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lebrookestore · 4 years ago

Text

four years, one night

Pairing: Ten Lee x female reader

Themes: SLOWBURN, best friends to lovers, player! ten, fuckboy! ten, fluff, humour, angst, sexual tension, college au, some talk about music

Warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of sex (?kinda), ten is kind of an asshole, reader calls herself a dumb bitch, bittersweet ending, three kisses, kissing, gets a little spicy in one scene but that’s about it, PG15

WC: 10.8k

Playlist: Dream Launch by Wayv, Never let you go by AleXa, Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift, Young again by Morgan Evans, Without You by NCT U, The Tempest by Beethoven (this looks so out of place eye-)

Taglist: @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @1-800-seo @sweetlyjaem @badwithten @blueprint-han @chicksung

Summary: Ten was a fickle person, he jumped from one person to another, breaking hearts, and getting his own heart broken. The one person who had to pick it up every time? You, of course, and it was exhausting, especially when you had to watch.

day break [ extra piece based in this universe ]

A/n: hello! this fic is very much self indulgent, but i love it so much. I spent most of the last week working on it and half of it is me simping, and I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to @chicksung for beta reading and helping me throughout writing this. As always, feedback would be very much appreciated!

‘I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong’- Lemony Snicket

A loud slam of the door made you flinch, shutting your eyes in exasperation as you knew what was to come. The same thing over and over again, you were used to it. Honestly, it was nothing new, but his stupidity, the obvious was in front of him, but did he listen? Of course, he didn’t.

A figure walked into the room, a mop of messy black hair with brown highlights adorning his head. It was pretty long at this point, his bangs reaching his eyes. Those damning eyes, melting pools of chocolate brown that seemed to bore into your soul. Those eyes looked remorsefully at you now, as he plopped down next to you, wrapping his arms around your midriff and burying his face in your back.

You sighed. “Again?”, you asked, running your fingers through his hair as he hummed a response. “Again”, he repeated, confirming your suspicions. He looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

You hated his eyes.

He managed to make you do anything for him with just a look. They were undoubtedly your weakness, when they looked sad, or when they upturned into a smile, that instantly brightened your day.

“I can’t seem to get it right can I?”, he asked, searching your eyes as if you had all the answers to his turbulent love life. You scoffed, “You couldn’t have been serious about that chick, Ten, you met her three weeks ago, and she was simply a rebound for you” “Thanks for the support”

“I’m being real, not supportive”

He rolled his eyes, pouting. “But I liked her”, he whined. You gave him a pointed look, “Please, You just wanted someone to be with, if not to fu-” “Oh my god, shut up”

You smirked, turning your attention back to your laptop, where the essay you had been trying to write glared back at you.

“I just want someone who understands me”, Ten continued, still looking at you. You looked at him.

I understand you, you thought, I’m here

Ten had always been like this, he jumped from girl to girl, getting his heart broken several times because he was too forgiving with it. He wanted to love, he had always romanticized the idea. Honestly, you thought he needed love too, but he was going down all the wrong paths.

And you had to be there every single time to pick up the pieces.

“I know”, you said half-heartedly, biting your lower lip. He propped his chin upon his fist, observing you and your concentrated look. You typed away, desperately wanting to be done with this paper, one you had been working on for about three days.

“Do you think I’ll ever do something right?”, he asked. You froze, pushing down what you wanted to say. It was hard, having to deal with Ten's endeavors of the heart’ as he called them. The right term would be- doing random shit and breaking girls' hearts', but of course, he refused that catchy title. Sighing, you shut your laptop, knowing you wouldn’t get anything done now that he was in a mood.

“You haven’t done anything wrong” “Haven’t done anything right either”

You took his face in your hands, “You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re amazing, now stop moping, I’m ordering pizza”

He pulled away from you, sitting up properly. “Can I stay over?”, he asked hopefully. You clicked your tongue, looking at him with an annoyed expression. “Don’t you have your dorm?” “My roommate said he has a girl over, and I kinda want to sleep, thanks” You rolled your eyes, but nodded, picking up your phone and walking into the other room to order.

You heard laughter and looked back to see the boy laughing at something on his phone. Probably a cat meme, or something of the sort. You admired his side profile for a minute, the slope of his nose, the way his eyes shone. He was okay, you supposed, annoying, but okay. No matter how much he tried to justify it, he didn’t care for the girl who broke up with him. He was just fine right now, and had moved on from the topic pretty quickly, and was already smiling.

You also hated his smile. Infuriatingly adorable, one smile would make you want to smile back. You hated it with every ounce of your being, the effect he had on you.

You hated Ten Lee.

Scratch that, you didn’t hate the poor boy, you just, despised him?

Nope, you were close friends.

Ironic isn’t it? You had met Ten at a party, where the Dance major was having a lot of fun. You hadn’t seen him before but had heard of him. The boy who jumped from girl to girl as easy as one, two, three. You had no intention of even talking to him, you were content in a dark corner, with a drink.

Nothing ever goes your way.

The meeting was by chance, he was dared to ask you to dance, you declined, he persisted giving you those puppy eyes. After glaring at him, he sighed, explaining it was a dare, and that he didn’t want to make a fool of himself, and before you knew what was happening, you were awkwardly swaying along to the music with him.

He, regrettably, stuck with you for the rest of the evening, and you ending up liking his company, to the extent where you invited him over the next day for pizza.

The pizza situation turned out to be a thing between the two of you, a tradition of sorts. He would come over with candy, in an oversized sweatshirt looking illegally adorable, you would supply the blankets, and movie nights would begin.

He had a sweet smile and sparkly eyes, which made you question if this was the guy who broke hearts, who was a player. He was like a puppy, it confused you to no end.

“Miss L/n?”, your professor asked, raising an eyebrow at your spaced out figure. Startling, you blinked rapidly, cringing at the situation you had put yourself in. “Sorry”, you apologized, focusing back on the textbook in front of you. You were majoring in Psychology, and while you love the subject, the teacher didn’t like you very much, probably because you had been so distracted the past few weeks, and you hadn’t done particularly well in the midterms.

Needless to say, you were stressed.

The class got over quickly, and you walked out of the lecture hall, deciding to get some coffee before your next class. The cafe was a well-loved one visited by almost every student, and was famous for its chai-lattes, so much so that others also visited it, and not just the students.

Turning towards the on-campus cafe, you spotted Ten already there. His glasses sat at the edge of his nose, giving him an oddly studious look, which was almost laughable. He stood there, holding two cups of coffee, eyes lighting up as he spotted you.

Ten Lee was going to be the death of you.

You walked up to him, taking the coffee which he handed to you, “What do you want?”, you asked suspiciously, taking a sip of the bittersweet drink. You noted the fact he had gotten your favorite, which only worsened the feeling of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. He looked mock offended, and grinned at you, “Nothing!”, he said, “Just wanted to see you”

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to thwart your initial reaction, beginning to walk back to the main campus, for your psych class. Ten walked beside you, holding his sketchbook in his right hand, and coffee in the left.

“Okay, um actually-”

“You want something don’t you?” “I need a reference model”, he said, “So, Y/n, could you please-”

“Oh my god no”, you said, without even letting the poor boy finish, “Last time this happened it ended up with a pain fight and my sweater destroyed.”

“I said I was sorry!”, he semi shrieked, “And this time I need it for a project worth half my grade.”

Sighing, you but your lower lip, nodded tentatively, to which he let out an almost inhuman sound of appreciation, “When are you free?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Nah, I have a date”

You blinked in surprise, and he smiled sheepishly. “Eun-hae asked me out and I said yes so”

“Of course you did”, you muttered bitterly, “You broke up with that other one yesterday”

He seemingly chose to ignore you, “Sunday?”

You nodded and took another sip of the drink you held. He smiled, his eyes forming those endearing crescents that you loved, or hated, depending on what you were going for.

“Thank you, Love you”, he called out, jogging away to his class. You watched him run-walk away, almost dropping his sketchbook. Shaking your head in amusement, you smiled somewhat sadly.

“No”, you whispered, “You don't”

You didn’t know exactly when you fell for Ten, only that it happened suddenly and you couldn’t deny it. He was idiotic, on many levels, but he was sweet and was there for you when you needed it.

He was a dance major, and an art minor, talented in both these aspects. You had seen him dance, it seemed like his body moved with the music, it told a story every time. He would illustrate emotion with his dancing. He did that with his art too, each stroke equivalent to a sentence from a story.

Anyone could tell he loved both of them.

You let out a frustrated sound, bending down to pick up the pen you had dropped. You were in your apartment, trying to finish an essay that was due the next day. You longingly glanced at your keyboard, the one instrument that you loved.

Well actually, you loved the piano, but you couldn’t haul your piano from back home to your apartment that you had rented out for your college years, and so you settled for a keyboard. You had loved music ever since you were little, instruments making its way in and out of your house. Your jazz phase consisted of saxophones, and you played the guitar for a bit too. You even picked up the drums for a while, insisting that it made you cooler (because every thirteen year old needed that validation), but you settled back to piano eventually.

You took part in competitions and such, sometimes singing along with your playing as well.

But you couldn’t afford to even think about playing, until you finished your assignments, which were all marked. They were extensive projects that made you want to scream at times. You didn’t care what Shakespeare meant, nor did you want to conduct a survey about emotions.

Turning the page of your textbook, you switched tabs to your next resource, ready to jot down more notes for the essay, when you saw a notification at the bottom right of your laptop, which was an email. You clicked on it and let it open.

Your eyes widened, gaping slightly at the screen as you read the email.

To: y/[email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good morning/evening,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into The Royal School Of Music on a scholarship. We have received your application and are impressed by your talent and dedication. Please send us a follow-up email within a month's time to confirm your attendance at our institution.

TRSOM

You grabbed your phone, texting your mother about the scholarship, shaking in happiness. It had been your dream to get into the Royal school, but you had initially applied to it on a whim, not really expecting to get in.

You swiped through your contacts, ready to call Ten, who was regrettably your best friend, to inform him of the good news, until you realized-

The school was in another country altogether.

While you knew Ten would be ecstatic about the fact you got it, you had known each other for four years, the entirety of your college career, and leaving for the school would be a bit of a shock. It was definitely not the fact that telling the boy you loved you were potentially never going to see him again that was deterring you from telling him.

You placed your phone back down, telling yourself you would deal with that later, reminding yourself you had an essay to finish.

Ten tapped his finger impatiently on the table, trying to figure out a way to get out of this date. Initially, the girl he was out with, Eun Hae by name, seemed nice, but as time went on, it was clear she had no personality.

Now, Ten wasn’t one to judge immediately. He tried to give her a chance, smiling and indulging in the bland conversation, he smiled and complimented her, and was sweet. It was going fine for a first date until of course, she suggested they share a fruit salad.

There were about fifteen other salads on the godforsaken menu, but no, she had to choose a fruit salad, above everything else.

Ten was not having it.

He excused himself, muttering something about an assignment, and went to the restroom of the restaurant, pulling out his phone and searching for your contact, clicking on it.

[8:39 pm] 10: y/n

[8:39 pm]10: my precious friend

[8:39 pm] n/n : what now

[8:40 pm]10: I need help

[8:40 pm] n/n: I refuse

[8:40 pm] 10: I am ofFENDED

[8:40 pm]10: please my date is making me eat fruit

[8:40 pm] n/n: sounds like a you problem

[8:40 pm] 10: I am quivering in fear and this is how you react

[8:40 pm] n/n: I have three assignments to finish

[8:41 pm] 10: I’ll take you for ice cream

[8:41 pm] n/n: deal

[8:41 pm] 10: why has our friendship been reduced to bribery

[8:41 pm] n/n stfu or I won't come and save you

[8:41 pm] 10: I LOVE YOU

He quickly sent you his location and put his phone back, getting back to the table and smiling as realistically as he could at the girl opposite him, who was still going on about one of her friends and their doings, while he tried to look as interested as possible.

“So, should we order-”

Right at that moment, you walked in, hair tousled because of the wind and a disgruntled expression on your face. He made an attempt not to smile at your appearance, ignoring the warm feeling he got on seeing you.

You looked around spotting him and storming over, “Ten Lee, what the fuck are you doing here”, you asked, ignoring the girl that sat right opposite him, mock angrily. He caught on, staring at you in bewilderment, noting the hint of amusement in your eyes, “How dare you to do this to me!”

“I-”

“Um, who are you?”, the girl asked, seemingly offended that you had interrupted their date.

You scoffed, displaying all your acting abilities in their full potential, “Who am I? Who are you?”

She blinked in confusion, and Ten used every bit of willpower he had to prevent him from bursting out into laughter. “I’m his date?”

“Un-fucking-believable”, you said, “Ten Lee how could you?”

At this point, Ten was invested in whatever lie you had somehow come up with to get him out of this date. It seemed like you had an entire explanation for it, either that or you were taking the opportunity to scream at him. Both seemed valid.

“How dare you lead this poor girl on!”, you continued, taking a turn, making the girl look scared, “You didn’t tell her did you?” “Tell me what?”, she asked anxiously, leaning forward. You fought to keep your straight face on seeing Ten lean forward too, apparently interested in whatever abomination he committed.

“He’s gay”, you said with as straight a face as possible, which was hard considering the girl looked so embarrassed, you could see her face go red. Your best friend looked at you incredulously, almost as embarrassed as his ‘date’ was, and mildly amused.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll be taking him”, you stated, grabbing Ten’s hand and taking him along with you, out of the restaurant and onto the streets.

“You really-” “Ice cream”, you demanded, smirking at his obvious embarrassment. He gaped at your indignance, but nodded, “At least you got me out of there”

“I’m an actress”

“Fuck off”

“Finals are in two weeks, I still come help and this is how to repay me? Ungrateful”

The two of you took Ten’s car to the Ice cream shop, leaning on the hood as you ate your ice cream, with Ten occasionally stealing bites. You smacked his hand away, glaring at his as he tried to take another.

“I’m literally the one paying for it”, he argued.

“This is payment for saving your ass”, you retorted. He slung an arm around you, ignoring you and taking his phone out, scrolling through Instagram. You leaned into him, the scent of your shampoo making its way to him. There was that warm feeling again, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Deep down, he knew what it was, but he was too much of a coward to ever try, or even take a chance with it, because he wasn’t one for commitment, and even though he had thought about it, he was, as much as he hated to admit it, scared.

“So can I get another scoop?”

“You have assignments to finish”

THREE WEEKS TO GRADUATION

The lilting tune played through your apartment, your fingers running across the ivory keys in fervor. They clicked and clacked ever so often, which was the one thing you hated about keyboards. The keys weren’t as firm as an upright piano, giving the music an annoying clickity noise.

Most of the time, you could ignore it, but today you were tired, and this piece was particularly difficult. For some reason, you were having trouble playing the accessories, and keeping the piece in time. You played that part over and over again, but it wouldn’t work.

You switched off the metronome in annoyance, you stared at the music sheet in front of you, trying to figure out how the fuck you should play the piece. Your door clicked, and you did your best to curb your annoyance at the fact someone was interrupting your practise time, no matter how hard the piece was.

Like all keyboards, yours was smaller than an actual piano, and looked very out of place in your apartment, which was warmly decorated with all sorts of trinkets and such. One of Ten’s sweatshirts was thrown on the sofa, and for some unknown reason there were three candles sitting on your table.

It was confusion incarnate, to say the least.

You heard the door click, and a girl walked in, smiling at you. It was the only other person other than Ten who had the key to your apartment, Angie. She was shorter than you, but only by a little bit, had a fringe and brown eyes. She was pretty, and easy to talk to, which was probably what drew you to her in the first place.

“Hey”, she greeted, seeing you on your keyboard, “Whatcha playin?”

“An andante”, you groaned, “Why are you here?”

“I have nowhere else to be”, he said bluntly, “Renjun’s at Doyoung’s place or something”, she pulled out her phone, “I’m just here to chill dude, continue playing, I finished two projects and my brain in dead”

Renjun was her boyfriend, who was on the Dance Team with Ten. The two were ridiculously cute, but due to the fact she now had a boyfriend, the two of you spent less time together. You were okay with it though, you understood.

“Isn’t Doyoung with his girlfriend?”, you asked, and she shook her head, “No, she’s at her Chinese class”

You nodded, going back to your piece, placing your fingers on the correct notes when-

SLAM

Your door opened and closed again, and you closed your eyes, praying to whatever God existed that one day, you would get to practise without interruptions. Ten trudged through throwing himself on the couch, next to Angie, who paid him no attention. “Hi”, he greeted you, and you glared, causing him to give you a look of confusion.

“What did I do now?”

“Not your fault, sorry, I’m not getting this piece”

He perked up, walking over to where you were, “Can I help?”, he asked, gesturing for you to move to the side of the piano stool so he could sit next to you. He studied the notes, as you looked at him, admiring his side profile, wondering how someone could be so pretty. He placed his hand on the keys, playing it. He made a mistake but in the place you had gotten. He got the part you were struggling right.

“Here, do this”, he explained, “The notes are after the third but before the fourth count, so you have to play it quickly”

You nodded, trying to play it, not quite getting it but it was getting there. He smiled, his eyes turning into crescents as he grinned at you.

You hated his smile.

It was infuriating, the fact that he always helped you, he was always there. You kept finding yourself falling for him more and more, and you didn’t want to, because you knew how Ten was, and it was making the whole ‘telling him about the acceptance into the music school’ a lot harder.

You thanked him, pushing him off the stool playfully so you could finish your practice session before going back to studying. He made a mock offended look, retreating to the couch next to Angie, who was engrossed in texting someone, presumably her boyfriend.

His hair was messed up, sticking up in different directions making him look ridiculously adorable. You shut down the keyboard, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to practice anymore with the both of them around. You went to sit next to Angie, but Ten’s entire presence seemed to be in your way.

“Move”

“No, I’m comfortable” “Chittaphon Leechaiya-”

“Yeah I’d like some chai”, Angie said mindlessly, causing the two of you to look at her in mild astonishment. She seemingly didn’t notice your gaping looks, still scrolling through whatever she was looking at.

“Did you just reduce me to tea?”, Ten asked.

Angie looked at him, mystified. “It seems so”, you mused. A slow smirk stretched across his lips. He propped himself up on his elbows, his too-long hair falling over his eyes

“I’m flattered”

“What?”

“Tea is hot. I’m hot”, he drawled, waiting for the two of your reactions to his statement.

You smacked him.

It was your designated pizza day, which meant Ten was at your place. He was currently in the kitchen getting something to drink and ordering the pizza while you sat alone in your living room.

You looked up at your laptop screen, going over the draft of the email you were to send back the The Royal School of Music. Your parents had been extremely proud of you for getting in, and had called you the other night to congratulate you. You heard footsteps, quickly shutting your laptop down, looking up at Ten who walked into your living room from the kitchen.

“Pizza will arrive in a bit”, he said, handing you your drink and plopping down next to you, “Movie?”

“Uh Bridge to Terabithia”, you spouted, taking a sip. You were supposed to be looking for a movie while he was gone, but instead had begun writing the email, so you spouted the name of one of your childhood favorites, that never failed to make you cry. He nodded and you opened Netflix, quickly searching the movie and pressing play.

Ten wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as the two of you sat in silence. The movie played, and even though you had already watched it before, you still found yourself invested in it. Except you weren’t completely focusing. Ten was so close, his fingers brushing against your hips, his breath near your neck. It felt right, like you were supposed to be like this.

That was the thing, it never felt wrong when you were with Ten, it was like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. Except of course for the fact he wasn’t yours. You knew how Ten was, he was the heartbreaker, and you were the one who was always there to pick up the pieces. Still it was nice to pretend that he was yours, because that was all you could do.

Pretend.

He kept talking about how he wanted someone who understood him, who he could be with, not just some stupid fling. He kept repeating the same thing again and again, and it frustrated you to no end, because you understood him and you were right there, but he never saw you. He would flirt with you, he would do everything and yet, he would never even think of you.

You leaned into him subconsciously, biting your lower lip as you stared at the screen in anticipation. He started playing with your hair, twirling it around his fingers, his hot breath on your neck making hard for you to fully concentrate on the movie.

You hated the effect he had on you, he had barely even done anything, but had still managed to make you nervous. He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Are you even watching?”, you asked, semi breathlessly, “Yes”, he responded, “But I want to cuddle.” You couldn’t argue with that logic, so you relaxed into his embrace, as much as you could. “You’re warm”, he murmured against your skin, looking back up at the screen and humming a random tune. “I’m hungry”

“I think I have some M&M’s on the counter”, you mused, “I’ll go get them”, you jumped at the chance to get up and get away from Ten, who was positively driving you crazy at this point. However, your grand plan was cut short when he refused, “I can go get it”, he made a move to get up.

“Sit down idiot-”, you said, pushing him off you, but accidentally tripped over yourself, falling back into his embrace. He laughed, hands falling to your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. “Graceful”, he snickered, and you glared at him. “I hate you”, you grumbled, “You love me”, he teased, making you almost fall again.

Except this time, his face was dangerously close to yours, and you just stared at him, your mind going blank. His arms were still around you, preventing you from falling. His eyes fluttered down to your lips for a second before he looked back up. He opened his mouth to say something but-

RING

The doorbell rang, startling the two of you out of your trance. You pulled away from Ten, shakily walking over to the door and opening it.

“Pizza?”, the guys asked, handing you the pizza box, “Yeah thanks”, you paid him and walked straight into your kitchen, not giving Ten another look, because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to.

You sighed, shutting your eyes, and trying to collect yourself, before grabbing the M&M’s and walking back into the living room, where Ten was sitting, eyes trained on the screen.

“You missed an entire scene”

“YOU DIDN’T PAUSE IT FOR ME-?”

The music echoed through the studio, its melody harsh and striking. It was dark, no lights were on, but the mirrors reflected the only person in the room-Ten.

His figure moved with the music, choosing to do whatever it pleased, trying to portray the beautiful piece to its fullest. The higher notes gave it a sort of hopeful effect, a guide. It lead you to believe that it was alright, it was fine.

The lower notes added depth to the melody, giving it a richer feel. The two played together made it a beautiful piece, with a sort of melancholic feel. He danced to it, telling a story with his body. Ten would do this sometimes, instead of choosing an upbeat song to dance to, he’d take a classical piece, something that he could feel.

There was something in this piece, the Tempest, that resounded within him. It reminded him of you, specifically your friendship with him if you could even call it that. He got that warm feeling again that day when you had almost fallen. He would’ve kissed you if not for the doorbell.

Ten wasn’t one for commitment, he wasn’t one for standing up first and telling people about his feelings. He played people, he played them like he painted a picture, or danced.

Speaking of which, the piece had suddenly taken a turn for the turbulent, faster-paced, anxious even. It resembled his feelings perfectly, the random urges to tell you, the anxiety for the outcome. He somehow managed to gracefully enact these feelings, making it look like art instead of the confusion he felt.

Maybe he chose this piece not only for himself but for you too.

It was one of your favorite ones to play, you could and would talk about it for days, especially when you had just mastered playing it. It wasn’t an easy piece, with all the nuances and timing changes, but you pulled it off. He could almost pretend it was you playing.

And then suddenly it mellowed down, the piece sounding hopeful as if there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and you could finally see it. A solution, a happy ending to the harsh waves of the storm, a merry end. His moves became lighter and almost joyful, as he twirled and jumped.

It was all an illusion.

A lie to make you believe the storm was over, there was no hope for this story. The harsh melody returned with vengeance, striking down the sliver of longing, any dream of making it out. Ten did his best to keep up with it, but the sudden change of emotions was startling even to him. It had changed so quickly, he didn’t even have time to comprehend it.

It ended on a triumphant note, like a proud win over an enemy, a victory that shone above everything. Ten ended the dance with a pirouette, panting as he tried calming himself down from the intense session. He couldn’t help feeling triumphant as well, the adrenaline of the piece getting to him, yet, he was skeptical.

Because he had a feeling it was the Tempest that had triumphed, and not him.

You’ll admit: you were not having fun with Psych. You had been studying all day, trying to absorb some of the stuff you had been taught throughout the year. Even though studying human behaviour had always intrigued and interested you, the reason you chose Psych, you couldn’t care less about oxytocin and how attraction worked, nor did you care about how human behaviour was affected by it.

But you had been at it for the past 6 hours, and was tired, so when Angie came along and expressed her disgust and sympathy about your studying endeavors, she hauled you up from the place you had been sitting at for most of the day and instructed you to change and get ready to go or a party.

So you found yourself at a frat party, Angie's arm hooked in yours and music blaring all around you. It was hot and dark, and you could barely see anything with the terrible lighting. You couldn’t tell what song was being played at such high volume, but awkwardly swayed to it anyways, wondering if staying at home at falling down the hole of ice cream and Netflix would have been a better alternative to this.

There were couples making out, and random beer cans everywhere. Everyone was half drunk, and you took this as an excuse to go get a drink. You turned to Angie who was looking the other way.

“Angie”, you whisper-screamed her name into her ear, causing her to jump, “I’m going to get a drink okay?”, you explained, to which she nodded. “I’m going to Renjun”, she said, walking away and leaving you alone.

Friendship.

You pushed through the crowd of sweaty adults, to get to the makeshift bar that was at the other end of the frat. You stopped occasionally to greet friends, or smile at a random cute boy, but finally made it to the kitchen. Johnny, one of your other friends stood there, inclining his head in a greeting. “Hey, what do you want?” “Are you in charge of the drinks or something?”, you asked, leaning on the island of the kitchen. He grinned at you, shaking his head, “No, but I’m so much I might as well be!”

You laughed, requesting for your drink of choice, which he went to fix for you. You licked your lips, scanning the area to find another friend to latch onto, since Angie had so kindly abandoned you.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here”, a very familiar voice said form behind you, and you turned to see none other than your best friend.

But he looked nothing like what you were used to.

Ten’s hair was slicked back instead of splayed out on his forehead like usual, his eyes seemed darker, probably due to the alcohol. He was wearing skinny jeans, and a blazer with most of the buttons undone, his chest in full view.

Ten looked hot.

“Uh-”, you started like the well read person you were, “Angie dragged me”

He smirked, “Of course she did”, he took a seat on one of the stools, legs spreading as he leaned back. You looked away, trying your hardest not to stare at the boy in front of you, who was making that mission increasingly harder with every little thing he did.

Johnny came back out, offering you a smile and your drink, which you took from him, returning his smile. He handed a glass of something you couldn’t make out to Ten, who took a sip, keeping it on the island. “You don’t seem to be having fun”, he observed, hands finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.

This was a normal thing, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t the same innocent gesture. “I just arrived idiot”, you scoffed. He smirked, “You can look at me you know”, he teased, and you could feel the heat rush to your face. You turned your gaze to him. Currently you were in between his legs, and your mind was a mess.

The first thing you noticed was his tattoo on his right arm which you had seen before. The next was one you hadn't seen before, and rightly so, since it was on his chest.

“Done staring at me?”, he said with a smirk, and your eyes snapped up to his, holding his gaze. If you hated the effect his eyes had on you before, you positively despised them now. He was staring at you through a half lidded gaze, licking his lips. Even without any alcohol in your system you felt dizzy, but not a sick way. Ten was driving you crazy, with his hands on your waist, eyes on you and just everything about him in the moment.

“You’re pretty”, he murmured, looking up at you, eyes falling to your lips, “Did you know that?”, his voice was deeper than usual, sending shivers down your spine. “I-”

“Hmm?”, he sounded absent minded, like he wasn’t even listening to you, which was great considering you didn’t even know what to say. He pushed you a little, standing up himself, now looking down.

“If you didn’t know, I think you are”, he said, face closer than any friend’s face should have been. You breath hitched in anticipation. “Ten?”, your voice was small, quivering almost under his gaze.

He was so close, painfully close. If anyone asked you how you got into this position in the first place, you wouldn’t be able to explain, not quite knowing yourself.

“Y/n, I need you for a second”, Angie appeared from nowhere, freezing when she saw the two of you in that position, “Um- I can leave-”

“Hey Ang”, Ten greeted, moving away from you. You missed the proximity, as much as you hated to admit it. You blinked hazily at your friend who had so conveniently interrupted whatever you had going on with Ten. You silently cursed yourself for getting so out of it. “Here, I think Arya is calling me anyways so”, he pushed his hands in his jeans pockets. He glanced at you, before walking away and out of the kitchen.

Would he have kissed you?

