright. Sort of just...happened. We bumped into each other and he offered to buy me dinner."

"And you...said yes?"

You give him a blank look, sarcasm dripping from your monotonous sentences, how else would you have spent time together?

"No, I didn't, Seungmin,"

The owner of the name rolls his eyes at your satirical comment, "No need to be mean, I'm just a little surprised is all."

"Surprised?"

You raise an eyebrow, Felix is still in your line of sight, it looks like he's stalling, waiting for your conversation to end so you could leave. He glances at you a few times and you quickly text him a 5 more minutes. "Why's that?"

"Cause every time you start to have feelings for someone, you take one step forward and ten steps back," he points out, "Think about it...you haven't been in like an....actual relationship after...well, you know," he postulates.

You glare at Seungmin, your pride somewhat injured.

"Hey! I've....dated."

"No....you slept around with people, that's not the same as dating." He retorts.

You snort.

Wouldn't you know.

Minho changes an upbeat pop song to something mellow. It's in a foreign language...maybe Spanish, you understand nothing but you don't have to to know it's a sad tune, the lyrics coming together in a melancholic harmony. Your eyes drift away, you feel your attention falter.

It was not unknown for you to have absolute control over your life, be it living your days by strict routine or building such a sturdy pretentious armour around yourself so that your organic self remained unscathed underneath. You had learnt the hard way that being yourself in front of other people would only bring you hurt...but if no one really knew you, no one could hurt you.

This game of hide and seek had become such a long standing practise in your life that it disconnected who you are from who you pretended to be. And every time the extent of your actual desires, monsters much beyond your control rose to the surface, they brought you shame, disgust.

You found those pretences withering away, the shell of protection around you falling apart whenever the thought of Felix crossed your mind. — his heavy noise of content against your neck, his fingers curling into your sheets, his open mouthed kiss against the arch of your hipbone, everything and anything...you had again, despite all your abrasions, become madly consumed by him.

And you must admit to yourself that you are becoming quite ridiculous because of it.

In this strange moment, you realise you almost need Felix to harp on about you even though you specifically asked him to keep all that you have a secret. You want his friends to come scurrying to you to start telling you that he cares so much he can't keep his mouth shut, to be so enamoured with you that his innermost feelings become painfully apparent, that it's utterly stupid of you to not see how he feels about you.

That's not how it goes though. Stuff like that only happens in movies.

Felix responds, texting, "Take all the time you need." Surprised, you steal a glimpse of him, but only when Seungmin isn't looking. You didn't know what you expected, something more crude, that would give away that he was jumping on the balls of his feet to only get into your pants, that would remind you that Felix is nothing but your fuck buddy. You find that you always look for reasons to resent him....because if you did, it meant that you didn't have to acknowledge how you're still in love with him.

You knew what you were in for. And hoping, wanting something more....is no more than wishful thinking.

Felix smiles at you, a genial smile, a simple curve along the corner of his lips which conveys patience, but also something deeper, like...understanding.

Again no matter how much you pushed him away he seemed to find his way back to you in some fashion, just to convey that your union is not all as black and white as you told yourself it was.

You down the entire drink in one swig. Seungmin makes a face at you, the kind he makes when you stick your fries in ice cream for shits and giggles,

"Well....we broke up a long time ago," You hiss at the awful taste stinging your throat, sounding slightly angry. You can't believe it matters still, but when you've been clutching onto something for too long, be it a painful emotion or a memory...you start to think it's the locus of your life, an integral part of you. It terrifies you to think who you'd become without it — vulnerable, malleable, sensitive.

You can't do that again.

The last few weeks, regardless of how good they were, didn't change a thing.

It couldn't. You wouldn't let it.

Seungmin is right, you think, you are taking ten steps back. Just not in the context he thought.

"There's no reason I shouldn't start now."

—

Turns out there is a reason.

Jisung asks you out the next day. He's so friendly that you feel overwhelmed. At all times of the day, he dresses like a frat boy out on his morning jog. A nike running shirt and loose fitted trousers, a baseball cap worn the other way around...it's a little silly.

You don't mind it, having the kind of apathy you would have towards someone you don't know very well.

Everything with him feels new, awkward. But also slightly exciting. He talks too much when he's nervous and you notice that he's almost always nervous because of your personality, as though he can't really put a finger on you and doesn't know what to do about it. Besides...he’s not a horrible kisser either, you muse, he just doesn’t know what you want.

Yet whenever you heard yourself thinking those compliments, you couldn't help but feel utterly guilty, a strangely deep seated feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Why did you feel this way....

Felix isn't your boyfriend anymore. You don't owe him any form of loyalty. You knew that. You're someone who sticks to their gut feelings and your gut had decided that something about seeing Jisung didn't feel right and not just because of Felix, but because you're not interested in a relationship just yet. And you're sure he could tell you aren't, he shouldn't quite expect a call back anytime soon.

"I had a nice time," you say, because it's true. He took you out for ice cream and bought you candy floss when you stared at it for too long.

When Jisung doesn't respond for a hot minute, you follow his trail of vision, which instead of focusing on you, has shifted to the semi-lit backdrop of your apartment. He's too obvious.

"Do...you want to come in?"

He flounders a little at your suggestion, embarrassed. "Would that be alright?....if I did...."

"That depends, are you gonna kill me?"

You say with a straight face. No matter much Jisung prodded at your exterior, you wouldn't budge, like you usually hadn't. Unravelling isn't really your thing so....he can't tell if you're kidding or not.

"No...?"

You snort, "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Jisung's face has grown impossibly red, he could feel his ears burning in indescribable shame. You just have this air about you that makes you incredibly hard to read and it's really attractive.

"I....I didn't..."

You keep your voice, steady, calm, "Relax," "I'm just screwing with you," you say, stepping aside for him to enter, "Make yourself at home."

—

You suppose you were born to study the arts.

You never could consider yourself a studious being. When you were in school, you remember falling behind in classes where the arduous process of revising was required, say mathematics or the sciences even.

Though that realisation hadn't come to you naturally.

Your parents wouldn't take kindly to you not taking up a "well paying" profession and you fell victim to the constant barrage of criticisms, of mockery which ultimately conditioned you to think some part of you, a large part just wasn't good enough.

And with Felix gone....

You were at your worst.

The two years you spent without him were the hardest, a set of years that obliged you to protect yourself from all the hurt around you, inside you. And while the security that you provided yourself is undoubtedly necessary for well...anyone, the process itself had its wicked way of rendering you unspeakably lonely.

You agreed to apply as an engineering major to gain your parents' approval and then transferred to the arts department by the time you'd successfully moved out. You haven't spoken to them ever since...and it hurt you more than you would deign to admit.

When your mum drops over for a surprise visit and chances upon your ex-boyfriend loitering about in your kitchen, fixing up midnight munchies, she takes a natural guess that you've gotten back together. (Which you think is far more agreeable than the truth. Knowing your mother, a staunch supporter of your relationship with him, she wouldn't take lightly to your arrangement.) And before you know it, you're all having dinner.

Felix makes an effort to dress up well, discarding his usual hoodies and joggers for a more formal look, you suspect it has something to do with the fact that you haven't attended any casual settings with him since you broke up.

Cutlery clinks against ceramic, coming down with a semi-loud thump as you try to swallow the enormous lump in your throat. Your mum makes a passing jab at you, saying how you had settled for a much "easier" major than say architecture or philosophy, she bitterly mentioned that everything worked out in the end. After all, your choice is a "much fitting" field of study for someone of your caliber, backhandedly insinuating that you're far too stupid to pursue anything else.

What inspires hilarity is how those insults still affected you. In front of Felix, you act like these few years have brought the fighter out in you and here you are trying to blink away the onslaught of tears prickling your vision. It feels like someone stripped you off your skin, off your flesh and picked out all your shortcomings for him to see.

You expect him to stay quiet, you expect him to think of you as the utterly shameful, selfish being you tell yourself you are,

But Felix's fingers find your shaky knuckles under the table where they rest on your knee, he implants the weight of them in a reassuring squeeze. "Well I think it's great," he says instead, smiling cheerfully at your mum. To which she, for the lack of support, sheepishly beams at him, "Not many people have the drive to do what they want to do. Or know what they want to do...take it from me, Missus [.....]" He laughs nonchalantly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention upon hearing the lovely sound. You always liked his laugh, the sound rippling against your naked skin, thick baritone when he'd just woken up and a kiddish falsetto when he's extremely happy.

You wonder when you started paying so much attention.

Felix glances at you, lingering for a long minute."I bet it took a lot of guts."

You feel your chest constrict with a sudden surge of emotion from the mere look, you can't remember if the Felix you knew in the past, or anyone for that matter, had ever beamed at you with such pride.

You wonder what he'd think if he knew about Jisung, why you had neglected to tell him at all....you knew, because this little moment is precious to you and you had no reason to tarnish it. Not when you had time.

You tilt your head, using your free hand to hastily find the back of his neck, drawing closer to him with little strength. The more he realised what you're doing, the more excited he got. See he found your newly introduced public display of affection immensely attractive, though obviously embarassed by the sudden motion...

You can do crazy things sometimes. Really crazy things. In public and he has never opposed to such exhilarating things, be it in restrooms or even in a similar setting when you were dating, there was a certain thrill to it which drove him to the brink of insanity. Felix would silently implode your attention when you were alone and when you were out in the open, in whichever way he was to receive it, the way which insinuated you were his was the best of them all. All that was fine though...because it was just the two of you.

But now...in this indecent time, he wishes he could hear what you're thinking.

Had... had you gone completely mad?! Your mum is looking!

Your face is stoic, Felix's mouth parts, then you reach over and kiss him shamelessly.

Over the years, all the things that have caused you pain were things you had endured on your own, in his absence. This realisation alone invites a heavy conviction inside you.

Because you know it just as well as he does, no matter how sincere he is to you — you don't need Felix. Not really.

But you want him.

—

You do a stupid thing. A stupid endearing thing and Felix's heart beats like it would jump out of his mouth if he opened it.

It was meant to be a secret, what you two have, a matter of uncomplicated lust which didn't require the attention of anyone because it initially or so you put it, wasn't important enough.

Then you charge to him, he supposes it has a little to do with the person who was blatantly flirting him in the middle of Changbin's Halloween party, he doesn't care though.

You don't like embarrassing yourself, so he doesn't actually expect you to wear a black cat hairband matching his white ears and feline tail. Felix wants to think it means something, how despite the coos and the caas, the giant wave of surprise washing over your friends, you interlace your fingers within his and kiss his cheek.

He doesn't what that makes the two of you now... but he would give you all the time in the world to figure that out if it meant you could be his again.

—

You trace your fingers against outline of his face. Splatters of moist moonlight kissing the high rise of his cheeks, dusting along the long fringe of lashes which cast shadows along his skin, his freckles are like dots of bronze dispersed on his skin. He's beautiful like this.

"You're thinking too much," he says with his eyes closed, smiling a little. "Don't think so much."

You laugh. "Or what, huh?"

Felix cracks an eye open, his grin big, kiddish. "I was hoping you'd say that," he rubs the tip of his nose against your collarbone, he snuggles closer to your chest. What you hadn't expected was how he shifted his entire weight onto you, lying entirely atop you as though he were a starfish.

You couldn't stop laughing at the motion, it's so cheesy and gross...you love it.

—

Here's something you don't know — Jisung tells his friends everything, about making out with you and taking you out...everything. News travels fast. Faster than you anticipated. Despite wanting to divulge the matter, you were too taken by the recent shifts in your feelings to confess to your little interaction. You had told yourself again and again — a little later, just a little later and I’ll tell him.

It could be too late now.

The entire campus knew of your little rendezvous, shooting you curious looks... it's not until Minho comes up to verify the floating rumours do you all but sprint to Felix's place. You think of Chan's trusting eyes, of don't hurt him, of laughing in the intimacy of your bedroom and swiping your fingers down his spine like you were trying to commit the undulating design to memory.

You're not sure where it all began.

but you don't want it to end.

Felix doesn't answer your calls or your messages. When he buzzes you up, just from his gait, just from the resigned look in his eyes, you know he knows.

You watch as he listlessly leaves you to enter, walking before you without saying as much as a word.

You grab Felix’s elbow, making him stop in his tracks. He looks at your fingers wrapping around the muscle, shrugging you off easily. It’s just a small gesture but its impact is so large...that you feel your heart break into a million pieces.

You had never seen Felix being so quiet, even when he was down, he found a manner to radiate a form of optimistic energy which baffled you. You can’t believe how much you could have possibly hurt him.

“I can explain.” you gulp, “We went out on one date. It wasn’t because I liked him, I know it’s stupid and...I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, that's not an excuse, but you have to trust me when I say it didn’t...it doesn’t mean anything to me—”

“Did you sleep with him?”

With his back turned away, he still isn’t looking at you, speaking to you with a surprisingly stable tone.

“No.”

Felix takes a shuddering breath, one which expresses the small relief of knowing that Jisung hadn’t seen, touched you, felt you in the way that he only had, but there’s still so much more he wants to know.

“Did he make you laugh?”

It’s a silly question, he realises belatedly but he can’t help it. Some part of him, a large part, thinks he’d be more hurt if you made someone happy and they made you happy than if you fucked them.

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “He didn’t.”

Your fingers again reach for his, wrapping your index into his thumb. You slowly move your hands to his middle, clutching him close to your chest, chin hooking into his shoulder, suddenly...you feel him melt into the embrace. Felix’s voice falters for the first time, small trembles against you. You’re willing to answer all his queries if it could put his mind at ease. You put your heart on hold for too long.

"Do you hate me...?" He sniffles.

You blink....did you?

Felix had changed, like you, he had matured, the past version of him you had so stubbornly ingrained in your endless inner monologue is not the one you grew all too familiar with...

Familiarity does breed contempt, does it not? Well you think the line between love and contempt is untraceable, melded together as a mysterious whole. After all those years, you were still angry, still filled to the brim with contempt for him and more importantly, yourself because you still love him much more than you'd like to admit. After all you've been through. After all this time. The need to love him ultimately encompassed every other emotion which posed itself as a hindrance.

So the opposite of love, the absence of love, you think, isn't hate, it's indifference. An emotion you never felt towards him.

Felix has wedged himself into every aspect of your life, tainted every portion of your routine in his presence and in his absence.

You don't think you'd have it another way.

"You broke my heart," you explain, "I was angry....but I could never hate you for the sake of hating you."

"I can't..." Felix whispers, twisting his body so he could look at you now, “I can’t promise you that it won’t be hard but I'm not—I’m not going anywhere...you know that right?”

You lean your forehead against his, his eyes shifting to your mouth, hands rising to wrap around your neck. You smile.

“I know.” you say, "Me neither."

“I love you...” He says in a small voice, putting his hand against your knuckles. “Do you love me?”

Your eyes soften, cupping his face like this — carefully collecting a lone tear with your thumb before it could touch his cheek. This time there is not a shred of hesitancy, no pause, no pondering before you say,

“I never stopped.”

—

You enter in a blind rush of panic, thinking you might miss your ride, feet knocking together, elbows hitting elbows, bustling all around you and the sudden overwhelming stench of people hit you, it’s not an ideal setting, not at all actually.

But you couldn’t bother to be displeased a second you spent with him. A teenager rolls her eyes at how disgustingly in love you are, elderly couples tutting under their breath...albeit, you don’t fail to notice their subtle smiles, small shake of their heads which attested to the fact that the joy you both radiate is.. absolutely infectious. You stumble with him behind, Felix is laughing breathlessly, bumping into your chest as the train suddenly starts moving, you place a finger on his cheek and he raises his chin to look at you.

“Did you eat?” he repeats, mocking himself, a dialogue from a time which seems an element of the distant past replaced by a love which compensated for every hitch in your relationship. You still argue, still disagree and still make up the same. Felix was right, it isn’t easy.

But when two people love each other as much as you do,

it’s worth trying. With every fibre of your being.

“No.” You laugh, playing along, “But I could, with you.”

794 notes · View notes

lususnatura · 3 months ago

Note

the more that harley talked about this man named 'hush,' the more that blamore didn't want to ever meet him. i mean, she had been a part of gotham's underground for considerably longer than it had been, so it trusted her word. and the other players in it that blamore had already met in gotham? a lot of them were terrible, so it wasn't exactly hard for him to imagine one more 'bad egg' being among the ever-growing list of them. a soft hum of affirmation slipped through its lips then.

❝ mm, so is there something special about his appearance that you can tell me about? because i don't want to run into this thomas elliot if i can avoid it now, ❞ blamore lazily swept its bony tail out to the side while contemplating what it should eat. or, correction, what they should eat considering harley was there. the creature had to think deeply to remember what was in its freezer. there was frozen vegetables, cheese, bread, and leftover homemade soup in there... the homemade soup should do it.

blamore gnawed on his bottom lip when he felt the sensation of some of the plants within his chest moving just enough for it to be noticeable. it never knew how to feel whenever things like these happened in front of people, even though it was out of his control, considering it was due to turgor pressure; blamore quickly covering up what he could of his ribs as if he didn't want to potentially 'freak her out.' waving a hand nonchalantly is what it tried to do to take the attention off of that, ❝ oh, no. i knew as soon as i started to find it harder to get up that i arrange for someone else to take care of my cat for a bit. ❞

while shooting harley a reassuring smile, blamore held onto what was next to him as he took an experimental step forward. ❝ her names marmalade, and she's past being a kitten now. she's never liked bath's but using positive reinforcement has helped her stop clawing me to death when i do give her one, ❞ it let go of the wall next to it before taking yet another step and unfortunately, that was right about the time blamore got hit by a bad hunger pang. hugging himself seemed to be the only thing that kept him upright at that moment.

it let out a deep groan as its stomach growled and its back felt like it was spasming. god's, blamore really should've kept his phone on him when he laid down the last time. because at least then he would've had the option to call someone before things got this bad. blamore honestly accredited the way it kept its accent for so long to its father's, sacha, constant presence in its life. otherwise — his probably would've become more americanized, but it still spoke with that southern french one.

blamore swallowed thickly and released its arms from around itself, a hand rubbing at one of the sides of its spine, ❝ i'm not saying you didn't deal with them. i suppose i only have myself to blame for the confusion, as there are a wide variety of people out there who are french. but everyone in my family is from the south of france. i have met some very nice creole people before, though, and i sometimes wish my maman (mom) would've taken notes from them. ❞ he'd like to say he was joking about that but all blamore remembered of his mother now was that she was selfish and hated him.

so, that just didn't seem to be in the cards for him. ❝ i'll have to take you to the lake in annecy then. the water there is beautiful, and the view of the mountains is even better, ❞ blamore started to take slow steps towards the kitchen then and reached it in about five minutes. however, he had to take a break from standing and sat on one of the countertops afterwards. ❝ yeah. anti-seizure meds can actually also relieve nerve pain. at least, that's what my doctor told me. i've been lucky enough to not have a seizure within my life. but well... ❞

blamore scratched the back of his neck and spent a few beats of time in silence before saying, ❝ i feel like there's always a price to pay whenever you undergo some sort of transformation. whether its physical, mental, or emotional. mine just happened to be that i now have nerve pain and need to eat a ridiculous amount of food to stay alive. ❞

'Oh well Thomas Elliot his street name is Hush. Jus' a huge pile of freakin' shit. Jus' I wouldn't bother with 'em. Trust me I would ratha' be doin' anything even time than be around those people," she said confidently.

Making sure Balmore was steady she smiled that he took time explaining a little what his transformation was like. People composed of greenery made her slightly mystified. After watching a bazillion Captain Planet cartoons and finding people composed of earth being villains more so than heroes left her gobsmacked. At times she still wasn't sure which side of the line Swamp Thing was.

At the mention of a cat Harley jolted and looked about only to calm down when it was explained the feline was being watched. Breathing out slowly she shook her head and leaned back. "Almost gave me a scare there. Thought I drowned out a kitten. Unless ya' got one of the odd balls that is fond of water 'en bathtime."

She took in his home watching the water still seeping into the cracks and crevices left from not being tended. She wondered if there had been a home or any other manner of properties ajoined to the greenhouse or what the story for the place had been. It was fun to make things up in her mind, but only the records would show why it was out here. Listening to his past, it seemed unreal to imagine he was a Gothamite growing up at east end. They said her accent stood out a mile, but Gotham had its own charm with dialect. Shaking her head she felt bad she scolded him over such a thing or brought it up. It wasn't her place to brand him, if anything that certainly wasn't helping him with depression.

"Heyyyy hey heyyyyy.. As fa' tha' accent may I remind you I treated mental patient's. You don't think I didn't deal with alters from otha' dimensions or places? But I wasn't sure if ya' were from France, Canada, Africa... or maybe Louisiana and just a more pronounced Creole? Trust me anytime I am totally down fa' France. I miss it."

She smiled and wondered off for his prescription handing it over without tampering with the bottle. She watched very observant of the pill, no doubt he could see her trying to come to a conclusion on her own. "Oooh okay yeah I jus' I prescribed that for epilepsy. I wasn't sure if you had that cause I found you on the floor and well greenhouse natural lighting? It woulda fit.. but nerve damage? I woulda thought the plants mighta strengthened that. Hmm guess I still got a lot ta' learn."

#qu-tipie #tw: chronic illness.#tw: pain.#tw: allusions to an abusive familial relationship.

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spencerreidsconverse · 4 years ago

Text

When Evil Doesn't Sleep

summary: Spencer has been gone far too long on a case and when he finally returns home, reader shows him just how much she missed him.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut, implied dom/sub undertones, pet names

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader

A/N: My first fic!!! I hope you all enjoy! <3

“Y/n I’m really sorry but it looks like the case is going to take a lot longer than we thought. We had a recent development and the profile is now pointing to a partnership so now we’re hunting down two unsubs”. You sighed as Spencer rattled off his apologies through the phone before putting him out of his misery “Spencer honey, you don’t have to apologize. Quit worrying about me and focus on catching the bad guys.”

To say you missed Spencer would be the understatement of the century. He had been in Utah for six days already and now with a pair of psychos your odds of finding him in your bed by the end of the week were growing increasingly slim. It didn’t help that you had been swamped prepping for an extra class you’d agreed to take on at Georgetown where you worked as a Criminal Psychology professor. Between both of your hectic work schedules you hadn’t had a real weekend to yourselves in a few months, and while you knew when you first started dating Spencer that it was an inevitable of his job, it had never been this crazy before. They say evil never sleeps but lately it hasn't even taken a catnap.

“I love you Y/N. I promise I’ll come home to you soon and take you out on a real date. I’m sorry darling, I have to go. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel tonight and if you’re still up we can talk for a bit okay?”. “Alright Spence, I love you too. Stay safe okay?”. “I promise, goodbye love.”

Your farewell barely made it past your lips when the dial tone cut you off and once again your boyfriend of three years vanished from your side of the country. You let out an exasperated sigh before reminding yourself that there were other people who needed his help and that you could wait for his attention - at least until that night. Continuing the trek up the stairs of your and spencer’s shared apartment, you managed to haphazardly balance your grocery bags in one hand while unlocking the door and disabling the security alarm, internally cringing at the high shriek that rattled through your brain.

Walking through the living room, you sat the bags on your kitchen counter and began reorganizing the small fridge space to fit all the perishables you had brought home, absentmindedly hoping they wouldn't spoil now that it would be just you for several more days. Moving to the cupboard you replaced the few grab and go snack boxes you had made up to try and encourage Spencer to eat more throughout the day and refilled the paper plate stash that quickly became a requirement after you realized neither one of you could tolerate doing dishes every night. You ripped open the cardboard packaging of yet another microwave dinner and set the timer before leaving to change into more comfortable attire.

