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missymurphy1985 · 4 years ago

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The Premiere

The Premiere of Peaky Blinders, Series 6. You've had a secret lust for your co-star for the last 10 years, would this be your last chance to finally get your way with him?

This was a request from @noctvrnalmoth

Taglist - @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @being-worthy @janelongxox

Lights flashing, cameras clicking, paparazzi calling your name left right and centre... God you hated premieres. But you plastered your game face on and gave the what they wanted like the good little actress you were. Series 6 of Peaky Blinders was premiering in Broad Street, Birmingham, appropriate as the series was based in the city - it felt right that that's where the final premiere should be.

You heard the crowd of fans behind you suddenly go wild as a car pulled up to the red carpet and the man himself stepped out of it. Your breath caught in your throat as you suddenly remembered the cameras were on you, and you quickly switched your game face back on. You couldn't hide the cheesy grin though, as Cillian Murphy stood smiling for the cameras. He made his way to the group of fans be happily signed a few autographs and took a few selfies with them. Thanking each of them for coming out, he waved and made his way over to you.

"Hey Ada," he smiled in his Brummie accent, knowing it made you laugh when he called you by your character's name.

"Tommy Shelby has arrived I see, did you leave Cillian in the hotel room?" He snaked an arm over your shoulder and you posed for more pictures together. Rumours had abounded for the last ten years of a romance behind the scenes between you, but none of them were true. You were good friends, that was all, no matter how much more you wanted.

"He was cramping my style Ada, can't have that at a premiere can we?" You giggled as he squeezed your shoulder, before reverting back to his Irish accent. "Reckon they've got enough photos, it's fucking brass knuckles out here!" He led you both into the hall where a waiter stood with a tray of champagne glasses. He took two and handed one to you. Clinking your glasses together in a toast.

"Here's to the end," he smiled, a touch of sadness in his eyes.

"It's been one hell of a ride though Cill, we've had a blast haven't we?"

"That we have y/n, that we have. Let's go cringe watching ourselves on camera, yeah?"

"Let the clenching begin!" You linked an arm with his and made your way into the auditorium together to the waiting interviewers.

Sitting on a chair each, the two of you glanced at each other and smiled. Both of you hated these promo interviews at premieres but at least you were doing this one together. Answering the questions as professionally as possible, the interviewer suddenly changed the topic to a more, personal, one.

"You must have seen the rumours flying around about the two of you in recent years?"

Cillian shrugged as you tried to hide your blush with a hand, pretending to laugh.

"There will always be rumours like that when co-stars of the opposite sex have chemistry onscreen - we've learned to let it go." Cillian always had an answer for it.

"It's a weird one though, I mean, I play his sister, you'd think the rumours would be about you and Tash, or Annabelle!" You smiled, your eyes meeting Cillian's. Did he just glance down at your cleavage?

"Tumblr has gone WILD about the two of you, fan made stories about you making out in secret onset, sneaking off together? Clear it up for us now - is there any truth to them?" The interviewer probed, hoping for some kind of sexy exclusive. Cillian's famous eyebrow raise quickly followed.

"If there was, we wouldn't admit it would we? The whole point of 'sneaking around' would mean it was a secret, wouldn't it? Be pointless to ruin the illusion now.." he smirked. The interviewer was stunned. So were you - you'd never done anything of the sort.. what was he doing? The papers would go wild with this tomorrow! You hid your face in your hands and snorted. He wasn't having the upper hand in this.

"He wouldn't stand a chance anyway." You smirked.

"Is that so y/n?" He turned to look at you. "These blue eyes didn't make you weak at the knees when we were filming? The strong jawline not having the Tommy Shelby effect?" Those blue eyes were staring you down now, you had no words. Just then the bell rang to signal the end of interviews - the premiere of the new series was about to begin in the auditorium. The interviewer was still slightly agog - what exactly had he just witnessed here?

"That was amazing wasn't it? They did an incredible job editing it all, just brilliant!" You gushed as you and Natasha left the auditorium.

"Not bad at all!! I'm gutted we won't be filming together again though y/n.." she hugged you tight. "And I'm sure Cillian will miss you too." She smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh god don't you start, those rumours have been plaguing me for years!! We're just friends Tash!" She nodded, still smirking, and glanced behind you, seeing Cillian making his way over.

"I'll see you at the party, yeah?" She made her way to the casino next door where the after-party was being held.

Two strong hands clipped your waistline making you jump, nearly spilling your champagne.

"Too easy y/n," Cillian chuckled.

"Asshole," you laughed, slapping his arm playfully. He smiled and, arm over your shoulder again, he walked with you to the casino.

"I'm not staying long y/n, so I'll say it now yeah?" He ordered the two of you a drink at the bar and turned to face you. The loud music drowning out most of the noise. You couldn't hear him very well.

"What?"

"I said, I'm not staying long y/n! I need to tell you something." Louder now, bending down to talk into your ear. Your drinks arrived and you made your way to a slightly quieter corner.

"Should I be worried Cill?"

"Maybe.." your breath caught again. "See, you know those rumours? The ones about us basically fucking behind the scenes?" Your cheeks burned.

"Oh those? Um.. yeah.. what about them?" He cleared his throat, bending to whisper loudly in your ear.

"Didn't you ever wish they were true?" You pulled back. The fuck did he just say?

"What?!" You nearly dropped your drink from the sudden movement.

"Just once, didn't you ever just wonder what could've happened?" His blue eyes so dark, looking right into yours.

"Listen, I'm not asking for a relationship, god knows neither of us need that right now, but this is the last time I'm gonna get this opportunity before we part ways for good. Meet me on floor 7 in 15 minutes. Room 712. If you don't come, I'll know the answer. If you do... Well..." He squeezed your hip, downed his drink and walked away. You stood in shock for a minute, collecting your thoughts. Okay, so he was right about one thing - neither of you were interested in a relationship. This would be a one time thing, no strings attached, which suited you down to the ground.. yes you found him impossibly attractive, but you both just came out of very high profile serious relationships... Maybe a quick fling wasn't such a bad idea? Get it out your systems, move on... You downed your own drink and left the party. What room was it again....

Room 712. The door was slightly ajar. You checked your watch - 18 minutes. You knew he was a stickler for timekeeping but you couldn't resist being a little late. Without knocking, you pushed the door open to find an empty room. Shit... Being late wasn't such a good idea now... Quickly scanning the room, you saw the ensuite door emitting steam from it. He's in the shower... This could work... Opening the door you saw his outline through the shower door, rinsing his hair under the hot water. You quickly slipped your dress to the floor, along with your underwear, and slowly eased yourself into the shower with him, quietly. You snaked your hands over his firm waist and he jumped, turning to face you, wiping water and soap out of his eyes.

"Too easy, Cill." He composed himself and smiled.

"So you did come then?"

"Well, not yet, but I'm hoping you could help with that?" You smirked, and looked down to see his erection already forming.

"Wanna let me get out first?"

"Nope, no need. There's plenty of room in here..." You sank to your knees and took him into your mouth.

"Ah... Fuck me..." He gasped as you sucked him to full erection.

"Now now, Mr Murphy, we'll get to that part soon enough..." Taking him back in, your tongue swirling around the tip, teeth gently scraping the underside of his cock. Sinking his head down, and backing into the shower wall, allowing the water to cascade over your back, he watched as you expertly sucked him, groaning into his shaft and cupping his balls lightly, giving them a sharp tug now and again. He couldn't take much more and lifted you to your feet.

"I'm not finishing in your mouth y/n.. I have a much better destination for it..." He knew you were on birth control, you'd spoken about it before when you were both going through yours respective breakups. Both of you also getting your checks done after your partners had cheated on you. All clean and ready to go.

Moving you against the wall of the shower, he angled the water away slightly, pressing his lips to yours. Snaking a hand down between your legs he was impressed to find you already wet for him. Smiling against your lips, he slowly inserted a finger deep inside, causing your hips to buck against him.

"Yes... Cillian yes..." Pushing a second finger in, he tipped them up and towards him slightly, catching hold of that sweet spot inside. You jumped again.

"Too easy y/n..." You couldn't help your hips rocking against his fingers, groaning deeply as he fucked you with them, picking up the pace. Your orgasm built quickly and he felt your walls clenching, but he quickly removed them and lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, he pushed his hard length into you. Your mouth opened wide with a loud groan as it hit that magical spot on the first thrust, and you screamed his name as your orgasm finally hit, Cillian pounding into you as you called his name. You just prayed the room next door was empty...

He tangled his hands into your hair as he continued thrusting up into you, your nails were clawing his shoulders as you moaned loudly - a second release quickly building.

"Need to move, my legs are killing me!" He groaned into your neck, and begrudgingly lifted you off him, keeping your legs round his waist as he turned the shower off and carried you into the main room. Sitting in the chair, he sat you back on his lap, a leg either side of him

"Want me to ride you Cill?" He nodded as you ground your hips against him, not taking him inside you just yet. If this was the only chance you had to do this, you were making it last as long as possible.

"Fuck.. don't tease me y/n..."

"Want me to ride that big cock of yours Cillian? Bounce up and down, back and forth, round and round.." your hips mimicking your words making him gasp. Your mouth teasing his now, tongue tracing his lips. He kept moving to kiss you fully but you kept pulling back.

"Jesus y/n..." You sank down onto him, taking him inside you. Riding him hard, your second orgasm burning inside desperate for release. He pushed you back slightly and moved your fingers down to your own clit. "Rub it... Wanna watch you..." You happily complied, head thrown back in pure ecstacy as you rode both him and your fingers to your orgasm. Shuddering with the release, feeling your juices coat him, he picked you up again and lay you down on the double bed, relentlessly pounding into you now while you clutched at his back, nails surely drawing blood now. He was like a man possessed, harder than he'd ever been before.

"That's it... That's it... Fuck... Cillian!" You were screaming his name as he grunted against your neck.

"Gonna cum y/n... Fuck..." With a loud groan followed by your name he came hard, filling you completely as a third orgasm took you along with him. Pulling out slowly, catching his breath, he remained on top of you.

"My shoulders are fucking shredded y/n..." He laughed, feeling the sting from where your nails had scratched him.

"Sorry... You were just too good..." You breathed, still coming down from your high. He rolled onto his back and pulled you into his arms. You lay there silently for a while, playing with his chest hair.

"That was worth the wait.." he smiled and kissed the top of your head. All you could do was nod, words suddenly becoming impossible. You'd never been fucked that good before in your life.

"Let's make a deal," he tilted your face up to look at him, gently leaning down to kiss your lips. "If we work together again in the future, and we're both single, we do this again. What do you say?" You smiled. You were worried for a second he was going to profess his undying love for you - definitely not what you wanted from this.

"Deal. Hey, there might be a role for me in the movie yet," you winked, biting your lip. He smirked down at you and rested his head back on the pillow.

"Can't wait." You sat up to get ready to leave, you both knew you couldn't stay. One of you had to go back to the party so as not to arouse too much suspicion.

"This was fun, right? And we're okay?"

"Yes, and yes. All good. Stay in touch? No matter what?" He watched you get dressed and fix your hair, reapplying your lipstick.

"Definitely." You leaned over him to steal a final kiss, and headed out the door smiling, both of you silently praying Ada had a place in the movie, and vowing to remain single for the foreseeable future.

#cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #cillian x smut #peaky blinders x reader

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 4 years ago

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Follow My Lead

Happy late birthday @dani-dandelino 💖💖 I love you so much it isn’t even real!!! I cant wait to squish you and give you the best tall person hug I possibly can! (i wrote this while blasting taylor in your honor)

Warnings: they drinkin, seeing old exes, cheating exes, accidental-ish love confessions, mutual pining, fake dating, and they were roommates 👀

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“Oh shit, I’m too drunk for this,” Jaskier scrambled to pull Geralt into a darker corner of the bar they’d descended upon for Lambert’s birthday, “I can’t see her here. Fuck.”

Geralt rather tactlessly looked over his shoulder at Jaskier’s ex, now ordering a drink and sitting at the bar with what looked like a date.

“Don’t look Geralt! She knows you’re my roommate,” Jaskier hissed and dragged Geralt around a corner so he wouldn’t blow his cover. Their breakup had been… rough. Olivia had cheated, then told Jaskier he’d never find someone like her. For three months he’d managed to avoid the venomous woman who lived just two blocks over from him and Geralt’s apartment. And now she was right fucking there and he wanted to cry.

“Jask, take a breath. You don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to,” Geralt held him by the shoulders and tried to get him to make eye contact. He was far too preoccupied with watching the corner for an incoming ex.

“I’ll tell her I’m dating a doctor. Uhm… and they’re not here because…. Doctors Without Borders! Ha! See?! I’m fine Geralt, why are you looking at me like that?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, “I have a better idea. Follow my lead.”

Stumbling and barely saving his cocktail from sloshing everywhere, Jaskier trotted after Geralt. To his horror, he realised they were headed straight for Olivia’s spot at the counter. Geralt didn’t skip a beat, linking arms with Jaskier and winking at him.

Well that didn't help at all. Jaskier’s stomach did a little backflip, even as he clung to Geralt, the alcohol swirling in his veins making it much easier to lean on him. He was momentarily distracted by how nice it was to lean his temple on Geralt’s shoulder, even if it was an awkward angle, and he went a little weak in the knees when Geralt leaned against the bar and pulled him close while they waited for the bartender to get to them.

Jaskier whispered, “What are you-”

Only to be interrupted by Olivia, “Jullian! Hi! How are you darling?”

He felt Geralt’s grip around him tighten just a bit as she spoke and something deep in his chest purred at the protective gesture as he plastered a blindingly fake smile over his features, “Absolutely lovely, dear! How are you?”

“Good! I’m just here with Valdo,” she gestured over to the man sitting next to her at the bar. He looked like the black haired, greaseball version of Jaskier and it took everything in his liquor addled brain to keep from scoffing. Then it hit him.

“Oh! The Valdo! Well it’s good to put a face to the name,” Jaskier barely kept from gritting his teeth.

Geralt hugged him tighter, leaning down to stage-whisper in his ear, “We can go if you want. Lambert can go without birthday shots, love.”

Love?!

Fuck, Geralt never called him Love. Not even at their drunkest, highest, or most deliriously tired. It had him scrambling for a moment, just looking up over his shoulder at Geralt in absolute wonder and… and probably a little too much affection.

“No! Lambert needs his birthday shot of cheap tequila. Thank you though, sweetheart.”

The pet name rolled off his tongue far too easily. Normally he kept the pet names to a minimum for Geralt. He’d noticed a bit of bristling early on so he just- held back. Now it felt sinfully indulgent to call him that when he wanted… fuck what did he want?

Luckily they were rescued from the awkward introduction by the bartender asking for their order.

“Eight shots of Casamigos please! And one lemonade chaser and a shot glass of grenadine please!” Jaskier piped up, whipping his credit card out of his pocket too fast for Geralt to stop him.

“I thought you said cheap?” Valdo scoffed.

Geralt frowned, half stepping between him and Jaskier, “It is? It’s no Barrique de Ponciano?”

Jaskier was really trying not to laugh now. They’d n e v e r bought something that fancy, nor would they ever. But they’d been googling the most expensive bottles of different alcohols the other night and Geralt had drunkenly tried for a whole half hour to pronounce the name of this particular tequila.

The look on Valdo’s face was magnificent. Olivia’s eyebrows disappeared behind her betty bangs and Jaskier felt the purring beast in his chest get louder.

He reached up to pat Geralt’s cheek, “No need to spoil me tonight.”

Olivia leveled them with a piercing stare, doing that annoying ‘creating suspense’ thing she liked to do before she said something she was proud of, “I’m glad you two finally got together. I think you’ll be good for each other.”

Geralt did the remainder of the talking while Jaskier stared at him in shock. Unfortunately that was exactly what he wanted. He wanted to sink into Geralt’s embrace like this all the damn time and hear his nearly imperceptible huff of annoyance at comments people made. Nothing would please him more than feeling Geralt’s stubble pressed against his temple when he pressed a kiss to his hairline every day and he did his best in his drunken state to memorize it in case it never happened again.

He came back from his dazed fantasy to Geralt guiding his hand down to his belt and it took him a panicked moment to realize he was meant to hold on while Geralt lead them back to the party carrying the shots.

Jaskier offered a quick “Toodles,” and flipped Valdo off with his free hand when Olivia turned her back, but they were soon lost in the sea of people. Without really thinking, he took his shot with the group and dumped the grenadine into his lemonade. Well he was thinking.

And he didn’t stop thinking, staring off into space until Geralt nudged him with his elbow, giving him a concerned look.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Geralt shrugged, popping a mozzarella stick in his mouth and speaking around it, “And you didn't have to lie your ass off.”

How Geralt was still so calm was beyond Jaskier. Well, it wasn’t, he’d been sure his roommate had absolutely no feelings for him whatsoever, but part of him had held out for a sliver of hope and that part was the dominant part right then.

“Love?!”

“Are you- mad? I thought it would help sell it…” Geralt rested a hand on his elbow to guide him away from the group.

Jaskier knocked back what had been left of his cocktail before the shots and could feel the regret in advance. It was never a good idea to talk about important things either drunk or hungover but here he was, about to flip shit on Geralt for… being a good friend?

“I’m not fucking angry, I’m yearning!”

The second, much more intense, wave of regret hit him when Geralt’s eyes went wide and his hand dropped from Jaskier’s arm.

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” Jaskier snapped, wiping a hand over his face, “And don’t remind me about this in the morning if I forget.”

Before he could make his escape with his tail between his legs, Geralt gripped him by the shoulders and trapped him in a kiss so frantic and needy his head was spinning when they parted.

“Jask?”

“Hm?” He had to remember to open his eyes, lost in the tingling ghost of Geralt’s lips on his and the firm grip still holding him close.

