#make it make sense and something i can chew on. instead of the lazy ass 'girl gets emotional weeehhh' shit shes smarter than that. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jangofctts · 4 years ago

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Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace.

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy.

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.”

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it.

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.”

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.”

You smile. “Lovely.”

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.

-=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality.

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.”

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home.

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare.

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement.

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.”

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors.

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.”

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot.

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away.

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle.

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder.

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.”

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.”

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat.

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder.

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind.

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile.

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll.

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak.

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement.

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses.

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short.

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more.

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains.

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself.

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist. Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes.

Fuck yeah.

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock.

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh.

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge.

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.”

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation.

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.”

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark.

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now.

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs.

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question.

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command.

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff.

Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight.

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you.

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.”

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs.

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days.

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs.

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much.

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.”

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.”

There we go.

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes.

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness.

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile.

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep.

taglist: @goldafterglow @djxrxn @velvetmel0n @steeeeeeeviebb @stargazingcarol @ohiobluetip @anxiety-riddled-mando @absurdthirst @thesoftdumbass @huliabitch @max--phillips @silverfish-kingdom @krissology @teaofpeaches @pettyprocrastination @nelba @beskars @jango-fettish @corrupt-fvcker @maybege @auty-ren @legally-a-bastard @bigdickdindjarin @thesparkleslugs @cryptid-candy @mandowhorian @pascaliprincess @mitchi-c @vesperstalksclones @cmakars @cptnbvcks @whewchiles @leias-left-hair-bun @astrochellie @angryares @rise-my-angel @stardust-galaxies @phoenixhalliwell @samhollandssweaters @blue-writes-a03 @hdlynnslibrary @darthadeline @calamity-queen @luxurybeskar @justanotherblonde23 @book-hoardingdragon @fahrenheit-not @princessxkenobi @skdubbs @ben-is-a-hoe @3strogen @chasingdreamer @weebblossom @bobaandthefetts

sorry if I missed you AH!!!!

#well yall im #bucket fucker supreme right here I guess #enJOY #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #boba fett x reader x din djarin #din djarin x reader x boba fett #star wars fanfiction #my writing

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kaaytea · 3 years ago

Note

How about being the manager of Inarizaki, Nekoma, Seijoh and Shiratorizawa and how the boys would feel when they finally finally get a manager? :0

New Manager

⤷Includes: Nekoma, Inarizaki, Seijoh, Shiratorizawa

A/n: I haven't written for the HQ boys in a hot minute so I was sUper hyped for this! Thank you for the request, dear 💕

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

Nekoma

Nekoma has been manager-less for so long that literally the entire team was dumbfounded when they spotted you chilling next to Nekomata

Like hello??? Who are you and what are you doing in their gym???

There's a good few seconds of silence when Nekomata introduces you

Despite being cats, they greatly resembled their Fukurodani rivals as they blinked back at you with big curious eyes

That is until Yamamoto slumps to his knees and starts tearing up, blabbering on about how they've been blessed with a manager while a quiet Fukunaga pats his back in an almost humouring manner

Yamamoto's out burst is what loosens up the team and they start making their way to introduce themselves to you

The first is Kuroo, who approaches you with a welcoming smirk which was quickly followed by a gentle smile from Kai and a reassuring pat on the back from Yaku

The first years are VERY eager to meet you! Lev and Inouka are bouncing around you spewing out questions to the point where Yaku has to kick them both and send them off to warm up

Sweet Shibayama very nervously bows at you and thanks you for taking care of the team (what a baby 🤧💕)

The entire team absolutely loves you by the end of your first day (yes even the aloof creature that is Kenma, though he'll never admit it)

Nekoma's inner team dynamic is very familial and you're immediately sucked into the little family vibes they got going on

The first years love to be around you! (Specifically Lev bc you're not as mean to him as everyone else)

The first years are always volunteering to help you carry equipment or water bottles

You once caught one of the jokes Fukunaga muttered during practice so now the two of you bounce little puns and jokes off of eachother to see who can get the other to laugh first (he is currently winning. although, you got him to tear up from laughing so hard once which you've been counting as 10 wins)

The third years tend to mother hen you a bit, specifically Yaku and Kuroo

Kuroo made it very clear to you that you're apart of the team even if you don't play on the court, so as captain it's his job to make sure all his players are ok (mentally, physically, socially, you name it! He's always looking out for you and is basically your big brother)

You and Yaku bond over the fact that you're both the unofficial team moms. The two of you are very organized and have a whole ass check list that you BOTH go over at least twice before the team leaves for a game or training camp

Kai is like your calm in the storm that is Nekoma. The two of you have had numerous conversations about anything from books to cafés and he's always willing to lend an ear if you need to rant

Kenma is a fairly distant person but he warms up to you when he notices how caring you are. He even let's you play his DS on the train rides to and from Nekoma

Inarizaki

You're a brave soul if you are willingly becoming the manager of Inarizaki

Kita is actually the one who asked if you wanted to be the teams manager

He saw you cleaning the board in a classroom during lunch break and was impressed by how well of a job you did

It doesn't matter if you said yes out of fear from Kita's blank stare or because you were genuinely interested bc now you're standing in the volleyball gym, clad in Inarizaki's signature maroon tracksuit

The team notices you instantly, particularly a certain blonde Miya

Before Kita even got a chance to introduce you to everyone, Atsumu had wandered over to you with a lazy smile tugging at his lips

Atsumu introduced himself and then started asking what you were doing here

"Are ya lost?" "Ya here to admire me?" "Ya dating one of the players?"

You didn't get a chance to answer his questions as Osamu lovingly threw a Volleyball at Atsumu, cutting off any moment you had to respond

The only problem was that Atsumu noticed the volleyball rOcketing towards him and scrambled out of the way like a startled cat, leaving the ball to hit you instead of its intended target

The silence that hung over the gym was deafening as the younger team members watched Kita and Aran rush over to assist your now bloody nose

Just as quick as it had started, the silence was broken by Atsumu yelling at his brother for hitting a helpless person in the face and the gym quickly descended into madness

Aran held a towel to your nose and gave you a few encouraging pats on the back as the both of you watched Kita chew out the twins (safe to say Kita was hard on them during practice)

Osamu approached you during a water break to apologize and, to the surprise of the entire team, gave you the extra pudding he had as a peace offering

Since that incident Osamu and Atsumu stopped throwing volleyballs at each other's heads (at least when you were around that is)

The team is also surprisingly protective of you

The glares people get at tournaments if they try to flirt with you are terrifying

You become pretty close with Suna as the both of you tend to sit back and watch Atsumu and Osamu fight (you tried to step in once but they literally only respond to Kita so it didn't do much)

Suna also pats you on the head whenever he passes you

(it's something he does to his little sister to show some form of affection/appreciation and now he does it to you for the very same reasons)

This goes with out saying, but the twins love you

Osamu still feels bad about the whole hitting you in the face thing so he always shares any snacks he's got on him with you

Atsumu truly just likes being babied by you

Any ounce of praise or happy smiles directed at him has him acting like a puppy

(does 'Tsumu have a tiny crush on you? Yep he totally does!)

Kita and Aran are absolute sweethearts!! They are both very grateful for all the work you put in and treat you to boba every other week as a thank you :))

Seijoh

It was a new school year and you decided to push yourself out of your comfort zone a bit

What better way to do that then be a manager for a sports team!

Apparently one of your classmates let it slip that you were looking to be a manager for a sports team because you were approached by a very buff and very attractive guy a few days after asking if you'd be interested in helping the volleyball team

You happily agreed to do a trial day that afternoon, to which the player, who you now know as Iwaizumi-san, breathed a sigh of relief and said he'd pick you up after school to take you to the gym

So the school day is over, Iwaizumi meets you outside your classroom and you're off!

As you walk to the gym he fills you in on some of the tasks the manager would have to do

The job didn't sound that terrible so you were a bit confused as to why Iwaizumi was having such a hard time finding a manager

"Let's just say that the applicants were more interested in staring at our captain than the actual job." He had told you

Ok so first unofficial rule....don't stare at the Seijoh volleyball team's captain? A bit odd but who were you to judge, maybe the guy was shy and didn't like attention

Your thoughts were cut off by the crisp slap! Of a ball hitting the floor followed by a few short yells from the players littered across the court

Your attention was then caught by the sensation of someone draping their arm over your shoulders and a tangy apple smell invading your senses

"Oh? I didn't know you were dating someone, Iwa-chan~"

Iwaizumi shoved the brunette off of you and quickly explained that you were just here to test out being the manager for the day

The player's eyes lit up and he turned to you with a bubbly smile, introducing himself as Seijoh's captain, Oikawa Tooru

Ah, Captain.... Now you knew why they were having trouble finding someone who didn't stare

Your first day went fairly smooth, just a few blunders that were quickly forgotten by the team after Oikawa cheerfully told you: "Everyone has to start somewhere, (y/n)-chan!"

After the first week you had to admit that the Aoba Johsai volleyball team were quickly becoming some of your best friends, you all fit together like a dysfunctional family

Makki, Mattsun, and Iwa would always agree/praise you when you joined in one the daily Oikawa roast session

Oikawa (when he wasn't pouting about how "mean" you are to him) was fairly sweet to you

He spent the first month helping you learn the rules about volleyball and explaining the lingo the team often used during plays

Although, he does jokingly flirt with you about 40 thousand times a week so...

Kindaichi is a nervous wreak around you the first few weeks. Eventually his nervous demeanor melts away. Now he goes to you whenever he needs someone to toss the ball up for him so he can practice his spikes

Kunimi likes you simply because you let him get away with napping during water breaks

Kyotani acts like you annoy him but if anyone made you cry or hurt you in some way he would burn the entire gym down in a heartbeat

Did I mention that Seijoh are also very protective of you?

When at tournaments they travel in a small pack with you in the middle to reduce the chances of you getting hit on

Shiratorizawa

Shiratorizawa is a very nice and prestigious school so you thought why not participate in an extracurricular that would be beneficial for, not only your resume, but you yourself as well!

Out of all the clubs you chose volleyball which you're starting to regret a bit since one of your friends informed you that the team is a powerhouse school

Which means you can't make a bad impression or silly mistakes.....at all

That entire philosophy is thrown oUt the window on your second day as the official manager

You somehow managed to trip over your own feet and slam into a cart full of spare balls AND spill the water bottles you were carrying all over yourself

You were hoping that the team, by some miraculous reason, didn't notice but the stifled giggles from a certain red head said otherwise

You would give anything for the ground to just swallow you up and disappear forever

But then you saw a pair of gym shoes standing in front of you and when you looked up you were met with THE Ushijima Wakatoshi, captain and ace of shiratorizawa, offering you help to stand up

You hadn't seen Ushijima be more than a stoic and intimidating guy so you were even more surprised when he gave one of his spare shirts to change into now that you had spilt water on yourself

I guess you could say your little clumsy episode was what broke the ice for you and the team

Tendou loves talking with you

You're an interesting person to him and he finds great pleasure in teasing you (in his own words it's "out of love")

Ushijima ended up not being as intimidating as you originally pegged him to be. Instead, he was just a quiet guy who surprisingly could say some pretty funny things (whether or not he intended it to be funny)

Goshiki just loves you. Period.

You praise him and give him head pats so he couldn't be happier!

Tendou and Shirabu tease him all the time about how he has a case of puppy love for you (which Goshiki aggRessively denies no matter how red his face is)

Semi is someone who is grateful for your assistance with the team and does his very best to get Tendou out of your hair when you're trying to do your manager work. He also shares his headphones with you on long bus rides so you can listen to music together!

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levis-hazelnut · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: when you and your best friend, Hanji, were younger, you had made up stories about your dream guys - what they would look like and how you would meet. What happens when the one you had made up appears to be real?

Warning(s): I don’t think there are any in this chapter. But, please do tell me if there are any.

Taglist (closed!): @castellandiangelo @fandom-addict19 @20coldhearts

Status: completed!

part 4 > part 5 > part 6

series masterlist

It's been exactly five days since that time I yelled at Jean and Levi. What did I do during these days? Well, first of all, both males had sat down with me at lunch the next day, making Hanji, Connie, Sasha and Armin leave the table. Surprisingly, they apologised for things they weren't at fault for, so I shut them up, telling them they did nothing wrong. After that, they told me they won't stick their noses in my business and would let me tell them what was on my mind if I wanted to. We sorted everything out and ended up spending the rest of lunch being stupid, including Levi who tried covering up a couple of chuckles behind coughs. Since our table looked fun, those who left came back, along with Petra, Isabel and Farlan.

After uni ended that day, Jean and I stopped by at the cafe Eren worked at. I spoke to him about how I think he should forget about me because the relationship we had was in the past and he should move on. He did seem upset (obviously) but he understood what I was saying. Of course, however, he continued flirting with me. But that made sense since he can't just get over me like that and it's a habit of his to flirt with the first girl in sight. He claimed he was glad that I wasn't avoiding him or acting awkward around him. Soon, we parted ways and headed home. And the rest of the four days, I got over the fact that Petra and Levi were now in a relationship and I can't do anything about it. So, I was back to my usual, crazy, energetic and friendly self which Hanji, Eren, Jean and Levi were happy about. Though, one of those people had no way of showing me that (Levi). Now, it's Saturday (one week after the raven and strawberry-blonde went on their first date). Once again, me and Levi were sitting at the table with our laptops in front of us. Instead of hot drinks, we had iced drinks with all the windows open, seeing as how the weather was smouldering. This time I didn't have a gloomy expression, more like a smile which would often widen as Levi and I messed around. And there wasn't the depressing sound of Lo-Fi, we took turns in playing summery songs that only made our moods better. "Oi, stop singing. You sound like a cow and sheep fucking." I laughed and chucked a pen at him since it was the only projectile near me and he swiftly dodged it. Unfortunately, for the brunette with glasses, who happened to walk behind Levi at that moment, she got hit by the pen. I quickly apologised before locking eyes with Levi. "As if you sing any better," I retorted, about to take a bite of my sandwich, but it soon disappeared from my grip because of Hanji who took a bite before passing it back to me. "Hey, by the way, Erwin's coming over soon, but then we're going to go out," Hanji announced as she chewed on the food, causing both me and the raven to scrunch our noses up in disgust. "Wait. Erwin?" he repeated and shot me a questioning glance. "Yeah, our professor," I confirmed his vague query. "They're in a relationship." What the hell?" he murmured which I snorted at. "Anyway, that's fine." "You aren't going to be distracted?" "Uh, we're barely even concentrating because of the heat and this assignment isn't exactly fun," I said, standing up and stretching before taking Levi's glass and going into the kitchen to refill our glasses with mojito that I made. "You don't mind, right, Ackerman?" I questioned and placed the glass in front of him. "Yeah, whatever. It's not my apartment," he stated, looking down at his phone. I flicked his forehead, causing him to scowl once he glanced up at me. "What was that for, brat?" "I'd appreciate it if you give me your full attention when I'm talking to you," I smirked. "Sure, your majesty." He rolled his eyes but put his phone away, nevertheless. "What do you want?" "Nothing, really. Just wanted to make you look up." "To see your repulsive face? You're torturing me too much," he teased and I snorted before taking a sip of my drink. "Hm. You're really thirsty, aren't you?" If I hadn't swallowed the minty beverage a second before his remark, it would have spewed onto his face. My face grew red and I chucked a pencil at him. He dodged it once again as a smug smirk rested on his lips. "I hate you, you know," I muttered. I was so grateful that Hanji went back to her room because she would irritate the hell out of me about it, with Levi's presence here or not. "Yeah, right. Just as much as you hate that Eren kid?" "I have no romantic feelings for him. He's my best friend, other than Hanji, and he's a hell of a lot better at keeping me company than you." "Well, I obviously can't give you the attention he does since I'll be cheating." "Ugh, why did I even invite you?" "Because you don't hate me and I'm amazing at keeping you company." "Say whatever you want, Ackerman." "... Oi." "What?" "I'd appreciate it if you had your attention on me while I'm talking." "Yeah, give me one second," I told him as I continued typing away on my phone and I heard a sigh, which made me look up at him. "Is your pitiful ass upset because I'm not noticing you?" I mocked in an innocent voice. "Tch." He crossed his arms over his chest and faced away from me. "Why would I be upset, darlin'?" "Because you love me so much. And I'm your bestest friend in the whole, wide world." "You're such a child," he chuckled lightly. which made me smile. "Thank y--" I was cut off by the sound of the buzzer, so I stood up and approached the front door before getting pushed by Hanji who sprinted down the corridor to answer the door for her boyfriend. I clicked my tongue before going back to the table where Levi and I sat. "Someone's horny," I mumbled. "Hey, I'm not bothered to carry on with this. Let's just chill." "Sure. What do you want to do?" "I don't know. You should never ask me what I want; I'm the most indecisive person." "Fine. Seeing as how the weather is nice, let's go out somewhere." "Stop, stop!" a hushed voice giggled, catching mine and Levi's attention. "(Y/N) and Levi are here." I rolled my eyes and I could see that Levi was holding back a laugh. "Forget about them. So, where should we go?" I inquired, which Levi shrugged to before both of our heads turned towards two figures entering the room. "Hey, Erwin," I greeted with a smile. "Ah, hi, (Y/N). I didn't expect to see you here, Levi." "Likewise, Smith." The blonde male didn't regard the way in which Levi spoke and simply smiled at both of us. I'm going to be completely honest and say that Hanji is lucky to have a man like him. He's handsome, caring, polite and basically the embodiment of charming. And Hanji mentioned how great he is in bed. I never wished to know that, but whatever, it's Hanji so no one can stop her from saying her shit. Nevertheless, I love her. And I would never think about moving onto her boyfriend, well, it's not like I actually developed feelings for him. I kind of see him as an older brother or something of the sort. "Hey, Hanji, what's something fun to do outside today?" I questioned. "Um... Picnic in the park, go to the beach, cycle, visit a zoo--" "Okay, thanks," I cut her off before there would be too many decisions to choose from. "Why are you asking?" she asked before gasping in excitement. "Are you going on a date?!" "I don't see why you would be so surprised if I had a date, but no, I don't," I said, arching a single brow. "Me and Levi gave up on this shitty assignment, and since we shouldn't be inside when it's so sunny outside, we decided to do something," I told her before realising that the work we were doing was for the professor standing beside her. "I mean, we've finished it and we deserve a reward for doing so well," I joked and the male with cerulean eyes chuckled softly. "I appreciate your choice of words for describing the task I gave you. I'll be sure to remember that when I grade it," he teased, with an undertone of warning. "You know, you're the best professor in our uni." He shook his head and smiled. "Go out. I don't want to ruin your fun because of 'this shitty assignment'." "Haha, you know I was only joking about that. Anyway, let's go, Mr Moody," I said and got up from my seat, stretching. "You're going to out in your pyjamas?" "Oh, right. Wait here, I'm going to quickly change." "Okay." I rushed into my bedroom and sifted through my clothes, finding a white, lace singlet, along with baby blue, jean shorts. I slipped both pieces of clothing on before styling my hair into a half-up, half-down ponytail and put on sunglasses to rest on my head for now. I grabbed whatever I needed and stuffed it into a small bag, hooking it onto my shoulder before leaving my room. Hanji and Erwin were on the sofa as I spotted Levi leaning against the table, we previously sat at, with his backpack slung over his shoulder. I gestured for him to come and he came to my side as we both waved at the couple before proceeding to leave. We both slipped on our shoes and left, taking the stairs to go down. As soon as I opened the main door of the building, the heat slapped us and the sun blazed in our faces so I positioned my sunglasses to protect me from the light that threatened to blind me. "So where are we going?" the male beside me asked. "Pick from the things Hanji suggested. Maybe not a picnic since we didn't prepare any food for that unless you want to be lazy and just buy things. Also, not the beach because it'll take a while to get there and then there'll be no point since we'll only be there for a short while." "So picnic, cycling, and the zoo?" he listed and I nodded as he thought about it. "... Picnic in the park - let's be lazy and buy things." "Okay. Shall we head to the shops first?" "Yeah." ~/~ The grass tickled my bare skin as I laid on my back, with my eyes closed, one leg was arched as the other was stretched across the ground. My head leaned on one of my arms as my other arm rested over my stomach. Music rang in my ears, which I softly hummed to, from Levi's phone that rested in between us. Said male laid on his side, propped up by one of his elbows. He had his head in his palm and held a book in his other hand. Before we were relaxing like this, we had eaten the snacks and food we bought, though, some remained since we may have gotten too much stuff. Then, we decided to take over the playground, and apparently, we seemed to have intimidated some kids. Pfft, they're such scaredy cats. Why couldn't an eighteen (me) and nineteen-year-old (Levi since he's a few months older than me *eye roll*) mess around as well? Once we laughed at the children's faces, we came back to this spot and decided to just relax. Barely any words were spoken. A sigh left my lips when I felt my phone vibrate in the back pocket of my shorts. I fished it out before bringing it to my ear. "Hello?" "Hey, (Y/N)!" "Hi, Petra," I smiled and rolled over, onto my stomach. "What's up?" "I was wondering if Levi is still with you." "Yeah. We're in the park. Is something wrong?" "No, no. I was just trying to call Levi, but he wasn't answering his phone." "Oh, here you can talk to him.” "Thank you," she said before I passed my phone to Levi, so he could talk to Petra. He put his book down before taking my phone. I took his book and read the blurb before turning to the first page, trying not to listen in into their conversation. I'd say I've improved - there's barely any jealousy in me (okay, maybe a little), I don't turn bitchy when I see them two, and I don't have to fake smile anymore. The tone in which he spoke in was hardly any different to how he talks to anyone else, but I could hear a hint of something gentle. A soft smile touched my lips when I listened to his voice (not his words, mind you) and I wished I could listen to it on repeat. It was his usual nonchalant voice, mixed with a soft timbre, which was a sign he cared about Petra. He spoke in a hushed tone that almost sounded like a purr. I wasn't even concentrating on the book in front of me anymore. I kept on reading the same sentence over and over but I still wasn't able to understand the printed words since I was stuck in a daze because of Levi's voice. "What are you smiling about?" "Your voice is nice," I blurted out without thinking what I was saying. Once I realised what I said, my eyes slightly widened as I averted them from the book to him to see he was smirking. "I mean--" "Whatever, you weirdo," he cut me off, the smirk still present. He gave my phone back and stole the book from my hands and flipped the pages over until he reached the one he stopped on before his phone call. "And what are you smirking about?" "It's amusing to see you get nervous," he replied with a shrug, his eyes absorbing the information on the page. With a roll of my eyes, I returned to my original position but rested my head on Levi's lap this time since he was sitting with his legs outstretched. He flicked my forehead, which I ignored, as I took my phone in my hands when I got a few messages from Eren after taking a sip of the iced tea I bought. 'Hey (Y/N)' 'I got off work early today' 'Wanna go out somewhere since the sun's out?' I wasn't bothered to type so I decided to call him. He picked up after about five seconds and spoke a small 'hello'. "Hi, Eren." "Hey." "Basically, the thing is... I'm in the park with Levi right now." "Oh." "But," I began before glancing up at the raven whose eyes were still on the book. "Hey, Ackerman?" "What?" "Would you mind if Eren came?" "He's your boyfriend, do whatever." I rolled my eyes. "Sorry about that. But, you could come and join us, or we can go out somewhere later?" "I don't mind. What did Levi say?" "He doesn't care. We aren't really doing anything, though." "What park are you at?" "The one near my apartment." "... Do you mind if I come since I'm around there?" "Of course, I don't, you doofus. And, we can still do something later." "Okay. I'll be there in a few minutes. See you later, angel." "Bye, love," I went along with the joke. "And you say he isn't your boyfriend," Levi muttered. "He isn't. I already told you we're just stupid kind of friends that act like a couple by calling each other names. Don't think anything more of it." "Well, why are you so defensive? Also, you've never mentioned that you have an interest in someone." Yeah, well, that's because the person I have interest in is you and you're taken, I thought. "Just because I haven't mentioned it, doesn't mean I don't." "Well, do share, darlin'." "I thought you weren't going to get involved in my business." "But you don't seem upset about it." "Look, you asshole, I have no obligation to tell you, so--" "Hi," a voice cut me off and I flitted my eyes over to the figure that was protecting me from the sun. "Eren!" I beamed and tugged on his wrist which caused him to fall. I hugged him as he struggled to get off of me. "Where are you going? I haven't seen you for the entire week." "I'm probably crushing you right now. Let go of me, (Y/N)." "Hmph. Fine." I released him from my grip and he rolled off of me, sitting up next to me as I still laid on my back. "This is a park, you two might want to keep it PG," the male that I rested my head on commented. "Shut up and read your book." I scowled at him before facing Eren. "There are snacks and drinks, help yourself." "Okay, thanks," he grinned and laid down next to me, resting his head on Levi's leg as well. "Oi, I'm not a fucking pillow." "You are now," I told him bluntly. "So, how was work?" "It was all right. Horseface came in and decided to annoy me. However, he did look kind of upset about something. When I asked him what's up, he just scoffed and told me that it's none of my business. Typical of him, but I think if you ask him, he'll tell you." "I'll ask him later. Right now, I just want to relax without having to deal with anything," I sighed and turned to look at the sky. Eren glanced at Levi to see that he was still engrossed in whatever book he was reading and he slightly nudged me. I gave him a questioning glance and he motioned for me to come closer, so I did. "What's wrong?" I questioned the teal-eyed male. "How come you aren't depressed anymore?" "I got myself together. I realised there's no point in getting upset over something I can't change and just pushed everything to the back of my mind. Are you proud of me for doing that?" I asked like a little child, wanting praise. "Yeah," he smiled, tousling my hair. I shifted my head to rest on Eren's shoulder and closed my eyes, breathing in his entrancing scent and feeling content next to him. "Ackerman?" "Hm?" "Are you okay?" "Yeah, why?" "You're unusually quiet." "Maybe because I'm reading. Are you okay? You're being unusually kind." "Excuse me? I'm always nice." "As if," he scoffed. If my eyes were open, I would have rolled them. "If you're so nice, why don't you have a boyfriend?" "Seriously? You're still asking about that?" I didn't even bother to look at him since I was comfortable with my position. "Forget about it. Forget I said anything about liking someone since I have no intention in telling you, or anyone, right now." "... Is it Eren?" "No," I huffed. No matter how much Eren and I acted like a couple, we would never develop feelings for each other. I always have and always will see him as a brother, but not one that annoys the hell out of me. The one that cares for me and gets angry if someone would hurt me. The love we feel for each other is not romantic. ~/~ "Ah, it feels so nice to have a shower after sweating all day," I sighed in delight and plopped down onto the sofa in between Eren and Levi, who were talking about something before they both fell silent. I only cocked an eyebrow but didn't say anything, brushing it off. "Eren?" "Sure," he already replied without hearing my request. I grinned and passed him my hairbrush as he proceeded to brush my hair when I slightly turned my back towards him, now facing Levi who had his gaze on the floor. "Do you two want something to eat? We haven't had dinner and it's already nine o'clock," I suggested. "Yeah. But, do you have things to cook?" Eren pointed out. "Yep. What do you guys want?" I asked them, and Levi only shrugged, leaning back against the sofa. "What do you have?" "I'm not sure. I'll have to check, but I know we have ingredients to make a simple meal." "I kind of just feel like pasta," Eren spoke. "But like really saucy and cheesy." "What, like me?" I chuckled at my own stupid joke and I could imagine he rolled his eyes. I witnessed Levi's lips curl upwards slightly as he shook his head at my stupidity. "Anyway, I'm sure we've got pasta, and stuff to make the sauce, and cheese. Thanks, by the way," I smiled at Eren when he passed me back the hairbrush. I got up and quickly placed it back in my room before going back to the living room. "Both of you can have a shower while I cook something if you want," I told them as Eren nodded, leaving the room. "Darlin', there's one bathroom, so you better not be suggesting anything." I rolled my eyes. "There's actually two. Hanji has an ensuite and she won't mind if you use it. I'm sure you don't want to sit around after sweating, especially with you being a clean-freak, so go ahead. You can borrow Eren's clothes since I'm pretty sure he's left some here." "And you still claim you aren't in a relationship with the boy?" "Yes. Also, if we were dating, why would we hide it? And don't you think that I would've just given up and told you by now?" "Maybe you hide it because you're ashamed of something. And you're a stubborn brat, I doubt you would break." "Just shut up and go have a shower," I snapped with a playful tone, showing him I wasn't actually annoyed. "I'll get you some clothes and leave them on Hanji's bed; there should already be a towel in there." "Okay, thanks." I went to look for some of Eren's clothes. After a bit of hunting, I found a t-shirt and joggers, neatly folded, and I left it on Hanji's bed. When I went to the kitchen, I noticed Eren already fishing through the cupboards and had previously already found the pasta. "Hey," I spoke, catching his attention. He turned around and gave me a grin before looking for ingredients again. "You can sit down, I don't need help." "Are you sure your clumsy ass doesn't need help? I do remember when you nearly sliced your finger off like an idiot. And when you tripped over your own feet and dropped a plate. And--" "Okay, okay. Fine, you can help," I pouted. "I'm not that clumsy, though," I muttered to which Eren only chuckled softly. "Whatever you say, princess. Boil water in this pot," he told me and I nodded, doing as he said. I then helped him look for everything else as we set everything out on the counters and began preparing our dinner. It was silent until the teenage male spoke up. "... (Y/N)?" "Hm?" "What are you going to do about Levi and Petra?" he asked quietly, causing me to look up at him as he came by my side. "I don't know... There isn't anything I can do. I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens. I mean, me and Hanji did say that there would be so many girls chasing after him, yet he still chooses me," I described another detail in the stupid story thing we created. "Hey, don't look so down. It's been five months, not a few years, so you still have time to see what the future holds," Eren grinned, noticing the gloomy expression that cast over my visage. I gave him a small smile and looped my arms around him, feeling him embrace me tighter as my cheek pressed against his chest. I wish I could live in Eren's hug, there's nothing I love more than his hugs since he always comforts me and cares for me, and he smells so damn good, especially after coming out of the shower. "Oi, lovebirds." I huffed inaudibly before parting from the hug. "... What?" I spat, not meaning for it to sound so harsh, as I turned around to look at the raven. "Hm, so you are dating?" he smirked and went to sit down at the dining table, crossing his leg over the other. "What do you mean?" I inquired, folding my arms over my chest as Eren continued cooking. "If you weren't dating, you would have responded to 'lovebirds' or at least retorted with something. However, you didn't." "Or maybe I just got tired of correcting you." I arched an eyebrow, approaching him to flick his forehead. But, he grabbed my wrist, preventing me from doing that. I wiggled out of his grip and just frowned at him. "What will it take to prove that we aren't in a relationship?" "I just want to point something else out: Eren doesn't deny it whenever I say you two are dating." "Because he thinks you're an idiot. Now, tell me what it'll take." "Not a legitimate answer, but whatever. Anyway, you know I'm just messing with you when I say all this. I know you two aren't boyfriend and girlfriend." "Tch. Why do you have to be so annoying?" I muttered, plopping down in a chair next to him and he ruffled my hair. "I only annoy you, darlin'. You should be happy that you're special." "Whatever. I'm going to go help Eren with dinner." "Do you need help?" "Two people are enough. Thank you, though." "You just want to be alone with your boyfriend, don't you?" Levi stated when I turned my back to him, but he never knew I was holding a knife in my hands. So, to let him know, I faced him. "You better shut your mouth before this accidentally pierces you, Ackerman," I growled and he only laughed under his breath. God, what being on Earth is able to make that sound? Why is he so gorgeous in so many ways? Why can he make me feel like this, yet, I have no effect on him? Why can't I just jump onto him, and hug him, and kiss him, and love him, and marry him?

