#me: forever laughing anxiously and sweating at nice words as much as the thought of being in a room with mortem | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

exoticarmyofcrowns · 4 years ago

Text

sing for me | kth

pairing: taehyung x fem!reader

summary: you have been living with your roommate for well over a year and the unresolved sexual tension between the two of you finally comes to a head

genre: romance, smut (VERY 18+ not for the littles), roommates au

warnings: masturbation, vouyerism??, fingering, thigh riding, attempted dirty talk, breath play, slight power play???, excessive use of the word “baby” and other pet names, kinda awkward discussion of feelings thrown in bc my characters never shut up when i want them to get it on sorry

word count: ~6.6k

a/n: hello~ um... i have no explanation for this. i am like half ashamed and half proud of this??? idek man. all i know is that i couldn’t have done it without @sugaerie so thank you so much my queen i love uuuu

You step through the door of your apartment, feet practically screaming with relief as you kick off your shoes.

Work was really kicking your ass lately. Add that together with the stress of grad school and you had a deadly concoction not even your favorite tea and copious amount of ibuprofen could protect you from. Your job as a cashier was pretty easy, you can’t lie, but constantly standing and running around the store did a number on your poor feet. Thank god you had weekends off—a perk of having worked there so long you practically had the manager wrapped around your pinky when it came time for scheduling—so you could sleep in for once.

Tossing your keys on the counter, you spare a glance at the clock above the stove as you walk into your small kitchen. It’s about a quarter to midnight. You figure Taehyung is still out with his friends, hitting up one of the bars downtown.

You sigh heavily at the thought of your roommate. Not because anything wrong with him. Taehyung is nothing short of incredible. He’s sweet and kind, always greeting you with the most adorable boxy smile that makes you feel like the only person in the universe. People gravitate toward him just as easily as he draws them in, a natural warmth that instantly puts others at ease in his presence. He’s generous and thoughtful, never missing an opportunity to surprise you at work with a coffee or just to see you. Those shifts are your favorites and maybe you’re a little spoiled because you often find yourself glancing at the entrance more often than not, trying to see if you can spot his dark, curly head from your register.

Not to mention Taehyung is incredibly stunning. Long dark curls frame his face in the most intimidatingly beautiful way it’s often hard to look away from him. He’s got piercing dark eyes that can stare right into your soul but that also crinkle beautifully at the corners when he smiles. His fashion sense is killer, obscure brands and fabrics lining his closet almost like a museum. You’re not sure how but he can wear just about anything and still manage to look like he just stepped off a runway.

He works as a freelance photographer and has quite the sizeable following on social media. He’s passionate about his work and it shows in the quality of his photos. You know next to nothing about photography but even you can see that the beauty and skill with which he wields his camera is nothing short of magical. Commissions are not hard to come by for him, though you’re more than positive it has just as much to do with Taehyung himself as it does his beautiful portfolio.

No, there is absolutely nothing wrong with Taehyung.

Only that he’s perfect and you have a massive crush on him.

Exhaling tiredly, you run a heavy hand down your face. Anyone else would be ecstatic about having such a wonderful, attractive roommate but you know things like this can only end in disaster. More than anything, Taehyung is your friend—your best friend, you would argue—and involving feelings into your relationship can only end poorly. The whole roommates thing just adds another layer of complication that is better left alone. You don’t shit where you eat, after all.

But it’s difficult. Taehyung is just so nice and likeable it’s unreal. You often find your thoughts wandering to dangerous places when you both are curled up on the couch together during movie nights, blankets and pillows and snacks scattered all over the living room, while he curls his body around you without a second thought. He’s naturally tactile, you try to remind yourself in an effort to calm your racing pulse but then he’ll laugh at something happening in the movie, his cheeks plumping up adorably, and you know you’re a lost cause as you feel your heart melt all over again.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to ignore your feelings for your roommate and you know something has to give eventually. In the last couple of weeks, there seemed to have been a shift in the air whenever you were around each other. Taehyung was still your adorable and playful friend but the hugs seemed longer, the touches more tender and lingering. You even think you’ve caught him staring at you a few times, a strange new darkness simmering beneath the chocolate irises.

Flushing with embarrassment and shame, you bury your face into your hands. Of course not. You’re just being ridiculously optimistic. You pull out a clean glass from the cupboard and fill it with water from the sink, hoping to dampen the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Cleaning up, you decide to pamper yourself with a long hot shower complete with a nice sugar scrub and an in-shower face mask. You even spring for a shave, already excited for the feel of your sheets against the smooth, moisturized expanse of your legs. It’s the little things.

You hum lightly under your breath, already feeling the residual tension from the week bleed out as you gently massage your favorite lotion into your skin. Finishing up, you feel much more relaxed and so wonderfully clean you can’t help the smile that graces your lips as you move to head back to your room.

“___.”

It’s faint, so faint you think you imagine it but it still makes you freeze as you step out of the bathroom. Glancing down the short hallway that leads to your room, you blink for several seconds and wait to see if you hear it again. When nothing happens, you feel your heart resume its normal pace before rolling your eyes at yourself and continuing on to your room.

“___.”

This time it’s unmistakable and you can’t help the way the sound of your name makes you jump in fear. Now you’re in full-on panic mode and you anxiously scan the apartment. Your eyes catch on the faint light emanating from Taehyung’s room and you relax slightly. How had you not realized he was home already?

Your relief quickly morphs into confusion. Why would Taehyung be calling for you? Did he need something? Was he hurt? Stifling your self-induced panic, you quietly make your way over to his door. Despite having been in his room multiple times before, something feels off now. Almost like you shouldn’t be there. You can’t quite put your finger on it but something about the whole situation has you on edge…

You shake it off. It’s fine. You’ll just casually peep through the slightly ajar door and make sure everything is okay before marching off to bed to enjoy your evening in. Simple as that, right?

Wrong.

Whatever you thought you were going to see past the small opening of his door doesn’t hold a candle to the image that will undoubtedly be burned into your memory forever.

There, laying casually on his bed, is Taehyung. That in and of itself is not out of the ordinary. Except for the fact that he is naked save for the boxers he normally wears to bed, with a hand pulling desperately at his painfully red length.

It’s suddenly hard to breathe, air catching so violently in your throat you nearly choke audibly. Slapping a hand over your mouth and nose, you will yourself to calm down enough to take in the scene before you. Taehyung’s long legs are splayed almost elegantly across his sheets, deliciously thick thigh muscles clenching and unclenching from his ministrations. His hand glides skillfully over his cock, alternating between slow, languid tugs and fast, unyielding strokes. He throws his head back before tucking his chin in briefly, tongue flicking out to wet his lips before he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. A hiss of pleasure melts into a throaty groan and heat pools rapidly in the pit of your stomach.

A voice in the back of your mind screams for you to get away while you can. You shouldn’t be here. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve lusted after your roommate, how long you’ve wanted to push him against any flat surface and have your way with him or let him have his way with you. It doesn’t matter that you want to do couple-y things with him too, like hold his hand and kiss those soft, pink lips because you are roommates—friends—and a fling like that could only end in disaster, especially when he doesn’t feel the same way. It doesn’t matter and you have to leave now before—

“___,” Taehyung groans once again, hands caressing up his lean stomach and you’re distracted by the way his muscles ripple with the attention. “Are you just going to stand there or are you gonna come help me?”

Something between a squeak and a cough leaves your throat in that instant and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You can’t bring yourself to move for a good second but Taehyung lets out another low moan and your feet move of their own accord into the bedroom.

If you thought he was beautiful before, he is absolutely glowing in the soft light of his bedside lamp. A light sheen of sweat coats his skin and you are overwhelmed with the urge to lick a stray bead that travels down his neck. Your breath is coming out in short pants and you try to subtly squeeze your thighs together to ease the ache. This does not go unnoticed.

“Hello, darling.” The words leave his lips in a low purr and a shiver zips down your spine. He’s smirking at you, hands still gripping his length but his pace has slowed significantly as if giving you a show. He seems perfectly comfortable despite the lack clothing, completely unfazed by your blatant staring. Like he wants you to look at him and only him. The thought has your face burning.

“T-Tae, what are you doing?”

“Isn’t is obvious, sweetheart? Surely I don’t need to spell it out for you, hm?” A particularly wet pass over his dick has him sucking in a gasp and you find you can’t look away. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and Taehyung fixates on the motion, pupils blown wide and darkening further.

“Although you haven’t picked up on my blatant flirting so maybe I should.”

That snaps you out of your reverie. “Flirting?” You hate the way your voice sounds so weak and vulnerable but it can’t be helped.

“I haven’t exactly been subtle, ___. I’ve been—fuck—I’ve been trying to drop hints for the last few weeks now, hell, the last few months but you never n-notice.” He tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth again before releasing a heavy sigh.

Your head is spinning. This Taehyung is so different from the one you’re used to—yes, he’s still the same incorrigible flirt, but where he is usually giggly and playful he is now sensual and downright sinful. You think back over the past few weeks, the lingering touches, the casual hugs. Taehyung has always been touchy but they had felt charged with something else entirely. It’s good to know you hadn’t been making that up.

“I…” You truly don’t know what to say for yourself. “I didn’t know,” you murmur, feeling very very small all of a sudden.

Taehyung immediately stills at your tone and misinterprets it as discomfort. “Oh. Oh god, ___, I’m so sorry.” Wrenching his hand away from himself, he scrambles on the bed, looking up at you with earnest, remorseful eyes. The waistband of his boxers snap shut in his frenzy and you almost mourn the loss of the desire-tinted skin. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just thought that maybe you…maybe you felt the same?”

You’re so taken aback by the complete 180 he’s made that your response gets caught in the whirlwind of your thoughts, This is more like the Taehyung you know, kind and considerate, and you almost forget the situation you’re in. Almost.

“N-No!” you stammer, eager to assuage his uncertainty. “I mean, yes, I-I…” You close your eyes tightly. “I do…feel the same.”

The way Taehyung looks at you after your stunted confession has your heart auditioning for a marathon and goosebumps prickling across your skin. You may as well have just hung all the stars in the sky with the amount of adoration swimming in his warm irises.

“I’m glad,” he grins brightly at you and you can’t help but smile back. You bite your lip out of habit and the smile fades from his face as he watches you.

Swallowing thickly, he rasps, “___, c-can I kiss you? Please.”

The desperation in his voice is not something you expect and a jolt of electricity zings down your spine. Dazed, you nod. That’s all Taehyung needs before he practically launches himself to his feet to grab you by the waist and pull you to him. His hand—the other hand that was not touching himself—cradles your face as he bends down to brush your noses together. A moment passes, Taehyung staring into your eyes to give you room to pull away. When you don’t, he smiles briefly to himself before surging forward to connect your lips.

The kiss is soft and warm, exchanging only the slightest bit of pressure as if you both are worried that you’ll frighten the other. Which is ridiculous, you think, since you have yet to run away. You bounce up on your toes to alleviate the reach for Taehyung and kiss him harder. He hums appreciatively as he nips at you, the sound tingling from your lips and down the length of your body. You shiver in his hold and move to wrap your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. The distance disappears between you two and you feel his arousal poking at your stomach. You break the kiss to look down between you, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

Glancing up at Taehyung from beneath your eyelashes, you marvel at how positively wrecked he looks. He’s still damp with sweat but his mouth is slightly swollen from your kisses and his eyes are so blown out they’re practically black with desire. You feel yourself clench hopelessly as the blood rushes loudly in your ears.

“Can I—Can I watch you?”

You’re just as surprised as Taehyung is to hear those words leave your mouth but you’re not quite thinking straight, not when he looks like that and you finally have him in a way you never thought you would. It’s overwhelming, to say the least, and you want to savor every moment together.

Taehyung doesn’t seem to be faring much better, the request making his breathing turn heavy as he leans down to rest his forehead against yours. “Are you sure, ___? Are you absolutely sure? Because once we start, I don’t think I can stop.”

Peeking up at him coyly, you respond, “Who says I’ll want you to?”

A beat. Then, Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut and practically growls at your words. His arm tightens around your waist and crushes your body to him as if trying to mold you together. You love it.

“Then sit back and enjoy the show.” His lips quirk into a lascivious smirk before crashing your mouths together once again. This kiss is different than the previous one, not one bit of hesitation lingering now. Taehyung’s tongue licks along the seam of your mouth insistently and your legs turn to jelly as you open up for him.

The kiss is over too soon but before you can mourn the loss of his lips, he pushes you down onto the bed and resumes his spot against the pillows. Tugging on his boxers, Taehyung pulls them down to discard them somewhere behind you. Heat pulses through you at the sight of his exposed flesh and your thighs rub together once again.

Taking himself in hand, Taehyung spreads his legs and begins a torturously slow pace. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt of this.” All the air in your lungs leaves you at the confession. You can’t even think clearly, much less think up a semi-coherent response, but he doesn’t seem deterred by your silence.

“I’ve always—shit—I’ve always wanted t-to kiss that pretty little mouth of yours, ravage it until you can’t think. Your mouth, your neck, anything I could get my lips on.” Your eyes eagerly take in the sight of the milky substance beading at the tip of his cock and making his passes even messier.

“Ah, fuck, I-I wondered what kind of sounds you would make. If you would gasp and sigh or if I could make you scream.” He twists his wrist as he glides over the head of his length and he gasps out loud, his breathing rough and ragged and oh so lovely.

“I’ve thought about what it would take you to make you beg for it.”

A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it and heat blooms across your cheeks. Taehyung stills for a moment before resuming with a smirk.

“Oh? Does my baby like the sound of that? Of me making you beg for my cock?” You nod, stunned and aroused beyond belief. It’s as if your brain has short-circuited and all you can think about is the fantasy that Taehyung so beautifully illustrates for you.

“Dirty girl,” he chuckles, tonguing the corner of his lips. “I should have guessed at what a desperate little thing you’d be. Asking me to stroke my dick while you watch.” He tuts playfully, eyes never leaving yours.

Breathing has become steadily more difficult and you’re acutely aware of the dampness between your legs. You want nothing more than to relieve the ache but you’re so transfixed on the beautiful man laid out in front of you that you can do nothing more than squeeze your thighs together.

“Look at you,” Taehyung’s eyes rake down your form, taking in your lust-darkened gaze and heaving chest before lingering on the apex of your tensed thighs. “I bet you’re dripping, aren’t you? So eager to take my cock that I could just slip right in if I wanted to, hm?” Again you nod, fingers twitching as you grip the sheets beneath you. He laughs lowly and the sound washes over you and settles deep in your stomach.

“God, I bet you’d taste so sweet on my tongue. I would spend hours just buried between your legs if you’d let me. Every time you prance around the apartment in those scraps you call shorts, I just want to bend you over the couch and fuck you until you can’t walk. Would you like that, baby girl? Want me to sink my cock into that sweet cunt of yours? Make it mine, over and over again?”

You’re practically panting now, desperate sounds ripping themselves from your throat as Taehyung stares at you intensely, hand never faltering on his swollen erection. He seems to take pity on you because in the next moment, he murmurs a deep, “Come here, baby.”

Snapping into action, you nearly stumble over yourself in your haste to be close to him. He smiles, fondness flickering in his eyes beneath the lust at your eagerness. You crawl forward until you are settled on your knees between his legs. A feeling of shyness settles over you—absurd, given the circumstances—and you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. A hand winds around your waist and pulls you to him, forcing you to straddle one of his thighs. You feel a finger slip under your chin to coax you into looking at him. When you do, Taehyung offers a sweet smile.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” You go to nod but Taehyung clicks his tongue. “I need to hear you say it, ___.”

“Yes.” You’re proud that your voice doesn’t shake. “I want you, Tae.”

The finger on your chin turns into a forceful grip as he crashes your mouths together once again. It’s messy and desperate and you can’t help the loud moan that Taehyung swallows gleefully. You welcome his tongue into your mouth and when you give it a pointed suck, he lets out an answering groan low in his throat.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he pants against your cheek, planting wet kisses down your jaw and to the length of your neck. His lips meet the collar of your shirt but before he can even ask, you’re wrenching it off your body and onto the ground.

Taehyung seems at a loss for the first time since you’d walked into his room and you revel in the swell of pride that overtakes you. He can’t help but ogle greedily at the newly-exposed skin and you feel powerful knowing that you have his undivided attention.

Shaking himself out of his daze, Taehyung places a gentle kiss right above your heart before slowly making his way lower. The gesture is not lost on you and you find yourself melting further into his touch as your hand wraps around to tangle in the hairs at the nape of his neck. You can feel two hands ghost up your sides to tease the undersides of your breasts and you inhale sharply, chest pushing up into his mouth. Taehyung breathes a laugh onto your skin before cupping the soft flesh and placing almost reverent kisses upon their stiff peaks.

“Tae, please,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut at the onslaught of sensations he is inflicting on you.

“Hmm, I like hearing you beg for me.” His tongue flicks against your pebbled nipple and you cry out, unable to hold back anymore. “My desperate baby girl.”

“T-Tae, ah, please don’t tease.”

“Don’t tease?” He punctuates the question with a sharp squeeze. “But you’ve been teasing me for well over a year, no? Walking around the apartment practically naked, with nothing but a t-shirt or these poor excuse for shorts.” Taehyung’s hands leave a lingering pinch before gliding down the length of your torso to the hem of your sleep shorts. Hooking a finger inside, he snaps the elastic back in place and you gasp. “No panties?” He asks in wonder, eyes fixed on your lower half.

Swallowing, you murmur, “I-I don’t usually wear them to bed.”

He lets out a throaty groan. “Fuck, you really—” He cuts himself off with another sharp exhale, head tipping backward as he squeezes his eyes shut as if in pain. Something nudges the side of your thigh and you look down at forgotten length between you, swollen and nearly purple. As if in a daze, you reach for the turgid flesh and let the tips of your fingers graze the head tentatively. Taehyung’s eyes snap open to look at you in shock and you freeze.

“Do that again. Please.”

You can hardly deny him when he looks so fucked out beneath you and your hand begins a tentative pace, stroking his dick like you had witnessed him do earlier.

“That’s it, atta girl,” he groans into your shoulder, kissing the skin almost absentmindedly. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your stomach plummets at his words, inner muscles clenching almost painfully. You’re so turned on your shorts are most likely unsalvageable but seeing Taehyung so wrecked and because of you makes it all worthwhile.

Keeping up the pace on his cock, you don’t even notice your hips begin to lower onto his thigh and rock down against him until he sits up from where he’d begun to slouch in pleasure, leg knocking up into your dripping heat.

“Fuck, baby. Look at you, grinding on my thigh like that.” His words send your heart stuttering in your chest. “Your poor little cunt has been neglected, hm? You’ve been such a good girl for me, stroking my cock and getting me ready. I think you deserve a reward.”

Taehyung grips your hips with bruising force and helps you grind harder onto his leg. The drag of your shorts against your swollen clit is a little too harsh but the sheer dampness of the fabric makes the glide much easier.

“I can feel you dripping onto my leg. You’re soaked, baby.” You’re delirious at this point, incoherent noises spilling from your lips as you work yourself over Taehyung’s thigh. It’s not long before you feel the pleasure mounting within you, hips pistoning back and forth even faster.

“That’s it, baby girl. Use me. Make yourself cum on my thigh. Get yourself nice and ready for my cock.” His hands run soothingly across your skin, sending your nerves on fire. You whine as you feel your orgasm approach with each pass of your hips.

“Come on, babe. Give it to me. Let me feel you cum all over me.”

With a strangled cry, you buck against Taehyung uncontrollably as you finally release all over his leg. You curl into him, hands tangling into his hair and tugging in order to keep yourself grounded. Your hips gradually slow as you ride out your high and you find it a struggle to catch your breath. The two of you stay like that for a few moments, letting the aftershocks wash over you.

“Oh, ___,” Taehyung murmurs in wonder. Almost sheepishly, you peek up at him from beneath your eyelashes to see him staring at you with such unadulterated reverence and want that your heart skips a beat. “You did so well, baby girl,” he rasps, lips ghosting over your face tenderly.

Face warm, you try to redirect the attention to him and begin placing gentle kisses along the length of his neck. Taehyung tilts his head back, eyelids fluttering prettily at your ministrations. Smirking to yourself, you trail your hand teasingly down the length of his chest to make your way down to his dick but he stops you with a firm hand around your wrist. Before you can even open your mouth to question him, he’s already flipped you over onto your back.

“Hmm, still so eager for my cock.” He nips playfully at your bottom lip, laughing when you move to chase him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’re getting there. I have to get you ready first.”

Two of his fingers brush the swell of your mouth and you open immediately to take them in. Taehyung inhales sharply as you give them a pointed suck, eyes narrowing slightly to let you know that you will certainly pay for that later. The thought sends a shot of arousal to your core.

Taehyung removes his fingers and wastes no time in bringing them to the apex of your thighs. He makes quick work of your soiled shorts and suddenly, he’s all you can feel. A single digit swipes the length of your slit to circle around your clit, eliciting a hiss from the both of you.

“Oh, baby, you’re so wet,” Tae groans, in a trance. “All for me.”

He wasn’t really speaking to you but you nod anyway. “Yes, Tae. All for you.”

Eyes snapping to yours, he sinks one finger into your weeping heat and watches your face for any signs of discomfort. You tense slightly before relaxing and sending him a reassuring smile as a signal that he can continue. He pumps his finger in and out, letting you get used to the sensation before gently slipping in another. Scissoring the digits, Taehyung furrows his brows and bites his lip as he forces himself to be patient.

You, on the other hand, are having a much harder time controlling yourself. Soft whimpers escape you with every pump of Taehyung’s fingers. One particularly potent curl has you gasping for air as an animalistic growl tears itself from your throat, hips bucking harshly upwards.

“Gah, Tae—please,” you pant, hands flailing wildly for something to hold onto before settling on his hair.

“Anything, darling.” Taehyung inserts yet another finger and you begin to really feel the stretch, so much that it nearly becomes uncomfortable. A small noise of discomfort makes the man above you pause but he mouths at your temple reassuringly. “I know, baby, I know. But I have to make sure you’re ready for me.”

Right then, he curls his fingers just as he did before and you’re seeing stars again. He places adoring kisses along your jaw before dipping for another taste of your mouth. You eagerly accept him, opening fully to him as your hips roll along with the rhythm of his fingers.

Breaking away, you pant, “I’m ready, Tae.”

“Are you sure?” Looking deeply into your eyes, he must find what he’s looking for because he nods lightly and kisses you breathless. He reaches over to his nightstand and rummages in his drawer. The crinkle of a wrapper hits your ears, making your face warm slightly as the reality of the situation hits you full force. You were really doing this. The fact that the man that you’ve pined after for so long is here with you—actually likes you—is so surreal you’re not quite sure how to process it but you’ll be damned if you didn’t enjoy every second of it.

Once he has rolled the condom on, Taehyung moves upward to cup your face between his hands. “Before we begin, are you absolutely s—”

“Tae, I swear to god if you do not get inside me in the next three seconds I will flip us over and do it myself.”

Taehyung blinks before chuckling. “There will be plenty of time for that, sweetheart. But for right now…” His smile turns sinister, prompting anticipation to swirl deliciously in your stomach. “I’m calling the shots.”

He takes himself in hand and rubs the tip up and down the length of your folds. Your eyes flutter when Taehyung collects your pooling arousal, making a complete mess of you.

When he pushes in, your mouth drops open in a silent gasp. He’s big—of course he is—bigger now that he’s entering you and you can’t deny that the stretch is more than welcome. You glance up at Taehyung’s face and are pleased to see that he looks just as wrecked as you feel. He locks eyes with you, dark irises burning with lust but also something deeper. Something…soft and warm. The thought sends your heart pounding in your chest.

As he bottoms out, Taehyung makes sure to probe your face for any signs of discomfort. He doesn’t find any and tentatively thrusts into you, eyes never leaving yours as he does. You gasp, nerves tingling as a whine tears itself from your throat, soft and breathy.

“That’s it, angel,” Taehyung pants in your ear. “Sing for me. Let me know just how good I make you feel.”

You clench helplessly, reveling in the low grunt it earns from the man above you. He begins to pick up the pace, hips snapping fiercely against yours so that the only sound is the harsh slap of skin against skin mingling with your eager breaths.

“Such a tight little cunt, even after you’ve already cum once.” His voice is even raspier with the force of his thrusts and you practically keen at the sound. “I wonder how many times I can make you lose it.”

You sob, hips rising desperately to meet his. “P-Please,” you cry, unsure what it is you’re asking for but it doesn’t matter because he props himself up to get a better angle, looking down at your writhing form.

“Such a desperate little baby.” He punctuates the pet name with a particularly harsh snap of his hips and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can already feel your second orgasm rising within you, all you need is a little push.

“You know,” Taehyung begins, concentrating his thrusts to a slow roll, “I’ve always been curious about one thing.”

Before you can ask what it is, you see his hand snake between you, gliding across your stomach, between the valley of your breasts, to settle at the base of your throat. Your eyes widen of their own accord, breath stuttering as you realize the intention. Taehyung’s eyes hold a silent question and you nod, albeit a bit desperately, prompting him to wrap his long fingers steadily around the lowest part of your neck.

“Fucking filthy,” he whispers in awe, gaze alternating between your face and the sight of his hand wrapped around your pretty neck. He thinks he could watch this forever. Squeezing experimentally, Taehyung watches with utter delight at how quickly you fall apart under his grip. Your hands scramble to claw at his arm, not to pull it away but to keep him locked in place.

“Poor baby just wants to be choked and fucked senseless, is that it?” You nod jerkily, pleasure fogging your mind and making you delirious. You couldn’t talk even if you tried but the way your hips buck up into his needily tell him all he needs to know.

“So honest,” he chuckles, increasing the pressure slightly. “Good girls get what they want.” Taehyung pulls his hips back, so far that only the tip remains inside you, before snapping back in full-force. The pace he sets is brutal and you can feel his hip brushing relentlessly against your clit.

“T-Tae,” you gasp, stomach tightening as a particularly well-timed thrust has you seeing stars. “C-Close.”

“Is baby girl gonna cum?” You nod frantically, eyes focusing and unfocusing on his face. “Come on, baby. Give me one more. I know you can do it. My desperate. Little. Slut.”

Taehyung tightens his grip even further and that’s the end for you. A scream lodges itself in your throat as the coil in your lower stomach snaps, sending you spiraling into the most powerful orgasm you’ve had in a while. Taehyung releases his hand from your neck abruptly, the rush of air prolonging your pleasure to the point you think you might pass out.

Above you, you hear Taehyung groan gutterly at the vice-like grip your walls have trapped him in. “Fuck, princess, I can feel you squeezing. You’re gonna make me cum.”

Still breathless, you fight against the fog clouding your brain. “Please, Tae. Cum inside me, please. I-I want it so bad.”

“Such a filthy little thing,” he stutters, breaths sounding labored in your ears as he gets closer to his own climax. “Gonna f-fill you up so good. Make this cunt mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp, tightening your muscles one last time around him. That seems to be the end for him because before you know it, Taehyung is moaning into your shoulder.

“All. Fucking. Mine,” he growls as he snaps his hips, once, twice, before stilling inside you.

It seems to last hours but Taehyung eventually collapses onto his forearms, careful not to crush you under his weight. You both take a minute to catch your breath, enjoying the feeling of closeness that follows. Eventually, he pulls back, carefully slipping out of you to tie off the condom and toss it in the wastebasket. You wince but relax immediately after, snuggling further into the soft down of his comforter.

Taehyung smiles adoringly as he makes his way back to the bed, heart flipping at how cute you look in his bed. Almost as if you belong there. He hesitates as he gets to the edge, fearing for a moment whether or not it was alright to join you. Those fears are put to rest as you blink sleepily up at him, arms tiredly reaching for him. Relieved, he snuggles in next to you and gathers you in his arms. It’s silent for a moment as you both enjoy being wrapped up in each other.

“Since when?” you finally break the silence, tracing mindless patterns across his chest.

Taehyung inhales sharply. He knows exactly what you mean. Still, he feigns ignorance. “What?”

You close your eyes for a moment, burying your face further into his chest. “Since when have you liked me?”

“Since when have you liked me?” he shoots back and you pinch the skin on his ribs. He yelps before you both dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“I asked you first,” you whine, risking a glance up at his face. Taehyung is already staring down at you fondly, warm gaze melting into your own.

“Since the very first moment,” he whispers softly. You almost laugh, except his face is deadly serious. It’s suddenly hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. You stare at him in wonder—the delicate brush of his eyelashes against his cheek, the soft sweep of his sweat-dampened hair over his forehead, the gentle curve of his lips as he smiles at you. You clear your throat, glancing away as a pleasant warmth settles over your cheeks.

“That’s not an answer.”

He laughs breathily in your ear and you fight a shiver. “Okay, okay. Well the first time I realized it was the day you had come back from your shift after you had switched managers.”

You balk. “Are you serious?” You remember that day. Management had decided to move your favorite supervisor over to the men’s department while you remained stuck in shoes. The new guy was awful—condescending, incompetent, and downright unpleasant. You had come home that day with three different bottles of wine and all the take out you could afford and practically forced Taehyung to drink with you and listen to your misery. The guy was eventually fired but the whole experience had left you with a bitter taste in your mouth.

Tae chuckles as he thinks back to that night. “Yes, I’m serious. You were about halfway through the second bottle and were practically screaming curses at the guy. It took you all of 30 minutes after dinner to fall asleep right there on the couch, somehow still complaining about that dickwad.” You snort, hand shooting up to cover your face in embarrassment. “As you talked, I realized…I could listen to you forever. And then you fell asleep, cuddling so cutely into my shoulder, and I knew I was a goner. Even though you snore.”

Your eyes, which had started watering at his heartfelt confession, widen before you regain your composure enough to hit his chest. “I do not snore.”

Taehyung winces playfully, knowing full-well that you don’t but enjoying teasing you all the same. “So, yeah. I’ve liked you for a while. And I had an inkling you felt the same.”

“Oh, yeah? What gave it away? The fact that I practically hopped on your dick?” you tease.

“Well it certainly didn’t hurt.” He winks at you and you have to stifle the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. “But it was little things. Like how you’d blush at a compliment or if I hugged you just a bit too long. I couldn’t be sure though. Not until tonight, I guess.”

“Well,” you shift upwards, his confession instilling a confidence in you that you hadn’t known you possessed, “in case I haven’t made it abundantly clear: I like you very, very much, Kim Taehyung.”

He’s silent for a single, nerve-wracking beat before the most brilliant smile lights up his face and for the second time that night, you find yourself breathless.

“And I like you very, very much, too, ___.”

Taehyung kisses you then, slow and sweet, and you’re left thinking that you never want to be anywhere else.

#bts #bts smut #bts taehyung #bts v #taehyung #taehyung smut #v #v smut #bts imagine #taehyung imagine #v imagine #bts v imagine #kth fic #bts fics #taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader fic #taehyung x reader imagine #my writing

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kiirokero · 4 years ago

Text

Emacity (PJM)

Emacity: The desire or fondness of buying

Part of the “Protect the Village!” Oneshot Series!

Masterlist

Pairing: DeliveryBoy!Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romance, mutual pining (kinda)

Note: April will be my hibernation month lol

Summary: Whoever invented online shopping? A genius. Whoever hired Park Jimin to be the town’s delivery boy? An even bigger genius.

Word Count: 2.2k

You wouldn’t call yourself a shopaholic. It’s not like you had an addiction to the point of needing an intervention. You knew what was a dumb purchase and what was a personal purchase. You actively searched high and low for coupons and discounts. You never bought something that you knew would end up in the garbage after one use. You were a responsible shopper. But shopping was like a hobby.

You were lucky enough to have the money to spoil yourself. You worked a well-paying job as a translator for businesses that are trying to branch out to new countries while also offering online language classes to international students. Switching between Korean, English, Spanish, AND French usually gave you a headache. And trying to translate a word that didn’t really exist in other languages was exhausting, but it paid well.

And it gave you opportunities to see Jimin.

Park Jimin, Bangtan Village’s delivery boy. Worked at the post office seemingly 24/7 and is always voted employee of the month. Has a smile that’s permanently painted on his face and is as kind as a saint. What’s not to love about him? Besides that fact that his eyes sparkle with the same elegance as polished amber. Or the fact that his skin is perfectly smooth. Or that he emits an aura of confidence and stability.

Not that you know, but you can feel it. You and Jimin exchanged few words on the occasions when you get to see him. Simple, “Hey! How are you?” ’s and “Long time no see!” ‘s. But each word that reaches your ears are pieces of gold to you. You and Jimin didn’t really know each other, but you’d like to say that if you waved to him out in town, he’d wave back.

Your friend, Namjoon, liked to call you a lovesick idiot. Whenever you gushed to him about how Jimin smiled at you, he’d shake his head and say, “You’re a hopeless romantic and it’s tiring to me,” And today was like no other.

“I’m telling you, Namjoon! He has the cutest smile,” You sighed, watching your best friend work on his current project, Yoongi’s car. “I know, you’ve told me several times before,” He groaned, lifting his head from the machinery under the hood and looking at you with an unimpressed look. Absentmindedly wiping off his oily hands on his black stained hand towel.