Opening the door of your shared bedroom, the smell of vanilla wax melts and dryer sheets hit you like a brick and immediately sent a pang of loneliness through your chest. Spencer was usually around by the time the chores needed done, and you rarely had to do them yourself. Unfortunately, the laundry was piling up and you needed something to distract you so you spent the day running errands and cleaning the apartment more thoroughly than necessary. You walked over to the stack of black dresser drawers and pulled out the first pair of pajama pants you touched, Spencer’s old caltech sweats that now fit you far better than him considering he had received them when he was 14. They looked more like capris on him now and it was embarrassingly difficult to convince him to buy a new pair that fit him properly. You slipped on a tank top and pulled your hair back before making your way lazily to the bathroom to take off the remnants of your simple makeup.

After scrubbing your face clean and pulling your dinner out, you moved to ready the couch for yet another night of binge watching cheesy 90s movies. You selected Clueless and watched the vibrant colors pop across the screen while you dived into your meal, making a poor attempt to ignore the slight freezer burnt taste that lingered after every bite. You finished your dinner and set the bowl aside before covering yourself with a blanket and allowing yourself to sink into the cushions, desperately awaiting Spencer's text.

You were jolted out of your doze by the loud buzzing of your phone against the wooden coffee table. Clumsily you reached for it and managed to swipe the answer pad before it sent your genius to voicemail. “Hello?” you managed before a yawn ripped its way through you suddenly. “Hey Y/N, I’m sorry it’s so late. I didn't mean to wake you, I figured you’d still be up. You should go back to bed love.” For the first time, you noticed the neon green numbers on the microwave. 12:30. You stifled another yawn and shook your head in an effort to wake yourself further “No way, I just dozed off while watching a movie. I was waiting to talk to you. Besides, I’m up now anyways so you might as well stay on with me for a bit. Did you get any further today?” “Well, JJ had the idea that the partners were originally a typical dominant/submissive partnership but that something in the dynamic must have changed because the MO began to deteriorate. We think the partners must have split up now, because we’re finding similar pieces of the previous MO at separate crime scenes.”.

You processed the information he fed you slowly due to your semiconscious state but eventually you put your words in order well enough to respond. “That should be helpful though yeah? I mean, they’re used to working in a partnership so being suddenly separated from your other half so to speak would throw you off track quite a bit right?”. You could practically hear him smiling through the phone as you drew the conclusions the team had come to only a few hours prior. “Yes. We’re hoping to be able to draw them out and trap them. Play them against each other.”.”Does that mean I can stop sleeping on the couch soon?”. You heard him let out a dejected sigh - you knew he hated that you would force yourself onto the cramped couch when you had a king sized bed a few hundred feet away but he understood.

When he had come home in the early hours of the morning after an abrupt end to a case a few weeks after you had moved into his place, he had caught you curled up on the sofa with a throw pillow stuffed under your head. When he questioned you about it the next morning, you simply answered that the bed felt too big without him and that you couldn’t stand the empty feeling. “Sooner than later I hope my love. Y/N I really wish you wouldn’t do that to yourself. It’s horrible for your body. It can put you at a much higher risk for chronic back and neck pain as well as-”. “Spence. I’m not a giant like you are. I fit on the couch much better than you do, and I barely notice the difference.”. You both cringed, hearing the lie clear in your voice. Still, Spencer must have felt bad because he humored you. “If you're sure. What did you do today my love?”. You smiled sadly hearing in his voice just how desperate he was to escape from his reality and come home to you.

”Well, I straightened the house. In fact, it’s so clean i think we could use it as a sterilization room.”. He let out a soft chuckle and you could hear him begin to relax as you recounted the rest of your day, excluding the part about the microwave dinner. Spencer loved to tell you how many of the ingredients were one step away from processed garbage and you decided to opt out of the lecture for the evening. He had more than enough to worry about without having to focus on your diet while he was away. After a half hour of light conversation, a loud yawn betrayed you as you were excitedly discussing the cute puppy you had met on the way to the market. Spencer immediately requested that you hang up and get some more sleep but you refused. After a few minutes of bickering, you relented on the condition that he would read to you until you had fallen asleep. You curled up under the fluffy blanket as Spencer’s even voice recited the collection of Grimm’s fairy tales quickly lured you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning as sunlight peered through the curtains, stretching your body out to ease the aches from the previous night. You smiled softly as your screen lit up with a text from Spencer wishing you a good morning and an update that they had a solid plan for boxing in the two unsubs that afternoon. “If all goes to plan I should be carrying you to our bed before midnight tonight.”. Your smile widened and you sent back “Can’t wait to truly see you - and love you- tonight. I’ll be waiting.” You plugged your phone into the charger and straightened up from the night before when your phone went off again. The one word message glared at you from the screen and you let out an involuntary giggle. “Tease.”. You hoped it gave him something to look forward to until he was back in your arms. You sent back a simple “XO” before deciding to reread one of your favorite books for a few hours to kill some time. You made yourself a sandwich for lunch and had a few glasses of water as the clock slowly ticked by. You were over halfway through the lengthy novel when you received another message.

“We apprehended both unsubs. Hotch is postponing the paperwork until Monday so we can go straight home. I’ll see you in a few hours baby.”. You jumped slightly in celebration before finishing your current chapter, marking your place, and all but skipping to the shower to shave and exfoliate your skin. You knew Spencer would still be heavily worked up once he arrived home and luckily, his favorite release included intertwining your bodies as close as possible and loving you sweetly and slowly.

You took your time in the shower careful not to nick yourself with your razor. You scrubbed your scalp with your nails, letting your stress and soreness melt away under the steam. You waited until the water ran cold before turning the knob and stepping out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and blow drying your hair until it layed perfectly even. You applied lotion all over your skin and stepped out of the bathroom to slip on your black silk robe, knowing it wouldn’t be worth it to dress up further. Spencer would be desperate to feel your skin against his and any fabric in his way didn't stand much of a chance.

You made an actual meal for dinner, a pasta dish with chicken that could be easily reheated for Spencer when he grew hungry later in the night. You helped yourself to a serving and after quickly cleaning up the kitchen and storing the leftovers, you retreated to the bedroom to wait for his return.

You were half paying attention to the feed you opted to scroll through on your phone when you heard the door creak open and bags drop to the floor. You set your phone on the bedside table and ran towards the foyer, all but throwing yourself at the exhausted man in front of you. He took a step back from the impact but still enveloped you in his arms and pulled you impossibly tight into his chest. “Hi baby.” you whispered against the scruffy skin of his jawline, peppering kisses up towards his earlobe. He let out a long sigh of relief and picked you up off the hardwood floor, wrapping your thighs around his waist resulting in a high pitched giggle to erupt from your throat. He kissed you then, slowly at first but quickly building more passionate. Your lungs were burning when he finally allowed you to pull away, opting to kiss down your neck to your collarbones and the skin of your chest that was newly exposed as your robe slipped open.

He carefully made his way back to your room, continuing his kisses back up to your shoulder, stopping only to leave marks you knew would only grow darker as time passed. At the very least he was sure to only mark you in places you could cover with little difficulty. “I missed you so much Y/N. The entire ride home all I could think about was you waiting for me in our bed. My gorgeous girl.”. You felt your chest heat up at his words of admiration, wrapping your fingers into his curls and pulling his lips towards your own once more.

You felt him groan against you and moved to quickly unbutton his shirt, slipping it down his arms and tossing it in the general direction of the hamper. He pulled you up with him then, so you were both on your knees, chest to chest as he pulled your robe fully down your back to the swell of your ass where he grasped at you through the slick fabric. You let out a whine and you pulled his belt off, undoing his jeans desperate to continue. He grinned against your neck and pushed you down so you laid flat on your back, completely exposed to him. He kissed at your stomach, making his way down to your inner thighs. He licked a slow wet trail from your pelvic bone to the top of your clit as you whimpered desperately. “Spence, please… I need more”. He humored you, creating slow small circles with his tongue moaning at the taste. You cried out as he created the perfect amount of pressure on your clit, legs threatening to close around his head when he moved to slip one of his fingers easily inside you as the mix of your own wetness and his saliva aided him. He smirked as he felt your thighs flex before using his left hand to throw one of your legs over his shoulders at a time. He pushed a second finger in, curling them up to perfectly reach your g-spot with every thrust. Soon though, you grew impatient with just his fingers. You needed more and you knew just how to get it.

“I want you so bad Spence. I’ve waited for so long and I just can’t anymore. I need to feel you deep inside of me.”. You were positive those words would leave him just as needy as you were and he proved you right when he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and went to line himself up against you. “Wait.”. He stopped immediately, examining your face for any indication of what was wrong. “What’s the matter baby? Are you okay?”. You shook your head and smiled at his concern before switching your positions so his back was resting against the pillows as you straddle his thighs. He smirked at you as he caught on, trailing his hands up the front of your legs to rest at your hips. “You gonna ride me angel?”. You responded with an eager nod and he squeezed your hips, pulling you up further so you were hovering above him. “Sit pretty like my good girl then.”. You whined softly at his words before slowly sinking yourself down around his length, sucking in a harsh breath at the stretch. Even with how wet you were, the adjustment took longer than usual due to the dry spell you were both suffering from as of late.

When you finally felt stretched out enough to move, you slowly ground your hips forward flush against his. He groaned out, lifting you back up so you were almost completely off of him before pulling you back down. You moaned both at the sensation and the idea of being manhandled by the genius below you. You realized what he was asking though, and began bouncing yourself up and down his cock, stopping every few thrusts to grind your clit down on him. You let out soft moans, and after a few more minutes you felt his fingers dig deeper into your hips and his breaths quicken. You knew he was close and as if on cue you started rubbing fast circles against your clit as he spoke again.

“Baby girl I’m getting close. You gonna cum with me angel?” You nodded furiously in response and you felt him start thrusting up to meet you. You panted as you hurried towards the edge of your orgasm, holding on until his thrusts grew sloppier. “You ready to cum with me baby? You gonna cum on my cock?” “Yeah.. gonna cum all over your cock Doc.” You fought to keep the grin off your face when he moaned at the title. He thrusted deep into you twice, before he ordered your release. “I want you to cum now baby. Cum all over my cock.” You felt your orgasm rip through you, electricity shooting through your limbs. Spencer groaned loudly as you tightened around him before pulling you down deep and releasing inside you.

You both fought to catch your breath as you rode out your highs before you found yourself slumping against his chest, suddenly drained from your activities. You felt him chuckle at your drastic change in energy as he wrapped his arms around you again. “I know you just washed the bed sheets and we’re both sweaty but do you think a washcloth will suffice for tonight?”. You nodded against his chest before slowly lifting yourself up and off of him, rolling onto your back on the other side of the bed. Spencer swiftly made his way across the hall, returning to wipe you down gently with the warm fabric. You shivered as the cool air dried your skin, watching him move throughout your room.

He slipped on a fresh pair of boxers before tossing the washcloth in the hamper along with his previously discarded clothes. He hung your robe on the back of your bedroom door then flipped the light switch off before rejoining you in bed to slip under the blankets with you. You immediately curled up into his chest, sighing contently as the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears. You kissed his chest and whispered goodnight, drifting into your first real sleep since before he left.

The next morning you and Spencer went shopping after you successfully convinced him to upgrade to a smart phone with video call abilities. He had begun to shut down the idea as he always had before but after the mere suggestion of what it could do to better your late night hotel room chats he was the one pulling you towards the nearest phone shop. You smiled politely while Spencer took his sweet time weighing the pros and cons of each model, letting your mind drift to the first time it would come in handy. As you finally neared the checkout counter, you took Spencer's hand in your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. After running his card through the machine, the salesgirl gave him the small plastic bag and wished you both a good afternoon.

As you exited the shop, you looked up at him, nudging him to get his attention “What do you think of an app controlled vibrator?”. He stared at you incredulously for a few moments, almost stopping dead in his tracks. After recovering from the initial shock at the vulgarity of your suggestion, he shook his head with a soft smirk and nudged back against you. “Tease.” he called you once more. “That’s the reason you love me right?”. He pulled you into his side, kissing you softly. “One of many Y/N. One of many.”

#spencer reid #Spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #cm #Spencer reid smut #smut #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid fanfiction

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spacedikut · 4 years ago

Text

my all ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: “hey could i do a fic request for an x spencer? could u maybe do something with really touchstarved spencer (bc germaphobia) and him being at first too awkward to go n cuddle and then as he gains more confidence he gets much more touchy and huggy and stuff? and reader being shocked by how cuddly he is? plzplzplz? its totally ok if u dont write it but just wanted to send in the request!” 2689 words

a/n: i hope i did this justice! i love spencer reid!!!!!!!!!

masterlist

Spencer first realised how much he loves your touch after a case where he put himself directly in danger.

You ran up, flung your arms around him and pulled him against you so tightly he felt winded.

He was shocked, stunned, and everything in between, but the most important thing is that he hugged back. It felt natural, the right thing to do, and his arms felt so snug and perfect around you his heart stuttered.

You pulled back, noticed his expression, and winced despite his reciprocation, “Sorry. I just. You could’ve died, you moron. You scared me.”

All he did was give you a breathless smile and with a squeeze of his shoulders you let go, allowing him to get checked by a medic.

Spencer struggled to sleep on the jet home, plagued by the thoughts of you - you with your arms around him, how much he enjoyed how it felt.

It felt… wrong to like it as much as he did. Like, in theory, enjoying your physical touch went against his moral code – as a germaphobe, the thought of having to come into contact with anyone in any way makes him want to vomit. But, with you?

You smelt so good, even after running for God knows how long. You were so soft, yet so firm, so warm and welcoming and dear God Spencer has never wanted to touch every inch of someone so bad in his life.

The case was a rough one, so Garcia was waiting for you all with loving eyes and a pitiful smile, arms wide open for whoever may need it. Spencer instantly decides no thanks, but you swoop in and cuddle up to Garcia within seconds of seeing her.

You even place a series of kisses against her cheek, and Spencer is transported back to your hug.

If he was more like Garcia, open to any form of love as long as it’s love, would you have kissed him like that?

His pulse quickens, palms get sweaty and he has to clear his throat to bring himself back to Earth.

He can’t afford to think like that.

But your lips…

No. Paperwork? Let’s do that and not think about a colleague’s lips.

+++

You’re furious.

You told Spencer to wait for backup, to not do anything stupid or irrational and definitely do NOT go in there alone, genius!

And what did he do?

He didn’t wait for backup, did something very stupid and irrational, and definitely went in alone.

And now he’s dealing with a hefty concussion and flurry of other injuries; cuts, scratches, and bruises alike all dotted over him like he’s a connect-the-dots drawing.

The second he wakes up, you’re gonna kill him.

For the time being, you’ll gently thread your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp, and watch his chest rise and fall to ensure he’s alive and breathing.

“Mmm,” A groan, “That feels nice.”

His eyes flutter open. You lean towards the table next to him, pick up the bottle of water and the jello cup, and offer him both.

“Thanks,” He says, hoarsely.

You sit back in your chair. Spencer doesn’t take his eyes off you once. Not when he drinks the whole bottle of water, or when he cracks open the jello and inhales it with one slurp.

Your brows furrow.

“You’re banned from work until you’re fully healed.”

“I’m suspended?!” He guffaws.

“No,” You shake your head, “I’m personally telling you you’re not welcome back until you’re okay.”

“I’m okay now.”

“Do a backflip, genius.”

Spencer giggles, “I can’t do that in peak physical condition, Y/N.”

“Sounds like a cop out to me. So, again, you’re banned from work until you’re fully healed.”

He considers fighting back, but then he remembers what you were doing when he woke up, what he felt when he woke up.

He was confused and, you know, in pain, but there was this tender and soft, repetitive touch that immediately eased him. His subconscious knew it was you, in all your glory and sweetness, that had stayed with him for however long, looking after him even when he wasn’t conscious to know it.

So he just keeps staring at you, spoonful of jello in his mouth.

+++

When you get to Spencer’s place, he looks around like it’s his first time seeing it – awe and wonder painted on his face.

Everything he’s doing, everything he’s going through, you’re putting it all down to his concussion.

On the way here, he told you the whole history of car air fresheners after taking a good five seconds to get a good sniff of the cherry blossom scent you have.

“Let’s get you settled in, huh?” You say quietly, guiding Spencer to his bedroom. He walks a little like a mummy, kinda stumpy and heavy, and he flops on the bed.

You give a lopsided grin as you watch him. He’s mumbling incoherently, shuffling up to the top of his bed to fall flat on his back.

He moans.

“Alright, alright,” You placate, “Let me go… gather some things.”

You don’t know Spencer’s place all that well, so it takes you a while to find even the simplest things like a glass, a flannel, a snack. You get lost in snooping around, trying not to profile him, and the one thing you deduct is his apartment is so him. So Spencer, so lovely and comforting and a little odd.

You can’t get enough.

There’s a weak call from his bedroom: “Y/N?”

“Coming!”

He hasn’t moved an inch from where you left him. He looks so pitiful, bruised eyes and a cut right through his lip, and you almost coo at him.

“I’m not a good cook, so I thought we could order some food later.” You hand him the water and gesture for him to drink. “In the meantime, you need to rest. Mind if I borrow a book while I keep you company?”

You turn to leave, but Spencer’s voice makes you pause.

“Could you play with my hair again?”

A part of you wants to say no, like this is some overly intimate thing he’s asking, but then you remind yourself that he’s injured, which has reverted him to acting like a sleepy child.

“Please?” He looks at you with glassy eyes and he looks adorable, “Only for a little while.”

You say nothing, sliding into bed next to him. He scoots over a little to make more room for you, curling into you before your back hits the bed entirely. One hand rests above the covers, naturally placed on his arm, thumb smoothing him back and forth. The other, the one wrapped around his head, cards through his lightly tangled hair, all warm and loving.

He falls asleep instantly and, not long after, you fall asleep, too.

You both dream of eachother and wake up blushing.

+++

Spencer’s back in work within four days. You’re working a new case the second you arrive.

There’s been a shift in your dynamic and everyone’s noticed it. No one questions it, however, because they’re all aware you looked after him while he was away, and they witnessed how worried you were when you found him, but they can’t help but ogle and whisper.

They might be federal agents, but gossip is gossip and they love it.

You’ve noticed it, too, obviously. JJ tried to tease you about it, after Spencer bought you your favourite coffee and morning muffin on the way to the precinct, but you shut her down (and yourself from thinking about it too much) by reminding her you spent several days caring for him. He’s repaying you, even though you’ve told him he doesn’t need to.

Ever heard of transference, JJ?

A shiver runs through you as you look into the interrogation room. It’s not because of the suspect, though, it’s because the AC has been turned up – a tactic Hotch promises will be worth it despite your chattering teeth.

Something’s wrapped around you, suddenly, light but cosy and adds some heat to you that you need.

It’s a cardigan. Grey, much too big for you, the sleeves falling way beyond your arms and length reaching your mid-thigh. There’s a little red heart with eyes stitched on the left breast.

It’s Spencer’s.

“You’re shivering,” Spencer chastises, seemingly appearing from nowhere, “You know, when we shiver, it’s our bodies doing the opposite of sweating – it tightens the skin and shakes the muscles, a process that conserves and generates heat. We shiver to get warm. Do you not have a coat?”

“Alright, dad,” You tease, “It’s in the conference room. I wasn’t prepared for Hotch to make the unsub an icicle.”

Spencer breathes a laugh, moving closer to reach an arm around you. His other hand presses against your bicep, his grip sturdy as he vigorously rubs up and down your arms to generate heat.

Whoa.

It certainly works. You feel hot, suddenly, but not because of the cardigan or whatever the hell he’s doing, because Spencer has voluntarily touched you and is standing so close you feel like you’re on fire from the inside out. You’re sure your heart skips a beat and you stare at him in bewilderment.

He shrugs, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, “My mom used to do that for me when I was young and got cold. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

You give a shy smile, “Yeah, I appreciate it a lot, Spence. Thanks.”

When Hotch leaves the interrogation room, he half-halts when he sees you in Spencer’s cardigan. It’s the perfect Hotch reaction, combined with the rise of an eyebrow as he walks past you to reconvene with the team.

You don’t take it off when you all walk back to the conference room, and Spencer doesn’t ask for it back.

Everyone notices. A lot of eye contact is made with many questions silently asked.

You and Spencer pretend not to notice.

+++

There’s a knock on your door at precisely 10:12pm. You check because your first instinct is if I’m about to get robbed, I’m making sure the timestamps are correct.

It’s not a robber. It’s Spencer – frazzled, wrapped up all nice and warm like a pretty present, Spencer Reid.

His nose is slightly red from the biting cold outside.

Leaning against your doorframe, you say, “Hey there,”

“Hi,” He waves.

You stare for a couple of seconds, then remember the polite thing to do is invite him in: “Come in, come in! Do you want some tea? You look cold.”

“Coffee would be great, thank you.”

You move to your kitchen, not very far from your front door, but Spencer stays put and awkwardly glances around your place. He loves it, he decides. Very you.

You notice he hasn’t moved, “Make yourself comfortable, Spence. My cat is somewhere if you want to say hi.”

He slowly moves to your couch, removing his coat, scarf and satchel as he does it. Two drinks in hand, you join him and fling your fluffy sock-clad feet onto your coffee table.

“So what can I help you with?” You ask.

Spencer takes a sip of his burning drink, “What makes you think I want something?”

“Why else would you be here? You wanna watch Grey’s Anatomy with me?”

Spencer laughs lightly. You’re right. He’s here for a reason that isn’t to watch TV that he loves to correct with you.

He’s quiet, then, and does that thing where his tongue flicks out to lightly wet his lips in nervousness.

“Something’s been going on.” He starts, ambiguously, “And it’s left me asking a lot of questions.”

Your brows furrow. It’s not like Spencer to be cryptic like this.

“Did it mean anything?” He asks, finally, turning to look at you. “Any of it?”

“Did what mean anything?”

“The.. the playing with the hair, the over-all gentleness, the cuddling.”

Your shoulders tighten up and you hope he doesn’t notice.

He does.

“Spence,” You give a fake laugh, “You were hurt and I was comforting you. Looking after you. You know, like a friend does.”

“No one else did as much as you.”

“You wanted comfort, and I’m more than happy to provide that, Spence. Everyone else was busy.”

“You took time off for me.”

You don’t have an answer for that.

You’re trying to keep the conversation light and breezy to not show your true feelings. You’re not ready for that kind of conversation, but he’s right. You used your vacation days to stay with him and care for him.. and you know you didn’t do it platonically.

“You’re my friend, Spence,” You say, voice soft.

“That’s it? That’s all it was?” He doesn’t sound angry, or hurt, maybe peeved. He won’t look you in the eyes, though.

“What else would it be?”

Spencer scoffs.

He moves away from you, hands running through his hair in exasperation when he lets out a breath.

“We cuddled, Y/N. I haven’t done that with anyone in-in years! The last person was my mother when I was ten years old!”

“That’s supposed to mean something?!”

“I-I don’t know,” He sounds exhausted, as if the complications of his emotions are taking way too much energy out of him, “But I really liked it. And I really like you.”

You look at him, then, and he’s staring back. He looks… hopeful.

“I really like you, Y/N.”

You swallow deeply.

“I tried to show you with the uh, the cardigan thing,” He scratches the back of his neck, a laugh to mock himself leaving him, “But I’ve never been good with that stuff.”

He moves closer, shifting to face you, eyes remaining locked with yours.

“Say something.” He whispers.

“I-I-“ You stutter, “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. I’ve spent the last week thinking about it non-stop.”

“Really?” You laugh in disbelief.

“Yeah!” He gives a small smile, “I-uh.. wrote to my mom about you, too. She told me that if I’m this caught up on you, you must be special. Which you are, by the way.”

“I’m special?” You grin teasingly.

“Very special.”

There’s a moment where you think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he shyly asks, “Do you feel the same?”

You bite your lip. “I do. Really, I do. I’m just.. a little apprehensive, I guess.”

“Of what?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing is stupid when it comes to you.”

God, he’s so infuriatingly sweet. You wish you could kiss him all over.