The grin Geralt was sporting was far too cheeky to be allowed much longer but Jaskier refrained from kissing him again to hear what he had to say, “Can I remind you of that in the morning?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Jaskier mumbled as he wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck and pulled him into another kiss, this one much softer but no less satisfying than the first.

#happy birthday dani!!!#i love you!#geraskier #geraskier fake dating #fake dating #geraskier roommates #geraskier mutual pining #mutual pining #geraskier soft #soft geraskier #geraskier getting together #the witcher #the witcher fic #the witcher geraskier #geraskier fic #drunk jaskier #cheating exes #cheating ex

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dramarants · 3 years ago

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You already know what it is - finale rant time

Okay, injeong, na heedo knows what she wants and she deserves to have her needs met - baek yijin could not provide it. They weren’t meant to be life partners in the traditional sense, fine.

I’m happy for yurim and jiwoong and yay minchae’s sticking with ballet, and joo hyuk and taeri’s acting is just so phenomenal my gosh.

But I need a season 2 that actually gives us answers for the present day timeline and shows us what happiness looks like after your youth. And we’ve bonded so much with the characters, ofc we want to see what their everyday lives are like and what their goals are, what they live for, what their specific happiness looks like. I refuse to accept that the happy memories of the past are enough to keep you going just bc you once had it - wtf? No, show me how heedo has love and support now, through yurim or her mom or even her daughter? Show me that yijin isn’t some traumatized reporter destined to spend the rest of his life alone, show me why the fuck seungwan is a variety pd?? Idk, do all ppl past the age of 35 just not have things they look forward to?? Like I’m 23 but my “happy youth days” are very much over - am I just supposed to feed off memories of college years and all the people I lost for the rest of my life? This can’t be it. It’s funny bc the show is about moving forward but it makes it seem like heedo’s happiness is left in the past.

How come after so many years where clearly heedo and yijin have moved on (or at least I hope so lmao the show gave us next to nothing), how come they can’t be old friends? Like would it be too hard to move on from the past if they remained in touch?

The BIGGEST question I have is what does minchae’s father do, bc he isn’t there in covid times and isn’t that exactly the reason heedo broke up with yijin? Make it make sense. Tell me heedo didn’t compromise for someone other than yijin or tell me how this magic mystery man fulfills her life more than yijin did.

How come they left so many unanswered questions for the present day? Things that could be revealed with just a few passing sentences my goodness.

Ugh I don’t want to be angry or upset at the show, it was so good and I love these characters so much. I feel a lil hollow but I’m going to try and focus on all the good. Even the breakup scenes themselves were wonderfully done. I’m not gonna let my confusion for everything that follows leave a bitter taste.

My headcannon: after reading yijin’s words in her diary, heedo calls up the anchor laughing and semi-confrontational like “ya baek yijin, I can’t believe you had this” bc they’re still close friends who can rely on each other to tease them or assure them in darker times. They don’t talk often or at length, but a two minute phone call is enough to bring them peace and make them smile. There’s no need for longing or yearning and the squad is able to meet up in the future bc their breakup wasn’t messy. Ugh the squad not being able to stay as all five of them through the years is realistic but still a girl can dream

You know what the more I think about it, it’s understandable if yijin and heedo fall out of touch completely cuz that’s just how life goes but usually that happens between friends over a long period of time, not all of a sudden and certainly not by choice. In those situations, it wouldn’t be weird to encounter the other person either esp if you have lots of mutual connections but it sorta felt like they avoid each other? Idk them not ending up together is realistic but something about what we watched feels unjustifiable and I can’t put my finger on exactly what.

Ugh whatever whatever Coldplay’s “oh take me back to the start” is blasting in my head and this doesn’t make sense, I’m posting just bc I typed it and maybe someone else can figure out what this feeling is or what’s missing but if you’re reading this, thanks for being on this crazy beautiful journey together. All of our characters have some type of happy, fulfilling ending and it’s true that no matter what lies ahead, the love and laughter you’ve shared with friends and family and mentors and lovers will always remain with you ❤️ even if lost, it still mattered and continues to matter. Every moment has value.

#twenty five twenty one #ranting

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desiredmalfoy · 4 years ago

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Star Crossed Lovers

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Muggle Reader

Genre: Angst (I’m so sorry for the ending….)

Universe: Wizarding War happens in this universe.

I cried while writing the ending :) I’m a very sensitive person. I apologize for any mistakes.

Listen to “The One That Got Away” cover by Brielle Von Hugel for the full experience while reading if you would like.

(Gif is not mine. Credit to the owner)

Summer after high school when we first met

You had met a couple of weeks you had just finished your last year at school. You were off to university in just two months and you wanted to enjoy your life before you were stuck once again in an absolute mundane routine. You weren’t one to party much but your friends had decided to take you to various pubs for the first time in your life.

That’s when you met him.

He was standing near the bar with a couple more guys surrounding him. His laughter could somehow be heard over the slight music and noise of the pub. You were pulled toward him, your friend Mia had actually met one of the guys in his group just last week. You felt as if the universe was pulling you to him. You gravitated toward him.

“Hello beautiful, my name is Fred”, a voice sweet as honey snapped you out of your train of thought. He smiled warmly at you as waited for your response.

“Pleasure to meet you, Fred. My name is (Y/N)”, you extended your hand to introduce yourself. He grabbed your smaller hand and firmly shook it. Electricity seems to be coursing through your body. As if it was a sign from up above.

“A name so beautiful to fit such a lovely girl.”

As the night dragged on, you spent your time with him. It felt as if you had known him your entire life. The conversation flowed so easily that it seemed as if you had met him before. You felt as if you knew him from somewhere. He looked at you as if you were talking about the most interesting things ever. Before you knew it, it was time to go as your friends were starting to get tired and were very much tipsy.

“It was very fun getting to know you”, he spoke as he swished the drink in his hand a bit.

“I hope to see you again. I’ve enjoyed our time together.”

“I hope so too”, he answered. “Jack said he wanted to return here next week.”

“I will see you here next week if you would like”, you responded boldly. You grabbed a small piece of paper and pen from your purse and scribbled your number on the page. “But here is my number in case there is a change of plans.”

“Thank you.”, his smile warms your heart instantly as you placed the paper in his hand. “Maybe next time you’ll be able to meet my twin George.”

“Is he anything like you?” You teased him.

“Same face but completely different personality.” Fred laughed.

We'd keep all our promises. Be us against the world

What (y/n) didn’t know was that meeting Fred that night would a once in a lifetime chance. One of his muggle friends during his years at Hogwarts had convinced him to go with him and some other guys to some pubs in the muggle world. Fred was hesitant at first, he knew they had the responsibility of the shop. But George had convinced him to go after he had been feeling stuck for a while.

Meeting you, a girl he would have never crossed paths with if he had not taken his friend up on his offer, was once in a lifetime experience.

The relationship progressed nicely as you both got to know each other. He spoke about his parents and all the siblings he had. He spoke about them with much love. You knew his likes and dislikes. Your heart fluttered every time you heard him say “hello beautiful”.

But there were things you had yet to know about him. He was very discrete in certain aspects of his life. Your parents had gifted you a flat to gain some independence as university and adulthood approached. Which was a good thing because most of your dates took place at your flat or going out. You didn’t mind though, you simply wanted to spend time with Fred.

He was very unaware of certain technology. He’d always tell you his parents weren’t big on modern technology, which is why he hadn’t ever watched tv or used a phone. You loved to show him the wonders of the world he was yet to experience. From your favorite films to your favorite songs. The two of you danced the night away.

You still remembered the first time he kissed you. Fred and you had been listening to some music, dancing around your living room. The song ended and you both crashed on the sofa with you accidentally landing on top of him. As you both attempted to catch your breath, you looked into his brown eyes. Time seemed to freeze as you both were now looking at each other, not saying a single word.

He leaned forward and placed a desperate kiss on your lips. One that felt so right. Lifting your lips only from him momentarily to catch your breath before you straddled his hips. You leaned in to continue the kiss, each movement becoming more desperate than the last. You don’t know how long you stayed like this, but you wouldn’t care if it was for eternity.

“You're so beautiful”, Fred said a bit out of breath as he grabbed your face and brought it close to his. This time placing a small kiss on your lips. “ I don’t know how I ever got so lucky.”

“I need you Fred”, you whispered as you brought him towards you. “I need you.”

“Then you’ll have me beautiful.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Never planned that one day I'd be losing you

You wished that things would’ve stayed perfect. Just like a dream. But even the most perfect dreams are eventually shattered. Everything was going well for the past six months and then suddenly he begun to act differently. Fred seemed more stressed than usual but blamed it on his job. He had told you that he just worked in a shop in town. The visits from him become much more scarce as the weeks drag on. He used to come in every other day but now you were lucky if you saw him every week. University kept you busy though, which helped distract you from the absence of your boyfriend.

Every time he showed up at your flat, he looked like a former shell of himself. His already pale skin, becoming even more white. The dark rings around his eyes seemed more prominent than the last time you saw him. He looked so broken.

“Fred you need to talk to me. What’s wrong.” You begged him as you followed him from your room to the living room of your flat.

“Nothing is wrong. Why can’t you understand that.” Fred ran his hand angrily through his messy hair.

“You need to stop lying to me.” Your voice began to crack from the desperation you were feeling.

“You can’t help me because nothing is wrong!”

“But I want to try to”, you were now fully crying at this point. Tears were streaming down your face as you reached for his hand. An act of desperation. “Why don’t you trust me?”

He turned to face you and looked down at your hand that grasped his much larger one. You thought he was about to tell you what was truly bothering you but you were wrong.

He pulled his hand out of yours and walked to leave. His voice began to crack. “I love you but I can’t. I’m sorry we need a break.”

With that, he closed the door to your relationship. You stood dumbfounded in the middle of your living room as you watched the love of your life walk away.

Sadness filled your body as you collapsed on the floor crying. Crying so hard that no noise escaped your mouth. You felt numb. All you could feel was the cold of the tile numbing your body. You wanted to run after him, beg him to stay. But it was too late now. You didn’t even have a number to reach him at. He said they didn’t use phones.

In another life, I would make you stay.

The days passed and you had yet to hear from him. You felt empty as your days went on. Your daily routine felt so numbing as you continued on with your day. You hoped every day that he would come knocking on your door ready to finally speak to you.

Your friends heard of your breakup and started to take you out again to the pubs. You only went hoping to see him again. But he was never there, neither were any of his friends.

You missed him so much.

You stayed home after that and listened to all the songs the two of you like to listen to together. Reminiscing of every memory you had together. Every moment the two of you shared. Every touch, every kiss, and every moment of intimacy.

You missed him every second of your life.

Never planned that one day I'd be losing you

You didn’t know that somewhere else Fred was taking his final breath. As his thoughts lingered on a lover he never got to say goodbye to. A lover that when he last saw her, it ended in a screaming match. A lover he was going to visit after this blasted war, and finally explain it all to her.

One day he would see you again. One day you would be his.

You never knew what happened to the man that stole your breath away. The man that made you feel like the center of the Earth each day. The man whose touch brought you euphoria.

You moved on with your life hoping that one day you would see him for just one last time.

You got married to a wonderful person and had two children with them. But somehow he always stuck in the back of your mind.

Your life would never be complete until you heard “hello beautiful” just one more time.

And you didn’t hear that until you took your last breath. Finally joining the lover you missed.

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sweet-sammy-kisses · 3 years ago

Text

Finally Seeing

Written for @tropetember #12: getting together (I had this one ready figured I would post it while working on the other ones) Fandom: 911 Pairing: Buck x Eddie, minor Eddie/Ana Word Count: 1,435 Rating: T Summary: Ana turned out to Eddie’s Ali something Buck never wanted for his secret crush. You can also read it here AO3

"I can't do this Eddie. I can't do this anymore."

Eddie knew that this was coming Ana had tried but his PSTD was too much for her, the nightmares that had him waking up screaming for Buck in the middle of the night. Needing Buck to comfort him and not her.

It just hurt that she was walking away from him when he could use her support. 'Is this how Buck felt when Ali broke up with him when he needed her the most? That she walked away when it got too much.'

"I understand Ana. I'm glad that Christopher didn't get too attached to you because it would surely break his heart to know that you run at the first sign of things getting too rough." Eddie couldn't help but snap at Ana. He had been so sure that Ana would be different but once against he found himself comparing Ana to Shannon and found her lacking in comparison. Shannon had tried, she had cared for their son all by herself when she had no one to help him and his parents looking down on her and tearing her apart with their words.

Ana stepped back like he had been slapped, she knew that this wasn't going to be an easy breakup. "Edmundo," she began.

"My name is Eddie." Eddie snapped back, he was so tired and Ana unable to call him by his actual name was a sore spot to him. "I am so tired of being Edmundo for you. You created this perfect version of me, of Edmundo and I tried so hard to hit into the man you wanted me to be. I changed who I was, I allowed you to call me by a name I don't want to be called. Tell me Ana did you ever see Eddie or just Edmundo?"

Tears began to fill up in Ana's eyes, she could lie but there was no point. "I see you as Edmundo. We could be so happy together, we could have a lovely family if only you would leave your job. It is dangerous, every day you put your life on the line and I thought I could deal with it but I can't! I can't deal with you being hurt! Watching you thrash and scream only for you to call out Buck's name and not mine! This isn't what I wanted. What would have happened to Christopher if one day you don't come home to us? I'm not ready to be a mother."

"You wouldn't have to worry about my son, if something happens to me full custody goes to Buck," Eddie growled out.

Ana's mouth dropped open in shock. "Buck? Are you telling me that you gave Buck custody of Christopher? He is not suitable for being given care of a child, let alone one as special as Christopher."

Red hot rage filled Eddie at the way Ana talked about his son and his best friend. "There is no one I trust more in this world with Christopher than Buck. I have seen how far he would go to keep him safe. I have seen how much he loves Christopher and how much Christopher loves Buck."

Ana couldn't believe what she is hearing, "You really care about Buck more than me, don't you?"

Unflinching Eddie met Ana's eyes, "Buck sees me as Eddie, not Edmundo like you do. He likes me for who I am not who he wants me to be, like you do."

"Then I guess we have nothing left to say to one another." Turning on her heel Ana exited Eddie's house and somehow Eddie felt free now that she is gone.

+*****+

It wasn't a surprise that Eddie ended up at Buck's place with Christopher having a sleepover at the Wilson's house Eddie knew that he needed Buck, he needs his comfort and presence, he didn't keep the nightmares from coming but he could chase away the fear when he wrapped his arms around him and held him close.

"Are you okay?" Buck asked as he opened the door and took in Eddie's drawn face, "Did something happen to Chris'?"

Eddie's heart warmed at the fact that Buck's first thoughts were to make sure his son was okay. "Chris is fine, he is having a blast at his sleepover with Henry and Denny. Oh, I did promise Hen that we would stop by in the morning and you would make pancakes for the boys."

"Sounds like fun." Buck's eyes sparkled at the idea of spending time with three of the members of the junior 118th members, he loves all the children of their found family, none as much as Christopher and Jee-Yun but he does love them.

"Just remember to hold back on the chocolate chips I don't think Hen will thank you for her having to deal with three sugar-high children." Eddie teased back.

"I make no promises, that is why I will need you along to watch my back, Diaz." Buck teased back as he let Eddie enter.

A chuckle escaped Eddie he knew that Buck wanted to ask how he was but wouldn't say anything until he was ready to talk, where Ana would push him for answers. "Ana and I broke up today."

Buck's eyes widen and worry appeared on his face, "Are you alright?"

"I think I am. She couldn't handle my PSTD or my job and she didn't like the fact that I gave custody of Christopher to you."

Buck hadn't been wanting to be right about his feelings and thoughts about Ana. She reminded him of Ali in a way, she cared about him, maybe even loved him, but she loved the idea of having a hot firefighter boyfriend, someone she could brag about but when the dangerous side of his job came into play it became too much for her and she had to leave. Buck didn't blame Ali, not really, it had just hurt that she left him when he needed someone the most.

It broke his heart to see Eddie going through the same thing that he had once gone through. "I'm sorry Eddie, I know that you cared about Ana a great deal."

"But you didn't like the man I was with her." Eddie raised an eyebrow and dared Buck to try and lie to him.

Flushing Buck rubbed the back of his neck, "Not really. I guess I like Eddie more than Edmundo."

Closing the distance between them Eddie looked into Buck's blue eyes that he loves so much. "I like Eddie more as well. I especially like Eddie when he is with you."

Suddenly feeling very warm and having a dry mouth Buck licked lips, "I like who I am with you and Christopher as well."

Eddie's brown eyes were warm and full of love. "It took me some time but I have finally opened my eyes to what has been right in front of me this whole time."

"Oh thank god." Buck breathed out, "It was breaking my heart watching you with her and seeing you lose yourself trying to please her. That isn't what love is. You love a person for who they are not who you can make them into."

Stroking Buck's cheek Eddie's smile lit up his whole face, "Just so we are on the same page, I love you, Buck, so much and so deeply. You and Christopher are my world."

The sun had nothing on the smile that appeared on Buck's face. "I love you too Eddie. You and Christopher are what I have been looking for so long, people who love me for who I am."

"Can I kiss you now?" Eddie asked.

"Of course."

Kissing Buck was everything Eddie had dreamed it would be and more, Buck tasted like what Eddie thinks sunlight would taste like. Kissing Buck was like coming home, Eddie only felt this kind of peace and belonging with Christopher.

+*****+

The Next Morning

"Finally, it took the two of you long enough." Hen greeted them after she took in their joint hands. She was truly happy for her friends.

But no one was happier than Christopher, "Finally! Dad, I love you but you were taking forever in making Buck ours."