“Why don’t you just talk to the dude? You know several languages yet you can’t communicate to a boy who speaks your native language?” He pointed out, leaning his hip up against the black car. “I may be able to chew you out in French, but I don’t speak ‘extrovert’” You argued back, a sly smirk on your face.

Namjoon rolled his eyes with a small smile, “You’re impossible,” He chuckled, “But you really should talk to him. You never know~ He may think you’re cute too~” He teased, dodging the spare hand towel you threw at him. “Stop teasing!” You whined, “You know I can’t, I’ll make a fool of myself and end up confessing to him in Spanish or something,” You groaned, slumping in your seat.

Namjoon tilted his head in confusion, “How do you accidentally switch to a whole other language,” He asked. “Trust me... It’s happened before...” You cringed, shivering at the less-than flattering memory. “Well... Maybe you should express it non-verbally?” He suggested, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he went back to tampering with Yoongi’s car.

“I appreciate your advice, Joon, but I don’t think I can even work up the courage to confess, verbally or not.” You sighed, giving Namjoon a somber look to which he responded with a comforting smile. Namjoon went back to work and you checked the time on your phone. 2:22pm.

“Shoot, I gotta go,” You said, standing up and grabbing your bag. “Why? I thought you didn’t teach on Wednesdays?” Namjoon asked, still working on the car. “I don’t but, I’m expecting a package,” You smiled to yourself. “You memorized when Jimin comes to deliver your packages? That’s kinda creepy Y/n,” Namjoon insinuated, squinting his eyes at you.

You gasped, “Is not! I’ve just noticed that he always comes around 3pm... and I want to be there when my new keyboard comes.” You crossed your arms in defence. “Mhmm, go on then,” Namjoon chuckled, and you stomped your way out of his workshop back to your house.

You wait anxiously for a knock on your door. You sit on the couch, fiddling with the blanket that was draped over your lap. If you were being honest with yourself, you were more excited about seeing Jimin than getting your new peach-pink keyboard to complete your soft pastel desk setup.

You knew Namjoon was right about you being a lovesick idiot; you were in deep, and you haven’t even hung out with the man! You scoffed to yourself, shaking your head at the way his smile made your heart rate pick up and palms clammy. Maybe you could take Namjoon’s advice and invite him on a date. Not necessarily come completely clean and admit you were head over heels, but ease your way in instead.

Only problem is, you didn’t quite know how to do that...

The long awaited knock finally sounded through your tiny house, and you stood up quicker than you should as blood rushed to your head, making you feel dizzy. Shaking it off, you go over to your door, opening it to reveal the very man you’ve been wanting to see all day. “Hey! What’s up Y/n?” Jimin greeted you with a smile, a small brown package under his arm.

“Hi Jimin, I’m doing good... What about you?” You asked, leaning up against the doorway. “I’m good, it’s a nice day out today,” He sighed, handing the package out for you, “Here you go! Your weekly package,” He joked, making you give him a lovesick smile that made you look like the woozy emoji. “T-Thanks,” You chuckled nervously.

“No problem,” Jimin said. “Hey um Jimin...” You called before he could walk away. “Yes?” Jimin inquired, raising an eyebrow. Shoot, what do you say? You didn’t think this through you.. You can’t just invite him out like a normal human, what if he says no? “I um- What’s your... favorite food...?” You asked, cringing at how pathetically shy you sounded. Jimin’s eyebrows knit together in confusion and he chuckled. “I like strawberry Pocky’s a lot,” He stressed, licking his lips at the thought.

You nodded, writing that down in your head for later. Maybe you could do something with this. “Cool, cool. Well, um, have a nice day!” You said, walking back into your house, package in hand, leaving Jimin confused and amused. “What a girl...” He whispers to himself, smile, like always, never leaving his face.

You continue to buy little things online just as an excuse to talk to Jimin. Who needs a mini cactus? You, apparently. And that chick plush you saw on Instagram? Boom, it now lives on your bed. Whenever he comes around, you take the opportunity to ask him questions like what his favorite color was or if he was allergic to anything.

You were planning something for him, and he was catching on. Sure, your questions were usually unprompted, but he’d humor you any day of the week. He may not know exactly what you were planning, but all he hoped was that it would change his life forever. And it would.

You were almost done with Jimin’s mini basket of favorites. A blue basket that held his favorite snack foods, stickers from his favorite shows, and some of those chunky rings he likes. Sure, maybe it was a bit excessive. Maybe this was teetering the line of weird and sweet, and you knew that bribing your way into a relationship was definitely not the way to go. But you just wanted to be nice.

Maybe buying things for others was your love language, or maybe Jimin was just worth spoiling. It was probably both. Whatever the real answer was, it didn’t matter to you. You just wanted Jimin to be happy.

Even if meticulously fiddling with the basket made you want to pull your hair out as the bow never looked quite right. Realistically you know it wouldn’t matter in the end and that Jimin would likely take the bow off after he received it, but you still adjusted it until it was perfect.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, Joon,” You sighed as you heard Namjoon hysterically laughing on the other side of the phone. “You’re going to bribe him into going on a date with you?” He asked, out of breath. “No! I just want to be nice,” You bit back, rolling your eyes even if Namjoon couldn’t see you. “Wow, the irony of Jimin delivering the gifts that your going to end up giving back,” Namjoon chuckled, finally calming down.

“Look, I’m just trying to follow your advice,” You whined, finally giving up on the navy blue bow and leaving it be. “True, I was thinking about a banner or something though. Like a cheesy promposal,” Namjoon said, and you could hear the undertones in his words. What he really wanted to say was, “How dramatic could you be? This is too much honey,”

Groaning, you flopped down on your couch, mumbling into the cushions. “I think I’m going to give it to him today, I have another mini cactus coming today,” You said, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness swirl in your stomach at the thought of finally asking the man you’ve been pining over out on a date. “That’s great! He’ll definitely say yes,” Namjoon said excitedly, trying to keep your fragile spirits intact. Knowing that if anything goes wrong, you’ll chicken out immediately.

“Yeah, I can do this,” You smiled, looking at the clock on your oven. “It’s 2:30, I have to go prepare. I’ll call you after!” You said, exchanging your goodbyes with Namjoon and hanging up the phone to go clean yourself up a little bit.

You weren’t terribly worried about your appearance. Jimin had seen you in coffee stained sweats and hoodies. There wasn’t anything worse than that. So you opted for a simple t-shirt and legging combo, washing your face and touching up your hair a bit. “Now to wait,” You whispered to yourself as you sat on the couch with the basket in your lap.

While you waited on the couch for Jimin to arrive, you looked at the mini cactus that sat on your coffee table and chuckled. Usually you bought things that may seem random to an outside person. A mouse that looks like a cat's paw, a throw pillow that doubles as a blanket, random earrings. But never a mini cactus.

After you asked all the questions you could think of and bought everything that you thought Jimin would like, you didn’t have an excuse to keep seeing Jimin. So, like a normal person, you bought little knickknacks. Hence the mini cactus and it’s new friend that’s on the way today.

Knock knock knock

“Well, your new buddy’s here lil’ cactus dude,”

Taking a deep breath, you stood up and walked over to the door, hiding the basket behind your back. “Hello, Y/n,” Jimin smiled as you opened the door for him. “Hey,” You smiled back, tightening your grip on the basket behind you. “Here you go, another odd stationary?” Jimin guessed as he held out the package for you and you took it with one hand, placing it down behind the door.

“I guess you could say that,” You chuckled, nervously shifting on your feet. “Speaking of... I have something for you,” You mumbled, but loud enough for Jimin to hear. “Is it another impromptu question? You haven’t asked one in awhile,” He chuckled, his cute eyes upturning into crescents.

“Close your eyes to find out,” You said.

“Close my eyes? Is this the part where you murder me?” Jimin teased, causing you to playfully roll your eyes.

“No... just close them,” You whined.

“Alright, I’ll close them,” Jimin relented, closing his eyes at your request. Taking another shaky deep breath, you took the basket out from behind your back and held it in front of you. “Open...” You whispered.

Once Jimin opened his eyes, he let out a cute gasp, eyes lighting up at the sign of the gift. “W-What’s this?” He asked, looking up at you with a huge smile on his face. “It’s um, all your favorites. Jimin’s basket of favorites,” You declared, holding the basket out for Jimin to take, which he happily did. “Y/n, this is amazing. What’s the special occasion?” He asked, looking down at the assorted gifts and snacks.

“You’re always making me smile, so I wanted to return the favor,” You shrugged in an attempt to look casual about it. “Really? I make you smile?” Jimin smirked, making your cheeks heat up. “Y-Yeah you do...” You admitted, kicking at the rocks on your porch. “You’re such a sweet girl, Y/n, cute too,” Jimin whispered to you, causing your breath to hitch.

“C-Cute?”

“Yep, you’re a cutie,” Jimin said, booping your nose.

“Would you um... Let this cutie ask you out to lunch?” You asked.

“Most definitely,”

“Park Jimin, do you want to grab lunch sometime?”

“It’s a date, cutie,”

#jimin #park jimin #jimin x reader #bts jimin #bts oneshot #bts #jimin fic

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spiltscribbles · 4 years ago

Text

The One With The Princess Leia Bikini

~Notes: This gets sorta smutty.... :S

Send Me A Friends Episode/Storyline? | Rebogs Ar Love, Reblog Are Life!

Sirius tosses a glare at an indignant James sitting across the counter from him, affronted on everything he has ever stood for.

“Brooklyn Nine Nine is way better than some stupid, ruddy drama about doctors.”

“Take that back you prick!”

“’S true!”

”Gray’s Anatomy paints the manic highs and lows of their jobs with dignity and realism.” James argues with an imperious tilt of his head. “The storylines don’t even compare!”

“There was a bomb at their wedding!”

“There was a bomb lodged in someone’s arsehole!”

Sirius opens his mouth to retort, but stutters on his words when one of their ducks steps out of his room, spitting up something green before he begins to peck at the sofa cushion.

“Good morning Pronsie,” James crows, walking over to cradle him into his arms and kisses the top of his head.

“Mate, you have to stop feeding him the peanut butter, ’s making them crazed,” Sirius tells him sagely before taking a spoonful out of the jar for himself.

“They’re just demanding,” James sniffs, perking up once Lily walks into their apartment. “You agree, love, don’t you?”

“What?” She asks, single brow kinked as she grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, still dressed in her athletic wear from her run. “That your ducks are demonic.”

“See!” Sirius shouts.

“They’re just a wee bit ill, poor things,” James says with a cluck of his tongue, gingerly petting Prongs’s feathers and wandering over to Lily for a quick peck to her sweaty forehead.

“Ill in the heads,” Sirius retorts lowly, grabbing for his discarded Guinness.

James casts him a heated glower, never halting his gentle caresses to Prongs’s feathered back. “Maybe I should call Mum, she’d know how to help.”

“Oi, right, because your veterinarian mother has nothing better to do.”

“She likes the marauders wanker!”

“Okay, did not come here to interrupt one of your lover’s quarrels,” Lily sighs, forever suffering, as she loosens and regathers her hair anxiously, tying the red main into a messy topknot.

“Rude,” Sirius and James chorus with the same peeved inflection.

“I’m exhausted you berks! Dorcas has been staying at our place ever since Marlene went on that tour around the continent to find new athletes for the firm to sign.”

“Oof, is it nasty?” James asks, gently placing Prongs the duck to the ground and straightening back up.

“She’s in a real strop over it, yeah. Re’s with her now.”

“Lils, you underestimate Cas,,” Sirius snorts, bending down and giving into Prongs’s silent plea for a snack, holding out a chunk of peanut butter for him to nibble at. “She’s not gonna let something so temporary fuck her up. They’ve been going out for over a year now.” Sirius studiously ignores the little nagging voice in his own head— one that frighteningly sounds like Mrs Potter of all people— Tooting at him that he’d certainly not be this nonchalant if Remus had to go on some research sabbatical in Rome or Athens for half as long as Marlene’s three month stint.

“You are so full of it Black,” Lily sneers, and he really wouldn’t be surprised if she’s somehow secretly found out how to read minds on her downtime from the restaurant.

“Dorcas is a diamond,” James says cheerfully. “I’m sure she’ll be right as rain soon enough.” As if right on queue they hear a booming crash coming from across the hall in Lily and Remus’s apartment. “Or erm— Maybe she won’t?”

"Prats,” Lily mutters lowly before pivoting on her heels leading the way for the three sum to frantically scramble and follow suit.

Sirius is all levels of confused once they walk in only to findDorcas starfished flat on the ground with her curls still soaked from what must’ve been a shower and grasping tight to a pink hairbrush. Remus’s standing over her with his hands on his hips, and lips pinched ever so slightly, the face he gets when he’s trying to figure out how to solve a particularly difficult dilemma. And it might be smarmy of him, but Sirius can’t help feeling a little parched when he sees the way Remus’s drenched T-shirt clings to his perfect form— near see-through.

“Is everything okay?” Lily asks as she steps closer, frowning bewilderedly.

“We just had a bit of an incident when Dorcas saw a clunk of blonde hair in the brush that Marlene shares with her.”Remus explains, excepting the kiss Sirius offers him in hello. “And well, ahem then she found a garment that Marlene had left behind… And well things escalated.”

“I’m going to be alone for forever,” Dorcas moans, making his point for him.

“I love it when you’re the dramatic one, Cas,” Sirius crows, narrowly dodging the aforementioned brush that Dorcas launches at his head. “Nice aim!”

“Leave me so I can whither away!”

“Nonsense, love, you two will be fine.” James interjects good naturedly.

“Let’s get some frozen yogurt, yeah? Get your mind off of everything,” Lily suggests lightly, helping pull her up by the hands with Remus, Sirius’s own never leaving Remus’s back pocket.

“Can we go to the place with the jellybean toppings,” Dorcas asks with a pout, head resting on Lily’s shoulder— dark tresses falling into strawberry blonde.

“Course, sweetheart,” she assures with a glowing smile.

Breathing in deep, Dorcas nods slowly, stretching her neck just slightly so to kiss Remus’s cheek in thanks before she lets Lily cart her off into her room to get changed.

“I better put the marauders into their crate if we’re going to be out long,” James announces, effectively leaving Remus and Sirius finally, blissfully, alone.

“Is this the part where I tell you that I thought you only get wet when I’m around?” Sirius asks cheekily, rounding on his boyfriend with a smirk already painted over his face.

“You can,” Remus relents with a one armed shrug. “But only if you want to not speak with me for the rest of the day.”

Sirius lets out an endeared huff, head shaking slightly before he dips down to greet him properly. “Morning gorgeous,” he beams, cupping his hands around Remus’s face before kissing him nice and thorough.

“I missed you last night,” Remus says, foreheads pressed up against each other as his hands wander up and down Sirius’s back muscles appreciatively, landing on his forearms with a small squeeze.

“I had to concentrate on that proposal for the new tube stop that Moody wanted by today.” Sirius tips back his head, toes curling ever so slightly at the way Remus is mouthing along the column of his neck, nipping at the hinge of Sirius’s jaw with particular focus. “And believe it or not Messr Lupin, but you prove a formidable distraction."

“Is that right?” Remus smiles against his skin, pressing him even closer. “And did you finish all that paperwork, architect Black?”

“Hmm, you’re getting off on this shit, aren’t you?” Sirius can’t help but laugh, especially when Remus pulls back, blinking up owlishly at him. “Oh don’t give me the innocent act, gorgeous. I’ve been able to see through that since the first night we met.”

Remus’s face turns a fetching pink, snickering slightly as he presses back up against him. “Can’t. Help. It.” Remus says between another round of peppered kisses on the lobe of Sirius’s ear, the hallow of his cheek and corner of his mouth too. “You’re brilliant.”

“You’re touched in the head, just a ball of hornyness.” Sirius accuses, tugs him close once more and slants their lips together while one hand slings around Remus’s narrow waste and the other begins to knead into his ass muscle. “Shall we take this back to your room? Do this properly without any clothing?”

Remus flushes, fingers toying with the collar of Sirius’s shirt as he swallows down, hard.”Could you— Erm, could you maybe wear those glasses you use sometimes for when you’re reading those long contracts?”

Absolutely preening,, Sirius cards a hand through Remus’s caramel curls, scraping his nails gently against his scalp. “And the professorial kink makes another appearance in the bed ladies and gents.” He announces to the empty room, as if he’s a twentieth century gameshow host.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a kink, per se.” Remus argues haughtily, cheeks infused red, and teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

“‘S okay gorgeous, I think your swottyness is rather cute.” Sirius goads, pecks Remus’s mouth lightly before dragging him off to his room to finally get at some bare skin.

“It’s not because I’m a swot that I like seeing you like that,” Remus harrumphs, watching as Sirius sheds off his top before sitting leisurely on the bed, feeling bloody incandescent when Remus mounts his lap, nuzzling his nose against Sirius’s neck with his arms resting against his broad shoulders.

“I’d wager you have dirty librarian fantasies too,” Sirius laughs through the kisses, thrusting upwards so that Remus’s bum bounces slightly against his hardness, fucking miraculous.

“Hah— Hmm,” Remus breathes a bit more laboredly as he settles back down. “And what if I do,” he asks primly, unwittingly making it so a thrill runs down Sirius’s spine with the thought of his boyfriend— the bloke who is most certainly the love of his god forsaken life— picturing the different ways he wants Sirius— above him and under him, all around him and deep inside of him. And Christ, what a beautiful thought.

“’S not a problem with me goldilocks,” Sirius tells him with a slight catch to his voice, not having expected that the idea would effect him so thoroughly. “Tell me do you like me stern? Maybe you turned in some late books and I had to teach you a lesson.”

“If I’m being honest, love, you don’t talk much in the fantasy,” Remus laughs when Sirius bolts upwards, flipping him so that he’s beneath Sirius and his hair is fanned on the pillow like a gilded halo.

“Fucking lies,” Sirius slips a hand through the hem of Remus’s sweats, unsurprised to find that he’s not wearing any boxer briefs, knowing full and well how Remus prefers to sleep in the nude.” “You love it when I’m waxing poetic about you, and when I’m harsh at you. When I tell you about how your mouth is meant to suck my cock, how I want to put you over my lap and spank that perfect little arse of yours.” Sirius wraps his hand around Remus’s length, twisting it slightly before starting to pump, absolutely beaming at how he’s already begun to get Remus to get that oh so beautiful glazed look over his eyes, turning him undone with a few strategic touches and perfectly crafted, perfectly illicit mutterings. “When I call you gorgeous and a filthy little slag and when I fuck into you even after you’re already spent.”

Remus’s hips rock up, eyes squint shut when Sirius uses his free hand to thumb at one of his delightfully pink nipples and pinches it for good measure while he quickens the pace of his hand sliding up and down Remus’s shaft. “Tell me how much you crave that, love. How much you love being good for me, how much you love it when I show you how.”

“Sirius— Hold on,” Remus begs, voice coming out in an almost whine— haggard and breathy and high pitched— while both his hands knot into Sirius’s dark hair, quaking so hard that Sirius knows he’s got him on the edge.

Tenderly, he dips down his head, lips pressed against Remus’s ear and hot tendrils of breath skirting against his skin. Shh, ‘s fine, baby,” he promises him, stroking him through the climax. “’S okay, just let me take care of you, yeah?”

“Oh God! Fuck! Fuck— Sirius!” Remus chokes out, hips thrusting rapidly as he chases that relief and slumping back once his orgasm quite literally pulses out, coating Sirius’s hand and abs and some on Remus’s jumper too.

“You really are gorgeous,” Sirius tells him with a smile, gingerly kissing the lids of his still shut eyes before grappling for the little baggie of wet wipes they’ve begun keeping in Remus’s night stand drawer for moments like these.

“I hate how you could do that to me,” Remus tells him with heavy breaths as Sirius cleans up, taps his side lightly so Remus rises up his hips and Sirius tosses his pants to the corner, followed by Remus’s now spoiled jumper. He really couldn’t wait to get his hands off of him after a day apart.

“Oi! ‘S not my fault that the thought of me as some stodgy librarian is what gets you going, Moonbeam.” Sirius rebukes, pulls up the comforter so that it pools around their hips, while he lies back leisurely with Remus’s head propped up on his chest.

“We’re breaking up,” Remus tells him flatly, tracing small circles against Sirius’s tanned skin, interrupted by intermittent pecks.

“Cruel,” Sirius pouts, still carding a hair through Remus’s mussed curls, can’t imagine ever living without this, not after so many years of never ending yearning and countless almosts and taking one step forwards before being pushed two back so many times that it made them bloody barmy.

But they’re here now. Sirius has Remus in ways he never thought he’d ever want to claim a person— and lets himself be claimed in the same ways right back. Sirius knows Remus and all of Remus’s little quirks— loves him all the more for it. He knows the way Remus likes his tea when he wakes up at three in the morning and can’t go back to bed, how it’s different from the tea he prefers to drink in the afternoons. Knows the way Remus licks the lip of the mug before every sip. Sirius knows Remus’s favorite book for each of his various moods, and knows that on those quiet days— the ones when Remus doesn’t like talking much at all— that Remus only needs time, needs to know that Sirius’ll be there when he wakes up the next morning with sunlit smiles and kisses that taste like violet skies and cinnamon scones and promises meant to be kept.

And of course Sirius will be there, of course he’d have Remus in any and all ways that he’d let him— He knows it in his bones that Remus feels that same crippling sort of devotion for him right back, knows that it’s a once in a life time sort of ordeal. He knows that he’s grateful for every breath they share with one another.

“”A man could take only so much smugness from his boyfriend,” Remus tells Sirius petulantly, the words belied by how he tenderly kisses his chest.

“No but Remus, darling, tel me. Who makes more of an appearance in the sexy thought time? Librarian me or the image of me in the rugby kit.”

Remus moves to flip him the bird while he nips at the patch of skin he was just lapping at with quiet reverence.

“Ouch!”

“I hate that I told you that.” Remus fumes, actually embarrassed looking as he pulls away from him.

Sirius is frantic when he circles his arms around Remus’s torso and brings his body back to lie over his own. “Nah, no, gorgeous, I like it. Gets me going. The idea that you’re so lost on me that you picture me in those different outfits.” Sirius tells him, pressing a kiss of apology to the temple of his head.

“’S not weird Sirius!”

“Course it’s not baby,” Sirius soothes, hand caressing his side meaningfully.

“You’re bloody fit— you know that! ’s totally normal that I’d wanna wank off to my beautiful damn boyfriend.”

“Completely, no one’s arguing against you, baby.”

“Hmm,” Remus huffs before springing up suddenly, pinning Sirius with a suspicious glower. “So what, you don’t ever picture me like that? In your favorite sorts of fantasies.”

Sirius throws back his head, laughing at how distressed he looks. God he’s in love with such a bellend. “Cor! Remus, me calling you Prince Ponce all those years before we finally just shagged wasn’t simply because you had a royal scepter up your arse that I wanted to replace with my prii—“ Remus shoves Sirius hard enough so he won’t finish that line, and honestly? Valid.

“So what? That’s all?” Remus fumes, settling away from him once more. “You’ve only ever imagined me as some sorta golden boy you wanted to get your grubby hands on?”

“Course not, love, there’s like hundreds I think of.”

“Like what?” Remus needles, and Sirius feels his cheeks burn scarlet as he has to avert his gaze, knowing precisely what his top fantasy is and too nervous to actually say it out loud.

“Oh c’mon Sirius,” Remus sighs, obviously having read the doubt blotched all over his face. “I’ve seen you piss while eating an ice cream cone in a public beach, and that was before we began even dating.”

“’S not my fault that Marlene got stung by that bloody jellyfish!”

“We’ve crossed the possibility of being embarrassed in front of the other long ago,” Remus continues as if Sirius hadn’t interrupted.

“Ugh fine,” Sirius grouses, tossing himself back on the mattress. “But you swear not to poke fun?”

“You have my word,” Remus says evenly, and gestures at him to continue.

“Okay— Well you don’t know this because we met so much later. But when Jem and I were younger— back in secondary school, maybe.” He coughs only slightly, gaze razor focussed on where he’s tugging on a stray strand of string hanging off the comforter, feeling suddenly very hot under Remus’s appraising gaze. “We, erm. Ahem. We were really bloody bored this one weekend so we watched the Star Wards prequels, you know. Just because everyone’s seen them and all.”

“Mmm, right. I don’t know where you’re going with this though.”

“I’m getting there tosser,” Sirius harrumphs, still doesn’t meet his hazel eyes, even if he’s a bit brassed off.

“All right, well don’t let me stop you.”

“Right, well— Hah. You know the Empire Strikes Back,” Sirius asks tentatively.

“Course I do,” Remus nods, faltering just slightly once he pieces it together. “Oh.”

“’S just a thing I’ve thought about since I was like thirteen—“ Sirius explains lamely.

“And you’d— You’d like to see me in that get up?” Remus asks, voice betraying his inhibition.

Sirius has a mild heart attack thinking of Remus— his Remus— in that golden bikini and doing it just for Sirius and Jesus fuck he can’t even breathe. “Yeah— Yes, ahem, I would really like that.”

“All right,” Remus says with a nod and Sirius’s not really sure what he means by that. Whether it’s a thank you for sharing or a you have my permission to think of it or what, but he doesn’t get the opportunity to ask when there’s the sound of something else crashing in the background followed by the muffled curse of a voice that is so painfully Peter that it hurts.

“Right, well let’s see if he’s broken anything, shall we?”

A week goes by.

Sirius never really thinks of the conversation they had, supposes it was merely a passing fancy for Remus to be validated that Sirius has those same heated thoughts about him. (Which of fucking course he does. Remus’s the epitome of what it means to be beautiful. A God damn angel— Of bloody course Sirius is completely lost on him. But hey, it might’ve been just one of those insecurities of his, a hurtle that needed to be past over for them to proceed in their relationship. So yeah, whatever.) Sirius doesn’t think of it again.

Though the refrain from that is thrown out the God forsaken window on a typical Wednesday morning in the office, when Sirius gets the Snapchat notification that quite literally turns his brain into a stew of slush.

There’s a meeting with Benedict Carro who’s asked the firm to build his newest golf club in Devon, and Sirius is just collecting some of the charts and preliminary sketches from his desk for the impending meeting with the old git. So he really doesn’t think much of it when he sees his phone light up with a message from Remus, is expecting it to be a picture of his adorably scrunched up face or of a new addition to his ridiculous collection of candles, or maybe even of the ducks wandering across the hall like they’re occasionally want to do.

What Sirius most certainly does not expect to see is a fucking photograph of two distinct costumes lying on his bed, and the line “Look what came today,” written on the black bar.

“Mother of God,” Sirius thinks that he might be in the midst of an actual fucking seizure, feels his heart palpitating irregularly and his breaths catching and his insides fucking imploding all at once.

He can’t believe that this is a thing that is happening. That Remus went out and bought them just to surprise Sirius with and now he’s teasing him mercilessly because Sirius’s in love with a wicked fucking mastermind. And just, holy fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

“Mr Black, Mr Carro and his associates are here,” Sirius’s newest assistant— Benjy Fenwick, says in a tone that makes it obvious that he’s been trying to get Sirius’s attention for quite a while now and is about fed up. Sirius is really tempted to flip his phone around and show him a photograph of how insanely sexy Remus is, then he’ll surely understand the reason why Sirius’s been dissolved into a puddle of pure longing for the day to be over. But he ultimately reasons that wouldn’t be exactly appropriate, technically being Benjy’s boss and all, even though they’re nearly the same age.

But yeah— not a good look.

So he hurriedly texts back that Remus is the absolute devil incarnate before shutting off his phone and following Benjy into one of the meeting rooms in the back— trying to muster an air of nonchalance even if the image of Remus in that God damn Princess Leia bikini, is permanently scorched into his every thought.

“Sirius spent the rest of that afternoon sending admittedly explicit texts to Remus about all the things he wants to do to him that night, and practically sores back to their building when he leaves work.

Thankfully Remus had taken care of getting the place to their selves that night, so all Sirius has to do now is jump around from foot to foot in his room, beyond jittery in anticipation of Remus finally coming out the closet dressed in Sirius’s greatest fantasy of all time.

“Is the music absolutely necessary?” Remus calls out through the closed door.

“Yes,” Sirius says in a tone that’s about two octaves higher than his usual speaking voice, so beyond flustered. “’S for the ambiance Lupin!”

“Oy, if I had known this was such a thing for you, I would’ve done it earlier,” Remus snorts, walking out in a white bathrobe that gives nothing away as he eyes Sirius in the Han Solo outfit he got— complete with a fake blaster pistol and its holster. “You look so cute.”

“You’re a God,” Sirius tells him in aw, reaching a gentle hand over to run through his dark, tawny curls.

Remus rolls his eyes, but Sirius catches the smirk he’s wrestling down on his lips. “I love you.”

“I know,” Sirius breathes, padding up closer to him and kissing Remus slow and thorough, a tender hand caressing his cheek.

“God save the queen, that reference actually did something for me,” Remus chuckles, but Sirius can’t respond, has permanently lost all ability to function or piece together words once he spots how Remus loosens the knot on his robe and slinks it off to reveal miles and miles of bare skin, only slightly concealed by the golden bikini of his fantasies, even complete with purple little frills that dangle off the hips.

Sirius realizes that he must’ve been gaping by the way Remus waves a hand in front of his face, “Earth to Sirius? Is this not how you pictured it? Did I get the wrong model or—“ Sirius shuts him up with a heated and desperate kiss that leaves them both breathless by the time they separate.

“Remus, please, for the love of God, get on that bed and wait for me to decide what I want to do with you."

With a small grin turning up the corner of his lips, Remus nods eagerly, perching up on the edge of Sirius’s bed and blinking up at him— practically imploring for Sirius to finally just have his wicked way with him already.

Sirius mildly thinks that he doesn’t deserve such a gift, but gets distracted when Remus separates his legs a little further and he can spot the way his dick is poking out the metallic colored panties, throbbing with anticipation.

“Budge up, I want your back against the headboard,” Sirius demands lowly, and Remus is quick to comply.

On his knees, Sirius shuffles up close enough to clamp his hands on Remus’s inner thighs, pulls them further apart as he smacks a hard kiss to Remus’s mouth, slowly moving to nose at the edge of his cheek and ear as he tells him in a very quiet, very deliberate tone to keep his hands above his head. “You’re a good boy, baby, so I won’t tie them, but you’re gonna keep them up there and you’re not gonna move them, okay?”

Remus, already completely flushed, nods vigorously. He prefers staying quiet when they get like this— Sirius would ordinarily prod at him a little to get some words out, but he’s far too distracted right now.

He kisses across Remus’s protruding collarbone, thinks of how swan like and gentle his features are. How Remus’s a work of art and how he wants Sirius more than breathing, how that’s splayed all over his face, especially now. And God, how heady of a thrill.

Sirius kisses down the line of his chest and stomach muscles with slow precision, nuzzles against the material of the bikini before he nearly breaks the left strap trying to get at Remus’s left nipple, teeth grinding and playing with the ball— biting a little harder when Remus whimpers, trying to cant his hips upwards.

Sirius pulls back, pinching his side lightly. “Stay still,” he reproves, excepts it wen Remus quietly apologizes, ducking his head down to the other nipple now, his hands tenderly petting against Remus’s sides as he sucks on it with the same ferocity.

“Sir—Sirius, please,” Remus begs from above him, head tossed back to show off the long trail of his beautiful neck.

“You’ve been teasing me all day, baby,” Sirius tells him in a voice that’s barely above a whisper, beginning to mouth against the light feathering of pale hair that runs down Remus’s torso, leading to his dick.

“I’m sorry,” Remus tells him, bottom lip worried between his teeth.

“Shh, it’s ok, I got you,” Sirius kisses the point right beneath his naval, and he ducks down to what he was trying to get at in the first place

“Turn around,” he tells him, words clipped. “ON all fours.”

Remus looks relieved to finally be able and do something as he tells him “Yes,” and flips over, already rigid with anticipation.

“You’re so good for me, baby,” Sirius tells him, places a hand on the small of Remus’s back for leverage as he kisses the smattering of freckles that dance over Remus’s thighs. God he has such amazing thighs, strong and elegant and Sirius’s favorite thing is when he gets to kiss them like this, to nip at them and hear the little, abrupt inhale that Remus sucks in at the touch. “Stay good for me, okay,” Sirius tells him as he takes his hands and he spreads open Remus’s asscheeks, revealing the little, dark hole Sirius has spent many a night moaning exaltations towards.

Softly, and with hot breaths Sirius pulls to the side the weak material of the thong, peppers kisses all around Remus’s ass before dipping down deeper and lapping a tongue against the tiny, fluttering ring of wrinkled skin.

“Sirius, please,” Remus moans pushing closer to the hot sensation.

“I got you, sweetheart,” Sirius tells him, lips pressed against him as Sirius kisses the entrance adoringly—tongue plunging inside deeper, harder, slower. And he loves this, the sensation of it, of Remus coming undone in his very hands.

Sirius is about to wrap a hand around the length of him, to stroke in tandem with his worshiping with his mouth, but suddenly there little moment of bliss is cut by the sound of insistent and boisterous knocking.