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #aot imagines #snk #snk fanfiction #snk imagines #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #reader insert #x reader #anime #dream guy #series #modern au #this part was kinda boring #queue ⏰

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yslkook · 4 years ago

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#risk averse (6)

#corporate masterlist

summary: the last day of being in tokyo consists of: workshops, breakfast, dinner, and an airplane ride back. oh, and you finally have some ice cream with jungkook. properly. word count: 5570 warnings: cursing, parental death, discussion of mental health, im not a psychologist so if what i write doesnt make sense dont @ me a/n: this is part 3/3 of being in tokyo!

TUESDAY

Tokyo is probably one of your favorite cities in the world, and yet you’re itching to get out as soon as you can. It’s the last day of the workshop kick-off meeting, and while you’ve enjoyed being back in this city and getting to know new people… You’re exhausted. Your mind has been running on overdrive since Friday afternoon and now it was Tuesday. You’ve never been on for this long, but you suppose it comes with the territory.

Truthfully, you don’t mind the work. You mind Jungkook and how things are still in a strange state of limbo with him. The memory of Saturday night still plagues you and the fact that you still haven’t talked to him pokes at you like a barbed wire.

You scratch your chin, masking your invisible spiral. Jungkook and Sana have set up breakfast for the team in the conference room, complete with steamed rice, fried egg, fruit miso soup, coffee and pastries. You eye the pastries with a gratuitous lick of your lips, your sudden sweet tooth making an appearance. That chocolate cornet in the small basket next to the sweet rolls is calling your name.

You focus on the decadent taste of chocolate rolling over your tongue paired with coffee rather than the anxiety you feel over leaving things between you and Jungkook in limbo.

A shadow casts over your plate next to you and when you turn your head, you’re surprised to see Mark take a seat next to you.

“Morning,” He chirps, “Your guys did a good job with breakfast, huh?”

“They did a good job with everything, Mark. As they always do,” You say fiercely, with a quirk of your eyebrow, “And good morning to you, too.”

“This week went by fast, huh?” Mark says, taking a sip of his own coffee. Yeah, not fast enough.

Today’s workshop was mainly to finalize the project plan, assign subteams, and deliverables. And to determine when the next workshop would be- Namjoon had suggested that the Tokyo team come to Seoul next time. Which you had wholeheartedly supported. Mark had let his eyes slide over to you, catching your eye and smiling at you. Maybe he’d be able to see you outside of work in Seoul.

You had smiled back, a little obliviously.

And now, you stand up next to the whiteboard to write down your smaller sub teams and your deliverables as Namjoon reads from his notes. For everyone to be able to visualize. You were a firm believer in visual aids.

And so was Jungkook- after all, the way your plaid pencil skirt sits on your ass and hugs your hips is quite the visual. He lazily allows his eyes to roam your backside, enjoying the way your skirt moves with every small movement. Your sleeveless blouse is tucked into your skirt, leaving a hint of your tattoo poking out from the thin exposure of your shoulder. Your beige blazer neatly hangs off of the headrest of your chair. Jungkook counts his blessings, watching every inch of your tanned, inked skin as you continue to write on the board.

Namjoon and Mark spend the rest of the morning outlining expectations and brainstorming for the first deliverable. You challenge them sharply, not afraid to voice your thoughts when you don’t agree with them.

Irene and Lisa look on with awestruck eyes, chiming in when they feel necessary. You have this way about you, Jungkook thinks. That when you speak, people just listen and people want to be heard by you. Your voice is magnetic, your eyes dark and fierce and he wants to know them. He wants to peel you back layer by layer, if you’d let him.

Not for the first time, he wonders if you have any other tattoos hiding under your meticulously crafted layers.

You catch Jungkook’s lazy gaze, shooting him a small smile. Jungkook swallows and reciprocates. He leans back in his chair, still not taking his eyes off of you. You maintain his gaze, feeling your cheeks heating up at the intensity of his stare. He unwraps you with his eyes, as if you’re a present wrapped up all pretty just for him. Dark brown eyes dart from your face to your neck to your hands back up to your lips. A smirk ghosts his face, but it passes as quickly as it comes.

You can play fire with fire, too. Something bold blazes in your own eyes, your tongue poking out to lick your bottom lip as you check him out in the same unabashed way that he had been checking you out only moments before.

This time, Jungkook is the one feeling a little heated under his collar. Mark’s voice pierces through the air, pulling you both out of your rose-tinted bubble and you both plaster your obedient gazes to Mark.

The moment dissolves with the sound of Mark’s voice- has it always been that annoying? Or was it only that annoying because Jungkook can see the barely hidden heart eyes he throws you when he makes eye contact with you?

Why does it matter? Because he likes you, and the epiphany doesn’t hit Jungkook like an unseen collision. It washes over him in soft, gentle waves. Comforting him and wrapping around him warmly, only lending him the courage to slide his eyes over to you once again.

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek in annoyance. Annoyance that you’ve wiggled your way into the crevices in between his veins and he is powerless to stop it.

The rest of the afternoon goes by just about the same, with lunch from the cafeteria and finishing up your plan of deliverables. You’re thankful that the day is coming to a close- these workshops are taking a toll out of you, needless to say.

You stretch your arms, opting to stand rather than sit. You hate how your ass goes numb after hours of sitting.

Jungkook doesn’t mind. It gives him a wonderful view of the slope of your chest that he has no qualms appreciating. You catch him a few times, obliviously giving him a small smile or a nod of appreciation.

It makes Jungkook wonder if you even know how pretty you are. If anyone’s ever told you that you were beautiful, with all of the conviction that you deserve.

You scribble in your notebook while leaning against the windowsill as a surface, your brows furrowed together in concentration as Namjoon and Mark speak. You resist the urge to yawn. What time is your flight again?

Namjoon had requested that your flights be at 4 AM on Wednesday morning, so that you could go straight into work. That was the tradeoff for giving the team the extra day in Tokyo. At the time, it sounded like a nice idea. Now, the thought of a 4 AM flight makes you want to keel over.

You start to drown out their voices, instead making a mental checklist of what you needed to do before leaving for the airport tomorrow morning. Call Grandma, pack your suitcase, arrange your makeup, leave your sweats for the morning out, text your therapist for an appointment when you returned to Seoul…

You’re lost in your thoughts, chewing intently on your bottom lip and absently picking at your cuticles every so often. Mark’s voice cuts through the air again, finally dismissing you.

“It was great seeing all of you,” Mark says, his eyes lingering on you for a second too long.

“Yeah, we’ll be in Seoul soon. You’ll have to show us all the best places to eat,” Irene winks at you.

“Yeah,” You chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck, “See you soon.”

You exchange handshakes with them, with promises from Minhyuk and Lisa that they’ll set up biweekly calls for the Seoul team to have touchpoints with the Tokyo team. Namjoon nods in appreciation.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way Mark squeezes your hand and pulls you a little closer by the grip of his handshake either.

Mark promises you, for your ears only, that he’ll text you when he gets to Seoul for the workshop. He asks if he can see you, maybe, if he can take you to that restaurant you had told him about. With the best seafood you’d ever had in your life.

You say yes, because you think nothing of it.

The minute you got back to your hotel room, you took your makeup off, moisturized, sprawled out on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a good fifteen minutes. Then you changed into leggings and an oversized hoodie, one of Jin’s that you had stolen years ago.

You’re aware of your phone going off, likely the work group chat as well as Jin texting you. But you ignore it for now, instead closing your eyes and letting silence lull you to sleep.

You must have fallen asleep for a few hours- when you wake up, the moon is out and the sky is dark. You had likely slept through dinner. Moonlight filters into your hotel room and you sigh, rubbing your eyes.

What had woken you up? You hear the noise again, the sound of knuckles knocking gently against your hotel room door. With a soft groan, you rub your face and drag your feet to the door, not bothering to check the little peephole.

And you’re face to face with a nervous looking Jeon Jungkook, holding a bag in his hand. It smells great, mouthwatering, even.

“Hi,” You croak, clearing your throat of your post-sleep voice.

“Hey,” Jungkook says weakly, “We were texting you earlier for dinner but figured you’d fallen asleep or something. Looks like I was right.”

“Yeah, I accidentally fell asleep,” You murmur with a laugh, “You brought dinner for me?” You ask the question in wonder, as if it’s hard to believe.

“Uh huh,” Jungkook says, scratching the back of his neck, “Well, uh, here you go-”

You take the bag of food in your hands, enjoying the warmth that it radiates. You bite your lips in nervousness, suddenly deciding that you don’t want to have dinner alone. You hate having dinner alone.

“Jungkook,” You say softly, “Will you have dinner with me?”

Jungkook’s heart skips about five beats and he’s nodding at you with big, sparkling eyes. You’re floating, somewhere in the clouds when he looks at you like that. Jungkook thinks you’re pretty, with your messy hair and sleepy eyes. Whether you’re in a sharp pencil skirt and a blazer or in pajamas, he thinks you’re so pretty.

You welcome him inside, gesturing for him to get comfortable in your hotel room. You know you have so much still to talk about with him, to explain your actions from Saturday night. But neither of you can deny the company that comes with a meal. So you set some food aside for him, thanking him for thinking of you.

And you eat, knees knocking into each other as you talk softly with only the moon as witness of a blossoming friendship.

WEDNESDAY MORNING

Jungkook doesn’t leave your mind all morning, from when you had woken yourself up at 1:30 AM and even now as you’re in line to board the airplane. Having dinner with him felt so nice and left you feel warm all over.

And now, a seed of relief settles in your belly, knowing that you’re seated far away from Jungkook. So that you can think about him in peace, and think about what you’ll say to him when you finally get the chance to. You could have apologized to him last night, but it just didn’t feel right.

You can’t even see his fluffy head of hair from here. Maybe you’ll even be able to sleep a little, considering how on edge you’ve felt for the last four days. You’re exhausted.

Just as you’re about to close your eyes and rest your head on the window, someone taps your shoulder politely.

“Sorry to disturb,” The flight attendant says, sounding genuinely apologetic, “But I believe there was a seat mix up. We have a couple here requesting to be seated together. Would it be alright if we swap?”

You peer behind her to see an elderly couple. You sigh. “Of course, no problem.” You think nothing of it, heading to the seat that the attendant had requested you switch with, until you see a familiar fluffy haired man within your range of vision.

Of course. Because why wouldn’t the universe seat you next to Jeon Jungkook on this crowded plane? Of all the seats, of course you would be told to sit next to him.

“Um,” You say, waving at him a little nervously, “Hi. Is this seat taken?” You try to keep your voice light. He can probably pick up on the awkwardness.

“Oh! No,” Jungkook says quickly, standing up and hitting his head on the roof of the cramped plane. He winces and you suppress a laugh. “Let me put your suitcase up-”

“I got it, Jungkook,” You murmur, easily lifting the suitcase into the overhead compartment. Jungkook’s eyes immediately fall to the small sliver of your belly as you lift your arms above your head.

Taking a seat next to him, you try your best not to bounce your leg incessantly. Your bottom lip is lodged in between your teeth, as if you’re afraid to say the wrong thing.

“Ready to go back home?” Jungkook asks, desperate to alleviate the awkwardness in the air.

“Yeah, I always need an extra day off after traveling,” You reply, letting out an airy chuckle, “How about you?”

“Yeah, me too. And it’s only Wednesday, too. Can’t believe we still have to work.”

“That’s what’s shitty about leaving so early in the morning,” You yawn, “Still have plenty of time to work later in the day.”

Jungkook nods in agreement and yawns. The silence that falls between you both isn’t uncomfortable. It’s too early in the morning to contemplate it any further.

At some point, your eyes begin to close and you can’t stop the sudden wave of fatigue that washes over you. Fatigue from being anxious for the last four days. Somehow, around Jungkook, it dissipates slightly. Slightly enough for you to succumb to sleep. Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to shift when your head falls onto his shoulder. He wants to brush the hair out of your eyes but keeps his hands in his lap. His face is burning.

A small smile graces his lips when you shift further, sink into his shoulder and wrap an arm around his upper arm. Jungkook pretends like his heart isn’t about to beat right out of his chest, especially when your nose is pressed against his shoulder and he can feel your soft, even breaths as you fall even further into sleep.

Pillowy warmth surrounds you, gently tugging you back down to sleep. But the sound of the pilot over the intercoms forces you to open your eyes. A low groan leaves your lips, you want to bask in your newfound warmth for a little longer.

Wait. Where is this warmth coming from? You look up, seeing a head of dark hair brushing over your forehead.

Your heart immediately accelerates, slamming straight out of your ribcage.

Jungkook feels you shifting before he opens his eyes. You feel so warm, tucked into his side. Even if it’s uncomfortable for both of you, he likes the way your cheek presses into his arm and how he could feel your soft breaths against his neck. The soft groan that escapes your lips sounds like honey in his ears, his cheeks warming.

You have to resist the urge to push his hair back. At least he’s still asleep, you think. What a precarious position to be in. With your coworker who you have unfinished business with. What a cliche, you nearly scoff out loud.

But then you see his warm, doe eyes blinking up at you curiously and you panic. You yank your arm away from him, lifting your head up so quickly that he’s surprised you don’t get whiplash.

“Sorry,” You mumble, “How incredibly inappropriate. ‘M sorry-”

Before he can reply, the pilot and flight attendant give the all clear that people can begin exiting the aircraft. You’re out of your seat in record speed, ignoring the heat and embarrassment in your cheeks as you nearly run over the elderly couple behind you to get your suitcase.

It’s the second time you’ve made a fool out of yourself in front of Jungkook. The memory is seared into your brain as you struggle to hold back tears. You sprint out of the airport in record time, and into Jin’s waiting arms.

You’re breaking Jungkook’s heart and you don’t even know it.

The minute you got home and settled in, you made an appointment with your therapist. You finally feel the edge of anxiety beginning to quell. But you’re exhausted, so exhausted. You contemplate taking a day off, but you don’t have a busy day at work today.

You opt to work from home once you let your boss know. Jin also decided to work from his apartment after picking you up. Maybe you can sneak a nap in during lunch.

At your therapy appointment, you finally cry. You can barely speak through your tears, telling Dr. Lee how being in Tokyo felt so cathartic and so heartbreaking at the same time. You tell her about Jungkook, about the friends that you had reconnected with after years. And then you tell her about how confused you are, how you had all but run out on Jungkook on the airplane.

“This is so stupid,” You sneer at yourself, wiping your cheeks angrily, “When did I become so pathetic-”

“Stop,” Dr. Lee says sternly, “There’s nothing pathetic-”

“I’m almost thirty and I’m acting like a selfish teenager! Who does this?” You snort derisively.

“What does age have to do with how you’re feeling? Don’t beat yourself up for feeling things that you’ve never felt before,” Dr. Lee says, “You’ve been closed off for this long. It’s okay to be a little selfish. You’re only human. Don’t punish yourself for feeling. I’m proud of you. For allowing yourself to feel.”

“It’s like… I know what I should do. But I keep doing the opposite. Or I just do nothing at all. What’s wrong with me?” You groan, holding your head in your hands, “I’m a terrible person, all I do is hurt everyone around me-”

“Bad people don’t wonder if they’re bad people or not,” Dr. Lee says kindly, “Making mistakes does not make you a bad person.”

“Am I a bad person, Dr. Lee? I feel like I’m faking it in my own skin sometimes…”

“Bad people don’t want to fix the things that they’ve wronged. Admitting when you can be better is the first step to fixing it. Let yourself fix it. Let yourself lean on other people.”

FRIDAY

Today, you’re on a mission. You have to get that sad look out of Jungkook’s eyes, the one that you see whenever you happen to glance at him in passing and he catches a glimpse of you. You’ve hurt him repeatedly over the last few days and you need to make it right. Before you lose your nerve, you down an entire cup of coffee and march over to his cubicle.

You don’t even know if he’s in a meeting or not. But it doesn’t matter, you’ll wait. You’ll wait for his undivided attention.

Your courage begins to wear off the closer to get to his cubicle. But nevertheless, you persist.

“Jungkook,” You say clearly, “Hi. Good morning.”

Jungkook swivels in his chair, eyes nearly bulging out of his head when he realizes that it was you. Voluntarily at his cubicle, looking like a vision in your jeans and your plaid blazer.

It was a Friday, after all.

“Uh,” Jungkook says nervously, “Hi.”

“I have to talk to you. But not here,” You rush out, “Willyougeticecreamwithmelatertodayafterwork?”

A sigh of relief. But he’s looking at you like you have ten heads.

“Sorry, what was that? Didn’t catch what you said,” Jungkook says with an arch of his eyebrow.

“Uh. I want to talk to you. But not here at work. Will you get ice cream with me later today after work?” You mumble, looking at the floor before chastising yourself and meeting his piercing gaze.

Jungkook thinks he must be dreaming. There’s no way that you are asking him to get ice cream. He thought that you were done with him, that you disliked him even. Maybe he doesn’t know you at all.

“With me?” Jungkook sputters.

“Yeah. With you,” You nod with a small smile, “I know a place.”

“You know all the good ice cream spots on this side of the world, huh?” Jungkook says airily.

“I don’t think you had the opportunity to enjoy it in Tokyo,” You say softly, “So I want to make it up to you.”

“Oh. Okay,” Jungkook nods as his heart sings, “Text me the place and time, and I’ll meet you there?”

“Y-yeah. Okay,” You reply, pulling your clammy hands out of your pockets.

“See you soon, then,” Jungkook says, flashing a bunny smile at you. You haven’t seen that smile from him in a while and it surprises you how much you missed it. How it makes you want to smile back at him.

Your jitters are parallel, if not worse, to first date jitters, except it’s been a long time since you’ve been on a first date. These jitters are so much worse, considering that you think you have a lot to apologize for and explain to Jungkook. Your stomach is twisted in knots, your leg bouncing as you mindlessly scroll through your phone.

You’d arrived at the ice cream shop about twenty minutes early. Another nervous habit. You hate being late to things.

Jungkook walks in and you knock your knee into the table as you get up from your seat. “Hi,” You wave weakly, “Thanks. Uh. For coming.”

You feel a little dizzy, lightheaded as you take him in. Long sleeved black shirt tucked into black jeans- he looks handsome. But more than that, you’re nervous to face him and bare your heart to him.

“What’s your favorite flavor?” Jungkook asks, peering at the buckets of ice cream behind you.

“Huh?”

“Ice cream? What’s your favorite?” Jungkook asks.

“I like chocolate. I’m easy to please,” You shrug, “Maybe chocolate raspberry. Mint chocolate, too. Oh, and orange chocolate-”

“Mint chocolate,” Jungkook exclaims, scrunching his nose, “Ugh. That’s gross.”

“Oh, whatever,” You roll your eyes playfully. Jungkook gestures for you to order your ice cream first, and then you both sit at a table towards the back near the windows. The sun has long set, blanketing the city in the night sky.

“Do you like it?” You ask, pointing at his selection of cookies and cream. He looks like a deer caught in headlights when he looks up at you, eyes gleaming and lips parted. He nods enthusiastically.

A few more seconds of comfortable silence go by.

“Jungkook,” You say softly, “I think… I should explain myself. For Tokyo.”

He nearly chokes on his ice cream. “No, it’s-”

“Jungkook,” You say firmly, reminding Jungkook of why he is intimidated by you even still, “I asked you to meet me for ice cream because… I’m sorry for blowing up at you that night. You didn’t know, and it wasn’t fair to take it out on you. It’s not fair for me to keep one foot in the past and have this chokehold on a time that doesn’t exist anymore. So I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for just… running out of the airport without saying a word to you. I understand if you don’t want to have anything more than a workplace relationship with me- not that we’re in a relationship, oh my god,- I just meant, I get if you don’t want to be more than acquaintances.”

You cut off your own rambling, wanting to pull your eyes away so he can’t see your heart on your sleeve, but you find yourself unable to. Jungkook has never seen you this nervous before. It’s different. He’s only ever seen you be swift and confident, always sure in yourself. There are more layers to you than he knows, and he wants to peel them back.

“I’m sorry, too,” Jungkook says, “I didn’t… I didn’t know, but I can’t help but feel like maybe I should have. And I’m sorry. That you haven’t been happy, and that I remind you of-”

“No,” You shake your head, “What I said was wrong. I’m happy now, too. Happiness is dependent on the circumstances. It’s not the same, but it’s there. And I never… meant to make you feel like anything I was projecting onto you was because of you. I mean, we just found each other again after what? Five years? Isn’t that funny?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods, as if he doesn’t have the memory of the last time he saw you before you had disappeared all those years ago stamped into his brain, “And I mean… We don’t have to just be acquaintances. If you don’t want to be. We don’t have to just have a workplace relationship, as you called it.”

He shoots you a teasing smile and you shrink in your seat, with a nervous laugh of your own. “O-Okay. I’d like that. To be friends, I mean. To be friends like we were when we were younger.”

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Jungkook says, his tongue poking out to swipe at his bottom lip, “Makin’ it sound like we’re old as hell. And we don’t have to be friends like that-”

Your heart drops, and you can’t hide it-

“We can be better. Than what we were like when we were younger.”

Your face feels warm, the sincerity dripping in his eyes makes you shift in your seat. You smile at him, bright and bold, and he smiles right back. When you both leave the ice cream shop, you can’t deny the flutter in your belly at the thought of a new (but old) friend back in your life after so long.

And it feels nice.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook fluff

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aggresivelyfriendly · 4 years ago

Text

Hello loveys! Here is chapter four of

‘Tis the Damn Season

~Let It Snow~

Thanks to @dirtystyles for the beta and late night video mining thanks it Night Niki!

Enjoy! Reblogs are Love!!