You looked over at your friend, who was still staring at you like she had seen a ghost. “Did I interrupt something?”, she asked, eyes wide. You felt embarrassed, taking a step back as if you were trying to walk out of the whole situation. “I’m not sure”, you said, “What do you need me for?”

“I need you to hold my drink, I need to go to the bathroom, Renjun is drunk as fuck and I trust you”, she explained, handing you her glass. You nodded, “And maybe can you watch my dumbass of a boyfriend please?”

You snorted, agreeing and walking to the main area of the party that was unfortunately the most crowded. You spotted Renjun on top of Donghyuck, practically choking the latter boy who was laughing for some reason. You could see why Angie went to you for her drink. Walking over, you tried to help Mark, another one of your friends, in separating Renjun and Donghyuck from initiating the 77th hunger games on a friday night.

After somewhat succeeding in pulling the two away from each other, Angie had arrived, choosing to ignore her wasted boyfriends antics and taking her glass back from you.

You remembered you had left your own drink back in the kitchen, and so you backtracked your steps to said place, when you saw it.

Ten was standing with a girl, her hands around his neck. He was saying something that made her giggle, throwing her head back in laughter as he grinned happily. You froze watching the scene unbeknownst to Ten. You didn’t know what you were feeling for an entire minute until it hit you.

You were hurt.

It was a pricking sort of feeling, like a rod prodding at your heart. It was like a warning, telling you to look away before it pierced your heart, but you couldn’t look away for some reason. It was like your mind was mocking you, telling you keep watching, to realize you never had the slightest chance with Ten.

You weren’t special, whatever flirting he did with you he did to everyone, anything that had remotely happened wasn’t even mentionable, because you were like every other girl in the crowd, and it fucking hurt. It hurt to see the boy you loved not give you a moment's thought, not even give you a chance.

That night you went back to your apartment alone, leaving Angie to deal with her boyfriend. You had never felt this horrible before, it had never escalated to this level of hurt. This type of hurt was different, a dull ache reminding you of what an idiot you were to have ever hoped for more.

You hated Ten for several things, his eyes, his smile, the way he could make you giddy by doing the simplest things. But in the moment, you hated yourself more.

You hated yourself for loving Ten Lee.

‘Don’t call me kid, Don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you’ve made me. You showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else’

You sat on a colourful rug, holding a book up, and surrounded by several other books. You were in a sort of greenhouse, the walls and roof were made completely off glass, and the light streamed through, giving the scene a sort of whimsical aura.

This was the place ten has chosen to paint you, standing behind his easel and and focusing on the canvas, occasionally looking up at you. There were flecks of white and pale blue paint on his face, and he looked whimsical in a way as well.

You sat there, ignoring the warnings in your mind that told you to stay away from Ten for yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You showed up to the venue right on time, and did your best to not seem any different. You spaced out, eyes focusing on a random word on a page. Ten had promised he was almost done with it, since the two of you had been at it for quite a while now.

His lower lip was caught between his teeth in concentration, hair messed up from the amount of times he had run his hand through it. He stepped back for a second, inspecting his work, a dorky smile stretching out on his lips.

“It’s done!”, he said, “Some fixing, but I can do that later, get your ass here!”

You get to your feet, placing the book on one of the piles of them around you and walking towards him, biting down your own smile at this enthusiasm. You walked behind the easel, your eyes falling on the painting.

It was gorgeous, the colours complimenting each other. The depiction of the light rays was so soft, yet it was there shining down on the main part of the picture- you. He had painted you so prettily, almost fairy like in the midst of the scene. You stared at the painting in awe, unable to think of words to describe it.

“So?”, he asked hopefully, his eyes searching yours for some sort of reaction. You looked at him, then at the painting, then back at him, wondering how he could’ve made it look so fanciful, something out of a disney movie.

“It’s beautiful”, you whispered, your voice not daring to go any louder. He smiled placing his palette down and standing next to you. “It’s not hard when the subject is beautiful”, he said nonchalantly. You froze, silently telling yourself to calm down, to not react to it, that it wasn’t anything to be noted. Yet something in you clicked, shifted into place.

You were angry.

You were furious at Ten, with his pretty smiles and wishful eyes. You hated it when he flirted with you, because he kept leading you on, you hated it when he looked at you like you were the world, because it was a lie, it was all a fucking lie.

“Don’t”, you said, voice shaky. He stared at you in confusion, which only irked you more.

“Don’t”, your voice betrayed you, breaking. He looked alarmed, reaching his hand out, “Hey, Are you okay-”

“No, I’m not okay”, you hissed, slapping his hand away, stepping back. Your mind was clouded with a feeling of helplessness, helplessness at not being able to tell him how you felt, how you hated what he did, how all you wanted was something you definitely couldn’t have. He looked bewildered at your seemingly sudden outburst.

“Stop fucking playing with me”, you said, “I’m not this”, you searched for the words, coming back with nothing, “Stop complimenting me, calling me sweet nothings, making me believe-”, you sucked in a breath, feeling the tears build up in your eyes, years of pent up frustration finally making their way out of you.

You looked up at him, he still seemed to not be following, “Y/n, I don’t-”

“I’m in love with you”, you choked out finally, the words seeming to tie you down, rather than set you free like you had once hoped. “I’m in love with you”, you repeated, Ten could hear the rage in your voice, washing down on him like the waves of the Tempest, harsh and real. “And I hate myself for it”

Your voice was softer, much more mellow now, like it was tired. A single tear trickled down your face, and you looked up to see a stunned Ten, eyes wide at your state. He said nothing, instead just looked at you, as if you were a different person all of a sudden. It wasn’t a pretty sight, you crying and him standing there like a statue, not a word escaping his lips.

The air seemed to be colder all of a sudden, biting into the exposed areas of your skin. There was that aching feeling again, that pricking of your heart, the silent ‘i told you so’, that your mind seemed to be playing on repeat. You brushed the tears away from your face furiously, feeling stupid all of a sudden.

“I’m going to go”, you muttered, grabbing your things and walking out, not caring if you looked idiotic, and not staying to listen to any pathetic response he gave you.

Ten watched you leave, cursing himself for being such an idiot to you. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he was in love with you himself, but he would never admit it. He hated himself for it, because he knew what he had done. He had flirted with you, had played you, but it was only because he thought the two of you never had a chance.

He hated himself because it was him, after all this time, who had destroyed that chance.

You sat in front of your computer, back at your apartment, trying not to cry again as you stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the send button. It hurt much worse than you expected it to, his silence had made everything all the worse. But you were tired of him going back and forth. You were tired of having to pick up the pieces every time when he broke another girls heart, or someone else broke his.

You had nothing to lose this time. So alone, in your room you pressed send, signing of your future, sending the email to The Royal School of Music.

Alone.

Finals week passed in a blur of stress crying, all nighters and excessive reading of things that you had read a million times before, and if they hadn’t already gotten into your head, they would never. Which prompted the stress crying.

It was a vicious cycle.

You barely stepped out of your apartment, other than to actually take the exam. All your time was taken up in studying, occasionally eating, and studying again. You also didn’t see Ten that much, other than a glimpse, but immediately swerved away, not in any mood to deal with that confrontation as of yet.

Somehow, you managed to make it to the end of the week, without completely going mad. You made it out of finals, and was technically done with your college career altogether, which was crazy to even think of. You had spent the last four years of your life in this hellhole to get to where you were, and you had made it.

So seeing yourself in front of the mirror a week later, donning your cape and cap over your clothes, you smiled for the first time in two weeks. It was the day you finally graduated and went out into the world as a person with a degree.

Granted, you were slightly pissed at the fact you had spent four years, and paid an enormous amount of money for a sheet of paper, but at the moment, you couldn’t get the fact that you were finally done with it out of your head. You were happy.

The ceremony started off slowly, the principal calling the names of the students in alphabetical order. You saw Ten walk up and take his degree, a broad smile on his lips. You saw Angie take hers, almost tripping over her cape, earning a laugh from the principal, and fond looks all about. You saw Renjun and Donghyuck hugging instead of at each other's throats for once, and Mark randomly beat boxing for no reason.

You went up on the stage, taking the degree and smiling, realizing that your vision was hazy. Tears of happiness had made their way to your eyes, and you blinked them back, thanking the principal and smiling at the crowd. You walked off, going to stand with your little group of friends.

Later on, Angie went off with her boyfriend for a celebratory date, Renjun and Donghyuck decided to crash at Marks place, and you? You decided to walk through the campus one last time, before you never returned. You were done with college and this place wasn’t yours anymore. It held a sort of nostalgic feel all of a sudden, walking under the arches and admiring the architecture one last time.

You were holding your cap in your hand, after finding it on the ground somewhere after the throwing of them. Your cape was folded and hung from your arm as you walked through, deciding to go get some coffee after you were done.

Lost in your own thoughts, you bumped into someone, dropping the cap., “Sorry-”, you begun you apologize for your absent mindedness, crouching to pick up your cap when you saw the person you had run into.

Ten.

You silently scowled, cursing whatever above that had thrown the two of you together at the very moment, and cleared your throat uncomfortably, looking away. “Hey”, he said breathlessly, looking you up and down. He looked great, he always did, you couldn’t deny the fact no matter how much you were trying to hate him.

“Hi”, you said curtly, “I have to go”

“Wait”, he reached out, grabbing your hand, “Can we talk?”, his voice was tilting towards the hopeful side. It reminded you of your own foolish hope, and you didn’t like it one bit. “No”, you said, “I have to go”, you repeated for words, crushing any hope.

“No- Wait, please, Y/n let me explain”, he pleaded his case, his eyes striking through yours, stirring up some sort of sympathy. Your mind was telling you to go, to get out as fast as possible, but your heart softened, as it always did with him.

“Explain what?”, you chuckled bitterly, “You’ve made it pretty clear how you feel Ten. I was stupid”, your words were hurting yourself, but hurting him too, because he knew it wasn’t your fault.

“No Y/n, you-”

“I what?”, you hissed in question. He spluttered, discouraged by your disinterest in whatever he was trying to tell you. You wanted nothing more to get away from him in that moment, but he seemed to want to stretch out your time together as much as possible. It annoyed you, and made you sad at the same time.

The more time you were with him, the more you could feel your heart break.

“I love you”, he said quietly, “I know I’m a terrible person for leading you on and not realizing earlier, but I love you.” You froze, standing there and staring at him. He looked back, not daring to break your gaze. Instead of joy, which was what you had expected to feel if he ever uttered those words, you felt angrier.

“Please Y/n”, he said, “Just give me a chance?”

You stayed silent, contemplating your choices. “How long have we been friends?”

“What-”

“How long have we known each other Ten?”

“Four years, but I don’t see-”

“We have been friends for four fucking years. I was there for every heartbreak, every date, every girl. I stood on the sidelines, I listened to you, I have you advice when you needed it, I comforted you when you cried. But you? You never gave me a chance!”, you exclaimed, “Not a second glance, not a single chance.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, taking in your words and trying to think of something to justify them, but he couldn’t, he knew you were right.

“So yes”, you voice quivered, “You are an idiot. You’re an idiot for never realizing my feelings when i made it PAINFULLY obvious”, you took steps back, trying to calm yourself.

“I can't believe I”, you scoffed at yourself, your own idiocy, “I can’t believe that three out of four years I was in love with you, but I guess that’s what makes me the dumb bitch.” You looked away, the words you had wanted to say since forever finally out of your system. He stood there, just a few steps away from you. But then, why did it seem like he was miles away?

“I’m sorry”, he said weakly, “I hate myself for what I did, but Y/n I”, he paused, shutting his eyes in frustration, “I’m in love with you dammit, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve put you through but, can we-”

“No”, you said, “We can’t”

“Y/n give us a chance, please”

“You don’t understand!”, you said almost feverishly, blinking back tears, “I can’t Ten”

“Why not?”, he asked, walking closer to you. You took a step back from him, looking at the boy you loved with remorseful eyes. “I’m leaving Ten. I’m leaving for a music school in another country.”

He blanched, any hope withering away, like a dead flower, dried with the summer heat, like a lone boat in the midst of a storm. You let out a pathetic sob, realizing that you couldn’t ever have Ten, no matter what.

“I’ll be gone before we could ever be”

The world was never fair. It came at you with things you wished never happened, you wished you could change, or would have handled better. Like a storm on an unsuspecting sailor, it’s waves crashed down on you, and you were unable to breathe.

Life was the tempest, with it’s harsh tremors, it’s sudden soft waves that lead you to believe things were going to be okay. It’s highs and it’s lows, the good times and the bad. You found it ironic, the fact you were playing your favorite piece of all time, and it reminded you of reality.

You had always viewed music as an escape from reality, but now you were starting to connect the two, using music to let both the worlds connect. Your fingers flew across the keys, the climactic melody thundering through your apartment.

Finishing the piece, you let out a sigh, taking the music sheets and placing them back in your folder. Shutting the keyboard down, you cleared up a bit, settling down on your couch. Cracking your knuckles, you pulled out your phone to mindlessly scroll through Instagram as one did to pass time.

You seemed to do that often, now that you were officially done with college and had a bit of time before you left for The Royal School of Music, approximately three weeks, you honestly had nothing else to do with your time.

And so, you indulged in the world of reels and other videos that didn’t necessarily add anything of worth to your being. Time seemed to trickle by slowly, much slower than you would have liked.

Your flight to the country in which the school was in had already been booked, your registration had been completed, and you had even found an apartment to rent over there. Some of your belongings had already been sent for shipping, leaving you with the bare minimum. You had even sold some stuff, because cross country shipping was expensive, and you had gathered quite a few things over your four years staying in your college area that you definitely didn’t need.

It seemed as if everything was set, you were ready to leave everything behind.

Your doorbell rang, it's obnoxious ringing sound making you wince out of annoyance. You got up from your spot on the couch reluctantly, and walked over to the door to open it.

You were met with a slightly disheveled looking Ten on the other side, hair slightly messy. It had been yet another week since you had seen him, not have been in contact since graduation day, and suddenly here he was at your doorstep. Before you could even say anything, he pushed his hand out, thrusting a pizza box in your face.

“I know you don’t want to see me, and I don’t blame you but”, he took a deep breath, “You’re going, and it sucks, but I’m happy for you, so i brought pizza, for old times sake?”

You blinked in surprise, your hands on their own accord and taking the box. As if he could sense you were skeptical, he rambled on, “Just a movie and pizza, then I’ll leave I promise.” Everything inside you screamed at you to say no, but the words left you before you could even comprehend your mind's thoughts.

“Okay”

You opened the door more, walking back into your apartment, opening the box and taking your laptop to search for a movie. He closed the door after himself, taking a seat beside you on the couch, but not touching you. It was like there was a wall in between the two of you, and you couldn’t break it down.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to.

“There’s a new season of His Dark Materials”, you thought aloud, “We could binge that.”

It was so easy, being with Ten. Like falling back into a routine you had missed, a habit that had been cultivated. It was natural, him by your side, eating pizza and searching for a movie or series to binge. It was a tradition for the two of you after all, and even though you had stayed away from Ten for your own heart, it felt so good to do this again. You had missed it.

“Sure”, he agreed, taking a slice of the pizza, the stringy cheese not breaking, “We may need plates.”

You shook your head at his comical state, placing your laptop down and walking into your kitchen, opening the topmost cupboard to get the plates down, when you realized you couldn’t reach it. Now usually, you would just get a stool or something to climb on top off, but that would mean going back out there and admitting to Ten that you were short.

That was not acceptable.

Of course any grand plans of somehow getting the plates down without Ten knowing had been thrown out the window when he himself walked into the kitchen, “Are you making the plates or something? What’s taking so long?”

He spotted you, hands stretching up, leaning over the counter. Ten smirked, walking over and taking the plates down himself, “Someone’s short”, he snickered, to which you glared, “You’re short too dumbass.”

“You’re shorter”, he teased, taking the second plate down. He was standing in front of you, directly facing you as he placed the second plate of the counter top. You stared indignantly at him, and he caught your gaze, holding it. It was the same Ten you had known since you entered your campus, the same Ten you met at that party.

The same Ten you were in love with.

His eyes shifted from yours to your lips, realizing how close the two of you were. His hand raised up to your face cupping it. You subconsciously leaned into his touch, eyes wide, waiting for him to do something, anything.

His eyes searched yours for an answer, some sort of indication that he could go ahead. You knew that nothing good would come from this, but you couldn't help but nod your head a little too fast, and fisting the end of his shirt in anticipation.

He kissed you.

His lips moved against yours softly, hesitantly, like they were scared you would disappear if he went any faster. It was nothing like you had ever imagined (believe me, you had imagined), but it was better. It was like a culmination of wanting had been poured into the kiss, and you didn’t want it to stop.

You could’ve sworn time had stopped when he kissed you, the world around you seeming to fade away. You could feel your knees going weak with the overwhelming feeling, the flutter in your stomach growing. If you hadn’t been holding onto the end of his shirt so hard, you would have collapsed into him.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered against your lips, pulling away, cupping your face, “I know I’m an idiot”, he confessed, and you resist the urge to agree, “I know I’m an idiot but,”, he stopped again, resting his forehead against yours. “One night”, he whispered, voice shaky now, “Will you be mine for just one night?”

There was something fragile in his voice, like he was afraid of your answer. You looked up, looking at those eyes you hated, but loved at the same time. You silently agreed, pressing your lips to his again, kissing him once more. His hands dropped down to your waist, your hands wrapped around his neck as you stole another long awaited kiss from him.

The plates were long forgotten about, instead the two of you stumbled back into the living room, hands not leaving each other. The back of his knees hit the couch, and he sat down, taking you with him. You sat on top of him, breathing heavily.

He pressed his lips to your forehead affectionately as you leaned into Ten, not ever wanting the moment to end. “I’m tired”, you whispered, all the years of pining and wishing he was yours suddenly weighing you down.

“I know”

“This isn’t going to end well is it?”

“I don’t know”, he mused, rubbing your back comfortingly. You looked at him once again, like you had done many times before, except this time he was yours, for how long? You didn’t know. You didn’t want the night to end, the prospect of losing him again already making your stomach pit.

“I love you”, he said, and you didn’t say it back. You didn’t have too, you had said it many times already, you had told him. Instead you kissed him again, getting drunk on him.

The rest of the night was spent this way,lazily kissing, cuddling, and eating pizza straight out of the box since neither of you wanted to get up again. Ten held you like you were the world, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The two of you forgot about the serial you were supposed to binge as well, too caught up with each other to even care.

He told you about how he got scouted for dancing by an entertainment company, you filled him in about The Royal School of Music, about how you were so glad College was over even though you would miss it. He made you laugh with his stupid jokes, and it felt like it had always been. Somewhere along the line, the two of you fell asleep in the dead of the night, or almost morning, tangled up in each others arms, happy.

You woke up on your couch alone, your apartment lonely and silent. You looked around sleepily, your eyes catching a glimpse of the clock on your wall, which told you it was already noon. You pulled your knees to your chest, feeling out of place. Something was missing.

Ten.

Ten was gone, nowhere to be seen. You tried thinking back, wondering why he was gone, until you realized - one night was over. Like he had promised, he was gone, not yours anymore, and you weren’t his. You shivered, realizing that there wasn’t any blankets or anything on the couch, yet you couldn't seem to get up.

It hurt. You wanted to cry and scream, the realization that he was gone, before you could even fully have him sinking it. It felt so unfair, the fact that you could never really ever have Ten, someone you had loved for four fucking years, for more than a night.

You took in a shaky breath, looking to the end of the sofa, which is when you saw it. It was Ten’s painting, the one of you in the greenhouse, supposedly reading the books. On the top a sticky note read ‘The Tempest’. You brushed your finger over the painting, taking it in. He had left it here for you, and it was the one thing you had of him. At the bottom, it was signed in his handwriting.

‘10’.

“널 다시 만나면 네 손을 잡고 말해줄 텐데 I will never let you go”

fin.

859 notes · View notes

bitchassbucky · 4 years ago

Text

.zip

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, gaslighting and manipulation, abduction, injuries were mentioned, stalking, dark!bucky x dark!reader, emotionally/mentally unstable!reader, dismemberment (not gore-y but still), three very special character mentions, shady corporate stuff, career sabotage?, food mention, sedation/drugging, f-words.

A/N: oh my god, this is the final chapter of CTRL. to all who read from the start, thank y'all so fucking much - from the bottom of my big-ass heart, thank you so much for coming along with this journey. this is my first FINISHED series, oh my god. to @babyboibucky (CTRL's number one fan), @sarge-barnes-sir, and @borikenlove thank you so much for indulging my inner degenerate GHJSDFG and for screaming (affectionately) at me when i first let y'all read the finished draft.

BUT THIS IS NOT THE END (just yet), i will be uploading TWO epilogues very soon: the explicit version and the not-so-explicit version. stay tuned!

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

epilogue:

.eps (explicit)

.eps (cut)

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Your demeanor, character, even tone, changed.

Calculated, cold, unnerving.

But you sat there like a housewife in front of her husband, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Acting all dandy like there isn’t a man strapped onto the chair four feet away from you.

“C’mon, darling, eat! I made your favorite,” your eyes twinkled as Bucky helplessly tugged on his restraints, “oh, sorry, you’re tied up.”

Hm, sick in the head, bad for the heart.

“What do you want?” Oh, wow, even talking hurts for him. His throat is all dried up, he tasted something bitter under his tongue.

You chuckled, moving half a meatball around your mostly empty plate, “for you to stop treating me like I’m stupid.” You spear the meat with your fork, swirling it in the sauce, “I know you’ve been… checking in on me, Bucky.”

Oh, fuck.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was-- I mean, look at you--” He’s making it worse. You’re mad. You’re angry because he was being a good friend.

He only did that because you were lonely and he’s right: you are lonely.

So lonely that you’re willing to kidnap a grown man to keep you company, “I’m so sad for you.”

“You’re aware you’re the one’s been tied up, right?” You’re curt as you should be, scooting over near Bucky to feed him.

“I can’t eat that—” If he wasn’t sitting down and tied, Bucky would’ve vaulted over you and called the neighbors, she’s fucking crazy!

You giggled, rolling your eyes as if he had the freedom to make a choice right now, “if you’re thinking of screaming… More than half of my neighbors are felons or on parole, I doubt that they’ll call 911.”

Jutting forward the fork, you let the prongs gently touch Bucky’s lips, “now, eat! We have so much to talk about.”

“No. I don’t-- I’m not hungry.” He shakes his head, the fork hitting his chin and clanking down the floor.

“Just eat the fucking food, Steve!”

Bucky flinched at your sudden outburst. The words—the name—seeping in a moment later. Steve? Who the hell is Steve? Was he your husband? Boyfriend? His head throbbed again, his mouth filling with saliva like he’s about to throw up.

You kneel down, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe the meat and the sauce from the floor.

“This better not stain.”

—

He promised thrice.

Once over pasta and meatballs, once over dessert, and once when you were clearing the table.

You relented, of course. Half because you love him and half because it’s getting annoying.

“As long as you don’t leave me, okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

Bucky’s still seating on the dinner chair, slightly slumped without the ropes holding him up, “look, I’m really sorry about the anesthetic, I went overboard with it.” You look over to him—at least he’s regaining his fingers and arms again.

“It’s okay, babe, I wouldn’t trust me either.” If he could stand up, he’d go over and hug you. Helping with the dishes, peppering you with sweet kisses.

A genuine laugh slips out of your lips, “ugh, still… I’m really sorry.”

The last of the plates were neatly stacked, cups and cutleries were placed gently on a drying rack. It was getting late, you could tell.

“I’m not mad, by the way.” You muse, prompting Bucky to lean forward, listening to you.

“What do you mean?” He takes your hand into his, ever so gently.

“You did that,” you squeeze his hand back, gazing into his soulful eyes, “because you love me.”

Did you know that some people could read microexpressions well? Bucky went through a whole lot of them before answering, “of course, I do.”

Contemplating whether you call him out on it or not, you hum, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, “it’s okay, you’ll learn how to love me.”

He has to. He has no other choice.

Bucky clears his throat, “have you seen my phone?” His tone was hopeful, upbeat, maybe he can reach out to someone, anyone, before you can do any more damage.

“Yeah, ‘s on the couch.”

He tried to move, he really did. Bucky’s fairly strong, he can bench an easy 140 on a good day. But even the beefiest motherfuckers have no match for Propofol.

“Don’t worry about your friends, they’re not worried about you, Buck.” The coolness of your tone sends Bucky into a panic—again. “D’you wanna check your messages though? There’s a lot of ‘em.”

Grabbing his phone, you asked Siri to read him his latest notifications.

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

From Joaquin: Where are you, man?

From John W.: Do you have copies?

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

Urgent: Gross Misconduct

From Joaquin: Bucky, what the fuck?

From Samuel Wilson: Pick up the phone, Barnes. You’re fired.

17 missed calls from an unknown number

From John W.: I knew you were a freak but holy shit, dude!

72 text messages from an unknown number

Bucky never really liked horror movies. It made him jumpy and anxious. Too paranoid, even. But now? Now he’s sure that people have never experienced sheer fright before.

His toes cramped inside his boots, his feet were cold, sweating. The little hairs on his legs stood up, goosebumps littering the entirety of his body. If he held his breath, he’s sure he could hear his heart hammering out of his chest. The blood rushes past his ears and onto the base of his skull—he’s gonna be sick.

“What,” he gulped back the saliva pooling in his mouth, “what did you do?”

You’re irritatingly calm, “well, I mean… We’re already together, what do you need those for, right?”

Putting a warm hand over his forehead, you cooed, “poor thing, you look sick.”

—

Bucky thinks it’s well past midnight when the anesthetic wore off.

His limbs were heavy, he had to lean on the wall every couple of steps to regain his balance. Helpless. He’s helpless and you both know it. As if it’s a bear trap, Bucky carefully took his phone from the coffee table.

Why would you leave it unattended?

The screen lights up as soon as he picked up, his lock screen littered with ‘fuck yous’, ‘sicko’, and his personal favorite, ‘motherfucker.’

Ignoring the glaring messages, he went straight for the emergency dialler and—you took out his SIM card, snapping it into two neat pieces, placing it beside the phone.

Bitch.

The golden surface of the card was scratched too, he can’t do anything, use it as a toothpick, maybe? His phone was just as good as a paperweight.

He looks out of the window, limping towards it. Even if he could climb over, it would take him forever to get onto the street. Your neighbors would probably think that he’s just on a bad trip.

“It’s bolted shut. Perks of living alone as a single female.” Your voice made him flinch back, like a kid whose hand was halfway down the cookie jar.

Bucky plays it off with a cough, he can’t be weak now, “no, babe, I was checking out a noise. You ready for bed?”

You smiled softly, taking his hand and draping his arm on your shoulders as you prop him against you, “almost, big guy. Gotta get you settled in bed first. Are you tired?”

Nodding, Bucky kisses your temple, “yeah.” He just needs to play with your sick little games until he regains his strength.

Where would he go? His reputation and his job are besmirched, his apartment is probably crawling with forensics too.

“You fell down and banged your head earlier. Nasty cut on your head too. I told you to not tire yourself much.”

You hit and drugged me but I digress, “Yes, darling. ‘M sorry.”

“You scared me, Buck. I thought you were dead.” Are these tears forming in your eyes?

“I’m not leaving you, not by any chance. I promise.”

He promises a fourth time.

—

Your bedroom was bigger than he thought. But of course, he only saw your desk and your bed through the webcam.

Save from the Ted Bundy-esque corkboard you have in front of your workspace, he feels weirdly at home. You tucked him in, reminding him to wake up every two hours for the painkillers.

“You’re not going to bed?” He muses from behind you, all cocooned in your blankets.

“Just need to take this phone call real quick, babe.” Your back was turned from him as you work on your company laptop. He noticed that the webcam is covered with white tape.

The sound of an incoming call filled the room before you quickly answer it, your voice turning hoarse and raspy as if you’ve been crying.

Hi, Mr. Wilson. I’m so sorry for the late call. Do I- do I need to come in tomorrow? I just... I don’t feel comfortable facing everyone—I used all my home hours this week and—

Miss L/N, I’m glad you reached out to me. Is it okay if I record this call for security purposes? It’s just for you, me, and the HR department.

You turned to Bucky, your face is stone-cold but your voice belonged to someone so utterly helpless.

No, you don’t have to call into work tomorrow… Or any other day.

A dainty gasp and a fucking sob comes out of your mouth, your eyes were telling a different story.

Am I fired?

