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awkward-and-indecisive · 3 years ago

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The Lazy Chose Me

Gif by @crowleysfavouritedemon

Summary - Y/n wants to have a lazy day but her boyfriend, Dean, wants to take her on an impromptu date. Will she have a good time at the date or will the date, the green eyed hunter organised, be a total wreck?

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Female!reader

Warnings - FLUFF!!! A little language, crack, lots of kissing a certain green eyed man, Dean being the best boyfriend ever, Dean being an adorable dork. Reader’s thoughts are italicised. If I’m forgetting anything please let me know!

Word Count - 4224

A/N - This randomly came to me at four in the morning. Also, I love Stitch with everything in me. 🥺😩

This is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine.

Please tell me what you think about it.

FEEDBACK IS HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!

Happy Reading :)

*****

You were having the laziest day of your life. Sitting on your side of the bed in a hoodie and sweatpants, you were stuffing your face with popcorn while watching reruns of your favourite show. With no hunts for the day, you were having a lazy day after months and you were enjoying it way too much. Crumbs of the snacks you’ve had earlier were scattered on the bed, decorating the sheets like confetti. Little pieces of popcorn were falling everywhere but you didn’t care. And you didn’t care that you didn’t care. You were loving the fact that you had nothing to do all day but lie in bed and eat junk and be lazy and messy and ugly and dirty. You were basically a zombie for the day.

Ah! This is what dreams are made of. You thought to yourself, sighing after another episode ended. You stretched your body, a few of your joints popping due to not getting any movement for so long, and hummed happily to yourself. You pressed play on the remote, the next episode playing, and changed your position on the bed. Lying on your side, you brought up your knees to your chest, one of your hands supporting your head, and kept the popcorn bowl within arm’s reach.

You had only continued your munching for a few minutes when your green eyed sex god of a boyfriend entered the room, excitement making his huge frame shake. He stopped at the foot of the bed, bouncing on the balls of his feet and you got a little annoyed at how energetic he was being. Your eyes were still glued to the screen, hand going in the direction of the bowl, blindly picking some popcorn and gorging yourself with it.

Dean moved in front of the tv and switched it off. You let out a ‘hey!’ in protest and he came to sit beside you. You scowled at him for interrupting your plan of being a zombie all day and he kept a hand on your hip, a cheeky smile playing on his lips which told you that he was up to something.

“Get ready, sweetheart. We’re going on an impromptu date.” He said with eagerness, clapping his hands together, and you still kept scowling at him. He seemed to have figured out what was swirling around in your head and started shaking you lightly.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s been so long since we had a date night and I have the perfect thing in mind.” He whined, making puppy dog eyes. You almost gave in right there but the lazy part of you stopped you from saying yes.

“But whyyy?! I don’t want to get ready or dress up or do my hair or look pretty or take a shower. I want to spend all day in bed doing absolutely nothing.” You whined back.

“Y/n, come on! You can be lazy all you want tomorrow. And look at all this mess and you haven’t even showered?!” Your boyfriend exclaimed. You just shrugged in return. So what if I didn’t shower today? It wasn’t like I smelled. Or did I?

You shook your head to get those thoughts out of your head and pulled the covers over your head, trying to hide under them and not let Dean force you to get out of bed. He tried to snatch the covers from you, going to stand at the foot of the bed again, but you had a deathgrip on them. Of course you were no match to him when it came to strength and he managed to steal them from you, throwing them on the small chair in the room. You groaned and folded your body more, tightly wrapping your arms around your knees and burying your head in the space between your knees and chest.

Dean grabbed a hold of your ankle and easily pulled you to the end of the bed and you screamed in protest, grabbing whatever you could to hold on. To anyone else the scene would surely look extremely comical, you clutching the sheets like your life depended on it and Dean dragging you towards the end of the bed. You knew you were being childish and throwing a tantrum like a kid whose mother refused to give in to their unnecessary demand they made in a public place right now but you didn't want to leave your bed. You were so comfortable and happy spending the day there and your boyfriend was bursting your peaceful bubble of lethargy.

“Why. Are. You. So. Damn. Lazy?!” Dean huffed exasperatedly, pulling you more and more towards the edge with each word.

You finally gave up on your plan, knowing you were no match for your stupid boyfriend’s stupid strength. You swiped the strands of hair that stuck on your face from all the scuffle in annoyance, when you stood up on your feet, and looked him in the eyes.

“I didn’t choose the lazy Dean. The. Lazy. Chose. Me.” You huffed with every step you took to leave the room and go to the bathroom to get ready for your impromptu date.

Dean chuckled and shook his head at your antics, taking a pair of your jeans, your undergarments and a jumper out of the drawer to give to you since you didn’t take any with you. He dropped the clothes on the bench of the bathroom, shouting ‘don’t take too long and get ready in 45 minutes’, and came back to change his clothes too.

Rolling your eyes for the millionth time in the last hour, you dragged your boot clad feet to the bunker’s garage. You would have been spending the whole day in sweats and a hoodie and here you were now, wearing jeans and a bra. Oh how cruel life is to break my dreams like that! You internally groaned.

You found Dean humming a tune to himself while leaning against his precious Impala, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded. His head perked up when the sound of your footsteps reached his ears and he immediately opened the passenger side door for you. You grumpily took a seat and Dean, still acting all gentlemanly, closed the door and rounded the car to take a seat in the driver’s side.

He jammed the key into the ignition and turned it, driving out of the garage. The green eyed man turned on some soft rock tunes, his fingers drumming to their tune. His whole demeanor was annoying you, testing your limits. How was he so happy after literally dragging me off the bed and stopping me from being the sack of potatoes I so desperately wanted to be all day?

“Why couldn’t we have a lazy date night in the Cave?” You asked, turning your body towards him.

“Because I can’t remember the last time we went out on a nice date and what I have planned is gonna be so much better than a lazy date night in the Cave.” He replied with confidence.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You grumbled, folding your arms.

“At least tell me where we’re going!” You whined after a few minutes had passed, stomping your foot like a child. You were really in a mood today.

“Then it won’t be a surprise.” Dean said, like it was obvious. You faced him and gave him your best puppy dog eyes, jutting out your lower lip to make the pout he could never say no to. He gave you a glance and then chuckled, “Nice try, sweetheart. But my hands are tied.”- he raised his hands in defeat and shrugged, -“I’m sorry but no can do.”

You let out a groan of frustration and decided to give up on prying information from him and just wait to see what this great plan of his was.

After a little over an hour of driving, Dean put Baby in park and you could see a tent with some lights and stuff. It was a carnival.

He brought you to a freaking carnival?!

“A carnival.” You said, judgement dripping from your voice.

“What? It’ll be fun!” He shrugged, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“I swear to god Dean if i don’t have any fun-”

“If you don’t have a good time then I’ll do whatever you want for a month.” He rambled out before you could complete your threat.

“Whatever?” You asked him, wanting to know if he was sure what he was signing himself up for. He nodded in reply and you thought about the little deal he was presenting you.

“Make it two and you have yourself a deal.” You countered, giving him a huge fake smile and putting your hand forward so you could shake on it.

“Deal!” Dean said and instead of shaking your hand, he crashed his lips on yours, kissing you like he hadn’t for years. He parted from you and you weren’t sure if you were out of breath because of the kiss or because of how good he kissed you. “That’s the way to properly seal a deal, sweetheart.” He winked and got out of the car, leaving you breathless and in a daze in the car.

You shook your head to get your brain back to working and got out of the car. You rounded and saw Dean holding his hand out for you. You couldn’t help the genuine smile and warmth that graced your cheeks. You hated how a tiny gesture from him made your heart do somersaults like a teenage girl even after all these years of knowing and dating him. Intertwining your fingers with his, you started walking towards the entry to go inside.

You were mesmerised by the hundreds of lights that were acting as a roof over your heads, looking like a galaxy of stars, as soon as you stepped foot into the carnival. You uttered a ‘Whoa!’ and could already see the smug smile forming on your boyfriend’s face. He gave you a ‘Hate to say I told you so’ look which you just ignored, pulling him towards the first stall your eyes fell on.

Dean suggested that you two eat a little before indulging in any activities and you quickly agreed since you didn’t have anything to eat all day other than those few snacks. You both opted for a hotdog and quickly finished it, feeling the hunger once the food was in your hands. The both of you roamed a little around the fair, watching everything that was on display.

The various games that were hard for normal people but to you both were as easy as pie and all the different prizes they had. A particular prize caught your eye and you memorised the stall number to visit later. The numerous contrasting foods and their delicious aromas wrapped around you like a blanket as you passed their respective stalls.

You saw a stall with flavoured lemonade and urged Dean to try some. You continued exploring while drinking the flavours of your choice. You reached the end of the ground, where the carnival was set, where a huge Ferris wheel waited for you and Dean.

You could only imagine the view you would get from the top. You tugged at your boyfriend’s jacket sleeve, stopping at the queue for the giant ride. You quickly emptied your plastic cups and threw them in the trash. You couldn’t help but notice Dean being a little nervous about the ride and found it so adorable. Dean Winchester, the best hunter in the world, was scared of a Ferris wheel.

It wasn’t long till it was your chance to sit in one of the carts. The crew guy locked the bar over your laps, securing you in. You heard Dean start humming Metallica, which you knew he did to calm himself down, as the ride started to take you up. You took his hand in yours, your thumb caressing the back of his hand. His grip on your hand tightened and you squeezed it back in reassurance, resting your head on his shoulder. You knew he was a little scared but couldn’t help and find the whole situation utterly adorable and amusing.

The wheel stopped when you were halfway to the top and you looked down to see that a couple was getting off a cart and another taking their place. You looked back at Dean, sitting next to you, and he had a funny expression on his face.

“Hey! You okay?” You asked, your brows furrowing.

He scanned his surroundings for a few seconds and then gulped, looking at you. You raised your eyebrows in question and he opened his mouth but no words came out.

“I uh...I think I’m gonna throw up.” He stuttered.

“You WHAT?!” You said, voice getting louder with shock while you let go of his hand and put as much distance as you could between the two of you. Your turn had just started and you were approximately 50 feet above ground and you had nowhere to go. Your thoughts started spiralling and you quickly rambled out, “I swear to god Dean if you throw up here I’ll kill you. Don’t even think about throwing up. Swallow it down if you have to. Don’t you dare throw up.”

“I can’t just not throw up Y/n!” He screeched.

“I don’t care!!” You said, shaking your head from side to side.

You both stared at each other in disbelief for a minute when Dean started laughing hysterically, his whole body shaking the cart. Your eyes widened when realisation hit you. He was messing with you. He wasn’t nauseous. Ugh! You hated him so much. The ride started again, taking you both up and he was still laughing.

“Asshole!” You said, smacking his arm and the cart shook a little bit.

“Whoa Y/n! I might fall!” Dean shrieked and you grumbled ‘Good!’ in reply.

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes and looking away from him. It wasn’t long until you reached the top and as soon as you took in the view, your annoyance vaporized into thin air. You could see the whole town from up here, hundreds of lights twinkling in the distance, the cold wind blowing through your hair. It all looked so heavenly stunning.

“This is so beautiful!” You whispered in awe.

“Yeah it is.” Dean agreed with you and when you looked at him, he was looking at you. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes while a blush crept up on your cheeks making your face warm even in the cold breeze. A smug expression made its way on Dean’s face and he wiggled his brow at you, thinking of how easy it was to win you over. But before he could make a smartass comment, you crashed your lips onto his, shutting him up. He didn’t seem to mind, bringing his hand up to your cheek, his thumb caressing it, while the other one still held onto the metal bar which was your only safety.

You made out like horny teenagers the whole ride, giggling when your noses collided. You both got out of the small cart, hands entwining and began to make your way back. You were walking quietly, taking in your surroundings when out of nowhere a guy ran past you, drenching you with the milkshake he had in his hand. You gasped at the contact of the cold liquid with your body, which quickly started seeping into your clothes and making you shiver.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed looking at you, anger filling him straight away and then his green eyes gazed behind you to catch sight of that guy.

“Let it go, Dean. I need to change before I get sick.” You said, tugging at his hand.

“Okay okay. I think I saw a souvenir shop a little ahead. Let’s get you some clean clothes from there.” He said, his anger disappearing and worry taking its place.

You nodded and let him guide you to the shop, hoping they had some clothes you could wear. As much as you disliked coming here at first, you were having a good time and didn’t wanna go back home so soon.

You went into the shop, thanking everyone in this world when you found some clothes at the back. You quickly took off their tag and handed them to Dean so he could pay for them while you changed in the fitting room. You quickly got out of your milkshake soaked clothes and put them in a plastic bag. You left the fitting room, your eyes meeting with those gorgeous green ones and he chuckled, shaking his head and looking down.

“What?” You asked, feeling a little conscious.

“Nothing. I’m just not that surprised at your choice of clothing.” He said with amusement, waving his hand up and down towards your body.

You glanced down at yourself and realised that you were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. You were back in your lazy clothes and chuckled too. You looked at Dean and shrugged while smirking, “What can I say? The lazy chose me.”

He grinned at you, pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was all sweet and loving. He parted when the need for air became too much and rested his forehead on yours, whispering on your lips, “I’m starting to think it did.”

You pecked his lips one more time before taking his hand to exit the shop. You both roamed around a bit more, going on some rides and eating some food. You lost a bet to Dean, getting dizzy before him on Chair-O-Planes, resulting in him making fun of you before you kissed him to shut him up while he lost a bet to you, getting scared in the fun house once while you didn’t. You made fun of him before he applied your method of shutting him up, kissing you. You both tried a hybrid of a cake and a pie which was so fucking delicious that it left you two moaning with each bite and you instantly got a whole one packed to take home. Dean kept convincing you to call it Pieke which you kept ignoring. You also tried something called a ‘pizza cone’, it looked like a normal ice cream cone but instead of the ice cream, it had cheese and pizza sauce and the cone was made out of dough. It was easily the best kind of pizza you’ve ever had and got a few of them packed for everyone back at home.

It was safe to say that both of your stomachs were full with finger-licking food and your hearts with irreplaceable memories from tonight. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this carefree and had so much fun. You hated to admit it, but Dean was right and you were definitely not going to say that out loud and give him one more chance of being all cocky and boastful.

Both of you were lazily strolling with one of your hands carrying the bags with the food and the other interlaced with each others’. You could see the opening from where you had entered, meaning you had done everything there was to do.

“You ready to go home, sweetheart?” Dean asked, his head tilting to you while his eyes darted towards the entry/exit point.

You hummed while nodding, Dean pecking your forehead and beginning to walk again. You had just stepped out of the carnival when your brain reminded you of that stall number you had thought of visiting before and you quickly shrieked, “WAIT!!”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to you with his brows raised, “What?”

“Uh, I remembered something I have to do.” You gave him a vague reply, not looking him in the eye.

“Okay, let’s go do it then.” He said, turning to walk back inside.

“NO!! No no.” You yelped, pushing on his shoulders to turn him back. He gave you a perplexed look and you awkwardly said, “You don’t have to come. Plus I kinda gotta do it alone.”

“Okaaay..” Dean said, unsure.

“Alright! So I'll meet you at the car in 20.” You hastily rambled out, pecking his lips and made your way back to the stall you had earlier seen in the night, leaving a dumbfounded Dean behind.

You were walking back to the car, a giant rainbow slinky in your hands, which were behind your back, to hide the toy from him. You saw how heartbroken he was, when the one Sam had gotten him on a case, got broken. You just wanted to see his whole face light up and give you that huge smile that lit up your world. You had seen the slinky displayed as a prize on the Ring Toss game and had won it for your boyfriend easily, your hunter skills coming handy.

You saw Dean leaning against the Impala, a mischievous look on his face, something blue and huge peeking out from where he was hiding it behind him. You squinted your eyes to figure out what he was hiding but failed to make anything out.

“What you got there, Y/n?” Dean questioned, nodding to your hands, amusement painted all over his face.

“I could ask the same.” You smirked, raising one of your eyebrows.

“Well as they say, ‘Ladies first’” He winked and you chuckled.

“You’re gonna need your hands for this one and they’re a little busy as far as I can tell.” You said, wiggling your brows at him.

Realisation hit him and you chuckled at his puzzled expression at what to do with whatever was in his hands. He told you to close your eyes and not open them until he shoved the thing he had in his hands in Baby through the window. He gave you the green light to open his eyes. You gave out a count of three out loud and then brought the slinky in front of you. Dean gasped, his whole face lighting up with a million megawatt smile, just like you had imagined, lighting up your whole world in the process.

“No! Oh, you’re the best girlfriend EVER!!! I LOVE YOU AND YOU’RE SO FREAKING AWESOME!!!” Dean blurted out, voice raising with each word, probably on cloud nine right now. Your face heated up at his words but you just dismissed them, mumbling ‘yeah yeah’ while looking down at your feet.

“Okay time for your surprise!”- He said, remembering what he had stuffed in the window earlier, -“Close your eyes.”- he insisted, turning around to get it out of the car while you shut your eyes, -”And no cheating!” You chuckled at his childish behaviour, loving it all the same.

“You need some help with that?” You teased him, after a few minutes passed and you heard him struggling to get it out of the car. He grunted an ‘almost done’ making you chuckle again.

“Alright, open up, sweetheart.” He said.

“YOU DID NOT!!” You gasped as you saw what he was holding in his hands, happy tears making your eyes blurry, reminding you of your childhood.

You instantly took the giant, almost as big as you, Stitch stuffed plush from his arms, squeezing it tightly against yourself. You couldn’t believe he got that for you. That little alien meant the world to you.

“I saw it at a shooting game after you left and I just couldn’t not get it for you. I know how much you love the movie and this weird guy. And also this is compensation if you didn’t have a good time tonight.” He told you and you looked up at him.

“Dean I...this...YOU are the best boyfriend in this universe and all the others. You don’t know how much this means to me...I...I love you.” You stuttered, words not coming to you as your feelings overwhelmed you, your voice getting smaller at the end.

He stepped forward, crashing his lips on yours, kissing you passionately while his large hands cupped your face. You kissed him back with the same passion, pouring all the feelings you felt into it, immense love for a certain green eyed man being the biggest. You parted when the need for oxygen became too much and rested your forehead on his.

“You should find yourself a new bed to sleep in because I just found a new cuddle buddy I won’t be letting go of any time soon.” You teased him, a smile playing on your lips.

“Pfft yeah right.” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry Stitch, unfortunately I kinda love him the most.” You said with mock sadness in your tone.

“Unfortunately my ass!” He grumbled and you laughed at that.

“I love you. So so much.” You said, pecking his lips.

“I know. Now get your cute butt in the car. It’s getting late and we gotta go home.” He said, lightly smacking your ass as you rounded the car to take a seat.

“Plus, I gotta show you just how much I love you for getting me that slinky.” He winked, suggestively, getting into the car.

“Oh I can’t wait.” You winked back.

*****

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TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE!!!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader #dean x you #dean x reader #spn fic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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sylverstorms · 4 years ago

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Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Your quiet days in castle Dimitrescu met their end the moment Cassandra took an interest in you.

You should have known. Perhaps you did know and just didn’t want to admit it.

The woman –vampire, mutant, what even are they— is a bipolar sadist.

One night she may be walking down the halls sending you a sexy wink under her hood as she passes you by, the next she could show up out of nowhere and cut you ‘hello’ with her sickle, scoop up the blood with her thumb to taste, then disappear again. The evening after that, she may not even give a damn about you, may not spare you a single fleeting glance, like even the notion you could be worth her time is laughable.

And it is, isn’t it.

Humans are nothing to them. Your significance is below that of a pet. You may as well be livestock. It doesn’t matter, though, so long as you continue to breathe and remain intact. They’re the two essential factors to escaping. All else is secondary.

It doesn’t matter how Cassandra views you.

You don’t even like her.

What is there to even be drawn to? She’s covered in blood more often than not. The scent of iron usually drowns out her perfume. She’s capricious and cruel and the living personification of an unsheathed knife. You prefer your routes safer. Playful, creative pretty girls that are good for you and most importantly, sane.

Whatever weird tricks your brain and hormones are playing where she stars –you hate it, what is wrong with you— they’re just delusions, you reason, born from her questionable flirting and your time in captivity. It’s just a really bothersome case of Stockholm Syndrome you’re developing. And it has to stop.

Another week passes. You don’t see her.

You are on another night shift when you hear the telltale buzzing of insects down the corridor. Hervoice reaches your ear afterwards;

“Ugh, Bela, you never complain about anything. It’s so annoying.” Two pairs of heels steadily tap towards you.

“I leave it to you and Dani to cover for me, since you complain about everything.” The quieter sister drawls. You can easily picture her roll her eyes as she says it.

“You know, you really should sound more thankful I came with you in this unearthly cold.”

“I gave you the option not to—”

“Just to have you rummage through that bookshop for what was definitely the most boring twenty minutes of my life.” Cassandra continues.

From the fleeting glance you steal at them, the entirety of her attention is on Bela. You don’t think she’ll notice you as you continue polishing the corridor’s decorations. It’s just another one of these nights where you don’t exist and you’re deeply glad for it. Not just for yourself, but also the other maids.

“I thought I was going to die of frostbite.” she growls, shaking the elder sister’s arm.

“Technically, you can’t.” Bela shakes hers back.

It would be… cute, if they were any normal family. But you are quick to remind yourself of what they really are. Devils in human form. Monsters that took you from your home and trapped you here, to clean after their mess, with the threat of death looming over your head every second.

Their steps pass you by. You can almost breathe normally again, when—

Cassandra stops.

“Not even going to tell me hello?” The hurt in her voice can’t be genuine, you tell yourself as you turn around to face her. She’s closer than you thought, enough for you to be able to make out the tiny melting snowflakes caught in her long lashes.

“Um—hello.” you say, awkwardly.

“Cassandra.” Bela lets out a soft sigh.

“Bye, Bela.” The brunette pointedly speaks over her shoulder.

And to your horror… “Just keep in mind what mother said about the maids.” the eldest sister leaves you alone with her.

Each further step until the blonde disappears from view fills you with dread. Cassandra has that spark in her eye that you’ve learned to not associate with anything good. She’s completely still until she’s sure the two of you won’t be overheard or interrupted.

Then, she moves.

Her hands all too easily shove you against the wall. It’s more startling than painful, you realize, when your back doesn’t protest much at the collision.

Cassandra maintains eye contact with you as she tugs at the fingers of her gloves. You cannot fathom why it looks that sexy, the way she pulls them off, whether it is intentional or not.

“Plaything.” she says. Another new nickname for you. Not that you ever expected her to care to know your name. “I’m terribly cold.” she doesn’t seem to be lying, though the soft pout that curves her mouth is surely for effect.

It’s a test and your wellbeing depends on it.

Only, you have no idea what you’re supposed to do. Ruling your nerves under control, you decide to start slow. “Shall I light the fireplace in your room, my lady?”

“Maybe I want something more… immediate.” she replies, raising her hand to your neck.

The second her freezing skin touches your flesh, you cannot help but flinch. It feels like a slightly softer block of ice. Cassandra’s eyes creak at the corners. Of course, the sadist is enjoying your torment. Slowly, her fingers move under the collar of your black button-up shirt, which only makes it worse. The cold spreads, a peculiar tingle at your stomach with it.

“Well?” she asks. You get the memo that just sitting back and letting her have her way isn’t going to work, this time. You call upon all the willpower you possess and act.

Carefully, your hands rise to meet her own. You aren’t looking at her in the eyes –you don’t think you could— as your fingers wrap around hers and bring them in front of you, close to your body, warmed from hours of work. Instead, your gaze locks on the golden jewel decorating the chocker at her throat, before falling down, to your point of contact.

It is not the first time you see her hands without gloves on, but it only now hits you just how dainty they look. Her nails, filed round, are dyed a darker shade of crimson, stark against the white of her skin. There isn’t a single blemish or uneven spot you can feel on her palm. It is a princess’ hand you seem to be holding, not a killer’s.

But appearances can be deceiving.

The very corner of Cassandra’s lip curls up, amused or pleased or both. She then reaches forward, at the lowest clasped button of your shirt… and frees it open. You’re sure you aren’t breathing. Two more buttons are released. Her fingers, at least now considerably warmer, splay against your stomach. Something inside you quivers like a flickering candlefire.

You don’t want her touch.

But a traitorous, weak part of you has already decided that it does.

“You work out?” it is merely a whisper between you. She presses a little closer, entirely unashamed to be feeling the contours of your middle up while you’re burning with embarrassment.

“…probably the days of working in the fields.” you say, voice low because it cannot be trusted any higher. She’s doing a little thing with her thumb over your skin that you desperately want to deny turns you on.

Thanks to her you’re now freezing and burning at the same time.

Cassandra just stays like that for a few more seconds.

“Draw me a hot bath.” she eventually orders and extracts herself from you as if she’s not remotely happy with her own decision.

You don’t really know how she likes her bath and she doesn’t tell you.

All you can do as you test the water on your hand is pray. Your mind isn’t really working right after the touching at the hallway, but your survival instincts are strong still. Strong enough to remind you that Cassandra likes to be treated like royalty above all, so bubbles are your best friend in this. The more, the merrier.

The Dimitrescu daughter does not ask if the bath is ready when she comes in. You aren’t used to her being so silent, so you turn to see if something is wrong –but immediately regret it when the heavy robe clinging to her body drops down. The only glimpse you catch is of the fabric pooling at her feet like a shadow.

Your eyes stay glued on the queen-sized bathtub, even when she approaches. They turn to the side as she enters it.

You want to ask if the water is fine, but you can’t find your voice. You lose even your train of thought when she lets out a small hiss as she sinks in, replaced by a moan once she’s completely settled back, neck tilted and eyes closed in bliss. The polite thing is to let her bathe in peace, so you move to do just that.

Cassandra has other plans.

Her hand shoots out of the tub to wrap around your wrist, inescapable as an iron shackle. Those intense yellowish eyes are on you again and they seem to be glowing under the dim lights.

“No.” she says. “Massage. Now.”

Ah, great. You think. You’ve spoiled her. But if giving Cassandra massages is what is going to keep your hands attached to your body, you won’t complain. It’s just that… you can’t really focus right now. None of your thoughts are right or remotely what they should be. You need time off from her, rather than touching her.

Thankfully, the moans are kept to a minimum and there is no teasing. She is utterly relaxed, only giving the occasional command for higher or lower. It does kind of kill you when at one point she whispers “Right there.” but you are able to move past it.

You leave fresh towels beside her when you’re finally allowed to leave. Back in her bedroom, you light the fireplace in a way that you make sure will last through the day, while she’ll be asleep. The plan is to leave before she returns, but she’s already there by the time you’re finished with the preparations.

And –you’re trapped.

Because, again, she’s changing and you have to look away to preserve your sanity and probably your eyes. “No peeping, now.” she calls over her shoulder. You know better than to dare.

You keep your hands busy arranging bottles and boxes at her vanity until she’s done. Cassandra does that ‘flashing’ thing where she’s on one side of the room one moment and right behind you the next. You only then notice a little insect flying back into her form. It was spying on you.

“You didn’t even look near me, huh.” she says it like ‘congratulations, you passed’, but there’s a bitter undertone of disappointment in her voice.

She’s only feeling down that you didn’t give her an excuse to slice at your face, you think. Then again, does she really need one?

“I wouldn’t, my lady.” you assure. “If I may be excused—”

“Did I say you can go?” she turns you around, none-too-gently, her hands on your biceps tight. You’re effectively pinned against her and the vanity, but you have much bigger problems to worry about, when you take in what she’s wearing.

