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youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 years ago

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You Spin Me Right Round Part Four

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Rating: M

Notes: Set after the series because Eddie is fine he graduated no worries. Not beta-read. I hope y’all are having a lovely weekend! 🖤

There will be 1-2 more chapters after this.

Warnings: Cursing, use of the marriageiguana, fluff, some angst, negative feelings toward Reader’s father; Reader’s father is an absent figure.

Summary: Eddie looks horrified at how dusty the turntable is. You don’t even know when it was last used—maybe a couple of the other employees used to use it now and again, but it’s been a long time since old Andrews cut their part time positions to give you a full time salary.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Eddie gasps, crouching in front of it. “What has she done to you?”

“Okay, lesson number two.”

You look up from your book to see Eddie approaching the counter, holding something behind his back. He spins it to face you, a smile on his face. Your eyes wander the secondhand copy of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors again.

“I haven’t even finished lesson number one yet," You point out, "And why not the cassette?”

“Well, first of all, we’d have to unwrap it.”

“Right.”

“Second of all, there are some things that you just need to hear on vinyl.” He draws the record out, setting the record sleeve down on the counter and twirling the record in front of you. “So. Where can I pop this bad boy in?”

Eddie looks horrified at how dusty the turntable is. You don’t even know when it was last used—maybe a couple of the other employees used to use it now and again, but it’s been a long time since old Andrews cut their part time positions to give you a full time salary.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Eddie gasps, crouching in front of it. “What has she done to you?”

You roll your eyes, watching as he takes his bandana from his back pocket and carefully brush the dust away from each of the components.

“You’re bein’ real tender with that record player, Munson.”

“Well you need to be tender with a record player. Especially one as unloved as this. Why won’t ya love it?”

“...Just play the damn record.”

Eddie turns back to the turntable, gently lowering the record onto the platter.

“Don’t listen to her, baby,” He coos to it, sweetly smoothing his long, ringed fingers over the dials. “We’ll show her, won’t we.”

He drops the needle, then cranks up the volume.

“Is this still part of my education?” You ask.

“‘Course it is. It’s all in layers. You wanna really know the tree, ya gotta know its roots,” Eddie insists, turning and pushing himself up to sit on the counter.

“And what…tree are you showing me?”

Eddie grins devilishly then, and you seem to know the answer. Before you can prod, and before he can confirm your suspicions, a burst of bright guitar and a steady, thumping beat fills the shop.

I know there's nothin' to say

Someone has taken my place

When times go bad

When times go rough

Won't you lay me down in tall grass

And let me do my stuff

Your eyes lower to your book, but you find that you’re not really reading—you’re too busy listening to the lyrics. It’s another moment before you hear the hiss of paper against cardboard. You glance up, doing a double-take at the sight of Eddie holding a large, thin booklet up in front of his face, peering at you from over the top. You bite your lip, glancing down at your book. Then you pluck your bookmark out of the back and set it down on the counter. Eddie flips the booklet open, passing it over to you. You take hold of it, skimming the credits, then spotting the lyrics.

After a moment, you see Eddie shift in your periphery. He reaches out, taking up your book, scanning the cover. It’s the same one that he threw into and then drew out of the dirt the night before. His eyes skim the title before he flips it open to the first page. You smile a little bit, lowering your head back to the lyrics for a moment. When you’ve read ahead enough, you turn the cover upside down, then flip it over, eyes skimming the photos of the back of the insert.

They seem to be from recording sessions, concerts, their everyday lives. You bite your lip, turning the album cover over again.

“You like this?” You hear him ask.

You glance at Eddie at his question.

“The music or the book?”

“I can tell you like the music.”

The assertion makes your chest well with bashfulness, and you shift in your seat.

“The book, then?” You press. Eddie nods, legs swinging back and forth as he waits patiently for your answer. You shrug a little, eyeing the bookmark. You’re about halfway through.

“I mean…So far, I’m um…Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” You nod. “You ever read it?”

“Nah. I was supposed to,” Eddie admits, looking down at the book again. You smile a little.

“So was Cliff.”

“Oh yeah? Explains why my grades were so bad for that unit—I used to copy off’a his papers.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you read anything in high school that you did like?”

“Ah…Pffffff,” Eddie gazes upward, eyes narrowing as he seems to try and recall his reading lists. “Sherlock Holmes, that was pretty neat…Hamlet, I dug that one.”

“Yeah?” You press. Eddie nods, tipping the book back and forth in his hands. “What’d you dig about it?”

“The ghosts,” Eddie grins, “And the play—Like, the play in the play where they, like, trap the bad guy and shit. Fucking awesome. We did Romeo and Juliet, too, but like…Not as good.”

“No?”

“Nah. I mean it had some rad stuff, but Hamlet was better. I reread Hamlet a lot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s head dips then, absently thumbing the pages. “I got held back senior year, like, twice.”

You nod a little bit before offering a small shrug. “It happens.”

Eddie seems to perk up at that, eyes darting to yours.

“It happen to you?”

You flounder. It's your turn to nervously eye the book, stomach flipping before you give a small shrug.

“Not exactly.”

Eddie’s feet slow in their kicking before he lightly shifts one foot over, nudging your knee gently.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s just your music education that I’m concerned with.”

You shouldn’t be so enamored with the sight of Eddie folded in half, peering under the hood of your car. He’s gone between your car and his van twice, coming back with tools and something that you don’t recognize. He grunts as he tries to pry something loose.

“Can you come hold this?” He asks, holding out the flashlight.

“Yeah! Yeah,” You hurry to his side, taking hold of it and shining it where he directs. “Can I, um…What are you doing?”

“Replacing spark plugs.”

“...Which does…?”

“They ignite the combustion in your engine with, you know—a spark,” He smiles up at you. “Helps get the car started.”

Your mouth forms a small ‘o’ as Eddie ducks his head again. Then he leans back to show you the cap to the plug, the old spark plug, and his tools—a ratchet, a gapping tool, ring nose pliers, and a universal joint extension. You watch him work with steady care.

“Why are you replacing that one?”

“It’s cracked. Look, here at the ceramic,” He leans back, showing you the crack in the sparkplug, “See how it runs the whole length of the plug?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, when there’s a crack, the spark can misfire to the central electrode and not the ground electrode.”

“And that’s…Bad.”

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckles, pointing to the tip, “You want it to spark here. Anywhere else and it’s not going to ignite the fuel.”

“So that’s why my car sputtered.”

“Yes ma’am,” Eddie nods, bowing over the hood again. You bite your lip, watching his steady, quick fingers. You’re a little rattled by the sight, and the way it makes your stomach flip. It’s another hour before Eddie is leaning back with a, “Hoo, boy. Alright, start her up.”

You round to the car, climbing into the front seat and turning the key in the ignition. It’s just a second before the car is firing up. Your brows raise, and you can’t help but smile as Eddie closes the hood of your car, giving a little wiggle of his hips, and a fist pump.

“Boom!”

You chuckle softly, shutting your car down.

“Thank you,” You say, climbing out of it. “What do I owe you for—”

“Oh nah, don’t worry about it,” He shakes his head. And that’s sweet of him, but you can’t just send him off without some kind of thanks.

“Are you hungry?” You ply.

Your eye keeps straying nervously from the stove to Eddie. He’s eyeing the posters and the pictures put up on your wall, looking at the books on your shelves and on the coffee table. You’ve never let anyone into your space like this—you’ve never had anyone to let into your space. You turn back to the food as you feel Eddie turning to look at you.

“You’re not in your usual,” You comment as he wanders closer.

“Huh?”

“The uh—Your devil shirt…Thing.”

“Ah.”

“Is that the name of your band?”

“What, Hellfire Club? Nah,” He smiles, leaning against the counter beside you, “That’s the uh—It’s a Dungeons and Dragons group. I used to be the Dungeon Master.”

“So why do you still wear the shirt?”

“Because it’s a good shirt.”

You chuckle, turning back to the food and pushing it around the pan, making sure it doesn’t burn.

“Soooo,” Eddie leans closer, “What are we having?”

“It’s just…Nothing fancy. I mean, I usually just throw things in a pan and push it around until it’s cooked.”

“Well, whatever’s in there, it smells awesome.”

You smile gratefully, glancing at Eddie to find him smiling widely at you.

“You want something to drink? Beer or, water, something?” You offer. “Uhhh…Yeah. Yeah, I’ll take a beer.”

You expect your evening with Eddie to end at dinner. Instead, you wind up on the couch with him, half a joint deep as you listen to the mixtape he made you. He’s shed his leather jacket and jean vest, leaving him in a long sleeve black shirt that clings to his arms in the most distracting way.

You’re a little surprised how easy the evening has felt, and how nice it feels to have someone in your home. Maybe it’s the weed. Maybe it’s the company, and the fact that you’re starting to get more and more comfortable with Eddie. Either way, you sit nestled against his side, his arm curled around your shoulders. Your eyes are set on a photo you ripped out of National Geographic and pinned to your wall. The article was about Río Azul, touted as the Lost City of the Maya.

You let your eyes slip closed. Your body feels lighter than air. Every slight slip of Eddie’s fingers over your shoulders makes little goosebumps and sparks skitter up your arm. He turns his head a little, lips brushing your temple, and your heart skips a beat.

“Do you like it?” He murmurs. It takes you a moment—you don’t know if he means the weed, or how close you are to him. And then it clicks that he means the music, the tape that he so painstakingly put together for you. Sure, not all of the it is something that you’ve gone out of your way to listen to before—in fact, none of it is. But the fact that Eddie’s gone out of his way to do so many things for you, things that you never asked for, makes your head feel like a helium balloon, bobbing and light.

“Yeah,” You murmur in turn, tipping your head up a bit to look at him. As you move, his lips brush over the slope of your nose. You go still at the proximity. You can feel Eddie’s breath brushing against your lips. His dark, warm eyes sweep your face, your stomach flips as his gaze drops to and lingers on your mouth. It sends a dangerous bolt of want through you. You lower your gaze, swallowing thickly as you reach out, taking the lit joint from between his fingers and resting your head on his shoulder again, raising it to take another puff. Eddie clears his throat slightly.

“You have any snacks?” He asks.

“Um…” You gaze toward the kitchen, wracking your brain as you raise the joint to your lips. “I don’t think so.”

Eddie grunts, then shoves a hand into his pocket. You hear his fingers close around something crinkly before he draws them out, holding up a little plastic sleeve with brightly colored candy.

“Want a chumball?” He offers. It makes you splutter smoke and cough, but you can’t stop giggling, your head tipping back against his shoulder. Eddie falls into laughter, whacking your shoulder and nodding to the water on your coffee table.

“Take a sip before you choke, jeez,” He laughs. You wobble, flailing to sit up, your giggles spurred further as Eddie lowers his hand to give you an assisting push at your lower back. You grasp the glass of water, swigging it and soothing your stinging throat. You cough a couple more times before you slouch back against him again.

“Fuck,” You mumble.

“That a yes or no to the chumballs?”

You glance over, smiling dopily as he shakes them.

“Yeah, sure. What the fuck,” You agree, nodding and holding a hand out. Eddie raises the packet to his mouth, and you watch, mouth drying, as he rips it open with his teeth. He tips the bag into your hand, shaking a red one into your hand. You pluck it up with your other hand, holding it up in the dim light before you pop it between your lips. You glance back as Eddie pops a yellow one into his mouth before shoving the packet away again.

“Which one’d you get?” You ask around the chumball.

“Mmmm…Banana,” He answers, chumball clacking against his teeth. “You?”

You swirl the chumball around in your mouth.

“Cherry.”

Eddie grunts, taking the joint and drawing from it. You arch your brows.

“Is the chumball enhancing the flavor?” You ask dryly. Eddie seems to consider for a moment before he shakes his head, blowing the smoke out through his nose.

“No. Not at all.”

You collapse into giggles again, turning your head and lightly butting your forehead against his jaw. He chuckles in turn, blowing the last of the smoke from between his lips before he curls his arm around your shoulders again, pressing his face into your hair. You can more feel than hear him humming along to the music.

“...What’s this one,” You mumble.

“Paranoid,” Eddie murmurs, “Black Sabbath and Ozzy Osbourne. It’s the uh…They did it at LiveAid last year.”

“...S’good.”

“Yeah?”

“Good glue.”

“Great glue.”