God, no. Please, Miss L/N, don’t worry about that. We want you with us through this entire debacle. We want you to take some time off—paid. We’ll also grant you… a grievance package.

You could almost hear what he would say next.

As long as you don’t talk to any members of the press or any journalists until our friends in the PR department can clean this up.

A triumphant smile creeps on your bare features, putting a finger in front of your lips, you mimic a ‘shh’ gesture to Bucky.

You round up another mirthless sob as the CEO drones on about the bureaucracy of this whole thing.

He was really nice to me, you know? He took me out on dinners and lunches. He even brought me to his place and I– nothing happened but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I’m really sorry, Miss L/N. I thought he was…

A good guy? I really thought so too.

Please stay offline for a bit, just for the weekend, alright? Someone from the HR department will be in touch with you for the process. We don’t wanna be a hassle more than what Barnes is. On our behalf, please accept our deepest apologies.

Jesus, this guy had the PR department cook up an apology letter.

Thank you—thank you so much, Mr. Wilson. I’ll keep in touch.

You burst out in laughter a second after the call ended. Hearty laughter, the one where you can feel your belly tightening.

“Did you hear how good I was, baby? Oh my god, we had them fooled.”

We? Fuck your ‘we.’

You slide over the covers, propping up yourself with your elbow as you turn to face Bucky, “don’t worry, you don’t need them anymore. You have me, yeah? We have each other.”

—

Out of the most bizarre things that happened to him last week, finding dismembered fingers in the fridge was the least of his concerns.

“Honey!” Bucky calls out, holding the ziplock bag with a pair of tongs.

You bound down the stairs, your laptop in hand as you squint, “what am I looking at?”

Bucky hesitated, maybe he’s going insane too, “fingers. Dismembered fingers—are these yours?”

Setting down the laptop onto the table, you peck him on the cheek, smiling as if him holding a baggie with human remains is just your Sunday normal, “god, I hope not. I need my hands to do things.”

As soon as you look back at him, you dropped the facade: “those are Steve’s. Well, used to be.”

Bucky’s afraid to ask the question where’s the rest of him?

“You know the term pinky promise, right? Well, it has a dark origin.”

Just as fast as a bustling train, Bucky rakes his brain for all the times he promised you something. Hoping that he won’t end up with a stump for a hand.

One vividly bright memory is seared into his brain though, the days blurred together with sharp edges and mismatched colors: we love how we were taught to love.

So, who taught you how to love like this?

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

Note

My dearest bouncey! I have a prompt for you if you like: Witchers as a 90s/2000s boyband 😂🤷‍♀️💖💖💖

Ellie, darling, this started as 500 words and turned into like 3.2k words and also a piece of art so... thank you so much. also shout out to my amazing art pal @mawbwehownets for the little comic!!

this contains lots of 90′s/early 2000′s nostalgia so there is also that

tw: hornyish, smooching, perilous music video situations (corny)

---

“Do I have to?” Geralt groans, letting his forehead thud down against the linoleum surface of their tour bus’s shitty dining table.

“Yes,” Vesemir says. His tone leaves no room for argument or whining. “But what if I let you pick the winner personally?”

“There have to be like fifteen thousand letters to go through! How will I manage that in less than two days?”

“There were a few more than fifteen thousand applications, Geralt. There were probably closer to five hundred thousand.”

Lambert wolf whistles and Aiden claps.

Geralt grimaces and keeps his face hidden against the table, releasing a slightly muffled: “Fuck.”

“Language,” Vesemir frowns. He tugs gently at Geralt’s loose ponytail and the singer lifts his head up from the table again, looking at his manager with beseeching eyes. “Anyway, we’ve narrowed it down to about fifty. You can go through those and choose whichever person you’d like to play your love interest. But you have to give me an answer by Friday. The shoot is in three weeks and whoever wins this stupid competition will need time to make arrangements.”

“I thought we were footing the bill for their food and their hotel room,” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What would they need to arrange?”

“Not everyone can board their pets at the flick of a wrist, dude,” Lambert scoffs from his seat on the couch. Aiden lies draped across his lap, as usual, and the two of them are halfheartedly watching The Lion King. They can only watch movies when the bus is stationary, otherwise the VHS player might move too much while running and damage the film inside the cassette. Even taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Lambert and Aiden still seem more interested in each other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s voice acting.

“Lambert has a point,” Vesemir sighs. He scrubs his hand over his lightly whiskered face like a tired grandparent and sighs again, more heavily. “It’ll be good for you boys to have a normal person around for a few days. Maybe they’ll be able to put some things into perspective.”

Geralt can only roll his eyes a little bit and thank his manager regardless of his own feelings; he and the rest of TW5 owe the seasoned musical expert their entire careers. Without Vesemir’s help and mentorship they would never have made it past their first disastrous record deal. They certainly wouldn’t have reached the heights they’re at now, enjoying international fame and recognition.

The begrudging frontman accepts a heavy plastic bin of file folders from Vesemir and sets them down next to his bunk. “Are these organized in any particular way?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Geralt digs his hand into the pile and pulls out a piece of pale-pink stationary, eager to get started and, by extension, get finished. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long couple of days.

---

“I want this one, please, Ves.”

“Huh?” Vesemir looks up from his palm-pilot. Geralt is standing in front of him and trying to hand him something.

“I want this guy to be in the music video with me.” Geralt holds out the letter again, fingers trapping the accompanying polaroid headshot with great care. A pair of bright blue eyes stares up from the photo, highlighting the subject’s bright smile and unruly mop of messy brown hair. Vesemir tries to hide his amusement; totally Geralt’s type, if the big oaf could admit to having one.

“Alright. I’ll get everything in order. We start shooting in two and a half weeks so get your asses to the gym, please.”

“Yes, Ves,” all five young men chorus.

“Tomorrow,” Coen mutters a moment later than everyone else, not glancing up from his composition notebook. Vesemir nods in understanding. Coen is the best lyricist of the lot and it’s easier to let him work when inspiration strikes than beg him to focus when he can’t get a solitary idea to stick.

“So why’d you pick that one, Ger-bear?” Lambert drawls. Aiden nods and leans against Lambert’s side. Geralt can’t help the mild jealousy that overtakes him every time he sees his bandmates touch each other with such casual affection. He wants that intimacy, that softness behind the veneer of famous indifference. He wants someone to hold.

“Yeah. What drew your attention to that poor unfortunate soul. Was it the floppy hair, the big blue eyes, or the dopey grin?” Aiden smirks.

“Hmm.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel sighs, looking between the two troublemakers with the tired gaze of an eldest sibling, “Fuck you for even asking in the first place and expecting a straight answer.”

“Straight is the furthest thing from his answer,” Lambert chuckles. He is promptly smacked in the head with one of the couch’s hideous throw pillows. The youngest member of the band rubs the side of his face and chuckles, “Alright, I deserved that one.”

---

“Holy shit!” Jaskier practically screams. “Holy motherfucking shit!”

“What!?” Yennefer comes flying around the corner. “What’s wrong!?”

“Nothing is wrong, Yenna! Everything is awesome! Everything absolutely fucking rocks!”

“Did you get hit on the head by a falling branch between here and the mailbox or what? You were whining about your finals work not five min-”

“Look at this!” Jaskier shoves an open envelope into her hands and cuts her off. Yennefer reads the watermarked documents once. Twice. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when the words and their meanings finally sink in.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, I am absolutely not!” her giddy roommate cheers, bouncing up and down in place. “I did it! I won!”

“Holy shit.”

“I know! I get to kiss Geralt deRiv!” he practically cackles. Then freezes. “Holy fuck I get to kiss Geralt deRiv.”

“You said that already,” Yen teases. She shoves the paperwork back into his hands and grabs a takeout menu from the junk drawer near her hip. “Since you won the makeout lottery, you get to buy lunch. Lucky bastard.”

---

“So this will be your dressing room,” someone’s underpaid PA says, ushering Jaskier into a small, bright room. “Priscilla will be here shortly to get you into hair and makeup.”

“Oh, uh- thanks!”

“Yup.”

And with that, the young man disappears back down the hallway toward the sound stage. Jaskier jogs his leg anxiously as he waits for Priscilla to arrive, nervous and otherwise totally alone in the huge grey building. As the minutes tick by and his heart rate rises, Jaskier’s intrusive thoughts make an unwanted appearance: What if they forget about me being here? What if there’s been a mistake and they accidentally hired two love interests and I just sit in here for hours all alone while-

“Hi!” a bright, peppy blonde woman flies through the door and startles him back to reality. “Nice to meet you, I’m Priscilla! You can call me Priss; I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for the video this week!”

“Oh… hi. I’m Julian, but I prefer Jaskier.”

“Lovely! Well, Jaskier, is your hair naturally this color?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Perfect! I don’t want to mess with such a lovely shade of natural brown, but do you mind if I give it a bit of a trim? I have a few ideas for styles right here in my book- How do you feel about some feathering back here? I think-” she fluffs a few of the hairs around the nape of Jaskier’s neck “-I could really bring out the curls if I adjusted the length a bit and used some product.”

“Just, uhm, go for it, then! Feel free to make me as pretty as possible!” Jaskier declares. He’s committing to this experience wholeheartedly, determined to allow himself every opportunity for positive change. He wants to really let himself enjoy it, and he needs a haircut anyway. Priscilla spends an hour washing, cutting, drying, and styling his hair into a lovely fringed sweep across his forehead. It ends just above his brows, giving his face a slightly softer shape than usual. He grins over his shoulder, “I love it! I’m going to miss you when I’m back at Oxenfurt. Good stylists are so hard to find.”

Priss blushes and nudges against his shoulder, “Oh, you little charmer.”

“I mean it,” he says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look like I could really be worthy of a heroic rescue! This is going to be such a fantastic memory, and I appreciate it. Thank you so much.”

Priss bites back a genuine tear and smiles, “Now that your natural prettiness has been mildly enhanced, let’s get you over to wardrobe, shall we?”

“Wardrobe? Do I have, like, a costume? What’s the music video even about?”

“They didn’t tell you any of this when you got here?”

“Not… not really.”

“Well, my darling, I think you’re really going to like it; they’ve got you in Versace for the first scene.”

“Versace!?”

Then Jaskier is being ushered into a bright, colorful room full to bursting with grim-faced, middle-aged women and he loses track of his only braincell for the rest of the morning.

---

“You must be Julian!” Lambert declares, bounding up to him and grinning. It’s a feral, animalistic grin and Jaskier resists the sudden urge to take a step back.

“I prefer Jaskier, if you don’t mind too much,” Jaskier corrects him quietly. Lambert rolls his eyes in a long-suffering kind of way and throws a meaty arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, completely ignoring the wardrobe technician’s wincing as he wrinkles the expensive silk jacket.

“No need to be quiet and polite around here, my dude. We’re just a bunch of rowdy idiots, aren’t we, guys?”

“Hell yeah!” Aiden calls back. Eskel sighs like the put-upon nanny in a Victorian Redanian comedy.

“Speak for yourself,” Coen barely lifts his frosted tips up from his book long enough to speak. Geralt is-

Holy motherfucking Britney Spears on toast.

Geralt is the hottest thing Jaskier has ever seen in his short, unfulfilled-until-right-now life. Forget Ralph Macchio. Forget Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet and Winona Ryder. This man is… Geralt deRiv is… he’s the picture of perfection. And he’s right there, standing in front of an elaborate party set with his thick, beautiful arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole. Jaskier realizes that he probably didn’t have any choice in the matter; maybe this was just as awkward and uncomfortable for Geralt as it was for Jaskier.

“Ger-bear!” Lambert whoops, yanking Jaskier closer to the brooding frontman. If only he were brave enough to struggle for escape; alas. “This is your boy-toy for the week. Goes by Jaskier, apparently.”

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt manages to grunt. “How did you like the script?”

“I haven’t uh- I haven’t actually seen it?”

“Shit. Fuck. One second,” Geralt huffs, disappearing into the crowd of technicians and machinery operators and PAs. Jaskier loves him already, for real. Sure, he was pretty in the music videos and promo material, but the way he said fuck like it was the noblest word he could think of… Geralt interrupts his train of thought by coming back with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He shuffle-shoves them into Jaskier’s arms immediately. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine and shy, more tenuous than his usual goofy grin. He flips through the pages, glancing between the script to his expensive suit, “So I’m guessing we’re at a party for this scene? Or something?”

“This is… where we meet. This is where… you and I uh…”

Jaskier’s eyes scan the page as Geralt’s ability to speak slowly leaves him.

Lover ENTERS LEFT, dressed to the nines. Lover adjusts their tie/boa and takes a look around the room. S/He looks sad and a little hopeful. PULL BACK to Geralt, who approaches slowly. Their eyes meet. HOLD SHOT. PULL BACK as they move towards each other. Geralt pulls Lover into his arms and they begin to dance.

“Oh, wow.”

“I hope it’s okay! If you’re not comfortable with that kind of thing we can-”

“I’ll be alright, thank you. I came here to put my acting chops to the test. Well, that and meet my favorite band, of course. Thank you again, by the way. It’s been wonderful so far and I really appreciate you allowing me to be here.”

“Allowing? Psh. Geralt ha-” Lambert is cut off by Aiden, who elbows him sharply in the side. “Ow! What the fuck, babe?”

“I knew it!” Jaskier crows, distracted. “I knew you two were an item!”

“They’re not exactly subtle.”

“They never confirm anything either,” Jaskier retorts. Geralt shrugs his acknowledgement and moves back towards the set. Jaskier follows after the taller man like a lost puppy, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, hungry for detail even in his anxiety ridden state. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and he doesn’t want to waste a solitary second of it. “This is incredible, really just...wow. You guys do this all the time? You get to make tiny little movies for already great songs that you get to perform for millions of adoring fans? And you get paid!?”

Geralt hadn’t ever really thought about it like that. He’d been raised in the industry. He’d signed to Kaer Morhen Records as an early teen because his mother was a member of the Board of Directors and he’d been making music ever since; an outsider’s perspective to things was… new. A little strange. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty much what we do.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”

“Have you ever written a fifteen page paper about the history of lute-string design and manufacturing?”

“No.”

“Then kindly shut the fuck up about what I should consider exciting,” Jaskier grins. Geralt is immediately and irrevocably smitten. Fuck. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes! “So, which door am I entering from?”

“Left,” Geralt points. Jaskier skips over and begins to introduce himself to the sound and lights crew. His smile seems to be as infectious as his cheer and soon the entire set crew is smiling at one another. There’s been a literal shift in the atmosphere; if he didn’t know any better, the TW5 frontman thinks Jaskier might be some kind of magical creature, because he can’t just be human. Geralt is well and truly fucked, and everyone in the band already knows.

---

“What do you think?” Jaskier asks, slipping anxiously from behind the changing screen. The Versace is gone and in its place are a pair of tight, high-waisted blue pleather pants and a billowing white shirt, which has been strategically ripped in several places to reveal slivers of the lightly tanned skin that lies beneath. He looks like he’s in desperate need of rescuing. He looks like every fantasy Geralt has ever had about the perfect guy. He looks like a fucking dream.

“Nice,” he says.

Lambert and Aiden wolf-whistle and cheer as they approach. Aiden claps twice, loudly, and shoots Jaskier a set of finger guns, “Hot damn, baby. You single? You lookin’ to mingle? Because I am bi and spoon like a Pringle.”

“First of all, babe, I love you but that was the most horrific combination of words yet known to man. Second of all, yeah, I’d dump Aiden for you for sure,” Lambert adds. Jaskier is at a total loss for words. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in uneven little gasps for a moment.

“Uh… I- Thank you?”

“Oh god, Eskel! Eskel, he’s short circuiting, do something.”

“You absolute-” Eskel groans and makes his way over to the gathered group. He tugs Jaskier away and over to the other end of the set, where a comically huge rocket/bomb (Jaskier can’t tell) is standing at the center of a vaguely science-themed room. A laboratory, maybe? Or like, a really weird spacecraft? A hospital run by rocket scientists? It doesn’t matter, it’s the Evil Lair of the Villain and that’s where Jaskier is being held captive. “Here, Cameron and Elise will help you get set up for the next scene. I’m sorry about the boys they’re... gay?”

“I understand,” Jaskier nods sagely and Eskel relaxes. Then for comedy’s sake he adds an equally dramatic, “I too am... gay.”

The set dresser, an electrician, and a few specialists (likely a rope rigger among them) come over and tie Jaskier to the bomb/rocket/villainous mechanism, ending his conversation with Eskel, who is now in a much better mood than he was before.

Jaskier is told to make sure his hands are crossed behind the small of his back and the director instructs him to wiggle back and forth “as convincingly as possible without actually getting loose or moving the ropes too much”. Which is manageable, he supposes.

“Then, when the chorus comes up, we’ll get a few shots of the boys dancing in front of you,” the director continues to explain. That’s… kind weird, but okay. I’ve seen weirder. “Then we’ll do the action shots, with Geralt rescuing you. Are you okay to do the kiss, or would you rather not? We have dynamic shots with or without, so it’s totally up to you.”

“I’m fine with that,” Jaskier smiles shyly. “I consent to be smooched.”

“Adorable,” Lambert calls. Jaskier blushes and the director shoots Lambert a glare.

“He’s already pink enough, don’t make me change my gels you little shithead!”

“Sorry, Pierre!”

“Fucking sorry my ass,” Pierre grumbles beneath his breath. Then he smiles at Jaskier. “Do something nasty to him for me, will you? Not too nasty but… just a little?”

“I’ve got your back,” Jaskier winks.

“No plotting! Not fair!” Aiden whines.

“You have a team,” Pierre retorts. “Now I have a team.”

“Rules are rules,” Eskel sighs. “Now can we please shoot this damn video?”

“Right,” Pierre claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Places!”

---

Geralt races up the stairs, trying to keep the long sleeves of his black mesh shirt from catching on any of the set pieces. The solid black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath makes his arms and back look bulkier than normal; it’s a visual technique to make him look larger than Jaskier, whose billowing white shirt will hide how wide his shoulders actually are. Fuck, those are some nice shoulders. And the smattering of dark chest hair that peeks from the front of the college student’s shirt? Geralt wants to bury his face in it.

Okay, focus.

He reaches the top of the set and rushes towards Jaskier, ripping the ropes from around his torso and pulling him close. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head with his upstage hand, framing the slightly smaller man for the camera and making him seem even shorter, another trick of angles and body posturing. Geralt plays Jaskier like an instrument, bending him back by placing his downstage arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing their mouths together and holding them still for as long as it takes the director to yell, “Cut!” with a satisfied tone of voice.

Geralt’s suspicions are confirmed when Pierre laughs and claps some more and cries, “Print it, lads! That was a one-take wonder!”

He tries to ignore the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump as if disappointed. “Good job,” he manages to say.

“You, too.” Geralt wishes he could keep a picture of Jaskier smiling in his back pocket forever. No other sight could light up the world so effortlessly. “Thanks for being gentle.”

“I’m trying to sweep you off your feet,” the singer shrugs. Jaskier wiggles his eyebrows and follows Geralt down the narrow set stairs.

“Are you, really?”

“Is it working?” Geralt asks, turning to look up at Jaskier. The student pauses to look at him and his foot catches on an uneven board. He topples forward with a short cry of surprise and seems surprised when Geralt reaches out to catch him. “Jaskier!”

“Oh my god!” Lambert races over, Aiden hot on his heels. “Are you okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,” Jaskier laughs, a little breathless. “Just a little shocked.”

“You should take him to get a snack or something,” Eskel says, nudging his shoulder against Geralt’s. “He’s been busy all day and hasn’t even been to craft services.”

“You haven’t eaten?” Geralt asks, honestly baffled. Jaskier shakes his head, face heating once again. He wishes he could stop blushing, but Geralt’s presence seems to make it impossible. He wraps one arm around the younger man’s temptingly slender waist and leads him towards the food carts. He shoves a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of punch into Jaskier’s hands, not giving him a chance to argue. “Here, I’ll have something, too.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier smiles, understanding that he is, in turn, being understood. They sit comfortable folding chairs off to the side, food spread across their laps. Jaskier laughs and chats around his mouthfuls, pulling things from Geralt like his favorite color and his least favorite nicknames. Songs he liked and dances he disliked.

“You made it fun again, today,” the singer smiles. “Thank you for that. I wish you could be here for every video shoot.”

“Looking for another member of the band?” Jaskier jokes, doing some half-hearted jazz hands. Geralt shakes his head and laughs.

“I wish we were,” he sighs. “But I guess five is the magic number.”

“Makes the dances look cooler,” Jaskier nods. “I agree with whoever made that decision. I wouldn’t dare ruin the aesthetic.”

Geralt laughs again and Vesemir turns to look, honestly shocked at the volume of the sound.

“Plus, you can’t be the frontman if there’s no front.”

“Shut up,” Geralt chuckles, still grinning broadly.

Vesemir makes a phone call.

---

2 Weeks Later, Backstage in Kaedwen

---

“He’s been sulking like this ever since Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt,” Lambert whines. “C’mon Vesemir, do something.”

“What do you want me to do, make Geralt’s boyfriend appear out of thin air?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Geralt growls, stomping past his bandmates and manager. He can’t help but feel grumpy. Jaskier had been like the sun, bringing light and wonder to everything he touched, and without that joy around it doesn’t seem worth the extra effort to smile. So he’s been moping.

“Fucking hell,” Vesemir sighs. “Thank goodness I thought ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks, joining the little group in the hallway outside the dressing room. “What did you think of?”

“Three,” Vesemir smiles, glancing at his watch. “Two… One…”

“Boooooys,” echoes a high tenor. “Where’s my welcome wagon, Vesemir?”

“Jaskier!” Aiden practically screams, leaping out of the dressing room and flying down the hall. Lambert follows at a sprint and Vesemir hears the resounding oof oh fuck of both giddy musicians hitting their mark.

Geralt comes back down the hall at a jog, eyes searching frantically. “I thought I heard-”

“Geralt!”

Vesemir’s heart clenches in his chest at the way Geralt’s face lights up. At the end of the hallway, surrounded by spilled luggage and apologetic boyband members, is Jaskier. Geralt floats to him, it seems, like he’s dreaming the whole thing. Jaskier takes his hands and then releases them and wraps his arms low around Geralt’s hips instead.

“I missed you the most,” he whispers, just for Geralt to hear. “Couldn’t sleep without listening to your CD. I know it’s silly but I really like you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers reverently into his shaggy brown hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to do my thesis on pop culture’s relation to music history,” he says. “And then the manager of TW5 called Oxenfurt and offered me the opportunity to do some… first hand research while I worked on finishing the paper.”

“R-Really? You’re going to be here… every day?”

“Do you… do you not want me he-”

Geralt kisses him before he can even finish the question. It’s a stupid question anyway, of course Geralt wants him here. Wants him right here, kissing him silly. The singer presses his lips desperately, crushingly against Jaskier’s; he never wants to part from this man again. He never wants to be without that glorious laughter and contagious liveliness. Who knew that life could be so full of delight and happiness if he only let it?

He kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth and more, pouring his heart and soul into it. When they pull apart, both gasping for air, Geralt asks, “Stay with me, Jaskier? You don’t have to do anything I just-”

“I’d love to be the big spoon,” Jaskier winks, whispering again. “Thank you, Geralt, for the rescue.”

#geraskier #bouncey's buddies #prompt fill #geraskier fic #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fluff #getting together #boyband au #geraskier boyband au #the witcher five and their hit song 'please lambert stop farting on the bus'#ellie has the braincell #thirsty jaskier #thirsty geralt #soft geralt #protective geralt #clumsy jaskier #soft boys content #bouncey's endless au collection #bouncey's endless getting together fics

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omg-imagine · 4 years ago

Text

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif??

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny…” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

Permanent Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein @unaspiringwritings @planetkt @breakthenight @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

Johnny Silverhand Tags: @silverse @overheardatthecontinental @meshlababy @ataraxydreams @ineedpeetalikehekneadsbread @savsselfinserts @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @donakamark

*If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to send me an ask or DM!

#johnny silverhand x v #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand fanfic

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thusspoketrish · 3 years ago

Text

Let’s Go Get the Baddies!

CW: my poor attempt at humour(?), drama queen!Draco (but who doesn’t want that?!), lots of kissing, so much ridiculousness

Written for the prompt Cruise/Cruise ship for @drarrymicrofic

Draco rolls his eyes as Harry tries to keep him at his back, preventing him from peering around the corner. Instead, Draco remains pressed up against him.

“What’s this, Potter? Now I’m incapable of a simple observation?” Draco mutters against Harry’s ear. He smiles at the slight shiver that runs through Harry.

“You’re hardly missing out on a covert operation, Draco,” Harry whispers in response, carefully manoeuvring a conjured compact mirror to peer around the corner with.

The upper deck of the cruise ship had been vacated just minutes ago by the hijackers. Draco was still in his speedo, for Merlin’s sake. And wandless. Fortunately, Harry was not only a bit more covered in his plain scarlet swim trunks and white t-shirt, but also had the mind to bring his wand along with him when they had decided to lounge at the pool earlier.

“Why does trouble always find you?” Draco tsks, crossing his arms against his naked chest. “Is this something I’m going to have to deal with forever?”

“Draco, please,” Harry warns. “I’m trying to listen to the main hijacker’s demands.” Then, after a slight pause he says, “I’m hardly to be blamed for this. It’s not like they’re here for me. For once.”

“What are they here for?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know. Wealth. Power. World-domination. All I know is that this is fucking up our entire itinerary,” Harry sighs, pocketing the compact mirror and straightening up. “There’s seven men holding the captain and his crew hostage. No fatalities. Another three patrolling the main deck, from what I saw earlier. I also noticed about five suspicious men on the lower deck when I was coming from the kitchens this morning.”

Draco looks perplexed. “Is that where you were, you insufferable arse. You said you were out strolling, not stuffing your face without me!”

“I wasn’t,” Harry says quickly.

“Then what were you down there for? Hmm?”

“It’s not important right now,” Harry snaps, but his cheeks flush. He pushes his glasses up with a finger. “Have you any other intel you’d like to provide?” The air of impatience around Harry is palpable, and so not on.

Draco scowls. “Okay Mr Big Bad Team Leader Auror Potter! All of them have automatics. All of them seem extremely angry. There. Fuck you very much.”

Harry sighs wearily, pushing his glasses up to massage the bridge of his slightly crooked nose.

“We should just go back to our cabin, call for backup, and pretend this never happened,” Draco continues, feeling petulant and taking great pleasure from Harry’s subtle frustration.

“Fat chance of that. We’re bloody Aurors, Draco.”

“But this is my bloody honeymoon!” Draco pouts.

“Our honeymoon. And unfortunately there are hundreds of lives at stake and I can’t imagine choosing to ignore saving those lives to shag you rotten in our room.”

Draco gasps, his eyes livid. “How dare you say something like that to me! Me, your husband. The future other father of our children. The man you’ve literally bonded your bloody, selfish, piggish soul to!”

Harry places a hand on each of Draco’s shoulders and gives him a slight shake. “Draco. Love of my life. Apple of my eye. My cherished, heart’s desire…I will shag you three hundred different ways all over this fucking cruise ship if you help me apprehend these baddies, okay?”

“That’s quite a tall order, Potter, are you sure you can handle it?”

Harry’s responding grin is so wicked and devilish, Draco is nowhere near surprised that the blood in his body pumps south. “Don’t underestimate me,” Harry says, his tone pitched low, husky. Draco shivers.

“Hmmm, I haven’t yet, Potter,” Draco says, leaning in to press a soft, chaste kiss to his husband’s lips. “Okay. Let’s go get the baddies.”

Harry hands him his wand. “You take this. Stay to my left. Stun the ones with the weapons first. I’ll take the one holding the captain via hand to hand. Once we have them bound with rope, we’ll silence them and make our way through the ship.”

“You’re comfortable going entirely wandless for this?”

Draco can feel his cheeks flush as Harry begins to flex his shoulders and arms, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet before conjuring a small, scarlet orb of magic in his right palm. It’s a perfectly controlled, unreleased, Stupefy. “Locked and loaded,” Harry says, as if he's in some terrible film that's both Muggle and American.

Draco growls before pulling Harry towards him, ignoring the sharp yelp of surprise Harry makes, to crush their lips together in a bruising, filthy kiss. “Merlin, you’re so bloody hot. I can’t wait to get you in bed after we handle this,” Draco says against Harry’s lips. When he pulls back, Harry is slightly dazed.

“The feeling is completely mutual, babe,” Harry says with a crooked smile.