Cassandra is clad in a flimsy nightrobe that leaves little to the imagination, the fabric nearly see-through. You can see the edges of her lacy underwear underneath it, how nicely it sits against her perfect curves. To make matters even worse, the robe ends at about mid-thigh and your eye catches the expanse of creamy skin on display.

Your brain nearly melts.

“I don’t know what it is about you, plaything, but you’re working up my appetite.” she confesses, pressing into you, pressing you harder into the furniture. You try to think of literally anything else than how well her thigh is slotted between your legs.

If you’re supposed to look away from her lidded eyes, however, you can’t. And if you’re not supposed to feel the echo of her nails on your arm all the way down to your center, you can’t. You are definitely not supposed to be so achingly curious about her bow-shaped lips. But you just can’t.

“You’re working me up.” she breathes, so close you can feel the ghost of her lower lip on yours.

And then –her mouth is on you and you forget how to breathe. Your eyes close and just feel, instead. If this is how you die, maybe it isn’t such a bad way to go. It’s been too long since you kissed anyone, seems like ages ago now, but you gradually remember how to move once you allow your muscles to unlock.

Not looking at her makes it easier. Her lips are balmy and smooth and slide so good on your own you can’t think at all, much less of what she’s capable of. You would have guessed her to be aggressive, but Cassandra is oddly hesitant, the only thing hard about her being her grip.

You’re not sure what you’re doing or how you get so bold, but your hands trail up to her waist and pull her in. The little hitch in her breath threatens to break you. It provides the perfect opening to part her lips with your tongue. As soon as it touches hers, she moans low in her throat and slowly drags her hips against your thigh.

Oh. God.

There’s a hollow ache in your stomach. You’re shamefully wet for her. The voice of reason is mute in your head, until you’re forced to break your liplock to breathe and it only then hits you what you’ve just done.

Cassandra’s lips are insistent on your jawline, on the vulnerable spot under your ear. Her open-mouthed kisses are just hard enough, at first, but then start to border on painful. Your heart skips a beat when you feel the press of teeth, yet she rips herself off of you before she bites down.

“Ugh. I’m… so thirsty.” she says it lightly, but her voice is hoarse and something about her body language gives you the impression she’s hurting. “You should leave. Fast.”

You almost make the mistake of reaching for her. Almost.

Cassandra turns away from the temptation of your veins.

For both your sakes –mostly for yours— you hurry out of her room and never stop to look back.

#cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x oc #lady dimitrescu #resident evil village #fanfiction #she's so flirty in game I love her #playful vampire sadist princess of my heart #and Bela's just plain a boss and a bae too

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wizkiddx · 4 years ago

Text

work with me

this is for @worldoftom 'lolbrosgetsicktoo' challenge event thing - go check it out bcos lots of much better writers have got involved too✨! I'm v new to these things but I tried :) the prompt was: 'would you quit whining and just get in the bath' . (also look at me acc posting sort of regularly, who'd of thought?!?!)

warnings: sickness / fever (more dramatic than it needs to be) / LOTS of medical inaccuracies

summary: when tom doesn't take advice and ends up very ill, very far from home, there's one person whose stuck dealing with it

“Please Tom… I need you to work with me!”

It wasn’t his fault he was being a complete nightmare, though your patience was wearing off somewhat.

For context, you were in Morocco, where he had been filming part of his next film, which only made trying to take care of him that bit harder.

Everyone got ill sometimes. It wasn’t his fault.

That was the mantra ringing through your head, even if you had a more challenging time believing it. Tom wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to joke about it. HOWEVER, what he was less good at was heeding warnings. He was a white boy in Morrocco; the health and safety briefing had literally been aimed at him. Had he taken the advice not to eat any dodgy looking meats at the market?

Of course not; that’d be boring.

Everyone else was fine. You’d all sampled Morroccos culture without giving yourselves the worst case of food poisoning you’d ever witnessed. But not Tom - possibly one of the only ‘indispensable’ people on the set. If you, or one of the minor characters, or even the director, had got ill - the show could continue.

When you’d been rudely awoken by your phone going off, you’d known instantly. It was as if you’d told him not to take a bite out of the weird burger once you were away from the eager view of the street vendor. Sure enough, with bleary eyes, you hissed at the brightness of the phone screen before seeing ‘Tom H’ on the screen.

“Y/n?” His voice was croaky, but just from the single call of your name, it was clear he was feeling sorry for himself.

“Are you okay? It’s late T.”

“Um I… can you come over? You…you might need the key I’m - um- in the bathroom.”

As his stylist, it technically wasn’t part of your job description to also be mother when he was sick, but (unfortunately for you) after the 3 years working side by side with him - you were also friends.

Which you were almost regretting by the second time rinsing the toilet bowl clean after he’d evacuated what seemed to be the majority of his vital organs into it. Honestly, it was impressive how he managed to keep going.

That had been at around 4 in the morning- the doctor had been called at 8, coinciding beautifully with his 5th toilet extravaganza. Once the doctor had confirmed your original, if completely unqualified, diagnosis of food poisoning - you hadn’t been able to bite your tongue. Perhaps an ‘i told you so’ might’ve slipped past your lips, but Tom was a bit too out of it to argue back.

You’d been given firm advice from the doctor - he said little sips of water, rest and control his temperature. It all had seen pretty simple - though the action? Not so much.

It wasn’t his fault, yet Tom was not super compliant. You and Harry had both been taking turns in practically forcing him to take sips of water, having to turn off ‘modern family’ till he did. The blackmail had put you both in his bad book.

Honestly, thank the lord Harry was here too. You’d woken him up at seven, begging for help and since then, you’d tagged teamed. While one was looking after Tom, the other was phoning the director, the doctor, and the crew to inform them of the current situation.

Again, of all people. Why’d it have to be Tom?

Mainly because you knew how mortifying he found this. He didn’t like people fussing over him, never had. He liked to work hard, liked to make people happy - definitely didn’t like to feel a burden. Perhaps what made him feel ten times worse was that he knew he was inconveniencing the whole production team massively.

And yes, as you’d unhelpfully reminded him, it was ‘his fault’.

The lavish hotel room, big bathroom and pretty efficient AC still didn’t manage to mask the pungent in-the-back-of-your-throat smell from the bathroom. At the doctor’s advice, who had been a little concerned at Toms fever, Harry had cranked the AC on high. It had forced you to steal one of Tom’s big hoodies and a pair of joggers- you hadn’t left his room since he first called you, still wearing your tiny pyjama shorts and an old tee.

“Please turn the air con off.” His little voice whined from where he was lying, huddled up under the covers. Perched on the other side of the double bed, but over the covers with your laptop on his lap, you could actually feel him shivering with the chills. It felt like you were torturing the poor boy.

“T you know I can’t. It’ll make your fever worse.” The way he looked up at you, like a little Labrador that you were refusing to pet, actually pained your heart.

Okay, so yes it was his fault, but you weren’t mad, you just felt so awful for him.

“Please I’ll- I’ll pay you more.” His voice was hoarse; though he denied a sore throat, it sounded like the constant sickness was burning his windpipe.

“Tommm” you pouted, sticking your bottom lip out “I don’t want your money, want you to get better.”

Apparently giving up, brown eyes shot you the filthiest look in disappointment, rolling to face away from you. You thought he was giving you the silent treatment in a huff, but instead, he was praying on the weaker one.

“Harry, I’ll buy you that set of golf clubs-“

“NO!” You had to interrupt before Harry would say yes - because from the way his younger brother shot up from the arm chair, he was about to. Scowling eyes slowly focused back on you in annoyance, making you huff - shutting the laptop and kneeling on the bed to face him. After pressing the back of your palm to his forehead, which was scorching hot, you sighed. “I know you feel shitty and I’m so so sorry but I’m trying to make you better. So shut up, drink this and go to sleep!”

Like a child scorned, you received another death glare however, then he complied, taking a sip of the water you offered before lying back - huddling even tighter.

And it had been relatively peaceful for a few hours; Tom seemed to be getting some sleep - even if he was tossing and turning. Eventually, a prescription that the doctor had requested worked its way through the system, Harry getting a text to say he could go pick it up. The nearest pharmacy was probably a 30 minute drive from the hotel, so he left as soon as.

This left you alone with Tom, where the situation only descended into more chaos.

Almost as soon as Harry had left, Tom had stirred with a grunt. All it took was one look at his face for you to know. Both of you leapt up and flew into the toilet, Tom once again getting very familiar with the Moroccan toilet bowl.

This time though, when he had leant backwards, he’d sort of lost control and flopped most the way - you catching him before he could hit his head on the tiled floor.

“Woah, easy there!” It wasn’t like he’d passed out, but the look in his eye as he slumped into your lap… he wasn’t all there either. “Hey Tom… you with me? Tom?”

Lazily he blinked up at you, not really replying except for groans of half-formed words.

Deciding this had all got a bit direr, you almost sprinted back into the room, grabbing your phone and returning. He was still on the floor, his thumb and first finger pressing into each eye - groaning again.

“Hey Tom? I’m gonna call the doctor you need anything?” He whined in response, stopping only when you stroked his sweaty hair back, most of your attention on dialling the correct number.

The solution he’d given wasn’t pretty: Tom’s fever was too high hence why he was all woozy and groany. Until the doctor could get over with the stronger medications, you needed to lower his temperature in other ways or take him to hospital. He’d absolutely hate hospital, but the other choice? Boy, was he not going to like it either.

Ignoring Tom’s croaked question of what you were doing, you busied yourself switching on the bath taps. You let the water run until it was the right (very mild) temperate, then turned back to Tom, who’d managed to work himself up to sit against the sink unit.

“The doctor says you need it.” His brain was foggy, his mind was slow but your tone told him enough to know something was wrong with the bath. “Just take your clothes off and then I’ll help you-“

“Absolutely fucking not.” Good. He was still with it enough to argue.

“I am just as uncomfortable as you are Tom, but we both know you can’t stand up without fainting, so you are going to need my help.”

“Y/n!”

“Keep your boxers on and it’s just like a fitting! I’ve seen you have those before!”

It was clear as day just how emasculated he felt, especially because he knew you were right. Sitting up at this current moment was a push; there was no way he was getting in the bath without some help. Defeatedly he nodded, but gave you a piercing look to turn around before he started wiggling himself out of the flannel pyjama trousers and light cotton t-shirt. Most confusingly, he still felt freezing cold, yet he had long since learned not to argue with you - especially when your justification came from the advice of a doctor.

Your cue to turn around came in the form of an extra angry-sounding grunt- the look you got when you did wasn’t much better either. It was a weird contrast, though, having someone who physically appeared so indestructible (a superhero for crying out loud); to have been absolutely beaten to a pulp by a few mouth fulls of weird meat. You had seen his bare torso before, although it still wasn’t something easy to get used to - making you clench your teeth together just slightly. A very welcome view.

Perhaps you looked just a little too long at the man who was technically your boss, hunched angrily on the floor in nothing but his calvins - another grunt shaking you out of it. By now, the bath was almost full and you hurried to shut off the water, feeling your cheeks heat up as you cursed silently to yourself.

“Okay come on, gimme your arm.” Begrudgingly Tom followed your request, slinging his arm heavily over your shoulder as you crouched beside him. As strong as he looked, you knew right now he felt powerlessly weak - all that muscle was just going to be almost dead weight.

Now it was your turn to grunt and groan as you pulled Tom up to stand, him focusing on blinking away the headrush he got.

“Come on T work with me here.” Getting him to the side of the bath wasn’t too difficult, the issue came when he stepped with one foot into the bath and yelped, instantly withdrawing as if it was a literal ice bath.

The sudden movement had you both losing balance, ending with Tom sitting on the edge of the bath and you leaning over him, in between his legs, and slapping your hand on the wall opposite purely so you both didn’t end up in the bath.

“Tom!”

“It’s like ice water!”

“Its lukewarm like the doctor said!”

“It is not its from the fucking arctic!”

“Oh for god sake!” Exasperated, you paced up and down the bathroom shaking your head at his ridiculousness. This was ALL. HIS. FAULT.

You came back to him with an ultimatum.

“It’s this or the doctor said I had to drag your ass to hospital.”

“Nooooooo.” The 25 year old seemed to convert into a whiny three year old again.

“Those are the two options. So will you PLEASE quit complaining and get in the bath.”

Keeping up the toddler persona, Tom huffed but reluctantly nodded in agreement - you had come up trumps. It didn’t stop him yelping when you helped to lower him in. His breath was shaky, as a response to the ‘cold’, but he was firming it. At least when you felt his forehead after a couple of minutes, it certainly seemed as though the fever was starting to ease off .

“You can go if you want.” His voice was murmured and as you looked up at him, he did his very best to avoid your gaze.

“Not a chance, if you drown on my watch, Nikki will never forgive me.” At the very least he seemed to appreciate your joke, scoffing a little with a small nod. “If you don’t want me here I get it. As soon as Harry’s back, I’ll swap with him.”

“No! It’s not that its… I’m just an ass when I’m ill.”

“A self aware ass, though.” Again he chuckled a little, as you folded your arms on the edge of the porcelain tub, resting your head lying to one side. “You had me pretty scared there for a moment, you know?”

He nodded a little, creating a wave of ripples in the water which you watched to avoid his gaze - which you knew was tracing all your features inquisitively.

“Hey it’s in the job description, always a bit dramatic... I’m sorry though I should never of called you- don’t know why I didn’t just get Harry.” In response you tutted, taking a moment to lean up and push his sweaty curls back a bit.

Just because you could, it was allowed in this moment.

“’m glad you did.”

“Yeh me too” He sighed, eyes fluttering shut in the easy silence of the bathroom. You kept a vigilant eye on him for the next 20 minutes, checking the temperature of his forehead using the back of your hand, whilst he seemed to finally get a bit of proper restbite, appearing like the worst had passed. You had no idea what was taking Harry so long; in fact it was the doctor that arrived first- who you ran to let in (not wanting to leave Tom asleep in the bath one bit).

Whilst the doctor did all his checks, taking his temperature properly this time, satisfied that it was much more manageable. He still wanted to set him up with some oral rehydration rescue packs to get his hydration status a bit better and give some anti-sickness tablets and antipyretics.

Having actually been getting some rest before all the prodding and poking, Tom was back to being a grumbling dick - now not wanting to leave the bath (the irony was real - making you roll your eyes). Once again, he appeared embarrassed to have you see him like this, so you left the doctor to help him get out and changed- instead going down to reception to get a fresh set of sheets, as he’d done a pretty impressive job of sweating through the old ones.

Even if tired and grumpy, when Tom exited the bathroom, he looked much better - he was walking himself without the doctor’s help. Which honestly was such a relief because when he had passed out on you, you genuinely were terrified. Thankfully the doctor stayed for the next 20 or so minutes, which was just when Harry returned with a bag of medications - which were now wholly redundant, given the doctor had already supplied everything.

“What happened?” Harry asked you in a hushed voice, whilst Tom was distracted with getting his medications. Recounting the story of Tom pretty much passing out, Harry grimaced for you, then launching over to give you a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” That was a novel idea, you hadn’t really thought about yourself at all - but honestly, you were a bit shaken, having been running on adrenalin for most of the night.

“I-uhm… yeh I think so… just-just was a bit scared, I guess? Felt bad too because he didn’t want me there but-“

“I can promise you Y/n, he did want you there. Just probably embarrassed he wasn’t all manly and that…” With a nod, you smiled softly at the frizzy-haired boy.

Whilst working with Tom, it also meant getting pretty close to his younger brother. The two Hollands were almost attached at the hip, which you were very much okay with.

It was weird though... your relationships were completely different. Harry was just your brother, through and through. He wound you up like a sibling but also knew you as if he had your whole life. With Tom… it wasn’t that. Arguably, you were closer to Tom, but on a different level. It was more exciting, more nerve-wracking and heartwarming all at the same time. Honestly, you couldn’t get your head around it properly.

“Hey, you’re probably shattered. Why don’t you go back to your room and get some sleep? I got it in here.” You knew Hary was trying to offer something nice, and now all the excitement had worn off, you were unbelievably shattered. But you didn’t like the idea of not being there, as a just in case.

“Uhm, I think I might just stay, you know?” And he did, with a deliberate, knowing smile, he nodded.

He knew you were worried. He knew Tom had really really scared you. He also knew how much you cared about his brother.

Just like how Harry knew Tom wanted you there, even if he felt embarrassed. Well, anyone would- when you are passing out half-naked in front of the one person that really matters.

It was just at this point that the doctor was done, giving Harry instructions about the rest of the day, when you made a beeline for the bed. Tom was propped up against the headboard, still with a pale sullen look and tired eyes, but a bit less clammy and more human. He cracked a smile as you crawled up onto the other side of the bed, kneeling next to him.

“How’re you doin’?”

“All drugged up, just feel fucking exhausted.” Instinctively you reached up to feel his forehead, really appreciating the fact it felt almost normal.

“Join the club mate, I had a 5am wake up call too.” You almost whispered, intending to make Tom laugh, but instead only getting a pout.

“I am sorry, a-are you going to go back to your room?”

“Nah” Tom’s eyes didn’t light up, except the fact that they very much did. “Can’t trust you not to get into trouble while I’m gone Holland.”

“Thanks.” He laughed weakly before shimmying down on the bed, so he was much more comfortable. “And thankyou, I-I’m sorry I’m a dickhead and made your life-“

“Shut up Tom!” Laughing, you lightly slapped his arm, also leaning down on the bed, so you were lying facing him. “You’re all feverish; go to sleep before you say something stupid.”

There was a long pause, Tom just gazing deep into your eyes, because he was pretty sure what he was thinking was nothing to do with the dodgy unidentified meat he’d had the evening before.

“What... like asking you out?”

…..