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @munsonsuccubus ; @dragonfly358 (tumblr wouldn’t let me tag) ; @heyndrix (tumblr wouldn't let me tag)

#Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson imagine #You Spin me Right Round

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fific7 · 4 years ago

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Even His Name - Part 1

Sirius Black x OC

Summary: Friends forever? Maybe. Maybe not.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, slight consent issues, 18+ please due to NSFW content including unprotected* sex. The age of consent in the UK is 16, sorry if that’s not in line with the laws in your own country/state.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

A/N: Looking at this photo, I can kinda see why Ben Barnes got fancast as Sirius Black. This story is non-canon and takes place in my imaginary HP AU with OC, Celeste (meaning celestial or heavenly).

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Sirius Black. Even his name was beautiful.

She watched his tall, lean figure approaching as she sat & relaxed against one of the shady trees beside the lake.

She drank in every last detail before he got too close, before her out-and-out staring was noticeable to him.

The lazily slouching but graceful walk, his long legs eating up the distance between them.

The pale, porcelain-like skin, the aristocratic cheekbones, the trendy light scruff of moustache with matching scruff along his jawline, the full sensuous lips, the famed long black wavy hair. And of course, those hypnotic grey eyes, ringed by long dark lashes. Those eyes could change like mercury, from silver to dark pewter within a heartbeat.

As he got got closer, her eyes almost totally closed, but she wasn’t dozing off, it was a ruse to disguise her intense staring. Her eyes continued to eat him up like he was a very large chocolate eclair.

It was Saturday, so no school uniform. Trademark bad-boy attire, then. Her heart sped up at the sight of the scuffed leather biker jacket, the Led Zeppelin t-shirt, distressed jeans & leather work boots. Not properly laced up... of course.

All in black, a living embodiment of his name.

She heaved a long sigh, letting it escape without thought, and her eyes closed fully.

She was aware of a shadow blocking the sunlight falling on her closed eyelids. The sound of somebody settling themselves down next to her, still partly casting a shadow onto her.

Her eyes opened a sliver, and her head rolled to the side towards him of its own accord.

“What’s the big sigh for, Celeste?” in his deep, slightly hoarse, breathy voice. The voice which sent a thousand female hearts beating like drums.

“Sirius.” She sighed again, her eyes opening slowly. “You’re blocking my sun.”

He grinned, chuckling. He gestured to his body with one hand, “This ... masterpiece... of a man joins you for a pleasant interlude by the lake, and all you can say is that I’m blocking your rays?!”

“Yeah.”

He chuckled again. “Ah c’mon, you know you love me.”

She rolled her head back to its original position. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“And maybe it’ll come true?” he smirked.

“When hell freezes over.”

He leant over, placing his head on her shoulder as he did so, puppy dog eyes in play, complete with pouted bottom lip.

“Now, you know that isn’t true. You’re desperate to get me into the sack.”

“But, Sirius,” she said innocently, “there wouldn’t be enough room in the bed for me, what with you and your massive ego already in it.”

His head shot back, his unmistakable & glorious barking laugh issuing forth & attracting the attention of every female within earshot.

“You’re hysterical,” he continued laughing, more quietly. “No, I’m Celeste,” she smirked, throwing her version of his favourite line back at him.

He groaned, “You’d use my own comeback against me? Really?”

“Every time,” she nodded.

He was grinning back at her, when she was suddenly aware of another shadow falling across her. She frowned involuntarily, looking up to see who it was. A tall Ravenclaw girl stood there, confidently smirking down at Sirius. She didn’t spare his current companion even a glance.

“Hi,” she smiled brightly at him. “Thought you’d maybe like to take a walk with me, Siri?” giving him a suggestive sideways look, all the while twirling a strand of her long brown hair round a finger.

Celeste rolled her eyes, smirking & tutting loudly. She muttered, “Pathetic,” under her breath & began to gather her books, getting ready to ‘exit stage left’.

Sirius looked over at her, smiling and laying his hand on her arm, stilling her movement.

He looked up at the other girl. “Sorry, love,” he said with a grin, “spending some one-on-one time with my best girl here.”

She still didn’t look at his ‘best girl’. “Well, why don’t I just join you here while you do that, and then we can go for a walk by ourselves afterwards?”

Sirius looked down, and Celeste knew what was coming next. He’d given her his polite brush-off, now here came the not-so-polite one.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? I’m here with Celeste,” he said, voice harsh, glaring back up at her.

She stopped twirling that lock of hair, recoiling from his glare & tone. “Well, you know, I just thought...”

“You just thought wrong then, didn’t you! Now, run along dear, off you go.” Voice cold, eyes narrowed.

She turned on her heel and scuttled back to her little band of giggling friends. Something told Celeste that her friends wouldn’t be all that sympathetic. If there was one thing almost guaranteed to break up friendship groups, it was who did, or didn’t have, Sirius’ attention.

Celeste laughed, “Lordy, I don’t know how you put up with all that fangirling.... ‘Siri’.” she imitated the girl in a high-pitched tone. “They make me ashamed to be a woman. Don’t they have any self-respect?!”

Sirius laughed, “But Cel, they’re just rightfully worshipping ... this!” Again, one hand gesturing up & down the length of his body.

“What.. a skinny boy?” she questioned, looking him up & down, “Really? What’s the attraction then?” she laughed.

He’d sat up straight as she’d been speaking, faux offended. “Celeste! How could you? Firstly, I am a man, not a boy.”

“Sirius, you’re sixteen. You.. are.. a.. boy!”

“Nah, nah, nah! I.. am.. a.. man!” dramatically emulating her slow delivery before continuing, “And I’m nearly seventeen. Secondly, I am not skinny. I’m tall and athletic.”

“Skinny.”

“Athletic!”

She laughed. “You don’t even play Quidditch any more. So where do you get this ‘athleticism’ from? Running away from Filch and the prefects after a prank?!”

“Thank you for answering your own question!” he said, laughing back at her.

He again leant towards her, eyes boring into hers, changing to dark & stormy mode, lips so close that she felt the little huffs of his breath on her own lips as he spoke.

“Don’t fight it, Cel. Just give in and admit you want me! We’ll head to my dorm right now and spend the entire night together, having hot, sensual, sheet-tangling sex!”

She burst out laughing, turning away momentarily, eager to break the close proximity to him. “The gods love a trier, Sirius. Pity I don’t.” She looked back at him, “And no doubt one of your fangirls is already curled up under your quilt, just waiting on the god that is Sirius Black to arrive and rock her world!!”

“My bed is exclusively reserved for you.”

“OK... curled up in her bed then, waiting on Mr I Never Stay The Night to arrive.”

“You pierce my heart!”

“Sirius, you may be one of my closest friends, but I can honestly say that you, within just the last few weeks, have become a total man-whore. And a barely legal one at that.”

“Celeste!! Just bloody well admit you want me.”

“Can’t that huge ego of yours handle the fact that there’s at least one girl in this school who doesn’t drop her panties the second you look at her?!” her laughter pealed out over the surrounding area, catching the attention of and sparking the venomous jealousy of the Sirius Fangirls’ Club.

He also burst out laughing, inciting the Fangirls even more.

“Ah.... Cel, my ego is perpetually the size of a peanut whenever you’re around.” Innocence personified, wide grey eyes gazed at her. “It never gets the chance to grow any bigger.”

Then the trademark smirk appeared. “Unlike a certain other part of my anatomy.” One eyebrow quirked up at her, long fingers slinking down onto his jeans zip. She couldn’t stop her eyes following them. His lips slid upwards into a pleased grin.

“Urggghhh!” she groaned, closing her eyes briefly before starting to pack up her stuff. “On that note, I’m off!”

“Awww, don’t go! This was just about to get interesting. You almost agreed to give me a quick blowjob!”

She stood up, brushing grass off her denim cutoffs and slipping on her low wedge sandals. Sirius raked his eyes up and down her figure as she did so.

She leant back down to him, knowing full well that he was getting an eyeful down her tastefully low-cut frilly top. She had on a translucent lacy bra, and she heard his breath catch as soon as he spotted it.

Putting her lips right next to his ear, she said, “Firstly, I don’t give blowjobs to sixteen-year-old skinny boys.” She huffed out a breath onto his earlobe, “And secondly, even if I did, it would.. not.. just be a quickie, darling.”

She pulled back and stood up straight, looking down at Sirius. A deep pink blush was spreading up from his neck over the entirety of his handsome face, his mouth hung slightly open and his eyes were wide, a glazed look in them.

She grinned, starting to walk away, “Have fun with the fangirls, Sirius!”

He was still staring after her when the first wave of girlies washed over him, clamouring for his attention in various tried, tested and (to him, at that moment) very tedious ways.

They were all to be disappointed. Sirius swatted them off like they were so many irritating mosquitoes, stretching out & lying on his back with his hands crossed under his head, staring up into the blue of the early autumn sky, deep in thought.

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She leisurely strolled back to the castle, sniggering to herself at how easy it had been to wind Sirius up into a tight spring.

Her smirk dropped somewhat though, when she contemplated the bigger picture. What a shitshow.

She was slap-bang in the middle of the biggest cliché the fates had ever created. Best friend really fancies best friend, but won’t admit it in case it either doesn’t work out and/or ruins the friendship. Yeah... that old chestnut.

Sighing, she made her way to the Gryffindor common room, spotting Lily and Mary on their favourite corner sofa. She plopped herself down next to them, instantly becoming enmeshed in the girlie gossip which was currently in progress.

However her mind drifted to the beginning of that school year, their sixth, when she and Sirius had met up again after the summer holidays on the Hogwarts Express. She’d been frankly amazed at the change in him after such a short time.

From awkward, gawky schoolboy to man-god in the space of a couple of months.

She learned from him that he’d run away from Grimmauld Place at the beginning of the holidays and was now living at the Potters’. She was very glad to hear that, knowing what he’d gone through at the hands of his parents. He certainly seemed to be thriving there, having apparently sprouted quite a bit over the summer.

Everything about him suddenly seemed long & slim. Long legs and arms, with big hands and big feet to match. Long slim fingers. Long slim feet & toes which she stared at, fascinated, every time she caught a glimpse of them.

She’d instantly known that their friendship would change in future. She’d never thought of Sirius as anything except a little schoolboy buddy, but over the summer he’d emerged from his post-pubescent chrysalis as a hot, sexy teenager with shoulder-length hair, designer stubble and attitude with a capital A.

He’d always attracted a fair bit of female attention over the years. He’d never really acted on it though, too caught up in Marauders mischief to care.

But holy hell...now? All the girlies were going to go batshit crazy over him.

He’d also - right there on the train no less! - boxed her into a corner and immediately started flirting up a storm, which had mildly terrified her. This was the guy who, only two months before, had been a kind of surrogate brother figure in her life for the previous 5 years.

Now he was making sexual innuendoes and inviting her into his bed every five minutes. She just couldn’t figure out his agenda.

As predicted, at the start of term, the Hogwarts female population - irrespective of year - quickly lined up behind Sirius and adoringly dogged his every footstep. As did a fair proportion of the male population, it has to be said.

Sirius quickly accepted his new-found godlike status & revelled in it. Flirting his way around school and through classes and meals. Getting caught in broom closets, empty classrooms and corridors, snogging for Britain.

It was only 4 weeks into the new term and she already found it all mildly disgusting. Hence she’d decided to knock the flirtatious idiot back down a peg or two every chance she got.

However, his flirting behaviour with her hadn’t dialled back at all, if anything it had increased, and this is what she was pondering on.

Her name was suddenly yelled right into her face. Lily was staring at her as if she was an alien.

“Uh, sorry - what?”

“We’ve been waiting on you to answer Mary’s question, for like, 15 minutes.”

“Oh shut up! I just zoned out for a minute or two.”

Mary sniggered, “And no prizes for guessing who the subject matter of said zoning out was!!”

She sighed. “OK, OK, alright - yes - it was Sirius.”

Scoffing noises from her friends.

“Look - I just can’t get my head round the way he’s still behaving towards me. Flirting & shit.”

She shook her head, and continued, “This was my annoying little ‘school brother’ 3 months ago! So he’s either had a brain meltdown and actually fancies me, or else he’s practicing all that crap on me to then use on his fan girls! And let’s be honest, one reason’s as bad as the other!”

They both exchanged significant looks, grinning at each other.

She huffed, “What’s wrong now?! I’ve just told you what’s on my mind!”

“Can you, hand on heart, swear you don’t fancy the pants off Sirius?” asked Lily.

“Look, I can see why girls find him attractive, yeah. But you’re forgetting that for five years, he was...”

“Yeah, yeah,” interrupted Mary, rolling her eyes, “..your surrogate little brother.”

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@omgrachwrites

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#sirius black x reader #ben barnes #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #ben barnes as sirius black #sirius black #sirius black fan fic

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years ago

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Indigo--Calum Hood [one]

A/N: I can’t believe it’s finally arrived! Thank you all for being so patient while it took me literally two months to write this fic. It’s my first ever slow burn and the longest fic to date (word wise). This means so much to me and I really put my heart and soul into this. This is also written in Calum’s perspective!