Later on, when they’ve apprehended all the hijackers, and both backup Aurors and Muggle coast guards and marine police are roaming the ship, Draco stands beside Harry, only half listening to his partner recount the slightly altered tale of how they took out fifteen extremely dangerous hijackers.

“We’re lucky to have had two skilled rangers on board,” the coast guard says.

“Really, it was no problem at all. Happy to have helped,” Harry says.

Draco nearly chokes as he tries to hide his laugh over the ridiculousness of their cover. “I, for one, would like to disagree. This was a huge inconvenience to our honeymoon. I had to fight these creeps in just a Speedo. My modesty was in constant jeopardy.” One of the marine officers actually provided Draco a jacket earlier, but this did little to smooth away Draco’s annoyance over the whole wasted day.

The guard stops taking down notes and instead shoots Harry a bewildered, questioning look. Harry grins sheepishly and shrugs.

“My husband has been through quite the ordeal today, sir. If you don’t mind, we’d like to continue our honeymoon in peace,” Harry says, wrapping his arms around Draco’s body.

“Get a room!” one of the bounded hijackers snarls in disgust from his position on the floor.

Draco moves to kick him but Harry blocks his way. “We would have been doing exactly that and more in that very room had you bastards not interrupted us!”

“Ignore him, he’s not worth it,” Harry says, the corners of his lips twitching.

Just then, they’re approached by an elderly man. Draco recognises him as the cruise’s three-star Michelin chef.

“A reminder, Mr Potter, that we are still on for tonight. Thank you for saving our lives, gentlemen,” the chef says with a small nod before shuffling off.

“What’s he on—oh…” Draco says, realisation dawned on him. Harry’s answering blush is all the confirmation Draco needs. “You silly, gorgeous, selflessly charming man,” Draco simpers, pulling Harry in closer.

“Surprise!” Harry says, boyish grin once again firmly in place.

Draco wraps his arms around Harry tighter and then spins him on his heel, dipping him backwards with a flourish. Harry’s hands immediately clasp behind his neck. “Oh, we are just beginning with the surprises, husband of mine,” Draco purrs.

And then Draco kisses him.

He has to say.

This may very well be the best honeymoon ever.

#drarrymicrofic #drarry microfic #thank you skeptiquewrites for your beta work!!! I appreciate you so much!#drama queen Draco Malfoy #Harry is frustrated #I'm so sorry.#drarry #drarry fic #cruise #cruise ships #poor attempt at humour #lots of kissing #can I call this fluff?#it's fluff #can we say it's a bit cracky? Yes #Bring on the crack

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abarbaricyalp · 3 years ago

Note

Hand holding 37

37) not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out

I assumed SamBucky. If not, just let me know!

Reblogging with the AO3 link ASAP so hopefully it'll stay in the tag this time.

i wanna hold your hand

Bucky had been in Delacroix for six months when the invitation rolled in. He flipped the heavy, glossy card over in his fingers, stacked the multiple envelopes and smaller cards and pieces of tissue paper together, and then looked at the fancy golden script again.

Albert James Wilson and Stephanie Marie Pujols cordially invite Captain Samuel Thomas Wilson to celebrate their wedding with them on the Third of August Two-Thousand-and-Twenty-Five.

There was more text--RSVP instructions, food preferences, a location--but Bucky’s eyes kept drifting to the scrawled message at the bottom of the invitation next to a quickly drawn shield.

Please bring Sergeant Barnes as your plus one -❤️ Stephanie-

He just about flung the invitation across the kitchen when he heard the door open. “Will you go get the rest of the groceries out of the truck? It’s about to open up and I don’t want to be dragging shit through the rain,” Sam said as he stumbled through the entryway to the kitchen. “Oh, you saw the card, great. You can remember what day it is. They sent a Save-the-Date ages ago but I totally forgot about it.”

Bucky felt a little hollow in the chest as he listened to Sam carry on like it was nothing that someone Bucky didn’t even know asked for him by name. Asked Sam for him. “Uh, who's Albert?” he finally managed to get out through the heavy lump in his throat.

“He’s one of my cousins. One of the babies. I think he’s, like, twenty-six or something? Maybe a little older. Him and Steph have been dating for ages but they took everything really slow. She went to grad school and they always said they weren’t getting married until they were totally graduated and had jobs. And then, you know, the Blip and all.”

Sam set the bags of groceries down on the oven and started to stack cans below the cupboards they went in, fruits by the baskets on the breakfast bar, drinks on the other side of the fridge.

“Right,” Bucky said and tapped the invitation against his metal hand. “Do you think it’s really a good idea for me to go?”

Sam shot him an unamused look. “Listen, you don’t get to invite yourself to the fun parties on the water and then decide that you don’t want to sit through a long ass wedding. Besides, you’ll like the reception. Lots of dancing.”

“Sure, it’s just… I mean, they don’t know me. This is a serious moment and they’re just asking for a stranger to come sit in the audience and watch them...fucking become one under the eyes of God.”

“You’re so Catholic,” Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re coming with me. I’ll be bored out of my mind if you don’t. Besides, if you don’t go, who’s gonna be the ugly, old one?”

“I hate you,” Bucky sighed.

“I know. Now go get the groceries before the bread gets soaked.”

Bucky had been promised dancing and food. But, while most of the church had cleared out for a local dancehall for the reception, Bucky found himself standing awkwardly by the altar while approximately four million pictures were snapped of the wedding party. Sam, leaning against a beautiful statue that he probably shouldn’t have been leaning against next to Bucky, was the only thing keeping Bucky from royally losing his entire mind.

He hadn’t been in a church basically since DC all those years ago. Who knew about before then. Occasionally, when he’d been on the run, he’d crept into an empty rectory to snag a few minutes of quiet where he could rest his eyes without feeling like someone was staring at him, waiting for a moment of weakness on his part. And, sure, growing up Catholic had put this indelible mark on his soul that reacted to any church, empty or not. A deep longing and belonging that he’d never been able to fully grapple with.

But empty churches where he just wanted to sleep were not the same level of overwhelming that a church in the midst of celebration was. Now, all that longing and belonging was spilling over his ribs and soaking into the rest of his body, alive and hot and so tangible he felt like he could almost reach inside himself and touch it.

He missed this.

He missed the happiness and the family and the love that he could find in the walls of a church, in the midst of a celebration. He missed being able to feel something bigger than himself.

The bride and groom hadn’t stopped smiling and laughing all afternoon, always good sports about redoing a photo or trying a new pose or bringing new people into the same picture they’d taken a thousand times already. They couldn’t take their eyes off of each other, couldn’t let go of hands or waists or cheeks.

God, Bucky missed it.

“Okay, how about something with all of the couples?” the photographer asked. “Mom, dad, get on in there. Any bridesmaids and groomsmen paired up? Alright, you go there. Sirs? Sirs?”

“Yo, Sam!” Albert called out and Bucky looked up sharply from the jostling of people in love with each other and the moment.

“I’m not here with anyone,” Sam called back.

“You’re holding your date’s hand?” the photographer said, clearly unsure of what was before her own eyes now.

Sam and Bucky both looked down at their interlocked fingers, hands pressed between their thighs, and then jumped apart with muttered apologies.

“Uh. We’re not. We’re not.” What a stupid thing to have to say after everyone had just seen them. “We’re not together,” Bucky finally got out.

Stephanie frowned deeply for the first time all afternoon, a scheming furrow appearing between her eyebrows.

“Alright… Well then, is that everyone? Okay, cheese it up hard…”

The pictures continued.

“Sorry again,” Bucky said a while later while he and Sam stood shoulder to shoulder in the church’s small bathroom, both looking at their own reflections while they washed their hands.

“Nah, it’s fine. I probably just kept shifting closer to you,” Sam said and there was a strain in his voice that Bucky couldn’t quite place. He didn’t think he’d heard it before. Not on Sam.

“Sometimes I kind of tune out what that arm’s feeling,” he said. “There’s- a lot of nerve activity, y’know. I didn’t notice I’d grabbed you.”

“It was the moment,” Sam agreed. “We were watching a bunch of other people hold hands and shit.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He shook water off of his fingers and then wiped his hands on his slacks. “Can we go eat now?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding quickly. “Let’s get outta here. I’m sure other people are waiting.”

The dancehall was dim, lit up only with white string lights draped over the rafters and around the tables and columns. It smelt heavenly, a mix of well cooked food and an open bar and desserts that Bucky couldn’t even name. Sam grabbed Bucky’s wrist--this time he felt it--and pulled him through the crowds lingering at the dance floor’s edge. He gave as short answers as was possible to stay polite until they got to the food.

Sarah was waiting for them.

“What took you two so long?” she asked. “I’ve had to fend off a dozen people looking for Captain America.”

“You will not believe what happened to us at the church,” Sam said, loading up a plate with more food than Bucky felt comfortable taking. It was fine because Sam was making Bucky a plate too and they were pretty similar in portion size.

“Oh, yes I will,” Sarah said. “Stephanie told me all about it.”

“What? How did she beat us here? We got in our car first.”

“Why did you two lie to that poor photographer?” Sarah asked.

Bucky looked up with a meringue half in his mouth. “We didn’t? She made the assumption herself.”

“You said you weren’t together,” Sarah clarified. “Why are you playing coy with me?”

“We’re not together,” Sam insisted for the second time that day. Bucky ignored the cinch of his heart and grabbed a brownie to add to Sam’s precarious stack of food.

Sarah brought two fingers up to the bridge of her nose. “Samuel Thomas,” she said and Sam squawked out an indignant sound.

“Don’t say my name like that. You sound just like mom.”

“You’re lucky it’s me and not mom listening to you lie to yourself.”

Sam was about to argue with her, Bucky could tell, when the plate in his hand suddenly tipped. Bucky’s hand shot out to steady it, fingers sliding over Sam’s to hold it still, wait for the food to stop moving before adjusting their hands under it to continue carrying it.

Sarah shot them a very pointed look. “Cass and AJ are holding our table down and Mrs. Reynolds has already said she wants at least two dances from you,” she said to Sam.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said, just a little sarcastically. “Come on, Buck. And grab an extra roll. AJ’s gonna take all the good desserts if we don’t distract him.”

Sam did far more dancing than Bucky did. Just about all night, he had someone on his arm, cutting in, or pulling him back to the floor. Between everyone at their table, they cleared the plates Sam had made but Bucky didn’t think Sam had had half of what he wanted. He made sure to collect another plate when he was sure everyone had had a chance to eat and kept it safe at his side, even with AJ curled up in his lap, snoozing against his metal shoulder soundly. True, most kids couldn’t eat while they were asleep but after watching him put away way more carbs and sugar than Bucky thought should be possible, he wasn’t putting anything past the kid.

When Sam managed to drag himself away from all of his fans for the sixth time that night, and when he shot Bucky a curious but pleased glance between AJ and his shoulder, Bucky just said, “Sugar crash,” and pushed the plate of food over to Sam with the arm not currently holding AJ in place.

Possibly, AJ got his appetite from his uncle if the way Sam dug in was anything to go by. “Jesus, man, breathe,” Bucky laughed and passed over the bottle of beer he’d been nursing most of the last hour.

“Thanks. I forgot how much a full night of dancing takes out of you. Not as young as I used to be, y’know,” Sam said and took a long pull from Bucky’s drink.

“You literally moved a boulder off a road yesterday,” Bucky pointed out.

“I only had to do that once and I had the jetpack. I’ll tell you, my feet wish I had the wings about now,” Sam answered. He put away a roll and one of the sweets Bucky didn’t know before finally sitting back a little, forearms rested on the tables. He’d discarded his jacket after the fourth or so dance and at some point he’d rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows. That, plus the brown suspenders over his light blue shirt had him looking like a hundred old memories in Bucky’s mind.

“AJ and I filmed you a few times,” Bucky said to distract himself from the sweat cooling on Sam’s forearms. He brought his phone out and left it on the table as it played a video. Sam leaned forward and then laughed.

“Oh, you liked that one, huh?” he asked.

“Nah, that was AJ’s choice. I liked this one,” he said, swiping to the previous video.

“Of course, something more lindy-hop,” Sam said with a nod. “That lady called me every single day after mom died, y’know. She always said it was ‘cause she missed her already and our voices were similar, but I think she was worried about me.”

“Who was this one?” Bucky asked, flipping through a few more clips.

“Oh, shit,” Sam laughed. “I can’t believe you recorded that. We went to the prom together junior year. Her dad hated me. He’d probably hate that this video exists.”

“Captain America couldn’t even clear the bad blood?” Bucky joked.

“Hell no. Prom night, he busted into the living room after the dance thinking he was gonna catch us in some act but we were just watching movies. It was never like that with us, but you couldn't convince him.”

Bucky flipped to another video. “Her son joined up with me but ended up dropping out and going Navy instead. - She was my first boss. - I played baseball with that guy and he came out a few months after we graduated. - I dated her daughter very briefly. - That’s the daughter and the little one is her daughter. - That’s my favorite teacher’s son. He just wanted to say hi from his mom.”

“Hey, what are you looking at?” AJ asked groggily suddenly. He leaned over the table, small hand coming to rest where, once again, Sam and Bucky’s had drifted together on the other side of the phone. This time they couldn’t jump apart.

“Uncle Sam, Uncle Bucky danced with my teacher and she said he had the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen,” Cass shouted as he came bounding back to the table with Sarah in tow behind him. Bucky had seen her dance with a handsome man for three dances in a row so if she cut any new knowing looks at where their hands were being held hostage, he had some retaliation this time.

Bucky finally let Sam drag him out to the middle of the dancefloor just as things were beginning to wind down. Many guests had already left for the evening, catering had cleared out the food, though Sam and AJ really did their part in making sure there was no bread left for them to clean, and the band had packed up and left a local DJ to close out the night.

This time, Bucky was more than aware of his hand sliding into Sam’s, his metal hand settling against Sam’s shoulder, thumb brushing over the strap of his suspenders. Sam’s other hand was warm and welcome against his hip. Bucky couldn’t help but step closer to him as they swayed to the slow song.

“You were really good with all the kids all night,” Sam said. “I saw them dogpile you earlier.”

“Kids like me,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Entertaining them was my job at weddings back when too. All those nights of dancing and I never got to show off at family functions,” he joked.

“You showed off plenty. I think it’s gonna be you Mrs. Reynolds asks for next time someone gets married. Hell, maybe she’ll be marrying you.”

Bucky laughed and shook his head. “Hey, she’s got spirit. I think if we’d gone a few more dances, she might’ve found one I didn’t know.”

“Well, it was a jazz band. Can’t blame you for not keeping up when you didn’t grow up with good music.”

“We had jazz,” Bucky said with a roll of his eyes. “It was nice, getting to see more of your life.”

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, it was nice stepping back in time a little bit, getting to see how everyone’s grown up.”

“You’re so loved here. Not Captain America. Sam Wilson. People adore you.”

Sam ducked his head shyly and Bucky reached up to catch a knuckle under his chin. The music had stopped and their feet must’ve realized it before their brains because they weren’t dancing anymore either.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Sammy,” someone called from across the room. Bucky recognized the groom’s voice. “You haven’t let go of his hand all night. Just kiss him already.”

Sam and Bucky both looked down at their tangled fingers and let out a little laugh. “Well, if it’s what your fans want…” Bucky suggested.

“Shut up, man,” Sam laughed and leaned forward to kiss him.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky fanfiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #writing #i answer things

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widowsofchaos · 4 years ago

Text

Poor Little Rich Boy

summary: you find out your boyfriend isn’t all that innocent as he seems.

warnings: yandere behavior, violence, and gore. dub-non con. Ya know the filthy vibes.

Pairing: dark college!Tony Stark x black!reader

a/n: this is my first time writing Tony so be gentle with me <3

do not respost my works!

“I, Howard Anthony Walter Stark, being of sound, mind, and body do hereby declare that this document is my last will and testament. I bestow my legacy in the hands of my only heir, my son, Anthony Edward Stark. All my assets, finances, and chair as CEO of Stark Industries are now in his hands.”

Buzz.

A dull silent vibration shook in the confinement of Tony’s jean pocket, pulling him out of his sullen trance. Instinctively ignoring the notification, as he listened onto the blurred words of the lawyer reading his late father’s will.

Biting his lip to contain his swirling emotions -- aggravation to just collect his inherited earnings, and head home to you.

Buzz.

With a hazy eye-roll, Tony casually sneaked his palm into his pocket, retrieving the phone. As the family lawyer droned on reading, aged eyes glued onto the paper; Tony peaked at the screen, with the quick analysis of face ID -- his pupils dilated like saucers.

His nostrils flared, inhaling deeply, his chest heaving -- he gotta get home immediately. An iron grip onto the phone, he roughly dug it back into his pocket, his foot tapping against the carpeted flooring. Antsy.

God, please make time go faster.

Buzz.

His fingers itched to snatch the cellular device, internally screaming for another peak at the salacious cheeky messages.

Messages from you -- photos of yourself seated on his bedroom floor, in only a high-waisted thong, and his custom tailored blazer.

The creamy beige against your buttery smooth bronze skin was divine, Tony swears anything you wear is pulled off with elegance. Your brown areolas are slipping out just a tad bit from the flaps, a hint of what’s awaiting for him.

His cock hardened against the denim fabric, Tony salivates whenever you wear his clothing, his scent imprinting onto your flesh - of you in compromising positions, your neatly manicured fingers inside your panties, rubbing your swollen nub. Biting your plump bottom lip.

Buzz.

Another picture with a text, you were sipping from a glass, his best Scotch, with the typed words, “I miss you. I know my favorite boy is blue, come back home so I can take care of you.” Signed with a kissy face emoji, and a red heart.

You were leaning on your elbows, your bouncy ass in the air, legs bent upward with your ankles playfully interlocked in the air.

The glass of ale leaning downward against your teasing lips, and sultry eyes through the reflective mirror -- Tony’s cock twitched, oh he’s gonna eat you up when he gets home.

- It was midnight, the full moon shining bright in the inky indigo sky -- beaming upon the Stark manor. The white fluorescent solar satellite glistening upon the grand bedroom where two lovers lay satiated in bed.

Rubbing random circles by the pads of your fingertips on Tony’s sweaty broad chest, taming the beast into a purring feline.

“I love you.” Tony’s mild slurred speech infiltrated the serene silence, your nose scrunched up in glee. “I love you too.” you murmured in his neck, a lazy grin stretched on your face.

For hours, Tony, and yourself haven’t left the bedroom, stringing release after release -- letting Tony pinch, pull your hair, bruise, slap, and choke your soft flesh-- that’s what he loves about you, trusting him wholeheartedly with your body, and soul.

A lot of tears of euphoria, and fear of abandonment. Reassuring Tony that you would never leave him, breathy hymns of I love yous in his ear.

It’s been a couple of difficult few weeks, Howard Stark has passed at the age of 74. A fatal car crash taking his life, leaving behind his only son. It was only freshly five months ago that Tony lost his mother, Maria. Uterine cancer - multiple tumors.

Maria Stark, the matriarch of the family, was the light of Tony’s life. Maria was a saint, even at death’s door, she had a positive perspective. You can still recall her calling her tumors fruit bowls of pain - her tumors were the size of miniature melons; grew from the size of strawberries.

And when she died -- the already fractured relationship of father and son deteriorated to ash. Howard started becoming colder, more stricter on his son -- his disappointment fueling by the second.

Clayed into a modernized Narcissus -- guising his trauma with bloviating chatter to impress the little people. Boasting his youthful genius with no shame.

Tony may have been born from the finest cloth, a silver-spoon wedged in his mouth -- but he oozes the work ethic of a blue-collar joe.

Under the molden gait of a promising demigod is a fragile boy -- yearning for affection. A neglected child desperate for attention.

Sending nudes to your boyfriend while he’s attending his dead father’s will hearing -- many would deem that as distasteful -- tacky, even. But, you knew Tony’s coping mechanisms.

Frat parties, drinking excessively to the brink of oblivion, and copious amounts of sex.

Tony was raised in a household, where any emotional turmoil expressed to his father was shot down, except with his mother -- he needs a womanly touch.

He never saw his conquests as ladies, only whores to get his rocks off, but once he laid eyes on you -- sweet, and bubbly -- that little rich boy was a goner.

Succumbing to a dazed half-slumber, Tony’s cell phone rings at the bedside table -- you groaned at the intrusion. Flashing on the screen was Happy’s goofy grin, one of Tony’s closest friends. You mumbled a ‘of fucking course’, Tony cheekily chuckled at your frustration.

“Don’t worry, sweetcheeks. This won’t take long.” With the wisp of a lingering kiss on your hairline, Tony begrudgingly detached himself from you--proudly strutting his naked bare firm ass, picking up his boxers from the floor shamelessly displaying his hung cock, and balls.

“Nice ass.” you teased. Tony snorted, “Nice? Toots, it’s the finest ass. And you love it.” He winked at you over his shoulder, you giggled. Tony’s footfalls faded down the hall, his conversation blurring into the distance. You laid back down, sighing as you stared up at the ceiling, quickly getting bored.

Without Tony to entertain you, you had nothing to do. Maybe I could get a head start on my thesis? Your eyes languidly rolled to the corner of your lids, staring at your opened crumbled book-bag mocking you at the corner of the room, Fuck that. You grumbled.

Mindlessly deciding to get dressed, and search for substance. Hours of unadulterated love-making can take out a lot of energy.

Nimble quiet feet tip-toe down the stairs, covered in only Tony’s wrinkled white button-down, brown statuesque legs gracefully head to the kitchen -- but you halt in your tracks. A dim light seeps from the crack out of an office -- Howard’s former office.

Curiosity overwhelms you, biting down your tongue, you check your surroundings, making sure Tony is nowhere in sight. Earlier in the day, the office was locked -- why is it now open?

Open-palm press against the door, a tiny creak of the mahogany makes you cringe internally. Stealthy you walk into the office, nothing seems to be out of place. Maybe Tony was in here? Fidgety fingers skim against the polished wooden desk, at the corner of your eye, a mess of papers sit idly by.

You pick the papers up, fastly flicking through it. Statements declaring Tony as the new CEO of Stark Industries, royalties, and -- mechanic blueprints?

Your chest began heaving, breaths still choppy fuming out of your nose, your left eye twitched from the stressing bile rising. Here in your hands are the blueprints of a familiar vehicle -- Howard Stark’s car. Descriptive details on the full functionality of the car, why are these here?

Warm palms clutch your shoulders, soothingly rubbing, you flinch by the surprise, “You weren’t meant to see those.” A hot breath fan against your ear, you whimper, his voice sounded husky, menacingly.

Not daring to look him in the eye, frozen in your spot as if the soles of your feet grew roots in the flooring, Tony’s grasp on your arms tighten. “The old man was going to take me off the will. I know he was.”

A chaste kiss on your temple, “As if I didn’t take his shit over the years just for nothing. Blaming me for my mother’s death.” He grumbled against your skin, your blood running cold. There was no remorse in his voice, a hint of satisfaction.

This isn’t the Tony you knew.

A beast of his father’s making.

“Tony - I - I won’t tell anyone, I promise--” Tony shushed your stuttering, his rough hands snaking its travel to your waist, slithering his forearms around your torso, ensnaring you.

“I know, baby. I know you wouldn’t. You’re my good girl.” He spoke in your hair, small lingering kisses on your scalp. Tony was rocking your body back and forth, cradling you -- he can sense your fear.

With trepidation, you held his arms, a little shaky. “Tony, let’s just go back to bed.” Your voice was cracking, this isn’t the man you fell in love with, and you wanted to just run away as far as you can.

“You’re scared of me?” Although it was an intended question, its tone came off as a fact. Indeed you were terrified of him.

“No.” You spat too quickly for your liking. Tony gripped your chin, and twisted your head to face him, “I would never hurt you. I love you. Everything I do is for you.” Your breath hitched, his face was morphed into a sad feral puppy.

“I know. I know you do.” You feigned a weak smile, “I just didn’t think --” you stopped yourself before you vomited any other words. “Do what? Kill?” Tony cocked a brow, with a shit-eating grin. “I did it before. For you.” Tears were forming at the brim of his eyes, your doe-eyes widened, you began squirming in his arms. “Tony, what did you do?!” you shrieked, limbs failing.

Tony’s iron-grip didn’t let up, refusing to let you go, “He wasn’t right for you!” Tony bellowed on the top of his lungs, impulsive rage seeping through, fumbling feet colliding.

Both of your bodies falling to the carpeted floor as Tony tried to restrain your wrists, fumbling feet slipping. A miscalculated misstep sent you, and Tony colliding downward.

Tony’s weight pinning you down. Confusion making your head go dizzy, “What do you mean?” You whispered. Tony smashed his lips against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks, “You know what I mean.” His brows furrowed, gently his forehead on yours, his eyes staring into your soul.

Realization hits you like a freight train, flashes of your ex, the cops alerting you of his disappearance, Tony’s lingering shadow always appearing to provide comfort -- “Brock?” a lone tear trickle down your eye, down your temple, and hitting the carpet below. Tony nodded frantically.

Tony’s lips peppered against your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your eye-lids, your nose, your chin; mumbling affection against your tear-stained face.

It’s been three years since Brock vanished, rumors flew around campus from students believing he killed himself in some remote location, you lost him in the first years of university.

You were grief-stricken, but Tony, being the ever-present close friend lend a shoulder -- then soon, it blossomed into much more.

“Now, it's just us. We can start a new dollface.” Tony sniffled, hot tears drip upon your flesh, “We can start our own family” he rasps, “I can be a dad. A better father.” Your eyes widened at his suggestion.

A family? You both were just shy of twenty-one, and already Tony is mapping out your entire futures. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but it was futile.

Tony murmured nonono to your bodily request of escape, chasing clumsy blubbering kisses against your chavile. Your body began to be wrecked with sobs, your chest heaving.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s better this way.” Tony’s brows were furrowed sorrowfully, his tremor low with ache. “You killed Brock, how could you?! I loved him!” Tony gripped your jaw, painfully his fingers kneading,

“Loved him?! He wasn’t right for you! You need me! I need you! No one is going to love you like I do. I loved you the first day I met you.” Harsh fingers rip off the fabric, exposing your breasts to the elements.

“You’re mine! No one can have you! I will kill anyone who tries to take you away!” Tony’s mouth plunged, fangs nibbling on your nipples, his entire mouth suckling your left breasts.

Tony’s left hand pinching your right nipple, twisting and slapping it roughly. You yelped, shutting your eyes closed. Your skin crawled, Tony’s brown eyes peered at you, dissatisfied that you refuse to look at him.

A sloppy pop echoed, “Look at me!” he slapped you, the crack of it pounding in your ears, the heat of the sting scorched throughout your cheek. Your eyes popped open, watery from the hit, Tony has never once laid a hand on you -- until now.

Nose to nose, “We’re gonna be a family--” one of his hands traveled down to tug down his boxers, his hard swollen cock is man-handled in his palm, you struggled to get away, but Tony clutched your wrists in one hand, and pinned it on the carpet.

Tony spit on your cunt, rubbing it within your velvety folds by the base of his veiny cock, earning a hiss out of you. “You’re going to look so hot swollen with our baby.” Your thighs twitched, Tony roughly forced your thigh to wrap around his torso, positioning himself.

“Please - Tony, please don’t”, you cried, Tony shushed you. Lining himself to your hole, with no hesitation, plunged his cock inside your pussy. You screamed, your back arching, “Feels lovely, right? Feels so fucking delicious - you were made for me.” Tony snarled, biting your chin, his tongue trailing your jawline, pistoning his cock inside you.

Dripping slick smears against your thighs, clenching onto his cock, a broken groan slips from Tony’s lips, “Fuck - yes, do that again.” You were blubbering tears down your cheeks, the inevitable pleasure Tony strings out of you is undeniable.

“You’re so tight, and warm.” He growled in your ear, “I can’t wait to have a baby with you. You all swollen, waddling around with bare-feet. You’ll be a great mother - just like mine.” He whispered, biting on your lobe.

You murmured muffled whines in the crock of his neck, bruising is slowly forming on your hips, fucking you like it’s the last time. Shivers run down Tony’s spine, time slows down.

Sweaty skin slapping against skin spurred him on, taking all of you. Your nails scratch at his palm, still bounding you down.

“I love you.” He whimpered, you bite your lip, refusing to sink into the instinct of saying it back. Tony perked his head up from your neck, growling, “Say it back!” he thrusted his pelvis against you, a cattle wail hit you, “Say -” thrust “it-” another thrust “-back!” his smile falters slow, a bruising touch.