As a celebration Buck made his famous pancakes with far too much sugar and happily played with the boys until the sugar wore off where he happily collapsed into Eddie's arms.

"I love you, Eddie." Buck was thrilled that he could finally say those words out loud.

Smiling Eddie pressed a kiss on Buck's temple, "I love you too Buck."

#buddie #buck x eddie #otp: you can have my back anytime #tropetember #sherri writes #my fics

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wwilloww · 5 years ago

Text

tell me what you want | myg

pairings: Yoongi/Reader, (mentions of Yoongi/Namjoon and Namjoon/OC)

genre: 18+. nonidol!au. friends to lovers.

word count: 5.7k

warnings: alcohol use. pining. some minor angst. smut. pwp. penetrative sex. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!). creampie. fluff.

summary: Yoongi teaches you how to ask for what you want.

a/n: This is my very first attempt at writing fanfiction and smut! Thanks so much to my friends Carl and A for supporting me through the writing process and for encouraging me. If you enjoy this, leave a comment: I am so excited to hear what you think!

do not copy, repost, or translate without explicit permission from the author.

The pounding in your head matches the pounding in your chest.

You thought you would be fine, surrounded by your friends. And you are, in a way. After a couple of drinks the tension in your chest has eased and it’s easier to fall into conversation with strangers and friends alike.

After years of hard work and careful saving, you’ve purchased your first apartment. Tonight, you’re hosting a housewarming party that has quickly turned into a full-on house party. There’s nothing like a little spilled beer to baptize a new home.

With the music blasting, and good friends at your side, you almost forget why you’re feeling uncomfortable in the first place: Yoongi.

He’s been a good friend of yours for a long time. You had met back in college, having been paired up for a group project. But when the assignment was completed and turned in, you never stopped hanging out. He kept showing up at your door, beer and pizza in hand and a gummy smile spreading across his face until he was a steady constant in your life. But recently things have started to take a turn. It was a gradual process. Like water slipping underneath the door, your feelings snuck in quietly and devastatingly. And like a slow flood, there was no stopping their gradual rise.

At first you admired him. How caring he was. How intelligent he was. The way his signature no-funny-business attitude took over when he was deep in the process of his passions. How he always seemed to know exactly what to say, while it always took you an extra second to come up with that snappy comeback. How, when he took a second to put his thoughts together, his words spilled like poetry from his lips.

Before you knew it, there was something strange and fluttery pooling in your stomach everytime his name popped up on the screen of your phone or when your friends mentioned he would be stopping by.

You didn’t expect Yoongi to return the feelings. He was always kind to you, helping you with the move, showing up for you at a drop of a hat. But that’s all you thought it was: kindness.

Still, knowing he didn’t feel the same way about you didn’t change the fact that it felt like you had been punched in the gut when you walked into the kitchen and found a very tall and wildly handsome man draped all over Yoongi.

It seemed effortless, the way the strange man so casually ran his fingers through Yoongi’s hair as they chatted with some of your friends. What was this sinking feeling in your gut?

It wasn’t jealousy. At least not over Yoongi’s redirected attention. Instead, you envied the ease with which the beautiful man held onto Yoongi. The way his desire pooled openly in his eyes and settled comfortably throughout his entire body.

Even if you had enough courage to make a move—and enough validation to know it wouldn’t be squandered—you had no idea how to. Every time your interest rose, it became trapped in your throat, leaving you frozen and confused.

With the pit in your stomach still open and yawning, you proceed into the kitchen, slipping your hand into one of your friend’s and tugging her to the counter where you uncap a bottle of vodka out of the cabinet and pull two shot glasses towards you.

“Hana, who—,” you begin to whisper-ask, but you’re interrupted.

“Shots!” a familiar baritone sings into your ear. Yoongi was standing wildly close, his arm already reaching around you to grab a shot glass and then to press you into his side. You stiffen, feeling your heart jump out of your chest at the sudden proximity. “You want one?” he asks the beautiful stranger.

“Only if you’re having one,” the man winks at Yoongi.

“Of course,” Yoongi replies with a coy smile. You feel oddly trapped between the intensity of the two men, the chemistry between them burning. Still, Yoongi winds his arm tight around your waist and, as if its second nature, your hand comes to rest on his stomach. You two could look like a couple like this. You’re not sure if it’s just you, but you think he pulls you closer and when you instinctively grab onto the thin fabric of his shirt, the smooth planes of his stomach tense under your touch.

“Oh,” Yoongi breaks his gaze from the man to look down at you. “By the way, this is Namjoon.”

Your eyes widen for a moment. So this is the infamous Namjoon. Yoongi’s ex. You had been hearing about the complicated ins and outs of their relationship for the past year, usually only after Yoongi had a couple of beers. But Yoongi had never brought Namjoon around to meet his friends, because, quote, “It’s just not that serious.” But here Namjoon was, standing in front of you. While Namjoon had ended things in their most recent breakup, it seemed as if tonight he was doing his best to mend his relationship with Yoongi. Either way, you wipe the surprise off of your face and smile at the man.

“And Namjoon, this is one of my closest friends in the world. She’s the best.”

The f-word hits a little harder than you’d like it to, but you grin up at Yoongi anyways, giving him a playfully light shove.

“Ah, stop, you flatter me,” you tease, but the words seem to fall flat.

The four of you take the shots of vodka with hisses and groans as the burning liquid slides down your throats. Slamming his glass down on the counter, first, Yoongi watches you finish your shot straightfaced.

“Never seen someone make taking a shot look so attractive,” he teases you, laughing.

Still, you blush from his comment. It’s too much. You pull away from Yoongi’s unwavering hold on your waist and tug Hana towards the living room where dancers have congregated.

“I want to dance!” You say, a little too cheerfully.

Hana throws you a sideways glance but ultimately understands. She wraps her arm around your shoulder as you join the group of bopping dancers.

“Let’s distract you,” she says, dramatically spinning you into a dip and you can’t help but giggle at your friend’s absurdity. She holds you tight against her for a song or two, before you break away to dance sporadically as one of your favorite songs comes on.

Here, away from Yoongi, it’s easier to lose yourself, surrounded by your favorite people, the vodka paving a liquid ease through your body. It’s easier to close your eyes and let the bass carry your thoughts.

When you open your eyes, you see Namjoon twirling Hana in a clumsy rendition of a jive, and Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.

The lights go out and a cheer rises up from the living room. The music pauses for a moment before switching to a more sensual groove. You let out a whoop, throw your head back, and start to roll your hips. The only thing lighting the room is a lava lamp that is precariously passed around.

It’s not long before you feel a gentle hand on your back and you find yourself leaning into it, not a single question in your mind. Without looking to see who it is, you reach behind you and pull them flush against your back. It feels good to lean into someone, to have someone wrapped around you--not to mention the hand sliding up your side to rest on your waist does wonders for your bruised ego.

Namjoon is smirking at you as he sways against Hana.

You push your hips back. They meet your movements with their own grinding hips and you can feel strong hands tracing up your sides to guide you into them. Closer. Tracing circles against one another, following, as if with one mind, a shared rhythm.

You know the heat building in you is part this, part the worn-out out tension you feel whenever you’re around Yoongi. But you want to let go. You want to lean into this stranger and just let them take it all away. They press you against them, and you can feel their breath brush against your neck--hot and light and so delightful. You let your neck roll to the side, giving them better access to your warm skin. Fingers trace down the slope of your neck, skate down your side, and press into you. But the pleasure of their heavy touch only lasts for a second because then those same hands are turning you around and you’re face to face with Yoongi’s blooming red cheeks and warm, indecipherable eyes.

You falter through your next movement and Yoongi takes the opportunity to maneuver you through a graceful twirl out onto the dance floor and then back into his arms. It only takes you a moment before you catch up and soon the two of you are dancing, too close for your own good.

If you could just fall into this. Into his hands, into his touch—without explanation, without expectation and let the sinful pleasure of the moment cradle you. Yet, you know that it will never be enough. To answer this desire, even for a moment, is to split yourself open for him.

He meets your movements with his own hips, and this small moment of synergy is enough to send a wave of warmth shooting up your spine.

He leans down, and tucks your hair behind your ear.

His lips brush against you as he whispers, “I want to talk.”

“Not now.”

You try to pull him back into the music, but he steps away.

“We can continue when we can talk,” he says sternly, but his eyes betray something kind as he pinches your chin.

Namjoon leans over to you, as if he had heard the entire exchange. “His bisexual ass is so hard to pin down, you know, metaphorically—but also physically,” he winks at you.

“Let her be,” Yoongi chuckles, but there’s an edge to his voice. Still, he takes Namjoon’s arm and pulls him to the kitchen, reaching up to his ear to say something to him that you don’t quite catch. The pair step into the adjoining room, where Namjoon proceeds to wrap Yoongi in a hug that feels almost too intimate to watch.

You do your best to distract yourself in the blaring music and your friends, but you can’t help but keep Yoongi in the corner of your eye. Within you, a new and uncomfortable tension rises—and you don’t understand it. You already knew he wasn’t interested. Nothing tonight has proven you otherwise.

By the time the party begins to wind down, you’re left stunningly sober and with glasses and half-eaten food all over the apartement.

You wave goodbye to your friends as the crowd trickles out of your new home. Yoongi helps you find misplaced jackets, and as Hana and Namjoon collect their things and head towards the door, Yoongi leans up to Namjoon and presses a kiss against his cheek.

“Get home safe, okay?” he says, chuckling at his ex’s inebriated stumble towards the door.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he does,” Hana sings as the door closes behind the pair.

Yoongi immediately turns to start picking up glasses and brings them to the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you go back with him?” you ask.

“Hana seemed like she was perfectly capable of taking care of him tonight.”

You shot him a confused glance, which he caught. He sets down the glasses he was holding in the sink and turned to you.

“You know me and Namjoon are over right?”

“I don’t know if he knows that.”

Yoongi laughs. “You know—He and Hana—they’re hooking up. He was here for her, not for me.” He chuckles, leaning back with such composure against the kitchen sink. “Sure, we’re still close, but that’s over.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well, you know you don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

“I know,” he says gently, coming over to where you’re drying some dishes to lean his head on your shoulder. “But I want you to know these things, I—,” he takes a deep breath as if he’s steeling himself. “I want to talk about what happened earlier.”

You push away from him and head to the kitchen. “I don’t think there’s really anything to talk about,” you gulp. He follows you anyway.

“I want to talk,” he says again. His voice is level and dry.

“I don’t.”

Your eyes widen as he steps closer and leans over you.

He’s got one hand pressed firmly against the wall by your head. With the other hand, he pulls a streamer out of your hair. But that’s not what you’re focused on. He’s caged you in, towering over you, something dark and unknowable in his gaze.

“Then why make eyes at me all night?” he asks, slowly. “It seems like you want to talk.”

You don’t have an answer, but still you manage to stutter, “I...I just...I have nothing to say.”

“Ah. So this has nothing to say to me?” His hand comes up to cup your face, a calloused thumb running over your burning cheek. As if on instinct, you lean into his touch. It’s been so long since someone touched you like this, like you were something delicate.

He watches your expression carefully, a glimmer of a smirk playing on his lips. “Or this?” He reaches down to grab your hand before drawing it up to brush your palm against your ribcage. Beneath your hand your breath is fluttering—heavy and inconsistent. “Or this?” He draws the pair of your hands upwards to cup the swell of your breast. He spreads his palm over yours, fingers pressing into you. Despite the audacity of his current moves, his touch is gentle and feather-light.

He can feel your heart pounding beneath his touch, pounding like it wants to escape.

“I affect you...” he said, as if the notion surprised him too.

“No. You don’t,” you stutter, your face flushing with the lie.

“...just like you affect me,” he finishes.

“What?” You’re shocked to hear those words fall from his lips.

He smirks down at you.

“Mhmm.”

He leans down to press a kiss against the corner of your mouth.

You stiffen and he pulls back slightly, searching your eyes, waiting for you, waiting for permission. Some very loud voice tells you that to give in is to give yourself up. But then, if his lips on yours isn’t a sign, you’re just not sure what will be.

You barely give it a moment before you pull his taller frame fully to you and press your lips against his. He falters, shocked by the crack in you that he’s finally seeing through. And then he comes to his senses and kisses you back, wrapping his hand behind your head where his fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck. His other hand comes to the gentle valley of your lower back, pressing your torso to his. This kiss is a gentle and nervous search and you find your insides fluttering against his touch.

And then he’s pulling away, taking a half step back and the fear that you thought you had put out of your mind is rushing back in like the tide.

As Yoongi pulls away from your lips, he can feel the crack closing. He can feel you slipping away again. Your eyes shift downward, and you use one arm to wrap around your torso.

“Does that give you anything to say?”

If you didn’t before, you definitely don’t now. It’s as if his touch has stilled every thought in you. Has quieted the voices—all of them—the nagging voice, the one that tells you he’s too good to be true.

“I don’t know how to say it,” you finally murmur.

The silence draws out between the two of you.

“You have to tell me what you want,” he says, shaking his head. “I can’t keep guessing.”

He’s waiting. Waiting for you to say something.

There is this gnawing ache in you, a dull throb in your chest that wants so badly to reach out to him and pull him back into your arms and never let him go. From this place comes a desperate need for him to know just how you deeply feel about him. And yet, as the words rise to your throat, they stop on your tongue. As if by uttering your own desire you will shatter into a thousand pieces.

Fear. That’s what this is.

Your name falls off his lips and you bring yourself to look him in the eyes, your hands still gripping the front of his shirt.

Looking down at you—your eyes wide, your flushed chest, your lips blooming red from his attentions—his heart breaks as he says these next words, “I can’t do this if you can’t talk to me.” His words hit like a boulder dropped on your chest. Your eyebrows shoot up in shock but still, you say nothing.

He nods. Your silence is enough of an answer for him. He turns away from you and swings his jacket over his shoulder, his heart shattering. His hand is on the doorknob.

“Yoongi,” you call. He stops in the doorway. He thinks his name sounds like a song when you say it. “I’m sorry.”

He turns back to you just enough that you see a sad smile tugging at his lips.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hating everything you’ve done up to this point. Hating your cowardice. Hating the part of yourself that stops in fear at every chance of getting close to someone. Of opening up and allowing someone to see that you want, that you crave.

With every ounce of strength you can muster, you push past the doubt, you push past the fear. At last the words are tumbling from your mouth:

“Yoongi, I want you.” Your eyes are still squeezed shut, as if by keeping them closed there’s a chance you can reel your words back in. “I want to let go.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

He strides back from the doorway to you, his eyes burning, a real smile spreading across his face. He presses himself against you again, but this time his movements aren’t searching and hesitant. You’ve both waited so long, there’s nothing to hold back. He lowers his lips to yours before letting his mouth travel over your chin and down your neck. Goosebumps spread like a tide across your skin.

“I need to know you want me too,” you gulp, your fingers tangled in his hair.

“Good girl,” he mumbles against your neck, working his teeth and his tongue against the sensitive skin. “Telling me what you want.” You flush at the praise. “I want you, not just this, but you.”

He bites down on your lip, loving the way your grasp tightens around him and a small oh slips out of you. “I want to wake up with you and fall asleep with you,” his eyes meet yours, “and see you like this, all fucked out and needy for me, every night.” He runs a thumb across your lower lip, loving the way the swollen flesh parts for him. “Do you want that?” You gasp against him, barely getting an mhmm out as he sucks a bruise into your neck.

“Use your words.”

“I do. I want it, too.”

He pulls away from you, holding your head in his large hands. The soft smile spreading across his face is the most delightful thing you’ve seen. It gives you courage.

He’s not lying. He wants you.

Before you can unravel and doubt the thought, you take his hand, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of it as you lead him to your bedroom. He follows without a second’s hesitation, and this moment—you leading without a single question fluttering in your mind—brings something singing and happy to the surface. All that is left is clear and clean and throbbing.

Gently, he guides you onto your back and crawls on top of you, lifting your shirt to kiss and nip up your belly. When he gets to your chest, he pushes your shirt and bra up and latches onto one of your nipples. Your back arches and the buds raise and pucker as his tongue swirls around one before he bites down.

“Oh,” is all you manage to get out. It comes out breathy and Yoongi thinks it’s the most divine sound he’s ever heard.

“All good?” he asks.

“Good—good, keep going.”

Yoongi pays each breast due attention, sucking and biting in the perfect mix of pain and pleasure, before sitting back on his heels. Beneath him, you couldn’t be more gorgeous, hair spread against the pillow, face and chest flushed. In this moment, your guard is down and he’s never seen you this stunning, your body relaxed and preened with desire. Desire for him.

His bulge strains painfully against his jeans. He wants nothing more but to rip off your pants and take you right now, but first he wants to draw more of those beautiful sounds out of you.

Yoongi smirks, an idea crossing his mind, as he continues to play with your nipples. Just enough to keep your eyes fluttering in pleasure, but not nearly enough to bring you the sense of fulfillment you’re desperately searching for.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” he says.

Your eyes snap open, searching his. All you find is mischief.

“I want you to touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He slows his ministrations to mere palming.

“No,” you whine, “I want you to touch me.”

“Don’t make me pull it out of you. Tell me exactly what you want.”

He wants to see you beg.

“I want you to touch my pussy. I want your fingers in me. I need you closer,” you all but gush.

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos at you. “Get undressed.”

Hastily, you move to slip your shirt and bra over your head and shimmy your jeans down your legs. Once you’re left in nothing but your underwear, he leans down to kiss you gently, like all of the tenderness in the world could be captured between your lips.

“Turn over.”

You roll over, onto your belly, twisting back in time to see him pull off his shirt. He moves towards you, straddling the backs of your legs and spreading his palms across your ass. “So pretty,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. He slides his finger underneath the band of your underwear before roughly tugging them down, but not all the way off.