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so stupid.”

~~~~im really not sure how I feel about this one, let me know what you thought ;) ~~~~

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter@hollandfanficlove

#tomholland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #hurt comfort #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #harry holland

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watchyourbluesturngolden · 3 years ago

Text

all this time

omg so i have not written in forever but then the bestie @goldensonlyangel did a writing challenge (CONGRATS ON 800!!!!!!!!!) and i got inspired so here we are :) I know it's not super long but i like how it turned out!!!

as always, if you don't like the dress i linked, just imagine something else! that's just the visual I had in mind :)

warnings: none

word count: 1.8k

"Macy, I don't have anything to wear," you sighed, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you poured a bowl of cereal. "You can borrow one of mine! Or i will literally buy you one. I'll do whatever it takes, you have to come!" "Why?" You whined. "I always feel so awkward. You know I love you, but everyone couples off and it's just weird." "But Harry's going to be there," she crooned, and you had never been more grateful that she couldn't see your face. Your face that was currently flaming hot at just the mention of him.

"I don't care," you lied. "He clearly doesn't like me, so I don't even want to try anymore." "You're wrong," she insisted. "We can all tell he has the biggest crush on you." "I don't think so," you said, even though your heart was fluttering at the idea. "Okay, I'll come. But you have to go shopping with me." "Of course!" She exclaimed. "Can we go right now?" "Give me an hour, and then I'll come pick you up."

-----

"How about this?" Macy asked, holding up the shortest dress you had ever seen. "That's basically just a shirt," you rolled your eyes. "Harry would love it," she grinned. "Harry won't care, because he doesn't like me," you said, trying to keep your voice level. You told yourself a long time ago that there was no point in getting your hopes up about him. You could never have him, so why hurt your own feelings? She shook her head, but seemed to get the hint that she should drop it for now. She pulled another dress off the rack, this time one that was much more your style. Your eyes lit up at her selection. "I like that one," you nodded. "I think it would look really good."

-----

"You look amazing!" She beamed, pulling you out of the changing room to stand in front of the full length mirrors. You couldn't help the smile that grew on your lips as you examined yourself in the mirror. "I do," you agreed. "Harry- I mean, everyone's going to love it," she said, blushing slightly at her slip up. You had to give her credit: she didn't give up easily.

-----

"You're here!!!" Macy screamed, rushing to the door and pulling you into a hug. "Of course I'm here!" you said, trying to match her energy. It wasn't an easy task; she had clearly had quite a few drinks tonight. She pulled away, holding you at arm's length to inspect your dress. "And you look amazing," she grinned. "Who helped you pick out that dress???" You smiled, shaking your head lightly. "I need a drink," you said, pulling back a bit more. "Of course!" she chirped. "Everything's set up in the kitchen. If you need anything else just find me!" Then she was off, pushing through the small crowd of people and right into the middle of the living room turned dance floor. You made your way to the kitchen, deciding you were much too sober to join her. You pushed open the door, hoping you would maybe see Bella, or Charlie, or any of the other girls you hadn't had the chance to catch up with lately. Instead, you ran directly into a broad chest belonging to none other than Harry, the man you'd had an unrequited crush on for years. "Oh- I'm so sorry!" you rushed out, grasping at the front of his shirt to steady yourself. He gasped slightly, reflexively gripping onto your arms to keep you from toppling over. "You alright?" he asked with a small smile. "I'm fine," you said, keeping your eyes on his chest as your face heated up to an almost painful degree. "Sure?" He asked one more time, ducking his head to meet your eyes. "I'm good," you said with a nervous laugh. "You can, um-" you glanced down to where his hands were still on your arms. "Oh!" He exclaimed, eyes going wide as he realized he was still holding onto you. "Sorry," he said, a faint blush tingeing his cheeks as he stepped back. "No, it's okay," you said quickly, not wanting him to feel bad. "I'm just- I'm gonna get a drink." He laughed, running a ringed hand through his hair. "Good idea. I think I need one too." He moved to stand next to you as you browsed the large selection of alcohol on Macy's table. "I think she might have a problem," you joked. "We might need to stage an intervention," he nodded very seriously before his face broke into a smile. "But," you said, reaching for a bottle of tequila, "She keeps us stocked for parties, so I can't bring myself to care too much." "Agreed," he grinned, reaching for the vodka. There were a few moments of silence as the two of you poured your drinks, and then Harry spoke again. "You look lovely tonight." His voice was soft, and he sounded almost nervous. "Thank you," you smiled. "I'll be honest, I didn't really want to come. Macy said I had to." "For once, I'm glad she's so pushy," he laughed lightly. "If she wasn't, I wouldn't have gotten to see you." Your heart sped up at his words, and it took you a second to fully process what he had just said. "I'm glad too," you said softly. "Why, um..." He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Why didn't you want to come?" "It's always just a little weird, you know?" you said, keeping your eyes on the drink in your hand. "Everyone pairs off by the end of the night and I kind of feel like a... seventeenth wheel." "I know what you mean," he nodded. "Like, I'm happy all our friends have found love, or whatever, but I also hate them juuuust a little bit." He pinched his fingers close together, squinting at you through the tiny gap. "Just this much." "Well, I'm glad it's only that much," you laughed. "But wait, since when are you not part of a couple? I thought you were with Ellie?" "No, we were never really together," he said, looking down at his drink as you had earlier. "I mean, I liked her, but apparently she didn't feel the same. She went off with Paul." "Oh," you said quietly, not sure how to respond to that. "Paul. What a skank." "Such a skank," he agreed, breaking into a laugh again. The warm feeling in your chest was probably partly from the alcohol, but you knew it was mostly Harry. Seeing him so happy, being the one who made him laugh... there was no better feeling. The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence again,

sipping on your drinks every so often. By the time you finished, the music from the other room had quieted considerably. It was now a slow song, and you had no doubt that when you left the safety of the kitchen, you would find couples wrapped up in each other, too in love to care about anyone else. Just the idea of it was enough to kill your slight buzz, and you sighed involuntarily. Harry didn't appear to notice. He seemed to be deep in his own head, thinking about something. Before you got the courage to ask him what was on his mind, he stood up straighter and cleared his throat. "Y/N... can I have this dance?" He held out one hand to you, the other sweeping behind his back in a formal gesture. You giggled at his attempt to act prim and proper, when you both knew that was the furthest thing from his real personality. "I would be delighted," you said, copying his tone as you put your hand in his. He led you out of the kitchen and onto the makeshift dance floor. Just as you had imagined, most of your friends were with their significant others, swaying slowly to the soft music. Harry pulled you close, resting his free hand on your waist, his fingertips brushing the skin of your back. You shivered at the feeling, reaching your other hand up to rest on his shoulder. "You know... I had a dream about you last night," he said, continuing to sway the two of you in a slow circle. "Oh yeah? What about?" He hesitated for a minute, looking into your eyes. "It was just like this," he said quietly. "Only better." "How was it better?" Your voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "Because you were mine," he breathed. "I finally got my head out of my ass and asked you to be mine." You could barely breathe at this point. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, and you were sure harry could feel it from where his hand rested on your side. He didn't say anything though, he just keep his eyes on yours. "You want... you want me to be yours?" You asked, voice shaking slightly. "Would you?" He seemed just as nervous as you were. "I- yeah," you nodded, still staring at him. "I would." He breathed a sigh of relief. "I really like you," he admitted. "I have for a long time." "You have?" you asked in disbelief. "I've liked you for a long time." "Really?" He seemed just as surprised as you were. "We're really stupid, aren't we?" You laughed, dropping your head against his chest as you nodded. "We are." You felt him inhale deeply, and then his fingers were brushing your jaw, tilting your face back up to look at him. "Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, gaze flitting down to your lips before he met your eyes again. "Yes, you can," you said breathlessly. "Please?" He smiled, leaning closer and pressing his lips against your cheek. You nearly melted at the contact, brain short circuiting at the realization that Harry, the man you had loved for so long, felt the same way about you, and was standing here in your arms, about to kiss you. His lips lingered against your skin for a few seconds before he pulled away slightly. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he sighed, giving you no more time to think about it before his lips were on yours. Your eyes slipped closed as his hand moved to your back, pulling you closer to him. He was gentle, his lips moving softly against yours as you pressed your fingers into his shoulder. He pulled back after a few seconds, resting his forehead against yours with a breathless laugh. "Can't believe i waited so long to do that," he sighed. "Neither can I," you said softly, turning your head slightly to kiss his cheek. "I'm glad you finally went for it." "Me too."

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x reader fanfiction #harry styles/reader fanfiction #harrystylesxyou #harry styles x you fanfiction #harrystylesxreader #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles x you #harry fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles/you fanfiction #goldens800fics

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spideyhexx · 3 years ago

Text

take a chance on me - b.b.

here's something I wrote for @buckyblues 4k writing challenge! I've been wanting to get back into writing, so here's my first go at it :)

using the song prompt "take a chance on me by abba." @edenslibrary

be sure to let me know what you think :) reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated 😊

bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky has a crush on you. he's doubtful of himself, messes up, but turns it around.

WARNINGS: sfw. fluffy. some tiny tiny angst. bucky being self deprecating. huge hate of chekhov. bookstore owner!reader.

word count: 2.3k

Bucky replays his conversation with you a billion times within the couple of minutes it takes for him to walk from the quaint little book shop to his apartment.

After his favorite bookstore closed, Bucky took to finding a new one and stumbled upon the Murky Lime. He thought the name was strange, a little off putting, but as soon as he walked in, Bucky knew he was going to enjoy spending his afternoons there. It always smelled like hazelnut or vanilla, a scent he found so incredibly comforting that he bought a hazelnut scented candle for his home. Although it was a small shop, the shelves were loaded with books and he was able to find a hidden corner to sit down and read for a couple of hours, unbothered.

Not to mention the pretty girl that worked at the main desk and seemed to be the owner. You were there every afternoon that Bucky stopped by. He noticed how you would paint your nails when there weren’t as many customers. How kind your words were to anyone who asked for help. It took him a couple of weeks to work up the courage to ask you to help him find a book, even though he knew exactly where it was.

Bucky remembers when he complimented your bracelet and you smiled, stuttering out a thank you. The first time he saw you nervous. It gave him hope that maybe you were into him, but Bucky pushed away those thoughts as quickly as they came.

He couldn’t fathom how someone would truly want to be with him. Besides, he had enough on his plate, what with helping Sam on whatever mission he called him on and dealing with the occasional nightmare that haunted his mind.

That’s why he keeps on replaying the conversation. And cursing at himself for being so stupid.

…

“Hey Bucky!” Your words were cheerful, causing heat to rise up on his cheeks. You loved how a simple greeting seemed to get him all flustered. He’s still not used to even hearing his name come from your lips.

“How’re you doing, doll?” He lets the endearment slip, hoping he’d get to see you smile, and you do, before turning away and pointing at a box.

“I’m alright! And if you don’t mind, and you can totally say no, but I got a whole new set of Chekhov plays and I need to bring them to the play section, which is the furthest point from here and the box is a bit too heavy and I was going to make multiple trips but now you’re here and-”

“Of course I’ll help,” Bucky responded, chuckling at your babbling. You sighed, secretly hating your rambling habit, but it was hard not to when a handsome man was standing in front of you.

“I thought you hated Chekhov?” Bucky asked, picking up the box and following you to the play section.

“Oh I do, but a customer has been calling in for the last three weeks, asking if we have Chekhov and I thought I should finally put my Chekhov hating ass aside to appease the people who adore him,” you told him.

You couldn’t remember when you told Bucky you hated Chekhov, but you did not necessarily need to say it for someone to understand your distaste for the author.

“Or they could’ve just gone to a different bookstore,” Bucky mumbled, but you heard and let out a laugh. He put the box down and leaned against the opposite book shelf, hoping you would continue talking to him as you put the books away.

“So, I had another question for you,” you said, sneaking one glance at him before looking away.

“Go for it.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime? Not sure where but we could just go get some coffee? Or go out to dinner?”

This was it, the penultimate moment Bucky had been dreaming about ever since he laid eyes on you. Yet his mouth began speaking before he could really take it in.

“Um, no,” he said, immediately widening his eyes at your expression. Your mouth dropped to say something, but you weren’t sure what to even say.

“I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I can, right now, maybe?” You raised an eyebrow at him and smiled softly.

“It’s okay to say no, Bucky.”

“I know that, I know. I think I’m just not ready right now,” he said, his voice quieter as he said the last part. His brain was screaming at him to retract everything he had just said to you and to tell you he would go on a date, but Bucky could not do it. He already felt like he had failed and saw no point in trying.

“That’s okay. But...if you ever change your mind, let me know, I’d still be down,” you said.

You were slightly disappointed, but understood his reasoning even if he didn't give you an exact one.

Ever since he first came to your shop, you knew exactly who the tall, blue eyed man was. It was hard trying to comprehend everything James Bucky Barnes had gone through. You knew asking him out might’ve been a big step from having occasional small talk. A small part of you hoped he would take a chance on you someday.

...

Bucky throws his jacket haphazardly onto the couch as soon as he gets home, not caring that it ends up falling to the floor. He lights the candle on the kitchen counter and collapses onto the couch face first, letting out the sigh that was building up in him ever since he left the Murky Lime.

How could he do that? Was he actually not ready to date? He told himself he wasn’t, that’s why he felt like he had to say no to your date. But god, does Bucky want to go out with you and hold your hand and kiss your cheek. He hasn’t felt this feeling in a long while.

All the therapy sessions with Dr. Raynor flood his mind. The ones where she encouraged him to try dating and finding new friends but he brushed it off, feeling like he was unworthy of it. How could a sweet girl like you see something in him, he simply did not understand it. But you liked him enough to ask him on a date and he fucking said no.

Bucky sends Sam a quick text that’s more like an entire paragraph explaining the situation and what he should do. He throws his phone to the other side of the couch and drops his head into his hands. His phone pings a few seconds later and Bucky scrambles to grab it.

I think you’re just afraid of dating buck. You’re definitely ready, you’ve done so much work to be yourself again and I’ve seen that in you. If you like her AND she mentioned still going out if you changed your mind??? Go get her, man. Take the chance. If it doesn’t work out and you really aren’t ready, then that’s okay too. But it’s clearly eating you up that you said no, so just go to her.

...

You button up your coat and stuff your phone into your pocket, straining your head to the side to double check the time. Closing the store required a particular routine that you perfected, but you did not expect to see Bucky’s face at the front door. He did not notice you looking at him and you see the hesitation in his hands before he opens the door.

“Hey,” he says, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Hello again.” Bucky gives you a stiff grin and rocks on his feet for a few moments. The silence is deafening and it’s just about too awkward for you to handle.

“Is there uh..something you want?” He glances up and your eyes lock with his pretty blue eyes. You feel like you could gaze into them all day.

“Yeah, if you’re still up for it, I would like to go on that date with you. I’ve been afraid to put myself out there, but you’re so kind and beautiful..” his words trail off and he’s distracted for a moment at how you’re biting your lip nervously.

“I wanted to take a chance, so yes, let’s go on a date.”

“Do you wanna go now?” Bucky raises his brow and nods. You run to the back door to make sure it’s locked. When you come back, you see that Bucky took it upon himself to turn a few of the lights off and he hands you your purse.

“What a gentleman, huh?” He blushes and moves to open the door for you. You lock it up and turn to him.

“Does a walk in the park sound like a good idea?”

“Perfect.”

Since it was almost evening time, the park was not as busy. Bucky prefers it that way, and you do too. He’s so close to you, you can smell the little bit of cologne he must’ve put on. You want to tease him for it but decide not to. Instead, you purposely brush your hand against his own and Bucky immediately takes your hand in his.

“Maybe after this we could get dinner,” Bucky suggests.

“That would be nice. You can pick where.” Bucky thinks for a moment before responding.

“There’s this diner..a couple of blocks from your shop actually. It was there back in….you know.” Now that he’s thinking about it, he wasn’t sure you knew. He doesn’t wear gloves to hide his vibranium arm anymore and it’s an easy google search but you never showed any indication you knew about his past.

“I know about your past, Bucky. I won’t ask anything about it if-”

“No, it’s okay. I can talk about it.”

You nod. You're not planning to scour his brain about the haunting details of his life as the Winter Soldier, but you were curious about his life before that.

“Does it look the same as it did back then? The diner, I mean.”

“For the most part. There’s some newer technology in there and updated furniture but the style is all the same. It’s kind of nice to go somewhere familiar.”

The two of you walk over to an empty bench and take a seat. Your hands are still intertwined, resting on Bucky’s thigh.

“One more question about the 30s and 40s and then we can head on over to the diner,” you say, making Bucky laugh and nod his head at you to continue.

“How were dates back then? Like would you do the same thing we’re doing now or was there anything different?”

“It’s mostly the same,” he tells you. Bucky looks down at your hand, admiring how you rub your thumb against his hand.

“But there were these dances. I haven’t seen anything like them nowadays.”

“I think the closest thing we have to that is nightclubs. I’m gonna assume that is not your scene,” you say, giggling at his disgusted expression.

“It isn’t. I like forties music. I tried to listen to newer stuff and it’s not all terrible, but still not my favorite. I don’t think anyone in a nightclub will play Tommy Dorsey or Dinah Shore.” You ponder that for a moment as he turns to observe what else is going on in the park.

Quickly, you take out your phone.

“What are you doing?” All you do is smile at him, setting your phone down on the bench and standing up in front of him. He raises an eyebrow suspiciously as you hold your hand out.

“Mr. Barnes, can I have this dance?” Bucky takes a look around. There were a few people around who seemed to not take notice of the music coming from your phone.

“Gladly,” he accepted, taking your hand. Bucky placed one hand on your hip and pulled you in closer to him.

“I must admit, I know this was my idea, but I don’t know how to dance,” you whisper to him. Bucky shakes his head, smiling so wide he thought his mouth would start hurting. He slowly moves his feet side to side.

“Just this is fine,” he mutters. He tries not to take his eyes off yours, but you’re so close and Bucky can’t help but look at your lips, slightly parted and letting out deep breaths. He moves your hand rest on his shoulder, both of his own now holding your hips.

You trail your fingers from his shoulder to behind his neck, clasping your hands there.

“Thank you for this,” Bucky says and he hums along to the song playing, ‘Be Careful, It’s My Heart’ by Frank Sinatra. You smile at it, so he keeps humming. Bucky leans his forehead against yours.

“I know it’s not perfect-”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s with you. And this is...it’s nice.” You feel like your heart is going to burst. His eyes keep flitting down to your lips and Bucky leans in.

As his lips ghost against yours, you move your head, so he ends up kissing your cheek. He pulls back, a confused look on his face.

“Save that for the end of the date, honey,” you tease, leaning up to kiss his cheek. You linger your lips against his skin before moving away from him and his scoff turns into a laugh.

“I’m holding you to that,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek.

“I hope you do” you mumble and Bucky pulls you in close to him, making you squeal. He twirls you and brings you back into his arms, his lips touching the top of your ear.

“Let’s go get some dinner now.” You nod and grab your phone, opting to let the music keep playing. Bucky doesn’t hesitate from telling you random music facts about the artists as you make your way to the diner.

And as you ramble on about your own favorite singer, Bucky thanks the heavens that he took a chance on you and that it was going better than he ever imagined.

#buckyblues 4k challenge #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagines #bucky fic #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky #james bucky barnes #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #marvel fics

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starsstruck · 4 years ago

Text

strange phenomena; part one.

what happens when we meet again? you and harry have barely seen each other in almost a year. two ex-lovers find themselves in the same snowy town by strange chance, both looking for something they can’t seem to figure out. cafe run-ins, old love letters, and bittersweet nostalgia.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, slight mention of sexual content words: 13.3k

series masterlist

an: thank you for being patient with me. this is just a little story from my little heart shaped brain. thank you to @sunflowers-styles for beta-ing and being supportive and the overall best 💌 i hope everyone enjoys and please do let me know what you think ! happy reading xoxo 💌

There was something unsettling about not having a schedule.

Your entire life, you had been told that you weren't supposed to quit a job without having another one already lined up, and you had been able to keep up with that. Until now.

The impulse to leave the office that left you frustrated, tired, and overworked had been bubbling up inside of you for years, and it was only a mere couple months ago that you finally snapped.

Snapped, grabbed your things, and quite literally ran away. Call it a life crisis, maybe considered somewhere between a quarter and a mid, but there was something about simply leaving everything behind that took a temporary weight off your shoulders.

Which is how you ended up in a little town in eastern France, staring out the window of the café where you sat and watched the snowfall that had just picked up again.

There was an emptied mug on your side, crumbs of a delicious pastry sitting on a plate, and a blank page in your worn notebook. You had everything you needed to work: your favourite playlist softly playing in your ears so you wouldn’t get too distracted by conversations around you, not one but two notebooks filled with a year's worth of thoughts, and warm clothes that wouldn’t leave you with indents in your skin after sitting for too long.

But apparently that didn’t necessarily mean that you would be making much progress.

Five days since you had gotten to Annecy. A friend of yours had moved out to the old tourist town a number of years ago after meeting her partner, and they were nice enough to let you stay with them. Five days of trying to work and still no progress.

You had daydreams of sitting down, words easily flowing as you would fill pages until the sun set. But it was only five days, a little leeway was okay, wasn’t it?

That idea of a bit of little leeway, however, was constantly being bullied by the big label of unemployed. You knew very well, soon the need for a job would be coming back and all those daydreams would have to go back on a hiatus.

But here on the fifth day, after picking at the crumbs of your long gone croissant, you decided to pack up your things and call it a day. That was the one thing you were able to do – tell yourself that today nothing would be done and that was okay, instead of spending the rest of the hours until midnight forcing yourself to do something.

So you buttoned up your wool coat, wrapped on your scarf and stepped out into the light snow to trudge back to your temporary housing.

Harry had seen you the second time you were there.

You were a creature of habit - just as he was apparently so - and you seemed to always return to the same café, the small but warm La buvette du marché, tucked away in the old town.

He nearly fell over his feet when he saw you sitting in the corner, earbuds in and eyebrows furrowed so deeply he could see the creases in your skin, even from the distance he stood away from you.

He left in a hurry, in a panic. He told himself that he had likely imagined it, maybe he was still jet-lagged, maybe his mind was tricking him, maybe it was some odd lucid dream during an afternoon nap.

But then he saw you again, on the fifth day as you packed up your things in a huff and hugged your coat tighter around your chest. You looked too wrapped up in your own thoughts to even notice anyone else around you, except for the quick smile that you shot to the older woman behind the counter before you were walking out into the darkening street.

Harry couldn’t help but slightly spiral a bit more. He tried to recall any mention from remaining mutual friends, or even acquaintances, about you coming here, but couldn’t remember. He even considered calling some, but decided against it in a quick grounding moment when he realized that it would seem far too odd.

Even more so, he couldn’t believe that you found yourself in the small town at the same time as him. In the same place. At the same time.

It was all too familiar.

He took that as a good sign.

The seventh day – now a week in – you were back at the café.

This time you had managed to scribble down some ideas. Last night you had barely slept, tossing and turning as you tried to force your brain to come up with something, anything.

Just as it always went, as you were falling asleep it seemed like you had an idea going but unconsciousness soon took over and you were left with bits and pieces to pick up.

Today, you hadn’t gotten something to eat right away and instead told yourself that once you got a good chunk of work done, you would treat yourself to something sweet and a little break.

Harry, by not so much of a coincidence, was also back.

He liked the small town of Annecy, winter was a bit of an off season no matter its proximity to the Alps, and it was lowkey enough to where he could easily keep a low profile and go as he pleased.

He walked over to the same café in the late afternoon, hoping that maybe maybe you would already be there. It was making him nervous. But maybe you wouldn’t be there, and that would stress him out even more because maybe this was all a dream?

But there you were, twirling a black pen between your fingertips as you subconsciously chewed at the inside of your lip. He could tell by the way your chin was slightly protruding, and the way your lips moved lightly. He almost hated himself for being able to notice such a thing.

This time, you were the one to look up at him.

And lucky for him, or maybe unlucky he wasn’t sure yet, he was already staring back at you.

He could see a flurry of thoughts filter through your eyes. Your eyebrows unknotted for a moment, before furrowing even tighter this time with your mouth slightly parting and then closing.

He tried to smile, finding himself shuffling closer to you as he tried to recall how to use his feet and his voice. Calming down just the slightest bit when you offered him a tiny wave, he took that as all he needed to keep walking the path that led to your table.

And then he was standing a mere few feet in front of you.

When you spoke, it made it all that more real for Harry.

Obviously, you were physically there in front of him, something he couldn’t have imagined happening to him now, but the quiet “hi” that escaped past your lips made blood rush to his ears.

He cleared his throat – he didn’t really need to, he just felt he could use the extra second – before repeating the greeting back to you. “Hey…”

You couldn’t break his gaze. Seeing – and hearing – the hesitation in him, you almost wanted to tell him to leave you alone and try and forget this had ever happened. Maybe leave for some place else.

But you really didn’t want to do that.

“What,” the word was a puff of air. He felt out of breath. “What are you doing here?”

What were you doing here?

“Working,” was all you said, wincing slightly at the way the statement sounded. You felt like your heart was about to explode, like all words seemed to escape you and that the floor was about to crack open and swallow you up.

He only stared at you.

You sat up straighter, lifting a hand from where it was resting on the table to motion to the empty chair across from you. “You can have a seat – if you’d like.”

It was like he was on a three second lag, staring at you for a moment too long before reacting to your words. With a quick nod, he sat himself down across from you, bag falling to the floor near where yours was. He kept his coat on.

“Nellie’s really letting you work from here?”

You didn’t miss the slight pettiness of his words.

Shaking your head, you decided to ignore it and instead rolled your lips into your mouth before glancing back up at him. “No, I uh – I quit.”

His eyebrows shot up so quickly, the sudden change in his expression nearly made you flinch. He quietly kept his eyes on you for a moment longer, as if you were about to tell him that you were joking.

“You did?” He finally said, and if you paid close attention, which of course you were, you could see a little quirk in his lips. “You really quit?”

Unable to help the small chuckle that left your mouth at his reaction, you felt the beginnings of a smile pulling at your lips. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I did.”

A smile was pulling at Harry’s mouth as well – you could tell that he was trying hard not to with the way his lips slightly pursed and he bit them together. But he couldn’t help it.

“Well,” he cleared his throat once more and leaned back in his chair, making himself more comfortable. “Good for you.”

Another silence came over the two of you. Your right hand was pinching the skin of your thigh through your trousers to ground yourself, to remind yourself that Harry was really sitting here in front of you. Out of anywhere he could be.

Everything about him was so familiar. You recognized his coat, the dark green that you knew was so warm to be wrapped up in. His hair looked longer since the last time he was in front of you, but it also sat slightly messy and unstyled over his head. He was nervously twisting the few rings on his fingers – most of his fingers were bare which was something you hadn’t seen in a while.

Even the way he watched you, his steady stare that seemed to speak to you without needing to say any words, left you to be speechless.

Of course, you had thought about this moment over in your head countless times.

You fantasized about him showing up at your door, late at night and begging you to talk to him. You thought about running into him when you were out for errands, and would ignore him altogether. You thought about him calling you or what would happen if you called him, what you would talk about and everything he’d tell you. You had dreamt of everything that could possibly happen, but now you sat frozen.

“So uh,” Harry’s voice broke you out of your reverie. “If you quit, where aboust are you working now?”

You bit your lips together. “I’m not…working anywhere. Working for myself, I guess.”

He gave you a surprised look once more. “Writing?”

You only nodded, unable to help the smile that was building on your mouth. And Harry couldn’t help but mirror it.

He took a moment to take you in, closer this time. You were dressed warmly, a thick purple sweater hanging off your shoulders that hit fairly low on your hips, over loose black trousers. The lavender made you glow – he decided it was his new favourite colour on you.

You had a different pendant hanging off your neck, and he could see a second chain hidden beneath the collar of your sweater. A series of pens were in front of you, and he knew that you had been toying with them based on how they were haphazardly thrown over the tabletop. You kept slipping in your bottom lip between your teeth, something he couldn’t help but watch as every time it brought his attention back to your mouth.

He shouldn’t be thinking about your mouth.

“That’s great to hear,” he nodded after another moment too long in silence. “I mean, you know I’ve said this before so I’m not going to say it again but –” he cut himself off, already finding himself rambling. “It’s good. I’m glad that you’re doing it.”

You chuckled again, and he felt himself melt a bit deeper into the chair across from you. “I’ve really barely started but. Thank you, Harry.”

It was the first time he’d heard you say his name in so long. He liked hearing it, he missed hearing it.

“’Course,” was all he said. “I’m happy to hear that you’re writing.”

Another silence when you simply nodded.

“Why did you come here?” He spoke softly, the somewhat elephant in the room getting aired as you briefly averted his gaze.

“Wanted to get away,” you said honestly. “And Eloise offered for me to live with her for a bit, so it was an easy decision.”

“Easy,” he mused, repeating the word as he momentarily pulled at the sleeves of his sweater. “Taking some time to relax?”

“Something like that,” you paused, thinking of how to ask him the same thing. “How about you – are you passing through or…?”

He lightly shook his head, drumming his fingertips over his thigh. “I’m here for some time.”

“Oh,” you closed the notebook in front of you, leaning your forearm over it. You opened your mouth to say something else, but you seemed to not remember how to form words. He jumped back in.

“I’m here writing as well actually – or trying to.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Album?”

“Yeah,” he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, leaning forward in the chair again to rest his forearms over the tabletop, similar position that you were sitting in as you both lent forward. “Been trying to get it done for far too long now.”

You remembered – you remembered in your last weeks together his frustration over his inability to be happy with what he was creating for his third album. You held your lips closed with your teeth for a moment, unsure of which thread to follow. He continued once again after you didn’t say anything.

“I’m here alone,” he paused. “Staying in a small place just outside of town.”

You couldn’t help the quiet scoff. “You’re never alone.”

He laughed to himself. “I am this time.”

You both felt like you were circling around the same thing. You were the first one to voice it. “So you decided to come… here. To Annecy.”

He looked at you dead in the eyes, as if challenging you. “Yeah, I did.”

Another silence fell, this one seeming to be heavier than all the other one’s combined.

“It was –” Harry finally broke the silence after what seemed like ten minutes. You wished your brain was working at the moment. “It’s really nice seeing you.”

You gave him a gentle smile. “You too.”

He tucked his feet under his chair, ready to push back from the table and stand. He was ready to leave the café, think about this moment every hour of the days to come until he managed to let it go. If that’s what you wanted.

But you didn’t.

“I’ll leave you to it. I don’t want to keep you from your work for too long,” he sounded nearly remorseful as he blindly reached for his bag at the floor, not wanting to look away from you.

“Wait –” you said way too quickly, but you didn’t care. “Stay – if you want.”

He paused every movement he was making, glancing up at you with a growing grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, familiar warm feeling spreading through your chest when his expression eased. “We barely caught up.”

Harry slowly leant back into the chair, nodding with a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Okay – I’d like that.”

He unzipped his jacket then, resting it on the back of his chair and pushed the sleeves of his sweater up over his elbows. Leaning forward again, this time not to stand but to take a peek at the mug sitting in front of you.

“Did you want another?”

“Still working on this one,” you smiled in thanks, grabbing the cup with the lukewarm coffee to take a little sip.

Harry quickly had his own coffee in front of him, clutching the little mug in his hands as if it would act as some kind of buffer between the two of you.

“I hope you stormed out of that office,” he told you, after once more asking if you had seriously quit your job.

“Wasn’t that dramatic, unfortunately,” you laughed, also wishing that you had the guts to cause a scene and walk out of work. “I gave my notice, had a very civil last chat with Nellie and that was really it. Can’t really afford to burn any bridges.”

Harry didn’t want to comment too much on your recent unemployment, the emotionally exhausting nature of your previous job being a hot topic of conversation when the two of you had been together. He decided it was best to bring up at a later time, if he had the opportunity that is.

“What are you working on now, then?”

You mindlessly picked up a forgotten pen, twirling it between your index and middle finger a few times before letting it fall back down. “What I’ve always said I would.”

“Book?”

You shrugged, not wanting to think about the implications too much. “Something like that.”

He wanted to ask you about it further, but you easily changed the subject. “How long have you been here then?”

“Just over a week now,” he took another sip of his coffee. “And you?”

“A week,” you tried your hardest to stop the way your lips started to curve upwards, at the fact that you had both come around the same time. He seemed to be thinking the same thing, as a little nervous chuckle escaped his mouth. “How is the album coming?”

His laughter died down. “Not well,” he said honestly. “Nothing really since…” Nothing really since we were last together.

You nodded, knowing what he was about to say. “Keeping myself busy - I was actually filming for a movie the last few months.”

“I read that,” you nodded, not realizing you were admitting to slightly keeping up with what your ex was up to.

Another silence came across the two of you when you both took big sips of your drinks, you finished off the rest of the now cold coffee that had completely lost its charm.