You might be able to, if all this goes well.

“I don’t want things to be weird if we don’t work out.” You admit, adding a shrug to appear casual. It’s not like you’ve worried about this since you realised you liked him.

Spencer tilts his head at you, “You’re already thinking about a breakup when we haven’t even gone on a first date?”

You giggle, which he returns with a smile, “I mean- I like you, Spence, and have for a while. I’ve thought about all outcomes.”

“All?”

You roll your eyes as he gives you a look, “Yes, all. I’d want us to work out but.. what if we don’t?”

He places a now warmed up hand on yours, “Well, we won’t know unless we try, right?” His hold tightens, “I’m willing to give it my all if you are.”

You look from your hands to his face, and decide yes, if there’s one risk you want to take in your life, it’s a risk that could possibly result in you spending the rest of your life with your favourite person on this planet.

So you nod.

“I’ll give you my all, and then some.”

He grins, “That’s quite the promise.”

You don’t reply, instead swinging your legs over his lap and leaning into his side to cuddle up to him. He reciprocates like it’s second nature, hand slipping from yours to wrap around your waist and tug you closer.

“Wanna watch Star Trek as a mini first date?” You look up at him through your eyelashes.

You really are perfect for me, Spencer thinks.

“Yes. Yes I do.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #thank u to everyone who has sent a request i promise ive seen it #i kinda hate how the confession is written but im tired n feeling d*pressed and anxious #so take it pls

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yesimwriting · 4 years ago

Text

The Problem With Light

a/n i literally did not mean to write this, i was working on requests and then my mind was like ‘remember that lowkey love triangle kaz brekker x reader x darkling thing you always say you're going to write’ so yeah,, here we are :)),, two longer fics are coming!!

Summary: Kaz changes his plans after meeting the Sun Summoner and Kirigan teeters on a line the reader isn’t sure she wants.

Chapter One: The Conflicts of Prayer

Narrator.

Kaz knows a lot about patience. He knows how to bear the weight that the passage of time thrusts onto one's shoulder. He knows how to cultivate the seeds that he sews. If he wasn’t like this he’d stand no chance at one day avenging the ghost that refuses to leave him.

But Jesper is almost an hour late. Kaz has been standing in a dimly hit branch of a relatively important hallway in the Little Palace. Jesper was supposed to come while in disguise to bring Kaz his new disguise and his newly repaired cane. Kaz’s hand flexes again, wishing he could feel the detailed head of one of his few comforts beneath the broken-in leather of his gloves. A bitter part of him claims that if Jesper isn’t injured once he arrives, he’ll be injured once Kaz gets his hand on his cane.

He shifts his weight, the pain in his leg starting to take its toll. The slight relaxation disappears once he hears footsteps. Kaz turns, ignoring the ache the motion brings him. His entire body hardens, preparing for a fight. He doesn’t look like he belongs here yet and there’s nowhere to run. The person crossing his path will need to be taken care of--knocked out or something more permanent.

The person only pauses to look at him when Kaz angles himself forward in a fighting stance. He watches the person, a girl, shifts back slightly, eyes wide and defensive. She’s a mess--hair disheveled, nose slightly bleeding, and dirty kefta. Her appearance isn’t why Kaz finds himself frozen, not because of the girl’s appearance but because she’s her. Y/n l/n. The Sun Summoner.

“Sorry! I--” She almost winces, but then her eyebrows furrow together. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Kaz’s jaw locks. He could take her physically, but for all he knows she could raise her arms and blind him permanently with her light. “That’s okay,” she breathes, something in her looking a little relieved, “I’m not supposed to be here either.” Kaz watches her oddly, wondering if her trustingness is a trap in itself. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

It’s a joke. That much is clear by the gentle uptilt of her lips. It’s as if she doesn’t know she’s bleeding and looks like she just ran out of a fight. Her expression doesn’t harshen at his silence. Kaz finds himself disliking that. It’s not enough that she can summon the sun, she also has to seem like it.

He needs to say something. Jesper was supposed to be watching her and now he’s not here and she is. The plan is unraveling and if he talks she’ll stay here or reveal where she’s going to next. That’s the kind of thing he needs to salvage this.

His lips part, but he’s not sure what to say. “You’re not supposed to be here?”

She shakes her head once. “No--I’m supposed to be in personal training, but I kind of got my ass kicked in group training and my pride needs a break.” The admission leaves her sheepishly. “It’s probably for the best, becoming a Sun Summoner overnight has given me a bit of an ego.” She sighs, the sound strangely light. “Then again, I kind of need an ego for what’s wanted from me and if one bad fight is all it takes to kill it then it’s not strong enough, considering--” Kaz tenses as she cuts herself off. “Sorry, I’m rambling, we both have places to be.” Hope presses into him stiffly. She’s going to say it. “Where--where are you supposed to be?” She shifts back slightly. “Not that I have to know, but you’re not from here, and--”

Kaz steps forward, pushing through the stiffness in his leg. Y/n’s gaze drops. Kaz’s discomfort worsens, someone like her doesn’t need to know his weaknesses. “Are you here for me to pray for you?” She scratches her arm, “I-I can, but I tell everyone I pray for I don’t consider myself a Saint.”

The honesty of the comment twisted something in Kaz’s thoughts. “Yes,” he lies, partially distracted by the beginnings of a scheme. He can feel Inej’s future anger as he lies again, “I’m here for prayer.”

“I spent so long rambling,” she says in a tone that implies apology.

He nods once, wondering how someone could be that apologetic and survive. The weight of such power must strangle someone like her. That could be a good thing. Someone like her must be spiraling with all this change and sudden strength. Maybe this could be simpler than an abduction plan, a few choice words and he could convince the girl to come with him. He could get her to believe there was something she needed to do in Ketterdam. If she went there willingly, things could be much more efficient.

Inej won’t like this, and for this to work he’ll have to think of the right way to present the plan to her. He weighs his options and the details as y/n whispers words with her eyes closed and hands folded together. The words he can make out are kind. He expected that, but what he didn’t expect was the earnestness of them.

She means each part of her prayers. Kaz regrets noticing that.

“I can’t promise my prayers do anything,” she finishes, voice returning to its normal volume, “but I hope you get what you need.”

What he wants is within his grasp now that he knows what to do. “I’m sure good things are near.” It’s the most honest he’s been since her arrival.

Y/n nods once, “I should go before my reprieve costs me more than it's worth.”

He watches her disappear down the hallway. Her movements are light, calm and unweighted.

“Boss,” Jesper’s appearance is brash, “I’ve spent this entire time looking for her. She was in training like she was supposed to, took an awul blow, delivered an even meaner one, and then disappeared.”

Kaz tries to imagine the same hands that were just so neatly folded in prayer as fists. “You just missed her.” He doesn’t wait for Jesper’s reaction, he just takes his newly repaired cane back. “And we’re changing the plan.”

Y/n.

I tried going to Baghra. I told someone who believed my prayers meant something that I was going back to training. But then I remembered her words from last time and the shame I felt when I could not create light. I haven’t summoned light once without Kirigan’s touch.

I’m the Sun Summoner--I am the person that summons the sun by themselves. Kirigan and I aren’t the Sun Summoner together. I’m pathetic. And instead of trying to get better, I’m wandering the library because all anyone can talk about is the way Zoya punched me in the face.

Baghra picked me apart when I looked shiny. I can’t imagine the kinds of comments she’d make if she saw me with a bloody nose and dead leaves in my hair. I’ll go tomorrow, once Genya fixes both my matted hair and cracked self esteem.

For now, I have the one thing that’s always comforted me. My books. I wander the library, trying not to think of anything. Of Baghra, of Zoya, of the strange man in the hall.

He seemed weighted by something. I always wish I could do more for those that ask for my prayer, but the longing is sharper now. I don’t know him, so it’s ridiculous to want to help him so badly, but my uselessness itches beneath my skin in a way I’m not used to. I don’t know why I feel more protective about this stranger than others. I’ve had people fall to my feet weeping, begging for me to save them. That hurt me, but the desire to help this one stranger burns in a way I’ve never felt before.

“I don’t know why they don’t look for you here every time you disappear.” His voice is as soft and subtle as a shadow. “They’d save so much time.”

I fight the urge to defensively grasp the first book I can reach. “You’re making it sound like I have a habit of vanishing in order to make a point.” My defense is weak. We both know that this isn’t the first time I ran away from something here. “Sometimes absence is just that.”

“When you’ve waited for someone as long as I have, all absence is significant.” The words are not harsh but they should be. I don’t know how I could respond to that.

He steps forward easily, as he always does. I keep myself still despite the way that warmth settles against my chest uncomfortably. I manage to hold onto my stillness even when he raises a hand, one gentle finger brushing above my top lip. I tense at his lingering touch.

Kirigan turns his hand slowly, exposing the red on his fingertips. “How di--”

“Training,” I interrupt quickly, “I promise I got a decent hit in as well.”

When he nods, his expression is clearly weighted but I cannot interpret it. He almost always looks like that. I shouldn’t find anything about the man that stole me from everything I’ve ever known (even though he had good reason to do so) alluring, but I want to understand him. It’d feel like knowing a secret the rest of the world is desperate for.

For a moment we just stand there, Kirigan closer than he’s ever been. Sometimes when he’s quiet I think he knows my secrets. All of mine. Even my curiosity about him. “I don’t doubt that.”

At least he tries to be nice to me sometimes. It’s more than anyone else here can say. Except maybe Genya. “You don’t have to say that.” He knows it’s true. “Keep in mind you found me in the library, hiding from Baghra.”

He hesitates. “No one likes training.”

“I think I’d find it tolerable if…” Can I say this to him? Admit the extent of my helplessness? He looks at me patiently, waiting for me to give something to him. “I’m the Sun Summoner--that’s supposed to be me. That’s supposed to be mine, and I can’t do it by myself.”

The patheticness of my struggle hits me in full force. I drop my head as he weighs my words. “It’s in you,” he says it so surely I don’t think I could argue.

I smile politely. “Thank you.”

Kirigan reaches downwards, towards my wrist. He latches onto me so quickly I’m too surprised to back away. “Light,” he prompts like it really is that easy.

I know I can do it with him, so I don’t see the point in showing it. “It doesn’t count if I get help.”

“Y/n.” Sometimes I think his voice is softer when he speaks my name.

I raise my hands, overlaying them, letting the hand that he touches make up the base of my cup. Reaching into myself, I search for the power beneath my skin. With him, that power seems to sit directly beneath the surface, desperate and greedy. I don’t call to it, instead I simply let it flow. The light bleeds from me, a sphere of blinding light bursts into my hands. It’s bright, burning, and desperate to escape my control.

My mind clamps around the power tightly, restraining it without choking it out until the light in my hands is exactly as small as I want it to be. I hold it there, letting its warmth melt away all of the bad. I let it grow, the light illuminating a path I can barely see--a path in which I do not disappoint those that need to have faith in something and for some unknown reason decided to place it in me. I hold onto that feeling, and then I let the light disappear.

I smile at my hands. The only good that’s come from this is the way the light makes me feel. “Y/n.” I look up at Kirigan, who’s showing me both of his palms. “That was you.”

A feeling better than the light coils up my stomach and into my heart. I grin. I did it without him. I can do it without him. “That--how did you know that would work?”

“I knew that you could do it, you just needed to see it.”

Warmth fills me, light and easy. A little too light. I have to work at not reaching for him, not because I need to, but because I want to. “Thank you.” This time I mean it.

“Your gratitude is premature,” he warns, but nothing about it is harsh, “I’m here to send you back to training.”

At least the thought of facing Baghra no longer devastates me. “There’s always a catch.” I smile, hoping he understands what he’s done for me. “But I think this time it may be worth it.”

He almost smiles. “Tell me if you still feel that way after spending time with Baghra.”

A fair warning. It’s more than I expect from him. “Will do.”

Kirigan’s expression threatens to soften, but he turns away from me with a soft nod before I can try to decipher the look. I let him leave before disappearing down another hall, forcing myself to look for Baghra. I think of my interaction with both Kirigan and the stranger, at least Baghra won’t be the weirdest part of my day

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fullmoonremus · 4 years ago

Text

Strawberry Jam Sandwich | Regulus Black x Reader

Warnings: Nothing :)

Time/Era: Marauders Era

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Y/N Potter and Regulus Black are a match made from heaven, even if other people didn’t expect it.

Request: hello first of all I really like your writing and hope you and your loved ones are doing well. could you write a regulus black fic? like reader is James’ sister and they get married (because regulus doesn’t die) and years later they meet Harry?

A/N: Thank you and thank you for the request! Let me know how you like it! Enjoy! I love Reg and I’m so excited to FINALLY write for him!! For anyone else wanting a fic; please request away!

masterlist | read on ao3

Y/N Potter and Regulus Black were a weird pairing in most people’s eyes. Both being the younger siblings of the two most popular guys in school, it made their peers raise their eyebrows. Not to mention, they were in rival houses and seemed to be on opposite sides of the war. But they just worked.

Y/N was a lot like her older brother, James; very loud and loveable. She was naturally talented on the quidditch field and loved to make friends. It was obvious that she had relationships with people of all the houses due to her outgoing attitude and warm sense of humor. While Regulus also played quidditch, he was much more introverted and shy. He didn’t have many friends, due to being categorized by his surname automatically, so he often kept to himself and spoke only when necessary. Y/N was the talker, Regulus was the listener.

Funnily enough, Y/N and Regulus met through the means of getting Sirius to make amends with Regulus again. Regulus had cornered Y/N in the library and begged her to help him come up with a plan to talk to his brother. They ended up meeting multiple times in the following weeks and grew to be friends.

Regulus adored her ability to be interested in small things; she once asked him what a necklace he wore meant. It didn’t mean anything in particular, but she sat and listened to him speak about his jewelry for almost 15 minutes. No one ever took the time to listen to what the younger Black sibling had to say.

To their ‘plan sessions” in the library, Y/N always brought a strawberry jam sandwich to munch on. They met after her quidditch practices, so James and Sirius wouldn’t find them, which meant she needed a snack to keep her energy levels up. She always offered him half, which the rather regal boy would decline nearly every time. Nearly. Regulus found her little snack absolutely adorable, especially when the jam got all over her face. It made her lips even pinker, and that much more kissable.

The sandwich became an inside joke between the two quickly. Even when passing in the halls, they would scoff and find the most outlandish way to mention the food. It wasn’t funny in hindsight, but it was something that connected the two in its ridiculousness.

Regulus paced back and forth among the bookshelves of the Hogwarts library, hoping to bump into his now best friend, Y/N. The library was near empty, as it was Friday night and very close to curfew, so even just looking for her held very little hope. She had mentioned something about having to finish an assignment she was procrastinating, so Regulus hoped she followed his advice to just get it over with.

The bookshelves were high and blocked most of the ceiling in the room, making the books impossible to read. Long, vertical shadows cast their darkness over almost every inch of the floor and offered very little light to allow him to navigate the maze of shelves. During the day, of course, this was a different considering the wall of windows that looked over the courtyards. The window seats were some of his favorite places to come and think. And the seats just happened to be his and Y/N’s meeting spot.

Regulus was about to give up on his search, but he noticed Y/N hunched over an astronomy book, sitting on the floor with her back leaning against a bookshelf. He casually slipped next to her, offering a shy hello.

“Hey, Black. What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing, Potter. Not exactly the best studying environment.” Regulus tilted his head back until it hit the books and turned his head to see her.

“Well, I’m trying to save myself from having to do this entire project tomorrow. I have a book, yet you appear literature-less. What’s your excuse?” Y/N moved so she sat with her legs crossed, the thick book laid open on her lap.

“I came to return this, you left it at our last meeting.” He placed a slightly toasted strawberry jam sandwich on the book. It was wrapped lazily in a green napkin and left an abundance of crumbs on her homework. Upon further inspection, the words will you be my girlfriend? were scribbled messily on the paper in black ink. Y/N’s jaw grew slack as she looked over at the highly attractive man next to her.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I just wanted to ask.”

“Are you being serious?”

“Dead, Y/N.”

A smile crept over her features and she held out half of the sandwich. “Suppose we can start our relationship with a snack?”

Regulus accepted the food, making a subtle crunching noise as he bit into it. “I suppose I can make the exception to eat your exceptionally plain choice in snack food, just this once.”

“I’m sorry, you’re dating who?” James laughs, shrugging his younger sister off before grabbing his broom.

By this point, Y/N and Regulus have been sneakily dating for more than half a year and Y/N was tired of hiding their relationship. After Regulus and Sirius had failed to rekindle their relationship, Sirius shoved his brother even further away than they started. It hurt the younger black to the point of giving up, but even he was tired of hiding their relationship. He loved Y/N with his entire being, and his jerky older brother couldn’t ruin that.

“Have you ever even talked to Regulus before?” Sirius adds, grabbing his own broom to prep for quidditch practice.

“Yes, and I am dating him. Not sure what’s so hard to understand about that.”

“We understand it, just don’t believe it. Now, don’t speak about things you don’t understand.” James kicked off the ground and flew in the direction of the quidditch pitch.

“Don’t understand? Excuse me?!”

“He’s right. I know you were just trying to prank us, but joking about something that personal isn’t funny, Y/N.’’ Sirius mounts his own broom and flies off after James.

After practice, Y/N hurried to the library to meet her slightly anxious boyfriend. Regulus knew you were telling Sirius and James, and he knew they would react badly. Y/N saw Regulus sitting on the windowsill furthest from the door and hurriedly walked over.

“Hey! How’d it go?” He asked after Y/N pecked his lips and sat next to him. Regulus wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

“Not much to tell, really. They said I was trying to prank them and to not talk about things I didn’t understand. Honestly, I kind of wish they yelled.”

Regulus laughed and kissed her temple. “They’ll come around, I’m not exactly their favorite person so I can see why they don’t believe it. And I’m happy they didn’t yell because I know how you feel when people yell and I don’t want you to feel like that.”

“Holy shit! Get away from my sister!” James’ voice filled the area, Sirius quick on his heels. They must have been following Y/N after practice.

“Riddle me this, you want to spy for the order and potentially get KILLED?!” Y/N paced around the living room of Regulus and her shared flat.

It didn’t take long for Sirius to reaccept Regulus back into his life after seeing how he treated Y/N. At first, both older brothers thought Regulus was using Y/N to feed secrets and information to the opposing side of the war. They didn’t accept the couple and wanted Y/N to have nothing to do with the boy. But, after many feelings were hurt and various words were shared, they decided to give the boy a chance.

Regulus treated Y/N like a queen and made sure his girl knew how much he loved her. He wasn’t very good with words, but his actions spoke volumes. Flower bouquets were gifted periodically, as were small gifts that had a lot of thought put into them. During one of their study dates, he spent over an hour drawing a beautiful portrait of her. Not too long after, he gave her an entire sketchbook of drawings he knew she would love. Whether that was pictures of her friends, family, her favorite flowers, or something as mundane as the bench she loved to sit on, the gift had taken hours and hours of his time. It was obvious that Regulus was in love with his girl.

After graduating from Hogwarts, both Regulus and Y/N joined the Order of the Pheonix. Regulus still had heavy ties with Voldemort and his family, so Dumbledore asked him if he would consider being a spy for the Order. Even Sirius thought it was a bad idea. But, he had to prove that he wasn’t who he was raised to be. He had to prove himself to not only everyone around him, but to his inner soul.

“Listen, Dumbledore thinks that there’s a spy that infiltrated the Order and if I can find out who, maybe I can stop it. Think about it, James has a kid, a kid who is very valuable to you-know-who. We haven’t even spent a ton of time with him yet, but I know I can save him if I find the spy.”

“Yes, I realize that, Reg. But I can’t lose you in the process. We’re supposed to get married and have kids of our own and have a happy life-” Y/N takes a deep breath. “I can’t live without you.”

Regulus smiles a comforting smile, taking his girlfriend’s hands in his. “I know, darling. I’m not going anywhere. How about this,” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small ring box, presenting it to Y/N. “Let’s get married. I’ve never been a fan of the big white wedding...and all you need is a few witnesses and two signatures. I’m sure Sirius and James would be more than willing to witness. What do you say?”

Y/N gapes at her boyfriend. “Are you asking me to marry you?!” Regulus laughs and pecks her lips.

“I love you so much, Y/N Potter. You are the light of my life and I am so lucky to have you. You have brought me so much joy and really made me the best person I could be,” He wipes a tear delicately from Y/N’s skin. “I asked James for his blessing, too, after the last Order meeting. He said he was ecstatic for us. So, Y/N, will you marry me? We can eat strawberry jam sandwiches together for the rest of our lives.”

“Yes! A thousand times yes!”

“Hi, little one, I’m your uncle, Regulus, remember?- Ow! Not the hair!” Regulus sat in a suit in the parlor of Potter cottage with one-year-old harry in his lap. Y/N watched from the doorway, decked out in her white cocktail dress and heels. She couldn’t help but gush at the sight of her soon to be husband with a child; it felt so natural. Her heart swelled just thinking about watching him play with their own children.

“Yeah, he does that, keep him at a distance,” James responded, coming into the room. He was running late, as always, and was trying to tie his tie. “I can’t believe I’m witnessing my baby sister getting married!”

Harry gargled and reached his hands towards his father. “Dadadadada!!!!”

“I know, buddy, I’m right here. Hang out with your Uncle Reg for a while, yeah?” James responds, messing with his hair in the mirror. No matter how much he ‘fixed it,’ it all looked the same.

“It’s crazy how he looks so much like you, it’s like you copied your baby photos and made them come to life!” Y/N stated. Harry was almost an exact copy of James, but with Lily’s eyes.

Sirius came into the room, perfectly dressed with his hair tied back. “Well, are we leaving or not?” He asked, fixing the bowtie around his neck in the mirror for the 8th time.

“Pa’foo!” Harry squeals and squirms in Regulus’ arms. His grip tightens around the baby before pressing a kiss into his dark curls.

“No, not Pa’foo! Reg!” Sirius turned towards Y/N and whistled. “Damn, Reggie, not sure how you picked up this one! Look at the legs on her! Phew, lucky I don’t snatch you up myself!”

“Stop it! Can we please go?” Y/N swatted Sirius’s chest with her bag, embarrassed.

James plucked Harry from Regulus’ lap and hands him to Lily. “Yes, yes. Sorry, let’s go!” James kisses Lily’s cheek and disapperates out of his house.

Y/N walks over to Regulus and offers him a hand. “Ready to go get married?”

“I’ve never been more ready, my love. “

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ohmygoodnessgraciouss · 4 years ago

Text

Reality Check - Chapter 7

4400 words later, here we are!

Summary: Memories.

Notes: This is just to give you an idea on the reader’s past! Obviously, it doesn’t include every single moment Loki and the Reader have spent together. I’d have a lot to write. But this gives you an idea of how it all started. They’re so cute together! I’ll include more about their story later on, I think, but for now... Here’s the origin.

Masterlist

“Who are you? And why does the Allfather want you here of all places?” Loki, one of the princes, asked, watching you browse the library. You had just come into the palace for the first time a week ago. The library was one of the many rooms you hadn’t explored yet.

“He noticed that Frigga and I have been meeting constantly, researching together, and he wanted to know what I knew about it. He wanted to learn more.”

“Learn more? Doesn’t he know everything?” He sat down, continuing to watch you gaze at the books.

“Not everything,” A sly smile was on your lips. “There are many things he doesn’t know of yet. Worlds that he has yet to explore and magic he’s yet to seen or experience. Frigga and I are hoping to introduce him to this new knowledge. Once we figure it out too, of course.” You pulled out one book, its cover worn and torn from old age. You sat down next to Loki, flipping through the pages.

“Interesting. You never told me your name though. How do you know my mother so personally that you’re on a first-name basis with her?” He asked.