Word count: 12.2k (36k total)

Warnings: themes of emotional infidelity but really all internal with no actions, confusing emotions and thoughts, nudity, slight mention of body image issues, casual drinking, jealousy, sexual situations

Masterlist

Indigo playlist--really just songs that helped inspire this piece so give it a listen if you’d like!

Feedback is always welcome and I’d love to hear your thoughts on this!

This is split in three parts because Tumblr's new post limit I can't fit it all in one post. So I'll be posting them all at once!

Enjoy!

***

Calum agreed to help out Sarah and Andy with their latest project. He wasn’t quite sure what it was exactly but anything they create is phenomenal and he’s ecstatic to be a part of it. He’d just texted Bianca, his girlfriend, that he’ll be gone for a better part of the afternoon when he arrives at Sarah and Andy’s place. Pebbles greets him at the door, her whole body wiggling with excitement by his presence.

“There’s our man!” Sarah chirps from the table, her camera and other gadgets placed on the table.

“We aren’t shooting here?” Calum asks bending down to pet Pebbles.

“No, there’s this meadow that gets the sun’s rays perfectly at this time,” Andy informs walking in with his own camera bag. “We’re meeting someone else there, too so we should get going.”

“Someone else?”

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

The sun is beating down on Calum’s back as he walks through the tall grass behind Sarah and Andy. They’re a good distance away from the road and he hopes they won’t go too much further and land in the fate of a 90’s horror film. Andy and Sarah are talking quietly with each other and Calum checks his phone, no new messages from Bianca.

“All right, we’ll start setting up and you just sit and relax until she gets here,” Andy directs to Calum when they stop at a fallen tree that has moss growing on it and its roots extending to the sky.

“Who is ‘she’?” Calum asks, taking a seat on the tree. He wipes at the back of his neck, it’s sticky with sweat. His lips are starting to get chapped and he wishes he brought his water bottle.

Andy and Sarah exchange a look.

“She’d prefer to be anonymous so I can’t tell you,” She responds ominously and unzips her camera bag.

“Anonymous?” Calum is baffled. Andy and Sarah make a point to avoid the topic as they continue to gather their equipment.

In about ten minutes there was another figure walking through the grass and Calum peered at her trying to get a good look. Her hair was blowing in the slight breeze and bangs framed her face. Calum was intrigued when she was first mentioned.

Watching her walk towards them made him think of those snapshots in your life that sticks with you. Something inside of him told him this would be one of those moments.

She was short, which was the first thing he noticed when she stopped in front of him.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late. Traffic, y’know,” she smiles at Andy and Sarah.

He notices there’s a hint of purple in her hair.

She’s short and has purple hair.

“No problem, sweetie. We were just getting things ready. This is Calum,” Sarah nods towards him and the mystery girl turns in his direction too.

“Hi Calum, thanks for helping,” she smiles.

“No problem, Anonymous,” he grins standing from his tree and holds out his hand.

“Oh, right,” she snickers, stepping forward to take his hand. “You can call me Indie.”

She’s short, has purple hair, and likes to be called Indie.

“Nice to meet you Indie.”

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Andy and Sarah first have Calum and Indie sit next to each other on the tree while they take some sample shots. This way Calum and Indie can get to know each other a little better. Calum notices the ink on her wrists, arms, and a nose piercing. She asked about his music and what inspires him. He asked what she does and she very offhandedly said with a shrug,

“Social media stuff.”

And that was the end of that. She didn’t add anything more and Calum wasn’t sure if he should ask for her to clarify but her statement had a tone of finality to it.

She definitely intrigues Calum.

“Okay, Indie, can you swing your leg over the tree like you’re riding a horse and lean on Calum’s shoulder?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah.”

Indie does as she’s directed then rests her arm on Calum’s shoulder, her head dropping on top of her arm.

“Both of you look at me...good, now Cal, look down at Indie...good, good. Okay, now I want you to put your leg over his...close your eyes for me, babe. That’s it! Beautiful.”

They continue with different poses on the tree and each touch Indie gives to Calum makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His body becomes attuned to her touch until Sarah tells Indie to undo her shirt and lay her head on Calum’s lap.

Calum swallows thickly and watches Indie undo the buttons. He looks away quickly wanting to give her privacy and instead looks towards the direction of the road hoping they’re far enough away from peering eyes.

“Now lie across his lap and let the shirt fall over his legs. Yup, Cal... Calum!”

“Huh?” Cal whips his head forward and feels the weight of Indie’s head on his knees. He’s forcing himself to not look down but his body is aware of her weight on him.

He knows this is all a form of art, but he just met the girl and he was unaware this is how the shoot was going to go. He’s posed shirtless for Andy and Sarah multiple times but never with someone else. And never with a girl with purple hair, a gentle voice, and a pen name.

“Lay your arm over her chest.”

“What? Is that okay?” he looks down to Indie’s eyes, they’re a striking deep blue. Like the deepest part of the ocean and he gets a little lost in them. “Is that okay that I do that?” he asks her this time.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” she nods with a smile. “Thank you for asking.”

Calum carefully places his arm across Indie’s exposed chest; he notices how warm her skin already is from the sun but also feels the small poke of her nipples on the softest part of his arm.

“Cover her nipples a bit, Cal, she’s going to post these on her Instagram and you know their dumbass guidelines about breasts,” Sarah rolls her eyes adjusting her camera.

Calum adjusts his arm which means he has to look where her nipples are. He knows the human body is art in its natural form, and he admires the female body so why is he nervous? Is it because they literally just met and her top is open?

He curses himself. It’s not like they’re making an adult film or anything, this is an artistic moment. Shit, why did he think of an adult film because now a million different scenarios flash in his mind. While he places his arm across her chest, he sees some more ink below her breasts but he can’t quite make out the design.

“Indie, put your hands on his arm, spread your fingers…”

Calum hears the rapid shutter speed of her camera as she captures the intimate moment between strangers. Calum wonders why he was chosen to do this. Obviously, Michael wasn’t at the top of the list because he and Crystal are married, and Luke and Sierra just announced their engagement. KayKay is no novice in front of the camera, but maybe they wanted a girl and guy? Usually, Ashton is up for anything involving the human body.

“Cal, you have your thinking face on, man. Relax,” Andy says.

“Don’t be nervous,” Indie whispers gazing up at him.

Those damn blue eyes again. The purple in her hair really makes them pop and he notices a small freckle at the corner of her eye.

“You’re not?” his voice is hushed so Andy and Sarah don’t hear.

“Of course, I am, this is way out of my comfort zone. But this is art, and I want to explore it,” she shrugs.

It eased him that she was nervous as well. He took a deep breath and fixed her bangs in her face.

“That’s good, that’s really good, act natural,” Sarah advises.

“I like the purple,” he compliments, “it really comes out in the sun and makes your eyes stand out.”

“Thank you. I can’t really see your face because of the sun,” she squints up at him and giggles. Calum smiles at the sound.

The session continues and eventually Calum removes his shirt as well which he’s thankful for because he was starting to sweat. He told himself it was because the sun is at its hottest spot in the sky, not because of some cute girl with purple hair and tattoos with her shirt open.

He leans forward on his knees with Indie standing behind him and the tree, her chest pressed to his back and her hands locked under his neck. He wonders if she can hear how loud his heart is beating.

Another pose has him sitting in the grass with her legs hanging over his shoulders. Calum tickles her toes and she squeals out in laughter and Calum knows those will be great shots.

“Hey! Tickling is forbidden!” she laughs. “I will kick you and it will be your fault.”

“You won’t kick me,” he shakes his head but stops tickling her then notices another tattoo on the outside of her ankle. He looks to his right and sees a small red train on the inside of that ankle. “You have a lot of tattoos. What does this one mean?”

His finger traces the red outline of the train and the small speckle of stars shooting from the chimney.

“I loved Thomas the train engine.”

Calum looks up at her not believing her for a second. From this angle he forgets what his smart-ass remark was going to be because her naked midriff distracted him greatly. The ends of her hair tickled over her nipples, her bangs framing her face perfectly.

She gives him a radiant smile that he can’t deny by returning one of his own.

“All right, that’s it for this spot. Ready to head out Indie?” Sarah asks, pulling them from their small moment of connection.

“Yeah, I’m starved,” Indie buttons up her top.

“Want to come, Cal? We’re getting pizza at Marco’s,” Andy says.

“Uh, let me check my phone quickly, hang on,” he pulls out his phone then slips his shirt back on over his head. One notification from Bianca and she just gave his text to her a thumbs up. “Yeah, pizza sounds great.”

He walks next to Indie back to their cars.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

“How would you guys feel about doing a night shoot back at our place? The city lights in the skyline would be perfect,” Sarah says when she finishes off the last piece of pizza.

“I’m down for that. Can it be partially nude?” Indie asks, sucking up the last of her root beer from the vintage red cup.

“Absolutely,” Sarah nods.

“What do you say, Calum?” Indie looks up to Calum and he feels like she’s challenging him.

“I’m in,” he nods. He’s always up for a challenge.

The night shoot is out on Sarah and Andy’s balcony. Calum watches Sarah and Indie first from the doorway. Indie has her top open again leaning against the railing. She stretches her arms up above her head, extending her torso and Calum can get a better glimpse of that tattoo below her breasts.

It looks like celestial with moons and stars. As the photos progress, she slips it all the way off and leans over the railing. She does a profile view then reaches her hand out to Sarah’s camera for a close up of her fingers. The two women are giggling and Calum won’t deny how natural and confident Indie is in front of the camera even though she admitted to being nervous to him earlier.

Was she telling him the truth or was she just doing that to keep up this anonymous persona?

“Sarah has a way of making people feel comfortable in front of the camera. It’s her loving nature,” Andy explains as if reading Calum’s mind. “This is all Indie’s idea by the way, the shoot. She wants to do a body positivity session.”

“That’s…” Calum watches with wide eyes as Indie drops her shorts and panties then he sees her cute little bare ass. “Nice.” He clears his throat since she’s completely bare. Andy chuckles and nudges him in the ribs.

Calum is suddenly in the need of a cigarette; his fingers begin to twitch.

He watches her as she and Sarah continue to interact. Indie keeps her backside facing Sarah and Calum spots yet another tattoo on the back of her shoulder. Why’d she choose him to be a part of it? Or was it Andy and Sarah who chose him?

Calum opens his mouth to ask when Sarah calls him over.

“Get your ass out here, Hood, it’s your turn. Sit in the chair,” Sarah commands, pulling up said chair right in front of Indie.

Calum keeps his gaze on Indie’s face when he sits in the chair in front of her, his head seems a bit clearer now without her naked body in front of him.

“Shirt off?” he jokes, trying to ease his own tension.

“Please,” Sarah grins and he peels it off again. Of course, she’d say yes. “Baby, can you get the lights for me?”

The outside lights shut off by Andy and replaced by color changing string lights hanging in the rafters. Calum stares up above as they transition from green to yellow to orange and finally to some sort of purple/blue hybrid. Indie’s face comes into view over his shoulder, her fingers dance on his shoulders, her eyes are shining, and her hair is more purple with the added hue.

“Magical,” Sarah comments.

Indie smiles at him and he couldn’t agree more with Sarah’s statement and a few notes of a soft melody sprout in his head.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Calum stayed up all night going through Indie’s Instagram. He thought it would show her real name and he’ll deny to his dying breath that he did NOT spend an hour trying to find her profile. Turns out, her social media persona is displayed as Indie too and he wonders why.

Her posts are all about body positivity which include photos of her body that look professionally done in his opinion. Each pose is perfectly posed so you can’t really see everything but know that she’s fully naked. He tries to make out the tattoos he couldn’t see from the night before, but it’s hard with how her body twists and the way they’re edited.

He reads through some of the comments, agreeing with the ones telling how hot and gorgeous she is. He wanted to tell off the creeps and defend her because her message was about loving your body.

Her photos and posts are real and authentic. She talks about her own insecurities, how learning to love her body seems to be an ongoing lesson. He admires her rawness and understands seeing something different when you look in the mirror but when he sees her...he wonders how she can see flaws.

His phone rings right after he hits ‘follow’ and the noise scares him. His heart plummeted when he saw it was Bianca.

“Hey, babe,” he greets and she immediately rattles off about her day.

Calum puts her on speaker so he can continue to scroll through the photos of him and Indie she posted from their shoot. There are comments from some fans inquiring if he and Bianca broke up.