“You look good,” your voice came out a little quieter. “Rested.”

You swear you saw a little pink hit his cheeks. “Thank you,” he hummed in response, having a thousand compliments ready for you but none of them found their way past his lips. “Are you allowed to tell me I look good?”

It was a cheap shot, but he took it.

You paused, a small smile pulling at your mouth. “Friends can compliment each other, no?”

Friends.

“Of course,” he hid his expression behind the mug that he raised to his mouth. “In that case - you look good - incredible even.”

He added the second part on a whim, still staring you down as you refused to break his gaze, never one to back down from a subtle staring contest.

A small sliver of silence passed, before Harry cleared his throat.

“I hope I’m not keeping you,” he murmured, watching your hands fiddle with the pens that rested more or less untouched on the surface of the table.

“You’re not,” you shook your head. “I’ve barely gotten anything done either way. If anything, I’m distracting you.”

Harry bit his lips together. He was never one to complain about how much you distracted him. “You’re always a welcomed distraction,” he leant his forearms further over the table. “Not so much progress here either.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” you laughed lightly when Harry raised his eyebrows, giving you an incredulous look. “You were constantly writing. Never met anyone with so many filled notebooks.”

“I guess but I – I couldn’t make anything out of it, you know? I don’t know if you remember,” he glanced up as you gave him a little nod. How could you forget about any moment spent together.

“Still feel just as stuck.” His brows knotted, staring at the table for a few seconds before glancing back up at you. “Sorry, for unloading this on you.”

“No, no it’s okay,” you offered him a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay if it takes you a little longer – if it takes a few tries.”

He forgot how much comfort he could get from your smile. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Feels like I’ve exhausted everything – like there are no words left for me to write.”

You couldn’t help what you said next. You didn’t mean to make it about yourself, you didn’t mean to even say what you did. You simply could not help it.

“Ever write about me?”

Harry stared at you for a few seconds. “You seriously…” he trailed off, eyes slightly wide on you. You had an apology ready on the tip of your tongue when he spoke again. “Filled countless books about you.”

You knew he wrote to you, leaving you little love notes or poems in your home or hidden amongst your things for you to find. Sometimes romantic, sometimes a little more explicit. But for whatever reason, you never imagined him writing a song about you.

He kept speaking in your silence. “You can’t be that humble – you can’t believe that I would never even think about writing about you.”

You didn’t know what to say. “I guess …I don’t know.”

Maybe you had been more successful that you’d thought in pushing memories of him away.

“To be honest, I uh,” now he was the one finding himself at a loss of what to say. “I didn’t want to put out something that was so personally about you. Wanted to keep you to myself.”

He lifted his eyes from the table, meeting yours before quietly murmuring. “Still do.”

A thick silence settled this time. You watched every small twitch in his demeanor – the quick bite of his lip, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the way his eyes flicked around your face just as you were sure yours were doing right now.

And they were, he was analyzing you, making new notes of your every feature that he could see for the thousandth time. He finally broke the silence, his voice sounding so loud all of the sudden.

“Come see what I have written.”

It was less of a question. Whether showing you old writing was really the only intention of the invitation was lost on you - and on Harry as well - but neither pondered on it too much.

You hadn’t said anything right away, but he was already reaching back to grab his jacket that was resting over the back of the chair. Slowly, you mirrored his actions and quickly began to pack up the pens and journal that had sat untouched for a good part of an hour.

Once you both stood wrapped in your coats and scarfs, with bags pulled over your shoulders, he met your gaze once more. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” you offered him a tentative smile. You realized you were nervous. Sitting with him in a public café was one thing, but spending time with him alone? That was something completely different that you weren’t sure you were prepared for. “Are we walking?”

“If that’s alright,” Harry nodded. “Staying just up the hill.”

And then you were off, following him in the thickening coat of snow that covered the yet to be plowed streets. Walking side by side at a safe distance, the falling snow hit you from every angle as the wind seemed to be starting to pick up.

Hugging your arms around your chest, you walked in silence for most of the trip.

At one point you were trying to move out of the way for a group of young school kids that were walking by, speaking far too fast for you to catch any words of their french as they excitedly bounced through the snow. Your foot caught on a lift of the sidewalk that was buried under the snow, giving you a momentary loss of balance.

Harry, however, was quick to notice. He had his arm looping through yours before you even realized you were tripping, as he held you upright and close against his side.

He knew that you were watching him, he could feel your eyes burn into the side of his face but he kept his gaze forward. The small kink in his lips gave him away though, when instead of pulling away you cozied yourself a bit more into his side and kept your arm tightly looped with his.

The rest of the walk was spent like that as you both trudged up the hill, out of the hub of the old town and out to the residential area. He quietly led you to his temporary housing, pulling out his set of keys from the inner pocket of his jacket and undid the front door of the building.

Walking up only one flight of stairs, you were soon being ushered inside a nice little apartment that could only be described as a character home. It was neat and cozy, just eclectic enough with tiled kitchen walls and different patterned rugs.

It was exactly the kind of place you had stayed in last time you were here.

“Let me turn the heat up,” Harry muttered, as you both shook off the snow from your hats and hair, hanging up the dampened clothing before warming back up in the apartment.

“Something to drink?” He called from the wall where he was presumably adjusting the heat, as you curiously glanced around the space he was staying in.

“What’ve you got?”

You easily found the kitchen as it was right after the hall from the door. A couple cups sat in the sink but it was otherwise clean. Harry joined you, standing across from you as he went to grab something from the fridge.

“”Have some mulled wine ready to be heated,” he pulled out a thermos.

“That sounds good,” you spoke quietly as you watched him work around the kitchen, grabbing a saucepan to heat it up.

He seemed to be stalling – you supposed you were as well. You didn’t know what you were doing here with him. You saw two possible outcomes, maybe three, but you didn’t know which one you were the most okay with.

Harry felt as though he had either been far too quiet, or was rambling too much. He wanted to ask you everything and find out absolutely everything and anything that had been going on in your life in the past ten months. He needed to calm down.

He heated up the homemade spaced mix, adding in a generous amount of the red wine. After a little moment while you distracted yourself with texting Eloise, you saw him pour a generous amount into each mug before turning off the element on the stove.

He handed you one of the mugs – a painted yellow ceramic one – settling to lean back against the counter across from you while you gripped the handle of your cup.

You lightly blew on the smoke billowing out from the top, holding the mug out to him in a quiet cheers before each taking a sip.

It was still too hot, but you both seemed to be stalling from whatever was about to unfold and you took any chance to distract yourself that you could. The drink had been a good idea, and was already warming you up – probably both by the liquor and the temperature of the beverage

“Good?” Harry broke the silence, after swallowing another sip of the drink. He had one hand resting over the ledge of the counter, elbow bent with a relaxed shoulder while the other hand held the mug. You wondered if he really was relaxed or just appeared to be – you seemed to be having a hard time reading him at the moment.

“Really good,” you nodded, occupying your mouth with the beverage as you found yourself at a loss of what to say at the moment. “Thank you.”

Conversation seemed to be flowing so nicely in the café, but now it was like you had no idea how to be around each other.

Harry was nervous. When he made the offer to show you the countless unseen songs about you, he hadn’t really thought it through. It had seemed like the right thing to say, and he really did want to share that with you, but things were just so … uncertain.

He could tell, by the way you kept one arm crossed around your front with the other’s arm elbow perched to keep the mug by your lips, you were uneasy. He didn’t want you to be that way, he wanted you to be nothing but comfortable with him.

“So where is that writing you were bragging about?” Your smooth voice broke him out of his daze, as he lifted his eyes back up to see you peering at him from behind the mug.

Rolling his lips in against his teeth, the corners of his lips perked up both at the way you were looking at him and to mask the slight pit of nerves that suddenly appeared. “Give me a sec’”

Leaving his mug with you in the kitchen, he made his way to one of his bags where he knew was packed a series of old notebooks – all taken with him for any kind of inspiration.

Flipping through them, unable to help the way he suddenly grew anxious over the idea of showing these to you. Especially out of the blue. Especially after this sudden reunion.

Deciding what to show you and what not to, he triple checked that he had grabbed the right book before making his way back over to you. He found you exactly where you were previously, mug in one hand with the other holding your phone, quickly typing something with just one thumb.

At the sound of his footsteps, you placed your phone down on the counter and glanced up at your ex. Finding his place across from you in the kitchen, he extended the notebook out towards you. It was clearly worn in, little scribbles of words across the leatherbound cover.

You recognized it. From being perched over his lap, tucked in his bag, next to him on the nightstand. You knew it.

“This was from that winter – actually think I filled it the last time we were here.” His voice was low, nearly distant as he tried not to look at you.

He didn’t know why he was sharing this with you now – maybe he felt like he needed to prove something, maybe he just missed you.

Wordlessly, you grabbed the worn book from him and tentatively opened it in your palm. Glancing up at him, he was clearly nervous and doing his best not to watch you read his every thought about you.

His eyes were cast to the side, looking out the window as if watching the heavy snowfall. With his arms now crossed over his chest, the thick knit of the sweater he was wearing bunching under his arms, you realized he looked more than nervous, almost worried.

You wondered if this was all a terrible idea.

Having not realized that you were still watching the profile of his face, looking at the way his eyes flicked from the window and down to the untouched mug that sat still on the counter. He grabbed it in a hand, the soft clink of the rings he had on against the ceramic being the only sound in the room.

You were sure he could feel you watching him, so much confirmed when the next place his eyes moved to were your own. Neither of you spoke, instead watched each other closely from either side of the small kitchen.

His expression was practically unreadable to you, something that you didn’t encounter often. You briefly thought he was upset with you, before he muttered. “Going to make dinner, if you’d like to stick around for some.”

Slightly surprised by the offer, even though you realized that when he had invited you to trudge up the hill with him to read a few half finished songs that probably wasn’t the complete intention.

Nodding, you answered with a low “thank you,” as he turned his body around and left the kitchen, no doubt searching for something elsewhere and leaving you to read alone.

Finally flipping open the book to a random page, turning a few pages until it looked less like a mess of scribbles and you could pull out several coherent sentences.

You found a small date written at the top of the page, and realized that this had been right in the middle of your last vacation in Annecy together.

You had to read over every word three, four times, before your hands moved without thinking and you were flipping the page to find more. Laying the spine of the notebook down against the kitchen counter, you leant over above it, completely captivated.

It was all so overwhelmingly beautiful. You didn’t realize that a small puddle of tears was gathering on your waterline until you blinked, and a few of them escaped and slid over the tops of your cheeks. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea.

It was everything you remembered about being with Harry. Everything you remembered about the last time you were together in the little French town. Every ‘I love you’, every stolen kiss, every touch and feeling shared. It had been the happiest you ever remembered being.

It took you months to forget, or maybe not forget but not think about. And in a flood of it all coming back, you couldn’t help the tears that seemed to come flooding out as well.

Shutting the notebook a bit too quickly, you remained in your hunched position as you sponged at your tears with the back of your hand, wiping them away the best you could. You hadn’t thought about the reality, that there was no possible way you’d be able to handle reading everything that Harry had to say about you.

“Done already?” Harry’s voice startled you, not having heard him rejoin you in the kitchen. You quickly blinked your eyes, knowing there was no possible way to hide the fact that you had been crying but you hoped it wasn’t too obvious.

“No, I –” you cleared your throat lightly, turning around to look at him. You didn’t know what to say to him.

You watched his eyes scan your face, expression softening slightly before offering you a small smile. You assumed the whites of your eyes were reddened, and the skin surrounding was damp and still shiny from the little spill of tears.

He didn’t ask you anything else, and instead grabbed a pot from where it sat cleaned next to the sink and brought it over to the stove. “Do you want to chop the vegetables?”

Nodding with a murmured agreement, he handed you what needed to be cut along with a cutting board and a knife. You were grateful that he glossed over the topic, and now you found yourself biting back a smile. Spending time with him in such a mundane way was comforting. He put on some music, a soft background song playing while you both started to cook in a smooth harmony.

Conversation was light. He asked how living with Eloise was, you asked how long he had been in town for.

It wasn’t until you were both sitting across from each other with steaming bowls of soup and warmed bread, each having poured a generous amount of wine into your glasses that conversation got a bit heavier.

It started when you asked if he had been out to the lake yet, even though the cold weather obviously meant swimming wasn’t much of an offer.

It ended, however, with a heavy silence when you both started to recall the last trip to the lake. Nearly a full year ago now, it was the second day of March and your last weekend away in this undisturbed paradise. The air was still very much crisp and carried a winter bite, and on a barely warm night, the two of you had the terrible idea of taking a little night dip.

After about thirty seconds in the cold water, you couldn’t bear it and had to step out into the even colder air. After shivering back to your rental, you had drawn a burning hot bath to enjoy together and both decided that you would come back during the summer months to fully benefit from the lake and hikes.

But then you weren’t together over the summer.

Harry had immediately noticed your change in demeanor at the bittersweet reminder of the memory, silently cursing himself for bringing the conversation that way. He had hoped that it would maybe spark something in you, some kind or romantic nostalgia, but instead it seemed to just upset you.

A crushing silence had fallen again, and at least you had dinner to distract yourself with. Harry instead decided to change the conversation again, asking if Eloise still had those two little grumpy cats, and if you were enjoying staying with them.

You were lightheartedly laughing again by the time you were clearing the dishes, both the wine and Harry helping in the warm feeling under your skin. Your cheeks had been rounded with a smile and your mind a bit fuzzy, intoxicated not as much by the liquor but more so by the loving feeling around you.

It was quiet when you came back to the rental outside of town, the tiles of the floor cold under your feet after you had peeled your socks off. The rain had only increased in your short trip out to the nearby Monoprix, picking up what you needed to make a nice hearty soup for dinner as well as a bottle of wine.

After getting far too wet on the walk you had gone on during the afternoon, initially wanting to go hiking but the weather got in the way. Harry had stuck back while you grabbed your groceries and a fresh baguette as you had finished off the one you had during breakfast.

Hanging up your damp coat and taking off your too itchy sweater, you called out Harry’s name after placing the groceries down on the counter of the little kitchenette.

A faint reply was heard, as you followed the sound of his voice to the closed bathroom door. He told you to come in, and you were met with a warm steamy bathroom and your partner relaxing into the back of the tub.

“Didn’t feel like a shower,” he murmured as you smiled down at him, eyeing over the bubbles that covered the surface of the water.

“Hi,” you whispered, leaning down to press your lips to his in a quick greeting as he extended his neck out towards you. “It’s still dreadful out - you have the right idea taking a bath.”

You sat down on the edge of the tub, feet flat on the tile of the washroom floor as your upper body twisted to gaze down at Harry. The weeks so far spent in the small French town were like taking a break from reality - time was still and you could spend all the time you wanted wrapped up in each other.

“Missed you,” he murmured, wet hand raising from under the water to grab at your wrist. Pulling it towards him, he pressed a light kiss over your pulse point. You let your hand fall over his shoulder when he let go, when he instead decided he wanted to feel your lips on his again.

You easily complied, bending lower once more to slot your mouth over his with a lingering touch as he sighed over you. “Lips are cold.”

You chuckled an apology, shifting yourself closer to him as you still balanced on the ledge of the tub. Your hand wrapped around his neck, feeling the damp strands between your fingers as one of his hands grabbed a light hold of your arm. He traced a pattern over your bare arm, before shifting his arm around to the small of your back.

You remained like that for a moment, sharing sweet kisses laced with soft affirmations of affection, hands not wandering further from light grasps over each other’s bodies.

Though at a sudden move, a not so light move, an unattractive squeal left your mouth when your boyfriend hooked a hand under your bent knees and gripped you firmly, pulling you over the edge of the tub and into the water with him. You giggled his name after recovering from the initial shock, the heat of the water a sharp contrast to the chill in your bones and the sudden movement had your head spinning just the slightest bit.

You surprisingly didn’t mind all that much – in fact you didn’t mind at all. Wet clothes could be dried, and the way he held you so tightly and gazed down at you so lovingly you didn’t even realize that you were fully dressed in the bathtub.

Harry held you tightly, your legs now resting over him with his arm still under your knees as you found your place in his lap.

“My clothes are all wet,” you bit your bottom lip down, eyes catching Harry’s with a gleam as you rested your cheek against his chest. You looped your arm tighter around him, easily supported against his frame. “Could’ve given me a little warning.”

“Thought you liked spontaneity,” his mouth sought out yours again, this time landing a peck just over your cupid's bow. “And you just seemed so cold.”

You laughed over him and he pulled you even closer, as the water seeped through your clothes. You lifted your upper body a bit, not minding the way your shirt clung to your body as you brought your other hand to graze along the top of his cheek. “Really missed you.”

“Wasn’t gone that long,” you whispered. “Picked up some more bread - the woman at the bakery recognized me.”

You could feel the hum from his chest before you heard it, as he stole another quick peck from your lips. “Becoming a true local, aren’t you?”

“Guess I am,” you mindlessly trailed your fingertips over his features, tracing the curve of his lips as he spoke.

There was a small pause, a quiet comfortable silence. “What d’you say we stay a little longer?”

You didn’t really need to think about the offer that much. “How much longer?”

Harry shrugged, although knowing you both had responsibilities that were eventually needed to go back to. “Maybe a few more weeks?”

“I’d love that,” you pressed your lips to his, knowing that you’d eventually work out the details later.

He muttered something against your mouth, something you couldn’t quite catch as he returned your kiss. His hands wandered under your shirt, quickly pulling the soaking material from your body and throwing it with a wet slap to the tiled floor. Another problem to be dealt with later.

Your lips parted as his tongue grazed over yours, a soft hitting of teeth when you tried to reposition yourself over him. His lips slid down your chin and your jaw as you brought your legs to straddle him, the growing uncomfortable heavy corduroy of your pants needing to be the next thing to be taken off.

A soft curse escaped your lips both at the feeling of your lover’s hands on you and at the cool air, when he tugged your bralette over your head and again threw it somewhere to be immediately forgotten. His hands cupped your breasts, warm and wet and pulling deliciously at your nipples while his mouth sucked over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Help me get outta these,” you whispered into the air, one of your hands fumbling with the button and zipper of your trousers while you held onto him for support.

After much moving around – splashing water, and slipping over the smooth bottom of the tub – the heavy material was tugged off your legs and thrown over the edge of the tub. Finally feeling his skin completely against yours, you repositioned yourself over his lap with a leg on either side of his as your mouths met.

You sank into his arms as he whimpered your name, holding you tightly around your hips. One of his hands wandered lower, brushing lightly over your underwear covered heat.

You were both incredibly hot - from the water and from the increasing tension - as you blindly grabbed at each other in quick desperation.

Your hips pressed over his, while his lips were wandering over the damp exposed skin of your chest, and he moaned lowly against you, “love you close - love you everywhere.”

He raised his swollen mouth from your skin, pressing his words over your mouth. “Gonna spend the rest of my life with you like this.”

“You should stay the night.”

You turned your head towards Harry from where you were carrying over the stack of dishes. “What?”

“Snow hasn’t stopped,” he motioned to the closed window. “And it's getting late. Better idea for you to stay tonight.”

You only stared at him with your mouth slightly parted as if to speak, but didn’t know what to say. You figured that you hadn’t really thought this through, and it wasn’t completely crazy that it was a better idea to wait out the night out here with Harry.

“Not stay the night stay the night,” he continued, easily noticing the little lift in your lips.

“So it was only ever about the writing then?” The teasing tone in your voice was evident, though Harry couldn’t help the way his heart skipped at the possibility of you wanting to be here with him just as much as he wanted you.

“I think it’s always good to hold out some hope.” He answered, watching your eyes linger on him for a moment longer before glancing away with a small chuckle.

“I know you’re right,” you hummed, turning on the tap to begin washing the small load that needed to be done.

“About holding out hope or staying over?”

Biting your bottom lip between your teeth, you watched him approach you from the corner of your eye before answering. “Both.”

He tried his best to hide his smile when he joined your side by the sink, each settling in without much discussion of you as the washer of the dishes and him as the dryer. “So you’ll stay?”

You didn’t think about it too much. “I might need a shower,” you started, keeping your eyes on the soapy water that you pulled a ladle out of. “And to borrow some things.”

“Still have the same face cream,” his hip bumped yours – almost so lightly it could’ve just been him readjusting his feet. ”Welcome to anything you’d like, always are.”

This time it was obvious that it was on purpose. Not so much of a bump but a nudge, a slow one as he leaned his body closer to yours and rested against you for a brief second.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said lightly as your agreement, trying not to think too much about sharing a bed with your ex.

The quiet that came when you worked through the dishes together didn’t last all that long before Harry asked.

“Been seeing anyone?”

You glanced at him briefly. A cheek was half lifted, the hints of a smirk forming on his lips as he eyed you.

“Why’re you asking?” You countered, the answer to the question obvious.

“Why do you think,” he let out a chuckle, although was unable to help but feel a little anxious at the answer to the question, especially in your silence.

“There was one,” you spoke slowly. “A friend set it up – a double date. Saw him one more time after and that was it.”

“That was it?” Harry repeated your words, clearly looking for more of an explanation.

“Haven’t seen him again,” you turned off the tap, wiping your hands on the dish cloth hanging off a hook before facing Harry. “And you?”

“Twice,” he said – if you were going to be honest so was he. “Different person each time.”

“Busy boy,” you mused, trying not to wonder how long after you split it had been, or how recently.

His smirk had died down, meeting your eyes earnestly. “Never saw either again. You're a hard one to get over.”

His words hit you hard in the chest, like a little stab of a knife deep and sharp. He had spoken lightly, but you didn’t miss the slight clipped tone of his voice.

“Did anything… happen with the guy?” He asked immediately after, not giving you much of a chance to react to his confession.

You only bit your bottom lip down, holding your mouth shut. The soft lights from above seemed like they had dimmed, the space around you feeling smaller and more intimate.

He took your silence as the answer, a pit of jealousy building at the mere thought of someone else's hands on you.

“Just a kiss,” you told him, barely able to recall the short end of date kiss shared between you and the man you hadn’t even thought about. “On the second date.”

Harry only hummed, arms crossing over his chest as he leant his hip against the counter. The dishes were nearly done and long forgotten by now.

“D’you wanna see him again?”

“Harry –”

“If you haven’t seen him since then it doesn’t sound that way,” he mused, cutting you off with his petty rambling. “Especially now that you’ve come here.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t like what?” His tone was quiet, but as you looked up to see him again his eyes held something more, begging for your attention.

“I just wanted –” Stopping yourself, you couldn’t continue. I just wanted to stop thinking about you. Instead, you spoke a quiet “I don’t know.”

A heavy silence surrounded you for the millionth time that day. It had only been a few hours since you’d run into each other, since he’d invited you up and you’d easily agreed. You only looked away from him when his touch was felt over you, glancing down at the hand landing over yours on the counter, resting his palm over your knuckles.

His thumb softly brushed the skin. “Why did you come here?”

Harry couldn’t help but ask you again. He knew why he had come here, and he had a growing suspicion that you had come for the same reason – you were both just too stubborn to say anything.

“I told you, Eloise offered –”

“You could’ve gone anywhere though, I didn’t even know you were close with her.” Harry again, couldn’t help it.

You knew very well what he wanted to hear.

After a moment in silence, he spoke quietly and earnestly. “Did you miss us?”

You had to look away. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, able to hear the heavy swallow in his throat before he spoke once more. “Did you miss me?”

You watched his hand lightly rest over yours, the way neither of you moved but once and a while there would be a small flinch or twitch of muscle as if the need to grab onto the other rested right below the surface.

“Of course I did,” his hand held yours a little tighter when you spoke. “We were good.”

“We were,” Harry repeated, quietly pondering on the past tense of the sentiment.

The decision to invite you up had been innocent at first, or so he wanted to tell himself that, but having you here with him was something he’d never thought to experience again. He asked you the same question once more. “Is that why you came here?”

Daring a few more steps towards you, the hand that was not over yours raised to brush its knuckles under your cheek, before grabbing a hold of your jaw. You were watching him closely, needing to swallow a thick gulp of air when he neared you.

Deciding not to answer him, as you both seemed to be aware of the true answer, you avoided the question entirely. “Is that why you came?”

You dropped your eyes down to his mouth when the corners of it quirked up, quickly looking back up to his eyes, almost hoping that he would avoid truly answering just as you had.

“It is, yeah.”

His earnestness shouldn’t have surprised you. You felt his words before you even processed them, momentarily reveling in your closeness. You were sure you were going to start crying again if he didn’t say anything else.

“Remember last time we were here,” Harry said, again quickly changing the subject. His hand that rested over yours moved up, sliding over the bare skin of your wrist before looping around to hold the counter behind you. Keeping himself impossibly close, he kept speaking at your nod. “Remember one of the first nights, in the park by the lake, the dancing, what was that called?”

“Bal musette,” you said without having to think about it all that much .

“Yeah,” his lips curved to a wider smile at the memory. “All the men wanted to dance with you.”

“They were all in their eighties,” you hummed, letting yourself lean into his touch over your cheek.

“Still,” he grinned. “We were good.”

You remembered the cool air, not quite spring yet but the ends of winter were apparent. Harry had held you close, he always did. It had been an evening of uncontrollable laughs, interlocked hands, and stumbling home in a rush. The late dinners, the indulgence in delicious chocolates, the walks by the lake; it was all too good. The entire time really, was a blissful month.

You knew it, you both knew it. Right now, neither of you could even remember what had led to a break up in the first place.

He was all around you, his arms keeping you in while the tip of his nose nudged your cheek and his face grew closer to yours. There was only a soft orange glow in the room, hitting off the top of his features in a way that drew you in. So close he became a blur to you, something you hadn’t experienced in nearly a year.

But it was when he tilted his chin down that you processed what he was about to do, that you let your head fall to the side in a quick move to avoid his kiss, only a brush of his cheek over your jaw being felt.

Harry let himself fall forward, his forehead landing on your shoulder as he let out a quiet chuckle into the crook of your neck. Neither of you moved from where you were, still standing pressed to one another with his chest pushing against yours and his arms on either side of you.

Moving your head back, you couldn’t help the breathless laugh that blew through your nose, not doubt tickling the skin of his neck.

“What was that,” you hummed quietly.

He tilted his head slightly, lips brushing over the skin of your neck. “Sorry,” he spoke, although he didn’t mean the apology all that much. He had wanted to kiss you; he still does. “Felt right.”

It was overwhelming, being close and personal with you once more. Harry moved his nose to the column of your neck, smelling the familiar comfort of the perfume that lingered on you.

“Felt right,” he repeated, voice muffled from his mouth resting over your neck. He didn’t miss the way you tilted your head again, this time not to avoid his touch but to allow more space along your neck as he pressed the lightest of touches onto the sensitive skin. “Didn’t it?”

He also didn’t miss the soft hitch in your throat, breath getting caught when he let his lips linger. Getting lost in you for a moment, when you lifted a hand to his shoulder, and wrapped your arm around him in a desire to keep him close. His lips pressed harder, parting to allow a quick lick of his tongue over the familiar skin. You sighed softly above him, feeling everything at once in a breathtaking moment.

But then you found your breath again, and spoke his name quietly before shifting away from him. “Harry –”

“I know-”

He sighed, a deep pull of air through his lungs when he pulled away from you. Just enough to meet your bewildered eyes, just enough that he could see every detail on your face without having them blur. “Let’s get to sleep, yeah?”

You only nodded, peering into his eyes as if it would help you read his mind. His gaze flickered away from yours, falling to the spot of floor between your feet before willing himself to move away from you. “We’ll feel better in the morning.”

You had no idea what he meant at all, but only watched him walk away from where he had just been. The quiet music that had still been playing was abruptly turned off, the lack of sound making the rapid beating of your heart that much louder. Taking a minute for yourself, you slowly followed him out of the kitchen.

“D’you mind if I shower?” Your voice sounded foreign to yourself, after an uncomfortable silence settled in the apartment.

“Go ahead,” his voice was distant, and you simply made your way to the washroom for a quick shower before likely not getting any sleep through the night.

Seeing the array of his toiletries laid out over the countertop was once more far too familiar, most of them being the same ones you had seen nearly everyday. Helping yourself to them since you were here for the night, you did your best to scrub off what makeup you had one before getting into the shower.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice suddenly invaded your senses, as he nudged the door open just as you were about to pull your sweater up over your head, hand stuck halfway up your chest.

Immediately dropping your hand back down as the knit fell back over your body, you saw Harry's eyes raise up to yours through the mirror. “Sorry,” he spoke quietly. “Just bringing you some clothes that you can sleep in.”

“Thank you,” you only looked at him through the mirror, watching as his eyes fell back down to where your hands were still holding your sweater by your hips.

Another moment too long passed with neither moving or saying anything, and just as you parted your lips to say anything, Harry cleared his throat. “I know, I know.”

He sighed, as if you had been about to scold him for lingering again and shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving you alone once more.

You showered as quickly as you could, washing your body and keeping your hair out of the water. You tried your best not to think about the way Harry’s eyes had slowly dragged over your body, even your sweater covered one. You tried not to think about the way he smelt the same, or the way his hands felt so good around you and the way he had wanted to kiss you. Or the way his lips felt so familiar over your neck, that if you hadn’t stopped him there might not be a wall separating the both of your right now.

And it didn’t get better when you came around the corner dressed in his clothes, sweats bunching at your ankles and the crewneck looking warm around you. You shot him a nervous smile from where he was already in bed, placing your belongings next to the bag you had on the floor, before turning back to glance at Harry.

“Well come on in,” he smiled, trying not to let his gaze linger on you for too long and lifted the corner of the duvet up on the other side of the mattress. With the sleeves of the crewneck pulled over your palms, you tentatively slid in on the bed, trying your best to maintain as much distance as you possibly could.

Harry turned off his phone, placing it on the table next to him before leaning over to shut off the only source of light.

You rested on your side, daring to face Harry as you hugged the pillow under your cheek. “It was a nice surprise seeing you today,” you started, not wanting to go to sleep on an awkward note.

He faced you when you spoke, mirroring your position from the other side of the mattress. “What are the odds that we both came back here,” he posed it less of a question, more as a quiet wondering. “Would never have thought -”

Humming in response, you didn’t know what the odds were really. Must have been pretty low, and the fact that you were both here and now found yourselves sharing a bed was not at all where you thought you’d end up when you got up this morning.

He turned from his side to his back, looking away from you and instead chose to stare up at the ceiling. The urge to be close to you was strong, and it felt incredibly odd to not be near you as you both went to sleep together.

“Goodnight,” you spoke quietly. You shuffled down the mattress and rested your head over the pillow. There was no way you were going to sleep tonight.

“’Night,” Harry hummed from the other side of the bed, lying just as stiff as you were.

You rolled onto your side with your back to the man you couldn’t believe you were sharing a bed with once more. You begged your mind to turn off, to let sleep take over your body so that it could be morning, and maybe everything would make sense in the morning.

But instead your mind wandered to every possible thought regarding Harry, and you rolled onto your back to stare at the ceiling. Trying your damn hardest not to pay attention to Harry’s breathing, or his own shuffles on the bed.

You didn’t know how long it had been, but you were starting to grow hot. Sticking a leg out from under the covers didn’t help much, and then you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You couldn’t stop thinking about Harry – about how you felt with him, about how he made you feel when you had been together. In and out of the bedroom.

Rolling onto your stomach for the thousandth time, hoping Harry was asleep so he hadn’t been hearing your constant shuffling, you squeezed your thighs together and cursed yourself for thinking what you were while lying in a bed with your ex. Wasn’t so much arousal, but just… neediness.

Not only could you not stop thinking about every touch you shared, the linger of his hands and his lips, but you couldn’t take your mind off of every single word you read in his old notebooks. It was haunting you nearly, an old ghost that was sitting on your chest and leaving you heavy hearted.

It was when you rolled from your stomach to your back again with a quiet sigh, that Harry muttered against his pillow with a low voice, “stop movin’ around.”

Slightly embarrassed that he had obviously been awake the entire time as well, you rolled your head to the side to see him over the space of the middle of the mattress. “Sorry – can’t sleep.”

He did the same, turning his head so that your eyes could meet in the nearly completely dark room. “Me neither.”

You simply looked at each other for a moment, trying to let yourself relax enough so that you could eventually drift to sleep before Harry spoke again. “It feels odd, doesn’t it? Sleeping but not being close.”

You nodded, realizing he couldn’t really see your movement before speaking. “Yeah – I can’t relax.”

This time there was no pause between words. “Come here,” Harry said quickly.

“What?”