You froze momentarily, trying to come up with an answer. “Let’s just say she’s a close friend of mine. We met a while ago and that’s about the extent of all that I can say right now. It’s a secret,” You placed a finger on your lips, winking at him. “The name’s Y/N, by the way. You’re Loki, right?”

“Yes, that’s my name. How did you know? You don’t look like anyone else here given your,” He looked down at your outfit, “Clothing of choice.”

“Your mother talks about you a lot. She cares about you very much and I’ve heard a lot. She thinks that I don’t listen to her but she’s told me many stories about you and your brother.”

“Hopefully nothing too humiliating, I’ll assume,” He said, smiling sheepishly.

“Nothing of the sorts, I promise you.”

“Do you just hang out here every day? Don’t you have princely duties to do or something?” You teased him, walking into the library. It seemed like you ran into him every time you went for a book in the room.

“Not every day, but most of the time to avoid my brother,” He shrugged. “No one ever notices when I’m gone anyway,” He muttered under his breath. He began following you down the aisles of books.

“Clearly I notice when you’re gone if I noted that you’re here all the time,” You said, grabbing a book from one of the many shelves. Loki was standing nearby, leaning against a pillar. “Can I help you?” You asked.

“Just figured I’d follow, in case you needed something from the top shelf, darling.” He grinned.

“I’m more than capable of grabbing a book on my own, thank you very much, prince,” You rolled your eyes playfully at the man, who only grimaced when you said that.

“Oh, don’t call me that. Mother used to call me that every time I was being improper and now it only gives me traumatic memories.” He said, trying to hold back a small laugh.

“Oh yeah? Well, perhaps I’ll only use it when you accuse me of being too short to grab a book. Besides, I don’t need my height to help me get something from a high shelf, I could always use-” You stopped short, unsure of whether or not you could tell Loki. Frigga always told you to try and keep it a secret from as many people as possible.

“Use what?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Use a step stool,” You said slowly, knowing it didn’t sound believable at all.

“A step stool?”

“Absolutely! Those things are very helpful, even for taller people! You don’t want to hurt your shoulder by stretching it, right?”

“I can’t think of a single time where I hurt it that way, but if it helps you sleep better at night, we’ll say that for now.”

You smiled at the man, who smirked at your reaction. He knew you knew that there was no saving this one. “So what were you going to say before you tried to lie?”

“Would Frigga be mad if I told her son about what’s going on with me? Probably not, but I’m not telling you in case she does,” You said, shaking your head at the god. He frowned, before the smirk returned on his face once again.

“You’re far more interesting than I thought you would be.”

“You once thought I was dull?”

“Oh, absolutely. Most people here are. But you won’t even tell me what’s going on between you and my mother. I can’t say that I’m not intrigued.”

You looked at the shelf before you, keeping your eyes off of Loki on purpose. You grabbed a red book from one of the shelves, clutching it close to your chest. “Looks like I have what I need. I’ll see you later, prince.”

“Didn’t you need something from the top shelf?”

You continued to walk away, refusing to look back at him. You bit back a remark. “I never said I needed one from the top shelf, you did. Besides, if I need one I’ll go find a stepstool first.”

The next time you entered the library would be quiet. You looked around the large room. The chairs were pushed into the tables, the small oil lamps were off. Curtains were pulled back, allowing the daylight to seep in, but not so much that they reached the books.

You breathed a sigh of relief, being unable to find Loki. It’s not that you didn’t like him, but you didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now. Frigga exhausted you of your energy during your session today. She wanted to see the full extent of what you could do and all you wanted to do was sleep.

Unfortunately, you had to grab a book on light magic before you could go to your room. Frigga requested you to grab it before you slept, and besides, it would’ve been a far journey after sleeping to go all the way back to the library. It was easier to catch it on the way back.

You walked down the aisles, scanning for the book. It was a large one, the size of a dictionary. It couldn’t be hard to miss. Of course, though, it was on one of the higher shelves.

You groaned outwardly and stepped onto one of the ledges. It gave you enough height to reach the book at least. Easily pulling the black book out, you cheered while stepping off the ledge. Unfortunately, not everything could be as easy as pulling a book out.

A book that was next to the one you wanted slid out because of the opening next to it, falling off the shelf. Before it could hit the floor you held your hand out. It stopped two inches off the ground. You breathed a sigh of relief, before moving your hand up. The book began to move along with your hand, swiftly being placed with the other books.

You lowered your hand, exhaustion really hitting you now. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you wasted energy this entire afternoon on practicing, you used up even more just so that the book wouldn’t crash on the floor. No one was even there, it’s not like it would’ve disturbed anyone.

Or so you hoped.

“What are you?” A voice made you jump. You turned around to see the one man you constantly see in the library. Loki.

“What do you mean?” You asked, rolling your eyes slightly. You weren’t in the mood to tolerate his attitude.

“The way you lifted that book without laying a finger on it. Any magic user would leave some kind of residue on it, whether it’s visible to the naked eye or just something another user can sense. You had neither,” He commented, walking up to you.

“What do you want me to say, Loki?”

“I want you to tell me who you are.”

“Do you promise not to tell anyone else?”

“Cross my heart.”

“The Phoenix Force, you say? I’ve only read about it in fairy tales. It’s not supposed to be real.” The two of you were now sitting in a separate section of the library. It was a study room, completely empty, meant only for the royals. You sat across from Loki, who watched you in amazement.

“It’s as real as you and I, clearly. I didn’t exactly have these powers ten years ago. I don’t even remember how I got them.”

“The Phoenix Force is said to only show itself to those who are near death. Perhaps you nearly died once and you suppressed the trauma.”

“Maybe. Either way, that’s why Frigga and I have been working closely together. They couldn’t help me where I’m from. Frigga says that word had spread around that the Phoenix Force made an appearance, which led her to me. She was the only one who would even approach me.”

“Why?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I didn’t have any control over it. Everyone feared me because of it. When Frigga walked up to me I just assumed she was the only one brave enough to end me right there. She used her own magic to protect herself because I kept flinging objects left and right, turning them from glass to gold.” You shook your head, trying to get the awful images out of your head.

“Is that why you won’t tell anyone? You’re afraid of how they will react?”

“Since when were you a therapist?” You scoffed.

“Since I found out you’re more powerful than you look.”

“Careful now, prince. I’ll start thinking you just want to use me. We both know the Phoenix is a lot stronger than a lot of magic when it’s controlled.”

“Then I challenge you to a duel.”

“What?!”

“Clearly you underestimate what I’m able to do, and I’m interested in what you can do now. Let’s have a duel. May the best man, or woman, win.”

“What if your mother finds out?”

“With Thor’s coronation coming up, she’ll be far too distracted to worry.”

The two of you met out in one of the gardens. No one was around. The trees were much larger than you thought at first, easily towering over anything nearby. They created enough shade that shielded you away from the blistering sun. The grass beneath your feet was still warm, gently brushing against your ankles.

On any other day you would consider this a beautiful day. Today, you dreaded the gardens. Loki planned for the duel to happen today, only two days after you told him about your powers. He was waiting very impatiently for this day. A part of him simply wanted to test your powers, but another part, you knew, was to try and prove himself.

You hadn’t known him for long, but the conversations the two of you shared were enough to tell you what he was like. He was kind when he wanted to be, but he was slowly being corrupted by the favoritism that lurked within the royal family. Anyone could see that Thor was favored, but not everyone could see how much it affected the younger brother.

Whenever the two of you spoke about Odin, venom would lace his voice. When he spoke of Thor or Frigga, it would be replaced with love and admiration. It was clear he loved his family... Well, except for his father.

If you ever started talking about Odin with him you would find a reason to change the subject. You liked when he talked about anything else. He had a passion for reading, learning about various cultures or magic. The first time you asked you could see his eyes light up. It was clear that he was used to being ignored by everyone.

“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” His voice broke you out of your thoughts. You looked at him, noticing that he had his Asgardian armor on.

“It is. I can see why you chose this place now. Is this where you go when you’re not in the library?”

“Sometimes. It’s the perfect place to get away from everyone. Not many people venture this far for a garden. Most of the other gardens are much closer to the castle.”

“Which is why no one will be able to see us having it out as well,” You deduced.

“Precisely. Now, are you ready?” He grinned.

“I was born ready.”

The battle quickly began with Loki running to hide behind a tree. You followed him quickly, looking behind the tree he just went to. He wasn’t there, leading you to back yourself up against the tree, scanning the area for him. You spotted him only a few yards away, grinning at you.

Something felt off about it, so you cautiously walked up to him. He sent a blast of energy at you before teleporting once again. You dodged it, sending you somersaulting away. Before you could get up, you felt a kick send you into a tree.

Almost as if it was an instinct, you lifted your hand, sending a cosmic flame at him. His eyes widened as he quickly backed away from the heat. It was too intense for him, but it was clear it meant nothing for you. “Pyrokinesis, hm? Interesting.”

The flame died out and you could feel the amount of energy you lost. The adrenaline rush was enough to make you stand up though, backing up a little to create some more space between the two of you. He pulled out his blades, watching you carefully.

He threw one of the daggers at you, barely missing your shoulder. Your eyes widened as you tried to figure out your next move. You didn’t have a lot of time though since it was likely he would throw the next one immediately after.

Sure enough another dagger was thrown by you. You jumped back in fear, the dagger skimming past your arm. A small cut appeared, blood beginning to form on top of your skin. Glancing down at it was your big mistake as he took advantage of that.

Grabbing you by the wrists he slammed you up against the trees. Because you were too shocked from the action and too weakened by what you had done earlier, you were practically powerless in this situation. His eyes flickered from your eyes to one of your wrists. “You’re hot,” He commented.

“Well, I’m flattered, but I already knew that,” You said sarcastically. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Asgardians don’t use that word? Oh, nevermind I’ll explain it later. But yes, I’m hot. I always am anymore since I’ve gotten this power.”

“It makes sense. What’s concerning is what you would do if you had to face an Asgardian summer. I fear you’ll burn to a crisp,” He joked. Loosening his grip on your wrists, he backed off.

“Well let’s hope that doesn’t happen. I quite like living,”

He laughed lightly before turning serious. “Your technique needs improvement and it’s clear that you need to train more with the Phoenix. You show potential though. I can see why my mother is meeting with you about it so much.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping she’s able to help me with that. It seems like it’s uncontrollable at times. It just wears me out if I use it too much.”

“That’s expected. You said you’ve had it for less than a decade, correct? No one would expect you to be a master at it yet.”

“Keep in mind that ten years is like a week for me,” You mentioned.

“Even in human years, that’s not long at all for your special case. You need a better understanding of what the Phoenix Force is before you can master it. Fortunately for you, I know exactly where we can learn more.”

The weeks went by and you spent more and more time with Loki. You bonded with him more than you thought you would. He was a good person, just closed-off because of how he was brought up. He wasn’t used to being someone’s main focal point. Odin had always pitted him and Thor against one another, so to be able to relax with someone without worrying about his father was... Different. It was new.

Which brought him to this exact moment.

“Will you come to the coronation with me?” He asked, closing the book he had open in the library. It made you jump because it had been so quiet for so long.

“What?”

“Come to the coronation with me.”

“As your date? Aw, Prince Loki, I’m honored!”

“Date?” He questioned.

“Oh for the love of- It’s another thing from Earth that you won’t understand. But wouldn’t that give a different message for everyone if I walked in with you?”

“Perhaps it will. Would there be a problem with that though?” He asked, almost innocently. He knew exactly what he was doing. He needed you to agree to it though. With the planned attack for the coronation, as long as he knows you’re close by he can ensure your safety as well as his mother’s.

“No, not at all. I would love to join you,” You smiled. He smiled back at you sweetly.

“I’m sure you will enjoy it. You’ve never seen an Asgardian celebration. Now that is something that will truly be a blast.”

“And how else would I see it unless I’m standing next to one of the royals? I’m not going to know anyone there though. I hardly ever have a chance to talk to Thor on a normal day!”

“You need not worry about that, Y/N. I’ll make sure you enjoy your time and you get to meet some of the nobles. Most of them are quite dull though so I warn you now they may convince you that these celebrations are actually a bore.”

“What ever would I do without my prince in shining Asgardian armor?” You smirked and rolled your eyes.

“Have an even duller time at the party,” He remarked.

Loki had been in his room all day. You weren’t sure if you should knock on his door or not. It hurt to not see him today, but whether it was Thor’s banishment or the stress of Odin falling into Odinsleep, it had brought Loki to lock himself in his room. Even Frigga, who stayed by Odin’s side 24/7 anymore, worried for her son. She worried so much that she actually came to find you.

“Y/N? May I ask for a favor from you?” She asked, smiling softly. You were in one of the abandoned halls of the palace, practicing levitating large objects.

“Yes, of course. What can I help you with?” You asked, worried about her. If this was something so big that she left Odin’s side then it’s something you would help her with immediately.

"It's about Loki. I know you two grew rather close these past few weeks and I'm happy about that, truly. He needed someone to be there for him, especially with everything that has been going on. But recently he found out about something new and that's why you haven't seen him as much. I know you may have been thinking that he was hiding because he is required by the Asgardian law to take up the throne now, but it really isn't. He needs someone, needs you to talk to him. Can you please check on him?" She asked politely.

"Frigga, you know I would love to, but what if he just needs to be alone? Maybe he doesn't want to see me. Maybe this is something he needs to do by himself."

"Trust me, dear, he doesn't want to do it alone. I know my son and this is not something he wants to face alone. He wants you to ask him about it."

You thought about the choices you had here. You had considered asking him about it anyway, but now that Frigga was asking you to do it too... How could you say no? You looked up at her and nodded. "I'll check on him."

Her smile grew and she thanked you, leaving the hallway. A small echo could be heard as the door shut. You groaned, flicking one of the objects up, letting it crash onto the floor. How were you going to approach him?

You made your way to the door, standing in front of it for a few seconds before you even knocked. You spent five minutes finding your way to his chambers, trying to figure out what you could possibly say to him. How could you figure that out though? You don't even know what's wrong.

"Who is it?" His muffled voice came through the door.

"It's Y/N. What's going on, Loki?" You asked. IT was one of the rare times you had actually called him by his name. You always called him "Prince" to annoy him. The fact that you're not doing it now alerted him that he should really be serious about this.

He opened the door, letting you see him for the first time today. His eyes were bloodshot and a little puffy, but other than that he looked fine. With a simple illusion he would've been able to fool anyone into thinking that he was okay. "Come in," He said, opening the door even more to allow you to walk in.

He shut the door behind you, sitting down on the bed. You took a place next to him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Loki took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to start. "Have you ever discovered that no matter how hard you try to be accepted you'll never truly fit in with everyone else?" He asked.

It was a rhetorical question. You knew him well enough now to know that much.

"That's how I feel right now. I knew that I never had a chance for the throne against Thor, but I finally know why. I thought that maybe it was because he was the older brother, or perhaps it was because Odin always liked Thor better. But now knowing, now truly knowing what the reason was..." He drifted off, fighting back new tears. You placed a hand on his back, rubbing in circles.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," You warned him. He shook his head. You remained silent after that.

"I was raised to always believe that frost giants were monsters. Asgardians fear them, and what we fear we fight. We kill them, keep them in their place at all times. That's what Odin did to me because he never told me that I was one of them." He raised his hand, watching it turn blue.

You gasped unintentionally, watching his pale skin turn blue, markings beginning to rise. You watched as it took his entire body, his eyes turning red. He stared at you, watching your every movement with sadness. He knew that if Asgardians feared what he was, then so would you.

He wasn't expecting your next reaction.

"So what?"

His eyes widened and he blinked in shock. "What do you mean?" He asked nervously.

"So what if you're a frost giant? You're still Loki to me. You're still that arrogant, annoying prince to me. You just look different this way."

"But-" He tried forming words, but for once he didn't have anything to say in response, "But I'm a monster."

"Yeah, sure you are. To everyone else, maybe. But to me you're just the prince who I consider my only friend in this place. No one else talks to me willingly. I try to come up with conversations with them, but you're the only one who actually wants to talk to me. You've helped me through training sessions, reading, studying, and coronation parties and I don't think a monster could do that. So in my eyes, you're not a monster."

"Besides," You decided to continue. "I'm a monster too, so that makes two of us here."

"What do you mean you're a monster?" He asked, confusion littered across his face. He seemed almost hurt by the idea of you believing you're a monster.

"Everyone around me feared me because of my powers. I couldn't go anywhere without them cowering away or trying to kill me. So trust me, I know exactly how that feels. It hurts. It hurts like hell to be treated like a monster, but Loki you are not one to me. I know you're not one to your mother either." You took one of his hands in yours, squeezing lightly. He was surprised you were able to.

"How are you doing that?" He asked.

"Doing what?"

"Holding my hand," He responded. "Frost giants' skin is supposed to be so cold that it can harm anyone who touches them."

"I think you forgot that the Phoenix makes me a lot hotter than other people. It looks like we balance it out that way," You smiled. "Do I feel hot?"

He focused on your joined hands, taking his thumb and rubbing your knuckles in circles much like you did with his back. "No, not at all."

"See? We may be exact opposites but that works in our favor for once. Opposites attract, clearly," You laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiled, his eyes turning back to their normal shade of green. His skin turned back into its regular pale complexion. He could feel your hand become hotter, or at least it felt like it became hotter as he went back to his normal form. "Thank you, Y/N."

"Of course, Loki. We'll be monsters together. Complete opposites, but that's what helps us stick together," You grinned. He pulled you into a hug suddenly, taking you by surprise. His arms locked you in place, holding you close to him tightly. You wrapped your arms around him, enjoying the feeling.

"Thank you, darling."

You may not have been able to help him through much, but this was something you could do. His lust for power and his fear would corrupt him later on, but for just this moment in time you could make him feel safe and loved.

And he loved it.

Next on Reality Check:

The Reader is checked on and interrogated by S.W.O.R.D. After discovering who Geraldine really is, the team discusses a plan for getting back into Westview. With a mission to snap Wanda out of it, the team also discusses the identities of everyone in town. The only two who didn’t have ID’s were Scott and Agnes. Who were they?

@emberfulclass @momoneymolife @high-priestesss @hailey-the-heathen @mochminnie @dpaccione @intricate-melody @lindseyrae20 @storminateacup15 @ilovemollyweasley @bookgirlunicorn @chims-kookies @austynparksandpizza @yikesdameron @littleladdty @three-eyed-snail @kymera-casterwill @justsomerandompersonintheworld @followthepastelcloud @11mb0 @carolinesbookworld @from-hel-i-with-love @grimalkynslee @boywivlove @prettysbliss @youreobsessedwithmarvel @th3gl1tt3gram3roff1c1al @luthien-t @lokilove3000 @treblebeth @weclassygirl @justfangirlingaround @drpepperobsessed @how-does-this-work @prideofnewberk @matterdontminduntildone @brynthebulldozer @shittyfuckinweeb

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #loki #thor #odinson #laufeyson #marvel #comics #fanfic #fanfiction #romance #fluff #action #adventure #loki x reader

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yoditorian · 4 years ago

Text

The Pancake King

javier peña/reader

yeah i know i said i had no more wip space but then i had a headcanon idea which turned into a note on my phone which turned into,,,,this, which might turn into something else but for now it’s a standalone oneshot that can be read as a sequel to this

main masterlist

word count: 2.5k // warnings: some swears, unnamed boyfriend cheating, food, work stress mentions

This week really, really doesn’t want to give you a break.

The mountain of paperwork waiting for signatures and stamps only seems to get bigger, obscuring half the office from your little corner desk. Every time you have a moment to get through a few of them, you’re pulled into somebody else’s office for a meeting, or someone needs you to double check one of their own forms, or you have to clean up somebody else’s mess. As usual.

And then there’s your life outside of work, if you can even call it that. But your air conditioner is broken and the mailman keeps giving your letters to everyone but you, it seems, and it’s too fucking hot during the day to have to deal with any of this shit.

So you took the day, called in with a fake-cold and promised you’d be back in tomorrow. How much could the office fall apart in just one day? The air conditioning is still broken, but you’d gone out and bought three of the biggest fans you could find. Problem one, sort of solved. The mailman is his own mystery, seemingly vanishing into thin air as soon as you’d spotted him on the sidewalk, at least Connie was in to give you the mail that had gotten mixed up with hers. That, and you’d managed to sneak in some baby cuddles with Olivia. There’s not much you can do about the weather itself, besides wear as little as can be considered publicly decent and pray for the thunderstorm the weather forecast keeps promising is on its way.

Only, as luck always has it, things get worse.

You’d called the boyfriend you left back home, just like you do at the same time every Thursday night. And some chirpy woman had answered, introducing herself as his girlfriend. And that was the last straw.

You can’t even remember what you told her, now. Something about how he could drop the key to your apartment back with your best friend, maybe something along the lines of how he can go fuck himself too. That sounds about right. You’d hung up before she could say anything else.

It’s just you and the wall now, the television not even good enough company to quiet the stress of literally everything in your life. You’re vaguely aware of your stomach rumbling, although you’re not sure you have the energy to get up and root around in your fridge. You ate the last of the leftovers in there yesterday anyway, and you’re pretty sure everything else involves some kind of preparation. Which you really don’t have the energy for. Sleep, sleep can be your dinner tonight.

Javier and Steve get back from the office at the same time Connie comes trotting down the stairs to leave for a shift.

“Can one of you check on them?” She asks, pulling on her cardigan to keep off the evening breeze. There’s something in her tone that has Javier’s brow furrowing even further than it usually is, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by either of the Murphys.

“Last time we spoke, I thought they were gonna hit me,” Steve raises his eyebrows in disbelief, a little too dramatically, “This one’s on you, Peña.”

He’s off up the stairs before Javier can argue that he probably, definitely, is the last on the list of people you want to see if you’re having a bad day. He’s responsible for half the forms waiting on your desk, seemingly doubled over the course of the day. That, and his comforting skills aren’t exactly legendary. Connie, for all her tact, shrugs apologetically at him before she’s leaving too, and he’s left standing in the hall wondering exactly what it is he’s supposed to do now.

He remembers his bad day, the really bad one, a few months ago. How you turned up on his doorstep with homemade nachos and a smile, exactly what he needed before he even knew it himself. He hears his father in his head, waxing poetic about the way that people comfort others is often the way they like to be comforted. And, honestly, who doesn’t like a good meal when everything feels a little bit against them?

Javier can’t cook, he’s not arrogant enough to pretend that he can make anything off the top of his head. Nor is he certain he has any of the ingredients for anything in the cookbook Steve had bought him as a joke for the Christmas just gone. There is one option though, he just hopes it’s the right one as he starts to pull a frying pan out of the cupboard.

You’re surprised when there’s a knock at your door and you have to struggle out of your blanket for a minute, your ass numb from sitting on the ground for too long. It’s probably only Connie, checking that you’ve eaten. She’ll see right through your lie but you doubt she’ll push it, only remind you to eat breakfast with a stern look that you know she only pulls out for her most difficult patients. You’re not sure when that privilege extended to you.

It’s not Connie.

Javier stands in the light of the hallway, a foil covered plate in his hands, and looking like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. You start to wish you hadn’t worn your blanket like a cape to answer the door.

“I, um-” He can’t seem to pick where to look, eyes settling somewhere to the right of your head before he tries again, “You had a bad day.”

Oh, oh, he really couldn’t have tried harder. It’s an odd parallel of a moment, months ago, when you barged your way into his apartment with nachos and good intentions. There’s an uncomfortable swell of something right under your lungs and you beg it to stay quiet. He gestures with the plate in his hands, the smell of sugar and sweetness wafting out from underneath it, and your stomach gurgles. The sound pulls a giggle from both of you, and things start to feel a lot more comfortable.

“Welcome to the pit of despair.” You laugh, gesturing for him to follow you in and toward the kitchen.

You pull your last two clean forks out of the cutlery drawer as Javier sets the plate down on the kitchen table and reveals whatever it is he spent the time and effort to make. Just for you.

Pancakes.