"We have a problem," Harry states as he comes in the room. Emma's heart nearly stops and she feels exposed. Not just because she is naked, though she is literally bare, but because he's just been downstairs to talk to the landlady and Emma is terrified of what the hell the problem could be.

He was just downstairs, while she was luxuriating in the sheets scented like them. What could he have encountered there that would lead to this deadpan voice and monotone face?

Emma's mind is good at this, at possibilities, it's why she's good at her studies and internships, she can run through lots of scenarios in her head and then plug in logistics and costs and benefits. She doesn't even need a spreadsheet unless you get beyond a handful of variables.

Variable one - she's gonna think of them as variables because problems are more nerve wracking - there are fans outside. They've heard from someone, through a grapevine or hedgerow, that Harry stays here a couple days each Christmas.

Emma can see a way out of this, though it requires sending Harry to be the sacrificial lamb. He will have to go to the altar and sign things, which is better than being beheaded, and take pictures and give hugs and lead them away. Then Emma can linger, maybe eat lunch in the pub garden and leave when the coast is well and truly clear. It's not how she wants to spend their last day this break together, but it gets them both out of here unexposed, if not totally unscathed.

This is the best case scenario.

Variable two - while he was downstairs Gemma texted. She's cottoned on. Well, Emma is totally afraid and halfway sure her friend can sense that she's sleeping with her little brother every chance she gets and hasn't been honest about it. Emma knows Harry has not been forthright either. The puzzle pieces can't be hard to put together. They've gotten lazy. No, the word is addicted. The fact that they both always disappeared and went dark for the same number of days was more than noticeable the first time, it wasn't a pattern yet thought. An easy to recognize and predict four three year old pattern. Emma is good at those too, patterns. So is Gemma, all those themes, all those books.

They'd talked about it, she and Harry, that second year, their first meet up with intent. Agreed they would be limited, controlled, discreet. They would meet late, after pub crawls, and only get together after Gemma went back to London.

She's not sure who they were fooling.

Because then, instead, they just holed up, skipped social events, turned up moments apart from one another and left the same way. Basically they'd ignored every one of their rules, the ones they'd designed to keep their secret. They couldn't help themselves, nor stay away. She had to sit on her hands and never look at him to keep from touching or kissing in public. Harry didn't even bother.

Last year, Gemma had made a few comments, about them flirting, about Harry peacocking around Emma, about them leaving at the same time. About his hands on her.

Emma remembered when they'd pulled themselves out of each other's arms, him to go home, her to a meet up with Gem and some others. He was definitely less stealthy, not sleeping at home and all, but he insisted on holding her while he fell asleep and waking up to her kisses. What was she supposed to do but melt?

Emma had been late, because of course she was, she'd almost been out the door when he'd asked to be kissed goodbye. "I just put on lipstick." She'd shaken her head, and then his face had taken on that impish hue and he'd kissed her lipstick and clothes off. The waiting Uber had left without her and she lost her perfect 5 star rating.

She'd come in, flushed apologizing and lying about her mother needing her to go to the shops. Gemma had pushed her a drink and given her a look. Like she knew, why Emma was late and Harry was sneaking out to sleep in a shitty pub bed. Then later, she'd said, "Harry's up to something, someone, he's been staying out all night again. My mum isn't that bothered, but I just want to know who." The look she'd turned on Emma was nothing short of an invitation.

Emma could have confessed. But it felt like a final chapter, a bookend she wasn't ready for, so she'd shrugged and suggested maybe he had a girl in Manchester, or a boy. It had been a joke, but Gemma hadn't blinked, and Emma wasn't surprised either, so that seemed interesting. Luckily the conversation flowed beyond that when a new old friend arrived.

Gemma kept giving her looks though.

Emma did feel like she was wearing a scarlet H.

And she'd come to the party with it two days ago. The letter may not have been apparent on her sweater, the kinda ugly but also perfect Christmas sweater she'd found at the thrift store one day. It was red, the threads of it shot through with silver, like it was made of tinsel. And it was big, she was wearing it as a dress. The expediency of last year's dress fed her lunacy this year. They should definitely control themselves this time. Thank god the door had been locked.

The big H over the heart of her sweater cum dress was probably only visible to her.

And possibly to Harry, from the way he had zeroed in on her. He'd greeted her when she came in the kitchen door with a lingering kiss on her cheek. She was totally breathless just from seeing him. He had grown. He was a bit taller and seemed to have slimmed down. And his hair was brushing his shoulders in this way that could only be described as princley. She was waiting and hoping for true love's kiss.

That was probably why, when he looked around naughtily and scooted her over 5 steps to be under the mistletoe, she hadn't even been able to find an eye roll of protest. The kiss had tasted like home, because he was the best thing about Christmas and coming home to Holmes Chapel. He was what she longed for on days that literally didn't end in Iceland, cozy nights with him, under the blankets near a fire. It lingered, his lips on hers, the slick of his Christmas cookie scented tongue. He held her a moment later, the hug lasted too long as well.

"Oooh, Harry get off!" Gemma had harrumphed.

Emma had been sure her face was bright red, but Harry had just rolled with it, pointed to the mistletoe, and said, "Seemed more appropriate than a full make out!" He'd pulled back and tossed that comment over his shoulder but winked at her as his hands dropped. It had seemed to satisfy for that moment. That was before Emma had ignored rules and definitely fallen into her pattern. The Boar's Head on Boxing Day and maybe a few more. Hell, even the landlady recognized them and told them she'd saved their preferred room for them. Gemma was quick, sharp as a knife blade and could cut like one too, when hurt.

Maybe Gemma had gotten sick of the unexplained sober night disappearing acts and called him out.

Would they come clean? Did that mean this was over? Did that mean this was beginning?

Emma wasn't even sure what she wanted. This was the worst case scenario, that those they loved and were deceiving knew.

Or, maybe they knew for an even worse reason.

Variable three - it had gotten out to the press. Someone had snapped a photo of them kissing before the "we were just hugging" excuse. Or got them together here in a more salacious situation. Going to a room together - no - that can't be right. They meet here, behind closed doors, no one can get to them here, it's like their fortress. Nobody knows. Would the landlady sell them out?

Emma takes a deep breath, she's just given herself some very rapid fire and escalating worst case scenarios. She needs more data. "What's wrong?" Her voice is steady.

Maybe not steady enough, he looks up with his brow quirked and his mouth a bit drawn.

He reads her, she feels him open her up like the spine of a book. She hopes he doesn't ask. How long would it take to explain the crazy journey her mind just took? Instead he just tilts his head and gives her a naughty smile. "We're stuck!" His eyebrows raise like he's just told her he found a stash of herbs that act like viagra.

"Huh?" For as quick a thinker as she is, she feels really behind. May have been that smile's promise, or that his news is simple, innocuous, not full of consequences.

"Come look." His head motions to the window he is standing in front of. He puts her in front of him immediately and hooks his chin over her shoulder. "We're snowed in!" He's gleeful.

"You'll miss your flight." She sounds worried. This would stress her out.

"I will, but I won't miss out on you! And I can't get my ass chewed because this is an act of God!"

"An act of God to get you laid!" She laughs. She's joking.

He doesn't look amused. "I already got laid." He tries for a playful eye roll, it doesn't land, like when you jump off a swing and miss, tumble over, twist an ankle. "I'm excited, how cozy is this! We get to hang out for at least another day. We can order food in and stay in bed and watch movies! Everyone else will be snowbound too so we won't have to put on real clothes or anything at all and go to the pub or family dinner or anything. Just us two with no obligations!"

He looks gleeful to have extra time off. She shouldn't begrudge him, he works hard and so does she. "What movie do you want to watch?" He's already digging for his laptop and sweats, he's down to a tee, tossing her the one she slept in.

There's a part of Emma that thinks she should bring up all the winding trails her mind just ran, instead, she smiles and catches the love bug he's infected with. "You pick, baby." Baby, wow, she thought she only said that in her head, or when she's under him. She'd be happy if he doesn't notice. He does, and the way he looks over it makes her happier.

Hours later, after he calls down for shepherds pie and tea he says, "We should get pints'"

"I don't like beer."

"Then wine!"

"Ok, wine." They usually only had tipsy tumbles at the party. This was intentional; on her part at least, she liked to remember their limited time together so she could live off it all year. "I feel like I need to warn you, wine makes me feel sexy."

"Oh, oh no, what will I do?" He put his hand to his heart then to his head and reclined in an arch that belied his 'I don't dance' claims. Maybe not yet, but one day he'd be a dancer. "I know you will launch an assault on my virtue!" He stuck his tongue to the cover of his smirking mouth. She'd take that invitation.

"Yeah. I should make a start on that job now!" She advances on him with all the moves she put into being the best footballer in sixth form. Harry runs from her, but the room is small and cozy and cluttered, so he quickly tumbles over. He groans from the floor.

"Oh, are you hurt babe?" She's on her knees looking his perfect face over for forming bruises when he laughs and pulls her down on top of him.

"Nope, fine and dandy!"

"Dandy is right!" She secretly loved his evolving look. But had to take him down a few pegs regularly.

"Heeey! I had to call a foul, you are way faster than you look!"

"How does one look fast?" She's talking, he's kissing.

"When you look like you have moves," he moved his eyebrows in illustration, "and I'm like a newborn gazelle."

"Bullshit, I think you just get distracted."

He blinked and just stared for a moment. "Nobody's ever said that but my mum." Emma wasn't sure what that meant, but it meant something. The deep kiss and eye contact said so. As did his downshift.

They'd been on 4th gear headed to 5th when she'd started joking. Now he was back to third and decelerating.

"Cmon," he broke the kiss to say and came back like her lips were honey to his bee. It took him three lip locks to get to the next words. "Let's go get cozy and watch something."

She barely remembers the movie he put on. But she'll always remember him narrating it in her ear and his comment on the aesthetic.

"Do you like the costumes and set design or the actual plot?" She tilted her head back to ask and found her lips had the same magnets in them his had earlier. Must be contagious like his glee for snow days.

"Both, but I guess ideally they are equally great, but I'd say the latter in this case."

"You know, pop star, for a boy who left school early, you're awfully cerebral." She meant this as a compliment.

He blushed and gave her a shy smile. "Nah, I'm a lad."

There was something about the way he said it, like this was one of those beliefs everyone had about themselves that they didn't really share, but affected them.

Emma climbed up over him. "Hey, you're not allowed to put yourself down around me, ok?"

"Being a lad isn't necessarily a bad thing." That rang true, he believed that.

"Yeah, I agree with you. But you aren't just a lad Harry."

He looks askance for a second. "I mean, I'm not like, a genius or anything," he nudged her, "not like some people."

"I'm not a genius." He made a face. "I'm not. I'm smart, but more than that I'm dedicated, and you obviously are as well. You work really hard Harry, and you make people really happy. You make great music. You know that, right? That what you do has merit? That it matters?"

"I'm not saving the planet." He looked deeply at her.

"Neither am I." He scoffed. "No, really. I'm just trying to do what I can to make things a little better. And you are too."

"Yeah, but I want to do more, like more good."

"And you will, you do know you're like 21 right." Sometimes she needed this reminder too. He was even younger than her.

"Not quite."

"Stop reminding me I'm older than you." She ruffled his hair.

"Older and wiser."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Styles."

Harry reversed their positions, she was under him, looming blue and beautiful above her. "I dunno, I like my geography."

The kisses he was applying to her collarbone were pretty compelling.

"I guess I'd have to see a little more flattery," she sighed.

"I think you're the smartest girl I've ever met." That kiss was right below her ear.

She made an encouraging sound.

"I love the color of your eyes when there is soft light behind you." That kiss was to the same spot on the other side. It was also very specific.

"I miss you and the way you smell 11 months out of the year." That one was on the hollow at the base of her throat.

"If I could, I'd just follow you from Amsterdam to Iceland so that I got to wake up to you every morning." That one she felt required a follow up, but that kiss was on her mouth and escalated to all of the other positions his held.

It wasn't until the next morning, when they we're still snowbound, cozy, and together that she thought to say, "You know you could do anything you wanted, be anything you wanted. You're limitless, Harry."

She didn't tell him she'd also love if he chose to follow her between her school and her hoped for career. Just like she hoped he would never tell her he wanted her to follow him on tour. It was too limited.

She wished they were limitless together instead of on the divergent roads they'd chosen.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #tis the damn season #chapter four #let it snow #Harry styles imagine

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xbunnybunz · 4 years ago

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Daybreak (2/?) [Wolf Keum x Reader x Alex Go)

Summary: The day brings to you Alex Go, and in the night, Wolf Keum. Your past is inescapable. They build you up and tear you back down, but this is what you need to survive.

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama

-----

When you wake up to the alarm in the morning, the ringing thrums a migraine in your head that could only be a hangover.

You blearily open your eyes and look to your alarm clock to the right, the intense sunlight piercing through your curtains further inflaming your headache.

7:10AM

You roll over and slap the snooze button, flopping back down onto your back with a sigh.

You lay in bed for a while, running through your classes for the day. You didn’t recall having any tests or quizzes, so you take the day to heal from your drinking binge instead.

The next time you open your eyes, it’s 1:43PM.

The sunlight has dwindled from sweeping over your face to sitting shyly in the corner of your room, refracting through the window and streaking a rainbow onto your wall.

Wolf and Alex Go flipped through your mind like a stop-motion movie, and only looking back on it did you realize what entirely different characters both were.

Wolf was cold. Everything about him was so goddamn cold, his stare, his presence, his mannerisms. But Alex Go was warm in a soft way, warm in the way the sun would feel washing across your face at the beach.

You wondered what business fate had in bringing both boys to you in one night but abandoned the sentiment as soon as it popped into your head.

You were tired of hearing about fate and of destiny, it reminded you too much of what he used to say. Life was fickle, and you knew it, lolling from one side to another, one moment in your favor, the other against.

Heaving a sigh, you push yourself to sit up and swing your legs over the bed.

Your shadow played across the floor and traversed to your desk, messy with the clutter of books, journals, and half-written novels.

You pay them no attention and stroll over to the closet, pulling a shirt from a hanger to wear to the local food mart. A grumble erupts from your stomach and find yourself salivating at the possibilities of different ramen flavors or day-old cold cuts.

You head out to the market after freshening up, and the trip there takes a little less than a few minutes.

The elderly lady at the register gives you a sweet smile and welcomes you, and you return the gesture with a bow. Your eyes skim the wall of chips and baked pastries until your gaze lands on the shelf you were looking for.

You peruse the selection of gourmet instant ramen, tapping your chin thoughtfully and pondering the root of all human struggle, beef flavor or chicken flavor?

The door chimes distantly and a few people walk in, exchanging greetings with the cashier.

You close your eyes and let the sound of others around you seep into your soul. It was days like this that everything felt normal again, like time had finally begin to move forwards again. You craved it, but always knew this relief never lasted for long.

You open your eyes and see the slight furrow of your brows in reflection of the vending machine beside you. You also notice a pair of legs trailing up to a familiar white and blue uniform, and whip around.

“Alex Go?”

“Hey!” He smiled, and even in the blue-hued light of the fluorescent bulbs, he shone like the midday sun. “I thought I recognized you, but I couldn’t be sure.”

You turn to face him and rub your arm, giving him a tiny grin. “I knew we’d be seeing each other around, but this soon? You sure you not stalking me?”

You reach out to give him a playful punch, and he barely budges.

“Stalking?” he seems genuinely taken aback until he sees the look on your face. “I mean, if I was stalking you, I’d hope you hit harder than that!”

He laughs and the sound is melodious, boisterous, but not grating. The way his shoulders shake mesmerizes you for one, two, three seconds.

“Hey, you’re lucky I didn’t use this hand instead!”

You wave your right fist at him and pretend to swing, and right on beat, he feigns impact with a dramatic pop of his shoulder.

There’s a light feeling in your chest, and it flutters with each beat.

When was the last time you spoke to anyone like this, the last time you spoke to anyone at all?

“What are you doing here?” He asks, green eyes alight and curious. “Other than looking at instant noodles, I mean.” He gestures to the shelf you were both in front of, and you shrug.

“I had a pretty shitty hangover, so I skipped class and stayed home instead.”

You feel a bit abashed admitting that aloud, but continue regardless.

“I also forgot I don’t have a lot of food back in the apartment, so I had to crawl out and get my rations for the week.”

His gaze is gentle but piercing.

You hadn’t noticed yesterday in the shroud of night, but his hair was exceptionally dark. You wouldn’t liken it to the pitch-black darkness of nighttime, but to the gentle shadows cast by foliage on a peaceful afternoon at the park.

His eyes were a lighter variant of green, like the pale olive of leaves right after the end of winter, just before the start of summer. It was a delicate kind of beauty that felt tender to behold, and you cherished it every moment you could.

“Cutting? Come on, there can only be one delinquent here.”

He bumped his shoulder into yours, but it was mostly your shoulder colliding with his bicep.

“And I’m no professional, but I don’t think cup noodles are the best thing to eat during a hangover.”

You let your fingers dance over the flimsy cardboard packaging, humming.

“Well, it’s the fastest and easiest. So unless you’re going to help me, I suggest shutting your trap.”

You poke him in the chest and your breath gets shallow when you feel lean muscle under the modest uniform.

Alex flusters as well, though much more outwardly. He clasps his hands over his chest where you jabbed him, and his voice comes out an octave higher than usual.

“What? What do you need help with?”

He looks to you for an answer and finds you brandishing two boxes, one chicken and the other beef, trying desperately to hide your awkward reaction with an equally as bizarre question.

“Noodles. Fresh, hot, preserved noodles. Chicken or beef?”

You don’t really care what flavor he chooses but you hope the diversion works.

Alex falters a bit at the sudden change in topic and mood, but much to your relief, eventually eases his sights on the boxes in your hands. He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but he can’t stop the cocky smile from overtaking his features. He places a hand on your shoulder and raises an eyebrow.

“Uhm, duh?” He gestures to the box on the right. “Chicken.”

You beam at him and put beef back on the rack, plucking a few more chicken ramens off the shelf.

“You, my good sir, are a man of good taste.”

Alex drops his hand from your shoulder and winks at you with a chuckle, his words igniting a fire in your cheeks.

“Oh trust me, I know.”

You can’t stop the smile that creeps across your reddened face. “Don’t be coy with me, Alex Go. I still remember the way you stuttered yesterday.”

“Coy? Who’s being coy?” He laughs and feigns ignorance, but his jittery feet, bobbing this way and that, give him away.

He eyes the fridge behind you and sighs, shoulders slumping almost comically.

“Shit, I almost forgot why I came here.”

He busies himself with grabbing handfuls of ice cream, and you peer at him curiously. He catches your stare and explains himself as he counts the number of cones he has.

“I’m on snack duty for the group today, those lazy bums were ‘too busy’ teaching Gray and Eugene how to play pools to come out with me.”

He steps away from the fridge and closes the door with his hip, the suction of air making a fleeting ‘thwump.’

“They’re just broke and won’t admit it, fucking losers.” He says this, but there’s a smile on his face. You smile with him, because now seems like a good excuse to be happy.

You both walk to the register and Alex goes first, but still waits until you have everything in a bag.

When you step outside, the sun is intense but warm. You have to squint to see anything, and when you look at Alex you see he’s doing the same thing. He catches your eye, and you both laugh at each other until your stomachs hurt.

“I guess this is where we part ways.” Alex says, still slightly out of breath, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Yeah, guess so.” You wring your hands a bit, feeling a bit jittery at the thought of returning to solitude.

Alex hesitates too but you barely have time to register it before he freaks out, seeing the time on a clock hanging from a nearby shop.

“Holy crap! I’ve been gone for that long? Ben’s gonna chew my ass out!”

Alex grabs your right hand to shake it and misses the way you flinch.

“It was so nice seeing you again! I just feel like we kind of click, yaknow? If that makes sense.”

He retracts his hand and ties a knot on his bag, he’s moving and talking so fast you can’t keep up. You’re still stuck on how he says you both click, because you think so too and you’re so glad he feels the same-- and you don’t want to go home and you don’t want to be alone.

But he’s taking off before you can even understand he was saying goodbye.

“I’ll see you later! Get home safe!”

He waves and takes off charging, and he reminds you of a soaring jet.

There’s a noise in your throat, but no words come out.

Your hands clench and unclench, heart still hammering from when he took your palm in his.

You don’t want to wait to see him again, you think. You don’t want to leave it up to chance, or fate, or whatever the fuck they called it.

How long have you waited for someone to hear you? To see you? To feel you?

“Wait!” You shout, and it pushes all the air from your lungs.

You give yourself half a second to inhale then take after him, the plastic bag with your noodles tugging on your wrist.

“Alex!”

By some miracle, he hears you and turns around, stopping short in his sprint and waving at you.

He cups his hands over his mouth and shouts something you can’t hear over the whistling of the wind and the rustling of the bag at your side.

When you finally catch up to him, you’re totally winded. You wonder what kind of superhuman stamina Alex had because he didn’t seem to be struggling at all.

You place your hands on your knees and double over, taking deep breaths of air that burn your lungs but make you feel so goddamn alive.

“Woah there!”

Alex braces you with two hands on your arms.

“I told you I’d wait for you. Why’d you keep running like that?”

“Give me your number.”

Alex’s eyebrows shoot up, and his hands fly off your body.

“H-huh?”

Your voice comes out raspy and weak. You’re only able to speak between inhales, but it doesn’t stop you from repeating yourself.

“Give me. Your number.”

Alex’s bewildered expression greets you when you look up, face red from exertion and embarrassment. Upon seeing your ruffled state, Alex makes a weird noise at the back of his throat and reddens as well.

“O-oh. I thought I misheard you…” He swallows thickly and rubs the back of his neck again. “Did you run all the way here to ask for that?”

You give him a look and drop your head again, giving one last exhale before rising again.

“Yeah, I did.”

Alex’s blush spreads to his ears, and his green gaze flickers from you to whatever thing wasn’t you. His dark hair tousles in the wind, and he rubs his nose.

“Oh wow. I mean you didn’t need to sprint, I’d be flattered regardless.”

He gives you another smile, and you notice that when he’s nervous his smiles are close-lipped. Either way, it warm your chest.

“I was just afraid I couldn’t catch up to you.”

He reaches for his phone and extends it to you after unlocking it, and you try hard to ignore the background he has of a tall, tan redhead face-first on the floor at a bowling alley.

“I would’ve waited.”

You type your number into his phonebook and call it, waiting until the buzz of your phone resounded from your pocket.

“I wanted to be sure.”

You hand the phone back to him. Your fingers brush and you don’t miss the way he jolts a bit.

“Right.”

He shifts a bit back and forth, like he couldn’t decide between staying or going. Or maybe you were just hoping that was the case.

You notice the bag he’s holding is dripping something, and you point it out to him.

“Oh crap-!” He opens the bag and is relieved to find its just condensation, but remains jumpy.

“Ah, thank god. But it’ll be the ice cream next. I really gotta go this time, I’ll see you!”

He takes off for a bit, and you watch, baffled, as he stops short and runs back to you, jogging in place. The condensation from the bag flies off and hits your arm.

“And uhm- I’ll call you.”

You blink in surprise, and can’t help the bubble of laughter that erupts from your lips.

“I’ll be looking forward to it, Alex Go.”

He returns the smile and it’s radiant as ever. It leaves you warm when he turns to leave, warm when his back is just a speck in the distance, and warm still when he’s out of your sight.

Alex Go, you think. Your fingers flex a bit at your side. And you smile.

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #wolf keum x reader #alex go x reader #daybreak #reader insert #fanfiction

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applsauss · 4 years ago

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Lightning Bugs in July | I

THE END

Description: When it rains in Virginia, it is absolute -- the storm, the heat, the humidity. A rainstorm in September is the same as a firestorm in Europe.

Fandom: Band of Brothers

 Pairing:  Joseph Toye/Reader

Word Count:  4.2k+

Warning(s): Derogatory Language. Nothing you wouldn’t see in the show.

When you close your eyes, you comfort yourself with your last easy memory. You'd been standing out on a gravel bank with your pants rolled up, up to your calves in the cool waters of the Potomac. Your eyes were closed, face turned up towards the twilit sky, and you'd let the cooling Virginia heat crawl off you like the setting sun.

You remember thinking distantly of your home, which wasn't so distant at the time, and remember wondering idly if you'd end up regretting enlisting. Your thoughts were quickly carried away by the river current, however, and so you took a deep breath and thought instead on how you'd break the news to your family.

When you finally opened your eyes, it was to the intermittent flashing of lightning bugs over the river, lazy and at the mercy of the breeze, in July.

xxx

This is one thing you know for certain: Joe Toye does not taste like love.

Love tastes different on every person; it can be the flavor of caramel popcorn and sweet, sweet starshine from atop a ferris wheel, or the rosemary in fresh pancakes. It can ache like the sweet of iced tea, or stick in your mouth like a secret meant to be kept.

Sometimes, it tastes like a quiet, earnest promise. Sometimes, the flavor fades into the taste of a broken one.

These are two things you know for certain: Love tastes different on every person, and Joseph D. Toye does not taste like love when he presses his lips to yours -- but you kiss him anyways.

His eyes are ardent, they gleam in the twilight like twin lightning bugs, and the rest of him is kind in that he is unyielding. Every inch of space you give, he fills without preamble. There is something innate in him that overwhelms common sense.

Ten minutes ago, you'd been deliberating over whether it would be wise or not to take a page out of Lieutenant Nixon's handbook and get your hands on some alcohol. You might not have found alcohol, but you found Joe, the cherry of his cigarette flashing in the dark alley behind Easy Company's makeshift barracks.

It's as if he knows you need this, to be held down and held together. He kisses you in a way that insists you keep all your attention on him, that you forget about mortar rounds, the whites of eyes turned red, and machine guns.

You forget all about machine guns.

You think you could live with yourself if this was all there is to the world, kissing Joe Toye behind some half-shelled shed you both figured no one in the battalion would bother with. You might even be able to live with yourself in a world without the taste of love, so long as you could taste instead Lucky Strike cigarettes in his mouth, and let him handle you in the single, heart-breaking moment before you fall apart in the face of another angry artillery barrage.

Joe's hands slide down your sides, then he grabs a handful of ass and thigh and lifts you up just enough to wedge you onto the pseudo-worktable on the far side of the shed.

The collision is rough, edging on desperate, but neither of you claim to be perfect and both of you are soldiers caught in a war you only cared about fighting until you actually fought it -- but there's something -- God, damn it -- there's something here, between the two of you, but it's just not --

Joe bites down, just left of hard, on your shoulder, and your reaction is immediate and helpless: Neck scrunching to the side, eyes widening, hands grabbing fitfully at his shoulders and a half-bitten noise rushing from your lips.