He shuffled closer to the middle, closer towards you. “Friends can cuddle, can’t they? Just – come here.”

You didn’t think too much of the offer..

You moved away from the very edge of the bed, closer to where Harry layed. He extended an arm out, wrapping it around your shoulders as you came closer and pulled you in to lay next to his chest. Tentatively raising your hand, you laid it flat over his chest before sliding it around him as you hugged him from the side.

It felt nice – normal even, being in his arms. He let out another sigh, murmuring a quiet “goodnight” before settling back down into the mattress.

You felt his hand fall lightly over your shoulder, fingertips brushing on the fabric of the borrowed jumper. You were hyper focused on your breathing, trying your best to steady it in a lame attempt of getting your heartbeat to calm down. But when you realized Harry’s heart was beating just as fast, you relaxed even more against him.

Sleep came slowly, but it eventually did come. At one point Harry moved positions, just the slightest bit, but just enough that he was able to push a leg against yours. Slowly moving your own legs, you let him rest his calf over yours with the small tangle of your legs. That was the last thing either of you remembered before falling asleep.

The morning held a bit more tension.

Harry woke up before you, and spent far too long contemplating on whether he should get up or not. So long, in fact, that you had woken up and made the decision for him. While he feigned being asleep, you quietly shuffled out from under the covers.

Following the sound of your footsteps to the washroom, he heard the door close behind you and the quiet hum of the tap after a moment. He wondered if you would leave immediately.

Getting out of bed himself, he first went to go adjust the thermostat as the air was far too cold after being out of the cozy warmth of the bed, and went to go turn on the kettle.

You were by his side moments later, each sharing quiet “good mornings” while he tried not to stare at the way your eyelids still drooped down and the way you pulled the sleeves of his jumper over your hands.

He knew the offer of coffee would get you to stay for a cup, but by the way you had rushed back to the bathroom with your clothes from the day before told him that you weren’t planning on sticking around for too long.

By the time you reappeared by his side, you were dressed just as you had yesterday. He knew he’d find the clothes you’d borrowed folded over his bed. You seemed fresher faced than last time, even catching a whiff of his lavender scented moisturizer that you always used to borrow.

Biting his lips together to hide his smile at the fact you had in fact taken your liberties with his toiletries just as he’d offered, he quietly prepared you a cup of coffee while your attention was drawn down to your phone.

You mindlessly answered texts, none of them that urgent that they required your full attention as you still couldn’t help but pay close attention to Harry’s every move.

“Sleep okay?” He finally broke the silence.

You paused, needing to clear your throat before answering. “I did, yeah.” Only after he had invited you to lay peacefully in his arms. “You?”

“Did as well,” he hummed, filling the two mugs with the wonderful smelling coffee. “A lot better after you stopped moving around.”

“Sorry again,” you suddenly felt hot at his mention of your irritation – at the reminder of how incredibly needy you had gotten for him to even lay a hand over your own. Taking the mug of coffee as a welcomed distraction, you cupped it in two hands to bring it up to your mouth, blowing over the hot liquid.

He dropped the subject, though, as he mirrored your action and you both took a moment to let the coffee stall the inevitable goodbye that was about to be shared.

“What’re you up to today?”

He thought it over for a second, not actually having planned all that much. “Need to grab a few things from the store, otherwise not a whole lot.” He thought aloud. “And you?”

“Driving to Aix-les-Bains with Eloise, some store over there she wants to see.” You had just seen the text from your friend, deciding to not answer all the ones questioning what had happened with Harry.

You both took big sips of the still too hot coffee. “No writing today?”

“Not that I’ve been that successful,” you mumbled into the mug.

“You’ll find it,” he affirmed. “I know you will.”

Your chest warmed, not from the heat of the beverage but from the sincerity of his statement. You hid your face behind your mug, taking a nearly too big sip that you nearly choked on.

“Thanks again, for letting me stay and for… everything.” You placed the mug by your side, the caffeine suddenly making you nauseous. The words you had read in his old notebook still haunted you.

Harry realized that you were about to tell him that you were leaving, and a small bout of panic rose through his stomach. “Of course -”

He watched, dumbfounded of what to say, as you walked from the kitchen to where you had left your belongings and started arranging them in your bag and put your phone into the pocket of your trousers. Harry couldn’t stop watching every small move you made.

His eyes followed you around the kitchen, mind racing to find anything to say to you anything that would at the very least have you coming back to see him.

“Can I see you again?” He suddenly blurted, voice louder than it had been before, making you stop in your movements and turn to face him.

Your mouth parted and for a moment he thought it was forming into a ‘yes’, but it never came. And he didn’t realize that it never came because his attention caught on something else. Something that had been hiding beneath the tight knit of your sweater yesterday, something that he had forced himself to forget about.

He moved without realizing, taking the two small steps needed to stand right next to you. Noticing his sudden action, you turned yourself so that your body faced his with a small crease of confusion forming between your brows.

He couldn’t help it. Reaching out to where the small locket rested below your collarbones, he caught your attention with the small tug of the chain.

Oh.

Remaining quiet, you watched his focus fall to the necklace that had never been taken off. His bottom lip fell with a quiet exclamation, one you couldn’t hear no matter how close you stood. He turned it over in his hand, briefly wondering whether it was too far to open the little locket.

“Couldn’t take it off.” You said, as he remained quiet due to his current fascination.

You both watched as he toyed with the light metal in his fingers. Grazing over the small flat pearl that graced the front of the pendant, seeing it just as he’d last remembered it.

He had once again found himself standing desperately close to you. If he had moved closer while looking at the jewelry, he wasn’t sure. But when he let it fall back against the light purple knit of your sweater to meet your gaze, he realized that he could see every twitch of your eyes when they moved to gaze up at him.

His hand didn’t fall far, landing with a light touch over your wrist just as he had the night before.

“Give me a shot.”

You tilted your chin up, his words settling in with a flip of your stomach. “You said it yourself – we were good.”

“I know,” was all you could muster, the clear confidence in his words making your heart beat a little harder.

“And I’m having a hard time remembering what went wrong,” a humourless laugh shook from his chest, as he kept his eyes focused on the little locket that had been gifted to you nearly a year ago. “And seeing you here, out of all places. I can’t be the only one.”

“I know,” you repeated, very aware of the intense emotion that had been clouding your mind in the past twelve hours. “You’re not the only one.”

He lifted your wrist that he held, gently placing your arm over his shoulder to move in closer to you. You didn’t object, sliding your palm over the crook of his neck. You were unable to help but take a quick look at his mouth, at his lips that hovered so close to yours.

“Give us a shot,” he whispered, breath hitting the inside of your wrist when he titled his chin towards your arm. His lips skimmed the skin, pressing feather light kisses over the inside of your wrist. With the same light pattern of kisses on the inside of your forearm, he moved his lips away to instead focus on your face.

Placing his hand under your jaw, a similar position that you held him in as he seemed to be moving ever so slowly. Tilting his jaw up towards you, he let his lips skim so slightly across your cheek, so light you nearly thought you had imagined it. Just as he had last night, his nose brushed over your own first while he took a moment to savour you.

Waiting for any sign of hesitation on your part, which never came, he let his lips slowly fall over the corner of your mouth. Wet trail of touches that moved away from your lips and instead over to your cheek, he took a moment to hold you against him.

He whispered something over your jaw, you couldn’t hear him. With your eyelids fluttered shut and your head spinning, all your focus was set on what his lips were doing rather than what they were saying.

This time it was you, who slid your hand to the back of his neck with a much firmer grip. It was you that led his mouth to capture yours.

It was just lips on lips at first, a quick kiss that lasted barely a second. You pulled away before he could even have a chance to react, a small smile curving at your lips when you glanced up at him.

His hand slid up your arm to hold a tight grip around your back, while the other circled to the back of your neck, thumb brushing over your skin in soft circles. He pulled you in again, both relaxing into the kiss as his lips eased over yours.

Kissing him was everything good you remembered. The way he gripped you tightly against him, the soft touch of his lips, the way your name was rolling off his tongue in a quiet incredulous breath.

His mouth was warm, inviting, fitting so perfectly over yours as you tentatively parted your own lips to invite him in for more. Your free hand joined the other around his neck, letting his tongue graze against yours as you tasted each other for the first time in nearly a year. It was all the same – like no time had really passed at all.

Feeling his hand circle around your hip, holding you close as a quiet moan rumbled from deep in his chest. You couldn’t help the content sigh at the sound, completely melting into him. He was pressing tight against you, mouth completely capturing yours while your breathing mixed and lips dampened.

Your chins hit awkwardly when you tilted your head to the side and he went to lightly suck over your bottom lip. Though you didn’t mind the slight sting of his chin knocking yours, in fact you found yourself welcoming everything about him.

It wasn’t until you realized you were sharing heavy breaths, and when your lips had been growing more and more desperate for the other that you needed to separate for a quick deep breath of air.

He breathed your name with a quiet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that was easily heard in his voice. “We’re still good.”

Your head was spinning. His head was spinning. Nothing seemed to be real, at the moment but at the same time everything seemed far too real.

Just as he leant in again, searching for your lips once more, you slid your palm down from his shoulder to the center of his chest and pushed yourself back an inch. “Harry…”

You wanted to feel his mouth on yours again, you really did. You just couldn’t bear to think what would come of it – you couldn’t revisit all the pain that you had managed to push away.

He shook his head, not believing you were about to turn him down again. Especially after that. He knew he shouldn’t be upset with you about it, he knew it was completely valid on your end but in this moment he felt like everything was coming crashing once more.

When he heard the quiet and pained tone in your voice, he bit his lip down – his lip that could still feel the whisper of yours – and shook his head in disbelief.

“We shouldn’t.”

A sharp pain came from your chest as Harry seemed to deflate against you. “If you don’t –” he had to look away from your heavy eyes as he spoke. “You can’t kiss me like that and then push me away.”

He was right - of course he was right - but you were so incredibly confused and couldn’t seem to process a single thing that you were feeling. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, neither of you moving. “I didn’t mean to…” you didn’t know what to say, because you really did want to kiss him. You still do. “I’m really sorry.”

Harry shook his head. “Don’t be sorry –” he sighed, hands falling from your body.

When he didn’t say anything else, you slowly dragged your palm over your forehead, feeling the sudden tension of the situation manifest in a growing pain in your head. “We can’t keep living in the past.”

He hated himself for the sliver of hope he felt when you said ‘we’.

“We were so fucking good,” he knew he needed to stop entertaining the topic but he really couldn’t help it He knew you saw it too. “We were a team, we were solid. I just don’t know,” he cut himself off, running the back of his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know.”

A thick moment of silence passed – you couldn’t bear it. “It’s too…” you had to take a deep breath as you felt a sob build in your chest. “It’s too painful to go through this again, Harry – this has been the hardest year of my life I can’t –”

You need to cut yourself off, shoulders shaking as you kept your eyes glued to the floor. “I should go.”

#<3 #pls let me know what u think and all as usual ! <33 #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry x reader

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dreamingofaizawa · 4 years ago

Text

Powerful Ch. 4

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU*

Warnings: A little fluff, misogyny (not from Shouta), descriptions of body part removal, blood, a teeny bit of gore (sort of), violence, a dagger, reader is a little bit crazy, so is Shouta tbh, there's a tiny bit of spice (it's like two sentences idk), swearing

Word Count: 4.2k if you read the violent part, 3.3k if you don't.

Author's Note: Okay, so I decided to make this a full part with the option of skipping the kinda graphic part. Yes, reader is a little insane here, yes, this reflects my level of crazy. HOWEVER, the only reason it's like that is because the man being de-tongued is a piece of shit and deserves everything that came to him.

ANYWAY, enjoy~

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

As the months pass you’re getting more comfortable with Shouta, more comfortable with the physical touching and the closeness that comes with the relationship. He’s always on you, a hand always on your lower back, around your waist, he’d even begun holding your hand. You appreciate this side of him that only you are allowed to see, the soft beneath his rough, calloused exterior.

So far you’d attended at least six more meetings, only one ending in another incident. It was you that made the final threat, this time without unsheathing the dagger. The tactic seemed to be working, there were less men outwardly demeaning you and your assigned title has been the only one you’d heard when being addressed.

The power trip is honestly a little intoxicating, knowing that more began to respect you and the ones that don’t have fear in its place. Knowing that you have the freedom to tell off overly rude men, can wave your dagger at whoever dares touch you and have Shouta backing you always.

And you know Shouta will back you up. You may be on a bit of a power trip but you still have your wits about you. Both of you know you’ll never step out of line, never needlessly flaunt your power or antagonize for no reason. Shouta understands that whatever you do, it’s for a reason. Because that’s just how you operate.

Logic resides over most anything else in your brain, which is why you’re so good at concealing your emotions. Before the engagement, your family’s success depended heavily on wits and intelligence rather than sheer force. Having been taught all your life to use your brain and logic to help you in and out of situations, logical thinking has become a habit, as subconscious and natural as breathing.

Of course, that doesn’t mean everything you do is logical. You’ve had your fair share of rash decisions and emotional slip-ups. And you’ve learned to sharpen your words, make them sink deep and tear at your target’s weakest points, or even their strongest points, making their argument and resolve come tumbling down like a rockslide. Needless to say it’s immensely satisfying to see someone get so thoroughly humiliated by your words alone.

You have to admit to yourself sometimes, you can be a cruel motherfucker.

* * *

You’re woken up by movement. Your eyes open just as Shouta is leaning over you, carefully pulling his arm from beneath your shoulders as you’re placed on your back. When his eyes meet yours he sighs through his nose, he was clearly trying not to wake you. Calloused fingers brush a few stray hairs from your forehead before he leans down and presses a kiss there.

“Go back to bed, little one. I’ll wake you up in a few hours.” Your eyebrows knit together and you let out a small groan.

“What time is it?” His soft hum nearly lulls you back into dreamland, but you manage to keep your heavy eyelids open.

“5 am. Sleep.” He kisses your forehead again before slipping out of bed and disappearing out the bedroom door. You do try to go back to sleep, let your eyes close and snuggle up in Shouta’s leftover warmth. But then you smell coffee. You take a deep breath, soak in the scent, and suddenly you’re not tired anymore. With a new motivation you get up and make your way to the kitchen to find a shirtless Shouta pulling a mug from a cupboard and taking out creamer and sugar. You sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his trim waist, pressing your cheek into his back.

“I thought I told you to go back to sleep, little one.” You hum, squeeze him tighter.

“I smelled coffee.” The muscles under your palms jump with his deep chuckle, and he takes out another mug for you. The two of you work in comfortable silence, savoring each other’s company. You sit at the dining table first, watching the man as he returns everything to its place. You can’t help but admire his form, how every muscle ripples under his inked skin, how calm and graceful his movements are despite his rough-cut reputation. You can’t help when your gaze drifts south, gray sweatpants sitting low on his cut hips, and your face burns as you realize exactly what you’re looking at before ripping your eyes from him.

He joins you at the table soon after with his mug held in one large hand. There’s still only silence, and you keep your eyes locked on your own mug, occasionally bringing it up to your mouth and taking sips of the hot liquid. Shouta’s eyes are on you, watching every small movement and sigh that escapes you after a sip of coffee, how your mouth turns up after your tongue peeks out to lick your lips, the flutter of your lashes as you savor the taste of the bitter drink.

You don’t notice until your eyes flick up and meet his, and you freeze in place for a moment, confused as to why he might be looking at you. He thinks you look so cute, your doe eyes big and round and your head tilting to the right. Do you even know you’re tilting your head like that? His heart nearly bursts in his chest when you blink a few times and nibble at your lower lip.

“Shouta?” He hums and averts his eyes, resting his elbow on the table and his head in his hand.

“I apologize for staring, little one.”

“It’s fine. I’m just not used to the attention, that’s all.” An eyebrow raises, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips.

“Really? A pretty little thing like you, not used to attention?” You blink. Is he….flirting? You can’t stop a smile from working its way onto your face, your eyes dropping to focus on your coffee that was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. A man had never done this before, you never had any romantic attention because you were never allowed to date. Something warm settled in your stomach, making you feel a bit fuzzy and happy. Is this what butterflies are supposed to feel like? Shouta speaks in your flustered silence.

“Well it isn’t my fault I’m the only one with an amazing taste in women. At least now I know I won’t have any competition.” You had to stifle a giggle at his antics, shooting him a sceptical look.

“Shouta Aizawa, are you flirting with your fiance?”

“If I were, would you say it’s working?”

“That answer will depend on the end goal.” He hummed, glancing up at the ceiling as if it held the answer.

“I’d say the end goal is to get my fiance to like me back.” You cross your arms over your chest, faking a pout and turning your head away in false disgust.

“Well then it’s failing. Miserably, at that.” He places a hand on his chest, furrowing his brows in mock offense.

“Now why would you say that?” You stand, taking your mug to the sink with a playful swing of your hips and a dramatic lilt in your voice.

“She is unhappy, your fiance. You’ve neglected her!” With the mug in the sink you lean back, throwing your head back and placing your hand on your forehead, closing your eyes for dramatic effect even though your back is to him.

“She is hungry, Shouta! There is no food in her stomach!” Without a sound he’s suddenly behind you, pressing his chest into your back and leaning over to place his mug next to yours. You’re a bit shocked at the sudden proximity, jump just a bit when an arm wraps around your waist and he grabs the hand that was on your forehead. His breath is hot on your neck, voice soft and sultry in your ear.

“Well she’s not the only one that’s hungry.” Teeth nip at your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and heat to your belly.

“But we can fix that pretty easily, don’t you think?” He leaves a searing kiss beneath your ear before he’s releasing you, cool air washing over you where his body had been pressed only moments ago. You’re left flustered, breath stuttering and skin hot. It’s almost laughable, the reaction he’d pulled from you. He asks what you want to eat, says he’ll have it brought up so the two of you can relax until the meeting at lunch.

But you aren’t really listening, still trying to calm yourself from what he’d just done.

____

When you don’t answer him, he peers over at you still standing at the sink. At first he’s confused, not sure why you’re so still and unfocused. But then he watches as your chest rises and falls just a tad faster than normal, lower lip tucked just barely between your teeth and your body very stiff in the same position he’d just left you in. You’re either extremely flustered or very uncomfortable with what he just did. Before he can apologize you suddenly turn on the sink and splash your face with cold water.

“Are you okay?” It’s cute, how you jump at the sound of his voice. It’s almost like you forget he’s there, too focused on whatever had been swirling around in that beautiful mind of yours.

“Yeah, I uh...I’m fine.” The nervous little chuckle you let out said nothing of your emotional state. He’d have to ask himself.

“I apologize if that was too forward, little one. I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.” You waved your hands in front of your face, eyes going a bit wide. It’s odd, seeing you outwardly, and frantically, expressing emotion like this when you’re usually so calm and rational.

“No, not at all!” You stopped, dropping your gaze and clasping your hands in front of you, your voice getting softer as you speak.

“I mean, I wasn’t, really. I… didn’t hate it so… yeah.” Ah, so you’re flustered. It makes sense, seeing as you said you aren’t used to receiving attention. The real question is why you hadn’t gotten attention from potential suitors. You’re a beautiful woman, a goddess in your own right, and on top of that you’re intelligent and flexible, easy to get along with. Were you just surrounded by extremely stupid boys your whole life that couldn’t tell the difference between a rock and a diamond if it were sitting in front of them?

Well it doesn’t matter much anymore, because you’re his now, and he’s not going to let you go.

____

Ultimately, the two of you decide on a simple breakfast, eating and relaxing afterward just as Shouta wanted. Soon you’re both standing outside a large hotel, the restaurant at the top serving as today’s meeting venue.

You’re greeted at the door by an escort, a woman in a beautifully tailored suit, who then guides you through the hotel and to a secluded elevator and up to the restaurant. The entire floor remained empty and silent, save for the one chef and waiter and the ten other Yakuza men seated at a large round table.

At this point you’ve gotten used to the sudden silence as you approach and sit at the table with Shouta. For the past few meetings that’s the only real acknowledgement to your presence aside from the occasional headbow and a quick address to both yours and Shouta’s titles. It’s a small step forward, recognition, and it’s better than you had expected by now.

However, it becomes obvious that the recent halt in outwardly opposing voices were only the calm before the storm. Nothing you’d seen or heard yet matched what happens next.

“Shouta, old friend, why have you brought a woman to this meeting? Or any meeting for that matter?” Well shit. Someone really wants to die today. Shouta doesn’t seem to move at all, though his eyes flicker over to the man who had spoken. He seems around Shouta’s age, light brown hair short with an undercut and deep brown eyes. A scar cut through his face, from his right temple through his eye and across his nose to his left cheek.

The fact that he’d addressed him so casually meant he must have a rank close to Shouta’s, there’s no possible way he was a real friend. Shouta makes his viewpoints clear, the only person you’d see him refer to as ‘friend’ is Hizashi Yamada, who’s just as much of a feminist as he is, though the loud blonde is radically louder and more flamboyant than Shouta.

“You are not my friend, nor I yours. We may have known each other for a long time but that does not change how much I despise you. You’re lucky I don’t carve your tongue out for what you just said, so I suggest you be extremely cautious choosing your next words.” The man doesn’t seem affected by the threat, but you know Shouta’s tone of voice. He’s dead serious. The brunette only succeeds in digging himself into a deeper hole.

“Oh don’t be like that. You know as well as I do you can’t do anything to harm me for no real reason. Besides, it’s obvious she doesn’t belong here. She probably has close to no experience with such power, let alone being able to keep up in a meeting of this caliber. You’ve chosen poorly, my friend. My sister would have been a much better match for your wife.”

Now you’re seething. He’s openly insulting you, which is plenty grounds for Shouta to react negatively. Shouta’s word is law after all. Of course, he waits a beat for you to react first, and you do, speaking with a venom reserved specifically for assholes like him.

“‘She’ has a title, and you’d be wise to use it.” Shouta leans back and crosses his arms over his chest as he watches the events unfold. The brunette only scoffs.

“Like I’d use such a ridiculous title for you. Being Shouta’s fiance doesn’t change your rank at all, you’re inferior. Even disregarding rank, you’re a woman, you don’t belong here anyway.” You’re still deadpanned, only a single eyebrow raised.

“As far as you’re concerned I do belong here. And the title is anything but ridiculous. By refusing to address me at all you’re disobeying Shouta’s direct order. I wonder, what kind of punishment does that entail?” You look over to Shouta, who opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by the other man. All the while the other nine men sit back in silent horror as he digs his own grave.

“No punishment at all. A bitch like you is hardly worth a title, let alone be addressed by name. You’re lucky I’ve even allowed you in this meeting.” At that you stop, letting out a low ‘ah’. Shouta is smirking, an evil thing that you had never seen up until now, but you know what it means all the same. It means you get to have fun. You take your dagger and slide it across the table to the man, who looks at it with confusion.

“Cut out your tongue.” Your words catch him off guard, his eyes wide before he starts laughing.

“You really think you can do that? Shouta, put her in her place will you?” Shouta only gives a dark chuckle.

“You heard her. Pick up the dagger and cut out your tongue.” He scoffs, clenching his jaw.

“That’s nonsense. You can’t do that.” Shouta stands, beginning to remove his tie.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want, Masa. Now, you either pick up that dagger and slice your own tongue off or she can do it for you. You’ve disregarded my explicit order to refer to her with her assigned title, and then you insulted her directly. A woman above your rank commands more respect. On top of that, you’ve failed to address me with my title after I’ve told you to do so several times in the past, which is grounds enough for you to lose several teeth.”

Shouta stands behind him now, and you’re making your way over as well.

“Now, what’s it going to be, Masa?” You fully expected him to drop to his knees and apologize, beg for mercy, because it would be a damn pain to clean up the blood after taking out someone’s tongue. He only sat there and scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest in a show of defiance. Looks like he’s losing his tongue.

“Alright, then,” Shouta speaks louder now, addressing the entire room, “Let this be a lesson well learned. Masa here has refused to obey my order, and then continued to insult my wife. For his transgression, he’ll lose his ability to speak for the rest of his life.” Shouta grabs his collar and rips him out of his chair, manhandling him and tying his hands behind his back with his necktie. You make a mental note that he called you his wife just then.

Meanwhile you go over to the chef and ask him and the waiter to lend you their largest apron and a pair of gloves. Once you have them you ask them to have someone bring up a small tarp or something to cover the floor, and not to return to the floor for the rest of the day. It’s only a few minutes later you’ve got an apron over your dress and latex gloves on, a small blue tarp on the floor and a stack of towels on the table.

**The chaos starts here, so if you’re not all that crazy or averse to blood you can just scroll down and skip it**

You grab the dagger and waltz over to where Shouta has Masa on his knees, Shouta’s hand yanking his head back by his hair and the other hand squeezing his cheeks, forcing his jaw open. Shouta raises an eyebrow at you.

“What’s with the doctor’s getup?” You playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Blood is hard to get out of clothing and the smell of death is rancid. I really don’t wanna deal with the cleanup this is gonna involve. I’ll try not to get it on your suit, too.” He shrugs.

“I can pay for another suit. Don’t worry about it.” You pout.

“But I like that suit. It looks nice on you.” He groans, a very faint blush on his cheeks and at the tips of his ears. It’s rare to see, but it makes you giggle every time.

“Just hurry it up. We still have a meeting.” You nod. Poor Masa is now starting to thrash, and the other men are either shaking their heads in disappointment or looking down at him with little more than disgust. He must have been quite a douchebag to earn the ire of this many high-ranking Yakuza.

You peer down at him and brandish your dagger, reaching down to pull his tongue out. He starts trembling, shaking his head and garbling out something that sounds like ‘please’ and ‘no’ and ‘don’t do this’. You almost pity him, and being as merciful as you are you release his tongue.

“Why are you so afraid, Masa dear? I was under the impression you wanted this to happen, considering your attitude earlier.” His words were slurred with Shouta’s grip on his jaw, but they were coherent enough.

“No, no, no I didn’t I swear! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean any disrespect!” You coo down at him, crouching and cupping his face in your free hand.

“Oh sweetie, I think you did mean to be disrespectful. You see, we had warned you, and you didn’t take that warning to heart. Looking down at your hands now, I can see you’re missing the pinky and ring finger from your left hand and the pinky from your right as well. You must be in serious debt to several oyabun right now, so I have no idea why you’d be so careless. You clearly haven’t learned your lesson, so now it’s my job to teach you isn’t it?” He thrashes some more, shaking his head as much as he can in Shouta’s grip.

“No! No please! I promise I’ve learned!” You coo again.

“Aw, sweetheart. You want to keep your tongue? Is that it?” He nods furiously, tears beginning to prick his eyes. You look up to Shouta, who looks incredibly amused at the scene unfolding.

“Oh Shouta, don’t laugh at the poor thing. He wants to keep his tongue, you know. He looks desperate.” Shouta rolls his eyes at you.

“Yeah right. Stop toying with him. You’re just being cruel at this point.” His voice is playful, and you can’t help but playfully scoff at him.

“Rude! I’m not that cruel. It’s fun when they get desperate. Besides, I’m not completely heartless. Adrenaline helps with the initial pain, so it’ll hurt a bit less. What better to get the heart pumping than some false hope and then ripping it away?” The brunette, whose face still sits in your palm, nearly growls.

“You’re fucking insane, woman.” You look down at him, slightly shocked that he’d just said that and subsequently dug himself into a deeper hole. Then you giggle, almost maniacally.

“Why thank you, dear Masa. You know what they say, all the best people are crazy~”

With that you reach into his mouth and grab his tongue, quickly slicing it off. There was little resistance thanks to your dagger being as sharp as it is, and there was a moment where everything was still. The sound of his severed tongue hitting the tarp rang loud through the room, then the bloodcurdling scream sent everything back into motion.

Shouta released him and he doubled over, blood spilling from his mouth like a waterfall as he hacked and tried not to choke on it. You grabbed Masa’s bloodied face and tilted his head to look up at you, then grabbed a towel and stuffed it in his mouth before cleaning up his chin.

“It’s over, Masa dear. I’m sorry I had to do that, but you just refused to listen. Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson now. Try not to upset anyone else, okay?” Shouta untied his hands and you stepped away to let him take care of his wound.

You remove the bloodied gloves and apron and wipe the dagger clean with a towel, discarding them onto the tarp before grabbing Masa’s phone and holding it out to him, having him dial his own medical team and explaining the situation to them. They arrived shortly after, taking the bloodied tarp and everything else with them as they tended to Masa’s wound.

**The morbid ends here**

When all is said and done the meeting carries on as normal. Afterward you and Shouta went home, got comfortable on the couch in pajamas and turned on a shitty romcom. It really was pretty shitty. You turn to Shouta, who had started munching on popcorn.

“You think he'll be okay?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Who? Masa? That prick will be perfectly fine. He might have to learn sign language being unable to speak and all, but he dug himself into that mess.” You hum and nod.

“Why are you worried about him?” You hum again and think about the answer to that question.

“Well I’m not really worried, just more curious I guess. I have no clue how a wound like that is supposed to heal so I guess I just wanna make sure I didn’t kill the guy by accident.” Shouta’s chuckle is low, his chest and stomach bouncing as he laughed.

“At least now I know you can take some blood. Remind me to let you do the dirty work from now on.” You groan.

“Oh come on, Shouta. That shit takes forever to prep and clean! I don’t wanna have to do that a lot, it takes so much energy and time.” He scoffed at you.

“It took less than five minutes to have the tarp down and you completely decked out. That’s not ‘forever’. You’re just lazy.” You roll your eyes.

“Yeah? And so what if I’m a little lazy? A girl can’t take a break?” He chuckles.

“Don’t be like that. We both know you enjoyed removing his tongue.” You sigh, then lay down and put your head on his lap.

“Fine, you caught me. I did like it a little.” He chuckles a little, but doesn’t say anything else on the subject.

“What do you say we get to bed, little one?” You peer up at him as he brushes hair from your face. He’s so gentle with you it’s hard to believe he’s the same man from earlier. Though you’re sure he could say the same about you. A completely different side of you emerged today, the side that craves violence and relishes in bloodshed. You always knew it existed, but you wondered if it was just in your mind or if you really did want to be able to do that sort of thing. Turns out it was the latter.

You smile up at Shouta, and he gives a small smile back.

“Sure. Let’s go to bed.”

#shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x fem reader #shouta aizawa bnha #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x fem reader #aizawa shouta bnha #aizawa shouta mha #aizawa shouta #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: gore #violence #blood

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marsofaries · 4 years ago

Text

The Itsy Bitsy Spider {Katsuki Bakugou x Reader}

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Cursing, Blood, Assault

Summary: Your grumpy (and ridiculously attractive) neighbor helps you rid of the spider in your new apartment. Things grow from there.

Notes: fem!Reader, ProHero!Bakugou, Bakugou hates feelings

That’s it. You were moving out.

So what, that you just managed to unpack the last box in your new apartment? One look at that eight-legged... creature, and it was their apartment now. You weren’t trying to be dramatic, but spiders were the absolute bane of your existence.

This led to you shakily standing over the said arachnid, a large All Might mug trembling faintly in your hands.

“Oh shit, oh fuck-- FUCK!” You shrieked as the spider took a quick dart to its left. Nope. No way.

It had taken about an hour before the spider was successfully captive. Another hour to finally figure out what to do next.

And now there you were, pacing back and forth in front of your neighbor’s front door, mumbling failed greetings to yourself like a desperate prayer.

“Hi, I’m-- that’s not right. How about ‘I just moved in and--.’ God, I sound like an idiot.” Gathering all of your courage, you rapped three quick knocks on the front of the wood. The urge to bolt was suddenly very powerful.

“I swear to God, Shitty Hair, if you-- Oh.” The door was suddenly swung open to reveal the most gorgeous person you had ever seen in your whole life. With biceps the size of your head, the man completely dwarfed you in size. He almost took up the entire space of the door, his spikey blond locks brushing the top the frame. Vermillion eyes stared at you cautiously as you forgot everything you were about to say. “The fuck you want?”

As you made no move to answer, the Greek god of a man pulled his lips into a scowl.

“What are you, a fucking stalker or somethin’?”

That definitely brought you out of your reverence.

“W-What? No!”

A scoff left the man’s lips, and you suddenly wanted nothing more that to kick him straight in the jewels. However, you were on a mission. A mission to rid a tiny eight-eyed demon from your living room.

“There was a, uh...spider.” You slowly trailed off, waving weakly in the direction of your apartment across the hall.

“A spider? Really?” The blond questioned condescendingly, rolling his stupidly-perfect crimson eyes.

A light flush brushed your cheeks in embarrassment as you stared down at your shoes. You were sure he was going to slam the door right in your face. But he didn’t.

The man brushed right past you, marching right though your open door-- making sure to loudly mumble as many complaints as he could. You stumbled after the tall blond, failing to keep up with his abnormally long strides.

You watched in silence as he crouched by the downturned mug, raising a single perfectly-sculpted brow. However, your silence was quickly turned into a squeak of horror when your neighbor dumped the spider into his bare-hand.

For a moment of absolute terror, you thought the stranger was going to throw it at you.

Wide-eyed, you watched as he pushed open the nearest window and placed the spider on the railing of your fire-escape. Having pushed the window back down, the man turned back to leave your apartment. As he walked past, he shoved the now (thankfully) empty mug to your chest.

“W-wait!”

He paused, sliding his crimson gaze to yours.

“M-My name is (Y/L/N)… (Y/L/N) (Y/N).”

You weren’t quite sure why you felt the need to give him your name. Maybe it was because he helped you when you were absolutely sure he wouldn’t. Or maybe how he decided to let the bug free instead of kill it. Maybe it was the amused huff he let out when he heard your terrified squeak. Perhaps it was all three. You didn’t know.

His striking red eyes suddenly raked your frame before a smirk settled confidently on his all-too-attractive lips.

“Bakugou Katsuki.”