And, honestly, you couldn’t imagine anything more Javier. He barely leaves the office, and you’re pretty sure you’ve only ever seen him eat outside of his desk when Connie forces him to come to dinner. You can’t stop the smile that slips onto your face, the first one all week if you’re being honest.

“What?” He asks, taking the fork you offer out to him and settling down in the chair across from you.

“You made me pancakes?” Your voice is smaller than you expect it, the intention of his actions catches in your throat and makes you a little more emotional than you thought it would. He looks like he’s about to say something else, but thinks better of it when you reach out with your fork and rip a chunk out of the stack of frankly perfect looking offerings.

And they are perfect. Fluffy and light and sweet and wonderful. An odd juxtaposition to their chef, but you don’t think about it. You don’t think about anything, you sit and eat in silence and try to prolong this one moment of peace for as long as you can.

It ends sooner than you want it to. Every last crumb devoured between the two of you, and suddenly everything doesn’t seem so bad. Pancakes will do that.

He’’s gathering up the plate and forks before you can protest, moving wordlessly to tackle the pile of dishes that you’ve been ignoring in your sink for the last couple of days.

Javier can’t help himself when he spots the stack of dishes behind you. You’ve looked like you’re on the verge of crying since you opened the door and if there’s one chore that’ll reduce someone to tears, it’s doing the dishes. So he doesn’t even think about it, just collects the empty plate and pulls the fork out of your hand and gets to work.

You’re about to protest, tell him something about how you can deal with it, or that it’s late and he should go home, get some sleep. He knows you well enough, and your face when he turns to look at you over the shoulder as the hot water starts running proves as much. Just as you know the no-nonsense look on his face isn’t one you want to argue with. He waits, watching, for you to rise from the table and shuffle back towards the living room, listens carefully for the sound of you flopping onto the couch, before turning back to the sink and getting to work.

It’s times like these he wishes he asked more questions, then he might know what prompted you to call out with a cold when you’re clearly the picture of health. Physically, anyway. Although sometimes he thinks you could be all kinds of sick, and that little voice in his head would still tell him you’re pretty. If he knew, or had any kind of hunch, he could help a little more than this. Pancakes and dirty dishes only go so far, although he’s never been great at comforting people beyond his cousins’ scraped knees when they were little. It’s not a case of ignoring any time you’ve opened up about your life outside of work, there’s always some part of his brain ready to soak up your every word like a sponge. Maybe it is as simple as that, maybe it’s just work that has gotten a bit too much. Maybe it’s a combination of things.

The dishes are neatly lined up on the drying rack before he even notices he’s finished, fishing around in the bottom of the sink for a full minute until he realises everything has been washed.

You’re still sitting on the couch when he comes through to the living room, hands dried and clean. You shuffle up to make room for him, having just dumped yourself unceremoniously in the middle of the cushions, and keep your eyes on the dormant television in front of you. You’re expecting him to say something, to tell you it’ll be okay, or that everything will work itself out, or that it probably won’t seem like a big deal in the morning. He’d be right, it probably won’t. But right now, all you can feel is the weight that settled on your chest as the whole of the past week makes itself comfortable.

You pull the blanket tighter against you, shoulders straining the thin fabric, as if you could squash all your problems until they disappear. But they only seem to get bigger.

“You remember my boyfriend, back home?” You’re quiet, more so than you had been earlier. As if you’re afraid of the words as you speak them.

He does remember. The guy came down to visit once, only a few weeks after you’d been transferred. Steve had done his best to befriend the guy, where Javier hadn’t extended anything beyond a handshake and a raised eyebrow in your direction. Not that he didn’t like him (he didn’t, still doesn’t, but that’s besides the point), but all Javier really remembers is your disappointment come Monday morning when you’d trudged into the office and told them he’d had to leave early. Work emergency. It had smelt like bullshit then, it smells like bullshit now. Still, he nods, and lets you continue.

“Not only mine, turns out.” It all comes out in one breath, and all he can do is watch as you curl even further into yourself. Scumbag. Sure, Javi’s been around the block a little, or a lot, but he’s never stooped so low as to cheat on anybody. He’s above that, at least.

The barely audible sniffle from under your blanket pulls him right out of thinking of all the ways he could make this guy’s life hell back home, and he sends a prayer up to whoever’s listening that he won’t make it worse with what he’s about to do.

A soft tug on the corner of your blanket is the only warning you get, and suddenly you’re being pulled across the length of the couch until you’re half in his lap.

“Javi.” You manage, barely hanging on to your composure. You know he knows that, but you don’t know why he won’t leave you to it.

The look on your face just about breaks his heart. All big watery eyes and confusion, the nickname you so rarely use sounds so soft whispered in the air between you. You’re already beginning to crumble, if only from the way he’s holding you like you’ll shatter with the slightest breeze. Maybe you will.

It’s the tenderness that gets you, in the end. How he seems to just know what you need, far better than anyone else has in a long time. The weight of his arms around you, gentle but firm, makes it suddenly difficult to breathe past the lump in your throat as the tears start to fall. And Javier holds you through it all. Even though you’re both at an awkward angle and you’re pretty sure his leg is trapped underneath you, he doesn’t budge. It’s easy to forget, alongside your easy camaraderie with Steve, that Javier works with you all day every day too.

It can’t be more than an hour later that he feels you slump against him and your breathing begins to even out, save for the occasional stray hiccup. Something about the way you’ve snuggled into him, head on his chest and fingers fisted in the soft black t-shirt he reserves for cold nights and bad days. A crack of thunder and sudden downpour of rain jolts you as you sleep, sends you even further into his embrace, and he holds you to him a little tighter. It’s nice, oddly. Even though having you so close makes his heart want to burst right out of his ribcage.

At least the rain sends a welcome gust of cool air through the open bedroom window, swirling down the hall and mercifully circling around the living room.

Javier tugs the blanket out from around you, just enough to cover the both of you, and shuffles as much as he dares to try and get comfortable. You need the sleep, and he’s not about to take it from you just for the sake of blood flow in his leg. You barely notice when he settles, comfortable even on your old couch and the weight of a grown human on top of him. His back will kill him in the morning, but you’ll have rested better for it and that’s a small price to pay.

He tries not to think too hard about what that might mean.

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@bee-dameron @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @darnitdraco @greeneyedblondie44

#once again i am a CLOWN #anyway pls take the third bit of writing i did today #the pancake king #narcos #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #liz does words #sfw

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kookiessugababy · 3 years ago

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Sweet Revenge (min yoongi) (updated)

Scenario- a quiet night in blown by Yoongis deafening jealousy

Warnings🚨- jealousy// hickies// pet names// one shot

Hope you enjoy <3

******************************************************

You stumbled to the door of the boys apartment to hear the muffled chatter of them all through the door- your hand reaching into your pocket to retrieve your keys. Your feet felt light and your head dizzy, nothing making quite as much sense as you’d like, which was made greatly obvious as you fell into the heavy door as you entered. The room was softly lit in an orange light, and the floor was scattered with pizza boxes and share bags of confectionary, ruining the usual modern cleanliness of the decor. The seven boys were sat on the floor, some on the sofa, joking amongst themselves in their usual manner, cans of alcohol in hands. You loved spending time with them and they had been so welcoming ever since Namjoon had introduced you, encouraging you to spent most of your nights in their spare guest room which they had decorated with dusky pink and grey- a surprise for your previous birthday.

They hushed as you stumbled through the doorframe, your dress spilling from your shoulders and riding up your legs. You could barely work out their faces until Joonie approached you, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. He always got concerned after you had been out, especially if he didn’t know who you were with. The night always ended with him having to care for you and despite your feelings of nausea, you embraced your best friend who was stroking your hair softly. “y/n you must stop going out partying you silly thing” Joon softly lectured, in an attempt to be polite. You shook your head and giggled as he pulled you back, readjusting the straps on your dress to maintain your modesty. He laughed a little and shook his head; “Get changed and come sober up. There’s some pizza for you, idiot.” You heard Junkook shuffle towards the two of you, and in his plate was a cold slice that looked somewhat miserable upon a creased paper plate they had set aside for your return, leaving it on the coffee table by your legs.

The cool water felt divine as it hit your face, slightly dampening the ends of your hair as they fell at your shoulders. You stared at your reflection as the water fell from the faucet, eyes still slightly hazy. “Y/n please hurry, I’m dying for the bathroom” Hoseok yelled from the other side of the door, the handle jutting as he pulled to get in. You sighed, opening the door to him smiling in relief. “I was starting to think you’d flushed yourself away. Aren’t those my shorts?” he joked, giving you the right to roll your eyes at his attempt to wind you up. “We’re waiting for you! We were going to play cards against humanity” he announced, before pushing passed you to firmly lock the door behind you.

An hour later you found yourself wrapped in a fluffy blanket between Taehyung and Jimin, your head on Jimin’s lap as the rest of the members sat around in a questionable circle. You had begun to sober up- still remaining tipsy but you now matched the state of the others, who were endorsed in the rude card game being played. It made little to no sense, with fits of giggles erupting every few seconds over minor occurrences, but the atmosphere was comfortable. You’d talked a lot with Jimin tonight, who you knew very little compared got the rest of the boys considering how long it had been since Namjoon had introduced you. He had a lovely nature about him and you couldn’t stop thinking about how he looked down on you when you spoke, as if he was carefully reading you, or prompting you to speak more. Your hair was tangled between his fingers mindlessly as he laughed with the others, before reaching your shoulder and rubbing it lightly. Your eyes were groggy and your body relaxed- all stressors in your body alleviated as you sank further into his leg. A low chuckle led from his parted lips as he smiled at you. “Comfortable?” he taunted as the others laughed, your eyes closing as you nodded softly. You found yourself drifting to a light slumber as he comforted you, the muffled dialogue a slight hum as you slowly slipped out of consciousness.

You were rudely awoken twenty minutes later to a prodded shoulder, Jin leaning over you and Jimin, his hair falling close to your face as you slowly opened your eyes. “We’re heading to bed, y/n, so you should too” he whispered, showing a caring smile as you raised gently by the arm from the other boys lap. You were greeted with a hug and a peck on the forehead from Jimin once you had both made your way to the corridor, before leaving to his room. The hallway was unnervingly silent, the empty walkway shouting as your toes hit the floorboards, trying to silently make your way through to the spare room. Raising your hand out of your sleeve, the cold handle was just about in your grip but before you could swing it open, a large hand grabbed your wrist, another on your waist.

You craned your neck to find yourself faced with a dark silhouette, the little light reflecting off familiar silver strands of hair. “Yoongi?” you choked out, shocked by his sudden appearance. You’d spent little to no time with him tonight, and you were now worried that this had upset him. His brow was furrowed, face serious, frustrated and vengeful. You could see the shape of his tongue pressing against his cheek as he peered down on you, eyes running up and down your figure in a way they hadn’t before. It seemed more desperate. A silk dressing gown hid little, as you sported some comfy sleeping shorts and a small cami vest, in which he seemed amused by to your confusion. Yoongi was one of your closest friends out of the group, with many finding your relationship as flirty and slightly over the top, but you were both very confident around one another so neither would want it any other way- but this behaviour from him was not normal and his tightening grasp startled you. “Can I talk to you, y/n?” and despite the questioning nature, it felt a demand as he pulled you into the room, pushing you against the wall. He waited in silence until the door softly closed itself; meanwhile you focused on silencing your breathing and hoping your heart was not to come out of your throat.

You stumbled as your back pressed to the cold, your gown dropping to your shoulders as you desperately searched for words. “Yoongi what is wrong? What are you doing?” you demanded, his stare growing harsh as his index finger tilted your chin to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark and illuminated by the weak glare of the lampshade, his soft lips now pursed. The yellow beam exaggerated his sharp features, his jaw clenched. You couldn’t help but admire how he looked at that moment, almost forgetting his hands hanging to your wrist. He seemed to inhale through his teeth as he watched your confused features relax, but seemed pleased with your little resentment to his restraint. “What was that? With Jimin? Why did he look at you like that?” his voice remained stern and low, spitting with jealousy. After months of assuming Yoongi was simply protective of you, you questioned the possibility of him possibly being envious of people you had encountered and brung to the apartment- but surely he would have made it more obvious? Acted upon it sooner? You couldnt help but to quietly question him, your voice low as you searched for answers. “Min Yoongie, are you jealous?” you taunted, raising your eyebrow. However, the usual playful reply was met with a tighter grip on your wrists, heating up your cheeks as he shifted closer, noses touching. “Don’t play with me, y/n. Bratty girls don’t get anywhere in life.” Something shifted in your stomach as your eyes moved to his leg, which was inches from being between your thighs. You were confused and slightly taken aback by his harshness, but you could feel your face blushing as he stared directly at you. His arms pulled yours up above your head, leaving you feeling exposed, and despite the strangeness of it all, something felt right. “Y/n, you can’t be like this. You know you can’t. Flirting with the boys and making me stare at your pretty face while they get to touch you. Do you not think I find it hard enough seeing you wander in and out meeting other men? Bringing them to your room? I’ve heard you gloat to Namjoon about your dates, and all the boys who want you so bad. Don’t you think I want you bad, y/n? Jimin couldn’t touch you the way I could if you let me.” Your eyes were wide, your lashes brushing your face as your lips parted- almost in a state of shock. You had, undoubtedly, thought of Yoongi like this before, however you never would had even thought he felt the same. It almost made some sense as you tried to pull the pieces together, but very little of you could hold concentration as you felt his lips brush against yours. The tension was sliced with a heated kiss, his lips soft and hungry for yours. His tongue made its way to your mouth, his hands exploring your waist and running to your breast. The cold shock of his rings hugging his fingers felt like a knife against the warmth of your skin, core tightening as he pushed his knee to where you needed it most. You attempted to push your body down to it as your breathing hitched between messy kisses, lightly grinding against his clothed leg, your shorts separating you further.

“Stop” he commanded, pulling his leg away. His bulge was obvious as you glanced down to his grey joggers, a pain running through your core as you yearned for a touch. You felt yourself grow wet under his touch, his stare enticing you. His eyes wandered past your features, taking in your body and how weak you looked under him. He pushed the gown that sat upon your shoulders onto the floor, carefully watching you as if he was going to miss something if he looked away. He groaned as he took in your figure, his hands running and teasing your curves. “You’re so fucking pretty, kitten”, he hummed, tangling your hair between his fingers. You took a deep breath as he pushed his buldge towards your clothes heat, touching ever so lightly against you, whining as you felt yourself grow needy. “M-min Yoongie” you whined, as he tugged your hair softly, moving your face so he could plant his lips against your collar bones, marking your neck with deep purple and red. “Baby, what I would do right now to fuck you senseless is unimaginable. You do not know how long I’ve wanted you” He traced his arms down your tummy to your shorts, where he tugged the string lightly to ask you permission. You pushed your hips forward, nodding as he pulled them down your legs painfully slow. Kicking them to the side, he knelt between your legs, his breath hot against your thighs. “I need you Yoongi. I really need you” you plead, your underwear growing uncomfortable as the fabric clung to you, damp. “Oh kitten I know but you were naughty. Jimin wants his cock all up in your pretty mouth now and you don’t know where you belong.” His finger ran over your covered slit, his finger glistening with your arousal as you whined, pleading for more. “Yoongi no I want you now!” You demanded. However, a frown met his face. He ripped your underwear from you, before undressing you completely. He stood over you, completely clothed, his arm holding him up against the wall as searched your bare body. “Beg for me baby. Tell me who’s little slut you are” he whispered in your ear, nibbling it lightly. You felt euphoric and weak- surging feelings you never felt before, stomach clenching as you stood for him, exposed. “Yoongi please I’m all yours. I need you. Please Yoongi I really need you” you whined, a smirk plastering his face in satisfaction.

His face met your now dripping heat, tongue softly reaching for your clit. He licked up your thighs, massaging them with his palms as your legs buckled under his touch. He sucked your clit harshly, the swelling from arousal finally replaced by his lips. You gasped in shock as his fingers made their way up towards your heat. You felt the tip of his middle finger tease your hole, running patterns as he continued to pay attention to your clit, teeth regularly nibbling lightly, causing a strange but pleasurable discomfort that was met by soft kitten licks. Without warning, he pushed two of his long fingers inside of you, pulsing in and out of you. Air was pushed out from you as you tried to keep up with the fast pace, whining and moaning while he continued to kiss your clit. “That’s it babygirl. Let them hear your pretty noises for me.” Yoongi mumbled against you, continuing to pay you his full attention. You lower stomach tightened and your heat began to ache, clenching his fingers. At this point, he continued at his pace, slapping your other thigh with his spare hand. Your legs began to shake ever so slightly and you could not hold yourself for any longer. “C-cum Yoongi. I need to cum.” you cried, wincing as the contact between you both was cut short as he pulled away right before your climax. Your jaw dropped as your pussy dripped, marking your thighs as you watched him move away from your heat. His hair was tousled and messy from your grip, lips glossy with your arousal- glistening as he smirked. “Kitten, do you really think I’d let you finish?” He sniggered, kissing your forehead lightly. You were lost for words as the pain between your thighs only got worse, whining for more attention. Yoongi looked at you pitifully, before smiling, bringing you close as he held you up from your shaking frame. “You have to earn it baby. I only let my slut cum when she knows she’s mine, and knows that she cannot flirt with others” he grinned, pulling off his shirt and pulling it over your shoulders. “I- Yoongi please don’t go!” You pleaded, your small hands grasping his waistband, his precum having ruined his joggers. You were warm and sweaty, thighs and neck bruised with his hickeys- claiming your body and marking it his own. His shirt hung off you, exposing every mark he left, the soft fabric stained with his sweet smell. He shook his head calmly, as if he had planned this all too well. His hand reached for the door as he pressed his lips against your lips softly- “goodnight my angel. i hope you sleep well” he smirked, quietly shutting the door behind him. You were left alone, needy, unfinished yet exhausted. Climbing between the covers left you feeling overwhelmed and almost angry at the boy, who had left you so desperate for his touch. Why did he leave you like this? Did he regret what he did?

— Your alarm rang at 9:00am as it did every morning. The light in your room danced through the pearl lace blinds, covering your sheets on the soft glow of the sun. Your thighs seemed to cramp up as you lifted yourself out of bed, but without sheer disregard, you made your way to the kitchen. The hallway was empty, with each bedroom door l left open, indicating their absence, the smell of a sweet concoction guiding you through the corridor. You found lethargy grasping you this morning- alot more than usual. You couldn’t quite remember what happened last night, as you were yet to shake off the early hour daze alongside ensuring you made it to breakfast in time before nothing was left. However, you were left to question your facade upon a greeting of questionable stares as you placed yourself at the marble island in the centre of the room. Nonchalant, you grasped the frosted glass of water that was sat at the table, finishing it at pace. You sighed in relief as it soothed your throat and woke you up slightly. “Good morning y/n!” Joon sang, pushing a large serving of sugar waffles and chopped fruit in your direction. Their was a queer rigidity in the room, leaving an awkward silence as you listened to the pan sputter on the stove. You were set back by the lack of communication but greeted Namjoon in return. “Does anyone know where Yoongi is? He’s going to miss breakfast.” Tae finally iterrogated, breaking the silence. He threw a raised eyebrow in your direction, before wandering his eyes to the clothes you were wearing. With that, your heart stopped, head sinking into your plate, finally remembering why you were so tired. How could you let it slip your mind? You looked down at the shirt hanging from your neck in a sudden fear, realising how exposed you were. Dark bruises were planted all over your neck and thighs, and you dropped your fork in panic and embarrassment, the clatter ringing in your ears . With this, Yoongi sauntered through the door frame, yawning as he picked his plate from the table. “Morning” he mumbles to the boys, brushing past your back. “Nice shirt y/n” he taunts, winking playfully, before disappearing off into the lounge with his food. Your face turned red as Namjoon laughed over the counter, rolling his eyes playfully. Pursing your lips, you pushed yourself from the counter, quickly following Yoongis trail.

You were embarrassed and confused, with no idea how to feel about Yoongi. What did he mean, he wanted me for so long ? Then why would he leave you so desperate and wanting more? The room was glaring with the warmth of the sun, the large window wall televising the city in the brilliant morning glow. You were welcomed to the sight of a sleepy Yoongi quietly hunched over his breakfast, facing the skyscrapers and peacefully watching the clouds. His hair was messy, just like it was left last night- sporting the same joggers that were slightly stained. The golden reflection bounced off his face, his eyes shimmering and his complexion glowing. You seemed to find yourself admiring him, awing at the way his body looked as he relaxed in the quiet room. Despite your silence, he sensed your presence, indicating his knowledge with smile at his feet before turning in your direction. “Hey beautiful” hey hummed, patting the space next to him. You shook off your stare, all while remaining confused and dazed, you made your way over, slumping to his side. His toned arm reached around you, holding you confidently into his side and pinching your cheek softly. “Good morning Yoongie” you sighed. You were in hope to question last night, but before you had the chance he cut short your brainstorming with a soft kiss on your lips, causing your body to shake off the restlessness that cultivated upon your shoulders in the kitchen. You slightly smiled against his lips, a small sigh of relief falling from his mouth as he pulled away. You found yourself not entirely caring about wether anybody walked in, the feelings of lust washing over you, reminding you of the previous night as his eyes stared into yours. The silence was deafening yet comfortable, his hand adjusting the shirt he gave to you in an attempt hide your breasts that were close to visible above the hem. Yoongi seemed confident and sure, and yet you were left to fear that now everything would be awkward between the two of you. A few silent moments had passed, both of you drowning in thought, before Yoongi moved his hands to yours. “Y/n, I want you. I want to finish what we started but only if you can be mine- and only mine” he growled, keeping his voice low and quiet to ensure his privacy. “ Yoongi I- I’m confused. You just left me last night! I thought you regretted whatever it was” you squeaked, hair falling infront of your face as you dropped your head in worry. His eyes were diverted, scanning the marks he had left on you- his reminder that of how good he made you feel. A slight smirk glazed his face causing you to shift in your seat, his gaze causing you blush. You suddenly felt yourself needy for him to finish his work- for his touch and his voice calling you sweet names. Maybe you wanted him too. His hand traced your thigh, pushing the bottom of the shirt away to reveal deep red finger prints. Further it moved to your shorts, placing his cold hand upon your clothed heat, where you were met with a chuckle; “oh kitten no. That was just my revenge”

#min yoongi #yoongi smut #suga smut #bts smut #smut #smut drabble #bts drabble #bangtan smut #bts smut drabble #bts army #suga x reader #suga #bts suga smut

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hoodoo12 · 3 years ago

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The Ties That Bind (And How to Follow Them) 2/?

@bunnys-beetlejuice-blog @werwulfy @mel-time @rainingpaint @heresathreebee @infptarius @turtlepated @sweetcat-666 @fireflower1015 @go-whovian-universe @genderless-cryptid @monsterlovinghours @strange-n-unbluusual @love-pony13-blog

Pate never did fall back asleep properly, but she was content to doze lightly in Beetlejuice’s arms for a few more hours. It wasn’t deep enough to dream, but in between snoozes she did her best to commit what she had seen in the nightmare to memory. The better to understand it, she hoped.

Even Lillian was of two minds as to whether or not the dreams meant anything at all but Pate couldn’t shake the notion that they meant something important. Maybe they were warnings. Her first thought was Rigel, trying to claw his way back into their lives. Just the thought was enough to make her shudder and Beetlejuice’s arms tightened around her, sensing her unease.

They spent the weekend in, lazing together on the couch and rewatching The Mandalorian. Pate felt bad that she was really too tired these days to take him out to do anything, but he never seemed to mind. She recorded her dreams in the journal to take to Lillian’s for the next session, slept fitfully Saturday and Sunday night, and all too soon it was Monday again.

Showering woke her up a bit more, chasing away the last of the feelings of dread from her nightmares and she readied herself for work. As he usually did, Beej saw her off at the door. Pate wound her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his in a lingering kiss.