Joe mutters an apology, then kisses the spot, tenderly. You sigh at the feeling of him questing up the column of your neck with a series of chaste pecks. Then he kisses your lips, tenderly.

But Joe Toye just does not taste like love.

You ruin his hair with your dirty fingers and try and bury every thought bouncing around in your head with your lips, in his mouth. His jaw is rough under your hands -- when was the last time he had a chance to shave? -- and he pins you with his body, pressing closer until there's no space between you, until you're melding and melting into one another, becoming something entirely different and unstable.

His hands ruck up your shirt. His hands are calloused and dangerous. His hands are greedy. His hands are reverent. His hand tangles itself into the back of your grown-out hair and tugs your head back so it thumps against the wall, baring your neck to him.

His eyes are ardent, dangerous -- they are breathtaking, like the lightning bugs in July.

Your tongue lashes out at the back of your teeth, and you taste him. Lucky Strike Cigarettes.

He drags his mouth down your throat, then loses the pretense of kissing once he latches onto the skin below the collar of your uniform.

You stare up at the darkening sky without seeing, lips parted as you try to understand this feeling building in your chest.

Joe Toye does not taste like love.

Please, God -- you squeeze your eyes shut when they burn with tears like memories -- Joe Toye cannot taste like love.

xxx

You're both sitting on the cold dirt, slumped against the shed wall, and in the silence of the night. Joe drags his cigarette up to his lips and inhales; you unwrap the foil from a stick of chewing gum and hold it between your teeth, burning your tongue with the concentrated spearmint.

Across the river -- there are too many rivers in Europe, you're learning -- a German flare is shot straight up into the overcast sky. You track the light with your eyes as it begins to arch, and squint when it flashes too brightly. The flare falls, falls, it falls, then drops into the river beside the blown-out bridge. You stare at the krauts, and they stare back.

"I better go. I've got watch soon," you say without moving an inch to stand. Your sweat is turning cold on your skin, and you dip a hand into your open jacket to scratch at your stomach. Your dog tags are sitting on your bare sternum, and they clink when you brush up against them.

Joe hums suddenly then, in acknowledgement, but his heavy eyes remain trained across the river. Beside you, he is completely topless, his bare skin caressed softly by the waning moon. Your eyes trace the fuzzy outline of his face, then down to where his dog tags hang, just beside his beating heart. You fist your own tags in your hand, then pocket selfishly the vision of him in this moment, subdued and satiated. A statue left standing in a battlefield.

His stomach is bunched up, and idly you watch the way the muscles under his skin move when he takes another drag from his cigarette or swallows down whatever words he might have shared with you instead. You wonder what it would feel like to lay your hand just over his heart, to feel it beat, or to hold it in your hand and understand the warmth of him.

He's built like Flash Gordon, that space-faring hero who ends up without a shirt more often than not. This is not the first time you've thought of the comparison, but it makes you laugh all the same -- a quiet, lighthearted huff.

Joe glances at you from the corner of his eye, with a slight turn of the head, and raises a single eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

You shake your head and look back out over the river. Another flare rises up into the night sky. For a moment, you forget about the war, and are instead struck by the beauty of the scene. It is alien, devastating, and beautiful. The German flare rises up, up, it arches, then falls behind the bridge and dips into the river. It is haunting.

You sigh, then slowly stand and begin pulling on your uniform, piece by piece. You feel Joe's eyes on you, but don't comment or turn to look at him. You can't bring yourself to, and you can't understand why.

When you shoulder your rifle, you hear Joe grunt, then shuffle in the dirt. "Hey," he calls after you, too loudly, too quickly, too warmly, and for a moment, you are truly afraid. Of what, you're not sure, but as you grip the strap of your rifle, your stomach falls into a pit of dread. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to remember that beach, those lazy lightning bugs, but the memory fights and refuses to be reeled to the surface -- all you can picture are his eyes, ardent, the way they shine.

It is embarrassingly silent. You shudder when you realize Joe is waiting for a response.

Slowly, you force yourself to face him, only to find him staring up at you, holding out your helmet for you to take. You realize you'd left it somewhere between the door and the worktable Joe fucked you on.

His eyes are earnest, his mouth is set in a thin, worried line. You pull on a wobbly smile like you would a camouflage tarpaulin, but can't hide behind it and it does nothing to make you feel safer. You take the helmet silently and tuck it under your arm.

Joe blinks, then directs his eyes to the ground. The laugh he forces out is awkward, and sounds as if it was skimmed off the top of his chest. "What would you ever do without me?"

The air tastes sour. Humor is the only weapon either of you have in your arsenals to mask the flavor. "Get my brains blown out by a Kraut, Joe."

"That's right," he rasps, and then he takes a drag from his cigarette. "And don't forget it."

You stare at the dark shape of his slumped over form for a second longer than you should, but he's retreated into himself, staring blankly into the night, across the river at the Krauts. If he notices your hesitation, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

You swallow thickly, then take your leave, aware of the way the heat of his eyes brand your back until you turn the corner and disappear from sight. The night is cold after that.

xxx

But wars end eventually. This is something you never thought hard enough about.

You close your eyes and will yourself to remember that beach, that twilight, those floating lightning bugs on the Potomac. Now you are standing out on that gravel bank, shaped and reshaped by the river, and that moment is nowhere to be found.

The river is beneath you, too warm from the sun; the sky is above you, bluebird and soft; and that easy, stolen moment is gone. All that's left is the damp notion of an autumn rainstorm passed.

But wars end eventually, and now you are fresh off the train, delaying your eventual homecoming and staring blankly across the river, wondering if there are any Germans in Virginia to stare back. You pick up a flat river rock and skip it across the slow moving water, counting five jumps before it sinks below the surface.

But wars end eventually, and now you are left standing, still standing, in your uniform. It is wrinkled. Every moment longer you spend in it, you want to tear each patch off. They make your skin burn. You whip another flat rock out across the water, but it wobbles and only skips twice before suddenly sinking.

"Shit."

But wars end eventually. Maybe you always knew this -- what's confused you is that you never expected to survive it.

All this time you spend longing for home, yearning for some perfect memory, and the reality of it is exactly the same and forever changed instead. The sky is too blue, the river too warm, you are not the same person. You pick up another flat rock and scrub a wet leaf off it with your thumb. What's worse, though, is that you feel nothing staring at this beach; no relief, not even nostalgia. The thought makes agitation flare hot and settle in your chest like heartburn.

You close your eyes and try to picture those lightning bugs, but the only memory your subconscious offers is the glow of Joe Toye's eyes. "Shit!" You throw the rock at the ground hard enough for it to bounce. The sound is like a gunshot. The chewing gum in your mouth is like paste. You clench, unclench your fists and blink away the burn settling behind your eyes, then reach down and tear into your rucksack.

The Krauts you imagine to be across the river watch as you pull out your bronze and silver stars, along with your purple heart. You rip open the cases of each one, glare shamefully at the contents, then pitch them as far as you can across the river.

xxx

When it rains in Virginia, it is absolute -- the storm, the heat, the humidity. A rainstorm in September is the same as a firestorm in Europe.

The air hangs heavy and low to the ground. The world grows quiet as the skies open up, thunder rolling like a wave over the countryside.

All the windows and doors in the house are propped open, and the air is restless as it paces about the house. You sigh, breath iced by spearmint, and drag your nails over your scalp. Something in this storm makes your hair stand on end. There is a restless energy in your muscles that winds and winds without release.

Lightning flashes. thunder claps. Rain falls. Downstairs, the dog whimpers.

When it rains in Virginia, it is absolute.

xxx

Home for you is a three bedroom house at the end of an uneven, unpaved road. The roof leaks in three different places, the stairs are missing a banister, and the front door only shuts if you twist the knob the right way. It is also filled to the brim with your brothers and sisters. Including you, there are twelve.

Eustace was the oldest, but you don’t remember him very well because he ran off to Sacramento as soon as he turned eighteen. You were nine at the time.

Beth was second born and is more of a mother to you than your actual mother has ever been. She’s run the household since she was five.

Cecily is a secretary for a law firm in Richmond and sends what she can of her paycheck home at the end of every month.

Lip enlisted with the army in 1939, and caught a bullet in North Africa around the time you jumped for Operation Market Garden.

Tommy is only a year younger than you, and broke his leg jumping from a tree when he was ten. It never healed right.

Dog was halfway through basic training when Hitler shot himself. He patrolled the streets of Berlin a couple times before he was sent home, and still has the itch for war.

Norma is a year from graduating high school and all she wants is to make movies.

Jim-boy is a sophomore in high school and on the baseball team as a pitcher.

Pat is in middle school and runs your old paper route.

Ulysses is eleven and trying his very best to get kicked out of elementary school.

Em is as sweet as a pea and everyone who knows her thinks she’s just the most darling girl in all of the south.

None of you share a last name, but it doesn’t matter because you’re family regardless. It’s a bond you understand well, and one you carried with you to war.

Love tastes like blood in your mouth just as much as it does of saltwater taffy on a crisp fall day.

xxx

It's early enough for the sun to just barely be peaking over the gray horizon. Sometime in the night the rain finally broke, and so now you're left in its result; the countryside is warm, damp, and quiet except for the hum of the cicadas.

There are five of you sitting around the kitchen table, barefoot and in various states of undress. Upstairs, the floorboards creak under the three teenagers in the house as they mill about getting ready for the day. Beth is at the stove, slaving over a batch of potato pancakes. They're your favorite, and you know that's why she's making them.

Beth throws a cautious look over her shoulder, and you pretend to be too heavily invested in the back of the newspaper Tommy's holding up to notice. But you can make out the way her eyebrows knit in worry, and how the lightning bug glow of her eyes cradles you as if you were china.

You appreciate the gesture.

Some days are more difficult for you than others, and so you appreciate the gesture.

You appreciate the gesture, but you stare down at the pancakes on your plate and all they do is remind you of that one time in who-the-fuck-knows-where, France when you'd pan-fried potato pancakes for the guys under the beginnings of an artillery barrage.

Skip had traded in some fresh, army-issue loaves of bread with Fox Company for a sack of half-bad potatoes; you and Liebgott had stumbled across a half-shelled herb garden with a bushel of rosemary half-intact; and Alton More had sat for half an hour grating potatoes by hand, biceps bulging and quivering by the time Malarkey and Toye ran in with a half-basket of eggs.

It was half a feast. The lot of you had inhaled the food in a root cellar while the town you were occupying was shelled. You remember shoveling piping hot pancakes into your mouth -- barely chewing -- while the wooden door to the cellar bounced and leaped into the air with every shell impact. All you could think about was how it would be better to die on a full-stomach than an empty one.

But wars end eventually. You stab a pancake on your plate and take a bite. Your eyes fall shut as you chew. Beth's pancakes taste better than anything you could have dreamed of in Europe -- and the rosemary she used isn't even singed by hellfire.

You wash the pancake down with a sip of bitter coffee and work your jaw around a phantom piece of gum. You're quickly finding that your home is exactly the same and forever changed, like that long-gone beach of memory. The front door is still guarded by a carpet of shoes, Norma still hums when she brews iced tea, and your chair at the kitchen table is still in the same spot, next to Lip's empty one -- but there are new, loosened floorboards that you don't know to avoid, Tommy has taken up reading the newspaper in the mornings, and Ulysses no longer sits perched on a stool, but instead on a little blue chair wedged between Dog and Em.

"What was it like?" Ulysses asks, and Beth shushes him as she sets another plate of pancakes on the table. The question does not take you by surprise. Ulysses is as gung-ho when it comes to the idea of war as most eleven year-olds are. All he and his friends talk about are Krauts and Nips and who's turn it is to pretend to be John Basilone, the war hero.

"Dangerous," Dog says, "there were Krauts everywhere, and not enough bullets to shoot 'em."

You roll your eyes. There were Krauts everywhere because Dog was deployed straight to Berlin as a replacement. You have a suspicion that the most he shot his gun in Europe was at a couple of bottles lined up on a fence.

"It was cold." You shiver as he says this. He has no fucking clue. "And artillery is loud -- louder than you think it could ever be. When the big guns go off, the whole ground rattles like you're standing right next to a moving train." Dog doesn't know. He doesn't understand -- no one here understands because they weren't there.

"They called me Hawkeye, because I was the best shot out of my group."

Dog doesn't know what it's like to huddle in a shallow foxhole -- not the way you do. He doesn't know what it's like to have your thoughts shelled, to hold one of your best buddies while he bleeds out in your arms, begging you and god alike to not let him die.

"You should have heard the way the Krauts shout in German, all high-pitched and garbled, like they've got potatoes in their mouths--" You slam your mug down on the table hard enough for the sound to snap through the still, morning air. Coffee sloshes out and over your hands, and Beth jumps a foot in the air, then rushes over to you with a kitchen rag. She tries to catch your eyes with hers, but you shake your head and stare down at the table, feeling queasy.

You think of Lip -- not your lieutenant, but your brother, Phillip -- and wonder if he would have understood. He spent three years in North Africa before he was killed in combat. Maybe he would have known the way it feels to scrub and scrub your hands, only to have the dirt and the blood stain them permanently, like memories, like tears you can’t forget.

Sweet Em, who's been quiet this whole time, turns to you, then. "What did they call you?" she asks, peering up at you with such big, brown eyes; the childish question floats innocently from her lips while you fight the urge to cringe away from her.

Beth is watching you, eyes worried and sad. You suck in a chestful of brave air and put on your biggest, unaffected smile for the sake of your sisters. "Gunner." You quickly turn away and begin reaching around the table, collecting empty plates to stack them on top of yours.

"Why's that?" Ulysses asks, leaning forward over the table in interest.

"Because it's what you call a machine gunner -- a good one," Dog says proudly, and you force yourself to let out a laugh -- much like the one Joe Toye had offered you a year ago, in France; one skimmed off the top of your chest.

"Yea," you say plainly. You move to take the stack of dishes to the sink, but Beth swats at your hands and collects them instead. "Now you sit, sergeant, until it's well time for you to leave." She might not be your mother; your actual mother growing up was more often than not shacked up across town, drunk off her ass and falling into the arms of some beau; but Beth is the closest thing you have to a maternal figure.

The scene moves on, and the quiet of the morning returns, along with the hum of the cicadas. Only a couple months until their chirping gives way to the dead silence of winter.

Tommy snickers into the morning paper at the exchange, shooting you a disarming look from over top the sports section, and you find yourself smiling a little more honestly.

You continue to drain what's left of your rapidly cooling coffee over the course of the next couple of minutes. They are mundane. The conversation at the table has long since left you behind, and you're content to linger in your own quiet. Sometimes, you find yourself overwhelmed by just how normal everything still is.

When you're done with your coffee, you push the mug away from you and shuffle until you can pull a pack of gum from your pocket. The familiar taste of spearmint floods your mouth.

"Were you a good machine gunner?" Em asks suddenly, and you nearly bite through your tongue.

"Em!" Beth scolds, "enough questions. Now go and get your shoes on. You're fixin' to be late the longer you dawdle. You too, 'Lysses." She shoos the kids from the table, not looking at you, and you find yourself scratching at a carving you'd made a couple years ago with your nail on the wood of the table: A crude, little lightning bug.

One by one, the kids file out of the house, off to school. You and Tommy sit at the table as the morning rush swarms around you, him reading, you staring at that lightning bug. Beth is washing the dishes. Dog clears out, saying he's going fishing with some friends. Then comes the muffled rumble of an engine, and tires rolling slowly over gravel; the drawn-out whine of brakes, then the toot of a car horn.

"That's us." Tommy shuts the paper and tosses it onto the table as he stands. "Ready to go?"

"Fine, Tommy." You make it all the way to the door before Beth is tugging on your sleeve.

"Forget your cap, Buggy?" Beth says suddenly, holding out your cap for you to take -- and you don't know what strikes you more: the sudden use of your childhood nickname, or the way she's holding out your hat like Joe Toye had all those times before her. They’ve got the same lightning bug eyes.

"Thanks." You offer Beth a small smile as you take the cap, and she brushes a bit of your hair from your forehead, then smiles back, eyes just a bit more tired than you remember them to be.

xxx

But wars end eventually, and when it rains in Virginia, it is absolute.

It rains in Virginia all through September.

Masterlist | Posting Schedule

#bob #band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #joe toye #joseph toye #joe toye x reader #joe toye imagine #joseph toye x reader #joseph toye imagine #bob imagine

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koi-has-joy · 4 years ago

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Shinso’s Damn Happy Trail

Warnings: 18+, dd/lg dynamics, swearing, smut, etc.

A/N: Alright! So- This has been in the works for about a month (?) and it’s something I think about daily. This all stemmed from glorious fanart of Shinso (posted at the end) and a fun and very long conversation with one of my lovely muses, Allie ( @queensynderella ).

Allie wrote the parts pertaining to the reader(fem) we traded off in a sort of conversation like writing. This started as RP and became a whole fic. It was really fun to write as a collab and I really appreciate her patience with me as I was learning and doing my best to keep the story flowing and entertaining. I wrote the Hitoshi parts and we both picked out the gif.

I’m very happy to finally be able to post this in its completion! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I do. Enjoy!

Word Count: 3,738

*shinso walks out of the shower like that and into the hallway* jaw slack, eyes bulging and visibly licking every part of him. "You gonna just stare or?" He snaps in front of your face. "U-uh sorry," you scratched the back of your neck as you averted your eyes "nice urhm package." You tumble over your words. He rests his hand on your shoulder bowing his head so his breath tickles your ear. "Yeah, it would look better without briefs… or with you on top of it." Hot breath fanning across your neck as he softly presses his lips against it. Knees growing weak you shriveled away from him slightly. Standing up straight he gave you a lazy smirk before giving you a once over, biting his lip and walking away.

Emitting a heavy sigh you felt your face burn and you looked over your shoulder slightly to watch as his muscles contracted as he walked away. Snapping your face forward you took a deep, shaky breath. Shaking your head you walked into the locker room and prepared to shower. The image of his violet happy trail not leaving the forefront of your mind, even as the water rushed down your body. Gliding your hands along your body you stopped to note the slick that coated your inner thigh, along with the warm water. "Fuck." You muttered to yourself. Looking around the room for any sign of people you delved your hand between your folds gathering some of the slick, at the feeling you began to nod your head back in relaxation and pleasure. Until a large hand grabbed your wrist and stilled your movements.

"Ah ah ah, what a naughty little kitten."

Yes sir, I certainly am please punish me. - Allie said this out of character but I wanted to keep it word for word in fic as it was in chat.

"Eager to take what I give you, kitten?"

*pouts*

"Daddy doesn't like it when you pout, kitten."

"I uhm, Daddy?! The hell are you on about Shin? And uh, this is the um showers and uh…."

"So? Did I say you could touch yourself?"

"No? It's not my fault, ya know if you didn't strut around like… that!"

"Like what?"

"Like… some kinda Greek god with your whole self on display and that stupid sexy happy trail… It's a hazard."

"A hazard? Just because you don't know how to behave yourself, I'm a hazard? Now kitten, that's silly."

"I am behaving and can I have my hand back please? I'd like to finish… showering, I yeah."

"Mmm, maybe. Depends on how good you taste baby."

"T-taste? W-what do you mean taste?"

"While I'd love to clean off those fingers for you, I'd prefer it from the source. Now, be a good girl and stay still." Releasing your hand he gets down on one knee in front of your heat. Caressing your inner thigh he parts your legs further. Hot breath fanning against you, he grabs your leg and puts it over his shoulder. Licking softly at your folds before diving between them.

"Source what- oohh fuck." You mumble as you slam one hand to the wall next to you for balance, scared of your shaking leg holding your weight, other hand instinctively weaving into his soft purple hair. "S-s-shin, what're you- mmmn."

Pulling away from your heat he looked up at you with a devilish grin. "Ah, just as I thought. You taste so. fucking. good." Each word was punctuated with a kiss against your clit. Palming himself through his now soaked briefs he winked at you before removing your leg from his shoulder. Standing up he grabbed your chin and pulled you into a shallow kiss before moving across your jaw and down your neck.

"I don't- - can't think…" You mutter as your breaths become soft pants, mind clouding over before his lips met yours. You wanted to say something else but your mind went blank the further his lips traveled and a soft moan escaped, one hand still planted on the wall as the other slid along his wet abs.

A low growl vibrated against your skin. Biting down harshly on the side of your neck, he pulled his head back and licked his lips. "As much as I would love to continue this," he ran his hands along your sides before wrapping around to cup your ass. " the water is getting cold and my little kitten still needs to get clean." He squished the soft flesh beneath his fingers, drawing you against him.

"Fuck." You moaned slowly at his teeth in your neck, eyes fluttering closed for a beat. Another moan escaping as he grabbed at your ass. Eyes cracking open at his words, making you arch a brow. "I don't think clean is, is what you're thinking about…" You whispered staring up at him, very aware of him being flush against you.

Pushing your body against his bulge he presses a quick kiss to your nose before his right hand lands a smack on your ass. Putting distance between you both he tracks his fingernails down your sides once more before abandoning your figure. "Be a good girl and finish your shower kitten. And maybe later we can discover how 'nice' my package looks buried in you." Once again he starts to walk away. Looking over his shoulder he warned, "Oh, and good girls don't touch themselves without Daddy."

"I- - what?!" You blurt, eyes wide as he pulls away, jaw slightly slacked. You were flustered and in disbelief that he could just stop, like that. "I… what if I don't listen, huh?" You hollered after him, half-smirk on your lips before turning back to the now cold water.

“Such a little ugh!” She groaned, scrubbing at her body as it shivered at the cold water she was left with now. Doing her best to get clean and rinsed off as soon as possible while half-tempted to finish what she had started before shin had interrupted. “How would he even know?” She mused as she let the water beat the last of the soap off her skin and she sighed, shaking her head and turning the shower off before grabbing her towel and wrapping up. “Just do it when I get to the room.” She mumbled as she padded that way.

Finally hearing the soft click of the door opening he groaned. “Welcome kitten” He sat up on his forearms as he watched you step into the room. “Did you behave for me?” He arched a brow.

She stopped and stared at him on her bed with wide eyes that trailed along his still wet body and her now soaked bedding. “The hell Hitoshi? My sheets are soaked what’re you-?” She gulped, cutting herself off as she got distracted by the material clinging to his toned ass. “Did I get myself off you mean?”

“By that cute reaction I’m going to take a guess that you didn’t.” Sitting up fully, he ran a hand through his slick hair, pushing it up to its rightful place. “And yeah. Sorry, not sorry about the sheets” He winked at you as he eyed your figure.

“What if I did huh?” She quipped, chewing her lip to keep from groaning at his chiseled body, averting her eyes. “I can see you’re not sorry but how am I supposed to sleep on them now Toshi?” She huffed, turning mid-sentence to catch his wink making her cock her head. “ What is with you tonight?”

Chuckling at your attempt to play it off he looked up at your ceiling. “Ya know, lying is a sin kitten.” Standing up he came towards you. Towering over your frame he smirked at your words. “You’ll be sleeping with me tonight, obviously” He huffed as if you should have assumed. “Nothing is wrong, just… feeling a bit more mean, so to speak” Raising his hand to your shoulder he grazed his fingers along your skin.

“You’re a sin.” She grumbled as she tried not to stare at his still wet boxer-briefs clinging to every curve they were supposed to hide. She stared up at him, arching a brow and shivering slightly at his touch. “I… teasing is more the word I was thinking. And sleeping in what sense Toshi?” She asked, biting her lip and holding her arms tight at her sides to resist reaching out for him.

“Isn’t teasing, in some sense, just a form of being mean?” His other hand ghosted along your side as he placed his hand on your hip, pulling you into him. “Now that was cute.” He snickered at your question. “I was hoping in both senses. But hey, you can do what you want. You’re a big girl.” The hand from your shoulder moved to your chin. Pinching your chin between his thumb and pointer finger as he tilted your head up toward his.

“What you did in the shower was pretty mean now that you mention it.” She shot back with a hint of a grin on her lips, gasping softly as he pulled her close. She snorted softly at his words, leaning up slightly towards his lips. “I thought I was supposed to be doing what I was told, Daddy?”

“Ah, so my girl does listen.” Placing a soft peck against your lips he pulled back slightly. “Good. I thought I was going to have to teach you a lesson” He dipped his head down to glide his lips along your jaw.

“Teach me a lesson, huh?” She asked as her gaze met his, soft groan slipping out at the feeling of his lips on her jaw. She couldn’t fight the urge to touch him any longer, one hand settling on his chest as the other reached up to lightly tangle in his damp hair. “And what if I behave, do I get a reward instead?”

“Mmm, that can be arranged.” He hummed as he moved into your touch. Eyes looking down momentarily as your hand met his chest. Kissing across your jaw, toward your chin and down your neck he relished in the way you felt against his rough body.

“S-shit Toshi…” She muttered breathily as her eyes fluttered closed, leaning into his kisses further as the one on his chest slowly traced his abs. “Thought you were t-taking me to your room?”

Stopping in his tracks he took a step back from you. Already annoyed by the absence of your touch he grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the door as he moved from the hallways he made his way out of your room. Reaching his door he swiftly opened it and pulled you in. “Tsk tsk tsk. So impatient Kitten.”

She couldn’t help but grin as they snuck through the halls, freehand clutching her towel tight to her chest and a soft giggle escaping once the door was shut. She looked up at his violet eyes and wound her arms loosely around his waist. “Me impatient? You’ve already teased me *Daddy*, I don’t want to wait.” She murmured in a sultry tone. Throwing him a wink to be cheeky.

With a sigh he took a step backward, out of your grip. Taking your hands with his he captured one of them. Leading your hand down to his briefs he had you palming his erection. Hissing at the contact “Maybe.. I’m the impatient one.”

“Oooh god.” She muttered at feeling his hard cock beneath her hand or the first time, eyes wide as she watched it twitch as she palmed it. SHe glanced up at him, studying his face before curiosity got the better of her and she moved to tug his briefs down enough to let his cock spring free as she gulped at the sight. Licking her lips at the bead of pre at his angry tip.

“Ah- fuck” He bit his lip as he watched her movements. “Like what you see kitten?” His hand came down to wrap around its base. “You’re nearly drooling.”

“Yes.” She blurted almost instantly as she glanced back up at him and bit her lip. “C-can I…?” She asked as she moved closer, fingers sliding along his thighs as she kneeled in front of him with her gaze locked on his.

Taking a deep breath as he peered down at her his pupils had blown wide, lust-filled deviance played across his features. “I thought you’d never ask” He stroked himself very slowly in front of her face before removing his hand from himself in favor of pushing his still wet hair back. His other hand was scratching lightly at his happy trail as he groaned.