~~~

“HOLD THE FUCKING DOOR!”

You let out a squeak at the sudden yell, sticking the toe of your nude-colored pumps between the sliding elevator doors. A muscled arm wedged itself between the doors, pulling them back open.

“You.” You breathed as none other than your extremely hot neighbor was revealed. The blond was clad in a loose black V-neck and sweatpants-- a large duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. His hair was slightly damp, as small beads of water dropped off the edge of his spikes every couple of seconds.

“Stalker.” He acknowledged with a grunt. The corner of Bakugou’s lips shot up at your protests.

The ride down to the lobby was relatively silent and slightly awkward. You kept switching your weight on both legs as you struggled to find something to say.

“The fuck you dressed so fancy for?” The explosive blond finally said. You couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief at the break in silence.

“I got a new job at All Might Bank!” You were pretty excited, as it was your first day. The bank itself was pretty fancy, and you were cheery that it was named after the old symbol of peace. All Might had been your favorite hero growing up but you grew out of your hero phase as you had gotten older. Nowadays you couldn’t tell one hero from the other.

You turned to Bakugou with a smile, content that he even cared about your life. It was quite a surprise when compared with the vibes he gave off.

“What about you?” You asked cheerily.

“... Agency.” He grunted.

“Oh! Are you a model or something?” You knew it! There was no way that a man as attractive as Bakugou Katsuki was not the cover of every magazine. He was, just not for the reasons you thought. You watched in confusion as the explosive blond emitted a loud snort.

“Or something...”

DING!

You were almost sad as the elevator dinged, signaling the end of the ride. Although it was short, and mostly awkward, you found yourself enjoying his company. You walked side by side until you reached the doors to outside, pausing slightly when he went to part.

“Thank you.”

Bakugou froze at your expressed gratitude, studying your figure with renewed interest.

“You know... for the spider?” You seemed to lose all cognitive brain function when he looked at you with those frustratingly gorgeous vermillion eyes. Bakugou scoffed and turned away, muttering a quiet response. Little did you know that he was trying to hide a light blush.

“Whatever...”

~~~

You were happy to say that these shared elevator rides became a daily ritual, to the point where Bakugou started to bring you his delicious leftovers for your lunch (he made the meals especially for you, but would die before he ever admitted that). Before you knew it, you were quite smitten with the blond.

You couldn’t help but replay this morning’s occurrence in your head as you filed checking account after checking account.

“Good morning, Bakugou-kun!” You called as you exited your apartment. You didn’t even have to look anymore. Bakugou had a habit of waiting for you outside your door to give you his most current dish.

“Morning.” He grunted in response, hating the way his heart skipped a beat.

His eyes scanned over your form, (longer than considered friendly) as he checked your outfit. Bakugou always seemed to have some sort of fashion-ready advice on the tip of his tongue, and with you still thinking he was a model-- you were more that happy to comply. And also for the fact that he really did have a good eye for it.

“Undo the top two buttons… you look like a nerd.”

Your eyes quickly flashed to your white button-up, pulling at the two buttons with one hand.

“Better?”

Bakugou only grunted in approval. He was trying to act like he wasn’t on the verge of kissing the ever-lasting life out of you.

~~~

“Hey, Newbie! Get me a coffee, will ya?” You were quickly pulled out of your daydream by one of your (slightly arrogant) bosses.

“Of course, sir.” You answered as you hurried to the other side of the bank. You’ve been at your new job (and apartment) for about a month, and they still won’t let up on the whole “newbie” stuff.

You sighed as you waited by the coffee maker, situated right to the left of the big glass entrance. Oh, how you would have loved to pour that coffee right over your boss’ head. Too lost in your own head, you failed to notice the suspicious group of men heading straight for the vault until one of them grabbed your arm.

“What the fu--”

“EVERYBODY DOWN OR SHE DIES!”

Oh shit! Oh fuck! Your mind was reeling at a million miles per hour. The man had pulled you to where your back was to his front, and had a blade pressed against your throat. It seemed to come out of the inside of his wrist, being a relatively deadly quirk if handled correctly.

Everyone within the pristine building froze but quickly dropped to the floor after some warning shots from one of the robbers. Another suddenly morphed into some sort of beast and marched to the steel vault door.

You suddenly wished that you had a more physical quirk, cursing it for being so useless in this situation. Yeah, you knew basic self-defense, but it would be futile with three other villains in your midst.

Minutes felt like hours, and you could only hope that someone had alerted the police and nearby heroes. You winced as the blade dug into the delicate skin of your throat.

A sudden explosion burst through the skylight of the building, raining glass shards on the hostages. All at once, people were screaming, running, and blast after blast started ringing in your ears. You let out a sigh of relief.

The heroes were here.

Using the distraction, you quickly gripped the man’s arm tight below the base of the blade. You pulled it away from your neck ever so slightly, ducking your head to pull yourself through the gateway you had created. Keeping your hands locked at the base of the robber’s wrist, you twisted his arm and shoved up-- forcing it to pop from its socket.

A sudden bump to your shoulder from a running hostage caused you to slip up on your little self-defense sequence, allowing the man to break from your grip. He whipped around to face you, holding his dislocated arm. You panicked, so... you socked him in the face.

He let out an enraged cry, thick blood gushing from his nose. You were a bit surprised with how easy it was to land a hit on him. You thought that villains would have been more prepared before robbing a bank named after All Might.

Oh, well.

You punched him again in the nose for good measure, and he was out like a light. His hot red blood coated your knuckles, and you gagged in disgust. Ew. You wiped the back of your dominant hand on you button-up absentmindedly, before being shoved to the floor by your panicking boss. Wow. Your limbs felt like mush now that the adrenaline was wearing off, and you suddenly couldn’t find the strength to pick yourself off of the floor.

A final explosion went off, followed by the most desperate and wretched call you had ever heard in your entire life. And the call... sounded suspiciously like your name.

Your eyes shot up at the scream, searching frantically for the owner of that voice. You knew that voice, you only ever heard it in grunts and light-hearted mocking sentences, but you knew that voice.

“Katsuki.” You breathed, eyes suddenly locked on familiar crimson irises.

Relief flooded his features as he saw you, and was at your side in seconds-- dropping quickly to his knees.

“Oh my god.” Bakugou breathed, grabbing your head and cradling it tight to his chest and-- what the fuck was he wearing? Wait, there was no way... he was the explosion hero you saw on the news! Holy fuck!

“You scared the shit out of me! Do you know how terrified I was when I heard there was trouble at your work?! And you didn’t answer your goddamn phone? Jesus Christ, (Y/N).” Worried rambles fell rapidly out of Bakugou’s lips, seemingly void of any filter. You would have been ecstatic by his cute little worrying if your mind wasn’t reeling by the fact that your crush neighbor was one of the top ten heroes in Japan.

He suddenly grasped both sides of your face and pulled back so you were eye to eye.

“Are you hurt? I swear to God, if someone hurt you-- I’ll fucking kill them.” Bakugou’s eyes were frantically scanning your face, looking for any sign of injury.

“...Katsuki?” You mumbled softly, and he immediately froze. He felt his heart lurch in his throat as his name tumbled from your lips. You, on the other hand, were completely, and utterly lost. “You’re a pro-hero?”

“....What?” Bakugou questioned dumbly. “You could have been seriously hurt and that’s the first thing you think about?”

“What? I thought you were a model.” You whined, lightly smacking his chest.

At this, Bakugou let out a loud laugh, and you just watched in awe. You had never seen him laugh before. Even though half his face was smeared in black makeup and little injuries littered his skin-- it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in your life. He pulled back to look at you, but suddenly froze.

“You’re hurt! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!” Bakugou shouted, spotting bright red stains on the front of your blouse. You quickly grabbed his hand, hoping to soothe his panicking.

“Hey, hey!” You yelped, gaining his attention. “It’s not mine.”

You gestured over to the villain knocked out next to you.

“Holy shit.” Katsuki breathed, before turning his vermillion gaze back to yours. A quiet, amused huff escaped his lips. “So you’re afraid of a spider, but can knock out a villain?” He questioned teasingly.

A light blush covered your cheeks, causing you to force your eyes down. You suddenly noticed just how close you two were. You were situated about half way onto Bakugou’s lap, as one of his large hands softly held your waist. The other was still trapped between your own. This caused your blush to only darken.

“Hey, eyes up here.” Bakugou muttered, lifting his hand from your waist and to the base of your chin. You force your eyes back up to his, but couldn’t help but sneak a quick glance to his lips. However, Bakugou saw it, and that was all it took.

Bakugou crashed his lips onto yours, and you were quick to respond. You tangled your hands within his soft blond locks, allowing him to completely dominate the kiss. His hands held you tightly to his body, refusing to give even an inch of space between you two. He didn’t let go even as you pulled back for air, his lips chasing after yours.

Time seemed to stop while he was kissing you, and every one was distressed with the thought of losing you. It was soft and sweet, and then rough and desperate-- the sweet smell of caramel, of Bakugou, invading all of your senses.

You finally broke for air, breaths mingling shamelessly. Bakugou rested his forehead on yours, wanting nothing more than to never let you go.

“I’m so glad I found you, Stalker.”

Bonus:

A low whistle dragged out across bank, turning the couples’ gazes over to a certain hardening hero.

“SHITTY HAIR, I SWEAR TO--”

The End.

Notes: This was my first imagine! I hope you guys liked it!

The police watching the final scene like: 👁👄👁 can we go home?

#bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou katuski x reader #mha #bhna #mha x reader #pro hero bakugou #mha katsuki #bakugou fluff #aged up #bnha bakugo katsuki

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years ago

Text

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 4:

You’re paranoid.

Terribly, terribly paranoid, and even if you’re aware of it, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Nothing you can do to quell the anxiety that wells up every time another person enters your space. Every time their skin nearly brushes yours, even accidentally, just for a split second.

It’s maddening. Nearly debilitating the way you’re flinching away from people. You can see your co-workers notice too, fellow nurses suddenly giving you odd looks every time you reject a high five. Even when you’re wearing your gloves. It’s just a panic reaction at this point- a fixation on trying to keep your quirk as least exhaustive an experience as it can be.

On one hand, you still really dislike Bakugou- nearly hate him for bringing it up to you- but, on the other hand, he did manage to figure it out. He somehow managed to figure out what you never could, and all in a matter of minutes from your relatively short interactions. It made you think that maybe he could be really smart- if he didn’t spend so much time killing his own brain-cells with every juvenile insult he spewed at you.

You wondered if that was just him, or he really did hate you that much. Surely he couldn’t be that much of a monster to other people, right? Right?

Wrong.

You remember Kirishima, how he apologized for Bakugou nearly the second he walked through the door. It hits you then that you’re definitely not the first person he’d seemed to mercilessly terrorize- you’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

Actually, on second thought, maybe it makes you feel worse. No, it definitely makes you feel worse. So much worse, in fact, that just the sight of his face nearly sends you into an irrational rage. Even now, weeks after the last time he’d personally ruined your day, you were still mad. Still angry. Still cursing every time you saw those red eyes on every billboard, newspaper, and billboard in town.

Well, lucky for you, you didn’t have to look at those printed eyes anymore. Not when the real ones were right in front of you- scaring you shitless as you leave the hospital.

You had left the hospital from the back exit, tired and crabby from your late shift, grumbling as you stepped out into the alleyway. You’d hardly seen him, just the slightest glimpse of movement behind the tall dumpsters, before he’s practically in your face.

“Jesus!” You gasp, curling your arms around your stomach. Your legs feel like jelly. “Don’t do that! Scared me half to death!”

“Oh, chill the hell out, ya fuckin’ baby. You’re fine.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, falling into step next to you.

He looks worse for the wear, just like every other time you’ve seen him, exhaustion coloring his complexion something sickly. There’s an angry purple bruise covering his cheek, a few cuts, and even more bruising dotting his scarred knuckles. A tiny, vindictive part of you thinks it serves him right, but you keep it to yourself. You’re better than that.

You want to be nice to him, truly you do, but he’s made it pretty hard. Concerning you, Bakugou’s pretty much dug his grave at this point, and he only makes it worse with his next works.

“You need to do something for me.” He orders suddenly. “Now.”

“A-are you asking me? For help? Is that what this is?”

“What? No- obviously fucking not.” He sneers, nostrils flaring. “Why the hell would I go and do something like that. That’s stupid. Weak.”

“Oh. Okay. So then two seconds ago, when you were telling me that I ‘need’ to do something for you, what was that?” You squint your eyes at him, eyebrow twitching with annoyance. “That wasn’t you asking for help?”

“No. ‘s an order.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay- an order. Because you’re totally in a position to make those.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.” You spin on your heels, nearly crashing into his chest since he followed so closely behind you. Still, you figure the promixity is all the better for gesturing, so you don’t miss a beat, waving your hands emphatically. “My shift just ended, alright? That means I’m not on the clock, and you’re not a patient. I don’t have to suck it up and help you unless I want to. Understand?”

Bakugou seems to bristle at your tone, eyes narrowing as his lip curls. You just try to shrug it off. If he wants to be mad in the middle of the alley, fine- but you’ve had a long day and you’re going home. You spin around again, walking briskly into the street, and it takes him a few moments to catch up.

“I told you, Bakugou, I’m not helping you just because you tried to order me to.”

“I know.”

“Then what’re you doing?”

“Walking.”

It’s his tone; that same needling, challenging edge to it that has your blood boiling. If anyone else said that, you’d probably believe it. But he’s not just walking and Bakugou’s smirk makes that very clear.

“No. You’re following me.”

“Same fuckin’ direction. Sue me, leech.”

The street lamps cast spots that yellow out his already pale skin, and the longer you walk the more withered he looks. Bakugou seems utterly burnt out, and when you look really close, all his features are slumped. It’s a stark contrast to Dynamite’s turbo-charged public persona, and it makes you wonder why he’d even let you see him like this at all. You figure whatever it is must be making him pretty desperate.

Suddenly that same, sinking, sympathetic feeling has you letting up a bit. You slow your pace, catching his gaze as you internally curse your own soft heart.

“Okay. Fine. What’s up. What can I help you with?”

Bakugou squints his eyes, almost like he doesn’t believe you. You think that’s a little fair- most times, even you can hardly believe all that you’re capable of forgiving.

“Sleep.” He finally says, bitten out tightly under his breath.

“You want me to help you sleep?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“Not obvious.”

“Would be if you weren’t such a shitty nurse.”

“If that’s supposed to be a dig- save it.” You roll your eyes, trying to tamper down the irritation. “I did notice. That you look tired. Just didn’t mention it out of kindness, so don’t think you can start bringing my skills into question.”

You turn down another side street, and Bakugou follows. There’s less light so you miss the way his eyes scan the lurking shadows; intense and immediate, like a habit he can’t help himself from indulging in.

“You really live around here?” He suddenly asks, voice low and gruff.

��Yep. In the apartment complexes just up there.” You point off into the distance. “Why-”

“And your shift always end this late?”

“Yes?”

“God,” He laughs something disbelieving under his breath, rolling his eyes at you. “I was fuckin’ right. You really are the stupidest goddamn person walking the planet.”

“That’s- Do you ever think about your words? Seriously!” You huff, curling your fists. You hope it’ll quell your sudden urge to hit him. “Just because you think it, doesn’t mean you should say it! And who the hell are you to judge anyway-”

“You’re fuckin’ asking to be attacked. That’s stupid. ”

“By who?”

“Weirdos, idiot.”

“You’re the weirdo! You’re the one following me home right now!”

“I’m not following you-”

“Really? You’re not? Because right now, the way you’re walking? Maybe all of two steps behind me? On a dark street? At night? Sort of seems like creepy following is exactly what you’re doing!”

“I told you, you need to do something for me. Not leaving till you do.” He grumbles, digging a bruised knuckle into his temples. “And keep it the fuck down. Your screaming sounds like a dying animal.”

“My-” You seethe for a moment, hardly able to stand his attitude. Then you take a breath because you prided yourself on being a kind person, and kind people do not kill national heroes- even when they’re being asses. “You know, it is almost unbelievable how bad you are at asking for help.”

“Told ya, already. ‘m not fuckin’ asking for help.”

“Then why are you even here bothering me? Go bother someone else!”

“If fuckin’ anyone else could do anythin’, believe me, I’d go to them instead.”

“God, do you even understand how rude that is?” You ask him incredulously, hand grasping at the door to your apartment building. “No, seriously, are you even aware of what you sound like to other people?”

“Not my fuckin’ problem that other people are sensitive.”

Your eyes bulge at that, mouth nearly dropping in disbelief. You couldn’t believe him. You just couldn’t believe that a single person could possibly go through life with that callous of a mentality. It was insanity. Pure insanity.

“So, leech, you gonna put me to fuckin’ sleep or not?”

Just kidding- that was insanity. That sentence alone was proof of just how ridiculous your life had gotten since he’d crash landed into it.

Bakugou seems to realize his words simultaneously, his cheeks flushing red under the outdoor lights. You almost laugh, but then he’s glaring, eyes sternly set and murderous. For a moment, you really believe he was gonna blow you up right where you were standing.

“Say a goddamn word. Do it. I fuckin’ dare you. Leech.” He sneers. “Try me.”

“At this hour? No, uh, no thanks.”

Bakugou does seem to relax at your joke, albeit begrudgingly. He drops his shoulders, rolling his eyes, and clears his throat. “Now, seriously, you gonna fuckin’ do it or not?”

A part of you wants to say no- to hold your gift over his head, to lord it just out of reach until he figures out how to not insult you with every breath. Then you think of your job, of all the civilians who come in swearing up and down that Dynamite was a hero. And you believe them, truly, but you think that Bakugou has a long way to go. An especially long way.

But, even so, your fingers are itching again in your gloves. There’s that urge coursing through your veins, your thoughts a constant loop of heal, help, save and so it’s decided. Quickly. Almost like it was never even a question in the first place- and, knowing yourself, you suppose it never really was.

“Fine. I will. On one condition.”

“Condition? When the fuck did I say it was a negotiation. It’s not.”

“It is and I’ll tell you why.” You spin to face him completely, jumping back when you find him much closer than expected. Your retreat till your back hits the door, but you feel no less cramped than before. “You need me. You do. Don’t bother denying it because you wouldn’t be here otherwise. And the funny thing is, I would’ve done it! Would’ve done it entirely free of charge if you just asked nicely, and-”

“Will you get to the fuckin’ point already?”

“See! That! That’s why there’s a condition! Because you’re needlessly rude! All the time from what I’ve seen. And that’s got to change. Especially if you’re gonna ask for my help more than just this one time.”

“God- how many fuckin’ times do I need to make this clear to you? Hah?” Bakugou growls, leaning in even more. You can see it in his wild eyes- he’s trying to scare you, crowding you against the door. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you- You don’t make the fuckin’ rules here.”

“In this I do.” You swallow nervously, trying not to let your intimidation show. “So you’re gonna listen. My condition is this- if you want me to help you, then you have to learn to play nice. That means no names, no insults, no threats, no complaints, and no attitude. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

Bakugou swears under his breath, eyes blazing as he holds his stare. Truthfully, it makes you nervous, but you’re not one to back down. At least, not when there’s no threat of job loss involved. So you just squint back at him, jutting your jaw out in defiance. There’s a tense few seconds of silence, his eyes searching, but then he backs off. Nostrils flaring like a bull, Bakugou relents.

“Fuckin’ fine. Whatever. Jesus.” He swears, hand curling into a fist at his side. “If you’re gonna be such a bitc-”

“I said, no names, Bakugou.”

He just rolls his eyes, face so very pinched, and you briefly wonder if he’s going to explode. There’s anger as he suddenly shoves you away from the door, yanking it open and letting himself into the building. Then he’s stomping through the lobby, and you’re hardly able to catch up by the time Bakugou stops in front of the elevator.

“What fuckin’ floor, leech?”

“Once again, I said no names. None. Especially not that one.” You tell him sternly, trying to keep your voice down. “And you didn’t agree. You’re not following me and I’m not helping you unless you agree.”

If possible, you think Bakugou’s expression grows even more irritated, his eyes widening as he sets his jaw. Another few seconds pass, and when he sees you won’t relent, Bakugou nods. It’s tight and strained, stunted like the acquiescence physically pains him.

“God, you’re lucky I’m nice.” You tell him, nearly stabbing the elevator button as you press it. “Really lucky.”

“And you’re lucky I don’t have enough energy to beat the shit out of you right now.”

“No threats, Bakugou. You agreed.” You say easily, stepping into the elevator as it opens.

“Had to. Because your fuckin’ terms are bullshit.”

“Hey, no complaints. You agreed to that too.”

You think you hear something strangled leave his mouth, but it’s swallowed up by the sound of the elevator ascending.