He can see you slowly yielding, small pants of electric euphoria, “No!” you bite back.

Wet lips slant against yours. Your entire body jolting from his unforgiving pace, your back burning slightly from the rug beneath you.

Releasing your wrists, his rough hand find it’s way to your back, hiking you up, squeezing your ass in his fingers, bucking your hips; fucking you onto him, your nails dig into his sculpted back -- scratching for him to stop, but it felt too good.

You’ve become dizzy. Your teeth sink into his shoulder, hoping the pain makes him halt his actions, but it makes him harden inside of you.

There’s no space between you, melting into one, the friction, the heat; the tethers of reality blur into nothing.

“Please - say you love me.” Tony pleaded, his weary eyes sinking into yours. A robbery -- a heart-wrenching robbery of your soul, in an instant, you didn’t see a cold-blooded killer, but the mire of a lost boy.

He slowed down his thrusts, leisure movements, his brown orbs are glossy, “Say it, please.” Tony gently kisses you, not feverish, but you can taste the sweet commitment. Like he doesn’t own you, but he worships you.

“I love you.” you mumbled against his swollen lips, his eyes dilated, rubbing his nose against yours, “I love you” maneuvering your hips, squelching can be heard - sticky as honey, as the pace picked up.

Your fingers grip his soft fluffy hair, his balls slapping against your ass, “I love you, Tony.” You sucked on his bottom lip. He whimpered. His cock was coated in your juices, you can feel the swelling of his balls, and his uneven jerking movements -- he was close.

“Cum for me, baby.” Tony’s eyes were shut, he mewled, “Cum inside me, give me a baby, Tony.” The dam breaks. The window bursts open from a gust of wind, the full moon gleamed upon your sweaty sheen bodies, a howl erupts from Tony -- as the wolf within has been unhinged -- primal, feral fueled lust.

Toothy grin, all fangs lunged for your pulse point, devouring you. Squirted juices spray from you, splashing against his toned stomach, not once stopping, riding through the orgasm. Tony’s tongue peaked out, droplets of your cum sprinkling his mouth.

Your vision turns white, an inhuman scream leaves you, Tony collapses onto you.

He’s trembling, frightened, you massage his dome, “My sweet boy.” Tony sobs into your chest, ensnaring himself around your torso. You hugged him, cradling like a baby, as he cried water-falls.

“It’s okay.” You kiss his head, a lingering one, “It’s going to be alright.”

You’re all he has.

#buckybarnesplumwhore wrote this #tony stark x reader smut #tony stark x reader angst #yandere tony stark #yandere tony stark x reader #dark tony stark #dark tony stark x reader #dark marvel

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fuchsiagrasshopper · 4 years ago

Text

Contending the Flame XII

Author’s note: I’m back after this chapter kicking my butt, I must have rewritten it three times until I was satisfied because it introduces many characters from the show and I wanted to get them just right. Not sure I’m happy with the result still, but yep, here it is. Enjoy lovelies!

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word count: 5347

Warnings: The usual

King Harald's hall smelled like a fishmonger's home, and it was as inviting as a slave trader's ship. Sitting down to a meal with the man, Ivar tried to contain his displeasure at being there. It had been on Hvitserk's face since their ships had treaded through the carcasses of dead whales in the bay. Both the brothers managed to set aside their poor manners when they came face-to-face with Finehair, but it lingered in the backs of their minds, just like the bad smell.

Ivar was able to ignore the pleasantries and idle chatter that Harald was currently speaking. He was much more preoccupied with the dark-haired Queen on the throne adjacent to the King. Astrid, Lagertha's shieldmaiden and bed warmer, was sipping from her horn of mead while giving Harald loving looks. They were practiced and disingenuous, but they did not explain how she came to be here. Clearly not of her free will, but Harald was too besotted to notice her veiled contempt.

To Ivar's left sat Freydis, introduced as his personal thrall. He had gauged for any sort of inkling of familiarity to pass between her and Harald, but alas he only seemed to have eyes for his new Queen. Freydis was too cunning to give away anything on her part, and that left Ivar wondering if she was as great a deceiver as Loki, or that she hadn't been sent by Finehair to begin with.

That put his mind back on Lagertha and Kattegat. She must have been the one to send in a spy. She only cared for Bjorn, and she wanted all of the other sons of Ragnar to perish just like their mother. That was how he saw it anyhow, but he knew his brothers would disagree. They weren't as quick to take up arms against Ragnar's first wife as he was, and that made him feel bitterly alone.

Freydis continued to shower him with compliments and attention, and he lent into the treatment. He needed to keep her close until it was discovered who she was working with, but he was also missing you. She was a strange substitute for your place, holding none of the similarities that had endeared you to him. He was still frustrated by you revealing your name to Heahmund as well, and perhaps this was his way of acting out against you. It was a petty move considering you weren't even there to witness this ongoing dance with Freydis.

"If you were to help me conquer Kattegat," Harald said, catching Ivar's attention. "Would one of you want to be King?"

Hvitserk sent Ivar a look as if to say 'It's a trap'. Harald was looking for humble allies who wouldn't challenge his bid to be King of all Norway. He must not have understood the sons of Ragnar, or he was coming from a place that underestimated them.

"It is our home," Ivar replied vaguely.

"Of course, I understand your attachment. Your father was King before, and then your Queen mother. I respect your family, but Kattegat is also too important a location for trade. I would need it to fuel my war and feed my army. Whoever rules Kattegat must accept that his lead is to benefit me, a mutual working relationship."

"I'm sure that could be arranged," said Hvitserk.

Ivar nodded. "We would be accommodating to your plight."

"And what of Lagertha there now? Perhaps she could make me a better offer?"

If Harald had any sense, he would have noticed his Queen's false looks of adoration had ceased at the mention of Kattegat's current ruler. Ivar gave a smirk that was meant for Astrid.

"If she had anything to offer, she would have already done so," He said, reaching for more mead. "Our army has the numbers. Lagertha will die. She is a usurper and coward."

Astrid had to hide her foul look when Harald took her hand in his, but even through her blank stare could Ivar feel her loathing. Harald continued to stroke her fingers as he spoke. "And how will she die? I do not doubt your heart or courage Ivar, but Lagertha is a shieldmaiden worthy of Valhalla. You cannot achieve a victory hand-to-hand."

Freydis grabbed his hand beneath the table, and he wanted to smack it away. The frustration he felt at himself for not being able to challenge his mother's killer in single combat would always be his greatest failure. He could outwit the legendary shieldmaiden, but at the time of her death, he feared he would not be satisfied.

"I have my own way of getting to Lagertha, but first we need your answer. Will you fight alongside the sons of Ragnar?"

"I count only two of you," Astrid piped up. "Are the sons of Ragnar not of one mind? Where are Bjorn and Ubbe?"

Harald planted an obnoxious kiss on Astrid's mouth before she could turn. "My beautiful wife raises a good question. Where are your brothers?"

"Bjorn is our half-brother," Hvitserk said with a shrug, "And his intentions will always align with his mother."

"And Ubbe is a traitor. He sailed with a handful of our warriors to Kattegat," Ivar said, glad for the lie. His mind slipped to you for a moment, but he shook it away. He had refused to bring you here in person, but even in thought, it was dangerous. You were a distraction that could cause him to make a mistake or have poor judgement, through no fault of your own.

"Then I'm certain Lagertha will be anticipating our assault," Harald said with a frown.

"But she won't have an idea as to when. She knows we will bring the fight to her, but we have the advantage of time," Ivar pointed out, and he could feel Hvitserk's questioning look.

Harald let out a laugh. "You remind me of why I fought alongside your father. I cannot refuse the offer to join with the sons of Ragnar and their army now. Let us share a horn and thank the Gods we have this opportunity to become Kings."

The men each took a drink from Harald's own horn, and Ivar could feel Astrid's eyes following it as it was passed around the table. She was more cunning than he would have ever accredited her to be, which made her a threat to their plans moving forward.

"Tonight you shall sleep in my hall, and tomorrow we can discuss plans for our army."

'Our army'. He certainly wasted no time in claiming their men for his own. Ivar smiled through his irritation. Harald was watching for his reaction. He wasn't so distracted by his new Queen to have lost all sense when it came to a possible enemy.

"We'll take you up on that offer," Hvitserk piped up after the stretch of silence had grown uncomfortable.

"I will have my thralls prepare a room."

Ivar turned to Freydis. "You will assist them."

"Of course, Ivar." She stroked her hand lovingly down his arm.

The sensation shot a shiver down his spine, a reaction he couldn't help. He hated to think he was as weak-willed as his brothers when it came to blonde thralls, but his wavering resolve was laughing at him.

The table began to disband with Harald dragging the unfortunate Astrid back to his room. Ivar and Hvitserk returned outside and began to walk through the streets of Vestfold to return to their men. Hvitserk's mind was buzzing, and Ivar knew his brother had a word or two he wanted to get in.

"We can't go to war against Kattegat with Harald," He started at the moment they were alone. "We'd be betraying our own people, and Ubbe is there with our warriors."

"I know that."

Hvitserk didn't like how short of an answer he gave. "And (Y/N)'s there too. Have you forgotten that?"

"Of course I haven't," Ivar barked back. "But Lagertha is still my enemy, even if you've forgotten that. I can't allow her to live."

"She's my enemy too, brother. I know you loved mother, more than I did. But you also have to know she loved you more than any of us. If you say she didn't then you're either not as smart as I thought, or you're in denial."

Ivar knew it to be true. He knew it all too well when growing up. Ubbe and Hvitserk were closer in age and always together, leaving him alone. All he had to do was let out one small cry and mother would forget about Sigurd, the brother he should have been close to. It was something he exploited at the expense of the relationships with all of his brothers. He had a lot to make up for.

"If we can find a way to unseat Lagertha from the throne, then there would be no cause to go to war."

Hvitserk halted in his tracks as they made it to the docks. The boards were stained red and slick with the blood and oil from whales. Many of Harald's fishermen couldn't be bothered to spare the sons a second glance. They were preoccupied with loading their ships, huffing and puffing through the stink in the air that was not so foul out in the open.

"Please tell me you have a plan to do that," Hvitserk said in a hushed voice that was almost lost to the wind.

Ivar smirked back. "I didn't bring the Bishop along just to annoy you. We just have to get him to Kattegat to kill Lagertha before our army can arrive."

"You're willing to place all our hopes on that Christian?"

"He would do it for his freedom. What's one more dead heathen to him other than another purified soul gone from this earth?" Ivar said confidently. "Yes, brother, I am as certain he will do this as I am that Lagertha is the one to have sent Freydis to me."

Hvitserk was about to comment but was interrupted by an approaching presence that commanded the attention of the crowd. The previously busy workers stopped to part for her, but she was not flattered by the gesture. She marched with purpose, straight towards them, and Ivar gave a half bow in mocking as she arrived.

"Your majesty," He teased. "Not come to plead for mercy on Lagertha's behalf I hope. I have none."

Astrid's look was as dark as her hair, but she set aside her grievances to settle whatever she had come for. "No, Ivar. I have come in the hopes to make a deal with you."

"Really," He said, airing out his skepticism. "What do you want?"

She stepped closer, almost in a threatening display that had Hvitserk reaching for his knife. His concern wasn't unwarranted, as she was a shieldmaiden to Lagertha. Astrid eased her intensity while placing her hands up to signify no harm. "I want you to smuggle me back to Kattegat."

Both Ivar and Hvitserk shared a laugh, but she did not falter. She must be more miserable with Harald than Ivar had gleaned, but that wasn't his concern. "Why would we do that? There's great risk involved for us. Harald is obviously quite taken with you, and we'd be making an enemy of him because you have reservations about sharing his bed."

"I have information for you, regarding that woman by your side, the thrall."

Ivar's back straightened and he looked to Hvitserk with curiosity. This was the answer they had been searching for. "What do you know of Freydis?"

Astrid smirked. "She's a spy, but I'm sure you've already gathered that. I won't say anything more out here. Harald still doesn't trust me enough to not have me followed, and I won't give up what I know without a guarantee that you'll give me what I want."

"When then?" Hvitserk asked and he sounded as impatient as Ivar felt.

"Tonight, after Harald passes out from too much meat and drink. Make sure that thrall of yours is kept occupied as well. I shouldn't have to tell you not to trust a spy, but you're men, and I've seen the way you look at her," Astrid remarked while giving Ivar a pointed look. "Don't let me down sons of Ragnar. Your father lost many things towards his end, but never his integrity. I suspect the gods instilled the same in you."

Astrid departed and a group of guards followed after at a distance. It appeared she was correct about her limited freedom, and after saying much, Ivar wondered what else she was right about. She had given them much to think on at any rate, and he tried not to feel slighted at the comment about his apparent weakness for Freydis' beauty.

"Can we trust her?" Hvitserk asked at his side. They both took a seat on the ledge of the longship that had carried them in earlier that same day.

"She's desperate to return to Lagertha, and she knew Freydis was a spy without us feeding her that information. We'll have to hear her out first, but I suspect she's being honest about this."

"But not about her intentions once she's back in Kattegat," said Hvitserk. "Harald is being played by us and his Queen. Guess he isn't about to be King of all Norway any time soon."

"Thank the gods for that. I want to be in faraway lands when that happens," Ivar said with a smirk as his brother broke into a laugh.

"Then I'm coming with you. You'd be lost without me."

"I would," Ivar admitted, and it had a sobering effect on Hvitserk, who grew quiet beside him.

Truly, he didn't know where his fate would take him, but he knew it would be better if his brother was at his side. And you as well. Ivar closed his eyes and recalled your face, your laugh, and your kiss. You would be a free woman by now, and he hoped you wouldn't be too cross with him about that little stunt next time you met. He wanted to see you this very moment, but the distance made that impossible. For now, he would have to rely on his memories and hope that Niorun would bless him with dreams of you.

ooOOoo

You were alone again. This was nothing new since arriving in Kattegat. You wish you could say you knew more about the city, but all you had seen was the four walls of Audhild's cabin. She had left to take another trip into the market, and you had come close to begging her to take you with her. It seemed she and Ubbe were of the same mindset when it came to keeping you out of trouble, and you had no doubt it was Ivar's doing. Even an ocean away he was still in charge of your life and it was as endearing as it was infuriating.

The first thing Audhild had done for you was provide you with new clothes. The loose-fitted secondhand frocks no longer befitted your station as a free woman. You were given wool leggings and tunics, along with a belt that cinched around your waist. Ladies didn't wear trousers back in England, and it was taking getting used to. You often found yourself tugging and adjusting at the fabric, all while Audhild would shoot you queer looks.

As thanks for her setting you up with new garments, you would cook the meals for you both. It was a favor to both of you really, because, after the first night of eating her dry bread and burnt fish, you didn't think your stomach could handle the pain. You had even managed to learn how to properly butcher a rabbit, something you had never eaten back home.

Ubbe would pop around from time to time to see you, as well as keeping you both informed about the ongoing situation with Lagertha. For now the ruling Queen was content to let Ubbe stay among the people, though according to him she never passed up a chance to bring up questions about Ivar. That let him know her guard was still up, and she did not yet trust the elder son of Ragnar.

While you were glad for the updates, you couldn't shake the wavering disappointment about your newfound freedom. All of your knowledge about the people of Kattegat came from the words of Ubbe or your host, and you hadn't even met Ubbe's wife yet. So far being a free woman didn't feel any different than enslavement, and the growing loneliness was what pressed you to venture out on your own from the cabin.

You waited enough time to be sure Audhild hadn't turned back on her way into town before throwing on a pair of fur-lined boots and overcoat. You had no plan on where you were going, only that you wanted to see something of this new land that wasn't the inside of Audhild's cabin. England was all flat plains and rolling green hills, but Norway was jagged mountains and dark forests with cold rushing rivers. It had never crossed your mind that you would be interested in seeing new lands, probably because as a nun your only travels would have been to other cities and villages across England tending to the sick and spreading the word of God.

You headed out with Ivar's knife tucked into your belt and began to take the path eastward. You knew west would take you the way towards Kattegat, that was where Audhild had gone. As tempted as you were to see the market, you knew it could land you into trouble to meet more of the Northmen while alone for the first time. Your only mission today was to better acquaint yourself with the land.

The breeze felt wonderful on your face, and you had forgotten the taste of breathing fresh air. It was earthy and damp here, not like the iron and smoke of York. The bit of frost that was on the ground crunched beneath your boots. Winter came earlier this far north. You could see it in the grey of the sky that spelled snow. You hoped Ivar and Hvitserk would return before the waters froze over and that they would be bringing peace with them. Absurd! Letting out a breathy laugh, you remembered fondly that Ivar wasn't a peaceful being.

You missed him. At night after Audhild was snoring across the cabin, you would lie awake and stare at the ceiling, thinking of him. You didn’t understand what it meant, but your heart raced and your body grew restless at the mere thought of him. There was so much more that needed to be shared, and you were trying to compile everything in your mind so you would be ready for his return. You wouldn't call it love, not yet, but you knew you held affection for him and that put you at odds with your vows and God. In the eyes of the church, you were still a nun, though you hadn't thought of yourself as such for a while now. You still loved God, but you no longer wanted to be his bride.

"Oh!" You gasped in surprise when you realized you were somewhere new.

Your trekking had broken you out from the forest and out to a bank of the river. You could constantly hear it flowing back from the cabin, and you were excited about finding it. The water was crystal blue, and the surface current was slow and free over the rocks. A small house with a thatched roof sat by the shore, and there was a fire burning low in a pit outside. Someone was still nearby.

You started down the path towards the house while pondering who could want to live this far out from the town. You had thought Audhild was the furthest away. Hermits were common among the Saxons, so it wasn't unreasonable to assume the Northmen had their fair share. Not that you were judging them, in fact, it was for that reason that gave you the confidence to approach.

"Hello?' You called out as you rounded the fire. It was still warm, and you did the stranger a kindness by throwing a nearby log onto the pit. The flames immediately fed on the new fuel, spreading high into the air and sending a warmth through you that was welcome after your walk. You took another look around before kneeling down in the gravel to huddle closer to the fire. It seemed that no one was around for the moment, and that granted you the luxury of peace. Everything was so unfamiliar, every branch and rock different than what you had seen in England. You thought you would have missed home, or at least held a longing for it, but no. You couldn’t even summon a fondness for it now. What you missed wasn’t a place, but a person.

You became lost in the beauty of your surroundings that you didn't notice the stranger appearing from behind the home. He moved with impossibly quiet steps, and you weren't alerted to his presence until he was looming over you, blocking the light of the fire. You let out a yelp as you fell onto your backside in the gravel. The large man narrowed his eyes at you as you scrambled to your feet. If Ivar could see you now. He would be furious you had let your guard down enough to be snuck upon. Stay alive he'd said.

"Who are you?" The man asked, and his voice was softer than you expected.

"I'm Ólaug," You said, fighting the tremble in your voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were here."

His head tilted to the side, watching you with a keen stare that you had only felt from Ivar. "What do you want? Did Lagertha send you?"

"No, I don't know Lagertha."

"You don't know the Queen of Kattegat, shieldmaiden and first wife of Ragnar Lothbrok." You didn't answer and he let out an insouciant giggle. "You're a Christian."

The way he said it made it sound awful, and you hated the way it made you feel. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes. It's your hair and the way you speak." The stranger started to sit down by the fire, a string of fish hanging over his shoulder. He dropped his catch at his side and pulled a knife from his belt, getting to work on cutting filets. "Sit down, betrothed woman," He pressed while pointing with his blade to the spot across from him.

"Excuse me?"

"What, are you deaf?"

You took a seat once more, but not because he had asked it of you. “Why did you call me that just now? Betrothed woman…”

“Your name, that’s what it means.” He continued to fling fish heads and bones into a pile, never giving you the courtesy of his attention.

Ivar had given you the name, and it suddenly clued in that it was made in jest. Bride of Christ was what he had first called you, and now 'betrothed woman'. You smiled to yourself, not entirely at odds with the moniker.

“How did you come here, Christian? You don’t look like a thrall.”

“I’m not,” You replied quickly, and you found that he had stopped his task of cleaning his fish to observe you. You did the same in return. He was older and battle-worn judging by his stiff movements when he had sat down. His light hair was wispy and tied back in one long braid, and his rangy frame was draped in a brown fur pelt. You thought his eyes were sad. “What’s your name?”

“Floki.”

You were sure Ivar had mentioned him in passing, but you couldn’t recall when. “Alright, Floki. I was a thrall, but I was freed recently. I came from York with Ubbe Ragnarsson.”

"Ubbe has returned? Then he has abandoned Ivar."

You didn't know what Floki's connection was to Lagertha, so you didn't correct him on his assumption about the brothers being apart. "You are close with the sons of Ragnar?"

"Of course. They are the offspring of the greatest man I've ever known and my brother. They are kin," He said and his face was alive with passion. "And you must be connected to them. Was it Ivar who also freed you after giving you that knife?"

You looked down at the weapon on your belt, feeling flustered. "How do you know about the knife?"

"I taught that crippled brat everything he knows. I recognize his skill and craft in that blade," said Floki shaking his head. "That boy, so much like his father."

"Don't call him a cripple."

Floki's eyes shot to you and there was that giggle again. "Oh, and you're defensive of him as well. Are you his betrothed woman?"

The fire you sat beside could never warm you as much of those words just then. You knew you were red up to your ears, but you tried to deny whatever he was implying regardless "I'm not his anything."

"Then why did he set you free?"

You hadn't even admitted to him that Ivar had done so, but he had already decided that was the truth. He was still as a tree, the fish forgotten in the long line of your conversation. You felt unnerved by him as if everything about you was exposed to him like a gaping wound, and you had never been so relieved to be interrupted when a voice called out from above the path.

"Floki!"

It was Ubbe, looking out of breath and panic-stricken as he dashed down towards you. A blonde woman was trailing behind him, appearing displeased to be dragged this far out into the bush. She must be the wife.

You and Floki both stood as Ubbe came to the fire. He turned to you first, and you anticipated a lecture. "Why did you leave Audhild's cabin? I'm supposed to keep you safe. You can't wander off when you don't know the land or its people well enough."

"I would if you let me," You retorted while feeling humiliation for being scolded in front of Floki.

"Don't fret Ólaug," Floki interjected while planting a firm hand on Ubbe's shoulder. "He's only concerned to find you here because he thinks I'll kill you like I did Athelstan."

Ragnar's monk. Your eyes widened with surprise and fear, all while the two men shared a grin and embraced.

"Thought you'd gone on to lands unknown," Ubbe said to Floki as they parted.

"The Gods brought me home. They have something for me to do here yet," He said while looking back at you. "She is Ivar's woman?"

Ubbe turned to you with a grin and you looked down, not liking the attention. "You'll have to ask him. He's in Vestfold with Harald."

"Planning on Lagertha's demise then."

"Is that a problem for you?" Ubbe asked, becoming serious.

"Lagertha has been my friend for a long time, but your mother was also. She had such a connection to the gods." Floki's head pulled up to the sky as if a string was attached tugging forth to some greater presence. "Neither of them should have ever suffered over Ragnar. A great King and a true Viking, but a poor husband. Something I hear Bjorn has inherited."

You noticed Ubbe's face flush, and he brushed his hand down his neck. "Well, I know Ivar is set on revenge, and I don't know if there's anything that can change his mind."

By then Ubbe's wife had caught up to their circle, and you got the impression she wasn't pleased to be left behind. She was dressed in a thick red robe with fur trim, and her long hair was twisted onto her head like a crown. You wondered if all the women of Kattegat were blonde and beautiful, and you ran your fingers through your short hair. Ivar had said it was ugly when you first met. Vanity had suddenly become a trouble for you and you didn't like it.

Ubbe must have noticed you staring at his woman, and he quickly brought an arm around her to introduce her into the group. "Ólaug, this is my wife, Margrethe."

"Hello," You greeted, and as you waited for her reply, she took one long surveying look at you that ended with her nose wrinkled and her mouth puckered.

"Hello," She said shortly.

You wouldn't be making a friend out of her anytime soon, and you weren't bothered by that. She was as unpleasant as she was gorgeous, and Ubbe sent you an apologetic shrug for her frosty demeanor.

"I need to get you back to Audhild's before she wonders where you are," Ubbe explained and you nodded.

You were ready to conclude your first adventure, but you decided that you would want to speak to Floki again. He seemed to know a great deal about the sons of Ragnar and everything else that went on in Kattegat, and you wanted to poke his brain for more information that could help you grow as a free woman. You turned to the older Viking and squared your shoulders.

"Can I come back to see you?"

Floki laughed at a dazed Ubbe. "See, she's curious. I expected that from any woman of Ivar's."

At the mention of him, Margrethe recoiled further into Ubbe's side and sent you a scathing glare. You stared back at her with vacant eyes until she became uncomfortable and craned her neck towards the woods. Her escape.

"Betrothed woman," Floki interrupted, taking your hands in his massive ones. "You are a Christian, and I hold no love for your God or people. I've killed hundreds of your kind, and one who held the love of my King. But you have sailed on our ships and left your lands, and came out free on the other side. Our gods favor you as much as my dear Ivar, and I will speak to you again."

"Thank you," You whispered.

He smiled back for a moment, and you thought the perpetual melancholy that surrounded him had lifted in a brief respite. It returned as he dropped your hands, and he started to flick his wrist back and forth in a waving motion. "Now leave me alone. All of you."

Ubbe tugged on your coat sleeve to get you moving, and when you turned to join him, you spotted Margrethe up ahead.

"Sorry, she's not always like that," He insisted as he noticed your look.

No Ubbe, you thought, she most certainly was always that way, but he was too besotted with her looks to realize. Whatever was going on in his marriage wasn't your business, and you kept quiet by his side as he led you back to Audhild's cabin. You were impressed that you could have remembered the way if Ubbe hadn't been at your side. Something about the nonlinear path had felt familiar, and you were already looking forward to walking it again.

Your last thoughts before you slept were of Ivar, an ocean between you and with so much more to say. You wanted to tell him about Floki and talk with him about his mother. You wanted to be back at his side. He was such a large part of where your life had turned, and now that he had left you alone in this strange place you felt brittle and forgotten.

You refused to be overlooked as another Christian brought into their midst or condemned for being Ivar's woman when you weren't even sure if that was your place. Whatever your feelings for him were, they meant nothing if you couldn't secure your own station among the Northmen. That night you vowed to God, their gods, and yourself that you would become strong of heart and embrace your new life alongside the heathens. All life came with sacrifice and war, and whatever nightmares you would be forced to face, you would conquer them.

Taglist

@pomegranates-and-blood @siren-queen03 @peachyboneless @didiintheblog @soleil-dor @zuxiezendler @pieces-by-me @xbellaxcarolinax @heavenly1927 @everyartistwas-firstanamateur @youbloodymadgenius @xceafh @strangunddurm @shannygoatgruff @1950schick @tgrrose @castielsangelsx @rose1729 @ladynightshade30 @mlchael-guerin @dangerouspsychicgardenflower @ritual-unions-gotme @readsalot73 @lonewolf471 @poisonous00 @alytavzla @snatcherheart

#ivar x reader #ivar x you #ivar the boneless x reader #vikings #history vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #vikings ivar #ivar x y/n #ivar lothbrok

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theodora3022 · 4 years ago

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How bnha boys would ask you out (Big three edition)

Request: Since you watched Season four, can I have some Mirio and Tamaki headcanons? Similar to your "how they ask you out" post before.

I assume you mean separately because I am not comfortable with writing poly.

Pairing: Mirio togata x reader, Tamaki Amajiki x reader

Notes: Reader is their underclassman, a student of 1A, met them during the work-study arc. Condition: the reader is single. Female reader I guess.

Warning: Just big Fluffs.

Mirio Togata

Before

Sunshine. That is what Mirio is, a pure package of warmth and enthusiasm. If you are shy like Tamaki, you would probably envy his outgoing spirits.

He notices you as soon as he first sets foot in your classroom. You sat there with a hand underneath your chin, looks up to your senpais with those shiny eyes. He seen you around the campus before, also seen your exceptional performance at the sports festival.

When they were introduced as the big three, he did not miss that bright light of admiration in your eyes. Congratulations, you successfully peaked Mirio’s interests. During his short speech, his eyes would circle around the classroom, resting on you for a few more seconds.