Before you know it, the pads of his fingers are brushing against your dripping cunt, exploring the part of you that he only imagined ever getting to see, let alone touch.

“So wet already. Is this all for me?” he asks. You nod into the pillow. With one hand still drawing lazily through your folds, he grabs your hand and guides it to the prominent bulge in his pants. You gasp when you feel how hard he is.

“Do you see what you do to me? I’ve been this way since you thought it would be a good idea to grind your pretty little ass on me in front of all of those people.”

You moan at the words dropping freely and easily from his mouth—a moan cut short by Yoongi thrusting two fingers into your cunt and starting on a nearly punishing pace. Your hands come back up to grab onto the sheets beside your head.

“I want to get you nice and ready for me. Can I stretch you out so you can take me?” It’s more of a statement than a question, but still, you nod, desperately wanting him to, desperately wanting to please him. With two fingers in you, his thumb begins to press at and circle around your swollen clit.

You moan incoherently into the pillow and push your hips back towards him.

He’s watching your every move, lapping up every delicious sound that falls from your lips. He wants to know exactly what will make you tick, what will bring that gorgeous flush to your face—and he’ll do anything to earn it.

All of a sudden, he’s hitting someplace soft and spongy within you, over and over, and it’s like you’ve been shoved off a cliff, tumbling forward in your pleasure. Your orgasm washes over you before you can even say anything. It comes fast and hard and breathlessly. You clench helplessly around his fingers and he outwardly groans at the sight.

“Did you just come?” he asks, incredulously. He pulls his fingers from you and wipes them on his pants.

“I think so,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath, rolling over and propping yourself up on your elbows.

He chuckles.

“That was the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your already rosy cheeks somehow manage to flush even more. He reaches forward to brush your hair out of your face.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks. “We don’t have—”

“No, I want to,” you sit up to reach towards his lips and hook your fingers into the belt loops on his pants. “I want you.”

“Yeah?”

“I want your cock. I want to make you feel good.” You slide your hand to cup his growing erection through his pants and he trembles under your touch.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Take your pants off,” you order, not sure where this boldness is coming from, but relishing in the way it courses through you. The clarity of it, like a rain-bloated river flowing after months of drought.

He does as you say, standing up from the bed to roll his pants down his legs. When he rejoins you on the comforter, he’s just in his boxers.

“Off,” you say as you kiss him. “Take them off.”

He peels them off.

You lock gazes with him and reach down to wrap your hand around his cock. You don’t look away: You want to see every moment of pleasure unravel on his face. You want to know you are the source of his pleasure.

You are rewarded with a moan as you begin to stroke him, rolling your thumb over the head to collect the precum that’s gathered there. He thrusts up into your grasp as you tighten your grip and begin to move a little bit faster. But then just as you begin to lean down to take him in your mouth, his hand comes to rest on yours and he pulls you back up, stopping your movements.

His hand soon comes down to rest on yours, stopping your movements.

“God,” he gasps. “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

You pout. “But I want to make you feel good.”

“Don’t worry, you are,” he chuckles. But you’re still frowning. He presses a kiss to your lips, pulling your torso against his. “There’s no rush to do everything tonight. We have all the time in the world.” His words make your heart swell.

He guides you onto your back as he comes to straddle you again, hand slowly stroking up and down his length.

“And you want to do this?” he asks. “Like I said, there’s no rush.”

You nod eagerly, biting your lip.

“Good. Spread yourself for me.”

You reach down and spread your lips apart. Despite the simplicity of the action, you can’t help blushing at the sudden and explicit exposure. But it quickly morphs into pleasure as he grasps himself and slides his length along your slick folds, teasing your clit and your entrance.

“Please…” you whimper, your need building to a desperate ache in your abdomen.

“Please, what?”

The words come tumbling without hesitation.

“Please. I need your cock in me now.” He pushes his cock against your clit just to see you gasp. “Please, Yoongi. Please fuck me.”

If he had any resolve to continue teasing you, it is completely dissolved by your begging. He leans forward, placing one hand for support next to your head, and with the other hand, guides his cock to your entrance and slowly begins to slide in.

“Oh god, it’s like you’re fucking made for me,” he groans, pressed in to the hilt. He stills when he’s all the way in, loving the fit of your tight cunt around him.

Finally wrapped around him, you’re entirely blissed out. If only he would goddamn move.

“Yoongi,” you moan, “I need you to move.”

“Alright, baby girl,” he says cooly—but it takes every ounce of strength he has to keep from pounding into you like an animal. He starts moving, slowly, relishing in the drag of his cock against your snug, wet walls. As he begins to set a pace, these warm, wonderful sounds begin to slip out of you. Each one twists something deep in his gut and he groans out your name. “You’re so good for me, making these pretty sounds, taking my cock so well. Making me feel so good.”

You clench around him at the praise and he moans.

The room fills with the sweet sound of skin meeting skin, your breath tangled in a game of push-and-pull.

His hair has fallen onto his forehead, and with the sweat, stuck there, divinely dark. You reach up to push the strands out of his eyes, hooking your thumb in his mouth. He bites down lightly on the digit, his breath coming heavy, his eyes boring into yours. Just the sight of his own pleasure makes you tremble.

You can feel a second orgasm building.

“I-I’m close,” you tell him.

“Come for me,” he pants in your ear. “Be a good girl and come for me again.” You close your eyes and allow the sound of his voice to roll through your body. You can almost trace the pleasure through your veins. It’s building, like a spring in your abdomen, reaching out into your limbs, your throat, your mind—and then it hits something hard and solid. A block in your chest. A place where you want to keep things tight and close and unseen. Let go, you repeat in your mind as you begin to lose acceleration. Just let go!

But it’s gone, that breaking point seems so far away now.

“Baby, come back to me,” he’s saying, and your eyes shoot open. He reaches up to the hand you’ve tangled in your own hair and guides it around him so that it presses against his back. “Just hold onto me. You don’t need to do anything. Just sit in the space in your body where it feels good. Let it feel good.”

He starts rocking against you again. You take a deep breath and wrap your arms fully around his torso. This slight adjustment allows his pelvic bone to rub up against your clit and you arch your back to push as much of yourself towards him as possible.

“Take it slow,” he says, kissing along your collarbone.

You take a deep breath in. On the exhale, you imagine unwinding the wall within your chest. As you continue to breathe, to just feel the way your chest rises, other sensations begin to rise to the surface. Like the sinful sound of Yoongi’s ragged breath edged with the smallest groan every time he exhales. Or the way his consistent pace seems to press deeper into you with each thrust, building a sensation split between pressure and pleasure. And finally, the way there’s an unending heat simmering in your belly, just waiting for you. Just waiting for you to dive in.

Is this what it meant to let go? To give yourself—your pleasure—your control—up? Finding a space to ebb and flow with sensation instead of trying to track pleasure down? As his hands run over your body, you shudder, allowing the sensation of his rhythm, his warmth, and his affection to rip through you.

“Let go, baby. Let go just for me. Let go,” he pants.

That’s all you need. The pool of pleasure growing in your abdomen explodes, ripping through your entire body. You throw your head back, mouth gaping in a silent scream.

Yoongi hisses at the tight sensation of your warm walls are clenching around him. Looking down at you, spine so delicately arched, sweat pasting your baby hairs to your forehead, your nails leaving small half moons in his lower back, it seemed impossible to hold on any longer. With a grunt, he pounds into you, chasing his own high and loving the way you too are unraveling beneath him. With a final thrust, he comes, thick ropes shooting into you.

He collapses on top of you, making sure to roll to his weight slightly to the side so as not to crush you.

For several minutes the only sound in the room is the sound of your panting. Yoongi props his head up so he’s looking up at you from between your breasts.

“You good?”

“More than good,” you smile.

He looks sleepy, eyelids heavy and pleasure-filled. You made a mental note to get up and wash off and pee in a couple minutes, but for now you just want to stay here, your hands tangled in his dark hair, bathing in the comfort of his weight and rhythmic breath against your skin.

There was no denying the pleasure he had led you through in the past hour. But this, his arms wrapped securely around you, with no doubt that he wanted them there, that he wanted you here, was the kind of pleasure that coursed slowly and gently through your entire body.

“Will you stay?” you mumble into his chest.

“I’m staying,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “For a while.”

masterlist

wwilloww on AO3

#yoongi smut #ksmutclub #btsgoldnet #suga smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts #btsff #bts smut

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vibrant-leaf · 3 years ago

Text

Therapy is Manly

Part two.

🧡 ~KiriBaku Fic~ ❤️

Summary: The happy ending to part one of this breakup/makeup fic! Many months later, Bakugou finally tries again. The link to the song that inspired me to write this whole thing is at the bottom. And here is a link to part one if you haven't read that yet. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4032

Warnings: cursing, very little angst, suggestive tones but nothing explicit

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10 months later…

No way. There is absolutely no fucking way that Bakugou’s going to let anyone lay a single finger on Kirishima if he’s there to help it. He understands Kirishima’s strength and knows he can take care of himself easily. But he also knows that Kirishima doesn’t have eyes in the back of his head. So when some dumbass villain decides it’s a brilliant idea to try and go for Red Riot’s back when he’s already busy with another villain, Dynamight’s eyes instantly lock onto his target before he’s charging and yelling at him and proceeds to blow the villain back a solid one hundred- ope no he’s still going- two hundred yards. Sure, he could’ve held back just a tad but that’s what the fucker gets so, oh well.

Kirishima‘s able to look over in the direction of the poor soul who’s knocked out in the next town over when he finally gets a hold of the villain in front of him, and his mouth hangs open as his eyes grow wide. “Damn… that was manly.”

The fight in the streets finally comes to a close and a random reporter tracks down the great up-and-coming hero, Dynamight, before he’s able to escape the scene. Kirishima can see Bakugou roll his eyes before he faces the reporter with an unamused look on his face. And just like the press, the smile that spreads across Kirishima’s face is unavoidable.

“Hey, Dynamight!” Kirishima feels nervous but he forces himself to walk up to Bakugou after the reporter disappears to go talk to another hero.

It’s been ten whole months since Kirishima last talked to his ex-boyfriend. Graduation was eight months ago, which was the last time he saw him in person. He thinks back to that happy day when the whole class was gathered in the yard in front of U.A., just freshly graduated, and two pairs of red eyes meet within the joyful chaos that was surrounding them. They didn’t look away, they held their gaze, and they smiled at each other. Graduation was a day of celebration, a day to feel hopeful about the future, and at that moment, they both felt a small spark of hope ignite for their future together.

Kirishima is brought back to the present when he looks at Bakugou’s arms, and he wonders if his muscles were that big before because damn… those look manly.

Bakugou hears the familiar, cheery voice call out to him and he instantly realizes that hearing that voice in person is a lot better than hearing it through his phone when he watches interviews of Red Riot. Yes, he realizes that he’s indulging in what he absolutely hates, but those interviews serve as necessary reminders of what he’s going to therapy for alright? He has found that they especially help right after a tough session when he’s feeling like shit.

The scowl on Bakugou’s face relaxes when Kirishima walks up next to him.

“Thanks again for the save back there! That was… really manly, even though you probably didn’t have to blast him that far!” Kirishima laughs a little awkwardly.

“Just be more careful next time, Eij- Shitty-Hair. And that asshole deserved it.”

“Whatever you say, man!” After a couple of tense and silent seconds pass by, Kirishima glances off to the side and his hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “Sooo… how have you been doing?”

Bakugou knows what he’s really asking him, and he wants to tell him. He wants to tell him everything, pour out all of the contents of his heart onto this gorgeous man standing in front of him, but there were still people around them. “Fan-fuckin-tastic.” Kirishima’s faint chuckle makes Bakugou’s heart stir. This opportunity was really being handed to him on a silver platter, wasn’t it? For a few weeks, he’s been thinking about reaching out to Kirishima but had no clue how to go about it. He wasn’t exactly comfortable with texting him out of the blue after so long but right here was a golden opportunity for him. So, in sheer fuck it fashion he gets straight to the point, “are you seeing anyone right now?”

Kirishima is taken aback by the sudden question. “Uh.. no. No, I’m not.” A few people have asked him out over the past ten months and he’s told them all no. Saying that he wasn’t exactly emotionally available at the moment. While Kirishima did in fact heal from what happened between him and his love so many months ago, he was still holding onto the hope of getting back together with him. Sure, he could have tried to go out on a couple of dates but it wouldn’t have been fair to the other person if he was just wishing he was with Bakugou the whole time.

Kirishima’s heartbeat starts to quicken. Why the hell did Bakugou ask him if he was seeing anyone? Was he finally ready? Was he going to ask him if he wanted to try again? Kirishima was holding his breath now, waiting for Bakugou to say something.

Bakugou keeps tapping his thumb on his thigh. What if Kirishima says no? What if he’s completely over him and realizes he doesn’t want him anymore? He shakes his head a little to get rid of the thoughts that are trying to poison his brain. Bakugou looks at Kirishima square in the eyes. “Do you want to come over to my place for dinner tonight?”

A wide, closed-lip smile spreads across Kirishima’s face and Bakugou wonders how a simple smile like that can be so full of light.

“I’d love to.”

Bakugou feels like screaming in victory, but of course, he keeps his cool. “Great. Seven o’clock. I’ll text you my address.”

“Okay!” Excitement sparkles in Kirishima’s eyes and Bakugou’s really starting to have trouble keeping calm.

“Okay.. see ya then.” Bakugou chews on the inside of his cheek. “Gotta blast-” and he did just that; stepping back and blasting up into the air… as well as immediately regretting those last two words. Gotta blast? GOTTA BLAST?! What the fuck?! When he lands on top of a building, the embarrassment fizzles out of his body, and instead, he feels so incredibly excited that he can’t help but scream at the top of his lungs. “FUCK YEAH!”

Apparently, Bakugou didn’t fly far enough away because Kirishima could clearly hear his mini-celebration off in the distance. His chest flutters and heat rises to his face as he lifts his hand to the back of his neck again and lets out an embarrassing little giggle.

Seven o’clock approaches way too fast but also way too slow at the same time. It’s really fucking weird how time passes when you’re incredibly anxious about something.

Bakugou is plating their dinner as Kirishima is riding the elevator to the top floor of the apartment complex. They’re both sweaty and feel like their hearts are about to burst out of their chest at any given moment, and Bakugou’s almost does when he hears a knock on his door. He takes a deep, centering breath through his nose before walking over to let Kirishima inside.

The door opens and both men look at each other.

Kirishima’s hair is a little longer than it was ten months ago, and with it down it just easily goes past his shoulders, and Bakugou can easily see the black roots that are starting to grow in. His shitty hair is really throwing Bakugou through a loop right now. He wants to run his hands through it and pul- nope, nope, no. Pure thoughts. Pure thoughts only. Then, suddenly, Bakugou is hyperaware of his presence because, holy shit, Kirishima is here, he’s here for Bakugou, at Bakugou’s apartment.

Kirishima on the other hand isn’t doing super swell either. He wasn’t prepared for the navy blue dress shirt and dark grey pants Bakugou is currently wearing and gets a small sense of embarrassment from only wearing jeans and a striped button-up. “Uh.. sorry I didn’t dress up more,” he smiles awkwardly.

Bakugou smirks and cocks his head. “You think I’m not used to the way you dress Shitty-Hair?” Kirishima hums a laugh. “It looks nice, by the way.”

Kirishima’s eyebrows lift slightly. “Huh? What does?”

“You hair. The length. Your roots growing in. I don’t know, it looks nice or whatever.”

“Oh! Thanks! I’m trying to grow it out longer actually! I think it would look badass if it was really long, especially if I go Unbreakable!” The embarrassment vanishes from Kirishima, and Bakugou relaxes as he steps aside to let Kirishima in. They continue to talk about his hair, about the roots being a pain to redye, Bakugou reminding Kirishima that he’s willing to help him with that process, and Kirishima being so relieved at the offer because it really was easier and faster with Bakugou’s help after all.

Dinner goes on just like that. Talking and laughing about anything and everything: from good days on patrol to not-so-good days on patrol, raises, promotions, where Kirishima lives now, health issues…

“I think the hearing in my right ear is going to shit.” Bakugou picks at the remnants of his food he’s trying to stuff down.

“Oh really? You should probably get that checked out.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s just a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“Katsuki.” It’s the first time Kirishima uses his first name after all this time and it comes out so naturally. Bakugou has a faint blush on his cheeks from hearing it.

“...Fine. Whatever.”

“No, not whatever. You should really call a doctor so it doesn’t get worse-” Kirishima is ready to go on a long rant about how one should take care of their body and listen to any signs of trouble.

But Bakugou cuts him off. “If I say I’ll call them tomorrow will you drop it?”

“-body is a templ- oh… Only if you promise!” Kirishima is surprised at how easy it was to convince him with something like this since he used to hate going to Recovery Girl’s office at U.A.

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “I promise. And if you’re gonna say shit like ‘your body is a temple,’’’ he says mockingly, “then eat all the damn veggies I made you.”

Kirishima pretends to look offended and lets out an overly dramatic scoff. “The audacity you have to assume that I wasn’t going to!” He then proceeds to shovel all of the steamed vegetables that are leftover on his plate (which was about ninety percent of what he had to begin with and was the only thing on his plate at this point) into his mouth. Bakugou chuckles as he shakes his head at him.

They then go on to talk about more hero stuff and soon they’re comparing how many people and kids have asked them for their autographs. Kirishima has two more than Bakugou and even though he hates any prolonged interactions with fans he’s still kind of pissed.

“What?! Bullshit!”

“Nope. Not bullshit. Maybe if you didn’t look so mean and yell at everyone then more people would ask for your autograph.” Kirishima gives him a smug look.