A smile flashed on her lips, the movement of his hand drawing her attention back down to his cock. She licked her lips before flicking her tongue in kitten licks against his head as he stroked himself, groaning at the taste of his pre on her tongue. As soon as he moved his hand she wrapped hers around him instead.

A low groan left the back of his throat as he watched your movements intently. A low hiss erupted as your hand wrapped around him. “Don’t tease me, Kitten.” his voice was low, husky and intimidating.

She gulped at his words, shiver running down her spine. She looked up at him through her lashes as she leaned in to wrap her lips around his cockhead, tongue swirling against it as her hand pumped slowly along the rest. Keeping her eyes on his face as she took as much of his length in her mouth as possible before starting a steady pace of bobbing along his length.

Intertwining his fingers in her hair he followed her movements eagerly. The feeling of her warm tongue against his cock made him moan. Tilting his head to the side he eyed her seductively. Hands guiding her actions fluidly. “That’s it, good girl” He praised as he eased his hips into meeting her bobbing head.

She groaned against his length at the feeling of his hips bucking forward, slightly gagging as his tip grazed into her throat. She sucked a deep inhale through her nose before releasing her hand and pushing herself down on him until her nose brushed against his purple pubes, a much louder gag sounding as she deepthroated him.

“That sounds-” He bit his lip to slightly stifle his moan “so fucking sexy” He used the leverage of his hands to hold her there for a few seconds, relishing in the way her throat constricted around him.

Her eyes watering slightly as drool slipped from the corner of her mouth freely. She pulled air through her nose to try and stay down like this for him, tongue pressed flat against the vein on the underside of his length. Another gag making her pull off of him with a soft pop as she gasped for air, moving her hand to stroke him instead.

“Fuck, kitten-” He hissed through clenched teeth. Tightening his grip in her hair he tilted her head back for her to meet his gaze. “Guess I was teasing you too much, huh? You’re acting like a cat in heat.”

“Yes you were, Daddy.” She panted out, emphasizing the last word as she did her best to pout up at him. Her eyes clouded with lust as she let slip a needy little whine, hand still lazily pumping his cock.

Smirking down at her he released his hold in her hair in favor of overlapping her hand, guiding her strokes while adding pressure. “I’ll be nicer next time.” He winked down at her with his cheshire grin as a breathless chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest.

“N-next time?” She asked, her head tilting slightly as she groaned softly at his hand guiding hers. Her eyes briefly flicking to your cock and back. “What about now, Daddy? Have I behaved enough for a reward?”

He growled lowly before he softly spoke. “Mmm- That depends on what you want, kitten.”

She shivered at the growl, gulping to try and swallow down the saliva pooling in her mouth. “I want you,” she said as she gazed up at you with pleading eyes, “I n-need you… to fuck me. To feel y-your cock in me.”

Cursing beneath his breath he nodded “I can’t deny you when you beg like that” He removed your hand from his length and helped you to your feet, turning your body he pushed you against the nearest wall.

She grinned lazily at him, following his lead and pressing her cheek against the coolness of the wall. Instinctively arching her back slightly towards him and taunting him a bit with a wiggle of her hips.

His hand gripped your hip tightly while the other guided his cock against your folds, gathering the slick there before lining himself up with your entrance. “Don’t tease me like that kitten.” He whispered against your neck as he leaned over you.

She mewled feeling your cock tease her folds, arching back into you further. She whimpered at your words and hot breath against her neck. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I just want you so fucking bad… please!” She pleaded, bucking her hips against you with a moan.

“Your wish is my command” With a sharp, rough thrust he was buried to the hilt in your cunt. Breathing ragged as he tried to control himself. Adjusting his grip on your hip as his other hand weaved into your hair, pulling you back toward him. “Have you been a good girl?” His voice was husky and raw.

She choked out a moan at being so roughly filled, her hands slipping slightly against the drywall. “F-fuck.” She muttered breathily, another moan escaping as your fist curled into her hair. “I-i think so?” She blurted out, cunt clenching at the words ‘good girl.’

“From the way you’re clenching around me I’d say you’ve been naughty.” He huffed, dragging himself out from within you almost completely before another sharp thrust sheathed him again. “Such a slutty little kitty.” He licked a stripe along your neck, groaning from his own game, patience already thin.

“Maybe I h-have been.” She panted, moaning deeply at the sharp thrust as she bit her lip. “Are you gonna punish your slutty k-kitty Daddy?” She groaned as your tongue met her neck. “S-shit… please, use me Daddy.”

Sucking harshly on the juncture of your neck he growled against your skin. “My pleasure” His hand came down roughly against your ass before he began a brutal but shallow pace inside you.

“F-fuck, Daddy.” She cried out loudly at the smack, whimpering at the rough pace as her clammy hands slipped and pawed at the wall trying to keep herself from bouncing forward too much with each thrust.

"that's right kitten, say it louder" the hand in your hair pulling your back against him. He licked the shell of your ear as he landed another smack against your cheek. "Start counting"

She moaned loudly at the smack, a shudder running through her. “O-one?” She panted out before burying her teeth in her lower lip to try and keep herself focused beyond you pounding into her.

He chuckled darkly "Good fucking girl" his voice was just a breathless whisper against your ear. Smacking the same spot again he released his hold in your hair in favor of throwing his arm around to wrap his large hand around your throat, squeezing slightly.

She couldn’t help the way her cunt clenched again at that phrase, letting out a broken moan. “T-two.” She muttered breathily, groaning at the feeling of your hand around her neck.

The wet sounds of him fucking into you began to drive him crazy with lust. Shamelessly moaning into your ear he began to deepen his thrusts, his hand gripping your hip tightly.

“D-daddy, please…” She whined between moans, fighting the tension building in her abdomen that was being fueled by your moans. “N-need to cum, please c-can I?” She pleaded feeling the knot start to fray more with each rough rut of his hips.

The roll of his hips slowing as his thrusts became more harsh, angled at the special spot inside of you. "Yes- fuck, do it" He panted out heavily, groaning at the feeling of your velvety walls. "Cum on my cock kitten"

“Sh-shit Daddy!” She moaned deeply as you hitting into her g-spot sent her over the edge, her legs shaking as her orgasm crashed through her.

Hand squeezing the sides of your throat a slew of curses and choked out moans rumbled from deep within his chest as you convulsed beneath him. His hips began to falter as his own release quickly approached.

“Ngh…” She mumbled, unable to come down from her own high and twitching from the overstimulation and aftershocks as her eyes threatened to roll back. “Are you gonna c-cum Daddy? F-fill me up?”

"Only if you beg kitten" The words were slurred and frantic. His hips began to piston more swiftly with renewed vigor.

“Mmn pl-lease!” She whined out, her own words broken up by choppy moans and heavy pants. “F-fill me up, I n-need it Daddy, puh-lease.”

Slowing to a near halt his breathing was ragged. Moans slid past his lips as he released inside of you, painting your insides white.

She groaned softly feeling you cum inside her, eyes clenched shut as she tried to steady both her breathing and her quivering legs. “Holy fuck Toshi….” She muttered, glancing over her shoulder at him.

Both of his hands softly held and rubbed soft circles into your hips as he rested his forehead on your shoulder, hot breath fanning against your skin. "Fuck..."

She chuckled breathily, lazy grin on her lips. “And to think, all because I wanted to take a damn shower tonight and now I’m dirty again.” She teased, groaning softly as she remembered her soaked bed. “You definitely owe me some cuddles in that bed of yours now Toshi.”

Pulling out of you with a groan he grabbed your shoulder to turn you around, pinching your chin between his fingers to make you look up at him. Mock hurt flashed across his face as he scoffed "What? Dirty? From me? Never." He smiled as he pressed his lips against yours. "All of the cuddles are yours, kitten" he said with a goofy grin.

NONE OF THE ART IS MINE! I DO NOT KNOW THE ARTIST BUT I THANK THEM

#Hitoshi Shinso #bnha #mha #thirst church #smut #shinso x reader #collab #shinso #hitoshi

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thistangledbrain · 4 years ago

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Day 19 & 20!

Day 19 - “I hate it when...”

As you’ve gleaned from prior posts, I hate it when you forget autism is a developmental disorder and not an intellectual one. We are so. Fucking. Tired. Of being treated as lesser, or like we don’t understand what you’re saying to us.

Outside of the reactions to others’ behavior, though, I have some personal “I hate it when”...I’ve let you into my mind and told you what I appreciate about how my brain works, but there are things I don’t like, for sure.

I hate that personal stressor things trigger a toddler-like need to SHUT DOWN. Like writing this blog, for example...the vulnerability I feel usually leads to a need to go to sleep for a long time, once I’m finished. Or after a long day socializing. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to engage my brain anymore, I just need to shut all systems down and sleep. Especially if there’s been a meltdown (meltdown—->shutdown)...and oh boy do I hate meltdowns. They’re really rare, thank dog.

I hate that my executive function is an absolute bag of ass. This is probably the biggest thing I would change. It got infinitely worse when my disability got bad (EDS), for some reason. And it drives me up the damn wall.

I hate my low function days/moments. It’s like my brain just won’t kick into gear, or the gears and wheels are rusty and grinding, & it’s rather anxiety inducing. I usually “hide” on my low days, sometimes in my darkened bedroom, and watch favorite shows or movies, or get lost in a good book - if I can. On low days I find myself re-reading crap constantly because it’s not making any sense, so I’ll even avoid complicated recipes...I have no idea why these days/moments happen, but boy do they piss me off/make me anxious (that’s kind of the same thing for me. My anxiety nearly always manifests as anger). On my low days, you’ll see (if you were a fly on the wall, because I suppress this even around my own family), me walking in tight, anxious figure 8’s and flapping my hands in a distressed way, as I anxiously try to mentally kick my brain into gear. (It doesn’t work, but it IS a little soothing. And my dogs are SO sweet...they gather around me tightly and just seem to know I need them.)

🤷🏻‍♀️ There’s probably more I could expound on that I don’t like, but writing this one has been pretty distasteful. I try not to dwell on things I hate anymore, so I’ve put this entry down multiple times and come back to it when I’m in a decent frame of mind. I think I’m tired of talking about it now, so I’m gonna just stop talking.....

Which is a good segue into Day 20 -

————————————-

“Communication”

Ahh communication. This entry will be long, because I have a lot to communicate LOL....

Personally, I write far more coherently and eloquently than I speak. My brain goes too fast...I often trip over words; my brain’s three steps ahead of what’s coming out of my mouth and I get scrambled sometimes. I can also take the time to think about what I want to say/HOW I want to say it. Like many autistics, I’m a blurter. LOL...I am constantly trying to remind myself, just because I think it, doesn’t mean I have to say it. This gets a LOT of us in trouble...one of my most memorable examples is, I *loudly* blurted “that’s BULLSHIT!!” in a church one time. (I was speaking on how my devout Methodist grandmother, who regularly takes communion at her church, was not permitted to receive communion in a Catholic church, merely because she isn’t Catholic, despite the fact that this woman is all about some Jesus & a devoted churchgoer - not just on Easter and Christmas.) In my defense, it WAS (IS) bullshit. I just didn’t need to practically yell that in church. As you can imagine, it was like a needle scratching across a record & everyone turned to stare. (My poor husband rescued me.) 🤦🏻‍♀️ Sigh. It’s a good idea to keep me out of most church services.

I am rather famous (infamous?) for calling bullshit straight to someone’s face, BLUNTLY. It’s out of my mouth before my brain’s “tact gatekeeper” I’ve spent over a decade trying to train is even half awake at his post (it’s a him because my husband is the one who taught me how to use tact in the first place. And it’s a him because said “gatekeeper” is lazy and falls asleep on the job all the time 😆). Have you ever just blurted your honest thoughts and heard shocked gasps or someone just busts out laughing? Yeah. That happens to me regularly. Or uncomfortable chuckles and someone will blink a few times and say, “oohhhkay, well, you could said that a different way.” (My old response to that was, I’m not responsible for what your reaction is to what I say...you’re in charge of your own feelings. I *understand* now how irresponsible and unfeeling that is, and I try to keep that in the front of my mind, even when I’m frustrated and nearly burning up with the desire to speak my thoughts in their raw form, but this is routinely an area I struggle to adapt to...and I am very sorry when I hurt someone I care about.)

On the other side of this same coin though, this is a trait my friends respect deeply, because I’m not cruel hearted or anything. You always know where you stand with me, and I’m the last person to try and lie to you. I SUUUUUCK at lying. And on the rare times when I do, I usually end up eventually telling on myself (this drove my older stepsister NUTS when we were kids, because she liked to do lots of sneaky things, and I don’t have an inherently sneaky nature LOL...so “DO NOT tell momma” was a *serious* risk for her, if she let me tag along 😂). Lying to someone just feels disgusting. Oily. Shameful. I hate lying. Plus, my short term memory is a grabasstic bag of CRAP, so there’s a good chance I won’t remember the lie and get caught anyway. 🤷🏻‍♀️ My boys also suck at lying or hiding stuff, and generally prefer not to...but I also give them a safe forum to be honest. (I’m sure there’s LOTS of crap I don’t know, but you’d be surprised how much they DO tell me.)

Another thing with me personally is that I go mute sometimes. I’m not being deliberately obstinate. I’m not REFUSING to speak in those moments...sometimes I literally can’t, and the effort of doing so will make me gag, or even projectile vomit. Sounds very dramatic, doesn’t it? It is. (And it annoys the SHIT out of me.) There’s not a fucking thing i can do about it. The movement of my tongue in my mouth will literally begin to trigger my gag reflex, and if I try to power through it, I’m rewarded with my lunch returning to the surface anyway, regardless of my desires, and sometimes rather unexpectedly & violently. USUALLY this happens when I’m uber stressed, but sometimes it seems kind of out of the blue & catches even me off guard. If this happens but I still have something to say, I start texting instead, and explain. Most people - especially my hubby - are very kind when this happens. (I don’t want your pity, I just want you to switch to written communication for a minute until I can figuratively kick the fuck out of the engine in my “speaking center” and get it to work again.) Other times, I will literally get tired of talking. Like my mouth and tongue - and somehow, the “word forming” part of my brain feels physically exhausted (weird, I know, but I also spend the vast majority of my life silent - I am home alone all day, hate talking on the phone, and simply don’t speak much, by choice. So maybe it is actual “mouth fatigue” 😂😂😂 - I’ve stopped eating before because I just got tired of chewing, too, even though I’m still somewhat hungry. 🙄) I am usually *perfectly* happy to keep listening! And I’ll stay engaged in the conversation usually. I am just...done audibly talking. I’ll literally say “my mouth is tired of making the sounds now, but please keep going”...but I think my husband is the only one who doesn’t find this unusual, and rolls with it. It usually happens after a long, animated conversation...instead of winding down, though, it just..stops. If I try to keep going, cue the gagging. I can stay engaged in the conversation if you let me start writing/typing instead of speaking, for my responses. So that’s a “fun” little trait of mine that many neurotypicals find unsettling. Please don’t take it personally. My mouth just doesn’t want to make the words anymore - and I’m probably mostly done adding what I needed to add to the conversation anyway. I’m a great listener when this happens, though. 😆

Communication is a really interesting thing with all of us, because it’s a struggle on one level or another. I will tell you, it’s a frequent topic in my groups. “WHY CAN’T NEUROTYPICALS JUST SAY WHAT THE FUCK THEY MEAN?!?! 😩😩😩” I’m dead serious - you might think, because we’re sensitive (generally), we can’t “handle” it? You’d be so very wrong. What we can’t handle is when you dance around a subject or we have to try and translate what you just said to us (which most of us are not that good at). Just fucking say it! Nine times out of ten, you’ll just get a look of dawning realization and a “oh, shit, okay” response. We can handle it. Just. Say. It. We’ll respect you a lot more in the morning, LOL 😆

I think every autistic has some sort of beef with neurotypicals when it comes to communication (as I’m sure you have yours with us, obviously).

You guys operate under some weird ass rules that we simply don’t understand - especially if you don’t tell us those rules & just expect us to know. Like, if my husband hadn’t patiently taken years to show/teach me how the way I said certain things were hurtful, I would still be in the “yeah she’s cool but she’s kind of an asshole” territory. (I still struggle to grasp this, or at least it still frustrates me....truth is truth, whether it’s an ironclad general fact or your own personal truth - and yes sometimes the truth hurts, but like...I don’t pin any responsibly for that on the truth teller, if that makes sense?)

Working in rescue also helped hone my ability to speak “neurotypically” to others - I work with a LOT of women, and boy do a lot of them NOT appreciate when you bluntly tell them what you think. Men on the other hand....

I know *lots* of autistic women who prefer friendships with men, largely centering around this communication thing. We hurt men’s feelings a little less regularly than other women’s. I know I was like that, until I got a little more used to how I have to modify my communication with most women (but that annoys me, I’m gonna be honest - it annoys my Autie friends, too). The only time I am as starkly blunt as I used to be, is when speaking to my female Autie friends (because they can handle it), or most of the dudes I’m friends with. But if my message is getting “lost in the sauce” and you’re not getting my point, I usually give a frustrated sigh, WARN you that I’m about to tell you flatly what I need to say, because we aren’t getting anywhere, and just say it.

Yes I am the friend who, when you gush on and on about your new back yard bred puppy, talking all about how you’re gonna breed him when he grows up, is gonna flatly say “he’s not breeding quality”, if they’re not. Then I’m gonna ask you why you want to do such a thing, given that you’re aware of the massive load of rescue dogs (PARTICULARLY Great Danes and Cane Corsos) - and probably beat your argument down every step of the way. That doesn’t always go badly though - one of my closest friends was considering breeding their dog, and while it was a beautiful dog, it was not one that should reproduce (from an “improve the breed” perspective). We barely knew each other, but I gained a reputation for being kind but starkly honest...and I knew what I was talking about...and now I have this person’s deep respect, and they have mine (because they listened and did the research I asked them to - and did not add to the breed population). So it’s not *always* a trainwreck, because the people who end up respecting how I communicate, usually end up VERY close friends. AND I WANT THAT IN RETURN, which is refreshing for a LOT of people. I want your dead honesty in return - PLEASE. It’s so much easier for me to process and accept. For example, my house is almost constantly in some sort of disarray. I have one friend who will come in and go, “girl. I almost can’t breathe in here - this clutter is too much”(and then she offers to help me tackle it!!).

Or, fairly recently, “oh my god those curtains are so horrible, I hope you’re getting rid of those when you redo this room.”

“But I MADE those curtains! I love that print!”

“Ugh. No. They’re terrible. Get rid of them.”

My feelings were not hurt in the LEAST (I of course had a flash of “you bitch, I was so excited to find that print and I MADE THOSE, ya jerk” 😂). At first I said, “well you’re just gonna have to suck it up and deal with my shitty curtains, because I like them” 😂, but then as I was redoing the room, I took them down...and it DID look a lot better, so I left them down 😂😂😂....

So I guess my point with all this is: every autie I know deeply wishes you’d just fucking spit it out. We WILL often miss or misinterpret the point if you “fluff” it too much (around my neck of the woods, we call it putting too much gild on the lily, though I’ve never understood that one. Idk if a “gilded lily” is/was ever a thing, why anyone would gild a lily in the first place...LOTS of us struggle with colloquialisms that don’t make literal sense. 😆 Recently a friend was baffled over “shit in one hand and wish in the other and see which fills up faster”, and fully half of the respondents to her post were people baffled by why anyone would shit in their hand - I and a couple others had to explain, and it just ended with them going “well that’s a fucking stupid saying anyway, and wishes aren’t things you can put in your hands, either” 😂😂😂...but I’m from the south, and these things are just part of our vocab. MOST of them are easy to grasp for me, like “nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs”, because I immediately picture it and can grasp the meaning. But others I don’t get - the gilded lily is one LOL)...

We are LITERAL AS FUCK. It’s why we ruin lots of jokes, too. My poor husband is the dad joke king - and I ruin fully 1/3 or more of his jokes by being too literal (which he also finds amusing, so that’s good). Sometimes we realize we’re ruining the joke but we don’t care, because it’s dumb, or we just .... can’t....HELP IT. 😩😂

Jeez, I could almost write all day about autistics and communication LOL!!

But to summarize (and not succinctly, sorry), I guess, for me and many many others...we are often blunt, direct, almost painfully honest, and very, very literal. Your unspoken rules of communication absolutely go over our heads, unless you - yannow - *communicate* and explain them. We’ll probably tell you those rules are stupid and exhausting, but we will TRY and stick to it as best we can. But see, we literally have to think about every single word that comes out of our mouths, because we communicate far more directly than you weird fuckers do. And it is literally actually exhausting. It’s not an easily natural thing for us to adapt to, your weird way of saying things but not saying what you really mean. You’re wasting a LOT of words there, sir, and we are now getting obsessively confused over why you would do such a thing. 😂 It’s also why I keep getting banned from Facebook. My recent one was because I said - in one of my Autie “safe” groups, where I should be able to just say what I mean - that I tend to punch or want to punch people who deliberately startle the shit out of me. We were talking about how stupid April Fool’s Day was, and how we hate pranks. Three of us got banned for 30 days for just...well. Facebook called it “incitement of violence”. 🙄🥺🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼

But I haven’t met - yet, maybe? - an autistic person who is cruel natured - not one of us gets any joy from being a bully type. WE feel everything on a higher level, so we kind of assume you do, too...you might think, “then why are you such an asshole?!”, but it’s simply that we - or every Autie I know, anyway - struggle to grasp how directly communicating your feelings is so fuckin hard or hurtful for y’all. I think anyone struggles to grasp something they themselves don’t experience. All you have to do is explain, though, and keep guiding us towards communicating in ways that we both find acceptable. I mean we’re champs at accepting all manner of different human - regardless of race, sexuality, and so on - but the communication is one area that frustrates the ever loving SHIT out of most of us, because it makes so little logical sense why anyone would say a bunch of useless words that muddy up their intent.

My closing advice? Help Your Pet Autie ™️ (this is absolutely a tongue in cheek term btw) understand how you’d like to be communicated with, and guide us. BE SPECIFIC for fucks sake - we suck at guessing what you might want, and it’s so frustrating that we’ll often just stop communicating at all. Instead of saying “it hurts me when you say this”, try saying “the WAY you said this hurt my feelings because of ____. Maybe you could put it like this instead” (or, “you know, you should really just keep shit like that to yourself”) and *give examples*. Don’t expect us to come up with different ways of saying shit, because we don’t understand what it is specifically you want, and it’s not very logical, therefore it’s not “natural” for us. Plus, everyone is different. I can’t talk to one of my sons the same way I can talk to the other, without certain negative reactions. Give us a chance to know your needs - we DO CARE!!! - but be CLEAR. I know in your world, tact is a big deal, but MOST of us will miss the fucking point if you’re too tactful (and when we misinterpret, we always err on the side of worst case scenario, and make the issue wayyyyy bigger than it should be. Being clear is soooo important).

And hey. Maybe it’ll help clear up some communication in other areas of your life. Being clear isn’t a license to be a fucking asshole; nobody’s giving you a license to unleash on everyone about how much you can’t stand humans...if WE hafta be quiet about that, so do you lmao...fair’s fair. 😆 But quit hedging and hinting and hoping we will pick up on the whatever your grievance is - because we won’t. We’ll just know you’re unhappy, and start panicking over guessing what we did wrong, and just shut down, because we have no idea.

Just. Fucking. Say it. 😘

#asd #autism #autistic #acceptance #awareness #actuallyautistic

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 5 years ago

Text

Banished (Part 37)

*Not my Gif*

~Banished Master~

Summary: When the 100 was sent to the ground, Y/N Y/L/N was one of them. Having been locked up for almost 8 years, how will she react to surviving on Earth? Especially when she gets banished…

Post Date: 3-4-20

Paring: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Word Count: 4.8K

~Master~

~The 100 Master~

*Based off episode 3x08 of the 100, Terms and Conditions*

Bellamy and Pike made their way up the lookout tower to where Hannah was stationed, looking out over the wall. “Sir, we lost contact with one of the recon teams.” She told them when they were up. Bellamy shook his head, sighing deeply.

“There were four men.” He reminded Pike who spared him a glance before Hannah continued talking. She explained what she believed was happening, the blockage being established as well as the missing recon team engaging in the grounders, they found less than a mile outside the camp.

Another man on lookout interrupted their conversation, getting the three to look out at 2 grounders approaching in the distance. “They have a message; I’ve seen this before.” Bellamy told Pike who stood confused before shouting to the men below him to open the gate.

The grounders arrived at the gate, Bellamy on the ground to greet them. Their masks sat heavy on their faces, covering their mouths as they directed their horses into place. “We seek the one you call Pike.” One of them said as Bellamy stared them down. “An army has fallen, blood soaking the earth where he took their lives.”

“Welcome to the war against Skaikru.” Bellamy told them bitterly. The grounders demanded justice, telling them their justice came in the form of Pike’s death. But Pike wasn’t going to give his life up to some grounders.

“By order of the Commander, you have been surrounded by an army of the 12 clans. If anyone attempts to cross the blockade, warriors wait to kill.” As if to prove their point, they dropped a sack, inside the heads of the missing recon team following out. “We’ll greet them as we did those we caught today.”

Bellamy’s eyes were somewhat wide as he looked between the grounders and the heads by their feet. Pike tried to get Bellamy to fall back inside the walls, weary of the fate that currently affected the two of them speaking to the grounders, but Bellamy just shook his head. “They won’t leave.”

“Choose the side that’s best for your people!” One of the grounders spoke solidly as Bellamy took a second, his hand resting on top his gun.

“I do that everyday.” He mumbled seconds before shooting two bullets, each one going in a grounders head. They fell against the back of their horses with a thud as the animals took off, the recently deceased bodies laying on top of them. “Close the gate!” Bellamy yelled to the men operating the door when he turned around, heading back inside.

The mess hall was fairly empty as you sat there, running your finger over the rim of a glass when Raven took the seat across from you. She didn’t say anything, just sitting there with a content smile, making you uncomfortable. “What can I do for you Raven?”

“More like what can I do for you.” She replied as you raised a brow, taking another swig of the drink in front of you. She just sat there, that same look on her face despite your apparent discomfort. “Do you still have that chip Jaha gave you?”

Your eyes widened before you narrowed them, leaning onto the table to get closer to her. “How did you know about that?” She just shrugged, scooting forward in her seat.

“Have you thought about taking it?” She asked rather innocently, trying to move past your question.

“I haven’t.” You told her, stretching out the words with curiosity before the smile on her face finally made sense. “Raven, for the love of god please tell me you didn’t take it.”

Her grin only widened as she nodded. “I did.” You fell silent, not sure what to do before clearing your throat. You asked her, making sure no one could hear, how she felt. “Amazing. The pain in my leg is gone, Y/N. I feel unstoppable.”