When he trained with you that afternoon, whether you are a long-ranged or melee combatant, Mirio would knock you down the first chance he got. Would not want you to hurt yourself recklessly, right? He also thinks how you try to counter him is absolutely adorable.

Nejire and Tamaki notices the extra attention Mirio is giving you. While Neijire would tease him and jokes about it, Tamaki just silently assess you with his intense glare. Mirio is happy that they both think of you as a hard-working kohai, and their approval is just icing on the cake.

After the beat-up training, Mirio approaches you causally and ask you to train together sometime. To make his intentions seems less suspicious, he also extends that invitation to Midoriya.

After a couple of training sessions, you start to warm up to him. You no longer seen him only as Togata Senpai, just Mirio the friendly upperclassman. But he is still not satisfied with the result.

His quirk is made for stalking. I do not accept counter arguments. You all seen how he scares Midoriya Izuku. Probably stalks you as a pastime, you wonder if you are losing your sanity since you always feel like someone is watching you.

During

After another intense afterschool training session, Mirio would ask you to get dinner with him in the city.

“You’re working so hard lately; you deserve a break! Why don’t we go get a bite in the city? My treat.”

You accept delightfully, did not think of it as a date. Just your upperclassman friend treating you with something tasty. You chatted with him about all sorts of things, such as your homework. It feels nothing more then hanging out with a pal.

It is when he tries to kiss you on your way back, you realize something is off.

If you accept, he will become eccentric. You thought the normal Mirio is energic enough, but this mode, good gracious.

Lifting you up by the knees with his strong arms, he will give you a bright smile that can make you blind. “Oh! My dearest (y/n)! Thank you, thank you, thank you! We’re going to be the cutest couple!”

If you flinch and distance yourself from him, that is another story.

“(y/n), not going to kiss your date goodnight?”

When you explain you see him nothing more then a friend, Mirio would laugh. It honestly creeps you out since you expect him to yell, or even show you a hint of anger. Then he would bid you goodnight as if nothing is wrong.

The next day you found an elaborate flame rose bouquet on you desk, without a single clue of who the sender is. Mina would start rambling about how sweet your secret admirer is, but you just felt shivers down your spine.

You texted him. “Can we talk?”

“Of course, anything for you.”

When you meet him in a nearby café few hours after, his usual enthusiastic attitude is still present. The sunshine boy sure knows how to hide any stormy clouds.

Mirio urges you to reconsider, sing you praises that made you blush like mad. You told him you would. “I just never thought of you in that way, but I guess there’s no harm in trying.”

Once the sunflower got you, he will spoil you, probably not with expensive gifts, but with all of his attention.

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Tamaki Amajiki

I relate to him on so many levels, you have no idea

Before

If his best friend is the sun, shines proudly with endless energy, Tamaki is the moon, shy and would hide behind clouds. (I love this analogy you cannot blame me)

Just like Mirio as soon as he saw you in 1A classroom you got his attention.

Nejire and Mirio would notice how his gaze linger on you more then others, and tease relentlessly until Tamaki is flustered mess.

He asks Mirio to go easy on you on the beat-up training, but Mirio said if you want to get strong, he should not.

It takes a while to get Tamaki even say hello to you, however his eyes will not be left you when you are in the same room as him.

Surprise, surpise, it’s Nejire who come asking for your number, when you ask her why she needs it, she just tilts her head and say: “Tamaki said he wants to train with you sometimes! Here’s his number for you.”

If you are aware of the surroundings you could find a red-cheeked ravenette hiding in the shadows. You wonder why you, out of all your classmates who all have just as much potential.

Tamaki likes to observe small details. How you wave at your friends, how you dash through the hallways as the bells rang, how your sight follow pretty butterflies, how the rice sticks on your chin at lunch time. He got it all down.

You need to text him first, no doubts here. “It’s kouhai (y/n). Hado Senpai said you want to train together? When are you free?”

He felt he has been run over by a train. Is this what having a crush is like? No wonder why people act so stupid while in love.

His reply would be short. Tamaki is not doing that to be rude, he is just at a loss of words. Even though you would never ignore him even if he made typos.

When you offer him a bottle of water after training, he would freeze. After ten seconds or so, he would snap back, take your gift, and mutter “thank you” before running away, leaving you there confused.

From then on you two would text on a regular basis. You ask him to help with your homework and training, he would ask you about how to deal with social anxiety (if you are outgoing like his best friend). You figured he is a lot more expressive through texts then in person, even though you still need to initiate conversions most of the time.

Tamaki starts to check his phone so often, even when he is at work with Fat Gum. The pro hero would also tease him (poor him, just endless teasing) about his “little girlfriend”. The older man laughs as Tamaki stutter how you two are only friends.

During

After he answers some of your questions concerning an assignment, Tamaki offers to buy you ice cream. You met him by the gate, in your casual clothes.

As you two are walking back licking your treats, you notice how his dark hair has fallen in front because of the afternoon breeze.

“Ah, your hair is getting in the way. Let me help you.” Your fingers brush his face lightly as you tug strands of raven hair behind his pointy ears. His blush confirms your suspicions. Rumors has been swirling around about you two being more then regular friends, since Tamaki never spends much time with anyone apart from his two best friends.

“(y/n) ...” He dips his head as he finishes the ice cream, screaming inside. What if you say no? How is he going to face you afterwards? What if you say YES by some insane fluke?

“Would you...consider d-doing this s-some other time? W-with me, I mean.” Tamaki instantly regretted it as soon as it comes out. He seen enough rom com to know this is not how you ask a girl out.

If you said “Yes, of course!”, Tamaki would panic. He was not expecting you to, he seen how the other boys in school gazes at you. “Can you pinch me, please?” The sharp pain confirms this is all real, not some wild dream. Very insecure, he would get jealous easily. If you have male friends, he will not interfere (you need your own space too). but if you are being hit on in front of him, Tamaki would like you to kiss him on the cheek and proudly proclaims that you are taken.

If you turn him down, Tamaki’s expression turns grim and he said he understand. Of course, who would love him when they got so many other better options?

Tamaki would not attempt to court you like Mirio. To him your happiness is his top priority, his personal feelings comes after. If you are happy, Tamaki is content. To him if you love someone, you need to ensure they are happy no matter what (such selfless love is true love). If you eventually come around, he would be over the moon. Tamaki would bury his face in your chest, saying “thank you” over and over again, and hug you like he would never let go.

The shy ravenette may be timid and emotionally vulnerable, but Tamaki is the kindest soul you will ever find. Treat him with lots of affections and he will give you triple in return.

These boys are just so lovable aren’t they? Honestly I won’t say no to either of them...

#bnha #bnha headcanons #bnha mirio togata #bnha tamaki amajiki #bnha imagines #bnha reader insert #mirio togata x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader

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trashiewrites · 4 years ago

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The Clueless Bachelor and Bachelorette

(Bruno Bucciarati x Reader)

An: hey everyone, I know this is very different content then CoD but I do want to extend my reaches to other fandoms! I'll still be writing CoD but I'll also reach to maybe other games and anime. I hope yal all enjoy my first published Jojo Fic.

There a lot of responsibility when being a Capo for Passione. Taking orders from the boss, controlling a specific area. The last thing Bruno expected when to deal with constant female attention.

Ahh yes, at the prime age of 20. Perfect age for once to start looking for a partner. Undoubtedly, upon the bachelor's list was his truly, Bucciarati. He really couldn't deny that he's attractive but to say he comes with perks was an understatement. If one was to look at the list it would be quite easy to see that.

Walking down the busy streets of Naples with Girno was even a chore. Next thing a group of young women will be walking down the street "Bucciarati!" To look over at a groupie and see the one that (in his opinion) wasn't very attractive waving at him. He wishes he could ignore all of it, but he has a reputation to keep.

"Girls really have been after you huh Bucciarati?" Bruno look back to the newbie, his brow frowned in the slightest hint of annoyance.

"Tell me about it Giorno... I don't know what happened but I've been getting called at by women all the time now." In the distance again, hearing his name be called. This time he wasn't even bothered to look, he just waved. "I mean at first the attention was nice but I can barely go outside without a woman trying to seduce me."

"I feel that, the curse of being pretty I guess..." Giorno shrugged, Bruno could only sigh. "Let's head back to the others, at least give you a break from outside."

"That sounds like a splendid idea."

As the two walked in the the cafe the gang usually hangs, they enter to see the three huddled. Huddled against a magazine. "Wow, they really have a lot to say about Bucciarati!" Narancia moved his head closer to the book.

"Hey watch it! I'm trying to read too!" Mista pushed Narancia's head away.

"What are you all reading?"

"Oh hey, boss?" Mista closes the magazine and pulls it behind him.

"Mista! What the hell! I was reading it!" Narancia pulled on Mista's arm, getting up and personal.

"Like hell you are! You probably can barely read dumbass!" Abbacchio sighed as the two were two seconds away to pulling out the stands.

"To answer you Bucciarati, they're reading that new Local Bachelors and Bachelorette magazine."

"And I'm in it?" Bruno whispered to himself, "hand it over you two!" Mista seemed hesitant, it couldn't be that bad right? "Now, Mista" sticky fingers began to appear from over Bucciarati's shoulder. He shoved it into Bruno's hands and stormed off elsewhere. Bruno felt bad but was too intrigued by this magazine mystery to pursue it.

He gently flipped to the pages to reach the number 1 bachelor and "This is worse then I thought..." Giorno peered in, looking from the side. He noticed how much was written exactly. And well the pics were certainly something.

"Bucciarati, do you remember taking those photos? How did they get ahold of them?" The be frank, Bruno was busy reading the almost a thirst essay about himself to even notice the picture.

Giving the pictures a glance he was surprised he recognized them.

"I remember these..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunlight shined softly down the busy Italian streets. Tourist and locals alike enjoying the beauty of the day. Bucciarati took a sip from his glass, "nothing better then a cold glass of wine on a day like this. " he would get the occasional hello from locals he knew as well as glances by curious tourists.

One person, in particular, came up to him. A young women, maybe around her late 20's with a camera around her neck. "Signore, if I may ask. May I take a few photos of you? I'm an artist and I often take pictures of things that inspire me!" To any human being the request would be rather offputting. Indeed it was, at least to Bruno. But a normal person would also decline the offer. Bucciarati didn't see the harm of a few photos, if anything he'd call himself quite photogenic despite his semi-cold demeanor. Plus to deprive an artist of inspiration didn't sit right with him; so he agreed.

~~~~~~~~~

"That artist lied... or she sold my pictures. Either or isn't good, but damn..." Bruno skimmed through the pages. Person after person, some of them he even knew. He stopped on one page and well maybe call it fate but it was the page of the number 1 Bachelorette. Giorno auditable gasped as the sight.

"She's very beautiful... I see why they placed so highly..." Mista and Narancia came from the other side taking peaks.

"Yo, you're right Giorno! She is really beautiful. Father owns a successful flower shop too!" Narancia's cheeks turned slightly red. Mista closed his eyes, humming to himself as if he was fantasizing about something.

"Girl has looks, money, and property. She's a guy's dream girl honestly!" Bruno slammed the magazine closed, proceeding to roll it up. Then uses Sticky Fingers to smack him to the ground. "HEY! WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?"

"How dare you think like that Mista. Loving someone for their 'perks'..." Bucciarati stared down upon Mista, disappointment, and guilt filling Mista's soul.

Bruno just took the magazine and left. He needed time to make sense of all of it... "geeze Mista... nice to know who you really are!" Giorno snickered as he took a seat at a near by table.

"Guys, I wasn't talking of myself!!! Come on, I would never!"

~~~~~

Bruno wondered the town, just processing it all. All this attention wasn't out of the kindness of people's hearts. It was some lousy list that said he had perks... To now have to wonder if he was being used was a terrifying thought.

"Please, let me go... I don't want this at all!" Bruno was returning to reality. Overhearing 2 people talking in the alleyways.

"Oh come on beautiful, I've got a lot to offer!"

"I'm sure you do, but I am not wanting a relationship! Please for away! I don't even know you!" Her hands try to wiggle free but she was what Bruno could assume was pinned.

"Look missy, think about your answer real carefully. If you don't date me ill-"

"You'll what?" Bruno stood firmly at the alley entrance. The man turned to see him, catching a glimpse of the girl as well. (H/c) hair laced with small flowers, (s/t) skin, as well of (e/c) eyes.

"Its none of your business buddy! So how about you leave me and my girlfriend alone!" Bruno continued to walk closer, his expression as blank as he could manage. "H-Hey! I said stay back!"

"You know I find it amusing when scum like you exist in this world. The least you can do is accept the girl has no feelings for you."

"Like you know shit pal!"

"I heard it all, the entire conversation. As well, the fear upon her face right now speaks wonders." Bruno's steps were heavy, each one making a distinct clack.

"I said stay back you bastard!!" He dragged the poor girl by the hair restraining her arms. Sliding a knife from his own pocket, placing it above her throat.

"Sticky Fingers!" The girl closed her eyes as the blue figure hit the man square in the face. Knocking him down the alley. The guy cowards back, confused beyond belief "next time don't try to force yourself upon a harmless girl. Or do I need to beat the lesson into you?"

"No! No no no! I'm sorry I'm sorry! Please spare me!!"

"Then run." The man ran off in a rush, terror riddled his face as the bruises started to solidify. The screams echoed as he ran into the darkness. Bruno turned back the the girl, she stood against the wall paralyzed from fear. "Hey, are you okay? Did he hurt you?" She shook her head. Taking a good look the most harm was some scratches and maybe a few bruises, nothing life-threatening. Bruno tilted his head, she looked familiar.

"Uh.. mister, thank you for your help. I was really scared that guy was gonna hurt me." She clutched to her basket filled with different flowers. She picked out a small white lily from the batch, extending it to him. "Men back and forth have been cat-calling me all day. It's quite overwhelming." Her smile showed a sparkle of pure innocence. Bruno clutched his first, glancing at the magazine he held. It struck him, it was her, the flower shop's daughter.

"I believe I can show you why this is happening. Come with me and we can tend your wounds as well." The girl looked up in admiration. A shy smile as well as heated cheeks. She took his hand as a quiet acceptance. "Pardon my manners, I'm Bruno Bucciarati. It's my pleasure miss?"

"(L/n), (y/n) (l/n). I owe you my life, Signore."

AN: I might make a part 2... not sure

#bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno buccerati #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo bizarre adventure #jojos part 5 #golden wind #x reader #mama bruno

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lovelytarou · 4 years ago

Text

caffeinated love

pairing: nishinoya yuu x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

tags: coffee shop!au, barista!noya, noya & reader being whipped for each other

a/n: dedicated to my beautiful, loving, sweet and supportive wife @chibishae34 💖💞❤️💕 i hope you liked this surprise and i did your bb noya justice! :c

it was a perfectly sunny day.

it was too perfect, you might add. the scene in front of you could easily fit into a studio ghibli movie, the only thing missing are the animated characters, and the soft piano music that usually accompanied the films.

you don't know what made you look at life with rose-colored lenses today, it might be because you're in a good mood, or you woke up on the right side of the bed, or the wind just brought some positive air to you. whatever it is, you're thankful for it.

you're walking around campus with a skip on your steps, a smile on your face as you grinned at the people you passed and the surroundings. to some people, it might come off as creepy, or even weird, but no one is going to ruin your mood today. not when you're so close to having your coffee.

a bigger smile tugged at your lips, looking up at the café in front you – its bold, intricate sign you're familiar with and the welcoming aura beckoning you in.

Crows' Cabin.

your favorite café that serves the best coffee ever in your campus. you couldn't have asked for more. they got your coffee right, the perfect amount of sweetness, the tinge of bitterness, and the smooth feel of the cream like a warm blanket on a cold day. not to mention, their staff is pretty welcoming and friendly, too.

what you loved most about this place is the fact that you can study in peace and the fast wi-fi that they have. it has the perfect atmosphere to do a little studying while you sip your coffee.

walking inside, you pushed the doors open, letting it emit a small ringing sound as it announces your arrival. the usual silver-haired cheery guy that greets you when you come in isn't standing in his usual post. instead, a short guy with bleached streaks greeted you with a lively energy that almost shocked you to the core.

you can't help but think how cute he looks, and walked closer cautiously to the counter.

“hello! welcome to crows' cabin! what can i getcha, cutie?” he gave you a big grin, leaning on the counter with his arm. you blinked in surprise, taken aback by his ecstatic greeting and chuckling lightly.

“hey, uh...is sugawara not here?” you probably sounded rude, but if there's a new guy on his stead, you could only guess that he's going to get your coffee wrong. at least, that's what you think.

he let out a humming sound, his face scrunching up as he thinks with his index finger and thumb under his chin. your heart skipped a beat. he couldn't get any cuter.

“i heard sugawara changed shifts because of his hectic schedule and all,” he explained, waving his arms about. “but you're lucky you're stuck with me! so, what do you want? coffee, tea, or me?” he gave you a wink after his question.

despite the nag of disappointment at the news of sugawara not being able to take your order anymore, it was quickly replaced by giddiness at the presence of this energetic boy in front of you.

before you could answer, however, the other staff with shaved hair that you quickly recognized as tanaka ryuunosuke, emerged from the kitchen and shook his head at his co-worker's antics.

“oi, stop flirting with the customer and take their order already!” he scolded, slapping the boy with the small towel he's holding on the head, earning a yelp.

“ukai-san won't be happy to know that you're trying to pick up chicks while on the job, you know.” tanaka's quip made your cheeks heat up. although, it seemed like the smaller guy is flirting with you, it was probably how he greets all the customers that comes in the café.

yet, the thought of him asking you out isn't too bad at all.

he's pretty attractive, you'll admit that. he's got mesmerizing, big, brown eyes that looks like it can pierce through your soul the longer you looked at them, and not to mention his fiery personality that greeted you the moment you entered.

“i can't help it, ryuu. they just looked so cute! who am i to deny our pretty customer our special service?” he wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively. god, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

“leave the poor customer alone, idiot. look at them, they're too red already!” it definitely didn't help that tanaka made a comment on how flustered you seem to get over his co-workers flirtatious advances.

“i-i'll get the usual, please...” you managed to croak out despite the embarrassment you felt, immediately sliding the exact amount to the counter.

the boy tilted his head at you in confusion, “the usual...?”

oh, right. he's new.

ignoring your flushed cheeks and rapidly beating heart, you murmured how you liked your coffee all the while his piercing gaze is intently staring at you, giving you his undivided attention while you explain your order passionately.

“uh, no– wait, that's probably too complicated. i'll just get that one instead–” he waved his hand dismissively at your panicked ramblings.

“nah, no need. i already memorized your order, angel face.” with one final wink at you, he went to the back to prepare your coffee.

“why don't you settle in and get comfortable while i prepare your drink?” he called over his shoulder.

tanaka could only watch the commotion with fond, proud gaze as he went back to his own station.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

during the afternoon, the crows' cabin don't have many patrons unlike in the mornings and evenings. usually, they were back in their classes or offices, and sometimes will only grab a quick bite before heading out.

this is the most peaceful moment, in your opinion, in the café. you hummed along to the song playing on the speakers as you typed away for your essay that is due tomorrow. yeah, it might not be healthy to cram when it's due tomorrow, but with how busy you are, can you really blame yourself?

what's important is you're doing it now instead of putting it away and procrastinating like you always do.

your fingers stopped typing as you gazed out the window, thinking of what to write next. amid the staring absently at nothingness, the boy from the counter approached you. he placed the cup from the tray beside you on a coaster.

“thanks, uh...” shoot, you didn't get his name. you don't remember tanaka mentioning it, too.

he seemed to have read your mind as he laughed, eyes crinkling at the sides as he threw his head back. you can't help but stare at him, he's such a ball of sunshine. any moment now and you're sure your heart will burst because of this guy.

“my name's nishinoya yuu, nice to meet you, uhm...” he stretched his hand out, which made you chuckle. you accepted it, shaking his hand as you introduced yourself.

nishinoya rubbed the back of his head, his cheeks flushing, “that's a pretty name.” he murmured, eyes casting off to the side as the thought of how warm and soft your hands are overtaking his mind.

before he could get carried away, he cleared his throat and looked at you expectantly.

“anyway, i'm excited about what you think of the coffee i made!” he bounced on his heels from where he stood, excitement jittering his bones.

rolling your eyes playfully, you cracked a smile at his excited expression and brought the cup to your lips to take a sip.

time seemed to have stopped as nishinoya watched you take another sip of coffee. you, on the other hand, couldn't believe that he made it just how you like it despite the first time making it for you. the slight smirk didn't escape your notice as you let out an appreciative hum upon the taste.

“so?” he leaned a little close to you, anticipation written all over his cute face.

“i gotta hand it to you, nishinoya. you did well, maybe even better than sugawara’s,” his chest seemed to puff up at your praise which you found endearing. so he likes to be complimented.

“of course! who else can make your coffee if not also the best barista in crows' cabin?” he boasted, thumbs pointing at himself. you can't help the laughter that bubbled out of you. he's such a refreshing presence in such a familiar place. and you're here for it.

he felt his heart clench as he smiled at your laughing figure, one thought only occupying his mind: he wanted to see you smile and laugh more.

he glanced at the clock on the wall, noticing that it'd be a few hours left before his shift ends and until then he still has a lot to do. even if it makes him sad, he has to go back to work and part from you. although, he hopes not permanently.

“anyways, enjoy your coffee! don't work too hard! and uh, call me yuu.” he gave you one last smile before he went back behind the counter.

yuu.

his name kept repeating over and over inside your head, a smile on your face as you looked down at your cup of coffee.

you're definitely going to keep coming back here.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

the next time you went back to the café, nishinoya perked up like an overexcited dog. his face immediately lit up at the sight of you. the relief that washed over you was something that you kept thinking about as you made your way to the counter, a grin splitting your face.

why were you so glad to find out that he's here?

“hey, it's you again. how are you doing today?” he greeted, already buzzing to life at the mere sight of you.

“i'm great, actually. and you?”

“it's been a long day, but it's all better now that you're here, cutie.” he chuckled at the way you became flustered in seconds after he called you a pet name.

“you're not too bad yourself, yuu. i'll take–”

“–the usual. i already memorized it, remember?” he replied, seeing the puzzled look on your face.

“right. yeah, sorry.” you facepalmed yourself softly, shaking your head at your forgetfulness. “it's just...i've been working too hard so i probably forgot,”

“i have just the thing, now go get cozy and i'll bring your drink!”

you took that as your cue to find your seat. today was pretty hectic for you, especially since you have to catch up to the nearing deadlines. taking a seat, you immediately opened up your laptop and began to work.

not half an hour later, a cup was placed in front of you, along with nishinoya sitting at the opposite chair which made you quirk an inquisitive eyebrow at the boy.

“what are you doing?”

“it's okay, i have my break at this time.” he then placed a bag beside your laptop, “on the house, a little birdie told me that it's your favorite,” he sheepishly rubbed at his nape, avoiding your gaze.

opening the bag, you find out that it's one of your favorite pastries inside. you can't help the soft gasp leaving your mouth at the kind gesture.

“oh, thank you so much! i've been craving these lately.” you gave him a grateful smile, biting down on your favorite treat. it still tasted just as good, but what really warmed your heart was the thought of nishinoya purposely asking sugawara for your favorite pastry and you can't help but add it to one of the things you like about him.

wait...like?

you couldn't help but choke at your own thoughts to which nishinoya shot you a concerned look. once you calmed down, you noticed that he kept glancing back at the wall clock then back at you then down at his fiddling hands.

“what's wrong?” you asked through a mouthful of food. yuu chuckled at the sight and shook his head.

“can i borrow a pen?” confused, you gave him one anyway. he grabbed the bag that your food was placed in, scribbling on it.

“thanks, i gotta go back now. break's over. bye!” he jogged back to his station and you were left weirded out by his actions. not only when you were preparing to leave the café did you notice the small note at the other side of the paper bag.

nishinoya yuu

xxx-xxx-xxx :)

you exited the café with your stomach and heart feeling full.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

“do you think they liked the treat? will they even text back?” nishinoya paced back and forth in their small staff room.

“what if they didn't read the note?!” he gasped, stopping in his tracks as he bites his nails in anxiety.

sugawara laughed at his junior's predicament, “relax! of course they'd love the treat, i did tell you it was their favorite. as for the number, you should probably be a little more patient with that, noya.” he advised, placing an assuring hand on noya's shoulder.

as if possessed by a spirit, nishinoya perked up and his agitated self was replaced with determination.

“you're right. i shouldn't worry about it too much. they'll come around!” as soon as he said that, his phone's ringtone resonated in the small space.

on his screen was an unknown number and he immediately knew it's you.

without wasting another moment, nishinoya picked up the phone and answered the call.

“h-hello, y/n?” he internally cursed at himself for stuttering.

“–john? is that you? how's your mother–”

dumbstruck, nishinoya abruptly ended the call and placed his phone on the table.

“what happened? what did they say?” sugawara inquired, eager to know what happened between the two.

“it's not them.” nishinoya deflated like a balloon, covering his face with his palms.

was he reading this right? what if you don't see him that way? what if he was just forcing himself on you and in reality you don't really reciprocate the emotions he felt whenever you enter the café?

with a little more positivity from his seniors and tanaka telling him that he shouldn't lose hope, nishinoya decided to go home feeling less energetic than usual.

it was not around midnight that he received a call from an unknown number. he hated that he felt excited, that maybe, just maybe at the other end it was you.

picking it up slowly, he breathed in and out, counting to five before he answered the call.

“hello, yuu? it's y/n. sorry i called at a time like this,”

his eyes lit up at the sound of your familiar voice. even through the phone it sounded as beautiful as ever.

he almost stumbled over the scattered clothes and mess that littered his bedroom floor when it is indeed you that called him, landing on his bed.

“y/n? it's really you! uh, don't worry about it. i'm not sleeping yet...totally not because i was waiting on you or anything!”

your laughter brought butterflies fluttering in his stomach, oh how he'd love to hear that sweet sound everyday. it got him smiling too as he listened to it.

“i'm sorry for making you wait. i was just busy with my studies and all...but, i've decided.”

“decided...on what?”

there was a pregnant pause on the other end, he thought that you might ended the call or something. but then you spoke up again.

“i wanna go on a date with you.”

he must be in heaven because there is no way in hell or earth that you'd want to go on a date with him. you, who looks so pretty, beautiful, elegant and charming that he's having a hard time if you're actually real. you, who never fails to make his days a little better at work whenever you waltzed in and decided to grace him with your presence. you, with your complicated mixture of coffee that he memorized in favor of impressing you and in hopes that you come back again to the café.

he couldn't believe it.

“y-yeah? that's great! so, when are you free?”

“i was thinking maybe saturday? if that's alright with you?”

“that's fine with me! i actually have a day off on saturday. same time? at the cafe?”

he can't help the grin that's practically splitting his face in half but he's just so happy. he immediately caught feelings for you the moment you walked inside crows' cabin and he can't get you out of his mind since.

the same thing can be said about you, which the only reason you're actually studying in the café and keep coming back there was for a whole another reason other than coffee. heck, you even find yourself thinking of him whenever you drink the beverage.

with a lovestruck look on your face, you nodded even though he couldn't see it.

“yeah, that would be great.”

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

when saturday came, to say that you were nervous and jittery would be an understatement. you can't stop looking at yourself in the mirror or literally any surface that you have a reflection on to make sure that you looked nice and presentable on your date with noya.

and due to that fact, you didn't notice him walking up to you, all smiles and looking as cute and handsome as ever.

“ready to go?” he asked, offering his elbow to you which you gladly accepted.

“where are we going?”

“it's a surprise,” he teased, flashing you a mischievous smile.

you went along with it. the two of you walked, stopped for some food and talked about what you both liked, disliked, and how he got the job at crows' cabin.

“–so i told ukai-san that i really need the money! i was actually just saving up for the new game i saw down the street but i made it sound like it's a life or death situation if he wouldn't hire me. in the end, i loved working there. i mean,” he gestured to the two of you, “because of it, i finally went on a date with a wonderful person!”

chuckling at him, you playfully pushed his shoulder.

“shut up,” you grumbled.

you can't help but admire him. the way he animatedly tell his stories with his own sound effects and grand gestures that never fails to make you laugh and rope you in with the story. he's fun to hang out with, knows a lot of stuff about the neighborhood and won't run out of tales.

“ah! we're here!” he paused walking to stop in front of your designated place.

he brought you to the movies.

“oh, wow...i didn't expect that,” you laughed sheepishly, trying not to offend him.