“Ignore it,”

“It could be important,” Remus argues weakly, obviously all levels of regretful as he peers over his shoulder.

“Fuck it, who cares, ’s my flat and they can sod off!”

Remus presses his lips together, looking like he might agree, but then comes a new round of rapping, and Sirius sees the resolve in his face.

“Oh bloody hell! Fine!” Sirius fumes, scrambling up. “But if it’s someone trying to sell me shit, I’ve got the legal obligation to punch them in the face!”

“Of course darling,” Remus smiles at him, and it’s the only thing that gives Sirius enough strength to swagger towards the front and open the door without already being in mid shout. Though, what he doesn’t expect to happen is to find his adoptive mother of all fucking people on the other side.

“Mum?”

“Sirius? Love?” Dr Potter greets, eyeing him worriedly with a tsk, bringing a small, brown hand to his forehead as if to take his temperature and making it so Sirius flinches back. “Why do you look all red, and honey it’s not October yet, what’s with the outfit?”

“Mum!, why are you here!” Sirius asks instead, avoiding the question all together, voice completely strangled.

“Oh, well James called me to check up on the ducks this Friday, but I was in town with an old girlfriend, so I reckoned I’d just pop over, see if you guys needed anything for me to bring you.” She explains blithely, still looking up at him with concern. “Your taking care of yourself, aren’t you dearest? You’re not working too hard?”

Sirius panics, tries to think of a perfectly plausible excuse besides the obvious— So but of course that’s right when Remus decides to shout from the bed. “Sirius who’s at the door?” And no! Jesus no!

“Remus? Lovey?” his mum calls back.

“Oh— Erm. Dr Potter.” Remus has stepped out of his room now, mercifully already back in his robe. “I didn’t know we were expecting you,” he says with a pale color tinting his pillar, like he’s about to be sick.

Okay, yup, Sirius’s erection has died forever now after hearing Remus speaking to Sirius’s bloody mother dressed like that.

Fuck his life.

“Are you boys okay? Did I— Did I interrupt something?”

“Mum! James is just out to dinner with Lily! We’re fine, honest! And erm, we can’t wait to see you Friday night!”

“Oh dearest, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you guys— ah dressed up—“ Dr Potter flushes, but there is definite amusement glittering in her eyes, and that’s right when Sirius slams his hand against his face and retreats back to the bedroom, barely hearing it when she bids farewell to Remus and tells Sirius to call her tomorrow.

“I reckon we won’t be continuing?” Remus asks, a total giggle to his words. Holy fucking shite! Everyone in his life are such pricks!

“I’m jumping off the balcony!” Sirius screams back in response, plunging his head into the pillows and contemplating everything that’s brought him to this point.

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist~

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #Marauders #harry potter series #spilt ink #this is trash tbh #plz clown me #I also edited it from an old Firstprince one shot but I'm not writing Friends AU for them anymore #or like never really started lol #so I fixed it #for My OTP #FIC: Friends AU

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steppedoffaflight · 4 years ago

Text

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 2

Catch up on Chapter 1 here

You don’t respond, silence in the air as you both catch your breath.

“I’ve got no use for sex that sounds straight out of a porno.” Van lifts his head, and you flinch at the intensity in his eyes. “I’d rather it be fucking real. No bullshit. If you’re having a good time, sure, say it. But if you’re not, say that too.”

Almost three months later, Van McCann is back in L.A. and ready to take you up on that dinner date

Word count: ~15k

Chapter Two

April 2019

By the time you’ve pulled into the Whole Foods parking lot, having squeezed through afternoon traffic, you’re at your wits end. Work had consisted of eight tedious hours fixing someone else’s mistakes instead of working on your own projects, and you’re already dreading the hit your paycheck is about to take from this grocery shopping.

Your phone buzzes on the passenger seat next to you, no doubt Mary offering up some positivity in response to the giant work rant you’d just texted her. You already roll your eyes before you’ve picked up the phone and pressed your fingerprint to the sensor.

Hey. It’s Van x The gray bubble on your screen catches you off guard. You’d saved Van’s number months ago, his contact info at the top of the conversation reading “Van San Diego”. Thinking about how long ago your trip feels makes the whole thing seem even more surreal.

You gape at your screen for way too long, heart pounding, before you respond with a Hi!

After you’ve hit send, you panic over responding too fast. You let the car continue to run for the sake of air conditioning and you don’t let your screen lock, waiting anxiously for Van’s next message. When one doesn’t come after ten minutes you resign to cutting the ignition, finally facing the fact you’ve got shopping to do.

You can’t stop checking your phone as you roll your cart through the aisles, careful not to let your eyes wander to any items that aren’t on your list. You’re carefully examining the label on an overpriced pasta sauce when you hear the buzz of your phone against the cart. You almost drop the jar in your hand.

I know it’s been a while but I’m finally back in la. Still up for that dinner?

As you’re reading the indication that he’s typing starts, sending a shot of adrenaline through you.

No worries if not just let me know x

You screenshot his messages immediately and forward them to Mary for her opinion. Predictably, she hadn’t responded to your rant, but sends an OMG the second you show her the screenshot.

Have you messaged him back ?! she sends in response to your I knowww!!!

Nooo I don’t wanna look too eager you tap excitedly to her. You’re jolted back to reality when another cart suddenly bumps into yours.

“Sorry,” You apologize, quickly steering your cart away. You say it purely for the sake of politeness, even though you’re almost positive you weren’t in the way and the person could have rolled by without jostling all your things. All of your mundane worries are pushed to the back of your mind. You’re finally getting that promised dinner date with Van!

The rest of your shopping trip is as chaotic as your brain feels. Between lightning-fast exchanges with Mary about what you’ll say and when you’ll say it you haphazardly scrap together the rest of your list. You’re sure you’re forgetting something as you send it down the conveyor belt to the cashier, but you’re too frazzled to care. The only thing that matters at this point is getting home, cracking open the bottle of wine you’d purchased (on impulse, unfortunately) and accepting Van’s invitation.

And you do just that. Upon getting home you only put away your fresh items, leaving the rest to sit on the floor in their bags. It’s not the best practice, but it’s necessary after the day you’ve had. You pour a generous amount of wine into a regular glass, not caring enough to fish out a wine glass, and change out of your work wardrobe and into your most worn-in sweats. Only after you’ve plopped down onto the couch and taken a swallow of wine to calm your nerves do you allow yourself to respond: We could totally do dinner! When?

You feel slightly remorseful for leaving Van without a response for almost two hours. You chew the inside of your cheek as you berate yourself for it.

What works best for you? I’m here for the next two weeks and free most nights

You consider his response. Most of the time it feels like you’re the only person in L.A. that’s free most nights. Is he not the partying type? He seems like he would be, considering the way he went straight to the bar after his show in January.

Does tomorrow work? You send. It feels a bit off to schedule something so soon, but tomorrow’s Friday, and you wouldn’t have to worry about staying out late considering you’ve got no work Saturday. Plus, the longer you wait the more likely things are to be packed into Van’s schedule. And, you remind yourself, this dinner is more than two months in the making.

Another text from Van interrupts the churning thoughts in your head. Tomorrow’s ace, he says first, and then another message: I’ll pick you up followed by a third: What time?

You exchange a few more messages, setting up a time and making sure he has your address. Once the logistics are worked out, Van sends Look forward to it x and that feels like a good note to end the conversation on. You melt into your couch cushions and down the rest of your wine with a sigh.

If yesterday felt like a long workday, then today feels like it’s lasting an eternity.

You try to burn though time texting Mary, attempting to cut down on your getting ready time by verbally planning your outfit in advance. Still, the minutes seem to tick by at a snail’s pace. You try to get some work done and catch yourself repeatedly screwing up your spreadsheet with typos. Even triple-checking everything you enter doesn’t seem to eat up any time. You visit the water cooler too much, and pee repeatedly as a result. Eventually, somehow, you make it to 5, slinging your bag over your shoulder and murmuring quick goodbyes as you dash out of the office.

When you get home you’re laser focused. You tackle showering first, the task made longer with all of the shaving that needed to be done, followed by the slippery process of moisturizing every inch of your skin. It takes up more time than you’d like, but in San Diego you’d been completely unprepared for a hookup. This time you wanted to be ready.

Van sends a heading over text just as you’d finished blow drying and styling your hair. You get dressed, then, layering the outfit you and Mary had agreed on over a matching black lace bra and panty set. They were at the bottom of your underwear drawer, crumpled and forgotten, tags still intact. As you clip away the tags you hope out loud to yourself in the kitchen that they still fit, and sigh in relief when you’re able to shimmy the set on.

Maybe it’s the traffic, or maybe Van lied about when he was leaving, but by the time he texts that he’s arrived you’re waiting for him on the couch, having managed to get your makeup routine done just in time. The house is in complete disarray from your rush, and you cringe to yourself as you get a look at the tornado you’ve caused before you shut the door, locking it securely, and turning to seek out Van’s car.

There’s a black Range Rover pulled up on the street, the only car on the block running right now. You can see the dim blue light of Van’s phone screen through the tint of the windows, and as you approach you can see his silhouette.

He looks up when you tug open the car door, sliding into the front passenger seat.

You’re pleased when his face lights up. A part of you had almost been expecting that he’d rethink his attraction to you now that there was no post-show adrenaline or late night beers to cloud his judgement.

“Hello,” He laughs, “Long time no see!”

He’s just as charismatic as you remember him, your nerves easing as you make yourself comfortable. The crisp lace underneath your clothes is stiff and itchy, and you wiggle around as discretely as possible.

“Hey,” You greet him. “It feels like it’s been forever.”

Van nods, kicking the car into gear. “You’re telling me. Been a busy couple months.”

You hum in sympathy even if you can’t relate. Your busiest times of the year were summer- when most of your coworkers went on extended vacations and you were responsible for making up their work- and the holidays, when you had to coordinate trips home to see your family.

“You look amazing, by the way,” Van says, managing a quick glance over at you with a smile.

“Aw, thanks,” You murmur, chronically awkward at receiving compliments. “You look great, too.”

“Ah, stop. Makin’ me blush, love,” he jokes, and you can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm. It’s strange how familiar he feels, the result of just one night.

“So.” You peer out of the windows, looking for any hint of where you were headed. “What do you have planned?”

“Got a reservation for eight at this really nice place, dunno if you’ve ever heard of it.” Van stumbles over some sort of French pronunciation. “We’ve had a couple of dinners there with label people and it’s always class.”

“Sounds lovely,” You tell him. You’ve never heard of the place, but then again your Los Angeles friend group was lacking any musicians making a big break, let alone getting invited to dinner with Capitol Records staff. “Never heard of it.”

“You’ll like it,” Van says confidently.

You glance over at the clock on the dashboard display. It’s set to 24-hour time, so you pick up your phone instead of mentally trying to calculate it.

“How far away is it?” You ask nervously. It’s dangerously close to eight.

“Not too far,” Van shrugs, but he’s driving into the tail end of stop-and-go traffic. You try to swallow down your anxiety.

Finding a parking spot is a pain in the ass, but eventually Van’s maneuvered his car into one of the parallel spots lining the sidewalk.

By the time you two are out of the car, crossing the street to the restaurant, it’s almost ten minutes after your reservation time. Van seems oblivious to this, breezily strutting into the place, holding the door for you as usual. He’s whistling absentmindedly, and you wonder if it’s one of his own songs. He keeps whistling until you two approach the podium in the lobby.

“Reservation name?” The hostess asks, turning the pages in the binder in front of her.

“McCann.”

The hostess takes a second to look over her pages before she motions. “Right this way.”

There’s no mention of the fact you guys are late as she opens a door on the wall behind the podium, leading you two into the dining area. It’s a stark contrast from the drab, dim decor of the small lobby area. The floors are glossy white, almost shiny enough to reflect your face back to you, and although there are some larger tables most of them are the quintessential small, circular two-seaters with silky white tablecloths draped over them. The walls are dark in typical L.A. style, but covered in windows that frame the courtyard outside, lanterns glowing and candlelit outdoor tables visible.

Almost everyone is in black tie attire, and you feel self-consciousness broil in your stomach as the hostess leads you and Van to to your own small table. You’re curious if there’s other celebrities here, but you’re too afraid of looking like an outsider by trying to peek at people as you pass by. You keep your eyes on the back of Van’s head instead, examining where his hair parts on his scalp.

You’re waved to your assigned table with the assurance that someone will be with you shortly before the hostess sees herself back to the front room. In the time you’ve paused to listen to her words Van’s already ahead of you, pulling out one of the covered chairs and motioning for you to sit.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” You tell him as you sit in the seat he’s designated for you. He takes his own seat opposite you.

“Does it offend you?” Van asks, and you watch his brow crease in concern.

“No!” You’re quick to assure him. “I’m not offended, or anything like that. I’m just saying, I won’t tell everyone this was the worst date of my life just because you didn’t pull the chair out or hold the door.”

Van laughs, the worry easing out of his expression. “S’ just a force of habit. It’s more trouble for me to stop at this point in my life than it is to just keep doing it.”

You nod in understanding before reaching for the menu and searching for the drinks.

“Do you know what you’re drinking?” Van asks after a small stretch of silence where you’re both looking at your respective menus.

“What are you drinking?” You answer his question with a question, eager to be able to gauge the most appropriate choice for yourself. The drink menu is long and most of the items seem hard to pronounce, and despite knowing Van intimately you’ve still got first date jitters. Not to mention, you were on a budget.

“I usually get this wine,” Van tells you, using his index finger to point it out for you on your menu. “M’not gonna drink too much considering I’m drivin’, but it goes great with the lobster.”

You hum as you read over the tiny italics font describing the wine. “Sounds good,” You say finally, “I’ll have it with you.”

“I’ll get us a bottle, then.”

You swallow hard when you read the price listed for the entire bottle, but manage to stifle any worries. You’ve waited 3 months for this date, there can’t be any real harm in one luxurious dinner. And the cost of the bottle divided into two wasn’t so outrageous.

“Perfect.” You close your menu, decision made.

By the time the server has taken your wine order, returned with chilled glasses and doled out servings to each of you, and delivered a fresh bread basket and dinner menus, your stomach is grumbling and you’re eager to scour through the menu and figure out what you’re having.

“God, I’m starving,” You sigh, buttering a warm bread roll. In your ravenous state you bite off more than you can politely chew, but thankfully Van doesn’t notice as he’s taking a peek at his phone.

“Same.” He was listening even in his distracted state, and as soon as he sets his phone back down he reaches for his own roll.

“So…” You start, flipping open your menu to (surprise) even more expensive, french-titled meals. “What’s good here?”

“The lobster,” Van laughs. “It’s the only thing I’ve had here. Had it once and kept craving it forever.”

He must be able to sense that answer doesn’t satisfy you, because he opens his own menu. “Bondy loves the roast. Says it’s one of the best he’s ever had.”

“Not a huge fan of roast,” You tell Van, but flip the pages until you find the meal he’s talking about. “Who’s Bondy?” The name sounds familiar, and in your head you replay the encounter you had outside of Van’s hotel room in San Diego. Was Bondy the one stuck behind the luggage?

“Johnny Bond, he’s our guitar player. Goes by Bondy.”

“Ah. Who’s the one with the…?” You trail off, but motion with your hands around your head to convey the thick head of curls you remember from that night.

“That’s Benji. Our bassist.”

“Benji,” You repeat quietly to yourself. The name doesn’t ring a bell, but the hair does.

“He likes the roast chicken,” Van suggests. “But he’s not allowed to say it’s the best because my mum makes a mean roast chicken and it’s deffo the best.”

“That sounds good. I’m gonna get that.” You try not to openly cringe at the price.

Van opens his mouth to speak, but from the way he’s looking over your shoulder you know the server’s returned to take down your orders.

“There’s Bob, too,” Van says unprovoked when you two are alone again. “He’s easy to pick out. Wears glasses.”

Your brain can connect the dots there: A man with glasses hidden away behind a drumset in the few photos you’d seen on google.

“Is he drums?” You’re hesitant in case you’re wrong, but Van perks up so you know you’ve got it right.

“He is.” Van takes a drink from his wine glass.

There’s a pause in conversation. You try to wrack your brain for a topic, but your knowledge of his band is shaky and not trivia-proof.

“Are you guys close?” Seems like a safe enough question to ask.

“Me ‘n Bob?”

“Everyone,” You elaborate, lacing your fingers together. “Are you guys, like, at each other’s throats?”

“Nah. They’re my best mates. I’ve known Bob and Benji since we were younger, in school. Used to play on the same footie team and all’a that. Bondy didn’t come into the picture until we were a bit older but I’d heard of him before. Thought he was crazy talented, couldn’t believe he actually wanted to join us. Everyone’s massively talented, really. Wouldn’t be the same without them.”

You drink in the reverence in his voice as he talks about his friends.

“I was just with ‘em today, actually. Been at the studio for most of the day.”

“Well, that’s good that you guys get along.” You offer him a smile which he returns.

“You’re telling me. Couldn’t imagine if things went sour. Having fights over guitar riffs and drumbeats all day.”

You try to picture Van angry and fail. “What do you do in the studio?”

“We’re putting the finishing touches on our next album. It’s due out at the end of the month.”

“Oh, no way!” Your eyes widen in interest. “That’s really cool.”

Van grins. “Yeah, proper excited. Think it’s our best one yet.”

“So is that how you ended up in L.A.? Music?” As much as you’re trying to get a feel for Van, L.A. seems like the last place on earth he’d enjoy living. Considering his lack of social media presence or desire to pressure others into buying sponsored products, and the fact that the band definitely seems more popular in the U.K. than America, you can’t quite put a finger on his motives.

“Yeah. I lived in New York for a bit, when we first got signed, but ended up moving down here. L.A. is sort of the hub for the business end. I spend a good bit of time in London, but the weather down here is nice.”

“So nice,” You agree. The constant summer is worlds different than the unpredictable midwest climate you were raised in.

“Right?” Van beams. “We just spent a while at this place in Ireland, writing and doing most of the recording. And it was just absolute pouring rain everyday. So once we got outta there we thought why not enjoy some time in the sun?”

You chuckle in agreement, taking the first drink of your wine. It tastes better than you were anticipating, and the pleasant surprise must show on your face.

“It’s good, innit?” Van takes his own sip. “Not much of a wine guy, but this stuff…” He trails off, nodding in approval. “Anyway, enough about me. Been droning on for ages. You said you weren’t from L.A., right? How’d you end up here?”

It’s your turn to be interrupted by the server with fresh, hot meals in tow. There’s the momentary fuss of getting situated with food in front of you, and by the time you guys are settled again the question has slipped away as you two dig into your food.

“This is amazing,” You affirm after your first hot forkful of chicken and roasted vegetables. “Who said this was amazing? They were right.”

“Blakes,” Van replies through a mouthful of lobster.

“Blakes?” You stop your fork midair. “Who’s Blakes?”

Van is still chewing his food, so you hurry up and eat the piece of potato speared on your fork.

“Benji,” Van clarifies after he swallows. “Benji is Blakes.” He coughs around a sip of his drink when he must see the confusion on your face.

“His name is Benji Blakeway. Blakes is his nickname.”

The name attaches itself to the memory in your head. The c’mon, Blakes, from the guy in the hat rings through your mind.

“Who wears the hat?” You try to get the last puzzle piece in place. You’ve seen whoever it is on google, always wearing the same flat cap.

“Bondy.”

“Okay. So you, Bob, Bondy, Benji.”

Van nods, looking pleased, and you feel a sense of satisfaction spread through you.

“I forgot,” Van says suddenly, “You were just about to tell me how you ended up in L.A.”

“Oh, right.” You look down at your food. “Full disclosure, it’s really lame.”

When you look up, Van’s put his fork down, prepared to listen fully.

You have some wine to calm your nerves. You’ve finished your glass, so you procrastinate by pouring yourself some more.

“It’s just… really childish and impulsive.”

Van laughs. “You’re only making me more interested!”

You huff out a laugh at that. “So… I guess it all started in high school. Which I went to in Michigan, by the way. It’s um,” You gesture with your hand, “It’s the state that looks like a mitten. Close to Canada. Anyway, I had this boyfriend in high school, and senior year he broke up with me.” You laugh at yourself, bringing a hand to your forehead for a moment. “God, this sounds so dramatic. But when you’re in high school you think you’re going to last forever with someone, your first love and all that, y’know.”

Van seems amused. “How old were you?”

“Well I was like…” You scrunch your face up, thinking back, “14 when we first met, and we were close friends for a while, and then 15 when we actually started dating, and 18 when we broke up.”

“Right,” You plow on, “So, first love and all that good stuff. So we break up when we were 18, which honestly needed to happen. We just didn’t get along anymore but we were so comfortable being a couple by then, you know? We were different as adults, so naturally we break up, whatever. The point is I was fucking devastated.”

You take a deep breath, another drink, and try to prepare yourself to tell the rest of the story.

“So my best friend and I had always had it in our heads, I don’t even know why, that we wanted to come to L.A.”

“Mary?” Van cuts in.

“No, not Mary. I met Mary once I moved here.” You clear your throat, getting back on topic. “I think it’s because of the weather, honestly,” You laugh at your immaturity at that age. “We were so tired of Michigan winters. They’re fucking… cold. And my friend can sing, so naturally we’re thinking you get into L.A. and boom, you’re discovered.”

You gauge Van’s attention then. He’s still listening close.

“So after high school, we had both been saving up for what we thought was this imaginary sort of dream, but then I was broken up with, and depressed, and I kept seeing him everywhere because our town was kind of small, and so we decided… Let’s just pack up and leave!”

Van’s lips quirk up at that. “I was always the same way,” He interjects softly. “Small town thing. Your parents didn’t mind?”

“Well, I convinced them that UCLA was my dream school. So of course they couldn’t say much because I ended up being accepted into a really amazing school, and they had heard me talk about L.A. before. So we get here, and… y’know… Things just didn’t work out that way.”

“When do they ever?” Van jokes.

You nod in agreement around a quick bite of chicken. “Exactly!” You say, wiping the corners of your mouth with your napkin. “It costed so fucking much to live here, and we burned through our savings really fast, and… We ended up becoming even closer through that and we dated for a couple years, and I invested a lot of time into trying to get her discovered because we couldn’t afford rent, but then she got into the wrong group and was getting into cocaine, it was… Intense.”

Your palms are sweating from your admission, and you can’t get yourself to look Van in the eyes, heart racing.

“So… yeah. Thankfully I’ve made a lot of friends here- the right kind, not the cocaine kind- and I got a really nice internship through UCLA and found an okay job, and me and her went our separate ways. And that’s when I met Mary, and she grew up here so she was able to show me around, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”

You can feel anxiety clenching in your chest while your admitted interest in women still hangs in the air. You wish it still wasn’t so nerve-wracking to come out, and maybe it wouldn’t be except for the fact you and Van seem to really hit it off, and you would hate for this to be a dealbreaker for him.

You finally manage to look away from where you’d been carefully inspecting a small stain you’d made on the tablecloth. Van’s leaned back from his plate, an easy smile spread over his face. His arms are crossed across his chest as he marvels at you.

“We’ve got more in common than I thought,” He says grinning. “We can both discuss our ex-girlfriends. Cheers.”

He reaches for his wine glass and you reach for yours too. If Van notices how your wine is trembling from the hand holding the glass, he doesn’t call out as you two clink your glasses together, relief starting to seep through you.

“I love that,” He remarks, still beaming. “Proper ‘escape the small town’ story. I wish mine was as interesting as yours.”

“You do not,” You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Yours is better! You ended up actually getting discovered.”

“Lots of hard work, that’s all.” Van shrugs.

Van tells a few lighthearted stories about struggling to get discovered while you guys finish up your meals. True to his word, he stays light on the wine in preparation to drive, spacing out only two glasses the whole time you’ve been here. You’re not sure how many you’ve had, but you figure it can’t be that many. The only telltale signs that let you know you’ve got alcohol in your system are the flush in your cheeks, the way the lights seem to shine a bit softer, and the way you can feel your eyes drifting over Van dreamily.

When the waitress brings the check Van reaches for his back pocket immediately, procuring a card from his wallet.

“You didn’t have to do that,” You say, your eyes widening in shock. “I was gonna pay for mine.” The cost of the entire bottle of wine, combined with both of your dinners floats in your mind.

One side of Van’s mouth lifts in a confused half-smile. “I said I was taking you out for dinner, didn’t I? Dunno if it means the same thing here, but if I’m taking you out why would you pay?”

“I mean, I just… Didn’t want to assume, I guess.” It’s burned you before, dates gone wrong where the check gets split by surprise. “It’s happened before.”

Van snorts. “Sounds fucking awful.”

You nod, eyes wide. “It really was.”

Your mind flips through a few of your worst dates, interrupted only by Van’s card being returned, you two sent on your way.

Van starts humming when you two meander out of the restaurant and across the street to his car, sidling into the front seats.

“Should I take you back to yours?” He asks as he gets the car started. “Or we could go back to mine. Watch a film or somethin’.”

There’s silence in the car while Van checks his phone. You decide to look at yours, too, checking the time. The night is still young.

“Back to yours sounds nice.” The wine makes your voice soft, betrays the way your heart skips at the suggestion.

Van licks his lips, still typing something. He looks up finally. “Mine?”

“Yeah.”

He gets the car into gear, pulling out of the parking space. With a few taps on a screen in the center of the dashboard his phone is connected by bluetooth and music rings out through the car. You recognize it as the song he was humming minutes ago.

You drive in silence for most of the ride, all talked out from dinner, but your interest piques when Van turns the music down.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” You say nervously. Your head tries to predict what’s coming next.

“The thing, with you and your ex. Was it a one time sort of deal? Or do you still play for both teams?”

You chew the inside of your cheek. “I still play for both. I’m bisexual.”

“Got it.”

“Why?” You feel yourself bristle. “Is it a problem?”

“Not at all,” Van shrugs, slowly turning the music back up. “Just wasn’t sure what to call it.”

It takes about a half hour to get to Van’s, a journey that includes weaving through a winding, uphill street crammed with upscale homes. Van’s home is in a cluster at the top of the hill, and typing in the gate code reveals a long driveway up to a house surrounded by a tall thicket of bamboo.

“I love the bamboo,” You tell him as he pulls the car in front of the garage, but doesn’t bother to park it inside. “The worst part of living here is feeling like your neighbors are breathing down your neck.” When you step out of the car you soak the privacy in. You could easily be murdered with this level of seclusion, but the fact that you can still hear the bustling sounds of the city and a dog in the neighbor’s yard is reassuring.

“Totally agree,” Van tells you, jingling his keys, “It’s most of the reason I chose this place. Can sunbathe totally naked and not feel like everyone’s watching me.”

Although Van delivers the joke completely deadpan, you burst into laughter, and in the soft glow of the porch light you can see him smile.

“M’not kidding!” He insists, pointing a finger towards the sky as he gets the door unlocked, letting you in first. “There’s a patio upstairs perfect for getting some sun.”

Inside, his house is decorated eerily similar to the restaurant you’d just been at, with glossy white floors, dark painted walls, and soft lamplight.

“I’m gonna grab a beer,” Van says as he locks the front door and sets his keys on a small end table that’s covered in unopened mail. “You want anything?”

You think for a moment. “What do you have?”

“No idea, honestly,” Van snorts. He starts walking through the living room and you follow behind. He turns the corner to a dining area that looks pristine and untouched, and around another corner is the kitchen, all windows and clean appliances and glossy countertops. The only indications that anyone’s been in there are the few dirty dishes in the sink, the amazon prime packaging scattered on the kitchen island, and more than one unfinished mug of tea sitting on different surfaces.

The windows in the kitchen look out into the backyard, where you marvel at the sparkling blue in-ground pool and what looks like a hot tub.

The sound of the fridge opening tears your eyes away from the windows.

“I’ve got, uh,” Van holds the fridge door open wide, the sound of glass clinking as he pulls a bottle of beer from one of the side pockets. “Some Coke, Dr. Pepper, lemonade…” He lets go of the door to pick up a bottle of orange juice, which he inspects carefully. “Some orange juice. Dunno if it’s good, but if you wanted to risk it be my guest.” He offers you a sheepish smile. “Haven’t made it to the shop in forever.”

“Coke’s good,” You tell him, and he sets one of the red cans on the island.

Van shuts the fridge. “Do you want ice?”

“Nah,” You shrug him off, “The can is fine.”

You use the tab to crack open your can while Van rustles through a drawer until he can find a bottle opener, getting his beer open. You two gravitate back to the living room, Van taking a seat on the dark, plush sectional in the center of the room.

He sets his beer down on the coffee table, no coaster in sight, before shucking his shoes off and stretching his long legs across the short end of the L shape.

Taking your own shoes off buys you a moment of contemplation before you decide to sit down next to where he’s stretched out. There’s no space for you to stretch your legs out, but you’re comfortable folding them up on the couch with you, getting comfortable cross legged while Van procures the remote from somewhere, starting the TV up.

“Look at the moon,” You marvel quietly. The living room features an entire glass wall that leads to an outdoor patio, the moon and stars sending a white shimmering glow over the furniture.

Van doesn’t say anything, but when you turn your head to glance over at him he’s admiring it too before he meets your gaze. He still doesn’t speak, the moment doused in comfortable silence.

“Can I use this?” You ask him suddenly, your hand landing on a folded up blanket a few cushions away.

“Course.”

You unravel the blanket and lay it over your lap while Van gets Netflix going.

“What do you wanna watch?” He asks when prompted to pick a profile. There are only two on the screen; Van and mary. You smile to yourself at the fact he shares an account with his mom as he clicks his.

“Um,” You look over the options on the screen. “Are you in the middle of anything?”

“Not really. Caught up on just about everything in Ireland.”

Van starts absentmindedly flipping through the trending now category, previews playing automatically.

“Have you seen that?” You ask when he hovers over one of the titles. “I heard it’s supposed to be really, really good.”

Van lets the trailer play out, detailing what looks to be a plot about infatuation and stalking. You can tell you’re both interested by the silence that falls over you.

“Sound good?” Van gets up to switch the lights off. The room is shrouded in darkness, Netflix lighting up his silhouette as he gets settled on the couch again.

“Yeah,” You nod, “Let’s see if it lives up to the hype.”

You’re all too aware of your proximity to Van as the show starts. You can’t look over at him without him noticing considering it requires you to turn your head, but you can’t help but feel like you can sense his eyes on you. The result is you spending the first half sitting stiff as a board, paralyzed.

But the show lives up to it’s viral social media hype, and you soon become so engrossed that without really realizing it you’ve stretched your legs down the long side of the couch, your head coming to rest on the cushion you had been sitting on. Van passes you one of the throw pillows he’s been hogging, and when you elevate your head you’re so close you can hear his breathing.

The longer you watch, the more convinced you start to become that this date was all an elaborate plan devised by Van to kill you, and that he really did stalk you months ago in San Diego. Your mind wanders for two seconds, contemplating your current position on a stranger’s sofa, and suddenly the plot has taken a twist and the main character is having sex.

It’s almost like watching a sex scene with your parents in the room, although Van is anything but. You cringe as breathy moans ring out through the surround sound and you’re forced to watch a trainwreck of a scene where the the girl is getting fucked, hard, with her windows open, the stalker watching from the bushes across the street. It’s over quick, the character’s on-again-off-again boyfriend leaving as soon as the deed is done, but to your horror the scene only gets worse as the girl starts to hump a throw pillow in compensation for the orgasm she didn’t receive from her boyfriend, all the while the stalker starts jerking off in the bushes.

“Oh God,” You groan, turning your face to bury it in the throw pillow. “I literally can’t watch!”

Van chuckles as you listen to the rest of the scene play out.

“You’re missing it.” You can hear the delight in Van’s voice. “He’s about to blow his load right there on the street.”

“I wanna miss it,” You tell him, but still turn your head to peek at the screen. “Fucking creep.”

The ending of the scene is a crescendo of orgasms and moaning, the actress for the main character really laying it on porn-style for her big finale, while the stalker is abruptly interrupted by an oblivious woman asking him to hold the door, his orgasm incomplete.

“That was fucking creepy,” Van agrees. The episode isn’t done yet, but you can tell neither of you are paying attention to the remaining plot.

“Those windows are freaking me out,” You whine, gesturing to the windows that had previously brought you the view of the night sky, but that you’re now convinced have someone peeping through them.

Van heaves himself off of the couch. Before you can question him he’s crossed the room, pulling giant sheets of blinds down over the windows.

You sigh in relief, but it’s short lived. “But what if you’re the stalker?” You narrow your eyes at Van, who’s looking down at you as he heads back to his seat.

“I’m quite daft, then. Spending all this money on a wine-and-dine when I could’ve been outside your bedroom window for free.”

You make an exaggerated retching noise. Van laughs.

There’s a beat of silence, and then: “Is it really like that?”

You turn your head to peer up at him, propping your chin up on the overstuffed pillow. “Like what?”

“Like she did,” Van gestures towards the screen, “Where you fake it, and then the lad leaves, and you go back at it again.”

You frown as you ponder his question. “I’m sure for some girls it’s not.” Van’s eyes are trained on you, hanging onto your every word. “But as far as I know it usually goes something like that.”