Bianca didn’t really say anything about his photoshoot, but she doesn’t really say much about what he does anyway.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

The guys are taking a little creative break after bouncing back chords, verses, and beats that they’ve been working on since six in the morning. Ashton was complaining about needing his fifth cup of iced coffee and Michael was starving so the two of them left to pick up lunch and coffee.

Luke and Calum remained behind like always. Luke never stopped working and Calum always kept him company, enjoying the sounds of his soft guitar playing. Ashton’s lava lamp changes to purple and Calum is reminded of Indie so he pulls out his phone and goes to her Instagram.

She’s made a few new posts within the last several days. The first one is of her standing in front of her bathroom mirror with a towel wrapped around her. Her eyes are wide and bright, her hair is in wet strands and the steam frames her reflection. The next one is darker with the towel dropped; two small black hearts are placed on her breasts.

She captioned it: “conversations with myself about loving me are the hardest conversations I have. Sometimes they’re serious and other times goofy, but that’s with the aid of rum. Being gentle with yourself seems so easy until you come face to face.”

The second most recent post is of her and another guy at some sort of festival. They both have on circular sunglasses and the photos are a little blurry. One is a close up of the guy but he’s out of focus and eating a corn dog. The next one is of the two of them standing in front of a funhouse mirror; she has her fingers up in a peace sign. There’s one of them eating cotton candy and the last is of them on the Ferris wheel.

She just captions it as ‘memories.’

The last one she posted was from several hours ago and it was another photo shoot. She was posed with the same guy from the festival only this time she was topless and his arms were around her in front of a mirror. Another one has her lying on a bed with her head hanging off the edge and she’s upside down. The guy is resting his head on her stomach, both of them are looking at the camera and he’s shirtless too. The last one is of her twisted on the bed under the sheets, her ass peeking out and she’s spread across the guy. His hand is very low on her back.

Calum feels a pang in his chest. The pictures are great and all but why is he feeling this sharp pain and warmth in his cheeks?

“Woah, are you on OnlyFans right now?” Luke snorts and Calum jumps from the sound of his voice.

“What?”

“Pretty raunchy, don’t ya think?” Luke grins and then something clicks within Calum.

Could Indie have an OnlyFans account? Is that what she meant by “social media stuff”? He knows it’s one of the most popular adult content websites right now and that pay is really good if you post a lot. Is Indie her...sex name? Is that what that’s called?

“D’you think she has an OnlyFans?”

“I dunno. Who is she?” Luke stops his guitar playing to look at Calum.

“I...I uh did a shoot with her, Andy, and Sarah a few weeks ago.”

“Really? What did you do?”

Calum brings up the session he and Indie did together, handing his phone over to Luke. He suddenly feels very self-conscious and almost wants to snatch his phone back so Luke doesn’t see Indie bare chested. But she posted it on her public Instagram so anyone can see it.

“Wow, you really did a nude shoot?”

“We had our pants on,” Calum scoffs, trying to take his phone back but Luke stretches his arm out of his grasp.

“She doesn’t in these next ones.”

“Give me my phone!” Calum scrambles over Luke’s broad frame to get his phone back. He settles back on the couch in a huff. “Don’t look at those.”

“You showed it to me! Who is she anyway?”

“I don’t really know. She goes by the name Indie but I don’t think that’s her real name.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we arrived at the meadow for the shoot, Andy said we were meeting someone else there and when I asked who it was; Sarah said she wanted to be anonymous. She posts a lot about body positivity and I asked what she does for a living and all she said was social media stuff.”

“OnlyFans is social media. What did Bianca have to say about these photos?”

“Not much,” Calum shrugs and he gets a Twitter notification from her. Does she have a sixth sense to post or call when he’s talking about her?

He opens up the notification and she’s talking about him but very vaguely by only calling him ‘boyfriend’ with a photo attached of him looking down at his phone while they were out to dinner the other night. She brags about him online but hardly does anything with him when they are together. He’s starting to forget why he’s dating her in the first place.

“She had nothing to say about you posing topless with another woman?” Luke’s guitar playing stops and his eyebrows are raised.

“Nope,” Calum sighs and likes Bianca’s post anyway. Their relationship seems to only be about ‘liking’ each other’s posts lately.

“That’s...odd. So, why’re you looking at this girl Indie’s insta anyway?”

“I like what she posts. It’s real and true and a lot of people relate to it. It’s nice,” Calum shrugs. “And she was cool to hang out with at the photo session.”

“Ah, I see. You’re jealous you aren’t in those photos with her.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

“Yeah you are, and you didn’t want me to see her naked bum.”

“How would Sierra feel about that?”

“She’d look with me,” Luke shrugs, “you know that. See if she tagged the guy and find out who he is. If he has an OnlyFans then there’s a possibility she might have one, too.”

“How does that make sense?” Calum asks but clicks on the tagged name anyway because he’s not thinking properly and his curiosity is getting the best of him.

“They promote new content with whoever they did it with.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Saw it on TikTok, and there was that rumor that Ash has an OnlyFans so I Googled about it.”

“That’s a weird thing to Google.”

“Please, you’ve Googled worse. So, who is the bloke?” Luke peers over his best friend’s hand to look at his phone screen.

Calum looks back down at his phone on the new profile. He has quite a massive following and a small bio.

“His name is Ian, he’s a model and an extra in TV shows. There’s a link under his name but he posted photos with her, too.”

Calum taps on the post to see it’s of them in that damn bed again. Indie is straddling him but she has on some sort of lace outfit and Ian’s hands are on her waist. They’re both laughing and facing the camera.

“He wrote ‘always a blast doing sessions with you.’ Does that mean photo sessions or OnlyFans stuff?”

“How am I supposed to know? Why does it concern you anyway?”

That stops Calum short. Why does it concern him? His mind is spiraling with his conflicting emotions and the desire to search for more information about this Ian guy. He tosses his phone on the opposite end of the couch.

“It doesn’t concern me. I was curious and now I know you and Sierra subscribe to OnlyFans.”

“What? I didn’t say that at all!” Luke squeaks then narrows his eyes. “Don’t change the subject. Why does it matter if she has one or not?”

“I want to understand her, she didn’t tell me much about her and I’m not sure why.”

“She probably wants to keep her life private. Does she have a big following for what she posts?”

“Yeah.”

“Then maybe she doesn’t want people knowing her business. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“Of course, I can, I--she intrigues me, that’s all. I want to know more about her.”

“Why do you want to know more about her?”

“I don’t know! She...her purple hair and nose ring and tattoos...and her eyes are so damn blue. I don’t understand it.”

Luke is silent for several moments staring at Calum, his blue eyes imploring his friend to tell more. Luke‘s looking at Calum as if he knows something.

Calum is lost in his confusion. Luke moves from the couch and picks up Calum’s notebook and his favorite type of pen. He holds them out to Calum.

“Write about it. Figure it out.”

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Calum tried to write about it and figure it out and he was a little ashamed of himself for searching for Indie on OnlyFans a few days later after talking with Luke. It made him feel pervy, and even though he didn’t find her, it wouldn’t have changed his outlook on her at all if she did have an account. It only makes him want to learn more about her and not the small number of half-truths he received.

It’s been a month since he saw her and he’s at a party with Roy and Bianca. Bianca was off with her friends so Calum and Roy were left to their own devices which were perfectly fine for Calum. He’s always up for a good time but only when it’s with his close friends who are more like family, not a hundred people who sneak photos of him when they walk by.

He’s scanning the crowd--people watching is his favorite thing to do--when he spots someone with purple hair walk by.

“Indie! Hey!” Roy literally took the words right from Calum’s mouth.

Roy knows Indie?

Indie turns at the sound of her name waiting for her friend to pass and she smiles upon seeing Roy then shows her teeth in a radiant smile when she sees Calum right next to him. She’s got on some overall shorts with one of the straps unbuttoned and a tight black shirt that stops at her midriff. There’s some glitter on her face and Calum is mystified once more.

“Hey Cal, fancy seeing you here. Hey Roy,” she smiles at him and Roy pulls her into a hug. Calum feels a twinge of jealousy that he didn’t receive a hug.

“You two know each other?” Calum asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, Indie comes to my meditation sessions once in a while. It’s been too long since the last one, missy.”

“I’ve been working!” she giggles shoving his shoulder playfully. “I’m in need of a good meditation zone, though. Oh, this is my friend, Travis.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” Travis shakes Calum and Roy’s hands.

Calum eyes him up but before he can say anything else, Travis mentioned something about finding their group of friends.

“I’ll send you details on the next mediation,” Roy tells her before she heads out.

“I look forward to it. Have a nice time,” she smiles at them both and lets Travis guide her through the crowd.

Calum is a bit upset he didn’t really get to talk to her as he watches her disappear into the sea of people. He continues listening to Roy and his latest idea for a new album and what it will be based around. He hums and comments in the spaces he’s supposed to but his mind is off on someone else.

And then he wonders where the hell Bianca got off to.

“What’s wrong with you, man? Your mind is out of this world right now,” Roy comments.

“Nothing, nothing,” Calum shakes his head gruffly and then Bianca appears handing Calum a drink.

“You look parched,” she kisses his cheek and he feels the sticky residue of her lip gloss on his skin.

Calum continues to search for Indie as the night goes on, wanting to discuss how her body positivity project is going. He smiles and poses in the photos with Bianca; he knows both of their smiles are fake. Whenever she touches him, he doesn’t get that same feeling he did when Indie touched him in the meadow.

It’s a little after midnight as he exits the bathroom and bumps into someone.

“Oops, sorry, my faul--Indie! Hey!” he grins down at her.

“Oh! Hi again. Having a good time?” she asks brightly.

“It’s all right, how about you?”

“Not really in the mood to party tonight,” she shrugs, “but my friend Travis from earlier likes a guy here so I’m his wing woman.”

“What a good friend you are,” he smiles. “Have they met up?”

“I got a text from him with the tongue emoji, the fire emoji, and the drooling emoji,” she counts off on her fingers. “I’ve walked around this place twice so I’m assuming he’s all good,” she chuckles.

“So, you’re here all alone?”

“Yeah. I was just about to order an Uber--”

“I can take you home if you’d like. You shouldn’t take an Uber alone.”

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t mind--”

“Hey baby, some of the girls want to go to the club. I’ll see you later,” Bianca appears and gives Calum a very fleeting kiss on the cheek.

“Okay, before you go, this is Indie; remember how I did that photoshoot a month ago?”

Bianca glances at Indie who gives her a bright smile.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet--”

“Oh, yeah! Where you were both half naked! Very hot. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says offhandedly to Calum then runs off to her friends.

“Nice to meet you, too!” Indie finishes in a half-shout and Calum laughs. “She’s a woman on a mission, huh?”

“Yeah, always has to be where the party's at. How about that drive home?”

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Once in his car, Indie connects her phone to his Bluetooth and puts on her playlist along with the address of her apartment. Calum watches her scroll through her phone until she selects the first song; its vibe is very chill, fitting the mood of the blue color of his car’s interior lighting. He keeps glancing over to her; the blue really brings out the purple in her hair. She then pulls her hair back and up behind her head in a makeshift ponytail, fanning herself with the other hand.

“Hot?” he asks while pressing the button for the AC. she lets out a yelp of surprise when the cool air blows on her neck from the headrest of her seat.

“I need my seats to have this feature,” she sighs then lets her hair drop over her shoulder. “Thank you for taking me home. Will you meet up with...oh my God, what’s your girlfriend’s name?” she presses her hands to her face, eyes widening in horror. “She left before you could introduce her.”

“Her name’s Bianca, and no, I’ll probably go home. Club life isn’t really my style.”

“Are you hungry?” she asks.

“For what?” He peers at her curiously.

“Have you ever had insomnia cupcakes?”

When they arrive at the small cupcake shop they read over the flavors listed on the bulbous glass display case. The cupcakes are the size of muffins and each time Indie nudges closer to him, he can smell her perfume. It’s citrus with a hint of something else he can’t place but she smells wonderful.

Indie ends up getting a strawberry cupcake with white frosting and pink sprinkles and Calum gets a confetti one which she teases him about.

“What’s wrong with confetti?!” he laughs following her outside and sits at one of the round metal tables.

“It’s like the second most vanilla flavor you could get. Live on the edge!” she swipes off a bit of frosting and sucks it off with a low satisfied moan.

Her eyes close relishing then taste and Calum gets momentarily distracted by her reaction to the cupcake.

“Well, isn’t that vanilla frosting? Not too on the edge yourself, are ya?”

“It’s not vanilla. Here,” she holds her cupcake in front of him, her eyes testing him. “Try a taste.”