Now that you’re standing in better lighting, you can see Bakugou’s face clearly. He looked bad before, but he looks worse now. There wasn’t just one bruise on his face, there was multiple- his jaw colored burgundy and his nose and lip split open. There was no blood, but there wasn’t a lot of scabbing either. It was new. These injuries were new.

You think back to that first visit- when he told you he never really got hurt. You wonder what’s been going so wrong for him lately. It seemed like all he’d done since you’d met him was get hurt.

“Stop fuckin’ staring.”

“I-I’m not. Not like that.” You say. “I’m assessing. You’re gonna need a butterfly bandage, on your nose- skin moves too much. And a cold compress for your jaw. Maybe some disinfectant on your lip. Probably should get your knuckles wrapped too and-”

“Jesus, I fuckin’ get it.”

You roll your eyes, ready to retort, but then the elevator dings. You walk out into the hallway, Bakugou trailing behind you like a shadow. It’s not until you’re at your door, twisting your key into the lock, that you pause.

You’re about to enter your apartment, with Bakugou of all people. A guy you’re not even sure can tolerate you. And yet you’re doing it- because he needs help. Because he looks like walking death and you’ve got a first aid kit under your bathroom sink. Because he’s pretty much proved himself to be an irredeemable asshole, but yet you still can’t bring yourself to leave him out in the cold.

Because you’re an empath, and that, by default, makes you an idiot.

You turn the key. Bakugou, to his credit, looks a little uneasy, but then you’re waving him through the door, and pushing it shut behind him.

“So, you wait here.” You gesture towards your couch, moving aside a few pillows to make him room to sit. “I’m gonna go get all that stuff I talked about.”

“So, what, you’re just like playing fuckin’ nice nurse again, now?”

“Bakugou. No attitude please- I am nice, okay? All the time. Or, at least when others are nice to me.” You say, levelling him with an unimpressed look. “And even if they’re not, I still don’t like seeing them hurt. Not if I can do something about it.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help.”

“No, but you need it. And since you’re too stubborn to ask for it, I’m just gonna have to force it on you.”

“Do you even fuckin’ hear yourself?” Bakugou prickles, voice rising. “Acting like a goddamn savior. Like you’re so fuckin’ good and holy. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not.” You say flatly. Then you’re pivoting on your heels, leaving him behind and you grab the first aid kit. You open the bathroom door, calling over your shoulder. “And if you have such a problem with it, then leave. Nobody is keeping you here.”

You hear Bakugou swear again, so angry and seething that you almost believe he’ll take you up on your offer; but then you hear footsteps across the floor, the creaking of your couch.

You reach under your sink, pulling out the kit and a few extra rags for a compress. When you look in the mirror there’s exhaustion lacing your features, your eyes worn and dark with bags. The sight makes a part of you want to forget it all- makes you want to surrender to the ache in your bones and tell him to leave; but that’s just a small part. The larger part is telling you that you’re not spent until you’re unconscious, and that right now, Bakugou looks a whole lot worse than you feel. It’s telling you to hurry up and help him and you agree.

When you walk back out, supplies in hand, Bakugou’s slumped on your couch. He’s got his head tilted over the back, one hand resting on his stomach and the other thrown over his eyes. He shifts at the sound of your approach, dropping his hand and as blinks blearily. You think his eyes look a little duller than before- less like raging wildfire and more like smothered embers. If you didn’t know any better it would look like begruding acceptance- but this was Bakugou, and you knew better.

“So,” You start, setting all of your things down on the couch next to him. “You wanna go to sleep now? Or wait until after I fix up pretty much the entirety of your face?”

He looks at you unsurely, eyebrows creasing.

“Wait, actually- how are you planning to get home?” You continue, hands on your hips. “Where do you even live? Around here? Close? Because you were out in like, 10 minutes, maybe, the last time I touched you, so it’s gotta be close. You live close right? Because-”

“God, cool it with the fuckin’ word vomit. Shit’s annoying. Shut up.” He grumbles. “I’m sleeping here.”

“Who decided? You?”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“Bakugou.” You balk, striding closer to the back of your couch. You lean over him, forcing him meet your eyes. “This is what I’m talking about! With the learning to play nice thing! I would’ve let you stay here, I would’ve, had you asked. You can’t just bulldoze your way into my house and refuse to leave!”

“Yeah? ‘n just what the fuck are you gonna do about it if I do?” He scoffs, curling his lip as he snarls. “Nothing. Because you’re so fuckin’ nice, right?”

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not a bad trait and I won’t have you insulting it. I’m not embarrassed of who I am.” You try to work through your frustration, centering yourself with a deep breath. “Look, bottom line is, ask next time. Or I’m not helping you until you do.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

You try to shrug off his petulant response, taking another calming breath as you shuck off your gloves. You replace them with latex ones from the kit, pulling the material over your fingers as you grab the antiseptic wipes. You decide to start around the cut on his nose. It’s the largest and widest, spanning over the entirety of his bridge and into his right cheek. It’s a nasty thing, deep and red, all exposed nerves beneath a thin scab and you can tell it hurts him. Bakugou fights to keep from wincing, eyes scrunching slightly as you wipe the remnants of dirt and oil from his skin.

“This from another villan?” You ask calmly, finding an easy peace in performing familiar tasks. “One today?”

“Cuts are from today. Bruises were yesterday.”

Blinking down at him, you’re a little surprised by how easy his answer was. You expected him to fight, to be difficult just because he could, but Bakugou wasn’t doing that. He was lying relatively and still and sated under your fingertips, the only sign of any tension are his minutely pinched eyebrows. Briefly, you check your gloves- for a moment there you were sure you’d accidentally touched him.

“Oh. Okay.” You reply, taking a small butterfly bandage from your kit. You press it over the cut with gentle pressure. “How’s the other guy look?”

“Fuckin’ terrible. Beat ‘em to hell.”

“I’m sure you did.” You snort, moving on to clean the cut on his lip. “Hey, you wanna know something?”

Bakugou peeks a red eye open, studying your face above him. He nods.

“I actually end up treating a lot of your victims, you know.”

“Criminals. Not victims.”

“Mhm. Sure. Well, either way, they’re always covered in burns. Mostly minor, but sometimes pretty nasty ones.” You try to keep your voice light, even and steady as you dab at his lip. “Honestly, at this point, I’m pretty sure you’re entirely responsible for the hospital’s chronic burn-cream shortage.”

Bakugou does seem to smile at that, exhaling through his nose as his eyes flutter briefly. “Wouldn’t be fuckin’ short if people just stopped tryin’ to pull stupid shit all the time. ‘s not my fault they’re so fuckin’ bad at running away.”

“Bakugou.” You balk, unable to keep the laugh from bubbling out your lips. “You can’t say that!’

“Why the fuck not? Hah? It’s true.”

“Because! You’re supposed to be playing nice, remember?”

“Yeah. To you.” He mumbles, voice rough and raspy. “Because you fuckin’ schemed your way into forcing me. They didn’t.”

“Okay- First, I’m like, pretty sure schemed and forced are the same thing, so we definitely don’t need to say them both. It’s just overkill. Second, that’s a borderline insult, so I’m gonna need you to watch your mouth. And third,” You cradle his jaw in your fingers, turning it to the side. “How the hell did you manage to get a bruise behind your ear?”

“I don’t know- probably the same way you somehow managed to become a nurse; even with such shitty fuckin’ bedside manner. You suck, leech.”

Your jaw drops.

“Bakugou!”

He cracks his eyes open, something small and pleased settling at the corner of his mouth. There’s almost as much venom in his voice as before but his eyes are softer now. They’re kinder, crinkling just slightly at the edges.

He’s joking. You realize. He doesn’t actually mean it. Not this time.

“You dick.” You reprimand, flicking his hairline lightly. “You absolute dick.”

His eyes just seem to grow a little brighter at that, just for a second, and then he’s shutting them again. There’s still a smirk on his face though- one you’d swear you’d slap off if he wasn’t actually being somewhat pleasant right now. For once in his life, it seemed.

“Alright,” You announce, rounding the couch quickly. “Your knuckles look just as bad so give ‘em.”

“No thanks.”

“It wasn’t really a suggestion.”

“I don’t need anymore of your pity help, leech.”

“It’s not pity. Not even a little bit.” You sigh. “Look, I know you’re not gonna understand this, but I seriously cannot chill the hell out without at least trying to take care of people. My quirk makes my fingers literally itch when I see injuries. They itch and they don’t stop itching until I do something about it. Helping people, healing people, is hard-wired into me- it’s as much something I do for me as it is something I do for others.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen at that. He sits a little straighter, fists clenching as he presses them into the cushions. A few beats pass and then he’s grumbling, throwing himself back as he thrusts both of his injured knuckles forward.

“God, you’re so fucking irritating.” He gripes. “If you’re gonna be such a weirdo about it, then get the hell to it already.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead kneeling next to your coffee table and settling on the ground. You take his hands in yours, bending all his fingers to make sure nothing is broken. When nothing is, you look up at Bakugou, planning to tell him the good news, but he’s already looking at you. Your eyes meet, and he blinks, once, twice, before averting his eyes quickly. You think that maybe he blushes too, but he turns his head so sharply you’re almost convinced you imagined it.

You just try to shrug it off, focusing your attention back on his hands. You notice how warm they are again, nearly feverish and strangely unblemished. When you start rubbing bruise cream over knuckles, kneading the joints between your fingers, Bakugou sighs slumps back into the couch. He closes his eyes once more.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No. Can’t. Fuckin’ told ya already.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me why.” You set his hands back on the couch, moving instead to unravel a bandage. “Not that I won’t help you, but have you tried any other remedies? Melatonin? Or lavender? Maybe chamomile? Any of those?”

“Mhm. Falling asleep isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?”

He opens his eyes, squinting at you from above. “None of your fuckin’ business.”

“Bakugou, I’m trying to help here.”

“I don’t want-”

“Yeah. I know. You don’t want it. Or you don’t want to rely on it. I get it. But you wouldn’t have even came here if you didn’t absolutely need it, right?” You insist, grabbing his hands into yours again. “God, you know, I’ve had toddlers who were more cooperative than you. Why’re you so difficult?”

“I’m not fuckin’ difficult.”

“No. You’re difficult. Very difficult.”

“And you’re fuckin’ annoying. Do me a favor and go back to being nice.”

“Nope. Sorry. Pretty sure you didn’t like me then either.” You start wrapping the bandage around his knuckles, taking extra care to apply the right pressure. “And I was only nice to you because I was working, you know. I’m only actually nice to the people who deserve it.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes at that.

You finish wrapping the bandage, securing it into place with a bit of medical adhesive. All things considered, Bakugou looks better than before. Or at least, better than the death incarnate he’d been portraying himself as.

“All done.” You smile, turning away to start packing up your supplies.

“Finally. Took ya fuckin’ long enough.”

“God, you are literally devoid of manners, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. ‘s part of not bein’ an absolute bitch.”

You gawk, spinning around to face him. Bakugou’s relaxed into your couch, arms laid across the back leisurely as he smiles. There’s that same softness to his eyes from before, the crinkling just at the edges.

“Wow.” You scoff, smiling sarcastically. “You really think you’re so funny don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Yeah. Because you’re fuckin’ brainless.”

“Brainless? Me? Swear to god, you only know, like, three words and all of them are probably swears!”

Bakugou just shrugs, looking abnormally pleased. Content even. You figure that’s probably right for someone like him- only happy when everyone around him is devolving into chaos.

“Actually, you know what, I think I’m done yelling for the night.” You say, shucking your gloves off. You wiggle your fingers at him, a smirk plastered across your face. “I think it’s time you’re euthanized, don’t you?”

Bakugou just blinks, minutely shrinking away from you.

“Because you said you wanted me to put you to sleep, right? To put you down. Like a dog.” You continue, nearing him, coming close even as his lip curls up. Bakugou is glaring fully now, fists clenched, and you stop just a few inches out of his reach. “Or, you know, in ruder terms- not a dog, but a bitch.”

Bakugou snarls, lunging at you as you duck away. He’s fast but you’re faster, vaulting behind your couch to create some distance. There’s fire in his eyes, blazing and hot in his irises, but it isn’t scary. If you look close enough, you’re almost sure it’s just warmth. That same rare amusement from earlier.

“You leech. Swear to fuck I’ll make you regret that. Say your goddamn prayers!”

“Touch me and you’ll fall asleep!” You tease. “Or I’ll use my quirk and see into your brain. So I guess it’s more of a ‘pick your poison’ for you, really.”

“It’ll be the same for you.” Bakugou growls, hands grasping the back of the couch as he leans in towards you. “Open casket or closed, it’s still gonna be your fuckin’ funeral.”

“Really?”

“Really. Leech.”

“No thanks.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘no thanks’,” Bakugou mimics your voice, his features twisting. “I’m killing you. You’re dead. You don’t get a choice.”

“No, I really think I do.”

“And just what the fuck makes you so goddamn confident?”

“This. You not attacking me.” You smile easily, voice daring as you stare right back at him. “If you really wanted me dead, I’d be dead. Isn’t that right, Dynamite?”

The name sends Bakugou recoiling, shrinking backwards and scoffing in outright shock. You watch him stumble, legs hitting your coffee table and nearly causing him to fold. He recovers quickly though, albeit with his cheeks flushing wildly.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Nah. Thanks for the offer though.” You smile brightly, before throwing your arms above your head and yawning widely. “As fun as that was, I’m pretty tired. You ready to fall asleep, yet?”

“Jesus fuck, yes. That’s the entire goddamn reason I’m even here. Idiot.”

“No name calling. You agreed.”

“I didn’t agree to shit.”

“You did.” You affirm. “Now, c’mon, like last time, hold your hand out.”

With surprisingly little dramatics or resistance, Bakugou listens. He thrusts one of his bandaged hands forward as he sits on the couch again. When you touch his fingers, you feel that faint warmth again. Like fire and embers coursing through your bloodstream. It’s uncomfortable, a relentless sensation that has you cringing. You briefly wonder what it would be like to always live with it. Like Bakugou seems to.

His eyes flutter shut just like last time, and you can see the way he staggers. It’s like the fight leaves him entirely, and then he’s falling boneless into the couch. You can hardly place a pillow onto the cushions before he’s driving his head into it.

“Jesus,” You mutter in disbelief. “How long has it been since you slept? You look dead.”

“Weeks.” Bakugou mumbles.

“Since the last time?”

“Mhm.”

If his words alone didn’t confirm the severity of his sleeplessness for you, his response time did. Bakugou answered quickly, without fight, like he’d been wanting to spill for the entire night. And, you suppose, maybe he did; or was trying to. In hindsight, you begin to realize a lot of his screaming could just as easily have read as cries for help- not that you’d ever tell him that. You’d probably have to prepare a will if you ever tried telling him that.

“You want a blanket?” You ask a little unsurely, not exactly confident in your approach to this entirely different Bakugou. “All you’re getting is the couch, but I could probably scrounge up a few blankets.”

Bakugou doesn’t respond. All you hear in response are tiny little snores and slow breathing.

You find it reminds you of the last time- the way you’re reaching into a cupboard and grabbing out a blanket for him. Except this time, it’s a little bit different. Somehow you’re settling the blanket over him with a little bit of genuine kindness instead of begrudging sympathy.

After all, you can’t help but feel a little bit of pity- no one would ever fall asleep that fast unless they really needed it. Especially not in a stranger’s house.

--/--

enjoy my lovelies :))

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#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bakugo #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou fic #bakugou series #bnha fic #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #mha fic #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x y/n

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bookishofalder · 4 years ago

Text

Pretty Girl

Pairing - Flip Zimmerman X Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, swearing, smoking, crime, (eventual) smut, racism (no slurs), sexism, general views/language of the time.

A/N: Well, here’s the prologue to the multi-chapter fic I’m working on! I hope you enjoy, feedback welcome and appreciated, especially if you notice any over-description of the reader! This is a female reader based fic.

Flip Zimmerman sauntered into the Colorado Springs police department early Monday morning, his black hair in need of a trim, a bit of a shadow darkening his unshaven face. He’d had the previous week off, after wrapping up the Klan investigation with Jimmy and Ron. The chief had insisted they each take some time, and Flip ended up taking the whole week, though he knew his partner opted to simply take a day, and Ron only a few more than that.

But Flip had needed the break-the case had exhausted him. It had drained him mentally to pretend to be one of the Klan, to agree with their views and utter slurs as if they rolled naturally off of his tongue. No, he had felt each moment with them chip away a little at his soul. So he took the time off; went fishing, watched television, did some work on his home, and spent some time with his family, who rarely got to see him. He didn’t live far from his parents, but with the hours he took on, it had been hard to visit often. They understood, but Flip knew his mother wished he would settle down, start a family of his own. She hated that he came home to an empty house, with no warm meal ready and waiting. Flip didn’t mind it so much, he was too busy at work to notice the void.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Flip wasn’t at his desk for more than twenty minutes before Jimmy came in, all smiles for Flip’s reappearance.

“Flip, welcome back kid.” Clapping his shoulder, Jimmy sank into his chair and fixed Flip with a knowing stare from across their desks. Flip frowned, wondering what had his friend in a chipper mood early on a Monday morning.

“Jimmy, the fuck are you staring at?” Flip grumbled though the threat in his voice was laced with affection for the man he’d called 'partner' for years now.

More detectives and office workers began to filter in, coffees in hand, all greeting Flip with casual ease before they settled in and began their workdays.

Jimmy shook his head, “Nothing, just glad to see your miserable face back, it’s been an interesting week.” The mischievous glint in his eyes said otherwise.

Flip didn’t look up at Jimmy’s words, merely smirking in response. He noticed then a neat stack of files on the left-hand side of his desk. When he grabbed the first, curious, he saw it was a case file of his, only it had been organized, and some of the sections of the report had been filled out for him. He stared a moment, shocked, before glancing up at Jimmy-whole was, annoyingly, still watching Flip.

He held up the file, “You do this, Jimmy?”

But he was shaking his head before Flip finished speaking, “Nah don’t like you enough.” He didn’t elaborate and Flip was too stubborn to press the issue. Whatever.

Flip glanced at the other files and saw they were the same. Someone had taken his paperwork, organized it and fill in the sections that were mostly clerical information, before returning them to his desk for him to finalize and submit. He had come in early specifically to finish off these files, and now his two-hour backlog was reduced to maybe thirty minutes of work. Impressed, and grateful, he began to work through the stack with his notes. He wasn’t going to say it out loud, but the gesture-wherever it came from-was more than welcome. Paperwork was the least appealing part of this job.

At nine, the station was buzzing with activity normal for weekdays. Ron had greeted Flip warmly when he came in, advising him that Sergeant Trapp wanted to see them in his office in an hour, before moving to his desk and checking his messages. And while it felt like any other day in Colorado Springs, Flip, ever the detective, noticed the moment the atmosphere in the bullpen shifted. Every man in the room seemed far too damn chipper.

He glanced up from proofreading his work to find many of his colleagues glancing toward the glass wall and doorway that led to the hallway, beyond which and out of sight, was the front lobby and administration desk.

After a few moments, Flip turned his chair to face Ron, whose desk was behind his own, only to see his friend doing the same thing. He frowned, “The hell is everyone in a tizzy for, Rookie?”

Ron grinned, “Chief hired a new secretary for the front desk-“

“What, Donna finally got herself a helper?” Flip cut in, referring to the homely but overworked secretary that had been asking for a second in command for years, during which team the operation of the division had nearly doubled.

“Yep,” Ron nodded, “And Donna already looks like it’s made a world of difference for her, but wait until you meet, she’s incredible. Nicest lady I’ve ever met.”

Flip rolled his eyes at this proclamation and spun back around, stacking his files together. He was glad to hear Donna had the help she needed now, it was a long time coming and would certainly make a difference for the entire station. Donna was like the mother hen, taking care of everything from coffee to endless paperwork, dealing with the public that came in, and everything else they could throw at her. She never complained, but always made the point of saying things would happen quicker if she were two people. He wondered what it would be like to have another Donna type woman in the office, but intended on giving it no further thought.

That is until he heard the distinct click of heels coming down the hallway, and glanced up, half interested, at the sound.

He did a double-take when he saw her and felt himself freeze. Stunned into stillness, Flip immediately felt that Ron using the term ‘incredible’ to describe the new secretary was entirely understating this woman. Everyone’s heads in the room turned her way, and it wasn’t just anyone who could unknowingly conjure up that kind of reaction.

Dressed in a fashionably smart secretary dress, which was a shade of dark blue that perfectly accentuated her skin, the woman was breathtaking. Curvy, with long (Y/H/C) spilling down her back in soft waves, she wore kitten heels that gave her a small amount of extra height, yet she was still short. She walked with an air of peaceful grace, carrying a large basket in her arms. But it was her smile, dazzling and genuine, that captured his attention.

Flip had to shake his head slightly, dragging his eyes away from the beautiful creature dancing into the bullpen. He refocused on his files, hoping to look busy, all the while straining his ears to hear her speak.

“Happy Monday, boys.” She sang, and a chorus of good mornings and hello’s filled the air, “I hope you like banana bread because I’ve got two fresh loaves here, one plain and one with chocolate chips-Jimmy, I made that for you.” And Flip looked up in surprise in time to see her wink at Jimmy, who gave an appreciative laugh, then thanked her.

She had set the basket down next to the water station, where there was a small foldout table set up. Sure enough, she pulled out two loaves of bread, already cut and laid out in smaller basket trays for them. She made quick work of setting out the loaves, plates and napkins before reaching into the basket, pulling something out she had wrapped in sandwich paper, and spinning around toward Flip.

He dropped his gaze before she noticed him, now making work of organizing his desk-why the hell was he suddenly so nervous? From behind him, Flip heard Ron give a small groan, “Tell me you didn’t.” But he sounded delighted.

“Ron, of course I did, don’t be so silly, it’s nothing.” This captured Flip’s attention entirely, and he gave up the pretence of tidying his desk to turn around and see what she had passed him. Inside the wrap was a slice of pineapple upside-down cake. Ron pinched a piece off with his fingers and tried it, giving an appreciative nod.

“That’s just like I remember, thank you.” He noticed Flip watching with a frown and grinned, “Oh, now, you two haven’t met yet, Flip’s just come back from vacation.” He clapped his hands together.

Flip looked away from Ron and met the (y/e/c) eyes of the young woman standing a few feet away, who wasn’t much taller standing than Flip was seated. She reacted first, though Flip did notice her eyes widen slightly before she stepped forward, all smiles.

“Detective Zimmerman, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m (Y/F/N).” She stuck her hand out. Flip automatically grasped it, noticing how entirely tiny her hand was in his own.

He tried to smile, “It’s nice to meet you, miss. Please, call me Flip.” She smiled at his words and Flip suddenly felt like his brain might be needing a jump start, as it was the prettiest smile he’d ever had directed at him. He felt warm and craved a cigarette. Or a cold shower.

“Well, Flip, only if you call me (y/n).”

Ron had watched the entire exchange with a shit-eating grin on his face, “(Y/N) here is an amazing baker, in addition to her many other skills that Donna can’t stop raving about, so before you know it, Zimmerman, you’ll be sporting a few extra pounds.”

(Y/N) giggled. Truly giggled, and Flip found himself surveying her, trying to decide how old she was. She carried herself with a confidence and ease that seemed mature, yet she did appear youthful in many ways. “It’s what I’m known for, leaving heavyset men behind me everywhere I go.” She held up her hands, as if in defence of herself.

Flip snorted, “And you take special requests?” He asked, nodding at the cake on Rons' desk.

“Oh, well that was actually what I baked for Sunday supper for my sister and me,” She leaned against Ron’s desk, her hands neatly folded in front of her, “And when I told Ron here what I was planning, he asked for a slice because I make it like his aunt used to.” She shrugged, giving Ron a friendly smile.

“It tastes exactly like hers, (Y/N), you’re the best.”

“You two seem awfully, uh, close.” Flip remarked, and while Ron seemed unfazed and unbothered by the comment, he noticed that (Y/N) seemed to flinch slightly at the words, her smile disappearing.

Flip knew he was a gruff, grumpy son of a bitch, but he was also always like that, and no one ever seemed to care. Now though, the tone and accusation that she might have assumed from his observation seemed to hit a nerve, and her demeanour shifted, embarrassed.

“Oh, yes, well Ron’s been a gem, being pretty new here himself. He’s helped show me the ropes,” She murmured, “I should get back to it-nice to meet you, Detective.” And she hurried away, still taking time to greet those she passed, before disappearing down the hall.

“Man, Zimmerman, you have a way with the ladies.” Ron deadpanned, shaking his head at Flip, who was staring toward the hallway feeling both annoyed and guilty. He glared at Ron, who was shaking his head, a hand clapped dramatically to his face, “A real Romeo.”

“Fuck off, Rookie,” He growled. A thought jumped at him then, “Wait, is she the one who did all this-‘ He gestured at his files ‘While I was off?”

Ron rolled his eyes now, “Of course she did-she helps everyone stay on top of paperwork. When I told her you were off last week, she made a point of getting you all caught up.” Again, Flip stared down the hall, his mind working.

He just wasn’t very good at socializing, or making friends. He was gruff and sarcastic and his sheer size usually kept others at a distance. He had a hard time knowing the right thing to say, especially to someone as pretty and kind as (Y/N). He hadn’t thought his words would come out the way they did, sounding accusatory, and he wished he could take them back.

Over an hour later, Flip was still replaying the interaction in his mind, over and over. When he, Ron and Jimmy re-emerged from Sarge’s office, new assignments in hand, he had come to a decision. He had never been one to simply leave something unaddressed, not if it bothered him. And while he was certainly terrible at socializing, he would never stand for himself to be ungentlemanly. First impressions were important, and he intended to correct this one.

While Ron and Jimmy continued toward the bullpen, Flip turned right and stomped down the hallway, entirely missing his friends exchange a knowing look behind his back. As he approached the front desk, his eyes peeled looking for her (y/h/c) hair, he was surprised to notice how tidy and welcoming it now looked.

(Y/N) had made quick work of reorganizing and decorating, which was probably why Donna was nowhere to be found, no doubt in the files room making work of the backlog she’d been complaining about for years. Flip figured she must be in the best mood of her life.

The reception was empty, however, and Flip wondered where (Y/N) must be. He continued to march forward, considering if he should look around for her, or wait at the desk, when a door on his left, which led to the bathrooms, opened. Before Flip could stop, she was suddenly hurrying out of the doorway and slammed directly into his side, gasping in surprise.

Flip had just managed to turn his body slightly toward her before they collided, allowing his arms to shoot out and large hands to grab her shoulders as she bounced off of him and fell backwards. Steadying her, he peered, “Damn it, darling, I’m sorry-are you alright?”

She was wide-eyed, her head tilted back to meet his eyes. He released her, taking a polite half step back. “I’m fine, goodness, I should apologize, I ran out of there like a bat out of hell.” Her hands moved to her waist, where her dress tie sat, and began to redo the knot absentmindedly.

Flip raised a brow, “Something scare ya?” When her face flushed at his words, his eyes drank in the sight, heart rate speeding somewhat. He watching her curiously.

“I, um,” She sighed, her eyes closing briefly as if attempting to find the strength to speak, “It’s silly, I was washing my hands and noticed a big spider and I really, really hate spiders-I live alone and I can never kill them easily, I always get the broom so I can stay far back, so I thought I’d run out here and find a broom-“ Abruptly, she stopped speaking when Flip began to laugh, and after a moment of uncertainty, a smile spread across her face-dazzling white teeth on display.

“I can kill it for ya’, no need to resort to desperate measures,” He joked, happy to see his words cause her to giggle slightly, “But do me a favour?” He added, his expression becoming serious.