“Pillow humping optional,” You add. “You can use your hand. Personally, I use a vibrator. Or the mood passes and you just go to sleep.”

You don’t know where this burst of boldness to talk about your sex life so openly came from, but Van looks a bit panicked as a result of it.

“And when we…” Van’s voice is low, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, his brows knitting together. “Did you…”

“That was genuine,” You reassure him, watching the relief wash over his face.

Van makes a noise in the back of his throat. “But you have? Before?”

“Faked it?”

Van nods.

It’s your turn to swallow. “Yeah. I have. Not with you. But yeah.”

“How, though?” Van scratches the back of his neck. “Y’know when you watch porn or somethin’ like that, you can tell they’re playing it up.”

You can feel a mischievous smile stretching across your face. “You sound curious.”

“I mean, kinda, yeah. And it’d be good to know. So you can’t fool me.” He offers a sheepish smile at his own joke.

“That would imply you need fooling,” You point out, your voice quiet. There’s no real need to whisper, but the heavy feeling of attraction that’s suddenly pressing down on you keeps you from speaking full volume, especially considering your proximity to Van.

Van doesn’t speak, only holds your gaze. He’s got the same look in his eye that he did outside of the hotel that night when he was openly checking you out. You do your best to match it, your mind quickly wrapping around a plan. Now was as good a time as any other to make your move.

“Well, I mean,” You break his gaze, looking around the room instead. “It ruins the magic if you know it’s fake.” You give an exaggerated sigh. “But for you, I’ll make an exception.”

You sit yourself upright, Van carefully watching your every move.

“We gotta set the scene, though,” You tell him, standing up from the couch and wriggling your pants down your legs. “Get yours off too,” You tell him.

Van doesn’t question it, getting down to his briefs and peeling off his socks after he watches you take off your own.

You originally planned to keep your shirt on, to leave something to Van’s imagination, but you catch him admiring your black lace underwear and can’t resist revealing the rest of the matching set.

“Just want it to feel as real as possible,” You’re as nonchalant as possible, your voice the only sound in the quiet room. You realize then that Van’s muted the TV.

“Right,” Van agrees, fumbling with the buttons lining the front of his shirt. There’s no other layers underneath, so he’s shirtless in no time. “Now what?”

You pretend to think about it only to drag his anticipation out a few moments longer. While you torment him your eyes drag up and down his body, drinking in the familiar sight.

“Say we’re doing something like this,” You murmur, stepping over to where he’s still stretched out. You slide a leg over his waist, and with the soft slide of skin and fabric you’re settled on his lap, mimicking a riding position. He’s hard in his underwear, pressing against you through the cotton of his underwear and the lace of yours.

“Like I’m riding you,” You clarify, shifting in Van’s lap. You feel him tense up beneath you.

“Put your hands here,” You prompt him, gently grabbing his wrists and bringing them to rest on your sides. His hands feel hesitant to make contact with you at first, but at your encouragement he holds onto your sides firmly.

“Now, the first step is build up.” Your voice stays low, like you’re trading secrets with him. “It’s not gonna be realistic without warning. Gotta spend some time doing something like this…” Without further ado you’re grinding against him through your underwear, his fingertips pressing into your flesh.

It’s been way too long since you’ve had the experience of feeling someone’s solid, warm body beneath you, since you’ve felt someone want you so bad. Your first couple of breathy moans don’t even feel fake as you relish in the warm friction, losing control for a beat when your hips jerk on their own accord. “Van, fuck.”

His fingers squeeze you.

“Yeah, like that.” You piggyback off of his enthusiasm. You let your hips apply more pressure to his, but as good as it feels there’s no dry humping that could soothe your ache. Van doesn’t have to know that, though, and you let another desperate sounding noise come up from the back of your throat. Van’s thighs twitch beneath you.

You had been holding onto Van’s waist to balance yourself, but suddenly you move one of your palms to his side and feel him jolt. You look at him then, your face contorting into a look of mild surprise.

“I’m close.” You say it as if you were caught off guard. Van looks like an even mix of seduced and stunned, and the way he’s looking at you makes you close your eyes, scrunch your face up. “I’m, uh,” You pant, “I’m gonna-”

Before you can get to the grand finale your body is knocked off balance, suddenly becoming pressed into the soft cushions.

“Fucking stop,” Van sounds pained as he kisses you, hard. Your body melts into the couch, the sweet and rare feeling of a plan going perfectly warming your body from the inside out. You moan into the kiss.

“I take it back,” He tells you before another bruising kiss. “I don’t wanna know what it sounds like.”

“How are you gonna know?” You push out between genuine gasps for air as Van starts kissing your neck. You arch into it.

“Tell me the truth,” He begs, resting his forehead against your shoulder. You can feel how clammy he is. “Please. Save that stuff for someone else. Tell me the truth.”

You don’t respond, silence in the air as you both catch your breath.

It’s a rather serious take on something you’d thought was lighthearted. You’d never thought twice about faking orgasms. As far as you knew it was quite customary. You’d always figured the amount of times you’d done it had been on the lighter side, too. It’s not like you’d never had one, a fate some women seemed doomed to. But the way Van’s looking at you gives a sudden gravity to your actions.

“No bullshit,” You say firmly. You unwedge one of your hands from where it’s been pressed into the crack of the sofa, and offer Van your pinky.

Van’s intensity breaks as he smiles at the gesture. There’s a shift in his weight before he can get a hand free to loop his pinky finger with yours. “No bullshit.”

Then he’s kissing you again, your head forced back against the cushions of the couch, paralyzed between the furniture and his body. He tastes like the beer he’s been drinking and the butter he’d drenched his lobster in. It should be a bad combination, but it’s so uniquely Van you can’t complain. Not to mention he’s still at the top of your makeout leaderboard, a realization that brings your fingers into his hair.

“Show me your room,” You tell him when you break apart for air.

“It’s two floors up,” Van groans. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” You laugh at his hesitation to roll off of you.

“There’s a guest bedroom right there.” Van nods toward the end of the hall past the front door.

You consider for a moment. “With windows?” You ask finally. When Van nods, you crinkle your nose in distaste.

“Your room,” You insist, and he finally climbs off of you. As he clicks the TV off you make the sudden decision to grab for the throw blanket you’d been using, wrapping it around your body as if it was a towel.

“What?” You ask when you notice him staring at you in amusement. “It’s fucking cold in here. Don’t suppose you want me to put more clothes on.”

“Deffo not,” Van agrees, and leads the trek up the stairs.

Van’s bedroom is average size, a fact which catches you off guard. You hadn’t known what to expect based on the rest of the house, but besides the giant glass windows that panel the wall the bed faces (which Van covers immediately), and the luxurious attached bathroom, his room is quite ordinary. There’s a suitcase resting open on the floor, and Van has to move an acoustic guitar that was resting on the bed, but otherwise things seem clean. There’s an overfilled hamper in the corner, but you were pleased he owned a hamper at all.

As soon as the guitar is moved you join Van in getting under the covers, shedding your makeshift robe on the floor. The transition back into making out is seamless.

“I can show you for real,” You whisper, surprised to find your bold streak hasn’t run out.

Van makes what sounds like a confused noise in the back of his throat, his lips consumed with being pressed against yours, but as soon as you hook a leg over his waist and start shifting him onto his back he gets the hint.

“You want me to?” You ask him softly, although you’ve got a good feeling you already know the answer.

“Shit,” Van hisses when you slip a hand into his underwear, easing his dick out. “Yeah.”

It’s your first time getting a hand around him properly, and you relish in the weight of him against your palm, the way the head of him is already swollen, peeking out of his foreskin. You give him a few experimental tugs, only to be encouraged by a groan. As much as you want to continue, his briefs are getting in the way.

There’s a bit of clamoring while you two undress fully, but it doesn’t dampen the mood in the slightest.

“That’s better,” You murmur when you’re seated back on his thighs, hand wrapped around him again. You know you should stop, considering you’ve been teasing him for a while already, but the control you’ve got over him is too intoxicating, watching him clench and groan as you experiment with different strokes.

“Where do you keep the condoms?” You ask after keeping the pace with relentless, quick tugs until you felt like he was ready. The only sound in the room is the soft noise of his foreskin sliding over him, but it feels like it echoes.

“There,” Van pants, throwing his arm in a gesture towards one of the bedside tables. You shift slightly off of his lap, your clit pressing against the soft skin of his hip while you dig through the top drawer. The only light in the room is from the soft glow of the city against the blinds, but it’s just enough for you to be able to locate a foil packet before handing it off to Van.

After the ripping of the wrapper, the room falls silent except for the harsh noise of breathing. Van’s hands bump against you clumsily while he gets himself wrapped, and you try to match your breathing to his slow, deep breaths. You sound more worked up than him, your anxiety making your breaths shallow and harsh.

Van brushes one of his hands against your thigh while he withdraws his hands, signaling he’s done.

This time when you slip a hand around him you’re gentle, careful not to disturb the thin layer of latex you can feel stretched over him. “Ready?”

You’re already shifting into position, rearing up onto your knees and maneuvering above him. Waiting for the green light.

“Yeah,” Van chuckles. “Let’s have it.”

The room goes quiet again, Van waiting with baited breath as you position him. You swallow hard, trying to soothe the fluttering in your stomach as you start to lower down on him.

It’s unceremonious, a hushed and slow process. There’s no dramatic sinking down like there is in porn, no loud screams of pleasure. It’s a slow stretch as your body accommodates him, an active effort to keep your balance as you make small shifts to try different angles. There’s the occasional sharp breath, but you’re not sure if it’s from Van or if you’re doing it without meaning to.

There’s a collective sigh of relief when you’re fully seated, your thighs trembling against his from the stretch. You’re terribly out of practice with this, and you’re mentally kicking your past self for her confidence while your anxiety starts to prepare you for Van’s disappointment.

Your nerves and self-consciousness mix together to form a hot flush on your face, one you’re grateful Van can’t see. You make a last-ditch effort for a deep breath before you shift your hips, preparing to proceed.

You’d forgotten how good this was. Or maybe it wasn’t actually ever this good; maybe it’s just Van. But as soon as you get a pace going any nerves melt away, replaced instead with electricity that buzzes down your spine, through your hips. It zings it’s way across your thighs, making any discomfort worth it as you make sure to lower yourself completely every single time, feeling yourself fill up.

Van’s got a white knuckle grip on the sheets, but you’re barely noticing his reactions. It’s like you’re possessed, your body moving without your control as you chase the feeling. What feeling exactly, you’re not sure; there’s the friction of him sliding in and out of you, the feeling of fullness that punches you in the gut every time you lower down, and the white-hot spots you can get him to hit depending on the angle. They all mix together, heat and tingling and sparks that have you hunched over, hands pressed into his chest, your hips erratic.

Your thighs start to fail you, and when the ache becomes unbearable you settle for staying seated, keeping him fully inside of you as you shift around, feeling him rub against your walls. You clench experimentally, just to see if there’s a way to get him deeper, closer.

You’re only jolted from your own thoughts at the sound of Van moaning. It’s loud, the volume paired with the vulnerability of the sound startling you.

You look down at him then. He’s got his forearm thrown over his eyes, and his hair’s a mess against the mattress, having pushed the pillows awry without you noticing. His mouth opens, lips forming a silent shape before he finally chokes the word out: “Stop.”

His other hand is pressed against your thigh, although you don’t remember it being there. His fingers dig into your skin. “Stop,” He says again, voice strained.

Your hips slow, any pleasure in your entire body fizzling away in half of a second. Your self consciousness comes crashing down over you in one suffocating wave as you hold completely still, confused.

You must’ve fucked up. Must’ve read the situation wrong, not realized that Van wasn’t into it. Must’ve heard his moan wrong. Must’ve missed something important. You feel the sweat that’d been developing on your forehead go cold as you mentally search for your fatal mistake.

“Is something wrong?” You ask hesitantly. You’re still frozen, careful not to move a muscle while you await Van’s response.

“No,” Van chokes out. He lifts his arm from where it’s obscuring his face, running his hand through his hair instead. You can see his bicep flex as he pulls his own hair by the crown of his head. “You’re incredible, fuck. I can’t fucking stand this anymore. Switch me.”

His praise delivers an instant wave of relief, one that has you beaming down at him. He returns the smile weakly as you unseat yourself, plopping down on the soft mattress while he scrambles into the new position.

“Scared the shit out of me.” You don’t know why you admit it. Maybe your brain is too foggy for censors. “Thought I was doing horrible.”

“Nah, fuck that.” Van’s lining up again. “Could just feel you getting tired. Figured I could return the favor.”

He takes your cue from the way you open your thighs wider, shift your hips up to meet him. He slides in easily, and as the shock of the interruption fades away you can feel your orgasm coming back to the surface, just as strong as it’d been previously.

Van takes his favor-returning duties seriously, fucking you with all he’s got. It’s different from last time. You’ve already set the rules and he follows them meticulously: sudden thrusts in, followed by a torturous pause so you can fully appreciate him inside of you before a long, slow withdraw where you can feel every inch of him. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, and when you’re on the brink you haul him in with a hand on his jaw for a kiss, gasping for air against his open mouth.

Van comes first despite his heroic efforts to hold off. Your only warning is a few moments of loose hips before he’s cursing, his hand slapping the headboard as he clenches it, exhaling your name.

Your only response is to kiss him. His lips are soft and pliant, moving easily against yours now that any tension has leaked out of his body, and you slip a hand between your bodies, desperate to feel as relaxed as him.

“Don’t,” Van slurs. Your fingers had already started tight circles against your clit, but Van bumps your hand away. “Quit, lemme.”

“I can do it,” You huff, your desperation putting you on edge.

“I know you can.” You can hear the amusement in Van’s voice as he pulls out and ties off the condom, leaning over to deposit it in a trash can you didn’t know existed. “But m’not inept either.”

After another impatient huff from you, Van’s fingertips are pressed tight against your clit, working it in loose circles. He doesn’t linger too low and you’re grateful for that, already feeling the tenderness start to catch up to you. He’s careful and precise, hanging onto your every noise as he tries to get it right, and when he succeeds you reward him by calling out his name over, and over, and over.

To your surprise, you open your eyes to Van sticking the fingers he’d touched you with into his mouth without any hesitation.

Your eyes feel like they’re about to bug out of your head. “Why are you doing that?”

There’s a wet noise as Van’s lips release his fingers. “Needed to clean ‘em off.”

“You could’ve asked me to pass you something. The blanket’s right here.” You reach to the floor and grab the soft fabric, showing it to him for emphasis.

Van just looks at you quizzically, cocking his head. “Why would I wipe off on a blanket?”

“I just, y’know,” You flounder for an explanation, especially under Van’s gaze. “If you’re not into the taste, or something. I dunno.”

Van shrugs. “Into your taste just fine.”

You can’t keep the surprise off of your face. “Oh. Alright.”

“I’ll have to show you next time,” Van says with a joking wink before getting up, heading for the bathroom.

As soon as he’s turned his back you bury your face in nearest pillow, beaming into it. Next time.

You sit up straight when you hear the toilet flush, regaining your composure.

When Van comes back into the bedroom he immediately grabs for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter resting on the bedside table. He offers you the box, but this time you shake your head.

“Let’s see how these sheets look,” He says, cigarette bobbing loosely between his lips as he makes the few strides to the bedroom door, lifting the dimmer and illuminating the room.

It feels out of place to be naked with the lights on, and you reach over and grab the throw blanket off of the floor, wrapping it around yourself again as you stand to take your turn using the bathroom. You examine the sheets with Van, and they look no worse for wear except for a slight wet spot marking the spot on the bed where you’d came.

“Just that bit,” You acknowledge, gesturing to the spot. “Sorry.”

Van pulls the cigarette from his mouth, rolling his eyes playfully as he exhales smoke. “It’s nothin’. It’ll be dry in a few seconds. Go freshen up, love.”

Your cheeks heat up at the nickname, and you head for the en suite so Van doesn’t see.

“Do you need anything from downstairs?” You ask after you’ve taken your customary after-sex pee. “I gotta go get my clothes.”

Van’s perched on the remade bed, finishing off his cigarette in only his briefs. “You’re gonna put your clothes back on?”

“I mean, I gotta wear clothes in the Uber,” You joke.

“You don’t have to Uber home,” Van says, ashing the butt of his cigarette out in an ashtray. “I was gonna make us a fry up tomorrow.”

His britishness catches you off guard, and you laugh. “I have no idea what that is.”

“Oh, no way. It’s a big breakfast!” He gestures with his hands, “Eggs, bacon, sausage, the whole works! It’s fucking class. What d’ya say?”

You hold up your hands in playful surrender, even though it causes your blanket to sag. “I was only leaving because I didn’t know what you had going on! But that sounds good.”

You try not to read too much into how pleased Van looks at your agreement to stay.

“But I’ve still gotta go downstairs and get my bag,” You tell him, “So do you still need anything?”

“I’ll go with ya.” Van lights his second cigarette. “Could use a cup of tea.”

You two return to the mess you’ve made of the living room; throw pillows smushed from being under your bodies, clothes strewn on the floor, drinks lukewarm on the table now. Van takes your can of Coke and his empty beer bottle around the corner into the kitchen, while you gather up your clothes and purse before following him.

“Ugh, ready to take these things out,” You complain, fishing through your bag for the contact case you’d packed. You hadn’t wanted to assume Van would want you to stay over, but it was always best to be prepared.

“Take what out?” Van mumbles, turning to look at you from where he was standing over the stove babysitting a tea kettle.

“My contacts.” You open the case up on the island, not bothering to wash your hands before getting the dry lenses out easily with your finger, depositing them in the fresh solution you’d been sure to fill the case with. Van watches the whole spectacle curiously.

Even though your vision is blurry once you’re done sealing the case and putting it back in your bag, you can still see Van’s smirk.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” Van sing-songs, his voice going up an octave. “Seems like you came pretty prepared, s’all.”

You scoff. “I take a contact case with me everywhere, thank you very much,” You lie.

Van snorts. “With the liquid already in it?”

You blanch, caught. Van laughs in delight.

“Oh, shut up,” You huff. “How about you tell me about that breakfast you already planned for us, huh?” You make your way around the island to him, gently jabbing him in the stomach. He pokes you back. It’s tit-for-tat until you’re both laughing, interrupted only by the tea kettle coming to a boil.

By the time you’re back upstairs, Van nursing a warm mug of tea, your post-orgasm exhaustion is at its peak. It had taken all your strength to climb the two flights of stairs, and you don’t think twice about crawling into bed wearing only your underwear until you hear Van fussing with the closet door.

“Here,” He takes a plain black t-shirt off of a hanger, tossing it to you. You accept it graciously, slipping it on before tucking yourself under the sheets, eyelids heavy.

When Van slides into bed next to you he doesn’t seem ready to sleep, picking up his mug of tea instead.

“Jet lagged?” You ask, peering up at him from your spot nestled in his blankets. Everything smells deliciously like him, and you have to actively resist the urge to look like a creep that sniffs everything.

“Kinda,” Van smiles down at you. “Don’t sleep much in general, though. Always been quite hyper.”

His declaration doesn’t surprise you. Considering all the fidgeting, humming, toe-tapping, and fingertip drumming he seems to be doing every moment, you have no doubts about his boundless energy.

“Hm,” You murmur, yawning. “Well, lucky you.” You pat his leg under the blankets before flipping over.

You can’t help but imagine what it might be like to actually see Van tired. What it might be like for him to lay with you in bed, your body wrapped around his. With that on your mind, you doze off quick.

You’re disoriented when you open your eyes, expecting to be in your own bedroom. Instead you’re greeted by the bright L.A. sunlight, the shades pulled across the window seemingly useless in filtering it out.

Van’s not in bed. There’s his mug from last night on the nightstand, and the blankets and pillows are ruffled, but the bathroom is clearly empty.

You’d totally forgotten to ask him for a phone charger last night, something you only remember when you go to check the time only to be greeted with an unresponsive screen.

You decide to climb out of bed and see if Van’s actually following through on his promise of breakfast. It’s foreign to you, wandering around a stranger’s house. You’re usually the type to roll back over and go to sleep until you know for sure other people are awake. You’ve never been the one to make yourself at home, using the kitchen or the television without permission. But considering Van doesn’t seem the type to head back to bed, this seemed like your best bet.

Midway down the first staircase you realize that you don’t have pants on. You could head back upstairs and grab your clothes but decide against it, praying Van’s not the type to have company at this time.

Thankfully Van’s right where you anticipated. You hear his singing ringing out through the living area before you’ve even turned the corner to the kitchen, along with the clatter of pots and pans. The acoustic guitar that had been resting on the bed last night is propped against the coffee table now. He must’ve been up for a while now.

“Hey,” You say softly when you round the corner. It’s only for Van’s benefit, so he’s not startled by your presence, but he doesn’t miss a beat in the song he’s singing, only grinning at you as he continues. You smile to yourself when his back is turned. Of course he’s not one to scare easily.

He’s definitely been to sleep, considering his pillow-mussed hair and the fact he’s still only in his underwear. You admire the way the muscles in his back flex as he scours through the fridge, procuring ingredients.

“What time is it?” You ask, peering around for any sort of microwave or oven clock.

“Half nine,” Van chirps, bumping the fridge door closed with his hip, a carton of eggs and a frozen pack of bacon in his hands.

“Oh.” You intertwine your fingers together. “So, uh. Is that, like, eight-thirty or nine-thirty…?”

“Nine-thirty,” Van elaborates. He glances at you over his shoulder from his position at the counter. “Do you not say that here?”

“I’ve never heard it,” You shrug. Van nods as he processes your answer.

“So, what are you making again?” You stop leaning on the island in favor of approaching the counter, looking over the various foods sitting out. “A stir fry?”

“Well, about that…” Van says sheepishly, opening the carton of eggs. “I was gonna do a whole fry up, but like I said, I haven’t been to the shops in forever. So how do you feel about just eggs, bacon, toast?”

“Sounds lovely,” You tell him, continuing to hover around him.

Van cracks whatever eggs are left in the carton into a mixing bowl, leaving the eggshells in the nearby sink.

“Do you need any help?” You ask, feeling terribly annoying while you just watch.

“Nah.” Van shrugs you off. “Just keep me company.”

“I’ll sit down, then, instead of being in your personal space.”

“You’re gonna sit all the way over there?” Van whines when you tug one of the island stools out to sit on.

“There’s no other place to sit!” You exclaim.

“Right here,” Van slaps his palm down on the counter.

“I don’t have pants on!” You insist. “I’m not gonna put my bare ass on your kitchen counters.”

“I need you over here!” Van argues. “I need someone to help supervise!”

“Then how about I pull the stool closer?” You start to drag your seat over the tile floor.

“Then it’ll just be in the way. Come sit up here and talk to me.”

You pretend to be inconvenienced by his request, sighing as you hoist yourself up on a section of counter not currently being used to prepare food. The marble is cold against the back of your thighs, and you cringe.

You watch Van diligently mix the eggs with some milk using a whisk. With the way his head’s bent, you can see how crooked the part of his hair has become from sleep.

“C’mere,” You gesture. Van looks up from what he’s doing.

“Your hair is driving me nuts,” You elaborate. When he’s looking up at you it’s even more unruly.

Van abandons the mixing bowl, setting it aside in favor of coming to stand in front of you.

“You don’t like my morning hair?” He teases. He lets you maneuver the angle of his head and stands there patiently as you start to pick at the strands.

“Love it,” You assure him, “But if I’m going to supervise I’ve got to make sure you look presentable.” Once his part is sitting correctly you comb your fingers through the ends, managing to get about half of them to lay uniformly. It’s an improvement. You pat his shoulder, satisfied.

When he looks up at you, your faces are awkwardly close.

“Thanks,” Van murmurs, and you watch the way his eyes dart down to your lips before flickering back up. Your hand still hasn’t left his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Is all you manage to say, any witty or funny remarks disintegrating on your tongue. You wait for an interruption, for Van to jerk away and remember the food he needs to tend to. But he doesn’t.

His lips press into yours instead. It’s the first time you guys have kissed without an impending sense of urgency. Van brings his hands up to rest on your waist, his fingertips fidgeting with the hem of your borrowed shirt. You sling your arms around his neck, tugging him closer, savoring every moment.

You spread your knees apart, making space for him to fit his hips between them, pleased to get him even closer.

Van pulls away to breathe and you rest your head on his shoulder, trying to hide your smile. It occurs to you when you turn your face and admire the long lines of his neck that you’ve never paid much attention to it.

You can feel Van melting into your arms as you start at his shoulder and mouthe your way up. You don’t intend to leave any marks, but that doesn’t stop you from letting your teeth graze him a couple times so you can hear the way he sucks the air through his teeth at the feeling. You can feel his pulse right at his jaw, and you press your lips there firmly for a moment, marveling at how his pulse skitters against his skin.

“Christ,” Van murmurs. Your lips curve into a smile where they’re pressed against him.

You’d planned to be done at his jaw, but curiosity gets the better of you and you let your lips travel higher, trying to feel for his pulse behind his ear. The ends of his hair tickle your nose as you search for it, but feeling his heart stutter again is worth it.

When Van can’t take anymore he turns his head, bringing his lips to yours. Your hand comes to rest on the side of the neck and you don’t know if you’re imagining it but Van seems to lean into it. You tense your fingertips, digging them into his skin just slightly, experimentally, and Van deepens the kiss.

You make a small, satisfied noise as you break away from him. “You don’t happen to keep condoms in your kitchen, do you?”

You’d been feeling Van get hard the entire time, but when he pulls away you marvel at how terrible he is at concealing his desire; his pupils are blown, there’s a fresh flush to his cheeks, and his chest is visibly rising with every breath.

“I don’t, no,” He runs his hand through his hair, successfully reversing your attempts to make him look presentable. “I’ll go grab one from my wallet.”

“Hurry,” You urge him, pleased at how quickly he turns to leave the kitchen. He’s still just as handsome from behind, and you marvel at how his briefs hug his ass before he spins, catching you.

“Stop ogling at me!” He teases. You stick your tongue out at him.

With Van gone, it’s just you and the abandoned mixing bowl of eggs alone in the kitchen. You take a deep breath, kick your legs out from the counter awkwardly, and count the seconds until he returns, condom in hand.

“Okay,” He sets the condom down on the counter, and loops his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. “Hips up,” He quips.

You obey, pressing your palms flat against the counter so you can get your hips into the air and Van can get your underwear down. Van tugs his own briefs down his legs easily, kicking them away. You watch them slide across the kitchen tile.

Van opens the condom, giving himself a few quick tugs in preparation to roll it on. At the sight of him you swallow nervously, the visual reminder bringing the ache between your legs to the forefront of your attention.

“Go easy on me, okay?” You laugh, but the slight waver of your voice betrays your nerves. Van’s too smart for any sugarcoating. His blue eyes snap up to meet your gaze, all seriousness, a silent questioning.

You give him a slight smile, crinkling your nose. “I’m sore.”

Realization dawns over him. “Gotcha,” He nods.

Van positions himself between your knees, using his hands on your hips to gently guide you to the edge of the counter.

“I feel like I’m gonna fall off,” You whine. Van only smiles, still looking down at your bodies.

“I need you right here at the edge,” He explains, letting go of you when he’s satisfied.

“You sound like an expert.” It’s a dangerous joke to make, something twisting at your stomach at the sudden thought of other girls having this same kind of morning with Van.

“Not even fucking close,” He assures you, and your stomach unknots.

He works on lining himself up, but you can tell the way your body is curved in order to have your arms wrapped around his shoulders is making an odd angle that’ll be uncomfortable.

“Don’t go yet,” You plead, suddenly desperate to try a different position. He stills, his eyes flickering to yours.

“This angle isn’t gonna work,” You answer his unspoken question. “I think I need to…”

You don’t finish the rest of your sentence, opting to carefully lean back instead. You have to bend your neck to fit under the cabinet, and push a knife block a little off to the side, but eventually your shoulders come to rest on the cool tile of the wall. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least, but it allows your hips to tilt back. Your hands grapple for the most comfortable way to keep yourself from slipping off of the edge of the marble.

Van looks amused. “You good?”

You nod.

“We don’t have to do it in here you know,” He gestures with his hand towards the exit to the kitchen. “I can lay you out on the couch or somethin’.”

“In here’s fine,” You insist. You’d never had kitchen sex before, and your curiosity about the experience was stronger than the ache in your neck.

Van playfully throws his hands up in surrender. “Okay then,” He laughs, before positioning your hips again and lining himself up for the second time. “You ready, then?”

With your eager nod Van slides in. He goes slow, his brow furrowed. You can tell he’s taking your request to be gentle to heart.

He’s careful not to bottom out, and from your position sitting back can see the restraint he’s exercising, how tight and rigid his body stays while he starts thrusting, shallow, slow.

It aches but only slightly, and it’s an incredible reminder of last night. Your hands scrabble against the countertop, desperate for anything to hold on to. They find nothing. There’s nothing you can do except hold as still as possible to keep your balance.

Van’s an absolute vision, the morning sun beaming through through the kitchen and making him glow. You watch the sweat glisten on his chest, the way he looks like he’s so lost in you he wants to close his eyes. He seems determined to keep them open, watching your every expression. You can see the muscles in his stomach flex with each movement, the angle of the sunlight creating a tiny shadow near his bellybutton. It’s too much. You close your eyes.

That only makes it worse, though, only forces you to focus solely on how the movement of him against you feels. You’re forced to lay there, completely still, the image of Van burned behind your eyelids. The pleasure is making you feel like you’re about to crawl out of your skin, and not having an outlet is driving you nuts. You slap your sweaty palm against the countertop. Van doesn’t even flinch.

“Holy shit,” You gasp, tipping your head back against the cool tile, finally opening your eyes to the bottom of the wooden cabinet. “I can’t fucking take this anymore,” You heave.

Van’s forced to stop thrusting when you manage to get your legs around his waist, bringing his hips flush against yours as you work your way back into the sitting position you were originally in before you had the idea to sit back. There’s the uncomfortable tickle in your stomach as the angle changes, and you hope things will work this way. At this point, anything feels better than laying there helplessly.

“Sorry,” You breathe, back to wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a sloppy yet gratifying kiss.

“Don’t be,” Van brings your lips together again. He’s got he slightest bit of stubble growing. It’s too light to be visible, but you feel the slight scratch of it against your lips and bring your palm up to rub your thumb over his jawline, feeling the hairs.

You keep your legs around Van’s waist but relax them enough so that he’s got room to move. He takes it as an invitation, starting to fuck into you again, and makes a noise low in his throat. You can’t decipher if it’s from pleasure or discomfort, but it sounds urgent.

“Okay?” You ask, craning your neck away from where you’d been examining his freckles in extreme detail, getting a full view of his face instead.

“Yeah.”

You raise your eyebrows at how strained his voice sounds.

Van runs his hand through his hair, the strands that hang near his forehead damp with sweat.

You’ve stopped watching his face, your eyes instead wandering to the top of his shoulder, the little freckles that pepper him there. You only see his expression out of your peripheral vision when he finally speaks, his voice low: “It’s fucking tight.”

He sounded hesitant to say it, as if worried you’d take offence, but instead you lean over to start kissing the freckles on his shoulder you’d just longingly gazed at. Your stomach lights up at the way he sounded, vulnerable and maybe shy, different from the ever-confident Van you’re used to. You hide your smile in his neck and breathe in his scent while you’re there.

You could already tell you wouldn’t be able to come in this new position, last night’s ache becoming slightly too pronounced, but you were more than happy to let Van keep going. You spend the time alternating between kissing him deeply and kissing his neck, and letting your hands wander over any bit of his skin you can reach. An orgasm almost sneaks up on you, your thighs tensing of their own accord, but Van gets there first. It’s the quietest he’s ever been, shaking through it breathlessly, head pressed into your neck, your fingers still playing with the ends of his hair, which looks almost blonde in the morning sun.

Van catches your cringe as he pulls out.

“Did it hurt?” He asks, voice rough.

“Nothing serious,” You assure him. “It was worth it.”

He ties the condom off and opens one of the cupboard doors below you, leaning over to deposit it in the trash.

It takes a second for your head to wrap around the way he sinks to his knees suddenly.

“What are you doing?” You sound more frantic than you’d meant to.

“You’re sensitive, yeah?” Van raises his eyebrows at you for confirmation. You nod, stunned to silence.

“This is about as gentle as it gets,” He shrugs. “As long as you’re good with it?”

“Um, yeah,” You stammer. “You could give it a try.”

It’s hard to form words correctly when Van’s face is right between your legs, looking at you in all your after-sex glory. You have to actively resist the urge to squirm away and cover yourself, your cheeks heating in self-consciousness.

If Van notices your discomfort he doesn’t show it, only looking pleased that you’ve given him permission.

You can’t stand watching him lean forward, opting instead to tip your head back towards the ceiling and squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for him to begin.

You tense up when you feel it. Van’s warm breath tickles you before you feel the wet slide of his tongue against you. You jolt. He gives a few more experimental licks, slow and languid, moving around, and your fingers tangle in his hair instinctually.