Bakugou scoffs and crosses his arms. A weird silence falls upon them. “I’m… I’m getting better at that, by the way.” Kirishima’s eyebrows raise.

“Oh? Really?”

“Yeah, really. I better be at least, or else I would’ve been wasting my damn money on my therapist.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Kirishima smiles at him. “Are you still going?”

Bakugou gets up from the table, gathers their dishes, then walks to the sink. Kirishima understands, it’s tough, talking about this stuff, but isn’t that why he’s here in the first place? Then again, it’s Bakugou talking here, so he’ll give him all the time he needs. What’re a few more minutes compared to almost a year anyway? He walks over to the sink next to Bakugou. “I wash, you dry?”

“Sure.”

And they do just that. Washing, drying, and putting away the dishes with nothing but the sound of running water and clinking of dishes filling the air. They’re comfortable next to each other.

Once they’re done, Kirishima looks at the clock on the stove. It’s starting to get late already. They were talking for so long that now they didn’t have much time to talk about… that. Kirishima loved how easy and normal it felt to talk to Bakugou again but he needs to address the more important topic here. He doesn’t want this to be just a random visit and then they go back to not talking for another long of period time. But he also doesn’t want Bakugou to feel like he’s pushing him too much if it’s still too early yet. “I should probably head out soon.”

Bakugou can hear the sadness in his voice even if it is barely there from Kirishima trying to hide it, but nevertheless, he recognizes that tone. “I’m still going.” He sees Kirishima perk up a little. “It’s just… fucking hard. Who knew I’d be so damn difficult to fix. I’m better, I think, at least that’s what my therapist says. Even my parents noticed.” They’re both leaning back against the countertop in the kitchen with Bakugou’s arms crossed and Kirishima’s forearms resting on the countertop. In his peripheral, Bakugou sees Kirishima looking at him intently. He chews on the inside of his cheek. “But I’m still... Or I still... You know.”

“Yeah, I get it. You still have your moments. I’m the same way.” Kirishima continues when Bakugou looks gives him a confused look. “I started going too… figured my self-esteem and sense of self-worth could use some help. And just like you said, I’m doing a lot better, but I’ll still have my moments. I’ll have this voice in the back of my head trying to make me doubt myself again. Or when I got that promotion at Fat Gum’s agency I started feeling a little guilty. Thought someone else probably deserved it more than me-”

“Tch, like who?”

Kirishima shrugs. “Anyone, really. I know, I know, it’s dumb, but I definitely don’t think that way now. And… I realize… back when we were together in school… I shouldn’t have let you off the hook so easy after the way you’d treat me. I was just afraid you would see me as weak if I were to get too upset over something you said and then you’d dump me because you’d realize you didn’t want to be with someone who was weak.”

“I could never see you as weak, Eijirou. You are one of the strongest people I know if not, the strongest. I could see the look on your face when I said those things to you and it terrified me. I thought that if I could make you out of all people feel like shit, then I really was a fucking terrible human being… I was scared of myself... And I was scared of what I was doing to you.”

Bakugou is looking directly into Kirishima’s eyes as he lets the words fall out of his mouth. He’s thought about what exactly he would say to Kirishima when they would talk about this. But what he’s saying now isn’t like any of the rehearsed lines he’s gone over multiple times in his head, he’s simply letting his heart speak for him. It was so easy too. With Kirishima talking about his thought process from back then first, it felt natural to follow his lead and open up about what he was thinking back then too.

Bakugou takes a deep breath. “I… I truly believe I’m better now, despite having the rare occasional outburst. But it’s not almost every single day that I’ll lash out at people. I’m still me, but I’ve gotten better at apologizing, learning after I make a mistake, and not being so fucking stubborn all the time. So… I know that this time, I’ll be able to love you the right way. The way you deserve to be loved.”

Kirishima swallows the lump in his throat that’s starting to form. He’s so fucking proud of Bakugou and he’s even proud of his own progress he’s made. Kirishima can see the determination on Bakugou’s face.

Bakugou shifts a little to face him more as he looks up at him. “Eijirou… If you want to and if you’re a hundred percent sure about it… I want to try this again. Try us again. I can’t promise I won’t mess up from time to time but I can promise that I’ll never call you useless again. Fuck, I’m still sorry about that. I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth, I don’t know why-”

“Katsuki.” Bakugou stops his rambling when Kirishima touches his shoulder. “I forgive you.”

Bakugou’s shoulders relax from the tension that was building up from remembering his mistake that caused everything to go down the way it did.

Kirishima continues to speak. “And, yes, I want to try again too.” Kirishima can actually see Bakugou’s face light up and it’s the cutest damn thing to him and he really wants to kiss him right now.

“You’re a hundred percent sure?”

“Yes, a hundred percent. I want it more than anything in the world. I want you back in my life.”

A hint of worry falls back onto Bakugou’s face. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit scared. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“Katsuki. I’m not made of glass bones and paper skin. I can handle a slip-up from time to time, okay? And I promise that I’ll be better at holding you more accountable.”

“Punch me in the fucking face if you have to.”

“Um, no. I’d rather not end up like that villain today when you blasted him into next week.”

Bakugou laughs proudly at the mention of the scum bag that tried to hurt his beloved earlier that day.

Kirishima smiles back at Bakugou and pulls him in for a hug. He really can’t help himself, he needs to touch him again.

Their hug starts off light but it quickly morphs into the type of embrace that makes them grasp onto each other like a lifeline. Kirishima’s arms are wrapped around Bakugou’s neck as his face is buried into the side of his hair. Bakugou is squeezing Kirishima’s torso and his face is digging into his shoulder. They breathe in each other’s scents. The hug and the nostalgic smell of each other are immensely relieving. This is where they belong. Together. In each other’s arms. And it feels like home.

For a while, they stay like this. Simply enjoying every second of being physically and emotionally connected again.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Bakugou breathes out against Kirishima’s shoulder.

Kirishima wants to talk but his throat is starting to burn and his lips are wobbling, so he just nods first to collect himself before replying, “I missed you too.”

Bakugou squeezes him even tighter. “It’ll be better this time, I promise. I fucking swear, okay Eijirou?” He lifts his head to look into Krishima’s glistening eyes.

Kirishima nods again and lets out a shaky, “okay.”

“And I’m never letting you go, ever again…” Bakugou glances off to the side with a look of guilt and pain, “cause that was fucking terrible.”

“Yeah…” Kirishima takes a deep breath, blinks back the tears that almost spilled out of his eyes, and swallows the lump in his throat. “Longest ten months of my life.” He can see the look of shame fall heavier in Bakugou’s eyes. “But, we both needed it. So… thank you for being strong enough to let us go so we could work on ourselves for a bit.” Bakugou still doesn’t look as relaxed as Kirishima wants him to be, so he places a hand on the side of Bakugou’s face and it makes him look directly at Kirishima. “It still might be difficult from time to time, but growing together is just as important too.” Kirishima softly smiles down at the man he would do anything for.

A blush grows quickly on Bakugou’s cheeks as his eyebrows finally relax. He’s transfixed by the way Kirishima is looking at him so he can only answer with a simple nod. And Kirishima must have a vendetta against him because this gorgeous fucker makes his brain malfunction even more by leaning down to lightly press his lips against Bakugou’s. If butterflies were fluttering in his stomach before, then they were setting off explosions now.

It feels like their first kiss all over again. How is that possible? Neither of them know, but neither of them question it. Instead, they relish in the familiar touch of the other’s lips against their own and they both gain a sense of confidence that they’re going to be just fine.

Once they separate, they slowly open their eyes before pressing their foreheads together. A moment of peaceful silence falls upon them.

In the softest voice he can manage, as if any other tone would ruin the moment between them, Kirishima reluctantly utters, “it’s getting a little late… you want to meet up again tomorrow?” Bakugou affirms him with a nod before letting go and walking him to the door. Kirishima puts a hand on Bakugou’s hip and they exchange one more sweet peck. And then Kirishima gets a smug look on his face.

“Well, gotta blast, Katsuki!” Kirishima waves as he walks out the door.

“Oh my god, shut up!” Bakugou slams the door loud enough that it most likely annoys some of his neighbors.

Kirishima laughs and is about to walk away when he hears the door reopen along with a faint, “Oi.” He turns his head to gaze upon a red-faced Bakugou.

“....I love you, Eijirou.” Bakugou worries that he said it too grumbly before Kirishima instantly blinds him with one of his signature toothy grins.

“I love you too, Katsuki!” No one, absolutely no one, can compete with the amount of happiness Kirishima is full of now. The love of his life, declaring his love for him once again, sparks so much joy in Kirishima’s heart, he’s tempted to go on the roof of a building to scream, FUCK YEAH!

Bakugou allows a little smile to slip on his face and he closes the door once more. The smile grows even wider as he leans back against his door, and that’s when he feels it again: the magnetic force that’s pulling him to his favorite person in the entire world. And for the second time today he thinks, “fuck it,” swings his door open yet again, and marches right over to the redhead before he can reach the stairs.

Kirishima turns around in part surprise and part worry, and he’s about to question Bakugou until his hand is being snatched up and he’s being pulled into the apartment. “Uh- Ka-Kats- I’d love to stay longer but I have to wake up early tomorrow.” He might be protesting but he easily follows Bakugou’s lead as they cross the threshold of the door and Kirishima lets himself be pushed against the wall.

“So stay over.” Simple as that right? Bakugou thinks so at least. He intertwines both his hands into Kirishima’s and stares daringly into his eyes. It’s Kirishima’s turn to be flustered and Bakugou is pleased.

“But my stuff- uh- my hero costume is back at my apartment.” Kirishima’s heart is hammering in his chest as excitement starts filling in the pit of his stomach.

Bakugou tilts his head and smirks. “Then I’ll just go get it for you if your ass can’t get up early enough.”

Kirishima quirks an eyebrow. Okay, two can play at this game. “Hmm.. that’s if your ass is even able to move at all tomorrow morning,” Kirishima smirks back down at Bakugou before he grabs the back of his head and crashes their lips together in a heated kiss.

And what those two men, who were so deeply in love with each other, do for the rest of the evening... is classified information.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you liked the ending! This was the longest fic I’ve ever written and I’m actually quite proud of it. Thank you so much for reading! 🙏🏻

The song that inspired me to write this fic > 🎶🎶

Also…… if you caught that Sponegbob reference… I love you. I wrote it as a joke but ended up keeping it hehehe.

#kiribaku #bakushima #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #mha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bakugou x kirishima #bnha #makeup #angst with a happy ending #boku no academia #my hero academia #Spotify

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ofstarsandfireflies · 4 years ago

Text

Ironstrange is all the romcoms change my mind, no wait you can’t because it’s true! 😆

Tony was through with relationships.

He made sure to make that clear to everyone who tried asking him out.

And then, when he saw Pepper go through a bad breakup, he decided to some fun.

Just how long would it take for someone to call it quits if he made himself as dislikable as possible?

Or, if he made every mistake imaginable just to prove his point and make people leave him alone?

So, the next person to ask him out would hopefully be his last, and can enjoy being single.

That poor soul turned out to be Stephen Strange, who was only doing it because he’d heard how hard it was to woo the great Tony Stark.

Practically getting dared to last ten days when his over confidence betrays him, Stephen and Tony both strike up a conversation as everyone watches and places bets on how long Tony will string this one along before making Stephen end it.

The first date goes surprisingly well, and Stephen thinks he’ll have Tony wrapped around his finger after just a few days.

Tony on the other hand, is already thinking of things he can do to sabotage the relationship.

At first it’s just little things; making Stephen get him things with the use of his handy dandy portals before telling him he wants something else and then making a big deal out of it when it’s still not what he wants.

He might accidentally cut the power to his suit a couple of feet in the air, forcing Stephen to take drastic measures to catch him.

He even steals the cloak of levitation when he ‘forgets’ his suit, the cloak more than willing to fly around with Tony and leave Stephen on the ground because Tony will pamper it.

And that’s only two days in!

By the third day, Tony has moved half of his things into the Sanctum, leaving tools all over the place and making installations and upgrades Stephen neither wants nor will he get any use out of.

Day four hits and Tony is running out of ideas because he’s being as annoying as he can, he’s inserting himself into Stephen’s life and messing with everything he can and Stephen refuses to back out of this relationship.

It’s driving Stephen crazy, he’s on the verge of tearing his hair out when he walks into the Sanctum the next day and finds EVERYTHING has been removed to make room for as many Iron Man figurines, plushies, posters, books, comics, even Stephen’s bed spread has been changed and his cloak is floating around flashing about twenty pins with that blasted helmet on them.

Stephen seriously can’t deal with all of this, but he also doesn’t say anything negative about this either, determined to get through the other half of this bet.

And Tony has no idea what to do next.

He goes to Stephen’s parents for help, mostly asking for baby photos he might embarrass him with, but strikes up a conversation with Stephen’s mother that ultimately results in him accepting an invitation for the two of them to visit for the weekend.

And wen they go and Stephen gets to meet his family, gets to play cards with them and they all gang up on Stephen, who was the reigning champion and Tony is hugged in a way he hasn’t been in a long time.

In a way he forgot he could be hugged, it makes him stop with the petty games he was playing.

It makes him let Stephen closer, allows him the intimacy he’d been keeping away from.

It’s like he’s a completely different person, and the rest of the days just seem to fly by.

That is, until the tenth day, when Tony overhears Clint grumbling to Banner how he’d bet Stephen wouldn’t last the ten days, that Stephen must be either really stubborn or really desperate to win if he’s lasted this long with Tony.

Tony had truly thought, even after all the shit he had pulled, that Stephen had actually cared about him.

He’d thought he’d finally found someone who just accepted him for who he was, flaws and all.

It had never crossed his mind that Stephen was only putting up with it to win a bet.

He confronts Stephen about it, and he doesn’t deny any of it, but he also refuses to end their relationship, even when Tony tells him he’s going to be the one to end it so they can just move on.

But Stephen won’t let him.

He’s seen how incredible Tony really is, and he doesn’t want to give that up.

This might have started out as a bet, but it doesn’t have to end as one.

Quotes -

“Michelle, If the most beautiful woman in the world acted the way you did, any normal guy would still go running in the other direction.”

“No. No guy would go running from you, Andie. You could barf all over him and he would say ‘Do it again.”

“That is both incredibly disgusting and untrue. If I did the things you did, I’d get dumped too.”

Tony and Pepper talking about her break up.

“I used to obsess over Mike’s old girlfriends.”

“Oh better yet, talk about all your old boyfriends.”

“It’s good, it’s good, it’s good but it’s not gonna to crack this guy! This is Defcon 5! I have to do something truly appalling. It’s not funny.”

Tony needing help because Stephen still refuses to dump him.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just that when your mom hugged me today...she really hugged me. For winning a game of Bullshit.”

Stephen and Tony finally doing away with the bet and allowing their true feeling to surface.

“I think you’re running away.”

“Why don’t you save your mind games for your next bet, okay? I am not running away.”

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Bullshit.”

Stephen refusing to let Tony run from what they have.

Calling your Bluff

It was meant to be a cruel joke on both their parts, each only sticking with the relationship because they’d been dared to.

It wasn’t meant to mean anything.

January, February

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10

Day 11 Day 12

#ironstrange #strangeiron #osaf’s movie night

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floralguccistyles · 4 years ago

Photo

prologue: soupe à l’oignon

Michel’s soupe a l’oignon was burning.

Michel had also been through a terrible breakup the night before in which he had found his boyfriend of almost seven years in bed with their personal trainer. Then Michel’s boyfriend had announced that he and this personal trainer were actually married, per a terrible ceremony in Las Vegas when they were both drunk. Therefore, Michel was technically the other man. Michel had never been the other man before. He was obviously having a rough time.

But the fucking soup was burning.

“Michel! The soup!” Italia shouted before the scent could officially assault all of my senses. The second the words left her mouth, however, I could smell it. The onions were burning to a crisp. There would be no saving them, of this I knew.

“Shit!” Michel yelled, immediately turning off the heat of the stove. He went to go grab the saucepan and the hurried “no!” didn’t leave my mouth fast enough as he gripped the cast iron handle with his bare hand for approximately three seconds before he yelped and dropped it back down on the stove top with a slamming sound. “Shit, shit shit!” he repeated, clutching his wrist with his other hand.

“Let me see,” I demanded, moving away from my own meal (which would be fine and not on the verge of burning for at least another five minutes) and towards Michel. He held out his hand to me with tears in his eyes and I honestly felt bad for the guy.

I just also felt really, really bad for the customer who was waiting for their soup.

“Go run it under cool water. Cool, Michel, not cold. Ice-cold will damage the tissue even more. Then get a rag wet and hold it over. You can just go ahead and take your fifteen.”

“My soup—”

“Italia and I will handle it,” I interrupted. The more time we wasted standing here arguing was time that could have been spent trying to salvage the soup. It didn’t help that we were already down a chef, since Frederick’s wife was giving birth, but we would make do. Italia and I always did.

“Thanks, Dom. I’ll be in the lounge.”

Lounge was a loose term. It was a tiny little room in the back that looked dingy and unkempt. Still, it was enough to pass health inspections. Only about two people could fit back there at a time, which was why I usually just sat in my car for my breaks.

“Sounds good, Michel.” My eyes locked with Italia, who was already working on melting the butter and oil for Michel’s soup in a new saucepan. Isobel, one of our dishwashers, had already grabbed the pan Michel had ruined and was scrubbing it clean with her thick rubber gloves on her hands. At least I knew she wasn’t going to be burned.

When Michel turned to go into the lounge, I grabbed an onion and automatically began chopping it. “Sorry, Italia,” I muttered under my breath, knowing she could hear me just fine. We had gotten used to the hustle and bustle of the kitchen.

“It’s fine. Tell Louis to offer them a dessert on the house because this soup is going to take at least another fifteen.”