He swipes her frosting off, eyes still on hers and he pops his finger in his mouth. His tongue is full of a very zesty lemon flavor, it’s sugary and sweet but light enough where it’s not too overbearing.

“Shit, that’s good.”

“Told you! Now you enjoy your plain confetti over there,” she wiggles in her chair taking her cupcake back. She swipes up more frosting.

“You eat the frosting first?” he asks, unfolding the paper from his cupcake.

“Mhm, the cake is the best part.”

He watches her in wonder as she continues to eat before taking a very large bite of his own treat. Frosting gets on his nose and she loses it when he wipes it off.

“Did I get it all?” he asks, sucking off the frosting from his thumb.

“You missed a spot...right here!”

Somehow she snuck some frosting on her pinky finger and rubbed it onto his cheek and nose. Calum was dumbfounded then when he saw her practically rolling in her chair from laughing, he joined her and wiped it off on her own.

“Thanks for that,” he laughs, licking off the lemon frosting.

“I’m sorry, I had to,” she shrugs and licks off the rest of her frosting from her cupcake.

“I’m going to get you back for that, Indie. Mark my words.”

“I’m trembling in my overalls,” she mocks with a smile.

“You should be,” he teases and takes another large bite of his cupcake.

When their cupcakes are finished they’re back in his car and her music fills the air with sound. He makes note of the band on his screen, Linus Young, so he can look them up later. He turns it down on the song titled ‘Crystal Ball.’

“How’s your latest project coming along?” he asks then moves into the middle lane.

“Pretty good, I guess. I want to do a couple more shots before I do a post. Sarah said she’d help me with it, we just have to find the time.”

“Do you need a partner?” he grins.

“Not for these shots,” she giggles, “but you’re more than welcome to come if you’d like. I’m always open to other artists' creative eyes.”

“Yeah, I’d love to. Do you have an idea on what your next project will be?”

“Um, I don’t know. It’s always centered on self-love and body positivity. I might try something with body paint or shadows. There’s a--”

“Do you have an OnlyFans?” he blurts out then immediately wants the earth to swallow him up whole.

Where the hell did that come from? He wanted to try and ease into it casually but how do you casually bring up a website like that? And now he just blurted it out like an imbecile. He keeps his eyes on the road anticipating a well-deserved slap across his cheek or for Indie to demand he take the next exit and drop her off.

Instead, she laughs. It’s a full-on cackle with a trail of giggles gasping for breath. Indie doesn’t stop until he looks over at her in alarm and with an apologetic grimace.

“Oh, you’re serious?” she squeaks wiping at the corners of her eyes. She takes a deep breath, still chuckling. “Why do you think that?”

“I was showing my friend Luke the shoot we did and when I went to your Instagram he saw your other photos and asked if I was on OnlyFans and he said creators usually post photos like that with a partner they collaborated with or something and you said your job is social media stuff and that’s social media and I’m--I’m an asshole for blurting it out like that. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business but even if you are, that’s great, y’know? No shame or judgment from me whatsoever. And I feel stupid for even trying to search you--”

“You tried searching for me?” she asks but Calum’s on a ranting rampage. “Wow. I’m fl--”

“This makes me sound like a grade A creep. You--”

“Calum!” she laughs resting her hand on his forearm. The hair on his neck stands up at her touch just like in the meadow. “As entertaining as it is to see you stumble over your words and talk this much, stop. I’m flattered you would even think that in the first place, but no, I don’t have an account.”

He risks a glance at her; she gives him a warm smile.

“Do you have an account?” She asks in a hushed whisper.

“What?!” he swerves a little in his lane but thankfully he needs to change over for the exit. His GPS says Indie’s place is only a few more minutes away. “No, no I don’t have one.”

She giggles again but doesn’t say another word.

They’re silent for the remainder of the drive, the music playing softly in the background. He wishes he never said anything and that Luke didn’t bring it up in the first place. Calum makes the few turns indicated on his screen and then parks in front of a duplex. Indie unbuckles her seatbelt, angling herself towards him.

“Would you subscribe if I did?”

He jerks his head in her direction, did he hear her right? He opens his mouth to answer then narrows his eyes, she does the same and they have a narrow-eyed contest until they’re laughing.

“Would you subscribe if I did?” he counters.

“I asked you first.”

He unbuckles himself as well so he can stretch in his seat and run his fingers through his hair. “I’m not going to answer that. Can we pretend I never asked that and this conversation never happened?” He drops his hands to the steering wheel; he needs to have a firm handle on something because clearly his tongue is acting wild.

“What did you ask?”

“What?”

“What conversation are you talking about?”

Calum stares at her, then looks outside as if there’s a hidden camera and he’s being punk’d right now. Is Ashton Kutcher hiding in that trailer?

“We were talking about OnlyFans.”

“Calum! I was playing along! You didn’t ask me anything and we didn’t have a conversation about that unasked question,” she gives him a perky smile.

“You are something else, you know that?” he rubs at his face out of embarrassment and feeling like such an idiot.

“That’s what I’m told,” she sighs.

He feels there’s a story or two there but he’s already invaded her privacy enough tonight. And it’s only the second time actually meeting her.

“Can I ask you something?” She asks.

“Yes. Please do.”

“Why do you want to know what I do?”

Calum rests his head on his seat, turning his head towards her with his hands still on the wheel. She’s situated herself in her seat so that one leg is pulled to her chest and resting against the center console. Her round cheek is cupped in her hand, her eyes wide and captivating.

“I want to know more about you, that’s all.”

“Why do you want to know about me, Cal?”

That question again. The answer is staring him right in the face, it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he just can’t bring himself to say it out loud. So, he alters his answer because he’s already rambled enough for one night.

“You have this ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude and a free spirit. You’re sure of yourself and not a lot of people are like that.”

“I definitely do give a fuck about a lot of things. Maybe too much,” she shrugs, removing her hand and leans forward. “You’re sure that’s all?”

She doesn’t ask it in fishing for compliments type of way, it’s more like she knows he’s hiding something, like she knows he sugar-coated his answer. Indie’s eyes have him captured, he’s like a fly caught in a black widow’s web that’s made up of his own lies.

“Ye-es…” he responds slowly.

“You promise?”

Her eyes are steady on his, he squeezes the wheel, arms tightening, knuckles whitening, and the smallest flick of her eyebrow causes him to let out a large exhale. Calum drops his hands in defeat.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” he shakes his head.

She’s looking at him like Luke was looking at him back in the studio.

“You’re…” he licks his lips and swallows down his nerves. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Indie. I’ve never been this lost in my head on finding the proper words to say what I want to say. But I can tell you that my intentions are only to get to know you, which I’m certain of.”

“Get to know me as a friend?”

“Friend, photoshoot partner, whatever it is,” he shrugs. “All I know is I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She gives him a small smile with an even smaller nod then takes a deep breath. Her hands rub at her temples as she lets out a frustrated groan covering her eyes with her hands.

“Are you okay?”

“You know that’s the truest thing you’ve said this whole time, Cal? I’d be glad to be your friend but I can’t lie about how I’ve been thinking about you, too.”

“So... what do we do about that?”

Indie removes her hands, her eyes the size of planets holding the same secrecy of the galaxy. He wants to explore every part, every hidden crevice.

“I want to know you, too. But we have to promise--” she holds out her pinky “--that we are friends first and foremost. I don’t trust people easily; I only tell what I think they should know. But my intuition is telling me to trust you and it’s never wrong. Can you do that?”

Calum mulls over her words. He reaches over the console so their faces are closer. He can see the glitter on her cheeks and how they resemble constellations. He cups her cheek; his fingers locking in her hair and captures her lips in a fevered kiss without a thought of the repercussions that will follow.

The kiss is full of sparks, desire, and an innate need. Indie kisses him back with equal hurriedness and soon they’re scrambling to the backseat. Lips still connected, her fingers claw at his shirt and--

“Cal?”

Calum blinks. He’s pulled back to the present, his fantasy betraying him in the worst possible way from the reality of Indie still holding her pinky out for him.

The kiss was all in his head. Going against his selfish desires, he hooks his pinky with hers and Indie’s face turns serious.

“We promise to always stay friends, no matter what. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“We promise that no matter what comes from the darkness, what secrets will surface, or whatever urges may arise, we are friends first and won’t let those things change that. Promise?”

“I promise,” he nods, tilting his head to the side in amusement as she continues.

“And above all else...we won’t leave or abandon one another. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good. I promise, too,” she stares at their joined pinkies.

“You okay?” he asks, feeling the shift within her.

“Yeah...it’s a little...I’m giving you all my trust. It’s a little scary.”

He squeezes her pinky then covers their joined hands with the palm of his other hand. He cocks his head lower until she looks at him with shining, vulnerable eyes.

“I promise I won’t break it, Indie.”

He wonders if she catches the double entendre to his promise because while he said it about her trust, he could tell she’s wearing her heart on her sleeve. He doesn’t want to break that either.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Calum has been walking on air ever since that night with Indie a few weeks ago promising to be friends. Is he attracted to her? Absolutely. That at least is something he can admit even if it is in his own head. Will he act on those thoughts? No, because he has respect for Indie and his relationship with Bianca.

Things between him and Bianca have gotten a little better; they go out more and she’s asked him about his music. When he’s mentioned he has this tune stuck in his head that he can’t figure out she doesn’t say too much about it and quickly transitions to her next appearance promoting a new line of liquor.

Calum’s confident he can push his attraction for Indie to the side and make their friendship a priority. He’s never had a female best friend before but it’s an easy transition with her.

After that night they exchanged numbers and were quick to start sending funny memes and TikTok videos. Calum downloaded the app solely because of her and when he discovered she had a few videos of her own, he watched the four videos relentlessly.

“You’re a very talented lip syncer, you should go pro,” he’d told her one day over FaceTime while he was making breakfast.

“There’s no such thing as a pro lip syncer,” she snorted back. She was applying makeup in her bathroom sitting cross legged on the counter with her feet in the sink.

“Yeah there’s that show on MTV or some shit where you dress up and put on a whole performance.”

“I would literally die if I had to perform in front of people. No thank you.”

Calum laughed then watched her apply her eyeliner with careful strokes and perfect precision. Whenever she did her makeup she had her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and her bangs clipped up so she wouldn’t get makeup on them. Seeing her whole face for the first time filled him with even more intrigue and he thought she was even more beautiful.

“Why do you do that on the sink?” he asked, flipping his egg on his toast.

“So I can get closer to the mirror. It’s a girl thing. Doesn’t Bianca do it?”

“Dunno, I’ve never seen her put her makeup on before.”

He would send her photos and videos of Duke and each time she’d comment on how adorable he is and that she would steal him one day.

“You’ll have to get through me first,” he grinned.

“I can take you. It’s one of my superpowers.”

“What superpower is that exactly?”

“If I tell you then my cover’s blown, duh.”

“Why don’t you show me then?” he teased with a slight hint of flirtation.

“Cal…” she warned but couldn’t help her giggle.

“All right, all right,” he smiled, scratching at his head. “Sorry.”

There would be some innocent slip-ups like that throughout their conversations. Calum just felt so at ease with Indie and when she asked him to help her with a photoshoot of hers he was more than excited to accept.

When he arrived at her place, there was music playing from down the hall and he heard voices followed by Indie’s laugh. He follows the sound right into her bathroom where she is with another girl while the bathtub was running water, bubbles rising.

“Did you finally get your own dog?” he asks and the two girls turn at his voice.

“No, it’s for the photos,” Indie smiles. “Cal, this is Inka, she’s going to be in the photos with me and helping you take them.”

“Nice to finally meet you, Calum,” Inka smiles.

Inka’s a little taller than Indie with flowing ink black hair, wide set eyes and brown skin. She has a septum piercing and is also very good looking.

“Nice to meet you,” he nods, and then turns fearfully to Indie. “I’m taking the photos? Shouldn’t you ask Sarah, she’s a professional.”

“I don’t want them to look professionally done. Inka’s big on water photography so she’ll help you. And we need someone to take photos of us together.”

“All right, so…” he glances at the tub that Inka is now bent over testing the water. “What’s with the bubble bath?”

“That’s where we’ll be,” Indie grins, removing her shorts.

Calum is so caught off guard by being the photographer that his eyes watch her step out of them, but finds she has on swimsuit bottoms. At least he won’t be distracted this time like in the meadow or at Andy and Sarah’s when she was completely naked.

“Are you alright with us being topless, Cal?” Inka asks removing her own shorts. He spots some ink on her skin as well, he wonders if they got tattoos together at one point. The styles are pretty similar.

“I’m fine if you guys are,” he shrugs then eyes up the Polaroid sitting on the counter. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with me here; I respect the artistry of the naked body.”