“I’ll see you tonight,” she said, pecking him on the nose before departing.

⁂

Pate always seemed to get better rest closer to dawn. He hated that she had to then be woken just when she was comfortable; Mondays really did suck. Beetlejuice hoisted himself up on the sink in the bathroom while she showered, wishing he could join her under the spray like he’d done in Las Vegas, but she was already behind schedule and a distraction wasn’t going to be appreciated.

He stayed out of her way even though he followed her around through the apartment as she made to leave. Promising to be good but knowing there was no way for her to possibly think of every single thing that could be construed as “bad”, he pressed against her to steal some of her body heat and then watched her leave. He went to the front window to look down at her as she made it to her car, and blew a kiss when she saw him in the window. He watched till she was gone out of the parking lot.

Another day alone in the apartment. At least he had the freedom to smoke inside with Pate gone, so he lit a cigarette and stared forlornly at the empty room. Pate had suggested he take up a hobby to fill the time, but put her foot down when he believed raising a baby Sandworm would be a good idea.

“Whatever a “Sandworm” is,” she’d included at the end of the conversation.

She didn’t leave her dream journal behind; her mentor had told her to keep it with her so she could jot things down if they came to her, but Beej had read through it when she was dozing beside him. That wasn’t invading her privacy, not really, he justified, because she just left it right beside the bed--

--Lillian Borden.

He could go visit Lillian Borden and talk to her about Pate’s progress or lack thereof.

The thought sprung on him so quickly the cigarette fell out of his mouth. He crushed it into the carpet, vowing to himself he’d clean it up before Pate got back and saw it, and stepped into the ether to visit the antique shop Pate spent so much time in.

⁂

The store was closed, of course. It was early in the morning for the antique crowd. But Pate had mentioned the old woman lived above the store, so he simply spirited through the door. Good thing he wasn’t a vampire, he chuckled to himself.

Making his way through the aisles towards the staircase he could see, a few of the items he passed had some tendrils of energy that either moved towards him like he was a magnet, or away from him like they were repelled. All of them were wispy and easily avoided. On a wall hung a old, ratty taxidermied deer head that slowly turned to look at him, but he was pretty sure whatever that was wouldn’t be able to move any further. Its glass eyes lit with inner fire and if there was some way to make friends with that thing, it would make a very creepy Halloween decoration.

Beetlejuice made a mental note to talk to it later.

Reaching the stairs, there was a slight resistance as he put his foot on the first step. Bulling his way through it, it popped like he’d broken bubblewrap and he skipped the rest of the way up. If it was a ward, there was no sense in knocking on the door at the top, so he simply opened it and went inside.

There, he found a small, clean apartment. Plants surrounded the windows, and old tin type photographs and decorative mirrors were hung on the walls. Someone was in the kitchen.

Straightening his jacket and running a hand through his hair--which did nothing to tame it--Beetlejuice walked to the door separating the living space from the kitchen and found the older woman standing at her stove, stirring something in a pot. A tea kettle was also on, with steam rising from the spout. She was muttering something half under her breath.

“Hi!” he said, without preamble. “You’re Lillian Borden, right? Pate’s been coming to see you, and I want to talk.”

He could never remember that people needed some warning when he appeared and started talking. Typically he was met with screams.

This woman didn’t scream. She turned towards him, eyes narrowed, with a knife in her hand he hadn’t noticed on her far side. There was more of that strange repellent energy wafting from the knife, and he held his hands up even though his natural instinct was to meet force with force.

“I just want to talk, lady--”

She didn’t look like she wanted to talk, really.

⁂

In all her years, Lillian had never expected to find herself with a pupil.

But then this young woman had come into her shop one day, and it was like getting hit in the chest with a sledgehammer when she got closer. Lillian had met others in her time with… gifts, but none like this girl. Whatever she had, it was potent, close to the surface, and raw as wet clay just waiting to be shaped. She must have sensed something about Lillian because in no time she was showing up regularly, asking for Lillian to teach her, to show her how to handle this power inside her.

At first Lillian had been reluctant to go poking around something so volatile, but eventually she conceded that the younger woman was in need of guidance. What with the strange, terrible dreams that disturbed her sleep and the almost miasmic aura that seemed to accompany her. It didn’t emanate from her, it just hung around her like a cloud of smoke from a cigarette. There was something haunting her, something Lillian urged her to purge as quickly as possible.

For whatever reason, Lillian could tell that Pate hadn’t done it, that she actively lied about it when asked. Why she should want some dark spectral energy floating around her all the time was beyond Lillian’s ability to comprehend, but she felt sure that it had something to do with the girl’s nightmares, or even her abilities themselves.

It was Monday, not quite time to open up the shop, so she muddled about in the kitchen. Lillian didn’t consider herself a witch or a Wiccan or any such thing, but there were certain practices that she had found beneficial in her particular way of life. The tea was almost ready to come off the stove, the talismanic elixir she’d been preparing nearly finished when she felt it: the ward on her stairs dissipated like a puff of breath on a frigid day.

She paused momentarily in what she was doing, opening the drawer by the stove and withdrawing a black-handled athame from it’s sheath, keeping it concealed by her body as she continued to putter around the stove, mumbling a protective charm against whatever was entering her apartment.

He greeted her genially enough, mentioning Pate by name and Lillian knew at once that who or whatever this garishly bedecked man with his green hair and striped suit and mischievous aura was, it was the entity she sensed around her student.

Turning toward him, gripping the athame tightly and feeling the thrum of energy in the instrument, Lillian maintained her cool despite the intrusion.

“Don’t imagine you and I would have much to talk about,” she said not impolitely.

⁂

“Well, Pate’s a common denominator,” Beej replied snappishly, despite trying to keep his voice in more the pleasant range. He wasn’t exactly sure what his hair was doing color-wise at the moment; that knife in her hand put him on edge.

He moved towards her to help her understand his sincerity about the situation, although he dispensed with pleasantries.

“I watch what’s been happening to her. I see the nightmares she has. She came to you for help and it isn’t getting any better, so you and me, we’re gonna talk--”

⁂

The tea kettle’s shrill whistle sounded behind her as the thing that looked like a man but wasn’t a man stepped closer. Without pausing another moment Lillian pointed the athame at his chest and traced a sigil in the air, murmuring in rapid Latin as she repeated the movements of the consecrated instrument again and again.

She reached down within herself, feeling for the well of power that resided inside and tapped into it, pouring her will and intent into the drawing of the sigil and the recitation of the incantation. He froze in place as if his shoes were stuck to the scuffed hardwood floor, looking first down at his own feet and then back up at her as she continued to chant and trace with the athame. His form began to blur and then to disintegrate around the edges, spreading inward as a stiff breeze from nowhere blew his coat and tie and hair around until they were no more.

Lillian didn’t relax even when she was once again alone in the kitchen, nothing remaining of the entity that had stood before her. Keeping a tight hold on the athame, she strode slowly but purposefully towards the decorative mirrors hanging on her living room wall. Inside the glass she saw, not her own reflection, but the man who had broken her ward and entered her home uninvited.

After verifying that her temporal displacement had succeeded, only then did she breathe a sigh of relief.

“There,” she said in a grim, satisfied tone. “That ought to hold you. And keep you away from that girl.”

The figure in the glass raised both fists, hammering against the surface of the mirror but made no sound. Turning away, Lillian returned to her kitchen and took the kettle off the stove.

⁂

Coming at him with that dark-handled knife wasn’t good. Beetlejuice bit off his own sentence and raised his hands to show he was no threat, but whatever this old lady was doing he felt a combination of bound and dizzy. She was going to stab him, and he most definitely did not want that to happen; instinctively he knew that blade meant bad news.

But she didn’t stab him, only the air in an intricate design. Her Latin was whispered and hurried, and he only caught some of it, “Entrapment . . . reflection . . .” as an unearthly breeze caught him. Glancing at his feet, they seemed to fly away as if dust on the wind. It didn’t hurt, it didn’t feel like anything, but he didn’t like it and opened his mouth to protest, to say they got off on the wrong foot. Before any words could leave his mouth he was no longer in her kitchen.

Now he was looking out at her living room from an odd angle. He didn’t know what had happened, and defensively black tentacles erupted around him, but there was nothing here to fight against. Just a white endless plain, except for the window he was looking out of. Beetlejuice willed his tentacles away.

A movement in his periphery caught his eye and he leaned forward to see it better. His forehead hit something. Brow furrowed, he raised his hands and they were stopped by something unseen as well.

Lillian came into full view in front of him, peering at him like a bug under a magnifying glass. When she stepped closer, what he could see of her changed--only her shoulders and head were visible. He tried to wrap his head around what he was seeing.

He had no problem hearing her and her proclamation that he’d be ‘held’, and kept away from Pate.

Beetlejuice pounded on the glass, shouting that there was a mistake, that she better let him out, he was going to rain terror down on her the likes of which she’d never imagined--

Lillian smiled sweetly and walked away, back out of his range of vision. The kettle stopped whistling.

The whole thing had only taken three minutes, tops.

⁂

It took him some time to figure out where she’d imprisoned him. He hadn’t paid much attention to her living room since he had immediately heard her in the kitchen, but after some thought--because what else was there to do in an endless white space of nothingness?--and her returning, giving him a smile, and sitting down to watch TV (it was some Hallmark movie that was possibly more torturous than being wherever he was), he realized he could only see the windows opposite the wall that separated the kitchen and living room. That, and where she was sitting he could only see the top of Lillian’s head.

She’d put him in one of her mirrors.

“FUCK,” Beej shrieked into the void. There was no echo, which was creepy.

This old woman was going to keep him down in her antique store of horrors! He wondered how many of the presences he felt walking through the first floor of the place were people like him--misunderstood, just wanting to talk, and she was like some self-appointed Pinkerton agent, cleaning up potential problems.

Beetlejuice slammed the back of his head, hard, on the glass. Lillian didn’t react. He let the tentacles come out again, and used their strength to attack it. Nothing. Brute force wasn’t the way out. Cleverness was.

If he sat with his back below the glass, he was fairly sure he was unseen. Maybe she had some fancy-schmancy wards on the glass, but maybe there was another way out. He let his tentacles explore the space. There wasn’t much, just endless white. There was no way for him to call for help. No way to let Pate know what had happened. He’d be stuck here for an undetermined amount of time--

--a tentacle found a seam.

Not a seam per se, but some break. Crack. He didn’t know what, because it was white too. Scooting over to it, Beetlejuice couldn’t even see it, but he could feel it beneath his fingertips. He dug a nail under it, not caring that it became ragged, only wanting to widen it and see what might be beyond. When it was more than just a crack, a tentacle snaked in and broke it open more. Pieces fell away like plaster, and shoving his face against the hole he could see another window.

Another mirror!

Tenaciously, Beetlejuice tore apart the crack until he could squeeze through. He had no idea how much a maze it might be, with nothing to guide him. He’d just keep going until he could find Pate’s bathroom mirror, as long as it took.

tbc . . .

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Ties that bind

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years ago

Text

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 27: Vortex

Chapter 26

Read on AO3

Vortex: a mass of swirling water that draws everything to it

——

In late August, with September right around the corner, Claire and Faith were about to experience their first hurricane. Claire had experienced all levels of terrifying weather with Uncle Lamb out in the field, including floods, sandstorms, mudslides, and nearly every other manner of natural disasters. Hurricanes, however, had eluded them. They’d only gone to South America one time, and they’d merely seen some heavy rainfall.

Claire had been keeping her eye on the news, seeing how hurricane Matthew was affecting other areas along the east coast. She shuddered to think of them even losing power, let alone anything actually disastrous happening. All news and weather outlets were assuring that by the time it hit the island, it would have lost most of its power, so the storm wouldn’t be devastating, but it would do damage nonetheless.

Claire was doing another scan of the weather channel (which Faith did not appreciate) before work when her phone rang. Jamie.

“Sassenach?”

“This is she.”

“Good morning, lass. Sleep well?”

“I did, is everything alright?”

“Aye, fine. Just wanted to check in. The storm is gonna hit tomorrow; wanted to make sure ye were prepared.”

“Prepared enough,” Claire said, throwing a bar and a yogurt into her purse. “I’ve gotten the bread and milk, as they say. Stocked up.”

“Aye, that’s good. Are ye prepared for losing power?”

“Flashlights are ready with spare batteries and all. Portable charger for the iPad.”

“What about fer you?”

“Oh, I have to be at the hospital before it starts and then stay. It runs on a generator so I’ll be good with a regular charger.”

“Wait, what d’ye mean, stay?”

“Well, I’m considered an emergency worker so I can’t take off. I’m going to have to sleep there if the roads are flooded or blocked with trees.” Claire zippered her purse as she flitted back into the living room, then started pulling on her shoes.

“Ye could be there for days, Sassenach.”

“I know.”

“What about Faith?”

The little girl in question barreled into her as if on cue, waiting for her goodbye. “One second, Jamie. Yes, time for goodbye hugs.” Claire crouched down and gave her daughter a squeeze and a kiss. “Be good for Mrs. Lickett. Yes? Okay, bye-bye.”

With one final kiss and a farewell to Mrs. Lickett, Claire was out the door. “Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“What’re ye gonna do wi’ Faith while ye’re at the hospital?”

“Oh,” Claire said, opening her car and sliding into the driver’s seat. “I’m dropping her off at the Abernathy’s with a few provisions before work tomorrow. After I’ve taped all the windows, of course,” she added wryly.

“She’ll be alright?”

Claire sighed as she started the car. “She’s going to have to be.”

Her voice wavered, and she cursed herself.

“She’s never spent the night away from home. Will she no’ get upset?”

“I don’t really have much of a choice.” She was not defensive or angry, but resigned, sad. She didn’t want to leave Faith at someone else’s house, but she could not very well ask Gail to live with her toddler and child in her small apartment for an indeterminable amount of time. The fact that they’d opened their home to Faith was kind enough. She couldn’t very well ask it of Mrs. Lickett, either. Her children were older, but she still shouldn’t be away from them for that long during a potentially dangerous storm.

Jamie was silent on the other end, and as Claire turned onto the main road, something clenched in her throat. He couldn’t be upset with her, could he? He couldn’t be judging her decision, condemning her for planning to dump her child off during a natural disaster? Logic told her that of course he wouldn’t, but she was so god damned insecure about it all herself that she could not be calmed.

“You still there?”

“Aye,” he answered quickly. “Sorry, I was thinking.”

Claire swallowed. “What about?”

He paused again. “Tell me to shut my gab at any point going forward,” he began uncertainly.

Claire’s brow furrowed. “Ehm, alright…”

“What if…what if I stayed wi’ her. In her own home.”

Claire was gobsmacked. Her mouth actually dropped open in surprise.

“Please tell me no if ye’re truly no’ comfortable, Claire. I mean it. I ken it may be too soon, and I understand. I just thought to offer — ”

“Jamie,” Claire cut him off. “It’s okay…I…” She blinked away tears. “Would you really be alright doing that?”

“Aye,” he said quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Anything I can do to make it easier fer her. It’s gonna be scary.”

Claire swallowed thickly. “She’s heard thunderstorms before.”

“I’m sure. But this willna be like anything she’s ever experienced. And Gail is lovely, truly, she’s a blessing fer ye both, but she’s…she’s no’ you.”

“And she’s not you,” Claire said, finishing for him what he likely was thinking but would never say.

“Claire, I’d never presume —”

“Well I would,” Claire said. “There’s no denying you have the experience that Gail lacks, Jamie. And Faith trusts you. And I trust you.”

He was silent, likely processing what she said. Claire turned into the employee parking lot.

“Besides,” Claire said with a chipper tone that was only slightly forced. “It’ll be good for her to have you all to herself. You’ve never been alone with her before.”

She heard him chuckle. “Aye. Ye think she’ll like that?”

Claire put her car in park, and her heart swelled, warming her from the inside out. “I really think she will.”

——

Jamie arrived the following morning with a duffle bag and a backpack. The sky was already gray, the air thick with the oncoming storm, the wind picking up. He’d half expected the skies to open up on his way there.

The door opened, and his heart cracked. Claire’s sweet, lovely “hello” included a smile, but he could see that frantic look in her eye. She was close to tears. He greeted her gently and then addressed the bouncing, squealing thing below them.

“Ah, yes, hello, wean.” He cupped her head gently to stop her bouncing. “I’m happy to see you, too, lass. Can ye fetch ballerina Minnie Mouse? I’d like to see her if ye dinna mind.”

Like a shot, she was off, eager to please Jamie, and Jamie pulled Claire into his arms. She clung to him tightly, breathing deeply into his neck.

“It’s times like these,” she began shakily, “that I believe Frank was right.”

His brow furrowed. “Whatever d’ye mean?”

“That I should’ve given it up, that I still should.” She sniffled. “I don’t know if I can leave her for several days during…during what they’re saying it’s going to be…”

“It’s alright, Sassenach.” He kissed the top of her head, and then Faith emerged from her room, waving the stuffed animal above her head. “Ah, thank ye, lass. What about…” He wracked his brain, trying to remember any of the dozens of toys she’d shown him. “Daisy Duck? Can I see her?”

She was off again, and Claire laughed wetly against him.

“Listen to me, Claire Beauchamp.” Jamie pulled far enough away so that he could tilt her chin up and look her in the eye. “Ye’re a doctor because it is what God put ye on this Earth to do. Ye’re a damn fine one, from what I gather. Ye’re going to help lots of people in the next few days, people that might have been much worse of wi’out ye.”

“What about the baby that He gave me?” Claire said hoarsely. “The baby with…so much that she needs from me…”

“It’s not just you,” Jamie said, with the most careful combination of firmness and gentleness he can muster. “No’ anymore.”

Claire rested her forehead against his, breathing deeply. “It’ll be alright,” he assured her, Faith puttering back in with the next toy. He praised her quietly, tucking Daisy under his arm with Minnie. “I will do everything in my power to see that she’s alright these next few days.”

“I know,” Claire said, then pressed her lips to his. “I know.”

Faith was reaching up, bouncing again impatiently. Jamie handed her back down her toys; evidently, she did not like them out of place for very long.

“I can’t thank you enough for this,” Claire said, squeezing his hands. “I think I’d be beside myself if I left her away from home. Well,” she laughed dryly, “more so than I already am.”

“It is an honor to ease yer burden, mo ghraidh.” He lifted their joined hands and kissed her knuckles fervently.

Claire led him around the apartment to show him one last time where everything was kept; Faith’s vitamins and nighttime medicine, snacks, candles, spare batteries, matches. Jamie had remembered, but he let her show him all of it again to ease her mind. He knew it helped her feel like she had more control over the situation.

“Once the power goes out,” she said, gathering her own duffle bag with her overnight essentials. “Either soybean butter and jelly, cold cuts from that cooler that’s still in the fridge for as long as they’ll keep, or the spaghetti-o’s. Just pretend you’re using the microwave or something and she’ll never know the difference.”

Jamie nodded seriously, though he’d remembered all that, too.

“And watch her with the fridge. She’ll keep it open and stare in there looking for something which is bad enough when there is power. Make sure she doesn’t let the insulated coolness out if you can help it. Though if it’s gone for too long it’s a moot point.”

“Right. Got it.” Jamie nodded curtly. A large gust of wind howled outside, rattling the windows.

“Jesus.” Claire shuddered.

“Ye’d better get going before ye get stuck in the oncoming downpour,” Jamie said.

“Right.” Claire froze in the middle of the living room, her eyes glued to Faith, sitting cross-legged with Angus’s head in her lap, calmly stroking his fur. Jamie’s heart strained, and Claire looked like she might cry again. She exhaled heavily and crouched down next to Faith.

“Hey, baby.” She cupped her little head and smiled. Faith kept her attention on Angus, and Claire gently tapped her nose. “Can you look at me, Faith?” She did not, and so Claire took her hands off of Angus and held them between hers. Somewhat annoyed, Faith looked up at Claire, obviously waiting for her hands to be released. “Hi,” Claire said. “Remember what we said? Quiet hands, quiet feet, and quiet mouth for Jamie.” She pointed to each mentioned body part. “And listening ears on.” Claire poked each of her ears, one after the other. “Mummy will be gone for a few days, but Jamie is going to play with you, and keep you safe. It’s all going to be okay. It might get very dark, or very loud, and there might not be any tellie. But Jamie is going to make sure you’re okay. Yes?”

Faith moaned impatiently, and it was unclear if she was listening.

Jamie is going to make sure you’re okay.

Jamie’s chest involuntarily puffed out, and his back straightened. He silently and solemnly vowed to do just that.

“I’m going to miss you, lovie.” Claire cupped both of Faith’s cheeks. “I love you.” She held up the sign, and Faith mirrored her as always, pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m going to call every day. I’ll talk to you on the phone. I promise.” Claire pulled Faith in for a hug, squeezing her tightly. “Big goodbye hugs,” she whispered into her hair.

When Claire released her, she stood up with a heavy sigh. Jamie was holding her duffle bag, and he walked her to the door.

“Please be careful,” Jamie said. “Text me when ye get there.”

“I will.”

He kissed her deeply, pressing her tightly to him. When their lips parted, he looked into her eyes, those swimming pools of amber and honey. On his tongue was something he’d known, something he’d been burning to unleash from within him since April.

I love you.

Instead, he swallowed thickly and kissed her forehead. “Drive safe, Sassenach.”

With one final squeeze of his hand and a reassuring smile, she was gone. Jamie ran a hand over his face before peeking out the window to make sure she pulled out of the driveway. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her. Christ, he’d wanted to reply with it the second he watched that video; he’d wanted to tell her that day in the office, he’d wanted to tell her on the ferris wheel, the carousel, he’d wanted to tell her when she fell asleep and drooled on his shoulder halfway through The Godfather, he’d wanted to tell her when he’d finally positioned himself between her legs and entered her, and felt so completely fulfilled and complete, and every time he was in that position thereafter.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not until she was ready to hear it.

He knew she was scared; no matter how well this was going, he knew she was still worried and paranoid. He wouldn’t rush her.

A giggle pulled him out of that train of thought, and he realized that Claire’s car was long gone. It had also already started to rain, and it would definitely get nasty soon. He turned to see Faith grinning impishly down at Angus, who was licking Faith’s open palm over and over. This was something she did often, put her palm right at his snout and wait for him to oblige her. Jamie supposed she liked the tickling sensation. He smiled and made his way to the couch, sitting down and watching Faith with her loyal companion for a while.

Claire had given him a whole list of things that Mrs. Lickett usually does with Faith while Claire is gone for the day. There was play-doh, the big clunky legos (both good for fine motor), the flashcards for identifying signs, and of course coloring. On the list, Claire wrote that when Faith colored with Mrs. Lickett, Mrs. Lickett always — underlined several times — signed the color that Faith picked up. Color identification would be a big deal once she started school.

Something else that Jamie knew would come once school started was the school district-provided tablet for text to speech communication. Claire had been recommended speech therapies to get a head start on that, but she’d turned them all down, insisting that it was very important to her that Faith know how to sign before relying solely on the screen. And since Faith had proven capable, she’d stuck to that.

It amazed Jamie how Claire somehow just knew what was best for her child. Jamie saw all too often at the stables parents that had no idea what they were doing. Which was understandable and nothing to be judged about. But when he’d reach out, recommend additional services, hint that they might get more out of equine therapy if they approached certain things a different way, they didn’t want to hear it. It was hard to watch those kids regress because their parents weren’t willing to set their pride aside and admit they weren’t aware of something. But his reach only extended so far, and if he was going to sleep at night, he had to let those things off his conscience.

With Claire, if someone offered her advice, she could plainly tell them that she’d already researched that and had either tried it or decided it was not going to work, but thank you very much. Prompt speech therapy, for instance. If Jamie had a nickel every time Claire complained to him that yet another person had recommended Faith try it, he’d be quite the rich man. Prompt speech involved a lot of touching, and Faith would certainly not be okay with that. Even if it meant her daughter would never say a word, Claire would not put her through it. Not even an eval.