I wanted to slam my head against the counter. Or better yet, use the pan Isobel was now putting on the drying rack to hit over my head. “Fuck. Alright.”

Finding Louis was easy enough. He was making his rounds in the front of the restaurant, his pleasant attitude most likely earning him more than average tips. The kind of people who came to Lesauvage were wealthy enough to tip generously. Sometimes they didn’t, but for the most part, Louis wouldn’t be starving anytime soon. “Louis!” I hissed under my breath when he passed by the kitchen doors, cups in hands to refill. He jumped comically.

“Christ, Dom, you scared me,” he replied in a quiet voice, not wanting any of the customers to hear. “What?”

“Tell table eleven there was a complication with their soup and dessert is on the house.”

“What the fuck happened to their soup?”

I raised a brow. “Michel made it.”

Michel’s boyfriend drama had already made it around the restaurant. Twice. Chefs were a nosy bunch. Louis nodded in understanding and filled up a cup with iced tea as he looked towards where I assumed table eleven was. I actually hadn’t ever really paid attention to the front setup of Lesauvage because I had always entered through the back door.

“Fine. But I’m recommending the chocolate mousse because you’re here and you make it the best.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere,” I replied with a wink.

He grinned. “Got me into your bed, didn’t it?”

Louis and I had a fling when I had started working at Lesauvage. I was fresh out of culinary school, bright eyed and bushy tailed, and he was the experienced waiter who comforted me in the lounge my first day when my boss had completely ripped me a new one. He was the unattainable, three-years-older coworker who I was moon-eyed over for at least five months before we actually slept together. And once we had, it was like some switch had been flipped inside my body and he was suddenly nothing but a friend.

Thank the fucking lord he felt the same way.

“You’re damn right it did. Now go make me proud, Tomlinson.”

When I hastily returned to the kitchen, Italia was already ten times ahead where Michel had been with the soup. I sent her a thankful look and grabbed the beef stock, passing it her way as I grabbed a knife and began chopping the green onions for my own dish.

As much as I complained about the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, I secretly thrived in it. It was what I had missed when I had been in culinary school. So many of my classmates cooked their meals silently. When I cooked at home, I blasted music and sang loudly and off-key to myself. At work, I had the conversation of other people. I liked learning about Italia’s kids and Isobel’s ex-boyfriend who kept trying to call her. I even liked Michel, even though right now he wasn’t my favorite person in the world.

School had been lonely. At least here I felt like I belonged.

“They’re good for the chocolate mousse!” Louis shouted over the sound of Isobel doing the dishes and Italia chopping more vegetables.

“You’re a saint, Tomlinson!” I replied, dropping the spices needed onto Italia’s cutting board. She slid them into the soup with her knife and the skill of a seasoned Lesauvage veteran.

The chocolate mousse was luckily already in the fridge cooling from my prep this morning, so I didn’t have to worry about making it at that exact moment. I did finish the salad I was working on and passed it off to Sydney, who was another runner. She grabbed the plate and sped off to table seven.

The time went by quickly when I was in the kitchen. My thoughts could roam because the movements of cooking were muscle memory at this point. When I had first been hired, I had been terrified to mess anything up. The first time I had pulled a Michel, I had cried. My boss had yelled at me pretty badly, but had brought me into his office afterwards to apologize and assure me that I was doing a great job. Now, it felt like second nature to pour the green onions into the butter garlic sauce that was sautéing. And when Italia handed me the soup that she had completed, I sent her a grateful look and wasted no time in handing it off to Louis. We worked as a team here.

I thrived on that.

“Get those chocolate mousses out and ready,” I told Michel when he came back from his break. His hand didn’t look too worse for wear, but he looked decently embarrassed. I knew, at least for tonight, there would be no more mistakes.

“I’m really sorry, Dom,” he said softly, preparing for my anger.

“It’s fine, Michel. Just work on desserts for now, okay? But this is the comp dessert for table eleven, so try to pay attention, yeah?”

He hung his head, but nodded and went to go prep the mousse. It wasn’t that Michel wasn’t talented. He wouldn’t have been hired if he hadn’t been a great chef. But the boyfriend thing was really getting to him. I hoped he had at least the next two days off to recoup.

“Dom,” I heard Louis say about thirty minutes later as he walked through the kitchen door. He had the empty plates from table eleven in his hand and handed them off to Isobel. “They’re ready for the dessert.” He eyed me questionably when Michel handed them off to me, as if it was wrong that I had let Michel touch them after his little mishap but I had faith in the chefs. “These better be good,” Louis said in a warning tone.

“I made them, Tomlinson, of course they’re good,” I snapped, clicking my tongue in annoyance. It was a bad habit I had done when I was a kid and never seemed to shake it.

He shrugged, taking the completed desserts and walking back out to the restaurant. “They looked great, Michel!” I encouraged, turning to continue chopping the beef I had been working on before Louis had come in.

When I cooked, time passed by without my notice. What felt like two minutes later but was really thirty, Louis walked back into the kitchen with a solemn look on his face. “They want to see the chef.”

“Who?”

“Table eleven.”

Shit. “You said they were fine with the soup, yeah?” Louis nodded, which meant the problem was with the chocolate mousse. And since Michel had done nothing but added the whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top, if they had a real problem with the mousse, it was on me. “Fuck. Alright. Italia, can you finish this dish for me really quick?”

Italia nodded, looking up from the celery she was chopping to examine the chicken I was seasoning to see how much she would need to do to complete it. Nervously wiping my hands on my apron after I washed them quickly, I tried to make myself look a little more presentable. It was rare that chefs were invited to the front of the restaurant, so we were usually unkempt and had food on our clothes. It didn’t matter to me what I looked like as long as the food was good, but I knew it was a shock to the high-end patrons of the restaurant.

Louis led me over to table eleven, where three people were sitting. There were two men and one gorgeous woman that looked like she could model for a living. She was happily chatting and holding hands with one of the men, excitedly waving around her free hand. He looked engrossed in her story, nodding and smiling and staring at her like she was the best thing in the world. Their companion was simply taking sips of his wine (a wonderful red that went really well with the chocolate mousse and I thanked Louis for obviously recommending it to them) and pursing his lips in response to whatever the woman was saying.

She stopped talking when she noticed Louis and sent a blinding smile at us. “This is the chef, I presume?”

“Dominique Blanchard,” I said, holding out my hand for her to shake. I was thankful I had run my hands under some soap and water. We weren’t allowed to have our nails painted in case some of the varnish fell off into the food, but her fingers were perfectly manicured and painted a vibrant blue. “I’m sorry again about the soup. We had an incident in the kitchen.”

She waved it off. “The soup was fine. That chocolate mousse, however? It was to die for!”

I felt my shoulders deflate. I had been so worried that they were upset with their experience or food that I hadn’t even thought they had wanted to chat because they enjoyed their meal. “Thank you. It’s a Lesauvage specialty.”

“Dominique makes it the best,” Louis supplied helpfully from behind me. I grinned nervously.

“We all loved it,” the man holding her hand spoke, and I was surprised to hear an Irish accent. “It was the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” And I was glad it took the attention off the fact that their soup was late. The other man stayed quiet, simply ignoring the conversation as he sipped at his wine again.

“I have the weirdest proposition for you. Please feel free to say no if you don’t want to, but I would kick myself if I didn’t ask.”

My eyes strayed back to the woman, who was talking to me politely.

“I’m two months pregnant,” she said happily, her hand going to her stomach like most pregnant women did when their pregnancy was announced, “and I’m so incredibly exhausted nowadays. I can barely muster up enough energy to come out to dinner, let alone make myself toast in the morning. And your chocolate mousse was the only thing I’ve been able to keep down for more than thirty minutes. I was wondering if you’d ever consider being a personal chef?”

Chefs at Lesauvage being asked to become personal chefs for celebrities or rich individuals wasn’t as uncommon as one would think. The chef I had replaced had left to become a personal chef for some actress who split her time between London and Los Angeles. As far as I knew, he simply travelled with her. But it was the first time the suggestion had ever been brought up to me, the first time that someone had liked my food that much.

Which was why my mouth comically fell open.

“I could pay you plenty!” she said, which led me to believe she was well-off. Well, that and the fact that she was eating at Lesauvage, which wasn’t exactly known for their cheap meal choices. “I just...I’m so tired all the time. The doctor said it was normal, but I don’t even want to get up out of bed sometimes. And I’m only two months along! I can’t imagine trying to cook myself meals when I’m eight months. You’d cook some things for Niall and Harry too, of course.” She gestured to the two males sitting with her.

“This is...I’m sorry, this is just incredibly unexpected,” I managed to stutter out.

“Of course, I’m so sorry I’m just flinging this on you. How about I give you my number and I’ll get back to you in about a week or so? Will that give you enough time to think it over?”

“Yes, of course.” Taking her number wouldn’t hurt, I told myself. She had a little card in her wallet with her information on it, and I saw that she actually was a model.

“I’ll be in touch soon. Thank you so much, Dominique. I’ll probably be dreaming about that chocolate mousse for the next six months.”

I was able to laugh at her joke even though it still felt like someone had shaken me into a concussion. I exchanged goodbyes with the three of them as they left the restaurant, leaving a more than generous tip for Louis.

“Well that was nice of them,” Louis said, clapping me on my shoulder. “Think about it, yeah? It’s not the worst idea in the world.”

It wasn’t. But I couldn’t think about the proposition until my shift was done tonight.

Welcome to the world of Mise en Place! I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter and are as excited to read this fic as I am to share it!

#1dff #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #mep

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rowanwhitethornisbae · 4 years ago

Text

Faking It Chapter 1

Rowaelin Fake Dating High School Au

A/N: This is going to be told through Aelin and Rowan’s POV’s but will also feature other characters.

masterlist

Aelin Galathynius had never been this pissed off in her entire life.

“I need to focus on myself.”

“You can be a lot to handle sometimes.”

If Aelin hadn't been so shellshocked she most definitely would've slapped that grimace off his ruggedly handsome face. Chaol Westfall and her had been dating for as long as Aelin could remember. Grade six graduation, he was there. Grade eight dance marathon, him again. First day of high school, Chaol. Junior prom night, guess fucking who.

Now, she was barely a week into senior year and everything was already going to shit. It’s not that she was completely torn up about the breakup - she wasn't - it was more about her pride. Aelin’s bitchy side could not believe that she hadn't been the one to dump him first. They’d barely spoken to each other all summer long. Aelin had been lifeguarding at a pool on the south side of town and Chaol had been a camp counsellor on the north. Still, their friend groups crossed over in every way possible. Aelin was the head cheerleader, leader of about every committee you could think of, and as Aedion liked to call her, “Queen of Terrasen High”. Chaol was, you guessed it, the football team captain and starting quarter back. They were the textbook couple in every way possible. Still, despite the cheerleaders and football players hanging out nearly every night, Chaol and Aelin had barely talked. It had been that way since their huge fight on the last day of junior year. They’d claimed to forgive each other, but never really had. They’d both said some really fucked up shit. Still, Aelin couldn't bring herself to be completely regretful of what she’d said to him.

“This is a good thing A.” Her best friend Lysandra was saying beside her. “You’re way hotter than him anyway.”

Snapping back to attention, Aelin smiled. “I am aren't I.” She laughed.

“Hell yes.” Lysandra assured her. “He was never in your league.”

Aelin laughed and threw her arm over her best friends shoulders. School was out for the day and they were heading out to meet Aedion for a drive home. Ignoring the faint anger in her gut, Aelin had to admit she felt more free. She hadn't been single since the sixth grade - save the small break her and Chaol had taken in 10th year. Aelin didn't like to ponder too much on that time in her life.

A blast of warm air hit her as they pushed open the heavy doors to the school. Aedion’s face broke into a wide grin as he spotted them. As soon as her and Lysandra reached him he pulled her into a bear hug. “Welcome to the world of miserable and lonely single people. You’re gonna love it.” He messed with her hair and she groaned for him to put her down.

“How the hell do you know already?” She asked.

“Oh my sweet naive cousin. Everyone knows.” He smiled sympathetically.

“Everyone?” Aelin said, a hint of desperation in her tone.

“Everyone.” Aedion echoed. “It’s the biggest news to hit the school since, well, you and Chaol took break.”

Aelin swore under her breath. “Can’t people focus on their own lives for once.”

Lysandra laughed softly. “We need to find you a rebound.” She said, bouncing on her toes. “I finally get the chance to be my best friends wingman.”

“I don't want a rebound.” Aelin said frowning.

“Would you rather Chaol find one first. He broke up with you, you’re already losing.”

Damn Lysandra. She knew that Aelin was probably the most competitive person alive and could literally never shy away from a fight.

“Fine. Who?” She swung open the door to Aedion’s car and climbed in the back.

Lysandra clapped her hands together and joined her in the back. “How about Fenrys Moonbeam?”

Aelin shook her head back and forth. “No way.”

“Why?” Aedion asked. “He’s unfairly attractive.”

“You date him then.” Aelin shot back.

“Maybe I will.” He smiled wickedly at her in the rearview mirror and pulled out of the parking lot.

“How about Sam Cortland.” Lys suggested.

For a moment Aelin considered it. Despite being a year younger than her, Sam was extremely cute. His messy brown hair and constant smile didn't hurt matters.

“Too nice.” Aelin insisted. “I’ll feel too bad about using him.”

Lysandra had just begun naming someone else when their car slammed into something else. Aelin’s body lurched forward uncontrollably, head slamming into the seat in front of her.

“Fuck!” Aedion swore. “Fucking hell!”

Aelin didn't even have time to revel in the fact that Aedion had actually cursed. Instead, she surveyed her body to make sure she was alright. Lysandra appeared to be doing the same and they both exchanged weak smiles of comfort. All three of them slowly got out of the car to see who exactly they had run into.

Aelin was stilling rubbing at her temples when a voice sent a chill down her spine.

“Are you fucking kidding me Ashryver?” He said.

Heart racing, Aelin lifted her head slowly and met the anger filled green eyes of Rowan Whitethorn. He looked absolutely flawless in his leather jacket and white tee. His too tight jeans were ripped around the knees and cuffed just above his black combat boots. Rowan’s silver hair was messy and unkept and his tattoo was just as beautiful as ever. The vibrant green of his eyes never failed to take her off guard. Eyes that were now staring directly at her.

He blinked twice, the only reaction he would show, and went back to yelling at her cousin.

“I’m sorry man.” Aedion was saying in the background. “I didn't see you.”

“It’s not his fault.” Lysandra jumped in. “We were all distracted.”

“Let me guess.” He snarled back, tone as pissed off as ever. “Discussing the recent breakup.” Rowan was looking at Aelin now, waiting for a response.

“Something like that.” She mumbled, not looking directly at him.

“Didn't hear that princess.” He said loudly.

“Fuck off Rowan.” Aedion yelled, subtly stepping between them. “It was accident, send me the bill for your bumper. We’re going now.”

“Whatever.” Rowan didn’t look at her once. He only got back in his dented black car, flipped Aedion off, and hit the gas.

“Come on A.” Lysandra said softly, wrapping an arm around Aelin’s trembling form. She pulled her gently back toward their car. Aelin could feel Aedion’s gaze on her, yet for some reason she couldn't bring herself to care.

After a few more minutes of silent and awkward driving, Aelin couldn't bear it anymore.

“I’m fine guys.” She said with as much confidence as she could muster. “Please stop looking at me like I'm a time bomb.”

Lysandra laughed and smiled. “Whatever you say A.” Aelin had never been this grateful for her best friend.

“How about Rowan.” Lysandra continued. Every thought left Aelin’s head and she jolted upwards in her seat.

“Are you insane? Are you literally fucking mental. I would get burned alive then have a conversation with him.” Aelin was practically yelling now.

Lysandra only shrugged. “What’s the one thing that hurts more than sleeping with the best friend?” She asked Aedion.

“Sleeping with the guy you told him not to worry about.” Her cousin recited, smirking in the rearview mirror.

“Absolutely not. No way in hell.” She paused. “Besides, he wouldn't even give me the time of day.”

Lys squealed. “So you’re considering it.”

“No.” Aelin murmured, ignoring her friend’s pointed glares.

“Alright.” Lysandra finally relented. “Just think on it.”