“All I needed to hear,” Inka says with a sigh. “The water’s perfect, Indsy. I’ll put on music that helps me get in the zone.”

“Is this the camera I’ll be using?” Calum asks, pointing to the Polaroid as Inka changes the music on her phone to something with a bit of soul to it. The voice echoes very softly within the bathroom.

“Yeah, it’s Inka’s. She’ll show you how to use it while I’m in there. Thanks for helping with this, everyone couldn’t or thought it was weird when I asked them.”

“Glad to be of assistance,” he smiles down at her, noticing she doesn’t have makeup on. “You look nice by the way.”

“Thank you. I’m going to take my top off now,” she touches his arm as if in assurance, her eyes widening slightly. “Will you be okay?”

He knows she’s teasing but he links his pinky with hers that’s on his arm.

“Promise. Now get in there,” he jerks his head towards her bath.

“Sheesh, you’re a demanding assistant.”

She backs away and he examines the camera with curiosity. When Inka and Indie converse behind him, he lifts his eyes to their reflection in the mirror just as Indie is pulling her t-shirt off. Her eyes meet his as she tosses it to the floor and it’s as if the moment slows before she’s stepping into the water.

“Inka! This is too hot!” she squeals, pulling her foot out.

“No, it’s not! Calum, come feel the water.”

He turns and stands next to Indie; he bends to the floor pressing his hand through a mountain of bubbles. It’s pretty warm but he’s come to realize that Indie doesn’t like hot things.

“I think it’s fine but it is too hot for her,” he agrees with Indie.

“Well, you’ll get used to it and if your cheeks get a little red or your chest, then it will make the pictures better.”

Indie sighs; she puts her hand on Calum’s shoulder for extra support and puts her foot in the water again. She lets out a hiss and stands there for a couple seconds. Calum grabs her hand and holds her fingers when she places her other foot in the tub as well. He watches her scrunch her face at the temperature, he can see a red splotch blooming on her chest already and she’s not even fully in yet.

“Darling, it’s really not that bad,” Inka sighs rubbing at Indie’s shoulder. “Is it?”

“I just need to let myself get used to it,” Indie replies and drops a knee, her fingers’ holding onto Calum’s tightly.

“I can get a cold washcloth for you,” he offers but Indie shakes her head and drops her other knee.

“I’ll be okay. Can you get me a bottled water from my fridge?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back,” he nods and he releases her fingers.

When he returns, Indie is fully in the bath, her hair cascading over her back like a dark purple curtain. Her knees are drawn up to her chest and Inka is on the floor with her camera pointed at Indie. Indie’s head is on her knees, her body curving forward, eyes big and her lips pouting slightly.

Calum doesn’t like how she looks sad even if he knows it’s for the aesthetics of it all. Indie looks up at him then stretches a now bubbly arm towards him for the water.

“Wait, stay like that for a minute!” Inka instructs Indie's pose and the camera clicks. “Okay, you can take it.”

Calum sits against the cabinets next to Inka, paying attention to the buttons on the camera before she takes a picture. Indie leans back with her head tilted back and eyes closed, her breasts pointing out. Then she rested her arms on the edge of the tub, her cheek falling perfectly in the crook of her elbows and she eyed up the camera and Inka. When she looked at Calum, he forgot how to swallow.

“Okay, ready for me?” Inka asks, standing up from her place on the floor.

“You’re going to complain about the water though,” Indie rolls her eyes playfully and turns the tap back on. She shifts to the opposite end so she doesn’t feel the hot water.

“Just take photos you think would be good as candid’s,” Inka instructs handing Calum the camera.

He’s nervous now. He doesn’t want to mess up their vision and he runs over what Inka told him in his head as she takes off her tank top and climbs in with Indie.

“This is so tepid!” Inka shrieks and Indie laughs.

“It’s perfect!”

“You’re such a little weirdo,” Inka drops into the water and pushes the running water towards Indie. Indie sticks her tongue out.

While the water continues to run, Calum takes some practice shots and Inka starts to pull her hair up in a very messy bun with loose strands kissing her cheeks and forehead. She looks very good, actually. Inka has a natural beauty to her, much like Indie does. Calum took photos of that process, Inka is confident in herself like Indie is; it’s all in her posture.

“Remember the first time we were in the bath together?” Indie asks, leaning against the wall.

“Yeah, you were drunk and thought your tub was a whirlpool. But you turned the shower on instead and I thought you were drowning,” Inka laughs.

Calum captures their smiles. He remains silent as they place bubbles on each other’s noses or blow them at each other from their hands. He tries to take as many of those as he can because he thinks they’re charming.

He discovers they’ve been friends ever since Indie moved to L.A and have gone through tough things with each other like bad relationships, loss of jobs, and fallouts from a whole group of friends they were involved in. The more they talked, the closer they got in the tub.

“Here, turn around, I want to get some shots like this,” Indie tells Inka.

They’re in a fit of giggles and laughter as Inka maneuvers in the water, some of the bubbles are rolling down the sides of the tub. Once they’re situated, Indie scoots closer until she’s pressed against Inka’s back. Calum’s reminded of feeling her pressed against his back at Andy and Sarah’s.

“Look at Cal,” Indie says and they both turn to Calum.

He snaps the photo.

“How are you doing over there Mr. Camera Man?” Inka asks leaning against Indie.

“Great. How’re you guys?” he asks.

“Hungry. I want some pizza,” Indie sighs. She presses her cheek to Inka’s neck and wraps her arms around her stomach.

“We’ll order some afterwards,” Inka lifts her hand and pats at Indie’s head affectionately. “Does Calum know you need to be fed every few hours?”

“You make me sound like a baby,” Indie laughs. “Does Calum know?” She directs the question to him in third person, looking at him expectantly.

“Yes, I discovered she gets very feisty when she’s hungry,” Calum laughs.

“He’s a good egg,” Indie says and kisses Inka’s neck.

“Wait, do that again,” Calum says and Indie presses her lips to Inka’s neck. He snaps the picture and he grins. “That’s a good one.”

“Stay professional over there, sir,” Inka warns, narrowing her eyes.

“I am! It’s a sweet moment that’s all. You guys are close and have been through a lot. There aren’t too many friendships like that.”

“I always tell her she’s my soulmate,” Inka pats Indie's cheek then spins around again in the water.

“My friend Ash and I say the same thing.”

“You two take baths together, too?” Inka asks and Indie laughs.

“No,” he laughs. “We wouldn’t fit.”

That gets them both laughing and he snaps a picture of it, the pure joy and amusement on their faces. He notices goosebumps are on Indie’s arms.

“You’re getting cold, Indie,” he comments.

“Yeah, we should get out soon. Did you get some good photos?” she asks, sitting up a little straighter, her hands on the edge of the tub.

“Wait, Cal get one more picture,” Inka stops Indie from standing.

He poises the camera to his eye again and watches as Inka leans in and gives Indie a soft kiss on the lips. She holds the kiss so he can take the picture and he keeps snapping when they pull away and smile at each other.

They both rise from the tub with more water sloshing over the sides; all the bubbles are gone now. Calum stands handing them each a towel; he’s trying to wrap his head around that kiss. He kisses his friends too, but to see Indie be kissed by a girl made that pang form in his chest again like when she hugged Roy and not him.

He shouldn’t be jealous; they’re just friends and he pinky promised.

“I’ll order some pizza and upload these so we can look at them,” Inka says, wrapping the towel around her. She folds it over so it’s held to her body like a strapless dress. “Time to put your camera skills to the test.”

The photos ended up looking really well. He could tell the differences between his and Inka’s, hers were angled in different ways to make the focal point look cool. His photos were straighter on but Inka was impressed by some of his close-up shots of their laughter.

The three of them watched a movie as they ate their pizza, laughing at the scenes and more memories that came about for Indie and Inka. Calum really liked Inka and she gave him a hug when she left, promising she’ll contact him if she needs his help for her own photos.

“You have her approval by the way,” Indie says, moving back to the couch pulling her blanket over her legs.

“Approval?” He joins her resting his arm over the back of her couch.

“Of being my guy best friend. This was sort of a test of hers by having you deal with our shenanigans and being half naked in the tub.”

“Elaborate, please?” he chuckles. “Did she think I’d be weird about it?”

“She’s a little protective over me. We’re best friends but…” Indie looks at her hands in her lap; she starts to play with the edge of the blanket.

“But…?” he prompts and she bites her lip. “I feel like this is a pinky promise moment.”

“It is.”

He holds out his pinky waiting for her to link their fingers. She takes in a deep breath and hooks her pinky around his but she doesn’t let it go when she speaks. Her eyes are trained on their pinkies.

“Inka and I dated actually, for a short time. It was right when I moved out here and we got super close super-fast, I felt the most comfortable with her in the friend group I fell into. She’s the first one I voiced my attraction to women about and she said she was the same. We both don’t like labels. And... Yeah, we dated for a couple months but both agreed our friendship was more important than if we broke up badly.”

“So, you’re attracted to men and women or just women?” he asks softly.

“Both,” she says, her eyes still on their pinkies. “Inka’s the only woman I’ve dated and have been with but I’ve had other crushes. They just never went anywhere.”

“Hey, look at me,” he tugs on her pinky lightly until her eyes meet his. “Why do you seem scared?”

“When I tell other guys about it they get all weird and ask for threesomes or they get freaked out like I'm going to cheat on them with her or something. I’m attracted to girls but it’s more than attraction, too.”

“I get it,” he nods, “you don’t have to explain to me. You care for people for who they are. I’m sorry if you felt cautious to tell me. You can tell me anything, Indie.”

“It’s just nerve wracking, that’s all,” she lets out a shaky laugh. “I knew you wouldn’t be creepy with the photos but while we were doing them I figured this would be a good time to tell you.”

“Thank you for telling me, it helps me get to know you better,” he smiles. She gives him one back then pulls her pinky away so she can give him a hug.

He holds her tightly, feeling how fast her heart is beating. They didn't let go until her heart slowed down and matched his.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Every day at the studio, Luke would pester Calum asking when they would finally get to meet Indie. Not long after, Ashton and Michael would chime in as well about wanting to meet her and Calum would do his best to ignore them. But he knows his brothers and they’re persistent to the point where it will make you go mad if you don’t agree.

Today was more of a chill day tossing random lyrics and notes around trying to make it into a song. While the other three were goofing off, Calum was at the piano trying to work out the notes that have been swimming in his head for the last couple months. He has the first and last notes down pat but what is in the middle? He can’t figure it out.

“Hey, Cal,” Luke calls, “you should have a party tonight.”

“What for?”

“So, we can all hang out, drink, eat, meet Indie…”

Calum’s hands fall away from the keys and he twists around on the bench to see Luke smiling with all his teeth. He looks like that emoji with his teeth bared.

“Why do you want to meet her so badly?”

“She’s friends with you, we want to be friends with her as well,” Luke shrugs.

“Roy knows her, why can’t we?” Ashton adds.

“Yeah, is she even real at this point?” Michael chortles.

“Yes, she’s real,” Calum rolls his eyes. “How—”

His phone buzzes on the table.

“It’s Indie!” Luke exclaims trying to snatch up the phone.

Calum darts forward grabbing his phone before they can. Thankfully, it was just a text because he knew if he picked up the phone one of them would have found a way to speak with Indie and say something ridiculous.

“Stop acting like we’re twelve,” Calum shakes his head. “Two of you are married.”

“I’m engaged, actually,” Luke corrects, leaning back on the couch. He crosses his converse covered feet at the ankles. “What’d she want?”

Against his better judgment, Calum opens the message to see three photos and a text. They’re all the same photos just taken in different positions. It’s her naked body, from just below her breasts to the tops of her thighs. She’s poised in a way that you can’t see anything and it ranges from black and white, sepia, and the original photo.

‘Which one should I post?’ was the text sent.

“She sent me photos asking for help on which ones to pick for a post,” Calum says already typing away about how she should do all of them. Then he asks how her day’s going. He looks up at his friends and they’re giving him the same look of expectation. “Ugh, fine! If I invite her over you can’t be weird as shit like you are right now.”

They whoop and holler at that news.

“Finally, we get to meet the infamous Indie,” Luke sighs, resting his head on his hands. Calum throws a pillow right at his face.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

All of Calum’s friends are mingling in the backyard and kitchen area, conversation and laughter is heard over the low sound of the music playing. He’s ordered pizza and wings for everyone to enjoy and they should be delivered in about forty-five minutes. He’s been anxiously waiting for Indie to arrive but is also nervous about how the guys will act around her.

Bianca is out of town so she couldn’t make it and Calum wasn’t too sure what his feelings are about her not being here. She told him to have fun and not get too rowdy, so he appreciates that small sentiment.