“i figured we'd watch a movie. ryuu said that there's this new horror movie that's a blockbuster nowadays,” quickly catching on to his plan, you smirked to yourself slightly.

“is that so? well, i'm pretty sure you'll protect me from the scary things in there, right, yuu?”

he seemed to puff up at that, “of course i will! what kind of man would i be if i can't protect you?”

that earned another laughter from you, shaking your head as you tugged his arm towards the direction of the entrance.

he insisted that he'd pay for the tickets and the food which surprised you a bit, but you couldn't really complain since he was being nice all day to you. you decided to just pay him back later.

as soon as the both of you are inside and the movie is playing halfway, you noticed how he's the one who is more scared of it than you. he's trying to play it off by coughing when he'd accidentally yell in surprise or laugh it off when he'd jolt up from a jumpscare.

how cute.

without saying a word, you grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. the feeling of your soft and warm hands brought him back to reality, looking down at your intertwined hands. his cheeks flared up and he thanked himself for choosing a horror movie or else this moment wouldn't happen.

“ah, i'm glad that movie was over!” he cried out in relief. all throughout the movie, he kept squeezing your hand hard like a woman giving birth or hiding on your shoulder when a jumpscare comes on. you gotta admit that you enjoyed his reactions more than the movie itself.

you were both now walking home – he insisted – and your hands are still holding each other, clearly not wanting to let go. by the time you walked out of the theatre, it's already nighttime.

the skies are clear and there are stars peppering the night sky. it's quiet out with an occassional passing vehicles, or a hoot of an owl but it's a comforting silence.

“this is me,” you mumbled, stopping on your tracks once you saw the familiar street your residence was in.

noya can't help but glance at the street behind you with a sad look and down at your still conjoined hands. he knows he should, but he wanted to spend the night with you longer.

“you sure you can make it home okay?” he gave you a pleading look, hoping that you'd let him at least walk you in front of your house.

“yeah, i'm sure.” with that, he let go of your hands hesitantly, linking your pinkies as he gave you a small, content but genuine smile.

“i really had fun today, yuu.” you avoided his gaze when you saw his smile widen in satisfaction. he laughed heartily at that.

“me too, even if i hid throughout the movie.” he rubbed the back of his head, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. he kept rambling about how he probably turned you off because of that and why he shouldn't have taken you to the movies but somewhere exciting instead.

goddamnit, you can't take it anymore.

leaning in, you closed the distance between the two of you and slotted your lips in his, closing your eyes. you felt his breath hitch at your actions, his hands coming up to hold your jaw.

just like everything about him, the kiss was breathtaking.

it felt like hours when you pulled away, his eyes was still closed as he savored the blissful moment you shared.

“thank you,” you whispered, as if any louder can ruin the magic.

you pushed his shoulders away gently, giggling as you walked home. nishinoya was left there, awestruck with a dumb smile on his face as he stared at your retreating figure like he just woke up from a beautiful dream.

“huh...? hey, wait! come back here!”

#haikyuu fluff #nishinoya yuu #yū nishinoya #nishinoya yuu x reader #nishinoya yuu x y/n #nishinoya fluff #haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu #hq fanfic #nishinoya x reader #i might got a little carried away with this lmao but i think i liked?? this??#💫.nishinoya yuu #tarou writes 🌹

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years ago

Text

PARTNER IN CRIME.

Obispo “Bishop” Losa x Reader.

Anon 1 asked: i would like to request an imagine with soft morning sex and cuddles with bishop

Anon 2 asked: Hiya! Can you do something like young bishop moving to santo padre to start the Mayans charter there and reader had to hear the news from Marcus because Bish didn’t want to tell her or make her feel obligated to move for him? Potentially with some smutty fluff please? Love your writing!

Warnings: NSFW, smut.

Word count: 2k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💖

Author Comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @arveeee @witchy-wish ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

A finger playing with your nose provokes you some smooth tickles on the beginning of the left small hole, trying to slap it with closed eyes and a grunt of annoyance escaping from your throat right to your lips. When you think it's done after some seconds when you're about to fall asleep, the finger appears again to tease you, hearing some soft laughs by your side. One of your feet go straight to his shinbone. Bishop complains between loud laughs, stirring above the bed. You smile kinda sleepy, knowing that he's not going to leave you alone. He holds you between his arms, lying you on his chest as you curl your legs above it too. Sinking your face on his neck, you enjoy the last seconds of peace before start the day. The most important of the year, at least, for you two.

“You're finally awake”. He says with feigned innocence, caressing your hair and your cheek.

“Yea', I have a fuckin' child in my bed, fuckin' me up all the fuckin' time…”

“Since almost ten years ago”. He interrupts you, leaving your body by his side, so he can fill all your face with dear and gently kisses.

Placing a leg on his waist, you push him closer of it's possible, resting your head above the pillow getting lost in his dark eyes, touring his neck with your fingertips. You know every inch of his skin by heart, and you can't even choose a favorite one.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

Marcus' words were dancing inside your head since this morning, when the fact that he was going to open a new charter seemed to escape him. You knew why Bishop didn't tell you nothing, you knew him pretty well after two years being inseparables. You didn't even need words to know what he was thinking at every exactly moment. So you took a decision, as he did. Without asking.

Your hands didn't stop moving when the main door got opened, grabbing all your clothes from the wardrobe to keep it inside a big suitcase on your bed. Maybe you were too young, but you weren't stupid and you could make your own decisions. You could heard Bishop swallowing behind your back, turning at him just for a second and seeing him biting his lower lip with his gaze above his boots. Seemed like he knew he fucked up the only good thing he had in life, but he didn't know how to fix it.

All he wanted in life was protect you. But he did it by the wrong way. Tijuana it wasn't much secure than Santo Padre and San Diego was close enough to finish your last year of college. A distant family it was all you had in Mexico, so you would follow him to hell, if it was necessary.

“Por favor, escúchame...” (Please, listen…) He said hiding how broken was his voice.

“Ponla en el carro”. (Put it in the car). You replied ignoring his words and zipping your suitcase.

He looked at you confused, while you put down the suitcase on the floor dragging it to your boyfriend. He didn't say anything else, taking it as a command and disappearing from the room. Keeping in a bag your most necessary stuff and carrying it on your shoulders, you walked through the hallway having a last look of the house it was your home for the last to years. You were leaving there a lot of memories, but you even didn't feel sad, nor nostalgic, because you knew that new adventures together were coming without matter how dangerous could be.

Bishop was resting his back against the black car, cross-armed, waiting for you. Leaning towards him and placing a hand on his nape, you kissed him gently just one time.

“Sabes lo que esto significa, ¿verdad?” (You know what it means, right?)

“Que tendré que manejar por dos horas para la universidad, cada día”. (That I'll have to drive for two hours, every day, to college). Giving him an small paper envelope, you waited for his reaction when he read the approval of the change of university.

He couldn't help but let a tear fell down by his cheek, kissing it with your lips in a soft gesture as soon as it happened.

“So, how's your english, ah?” You made fun of him, placing an arm on his shoulders.

“I have to improve my accent”.

“Yea', you sound like a fuckin' mexican”.

He laughed loudly, wrapping your body between his arms to hold you closer.

“And how it sounds ‘Miss Losa’, ah?”

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

“Why are you teasin' me so early?”

“I've been lookin' you sleep for one hour, querida”.

“Creepy old ass”. Wrong words.

Your husbands starts tickling your sides, making you laugh and stirring on the bed, trying to catch his hands.

“Jesus Christ, Obispo! Stop! You fuckin' child!” You chuckle slapping his chest for a second, pulling him away from you.

“Don' you have any compliment, ah? Just strong words to the love of your life”.

“Yea', sure… poor love of my life, drowning into his own misery 'cause his wife is pure evil…”

“C'mon! Tell me something good”. He hits softly your shoulder some times, bothering you a little more.

“But I can't lie, mi amor. You don' have anything goo— Jesus, stop!” You're laughing between some tired sobs, as he surrounds you with his arms.

“Haven' I, ah? Let me show you something…”

Spreading your legs and making himself some space between them, lying on top of you as he press the lump under the black boxers against your panties, so hard that it provokes you a soft moan.

“Look at this… Seems like I have something good”. He hassles you, moving his waist slowly wanting to hear more of them. “You wan' it?”

You nod without hesitating, feeling his moustache tickling your neck, as his lips find it to kiss your skin. Ten years and you can't get tired of him, but needing him all the time.

“Then, tell me somethin' good I have”. He just mutters.

His fingers touring down your sides till they reach the shirt folds to lift it up above your head, throwing it away.

“Me”. You answers feeling his warm breath colliding over one of your nipples, drowning there some laughters.

He bites it, sucking it with his tongue doing some circles on and around it, wetting your breast slightly as his hands fall down again looking for the waistband of your panties, to slice it by your legs so slow and tortuous that it's almost an agony. The next turn is for his boxers, running the same fate as your clothes. Stroking himself, and guiding his hard dick between your legs, his lips find yours in a sweet kiss.

“Te quiero. Lo sabes, ¿verdad?” (I love you. You know it, right?) He asks rubbing your wetted clit with his glans, surrounding his neck with both arms. You nod licking your lower lip.

As long as he tucks his hardness into you with a soft pound, Bishop drowns a pleasure growl on your collarbone, staying still for a few seconds enjoying your wetness wrapping him.

“Shit, mi amor… It feel so good like the fers' time”.

Yes, that's right. No matter how many time has passed by, you have the same sensations, the same delighted feeling running through your body when his waist get nailed against you, pushing you to the mattress under his weight. One of your legs get tangled on his, leaving him some more space whilst he's starting to move slowly and gently. You're kinda sleepy yet to go fast and he knows, kissing your neck with his arms holding you closer. Your moans dance around the room, like hundred times before, crawling your nails on his back with some care.

Make love or fuck, or whatever, with him always has make you feel more needy. No matter how many times you do it in a day, wanting another one. Bishop knows your body better than his. He knows what he has to do to make you scream out his name, being his favorite thing on earth. So he begins to go rough, colliding his lower abdomen with yours thrusting you as you become to feel more awake. Every one is deeper than the last, more desperate, more anxious. He loves you unconditionally and please you is one of his goals in life. For you too.

Turning him above the bed, without pulling himself out, you lie on top of him getting up by your hands placed on his chest. This is his favorite position, with you taking the control and your breasts jumping in perfect harmony. Spreading a little more your legs and bouncing into him with patient moves, you're trying to make him beg you. He hates you when you do it, falling into your claws like a helpless animal.

“Fuckin' disgrace…” He grunts pushing you closer by his hands on your back.

“Stop… complaining”. You chuckle grabbing his chin with a hand, leaning towards him to bite his lower lip so sensual you're driving him totally mad.

“Fuck, cariño… Move faster, for god's sake…” He whispers touring your skin till his hands reach your hips, getting nailed there.

His curses produce some effect in you, dancing your waist as you pound yourself somewhat harder, with your gasps turning into loud moans. It feels amazing having him inside you, pushing your tightness with every rapturous shove straight to your soul. The dance above him being erratic, looking for his tongue sliding yours among his lips. Bishop's fingers get tangled in your hair to hold you closer, while the other hand presses your low back whenever you bounce into him, making every thrust somewhat deeper. Your husband is devouring your mouth with a dirty kiss, tasting your saliva as if it was the elixir of eternal life, drinking every moan with his name as a flag.

“Vente para mí, mi amor”. (Cum for me, my love). His scratchy voice almost ripping his throat bristles your skin, moving faster your hips because you really want it.

And you're close to do it, arching your back over him with his lips drawing a trail of wetness kisses, until he reach your neck. Getting focused on bite and suck your skin leaving a red bruise on it, you finally feel the orgasm running through your low belly screaming out his full name.

“No pares, mi amor… Sigue así”. (Don't stop, my love… Keep doing it). He growls with shaky breathe as your legs are.

It doesn't take him too long when he does it too, filling you with that characteristic delicious heat. Even so, you continue pounding yourself until he can't handle it, catching your lips between his, sinking there a soft gasp.

“Shit, baby…”

“God, I love you, Bish”. You say almost in a pleasant sob.

Falling down by his side with a heavy sigh, before wrapping you in his arms, he kisses your forehead and your cheeks. You couldn't live without him and moving from Tijuana was the best thing you could ever do.

“Reina de los Mayas, how does it sound?”

“A little ridiculous”. You chuckle slightly.

“You earned that name by right, taking care of the MC. Sounds pretty good to me”.

“Yea', we should give the Mayans a prince or a princess”.

“Being yours… more like a trouble warrior”. He laughs stirring above the bed holding you.

“At least it's not gonna be as his or her creepy daddy”. You slap his shoulder, making him laugh loud.

“Anyway, I would like it. I think it's a good moment”. He confess then, lying his head on the pillow keeping your gaze.

“Then, call padrino and tell him you're gonna be busy today enlarging the monarchy”.

“That sounds fuckin' bad”.

“Nah, I like that term”.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa #bishop losa x reader #bishop

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 108

And we are somewhat caught up! My queue has run out at least, and I’m astoundingly glad it has, because now I get to thank a bunch of people who have just detonated my inbox with love, and kept me going.

Before I get into the gratitude: If, at any point, a comment a character makes does not make sense, please let me know. Send an ask, even on anon, because I am well aware that everything in my brain does not get a chance to make it in the story (example: Charly’s triangle comment here, and the fact that Noah’s dialogue in the beginning has an actual translation…)

First, shoutouts to @charlylimph-blog, @baelpenrose, and @quantumizedinsanity for the characters in this chapter and for being very, VERY dear friends to me. A global pandemic and nationwide protests, along with a job change and a major move, have done nothing to hurt friendships that are already cross-country from each other.

Annnnd to everyone who has been blowing up my notes with likes and reblogs: @dierotenixe(hang in there! i PROMISE!), @iamverypotato,@itscryptifssil, @steadynightninja, @thepalemarcher, @feral-possums-in-the-bog, @26fancyraptors(MISSED YOU!), @werewolf2578 (we don’t talk enough, how are you!?), @experimentalspades, @odd-dream-worlds, @duchess-katala03, @pineapplewitchboi, @dark-choclat-cupcake, @littleshydragon, and all the others.

I held my breath, bracing for what I knew was coming. Nothing came after several minutes, to my surprise. I slowly lifted my head and opened my eyes, focusing on drawing deep, even breaths. Maybe he got bored and wandered off. Maybe he had mercy on me….

Yeah. And maybe Grey is making genetically modified fish that fly.

Slowly, carefully, I grabbed my fork and lifted a bite of pie to my mouth. A glance at Charly showed a serious expression, nothing given away. Damnit. I knew she could see Arthur behind me, I was hoping for a telltale giggle, or a warning glance, something. Right when a traitorous voice of reason spoke up belatedly to point out that Charly was never serious…

“You really will adopt anyone, won’t you?” Arthur asked as he came around to take the chair Jokul had just vacated.

Fuuuuuck…. Busted. “I didn’t adopt him!” I tried to argue. “I actually made a very concerted effort to avoid that!”

Unceremoniously, he snagged Charly’s pot pie, only to have his hand held at fork-point until he let go. Without even acknowledging the lunch-standoff, he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “You tried to ‘avoid’ it by foisting him off on Zach Khan, your… nephew, thing, and his girlfriend. Still adoption-adjacent.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to interact with him.”

“Uh huh. And how will you explain to poor Hannah that dear Ivan’s partner isn’t invited to Insert Winter Holiday dinner, hmmm?”

“I hate you.”

“Lies and deceit,” he rebutted calmly. “You adopted me first. Before anyyyyone on this ship. I daresay you’re quite fond of me.”

I scowled at him, shoving my remaining lunch in his direction. “Here, before you start poaching this direction.”

An eyebrow arched in the general direction of my fish pie. “That looks suspiciously like dairy. You wound me.” Grabbing my fork, he poked at the lumps of meat. “I would have thought you would be at least a little subtle in any assassination attempts. Have I taught you nothing?”

“Of course you taught me something,” I cooed, jokingly, while I patted his arm. “The fastest way to a man’s heart is six inches of steel through the ribs, slight upward angle. Cyanide smells like bitter almonds, so always use shortbread cookies to administer it. Three pounds of pressure will tear off a human ear, and even a three year old can bite through fingers,” I recited. “Also, the pie is dairy-free, surprisingly. The ‘cream’ is silken tofu and aquafaba, turns out.”

Charly was choking with laughter, while Arthur finally smiled at me. “See, I told you that you love me,” he gloated before scooping up a scallop and some crust. As soon as he started chewing, his expression changed from one of amusement to something strikingly similar to Mac when I flick water in his face.

“Scallops,” I explained. “I had the same reaction.”

“Heathens,” he managed around the mouthful. After he swallowed it, he gave the dish a considering look. “Not bad per se, but… There is no fish in this fish pie. What is aquafaba?”

“Chicpea juice. Usually it’s used as an egg substitute. I guess they used it for consistency here.”

Charly leaned forward, narrowly avoiding landing an elbow in her lunch. “And how can you tell that’s what’s in there?”

Glancing over at his student, Arthur shrugged. “She has a point. This,” he poked at the sauce, “looks like heavy cream.”

“Tastes kind of nutty, though,” I explained. “Anyway, enough about food. What brings you down here?”

“Galactic Core Curriculum,” he explained. “That’s the excuse anyway. Alistair - Cthulu damn his soul - told me you were eating lunch here after fifteen minutes of questioning. Tyche told me Charly was with you, so I figured lunch with you, lunch with one of my favorite students, plus I can kill two errands with one meal.” Charly stared at him like he had lost his mind, but he ignored her. “When I arrived - lo! What to my wondering eyes should appear, than a certain former cult leader harassing said friend and student! What person could resist such a temptation.” Deflating dramatically, he scowled at me. “Imagine my delight to hear you giving him relationship advice,” he intoned flatly.

“I got him to go away,” I pointed out.

“Before I managed even one strike in a highly one-sided battle of wits.“

“Mr. Farro,” Charly cut off, glaring for all she was worth. “Jokull came in peace, he leaves in peace.”

“Oh, he would have left in pieces. His ego anyway.”

“Fucking triangles, I swear,” Charly muttered, attacking her lunch with renewed violence.

“Anyway,” I forged ahead. “Jokul was here for fifteen, twenty minutes. You had your chance.”

He glanced away with a cough. “I… may have been resisting the urge to vomit.”

“Arthur.”

“Relationship advice is… not in my skillset,” he admitted. “Tell you your partner is abusive? Can spot a mile a way. Great for getting people out of bad relationships, with concierge crowbar service if necessary. Not great for saving them.”

“Crowbar? Really?”

“You know, for prying people out of bad situations?” He genuinely looked confused, so I left that one alone.

“For what it’s worth, Jokull wanted to talk to you about what he’s going through right now,” Charly added.

“Why in any galaxy…”

I had to laugh at that one. “Everyone treats him poorly,” I shrugged before giving Arthur a pointed look. “He’s having a rough time right now, feels like he has no one to talk to except Ivan, and thought you would have some insight into that kind of thing.”

“What part of this,” he gestured to himself with a fork, “implies anything remotely close to wanting people to like me and therefore actually knowing how to accomplish that.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” I muttered.

Giving me a hard, thoughtful look, Arthur’s entire demeanor changed. “Ah… On a more serious note, though… yeah. I don’t get why people not liking you is a problem, but you’ve told me before it’s something that bothers you, so it’s feasible it bothers other people. I’ll make a point not to make it worse.”

Clearing my throat, I pushed the conversation on to the next topic. “You mentioned two errands earlier. One for me, one for Charly?”

“Right.” The relief to be changing topics was palpable. “For you, Councillor, Galactic Core is almost finished. Eino is already considering other ongoing-education programs, and you’re going to need to start scouting educators again. That late-twentieth through contemporary Terran history course? Big support-base, turns out.”

“You wouldn’t tell me this without a reason,” I pointed out. “And you’re a History teacher. Volunteering?”

“I want it done right,” he admitted. “The idea being bounced around isn’t for a requirement that everyone take the course. Not at the same time, anyway. History-focused educators only, approved curriculum.”

“Approved?” I asked. “By whom?”

“A committee,” he shrugged. “Eino, obviously. Xiomara, with her background - which, by the way, is ridiculous - “

“We know, we know,” Charly and I groaned.

After glancing between us for a moment, Arthur continued. “And me.”

“Why you?” I asked. “No offense, just trying to understand.”

“No offense taken, I’ll explain that part later, but I promise it’s for a legitimate reason. The point is, Eino and his committee approve the curriculum and number of slots. You and Tyche make the decisions for who is allotted where.”

“Fair point,” I conceded.

“Fine. The area of history I focused on for my Master’s degree has an important component that ties a lot together and makes revisionism harder - wait. What?” I could almost hear the gears squealing as they ground to a halt. “Did you just say yes?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“That was… disturbingly easy,” he gave me a skeptical look. When all I did was grin, he slowly turned to Charly. “As for you, I wanted to talk to you about the assignment that’s due next Friday.”

“I already turned it in,” she pointed out.

“Which is what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s a week and a half early.”

“Right….” she nodded slowly. “And I made sure it met all the criteria on the syllabus. Plus I had three different people proofread it.”

“All of which is admirable, and it would be considered a very well-done assignment,” he admitted. “If you didn’t have an extra week and a half left to make it even better.”

“Mr. Farro….”

“You aren’t in trouble, in any way shape or form,” he reassured her. “But I know you are capable of doing better than the assignment you already gave me. I wanted to offer you a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” Charly asked suspiciously. “This isn’t illegal, is it?”

“What? No…” he sputtered. “Illegal!?”

“Gotta be sure,” she nodded sincerely. I was reasonably certain she was giving him a hard time, but it was still hilarious to watch.

Shaking his head, Arthur did his best to recover. “The deal is this: if you stick with the assignment you already sent me, I’ll grade it as it stands. But. If you re-do it and hand it in on the original due date, you’ll be eligible for extra credit for your extra effort.”

“But I still get the grade on the one you already have, either way?” she asked skeptically.

“I’ve already graded it, and you won’t get a worse grade if you re-do it,” he promised.

“I’ll think about it,” she hedged carefully. “That paper was a lot of work.”

“That’s fair,” he nodded. “What if you sent me an audio recording, instead? No extra writing.”

“I can do that,” she agreed, sticking out her hand. After Arthur shook it, she glanced at the time. “Shit. I gotta go. Sophia, don’t be late back to work, okay? Tyche won’t care, but Alistair may stop letting me have extra marshmallows in my cocoa when I come by your office.”

After she left, I gave Arthur a very serious look. He tried to ignore it, but after about five solid minutes of The Squint, he caved. “For the love of… She’s smart, okay? You know, I know it. The paper she handed in a week and a half early was much more insightful than anyone else in the class. They were assigned a research paper on the underlying causes of the breakdown in relations between the Ekomari and Shalt-kri’i. Everyone focused on political ideologies, trade resources, navigational route control. Standard causes for war, from a Terran perspective. Do you know what Charly Harper wrote her paper about?”

“Food?” I asked, going out on a limb.

“So close! Cultural differences, plain and simple. Ekomari are vaguely mammalian, and their diet consists of native arthropods. Guess what Shalt-kri’i look like?”

“You’re kidding me…”

“Not even slightly. And! To add insult to injury, in a very close to literal sense, Shalt-kri’i greet each other as friends by spreading their appendages, a lot like a hug. Whereas Ekomari show aggression by… standing up on their hindmost appendages and spreading the rest to look bigger.”

“And no one caught this before?”

“Not on the Ark, no.” He spread his arms wide. “No one even considered it. Sure, the rest are good points, and they did make everything worse, more than likely, but the start? She nailed it.”

“Then why have her re-write the assignment?” I was honestly confused at this point.

“The way she wrote it, I could tell she wasn’t confident about the answer at all.” He looked about as frustrated as I had ever seen him. “You get her talking about engineering, or pranks, she knows she knows what she is talking about. I want her to know that she is just as right about this as she was about that.”

Hard to believe that this was the same man whose office I had marched into, out for a pound of flesh and the blood besides, because the same woman we were discussing left his class in tears and begged me not to make her go back. However…

“Honestly?” I ventured. “I want to hear this recording when she hands it in. I’m really curious about this.”

“You think she’ll write it?”

“Pfft,” I scoffed. “I know she will. You gave her a challenge where she can’t lose, but stands a lot to gain. I just hope you’re ready for that sound file.”

“I honestly can’t wait,” he smirked.

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#the miys #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #found family #aspec #science fiction #original science fiction #earth is space australia #humans are space fae #hfy #fiction #original fiction #my writing #apocalypse #aliens #post-apocalypse

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milkygcf · 4 years ago

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UNDER THE MISTLETOE

Pairing | knj x gender-neutral reader

Genre | tooth-rotting fluff i think, established relationship

Warnings | just a tiny bit of cursing, the boys are a chaotic mess

Summary | ❝ Nothing can beat a holiday spent with Namjoon.❞

Word Count | 4.1k

Author’s Note | THIS IS AN ABSOLUTE MESS I’M SORRY 😭🙏 i rush wrote this so i could put up something for christmas. nonetheless, i hope whoever reads this enjoys it! also, big thanks to @youarejesting for the banner! i love it, it’s so cute :( another little side note is, this is also part of @btscreatorscorner‘s Crystal Snow Event! make sure to take a look at all the other works :] happy holidays!

Christmas with Namjoon is always a wild ride. From hectic decoration shopping to disastrous baking, to actual decorating and singing Christmas songs together. However, it's not like you're complaining, because as rowdy as Christmas time can be with your significant other, nothing can beat a holiday spent with Namjoon.

Every year is an open door to new shenanigans, handmade gifts and memories that embed themselves warmly into your heart. This year isn't any different, except for the fact that the rest of the group were joining for dinner - along with the chaos they always brought along with them. As close as you are with your boyfriend, not even your connection could beat theirs. It's heart-warming - as much as they argue, nothing could possibly tear them apart. Nothing could bring you any more serotonin than the jovial smile that attacks Namjoon's handsome features whenever they're around.

Now, you’re all nearing your thirties - except for Jungkook, he was still bearing life without early back problems - and you suppose you all look the part as well. Unless it's Christmas season and the young man himself proposes they all compete in a Best Decorated House competition between themselves. The winner earns himself an extra present from every participant - which you find rather amusing because you're pretty sure they were willing to buy each other the world in a blink of an eye. The loser, however, gets to wash every dish used during dinner. Ouch.

"Deal!" Namjoon hollers, finger pointed up in agreement, his chest puffed out in pride. You know he's going to stress about it later on because as much as you love the man, he's absolute shit when it comes to decorating. If it weren't for you, his house would be a shit-show. Sorry, Namjoon.

"Can't wait to beat all of your sorry asses!" Seokjin yells even louder, an arm hooked around Yoongi's waist. The energy he radiates astonishes you because even if he's the eldest from the lot, he's always the energetic one. Seokjin might as well be your icon.

And that's how it all began - the calm before the storm. But then again, them proposing this very idea wasn't exactly calm.

You feel a shy tap on your shoulder while you're busy scanning through your fifth isle. Namjoon holds out a tiny Christmas tree to you, his eyes round and shiny. You already know you won't be able to refuse. "Can we get it? Please - my bonsai needs a new friend."

"I think your bonsai would be sad to know their friend is made out of plastic, Joon."

"Well, they wouldn't be sad if they didn't know, right?"

His grin is brimming with mirth. He knows what you're going to say - there was no need to even ask you in the first place because he knew you could never resist his puppy eyes. "Fine," you sigh softly, offering him your sweetest smile. "Make sure Mon doesn't swallow it whole. That dog is a menace."

"He has a restless soul. We'll buy him reindeer ears on our way home."

"Yes!" It elicits giggles from both of you - Namjoon had introduced you to Rapmon just two months into the relationship, claiming you must meet your competition because it's only fair. Frankly, you think the dog himself is competing with your boyfriend - the second you set sight on his silky fur you’ve vowed to never leave his side. Rapmon was an absolute gem. From then on, he was a big part of the events you celebrated together - the main character in your little shenanigans.

Once you've both paid whatever you needed for the day, heaving a ton of shopping bags, you step out of the shop in a fit of giggles. As sophisticated and stern as Namjoon may look, he's quite possibly the clumsiest giant you've ever met. Unfortunately for him, he had accidentally ripped one of the bags you had brought along and as he readied to lift it, all contents came tumbling out as he gawked in terror. Red instantly rushed to his cheeks and you found it hard not to burst out laughing in his face. He wouldn't want to become more flustered than he already felt.