In all honesty, she made it sound comforting. Jaha said it would erase your pain, and now if she truly took the chip you could ask her. Maybe you erase the recent pain of knowing Lexa was gone. You opened your mouth to speak, but instead of words coming out, you heard two gunshots coming from the front gate. “What the hell?” you asked, glancing to where a few people were leaving as you stood up. Raven just stayed put when you turned back to her. “Are you coming?” you asked as she shook her head. You shuddered before leaving her at the metal table alone and heading out of the mess hall.

Raven watched you race out as she tapped her fingers against the surface. A presence, unseen to the rest, hovered over her, watching you as well. “Keep trying.” A.L.I.E. said. “She’ll join eventually.” Raven nodded, getting up and heading out of the mess hall using the other door.

The sun hit your eyes as you blocked it, finding a crowd of people talking frantically. You only heard bits and piece of their conversation, but from the sound of it, a blockade was put around the camp and Bellamy shot two grounders.

“Y/N!” You heard shouted behind you as you spun around seeing Kane motioning for you from the Ark ship. You took one last listen to the group before jogging to catch up to Kane. “Do you know what happened?” you told him what you knew as he chewed on his nail, his pace increasing momentarily before realizing he was gaining unwanted attention.

You entered Kane’s room, taking a seat on his bed as if it was normal. Kane sat at the table, his leg bouncing. In the silence, you couldn’t help as your thoughts wondered, and of course the first place they went was to Bellamy. You didn’t know if you regretted sleeping with him. It all happened so fast and you weren’t at all expecting it. Kane glanced up at you, seeing you taut brows.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, rubbing his beard with his hand. You groaned lightly, the crease in your forehead never leaving.

“Nothing… Everything?” you admitted.

Kane took a shot in the dark. “Bellamy?”

You groaned louder, pressing the palm of your hands against your eyes. “I’m not having this talk right now.” You told him as you sat up onto your elbows, glaring at him playfully. Kane just chuckled at you, raising his hands in the air. “It doesn’t matter, there are more important things to worry about.” You believed your words truly. Bellamy just signed the blockade death order and here you were worried about sleeping with him.

“That’s not true. Come on, tell me what’s on your mind.” He seemed genuine as you hesitated, moving to sit up.

“I don’t want to have the dad talk, okay? But I will tell you.” He felt a weight in his stomach at your words, seeing the way this was affecting you. He nodded, letting you take the floor. “I slept with Bellamy.”

“Oh.” He went into shock. He didn’t know how to reply to that at all.

You rubbed your arm gingerly, already ready for a change in conversation as the door swung open, Miller and Harper rushing in. Harper looked between the two of you, seeing the look on your faces. “Did we interrupt something?” she asked kindly.

Kane wanted to say yes, he felt protective of you when he heard of you and Bellamy, despite the knowledge you wouldn’t want him to feel like this.

“No, you didn’t.” you almost shouted as you scurried off the bed, happy the two came in at that moment. Miller didn’t see anything wrong as he sat next to Kane, pulling out the radio.

“Pike’s in another meeting.” You and Harper exchanged glances, moving to sit on the bed together. Miller turned the radio on and right away you could hear Pike’s voice, making you roll your eyes. They were talking about trust, not being able to trust anyone outside of the room they’re in. You listened as Pike put Monroe and Lacroix’s deaths on you all, unknowingly of course. He wanted you all pay, no matter how.

The meeting ended as the listening device was turned off. “If they’re gonna play that game, we’ll play too.” Kane said as you bit your lip, your brows taking permanent residence in a furrowed position.

“What do you mean?”

Kane turned to look at you. “We don’t meet here anymore. We change patterns, forget habits. Assume there are eyes on us at all times.”

Harper scoffed. “Why don’t we just shock-lash Pike’s fascist ass then give him to the grounders?” Harper suggested. You found yourself chuckling and nudged Harper, getting her to grin slightly.

Kane glared at you as your smile fade like a kid being chastised. “Because that would be murder, not to mention treason. That’s not who we are.” Your eyes slowly pulled up, feeling that last sentence was meant specifically for you, and by the way Kane was looking at you, it was.

“Maybe it’s who we need to be.” You whispered sharply, Harper and Miller looking between the two of you as Kane said not yet. “Fine. Then I assume you have a plan?”

You spent the rest of the afternoon in a different room waiting for Octavia to radio in, switching channels every so often in case she was on those. Kane came in after a while of you being alone, seeing you seated crisscross on a table. Your eyes were somewhat closed as you absentmindedly scanned through the channels, just waiting for some sign Octavia was out there. Kane pulled a blanket around your shoulders, and you gave him a lazy smile, leaning your elbow onto your knee and pressing your chin in your palm.

“Any luck?” he asked as you shook your head, pushing the radio away.

“If she’s out there, she’s not on.” He nodded as you curled into the blanket.

“So, do you want to talk about earlier?” he seemed uncomfortable as you tilted your head, unsure of what he was talking about. “Bellamy?” You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth as you realized what he was getting at. He didn’t know how to begin this conversation and by the awkward look on your face, neither did you. But he needed to know how to protect you. “So, you slept with him.”

“Yeah?” You didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but that didn’t change the fac it did.

“… Do you have feelings for him?” This was as awkward for you as it was for Kane and you knew it.

“I said I didn’t want to have the dad talk.” You reminded him as he nodded.

“I know, but for me?” He almost pouted his lip as you groaned.

“I don’t know Kane. Right now, it’s complicated. I just want to get past this whole thing with Pike. Then I’ll discuss the fact I’m in love with him.”

Well shit. You’re in love with him.

You hoped Kane didn’t catch your words but by the way the color drained from his face, he heard you. There was a knock on the door before it swung open, Harper and Miller entering to yet another awkward conversation.

“Anyone followed?” Kane asked, seeing the gears in your mind turning and the crisis in your eyes. Miller said he was fine before everyone took a seat, hearing Pike in another meeting.

They were planning a plan B, the ammo they have not being enough for many fights. Their new plan consisted of an assault team doing damage to a grounder encampment not far away from you all. Your heart sped up in fear as you listened, knowing that the retaliation of this attack would be stronger than you’ve ever experienced.

“We need to disable that rover. It doesn’t matter how many Grounders they kill, 10 times that will attack on Arkadia. No one will survive.” Kane told you all as the radio cut out. Harper spoke up, asking him if he had any idea what to do. Kane paused, thinking for a second before an idea came to mind.

Little did you know, Pike found your bug.

You took a walk through the hangar, coming to a stop and leaning against the wall. From across the room you saw Kane sitting in a chair, thumbing through a book as he glanced up at you. You pressed the com in your ear, turning it on and sending a soft nod towards Kane before focusing on Sinclair. He had just slid under a car, beginning his fake job when you saw Bellamy walk into the room. He started towards Sinclair as you spoke into the com.

“Sinclair, Bellamy’s coming your way.” Sinclair quickly pulled the com out of his ear, shoving it into his pocket. Bellamy caught your eyes from across the room as you ducked away, making him pause when he realized you where in on whatever was happening. He took a look around the room, seeing Kane reading his book before stopping at Sinclair.

“Sinclair, what are you up to?” He asked as Sinclair slid out from the rover and came to stand on his feet. Sinclair lied to him, telling Bellamy Raven told him the solenoid was acting up. Bellamy nodded, pretending to listen. “You got a work order for that?”

You watched from behind a stack of shelves, on alert as Bellamy glanced over Sinclair’s shoulders, seeing you worried. “Sure I think it’s on my desk.” Not a moment later, Sinclair took off running. In your head, you told yourself it was all part of the plan, but deep down something felt off. Almost like something was going to go wrong.

As you watched Sinclair run off, you tried to get a guess on the amount of people Pike had working for him before you realized you lost track of Bellamy. You were about to make a move to find him before you heard Kane’s shouts coming from his side of the room. You eyes shot to the predicament, seeing Kane holding back some new guard who tried to stop Sinclair with his shock baton.

No one expected that to happen for the moment his arms was in the arm to strike Sinclair, Kane was on him, holding him back. But unfortunately for Kane, that put him in the crossfire. He was going to get arrested.

Now that was not part of the plan.

You watched the men grab Kane and Sinclair’s hands, pulling them behind their backs as Hannah conducted the arrest. You needed to help him. You didn’t know how or what you were going to do but you needed to help him. The plan relied on him not being incarcerated.

You barely got your first step in before a hand grabbed your upper arm, pulling you back. Worried it was someone meant to arrest you, you spun around with your fist in the air to punch them. Yet when you turned around it was just Bellamy and he caught your fist.

“Don’t.” He told you, glaring into your eyes. You didn’t know what he was talking about until his eyes flickered. You followed them, seeing Kane glance back at you briefly as he was being led away.

That’s when realization dawned on you. “You know.” You whispered barely loud enough for it to be coherent. Bellamy was unfazed, his grip on you not faltering in the utmost. You turned slowly, making Bellamy slightly uneasy by the way you looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You know.” You repeated.

He swallowed back his nerves, pulling you to the side and out of anyone’s line of sight. “Y/N, just listen.”

You tried to pull your arm from him, ripping his fingers away from your skin. “Don’t touch me! Don’t you fucking touch me!” You didn’t care if Bellamy was trying to help you, you wanted to help Kane and Bellamy was making that hard.

“Y/N, I couldn’t-“

“You know what happens when they arrest Kane!” You interrupted him, pushing against his chest to separate yourself from him. “You know what’s going to happen to Sinclair! You know Lincoln is gonna be killed!” Bellamy didn’t fight back your pushes, but he didn’t let you go so easily, making you look into his eyes. Bellamy couldn’t tell if you were crying or just shouting at him, but either way it hurt him. Your pushes slowed to a stop, and Bellamy loosened his grip, see your E/C eyes moving up to look at him. “You knew I would be…”

Arrested? Sentenced to death for treason? Why not, it’s what they did on the Ark.

Bellamy nodded. “I wasn’t going to let you get arrested again.” His hands moved down your arms until he could hold your hands, your fingers lazily entangling his.

You took a deep breath, looking at your hands. The sight put you into a trance before reality snapped you back and you tore your hands away, taking a few steps back with a shake of your head. “Well hooray for you Bellamy, saving the damsel. There’s just one problem. I don’t need you to save me.”

Bellamy watched you stormed off; your eyes locked on the ground with the extra pound in your step. Bellamy didn’t know how to handle this. He knew there were no winners here. And he knew you weren’t going to give up that easily. Without a second thought, he slammed his hand against the wall, the noise attracted some people’s stares, but he paid them no mind, walking straight past them.

Miller and Harper met back in the room. Harper was pacing around the room as Miller sat on the couch, leaning forward onto his knees. “Did you see Y/N?” Harper asked, looking to the door every few seconds in hopes you’d walk in.

“After everything, I didn’t. She get arrested?” Miller asked after the 10th minute of you not showing up.

“Oh god!” Harper’s eyes went wide as she stopped pacing, falling into a chair. You finally reached the door, knocking once before throwing the door open. Both teens were on their feet as you busted inside, out of breath and leaning against the door.

“It’s just me!” You told them, putting your hands out. Harper pulled you in for a hug, a surprise for you as you hugged back. Miller gave you one as well, a even more shock as you regained your breath. “I kept feeling like someone was following me.” You told them, running your hand through your hair.

“What happened?” Harper asked.

“They got Kane too.” They both stood silent, contemplating what to do before Miller looked to you.

“So, what now?” They both looked towards you, it was as if they expected you to just hop into Kane’s position. But you weren’t Kane.

You had no idea what to do.

You took a second and a breath. “We keep going. Do the plan. It’s on us now.”

Meanwhile, Bellamy took to questioning Kane, but he wasn’t getting very far. “Come on Kane. Talk.” Kane stayed silent, cocking his brow at Bellamy who sighed, falling into a chair. “Then do it for Y/N. Think of Y/N.” It seemed to catch Kane’s attention as he shifted in his seat, his arms crossing in front of him and his jaw setting. After Kane’s silence stretched, Bellamy slammed his hand down on the table, standing up and leaving the room. Kane waited for the door to slam behind him before he took a deep breath.

Think of Y/N? That’s all ever does nowadays.

Bellamy stormed out of the room, Pike and Hannah talking as he approached them. “Any luck?” Pike asked but Bellamy denied such luck, saying that both Sinclair, who similar to Kane wouldn’t say a word, and Kane would speak soon and to put them both in lock up.

“On the ark, we would’ve floated traitors.” Hannah spoke up, gaining both men’s attentions. Bellamy gulped was Pike cut her off.

“We’re not on the ark.” He said before demanding the men be locked up.

Monty took it upon himself to check over the river, noting that there wasn’t a thing wrong with it. His mom watched him, listening to his grief about everything before telling him the only right choice is the one that helps you survive.

Bryan was used as a spy in his own room as he opened the door, seeing Miller staying there. They talked, shared a lot of kisses, but Bryan’s mind was elsewhere. Instead of being focused on his boyfriend, all he could think about was how he was going to be betraying him. They fought about Pike, as usual before Bryan set off, tossing Miller his coat with the planted bug before leaving.

“The bug’s in place?” Bellamy asked Bryan as he walked into the room him and Monty were sat in. Bryan averted his eyes, nodding solemnly as he thought of his boyfriend.

“It’s in his jacket. I don’t think he knows.” Bellamy pulled his lips into a thin line of a smile, sending it towards Bryan when he called him a good man. Bryan just furrowed his brows. “Am I? Is this worth lying to someone I love?”

“It is if you’re protecting him.” Bellamy countered but Bryan just shook his head, meeting his harsh gaze.

“Unless I’m the one he needs protection from.” Bryan mumbled he tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “I assume you put a bug on your girlfriend then?” Monty who stood by silently through the whole ordeal saw Bellamy clench his jaw at the mention of you in such tone.

“Let’s go tell Pike.” Monty suggested, pulling the two men out of their staring contest and Bryan and Monty turned to leave. Bellamy though, took a second, beginning to reconsider his side momentarily. He could never put a bug on you, no matter who’s side he’s on. So maybe he knew he was on the wrong side.

Tensions in lock up were high with Sinclair, Kane and Lincoln as well many grounders. Sinclair walked along the wall to where Kane was before settling onto the ground next to him. “You weren’t supposed to be in here.” He mumbled quietly.

“No, my good friend, I was not.” Kane eyed the guards, seeing them switch their shifts as he rested his head back against the cold wall behind him.

“So, what now?” Sinclair asked him. Kane thought about it, seeing Bellamy leave the room and sighing.

“We keep going.”

When time came, the one you decided earlier, Sinclair called Bellamy back into the cell telling him Sinclair was ready to talk. As for you, you went searching for Pike, finding him in the Hangar bay.

“Thanks for meeting me.” You told him, standing in front of him. Pike nodded, a small surprised look on his face.

“I’ll be honest, I thought Kane would’ve spoken to me first.”

You scoffed, biting the inside of your cheek. “Well, he’s kind of arrested. Guess I’ll have to do.”

“I hope you’re ready to negotiate the terms of your surrender.” You had to hold back another scoff as you looked at the chancellor.

Bellamy approached the bars to lock up, coming to where Sinclair stood. “You’re ready you talk?” He asked Sinclair who agreed, questioning what Bellamy wanted to know. “Everything.”

You crossed your arms in front of you. “Kane told me a little about you.” You said, referring to conversations you’ve had to set your plan in place, really you just needed to remember the points Kane was going to make to stall time. “He said on the ark you were a teacher telling kids about our future. The responsibility of being on the ground. So why, Pike, are you taking this side?”

“We didn’t start this war, but we will damn sure finish it.” He started to walk past you but you stopped him.

“You should’ve lost that vote, Chancellor.” Pike didn’t miss your use of venom in his title. You were angry, a chancellors job is protect their people not sign their death certificates.

“But I didn’t. Because I know what’s best for us.”

“You’re gonna get everyone killed. Can’t you see that?”

“What do you know? You’re a child.” He finally pushed past you but you weren’t letting up, yelling after him.

“And yet I know more about surviving down here than you do. Than any of you do.” You knew the time was coming if Sinclair had succeeded so as you yelled at him, you ran after, standing only a feet away.

Sinclair began bargaining with Bellamy, asking for immunity as Lincoln began pacing behind him. “The cowards make a deal to save their own skins.” He muttered, eying Sinclair and Bellamy’s conversation. Bellamy taking a more authoritative stance told him to be quiet, but he didn’t listen. “Can’t defeat the enemy at the gate so you turn on your own people.” Bellamy ordered him to be silent one more time but Lincoln came closer to Sinclair, pressing his chest to his back. “I’m not the one who needs to be silent. You’ll tell them nothing.”

Bellamy yelled Lincoln’s name as the man threw Sinclair to the ground, standing over him. “Cover me!” Bellamy told the other guard as he jumped into lockup, trying to diffuse the situation. Only, as soon as he was inside, he heard Lincoln scream at the other grounders.

They were escaping, and Bellamy fell for it.

Pike was about to speak before the P.A. system butted in. “All units to Lockup!” The man’s voice said as Pike raised a brow at you.

“I don’t suppose you have anything to do with this?” His question was rhetorical as he knew you did.

You smirked at him. “Actually, I do.” You pulled out the shock lash you stored in your pocket and struck Pike with it, sending him to the ground unconscious.

“It worked! You’re all clear, the guards have their hands full.” Harper spoke into the comm in your ear as you let out a shaky breath. If you had known Monty was listening in, that sigh wouldn’t have been as relieving. “The gate’s open Y/N. It’s all you.”

You put Pike in the back of a rover, hoping in the front. You had never driven before but Miller gave you an overview and soon you were off. You hit a couple boxes, sending them flying but pushed on until the open gate was in your view.

You were home free.

Until Bellamy stepped in front of the gate. You slammed on the brakes, coming quite close to Bellamy but not hitting him. Bellamy’s face fell when he saw you driving, not Miller or Harper, but you.

“Get out of the way Blake!” You shouted at him. He just stood there, staring at you before Pike stirred in the back.

“Should’ve killed me when you could.” His laugh was filled with spite at your defeat, but you didn’t react, only looking at Bellamy’s disappointed face.

“Don’t think I won’t.” You mumbled as you saw guns being pointed at you, but not from Bellamy. You put your hands in the air and the back of the Rover opened, a pair of guards helping Pike out. Your door opened as Bellamy helped you out.

He pulled you close to him as he whispered in your ear. “What are doing?”

You looked up at him, the closeness having such familiarity, but this time you didn’t kiss him. “You can’t save me Bellamy.”

You were led to the interrogation room, your hands pulled behind your back. It felt like the first time you were arrested. Only this time you didn’t kill a man, but you should’ve.

Pike stood in front of you, his feet spread apart with his arms crossed. “As you know, the terms of martial law and of the Exodus Charter give me both latitude and ultimate authority in determining your punishment.” Your eyes met Bellamy who stood against the wall, a hand covering his mouth and worried breaths. Pike spared Bellamy a glance before focusing back on you, sat in a chair. Your face was emotionless, not a frown nor smile on your face as Pike went on.

“I hope you believe that if I thought for one minute that turning myself over to the enemy would secure the safety of our people, I would do it, but only a deluded man would believe that.” Bellamy watched him, the man he believed was right, but right now as Bellamy listened to this speech tell of your future, he felt his whole-body shake. And yet you showed no reaction and let Pike move on with his words. Bellamy didn’t know what Pike was going to do with you, but he hoped it wasn’t what he assumed. “Y/N YL/N, for the crimes of treason, kidnapping, and attempted murder,” Bellamy found himself standing straighter, his hands falling to his sides fast when he took a step forward, mentally pleading that Pike wouldn’t finished his sentence. That you’d get one more chance. That this wasn’t the end for you. “I hereby sentence you to death.”

Bellamy couldn’t breathe.

A/N: So, yeah! Tell me what you think! For those of you not in my little loop on here, I’m taking a break for a little while so THE NEXT CHAPTER WON’T BE POSTED NEXT WEEK! Even though I’m not going to be on, I love asks, so feel free to drop some in my ask box! Love you all! Hope you enjoy! Sorry this is so freaking long lol

What did you think?

*Reblogging with Banished tags*

Permanent: @literal-fand0m-trash @just4muggles @saturn-aka-six @nathaliabakes @whyamihere-bro @colored-confetti @wiseeggspickleslime @btsiguess-kpop @galacticstxrdust @independentgirl @wellhellotherelovey @hollymac79 @delicately-important-trash @emcchi @rauwz @herondalescecilys

Bellamy: @jodiereedus22 @nyxxxwtp @danielabetancourth

#bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake series #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake the 100 #bellamy blake #banished #banished part 37 #the 100 x reader #the 100 fic #the 100 imagine #the 100 series #the 100 #charles pike #nate miller #harper mcintyre #marcus kane #monty green

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kindofcashton · 5 years ago

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𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕 • chapter 17 (Calum Hood AU)

DESPITE THE STARTLING realization that I might in fact be in love with Calum, I didn’t act any differently. I didn’t hover or cling to him like annoying, love-struck girls would. In fact, I was almost more distant, using it as a safety precaution in case he caught on to my intensifying feelings. One night I casually suggested we sleep apart, even though the thought pained me. Calum’s reluctance was a comfort, but even still he ended up agreeing. That was one of the longest nights of my life; I laid for hours just staring at the ceiling, wondering if Calum felt as empty as I did without a warm body laying next to mine.

Things at the house were also just better all around. With Ashton and Hannah on good terms again, the group was tentatively back together. I interrogated Hannah for answers on what had happened, if their relationship was slowly reforming. She dodged most of my tougher questions, insisting that they’d put aside any bad blood for the sake of the group. I didn’t entirely buy this; something definitely happened, but for whatever reason Hannah wasn’t ready to tell me. I didn’t demand any more details, seeing as I was withholding plenty myself. Hannah thought Calum and I were just fooling around, no strings attached. While that was what was supposed to be going on, my feelings lately had confused things. By no means was I going to tell a soul what I felt, but even keeping it inside still made the whole thing feel different. I leaned deeper into Calum’s kisses, I held his gaze longer when he rocked inside of me. My body was communicating all on its own, and I just hoped Calum didn’t catch on to these subtle changes.

After a particularly hot and passionate night together, I was frantic to go off to work. Calum’s heady pants still echoed in my ears, the burn of his fingers still lingering on my skin. As I sat on the edge of the bed lacing up my sneakers, I felt warm lips press into my neck, and goosebumps raised immediately where he kissed me.

“Back for more?” I joked, not looking over my shoulder. I’d woken up before him to get ready, leaving him peacefully asleep, or so I thought. He swiveled his body to sit next to mine on the bed, shoulder bumping my own. Calum was clad only in black athletic shorts, his toned torso on teasing display.

His nose nestled into my neck, making my lashes flutter. “I can be quick,” he whispered in a sultry tone, and I pushed him away with a snort.

“I think I’ll need more time to recover after what you did last night,” I reminded him, feeling the residual ache between my legs. Calum left me the sore in the best way possible, and all day I would have a reminder of his body’s wicked tricks.

Calum smirked at me, flopping over onto the mattress with his hand over his abdomen. He looked beautifully relaxed, jawline framed by the morning light, his eyes drowsy but content. I’d never seen him so happy, and for a second I wondered if it was more than just the sex that made him feel this way.

“How long’s your shift?” he asked, eyes closing with a yawn. I grabbed my bag off the floor and shouldered it with a sigh.

“Long,” I said simply, not looking forward to the strenuous hours ahead. With community college tuition looming, I asked Mack for as many shifts as I could get, just in case I felt tight on money. I’d rather have more than enough than barely enough, even if it meant working excruciating hours.

Calum frowned. “You’re working so much lately.” There was an edge to his voice, like he disapproved.

I ran a hand through my hair in aggravation. “What else am I supposed to do? My life is getting back on track, and that means more bills to pay.” I tried to stifle the resentment bubbling up inside me; Calum lounged around day in and day out, doing what he wanted when he wanted to. Week after week he tore open the checks his mother sent, tossing them carelessly onto his desk. Usually this didn’t come between us, but with my increased schedule I couldn’t help but feel bitter about his lazy routine.

Clearly a similar thought crossed his mind, and his frown deepened. He didn’t say anything else, instead taking on a guarded expression. He was so hard to read sometimes, and when I wanted him to open up he just shut down. I had no idea how he felt about me going back to school; part of me thought he didn’t care, but another part wondered if he felt insecure that I was growing up and making a life for myself while he wasted time doing nothing important. I wished he would tell me if he felt this way, but of course he never did. We didn’t talk about anything that wasn’t surface level, which was fine when we were in our peaceful little bubble.

But I had to live in reality, which meant popping that bubble more frequently. I couldn’t let Calum distract me from my more important goals, and he just had to learn to deal with my busy lifestyle.

As I was tying my hair into a messy ponytail, Calum suddenly asked, “When do you get off?”

“Seven,” I answered. “It’s a ten-hour shift with only one lunch break. I might drop dead from exhaustion.” A second passed, and I chewed my lip as an idea popped into my head. “Want to get dinner after I’m finished?”

For some reason this caused Calum to lean up, his posture stiff and his expression incredulous. “What?”

My brows knit together, puzzled at his odd reaction. “Dinner. I’ll be starved after my shift, so I thought you could join me.”

His frown turned into a glare. “Like a date?” He sounded defensive and mocking, which didn’t help my already exacerbated mood.

“What, we can’t eat a meal together? Is that against some hook-up rule or something?” I couldn’t control the annoyance in my voice; why did Calum always have to complicate things?

“I don’t know, dinner just seems like a weird thing to do.” I had no idea what he meant by ‘weird’, and his unreadable expression didn’t help me figure it out.

“Whatever, Calum,” I refuted. “Forget I asked.” I was already late for work and had to catch the bus, so I didn’t bother staying to bicker any longer. Admittedly, it hurt that he was so against the idea of us spending time together outside of the bedroom. I’d suggested dinner as more of a friendship thing than anything else; after all, there was a time when the two of us actually liked one another.

I didn’t realize Calum had followed me until I reached the front door, but his arm blocked me from opening it. He’d thrown on a shirt and shoes, and his lips were pressed together in a thin line.

Fuming, I crossed my arms and demanded he move. “I’m late for work, Calum.”

“No, you’re late for the bus,” he countered. “So let me drive you, and that’ll solve the problem.” For such a considerate offer, he didn’t sound too nice about it. His scowl seemed permanently etched on as I followed him to his car.

We drove in silence for a few minutes, not even the sound of the radio to alleviate the tension. Calum’s knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, and I leaned as far away from him as possible.

Sensing my irritation, he asked, “Are you gonna be pissed at me for the whole day?” He sounded accusing, which only made me more infuriated.