Indie was excited to meet everyone else when he called her and when she asked if she could bring a friend, he assumed it was Inka so he of course said yes.

Boy was he ever wrong.

He was popping open another white claw when Andy and Sarah announced her name. He looks up in excitement to see her hugging Sarah but then it falters when he sees it’s not Inka that’s next to her. It’s that guy Ian from her Instagram posts that she posed with. The pang in his chest is back when Ian places his arm over Indie’s bare shoulders and shakes Andy and Sarah’s hand.

Calum takes notice of her outfit; she has on a dark blue top with the sleeves that only go to the tops of her arms and black jean shorts with some black boots. Her dark purple hair is pulled back behind her head in a sort of braid.

“Hey isn’t that—”

“Indie?” Calum finishes Luke’s sentence and takes a long drink of his white claw. “Yeah, let’s go introduce you.”

Ashton and Michael met them by Indie and she gave Calum a big smile.

“Hey! How’re you?” she asks rising on her tiptoes to give him a hug. Ian and Calum’s eyes meet briefly before Indie pulls away.

“I’m good, glad you could come,” Calum forces a smile. “Uh, these are the guys. It’s about time you all met. This is Luke, Ashton, and Michael. Guys, this is Indie.”

“So, you are a real person,” Ashton nods, shaking her hand.

“As opposed to what? A blow-up doll?” Indie teases and Michael chokes on his own drink.

Calum grins because he knows she��ll be able to handle herself around them. He just hopes they don’t say anything about him that would raise questions.

“I like you,” Ashton smiles. “Who’s this you brought along?”

“Oh! Right, sorry. This is Ian,” she introduces.

Calum eyes him up while he shakes his friends’ hands. He’s about the same height as Calum with short brown hair that kind of sticks up in the front. He’s got tan skin, an arm of tattoos, and has a lean muscular build.

“And this is Calum,” Indie introduces him last.

Calum notices she didn’t say ‘my friend’ or ‘my boyfriend’ when introducing Ian, so what is he exactly?

“Good to finally meet you, man,” Ian holds out his hand.

“Likewise,” Calum makes sure his grip is tight, but so is Ian’s. “Help yourselves to drinks from the coolers and kitchen. Pizza and wings should be coming soon.”

The pang in Calum’s chest only grows as the night progresses. He’s not quite sure what to make of Ian except that he and Indie are very comfortable with each other. When Calum is in ear shot they’re always flirting and touching each other.

“Sooo…” Luke drawls sidling next to Calum. “He’s that guy from her Instagram, right?”

“Yup.”

“Are he and Indie dating?”

“No idea,” Calum’s voice is clipped. He takes a drink of his white claw. The pang keeps getting sharper, his fingers are twitching for a cigarette and now he really wants some weed.

“Are you all right?”

Calum watches Ian come up behind Indie with another drink for her and he smacks her ass then proceeds to rub her back. Indie smiles up at him taking the cup.

“Yeah, I’m all right. We’re just friends,” Calum sighs.

When the party dwindled down, it was only Ashton, Michael, Luke, Andy, Sarah,Indie and Ian left sitting around the firepit. The conversation transitions from topic to topic that are mainly centered on Indie and finding out more about her. Just as Calum suspected, she’s very cryptic in her responses and that makes him smile. Calum’s sitting across the way from her and her legs are resting on Ian’s lap. Ian’s hands are rubbing at her calves.

Calum tells himself it doesn’t bother him.

Somehow the conversation turned to sex, which isn’t all that uncommon for their group but Calum was shooting daggers at Ashton because he didn’t want Indie to feel uncomfortable. As always, she surprised him and she was asking her own questions. Everyone answered her question of what their first time was like and they were all great stories of embarrassing moments.

When it came for her to answer, Calum sat up a little straighter in his chair.

“I was nineteen, wasn’t expecting it to happen at all. And you’re always told ‘oh, it’s this magical moment! You’ll be changed forever!’ but it literally lasted two or three minutes and I was like, ‘that’s it?’” she giggles. “I didn’t feel changed at all.”

“Two minutes?” Michael laughs. “Was it his first time too?”

“Hey, in my defense I’ve wanted to do it with her for a long time and when it finally happened…I lost control,” Ian smiles. “That tends to happen with Indie.”

Calum’s ears feel hot and it’s not from the fire. He ignores Luke’s quick glance to him from the bit of information that Ian was the first guy Indie had sex with.

“And we were also in your parent’s living room,” Indie giggles some more.

“All right, so now the next question…most rounds in one night?” Ashton asks lighting up another joint.

Calum wants to strangle him.

“What the hell is with all the sex talk, mate?” he finally asks trying to play it off as nonchalant, but the way Luke and Michael fidget, he knows it didn’t sound that way. No one else seems to notice, if Indie did he doesn’t know because he doesn’t dare look at her now.

“It’s a beautiful thing. It brings people closer by being open about it,” Ashton rests his ankle on his knee.

Calum snorts and shakes his head crossing his arms. He shakes his leg in annoyance.

Everyone says one or two rounds with little stories with each one. Michael made everyone laugh when he said one and a half.

“I was super drunk and it finally caught up with me and…yeah, I fell asleep,” Michael chortles. His eyes are heavy from drinking.

“That poor girl,” Andy says.

“I married her, so you know she’s the one,” Michael smiles.

“Where are Crystal and Sierra? I was looking forward to meeting them, too,” Indie says.

“They’re both at some fashion expo,” Luke explains. “We’ll all get together; they want to meet you too.”

Then fashion is the next topic of conversation until Ashton opens his mouth again. The weed must have set him off in a very inquisitive buzz.

“Indie, you didn’t answer the round's question.”

“I don’t want to be judged,” she holds up her hands in defense.

“This is a judgment free zone, this is a safe space, c’mon,” Ashton smiles lazily.

Indie looks at each person individually, except Calum before she answers.

“Three times,” she sighs, staring into the fire.

There’s a collective ‘woah’ around the group and sounds of approval. She tries to hide her smile but fails and ends up covering her face.

“Damn, that dude’s got stamina,” Michael says.

“It was a fun night,” Ian smirks while taking a drink of his beer. Indie smacks him in the shoulder and that earns even more of a reaction from the group.

They all want to know details and context, but Calum is seething. He really wants to get up and leave because he doesn’t want to hear anymore, but he knows that will cause more questions.

He remains silent for the rest of the night thinking about everything and questioning everything. He wants to know if Indie and Ian are dating and he wants to know why it matters to him so much. It really shouldn’t and that just makes him angrier.

He’s glad his friends are getting along with Indie, but he wishes it weren’t in this type of context.

When everyone had left, Calum was stuffing plates and cups in a large trash bag then he was going to light up a joint in hopes that would help calm his mind and rid his thoughts of seeing Ian and Indie together. He doesn’t even want to think about what they’re doing right now.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Taglist: @calumance @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr-blog1 @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower @mymindwide @itjustkindahappenedreally @seanna313 @fivesecondsofonedirection @mulletcal @pandaxnienke @sebsbrokentoe @heartskippeddabat

#Caum hood fic #calum hood x oc #calum hood slow burn #calum smut #calum hood writing #calum angst #calum hood angst #5sos writing #5sos fics

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wissbby · 5 years ago

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Boyfriend head-canon - Oikawa Tо̄ru

⤙ Summary: basically, a head-canon about how I imagine Oikawa in a relationship. ⊹ Genre: fluff, smut and a tiny bit of angst ⊹ Word count: 1779 ⊹ Warnings: NSFW ⤙ Author’s note: this head-canon is a bit bigger than I anticipated. I still feel like I’m missing so much more so I might edit this in the future and add onto it. For now, I hope you just enjoy it :)

So, let's say you and Oikawa got together.

I don't see Oikawa as someone who opens up easy. It takes the man a lot of time and trust so you'll have to be patient if you want to develop a relationship with him.

You must've been (very very good) friends before he even sees you as a potential significant other.

I've seen a lot of Haikyuu fans bashing on the man because of that one scene with Kageyama. They don't realise that Oikawa was at his lowest point during this moment and was overall just doing very, very bad.

It's also a scene where we get to see Oikawa's fakes finally breaking down.

You need to show Oikawa you're there for him, even if he pushes you away at the very beginning.

He's afraid to show you his insecurities, even if you're already aware of them in the first place.

He's just so so afraid of losing you. He’s afraid you’ll leave him behind once you get to see the other -not so pretty- side of him.

So, try to break him,

in a good way, of course.

Also, give him a lot of space. And by this, I mean, give the man attention but let him do his things like he always has done.

Even though you're now his partner, Oikawa is still selfish in that perspective. He won't try his hardest best to change his schedule for you.

You know volleyball is important to him, right? So you must understand why he won't do so.

Trust me,

He'll come back running once he realises this kind of behaviour was the exact reason his ex broke up with him.

"I'm so sorry. It's just- I'll try harder."

And if Oikawa says so, he really means it. This man keeps his promises, I'll give him that.

He's just very insecure about a lot of things, though he might not show that side of him immediately.

If you've come across the point where Oikawa fully knows he's accepted by you, he'll show you his true colours.

Expect him to break down in front of your -yet to be opened- front door.

Just take the man inside and comfort him.

He likes to be pampered.

Now, onto a bit more fluffy stuff.

This man is one hundred per cent the affectionate type.

If he wants to feel your skin, he will do anything in his power to do so.

Out in public but suddenly craving you? He's kissing your forehead and pushing you against his chest while holding your waist with his right arm and intertwining your hands with his left hand.

Together in one's bedroom? He'll either plop on top of you, burying his head into the crook of your neck with his body all over yours or will push you against his chest and let you rest your head in the crook of his neck while running his hands slowly through your hair until he hears your evening breaths.

He just likes to know you're still there with him.

Sorry buddy's, it's the insecurities.

It's also a way of apologising for the time he loses with you because of volleyball. He tries his hardest best to make the time you two have unforgettable.

If he finally got a day off, he will one hundred per cent take you on a date.

Expect this man to go all out.

Clothes, shoes, accessories, oh yeah, and the date itself too

He almost forgot about that, but let's ignore that for now

Okay, so these are the type of dates he would definitely take you on,

Coffeeshop dates, picnics, star-gazing, home-theatre.

Let me explain each date

Coffeeshop dates: it has to be one of those cosy, very warm atmosphere shops. He likes to see a lot a brown, dark green, some orange and of course, plants. It's an aesthetic the pretty setter loves to be surrounded by to unwind from everything going on.

It's also a perfect colour palette for his Instagram feed.

He'd wear a grey sweater with vinyl pants and -of course- wear his glasses to add to the look.

This mf is actually blind without them but only wears them when they match his outfit.

Anyway,

Picnics: Oikawa would take care of everything. The only thing you need to do is just be there. He likes to lay down with you, telling you about his day/week. The pretty scenery above your heads and in front of you keeps amazing him. He will never get tired of the prettiness Mother Nature offers. Bonus!! Bring him milk bread and he’ll spin you around before settling you back on the ground and pecking your lips ever so slightly.

Star-gazing: I see Oikawa as an intelligent human being. Besides that, he is very curious about various things. He almost always has a question about something. If he feels romantic or just simply wants to see you, he’ll call you when the sun has set, telling you he is waiting for you outside. I know for a fact that this dude has some secret hide-out since he was a child. He hasn’t shared it with anyone, not even Iwaizumi, because it was his spot to completely shut the outside world out. He really doubted whether he should tell you about it or not. But, he wanted to show you himself, all of him. He loves you too much to let you be apart of that “outside world”. Arriving at the spot, he would lay down with you in the tall grass, eyes immediately fixating on the bright stars. He would point out the zodiac signs, telling you some facts about his sign and yours (yes, he did his research). On the court, Oikawa feels big. He feels big with his team and is not afraid to lose if it were with them. But now that he lays underneath the big open sky, he realises how tiny he is in this universe. He starts to think about how lucky he is to have met you in this big universe. Expect some sappy shit and maybe some tears if he feels vulnerable.

Home-theatre: sometimes, it’s better to stay indoors with your loved one. And Oikawa completely agrees with that. After a long week of school or work he just likes to unwind. Now, he would invite you over. And girl- when I tell you what he did. You didn’t exactly expect a fort in front of his television. But then again, we are talking about Oikawa here. It’s adorable, though. There are fairy lights all over the place, candles lit and an unnecessary amount of pillows and fluffy blankets. You both lay down and pick a movie. Settling on “Ponyo” because Oikawa once mentioned the drawing style makes him feel at ease. This man has one of his arms either wrapped around your figure or intertwined his fingers with you. He prefers to have you cuddled into him, whether that be spooning or laying on top of his chest. He just likes to keep you close. It’s these moments Oikawa cherishes the most: the domestic ones.