“Fine.” Aelin nodded, and went back to staring at nothing through the car window.

~~~~~~~~

“Lorcan!” Rowan yelled out. “Where are you guys?”

“Out back.” Came the booming yell of Lorcan Salvaterre.

Sighing, Rowan put his coat back on and walked through the house to the back door. Only, Fenrys greeted him, patting him on the back and moving over on the couch. “How was your day?” His friend asked.

“Horrible.” Rowan admitted.

Fenrys stuck out his bottom lip. “How come?”

“I talked to Aelin Galathynius.”

The rest of the group instantly stopped whatever conversations they’d been having and whirled towards him. Fenrys’ eyes were blown wide open as he struggled to find the words.

“Explain.” Lorcan said at last, falling back in his chair. Vaughn and Gavriel were staring at him cautiously, as if he might have another breakdown. “Her cousin hit my car.” He grumbled.

“The first time you speak to Aelin in nearly two years is because you crashed into her car” Vaughn reiterates.

Rowan only nods. Fenrys, bless him, somehow restrains from laughing.

“So do tell.” Gavriel gestures for Rowan to go into more detail.

“I made some comment about the breakup, she refused to look at me, I basically mocked and condescended her, and then Aedion told me to fuck off and I left.” He reached down into the cooler for a drink.

“Um wow.” Lorcan sighed. “Nice going asshole.”

Rowan just held his beer out in salute and took a long drink. He was more than ready to forget about the whole day and move on. Unfortunately, his friends seemed less inclined for his plan.

“The news of their breakup is all over the school.” Fenrys told them. He had always been their number one source of gossip, considering the rest of them despised most social interaction. “Guys are already placing bets on who can sleep with her first. Cairn bet Nox 1000$ he can nail her by Dorian’s party this Friday.”

Rowan tried and failed to ignore the tightening in his chest.

“Will she even go to that?” Gavriel posed. “Dorian is Chaol’s best friend anyway.”

“She’ll be there.” Rowan blurted before he could take it back.

All eyes again flipped to him. “Why don’t you make a move Rowan?” Lorcan asked, a smirk etched onto his lips.

“Fuck off Salvaterre. I hate the bitch.” Rowan snarled.

“You didn't seem to hate her so much when - “ Fenrys began.

Rowan was already up and moving before he could hear the end of the sentence. He ignored their calls of apology and to come back, instead getting into his car and pulling out. At last, he pulled into the parking space in front of his aunt’s house and leaned his head against the car window.

It had barely been a week and his senior year was already shaping up to be a fucking mess.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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sincerelynamkook · 4 years ago

Text

Hennessy (01)

Latina Y/N x Jungkook

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: alcohol/drunken behavior (drink responsibly friends), mentions of smoking, sexual tension

Word Count: 2.6k

Playlist: “Yo Perreo Sola” by Bad Bunny // “Frikitona” by Plan B // “Te Extrano” by Xtreme // “Imitadora” by Romeo Santos”

Series Masterlist

“You ready?” I roll my eyes with a pout instead of verbally answering my best friend’s question. I’m still lowkey butthurt she not only forced me to get up from my umpteenth day in bed, but also forced me to get dressed and put on makeup. I’m barely into my 30th day of getting over a breakup, I had plans to dive deep into the pits of my depression and despair for another month or two.

“Stop being a brat and get over it. It’s not like you were in love with the guy.” Britt sasses back.

“Maybe so. But I really gave that fucker 6 months of my life thinking he would eventually be the one only for him to go out and cheat on me...let me be depressed, damn bro.”

“Dude, c'mon. Tony said this would be the party of the year and you know how Latinos love to throw a party.” She grabs my hand and drags me up the driveway to the front door. I could hear the loud blast of Merengue music all the way from where we parked down the street. Serves us right for being 2 hours late to this damn party. But we were running on Latino time.

“Bitch did you forget I’m Latina?” I ask her. Of course I know what Latin parties are like.

“Really? You sure ain’t acting like the bad bitch Latina I know you are.”

“I-...whatever.” I mumble, not having a retort.

She giggles and opens the front door, coming fact to face with Jimin who has the brightest smile on his face. “Finally bitches! I’ve been waiting for y’all for over an hour.”

Music, laughter, singing, mixed with conversations from every direction bombard my ears. Jimin drags Britt and me to the back of the house, bee-lining straight to the kitchen counter that's covered in alcoholic beverages. He goes around to stand next to Tony who’s behind the counter, dressed in an all black fit, gold chain around his neck, nose pierced with a stud and a septum, and small black rectangular framed glasses perched on his nose.

“What, you on your Bad Bunny phase or something?” I ask him as Jimin hands me a cranberry vodka, knowing it’s my favorite drink.

With a smile, he sticks his tongue out and places his pinky fingers near his glasses doing the iconic Bad Bunny pose, “You already know babyyyy,” he says garnering a laugh from me. “I made sure to stock up on cranberry and vodka for you babe. Britt warned me so we on that ‘Bring Y/N back to life’ gang shit tonight.”

“Oh god,” I grimace. When Britt and Tony get together on their “missions” there is no hope for us. “Well you got food around here? I ain’t getting shitfaced on an empty stomach.”

“This ain’t the first time at the rodeo, Y/N.” Hoseok says as he appears behind Tony with a platter of appetizers on a plate for me. “We take care of our favorite girls around here, Y/N, c'mon now, especially when you're my girlfriend’s best friend” he winks at Britt and she giggles. Gross.

“My hero.” I respond sarcastically, inspecting the chips and guac. With a raise of a brow I ask, “This better be some legit guac boys, not that store bought kind y’all got that one time at Costco.”

“Omg get over it! I didn’t realize it was expired!” Jin yells from behind me. He gives Britt a kiss on the cheek before pinching my arm. I stick my tongue out before giving him a genuine smile. “I wasn’t even the one who bought it. It was Jimin!”

Jimin giggles, “Well that’s what y’all get for sending me grocery shopping when I’m hungover.”

“I was sick for days! I almost died!” I yell back. Not gona lie, this guac is hella good. “Dude, who made this guac. It’s legit, I’ll give you that.”

“I asked my sister to make some for us. She also made some tamales for you and Britt, you know she loves y'all more than me.” Tony says as he pours me another drink. Tears start to well in my eyes, food being the only thing that weakens my tough exterior.

“Tony...tell your sister to divorce Jackson and marry me. I’ll treat her better!” I exclaim making the group laugh.

“Y’all lets move this party to the den.” Hoseok says, grabbing Britt’s hand and leading us to the next room, away from the bigger crowd.

We each take our usual seats. Being a tight knit group since our college days, we have our traditions, one being movie night at Tony’s every weekend, thus leading us to have our own unofficial assigned seats.

The music can still be heard from the den, albeit not as loud as it was in the main rooms.

“So we getting Y/N shitfaced tonight right?” Jimin asks with a smirk in my direction.

“Hell yeah. I can’t believe you skipped out on movie nights this whole month.” Jin responds with a shake of his head. “I thought we were family.”

I roll my eyes at his dramatics. “Whatever. Y’all know how I get when I’m in my moods.”

Hoseok stands and comes around the couch to hug me from behind. “I know you’re not a hugger but accept this quick hug and let go of your sadness friend.”

I giggle and hold back my witty remark, knowing his heart is in the right place. “Thanks Hobi. Give me a few more drinks and I’ll be begging for your hugs.”

He jumps at that and runs to the kitchen yelling, “You don’t have to tell me twice!!” Brittany gets up and follows him, muttering something about going to make sure he doesn’t get dragged into dancing.

“But in all seriousness, Y/N, are you okay?” Jin asks next to me.

“Not gona lie, I’m hurt because y’all know how I feel about cheating. But it is what it is right?” I exhale and gulp down my third cup of cranberry vodka.

“You’ll be okay babe, c'mon lets go get more drinks.” Jimin takes my hands and drags me out the den, just as Yoongi and Joonie were walking into the den.

“Hey fuckers. I brought the Henny!” Yoongi announces with a smirk. At the sound of Henny I turn around and walk back into the den, grabbing the Hennessy bottle from Yoongi’s grasp and opening it to pour myself some shots.

“Oh so that’s what we doing huh?” He smirks and I just wink at him raising my shot glass at him.

“The night is young my friend.” I say as I raise up my second shot in a toast. Joon takes the bottle from me and pours me another one, clinking his own glass with mine.

“Let’s get this bread!” he says to which I grimace and retort back, “Grandpa, don’t ever say that again.” He chuckles with a roll of his eyes and downs his shot.

The heat from the alcohol going down my throat and coursing throughout my body has me removing my jacket. Jin whistles saying “aight mami, you sure you're getting over a break up?”

Giggling, I look over at him to see him checking me out. I’m donned in black ripped skinny jeans, black platform Jadon docs, and a green satin tank top; meaning my tattoo covered arm is out on display. “Boy please, be quiet before you get me in trouble with Tree. Where is she anyway?”

“She had to work tonight. She’s gonna come after her shift which should be soon.” He says checking the time on his phone.

Another shot is placed in my hand by Jimin, “bottoms up bitch!”

I down my shot just as I hear the sounds of “Yo Perreo Sola” by Bad Bunny start to play. “Oh shit! This my song!!!” I yell, clearly feeling the effect of the alcohol contents fueling my body. I grab Jimin’s hand and drag him over to the crowd dancing in the large living room.

Jimin positions himself behind me, holding my waist as we start to dance to the song. We grind up on each other, perreando like the song describes, screaming the chorus together with the crowd. I turn around to face him and push him backwards, ready to perrear sola. The other girls around me start to hype me up and start to grind against me. We put on quite the show but the crowd goes even wilder when the song switches to “Frikitona” by Plan B. Jin dances up next to me with Tree on his arm and hands me two more shots, “double fist time babyyy” he yells over the crowd. I take the shots all the while I’m dancing, I don’t even notice when the two empty glasses are replaced with new full ones by Jimin, knowing it's him with the pink hair on his head, but I down those two. I vaguely notice Hoseok and Brittany dancing not too far from me, practically making love on the dance floor. Wouldn’t surprise me if they disappeared upstairs real soon. The reggaetón bops keep going and Jimin and I keep dancing amidst the crowd. Whoever picked this mix deserves a reward because it got all the throwbacks. I smile big when I hear Don Omar’s “Dile.”

I’m sweating, pushing my hair back from my face every few seconds, regretting not bringing a scrunchie with me to put it in a bun. The reggaetón mix fades off into a bachata mix with “Te Extrano” by Xtreme being the first song to play. Not wanting to go back into my feels, I decide to take this time to grab water and sober a bit. Now that I’ve stopped dancing I realize just how drunk I really am. I lean against the counter and grab a cool water bottle from the cooler, snickering when I see Yoongi making out with some girl across the kitchen.

The bachata mix turns sensual, as “Sobredosis” by Romeo Santos starts to play. I sway softly in my spot against the counter, singing along to the song as I try hard to sober up.

I hear Tony yell a “Look who finally made it” and the crowd starts to shout their greetings at whoever just walked in. I turn around to see what the commotion is all about and see Jungkook walking in holding two bottles of Hennessy, one in each hand.

“What the fuck” I whisper softly, but not soft enough when I hear Taehyung reply, “yeah, he’s back.”

“Whoa when did you get here TaeTae? And when you say ‘he’s back’ you mean cause of summer break right?” I ask without turning back around to look at him, my attention at one man and one man only.

“I got here a while ago with Janet, we were outside smoking though.” Ahh that makes sense. “And no, he’s back for good. He graduated last week.” He says with a smirk in my direction.

My eyes go wide, muttering a soft, “fuck.” I turn around to face the kitchen, hands in my hair in exasperation. How did he graduate already? He’s like three years younger than me! I close my eyes and focus on doing the math only to realize that he in fact was graduating college this year. Shit.

Tae pats my back, “what’s got your panties in a twist love? It’s not like you fucked the guy on his 21st birthday and never spoke to him again even though he’s one of your best friend’s, Yoongi’s to be exact, younger brother.”

I open my eyes and face Tae. He yells an exaggerated ‘OW!” when I twist his nipple.

“Kim Taehyung what the fuck?! I told you never to mention that again.” I exhale and make the decision to continue my “getting shitfaced” mission. Pouring a line of shots, I start to take them one after the other until Tae decides to take the last 3 himself earning a “fuck you” from me.

I lean against the counter, facing the living room only to see Jungkook walking towards me. I roll my eyes at him when I see his smirk directed at me. He walks up next to me and opens the bottle of Hennessy, not saying a word. Taehyung chuckles and leaves with a “have fun lovebirds.” Jungkook pours two shots and hands me one. But he doesn’t just give it to me like any decent person would, no way, he has the audacity to bring the shot glass to my lips , softly nudging my lips open with it to make me drink. Not one to back down from a challenge, I hold his hand holding the shot glass against me and throw my head back to down it. His big brown eyes, those that were so full of innocence, are now full of lust and focused on my lips. I don’t miss the way they subtly move down to look at my neck when I swallow the alcohol, or the way his hand still near my lips slightly twitches when my tongue flicks out to lick my bottom lip, making sure I take every drop of alcohol he gave me.

He leans closer to me, his scent which now surrounds me making me even drunker. My hands go up to his chest instinctively, as if I had the willpower to actually shove him away. I could feel his heart beating faster against my hands, his pecks feeling tight...woah when did that happen?

I feel, rather than see, his face lean closer to my ear where he softly whispers, “wana show me what else you can swallow?” His deep melodic voice has me closing my eyes and gulping in a millisecond, feeling a rush of wetness pool at my core.

I open my eyes, reminding myself who I’m talking to and laugh the nerves away. I shove him back, needing some room to breathe and he chuckles at my antics.

The playlist starts to play “Imitadora” by Romeo Santos and I can feel a change in the atmosphere. Jungkook takes a step closer to me, arm going around me to softly push me against him. He leans close to my ear again to whisper “dance with me” but I’m too high off his scent and to the beat of his heart that’s vibrating against where my hands rest on his chest to answer. He takes it as a yes and walks us backwards to the center of the makeshift dance floor.

I bring myself back to the present and raise an eyebrow at him, “You sure you can keep up Korean boy?” I feel his chest softly vibrate from his chuckle.

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve preciosa” he answers with a smirk as he twirls me around. I swoon at his honey like voice calling me “preciosa,” with the subtle hint of his accent. But I feel my pussy clench when he dances bachata like a Latin born man.

My heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest when he starts singing the chorus of the song in perfect Spanish close to my ear. Hitting every note like if he was Romeo Santos.

He must've heard my swift intake of breath by the way he smiles. A smile I feel on my neck as he leans even closer to me to drop a kiss at my nape, sealing it with a lick.

The song comes to an end, quickly transitioning to a more up tempo bachata song. Jungkook drops another kiss on my neck and whispers “wana see what other tricks I got?”

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peeterparkr · 5 years ago

Note

How about Dick and reader used to date but Dick broke it off because she deserved better or some BS! Titans don’t know and they’re all drinking and playing never have I ever to get Dick drunk by saying “never have I been in the bay cave” or “never have I driven the batmobile” but reader keeps drinking too then they say “never have I waltzed” and both dick and reader drink and she admits dick taught her and they have to dance to prove it and it’s angsty/cute as they’re clearly in love still!!!

warnings: drinking, swearing

word count: 2.3k

Still Burning. Dick Grayson x Reader

I SERIOUSLY LOVED WRITING THIS ONE!!!

Nobody can really answer how to heal a broken heart. Had you known, you wouldn’t be trapped in such a mess. But you chose to hide it. That’s the best one does sometimes. Where do they go? Our feelings, the broken hearts? They remain there, silently making you remember and stabbing with memories that will make you hold on forever.

Dick was one of those stories you liked to keep to yourself. He did, too. Sometimes it’s difficult to admit it. Maybe it was for the best. But sometimes, you liked to remember that smile, which you barely saw anymore.

It was difficult. But it was for the best.

It truly was. Especially because both of you had decided to, for sometime, keep away from each other. You had your reasons. He said he had become too much like someone he once admired. He said you deserved better, but did you?

You were both made out of the same piece, but carved with a different sight. But it hurt to know that you were only someone he would ignore, that he wouldn’t talk about anymore. And it hurt to think that you could still taste his lips on the tip of your tongue. And it would’ve been easier to move on had he not searched for you to help him. Donna had warned you he’d come. Dawn, too. Everyone warned you he’d come back. But he didn’t come they way you expected him to.

And he eventually did come and ask for help, because that’s what you were supposed to do, always. Help each other. Because that’s who you were first and foremost. Friends who helped each other. Even after all the fights. Even after he broke your heart. He didn’t come to fix your broken heart.

Dick said his biggest talent involved leaving. You said it was coming up with bullshit to leave.

But you still remembered your teenage years, escaping together and rushing everywhere. Lifting your hands up in the air while he blasted your favorite music. You remembered your first kiss and the way he had blushed after it. You remembered the fights and the good times. But you also remembered how he broke up with you on your 21st birthday, breaking your heart as you were left with a dozen roses on your hands but a million tears coming from your eyes.

But there you were now, with a beer on your hand, as you had your legs crossed. You needed time to relax, you barely did that anymore. It was always helping out someone, or taking someone down. But Dick and you barely talked about the past. You used to work with each other, that was the statement.

You stared at him, he was relaxed. You hadn’t done this in a while, just sit down and have a beer. Kory brought up a tequila bottle, too. The younger ones were too busy eating flaming hot Cheetos.

“You guys are boring,” commented Jason Todd, watching as you were sipping from your beer. You listened to the faint music playing on the background.

“Are we?” Kory asked. The music sounded glitched.

“Very,” Gar agreed. “You just drink.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Adults do that, we just have enough trouble already that we just… drink it.”

“No need to make stupid excuses like when we were young, no beer pong, no card games,” Dick continued. “Just…drinking.”

“Hm,” Rachel laughed before taking a bite of her waffle. “I think we should play never have I ever.”

You laughed, “haven’t played that one in a while.”

Dick frowned. “Those games end up on trying to get only someone in particular drunk.”

To which Jason smirked, he poured a glass of soda for him, Rachel and Gar. Rachel and Gar joined you at the table.

Jason brought shot glasses for Dick, Kory and you. Kory and you gave each other a glance.

“No, not doing this.” Dick rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, Dick, relax a little,” Kory chuckled, “don’t you remember doing this kind of stuff in your teenage years? Stupid games?”