“No, Calum. I’m not gonna waste that much time on you.” Realizing how harsh the words sounded, I backtracked. “I just thought we could eat some stupid grilled cheese sandwiches together and maybe do something different for a change. God forbid I want to spend time with you.”

More silence, so I thought the conversation was over. But then I glanced over and saw an odd look on his face, almost resembling guilt.

“So it’s not a date?” he reiterated, and I let out an enormous sigh.

“I literally just want to eat food, and not do it alone,” I insisted, so beyond done with this conversation. But Calum seemed satisfied with my answer, and eased up his tight grip on the wheel.

“Okay, so I’ll pick you up.” He met my eyes as he pulled into a parking spot near the cafe, stopping the car and filling the air with quiet. I tried desperately to see the thoughts swirling behind his level brown gaze, but it was a hopeless task. At least he wasn’t hostile anymore. I sighed again, hoping my annoyance was well communicated so he knew not to pull this shit again.

“I’ll see you later,” I told him before closing the car door. I stalked towards the coffee shop, grabbing the strap of my bag for support as I refused to look back.

Roger knew something was up the minute I started working. I moved angrily as I made the coffees, sighing every so often and grimacing rather than smiling at the customers. It would be a long day.

“Who pissed in your morning coffee?” he joked after a particularly bad exchange with a customer. The guy had demanded I remake his cappuccino because it “didn’t taste right”, and when my polite apology wasn’t ass-kissing enough for him he accused me of being a miserable, lazy youth. I seriously contemplated throwing the hot coffee in his face, but reminded myself I was working these stupid shifts for a reason. My future.

“Just having a bad day, I guess,” I replied vaguely, but this didn’t satisfy Roger.

“Trouble in paradise, eh? What’s he done now?”

I couldn’t help but smile at how Roger always jumped to my defense, always blaming Calum when things went wrong. “I told him I was working late and suggested we get dinner, then he flipped out because he thought I meant it as a date.”

This intrigued Roger, who raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. “Interesting. He could be using reverse psychology. I’ll bet he actually does want to go on a date, but wants you to think that he doesn’t.” Roger tapped the side of his head. “Smart cookie.”

I laughed, beginning to wipe down the counters after the first morning rush. “I’m a psychology major and I still can’t figure out what goes in his mind,” I joked. “I just thought it would be nice to do something together. Other than what we always do.” At my insinuation, Roger giggled like a schoolboy.

“Ah, yes, the sex has reached the boring stage, has it?”

I shook my head firmly. “No, not at all. It’s still great, just...” I exhaled sharply, frustrated with the whole situation. “I really thought it was just gonna be dinner, but then he had to make it weird. And he was being weird about me working so much, too. I don’t know what his problem is lately.”

Roger nodded along to my rant, considering the dilemma. “Well, that’s obvious at least. He feels left behind.”

I waved the rag excitedly. “That’s what I thought! I mean, he doesn’t have any idea what he’s doing, and I have every idea. I thought maybe he was jealous or insecure, but he’d definitely rather die than tell me this.”

“He’s a guy like that. We don’t like feeling inferior, and when we do we totally deal with it the wrong way,” Roger informed me. “He doesn’t know how to process these complex emotions so he’s shutting them out.”

I smiled. “You don’t need to tell me twice. Classic defense mechanisms, disconnection from his feelings...” I trailed off, suddenly feeling guilty. I shouldn’t psychoanalyze Calum, not when I knew how much he hated that side of me. But I couldn’t help it when he was being so difficult.

Resting my elbows on the counter, my smile faded into a worried frown. “What do I do, Roger? I thought we were in a good place, but lately it just doesn’t feel right anymore.”

“Don’t give up yet,” Roger suggested. “Give it a little more time. But if Calum doesn’t start making some changes, cut him loose. You’ve got better things to deal with than his emotional immaturity.” Despite the harsh criticism, I knew Roger was right. Whatever I felt towards Calum didn’t matter if he was jeopardizing my future, and I couldn’t keep dealing with his detached feelings when it made me so exhausted.

For once I actually dreaded the end of my shift. I had no idea what mood Calum would be in when he picked me up--or if he would even pick me up at all. I wouldn’t put it past him to abandon me, especially if he wanted to avoid an uncomfortable conversation.

I ended up cleaning the whole dining area twice, and even resorted to re-mopping the floor which was practically sparkling already. Roger played along with this for as long as he could, but even his patience was wearing thin.

“We got off half an hour ago, Scarlett,” he criticized, snatching the mop out of my hand. “I’m going blind from all the sparkly-clean surfaces inside this cafe.”

I sighed, placing my hands on my hips. “I know, you’re right. I just...when I’m nervous I like to fix things and be productive, so cleaning--”

“Yeah, yeah, your fatal flaw is that you care too much and you clean all the time. I swear, you act like you’re the worst person alive when those are barely flaws.” Roger’s tone was light, but I couldn’t help but look deeper into his joke. Did Calum think that I didn’t believe I had any flaws? Caring too much is barely even a character flaw, but that’s what he threw in my face constantly. Maybe he thought I put myself on a pedestal above him, and that’s why he felt so insecure.

I decided I would try to be less condescending and more open when it came to Calum’s feelings. I only hoped he would actually appreciate this effort, and maybe start making some positive changes of his own.

The sun was bleeding into the sky as it set below the horizon, casting a pale orange glow about the earth. I glanced around outside the cafe, searching for that signature red mustang that always made my heart skip a beat.

Sure enough, it was parked right across the street, and Calum was leaning casually against it. He looked good; typical black jeans and sneakers with a big red flannel over a band shirt. My face broke into a surprise smile; I remembered wearing that shirt just a few nights ago.

When I approached, Calum’s brows raised disbelievingly. “What’s with the face?” he questioned, referring to my dumb grin.

I shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t exactly sure if you’d show up.” It was an honest answer, and I didn’t think lying or placating Calum would help either of us.

His lips twisted into a sardonic smirk. “Of course I showed up; I would never miss our date.” He said this with obvious bitter sarcasm, but the crinkles around his eyes softened the delivery. I rolled my eyes, amused by his stubborn refusal to get over the whole “date” thing.

“I’m starved, where should we go?” I’d eat just about anything right now, but a grilled cheese sounded particularly mouth-watering.

“Luke says there’s a new diner open by the music shop. Says it’s more upscale than the truck-stop places we always go to.”

I nodded, pleased with the idea of trying out a new place with Calum. This felt like something regular friends did, and although Calum and I were definitely out of the ordinary, I enjoyed it nonetheless.

The diner was fairly packed when we got there, but we managed to snag one of the last open booths. There was no question about what we’d order; as soon as the waitress showed up, we asked for two grilled cheeses.

I sipped my coke and gazed out the window at the bustling city streets. My muscles relaxed into the cushioned booth as the day’s stress lifted from my shoulders. Work was taxing, as always, but worth it in the end.

Neither of us minded the quiet, since we were so used to each other’s presence. A few times I felt Calum’s knee brush mine under the table, and my lips twitched at this subtle motion.

“Why’d you get out so late? Mack ask you to stay longer?” Calum twirled his unopened plastic straw between his fingers, and for a second the movement mesmerized me as I thought about his skilled fingers.

“No, I just wanted to clean the place up. I didn’t have to stay.”

Calum scoffed lightly, and I worried I said something wrong. “Always so selfless,” he muttered, but I couldn’t detect if he was joking or not. “Do you ever do anything wrong?”

The question was rhetorical, but I took the opportunity to open up a little and show Calum that I could be vulnerable. “Yeah, all the time. What do you think me lying to everyone was about?”

He frowned, unsatisfied by the answer. “You lied out of loyalty to a friend, that’s hardly wrong.”

“Okay, then I leech off all of you by living rent-free. I’m cheap, I’m a cheap-skate.” I was grasping at straws, anything to show that I didn’t think I was some perfect angel. And I didn’t. I knew I was flawed and I hated that Calum thought I wasn’t; that would just set him up to be disappointed when he realized I wasn’t as amazing as he thought.

Calum just rolled his eyes at this attempt. “You whine about feeling bad every day, that’s hardly being a leech.”

Sitting back with a defeated sigh, I demanded, “Well, what do you want me to say? I’m showing you everything I do wrong and you’re denying all of it.”

“Because you don’t do anything wrong. You’re so kind it makes my teeth hurt, and there’s never a doubt in anyone’s mind that you’re genuine. You’re perfect, Scarlett.” He said this matter-of-fact, like I was a little kid he was explaining something very simple to.

I ignored the way his final sentence made me feel. You’re perfect, Scarlett. Did he really see me that way? Was I perfect to him? Or perfect for him? I hoped it was the latter, and bit my lip to hide my inner turmoil. Calum danced along a very thin line all the time: the line between what we were now, and what I secretly wanted us to be. What kind of friend-with-benefits says you’re perfect? I tried to convince myself he didn’t mean it, that it was supposed to be mocking, but the sincerity in his eyes was telling me otherwise.

Thankfully, the waitress interrupted us with food and gave us both an excuse to change the subject. As soon as she left, Calum and I collectively cringed; the sandwiches were cut down the middle.

Calum exhaled gravely, shaking his head. “Gonna have to tell Luke this place isn’t so great after all. I mean, they really fucked up here.”

I laughed, pretending to push my plate away. “Get that waitress back here, we’ll set her straight.” As we both joked over the grilled cheese, any intensity or confusion from before was banished. The meal was quickly over, and I won the argument for which of us would pay for the food. While we got up to leave, Calum grumbled about having to take me out again so that he could pay and make us even.

When he said this, I had to hide my blushing smile.

The night wasn’t too cold, and we decided to walk for a little bit before driving home. Our hands swayed close to one another’s, and I willed Calum to twine his fingers with my own. But the backs of our palms grazed a few times, and he made no move to change this.

As we passed by a familiar building, I pointed it out to Calum. “That’s one of the places Hannah and I looked at. The apartment is actually pretty nice, but there’s god-awful green bathroom tile that makes me nauseous just looking at it.”

Calum smiled vaguely, his expression distant. “You can’t live there, the location is awful.”

I knitted my brows together. “It’s right by the coffee shop.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, but way too far from the house. We’re never gonna see you guys if you live there.”

I chuckled, looking down at the pavement as we walked. “I think you just don’t want me to move out,” I concluded.

Calum’s smile tightened. “Yeah, who else would constantly wear the shirts that are supposed to be mine?”

My shoulder nudged him jokingly as I teased, “Admit it, you love seeing me in your tee shirts.”

He paused in walking, and my grin faded. Had I been too serious? Was using the word love a mistake? Panic welled up in my chest, and I feared I ruined an otherwise perfect evening.

And then all of a sudden his phone began to ring, and I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. Saved by the bell, I thought, wondering what would have happened if we weren’t interrupted.

Calum fished through his pocket for his phone, pulling it out and glancing at the screen. His expression immediately darkened, and my stomach sank upon seeing this.

“Who is it?” It was a stupid question, because I knew he wouldn’t answer. Calum squared his shoulders and started walking, leaving me to hurriedly catch up to him.

“No one,” he snapped when I reached him, anticipating my badgering questions. “Drop it, okay?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but then remembered the promise I’d made to myself earlier. Don’t be condescending. So I kept my mouth shut, and instead focused on keeping up with Calum’s long strides.

He glanced at me a few times, surprised I wasn’t trying to get answers out of him. Once I met his eyes, and saw the deep thought hiding behind his brown orbs. I wished he’d let me in on what he was thinking, but I settled with not knowing.

A minute passed, and then his phone chimed, indicating the caller had left a voicemail. We both tensed, but I didn’t expect him to listen to it.

So I was surprised when he whipped his phone out and brought it to his ear, stopping again to listen to the message. I stood a few feet from him, keeping enough distance that I couldn’t eavesdrop on the call, even though I was dying to know who it was.

I watched Calum’s face as he listened, taking in the subtle narrowing of his eyes, the lowering of his brow in shock. His lips parted, and all I wanted to do was kiss away the storm brewing behind his eyes.

The voicemail ended, and Calum shoved his phone back in his pocket. But this time when he tried to continue walking, I stopped him, stepping in front of his chest and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Calum,” I started gently, lifting my eyes to his. He avoided my quizzical stare, breathing hard. “What is it? What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

He pushed a hand roughly through his hair, glaring everywhere but at me. “It’s nothing, Scarlett. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not,” I defended. “But maybe you should since whoever it is makes you feel this angry.”

Finally he turned his angry eyes on me, and I inhaled sharply at the fury I saw there. “Fine, it was my mother who called. Satisfied?” He pushed me aside in order to storm off, and I was too stunned to move for a moment.

But then I jogged to catch up, breathless and confused. “Your mother? What did she want? I thought she only reaches out through the checks.”

Calum looked ready to boil over. “She does, but apparently she felt the need to call me.” He appeared to be fighting over his next words, before finally stating, “She wants me to come home for a visit.”

I took a minute to let this information sink in. Instinctively I was thrilled; his mother reaching out was a promising sign that their fractured relationship could be healed. But then I considered the ramifications of her request. She wouldn’t just ask out of the blue if something else wasn’t going on. And she had to know that Calum wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy when it came to family stuff, so why not go about it delicately, not so sudden and shocking?

I tried in vain to read Calum’s expression, finding nothing but frustration and anger. It pained me to see him so tense, but I didn’t just want to coddle him, I wanted to help him.

“Why not go?” I proposed softly, trying not to set him off. “It might be good to see her.”

Calum snickered at this, and I winced. “You’re shitting me, right?” He sounded harsh and mocking, and I struggled to hold my ground.

“I know you’re confused and hurting,” I said firmly. “But you don’t have to take it out on me. I just want to help you.”

“Of course you do, because I’m your favorite little charity case,” he retaliated. “Give it a rest, Scarlett. I don’t need you smothering me.”

Fuming, I folded my arms and didn’t shy away from his steely gaze. “No, Calum. You can be an asshole and you can bitch about whatever you want, but don’t you dare take it out on me. I’m just suggesting you patch up your relationship with your mother, or at least give it a try--”

“What makes you think you know what’s best for me?” he snarled. “You don’t know me, you have no right to tell me what to do. We’re not even friends, so why do you care?”

I huffed in disbelief, pressing a hand to my forehead. “Why do I care? Maybe because I’m not an emotionless husk who has no idea how to express his feelings! We’re sleeping together for God’s sake--”

“And that makes us what, a couple? You think you’re my girlfriend? We’re not even friends, Scarlett.”

Each word cut me like a knife, voicing the exact anxieties that had been eating away at me for weeks. “I know we’re not, which is why I wanted to go to dinner and spend some freaking time together!” I was embarrassed at how high my voice had gotten, how pathetic I sounded when I was trying to defend myself.

Calum chuckled darkly. “I don’t want to be friends with you. You always do this, you always force your way into other people’s problems because you think it involves you when it doesn’t.” His hard eyes met mine. “You’re nothing more than a good lay, and I can get that anywhere.”

I tried to remember how to breathe as I watched his figure get smaller and smaller, walking farther and farther away from me. Each step he took was a stab to my heart, until he was out of view and I was left bleeding alone in the street.

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fantasyoverreality98 · 5 years ago

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Another Life

Author’s Note: This follows the plot of Bloodbound almost exactly, but I changed things up a little bit and it includes a lot of time jumps. Also, this is a Gaius x MC fanfic which is controversial, I KNOW, but my goofy ass couldn’t help it. Sorry in advance if there’s any spelling or grammatical errors throughout, I’m too lazy to proofread right now.

Word Count: 3,430

_____

Something about the way the ancient vampire looked solemnly out to the water intrigued Natalia. She should hate Gaius Augustine. He had killed her. Every single action he’d taken from the time she met him just proved how terrible he was.

Natalia looked away when Jax placed a hand on her lower back. She turned to face him, tilting her head back to meet his eyes as he leaned down to kiss her. He brushed some of her hair behind her ear, holding her face in his hands, each movement impossibly gentle.

“Night,” Jax mumbled against her lips before he pulled away, following behind Adrian, Kamilah, and Lily to the cabins below.

Once her four friends were gone, Natalia looked back at Gaius.

For so long, she had dreamed of killing him. She thought she had killed him. It was supposed to be her one last act of heroism before succumbing to the fatal wound he’d given her. Because of Gaius, Jax had been forced to break his vow never to Turn anyone. Because of Gaius, all of her friends had been forced to watch her die, to believe that they would never see her again after the events in New York.

“Why are you still here?” Although he still looked young, every word seemed to hold thousands of years of life behind it. Natalia had noticed the same tone in Kamilah’s voice. Both her and Gaius were ancient, and their voices and mannerisms betrayed their true age.

Natalia hesitated before taking a step closer. “You looked sad.” She took a deep breath and closed the distance between them, coming to stand at his side as they both peered out over the water. “Are you ready for what comes next?”

Gaius chuckled under his breath, still refusing to look at her. “Hardly. But we must stop her.” Finally, he spared a glance in her direction. “You still did not answer my question. Why are you still here?”

“I told you. You looked sad. I thought you might want someone to talk to.”

Surprise flashed across his face, and he turned to face her. “You, of all people, should not feel any pity for me. I’ve caused so much pain, killed so many people, caused irreversible damage. I killed you, Natalia.”

Her lips twitched as she fought back a smile. “Believe it or not, I don’t hold that against you anymore.” What was wrong with her? Did she really have some feelings for the man who not only murdered her, but the father figure of the man she loved? If Jax ever found out about this, he wouldn’t be happy.

“I do not understand you.” Gaius studied her face, his gaze flickering to her lips. He looked her in the eyes again, shaking his head. “You should go get some sleep.”

Instead of walking away, Natalia took a step closer. Every logical part of her screamed that this was wrong, and yet the deeper, primal part of her felt like this was right. So, so right.

“Natalia—” Before she took the time to consider the severe consequences of her actions, she leaned forward and cut off the rest of his words with her lips. For a moment, one irresistible moment, Gaius kissed her back.

As she moved to wrap her arms around his neck, something seemed to snap him out of the desire, and he jerked back, looking at her with wide eyes. Chewing on her bottom lip, Natalia stepped back, casting her eyes down to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. We—”

Gaius moved so fast she barely had time to take a breath before his lips were back on hers, the urgency in his movements every bit as desperate as her own. They stumbled backwards, making their way to her room below, both of them knowing they were making a lot of noise but not caring.

“What’s going on out there?” Kamilah’s voice carried through her shut door, and panic flared through Natalia at the thought of one of her friends, or even worse, Jax, catching her with Gaius.

“Nothing!” she called out, hurrying to open her door. Her heart pounded far faster than she thought possible for someone who was undead. “I tripped!”

To her surprise, Gaius looked at her and grinned, amusement shining in his eyes at her answer. The two of them burst into the room, him pressing her against the door, allowing it to slam shut from the force. Kamilah didn’t say another word. It seemed like the others were minding their own business as well.

“This is wrong,” he mumbled, though he continued to kiss her. “We should not be doing this.”

“Shut up.” Natalia could already feel the guilt creeping in, but she had a sense of dread deep in the pit of her stomach for tomorrow. If they were all going to die, there was no point in her hiding her wants. And right now, she wanted Gaius.

Memories of the day she had died flashed in her head, and her movements grew rougher. Hate and lust warred inside her, and she had no idea why she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

Eventually, the urgency slowed, and the rational part of her finally won. Natalia and Gaius continued to kiss, but she pulled away as he started to fumble for her clothes.

“We can’t.” A face burned in her mind, and the guilt washed over her like a tidal wave.

Jax.

Understanding shone in his eyes. “I know,” Gaius said, sighing as he started to stand from the bed.

Natalia put a hand on his wrist, and he paused, turning around to face her again. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Both of them knew she was not talking about this, but about what Rheya had done to him. He may have done horrible, unforgivable things, but he was not the only one. Everything she thought she knew about the man standing before her was no longer as black and white as she had once thought it was.

Gaius looked down at her, sighing again before he took a seat on the bed beside her. He brushed her hair out of her face, studying her face again. “If we’d met in another life…I think things could have been different.”

“Yeah. In another life.” Her eyes fluttered shut when he kissed her again, much gentler than before.

The two of them seemed to communicate without words, both of them lingering for a moment before Gaius stood and left the room without a sound. Natalia fell back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, wondering what she was going to do now.

A part of her felt guilty for what she had just done, and yet a larger part of her wanted more. Every horrible deed that man had done should make her hate him, she should want him dead, but she knew that if the moment came, and if they had to decided whether he lived or died, she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to sentence Gaius to death.

The love she felt for Jax battled with the undeniable attraction she had for Gaius.

With a frustrated groan, she rolled onto her side, watching the door for the rest of the night. And, try as she may, she couldn’t deny the disappointment that washed over her when he did not return to her room.

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

The tomb had long been empty, and Natalia stood alone, looking down at the Katana. It was all she had left of Jax. Tears burned in her eyes as she sunk to her knees and hid her face in her hands, her sobs echoing in the still air.

A hand brushed her shoulders, and she shot up, reaching for the Katana.

Gaius grabbed her wrists and held them down, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “It’s me.”

“Why are you here? I thought you left.” Her grief slammed into her with so much force she fell back, breathless. “You shouldn’t be here.”

There was more sorrow on his face than she’d ever seen before. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Natalia shook her head, as if she could make it all go away if she willed it into being. “Don’t.”

Jax’s death had almost made her destroy the world. She’d already drained the life from some of the people in the opera house before Gaius stepped in to pull her back from the point of no return. It had been him who saved her from becoming a monster much worse than Rheya.

“You are allowed to grieve.” His voice sounded louder in the silent tomb. “You loved him.”

“Yeah. I did.” She turned around to look at the Katana again, closing her eyes when she felt Gaius stand right behind her.

Silence settled between the two of them, their unspoken understanding still there. She realized they got each other a lot more than she had ever known.

“I will wait for you, Natalia,” Gaius whispered, his breath warm against her neck. “My old life ended with Rheya. We’re living another life now.”

The implication in his words stirred something deep inside her, taking her breath away. Before she could answer, she felt Gaius leave.

Once again alone, Natalia sunk back down to her knees, knowing that she would rip the entire world apart to bring Jax back, but wondering if perhaps she could feel this way for someone else eventually.

Only time would tell.

Fifty Years Later

Snow blanketed the entire town, the sun long set. Natalia sighed as she walked down the bright streets, glancing up at the giant screen advertising the big Christmas movie releases. She shook her head and looked straight ahead.

Most people were inside now, the late hours of the night not as lively in New York as they once had been fifty years ago. As strange as it was, the world seemed to have changed so much, and yet so little in half a century.

A darkened building loomed in the distance, the words on the front sending another sharp pain through her. Jax Matsuo Youth Center. Natalia hurried past it, pulling her jacket tighter about her as she shivered against the early December cold.

She was nearly back at her apartment when she felt someone watching her. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the shadows and focused on slowing her heartbeat, just like Kamilah had taught her all those years ago.

“I can still smell you.” Shivers ran down her spine at the sound of a voice that she had not heard in twenty years. “But it’s good to see you remember some things.”

Natalia stepped back into the light, trying her best to force a smile. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know.”

Several seconds later, Gaius finally emerged from the darkness and stood opposite her. He no longer wore the ridiculously outdated outfit he had when they first met, but he still looked decades behind the times. “I never thought you were an idiot.”

“What are you doing here?” The last time she had seen him, things had not ended well. Neither of them had spoken to the other in twenty years. “The last I heard about you, you were somewhere in Europe.”

“There was something waiting for me back here. In New York.” He studied her face, and try as she may, she could not look away.

Natalia thought about the youth center again, her heart aching worse than before. Instead of answering Gaius, she turned away, taking a few steps before she paused. “Well, are you coming?” Her voice echoed off the high walls of the surrounding buildings, her head titled slightly back as she addressed him.

As the two of them walked in silence, she thought about the events leading up to Rheya’s death. Jax had died never knowing what happened on that boat, never realizing that the woman he loved had feelings for the man who was supposed to die after they won. And in return for that guilt, she had spent the past fifty years alone, trying to let her heart heal while she tried to accept the fact that for a brief moment, she had possessed enough to power to bring him back. If only she had had just a little more power.

If she could go back to the opera house, to when she absorbed Rheya’s power, would she still choose to come back to her friends?

She did not know.

Gaius reached out to touch the top of her hand. His fingertips brushed over her knuckles, drawing her from the memories. Natalia glanced back up, looking into the eyes of the man who she had once hated, and then teamed up with out of necessity, and that she now still had feelings for. She knew her feelings for Gaius had been what drove a wedge between her friendships with Adrian and Kamilah. The two of them thought she was crazy for forgiving him. And maybe they were right, maybe she had gone absolutely insane long before Jax’s death, but the person who had crawled out of that coffin all those years ago was not the same person who had died trying to save New York.

The same unspoken connection they’d shared before passed through them again. A frown tugged at Gaius’s lips, and he stared down at Natalia for a moment. It seemed like the world came to a halt as she looked back, the realization that they truly had not communicated in two decades sinking in. That was almost as long as she’d been a human.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. There was an awkwardness to being in his presence, like running into an old friend where things ended bad, or seeing someone who had once meant a lot to you before the years and distance made the friendship dissolve.

“Do you remember that night on the boat?”

The question seemed so absurd that Natalia couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Yes. What about it?” They had finally reached her apartment, and she hesitated, looking up at the fourth floor, where the lights were off in her room. Lily was gone for the next two weeks on a trip to Japan.

“Why did you kiss me?” Gaius stopped her when she tried to turn away. “None of what happened that night makes any sense.”

“I can’t answer that question.” The truth was she really didn’t know why she had. Every part of her knew better, even now, fifty years later, she knew that he had done horrible things. But she had long given up on trying to understand how feelings worked. To this day, she still felt something stir deep inside her chest when she thought of him. It went against all common sense.

Natalia did not speak again until they were inside her apartment, taking nearly five minutes to convince Gaius that he could come up with her. Once they stood across from each other in the kitchen, she took a while to compose her thoughts.

“I guess,” she said, casting her eyes down to the floor, unable to look at his face, “I realized that Rheya turned you into the worst version of yourself. That might have been you, but she took away your ability to feel empathy. She convinced you she loved you just to get you to do whatever she wanted. And I could see that you were trying to be a better person. The others might never forgive you, and maybe they’re right since they knew you a lot longer than I have, but I want to believe you’ve changed. I want to believe that Jax’s death was for a greater purpose.”

Tears welled in her eyes when she talked about Jax. She knew that he’d sacrificed himself for you because she was the one who could stop Rheya, but a large part of her had wished at the time that it had been her who died that day.

“His death was my fault.” The Gaius who stood before her was worlds away from the withered Gaius she had first met. He looked into her eyes, noticing that she was staring at him. “The man you love is gone because I wasn’t good enough to stop Rheya. I regret many things, and what happened in that opera house is one of my biggest regrets.”