"Every day I wake up to the face of embarrassment," he mumbles ashamedly, shaking his head in dismay. You could only continue to chortle before leaning in to place a tender kiss on his cheek. "It's okay dummy," his cheeks redden even more, "Would some hot chocolate fix your mood?" The second the words slip out of your lips, his face no longer holds a grim expression.

Getting hot chocolate from Pixie’s Magic! is like a tradition between you and Namjoon. Not only was it where you both had met, but it served the most delicious brews you’ve ever tasted. Nothing could possibly beat this little shop in the corner of the mall you were currently in.

Although it was usually calm and quiet, it seemed to be bustling the day you both go out to buy Christmas decorations. There’s a myriad of people piling up in plan of buying themselves the warmest cup of cocoa - a cup of happiness that would complete their own Christmas. Within that queue of people were families, couples and even people who spend their time alone during the festive season. Pixie’s hot cocoa never failed to brighten days.

You scout through your newly bought items for anything that might pass time. Namjoon stands beside you with his phone in hand, thumb clumsily scrolling through whatever he’d missed from the boys’ usual spam session. “Hoseok’s already got most of his decorations up. Something tells me we’re not winning this so easily.”

“We’re literally up against Seokjin and Jungkook.”

He pulls his lips in a taut line - going up against those two was a one way stop to instant loss. Nothing, absolutely nothing could beat either one of them. The competition was and will always be between Seokjin and Jungkook because both were as dense as a brick and would stop at nothing to earn themselves a victory. Frankly, you found it entertaining, even if they were constantly at each other’s throats and threatening to burn each other down - jokingly, of course, you’d never condone violence. Brotherly love if you’ve ever seen it.

“They’re out of the question. We’re up against the rest, those two idiots can eat an egg.” His bluntness makes you burst into fits of giggles, earning the clear attention of those either ahead of you or waiting (im)patiently behind. Namjoon always had a rather poetic way of saying things. “An egg? You’d be doing them a favour.”

He doesn’t quite realise what you mean until a few seconds later when he breathes out a dejected sigh and massages his temple soothingly. “They’re a whole mess.”

And he’s right, because when you’re back in the comfort of your humble abode with a warm cup of cocoa waiting for you in the living room, Namjoon’s phone keeps endlessly buzzing.

“You can’t keep ignoring them forever, you know.”

Namjoon sometimes thinks about how difficult his life would be without you. Go figure that there was no way of avoiding them, right? If you hadn’t told him, he would’ve never guessed so.

The couch sinks underneath his weight as he plants himself beside you, placing a mushy kiss onto your cheek. He’s quick to hand you his beverage once Mon literally hops onto him, wagging his tail like the euphoric little rascal that he is. And there’s peace and quiet, the sound of the crackle of the fireplace, until Namjoon’s thumb slides over the tiny green button making his phone constantly vibrate.

“Namjoon! What took you so long?!”

Seokjin’s voice comes booming out of the device nestled in your boyfriend’s palm. You must admit - it startled you just a bit, but it’s not like you weren’t used to their rambunctious behaviour. “We thought you died. Almost worried us for a while there.”

“Actually,” Jimin so pridefully interrupts, “He was just about ready to forget about you. Don’t act like you didn’t see cloud nine when Tae suggested Joon backed out.” It was all fun and games, affectionate brotherly love between the lot until suddenly, it was a trademarked apocalypse. Truly mind-blowing.

“You tattletale-!”

“Don’t worry Seokjin,” you snort, “He’s still up and running.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!” Offence washes over Namjoon’s face - perhaps it really is him against the world. Kim Namjoon could trust no one. You could only poke your tongue out at him, earning yourself a blissful smile. “Not at all.”

“Ew. Stop flirting - this isn’t about you, this is about the progress you’re doing.” Seokjin scoffs, making the latter silently giggle to themselves. He has absolutely no filter - nothing could get in the way of the man’s priorities. “Tell that to Yoongi.” His boyfriend was sitting right beside him - and poor him, because Yoongi has to be the strongest man to ever set foot on earth. He’s been dealing with Seokjin’s shit for over a good year or so now.

“Believe me, I might just knock him out.”

“No way - who’s going to peel your tangerines for work then? Ungrateful imp.”

Their bickering continues to produce light laughter from the lot of you until you decide it's about time you update each other on your progress. Surprisingly enough, Hoseok was much farther ahead than you all anticipated, and it earned you another fifteen minutes worth of competitive yelling between the youngest and the eldest.

But that was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Move it a little bit to the left," you instructed stringently, hands planted firmly on your hips as your boyfriend does whatever he's told. The tree jiggles with every waking movement, making Namjoon groan at the heavyweight it settles upon him. "Is this alright?" He mumbles tiredly, eyeing you from the depths of its branches.

You could only nibble on your lip, your eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Maybe a bit to the right."

Even when he's exhausted, even when he's sick and tired of turning a piece of mere decoration to countless directions, he doesn't complain. Namjoon wasn't exactly fond of religious festivities, but spending Christmas with you is always something he looks forward to. Setting the deal aside, it was always enjoyable bringing a little life to the house with someone he adores and his heart beats for. "Perfect! Could you grab the baubles? I'll get the ornaments."

Teamwork makes the dream work. An idiom he liked to say on the daily - it always worked between the two of you. Six hours worth of work put into four and the mess that bested every nook and cranny of your house now lessened. You hang the last bauble and sigh in content. "Doesn't it look pretty? I think this is our best one yet."

"Well, technically speaking, I couldn't expect any less from you, bun." His tone of voice resembles that of a young boy in love, his eyes sparkling under the colourful Christmas lights nestled comfortably in the tree's branches as he looks at you with a bashful smile. It's moments like these when you're so caught up in the things you do together, these blissful moments that you realise just how grateful you are for Namjoon. You love him, you love him so much. Nothing could be a better present than spending time with him. He's your bundle of pure euphoria.

"The tree's feeling a little bland, don't you think?"

It takes you a moment to take notice of what he actually meant before you feel extra weight added on top of your head. He teasingly hangs the finishing piece away from you, puckering his lips in hopes he'd earn himself something sweet in return for the star. You could only roll your eyes, but nonetheless, nothing stops you from latching your lips onto his and giving him your love.

Without hesitation, Namjoon scoops you up onto his shoulders, he guides you towards the crest of the tree and watches with bright eyes as you ecstatically plant the finale to the first phase of your decorating. Monnie scratches at the latter's legs in pure joy, barking at you both to signal his presence as well. It elicits laughter, and as Namjoon gently sets you back down, you let your fingers ruffle his fur as he licks at your face.

However, your hours upon hours of decorating doesn't end there, the tinsel messily spread underneath you is a clear indication of this.

With an exhausted huff, you look at Namjoon with hopeful eyes. There's still much to be done.

---

Looks tend to be deceiving when it comes to Kim Namjoon. People tended to deem him as a friendly giant, however, when it came to snowball fights, he was far from that. Like a devil crawling out the pits of hell.

The day you decide to pamper the outdoors of your house, snow starts dribbling from the skies above you. A miracle, because it’s never really snowed so early in December.

You’re busy setting up mistletoe in front of your front door until you’re barreling forward from the force of something wet on your back. It couldn’t have been Mon - he was sleeping soundlessly inside. But your boyfriend wasn’t - instead, he was childishly running around the front lawn bearing snowballs.

“Namjoon!” You shriek in utter disbelief, turning around only to face a devious grin. Pure evil dripped from him - Namjoon was no longer the soft bear who insisted you play with his hair. He was now a foe. “You’re going to pay for that!” As quickly as you could, you bear your own weaponry to pay back his foolish actions.

His giggles echoed across the small space you’re in and before you could even comprehend what was happening, he was already aiming another shot at you. Unfortunately, you were too slow against him.

Splat!

Three points for Kim Namjoon!

At your absolute suffering, his laughter only gets louder over Mariah Carey’s gorgeous singing coming from inside. “You’ll pay for this, you evil man!” However, your threats are only drowned out by his boisterous laughter. “I’d like to see you try!”

And you do. Because while he’s busy laughing his ass off at your misery, you earn yourself the rightful chance to aim a snowball right into his face. Three points? You just scored a whole seven.

He’s baffled - completely, utterly speechless at what’s happened. Well, you definitely weren’t going to stand there and let him conquer victory, he knew that for a fact. He just didn’t think you’d be so blunt. Now you’ve earned him a pink nose. But was he going to let you get away with it? No, Namjoon’s a Virgo.

He charges towards you like a clumsy child. You almost screech in surprise, instead, busting out in fits of laughter as you tumble and trip away from him. “Hey-! Get back here!” He cries out, almost face-planting into a hefty pile of snow. That would’ve been outright hilarious.

“Just try and catch me, big man!”

It’s light-hearted, it’s all lively and pleasant. You were both adults, but nothing stopped you from feeding into the fruits of life and feeling youthful sometimes. You both did it for the hell of it because you knew that with each other, you could be anything.

You’re too busy laughing to actually take notice of where your feet were taking you, feigning into the mess beneath you and tripping in your own feet. A loud thud leaves your descent, and with that, your boyfriend tumbling down on top of you because he was too clumsy for his own good. It was cute, really. Namjoon lets out a terrified shriek, his arms landing just beside your head - luckily because you’re pretty sure you would’ve earned yourself a long-surviving black-eye.

“Got you,” he says rather flusteredly. There’s a hint of panic in his eyes that almost seems as if he’s seen God himself. Had the fall really taken the piss out of him?

“No,” you state, shaking your head as best as you can. “Technically speaking, I got you.” You place a quick kiss on his pretty pink nose just for good measure, because in truth, you really did get him. He was on three points while you were on a steady seven. Namjoon pulls his lips in a taut line ever so shyly, hiding the growing smile planting itself on his face. No longer was he your arch-nemesis - your boyfriend was back to being your friendly neighbourhood giant. “Shouldn’t we get back to decorating? I thought you wanted to beat the others.” Perhaps it slipped through his mind because the second those words slip through yours, he’s already hoisting himself up and pulling you along with him. Kim Namjoon does not give up in the face of competition, that much is clear, even when he’d previously been working off a snowball fight.

“I couldn’t help myself!” He defends nonetheless, his palm scratching shyly at his mess of a mane. “But now that I think about it, we can have as many snowball fights as we want when we kick ass. A win-win situation, if I do say so myself.”

A win-win situation indeed.

When the boys call later on in the evening, it becomes clear that Namjoon was second in lead - Jimin taking first place. While the rest were busy taking things easily, he’d effortlessly managed to get things done in only a short matter of time. He definitely wasn’t there to play.

“No way. You’re cheating!” Taehyung accuses, astonishment evident from the little you could see of his face. His lighting was absolute crap. Despite his belief, Jimin easily shakes off his accusation with a mischievous grin. “I don’t know Taehyung, maybe if you hadn’t been slacking off at Taco Bell you would’ve been catching up.”

“Wha-! What a heathen - I’d choose Taco Bell over this any day!”

“How dare you! This is Christmas decorating you red-headed scoundrel!”

“This isn’t about you Seokjin!”

“Might as well be,” Yoongi mumbles from beside him, lazily scrolling through his phone as a yawn escapes his lips. You might just think he’s aged by a couple of years because of this ordeal. “You’re all complete losers,” Jungkook comments, face completely mushed against his phone as he nibbles on whatever was in front of him. The kid feared absolutely nothing - the wrath of a butthurt Kim Seokjin wasn’t any different.

Namjoon squints at his phone. He clearly wasn’t wearing his glasses, nor his contact lenses, and you knew he’d face the consequences later on. You’ve spent countless days by his side tending to his colossal headache. “Are you… Are you eating raw pop tarts?”

“Yes.”

“Raw. Aren’t you supposed to toast them?” There’s confusion laced in his tone, and in between, intense fear. “That’s like, a felony.”

Jungkook lets out a scandalised gasp. “No way! I’m not letting this piece of divine heaven be tainted by modern technology! I don’t even have a toaster, and there’s no way in hell I’m touching the microwave.”

Hoseok snickers. “He thinks it’s going to explode.”

“Don’t test me! I know the evil that sits within that thing.”

As complex at it was, you’ve come to the conclusion that there’s no explaining what these men are made out of. They’re simply built differently. In fact, you’ve grown out of trying to comprehend them, because you could be on your death-bed and they’d still be saying and doing things that would make you sigh and shake your head.

---

Alas, the day has come, and so have the boys, who just wouldn’t stop rambunctiously banging on your door. You’re busy setting up the table, Mon at your feet wagging his tail excitedly. “Namjoon!” You call out, balancing a few plates on the palms of your hands. “Namjoon! Could you get the door?”

However, as much as you yell, Namjoon doesn’t respond. You suppose it’s because he hasn’t come back from wherever he had gone earlier during the day. Odd.

Nonetheless, you set a few plates down on the dining table, hurriedly skipping over to your front door only to be trampled by none other than your special guests for the night. “Finally!” A rather over-dramatic Seokjin sighs, patting away the invisible sweat dripping down his forehead. “Waiting for you to open was like running a marathon. I swear!”

You could only laugh as Jimin pulls you in for an embrace - it was in his habits to do so whenever he saw you. It’s not as if you mind, his hugs were by far the best you’ve felt. They were full of love and warmth, something that perfectly describes the man himself. “Don’t mind him,” he tells you, rolling his eyes at the dramatics his friend was making. “He really needed to piss.”

“Sorry for taking so long - Namjoon hasn’t gotten back home from this morning.”

“He hasn’t?” Yoongi neatly sets his shoes by the door, unwrapping a thick scarf from his neck, dangling it on your coat hanger. “That’s pretty unusual, he doesn’t like being out in cold weather.”

“He probably got into some traffic,” you assume, “Hopefully he’ll be back soon. Until then, make yourselves at home. We’ll order take-out soon!”

All of you were like a proper family when it came to celebrating Christmas. Each year, sleepovers are taken in turns going from eldest to youngest. This year just so happens to be Namjoon’s turn - it’s not as if you mind, the house seems more lively when they’re around. They had that thing about them, that wherever they went they tended to make things brighter. Not once have you felt gloomy or perhaps left out. The seven of them all had qualities in contrast to one another, all showing you different ways of happiness. You’re lucky to say you have them in your life.

The wait for Namjoon continues. You all settle with playing board games, for the time being, the living room turning into a whole battleground because Yoongi can’t go by without cheating once in a while. He was really cunning, you could see Taehyung trying to pick up on his tricks.

“Uno!” Jimin yells, shoving a proud middle finger in Seokjin’s face. The man could faint from the amount of disrespect he was receiving. “Try beating that, old man.”

“I’ll tell you I’m more than an old man! I want a rematch. You’re all cheats, all of you.”

“You’re just a sore loser.” Jungkook was on thin ice. His nitpicking on Seokjin was getting him nowhere but pure, utter hell while he was sleeping. You admire his courage - he was fucking insane. “Sore losers don’t win, old man.”

Seokjin almost gets up to throttle him for his constant bullying when the door swings open and you’re all met by layers upon layers of clothing stomping inside. He’s carrying a bunch of bags you can’t seem to decipher, and you could see his nose poking out from his scarf.

Finally, Namjoon’s back home.

“Hey __, I’m back. I’m sorry I took so-”

“Joon, you idiot!” Before you could even bat an eye, Taehyung and Hoseok were on the man like hungry beasts. He was already eaten up by whatever garments he was wearing, the only pieces missing were the duo for him to finally disappear. “What took you so long? We were worried sick! Jimin can’t DJ for the life of him.”

“Hey-!”

You hoist yourself up and dust off whatever remnants of gingerbread cookies were left on you. All the concern that had been building up over time of Namjoon not being home had now diminished. Sudden relief washes over you because you hadn’t really noticed how worried sick you’ve been until he’d stepped into the house. Namjoon can be really impulsive sometimes.

“Joon,” He wraps his arms around your smaller figure and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Where have you been? Had me really worried for a second there.”

There’s this cheeky look in his face that makes you swoon. He’s so lovely, in all his ways, you just can’t help but be filled with so much love. You love him.

“I kind of… I kind of forgot to pick your present up. Sorry - Didn’t want to worry you, just a clumsy move.”

He’s all you’ve ever imagined.

“Get over here you two - we’re ordering take-out!” Your little moment is easily interrupted by the guys hollering you over, to which you oblige because you wouldn’t want to waste another second. You could hear Namjoon’s stomach grumbling a bit. “Have I been out for that long?” He queries, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “Dummy, it’s six in the afternoon. It’s already dark.”

“Well, I’m finally back home now, right where I need to be.”

You don’t notice it, but there’s a little mistletoe just above your heads. And Namjoon knows this because he points up towards it with mirth laced in his pretty eyes and a pretty smile. “Merry Christmas,” he tells you before he leans in and gives you what you rightfully deserve.

#btscreatorscorner #bcccse #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #bts au #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #jeon jungkook #park jimin #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon reader #namjoon fluff #kim namjoon fluff #namjoon fic #kim namjoon fic

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crimsonskies1124 · 4 years ago

Text

My Lovely Human Chapter 1: My Savior

The town was in a state of of emergency due to the sudden snowstorm. Everyone was in a state of panic, schools were closed and stores were flocked for supplies. (Y/N) peered through the window, the snow was getting heavier and heavier. "I should get more fire wood just in case."

(Y/N) gets up from the couch and starts putting on her coat and boots and grabbed her gloves as well. She picks up her lantern and attaches it to her backpack that she intends to carry the firewood in. She opens the door and shivers slightly from the cold weather, she noticed a letter sticking out from her mailbox. She picks it up in her small hands. "Ah. It's from mother." She murmured.

'Dear (Y/N),

How are you doing? It's been a while since you last visited your father and I. I know you're busy with the work at the church and orphanage but please don't overwork yourself. I'll be sending some mangoes and coconuts I grew the other day, they're very nice and sweet from the soil in the Dominican Republic. I also heard there's going to be snow storm over there. Please be careful and lock your doors.

Love Mom

(Y/N) chuckled lightly and puts the letter away. "Such a worry wart." She whispered while smiling. The fluffy snow was falling from the sky slowly to the ground softly, it was a sight she loved to see. She placed the key in the hole and locked it. Step by step she could hear her boots crunching the soft snow. As she makes her way towards the entrance of the town, huffing and puffing could be heard and two small arms latch around her waist causing her to yelp and looks down to see a small boy with black messy hair and lavender eyes.

(Y/N)! I caught you!" He giggled a bit, tightening his hold of her.

"Goodness..Narancia. I nearly tripped. What on earth are you doing out here? You should be at home? She patted his head a little.

Narancia ignores her question and smiles brightly. "Let's play! C'mon! Let's make a snowman." He was pulling at her coat but to no avail for he was a boy of 7 years.

"Maybe later. You should be at home by now. It's dangerous right now." She grabs his tiny hand and starts walking back to the orphanage. She can hear him whining but ignored it. "Bucciarati must be worried sick." (Y/N) sighed a bit, Narancia was always a rather troublesome child but he certainly knows how to brighten the room with his personality of his.

(Y/N) finally arrives at the orphanage after walking for 15 minutes and the door pulled open quite fast after one knock. Her eyes widened in surprise from the sight of Bruno Bucciarati , his raven hair was disheveled and his tan skin looked quite pale.

He quickly composes himself. "Ahem..What brings you here so late (Y/N)?" he clasps his hands together tightly, although his hands couldn't stop shaking.

"Sorry to come unannounced Bucciarati." She bows slightly. "However, I found this little rascal playing out in the snow." She pulls Narancia a little showing him to Bruno. Bruno's bright blue eyes and quickly pulled Narancia in his arms.

"Ahh! Thank God you're alright Narancia!" he hugged the boy tightly which causes Narancia to fidget in his arms.

"Y-You're crushing m-me!" He lightly gasps out and Bruno lets go of him and Narancia runs to (Y/N), hugging her arm.

She lightly chuckled from seeing this display. "See? I told you that Bucciarati was worried sick." He lowers his head a little in response and she smiles. "We can play some other time okay?"

Lavender eyes look up to hers. "You promise?" He pouted, puffing his round cheeks. (Y/N) lightly laughs, he was so cute.

She ruffles his hair. "Yes, yes I promise. Maybe Fugo can play too." She glances at the door way seeing Fugo hiding behind Bruno's leg. "Now be a good boy and get inside before you catch yourself a cold." He nodded and runs inside and could hear him sneezing already and Fugo scolding him.

Bruno breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank you for bringing him back. Would you like to stay over for dinner? You've done so much for the children ."

She shook her head. "No thank you. Perhaps another time. I help because I want to. I have firewood to collect so I'll be going now." Her lantern jingles to one side from her backpack from the strong wind. She turns around and hears him mutter another thank you before she heads out once more.

(Y/N) enters the forest to collect wood, humming a small tune. She glances at the time on her watch and clicks her tongue. It was already 9:00pm, the amount she collected was enough. She pulls the lantern off her bag and holds it in her hand since it was getting harder to see. She looked up at the sky, watching the beautiful snow fall heavier this time.

As she makes haste to reach back to town, she saw something black that was covered in the snow. She walks up to it and brushes some of the snow off to see a snake. She takes off her glove to touch it's skin. "Poor thing is freezing. You won't survive like this.." She picks him up and was surprised how big this snake was and brushed off the rest of the snow off the skin and sees black and white scales. "pretty." She murmured.

Her parents would yell at her if she did something like this. Her parents were religious so they deemed snakes as evil but she couldn't let the poor thing die. (Y/N) was too kind-hearted to do such a thing. She opens her thick coat and places him in it and could feel the snake move. "Getting warm buddy?" She smiles and hurries back before he freezes to death.

Once she came back to her home, she left her soaked boots by the door and sets her bag near the kitchen and puts her coat gently down and watches the snake cuddle into it. It was cute. She grabs some dry firewood and places it in the fireplace, she grabs the match from her kitchen and quickly slides it against the match box til the fire lit up and goes by the fireplace and watches the fire burn the wood brightly. She could hear hissing and turns around to see him burying himself more against the coat. "It's okay. It's gonna warm you up."

She walks towards the snake and lightly touches his skin with one finger. "Good. your body doesn't seem so cold now." She lets out a sigh , feeling tired from carrying a big bag full of wood and a large snake. (Y/N) lays down on the on the sofa, watching the fire and listens to the crackling. She lets out a small yawn and closes her eyes. Bright Crimson eyes stare at her as he watches her drift off to sleep.

The sun shined through the window and hits (Y/N)'s face. She groaned in discomfort from the sunlight and yawns. "mm..too bright.." She then heard a knock on the door. She quickly rose up from her seat . "How could it be at this hour..?" She glances at the clock , it wasn't time to work at the church t was too early for that . She straightens out her hair quickly to try and look presentable. She opens the door and sees the pastor. "Father Michael what brings you here at this hour?" She looked at the ground, the snow has melted from the warmth of the sun.

"Good day Miss (Y/N), sorry to disturb you at this hour." He clutches at his cross rather tightly, he was shaking a little. "But it's an emergency..My wife and brother haven't returned last night. You have heard of the rumors yes?" He looked at her with eyes full of worry.

Her eyes widened in surprise, It was unlike those two to not be in home on time. She remembered that they were both visiting another church . "That's terrible. I don't know much about the room Father Michael but I have heard that there was a man eating beast roaming around but no has found it yet." It was unsettling sure but it's not something that she would believe for sure. It's silly however, people have been disappearing as of late and it's troubling a lot of the town folk even with the support of the police and hunters.

He takes a deep breath . "Please (Y/N) could you help me find my wife and brother? I beg of you."

"Huh? Have you told the police or the hunter's association at least?" She gave him a puzzled look.

"I have! But they said they can't unless they been missing for 24 hours! The hunter's association has their hands full on the other cases as well , you're the only one I can turn you. You're familiar with the forest right? I promise to fully compensate you ! I-I'll even raise your pay too please..I don't know what else to do."

(Y/N) frowns. She can't turn him away like this, he was a troubled soul and it's true that the police aren't very well trusted. She's seen them, they tended to slack off and frankly it does upset her. "Alright . I'll set off to look for them. "

He looks at her with relief. "Oh thank you! Thank you (Y/N)! You truly are a kind soul." She nodded and smiled and watches him leave . She lightly sighed and closes the door and looks in the coat.

"Hm? Where is that snake?" She looks around the houses but couldn't find him anywhere. "Maybe he went back home.." She mumbled and starts packing for her tools in her backpack and some food in case she would be out there for a long time. She knows her way around the forest but most normal folk do not. She eats some bread and coffee while she's getting ready. She looked at herself in the mirror. "Okay teeth check. hair check, equipment check. " She smiles and attaches her lantern to her bag once more.

Just as she was at the entrance of the town she could feel something tugging her and it was little Narancia . She gently picks him up . "What are you doing up so early silly." She kisses his cheek. "You look so messy today."

He wraps his arms around her neck and sniffles. I-I heard you were going. Please don't go!" Tears built up in his eyes.

"I have to . I need to do some work okay? You'll be a good big boy for me and behave won't you? Don't give Bruno any trouble okay? We might get to play later if I come back early or maybe even a sleep over? Doesn't that sound nice?"

"R-Really? Yeah! I wanna play and stay up all night! I'll bring Fugo too! He wants it too (Y/N)! " He stopped his tears and was gently placed down.

"Good. That's what I like to hear . Now run along I really need to get going."He nodded and waves goodbye and runs to the direction of the church . " He's still such a adorable troublesome rascal hehe." She smiles and walks into the forest. It was brimming with beauty and life even right after the snow storm. "Let's see maybe I should start with the east side of the forest today." She hums the same tune earlier and from the far distance a set of bright Crimson red eyes had it's sight set on her.

"Hm...Hm..Hm I been walking for a long while." She glances at the time it was late afternoon just as she was about to take a break she heard a blood curdling scream , it sounded like a man's voice. 'That could be Father's Michael's wife! She dashes towards the direction of the scream and her eyes widened in horror when she saw two feet sticking out of a giant's serpent mouth. her body slowly went down his throat and into his stomach though it wasn't noticeable enough to bulge his stomach. Oh god. Oh god! This can't be happening! Was this the man eating monster? She back away slowly and the serpent presses a hand to his stomach giving it a small rub and then locked those bright ruby eyes onto her and his fork tongue occasionally sticking out. He was giant to say the least. He was 6'6 and had bulging muscles, he had snow white short hair and creamy skin however when looking at his lower half it was a large long tail adorned with black and white scales that glisten against the sunlight.

She was shaking in fear as his slit eyes bored into her round like one. This was it. She was gonna die. NO! I don't want to die! She watches him slither closer in fluid motion and she broke out running before he could get too close. She ran as fast as she could as she tries to calm her pounding heart. This was dangerous, with this many trees she couldn't see him . She turned back while running and tripped over a piece of wood. "Ah!!" As she fell to the floor , the strap of her bag snaps and falls into the river. Scales wrapped around her body , slowly coiling her and lifts her off the ground and opens her eyes ans gasps seeing the large snake like man. "A-Ah! No! Let go!" She struggles in his hold only for him to coil tighter causing her to stop . It was like being squeezed to death and stopped shaking violently in his hold. "W-What are you!?"

He moved his tail along her body. She was much softer than that frail old woman. "I am what you humans call a naga." He watches her as if he was still observing her. "Human. You saved me from certain death last night. I thank you for that."

A-A Naga? They were just legends and myths! Her parents use to tell her of Nagas were dangerous beasts with a form of half human, half snake that consumes humans and animals. "W-Wait. You were the snake from last night?"

He nodded. "I'm Risotto Nero but you may call me Risotto." He lifts her closer to him and brushed his forked tongue against her cheek and then trails down her neck hearing her squeak. " You're quite beautiful, human. What's your name?"

"U-Um..I-I'm (Y/N) please let me go." She is hoping that she would not be this Naga's next meal .

"Pretty name. (Y/N) I am of need of a mate and I want you. I want you to come to my home." He brushes his tongue against her cheek once more.

She lightly gasps and struggled against his binds. "N-No! I'm not going anywhere with you!" He tightened his hold of her making it harder to breath, she wouldn't have a choice in the matter whether she wanted this or not . It was already decided. She felt her vision getting blurry . "S-Someone..please." She whimpers until she fell into darkness.

#wattpad #Jojo #jojo no kimyō na bōken #Jojo part 5 #Story #fanfic #Naga #reader #jjba risotto #risotto x reader

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