You stared at him, remembering all the times you used to have that kind of fun.

“Didn’t you have any fun?” Pushed Jason. “Is that why you’re always so grumpy?”

“I had fun,” Dick cleared his throat, quickly glancing at you.

You chuckled. “Fine, fill it up.”

Jason poured the three of you tequila, and then changed the song, a familiar guitar sounded. Let it Rock by The Rolling Stones started playing.

“Fine, Let’s start with something…. Rach? You wanna start?” Jason suggested.

Rachel chuckled, and rolled her eyes. “Never…”she gave it a thought. “Never have I ever eaten dog or cat food.”

“Am I supposed to—do something if I have?” Gar asked. He drank from his soda.

“Oh my god!” You laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”

Gar laughed. “Well, well, it’s my turn now… never have I ever… met Batman.”

“Oh, come on,” Dick rolled his eyes.

“Bottoms up, Grayson,” Jason said as he took a sip and Dick drank from his shot. You took a sip as well.

“You’ve met Batman?” Asked Kory.

You winked. “Yeah, we were on a first name basis and everything,” you chuckled, Dick looked away. “But yeah. I once worked with Batman.”

“Worked?” Jason blinked. “With?”

You took a sip from your beer. “Oh sorry, you felt special?”

Jason nodded. “Well I kind of did.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Keep up with it.”

Maybe you were meant to be just as damaged as Dick was, but you had decided to move on. You never wanted to be bossed around.

“Never have I ever…” Kory started. “Driven the batmobile.”

Jason laughed as he shook his head. “He never let me.”

Dick took another shot, you took another one, too.

Rach raised her eyebrow at you. “What?”

You just winked at her.

“No, wait I wanna know why!” Jason laughed.

“Oh—“you laughed. Dick turned red. “I—well, you know, Gotham had —this thing, and Batman—or maybe it was—This other thing and when it happened I—I drove it.”

You were such a bad liar. But they didn’t push it. And you only stared at Dick, who took a deep breath.

You were taken back to that one time. Where Dick let you drive it, you were sitting on his lap and you remembered how fast it went, only seeing the lights passing through. You remembered screaming with pure joy and excitement and adrenaline. You remembered how you felt his hands on yours while you were crossing Gotham city, and how your stomach was filled with butterflies, and how his head was on your shoulder. And maybe this exact song was playing, or something familiar to it, because piano was trembling in your ears.

“Never have I ever… been in the bat cave,” laughed Gar.

Jason laughed. “I’m so glad this is Dr. Pepper.”

Dick scoffed and took another shot. “Ha ha.” He rolled his eyes.

You took a shot, too. How many times hadn’t you sneaked on to the Batcave, and done stupid childish stuff. Like playing 80’s music and dancing to it. ‘I think we’re alone now’ was one you remembered the most. It was fun. Neither of you were good dancers but it was worth it.

And they said some others.

And you continued. It seemed to be innocent enough. Start me up was now playing in the background.

The game was a constant throwing at everyone, making sure Dick was getting completely wasted. Problem was, some, if not most of them dragged you with them as well, you had spent so much time with him.

And you were both wasted, and your giggling had started. He had loosened up, too, and somehow you both ended up with your feet on the couch, trying to avoid

“Ah, come on, come on,” Dick pushed. “Can we stop making fun of my life?”

“Mr. Millionaire, we are soooorry Master Grayson,” Kory mocked, slightly drunk herself. You laughed, watching Dick. You hadn’t been this close since your breakup.

But you knew you were still smitten with him, he could tell,you guessed. He still knew you, perfectly. And he knew that even the way he was holding his cold beer had you thinking. How cruel was it that you had to avoid even staring at him when he once loved you.

“Never have I ever—waltzed,” Gar smirked, the music had finally stopped.

Dick chuckled. “Fuck off, man,” he rolled his eyes, before taking a sip.

You looked down at your drink and then took a sip.

“You’ve waltzed?” Kory laughed. “What have you been hiding from us? I didn’t know you had that many things in common with Grayson?”

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking for itself but you stared at Dick. “Yeah, he—he,” you shrugged. “He actually taught me how to waltz.”

Dick took a deep breath, running his hand through his face.

“He did?” Rach questioned.

You shrugged. “Yeah, he’s a great dancer.”

“Show us, I don’t quite believe it,” sassed Kory.

Dick rolled his eyes. “I think we’ve had enough.” He stood up, nervously. It seemed like every time you had both had a shot, he was getting more and more nervous, like someone was stabbing him each time with more memories. But you didn’t understand why he was angry, he was the one who blew things off.

You shook your head. “You’ll have to take my word for it.”

“I really don’t believe it,” Rach pushed.

You shrugged. “I wouldn’t either.”

“C’mon, show us!” Kory pushed.

“Yes, what could you lose? I want to see the amazing Richard Grayson waltzing, and I want to see how great a teacher he was,“said Garfield.

Dick blushed slightly. “No, it’s alright,” Dick grinned. “Let’s… let’s see if they can learn a thing or two.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to do this.”

Dick smiled at you, standing up. “No, no, you know they won’t shut up if we don’t do it,” he was drunk, you could tell by his raspy voice as he offered you a hand. You laughed, shaking your head but he pleaded again. “Please?”

“Fine,” you gave him your hand as he helped you stand up.

Dick watched them. “It’s not that complicated to waltz,” Dick explained. “Not really,” he continued as he placed himself in front of you. “The lady places herself slightly to the left of the leading gentleman,” he informed as he moved just a bit to your right. You stared at his eyes and then at his lips, you saw him gulp. “Six basic steps, and… you’re good.”

“Should we bring in a candle?” you chuckled. And he grinned.

“Ah, yes, yes,” Dick laughed. “Bring in a candle, that’s a good idea since we’re both wasted.”

You sighed. “But it wouldn’t matter if you’re with…”

“The perfect partner,” He finished your sentence, a faint smile forming. “Yeah.”

“What’s that about?” Questioned Kory.

“Well, you see… They use a… a candle, it’s the true test, one has to be as swift, and perfect and so delicate and so smooth, but the candle flame will not be extinguished in the hand of the leading partner,” he explained.

“Let’s bring in a candle!” Jason ordered. “Let’s put them to the test.”

Kory laughed to herself. “You’re joking, right?”

But Jason had brought in a candle already, they lit it up and Dick picked it up. He placed it within your hands and he took a deep breath.

“We might… um we might need some music,” he asked, while not taking his eyes off of yours. “Waltz number two by Dmitri Shostakovich,” said Dick and Rachel played it on the stereo.

His hand was finally placed on your back, and you gently posed yours on his shoulder as soon as the first notes started to play. You felt like all the alcohol had been sucked out of your body. But he smoothly started to dance around the room. You knew they were staring as he kept leading you as you danced, and it felt like the old times. But it felt like you were both trying to prove something to each other, as if you were both dancing away from the memories or as if you both were trying to hide from everyone else. As if you were both accusing each other with the dance, having a conversation each time you stepped, he was trying to apologize and you were trying to beg him to come just slightly closer. His eyes were fierce and dark and he wouldn’t take them off you, but you would turn away sometimes.

And the world was spinning around you, and the flame had not extinguished, it had remained firing. And you felt like burning but it wasn’t the candle, it was another type of flame growing in within. And your heart had started to spin. And you had forgotten you weren’t at the manor anymore, and you weren’t wearing that red dress you’d worn that time. But you’d forgotten it, you were back there where there was a constant smile on his face and where you didn’t even worry about everyone else noticing that tinge of redness on your cheeks. Because it was mutual.

The song stopped abruptly and you saw the candle.

It was still burning.

You then saw him, as you hadn’t seen him in years. He stepped back still holding the candle and you got your hands off of him.

Everyone stayed quiet, as you awkwardly stepped back.

“Oh, look the… the candle is still burning,” Gar commented as to distract everyone from the clear elephant in the room.

You smiled at Dick.

He blushed. “Yeah, it still is.”

part two

1K notes · View notes

emmyrosee · 4 years ago

Note

give us a random headcanon go 👀

UHM OK

This got long and kind of angsty I’m SORRY-

Axel and Mark are brothers. Axel’s older than mark by a fairly big margin so he offers that good ol’ elder brother wisdom™️ and Mark isn’t always here for it.

Axel’s had to drag mark out of parties more times than he can count, some because he was worried about his lil bro, some because he wasn’t answering moms texts and axel wasn’t about to let him make their momma feel bad.

Like this one time, their mom was punishing Mark for being completely shitfaced and missing something for their grampa, and Mark straight up snuck out of his room, no note, no regards, nothing, and with his mom fearing the absolute worst, that she’d lost her son, her baby, Axel quickly tracked down his brother and hauled his drunk ass right back home, speeding so fast mark was puking in the truck, yelling at him so bad mark pouted, and by the time they got home his brother was just a needy, scolded mess, and their mom was all over him, taking care of him and letting him puke and whine about his tummyache, and if she needed Axel to get anything, he did, not questions asked.

When mark was going through his first serious breakup, Axel really stepped forwards to work him back to normal, doing things with him other than just drinking the problems away like his friends wanted to. They went to cheap bowling alleys and drank cheap beer, they would drive around at 2 am, blasting music as they passed a joint, and it was probably the first real time- like honest, true, raw- that Mark learned it was okay to be a man and cry. He was hitting Axel, screaming and telling him she was every terrible name under the sun and that Axel had no idea what the fuck Mark went through to try to keep her happy.

When Axel pulled over, he shoved Mark back a little, just enough to straighten him back, telling him to stop being a pussy and just embrace it. She was gone. She was no good for him, and she was gone. She broke his heart, it was okay to be sad, and Mark wore his vocal chords raw with his sobs and shrieks of despair. “Why doesn’t she fucking want me, Axe? What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing, dude,” he promises over his brothers tears. “You’re at a stupid age where love doesnt mean shit to nobody. Fuck, I am too. But right now, you’re sad because you’re alone, and one day you’re going to find someone, and they’re going to make you fear a lot of things more important than just ‘being alone.’ Trust me dude. You’re too fucking young to get that.”

They don’t talk about that night often. Axel’s jacket collar had been permanently ruined from Mark’s tears and hot breath against the leather, but from then on, instead of just getting drunk off his rocker when he was sad, he’d just find Axel and cry it out.

Their dad passed away when Mark was young, and their mom never really recovered from it. Because of this, Axel really took the role of being momma’s fix-it man, getting an under-the-table job when he was young and making sure Mark had snacks and lunches while their mom took care of the house. When momma Cluney eventually remarried, she never ceased to thank Axel for all he did, and it always put Mark in a weird feeling. Not that he wasn’t grateful beyond words, he just always felt bad that Axel had to go through that at such a young age.

“You were in Kindergarten,” Axel says cooly, passing his brother a beer. “What were you going to do, sell dunk-a-roos for cold, hard cash?”

“I could’ve done more,” he mumbles, taking a long sip of his drink. “Like... I could’ve been more grateful for the toys and the lunch money.”

Axel chuckles and reaches over to ruffle Mark’s hair, “hey; you were fed. You didn’t give mom too much shit. And on your birthday, you got the Power-Ranger toys you wanted. You were grateful. You just didn’t get why you had to wait until your birthday.”

Mark snorts and shoves Axel’s hand away, sighing softly, “I wish I knew him, dude..”

“You look just like him.”

“What was he like?”

Axel hums and leans back in his seat, fingers swirling the lip of his beer bottle, “I remember when I was nine, I told him I was going to run away. Go live in the treehouse of our old house.” He paused to smirk, “bastard made me a lunch box with two peanut butter sandwiches, a bag of barbecue chips and a juice box and said ‘good for you! You’re a man now, do what you gotta do!’ I never made it off of the porch.”

Mark snickers and they get real quiet. “I miss him,” he admits. “I don’t remember him... but I miss him.”

Axel hums again, “he was moms great love. Never laid a hand on us, nor her. He was a good man.”

Mark raises his bottle to his brother, “you’re a good man too, dude.”

“Believe me, mark,” Axel chuckles sadly. “I’m only a quarter of the man he was.”

On a lighter note, Axel taught Mark to drive. He filled his truck with gas, drove them both out to the city limits, butt-fuck no where, with a bag of fast food and his gps.

“Okay,” Axel hums. “Get out.”

“Excuse me?”

Axel pulled the keys out of the ignition and tossed them to his brother, “you’re driving us back home. Oh, and to CVS, mom needs sugar and milk.”

And with those buggy green eyes, Mark just completely stares at Axel, freaked out and worried (mostly because Axel’s truck is his baby, and Axel was levelheaded enough at all times to hide a body if need be), so with a reassuring smile, axel slips out of the driver side, gesturing mark to slide over the bench-seat, and he slowly walked Mark through the process of starting the car and driving back home.

He hit a curb. And ran a stop-light. Nearly hit a squirrel, but never once did axel raise his voice to him. He would simply tell him it was alright and that “it doesn’t have to be perfect; I just want you to get us home.”

When they finally pull in a few hours later, Mark was so terrified Axel would tell their mom everything, but axel just shook his head. “If I wanted you to be perfect, I wouldn’t have just thrown you into traffic; I wanted to make sure you could drive if I wasn’t around and mom needed you. You got home. We’re alive. Tomorrow, if you’re feeling easy, we’ll go to a parking lot or something. But you did fine.” He smiles and leaves the truck, “but don’t puke in the truck; do it in the front yard, please.”

Which. Mark obeys.

Whenever Mark’s birthday rolls around, Axel drives them up to an old lake house their great-grandparents built, only bringing some clothes, booze and a gas can to get in and out of town, and they fish, make s’mores, and just be kids again. Again, Mark is much younger than Axel, so all the memories Axel has here, Mark doesn’t, so he wants him to enjoy the young years of his life that Axel really couldn’t.

Sometimes, if they’re bold, they’ll bring whoever they’re dating or smashing, but they’ve found it’s better to just have a guys weekend away, only them two in the middle of the woods, with only the fish in the lake to keep them company.

“So you had a treehouse and a fuckin’ cabin before I came along?” Mark asks by the fire, marshmallow clinging to his face childishly. Axel snorts, “dude I haven’t had a birthday party since I was seven, then you showed up.”

“Oh I’m sooo sorry,” Mark sings, rolling his eyes and plopping the last of his s’more in his mouth. Axel sighs dramatically, “don’t be. You made mom happy,” he pats his brother on the shoulder. “And she said I wasn’t allowed to try and return you anymore, so.”

Mark laughs before his brows furrowed, “anymore?”

Axel smirks. “Why do you think you’re so claustrophobic now, Markie?”

“The fuck did you do to me?”

“Shoved you in a box and left you outside.”

“You WHAT.”

“Three times.”

They bicker. They fight. But they’d fucking die for each other. As they got older, they really became best friends and Mark is open to that fact.

In fact, for Axel’s birthday, Mark got his hands on a pikachu doll from the 90’s that Axel was dying to have a kid but couldn’t get because he had to help his mom take care of mark, but every now and again he brought it up to joke.

Mark could tell that, even as an adult, he still wanted that pikachu toy because he wouldn’t shut up about it, so he finally saved up and got it ($150 mint-condition his asshole), and when Axel opened it on his birthday, there was not a dry eye from anyone except Mark.

Big, green eyes flip from the toy to Mark, jaw dropped in surprise and just completely at a loss for words. Mark grins, “now you can shut up about it; you own it. Live your Ash Katchum dreams, freak.”

Axel laughs around his cries, a tattooed hand coming up to stop himself. He wastes no time in stalking his way over to his brother, pulling him in for a tight hug while the younger just hugs him back, still smiling before shoving him off when people tried to get pictures.

“Cant have people who get our Christmas card think I like you or anything,” he snorts, making Axel laugh again before going back to his seat to finish his gifts, but everyone (including himself) knew that Mark won that year.

The first time Axel brings someone home, they’re a guy. Their mom was chillin, she had no problems with it (though she didn’t really expect Morgan to necessarily be a man), Mark was pretty confused. Like, sure Axel always had friends over, but they were never cuddly and touchy before, and it made Mark really curious.

He probably brings it up on one of their fishing trips years later, and axel barely has any clue what he’s talking about at first.

“You seriously don’t remember Morgan?” Mark asks in disbelief. “Like, how do I, but you don’t?”

“I’ve been with a lot of people,” Axel shrugs. Then, he tenses up and a slow grin spreads across his face, “oh. Morgan.”

“Yes! Morgan, the first person you ever brought home!”

“They’re not Morgan anymore,” Axel recalls. “Well, to me anyways. After we broke up, they became she, and her name is Bella. We’re still close, she’s just not Morgan anymore.”

“So... are you... like...?”

Axel smirks, “I’m nothing, dude. No skin off my ass for labels. If you learn anything from me, Markie boy,” he turns to his brother, “do what makes you happy. Love who the hell you want. Mom’s going to love you. I’m gonna love you. And fuck anyone who tells you you can’t.”

“I think I’m straight.”

Axel chuckles. “You’ve just never pursued anyone who hasn’t gone after you; just so happens only women have gone after you.”

Mark frowns and sinks lower in his seat, “do you think... not-straight-guys are afraid of me?”

“I think they’re afraid of your frat-boy-fuck-buddies who tease someone for having any sort of human emotions,” Axel says nonchalantly. “I’ve taught you enough about treating people with respect, your friends don’t have the same drive you do.”

Which brings me to my next point

Axel ABSOLUTELY taught Mark about the birds and the bees.

He drove them both around town not long after Mark turned 14, and he parked at their town’s high school and just... talked about sex. What happens, how does it feel, etc..

“You need to listen to her, Mark,” he says sternly. “The minute you hear a “no,” you fucking stop. The minute you hear a ‘I don’t want to,’ you stop. I don’t care if you’re balls deep inside of her, you slip out, tuck yourself away and apologize for making her uncomfortable.”

“But what if-“

“No.”

That’s the basics; like what happens when you have sex, what how to use protection, and the importance of consent. A while later, once Mark starts going to parties, he drives them out again, only this time to talk about when she says “yes.”

“You gotta work her up,” Axel hums, cigarette low on his lips. “Her body will let you know when she’s ready. If you go in dry, you’re going to hurt her.”

“How do I like... do that?”

Axel smirks, “play with her a little. Kiss her nice and slow... let your hands paw and squeeze, let her moan a little, let her purr... I’ve been with a few girls who like being tickled and picked up, some girls like it more rough and playful too, a smack on the ass, a few bites on their neck-“

“How will I know?” Mark squeaks. “If she like... likes what I’m doing.”

Once again, Axel grins, “believe me, Markie boy- you’ll know.”

Sjfhvdgbgh I WANT MORE, MY BOYS🥺🥺

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