(Y/N) glanced up at him curiously, “What’s that, detective?”

Flip took a breath, “Accept my apology, for earlier,” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, “I’m a grumpy S-O-B and my words came out harsher than I intended, I only meant to tease. I’m sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair nervously as he spoke.

She seemed to consider his words for a moment, crossing her arms across her chest, a small smile on her pretty lips. Flip kept his eyes on her face, not wanting to be disrespectful by ogling her, but it was impossible not to notice the way her bust pressed out when her arms wrapped under them. He needed a cigarette. And probably a proper smack around the head.

“Of course I accept, detective,” (Y/N) was smiling properly now, “Jimmy warned me you were a mean lumberjack-his word, not mine. I just-“ She paused, “Worried I’d given the wrong impression, is all. I’ve got a good work ethic and don’t want anyone thinking I’m silly or chatty over hardworking.”

Flip was surprised at how serious her tone turned, her words heavy with concern. “You organized all my files for me, while I was off?”

“Yes-why?”

Flip laughed, “Darling, that knocked two hours of painful catch-up off my plate and we hadn’t even met before, I can already tell you’re impressive, so if anyone here ever tries to question that, you send them to me.” He huffed, glancing at the bathroom door, “I’ll go kill that monster in there for you.”

She had flushed again at his words, something that sent a jolt of electricity through his core. Flip realized he was well and truly fucked for this woman, and he’d only known her an hour.

“Wait,” He paused at the door to the bathrooms, glancing back. She was giving him her best little grin now, “Thank you, Flip.”

He merely nodded, before stepping through the doorway to kill the damned spider.

Although, he thought, maybe he should thank it instead.

Chapter 1

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

#flip zimmerman x reader #reader insert #adam driver x reader #adam driver #fanfic #smut #multichapter #flip x you #Zimmerman x reader #fluff #friends to lovers #best friend #feedback appreciated #Fem reader #prologue

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kuroopaisen · 4 years ago

Text

tiny love || iv

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime was easy. iwaizumi ultimately decided to rebuff you. but that was a year ago - things are different now. and you have other things to worry about.

warnings: f!reader

wc: 2.6k

m.list | ch. 3 ↞ ch. 4↠ ch. 5

“Are you sure you’d be okay with that, Tooru?” You asked, trying to keep your voice as normal as possible.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. You were sat on the edge of your bed, phone pressed to your ear and fist twisted up in your sheets. There was a chill in the air that wouldn’t have bothered you under normal circumstances.

But after those words had left your brother’s mouth, something about the room felt sharp.

“I’m the one who suggested it, aren’t I?” Tooru chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pain blossoming through the muscle. “I don’t know,” you mumbled. “I just didn’t think you’d be comfortable with me living with one of your friends.”

“Iwa’s a good guy,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Besides, you guys have known each other for ages. He’ll look after you, I’m sure of it.”

You chewed on your lip for a moment, at a total loss of what to say.

“It’s not like he’s going to try and get in your pants or anything,” Tooru snorted.

Godzilla. The couch in your family’s entertainment room. The warmth of his lips on yours.

But you couldn’t tell Tooru about any of that. Although, the moment he’d suggested you move in with Iwaizumi almost made you crack.

By some stroke of bad luck – or perhaps as the set-up for some cosmic joke – you’d gotten into the same university as the boy you’d been so enamoured with as a seventeen-year-old. And you’d genuinely had no idea.

But it was too late to change your plans. You’d already gotten a scholarship, and you were sure you parents wouldn’t forgive you if you pulled out now. Even if your instincts were telling you to do just that.

“Have you spoken to him about this?” You asked. Perhaps this was your out. If Iwaizumi wasn’t all for it, then there was absolutely no reason for you to agree with it. Right?

“Yeah,” Tooru said. “He’s all for it.”

You frowned. Iwaizumi? Okay with this? Even though he was the one who’d decided that you needed to distance yourselves from each other?

But… it’s been a year. And he’s been a university student living in another country. A lot had probably changed for him.

A lot had changed for you.

And as much as you wanted to deny it, there were benefits to living with Iwaizumi, at least for one semester.

Moving to America is scarier than you’re willing to admit. The thought of living with an unknown roommate in a country you’d never stepped foot in before had kept you up at night a few times.

What if you hated each other? What if something went horribly, terribly wrong and you were left stranded? What if they were a creep?

At least Iwaizumi was a known quantity. One that you hadn’t necessarily left it on terrible terms one; just awkward ones.

“You still there?” Tooru’s voice shocked you back to the present moment.

“Oh, yeah,” you cleared your throat, “is his LINE still the same?”

“Sure is!”

Your throat felt dry. “I’ll call him later.”

You twisted your fists in your bedsheets, a weird knot forming in your stomach.

“Good,” Tooru hummed. “I think it’ll be good for you. You don’t need to be completely alone when you first move over there.”

Guilt twisted in your chest. You knew why he was saying that. He’d told you just how lonely those first few months in Argentina had been.

He didn’t want that for you. That’s why he’d suggested this damn roommates idea.

If only he knew.

“That’d be good,” you said. It wasn’t a lie.

Another thought sat at the back of your throat, forcing its way out.

“Tooru, I… I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”

Your voice was painfully quiet as you finally breathed life into the one fear you didn’t want to admit. You hadn’t even mentioned this to Amaya. But you knew you could trust Tooru with this – perhaps, he might even be able to say something useful.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his tone as gentle as he could muster. “I didn’t think I was ready, either.”

“I figured,” you grinned. For all his bravado at the airport, a few dozen follow-up phone calls had really sowed that idea in your mind.

Tooru scoffed. “Here I am, trying to be a good older brother—”

“Sorry, sorry,” you laughed. “I appreciate the attempt.”

“You know, you’d think that me moving half way across the world would be enough to get you to finally be nice to me,” Tooru sighed, and you don’t need to see him to know that he was running a hand through his hair dramatically. “But alas… I’m doomed to be mistreated by my very own sister.”

“Have you considered being less dramatic?” You teased. “Then maybe I’d take you a bit more seriously.”

You held the phone away from your ear as Tooru started his tirade,

“If I’m being completely honest,” he said, his tone now much heavier than before, “I thought I was making a big mistake for a second there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Two weeks in and I wanted to run back home. I wondered if I could really do this.”

A part of your brain told you to be surprised. Another part told you that of course he’d be frightened.

Tooru is just a human, not some superhuman who’s above mortal concerns – no matter how much he tried to hide that fact.

“Turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.”

A gentle, relieved silence settled between the two of you, the only sound the distant din of traffic from Tooru’s end of the phone.

“I’m glad to hear it,” you murmured. Sincerity was rare between the two of you, but you weren’t about to pretend to be anything but relieved.

“Trust me, it’s going to be fine,” Tooru sighed. “And if it doesn’t end up working out, you’ve still got time. You’re young. And you’ve got a home to go back to.”

You searched for the comfort in those words as best you could. But you couldn’t find any. He hadn’t intended it, but within those words was a little reminder that you might fail. That you might not even come close to the brilliance that is Oikawa Tooru.

“Thanks, Tooru,” if all you could say. He’s just trying to be helpful.

“Besides, if it all goes to shit, you can join me in Argentina!” His voice was a tad more gleeful than you would’ve liked.

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that,” you chuckled.

“Aw,” he whined, “why not?”

“You’d be such a helicopter parent.”

Tooru gasped, the sound piercing over the phone line. “I would not!”

“You would!” You laughed. “You’d meddle in everything?”

“And?” He scoffed. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes!” You protested. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“Ah, well you see,” Tooru tutted. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’ll always be a child to me.”

You rolled your eyes, a comfortable feeling of familiarity settling in your chest. Suddenly, your room doesn’t feel so cold. “I didn’t answer your call just to be coddled.”

“You should be used to it by now.”

“You know, whenever I start to miss you, I’m going to remind myself of this.”

“You are so mean to me!” Tooru wailed.

The bickering went on, an endless cycle of well-worn insults and epithets. But the conversation had to come to an end. You knew you couldn’t put off contacting him any longer.

Eventually you ended the call, holding the phone to your ear for a couple of moments after it was over.

You sighed, letting it drop onto the bed. You flopped back in tandem, staring up at your roof.

Life really was just one big joke, huh?

Although, you wished you understood what the punchline was.

✧ ✧ ✧

You stared at Iwaizumi’s LINE profile a little longer than you should’ve.

It’d been a couple of hours since you’d ended your call with Tooru, and you’d only just worked up the courage.

In your defence, you hadn’t been planning on this. You’d expected to have a very different phone call with a complete stranger, deciding from a handful of phone conversations as to whether or not they were trustworthy enough to live with.

But there you were, about to call The Iwaizumi Hajime.

It’d be fine, right? That little heartbreak had happened well over a year ago now. It’s irrelevant. And you’re well and truly over it.

Not that the thought of calling him didn’t make you feel like you were about to throw up from nerves.

God, why did it feel like you were about to sit an exam?

No, you weren’t going to let your anxiety get the better of you. Not when your education was – sort of – at stake.

With a heavy sigh, you clicked the little call icon and held the phone up to your ear.

The ringing sounded like a death march.

“Hello?” Iwaizumi’s unmistakable voice crackled through your speaker.

Yeah, you definitely felt like you were about to throw up. “Hello.”

The line fell silent.

You bit your lip. Maybe you shouldn’t have done this. Maybe you should’ve just lied and told Tooru that you’d already worked out lodgings. Sure, there’d be a last-minute scramble to get something in place before your parents caught wind of your little lie and—

“How are you?” The words were a little gruff, a little awkward.

This was going to be a very long conversation. You could feel it in your bones.

“I’m alright,” you said, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. “How about you?”

“I’m doing pretty good,” he said. There’s something different about his voice. Maybe it was a little deeper than when you’d last spoken? Or maybe you were imagining it.

Truth be told, you can’t really remember what he sounded like.

“That’s… good to hear,” you said, a paltry attempt at an implied olive branch.

“Yeah, uh…” He cleared his throat. He was probably scratching the back of his neck as he spoke. You hated yourself for even assuming. “Things have been going well.”

A long silence followed. A very painful silence.

A silence, you realised, that you had to break.

“What are you studying?” You asked. A nice, neutral question.

“Exercise science.” The response was immediate. Was that… relief in his voice?

“Oh, really?” You blinked.

“Yeah,” he said. “You sound surprised.”

Your mouth hung open for a moment, searching for a response. But nothing felt adequate enough. Did you really sound surprised? Why did you feel the need to defend yourself?

“I mean I…” You bit your lip, frowning. “I don’t know, I just… wouldn’t have picked that for you.”

Did he just chuckle? You could’ve sworn you heard a chuckle.

“What would you have picked for me, then?” He asked.

“I…” You racked your brain, trying to stitch together all the knowledge you had of the boy – no, the man on the other end of the phone. “I have no idea, actually.”

He distinctively chuckled that time. Damn the swell of pride in your chest.

“Why exercise science?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s the only chance I have of beating Oikawa.”

It’s so instantaneous and ludicrous that you laughed.

“That… doesn’t make much sense, but okay,” you smiled. You were well-aware of the competitive edge that ran through their friendship. Good to see that hadn’t faded, at least.

“You’ll see,” he promised. “Just you wait.”

You chuckled in response as another silence settled over the two of you.

What was there to say? What did you want to say? It’d been so long that you weren’t even sure.

“So…” Iwaizumi said, voice unusually tentative. “Oikawa told me you’re coming out here.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. That’s right. That’s the whole reason you were calling him.

“That’s a big move,” he marvelled, as if he hadn’t done the exact thing he was talking about.

“I know,” you murmured. “I’m kind of scared.”

“What of?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. Perhaps your lips were looser than they should’ve been. “I just… I’ll be in a whole new country. Alone.”

“I see.” There’s something comforting about his voice. Something stable. He’d always been a good listener, hadn’t he?

“And… it gets more daunting the closer it gets.”

“Mhm.”

“And I’m scared I’ll regret it.” There it was. The one fear that you hadn’t admitted to anyone else – not Amaya, not your parents, not Tooru.

“Why?” Iwaizumi asked.

“I don’t know, I…” You bit your lip, a frown settling on your face.

Now you’d given that fear a voice, you understood it less. Wasn’t the opposite supposed to happen?

“Do you regret moving so far away from home?” You asked.

Iwaizumi wasn’t Tooru. He wasn’t driven by the same insatiability. He had his ambitions, yes, but he didn’t break his back trying to reach for them. Maybe, just maybe, that meant he’d be easier to understand.

“Sometimes,” he admitted.

“Ah.” Not quite the answer you wanted to hear.

“But…” he sighed, “it’s been a good experience.”

“So… a net positive?”

“I’d say so,” he said. “I’ve had a lot of experiences I’m grateful for.”

“Right,” you nodded.

“I heard you got a scholarship,” he said.

“Did Tooru brag about that?” You groaned, running a hand down your face and bending over your knees.

“Sure did,” Iwaizumi chuckled. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, biting back the urge to say, ‘it’s not a big deal.’ The last time you’d said that, Amaya had shot you quite the glare.

You swallowed roughly, looking down at your feet.

One deep breath, and it would be time.

“So…” you started, the back of your neck prickling. “Tooru said he’d spoken to you about me… potentially moving in with you?”

“Yeah, he did.”

Ah. Nice and blunt.

“Would you… be alright with that?” You asked, hands a little clammier than before. “I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“Well, I don’t like the idea of just dropping you in America with nowhere to go, so… the offer’s open.”

He sounded honest, at least. Not that you had reason to believe he would be anything but.

“Right,” you nodded. “Thanks.” You licked your lips, trying to stop your nerves from getting the better of you. “I appreciate it,” you added, unsure of how strange that might be to say.

“Not a problem.”

You couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.

“I can send you the information over email,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“The lease and stuff like that. Also, the address so you can actually see where it is.”

“Oh, right…” you swallowed. “Yeah, that’d be useful.”

“Alright, I’ll get that ready for you.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I need to discuss this with my parents, so I’ve got to go…”

“All good,” Iwaizumi said. “Talk to you later.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, lowering the phone from your ear and tapping the red ‘END CALL’ icon.

You tossed your phone at your pillow, watching it land with a muffled ‘thump’. It pinged with a notification – probably Iwaizumi asking for your email, you realised.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

You groaned as you flopped back onto your bed for the second time that evening.

What was going on? How had you ended up in this situation? Which cosmic force had it in for you?

Everything was so confusing.

One thing was for certain, though.

Amaya’s going to kill you.

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: hhhhhh thank you for your kind words about the last chapter! this one is also unbeta’d but Oh Well

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu x reader #tiny love

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letsperaltiago · 3 years ago

Text

somewhere only we know

This is my entry for the B99 Summer 2021 Fic Exchange and it's for lovely Johanna aka. @amyscascadingtabs <3 I picked the prompt: "Jake and Amy going on a babymoon and enjoying some time together before everything changes for good."

It's very simple and just pure good, happy parents to be-vibes so yeah :) I initially wanted to add smut but didn't have the time to write it :(( If you feel like it's something you'd like, then feel free to lemme know! I can always add a chapter two heh. Anyways, enjoy!!

Rating: G

Words: 2.7k

Read here or on Ao3

“Jake, this is… amazing.”

This seems to be all Amy can come up with as the hotel room presents itself before her. Better or bigger words seem to be lacking from her otherwise excellent vocabulary but she blames it on the fact that she’s been carrying a tiny human for the past 35 weeks - not that she’s complaining. It’s been hard, both physically and mentally, and there are a few more weeks to go but by the end of it all, she’ll be holding her little baby boy.

She’s tired and every inch of her body swollen and/or sore, but more importantly she’s eager and excited. Jake is too, if not even more than her, and this has resulted in the current scene: their babymoon.

“You like it?”

The way Jake asks her, eyes shining with innocent expectation and voice laced with childish excitement has her imagining just how their little boy will turn out to be. She can’t hold back her smile. This man will walk to the end of the earth to make her happy, essentially already has during this pregnancy, and the babymoon is just as much for him as it is for her.

She turns on her heels to face him, showing him the bright smile that’s plastered on her makeup-free face which has gained some freckles during her pregnancy.

“You could’ve planned a trip to a dumpster and I would still love it.”

Hands cupping his scruffy cheeks she pulls him in for a short but tender kiss that even so many years later, after thousands of kisses, has his toes curl in excitement. She truly would’ve stayed anywhere as long as Jake was with her. Although she does appreciate the fact that she’s standing in a beautiful lakeview suite at the LakeHouse Inn.

“Should we reassess how much we refer to dumpsters and other gross locations when we declare our love for each other?”

She chuckles at his comment, lips resonating against the corner of his grin.

“Should we?” She slowly slides her hands to the back of her neck, entangling her fingers to keep her latched onto him even as she pulls away to flash him a pretend contemplative expression.

Eyebrows cocked in playfulness, they share an indicative look in silence, only for them to break it in unison. “Nahh.”

“Right? It’s what makes us us.” Jake pulls her in by the hips which are carrying their son.

Everything about Amy reminds him of their little miracle and makes him feel all tingly and excited. One look at her, one touch, and he forgets about the rest of the world and its crappiness. He has Amy and together with the tiny human in her belly, she is his entire universe.

“Exactly.”

She closes the gap between them (as much as she can with the full-blown balloon shape of her stomach).

“So,” she mumbles against his lips, “what are your plans for us?”

Sadly, the 3-hour drive from home didn’t do wonders for her heavily pregnant body and even though she won’t admit it out loud, she hopes her husband’s plans for tonight will demand the bare minimum of her. She feels his lips and body withdraw, prompting her eyes open however the mischievous smile that meets her has a dimmed anxious feeling creeping over her - he does remember she’s 35 weeks pregnant, right?

“I know that look, Peralta.” Her voice is distrustful, and after 7 years together she should know better than giving in to his teasing, but her suspicious air only fuels his fire and desire to mess with her.

“In honor of my incredible and always so organized wife, there’s a tightknit schedule waiting for us.”

Tightknit schedule? Amy would usually be beaming at these words but right then and there, swollen legs, hungry and feeling everything but hot and fit after the drive, she aches to fall back onto the bed and sleep for days. It’s huge, king-sized, with crispy white sheets and the fluffy pillows are definitely calling her name. Although, the fact that Jake has everything planned out for their last vacation together, just the two of them, does pull on some heartstrings. He loves her so much and she loves him so much too. So much that she (almost) doesn’t turn a hair when he proudly starts listing their schedule for the evening and following day.

“So right now it’s 4 PM which means unpacking-time. At 6 we have a dinner reservation at this cute little restaurant in a little town nearby so we’ll need to leave at approximately 5.45. At 8 there’s a showing of Die Hard at the local movie theater, which I thought we could attend?”

Okay, maybe her left eye flinches at this but very discreetly (or so she chooses to believe).

“Then tomorrow there’s breakfast at 7, which is perfect because we have canoeing on the lake at 8.30...”

She zones out after this. Hormones, tiredness, the fact that she can’t feel her feet- there are a thousand reasons but Amy can feel the most is tears prickling, threatening to spill. Not because she doesn’t appreciate her husband’s efforts and grand gestures, all for her, but because she can’t stand the thought of doing any of these sweet things he’s planned for them. She can’t cry though. He’s going to think something is actually wrong.

“Babe?”

However far gone she was, the sound of Jake’s voice pulls her back in and there’s a confusing mixture of mischief and pure adoration shining from these famous deep brown eyes. Why is he almost smiling when she’s having a tiny meltdown?

“Are you crying?”

“No?” she scoffs although she’s proven wrong upon touching her cheek where her fingers are met by a thin wet streak. “I’m just,” she clears her throat in hopes of avoiding a strained voice, “so overwhelmed by happiness and everything you’ve planned for us. It all sounds… great.”

Silence dawns upon them as Amy’s fake smile tries to convince him. On his part, Jake is biting his lip in an attempt to hold back a laugh, but his wife’s panicked look and teary eyes have him failing to last and after a couple of seconds he breaks the quietness.

“Honey, I’m messing with you,” he chuckles and quickly pulls her back in for a tight hug, as tight as the belly allows, pecking the top of her head. “I know you love a good schedule but the only plans I have for us are: staying in bed, ordering room service, and watching tv.”

“Oh, thank God.”

The moan of relief flies out of her before she can even consider how it must sound to Jake, a great deal of embarrassment hitting her upon realization. She just made it sound like she wouldn’t appreciate her husband’s effort to make this weekend of theirs the best.

“Jake, I’m so sorry! I didn’t-”

She pulls back to look him in the eyes, ready to offer a sincere apology for her blunt exclamation. She never gets to. Instead, she’s met with a huge grin and her husband looking everything but mad or hurt. Almost as if he knew. He knew how she’d react. He wanted her to react.

“You sly sneak! You knew you’d freak me out!”

Only her husband can trick her like this, and, on one hand, it’s very endearing... Jake Peralta is more than just a good cop; he’s excellent. Brilliant and bold, maybe even too much sometimes, although he usually gets away with it. Usually, she’s always on his heels and she hates to admit it, but her mommy brain and restless hormones are making it much harder, if not impossible, to keep up with his always upbeat pace.

“Of course I knew, babe.”

No matter how hard she tries, she can’t even find it within herself to be genuinely annoyed with him. He’s pulled her back into his arms and is looking at her with that mischievous smile that can both infuriate and enchant her. Tonight it’s a little bit of both although mostly the latter, she has to admit and the last bit of annoyance melts away the second he leans in, offering her a soft kiss that lets reminds her of the fact that he’s the best thing in the whole damn world.

“I love you,” she manages to mumble against his lips before he can pull too far back, her swollen fingers cradling his jaw to emphasize her words. It tampers with any kind of reasoning and her ability to remain miffed.

“I love you too...” her husband mumbles back against her lips.

Pulling away isn’t an option, he’s too addicted and he enjoys feeling the air coming from her nose when she chuckles. “How much?”

“At the very least enough to not make my heavily pregnant wife canoe around a lake.”

“Peanut and I appreciate that very much.”

Although after all these months there’s a comfort and familiarity in being able to rub her belly and know her son is in there, safe and sound, knowing he soon enough will be out here in the real world with them has butterflies fluttering in her chest. Jake’s hand joining hers in stroking her belly only causes the number of butterflies to multiply, explode all over again, and her hormones are making her question whether she wants to cry or laugh - or perhaps do both. After such a long wait, from the second they decided to start trying, there’s no blaming her impatience. There’s so much to expect and patience has never been her strongest asset. Only when it comes to Jake and their son. She’s impatient to see, hear and feel it all. The life and adventure she’s created with the man she loves the most seems scarily close yet torturously far away.

With no reason to leave in sight, Amy finds herself bundled up in a hotel bed sent from heaven, wearing nothing but panties and her favorite nursing bra. Jake is on an errand run to grab her the creme cheese-filled pierogis and Arroz con Leche their son and she are very much craving. Although she does prefer her abuela’s homemade version of the latter, even a pregnant Amy can come to terms with the fact that there are limits to Jake’s super husband-powers. He can and will get her almost anything as long as physically possible - or within a radius of 20 miles which Abuela Dolores at this given time for good reasons isn’t.

Amy had insisted on the hotel’s room service menu being more than fine, but her husband knows her all too well and could tell she wasn’t content with the ravioli and créme brulée she’d originally settled for. Before she could even begin to protest his offer to run out and get it for her, her husband had pulled on a pair of jogging pants and a hoodie, grabbed his keys, and left her behind with a peck to the top of her head and a promise to be back in not too long.

In all honesty, the ravioli and creme brulée would’ve been fine, and she would’ve preferred Jake to be here to cuddle her. Nonetheless, there’s no denying how loved and important Jake makes her feel. Especially when he suddenly walks in the door, multiple plastic bags hanging on his arms and car keys dangling from his mouth. The view is hilarious, to say the very least, and she wonders: how did she ever get so very lucky?

Perhaps she will never know the answer to this. Luckily when you’re cuddled up in a soft hotel bed eating pierogis, fries, grapes, and Arroz con Leche with the love of your life, it doesn’t really matter how you got there. Being too busy talking, eating, and making out, the documentary about the history of paper Amy’s been dying to watch is mostly just background noise.

“Can you believe we’re having a baby?”

Her husband’s mouth is filled with fries and before she can even think of answering his question, she has to reach over to wipe ketchup from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes… but also no. In a good way.”

It’s true. She always knew she wanted kids but wanting is one thing; actually outliving it still seems surreal to her, even as she runs her hands around the curve of the skin encapsulating their very own little human being. What makes it so much more surreal is the fact that Jake Peralta is the father. Jake Peralta, the guy who she 6 years ago could only pine for. Now she’s lying in bed with him, watching him smile at her with those soft, brown eyes and warm rosy lips that she not so secretly hopes their son will inherit. He swiftly wipes oil and salt off his fingers before reaching over to place his hands on top of her belly. Placing hers on top of his happens like a newfound reflex of hers. His hand is warm and feels like home.

“This is probably the last getaway we’ll have, yanno, just the two of us.”

His soft voice has her looking up from their joined hands on her belly to see him looking directly at her with glistening eyes, the blue light from the television casting a blue hue on the side of his head. He looks so handsome, pensive, so perfect and she can’t come to terms with the fact that he’s her’s and she his, and together they’ve created new life.

“Yeah. More likely than not.”

“How do you feel about that? Are you scared? You know- of giving birth and how life will be after that?”

A few beats of silence go by, only the dull sound of the tv filling the otherwise silent room. His hand never slips out of from beneath hers. Does this question maybe reflect some worries of his?

“Not scared, per se...”

She quickly makes sure that there’s no food in-between them before scooting in closer to him. Her hand slips off of his only to slide up his arm, all the way up to cup his face. There’s close to no room between them. Her thumb dances across his cheekbone.

“... Excited, maybe a bit anxious, but I know it’ll be alright and so very worth it in the end. And yeah, our life nd dynamic might have to change a bit but it’ll always be us. But I’m not scared,” This seems to put a damper on his running mind. “And you know why?”

“Hm?”

“Because I have the world’s best baby daddy.”

As hoped a wide smile lights up his face, pure unadulterated joy so obviously present in this little moment of theirs. Worries seem irrelevant and non-existing.

“Are you worried, babe?”

She sees his smile fade a bit but not enough to genuinely worry her. Just like everyone, he has his thoughts and worries. With care comes worries. He wants to do his best, she knows.

“Maybe a bit, you know? Like not genuinely worried like I would’ve been a few years ago, but just… averagely worried.”

“That’s okay,” she comforts, her thumb still tracing smooth lines on his cheek. “It’s normal. It just means you care and want to do good, which is all I can really ask of you.”

“I do care. A lot. So so much,” he chuckles shyly.

“Which is also why you’re going to be fine, I will be fine and everything will be fine.”

She doesn’t give him the time to agree nor protest but instead leans in to place a long, tender kiss on his lips, inviting him to join in on the moment. It’s just a simple kiss, soft, like the one they had a Shaw’s after agreeing to stop trying (which eventually lead to more trying, but that’s beside the point). With every breath, they take the kiss grows deeper, longer. It’s as if their bodies are aware of the fact that this will be the last time they get to do this without a child to get home to; without the responsibility of being a parent. All at once, it’s frightening but also, more than anything, exciting. Their lives might be on the verge of changing forever. Although lying there in bed together, feeling the soft touch of their spouse, it feels like they’ve never changed and never will. They’re always going to be Jake and Amy.

#B99 Summer 2021 Fic Exchange #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #jake x amy #peraltiago #fluff #brooklyn nine-nine #jake and amy #mac peralta #baby peraltiago #oneshot

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