It’s not that you don’t want it. It’d be a lie to say you’ve never thought back on that night in San Diego and wondered absentmindedly about things taking a different turn in his hotel room. Your sleepy mind curiously twisting the events, wondering if he’d be any good at this.

But as curious as you were, the thing about head is it always just seemed to be a grand waste of time for you. On the very few occasions you’d been on the receiving end, the act had consisted of slimy, uncomfortable exploration with movements too inconsistent to get you anywhere. And worse, it was treated as a gift, one you were inevitably supposed to return. The lackluster results along with the heavy implications meant you tended to keep your distance.

But after some exploration Van seems locked in on his mission. You dare to peer down at him when you feel him start to find a rhythm, one that has your legs opening wider without your control. His eyes are squeezed shut, his nose brushing against you with every lick, and when he exhales hot air you can’t help but shiver.

You let go of his hair, your knuckles aching from your tight grip, but Van makes a noise. It’s too quiet for you to hear, but you jerk as you feel the vibrations against you, the message loud and clear. You rush to grab his hair again, flustered.

The better it starts to feel the more apparent it becomes that he’s in the wrong spot, a different area starting to throb for his attention. Without really thinking about it you use his hair to herd him to the other spot. He’s just licked firmly against it, your legs quivering, when he sits back on his knees.

“Done?” You ask, surprised to hear disappointment in your tone.

“Nah,” Van wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Need a breath.”

Your shoulders sag with a relief you didn’t know you felt.

“How is it?” He croaks, peering up at you.

“Good,” You answer out of habit, before realizing how true it is. “Really, really good.”

“You like the spot I was in?” He inquires, gearing up to keep going. The way he sets his jaw in determination makes your mouth go dry.

“The one higher up,” You clarify, your voice only slightly above a whisper. “Yeah.”

And without further ado he’s back at it, resuming in exactly the same spot, a miracle that leaves you speechless.

There’s nothing unexpected about your orgasm. It’s a steady build, the pressure between your legs becoming more and more unbearable as Van’s tongue works firmly against you. He incorporates his lips in some mysterious way you’ve never experienced, and uses his palms to press your thighs open when you’re too clenched to keep them open yourself. He’s eager to please, treating any noises you let slip as feedback. You moan his name as praise and Van preens under the attention.

It’s a long descent back to Earth, your head spinning when it’s all over. The first thing you realize is that you’re awkwardly petting Van’s hair, smoothing your palms over the strands subconsciously. You pull your hands away as Van leans back, catching his breath.

“Sorry,” You murmur.

“Hm?” Van busies himself wiping his mouth. You can see his chin glistening from you.

Your head’s too foggy to clearly remember why you even said sorry, let alone explain it to Van. “I dunno,” You say instead.

“Can you pass me one of those?” Van asks, gesturing to a roll of paper towel that’s within arm’s reach of you. You rip away a few squares for him and pass them over.

“That went better than expected,” You confess breathlessly.

“Yeah?” Van cocks his head, looking amused. “Thought I wouldn’t be any good?”

“Not at all! I mean- that’s not what I meant,” You giggle, trying to find the right words somewhere in your haze. “I’m just surprised I came. It’s never happened from that.”

Van blinks at you. “No shit?”

“Yeah, I’ve never. Until now. But I don’t really let anyone do that. Swore it off a few years ago.”

“But you let me?”

“I mean, yeah,” You shrug. “I’ve never had anyone, like, want to. I’m not gonna beg for something useless.”

“Never had anyone want to?” Van looks stunned as he uses the edge of the counter to help himself off of his knees. “Who the fuck have you been with?”

It sounds hypothetical, so you don’t answer. Van shakes his head to himself as he leans over, washing his hands in the sink.

“We’ll have to do it again sometime. Properly. That angle was kind of shit.”

You smile. “I mean, I thought it was pretty nice.”

Van smiles too, sliding down the counter so he’s in front of you. He leans in for a kiss, and even though you can taste yourself on his lips you let him.

“It can be better. You just gotta gimme another chance,” He says playfully when you two separate.

He’s joking, but you can hear he’s being genuine underneath.

“I mean, if you want,” You shrug, indifferent.

“Oh, I want,” He assures you with a wink. “Anyway, are you still hungry?”

“I’m starving,” You groan. “But I really need to rinse off, if you don’t mind.”

“Course I don’t mind. I’ll set you up in the bathroom and then get breakfast going for real this time.”

He reaches down for his discarded briefs, slipping them on before leading you back up to his bedroom, getting the shower in the en suite going for you.

Once you’re done showering, smelling like all of Van’s products and wrapped in a giant, fluffy towel, you slip out of the bathroom and into Van’s room. You perch on the edge of his bed, reaching for your phone which has finally powered on with the help of a borrowed charger.

There’s a ton of texts from Mary, her curiosity growing the longer you haven’t responded. You listen closely for any sign of Van, but there’s silence. He’s still in the kitchen working on breakfast. You dial Mary’s number.

“Holy shit, finally!” Mary exclaims down the line. “How was last night?”

“I’m um,” You keep your voice low, still paranoid Van might come upstairs to check on you at any moment. “I’m still here.”

“No fucking way,” Mary hisses. “You stayed the night?”

“Yeah. But hey, listen, I don’t have too long, he’s making breakfast-”

“Breakfast?” Mary interrupts. “Like, what kind of breakfast? He can microwave oatmeal?”

You snort. “No, like a real breakfast! Eggs and stuff.”

“Shut the fuck up. I knew he was perfect the first night we met him!”

“Mary, listen!” You hiss. “I gotta tell you about what just happened!”

“This is gonna be good.”

“Oh, it’s better than good. He’s, like… Wow.”

Read Chapter 3 here

#summer's a knife #catfish and the bottlemen #catb #van mccann #van mccann fic #vanfic #catb fic #van mccann fanfiction

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alolowrites · 5 years ago

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Acceptance

Summary: You and Kirishima enjoy a nice date at an amusement park until you relive a painful memory from your childhood.

Disclosure: I will like to disclose that the following story touches upon sensitive themes such as body image and bullying. Please proceed with caution. My inspiration for this story came from a personal essay I wrote in college a few years ago. I actually found my essay on my laptop (it was buried in a random folder, go figure) and felt the need to write a story about it.

~~~

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon and Kirishima decided to take you out to an amusement park for a fun date. You really didn’t need much convincing; you loved spending time with your adorable boyfriend, so when he grasped your hands, bounced up and down, and beamed a smile at you, it was over.

You just had to go.

As you happily munched on a purple cotton candy, your attention drifted to the colorful, giant parachutes gracefully soaring up into the clear sky. Your neck craned upwards and you paused from eating your sugary cloud. You didn’t realize you stopped walking until Kirishima’s hands shook your shoulders.

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I said if you’re okay, babe,” he repeated and you nodded, but looked upwards again. Your boyfriend followed your gaze and a lightbulb flashed inside his head. “We should go on it! Looks like fun!”

‘Yeah, fun,’ you anxiously thought to yourself. Your feet remained glued to the concrete floor as your hand gripped the cotton candy stick tighter. A gentle tug pulled you back to the present and Kirishima stared at your with worried eyes.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? We can sit down and rest,” he suggested while his fingertips softly brushed against your left cheek.

You waved him off. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

‘You can do this,’ you encouraged yourself as the two of you walked to the line. ‘You can do this…’

You silently gulped.

Like a true gentleman, Kirishima allowed you to sit first.

You hesitantly lowered yourself down hoping he didn’t notice anything odd. The seat groaned under your weight causing you to shift a little. Your heart was nervously pounding against your chest as a sweat drop rolled down your neck. Your hands shook while closing the belt that snugged around your waist. A shadow loomed over you and you stared up to see the attendant clasping the metal bar above you and Kirishima.

You briefly closed your eyes before opening them again.

Your small hands excitingly gripped the metal bar as you waited impatiently for the giant parachute to fly up into the air. The ride hummed alive, elevating you and your mom just two inches off the ground before falling down. The attendant reassured you the ride will go and tried again. However, the ride refused to budge off the ground—

‘What the…’ you thought to yourself as you looked around alarmed. You were back in the present, but your mind was somewhere else. The fear inside you grew and your clammy hands nervously gripped the metal bar that kept you a prisoner in the seat. ‘No, no, no. This isn’t good. It’s happening again.’

—something was wrong, very wrong. Why were you still seeing people instead of ants? Did you and your mom break the ride? Why are some people pointing at you? Laughing at you? What’s going on right now—

The voices faded into the background. You were pushed into a tiny corner without any windows. As seconds passed, the air grew thinner and you couldn’t breathe.

You needed air.

You felt shame as your chubby legs rubbed against each other.

You needed to breathe.

You tried becoming small in your chair.

You needed to leave—

“I can’t do it!” You gasped loudly and hurriedly fidgeted with the seat belt wrapped around your waist. The belt refused to come off; it was as if you were trying to solve a 10x10 Rubik’s cube with a blindfold on and the suspense was killing you. Your rattled the metal bar while you legs kicked wildly to break free.

You finally pleaded: “Let me out! Let me out, please!”

Kirishima’s voice was trying to calm you down, but it was useless: you were in full panic mode. Finally, the attendant pressed a magical button and the metal bar rose up. Simultaneously, the belt broke its grasp over you. You instantly jumped off the seat and dashed through the confused, crowded line to escape the nightmare. Whispers erupted behind you—

—and your ears heard their snickers play like a broken record. You couldn’t hide from the shame and humiliation. Everyone’s eyes were on you—

You were back to the present.

You ran farther and farther away with no clue as to where your legs were sprinting off to. You were on autopilot and let your body take full control. You just ran, ran like a headless chicken. Ran like your life depended on it. Ran like—

‘Sorry, sweetheart. You’re too heavy; the thing won’t go up,’ echoed the attendant’s haughty voice. He was ridiculing you. He didn’t even bothered to hide his laughter—

The memory flickered back and forth. Past and present were interweaving into one and you had no control over this madness.

Your mom’s hand grasped your shoulder as she tried to shield you away from the cruel world. However, it was too late. This was the last straw for you fragile self-esteem and you wanted to hide. You wanted to leave this park and forget this incident ever happened, but your pudgy stomach that stretched outwards taunted you.

Haunted you.

Humiliated you so much—

Kirishima’s voice cut through the memory.

He yelled your name and seized your arms to keep you still. Through your blurry eyes emerged your boyfriend’s concerned face that hovered close to yours. With your cheeks flushed and mouth widely gaping at him, you tried to find your words, but nothing was coming out. Instead, your legs collapsed under your trembling weight and you dove into Kirishima’s warm chest.

Suddenly, the dam broke and fresh tears flooded down your skin. Your cried loudly into Kirishima’s shirt as your hands gripped the loose fabric for dear life. Kirishima’s arms instantly yanked you closer to him and he cradled your quivering state; his mouth softly shushed into your ears as a way to sooth you. He was letting you cry, but it hurt him to see you in so much pain.

It fucking killed him.

“It’s ok, I got you,” he murmured into your ear and kissed your forehead. “I got you.”

What felt like a lifetime, your cries were reduced into silent whimpers. You slowly detached yourself from the red-headed teen, but his hands kept a firm grasp on you. Your puffy eyes shamefully darted towards the ground since you didn’t want to look at Kirishima.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffed. “I shouldn’t have ran out like that. I just couldn’t do it. It was too much—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he gently interrupted you with a reassuring rub on your back. One of his fingers lifted your chin and you finally stared into his warm, red eyes. “Don’t apologize. You had me worried over there. What happened?”

You bit your lip before letting out a shaky breath.

“Sitting on that chair triggered a painful memory for me,” you quietly confessed to him. “When I was a little girl, my mom took me to an amusement park. I saw the giant parachutes floating up into the air and thought it looked so much fun to ride on, so I begged my mom to go on it with me.”

You grasped your hands together and brought them closer to your chest. “I was so excited to fly up, but it didn’t happen. The attendant said we were too heavy and it wasn’t possible for the parachute leave the ground. As a little girl, I struggled with my weight; kids teased me relentlessly and called me horrible names. I tried smiling through the pain just like my mom, but I guess I didn’t have the same strength as her…”

Kirishima stayed silent as you continued. “Even though that incident happened years ago, I thought I was strong enough to push through it. But when I sat in that chair, it just triggered that same memory and I was traumatized again. I was that same little, overweight, heavy, fat girl all over again being laughed at. Feeling humiliated and ashamed. And—”

You felt the tears falling down your cheeks again. Kirishima pulled you into a tight hug as you sniffed into the crook of his neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, cursing himself for being so stupid. “I put you through all that pain again and it’s all my fault. I hurt you; that’s so unmanly of me!”

“No it’s not, don’t blame yourself,” you chastised him for even thinking that. “You didn’t know because I didn’t tell you. I never really told anyone if I’m being honest right now. It was something that I thought I should have kept buried, hoping it would just go away.”

Kirishima caressed your face with both hands and kissed your lips. Taken by surprise, your eyes remained wide open. However, you soon melted into the kiss and fluttered them closed to cherish the sweet moment between you two. Kirishima slowly pulled back, although his hands continued to hold your face.

He murmured your name and you hummed peacefully. “You’re the most beautiful and strongest person I’ve ever met. Those hurtful words don’t reflect who you are, they’re not true. What is true is that you were beautiful back then, you’re beautiful now and you’ll be beautiful the next day and forever.”

“It’s so hard to think that way,” you sighed in defeat. “After enduring all that bullying for years, the awful names and trauma still lingers in the back of my head. There will be moments where I feel comfortable with my body and appreciate my own skin.”

You paused for a moment. “But…one wrong move in front of the mirror and I see the flaws again. The laughter comes back and I hate how I look again. Then I wonder how you still even find me so attractive when you can do so much better—”

“No,” Kirishima fiercely objected. “I’m lucky to have you in my life. I’m lucky that you even took a chance with me. I probably don’t know exactly how you feel with your body every single day, but what I do know is that I love every inch of it. It’s soft, delicate, and powerful all at once. That’s what I see and I will remind you of this every day if I have to.”

Your heart fluttered at Kirishima’s sincere words and hugged him.

“Thank you…”

The little girl inside of you rubbed her tearful eyes and smiled through the pain. She believed him and your present-self did as well. The little girl took one finally glance at Kirishima through her eyes, your eyes, and disappeared into the darkness.

And you were at peace once again.

~~~

Thank you again for reading my story.

Just know that everyone suffers with their body image, including myself. Some days you may not love the person standing in front of the reflection and other times you will be amazed at what your body can do for you. Just remember that you are special, your body is unique and it is yours.

Please don’t hesitate to reach out for help. It could be a family member, friend, doctor, therapist: anyone who is willing to lend an ear and help you get better.

#kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #kirishima x you #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha x reader #mha kirishima #reader #bnha reader insert #red riot #kirishima eijirou #kirishima eijiro #bnha kirishima #body image #bullying #childhood trauma #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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maotranslates · 4 years ago

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Chapter 6

Novel: Life Going Wild With Plug-ins 带挂装逼, 最为致命 by Shi Zi Qing 十字卿

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Just as I was hesitating, I saw the drowsy-eyed doctors’ apprentices getting up to work. I wrung my hands and lamented: Jun Xuanheng ah, Jun Xuanheng, the common people are ordinary, yet are diligent and hardworking. You call yourself the god of creation, but you only think of sleeping, how can this be endured?

　　 I’m already not even as good as an ordinary person, and there is a fragile and poor little guard who needs to be fed. I absolutely can’t just do nothing like this anymore, it is important to find the method of turning on plug-ins as early as possible.

　　 I exchanged a few words with the hostess and asked her to take care of Ye Tan on my behalf. This youngster is really worrisome. I’ll go back to the inn to get the codebook*, and I should be back in time to eat lunch.

*codebook = book of plug-in codes from the first chapter, MC left it at the inn they were staying at

　　 As I was on the way, I thought of something. The boss at Nightrunner mentioned: Once a Shadow Guard recognizes a master, he is employed for life. But Ye Tan said last night that he had other masters before. I don't know what went wrong in the middle? Or is one of these two lying?

　　 It's a pity that I had too little information, and I had no clue no matter how much I thought about it. I saw the signboard of the inn from a distance, but also saw that the entrance was surrounded by numerous servants dressed in uniform, like the servants of some famous family.

　　 Everyone was gathered around the entrance, which was obstructing my way, so I could only push them aside one by one to get in. There were no other diners in the hall since earlier, only a sturdily dressed swordsman sat in the middle, slamming the sword hilt impatiently with an unfriendly expression. The shopkeeper next to him kept trying to soothe him with tea, and was profusely apologizing.

　　 I finally parted the crowd, stepped into the store, and went straight towards the stairs. After not even taking two steps, I felt that I had attracted all the eyes around me, as if piercing me from behind. I heard the swordsman snort out: "You’ve got some guts."

　　 The shopkeeper came back to his senses, pointing at me as he said: "He came back, it was this young master."

　　 "He is not Yue Changsheng." The swordsman spoke in an intimidating manner, and stood up. "Ridiculous, someone even dares to fool Zhong Liyuan."

　　 "How could this be?! When he stayed here the day before, the attendant personally wrote the pledge... How would anyone dare to pretend to be the guest of Master Zhong Liyuan..." The shopkeeper was losing his head out of fear and hurriedly trying to explain himself.

　　 I considered a few of these words, perhaps they were talking about me?

　　 Thus I glanced back.

　　 With just this glance, it was as if my facial features were a charm. Not only was the swordsman lost for a moment, there was even more commotion at the entrance.

　　 I know, they are intimidated by the special effects surrounding me.

　　 They definitely think that I am so beautiful as if glowing.

　　 Actually, I'm literally fucking glowing.

　　 "...Interesting. Although it's not Yue Changsheng, this will probably not disappoint the Noble Young Master."

　　 He turned around and stopped looking at me, and briefly ordered: "Take him away."

　　 The surrounding guards with knives responded in unison, and they carried me away in a well-trained manner. I was held above the heads of the crowd, and took the time to ask: "Where are you going? I have an appointment to go back for lunch, will I be back in time by noon?... Oh that’s not right, I came to get something... My book..."

　　 "Don't worry, you are indispensable." Without looking back, the swordsman got on his horse.

　　 The crowd of servants who were watching at the entrance of the store conscientiously cleared a path. They might have seen that I was sincere and not struggling, and allowed me to finally be put back on the ground. I couldn't really understand the situation and could only follow them, but after just taking a few steps, I saw Ye Tan break in.

　　 He had already changed into light-colored clothes, and his wounds seeming to have opened up again, with spots of blood seeping out that could be seen. When I saw him, I was simply so angry that I saw stars. How many times have I told him to nicely lie down and recuperate? Is it that hard?? Is it hard?!! Is it?!!!

　　 Ye Tan's forehead was covered in cold sweat, and he was slightly trembling. I wanted to go support him, but was blocked. Only then did I start feeling a bit angry.

　　 The swordsman looked at him condescendingly, but also seemed a bit pleased: "Oh... it turns out to be you."

　　 "...Ze Que." Ye Tan closed his eyes, his expression painful.

　　 These two know each other? Then shouldn’t it be much easier to communicate now? And this swordsman also seems to look very happy...

"I've been waiting for this day for a long time." Ze Que jumped off his horse and steadily gripped the hilt of his sword, "Come on, let me see it, my Second Young Master Zhong Liyuan’s strongest trump card, the ten year Yaksha’s military prestige— —" He paused, then suddenly asked, "Where is your sword?"

　　 Ye Tan said: "It's broken."

　　 "It's broken? You actually said it’s broken?" Ze Que's trace of joy turned into a murderous aura flooding with rage in an instant, and he spoke bitterly, "Even your sword is broken, why don't you go and die——?"

　　...This nonsense!!! Mentioning the pot that doesn’t boil*!!!!

*Mention the pot that doesn’t boil = idiom, to touch a sore spot

I! With great difficulty! Painstakingly! Swindled and deceived! And only then could I comfort him!! You guys! Are seriously! Just making trouble!! I’m so pissed!

　　 "I still… can't die." Ye Tan's voice was very soft, "I still have to protect my master."

　　 I looked back at him, and just happened to catch his steady gaze. My heart was in high spirits: I have been persuading and talking sense into him for days, has it finally become effective?

　　 Ze Que approached him step by step and sneered: "Master? What a joke, the Second Young Master has already banished you. You’re just a stray dog, who would want to keep a piece of rubbish like you..."

　　 "Pah, you’re the one who’s rubbish. My Shadow Guard is quite fine." This Creator God couldn’t even bear to scold him, but you little noob dare be so arrogant.

　　 There was a sudden sound of wind, my vision went dark for a second and I was already pushed away. Ze Que's movement was too fast, I fell on the ground and rolled two laps before I felt the pain. Compared with the small cut from before, it was more severe by an innumerable amount of times, and I could only desperately hold back my tears. The physical body… is surely… full of suffering… wuwawuwa.

　　 Ye Tan anxiously guarded in front of me, but the truth was that he had no sword and lost all his martial arts, so he really couldn't put up much of a struggle.

　　 "So it’s like this… Your new master, is this rubbish?" Ze Que was amused by him, "Although he suits the current you very well."

　　 Ye Tan ignored him, carefully supporting me up, and wiped the sticky blood from around my mouth.

Ze Que finished laughing, his voice becoming sinister again: "Yaksha, you’re so ridiculous, yet you are also truly hateful... The Noble Young Master treated you with the courtesy of being the best warrior in the country, but you were conceited and forceful, and never looked towards him directly. And now, you can’t even return one move from me. What kind of person is the Second Young Master, that the one succeeding him as your master, is this kind of flower vase* rubbish..."

*flower vase = idiom, just a pretty face with no brains

　　 "Sigh sigh, I’m not your match, so I concede defeat. I’ll die an honorable death." After I mocked him, I conveniently laid down my neck. It was actually quite clear to me that I was about to be chopped, and this save file would be doomed. It’s all my fault for forgetting to write the method for turning on plug-ins in the manual. Hmph, wait until I load the file next time, I’ll change the value of my Shadow Guard to a hundred times higher than yours, and beat you while hanging you on an electric fan. I’ll turn it up to the max, the kind that revolves at lightning speed.

　　 I rolled my eyes and slandered him a while, but when I recovered my spirit and saw Ye Tan's eyes, my heart suddenly tightened.

"...I have let you down, Master. I… If I were still at my prime, I would never have let Master suffer this humiliation." He sighed in a low voice, and dejectedly said, "If only it was you that I met in the beginning... then it would be good..."

　　...Ah, that’s right. For him, this is goodbye forever.

　　 Next time, even if I load the file and start over again, will it still be this crumpled Shadow Guard…?

　　 I was suddenly a bit unwilling.

　　 I didn't know what kind of warm liquid dripped on my face, unaware if it was blood or tears. The last scene I saw was the Shadow Guard approaching me. He slowly closed his eyes, and then the vision before me went dark.

　　——My breathing and heartbeat stopped.

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duskastormgrove · 4 years ago

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SSO February Prompt Day 14: Your Valentine

something different for this prompt, i decided to write and post something for the first time in 6 years!

this is a oneshot about my oc making a gift for ydris, i had intended for it to be able to be interpreted as platonic but uhhh that didn’t happen! anyway don’t razz me too hard im out of practice.

This was not nearly enough bee balm. Duska had thought her crafting larder well stocked but while she had flax coming out of her ears her supply of bee balm meant the dye would not nearly be purple enough. She had a full day of stutching, crimping and brushing the flax and spinning it into thread, there was no way she could spare the time to grab more. However, Duska was lucky enough to have very loyal (and very bored) friends, and her first instinct was to pull up her chat with Alex.

D: girl help

A: what you need bb

D: bee balm

D: as much as you can carry

A: can I ask what for?

D: valentine’s gift I’m making

A: :o

A: omw

True to her word, Alex was in Valedale and jogging to the workshop within the hour. In her arms was a bundle of bee balm and her fingers were faintly green from furiously yanking up the stems.

“You’re a lifesaver Alex,”Duska groaned in relief, immediately relieving her friend of her burden and starting to strip the blossoms from the stems.

“Least I could do considering you helped me ask Maya out last Christmas!” Alex hoisted herself up onto the only uncluttered workbench to watch Duska work. She was silent for all of thirty seconds before the prodding began, “sooooo, who’s the lucky person?”

Duska pointedly ignored her and threw the flowers into a boiling pot. She stirred and hummed in a satisfied way when the violet colour began to bleed into the water. She didn’t look up when Alex came to stand behind her and look into the pot as well. Eventually Duska banged the spoon on the side of the pot and dropped it onto the bench.

“You’re thinking too hard, I can see the smoke coming out of your ears,” she snapped, jabbing a finger at Alex’s forehead.

“It’s just- the colour looked familiar but like, I don’t want to assume or anything but uh… it’s circus bae, right?”

“Please. Never call him that again I feel part of me die when you do,” Duska moaned, rubbing her temples. “But yes, I’m making a new ringmaster’s jacket for Ydris. I felt bad I scorched his usual one.”

“When he was keeping Concorde prisoner and turned you into a 5 carat Lusitano?”

“You know it wasn’t out of malice, Alex. It’s hard to explain but when he talked about Pandoria under threat from Garnok he seemed so hopeless and scared. I really think he was desperate and taking desperate measures.”

Alex was quiet for a while and sat herself back on the workbench. Duska put the lid on the pot and waited until it started rattling before she turned the heat down to a simmer. Another hour or so and she could start straining the colour away from the flowers. In the meantime she could stutch more flax and get it ready to be spun on the wheel. She might even have time to make cloth on the loom today!

“Is this the part where you beat the shit out of the plants?” Alex asked, swinging her legs in excitement, “Can I help out? Please? I’ll beat it up so good I promise!” Duska sighed but laid the stems over the board and showed Alex how to beat the fibres out properly with the stutching stick. Soon the Lightning Circle Rider was happily smacking the flax and Duska could sit at the wheel and start spinning lengths of thread from the flax she’d stutched, crimped and brushed out earlier. The sounds of the wheel turning and the steady thumpthumpthump of Alex working away were almost soothing to Duska’s ears. Alex was a chatty type of friend, moreso than Lisa or Anne but there was no such thing as an uncomfortable silence with her, simply working in the same room was enough for her, especially if she thought she was being helpful.

“All finished!” Alex proclaimed as she ran the last of the coarse flax through the brush, “Can I do anything else Dus?”

“Nothing that I can think of,” Duska said regretfully, “thanks so much for today, I really appreciate it.”

“Eh, that’s what pals are for!” Alex said, slapping a hand on Duska’s shoulder and went to leave the workshop, “I’ll see you at the Galentine’s trail ride!” Duska waved fondly and rolled her shoulders before hunching back over the spinning wheel, just an hour or so more and she could move to the loom, another backbreaker.

“Oh and Duska?” Duska looked up from the wheel, to see Alex’s face, smiling but with a worried crease to her brow, “Be careful alright?”

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

“Sorry I’m late Daxton, took forever to load these screens onto Clover’s back, nearly dropped them in the Hollow Woods too!” Duska hipchecked the door to Daxton’s shop open and sidled in sideways with the two enormous screens she had prepared in advance. Silk, for the inside of the jacket, had a fairly straightforward dyeing process that would lead to a nice pattern. For this one in particular she only needed two screens but she also needed dye baths and a silk dyeing setup she simply didn’t have. This is where Daxton came in. The anxious tailor had a delightful array of fancy tailor tools and was willing to help her in return for all the deliveries and favours she’d done for him in the last two years.

“Don’t worry, things are slow today,” Daxton reassured her as he grabbed the other side of the screens and helped Duska carry them to the back, “Give me a second I want to clean these up, go check those fabric samples on the desk and make sure they’re the colours you want.” Duska did as instructed, while Daxton polished the screens off with a cloth that reminded her of a cloth she used to scrub the dust off of her horses before a show.

“All good, these are exactly what I’m looking for,” Duska said, laying the fabric down and grabbing a roll of silk material to lay across the rack. She taped it flat and Daxton lay the screen over it, double-checking the placement before he grabbed the bottle of dye. The purple dye went on first and Daxton dragged a large squeegee across the screen to spread it evenly onto the silk. When he moved the screen to the next spot Duska could see the purple pattern, with white blank spaces waiting for the next dye.

“Oh fuck yeah this looks awesome Dax!” she exclaimed and the tailor shushed her.

“Please! I need to concentrate or something awful might happen!” Not willing to take a chance on whether or not this was Daxton’s paranoia at work or an actual possibility, Duska kept silent and simply hovered over his shoulder and watched until the fabric was covered in purple dye.

“Next screen,” Daxton said, wiping sweat from his forehead. Duska hurried to remove the old one and set up the new one. She felt strangely useless here, with Daxton in his element and blasting through silk like no one’s business. This time the gold dye was poured on, and it filled the blank spaces the first screen had left. By the time Daxton reached the end of the roll it was filled entirely with the repeating pattern and Duska was waiting anxiously with a glass of water.

“Aideen’s light, Dax! This is perfect!”

“Okay, we’ll wait until it dries and then you can take it home!” Daxton readjusted his thick glasses to admire his handiwork and gratefully took the glass, “What are you making with this anyway?”

“Oh it’s a Valentine’s day gift.”

The colour drained from Daxton’s face and the hand holding his water began to tremble.

“Jeepers, glad you didn’t tell me it was so important, I would’ve messed it up for sure!”

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

It wasn’t unusual for Farah to find her chief apprentice clattering around in the workshop before dawn. Duska was a hard worker and liked to get the orders done and delivered early to free up the rest of her day. She was a busy woman from what Farah saw of her zooming around on various horses and doing chores for residents of Valedale. What was unusual, was the amount of swearing coming from down by the river.

“Everything okay here?” she asked cautiously. Duska looked up, several pins hanging from her mouth and fabric aggressively clutched in her hands.

“It’s fine. It’s… swell.”

“Not sure I believe that one,” Farah laughed, feeling it was safe to approach her apprentice, “Let me in there, I can help out, are we doing a jacket?” She might have felt bad for intruding but Duska’s immediate look of relief assuaged those worries.

“It’s the lapels, I’m stuggling with them, if you could fix them I could finally start the epaulettes?” Duska asked hopefully.

“No problem, it’s a beautiful jacket so far, I love the silk pattern!”

“Thanks, Daxton helped me out with it, it turned out exactly how I wanted,” Duska explained as she went around the back of the mannequin to start sewing the golden fringed epaulettes onto the shoulders, “This is the first time I’ve made a Valentine’s gift, I’m… admittedly a little stressed about it.” Farah raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a lot of effort for a Valentine’s gift.”

“Well, he doesn’t celebrate Christmas, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a birthday.”

“He… doesn’t-”

“Don’t worry about it. Just know this is the best time for a gift.” Farah didn’t quite know how to respond so she simply continued on with the lapels in silence. Well, almost silence. Her grandmother always sang while she worked so Farah had picked up the habit too. If she listened carefully after a while she could hear Duska quietly humming along. The two of them finished their respective tasks fairly quickly, and stood back to look at the whole piece together.

“Looks good! Just the cuffs and buttons left yeah? I can help with them if you’d like?” Farah offered, but Duska shook her head.

“I want to do the finishing touches myself, feels a bit more personal that way, if that makes sense?”

“No, no, I get it. Best of luck with it, whoever the lucky person is he’s sure to love it!” Farah turned to go back to the request board, she’d cover the orders today, Duska deserved the day to herself to finish her work. Farah couldn’t help but wonder who such an extravagant ringmaster’s jacket would be meant for.

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

February 14th. Now or never. Duska had been tense all morning, and now as she was carefully packing the box into her delivery satchel she almost felt queasy with nerves. This wasn’t such a big deal, the jacket was nice! Ydris wasn’t going to blast her to dust because she gave him a gift, was he? At worst he’d treat it the same as Isebell’s Yule gift and simply not open it. That would almost be preferable. It was still early in the morning so maybe she could simply drop the package into the delivery box and take off before she was noticed. That was a pretty solid plan, she’d have to leave straight away though.

“Duska?”

There goes that plan.

“Sorry Duska, but if you’re heading in that direction could you deliver this herbal tea to Mrs. Holdsworth?” Farah looked contrite enough that Duska loaded the tea into the bag without a word. She was taking Cinder, her beloved soul horse, if any horse was going to give her the confidence she needed it would be the silver dapple mare. With a pat and a cluck of her tongue, Cinder ambled towards the woodland road to Silverglade Village and beyond. A short detour to Moorland wouldn’t add too much time to her journey, not with the way Cinder liked to gallop down the trail leading there. Speaking of which, the warmblood began to toss her head and pull at the bit when they cleared the woods.

“Alright lady, let ‘em have it,”Duska acquiesced, letting the reins go long. Cinder took off with glee, mane flapping, hooves pounding, and nearly jostling Duska right out of the saddle. This pace would definitely keep them on time!

“I have your tea leaves Mrs. H,” Duska greeted her favourite neighbourhood witch.

“Thank you darling, sit down and have a cup with me why don’t you?” Mrs Holdsworth patted the picnic bench and Duska was sorely tempted to delay the inevitable by having tea and a chat with her.

“Sorry but, I kind of have an important delivery to do, maybe tomorrow?”