And Jamie admired the hell out of her for it.

After letting Faith continue with Angus for a bit, Jamie intervened and ushered her into the kitchen for some “structured play with learning benefits,” as Claire had referred to it. Faith, having never done any of the listed activities with Jamie, wanted to do every single one. They went on even longer than Jamie had anticipated she would sit still for because playing these games with Jamie was a novelty. They built a castle with a wall with her legos, made several snakes and desserts out of play-doh, colored, and worked on signs. Faith was not satisfied until every single card was flipped over and worked on. Jamie knew full well that she did not insist on such a thing with Mrs. Lickett. It made him grin smugly and melt at the same time.

It was pouring in earnest by the time Jamie finished getting through Faith’s stack of flashcards. Instinctually, he checked his messages from Claire, even though she’d told him hours ago by now that she’d gotten in safely. The wind was picking up, too, turning into a constant roar.

“Ye’re brilliant, Princess Faith,” Jamie said, giving her a thumbs up. “Ye did such great work today, lass. I’m so proud of you.”

She smiled cheekily and then reached for her crayons and princess coloring book again. Rain suddenly pelted against the kitchen window, the wind having changed direction to blast the water right into the glass. Faith dropped her crayon with a startled cry and clamped her hands over her ears. Jamie had to admit it even startled him.

“It’s alright, lass,” he crooned, getting out of his chair to kneel beside hers. He stroked her back soothingly. “Just the rain. It’s alright.”

She kept her eyes squeezed shut and her hands on her ears, so Jamie switched tactics. He scooped her in his arms, cradling her to his chest. He brought her out of the kitchen and deposited her on the couch. If the wind was blowing into the window in the back of the apartment, perhaps a similar noise would not happen in the front windows. He called Angus over when Faith still would not move or open her eyes, and after a few minutes of deep pressure, she at least opened her eyes. Jamie was then able to coax her into picking a DVD. They were on borrowed time until they lost power, so he thought it best to take advantage of the tellie while they still had it.

She ended up choosing a Winnie the Pooh movie, jabbing at it with her elbow, hands still on her ears. She didn’t even take them off to put the movie in the player, though she stood by and watched every move Jamie made as he did so instead. As the DVD started playing the previews before the “play” screen, Faith got behind Jamie and started pushing against his legs. He took this as his cue to walk, and he allowed her to push him into her bedroom. He knew immediately what she wanted. He smiled widely as he stepped into the room and picked up the enormous “Pooh Bear” that he’d won for her at the carnival. Faith hummed in excitement and bounced a little as Jamie carried the giant bear into the living room and deposited him on the couch. She skipped back into her room and Jamie gathered the rest of her Hundred-Acre Wood friends, arranging them around their giant leader.

A few minutes into the movie, Faith finally took her hands off her ears and began enjoying the movie in earnest. The wind continued to howl and the windows continued to rattle, but the movie drowned most of it out for now, as did Faith’s giggling and humming along to the little songs. At one point, she moved all of the little toys into Jamie’s lap and tipped over the giant bear so she could lay bodily on top of him. It really was practically a mattress underneath her. She nuzzled further in, humming contentedly and smiling broadly, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Jamie smiled down at her, her eyes fixed on the screen, and then he brought his legs up on the couch, cross-legged, so he could fit every toy she’d given him in his lap, holding onto them with as much care as he would if Faith herself was in his lap.

The power went out before the movie finished, close to the end if Jamie deduced correctly. Faith immediately sat up, nearly toppling off the couch because of her uneven position on the bear. Jamie felt dread settling in his gut, and he immediately wanted to kick himself. He’d made the wrong move, and he was about to pay dearly for it.

Faith slid off both bear and couch and marched right up to the tellie. She began pushing all the buttons on the tellie and the DVD player, the volume of her whining increasing. Jamie set aside her toys and approached her tentatively.

“Faith, it’s alright. Remember what Mummy said? That there might be no tellie?”

With a great wail, she began slapping her hands against the television screen, and Jamie grabbed her wrists.

“No, lass, ye canna do that. No hitting.”

She began screaming in earnest, jerking against him with all her might.

“I’m sorry, Faith. The tellie is all done. I’m sorry.”

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she continued to pull against his grip on her wrists. He swiftly picked her up under the arms and deposited her away from the electronics. She pointed at the tellie, bouncing impatiently, wailing all the while.

“Aye, lass. I ken. It’s my fault, I’m sorry.” Jamie genuinely hated himself at the moment. He thought they’d have time before the power was gone, he thought that it would be good for her to be able to watch a movie that wasn’t downloaded to her tablet. He should’ve thought of this possibility, and he should’ve known that she’d be grossly unhappy if the movie was unable to finish. It would drive her mad for hours, knowing that the movie was sitting unfinished in the player. She couldn’t even get it out of the player to put away. One of her biggest OCD triggers had gone off, and it was his fault.

Jamie wracked his brain. Claire had said if she were melting down to either give hugs and cuddles, or to deposit her in her room and let her scream it out. That is if Angus didn’t do the trick. Jamie tried for the hug, but narrowly avoided a swinging fist. Clearly she blamed him for the tellie’s sudden malfunction. As she should, he thought miserably.

He called Angus over just as Faith started swinging her arms with abandon, and Jamie caught one of her fists before it collided with a picture frame on the table behind the couch. She pushed at his hand, punched his arm, pulled backward, but Jamie knew that if he let go, she’d dive right for trouble and possibly break something. Angus arrived just as Faith sank her teeth into the skin of Jamie’s hand.

He swore in Gaelic, and then he pinched her nose shut, causing her mouth to immediately open as a reflex. Jamie shook his hand, hissing in pain, but he didn’t skip a beat. He maneuvered himself to be behind Faith, and he scooped up the photos in her reach. He stood back and let Angus do his job, shoving his bleeding hand into the pocket of his shorts to avoid dripping anywhere else. At least if it stained, it wouldn’t be where anyone could see.

Angus kept hopping up on his hind legs so he could brush his snout against Faith’s screaming face, gently patting her chest with his paw before falling to all fours again. Every time, Faith pushed him away with an indignant yelp, but he kept trying until she sank to the ground with him, tightly squeezing his neck. Jamie sighed with relief when girl and dog were settled in a pile on the floor. He took the opportunity to put a bandaid on his hand before it soaked through his pockets.

When he returned after being in the bathroom for mere seconds, Faith’s screaming had been reduced to a heartbreaking, whimpering sobbing. Angus used his front paws to stop Faith from scratching and hitting her face or pulling at her hair, and he started licking her palms to keep them otherwise occupied. Jamie sighed and quietly made his way to the kitchen, where he could sit down and still see her through the doorway. He kept his eyes glued to her, his leg jiggling and his left hand tapping on his thigh. The urge to press her to him for comfort was painfully strong. Ignoring the urge to comfort was just as painful as it had been with her mother, all those months ago, before he’d ever really held her.

Jamie’s eyes must have glazed over, either with tears or weariness, because when he blinked, Faith was standing right in front of him, still weeping quietly.

“Hi, leannan. What d’ye need?” He restrained himself from touching her. Her hands were laced in Angus’s fur, sitting dutifully beside her. “What d’ye need, Faith? Show me?”

She inhaled slowly with a great tremor, and on the exhale, she put her arms up in front of her with a long, drawn out whimper.

I need a hug.

He heard her, loud and clear.

“Oh, lass…” Jamie’s voice broke, and he practically sprang forward. “Come here…I’ve got ye.” He scooped her into his lap and hugged her tightly, rocking gently. “It’s alright, now. Ye’re alright. I’ve got ye. Dinna fash, now. It’s alright.”

Claire had said that during a meltdown she wouldn’t want to be touched, but that perhaps after, she’d need to be held. Jamie had thought about it, then brushed it off. This was his fault. It was clear she’d blamed him for the mishap. She’d bitten him, swatted at him. She’d take her comfort from Angus until she was calm, and then she’d ask to be fed. That was what he’d thought.

But here she was, clinging to his shirt and sputtering into his neck, wetting his collar.

“I know, mo chridhe, I know…” he soothed. “I’m sorry, leannan. It’s alright. I’m sorry…”

He continued to whisper such platitudes, in both English and Gaelic, rocking her and holding her tightly. He knew how silly his train of thought had been. He’d seen with his own eyes this exact same pattern of kids coming back again and again despite how much it seemed like they hated their parents or guardian. He was always the first to assure a parent that it was never personal, that the child just could not see past their distress and only wanted to swat at whatever was in the way.

But even the thought of Faith resenting him had made him sick, however briefly it came to him. He couldn’t mess this up; god, he just couldn’t.

She burrowed in further, nuzzling her wet cheek against his neck, and then her hands came up to caress his beard stubble. Jamie smiled involuntarily. He knew she liked how that felt. He let her rub her hands and arms all over his cheeks, even shaking his head back and forth so she could feel it across her skin.

And then, after an indeterminable amount of time, she was quiet.

——

Claire [9:22]: Made it here alive. Just in time it would seem. Have a good day. xx

Jamie [9:25]: glad to hear it. stay safe. good luck. xx

Jamie [10:03]: cheerios and a banana for breakfast. made sure she had milk too.

Jamie [10:03]: not in the cereal, mind. I ken she doesn’t like that.

Jamie [10:37]: *photo attachment*

Jamie [10:37]: look at the size of that castle :)

Jamie [11:16]: *photo attachment*

Jamie [11:16]: “snakes. why did it have to be snakes.”

Jamie [11:16]: since i ken you’re too busy to answer, i’m just going to trust that you got that reference.

Jamie [11:17]: don’t panic, they’re made of play-doh. lol.

Jamie [11:56]: *photo attachment*

Jamie [11:56]: the art gallery we’ve created today

Jamie [12:32]: *photo attachment*

Jamie [12:32]: the gang’s all here for movie time. bet ye can’t guess what we’re watching ;)

Jamie [12:32]: got through a bunch of signs cards today btw. she did great. very proud.

Claire [12:46]: Thanks for all the updates. Faith looks so happy in all these. You’re amazing Jamie. Thank you.

Jamie [2:17]: power went out a bit ago. wee meltdown, but she’s alright now. eating soybean butter and jelly. already picked oreos for her treat.

Claire [2:18]: I saw the word meltdown. Do you need me to call? Are you okay? Any blood or bruises?

Jamie [2:19]: everything is fine. angus did a great job. i swear she’s perfectly content now. back to work missy.

Jamie [3:24]: *photo attachment*

Jamie [3:24]: needed to hold the flashlight while she did this so i couldn’t help. shame. i love puzzles. can’t believe how dark it got.

Jamie [3:24]: she’s got the headphones on now. wind is really loud. hope everything is ok by you.

Claire [4:04]: I’ll be able to call at 7:30. If she starts asking for me, tell her that.

Jamie [4:05]: aye aye captain

Jamie [6:02]: dinner promptly at six. spaghetti-os.

Jamie [6:55]: *photo attachment*

Jamie [6:55]: a wee faerie in her den.

——

Jamie tucked his phone back in his pocket after sending the latest message, smiling contentedly. The “faerie den” was a fort of sheets in the living room, tall enough for Jamie to sit up. Draped around the edges above their heads were battery powered string lights that Jamie had picked up a few days ago. He’d also blown up the air mattress that he’d known Claire had (with a battery powered air pump), put on a fitted sheet, and piled it with blankets and pillows from both Faith’s bed and Claire’s bed. Claire had told him to sleep in her bed, so he’d assumed the pillows would be up for grabs to do with as he pleased.

Faith was absolutely enamored with it. The smallness of the space made her feel cozy and safe, and it also made it easy to illuminate, so it was very bright in there in an apartment that was otherwise very dark. The worst of the storm was happening right at that moment, and it was dark as night at six in the evening in August. If Faith hadn’t been wearing her headphones, she’d be inconsolable at the sound of the wind, the occasional crack of a tree, the rattling of the windows. But she was blissfully unaware, petting her dog in her faerie den, tablet at the ready.

After Claire’s phone call, Jamie pulled out his flashlight and led Faith to the bathroom to brush her teeth. On their way there, she tried turning on every light switch they passed, growing increasingly distressed the more she encountered that would not work. When they reached the bathroom, she flipped the switch an uncountable amount of times and then started crying. No matter what Jamie did, she would not allow him to brush her teeth; she just sat on the floor with Angus and cried inconsolably. Jamie brushed his own teeth to the sound of her wailing, and she only got off the floor when Jamie pushed aside one headphone and she heard the words “faerie den” in her ear.

She calmed down very quickly after she was settled back in her bright little safe space. Jamie quickly shot Claire a text that teeth-brushing did not go very well, but that he’d snagged the Risperdal and dropper from the medicine cabinet so he could give it to her without reminding her that the lights weren’t working.

Apparently, she’d be sleeping in the fort tonight. Jamie had anticipated the possibility, which is why he’d included the mattress, blankets, and pillows. The question was whether or not he’d be sleeping in there.

The answer came shortly after when Faith had fallen asleep in his lap at the end of the movie she’d put on for them to watch on her tablet: Brave. Jamie couldn’t hear since she was using her headphones to continue to block out the storm, but he watched it playing, laughing when she did, pointing at the screen and signing to her occasionally. It was a whole new experience, watching her watch it rather than watching it with her. The only audio he got was from Faith herself, humming along to the music. It made his heart ache with love.

They were nestled in a veritable nest of blankets and pillows when Faith fell asleep in his crossed legs, head resting against his heartbeat. For a moment, he told himself he would simply stay in that position all night, that it would be worth it if it brought her a good night’s sleep after the chaos of the day. But then his hip started cramping in the open position, and he remembered he hadn’t given her Risperdal yet. So he had to move.

Cradling her like a tiny infant, he lifted her off his lap and laid her gently atop a free section of the air mattress. He commanded Angus to lay beside her and left the fort to put on the sleep clothes he’d brought in his duffle bag. Just as he got his shirt off, Faith started whining. He quickly finished dressing and crawled back into the fort.

“I’m here, leannan. I’m right here.”

Right. So he was definitely sleeping in there.

After coaxing her to take the dropper of her medicine, Jamie swiped a pillow off the air mattress. She began whining again.

“Come on, lass. I’m no’ going anywhere. See?” He settled in on his pillow, facing the air mattress and looking up at her. “Go back to sleep.”

She did, and Jamie flicked off three out of the four strings of lights inside the fort before laying down again, getting as comfortable as he could on the floor.

——

Jamie [9:02]: she’s asleep. we watched brave in the fort and she crashed. made sure she had her medicine.

Claire [9:11]: Of course you watched Brave. That’s the one she associates with you.

Claire [9:11]: I’m in bed now myself. These cots are not nearly as comfortable as my bed. Especially when you’re in it.

Jamie [9:11]: don’t start talking about me being in your bed. not when i can’t do anything about it.

Claire [9:12]: ;)

Claire [9:12]: Really though, I’m about to crash myself. Sleep well, darling. Give Faith a kiss for me.

Jamie [9:12]: what about me?

Claire [9:12]: I think you know exactly what you can give yourself. From me.

Claire [9:12]: ;)

Claire [9:12]: Goodnight, Jamie.

Jamie: [9:12]: goodnight sassenach

116 notes · View notes

alinastracker · 3 years ago

Note

hello my dear bonnie, if you're still taking prompts, can i suggest #47 👀 ?

LOVE THIS PROMPT!!! here you go my love<3

prompt: you’re casually seeing my roommate and think they’re in the shower when you strip down to join me and we end up screaming and my roommate thinks it’s the funniest thing and tries to set us up on a date

yikes at this going from a quick lil ficlet to 6.7k oof

would it be okay if i came home to you (explicit) (ao3)

Alina steps into the shower, wondering how the hell she ended up rooming with Zoya to begin with.

Don't get her wrong, she loves Zoya. But her raven-haired friend can be difficult, and she was supposed to have buffer. Originally, it was going to be her, Zoya, and Genya living together, until Genya backed out last minute to move in with her boyfriend David instead.

"I'm so sorry, but it just makes sense," Genya said to them over lunch one afternoon. "Besides, if things go how I think they will, you two will be on the same path that I'm on soon enough."

Zoya scoffed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Alina had the same question, considering both of them were hopelessly single.

Genya just sipped her tea and said in a sing-song voice, "You'll see."

At first, living with Zoya was fine. They agreed easily on most apartment related things; splitting up chores, rules about not touching each other's food, a timely heads up before having friends or potential sexual partners over. Zoya could get nit picky about a few things, like the lecture she'd given her on the proper position of the toilet paper roll. It goes over, Starkov, understand? Under is for heathens and natural selection is coming for them. But otherwise, things had been fine.

Until Mal.

He was a part of the friend circle she had surrounded herself with since freshman year. But there was something about Mal that had drawn her to him in a way that was different from the rest of the group — different from anyone else she had ever met. He was like a drug, a magnet, the missing link that had her saying, where have you been my whole life, when you're meant to be here beside me? So quickly he had become her closet friend, and as much as their group liked to tease them, they both denied feeling anything beyond fierce friendship.

But Alina was such a liar.

Which makes it her own fault, really, for ending up in this situation. Zoya could, quite frankly, be a bitch — but she wouldn't have gone after Mal if Alina had just owned up to her feelings.

Though she really could have told her about it sooner.

Alina had been studying in the living room one night when a knock at the door startled her. Zoya hadn't mentioned having company, and neither of them had ordered food. Hesitantly, she rose and stood on her tiptoes to peek through the peephole. Then her face lit up, and she swung the door open. "Mal!"

Saints, he looked good. He appeared freshly showered, dressed in a silky green shirt and dark jeans. He had actually put effort into his hair for once, and he had a small gold hoop earring in his left ear.

"Hey, Lina," he said, something a little off with the smile he gave her. As he passed by to come inside, she could smell expensive cologne.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, butterflies in her stomach. Her head was already filling with wild fantasies. He wanted to surprise her, so he showed up without notice. He put effort into how he looked, because he wanted to impress her. He was going to reveal his true feelings for her, and she would revel in the fact that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Instead, Zoya entered the room and said, "He's here for me."

Mal had the decency to flush and offer a sheepish shrug. "I'm gonna grab some water," he said, and scuttled off to the kitchen. Of course, Mal had been here plenty of times before. He knew where everything was.

Alina had barely heard him though, Zoya's words repeating on a loop in her head. He's here for me. She knew what this meant, even as her mind tried to deny it. The room was spinning and she couldn't quite steady herself, like something had broken inside of her.

She swallowed, and as calmly as possible, said, "What happened to the heads up rule?"

Zoya arched a brow. "I texted you two hours ago."

Alina frowned and pulled out her phone. Sure enough, there was a text from Zoya. Got a guy coming over in a couple hours. She must have missed it, lost in her studies. But still, something in the text ignited anger in her chest.

"You could have said the guy was Mal."

Zoya shrugged, so frustratingly nonchalant. "What does it matter?"

It matters because I am so hopelessly in love with him, and you're supposed to be my friend, and now I have to blast music so I don't hear the sounds of you two fucking, she thought.

"He's my best friend," she said. "It's just a little weird, I guess."

"Don't worry, Starkov," Zoya said, turning toward the kitchen, probably to grab Mal so they could get the night started. "It won't affect anything between you two."

Alina waited until the two of them were tucked away in Zoya's room. Then she pulled on her old running shoes and slipped out — there was just no way she could be here, knowing what was happening in the room across from her own.

She ran with no destination in mind, pumping her little legs as hard as they could go, music pounding from her headphones. When she became too tired to go further, she checked her surroundings and sighed. Of course, her feet took her to one of her favorite places in the city.

It's not anything, really. A quiet street with an old abandoned building at the end of it. But on the building's brick wall is one of her favorite pieces of art. A mural of the sun, complex in its simplicity, using colors she had never seen used to express the sun before, yet perfectly capturing the feeling of a warm sunny day.

Alina leaned against the wall, slid down until she was sitting on the old, cracked sidewalk. Only then did she realize that she was crying. Turning off her music, she called Genya, and told her everything.

"You have to talk to Zoya," Genya said.

"No!" she said quickly. "I don't want her to feel bad. It's not her fault. And if Mal likes her — well, it's not like he's shown any interest in me. I'm not going to get in their way."

"Alina," Genya sighed.

"It's fine," she promised. "I just—" A sob escaped her throat, the pain overshadowing any coherent thought. It was not fine.

"Send me your location," Genya said, and Alina did.

She spent the night at Genya and David's that night, David promising he was more than okay with taking the couch so her and Genya could have the bed. Which was needed, because Alina had a lot more crying to do.

"Just don't tell Zoya," she said.

"Alina, I don't know."

"Promise, Genya. Please."

Finally, Genya sighed. "All right."

That was four months ago. Zoya had told her it wouldn't affect her close bond with Mal, but it had. Alina never invites Mal over anymore, too afraid that he'll come to watch a movie, sit on the couch beside her — much closer than most friends sit. They would point out everything terrible about it, because they loved to watch bad films together as they stuffed their faces with popcorn. Then the movie would end and Mal would say goodnight, but instead of leaving, he'd go to Zoya's room, and the popcorn they ate would sour in her stomach.

There were so many little changes, too. Like when they hung out as a group, and suddenly Alina was questioning every move she made around him. Was it still okay to playfully ruffle his hair, to sit close enough that their shoulders pressed together, to look at him like he personally hung the sun and the moon in the sky, all while Zoya was there to see? Was it wrong to look at his lips and fantasize about how they would feel against her own, pressed to her collarbone, sucking her most sensitive spots? Zoya and Mal were a casual thing, they had both said so. But still, the natural intimacy her friendship with Mal had built for the past two years suddenly felt wrong, and she hated it.

Needless to say, Alina has been looking into new rooming possibilities for next year. She can't do this anymore. Every time Mal comes over, she waits for them to lock themselves away in Zoya's room, and then she leaves. She runs to her sun, sometimes just sitting and letting her sad song playlist make her sadder, sometimes bringing her sketchbook to at least make art out of the pain.

But tonight she has a very rare opportunity — the apartment to herself. Only for a couple hours, but still. She has spent most of the time so far blaring music, and her neighbors probably hate her, but damn it, they can deal with it for a night.

She lets the music play as she takes a much needed shower. Sure, she could have gone the bath route, but she doesn't want to waste all her time getting clean. Alina has decided her hours alone should end with a much needed date with her vibrator and an Owen Gray video that she's going to watch without headphones.

Olivia Rodrigo's Brutal is pounding from her speaker, and though Alina's twenty-one, not seventeen, the lyrics hit all the same. She's so into the music, thinking about her life for the past four months, thinking about moving as soon as she possibly can, thinking yeah, it really is fucking brutal out here, that she does not notice the telltale signs of someone entering her apartment, and even more worrisome, someone entering the bathroom. Not until it's too late.

"Thought you were too cool for Olivia Rodrigo," a very male voice says, and then the shower curtain opens.

Screams fill the air from both of them. Alina's already holding her conditioner bottle, and on instinct, hurls it at the man's chest while her other hand reaches for her razor.

"Oi!"

Only then does her mind register that it's not a strange man come to sexually assault her, it's Mal. Her best friend. Her roommate's casual lover slash fuck buddy slash whatever. It's Mal, completely naked before her. She gets a quick glimpse of his cock, half-hard, before he curses and turns around.

It doesn't help that his backside is just as nice to look at. He's well toned, muscles flexing as he reaches to grab the clothes he must have just discarded. He bends, giving her the most sinful view of his ass, and Saints, her mind goes wild. She pictures him turning back around and pushing her against the wall, slamming inside of her. As he fucks her, she would reach around and grab that delicious ass of his, dig her fingers into the plump skin, and leave little half-moon indents.

Mal is apologizing over and over again — "I thought you were Zoya!" — as he gathers up his clothes and makes a beeline for the door. Alina finally snaps out of her filthy fantasy and slides the shower curtain closed with a shaky hand. She leans back against the tiled wall, breathing hard. Her heart is pounding like never before.