Natalia took a step closer, blinking away the tears as she looked up at him, taking a shaky breath. “The man I loved. Fifty years changes a lot of things.” A part of her would always love Jax, would always mourn for him, but her heart had healed a bit more with every passing year until Lily no longer had to force her to continue to live.

Once, she had considered taking a stake to her own heart after losing Jax. She had spent every day and night wondering how she could ever survive in a world where he was no longer there. But time heals all wounds, and though the scars would always remain, the pain had never felt worse, and perhaps that was the best she could hope for.

Love may be a strong word to describe her feelings for the man who stood before her now, but she knew that whatever attraction she’d felt on that boat so long ago had never gone away. In fact, the opposite had happened.

Natalia took a shaky breath, moving closer until her face was inches away from Gaius’s. With another shaky exhale, she kissed him.

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

The apartment was quiet save for their heavy breathing. Natalia lifted her head to look Gaius in the eyes again, unable to stop a grin from spreading across her face.

“What’s so funny?” Gaius mumbled, pushing some hair out of her face.

She shook her head, the grin turning into laughter as she placed a hand on his bare chest. “I’ve lost my mind. I literally just slept with the enemy.”

He glared at her, rolling his eyes as a scoff slipped past his lips. “Fifty years, and you’re still as childish as ever.”

“Give it a thousand years. I’m sure someday I’ll be just as cynical as you.” She smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, feeling truly happy for the first time in what felt like forever. “So…what happens now?”

“That decision is up to you.” Gaius pulled her closer, sighing when he looked down at her. “I came back for you. If the others knew I was here, they would probably kill me.”

Natalia considered his words, remembering another moment when the choice had ultimately been left up to her. “I want you to decide. I’m tired of always having to choose. What do you want?”

Silence settled over the room. The amount of time it took for Gaius to answer her felt like hours. Finally, he spoke, staring at the poster across the room that Lily had hung up months earlier. “Come with me.”

“Okay.” She knew it was insane, that Lily would be pissed when she came back to an abandoned apartment, but she was tired of living every single day with no purpose. New York did nothing but remind her of a long-lost love, and she was ready to feel something other than pain. It had been so long since she felt the way she did in this moment. “Where are we going?”

Gaius looked surprised that she agreed so willingly. He grinned, holding her closer. “Well, I still have a lot of redeeming to do. We’ll figure something out.”

“We.” Natalia laced her fingers with his and smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

The next night, they packed a bag for her, and Natalia left nothing but a note for Lily, explaining that it might be quite a few years before they crossed paths again. She felt bad for leaving, but she knew her best friend would be fine. Right now, in this moment, she needed to get away.

Fifty years earlier, on a boat sailing away from an island of death, Gaius Augustine had said that things could have been different between the two of them if they’d met in another life. Both of their lives as they had known them changed the day Rheya Apostolous was defeated. Now, they were living another life. Now, they were both changed. Natalia would always remember moments of her past life, but she couldn’t wait to see what her uncertain future held.

#choices fanfiction #choices: stories you play #bloodbound #bloodbound 3 #gaius augustine #gaius augustine x mc #gaius x mc

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weirdochick56 · 5 years ago

Text

Mr. Evans II- Chris Evans AU Chapter Three

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, heartbreak, angst, MILD SMUT, a little bit of infidelity (it doesn’t get that far but if this triggering to you, kindly don’t read.)

Disclaimers: I don’t condone relationships of this kind, this is for entertainment purposes only.

Word Count: 4, 122 words

Read Chapter Two Here!!

***

(Gif isn’t mine! Ugh who told him he could be so BEAUTIFUL?)

You tiptoe your way to the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible. Something stops you in your tracks as you near the kitchen, though. Two voices, hushed but clearly arguing bounce out of the kitchen walls.

One is male and one is female and against your better judgment, you conceal your body behind the wall, eavesdropping on their argument.

Alright, so maybe not your proudest moment, but you couldn’t help yourself because you recognize one of the voices. The male one is Mr. Evans and the female one, well you can only assume it’s his girlfriend (if you could even call her that).

As you listen in, you wonder what they’re still doing here this late.

“Chris, I’m sick of you doing this shit to me,” she hisses.

“Doing what, Cassidy? Huh? Doing what!?” his voice increases in volume only a little bit but you can tell he’s utterly exasperated.

You flinch a bit at his tone, unable to help how much you hate when he’s upset.

She growls, gripping at her hair. “Ignoring me, dammit. Do you even care about me, Chris? I mean genuinely care for what I’m feeling? At all! God, all I really need to stay is for you to tell me you care about me, Chris,” her voice cracks. “I don’t even need you to tell me you love me,” she rasps.

Your heart races as you too await his response. Utter silence ensues and the tension rises.

He lets out a meek “I-”

Your breath catches and you lean in anxiety and curiosity peaking.

More silence, hard breathing. You lean closer. Closer. Closer. Close-

“Ah!” You yelp when you lose your footing and trip forward. You land on your knees and hands with a loud grunt as pain shoots through you.

“Shit!” you curse loudly, pushing yourself back so that your ass was pressing against your heels.

“Sweetheart?” He sounds confused as your head snaps up to them.

The brunette looks at you with a frown, but Mr. Evans looks on the brink of bursting out in laughter, his lips curled in a bemused smirk.

You at least have the decency to blush, smiling sheepishly as you begin to hoist yourself up.

“You okay?” Mr. Evans wordlessly and quickly runs over to your side, gripping your elbow to help you up. His other hand wraps around your waist, fingers brushing against your ribs. He whispers the question into your hair.

His hands are big and warm, familiar in the most exciting way. Can’t help it when your body gives the smallest shift to take in more of those hands of his.

You look up at him, hating how good his touch felt against your skin and how incredible his warmth felt as well.

Then your gazes lock and you almost forget what to say.

“I’m fine,” you finally mumble, snapping out of it as you tenderly shake his touch off and clear your throat, looking down at your bare feet.

God, could this situation get more awkward?

The woman, seemingly sensing the tension in the air, sighs, offering you a tiny smile.

“Well, I’m off to bed. Goodnight.” She gives Mr. Evans one last stare- conveying that this was not over, before walking out.

A beat of silence passes before he finally speaks, addressing the elephant in the room.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop you know, sweetheart...” he jests bemusedly.

You look up at him, smiling sheepishly as a blush rages madly on your face. “I’m sorry, I was just coming to get something to eat. I didn’t think there would be anyone here.” You bite your lip, shrugging meekly.

He watches you closely, licking his own lips before looking away with a smile and shake of his head.

“Anyway, thanks for saving me.”

You sigh, moving around him to reach the fridge. “Don’t even mention it...”

You lean down to scavenge for any leftovers, feeling a surge of pride when you find some pizza that looked relatively good.

You put it up to your nose, spinning around. “Hm, this smells pretty- Jesus fuck!” You yelp lightly, heart racing once more when you bump into Chris’s strong chest lightly.

You crane your neck to glare up at him. “What the hell is it with you sneaking up on me and invading my personal space?” you snarl.

He smirks that insufferable smirk he seemed to reserve just for you and a chill travels through you as his face tilts and nears yours, his eyes piercing right through you. “What is it with you listening in on private conversations?”

You scoff, stepping away from him truly because it was too damn much to have him this close, but you make it seem like it’s because you’re headed for the microwave to heat up your food.

“I already told you, I was just trying to get food when I heard you two speaking,” you lean up on your tiptoes to get two plates out.

You put two cold pizza slices on the plates and stick one into the microwave. “And anyway, what are you still doing here?” you can’t help but snark, spinning around to face him with a brow raised.

He’s sitting on a stool by the counter and his eyes have clearly been trained on your ass. The thing is, unlike before when he would’ve blushed and looked away and acted like he hadn’t just been eye-fucking you, now he does nothing to hide it.

“Your father offered me the guest room for the night,” he answers simply, gaze unwavering.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you snap.

“Looking at you like what?” He feigns innocence and almost with deliberate laziness, he moves up your body with his eyes— letting you know that he’s not in the least ashamed of having been staring at you in the first place, much less of getting caught.

“Like that,” you grumble.

“Alright.” But he doesn’t stop, only looks at you more intensely and with more want than before.

This, for some reason, ignites a fire deep in your belly and you raise your brows at him, pointing to the pizza because you can’t let him know how turned on that fucking gaze makes you.

“You want a slice?”

He grins ominously. “How’d you know?”

You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest, deciding to bait him. “Arguing tends to make one hungry.”

He doesn’t take the bait, shoving a hand into his sweatpants’ pocket. “Oh? And you would know?”

Seeing that your strategy isn’t working, you decide honesty is the way to go.

You blow a raspberry. “Are you kidding? It’s like, my dad and I’s thing.”

He chuckles, his eyes sharpening with interest. “Is that you and uh, Daniel’s thing too?”

You think he says the name with a just a little too much force. It could just be your ears playing a trick on you though.

You instantly look up at him, jaw dropped. “W-what?”

He doesn’t even spare you a glance, just stares down at his hands like they’re the most interesting things ever. “You really should keep your voice down when you talk on the phone.”

“How much of that conversation did you hear?” you murmur.

He shrugs. “Meh. Only all the juiciest bits.”

You regain your composure, determined not to give in to his attempts at making you feel out of control. Not that you needed much help with that when he was around, though.

“So we’ve got a case of the pot calling the kettle black on our hands. It’s rude to eavesdrop you know, Mr. Evans.” You use his words against him.

He opens his mouth to speak, but the loud beeping of the microwave cuts him off. You hold a finger up to signal him to hold that thought before you pull the plate out and put the other in. You bring the plate over to the table, sliding it over to him as you sat on the stool in front of him.

“So. You were giving me an excuse for why you were listening in on my private conversation?” You lean forward, feigning interest.

“I wasn’t. There is no excuse other than you were loudly talking about me so it’d be kinda hard not to listen in,” he responds honestly before his eyes flicker to yours, pinning you to place. “She’s right, you know?”

“Who?”

“Margo.” He responds curtly, taking a bite of his pizza slice.

“About what?” You push.

He swallows, putting the rest of the slice down as he looks at you. “About us,” he says matter-of-factly.

You immediately look away, unable to bear looking at him while he talked about an “us” like there even was one to begin with. And the worst part? You wanted so badly to ask him what he meant.

No, Y/n. The past remains in the past-- where it belongs.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

You expect him to agree. To take the chance to move away from the past and leave you there slightly disappointed but majorly relieved. But what he does instead shocks you.

“Well, I do,” he says firmly. Not an ounce of anger in him or even desperation. Just...solidity.

Your gaze snaps to his, fierce but clearly hurt. “But I don’t. So drop it.”

He stares at you for a minute too long before he finally relents in a shrug. He instead leans forward onto his elbows, clasping his fingers in front of him-- the picture of interested coolness.

“Fine, I will. But...‘just a schoolgirl crush’, really?”

“You sound offended,” you observe the ghost of a grin tugging at your lips.

He tries to shrug it off, but you can see his discomfort from miles away. “I’m not.” He takes a bite of the pizza, signaling the end of that conversation.

You sigh, crossing tucking one of your legs underneath you and motioning to the doorway with your head. “So. Pretty brunette-”

“Cassidy.”

“Cool.” You smile with sickly sweetness before snapping back to a serious expression. “What’s you guys’ deal, then?”

He takes another bite of pizza, eyes searching yours. “You heard, didn’t you? She thinks I don’t care about her.”

“You don’t seem all too broken up about that,” you mumble. “Do you care about her?”

He pauses his chewing, pondering for a few seconds, before slowly nodding. “I do.”

“So why couldn’t you tell her that?” you instantly ask, unable to hold back.

He looks at you with a smug grin. “Why can’t you have sex with this Daniel guy? Is he ugly or something?”

If his goal was to stump you, he’s achieved it.

Now, unable to express your embarrassment any other way, you grow angry.

“That’s none of your damn business, Chris.”

He doesn’t seem affected in the least by your rough tone. “Then mine isn’t yours either.”

You look at him for another second, trying to look out for any cracks in that wall only to come up empty once again. His face is perfectly composed- smugly calm.

There’s something so much more unabashedly raw and real and unadulterated about him now. He isn’t mild-mannered or outwardly sweet anymore- he’s raw and witty and smug.

He knows what he wants and how to get it; much like he did before, except now it was outwardly apparent and thought you could see glimpses of his sweet nature, it wasn’t the same as before.

And my god, if that doesn’t just make him so much more fucking hot.

“Fair enough,” you finally relent, getting up to retrieve your pizza.

You bend down to get it from the microwave. “Do you want anything to wash that down with? There’s soda in the fridge and I’m pretty sure there’s some leftover beer somewhere in there.”

His eyes aren’t trained on your face though. Instead, they’re once more blatantly staring at your body. Your tits, to be specific.

You freeze, shocked. So shocked at his brazen actions, in fact, that you must even trace his gaze from his eyes to your boobs, just to make sure you’re not imagining this. When you realize this was really happening, your body immediately warms- both with excitement and irritation.

“Hey, are you listening to anything I’m saying?” you hiss, snapping your fingers in his face.

He looks up at you with a blank expression. “Not really, no.”

His gaze, in sharp contrast to his expression, was lighted with that fire you remembered oh-so-well, slick with lust and feral want- somehow so much more intense than it had ever been before.

Something in your shifts, like you know exactly what would ensue from this very moment. The look in his eyes. The emotions in your body....they were all too familiar.

The air tenses with crackling energy in the air and even though you knew anyone could walk in at this moment, you couldn’t give less of a shit right now.

“It’s not fair for you to come here after two years and do this to me, sweetheart,” he rasps from deep in his throat as if he’s struggling to control himself.

Your breath catches at the intensity of his eyes as they make you feel like he can easily see right through your flimsy clothing.

“I’m not doing anything,” you utter pathetically.

His gaze never leaves your body as he gradually stalks up to you. You can’t move, can’t speak, can’t think, can’t breathe- eyes locked in an infinite battle with his now dark blue ones. “Oh, trust me on this; you’re doing all sorts of things to me right now, sweetheart.”

And then his arms are caging you against the kitchen counter within a matter of seconds, what with the advantage of his long legs.

Your breath instantly catches at the sudden proximity and your heart clenches with something. This was the first time you’d had him close in over two years and fuck if it didn’t make your insides shift in all kinds of ways.

His scent is overwhelming, instantly hitting you in the face like a sucker punch, all warm and inviting and delicious and him. Gosh, you’d missed him.

You bite your lip in order to contain all the tiny sounds threatening to spill out of your mouth.

His nose brushes against yours softly and your stomach clenches.

“This isn’t right,” he rasps huskily and you instantly know what he’s referring to.

You should stop. You should remind him that his girlfriend was here just a few minutes ago and that your boyfriend was waiting for you at home. You should tell him how dangerous it was to play with fire like this and yet you don’t.

Because you wanted to get burnt. God, you wanted to get so deliciously hurt by him it’d ruin every other emotion for you.

You barely gasp, eyes fluttering half-way shut.

“When has it ever been right?” you breathe before you can even process what you’re saying, practically gasping for air.

He presses himself against you in the sweetest of tortures and you can feel just how much you’ve affected him, his dick- all hard and ready pressing against you.

It drives you crazy how close he is and how unable you are to have him. You’re teasing the invisible line, but you’re not sure you’re brave enough to cross it.

“Stop fucking with my head like this,” he responds instantly, voice almost a growl. As if he was angry. “You’re not supposed to still have this hold over me, dammit.”

Was he angry at you? At himself? Both maybe?

In a risky move which you don’t entirely think through, you push back against him, pressing your body against his, crushing your stomach to his manhood, softly brushing your lips against the tiny space between you two just to tease him.

“Is that why you’re angry?” you whisper into the mostly non-existent space between you, peering into his eyes with a challenging kind of feigned innocence.

His knuckles turn white as his hold tightens on the counter. Heh. Barely restrained, you muse mentally, feeling your cunt pulse with arousal at the mere sight of him trying so hard to hold back from fucking you right here right now.

Because you could see in his eyes that he wanted to as much as you did.

It was intense, similar to how it’d been two years ago. But it wasn’t the same, not even by a bit. It was as if two years apart had done the opposite of what you’d wanted and only made your ache for him three thousand times stronger.

And when you least expect it, he grips your jaw in his hands, looking at your face with those fucking eyes of his. Not inspecting, rather debating. With himself, most likely.

You hold your breath, deep down wanting nothing more than for him to kiss you and then bury himself so deep inside you, you wouldn’t even be able to remember your own goddamn name.

His touch felt like heaven after having been deprived of it for so long. You can’t help but lean into it, practically begging him to touch you more.

More, please.

“Chris,” his name tumbles from your lips unexpectedly- a breathy beseech, almost a moan.

He mutters a husky almost desperate “fuck” under his breath as his thumb softly brushes against your cheekbone like he’s used to do back then. Then he abruptly steps away from you, leaving you there- cold and unsuspectingly vulnerable.

...just like he used to do back then.

“It doesn't matter why I’m angry.” He answers roughly, lips pursing. “Won’t change anything, will it? We’re both still going to be two different people who are now on two very different paths.”

Despite how much that single statement hurts you, it also clears the desire-fog of the moment. You briskly come down from your high and find yourself suddenly remembering that you have a boyfriend and he has a girlfriend and that nothing about what just happened was right. Even if it did feel like drinking water after days of walking a seemingly endless desert.

“You’re right,” you respond tightly, swallowing. “We’re both two people in committed relationships who have no business doing...” You left the rest unsaid because if you can avoid saying it out loud but still get your point across, it was worth it.

He smiles. He just smiles, but you know exactly what that means.

He agrees.

“We need to-“ he motions to his manhood, which was still so...excited. “I can’t-“

You cut him off, blushing madly because you were embarrassed beyond belief. “I- yeah. I-I don’t know what happened but it won’t happen again. We’re two adults now who know what their places are.” Your voice lowers. “We know with who those places are.”

He flinches slightly, nodding just the tiniest bit stiffly, “Yeah. Yeah...”

The next day you practically tumble out of bed, mind initially too foggy with tiredness to even focus on anything other than your sudden and entirely overwhelming need for coffee.

So in a zombie-like state, you pad your way to the kitchen, eyes squinting against the morning light filtering in from the open curtains.

It takes you a second to realize it, but Kennedy, Chris, and Cassidy are already seated on the stools in the kitchen counter.

Chris and Kennedy are already stuffing their faces with bacon, eggs, and toast while Cassidy casually sips on her mug.

You mumble a croaky “Morning” on your way to the box of granola bars, ignoring the shiver that traveled down your spine when you felt his presence so near yours after what happened yesterday.

It was wrong. On so many levels.

And still, just thinking about his touch, his eyes, his practically tangible want, and your own, it makes you want to forget just how much.

It was all just so...intense. The very air particles were charged with energy that you couldn’t see but could feel in your very bones.

Your first day back and you’d already barely kept yourself together again. And the mortification of that after the high of the moment has dwindled down, hits you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

It wouldn’t happen again though. Once more, not wanting to believe reality was real didn’t make it any less of a fact.

And just as it had been so intense yesterday; today all that you could feel was intense awkwardness being in the same room as him and his girlfriend knowing you’d shared a moment in this very room yesterday.

Not to mention what the hell were they doing here? Did he and Cassidy live in your damn house now?

After last night and how abruptly he’d left you in the kitchen when your conversation got a little bit too close to hitting a nerve, you expected him to be long gone by now.

Plucking a bar up, you make your way to the coffee machine, planning to make yourself a mug and then dip the fuck outta there as quickly as you could.

Kennedy’s voice interrupts you. “If you’re looking for coffee, there’s a mug for you at the table already, hun.”

You turn to look at her, brows furrowed. “Huh?”

She chuckles lightly, pointing at a steaming mug beside her and you hate her for being so sweet. “Chris was nice enough to make it for you; he guessed you’d probably want some first thing in the morning. I guess he was right.” She laughs, glancing at Chris. “Come sit. I’ll have a plate out for you in just a sec.”

You only hesitate for a second before nodding and walking over to the table nervously. Your eyes are plastered on him the entire time, the small yet sweet gesture making your heart flutter in ways you hadn’t felt for a while.

He didn’t need to say it out loud for you to know he remembered how crazy you were about coffee. Especially first thing in the morning.

As you sit in the stool positioned directly in front of him, you take the mug in your hands. “Thanks,” you murmur at him, taking a sip of the warm beverage and letting it travel down your esophagus.

Your eyes widen when you realize he’d added exactly the amount of sugar you liked and even more shocking; he’d added the tiniest bit of cinnamon and nutmeg, a detail you remember telling him the grand amount of once.

Chris focuses on his food just a little too much, ignoring your gaze at all costs as he nods in response. “Sure thing.”

Cassidy, on the other hand, smiles brightly at you and you can’t help but hate her too, for being so gorgeous this early in the fucking morning.

They’re both already showered and dressed and you can’t help but blush when you realize you’re still in your pj's and your hair more than likely looks like a bird’s nest.

“Morning,” she chirps perkily and you swear your eye twitches.

You return a polite smile nonetheless. “Morning Cassidy.”

She looks at you with an awkward and slightly sweet smile, murmuring under her breath. “I’m sorry about yesterday by the way. You didn’t need to witness that.”

You shrug lightly, fiddling with your granola bar. “It’s fine. I’m sorry for ya’ know-” you wave a hand, referring to your eavesdropping. “It wasn’t my place,” you whisper the last part.

She shrugs, grinning crookedly. “It’s cool. I wouldn’t be able to help myself if I were you either.”

You glance at Chris only to find him already looking at you. His gorgeous blue pools of intensity shock you to your core. He discreetly grins, mouthing “nice PJs” to you before smugly taking a bite of his toast.

You want to retort something like “you saw them yesterday asshole”, but you bite your tongue and look down instead.

Scoffing before taking a small bite of your granola bar, you shift uncomfortably in your stool as an uneasy silence once more falls upon you three. It only lightens when Kennedy comes back with a plate for you.

You take it gratefully, offering her the smallest of smiles as to not make her think she’s off the hook with you just yet. “Thanks.”

As you start to chew your food, you realize something. “Where’s Dad?”

Kennedy responds. “He went out to buy some things for the wedding.”

You hum in acknowledgment and another uncomfortable falls over the table. Surprisingly, Cassidy is the first one to break it.

“So,” she starts, smile and all. “Y/f/n tells me you’re in college now. What’re you majoring in?”

You immediately perk up at this, grateful for a conversational topic as well as just happy to talk about your studies. “Right now I’m majoring in psychology. I just love it,” you gush.

You hear Chris snort bemusedly under his breath and all your heads simultaneously swivel to him. He’s smirking to himself, only confusing you further.

“Baby?” Cassidy asks him and you have to physically fight back the urge to gag.

He looks up and is bewildered to find you all staring at him. His brows furrow. “What?”

Kennedy smiles. “What’s so funny?”

He smirks, gaze flickering over to you. “Nothing. I just always figured that’s what you’d go for. Either that or journalism.”

You can’t help but smile, a bit taken aback by the accuracy of his statement. “How’d you-”

“You were always an open book, sweetheart,” is all he says, eyes twinkling.

You hold each other's gazes almost on instinct, stupid, goofy smiles spread wide on both your faces, a hidden understanding passing through you both. One nobody but you two was in on.

It didn’t worry you how well he knew you because you knew him just as well. There was no other way around it, you just did.

Cassidy clears her throat, snapping you both out of your little moment. You clear your own throat lightly, cheeks reddening as Chris looks away instantly.

“Anyway,” Cassidy mumbles, visibly weirded out. “Chris and I are going out shopping.” She instantly perks up again, gripping his arm lovingly.

You really can’t help it when a pang of pain hits you in the chest and you grip your mug tighter, eyes unable to leave her long, slender, perfectly-manicured hands that grip onto his muscular bicep like it was the most natural position in the world.

Like they were meant to be together.

You can’t help but look down at your own nails. A pang of insecurity hits you when you’re met not with nicely manicured nails, but bitten down, uneven ones instead; courtesy of being a college student.

You look at Cassidy closely, unable to help yourself when you begin to compare yourself to her. Her chest was bustier than yours, her build more slender and delicate, her skin tanned in a sun-kissed kind of way. She was tall and gorgeous. With glossy, healthy-looking dark hair and striking dark eyes.

You instantly feel yourself deflate when you find none of those attributes within yourself. Nothing about you was striking.

Maybe that’s why he preferred her. She was more beautiful and mature than you, after all.

What in the hell are you thinking Y/n? You mentally smack yourself. He is not yours. You have no claim over him and never forget, you have a boyfriend who loves you for who you are.

You make a mental note to call Daniel later.

“What’re you shopping for?” Kennedy inquires, breaking you from your self-deprecating thoughts.

“Dresses. I have nothing to wear to the wedding,” Cassidy responds, practically beaming.

At the reminder, you choke on your drink. Crap. A dress. Right.

Kennedy gently pats your back. “What happened, hun?”

You lightly flinch away from her touch and she notices, quickly retracting her hand with a concerned frown.

“I just-” you blush, biting your lip. “I don’t have a dress for the wedding either,” you whisper sheepishly.

“Oh!” Kennedy waves you off. “It’s fine. I’m sure Cassidy and Chris would be happy to take you out shopping for one.”

She shoots them a look.

Cassidy instantly nods. “Yes. We’d love to.”

You can’t help but cringe at the idea because as soon as it’s brought up, Chris’ head snaps up and his gaze locks with yours. The same thought passes through you both.

Not good. Not good at all.

You try to shake your head and protest. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you guys. Really.”

Cassidy and Kennedy shake you off instantly, telling you that that was “nonsense” and that it was “fine”.

You’d fought back hard, but eventually, they’d convinced you. The entire time you refused to look at Chris- too scared to see his reaction even though you felt him silently looking at you the entire time.

You nod, picking up your plate and mug and quickly wash them, drying your hands afterward. “Fine. Just let me get ready really quick.”

A day out in the town with Chris and Cassidy?

This was bad. This was so, so bad.

Read Chapter Four Here!!

***

As a writer, I thought having control of my stories would make me less emotionally invested in the characters than my readers. I was wrong.

A Special thanks to:

@star-spangled-steve

@tomoyaevaans

@pepsicolailovedogs

@whereeverythingisbetter

@fallenoutofrose

@plutonium-m

@beepbeepromanoff

@faithmichaluk

@sincerelytlh

@tomshelbystits

@kind-sober-fullydressed

@liatnism

@sashimi-cat

@zofty15

@gemgemswift

@fafulous

And my forevers!

@jessikared97

@ladyofletters67

@lilypalmer1987

@sammykb1994

@tomshelbystits

#Mr. Evans II #Mr Evans #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans

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