“A gift for a paramour?” Mrs. Holdsworth guessed, a little too accurately and with a glint in her eye.

“Ugh. Who told you?”

“Alex is never a great keeper of secrets, but to give her credit she only confided in me because she was worried,” Mrs. Holdsworth propped her cane against the bench and sat down, “Let me have a peek.” Duska reluctantly dismounted and let Cinder graze while she carefully unboxed the jacket and displayed it to the wise old woman.

Mrs. Holdsworth took her time examining the jacket, turning over the sleeves, peering at the stitching over her half rim glasses and rubbing a thumb over the silk lining. Duska almost felt like she was being assessed for an exam. She wanted to get a good grade on the ‘Old Woman Critiques Your Lovesick Tailoring Exam’. A totally fine and normal thing to want.

“Hm!” Mrs. Holdsworth finally proclaimed. She shuffled over to the base of one of the cherry trees in her yard and bent down, grabbing a handful of grass in the shadow of the tree. “Show me the front again?” Duska flipped the jacket and came closer, careful not to let the coattails drag in the dirt. Mrs. Holdsworth threaded the grass through one of the button holes and tied a knot in the stems. She put her hands on her hips and nodded approvingly. “There you are dearie, now off you go, Valentine’s Day waits for no one!”

Duska repacked the jacket cautiously and looked closer at the grass. Instead of simple blades, Mrs. Holdsworth had put a small bouquet of clovers into the topmost button hole.

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

Time was now of the essence. Duska slid off Cinder’s back as soon she skidded to a halt at Nilmer’s Highland and sprinted to the delivery box. Any courage she’d built up on her exhilarating gallop to get there was rapidly deserting her and she wanted to vault back onto Cinder and scamper back to Valedale as fast as humanly possible. Still, ‘fast as humanly possible’ wasn’t enough to outspeed a leisurely Pandorian stroll, as to her horror, the door of the wagon swung open just as the delivery box lid swung closed.

“Little dove!” Ydris boomed, “to what do I owe the pleasure? I don’t recall making an order at Ms. Farah’s quaint little workshop.” Duska couldn’t do anything to intervene as Ydris flipped the lid and dipped his hand in for the box. “Oh?” He hummed, gently tugging at the ribbon, “a gift for the amazing Ydris? I appear to have an admirer, my dove.”

“Sure seems so,” Duska managed through gritted teeth. He smirked at her and started to prod and poke and shake the box, holding it to his ear and tapping a rhythm on the side. “I know you’re not from around here,” Duska intoned heavily, “but it’s considered rude to look at the box and not open it.”

“Silly me! Let me unravel this mystery!” With one yank on the ribbon the knot fell apart, somehow, and Ydris discarded it over his shoulder. He opened the lid, casting that to one side and too khold of the jacket by the lapels, letting the other half of the packaging fall too. “What do we have… here...?”

Duska held her breath as Ydris fell silent. Silence was unnerving with the ringmaster, as was the look he was giving his gift. His face was carefully expressionless as he turned the coat over, gently brushing his hand over the eggplant purple linen. He drifted up to the golden epaulettes, twirling the fringe between his fingers. Finally he opened the jacket, revealing the purple and gold repeating pattern of-

“Panda rays,” he breathed. There was something almost reverent about the way he traced their shapes and Duska felt almost like she shouldn’t be watching him.

“Yeah they’re one of the nicer things I’ve met from Pandoria, sweet little guys,” she responded, looking to fill the awkward quiet. Ydris looked over at her, seeming surprised at her presence, like he’d forgotten she was there. He shook his head and his smirk was back in its usual place.

“One of? Should I consider that a compliment?” Ydris held the jacket out to her and a horrible swooping feeling in her stomach made her hands shake as she took it, but she was quickly relieved of it again as he whipped his old coat off and traded it for his new one in one fluid motion. He pulled the jacket on with a flourish and twirled in a circle to make the tailcoats flare outwards. “How do I look, little dove?”

“I’d trust you to run a circus looking like that,” Duska smiled weakly, feeling relieved that the ringmaster seemed to like it.

“Ah,” Ydris’ twirling came to a stop and he looked suddenly thoughtful, “but I cannot accept this, I have nothing to give you in return.” Duska began to stammer that there was no need to return the favour but Ydris shushed her. “All I can offer, temporarily, is this.”

He took her hand, softly, gently, like a breeze gently tugging it upwards. He leaned forward, all two metres of him, and when she could feel his breath on her skin he snapped his eyes up to meet hers.

“May I?” Thrown by his question Duska just nodded, and he gently pressed his lips to the back of her hand. Her skin tingled and when she dared to look a soft pink mark was glowing on her hand. “Anytime, anywhere, press here and call me, and I’ll come and find you, no matter what, that is a solemn vow, my dove,” Ydris murmured, in a tone far softer than she’d ever heard from him before.

“T-thank you, Ydris, this is… it’s… I’m honoured you’d trust me with this.” Ydris stood upright, straightening his jacket and looking almost flustered.

“Yes well, maybe wear gloves around your druid friends. It’s a one-way ticket to the druid jail under that quaint summer house.”

“Well if that happens you’ll have to come and rescue me like a dashing knight, won’t you?” Ydris smirked but Duska didn’t miss the faint blush that appeared on his cheeks. It almost glowed like the mark he’d left on her.

“I suppose I shall, and I shall do it looking quite splendid, little dove.”

#ssofebruaryprompt #sso #star stable online #star stable

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dierwolves · 5 years ago

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fezco x reader; gsw

request: okay so hear me out! fez and reader(who’s rue’s cousin and a nurse) use to date in high school and they break up (you can make up the reason why cause idk) and the reader is moving back to town with leslie (rue’s mom). then one day rue is hanging out at fez’s house where something’swrong between him and mouse and mouse shoots fez but he didn’t wanna go to the hospital so rue calls her cousin( the reader) to help and when she/he gets there they realize that they still have feelings for each other

notes: hope this is what you wanted!!!

“Hey Rue. What’s up?”

“Y/N, come to Fez’s house right now please?”

“Why? If this is another excuse to get us together-”

“I swear it’s not! Please, hurry! And bring whatever you need to treat a bullet wound!”

“To- what the hell? Rue?!”

The line went dead. You quickly managed to put everything you needed in a bag and rushed to the car. Your breath had quickened and your palms were sweating. You knew you were in no condition to drive but it’s not like you had a choice. You assumed it was Fez who was hurt, it wouldn’t have been Rue on the phone if it was her. Jesus, why couldn’t they have normal problems like any other teenagers?! She should be dealing with a failed exam, not with a bullet wound.

You grabbed the bag and got off the car. Rue must have seen you coming because she opened the door before you even got there.

“He’s in the sofa.” If there was one thing you would have never wanted to happen, was your high school sweetheart lying semi-unconsciously with a bullet wound on his shoulder, being taken care by 13-year-old kid and your little cousin. But alas, here you were.

“Fez, can you here me?” He moaned. Okay, he was awake. Good.

“What should we do?” Ashtray, who was holding what seemed like a very expensive t-shirt against the wound was looking at you worriedly.

“Oh, I don’t know. Taking him to the hospital, maybe?!”

“No.” Fez answered, eyes still closed. “They would ask.”

You sighed. “You really should go to the hospital. I don’t know what’s the internal damage. What if the bullet has hit an artery, or if it has broken and it’s travelled-”

“No hospitals.” He struggled to open his eyes. You were having a hard time holding back your tears. “I trust you.”

You nodded. “Alright.”

“So, what do we do?” Rue was looking at you anxiously. “Are we going to remove the bullet?”

“We? You two stay back for now and let me work. First, I will clean the wound. We’ll see from then.” You took a deep breath. This was definitely not your area of expertise, but you weren’t about to let Fezco die.

After thirty minutes of work —clean the wound, remove the bullet, close the wound— there was nothing more you could do. You had forced both Ash and Rue to leave (making sure neither of them had signs of shock). And now you were left alone with Fez.

“So,” He cleared his throat. “I’m making it?”

You looked at him, lying in that sofa, covered in blankets, eyes hardly open. You were trying to be positive, but this was one of the worst things you have had to face. There’s a reason why doctors aren’t allowed to treat relatives and loved ones. Oh, did you just say that word?

“I think so, yeah. It looks like it.”

“You don’t look too happy about it.” He looked at you with a grimace.

“Of course I’m not happy. Do you even know how dangerous a bullet wound is? Only one in five survive, that with appropriate medical attention. I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

He was looking at you in a weird way, a soft smile on his lips. “C’mere.” You sat on the floor next to the sofa. You moved your hand to his forehead. He didn’t seem to have a fever. “I didn’t know you cared that much.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be stupid, you know I do. I’ve always cared.” Your hand moved to his head without noticing and started caressing his hair. He sighed contentedly. You stayed quiet for a few minutes. You looking at him, while he kept his eyes closed.

“Remember when we first hooked up?” He opened his eyes, looking at you with a spark of mischief.

“Of course I do. On Halloween. Very romantic.”

“Man, you looked hot in that nurse costume.”

“Where the hell are we going?”

“To buy weed. Now shut up!”

Your friend was dragging you around the house of some dude you didn’t know. “I’m not gonna smoke. Do you now how bad is that for your health? It affects your brain, liver lungs-”

“Please, Y/N, you don’t need to smoke, just come with me.” You sighed, but followed her to wherever she was taking you. You stopped in front of a cute guy with freckles and blue eyes. While your friend bought the weed you looked around nervously, but nobody seemed to be looking at you.

“Who’s your nervous friend?”

“Ah, this is Y/N. Y/N this is Fez. If you let her talk too much, she’ll give you a full list of the reasons why drugs are the worst.” Your friend rolled her eyes, but the guy only laughed.

“I wouldn’t mind that. Maybe she can keep me company for a while.” You friend’s eyes widened comically. You would have laughed if you weren’t sure your face looked exactly that ridiculous.

“Sure! I’ll leave you to it.” She left you alone with the cute guy without giving you time to protest.

“So, you don’t do drugs?”

“No.”

“Never?”

You shook your head.

“That’s cool. Then I know you won’t be stealing my weed.”

“No. That won’t be a problem.”

You stayed silent for a while until he talked again. “So, all this anti-drugs shit and dressed up as a nurse. You wanna be a doctor?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I hope so.”

His eyes travelled from your cleavage to the black heels and back to your eyes. “Maybe you can help me with these pains I’ve been having...”

It was a pathetic pick up line. Still, 30 minutes later, you found yourself legs wide open while Fez pounded on you on some random bathroom you both had stumbled upon. You thought it was a nice hook up with a cute guy, but you woke up with a text from him the next day:

hey, im fez

the dude from last night (idk how much u drank so just in case)

want to hang out today?

wearing the nurse costume again would be a nice touch

“You don’t happen to keep that costume, right? For old time’s sake.”

“If we have sex now, the wound will re-open and you’ll die. So, no.” He had his playful smile back, and aside from being relieved about him feeling better, it also made you feel certain things.

“Well, when I’m feeling better...”

“Fez, we are not having this conversation right now.”

“C’mon, Y/N. Why not? We ain’t kids no more. You like me and I like you. What’s the problem?”

“Do you really want to have this conversation now?” He should be sleeping, but he nodded, and you knew there was no way to convince him otherwise. “You were the one who broke up with me, Fez.”

“What was I supposed to do? You left town. I thought you were never gonna come back.”

You laughed. “Always so dramatic. Of course I was gonna come back when I finished college. I wanted to be with you. I always made that clear.” You looked at him, waiting for him to say something. “So, what now?”

“Wanna go on a date with me?”

He looked unsure, as if you hadn’t just told him you’ve been pathetically in love with him since forever. “Sure. When you’re not on the verge of death.”

He nodded. “Okay. I’m gonna sleep now.” He closed his eyes and moved around trying to find a comfortable position in the couch. “Meanwhile you can go look for that nurse costume, you know? It’d really help my recovery.”

“Sleep. Now.” With one last laugh he turned around and his breathing started to even up. You fell asleep on the floor next to him, with a smile on your lips, thinking of your upcoming date.

#fezco x reader #fezco #fezco imagine #fezco euphoria #fez #fez imagine #fez x reader #rue bennett #rue euphoria #euphoria x reader #euphoria

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ice-cream-nekogirl · 5 years ago

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Out of My League (Midoriya Izuku X Reader X Bakugou Katsuki) PART 5

PART 5 to: https://ice-cream-kitsunegirl.tumblr.com/post/189980977299/out-of-my-league-midoriya-izuku-x-reader-x

Taglist: @dailyojiromashirao, @asja-the-hoarder, @breezy-chan11414, @captainw0lfy, @sunflowergem, @lenkiryuu

Clarifications:

(F/C): Favorite Color (H/C): Hair Color (E/C): Eye Color

Summary: You prepare yourself for the dance, and Izuku is nervous as hell...

She comes to speak to me I freeze immediately 'Cause what she says sounds so unreal...

‘She’s So High’- Tal Bachman

THE OTHER DAY…

‘Hey. I know I acted like a gloomy doofus yesterday, but I still do wanna go to the dance with you. So… we’ll meet here? At the front of the school building?’

Izuku gasped sharply and loudly, hand coming to his mouth to cover any scream that wanted to leave him, and he called himself an idiot before texting back ‘Yes! Yes! We’ll meet here! Can’t wait!’ That came off a bit more excited than he hoped but he couldn’t help it, you still wanted to go to the dance?! He was so happy! Oh my God he was still going to the dance with you, he almost forgot about that…

Oh my God he almost forgot about that and now he had to learn how to dance! And fast!!

And unbeknownst to him, you were thinking the exact same thing as you stood in your room and put on several Youtube videos to learn all these cool dances. You were clumsy doing it but you kept at it so you could actually try to do something like dancing for tomorrow night…

Afterwards you made sure to shave everything, well, legs and pits at least. You’d let the forest reclaim the lands AFTER the dance, but for today and tomorrow, your legs and pits would have to be bare and maybe a little shiny.

THE DAY OF THE DANCE…

This was it. You were scared as hell as you anxiously sat in the seat of your mother’s car and double checked everything. Your legs and pits were shaven and soft with lotion you vigorously rubbed onto your skin, your teeth were brushed too but you still chewed some gum so it didn’t smell. And you wore extra deodorant and perfume so your body didn’t smell the way it usually did either.

Lastly, you made sure that this dress you chose wasn’t all messed up after you got your hair done at that place Midnight suggested and also had your nails all polished up. Looking at yourself in the mirror shocked you, lips shiny with gloss and eyes covered with that mascara stuff but it wasn’t like it was overdone. No you only had a minimal amount of make-up done because it wasn’t something you were used to but you could still see a little bit of a difference?

It was strange but at the same time you thought you actually looked kinda good. Especially now that you saw all of yourself in the mirror in your dress, your shoes, this weird purse that your mom gave you. It was kinda weird and yet weirdly exciting too. You felt like one of those princesses in those movies where the princesses were getting ready for the ball.

And you felt like surprising everyone too to let them all see their frumpy classmate all dressed up, because you were living for it as your happy mother drove you to the front of UA. “Have fun~! Please ask Inko-chan to take a picture of you and Izuku-kun!” She chimed and you perked up in shock, why did she mention Izuku’s mom?

Oh my God she wasn’t there was she…?

NOT FAR AWAY…

“M-Mom…! P-Please y-you really don’t…” Izuku was already blushing quite heavily as his mother did his tie for him, so she could take yet another picture of him. Oh my God his mother was at school with him, and his classmates were there and he could hear some of the females like Hagakure and Yaoyorozu cooing at how cute it was, while Aoyama, Tokoyami, Kouda and Ojiro glanced at him sympathetically before they went inside.

He was already nervous as hell and sweating bullets that he needed extra anti-perspirant. His teeth were brushed and everything, and he was starting to hate himself for not brushing his hair more. Even though that’s the way it was, naturally curly and yet still he wished it was a little straighter because he wanted this night to be perfect. You deserved perfect.

“I’m sorry Izuku! But I couldn’t resist! It’s your first dance with your first date!” However, Inko almost pretended to be oblivious to the fact that her son turned even redder the second the word ‘date’ came up in front of all his friends.

“D-Date?! N-No! No t-t-that’s not… I-It isn’t…” He stammered quite badly, even though he was starting to wonder, was this a date? No he couldn’t think that, he was just taking his friend out to the dance because you asked him out and he WANTED to go with you. His friend asked him out, he was NOT going to get over that…

“I-It can’t be I mean… no we’re just… f-friends…” Still, Izuku convinced himself that this was just a dance, because he still believed that you were way out of his league and he felt so lucky that you asked him out and that he would have this dance with you. Someone he thought was amazing, powerful and so…

“She’s beautiful…” Inko didn’t mean to ignore her son, but the second she saw the person he was going with she paused as soon as she saw you. And Izuku perked up a little bit in confusion when he heard his mother, but he gasped outloud as soon as he saw what she was talking about, eyes going wide when he saw that it was you.

He swore Todoroki must have been around with his quirk because Izuku felt himself freeze the second he saw you coming over to him.

You were smiling bashfully in the (F/C) dress that was long and flowing with the night breeze; there was shorts underneath, almost like a romper but it didn’t deter from how elegant it made you look. (F/C) shoes clacked with the ground you walked on, and (H/C) hair looking so beautiful, shiny in it’s unusual style, high up and tied in contrast to how you normally wore it. Your (E/C) eyes seemed to sparkle a little more today and Izuku couldn’t help but notice, his flushed cheeks burning even hotter as he couldn’t help but admire the way you looked in that dress, his mother was far from wrong.

You WERE beautiful. You were so beautiful…

“Izuku…! Is that little (Y/N)-chan?!” But then his thoughts were broken when his mom recognized this lovely young woman as you, and he nodded slowly, “Y-Yes… yes it is… and… s-she is…” He clarified, and agreed with what his mom had said earlier, god you were so beautiful…

“U-Uhh H-Hi! Hi Mrs. Midoriya.” Your smile widened when you saw Izuku’s sweet little mother and she was more than excited to greet you again. “(Y/N)-chan! It’s so nice to see you again! Oh my goodness… y-you… you’ve grown so much!” She remembered you as Izuku’s good friend, you were a sweet girl, definitely had that charm to you, and so it surprised her to see you looking… like an adult.

“Y-Yeah…! Haha… I uh… still can’t believe I’m here… but if there’s one person I wanted to ask out to this thing… it was Izuku. He’s… been my friend forever… and I wanted to dance with him.” You said somewhat shyly but sincerely as Izuku’s face somehow turned even redder.

“A-Ahhhh…! T-Th… T-Thank you (Y/N)… o-oh my God… I-I…I-I’m so g-glad that… y-you asked me out… I-I… n-n-never thought I would… g-get to go to… o-one of these things… b-but… t-thank you (Y/N)…” Poor Izuku could barely speak he was so flustered, still so awed seeing you looking so regal and so powerful. How and why you asked him out to this dance he’ll never know.

“Y-Yeah… y-you… you’re welcome Izuku. I’m… really happy to be here.” You said with a warm smile, which made Inko smile. But then she started to tear up when this made her realize that her son was all grown up, because just not long ago she remembered you and Izuku playing together, the two of you were so tiny and now you were going to a dance…

You were always so good and so sweet to her boy…

“Thank you (Y/N)-chan!! For being so good to my Izuku!!” She promptly burst into tears as you and Izuku both jumped and started to freak out a little bit when the poor woman started crying. “M-Mom! Mom it’s okay…! D-Don’t cry…!”

“M-Mrs. Midoriya…! R-Really it’s no problem! Of course!” Still, you and Izuku smiled and comforted the emotional woman and she did calm down… albeit purely for the sake to take at least 20 pictures of her son with you.

‘She bounced back fast…’ You thought in amusement as you stood with Izuku, hand in his as he was still blushing darkly and looking hella embarrassed when his mom kept taking picture after picture. “Mom I-I think that’s…”

“Oh just one more! It’s your first dance!!” She chirped as you giggled and kinda helped her by putting your head on Izuku’s shoulder and he nearly screamed and you swore he was going to faint when you hugged his arm and Inko took even MORE pictures.

“O-Okay I think…” Izuku felt bad for wanting to make his mother stop but this was getting embarrassing, “C’mon Izuku… put your arm around me, for your mom.” However, you convinced him to let her take one more picture as Izuku’s body trembled and his eyes went wide.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with being hugged, but it still made him incredibly anxious. At least until you smiled at him, oh God that didn’t help you were too beautiful. “It’s okay… just like this.” But your words and gentle touches somehow allowed him to calm down long enough as he swallowed hard and found his arm around you.

He tried to will himself to not blush any darker when he could hear his mother squeal as she took at least 10 pictures of that and you had to try not to laugh at how endearing she was. “Okay, okay! Thank you! I think I took plenty… have fun you two~!” Although she wanted to take a little bit more pictures of her son actually dancing with you, she decided to give her flustered boy a break so you and him could actually go into the building.

“W-We will mom…!”

“Oh we totally will!”

The two of you waved at the women before Izuku decided that now was a good time to go in, he’s seen this in movies before where the guy offers his arm out to the girl but he felt so shy and so anxious about doing so. He shakily brought his arm out for you to take, which you were more than happy to as you giggled.

“Goodness aren’t you a gentleman?” You asked him somewhat playfully as he started to stutter and blush quite heavily again, his face was so bright red you thought it was adorable and just wanted to kiss it all over.

“I-I uh… w-well u-um… I-I… h-hope so…” He admitted, although he didn’t want to brag and say he considered himself a gentleman because his mother DID raise a gentleman after all. However, he knew that you deserved just that, a gentleman.

“You are Izuku… obviously. Your mom is so sweet it’s only normal that her baby boy is just as sweet.” You smirked and teased him a little more as he perked up in embarrassment, “(Y/N)…! Don’t say that…!” He kind of whined when you called him a ‘baby boy’ and you just smiled and laughed, hugging his arm as his already flushed cheeks further reddened.

“That’s a good thing though… it’s why I asked you out.” You said rather fondly and this somewhat calmed the boy down a little bit, even though it still shocked him, it also made him really happy as he was able to smile at you. “I’m… glad (Y/N). I didn’t think I wanted to ever go to one of these things until… well… until you asked me out and I thought that maybe it’d be fun, because I’d actually get to go with someone I… trust.” He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘like’ because… for one he was already blushing just thinking about saying it, and on top of that, he didn’t want to just ruin everything by saying he liked you.

Even though he did, he really liked you, and deep down, he always has…

“Yeah… me too.” Nodding in agreement you and Izuku smiled at each other as you couldn’t help but admire all of these silly decorations, “Hee-hee… I’m almost thinking about going to Mcdonalds after this or something… what do you think Izuku? Wanna go someplace after this, maybe ice cream?” It was so awkward you had to say something that sounded like you and it actually made Izuku feel a little bit more at ease as he almost giggled.

“Sure! I think that’d be a good idea…” He was more than happy to accept that, if it meant getting to spend more time with you, then he’d go with you anywhere and even take you anywhere.

INSIDE THE GYM…

“What the fuck am I even doing here?”

Was all Bakugo could ask himself as he glowered at this entire fucking place with it’s annoyingly bright music and corny music. Who the hell was in charge of the music? And why the hell did they let Kaminari choose some songs?

Then again, some of these dumb old songs also sounded like songs you listened to. Bakugo knew of your taste in music, frankly he thought your taste in music sucked, but that was just you. And this theme, good God this fucking theme, it was definitely something you chose and he couldn’t believe it won.

Yet, he was almost bummed that you couldn’t even be here to see it. He knew how much you loved this dumb show, and he had to admit, it was cool. Those three dragons were fucking awesome. Dammit, you weren’t here…

He almost didn’t expect you to be here though, not after you were feeling too miserable to even get up out of your room. Although, Kirishima and Mina did tell him that you were feeling better. He wanted to go and see if you were all right, but he was also still kind of mad at you for going off on him the other day. Even though you had every right to, Bakugo was well aware that he wasn’t a good friend to you all those years. He wanted to apologize, but his damn pride kept him from doing just that…

Maybe he just leave, this dance wasn’t even fun or even getting close to anything resembling fun. He only came because Kirishima and Kaminari annoyed him into going.

“Aww c’mon man, it just started!” Kirishima tried to get his friend to stick around just a little bit longer, since they literally just got here.

“Well it fucking sucks already! What the hell kind of dance is this supposed to be?!” The theme was the only good part, but he didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t having fun because he was still not all happy because of everything that’s been going on with you and him. Kirishima knew though, so he smiled at his friend because he knew you were coming.

He just didn’t know that you asked someone else to dance.

“Give it a chance! I mean… it’s just getting’ started, the music and the girls are coming~.” Kaminari tried to tease him, but Bakugo could care less about the girls. All except for one, and he was certain that one wasn’t even coming. Dances weren’t your thing.

Dances weren’t his thing either. He thought they were a waste of time and still didn’t see the point of them. Sure he was cool enough to go to them, and anyone else who tried to ask him out was always rejected. Some were too scared to even ask him even if they wanted to, but you were somehow brave enough to, even when he rejected you.

Bakugo would never admit it, but he felt bad for you. Not just for the video, but for everything. All he’d done in the past, how he rejected you like that before the Sadie Hawkins dance, and the fact that you probably weren’t even coming because again, dances weren’t your thing. And he had no doubts that you didn’t ask anyone out because you were way too shy to do that, so he thought.

“Oh my God, who cares?!” He shouted angrily at his two dumb friends, much to Sero’s amusement as he tried to not laugh at his friends’ expense.

“Sheesh… someone’s got a wedgie or something…” Sero commented on how extra cranky Bakugo was to Mina, but she didn’t seem to be paying attention as she had her eyes on something else. She looked surprised, even amazed as she saw you peeking from behind the entrance door.

“She looks beautiful…!” Mina finally spoke and Sero tried to see where she was looking and his eyes started to widen as he quietly said ‘oh…’ and caught the attention of Kirishima when he noticed his two friends looking quite surprised.

“Oh… wow… no kidding... she is...” Mina wasn’t kidding, Kirishima had his eyes on you, in that dress, your hair, your eyes… you were beautiful…

“Who?! Yaoyorozu, Uraraka?” Kaminari then giddily asked, obviously he was expecting two of the prettier girls but he got the shock (pun intended) of his life when he saw his friends all looking right at you. He’d never seen you look so… beautiful… wow… was that really you?

“Holy Shit... wow... um... I uh...” And now he was stuttering, as if it were the first time he’s noticed how pretty you looked, and it was...

“Tch…” Bakugo had no idea why all his dumb friends were dropping their jaws though, it’s not like any of these girls were goddesses or anything. They were pretty but why were they so awestruck…

"...?!" But then he gasped and his red eyes went wide when he finally turned to see what they were all looking at. And it was you, in your (F/C) dress, flowing and elegant with your hair all styled up as you walked inside slowly, somewhat anxiously but with a shy smile when some of your classmates waved at you with wide, amazed eyes.

Bakugo didn’t think he was capable of freezing, but he couldn’t move, at the moment he couldn’t move or do anything other than stare at how stunning you looked. Nothing else in the world existed, just you as he watched the way you walked, the way that you moved, the way that you smiled so bashfully as if you didn’t know how beautiful you were.

It was such a stark contrast to your usual self, all dressed down and not dolled up, a look Bakugo grew fond of because that was just how you were and he always secretly thought that it was endearing. Yet, he couldn’t help but admire and appreciate this princess-y version of you, you looked so lovely, so captivating that he couldn’t and he wouldn’t dare tear his gaze away from you, or the way that dress hugged your body without showing too much skin. No, it showed just the right amount, and you had such lovely skin, and a lovely body to go with it. He slapped his younger self for being a fucking moron, calling you gross and ugly. Hell no, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life.

“Man... (L/N)’s a little hottie...” Kaminari thought outloud, a bit more shamelessly than he meant to come off as Sero nudged him a little bit, “Hehe okay... you’re not wrong, she’s... wow cute... real cute...” He said just a tad bit more respectfully, but then it was Kaminari’s turn to nudge him when they could clearly see Bakugo paying them no mind, just you...

“Someone’s got a crush~.” Mina whispered to the two of them, who started to snicker and nod in agreement.

“What...?!” But then apparently they weren’t quiet enough as Bakugo shouted at them, and that was enough to make Sero and Kaminari nervously smile at him. “Hey it’s cool dude! I mean... it’s like I said (L/N) is cool! Sweet, funny and cute!” Kirishima was obviously stunned by how different and lovely you looked tonight, but at the same time, he knew you had a little something-something to you even before you got a little more dolled up.

And all those times Bakugo would yell at him for being stupid, because it was just his way of denying the fact that it was true. Kirishima was always right about you, he always thought you were cute, sweet and funny in your own weird way, but no there was no humanly way Bakugo could deny it...

“Go get her dude! You should ask her to dance!” Bakugo was so lost in your beauty that he almost didn’t hear Kirishima and the rest of his friends urging him to go try and make a move on you as Kaminari and Sero aided the redhead in cheering as they were giving him thumbs-up and chanting ‘Go get her!’ while Mina giggled and snuck away to go with the girls.

“Shut up you idiots!” Still he shouted at them because they weren’t really helping even though he was GOING to go and ask you to dance, somehow... but the last thing wanted was to get your attention by looking like an idiot.

One things for sure is that he wasn’t going to leave this dance now. No, Bakugo was going to dance with you tonight. He wanted to dance with you, and maybe even actually apologize for being such an asshole in the past. He was an idiot back then for saying that stupid shit, you were the only girl in the world to him, and you were the only girl in the world he wanted to dance with.

Finally he snapped himself out of it, and found it in him to move again as you finally seemed to notice him. God, he thought it was adorable when he saw pink coating your cheeks as you gave one of your typical crooked smiles and awkward little waves.

Bakugo didn’t get flustered, but somehow you managed to do just that as he tried to glare at you like always but couldn’t fight the blush heating his cheeks. It was you, why was he so nervous around you now? You were his friend weren’t you? It didn’t matter that you looked like some queen who was missing her crown…

Oh my God it did matter, you were beautiful all along and he needed to have you, he needed to dance with you.

He took the first step, the music doing nothing to aid him as it played one of those corny love songs from America that he remembered seeing once in this crappy rom-com with you, Deku and Deku’s mom for that matter when you were all really little.

'Cause she's so high High above me She's so lovely~

Annoyingly catchy, but absolutely perfect, because you were more beautiful than Aphrodite. Your smile outshined all the lights in this room and Bakugo forced himself to keep going to you despite all of these new nerves coursing through his veins.

But…

In his mind he swore the music STOPPED the second someone else walked in right besides you, no one else other than…

Deku...

Deku?!

Bakugo cringed and gasped, looking shocked, horrified and absolutely appalled when he saw you with, with…

Deku?!

Deku of all people?!

“Hee-hee…”

He heard you giggling. It wasn’t the first time he’s heard you giggle with Deku, and it wasn’t the first time it pissed him off either, but right now, it pissed him off even more than usual as he snarled and clenched his fists the second he saw that fucking Deku smiling that stupid smile at you. As you held onto his arm…

The blonde’s eyes further widened as he started to gasp once the realization hit him…

Deku was here with you. Deku was your date…

No fucking way…

He couldn’t have that, he couldn’t let Deku have you.

And he was glad that all the girls rushed over to you once they saw their last girl show up, dressed up so beautifully that they couldn’t help but fawn all over you.

“OMG~!! GIRL!! That dress is FIERCE!!”

“WOW!! (L/N)!! You... you look SO pretty!!”

“No kidding that dress is... WOW...”

“Wow, it’s really nice, and it’s your color too, amazing...”

“Oh my goodness! (L/N)!! You look so good!! You’re… beautiful…” Mina, Uraraka, Jirou, Tsuyu and especially Yaoyorozu approached you and Izuku once the two of you came in together and they had to praise you for how beautiful you looked.

“Aww thanks Momo!” You called her by her name with a big smile, her eyes sparkling with joy at how you dropped the formalities as a token of friendship, “Oh! And thanks for helping me with my boobs! I couldn’t have gotten this dress without your help!” You then chirped happily which made the guys in the vicinity, but especially Izuku and Bakugo all blush quite madly with wide eyes of shock at such a statement.

“Oh it’s no problem at all! I was happy to help!” She replied rather happily as you giggled, “That’s my girl~! You are looking FINE tonight just like I knew you would!!” Hagakure then had to compliment you on how amazing you looked as you smiled at the invisible girl.

“Thank you Tooru… you were right.” You giggled a little bit when she was giving you a look that you couldn’t see, but you knew she was making it and she was right to. Because she always believed in you and she was always urging you to be more confident, and now you were. You found it in you, it was always there, it just took a while to actually act on it.

No more hiding, you were ready to be you. This was your ultimate ‘This Is Me’ Camp Rock moment as you grinned at the way everything looked inside this place, so this is what a dance looked like. This was where you and Izuku were going to dance.