The song is winding down. Olivia is crooning, God I don't even know where to start.

Neither does Alina.

By the time she musters the courage to finish her shower and leave the bathroom, her robe clutched tightly around her, there’s no sign of Mal in the apartment. Zoya isn’t back yet, either.

With a sigh of relief, she flops onto her bed. Her previous plans were out the window now. Taking a breath, she goes over the facts in her head.

One: Mal has now seen her completely naked.

Two: she has now seen Mal completely naked.

It was the wrong thing to think about, because now she’s picturing the smooth expanse of his skin, his perfectly tight ass, and the quick glimpse she had gotten of his—

Heat pools between her thighs. She’s positively aching, when she should be feeling horrified. She should absolutely not be reaching for her vibrator as she lets the images of Mal’s naked body settle in her mind. It’s wrong, because Mal is, at least somewhat, Zoya’s, and Zoya is her friend. Besides, it was Zoya that he had come looking for, Zoya that he wanted to fuck against the shower wall.

But Alina does grab her vibrator, and as it buzzes her to multiple releases, she imagines Mal shoving her against the wall, pressing kisses to her neck, fucking her like it’s his sole reason for existing. Fucking her like she’s his, and he’s hers.

She doesn’t see Zoya until the next morning, passing out sometime after orgasm number three. Saints, if the memory of Mal’s bare skin had been enough to keep her going for three rounds, she wasn’t sure she could even handle actually being with him.

When she walks into the kitchen, Zoya is sitting at their tiny excuse for a table. “Good morning,” Alina says as naturally as possible.

Zoya only says, “Sit down, Starkov.”

It’s unnerving, how quickly can could take over her entire body. Saying nothing, still going for casual, Alina sits across from her. “What’s up?”

“That’s my question, actually.” Zoya arches a brow. “What happened with you and Mal last night?”

Shit, shit, shit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do. I know he stopped by before I got home. When I asked why he left, he got all weird and said something came up with Dubrov. But I know that’s a lie, because Dubrov was happily posting drunken stories last night. So obviously something happened when he was over.” Zoya sits back in her chair and stares her down, making her insides twist. “And since I don’t live with him, the only person I have to grill is you. So get talking.”

Alina sighs, knowing she isn’t strong enough to deny Zoya when she’s like this, and babbles out the story. Really, it wasn’t her fault. Mal was the one that walked in on her. It was just incredibly embarrassing for both of them.

When she finishes, Zoya lets the information sink in, and then she laughs, harder than Alina has ever seen her laugh.

“Well I’m so glad this is funny to you,” she huffs, arms crossed over her chest.

“It is! I can only imagine your faces, shit.” Zoya wipes at her eyes. “Too bad you already know each other, that would make for one hell of a meet cute.” She pauses and says, “Well, it still could be your origin.”

Alina frowns. “Our origin?”

“You know, if you guys dated.”

She momentarily loses her breath. “What? No, you guys are a thing.”

Zoya rolls her eyes. “We’re fucking, Alina, that’s it. And actually, I was planning on cutting it off after last night.” She stands and pours herself what is at least her second up of coffee. “There’s someone else I’m interested in.”

“Someone else? Who?” Zoya says nothing. Alina pops up as it comes to her. “Oh! It’s that rich blond guy from the bar, isn’t it? The one that transferred here this semester. Nikolai or something, right?”

The tiniest blush spreads on Zoya’s face, and Alina squeals. “It is him! Saints, he’s attractive.”

“Yes, he is,” Zoya snaps. “And not bad for conversation, either.”

“Conversation?” She grins. “Why, Miss Nazyalensky, do you actually have feelings for this guy?”

Zoya scowls. “Shut it, Starkov.”

“Oh, you totally have feelings for him!”

“Keep it up and you will pay for this. I’m devising a plan as we speak.”

Alina just laughs. “Okay, Mrs. Whatever Nikolai’s Last Name Is.”

Under her breath, Zoya mutters, “Lantsov,” and stalks off with her coffee as Alina laughs harder.

Zoya, apparently, hadn’t been kidding when she said she was devising a plan.

When the weekend rolls around once again and Zoya texts the group chat they have with Genya about getting lunch, Alina jumps at the idea. She missed Genya, and it had been a hell of a week between juggling exams and thinking about her encounter with Mal. They haven’t spoken at all, and she had used her classes as an excuse to get out of any hang outs where he might show up.

Zoya’s words from the morning after had been on her mind a lot, too. It still could be your origin. Could it? Was Mal even interested in her — and would he even want to try, after he’d had something with Zoya, or would it just be inevitably awkward?

Alina approaches the restaurant and sucks in a breath. She’s decided to finally tell Zoya about how she’s had feelings for Mal all this time, and maybe with her and Genya, the three of them can come up with what the hell Alina should do next.

Zoya had texted five minutes ago saying she grabbed them a table in the restaurant’s outdoor patio, so she makes her way there. Only it’s not Zoya or even Genya waiting for her.

It’s Mal.

He looks just as surprised to see her as she is to see him, and for a moment, she believes it really is some crazy coincidence.

“Alina,” he says, standing. Neither of them can quite meet the other’s eye. “What are you doing here?”

Her hand is doing some nervous twitchy thing at her side, so she shoves it into the pocket of her dress. “I’m supposed to be meeting Zoya and Genya.”

Mal curses under his breath. “I’m supposed to be meeting Zoya, too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Shaking her head and feeling incredibly stupid, Alina takes out her phone and fires off a text to Zoya, WHAT THE HELL????

The next message she receives comes from Zoya — only not in the text chat between the two of them, but rather a newly created group chat with the two of them and Mal.

consider this the official end to our fuck-mance, oretsev. yalls little bathroom flash show was the perfect opportunity for a new beginning, because yes, i see the doe eyes you give alina when she’s not looking. you too, starkov. i’m sorry for getting in the way for so long. have a good date, no throwing bottles at each other xoxo

They finish reading at the same time, looking up from their phones, eyes meeting before flickering away again.

Mal sighs. “I think I hate her.”

“I think I hate her, too.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Alina bites her lip. Because he doesn’t want to do this, she thinks. “Oh, well, I guess—”

Mal cuts her off. “But it might be a nice chance for us to talk.” Her head snaps up, and this time when their eyes meet, neither of them look away. He smiles shyly. “I missed you this week, Lina.”

Her smile matches his. “I missed you, too.”

They sit, and after the waiter takes their order for drinks and an appetizer for them to share — a sample platter, both of them too indecisive for any singular thing — Mal starts to stutter out an apology. Alina stops him with a hand on his arm. He looks down at where her fingers brush against bare skin, and she wonders if he’s thinking about all the skin they’ve bared to each other now. She certainly is.

“You don’t need to apologize, Mal,” she promises. “It was an accident.”

He shakes his head. “Still, I can’t imagine how terrifying that was for you.”

“Well, it was,” she admits, then adds, “at first.”

“At first?”

She shrugs, but says nothing, thankful for their drinks arriving to save her from answering. Because the truth was she had been scared for maybe three seconds. Once she had realized it was Mal, she’d only felt desire.

With their awkward shower encounter out of the way, they fall into fairly easy conversation, complaining about exams and projects, annoying classmates and neighbors. Soon enough, they’re back to being themselves. Alina pulls out her phone to show Mal all the memes and TikToks she had wanted to send him this week, and he does the same. Hours fly by without their notice, and now the dinner crowd is filing in.

“Oi, I think our waiter is silently praying for us to leave.”

She laughs, pulling out her wallet. “Definitely.”

Mal waves her off. “Let me get it,” he says, taking his own wallet out. “I mean, since this is apparently a date and all.”

Alina hesitates, a little flutter in her chest even though he’d said it teasingly. “Okay, fine. But I’ll get the tip.”

“Deal.”

When everything is paid for, they stand. Going home is the last thing she wants right now, and not just because Zoya will be there.

Mal looks ready to pull her into one of their standard hugs, but pauses. “Do you want to come over? We can find something shitty to watch. Mikhael and Dubrov will be around, but I just really don’t want to see Zoya right now.”

Alina smiles, the flutter in her chest returning with vigor. “Yeah, okay.”

At Mal’s flat, they settle onto the sofa together, close enough that their shoulders brush. Mikhael and Dubrov tease them about looking like lovebirds, but otherwise surprisingly leave them be. She doesn’t mind their company — but admittedly, she was glad they stayed to their respective rooms tonight. Mal puts on an indie horror flick that’s so bad it’s good, and they laugh and joke with each other throughout, per usual.

About halfway through the film, they share a knowingly look — their that foreshadowing is so obvious, RIP to that character in twenty minutes look — and sport matching grins. But when the moment passes, neither of them looks away.

“Alina,” Mal says softly, and her breath hitches. Has he ever said her name with such longing before?

His eyes flicker down — to her lips. She thinks of Zoya’s text then, basically calling both of them out for having feelings for each other. And while neither of them had confirmed it, they hadn’t denied it either.

Her heart is beating so fast. She gives him the tiniest nod.

Mal understands, he always does, and then he’s leaning in. Their noses brush before their lips do, and it could be silly or awkward, but instead it’s a different kind of intimacy she hadn’t known she wanted.

“Alina,” he breathes once more, and then he kisses her, so softly at first, it’s barely anything. Her stomach is doing cartwheels regardless. She takes initiative, kissing him back. Still soft, still careful, afraid that whatever this is between them is something fragile, something that needs delicacy. In some ways, it is. Her closest friendship, blossoming into something more.

Mal lets out the softest moan, and it snaps something between them.

He pulls her closer, his hand on the back of her neck, and now Alina is the one moaning, fervor replacing the softness, the delicacy. It’s the kind of kiss she’s been fantasizing about, made even better from how obvious it is that they’ve both wanted this for a long time. A desperate kiss bursting with desire.

Alina shifts closer until she’s practically straddling his lap. Mal brings one hand to rest on her lower back, the other curling into her hair. His lips move to her neck, trailing down until he reaches her collarbone, where he nips and sucks, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“Mal,” she sighs, her head tipped back from the feeling as her hips roll against his. He curses against her skin. Her hands move to the hem of his shirt, ready to pull it off.

All of a sudden, Mal pulls away, stopping her hands with his own. “Alina, don’t.”

She blinks her eyes open. “Do you want to move to your room?”

Mal bites his lip and shakes his head.

Alina frowns, any warmth in her chest turning cold. She quickly returns to her own side of the couch. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted this.” Wanted me, she thinks but doesn’t say. Because he certainly had no issues with Zoya.

“I do!” he says quickly, taking her hand again and trying to pull her back. She holds her ground, pulls her hand out of his. “I do want this, Alina. Saints, I do. But this is technically our first date, right? I don’t want to do first date sex, not with you.”

Alina rolls her eyes, looking down and tugging at a loose thread on her dress. “Is this where you say something you think sounds respectful but really just puts down all the girls you have had first date sex with?”

“Alina, please look at me.”

Grudgingly, she does.

“You’re different because you’re my best friend, and because I’ve been hooking up with our mutual friend.” She flinches, but Mal continues. “I don’t want you to think we have to have sex because of that. What I had with Zoya — it was good, and I care about Zoya, but it didn’t go beyond the physical. That’s all we wanted from each other. But that’s not all I want with you.”

Mal closes his eyes. Alina’s unconsciously holding her breath. He exhales and opens his eyes again, holding her gaze. “I want everything with you, Alina. I want your highs and your lows. I want to take you against the wall as much as I want to hold your hand.” He does so now, both of his hands around one of hers, and this time she doesn’t pull away. “And if you didn’t want to be physical? I’d still want you. I don’t want you to think there’s anything we have to do. That’s why I want to wait — even if I also want to take you to my room and pin you against my bed, too.”

“Oh,” she says, barely audible. Alina shakes her head, a little speechless. “I don’t know what to say.”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Was that too rom-com confessional?”

The tension breaks. She laughs and climbs onto his lap again, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re such a dork, but you’re the perfect dork. So we’ll wait.” She pauses and looks up at him with innocent eyes. “But will you kiss me again?”

Mal grins, pushes her down against the couch, and does just that.

When she gets home, Zoya is waiting in the living room, reading a smutty romance book Genya had recommended. “Hey, how’d it go?” she asks, too casually to actually be casual.

Alina ignores her and walks straight to her room. She’s decided to let Zoya sweat it out a bit for the weekend after her little stunt, even if it was successful.

Though really, she didn’t think it would bother Zoya that much. Hard as steel Zoya, who never let anything get to her. But on Sunday, she bursts into Alina’s room, interrupting her studying.

“Okay, I know you hate me now or whatever, but at least let me tell you that I’m sorry. I didn’t know how much you liked him, Alina. Not until Genya told me.”

Alina closes her book, frowning. “Genya told you?”

Zoya nods and sits at the end of her bed. “Recently, when I told her about Nikolai and that I was thinking about cutting things off with Mal. Don’t be mad at her, just be mad at me.”

“Well—” she starts, but Zoya cuts her off.

“And honestly? The worst part is, part of me did know. I saw the looks you gave each other, but I brushed them off because I was selfish and enjoying myself. I was a really, really shit friend to you, and I’m so sorry, Alina. You don’t have to forgive me, but I just—

Zoya stops mid-sentence, cut off by the laughter bubbling out of Alina.

“Saints, I never thought I’d see the day that Zoya Nazyalensky grovels.” She shoots her a grin. “I accept your apology. And as much as I want to hate you for your meddling stunt, it worked, because we definitely spent the night making out. I just did the whole silent treatment to make you suffer a little.”

A moment passes — Zoya is completely still, too still — and then she grabs one of Alina’s pillows and smacks her with it. “You little rat!”

Alina only laughs harder, fighting off Zoya’s pillow attack with her hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say sorry non-sarcastically! You did so well, Nazyalensky!”

“And you’ll never hear it again! You’ve lost apology privileges!

Eventually, Alina moves into the living room to study, and Zoya joins her. When their brains need a break, Alina tells her about her date with Mal, and Zoya tells her about her own with Nikolai. If this is their new normal, Alina finds that she really likes it.

The next week is outstandingly better than the previous. She’s back to talking to Mal each day, even more than before. Halfway through the week, he sends her a song with the message, This song made me think of you the first time I heard it, still does every time. It has her heart beating extra fast as she listens on her walk to class, not only because it’s incredibly sweet, but because Mal has played this song for her before, months and months ago, which means he’s felt this way the whole time.

Early Saturday evening, Zoya announces that she’s spending the night at Nikolai’s. “He has his own apartment, so it just makes sense. I’ll be home in the morning, probably.”

Thank the Saints for rich boys.

She texts Mal, and Zoya’s barely gone for ten minutes before he’s there. They make dinner together — well, Alina sits on the counter while Mal does the actual cooking, but he spends any down time kissing her, so she likes to think she was the moral support. They eat on the couch, watching their favorite trashy reality television, and play a few rounds of Mario Kart afterwards. Really, it’s just like how things were when they were simply best friends, except now Alina drapes her body over his as they watch their show, Mal’s thumb moving in slow circles on her ankle, and instead of talking or playing on their phones during ad breaks, they pick up where they left off in the kitchen, their lips pressed together in a blissful ease.

They’re on their fifth game of Mario Kart, Alina in the lead, as she has been every round. She’s bragging about how she’s going to beat him again when suddenly her vision is blocked as Mal presses his lips to hers.

Her surprise doesn’t stop her from dropping her controller and kissing back. She’s just getting into the kiss when Mal pulls away as quickly as he had started the kiss. He stands, and only then does she see he never dropped his controller. Picking up right where he left off, he steers Luigi towards the finish line. (“Who the hell picks Luigi?” Alina had asked him once. To which Mal responded, “It’s not fair people only care about his brother when he probably works just as hard at their plumbing business. It’s just like people only knowing Adam Levine and ignoring the rest of Maroon 5—” which led to a very cute rant that Alina spent less time listening to and more time staring at his lips while he was distracted.)

Alina fumbles for her controller, but it’s too late. Mal hasn’t come in first — some of the computers still beat him. But he’s beat her, which by the smirk on his face, was his only goal.

“You’re such a cheater!”

“It’s not cheating, it’s strategy.”

“I suppose you need your strategy, since you don’t have any skills.”

Mal raises a brow, a devious look in his eyes. “Is that so? Perhaps I should show you my skills, then.” He moves in front of her and kneels on the couch, a leg on either side of her body, essentially pinning her there, and kisses her again.

Immediately, she can feel the difference from the strategy kiss and even the ones from earlier that night. He’s kissing with purpose, cradling her face with one hand, the other on her waist, and Alina is melting against him. She is putty in Mal’s hands, his to mold how he pleases.

He’s holding himself so that his weight isn’t pressing down on her, but that’s exactly what she wants. Her hips buck up against his, and Mal pulls back to moan, “Fuck, Alina,” so she does it again.

“Please tell me we can have second date sex.”

Mal chuckles. “Are we even going to bother with the dating process?”

“I don’t know, are we?”

“I don’t know. Do I need to ask you to be my girlfriend?”

Alina grins. “I wouldn’t mind hearing it.

“All right. Alina, my beauty, my beloved, will you bless me with the honor of calling you my girlfriend?”

Her grin widens, and giddy butterflies dance inside her chest. No, not butterflies — fireflies. She can feel their warmth and wouldn’t be surprised if she was glowing from their light. “Oh, I suppose.”

Mal laughs. “I can’t stand you,” he says, and kisses her again.

Alina returns the kiss for a moment before murmuring against his lips, “You don’t have to stand me, but now that you’re my boyfriend, can you fuck me?”

He practically growls as he says, “Saints, yes,” standing and lifting her with him. Mal brings them to her room, kissing her the whole way. He unceremoniously shoves her school books off of her bed, laying her down and crawling over her. “You don’t know how often I’ve imagined this,” he murmurs, lips on her throat.

“Tell me,” she gasps.

“Every time I came over, Alina. Every time.”

A shiver runs down her spine. “Even when you were here to—”

“Especially then.”

She has no idea what to do with this information. Her head is empty of thought save for the screaming need for more of him, so she pulls his shirt over his head. This time, Mal doesn’t stop her. Her hands roam over all the places she’s been dying to touch; down his back, tracing along his spine, up over his stomach, fingers running along the muscles of his chest, brushing over a few scars he’s accumulated through the years.

“You’re so perfect,” she whispers. Smooth in some places, rougher in others, but so incredibly warm everywhere.

Mal tips her chin up, kisses her lips once, hard, and then another to her jaw, down her neck, her collarbone. Then he’s the one tossing her shirt aside, his lips continuing their decent. He’s pressing soft words into her skin as he kisses her — beauty, beloved, cherished, my heart —murmuring his love for her even as he brings her nipple between his teeth.

“Shit, Mal,” Alina breathes. Her hips keep bucking, far beyond her control. He chuckles, murmurs something along the lines of no patience, and quickens his pace. Soon enough, he’s got her undressed completely — which isn’t too unnerving after the shower incident. Any lingering nerves flee once his head is between her thighs. She’s suddenly very thankful Zoya isn’t home, because even though it’s never been a problem during sex before, she absolutely cannot control the noises she’s making — and she’s loud.

Mal returns to her with glistening lips. She kisses him and tastes herself, a thrill better than any rollercoaster. Her hands move to the waistband of his pants, giving a half-hearted tug. “Off.”

“So lazy,” he teases, unclasping the button on his jeans, tugging down the zipper. “I could always make you work for it.”

“Have mercy on me, Oretsev. I’m still recovering from the pleasures of your cocky mouth.”

He looks so proud of himself, she wants to kiss him just to wipe the smirk off of his face. “If you enjoyed my cocky mouth, just wait until you feel my—

“Do not finish that sentence.”

But then he’s pushing down his boxers, and all Alina can do is stare as the cock in question springs free. He’s fully hard this time around, and her thighs squeeze together at the sight. He watches her as she practically drools over his dick, his smirk becoming even, well, smirkier. She reaches out and curls her fingers around his length, giving him two quick strokes — both to clear the smirk from his face and because she so very much wants to touch him.

“Fuck, Alina,” he hisses. He’s reaching for his jeans, probably to grab a condom from his pocket, but she grabs his hand.

“I’m on the pill, and I’ve been tested recently.” Of course, there’s still a slight risk. But it’s Mal — finally Mal — and she wants to feel every inch of him.

He pauses, then nods. “Okay.” Crawling over her, he takes one of her hands and intertwines their fingers. With his other hand, he grips his cock and drags the tip through her folds like the damn tease he is, eliciting needy mewling from her that he seems to enjoy. In her ear, he murmurs, “How do you want this, Alina?”

“I don’t want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

Mal chuckles softly, but the sound so close to her ear sends more shivers down her spine. “As you wish, moya solnishka.” My little sun.

She has only a brief moment to bask in the sweetness of his words before he’s slamming into her all in one go, anything sweet flying out the window. Mal keeps a steady rhythm while sucking on her neck, which is good, because all Alina can do is moan incoherently as her nails leave scratches down his back.

When he senses her getting close, Mal brings his finger to her clit, circling just right. “Saints!” she cries, and comes undone beneath him once again. But this time, she gets to watch him fall over the edge with her, his eyes so incredibly dark as he moans his release. He’s the only man she’s ever let come inside of her, and it feels very right that it’s Mal — she doesn’t want anyone else filling her like this, marking her in a sense as his spend drips down her thighs.

They stay like that for a while, foreheads pressed together, sweaty and sticky, but blissfully so.

“So, is the sex still good on this side of the apartment?”

In answer, he dips his head and bites down on one of her tits.

“Shit, Malyen!”

“Ridiculous questions get ridiculous responses,” he teases, then wraps his arms around her, tucking his face into the crook of her shoulder. “You’re all I’ve wanted for two years, Alina, and this still beat my expectations.”

Smiling, she rests her chin against the top of his head. “Good. I would hate to have to start fucking in Zoya’s bed just because you like the airflow better there.”

“Smart ass,” Mal mutters, but he’s smiling. Then he says, "You know, this may not be my first time fucking in this apartment, but I’m still checking off a first tonight — of many, I hope.”

Alina rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’m aware this is your first time fucking me in this apartment, dumb ass.”

"That’s not what I meant, rude ass.”

She frowns. “Then what did you mean?”

He squeezes her hip. “It’s my first time spending the night.”

Her heart does a little jump in her chest, and she doesn’t even have it in her to tease that she hasn’t actually asked him to stay yet. But stay he does, though he gets her off a few more times before they pass out for the night — definitely beating her vibrator. One time it’s with his fingers, so incredibly long that she knows all her fantasies will involve the slender digits now. Another is after Alina murmurs about how filthy she is and that she really ought to take a shower.

Mal waits long enough to join her that she starts to worry he hadn’t understood her intent. But then she hears his footsteps, and the shower curtain opens. There’s no bottle throwing this time, though she can’t say the same for the screaming. He steps into the shower, kisses her slowly, sensually, then pushes her back until she shivers from the feeling of cold tile against her bare skin.

“I meant to ask, you do know you have mirrors in here, right?” Mal murmurs huskily into her ear. She’s too disoriented with want to understand until he says, “I saw you staring at my ass last time.”

Then he slams into her, and Alina no longer has to imagine how it feels to be fucked against the shower wall.

#malina #malina fanfic #alina starkov #malyen oretsev #grishaverse fanfic #college au #PHEW THIS TOOK MUCH LONGER THAN EXPECTED #because i wrote much more than expected sksksksk #but this time i think i'm happy with what came out #i will never tire of writing these two idiots in love so i hope yall don't tire of reading me writing these idiots in love teehee #this one is steamy folks!#TY FOR THE PROMPT LINA I HOPE U ENJOY!!!!#writing #mine #ps the song he sends her is in the title teehee #for inquiring minds #also i've only read through this once so sorry in advance for the inevitable typos lmao

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