“Ooooh~. (L/N)! Are you and Midoriya… here together to dance?!” And Mina picked up on it, Hagakure always knew but this really shocked the other girls, especially Uraraka whose smile looked a little extra forced as soon as she heard this…

So Deku did have someone ask him out… in hindsight… it’s a good thing she couldn’t bring herself to ask him here…

“Hee-hee that’s right…” You said rather shyly as Izuku blushed a bright shade of red once it became more obvious and it served to piss off Bakugo even more as he couldn’t help but overhear you talking to the girls, “I didn’t think I’d have the balls to but… I did it…” Chuckling nervously you started to blush as badly as Izuku was.

“I’m still shocked that you said ‘yes’ to be honest Izuku…” You admitted with a smile, obviously still a little bit self-deprecating which made Izuku smile sadly at you, “You shouldn’t be shocked… of course I said yes. If there’s anyone in the world that I want to go to the dance with… it’s you (Y/N).” He said a little more confidently, and your blush darkened as your smile warmed.

“Aww… Izuku… haha well hey! Music’s gonna play, let’s get our groove on~!!” You exclaimed and shook your hips a little bit as Izuku perked up nervously, but excitedly too. All-Might taught him how to dance last-minute just yesterday so he had this!

“R-Right…!”

He exclaimed as you and he were oblivious to the way Bakugo was glaring at you when he saw you both going to the dance floor, and he didn’t hesitate to follow you both with a furious, determined glare.

He couldn't and wouldn't believe it. You asked fucking Deku to this dance?! That was NOT going to fly. If anyone was going to dance with you, it was going to be HIM.

Not Deku, HIM!

TO BE CONTINUED...

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writethehousedown · 4 years ago

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Sunshine Brighter Than Blind Love (Scyvie) - Zyan

a/n: this is not surfer AU, i know. but hear me out: i’ll post the remaining chapters during the make up period, don’t think i’m leaving you hanging. title is taken from the LP song “Girls go Wild” for no apparent reason, I just liked it - now, have some soft gals! the fic is settled in a wild west period. a cowgirl au, if you will. hope you enjoy! sideblog is @chachkisalpaca as always x

“Don’t you think it’s hot today?” Scarlet asks, lying on a pile of hay and fanning herself with Yvie’s hat. Yvie stops grooming one of Scarlet’s father’s horse to look at her, her brow cocked.

“Hot? In the middle of July? Of course not,” she deadpans, making Scarlet frown and childishly stick her tongue out at her. Yvie chuckles, going back to work. “You could be inside the house, where it’s much cooler than here, y’know,” Yvie comments, but Scarlet dismisses her with a wave of her hand.

“Nah, inside is no fun. My mama’s been insistin’ to teach me embroidery, but that’s boring,” she says, moving around the hay and finding a more comfortable position. “I like hangin’ out with you much more.” Yvie smiles at the compliment, slightly biting the inside of her cheek.

She’s not sure why Scarlet likes her or why she risks getting grounded by her parents every time she comes to the stables just to hang out and talk with Yvie, who definitely shouldn’t be getting distracted from her job by talking with her boss’ daughter, but she doesn’t complain. Scarlet is kind, quick witted, and fun to be around.

Well, she’s not so fun when she takes off the layers of clothing and lays in the hay in a see-through silk gown that allows Yvie to see every curve of her body without the corset. It’s distracting, but she doesn’t say a word about it, because she shouldn’t be getting distracted by Scarlet like that.

Scarlet sits upright in the hay, pulling her soft auburn hair in a loose bun with a piece of lace, tying it in a little bow. Yvie takes a vow to not look at her or else she won’t be able to pull her gaze off again.

“Yves,” Scarlet calls. Yvie hums to let her know she’s listening. “D’you wanna go for a swim?” She asks cheerfully, staring at her with a toothy smile.

Surprised, Yvie looks at her, tilting her head to the side. “But I have work to do,” she simply says. Scarlet pouts, folding her arms. She looks cute as all hell.

“Oh, c’mon! Dad’s not home and my mama’s off to her friend’s house,” Scarlet tries to persuade her, but Yvie cocks a skeptical brow. Both of Scarlet’s parents horses are taking a nap at the stable.

She shifts her weight from one foot to another, “Huh, last time I checked, Storm and Buttercup were over there.” Yvie points with her chin towards the entrance of the stables, but Scarlet cocks a brow, standing up and jumping a little to see over the fences. She curses when she notices it’s true.

“Ah, damn. You got me, they’re home, I just want you to come with me to the river. I’m sweating in places I didn’t know could sweat,” she admits with a shrug. Yvie chuckles, pinching her cheek.

“Then take a bath, silly.”

“I would, but where’s the fun in that?” Scarlet says, folding her arms and throwing herself back into the pile of hay with a groan.

Yvie laughs wholeheartedly. Scarlet sometimes can be a bit of a brat —collateral effects of being an only child, she supposes— but she’s nothing like some other girls from families she’s worked for. As far as Yvie knows, Scarlet is a sweetheart compared to them.

And because she’s a sweetheart —and maybe because Yvie fancies her the tiniest, minuscule bit—, she lets out an over the top groan and folds her arms, too.

“I guess I have to accompany you to the river, don’t I?”

A giddy, child-like smile appears on Scarlet’s face as she claps excitedly. Somehow, Yvie knows she’ll regret this.

***

Yvie regrets this. Very much so.

Scarlet makes her walk for almost half an hour to get to the river, first and foremost. And then, when Yvie thinks they’re just going to sit by the shore and wet their feet, Scarlet shamelessly strips from her clothes and dives right into the water, leaving Yvie frozen for a moment.

“Well, what are you waiting for, an invitation? Aren’t you joining me?” She cheekily asks, almost as if she knows what she does to Yvie.

Yvie nods dumbly, because she’s forgotten how to speak, apparently. She’s starting to unbutton her shirt when she finds her voice again. “Don’t look, please.” Scarlet puts her hands up to cover her eyes and turns around, and Yvie hastily gets rid of her clothes, setting them next to Scarlet’s.

The water is cold, and it soon relieves the heat. Yvie lets out a small pleased moan, and taps on Scarlet’s shoulder to let her know she can turn around already. She has a bright, cheery smile as she slightly splashes her.

“This is nice,” she says, oddly sheepish. She takes advantage of it to wash her hair and Yvie gives her some space, pressing her knees against her chest as she watches her.

“This is better than cleaning horse shit, yeah,” Yvie concedes, and Scarlet chuckles.

The sun is peeking through the trees, everything is in silence, with the exception of a few birds chirping, and the river’s water splashes against the rocks, creating a beautiful symphony.

As Scarlet untangles her hair, it occurs to Yvie that she looks like those mythical creatures from far away lands she’s heard her father talk about — women with a sobrenatural beauty and being way too kind to be real. The name nymph rings in Yvie’s mind, and she finds it fitting for Scarlet.

“Y’know, you never told me why did you start working at my family’s ranch,” Scarlet says, combing her hair with her long, slender fingers.

Yvie bites the inside of her cheek, not only because she’s trying to stop her eyes from scanning down Scarlet’s body, but because she’s not sure if she wants to talk about her father yet. Her mama has told her not to say a word about him, to just reply that he abandoned them if anyone asks where he is, but there’s something about Scarlet that makes Yvie unable to lie to her.

“We needed the money. It’s been hard since dad left,” she confesses, digging her nails in her thighs. Her dad’s been on the run from the authorities since Yvie can remember, coming back for a day or two after months of radio silence. She hopes one day he can stay with her forever.

Scarlet shoots her a worried glance, focusing her attention on her.

“Oh, darling,” she coos, coming closer to her. Yvie gulps. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” She does. But she’s not expecting Scarlet to understand it. “Can we talk about something else?” Yvie begs, and Scarlet nods.

“I don’t know if I’ve told you, but you’re like, my only friend,” Scarlet is quick to comment to change the topic. Yvie laughs, not believing her for a second. “For real! The girls my mama makes me hang out with don’t like me. You’re the only one with good taste in this town,” she says, attempting to flip her wet hair over her shoulder with a cocky expression.

Yvie doesn’t laugh this time; she’s heard how men talk about Scarlet in the saloons. Most of the time she can’t believe they are talking about this Scarlet, the one in front of her, with a smile as bright as the sunshine — they say she’s a spoiled brat, impossible to stand, and that if it wasn’t for her fortune, she’d never find a man to marry.

No wonder, men are stupid; Yvie would give up everything she has just to get Scarlet to like her back.

“For the record, I don’t like you,” Yvie deadpans, earning a smack in the arm from Scarlet. “See? You’re violent! Why would anyone like you, Miss Scarlet?”

A loud laugh bubbles in Scarlet’s throat, and Yvie realizes this is the first time she’s heard her laugh so carelessly.

“Oh, shut up, you! I know you love me.” She winks at her, and for a moment Yvie holds her breath. She knows she’s joking, that she doesn’t actually know. But she can’t help the tinge of panic that invades her.

“I absolutely do, that’s why I let you steal my hat whenever you want,” she says with an eye roll, pinching one of Scarlet’s cheeks. What she said isn’t technically a lie, but of course she won’t tell that to Scarlet.

Scarlet softly slaps her hand away, giggling slightly as she sits with her legs crossed, the water covering everything from the neck up.

“Can I tell you something?” She suddenly says, staring intently at Yvie. Yvie bites her lower lip, trying not to jump into conclusions as she nods. Scarlet sighs heavily before speaking. “Promise not to judge, ‘kay?” Scarlet anxiously twirls a strand of her hair around her index finger, and Yvie nods again. “So. You know we moved in a year ago, but do you know why we moved in the first place?”

There have been some rumors surrounding the James family, especially Scarlet, but Yvie knows it’s just things people say. So she shakes her head no.

Scarlet sighs again before continuing, “There was this girl that worked for us, Eileen, and she was just so, so beautiful.” She looks past Yvie, the nostalgia invading her gaze. Yvie’s heart gives a jump, “And I thought- I thought she also felt butterflies in her stomach when we were together.”

Yvie freezes, her brain short-circuiting. She’s not sure if she heard that right, or that she understands what Scarlet is saying. It feels like a dream, and she sure as hell doesn’t want to wake up.

“My parents found out, fired Eileen, and decided we’d move as far as possible, in case Eileen had told anyone.” Scarlet finally pulls her gaze to meet Yvie’s. Yvie’s stomach flips the moment she scoots herself closer, without breaking the eye contact. “So, I must ask you, before you turn into even more of another Eileen and I have to move houses again, to stop saying you love me if you don’t mean it.”

It takes Yvie a full minute to realize what Scarlet just said, and even when the words sink in, she’s unable to believe it. Scarlet is looking at her as if she’s a wounded animal and she’s pleading for mercy; she flinches when Yvie brings a hand to meet hers, so she just leaves her hand hanging halfway.

“I’m not Eileen,” she begins, and almost right away she sees how disappointed Scarlet looks. “I’m Yvie, and unlike Eileen, I do mean it when I say it.”

Scarlet’s eyes grow wide, blinking repeatedly in astonishment, and Yvie slowly tries to reach for her hand again. This time, she doesn’t flinch; instead, she laces her fingers with Yvie’s.

“For real?” Scarlet musters, and Yvie nods with a soft smile.

“For real.”

Yvie shifts her position a little, taking Scarlet’s chin with her free hand and attracting her face to deposit a soft kiss on her lips. Scarlet is surprised for a moment, but soon she follows Yvie’s pace.

They know what they’re doing is dangerous; anyone could run into them and they’d inevitably be hunted down, because in the eyes of the law, this is wrong.

But as Scarlet wraps her arms around Yvie’s neck, pulling her closer and smiling into the kiss, there’s nothing more important in the entire world.

tags: scyvie, scarlet envy, yvie oddly, fluff, lesbian au, wild west au

#rpdr fanfiction #scyvie #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #zyan #fluff #lesbian au #wild west au #summer lovin' 2020 #day 7: swim #submission

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lucitrius · 5 years ago

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•°☆°• Oumami week day 4: "I love you” / “I’m sorry” / "I missed you” •°☆°•

▪ word count: 2,281 ▪ content: spoilers for chapters 1 - 5, survivor au, death, afterlife ▪

————————————————— ☆ —————————————————

Ouma shivered as he laid against cold, hard metal, the only forgiving warmth being the rapidly fading body heat that had been left in the jacket beneath him. The metal was winning, though, and it didn't last long. Goosebumps raised all over his body as a chill rolled through him, and he groaned pathetically. Despite how cold he was, however, there were sweat beads dotting his forehead as he stared up at the looming shadow of the press. At least it would be quick once it touched him.

"...Are you sure about this?" Momota finally spoke up, ripping Ouma back down to reality. He turned his head to look at him, although he couldn't really see his face from where he was laying. Momota noticed this and knelt down next to him, gripping the corner of the base plate tightly. He was nervous too, it was obvious.

Ouma simply offered him a strained grin, nodding as much as he could. "Yup! Even if I wasn't, I would still die anyway. The poison is really starting to make itself known!" His voice was crackly and weak against his own will. He was an impressive actor, but when your body has organ failure on speed dial it's hard to exhibit your best skills.

Momota looked unimpressed with his answer, but even so he knew that he was right. He looked him up and down for a moment before sighing in defeat. "Damn it… You could've drank some of the antidote and saved both of us. But, I guess that's just not your style, huh?" Ouma peered at him with newfound interest until he finished the thought. "You could've just cooperated. I had no idea you were trying to help, you know? Then it- it wouldn't have come down to this. I don't want to kill you, but..."

"Cooperated, huh?" he echoed, turning his head so he was back to staring at the hydraulic press. He opened his mouth to make some remark, to comment on how it was a stupid idea, but nothing came out. He shut his jaw with a slight frown.

Momota sat on his heels silently, waiting for some kind of comment, but just stood up in defeat when he only got silence in return. He scratched his fingers against the hairs on the back of his neck anxiously and started for the control platform. The only sound left in the hangar was the buzzing hum of the press and the faint thudding of the exisals walking around in another part of the building. Ouma didn't like it. He was fully prepared to die- hell this was practically just assisted suicide- but being left alone to his rampant thoughts as he lay on his literal death bed was highly uncomfortable.

It felt like an eternity before he heard Momota's feet stop moving. It was only a matter of seconds, then. He seemed to hesitate to give Ouma the heads up that he was going to do it already, and even when he spoke up he avoided it for just a moment longer. "Hey, I mean, at least you'll be able to see Amami again."

Ouma's eyes widened just a touch; so he had put two and two together after all. He reached up to his chest with a shaky hand, gripping the long pendant of the necklace he still wore. A saddened smile crossed his lips, but he didn't respond as the hum of the press kicked up a few decibels and descended toward him.

•°☆°•

The distant conversation that could be heard in the back of his head was annoying. It hurt, even, only worsening the aching in the back of his skull as it continued. But, that was the thing. Conversation, headache… was he alive? No, that couldn’t be right. He watched it happen, after all, there was no way he could have survived that. As his mind started to focus more and more he realized that he had woken up, as he could see light through his eyelids. Against his better judgement of how much it would hurt, he opened his eyes quickly, and of course had to blink rapidly to adjust.

Sitting up slowly, he looked around expecting to see… well he wasn’t quite sure, really. Clouds, maybe? Or, on the other side of the coin, perhaps an intense heat, but neither was the case. Instead he was promptly met with pure white cabinets and dully toned countertops surrounding him. And as his body moved, he could hear the ruffling of the sheets around him and a thin tube tugging gently at his wrist. Looking down towards the feeling, he immediately identified it as an IV tube, and noticed that he was in a hospital gown. Why was he in a hospital; and more importantly, how?

The voices just outside of his room grew closer gradually until the door rattled on its tracks slightly before sliding open. He, just before the people behind it stepped inside, layed back down quietly, shutting his eyes and opening his mouth a tad to be more convincing. He wanted nothing more than an explanation, but equally as much, he didn’t want to worsen the pain in his skull by trying to talk to someone to get it. He could listen just fine.

“He’s just in here, sir,” said a bland, unnoteworthy voice which he presumed to be either a doctor or nurse. “I would suggest not waking him up on your own so that he doesn’t freak out upon realizing he’s alive, and I’m sure you understand basic visiting decency already so I’ll spare you the lecture.”

A few footsteps moved towards his bed, and under the blanket Ouma tightened his fist.

“I’ll be careful with him, no need.”

Ouma struggled to keep his eyes closed upon hearing Amami speak. Surely this was some cruel personal hell for him to endure for the rest of eternity, after all he saw his corpse. He felt it, he swore he checked for his pulse. But, all of his pessimistic thoughts were thrown out of the window as he felt two warm, gentle hands take one of his own. It felt so real, so familiar.

Amami was silent as he sat there, but even so Ouma focused so much more on listening to his breathing than the track of the door as it was closed once more. Ouma’s eyes squeezed shut even tighter, not wanting to face it. If he opened them, it felt as though Amami would fade away once more, so instead he gripped one of his hands loosely.

The fingers in his hold jolted along with the other boy’s whole body, and he was heard leaning closer towards him. “...Ouma? Are you up?” Of course he was, but he was just so scared. He wanted to live in this reality, in this Schrodinger-type mystery where Amami would always be alive.

With a beat of continued silence, Amami released a sigh. “It’s alright, I don’t care. At least you’re even here,” he continued with a noticeably relieved, yet concerned, tone. There was a brief pause, maybe considering his options. Nothing was exactly stopping him from waking the other up considering the staff member had left the room by that point. But if he still thought that Ouma was truly sleeping, then he may want to let him continue to rest.

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have been left alone to fight like that.”

Ouma, very hesitantly, cracked open his eyes. He once again had to adjust to the burning white LEDs that were overhead, but he didn’t care. One quick look to his right, his thoughts were proven wrong. Amami, sitting somewhat hunched over with his eyes closed, shoulders relaxed while his hands were still tense, was right there. Alive. “Don’t tell me Amami is really going to go and blame himself for this all?”

Amami gasped, snapping his eyes up to look at him. A smile immediately crossed his face, his previously somber body language melting into something more lively. “I should’ve known you were awake. I expect nothing less of you,” he chuckled giddily. Ouma found his smile to be contagious, and for the first time since his apparent death, he found himself doing so genuinely; comfortably. Shutting his eyes gently to keep a few tears of joy back, Ouma laughed.

•°☆°•

Something about growing old was oddly nice. Ouma never thought that he would ever want to grow up, but living alongside his friend, his lover, and later his husband completely flipped his ideals. Amami- or Rantarou, rather, once they were wed under the same name- was much more important than his silly childhood wishes, anyway. The countless nights where they laid awake, suffering the consequences of the killing game were really the only issue. But even then, the two of them were always there regardless of whatever horrid nightmare, thought, or memory came to one or the both of them. There was never a moment when they couldn’t be in touch, and it was lovely.

Domestic, lazy days where they did nothing but sit in each others’ arms and sleep were easily his favourite to remember. He had a vivid memory of how Rantarou’s chest felt against him, the welcoming warmth spreading throughout his own body while the thudding of his heartbeat kept him grounded. It didn’t last forever, though.

After some time, the two started to get a bit old for lounging all over each other, and it stopped. Kokichi watched as his husband tended to his needs, as once he reached 72 he could no longer even stand on his own. He always cursed his natural tendency to be weak, which only increased during that time. But Rantarou never minded, and they were happy.

And, after nearly 64 years of marriage, Kokichi was upset upon realizing that they had been separated. It was a gentle passing in his sleep, and neither of them were expecting anything different than normal. Rantarou left him with a careful kiss to his lips, with a soft squeeze of his hand and an exchange of “I love you,” they drifted off together. But once he woke up, he was staring off at a field, which he recognized to be their backyard. That was odd, he thought at first. He rarely visited the garden anymore, even if Rantarou did his best to keep it alive and well. The best he had was a view outside of their bedroom window, where the vines of wisteria creeped along the wooden panels that surrounded the glass and a few young apple trees struggled to blossom in their juvenile stages.

He made no effort to stand, instead opening his mouth to call out for the other man gently. “Rantarou?” he asked to thin air, suddenly shocked at the youth in his own voice. He looked down at himself, and sure enough, his hands were thin and nimble once more, only now he felt even more weightless than ever. Ah, so this is it. This is what he was expecting all those years ago when he had laid cold and alone under the press, when he was convinced that Rantarou had been ripped away for good. So here he was, now the one that had gone missing.

It was a lonely existence, in all honesty, but he tried not to mind it. He spent his time looking after the house, which was an exact replica of the home he had practically memorized by this point, in waiting for the day that he would receive some company. He made sure that the garden stood green, that the apple trees- which were much older and readily bearing fruit now- were healthy, and that the wisteria by his window was always secured to the wall.

As he set down his trowel and picked up a watering can, having just planted a bulb that he had taken out last spring, he heard the grass behind him shift under someone’s weight. He dropped the container, some of the water spilling over the metal trim top, and whipped around on his knees.

Just in front of him, Rantarou was lying peacefully in the grass, just beside the patch of Forget-Me-Nots that they had planted together the day after their wedding ceremony. He smiled warmly, standing up and brushing the dirt from his knees as he shuffled over to where he was sat. He stood over him, looking down at his sleeping face longingly. It was fine, he could sleep. He deserved to wake up peacefully just as Kokichi had.

After a few minutes, he watched as Rantarou’s eyes fluttered open slowly, his focus wavering momentarily before landing on the man above him. His eyes widened, and as soon as it was offered to him, he grabbed the hand outstretched and sprang up to grab Kokichi into a tight embrace. Kokichi giggled, throwing his arms up and around his husband once more, relieved to finally feel the warmth of his chest again. It didn’t take long for them both to start crying; neither of them minded doing it in front of each other anymore, and in this afterlife, there wasn’t ever going to be anyone else to see it anyhow.

Kokichi pulled away from him, staring up at his jade green eyes affectionately before standing up on his toes to kiss him softly. They didn’t part for what felt like centuries, and it was incredible. They were home, together, once more.

Rantarou laid a hand on his cheek, pressing his thumb into his skin slightly just to get closer to him than he already was. They were always, always getting closer. “I missed you.”

#oumami #oumami week 2020 #kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #rantarou amami #rantaro amami #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #New Danganronpa V3 #ndrv3 #drv3 #drv3 spoilers #//sorry for being late!! i still have to catch up cause friday was a busy day and so was today :(#citrus drips #id #🍈

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ericsonclan · 4 years ago

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Equals Through and Through

Summary: Mitch and Brody think about the future and want to take the next step forward.

Read on AO3:

Brody could feel her anxiety rising in her body, her fingers starting to shake slightly from her emotions. Taking slow, deliberate breaths she started to calm down her heart rate, her mind calming down and recentering back to a safe middle ground. But as soon as her eyes wandered back over at the ring box it started all over again.

Pacing back and forth she tried to summon up the courage she needed, one that she had when she had bought that ring last month. She had been so happy during a date that she had with Mitch that the inspiration hit her like a train. Her mind was set, unwilling to budge; she wanted to marry Mitch.

So she had taken one of her days off to go ring shopping, her eyes searching every single option until she had found a beautiful silver ring. After engraving the words Always and Forever on the inside rim of the ring it was complete.

Maybe it seemed stupid for her to be so certain about a ring for Mitch but when she saw it her heart knew it was perfect. It had cleared her out of a lot of her money but she knew deep down in her heart that she had made the right decision. Brody took a deep breath and looked at the open ring box. The air around the room became tense until Brody let out a long sigh and fell back onto her bed. A small meow drew her attention over to Oreo who had hopped up to join her.

“Hey, Oreo,” Brody smiled over at the striped cat, her hand moving to pet him. He immediately butted his head against her hand that she offered. A loud, happy purr vibrated throughout the cat’s body as it lazily flopped over by Brody’s side. Brody absentmindedly petted the cat, her eyes focused on the creature before they looked over at the ring box.

She didn’t have any doubts about Mitch. She knew he was the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. He was an extremely loyal and loving person, even if he was a dumbass and teased her every so often. Brody knew that he would always be there for her. There to be her partner and help her when she needed it.

She had always felt that in the way he showed how deeply he cared about her. Through the deep, gentle hugs that he gave, the looks he sent toward her, the way he talked about her and encouraged her. All the times he had been there to be a shoulder to lean on whenever she felt down or overwhelmed. Never judging and always loving her through it all. He was special, one of a kind. Brody knew that.

But a small inkling of doubt entered her mind when she looked at the ring. That he wouldn’t want what she wanted. A future together. The worrying thought was quickly squashed, however, when Brody remembered some of their special moments together. He loved her too, she knew that. With that thought, her determination was set in stone. She was going to propose to him. Oh, I should write down some sort of speech. Brody swung her body off the bed which made Oreo upset.

“Sorry, Oreo. Got work to do.” Brody smiled over at her cat only to see that her phone had dropped out of her pocket. When she reached down to pick it up the screen lit up, revealing the time. Brody’s eyes widened when she saw what it said.

“Shit,” Brody turned around sharply and closed the ring box with a soft thunk. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to find a good hiding spot where Mitch wouldn’t find it. She was struggling to remember where she had last put it. Brody opted to place it in the top drawer of the dresser, promising herself that she would find a better hiding spot when she came back from her shift. Her hands snatched up her apartment key and with some goodbye head scratches to both Oreo and TNT she was off, a giddy excitement dancing in her heart.

------

Mitch stared blankly at the wall in front of him, his back pressed against the couch as his hand fiddled with the ring box in his hand, rhythmically snapping it open only to slam it shut a few seconds later. He had never been so nervous in his life. He was going to propose to Brody. Mitch’s eyes wandered down to the open ring box. A beautiful, simple yet elegant engagement ring lay within it.

Thank god Ruby had been free and helped him pick out the perfect ring for Brody. At least that would be right. His speech though… that felt like a whole nother story. He had never been the best with words and now when he needed to come up with a speech worthy of Brody he was struggling.

How was he going to be able to tell her how much he loved her, how amazing and strong and brave she was? She had really turned his life around for the better. Brody had come into his life and throughout their time together had shown him that she truly loved him for being himself. A true, deep unconditional love. It was rare in this world yet Brody gave it to him. Then again Mitch felt like he had to pinch himself sometimes for somehow finding someone as amazing as Brody. Because of her he’d realized that it was okay to be open and vulnerable.

But now that the time had come it was tough. To be so vulnerable and ask someone such an intimate question was no easy feat but that wouldn’t stop Mitch. He’d just have to give it his all and make a kickass speech. Easy. Mitch laughed at his own sarcasm. His hand still fiddled with the ring box, absentmindedly snapping and unsnapping the box open and closed.

It was the only sound in the room as he brainstormed the beginnings of the speech. He already had the location set and the date - this was the only piece missing. His nerves rattled inside him, causing his hand to move too quickly, launching the engagement ring across the room and onto the floor.

“Oh, fuck!” Mitch jumped up to his feet, his eyes scanning the room to try and find the ring but it seemed like TNT had found it first. His little paws moved back and forth before he leaned down, wiggling his butt and pouncing on the ring.

“TNT, no!” Mitch ran forward, picking up the cat, making its back paws dangle in the air. “Don’t be a dumbass. You could fucking choke!” Mitch tucked his cat under his arm and proceeded to pick up the ring, examining it anxiously. Luckily it seemed like the fall didn’t cause any damage. Plopping TNT onto the couch, Mitch put the ring back in the safe haven of the ring box before shutting it firmly. Can’t let that happen again.

Mitch looked around the room, his mind trying to formulate a plan. That’s when he noticed the spare rubber band by the TV. Snatching it up, he twirled and twisted it around the ring box. After a few more loops, he held up the ring box, now covered securely by a rubber band, with pride and relief. Nothing could cause the ring to fall out now. All that was left was writing the speech.

------

It was a lovely Saturday morning when Mitch asked Brody if she wanted to go to Reggie’s Pies and Fries on a date that night. What seemed like an ordinary location where plenty of burgers and pizzas and fries were consumed held a lot of meaning to the couple. At least it did for Brody; it was the place where they had told each other they loved each other for the first time. Now whether Mitch remembered that or not Brody wasn’t sure but she was sure of one thing: She was going to propose to him tonight. The location was too perfect and not only that but there was a beautiful park nearby. She could use that to her advantage and get away from all prying eyes to truly open up and go for the proposal. All she had to do was wait for it to roll around to the evening and choose a nice outfit for the date.

Most of the day went by in a hazy blur. Brody’s mind was too focused on the events that were soon to be and not the ones happening at that very moment. She grabbed the makings of a smoothie: fruit, yogurt, honey, and decided to have a simple snack before dinner time. But it immediately backfired on her. Within two hours after consuming that smoothie, Brody’s stomach felt like she had just been thrown on the world’s fastest rollercoaster. A faint gurgling sound emitted from her stomach. She tried to force it to quiet down when Mitch spoke up.

“You ready to go, Brodes?” He looked over at her, a sort of nervousness seeming to flicker in his eyes that dissapeared as he held open the door.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Brody moved past her boyfriend and soon the couple was off to their destination. On the way there neither of them really talked which Brody counted as a blessing. Her mind spun with the multiple different versions of speeches she had written and her stomach still felt awful. Not to mention that every couple of seconds she would glance down into her purse to make sure the ring box was still there. She just hoped she wasn’t being too obvious to Mitch.

-----

Mitch could feel the sweat pooling in his hands. It was pretty fucking disgusting. He hoped that he’d have a chance to wipe them off before holding hands with Brody when they walked into Reggie’s Pies and Fries. He really hoped Brody wasn’t paying attention to detail until after he proposed. He had purposely chosen this location and was wearing the nicest outfit he owned. But it seemed like she was focused on other things. Maybe she was drained from her different shifts throughout the week. It was understandable. Both of them had had weeks like that. Still, he hoped he hadn’t fucked up on the day he’d chosen to propose. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Mitch pulled into a parking spot and turned off the car.

“Ready to grab some dinner?” He smiled over at Brody, his heart nearly beating out of his chest from his nerves.

“Y-yeah.” Brody cleared her throat. “I can’t wait to eat.”

Mitch exited the car and waited for Brody to get out before locking the car. Luckily she had been focused on her outfit for a moment, giving Mitch just enough time to wipe off the sweat on his hands. Soon his fingers had casually intertwined with Brody’s and they were strolling towards the restaurant.

“Get all you want. Dinner is on me,” Mitch smiled over at Brody who returned it in kind. “What do you think we should get this time? Pizza or burgers?”

Brody opened her mouth, about to answer the question when her face twisted and she ran over to the nearest trash can. A long line of puke spewed from her mouth.

“Holy shit! Brody, are you okay?’ Mitch ran up beside his girlfriend and started to gently rub her back. He had fucked up. He didn’t know that she wasn’t feeling well. Mitch turned his face away for a second, internally kicking himself for not paying attention to Brody’s wellbeing. “Let’s just go home. You can lie down on the couch and I’ll grab TNT and Oreo and we can just have a movie night.”

“No!” Brody’s tone surprised Mitch for a moment. She stood up with a shaky breath. “I’m fine. ” I can’t lose my courage now. She glanced over at the trash can. That yogurt must've expired. Her hands rummaged through her purse and pulled out a piece of gum. Unwrapping it, she tossed it in her mouth. “I just need to walk around for a bit and I’ll be fine.” Brody motioned over to the nearby park. “How about there?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want you saying you’re okay if you’re not.” Mitch’s face was filled with concern.

“I would tell you if I wasn’t.” Brody intertwined her fingers back with Mitch’s. “I promise.”

“Alright, we’ll walk for a bit. But if I see that you’re not doing well, we’re heading right back to the car.”

Brody’s smile grew at her boyfriend’s concern. Wordlessly she walked forward towards the entrance of the park. The two walked side by side, trying their best to start up some casual conversation. Both of them were struggling though, too consumed by the idea of proposing still in their minds. Brody soon tossed away the piece of gum and started up a conversation about Ericson’s Diner. That seemed to calm the couple’s nerves, allowing them to enjoy the scenery.

The park was beautiful at this time of evening. The trees sheltered them from the few rays of sun that were still prominent in the sky and the flowers that bloomed around made the park feel even more special. It seemed like the perfect location to propose and as they each shared looks and stolen glances that line became the truth in their hearts.

Mitch decided it was time he went for it. He guided them along a path that no one else was taking, a path surrounded by beautiful blue flowers. The two paused and stood there in awkward silence. It felt like an unusually long time when suddenly both of them started to get down on one knee.

“Mitch-”

“Brody-”

Both paused when they saw that the other was reaching for something and that they had gotten down on one knee.

“Wait, are you proposing?” Brody’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Yeah. Wait, are you?” Mitch pointed at the box that was in Brody’s hand.

“Yeah, I just...” Brody took a deep breath; her emotions were starting to swell within her heart. “I just love you so much, Mitch. You’ve always been there for me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you!”

Mitch’s eyes grew large at those words. “I feel the same way!” he shouted a little too loud. He couldn't help it. He was so overwhelmed by this whole situation. “I love you so fucking much! I want to be with you forever!” Mitch declared proudly, a strong blush on his face. His words seemed to have a similar effect on Brody whose face was just as red as Mitch’s. “Because Brody, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Mitch undid the rubber band on the ring box which caused Brody to look over in confusion as Mitch flipped open the box, revealing the ring inside.

Tears were starting to roll down Brody’s face now as she held out her own ring box. “You're the best thing that’s happened to me .” Brody opened up the box, showing the silver ring she’d bought. Mitch’s eyes dance with countless emotions.

“Will you marry me!” The couple blurted out at the exact same time. Both of them giggled before saying yes. Mitch helped out his ring to place on Brody’s finger before she helped place his ring on.

“Whooo!” Mitch jumped up to his feet, the biggest smile on his face. “Fuckin’ A! We’re gonna get married!” He ran forward and swept Brody up in his arms, spinning her round as Brody laughed with joy. When he had finally set her down the two shared a long, loving kiss. As they pulled apart, Brody let out a sniffle, a warm smile on her face. Mitch reached up and brushed away the tears on his fiancee’s face. Brody soon did the same for the spare tear or two that had escaped Mitch’s eyes.

“Ready to celebrate with some pies and fries?” Mitch smiled down at Brody.

“I’d love to!” Brody’s smile made Mitch’s heart soar. He still couldn’t believe it. They were engaged. “Man, everyone is going to lose their minds at the diner,” Brody’s statement made Mitch chuckle.

“Yeah, who do you think is going to cry the most: Ruby or Louis?”

“Hmm,” Brody placed a hand on her chin. “I don’t know - it’ll be pretty close. But I think Ruby will edge him out.”

“Guess we’ll see on Monday.” Mitch gave Brody’s hand a quick squeeze. The newly engaged couple strolled off together towards the restaurant hand in hand. Everything else around them seemed to fade as they took in this special moment.

#twdg #twdg brody #twdg mitch #twdg moody #ericson's diner au #fanfic

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bella-spil · 4 years ago

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2 Romeos & 1 Juliet- Part 4

Part 4- Its Buckys turn to take you on a date. Fem reader

Warnings- implied smut(not really) kissing/making out, cursing.

Word Count: 6.7k( I tried to add a lot more detail in this one so bear with me)

Taglist: @kmuir1 @angrythingstarlight @wednesday-add-em @sea040561 (lmk if you wanna join. The more the merrier!)

A/N: This would have been done sooner, but the internet was down for the past three days. I got some inspiration from GOTG vol.2( a tiny bit) and I added a lot more detail than normal. And there might be a meme or two that I took a line from(its the “so I started blasting” one”). Also the pic of the outfit is from me, amd Im sry for the terrible quality, I have a shitty camera. Also the link for the 40s slang I used is https://rkcowles.wordpress.com/1940-slang-glossary/ , if you are in the mood to learn some. I hope you enjoy, bc this one might be my fav of this series.

You had a pretty good week after your date with Loki. Whenever you saw the God of Mischief, you both acted like his attempted kiss never happened. You acted like normal friends. You read the note Billie gave you, alone so Loki didn't see, and she actually said she thought Loki was cute. Not hot but cute. You laughed at what she wrote, and you swore you would never show Loki.

As the week went on, Bucky was planning his date out. He had a place, one that you would both enjoy and have a lot of fun at. He had everything prepared for you, but he was still nervous.

What if it doesn't work? What if she really doesn't like me? What if I do something wrong? He thought as the week carried on. But he never showed the fear to you. He was acting all confident, bragging about how he would win you over with his charm, like how he did with the ladies in his time. You told him that you weren't like all those other girls, and he agreed. He said that he would have a challenge with you, but he knew he would win. He always won. He also flirted with you constantly, which drove Loki up the walls. You enjoyed this confident side of the Winter Soldier, you knew you were gonna see it more often.

You also tried prying the location of the date out of Bucky. But he was a Super Soldier, so that didn't work out. You gave up in about 5 minutes.

Then the day came. You and Bucky were both anxious. You had no clue where you were going, and Bucky hasn't been on a date in a while.

“Doll, we are leaving at 4 ok?” he let you know at lunch.

“Got it. Where are we going?” you asked for the 100th time. Bucky rolled his eyes and didn't answer. “Fine. What should I wear?”

“Hmm..” Bucky thought. “Wear a T-shirt and shorts, like you did with Loki. But we are going to be walking around a lot, so don't wear something uncomfortable.”

“Ok,” you said, walking to your room to get prepared. Bucky thought he did a good job, not revealing too much about the date. He liked keeping you guessing, it amused him more often than not.

~~~

As you were in your room, you paced back and forth from your closet to your bed. You were stressed with not knowing anything about tonight. But you were stressing out with the new feelings to your long time friend. You didn't know if you were feeling them because of the upcoming date, or if you were making it up. But you didn't have this on your date with Loki. You had no clue, so you tried to ignore the feelings. But they weren't letting up, getting you more and more nervous. You tried to take deep breaths, and it worked. So you focused your time on getting ready.

“What to wear, what to wear,” you muttered to yourself as you scanned your closet like a robot. After a few minutes of rummaging around through heaps and heaps of clothes, you found a cute and comfortable outfit.

You found a cute crop top that only exposed a small amount of your stomach. It was low cut, but not too revealing. It was a black t-shirt, and it was your favorite shirt because it looked really good on you, at least you thought. You always felt a bit more confident whenever you wore it, and you knew you might need it for tonight.

You also found a pair of super soft cotton shorts. They were a dark, camo-like green. They didn't have camo print, just dark green and a white lining. You adored the shorts because they were the softest thing you owned, besides another sweatshirt you owned. They were mid-waisted and were a little revealing on your ass. But you loved the way the shorts made you feel, like any man would fall for you by just looking at you.

You found a pair of black Adidas sneakers, which would be good for walking. You didn't put on any jewelry, since you weren't a big fan of it. You only wore it at the concert because it was a concert, you wanted to look decent. You left your hair down again, letting the natural curls and waves have a mind of their own. After a couple flips of your hair, you had the look you wanted.

Then you moved on to your makeup. Since you would be walking a lot, you thought you might sweat a bit, so you didn't put too much on. Only a bit of foundation to hide some blemishes on your skin, a tiny amount of blush and mascara. You didn't like wearing makeup either, since your time in the mountains saw no need for it. You didn't understand how people took hours and hours for makeup, and at the end of the night, they would have to wipe it off and do it all again the next day.

When you finished, you took one final look in the mirror and you thought you looked amazing. Your confidence soared through the roof as you checked yourself out.

“Doll, its time,” Bucky knocked at your door. “You ready?”

You got scared and flinched in front of the mirror. You were not expecting time to fly that fast.

“Yeah Bucky, i'll be down in a minute.” you answered, not trying to show that he scared you.

“Ok, I'll wait by the front door,” Bucky said. You heard his footsteps fade as he left, and you took a sigh of relief. You grabbed a small, black backpack, just to store your phone and some money since you had no clue what to expect. You checked yourself out in the mirror one last time as you put on some lip gloss. Then you put the lip gloss away and headed out of your room.

~~~

Bucky stood anxiously by the door. He wore a pair of shorts and a black Brooklyn logo shirt. The shirt was a little snug on him, so it made his biceps pop out a little more. He didn't bother covering his metal arm. He wasn't used to having it out in the open, especially in public. But he always was comfortable with his arm around you, so he thought it would be the same with you anywhere. He was not going to let strangers ruin his night with you. His hair was down and he wore a pair of black Nike’s. He had on his signature dog tags and in his pockets, he had his phone, which he barely knew how to use, and some money for the date. But, like a true gentleman, he had a bouquet of red roses in his hands. He never showed up to a date without flowers. He knew his manners and class, and if he didnt, he knew his momma would reprimand him for not being a gentleman.

“What is taking her so long?” Bucky said out loud.

“Don't get your hopes up, Wiener Soldier,” Loki said, smugly. He was hoping to mess with Bucky before it was too late.

“Shut it, you Lord of the Rings looking ass,” Bucky said, not giving two shits for Loki's mind games. Loki walked away, hoping that would do something to Bucky.

Then, you appeared from the hallway. Bucky had to do a double take because, Jesus, you looked fine. You looked so confident and proud of yourself that Bucky was in awe. He loved a woman that walked with a purpose. You looked perfect in his eyes. He smiled as you came closer to him. His heart fluttered as he realized he would be with you. The person his heart had fallen for since he first saw you.

You saw Bucky standing there, the roses in hand. Bucky's eyes looked brighter than ever, full of excitement and adventure. He looked nice in his outfit. You never saw him out in public with his metal arm showing, so it was a shock for you when it was on full display. You also saw his muscles poking out of the shirt, and you tried your hardest not to stare.

“You look like a dreamboat, toots,” Bucky gushed, using a ton of 40s slang. You blushed, since you knew what they meant. Anyone would know what those terms meant, but two years ago, Bucky taught all the slang he knew.

“So do you,” you replied, smiling.

“These are for you, doll,” Bucky said as he handed the flowers to you.

“Thanks Bucky, you didn't have too,” you said.

“Well if I didn't, I know my momma would bust my chops,” Bucky said, chuckling. You laughed with him. You loved when his Brooklyn accent came through.

“Cmon lets get going,” Bucky said, leading you out the door.

~~~

“Ok Bucky, where are we going?” you asked again in the car.

“You'll find out when we get there,” Bucky replied.

“Ok, when will we get there?” you asked, hoping for an answer this time.

“Bout 30 minutes,” Bucky answered to your relief. “Ok I wanna quiz you on something.”

“Ooo car games, I love those,” you said, gaining interest.

“Lets see how much 40s slang you remember.” Bucky said, looking at you.

“Thats easy, I’ll quiz ya too,” you said.

“You got a lotta moxie. Ladies first,” Bucky said, placing his hand on your thigh. This was the first time he had ever done this. You were a little shocked at first and froze for a moment, but you weren't asking him to move it. His warm hand felt so comforting on you. You just wanted to let it sit there forever. So you put your hand on top of his.

Bucky took his eyes off the road for a minute, just to look at you and your hand on his. If he said he wasn't over the moon right now, he would be lying. He felt like he was on cloud-9.

“Ok what does ‘beef’ mean?” you asked.

“It means a disagreement. That was easy, doll,” Bucky said.

“Go, Buck,” you sighed.

“Fine. What does ‘brown nose’ mean?” Bucky asked, his blue eyes shining into yours. You took a second to think, but you didn't remember.

“I don't know, bucky.” you sighed in shame.

“Haha! One for Bucky. Zip for Y/N.” Bucky celebrated.

“Don't celebrate too early, punk,” you teased. “What does it mean?”

“It means ass kisser,” Bucky explained, earning a “ohh” outta you.

“Name five things that mean ‘attractive’” you said.

“Are you doing this to mess with me and trick me into saying it about you?” Bucky questioned, getting suspicious.

“Yeah, now answer,” you answered, unashamed. Bucky rolled his eyes, getting a laugh out of you.

“Ok, first is ‘honey’. ‘Bombshell’ is one, so is ‘babe’. Then, ‘20-20’ and… dreamboat.” Bucky answered.

“Good job. Your turn.” you smiled.

“Since you did it to me, I'll do it to you.” Bucky mocked.

“Fine. ‘Casanova’, ‘doll’ is one, ‘drooly’, ‘glamour puss’, ‘glad lad’ and ‘heaven sent’.” you responded. Bucky took his hands off the wheel and applauded you, which you laughed.

“Good job, doll,” Bucky grinned. “Now I have two questions for you.”

“Which are?” you asked.

“First is what's your favorite slang?” Bucky said.

“I think ‘toots’” you answered.

“Second, use 5 terms to describe me.” Bucky said. He wanted to know what you thought about him, but he didnt wanna ask you straight up. He wanted to make you at ease and have fun with you before asking.

“Ok then do the same for me,” you teased.

“Fine, go,” Bucky agreed.

“‘Fuddy-duddy’, ‘hot shot’, ‘heaven sent’, ‘camp happy’ and ‘blow joe’.” you answer.

“Really? Fuddy-duddy?” Bucky sighed.

“What? It's true! You are old fashioned,” you mocked.

“Whatever,” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Now you have to do it for me,” you fluttered your eyes to mess with him, earning a glare from him.

“‘Dreamboat’ obviously, ‘camp happy’, ‘a crack up’, ‘date bait’ and ‘divine,” Bucky said, looking at you with his hand still on your thigh.

“Aww you're so sweet,” you blushed.

“It's the truth, sugar,” Bucky smiled.

You looked out the window for a second and saw something in the distance. It was a ferris wheel.

“Bucky are we going to a carnival?” you asked.

“Yep,” he smiled. You squealed and thanked Bucky till you got to the fair. There were a ton of people there already, and you knew more would show up later tonight.

“What time are we staying till?” you asked. It was already 5:40pm and you and Bucky were walking up to the ticket booth.

“Till it closes, or whenever you get tired,” Bucky said, holding your hand.

“Till it closes. I don't think I'll get tired from all the sugar we will be eating.” you admitted. You both laughed and then you were up at the ticket counter. Bucky bought bracelets for the both of you. They allow you to stay for as long as you want and to go on unlimited rides for unlimited times. They also cost a lot of money. You tried to buy your own bracelet, but Bucky insisted on paying.

“I’m paying for dinner,” you insisted.

“No I am,” Bucky said.

“I am,” you bickered.

You bickered all the way to the entrance, where you and Bucky stopped. You stood marveling all the flashing lights and rides. You already had a list in your head for what to do. You loved how everyone here was happy and enjoying themselves. You couldn't wait for night to come, because then all the lights would be flashing even brighter. And less families would be there, which meant shorter lines.

“What do you wanna do first?” Bucky asked, looking at the lights as well.

“Lets eat, if you want,” you said.

“No, I'm always hungry too,” Bucky said.

“Great, because Loki took forever to eat.”

Bucky laughed as he took your hand. You both ran into the fair like children as you searched for food. You found a pizza stand and took two slices. Bucky found a hot dog stand and took two ‘Coney Island Chili Dogs.’ When you saw what he ordered, your mouth watered a little bit. Bucky took note very quickly.

“You know what doll? You can take one of mine and I'll take one of yours.” Bucky proposed.

“That's smart,” you agreed. You ate the pizza first and then the chili dog. The chili dog took the longest, since you didn't want to ruin your outfit. You had to lean over the platter the whole time to prevent stains.

Bucky took a different approach. Since the cooks put a lot of chili on the hotdog, Bucky found a different use for the access chili. He took the extra and put it on top of his pizza, which you looked at him in disgust.

“What?” he asked when he saw you staring at him, food stuffed in his mouth.

“Nothing,” you lied. He gave you a smirk, almost like he knew what he did, and continued eating. He finished quickly, a little faster than you. Almost like it was a competition, Bucky gave a little victory “woohoo” and you sighed, finishing your food.

“Congrats Buck, you ate faster than me,” you said sarcastically.

“Do I get a medal?” Bucky asked, playfully. You chuckled as he took your hand, leading you further into the fair.

“Whats up first, sugar?” he asked.

“Why don't we play some games? I don't wanna throw up on you in the Gravation,” you admitted.

“Sure, anything you want,” Bucky said. “Which do you wanna play first?”

“Let's do the balloon and dart game,” you decided.

“This way, doll.” Bucky said, taking your arm and leading you to the famous game. When you got there, not many people were there. Only two others were in front of you, and they were fairly quick. After they finished playing, the carnie saw you and got your attention.

“Hey there! Wanna play?” he asked.

“How much?” Bucky asked, getting to the point.

“If you want three darts, 5 bucks, if you want five darts, 8 bucks,” the carnie answered. Bucky got some money out of his pocket and paid $16 dollars in total. The carnie handed you both 5 darts and then he moved out of the way.

“Ready, set, go!” the carnie shouted. Then you and Bucky looked at each other, eyes full of determination. Bucky threw his darts very quickly, and he only missed one. Meanwhile, you took your time and got all five.

“Congratulations, you two!” the carnie cheered. “What do each of ya want?” You and Bucky looked around at all of the options.

“Which can we pick?” Bucky asked.

“The miss next to ya can pick anything she wants,” the carnie explained. “You can pick anything, just not something on the top row.” The one Bucky was eyeing was on the top row, and he sulked in disappointment. He saw a Spiderman inflate that he thought was really funny. You found a small, tye-dye teddy bear that caught your eye. You thought it was adorable, and you really wanted it.

“Bucky, if I get you the Spiderman, can you get me that bear?” you asked, with puppy dog eyes.

“Sure, toots,” Bucky smiled at you. The carnie heard you discussing and got the prizes ready for you. As you both said thank you, the carnie eyed you suspiciously, trying to figure out if you were dating or not.

“Any other games?” Bucky asked as you walked away from the game. You were about to answer when Bucky completely turned his attention to the mechanical bull a couple feet away.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I was the best at that in ‘38,” Bucky said.

“You can do it, it's fine,” you smiled. “But I'm paying.”

“No you're not,” Bucky said, before he sprinted off, trying to get there first so you wouldn't pay. You ran after him, but Bucky and his stupid super soldier serum beat you there. He got the money out of his pocket and handed it to another carnie.

“Good luck,” you said as you took the Spiderman out of his arms. He smiled back at you and headed up to the bull. The carnie counted him down and then the bull started moving. At first it was easy, Bucky had his right arm on the handle to keep him steady. But after a minute or so, the carnie made it a lot harder. Twisting and turning at high speeds, Bucky switched his right hand to the metal one, for a firmer grip. He almost fell off after one really fast turn, but his left arm still held on to the handle. His right arm was holding the side of the bull and he was able to readjust himself in time for the next spin. After five minutes, he was still on the bull. Bucky didn't even realise the crowd that was starting to form around you. Everyone marveled as Bucky wouldn't dare to fall off the bull. People around you cheered him on. Even the carnie was shocked and tried his hardest to get Bucky to fall. But it wasn't going to happen.

After another 15 minutes, the carnie announced that Bucky had beaten the record for the mechanical bull, but Bucky still wasn't going to get off. People cheered him on, but not as loud as you. Your cheers were fuel for Bucky and the more you cheered, the more he wanted to stay on. But, he didn't want to keep you waiting the whole night, so after 10 more minutes, he fell off the bull. As he walked out of the pit, people cheered for him, earning a smile out of him.

“Congrats sir, that's the best bull riding I've ever seen,” the carnie said. “Here's your prize of $200 bucks cash. Everyone give it up for.. What's your name?”

“Bucky,” Bucky answered.

“Bucky everyone!” the carnie cheered. Everyone joined in with cheers and applause. You smiled at him, full of pride and happiness. Bucky smiled and planted a kiss on your head, which you blushed at.

“How long was he on for?” you asked.

“Your boyfriend here was on for 32 minutes and 48 seconds.” the carnie said.

“Wow,” you said. “You are the best at that.”

“I know,” Bucky said. As you walked away, other guys had gone up to Bucky, giving him a celebratory high five or pat on the back. Even some girls had gone up and tried to flirt with him. But Bucky said that he was with you, obviously, but that didn’t stop the girls from at least trying to get with him.

“Now we have enough money to eat anything and play as many games as we want,” Bucky said.

“If you didn't win that, we might have had to use some of the money I bought,” you said.

“Impossible,” Bucky chuckled. “Now I think we can go on some rides.”

The night flew by, and it was already 10:30. Bucky had taken you on the Ferris Wheel, Cliff Hanger, Frisbee, Fun House, Wipeout, Gravation, Tornado and the Swings. You tried to get him to go on the Zipper, but he swore he would never get on that ‘deathtrap’ as he called it. As you went on the rides, you were able to fit your teddy bear into your bag, but the Spiderman was causing some trouble. You had to leave it outside on some rides, which you thought it might get stolen, but that luckily didn't happen. Then he took you on the Swings, your favorite ride of all. And then, he took you on the Bumper cars, his favorite ride. You both laughed and had fun the whole night, but he still had some other things he wanted to do.

“Doll, before we go, there's two more things I wanna do before the night ends,” Bucky said.

“And what might that be?” you asked.

“I wanna play the High Striker game an-” Bucky started.

“Do you wanna play that game to show how strong you are?” you mocked.

“Maybe,” he admitted and you laughed.

“I wanna do the shooting game before it's too late.” you said. “I wanna see if I can shoot better than you.”

“We already know the answer to that question,” Bucky smirked and you hit him playfully in the arm. “But we can do that after we have some dessert.”

“You read my mind.” you chuckled. “Lets eat.”

Bucky took you to some of the concession stands around the fair, which you both indulged in so much sugar that it would give you diabetes. Bucky bought both of you a plate of zeppolis, your favorite carnival food, and you bought a bag of fried oreos. You also bought a thing of cotton candy. After you thought no more eating, Bucky came back with a bowl of gelato. All of the hunger in you resurfaced and you and him ate it, licking your lips once you finished.

“That was the best dessert ever,” Bucky said.

“Agreed, now we gotta play some games, it's already 11,” you said, trying to get Bucky to move. He grudgingly got up and followed you to the High Striker game. Bucky pointed at the bell at the top, as if saying ‘watch out’.

“Wanna test your strength?” the carnie running the game asked.

“How much?” Bucky brushed off, getting the money from his pockets.

“For one swing, 3 bucks. For three swings, 5 bucks.” the carnie said.

“Three swings,” Bucky said, handing the carnie the 5 dollars. The carnie handed him a sledgehammer and backed away. The carnie told you to move back so Bucky could practice his swing, and you did. Bucky practiced his swing about three times before he was ready.

He swung his arms back and hit the pad. He got really close to the bell, just a few inches off. Bucky swore under his breath as he got ready for his next swing. The next one was stronger, but not close enough again. He grunted as he saw it didn't hit the bell.

“Cmon Bucky! You got this!” you cheered, hoping to boost his confidence. When he heard you, you were like gasoline to him, giving him the fuel to hit it the hardest. He swung down for the final time with a loud grunt. The little knob had so much force behind it that it hit the bell. Not only that, but it flew off the railing that was keeping it in place. You and the carnie looked at each other in shock. Bucky took a deep breath, and looked at you sheepishly.

“What the hell?” the carnie said. “Well, um, pick your prize.”

Bucky looked around at the options and found one that you were looking at. You were looking at a stuffed llama as tall as a counter. The llama, in your eyes, was even cuter than the bear. It had pink and blue fur in little patches. It also had little specks of yellow fur. It had a little smile plastered on its face and it just looked too adorable to be real.

“The llama please,” Bucky asked. You smiled at him and gave him a big hug, your arms wrapping around his muscular torso.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you said as your head was pressed against his chest.

“Welcome, sugar,” Bucky responded as he grabbed the llama from the carnie. You snatched the stuffed animal from his hands and held the toy in your arms, cuddling at. As the two of you walked away, you heard the carnie in the background telling the people next in line “sorry the things broken.” Then you heard an angry man yelling at the carnie, saying “That's Bullshit!” and “You just want to go home and not do your job!”

You and Bucky laughed as you headed to the last game of the night, then you would be going on Bucky's ride of choice. You ran through the crowd of teens and made your way to the shooting game. This carnie looked cheerful, more happy than the others that you have seen.

“Hey there! How's your night going for you two?” the carnie asked.

“Good, how's your going?” you asked in a cheery mood, still clinging to the stuffed llama.

“So far, no winners tonight, but maybe you and your boyfriend can change that,” the carnie smirked.

“Oh, we aren't,” you started.

“It's ok, you don't have to admit it,” the carnie asked. “By the way, the game costs 20 dollars per player.”

“What?” Bucky asked. “That's ridiculous for a damn shooting game!”

“Sorry sir, I don't make the rules. It's priced so high because you get a lot of pellets to shoot and if you win, you get a huge prize.” the carnie said.

“It's ok, I'll pay for mine and his,” you said, getting the money out of your bag.

“No I am,” Bucky said, racing to his pockets before you got your money. But you beat him and he sighed in surrender, muttering how his momma would kill him if she were alive. You handed the money to the carnie and the carnie set up the guns, ammo and targets.

“You can go first, Buck,” you said, nudging him forward. “I wanna see what exactly I'm going against.”

“You're gonna regret that,” Bucky snickered as he prepped the gun, leveling it at his shoulders. There wasn't a scope on the gun, but there was an eyeliner for him to aim. The target was a big, red star, which you laughed at in your head since Bucky had a star just like it on his arm.

Then, he started shooting at the target. The objective is to get the star completely off the target. It has to fall to the floor, off the paper completely. Bucky shot at the edges of the star trying to get the corners free. Then he circled around the star, aiming at the star with such precision that you got worried you would lose against him, and you hated to lose. Then, after a few minutes, Bucky ran out of ammo. The carnie pulled the lever, bringing the target closer for you and Bucky to see.

“You were really close,” the carnie sighed. Bucky took the target and saw that he had gotten completely around the star. But there was a problem: one of the edges was still dangling off the paper.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Bucky grunted, running his right arm through his hair. “This has to be a winner.”

“Sorry, sir. But the star has to be completely off the paper,” the carnie said. Bucky sighed and muttered something about how this was rigged.

“Your turn, doll,” Bucky said, giving the carnie a glare.

You handed the carnie your money and he set you up exactly like Bucky. Once the carnie was finished, he gave you a thumbs up and you started blasting. You followed Bucky's example, starting at the corners of the star and working your way around. You were careful to not pull the trigger too hard or else too many bullets would come out. You had something in your head that said, “you have to beat Bucky, you have to win.” Bucky was a master assassin and for him to lose helped boost your confidence as you continued to aim. The star was starting to fall off, hanging off by a tiny edge of the paper. But, luckily, you didn't have the same problem as Bucky, you had more pellets left. You used those to your advantage and blasted the red star off the paper. It fell to the ground, completely covered in bullet holes.

The carnie stood there, completely in awe at how well you had done, and you still had bullets inside the gun after you finished. Bucky was frozen like a statue. His hands were glued to his hair, his eyes were coming out of his head and his mouth was to the floor. The carnie gave you your target, and whispered to you “I knew you could beat him,” causing you to giggle as you scanned the booth for a prize. Your eyes settled on a Captain America head. Not a real one, a stuffed one. You thought it was funny and grabbed it from the carnies hand. As you and Bucky left the carnie said a congrats to you and hung your target on the wall with the other lucky winners.

As you walked, not knowing where you would be going, you got scared because Bucky hasn't said a word yet.

“Bucky you ok?”

“Yeah doll, yeah,” he said. “I just can't believe I lost.”

“Oh cmon dont be a sore loser,” you nudged him, making him laugh.

“Also I can't believe I fell in love with a girl like you, and I didnt even know she could hold a gun like that,” he blushed, brushing some hair out of his face. He gripped your hand and led you to the ride he had been waiting for since the beginning of the night.

“Wait, you love me?” you asked.

“Why do you think you're here with me, doll? Why do you think me and Loki are fighting for you?” Bucky asked.

“Well… um,” you froze. You had no clue about how you felt about Bucky yet. One part of you loved him, the way he loved you. But something else was fighting that feeling, seeing him only as a close friend. Bucky sensed your nerves and held you closer to him.

“It's ok, you don't have to respond.” Bucky said, easing your mind. “I'm gonna make you say those words before Loki gets the chance.”

You laughed at him. “I'd like to see ya try,” you sassed.

“Toots, just wait,” he smirked.

“Wait what ride are we going on?”

“Well we are right in front of it, so it's a dead give away,” he said. Without realizing it, you were right in front of the ride. It was a dimmed ride, more like a boat ride. The walls were covered in pink and red hearts and the boats were white swans. The arches leading into the ride were hearts and three words were illuminated in front of your eyes. “Tunnel of Love.”

“Oh my god,” you said.

“Cmon, it's not like anything is going to happen,” Bucky said, leading you to the swan. The carnie controlling the ride took the stuffed toys and your bag from you to leave on the side. She gave Bucky a thumbs up, letting him know nothing would happen to your belongings, but maybe for something else.

You squirmed as you sat next to him, and the carnie buckled you into the ride. A million things were running through your mind. You didn't know if you should tell Bucky before the ride starts to not try anything. You didn't know if you would let anything happen. You didn't know if, even, anything would happen. You assumed something would happen because, look who you're sitting next to. Bucky was a ladies man, and he probably took other gals on the ride in the past.

“Doll, I assure you. I won’t do anything unless you allow me to,” Bucky said, putting his right arm behind your back, for you to use as a pillow. You settled into his body and then the doors swung open, leading you inside the ride.

At first, there was nothing that would suggest anything bad would happen. There was a little romantic garden, the one that would show up in a romantic movie. There were little hedges and statues of Cupid with his love bow and arrows. There were tons of roses and smooth jazz was playing in the background.

“This is music,” Bucky smiled. The music playing tonight was mostly tons of pop music, which he hated and thought was annoying as hell. So this for him was soothing. It soothed you too, but not as much as it did for Bucky.

Then there was another set of doors, and it led you into the next part of the ride. This part was very dark. There wasn't a lot of light, and it didn't look like anything was inside. You got scared and found yourself leaning into Bucky more. He didn't mind and eased into your touch.

Suddenly, something, maybe a bat or something, you couldn't tell, popped out of nowhere. Then a hissing sound and a scream played in the background. You screamed and your head was buried on Bucky's chest.

“Hey, hey, it's ok. It's not real, it's fake. It's going to be ok,” Bucky soothed you. He took the arm you were resting on and cradled you in it as you were in fear on his chest. His right hand was rubbing circles around your back while his left was playing with your hair. You stayed there, in that sense of comfort, that sense of belonging, that sense of peace, for a little bit longer. You picked your head up at him, only to see steel blue eyes looking back at you. They seemed like a haven to you, like a home that you could rest in.

“I’m sorry Bucky,” you apologized.

“For what? You didn't do anything,” he said confused. Your faces were only inches away from each other, and you could feel his breath, smelling like sugar and cotton candy.

“When are we going to do something about this… unspoken thing between us?” Bucky whispered.

“There's no unspoken thing,” you whispered back. At this moment, you doubted that Bucky was wrong. Because this has never happened to you and him before.

“Liar,” Bucky smiled, his lips only centimeters from yours.

“Prove it,” you challenged back. The next thing he did took your breath away, literally. He leaned into you to close that gap keeping you apart. He kissed your lips tenderly, making sure you wouldn't back off. His eyes were closed, savoring every moment.

At first, you were in shock, frozen by fear. Your eyes were open, trying to process everything. But the longer he remained on your lips, you weren't doing anything to stop him, and you felt your eyes flutter shut. You kissed him back, relishing in the feeling of his plump, pink lips on yours. You were on each other for so long that you didn't realize that you entered the final room of the ride. Then you and him separated, gasping for air.

“Did I prove it?” Bucky mocked.

“Maybe,” you grinned.

And you leaned back into him. You slowly moved onto his lap, for the remainder of the ride. One of your hands cupped his cheek while the other was lazily tangling his hair. His hands were gripped on your waist. His tongue was stretching on your lips, trying to get in. You obliged and your tongues danced together to some unknown rhythm. You could taste the sugar on his tongue. As you played with his hair, he let out a moan. As he did, he could feel you smiling through the kiss.

Then, Bucky peeked open his eyes and saw the exit approaching. He didn't want people to see you making out, and as much as he hated it, he had to get you off of him.

“Doll, we gotta go,” Bucky urged. You realized what he meant and before anyone saw, you slid off his lap and fixed your hair. You both left the ride and headed to his car, eager to get home.

“Wow, that was amazing,” you sighed, settling into your seat with all the toys and your bag in the backseat.

“I have to agree. You took my breath away, dreamboat,” Bucky quipped.

“Same, and you were a dreamboat back there as well,” you grinned. Bucky placed his hand back on your thigh, and you placed yours on top of his, just like before. But it wasn't to be friendly like the first time, but something more.

“Ya know, doll, I wasn't expecting to be necking,” Bucky chuckled as you drove off.

“I gotta say, you got a lotta moxie for that,” you laughed.

“You almost gave me the hots back there, sugar,”

“Did I now?” you teased. “Well too bad you can't do anything about that.”

“Shame. Stupid bet.” he sighed.

“Oh wait, don't tell Loki about this,” you said. “He will flip and probably do something to us. Or you.”

“You got it.” he agreed. “But if he does find out, or do something, what then?”

“To get honest, I don't know. But you've still got one more date left to truly convince me. And so does Loki.”

“I didn't convince you?” Bucky gasped.

“Not enough,” you teased, laughing at him as you drove home.

Bucky helped you get the stuffed animals and your bag and helped you back to your room. You took the llama, teddy bear and your bag back. He held onto the Captain America head and Spiderman inflatable. He gave you a kiss on the forehead before you bade each other goodnight.

As the door closed behind you, you sighed, letting out a small howl, releasing all the emotions you felt tonight. Your back fell to the door, and your knees gave out, leaving you against the door.

“Wow,” you sighed.

~~~

Bucky walked back to his room with a little pep in his step. He was in a much happier mood than normal. He was singing to himself and smiling all the way back to his room. His hair was messed up, but he didn’t care.

But someone was watching him. Loki. Loki saw how messed up Bucky's hair was. He saw the things Bucky didn't. Like the lipstick that was on his cheek.

Then Loki felt angry. But it wasn't even anger. It was hatred, fury and rage. It was boiling inside him and he didn't know what to do with himself. But then, that God of Mischief mindset kicked in. And he had an idea. An evil, wicked, horrible idea. One that would change everything.

“Oh, well,” Loki talked to himself. “I wanted to play nice. But you broke the rules. And you know what happens when you break the rules. You feel my wrath.”

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