Let’s hope I fed you enough fluffy content because I’m ready to flip the switch once again.

Like I mentioned before, Oikawa is a curious man.

And this also applies to kinks.

I know for a fact he is not scared to try out new things. He just wants two things: trust and honesty.

He wants you to trust him and trust you. He also wants you and him to be as honest as possible.

Do you not like something even though he seemed to be into it? Tell him, he wants it to be as equally enjoyable for you as it is for him.

Now, I’ve seen a lot of headcanons telling Oikawa is a switch with sub tendencies.

I’m only gonna have to agree on the first part.

This kid is, indeed, a switch. However, he is more of a switch with dom tendencies, in my eyes.

Big on praise, like, very big.

Secretly likes receiving more than giving, but you never heard that from me.

He also is into slight bondage. Handcuffs, ropes etc.

He likes to tie you up and block your sight. It makes him feel in control.

Also, the way you squirm whenever he’s breathing or whispering into your ear when you least expect it, gets him rock hard every time.

However, do the same to him and he’ll obey.

After being the fattest brat ever, of course.

#pegoikawa2020

Some other kinks he has are breath play, cockwarming, degradation, role-play, overstimulation, pain, food-play, stockings, cute lingerie and sadism.

(There are so many more kinks he likes and I want to go into detail about all of these but this shit will get too long so I won’t. Request if you want to see what I’d say about his kinks.)

He can go all out.

But Oikawa prefers the more gentle sex where you just take time to enjoy each other’s carcasses.

Is super vulnerable whenever that happens and has indeed broken down a couple of times during the act.

He can’t help it: he loves you too much that he can’t even keep on that facade anymore.

Aftercare with this baby is so cute.

If the previous moments were a lot rougher, he likes to check up on you and praise you for your work.

However, he gets you a glass of water and a towel to clean up the mess every time.

When taken care of, he likes to plop down and just hold you as close as possible. Usually runs his fingers through your hair to confirm you’re still there with him.

Falls asleep real quick, ngl

If I can give you a piece of advice: get up the morning after to make him breakfast

It’s something small but Oikawa really feels loved whenever he’s taking care of

Asks you to take place beside him and shares his breakfast with you

Yes, he is the type to put food into his mouth and share it with you with the help of a kiss that transfers the piece of food into your own mouth

Mornings like these are intimate and Oikawa cherishes them the most

Usually followed by just a lazy day of enjoying the presence of one another and probably some romance anime or Black Mirror binge watch.

Overall, this baby needs a lot of reassurance in his relationship. Let him know you’re there and won’t leave him (one of his, if not biggest, insecurities). Make him feel loved and let him take his time to warm up to you. Oikawa is worth the wait.

Bonus!!

Iwaizumi is so very glad to see his best friend happy. He’s very grateful you two have met. Will never not show you how much he appreciates him.

“Thank you for loving him, Y/n-san,” Iwaizumi would say, voice lowered in hopes his friend wouldn’t be eavesdropping.

“Iwa-chan! Are you flirting with my girlfriend?”

“Shut up, shittykawa! You don’t deserve someone as good as her!”

He’s just happy his best friend is finally able to share his insecurities with someone he loves so much.

You’re a blessing to the both of them.

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orbitariums · 5 years ago

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𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟑)

note: hey y’all i know it’s been literally FOREVER since i’ve released a new part. i miss y’all and i’m ready to get right the fuck into this. chapter 13!!!

warnings: smut heavy, mentioning of age difference

word count: 13k

playlist *recently updated, go check it out!*

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧��: 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

You woke up to the feeling of Steve’s body heat against yours, the flimsy fabric of his sheer white t-shirt bristling against your bare skin. He was laying next to you, a book open in his lap and a pencil in his hand. You weren’t quite paying attention, still settling into the day as the blur in front of your eyes slowly disappeared. Memories of last night flooded your mind fondly— Steve’s soft touch against your thighs as he carried you in from the car into the bed, the thought of someone caring so much to even do that for you, the plush feeling of his pink lips against yours.

You felt your heart swelling just to think of it, so pleased by the events of yesterday and last night especially. You felt like everything was just right at the moment. Before, some part of your brain was afraid that since things were going so well, something would inevitably go wrong later on, but you were past that fear stage. Now, you were just settling into enjoying the good moments and expecting nothing but good to come next.

Since yesterday, especially after the grand afternoon you’d had, and the way Steve treated you carrying you into his apartment, there had been a shift. It was almost imperceptible aside from the way your heart seemed to surge even higher when you were around each other. Yesterday had been such a relief once you both met Bucky and cleared that up. Any unnecessary fear or anxieties that would’ve stemmed from that dilemma were removed.

And now you felt so drawn to Steve, so inclined to trust him impossibly further— again your mind ran back to thoughts about his touch on your thighs as he carried you inside, his soft but strong hands against your smooth skin. And you thought about how you wanted his touch all the time. You’d been physically close multiple times, but only once in the intimate sense, and you were yearning for more of his touch. Though you both wanted to go slow, you found each other irresistible in every sense of the word. And you only had two weeks together—why not get closer?

Steve noticed you shifting, and looked over at you, the side of his lip quirked up into a grin. You stretched out like a cat below him, batting your lashes inadvertently.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Steve teased, and you chuckled.

You were still getting comfortable with each other, but it was easier with each and every day. The more time you spent together, the more you felt used to each other, like waking up next to the other was the norm. The thrill wasn’t gone, but the atmosphere was comfortable at the very least.

“Morning,” you said back.

You snuggled into his shoulder, hesitating a bit in case he wanted personal space, although you were craving an even closer proximity to him. But he squeezed you in closer to him, sensing your hesitation and reassuring you that there was no reason for pause. You noted how much you loved to be near him. The last few days had felt so unreal, almost childish in nature, like a silly little schoolgirl crush that wasn’t anything more, though you both knew you had strong feelings for each other. Yet now, you were sinking into the realization that being near him felt like being near a source of warmth and light that you were so grateful for— you needed it. And he needed the warmth you gave him too.

Your eyes widened as you realized Steve was drawing in his sketchbook.

“You’re drawing?” you grinned excitedly, and he laughed sheepishly and shook his head.

“Yeah. Haven’t done it in a while, it’s just random sketching… it’s a mess, honestly,” he brushed it off, but you frowned.

“I like it. I like your random sketches. You should do it more often,” you tilted your head up and kissed his cheek, another leap of courage that made Steve’s cheeks heat up, along with your words of encouragement.

“Maybe… I got time. But,” he grunted, closing his sketchbook and turning to face you. “I wanna spend time with you. Go head, get dressed. I wanna take you out today.”

How ready Steve was to take you out made you perk up. His tone, his demeanor, just the prospect of going out with him on this lovely day full of sunshine amped you up. The fact that Steve had plans for you was so refreshing. He really did want to show you just how much he cared, and he was putting in the effort, day after day. He was doing everything to make sure you knew how much he wanted to be with you and be around you. Even though it seemed as though the bar was low, that wasn’t something you were used to. Just thinking that he made time to plan things out between you and him made you feel all warm inside.

So you got ready with ease, taking a shower and getting dressed, putting on just a bit of makeup. Steve complimented your dress when you came out from the bathroom, looking you up and down with the purest, kindest admiration in his eyes.

“You like it?” you echoed, flouncing around, unable to fight off the urge to grin. You didn’t struggle with confidence in the physical sense, but Steve made you feel so sure of yourself, like even in these strange circumstances you two were under, he still wanted to show you off and make you feel good about yourself internally.

“You… look gorgeous all the time,” he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it, pulling you close under his arm.

“You’re sweet,” you grinned, and laid your head in the crook of his armpit, letting him lead you out of the apartment, letting him lead you to bliss.

When you got in the car, you saw that in the backseat there was a picnic basket and a blanket. You gasped, clasping your hand over your mouth and gaping wide eyed at Steve.

“Are we going on a picnic?” you cooed, grinning wide.

He smiled back,

“You figured it out. Listen, it’s nice out, and I know a great woodsy area where we can be alone and in peace.”

You raised a brow,

“And here I was thinking New York was a concrete jungle.”

“Gotta go up north for the good stuff,” Steve shrugged. “It’s nice and secluded, so we won’t have to worry about laying low. Just wanted to take my girl out officially.”

You leaned your elbow against the window, facing Steve as you pressed your palm to your cheek with a smug smile,

“Your girl, huh?”

Part of you was teasing him, the other part of you just wanted to hear him say it again. Neither of you had had the conversation about labels yet, but it had only been a few days. It was safe to say you weren’t quite worried about labels. You just liked each other’s company. Steve was a man of formality and tradition though, so there would be a point where he probably made things official between the two of you. But for now, he was taking it slow out of respect for you.

Steve glanced over at you, dimples forming at his cheek as he smiled back,

“My girl.”

“I like the sound of that,” you cooed, your eyes glimmering with admiration for him.

“Me too. Glad you like it,” Steve replied, his chest warming up with satisfaction.

He was testing out how calling you his girl sounded, and he loved the thought of it. Even though you were his girl, you were still entirely your own woman. That’s what he loved about you.

Steve’s hand shifted over to your lap, a gentle grip on your thigh, tapping his foot absentmindedly. He thought nothing of it, but it made your head swarm. Even days after meeting him in person his touch was electrifying and every thought of being close to him thrilled you. You’d been intimate only once with him and not again since then, but every kiss since then seemed to last longer and each one was somehow better than the last time. But even though Steve’s hand on your thigh made you feel warm all over (all over), you just grinned to yourself and faced the boundless road ahead.

| | |

“Oh, this place is so beautiful,” you said for probably the third time since you’d arrived.

The woods where Steve had brought you reminded you of California. It was bright and full of summer colors, yellow flowers springing up from the earth and surrounding the verdant grass that crushed underneath the soles of your Converse. The sunlight peeked through the forest canopy through gaps in the leafy honey locust trees and tall redwoods. Everything was lush and green and the air in the woods felt and smelled fresh and much better than the city. Steve knew you all too well, because this was the kind of place you’d go on a weekend with friends back home. You were definitely down for an adventure in the woods.

Steve set the things down on a nice clear patch of grass— he had refused to let you carry anything no matter how much you insisted— and started to set up.

“I was hoping you’d like it,” he grunted, spreading out the blanket and gesturing for you to sit down as he started to unpack the picnic basket. “I was planning this for the other day when it rained and we stayed in and…”

Steve trailed off, his cheeks threatening to go red as he remembered what you did instead of a picnic that day. He couldn’t deny that he thought about it often— that he thought about touching you over and over again because there was nothing better than that feeling you gave each other. But nothing much had happened since then, mainly due to lack of time— you just recently had to deal with Bucky finding out, but now that that was over, you’d have more than enough time. You both felt like the fact that that situation was over called for celebration, and you knew just how you’d celebrate.

Luckily, you had been distracted by a flower poking out by the tree Steve set up the blanket next to, and you wouldn’t poke fun at him or make him any more hot and bothered than he already was just from thinking of that night.

“For you,” you stood in front of him, tucking the flower right at his ear. “Aw, Steve. You look so soft.”

As soft as someone like Steve could look. It was funny— you watched him consistently and he constantly switched between looking like this scary macho man to becoming the softest Golden Retriever puppy when he looked at you. Your chest swelled with pride at this hunk of a man you’d managed to get. Nothing screamed Alpha dog more than Steve Rogers and while manliness wasn’t your top priority, you liked knowing that you were with a man when you were with Steve. So many people would die to get to know him on a personal level, but it was just your luck that you were actually able to.

Steve grinned, fiddling with the stem of the flower behind his ears for a moment before settling down and opening up the picnic basket. He pulled out all the food, along with a bottle of sparkling rose and two wine glasses for the both of you. You sunk down to the blanket, sitting on your knees and marveling at the miniature feast before you. Steve was constantly putting in the effort and making it look so effortless, and you couldn’t help but watch everything he was doing with a smile glued to your lips.

“Not too early for a drink, is it?” Steve asked, tilting his head up to the sky, glistening with sun.

“Never too early,” you grinned mischievously, biting down on your lip as you watched Steve pour two glasses of rose.

He handed you yours and then raised his own, and you reached forward to clink the glass in a toast.

“To us,” Steve said, and you nodded in agreement.

“To us.”

You took a sip of your drink and sighed in satisfaction, smacking your lips. Looking at Steve in front of you felt like such a sight to see. Your heart swelled as you took in your surroundings—the beautiful woods around you and the picnic Steve had somehow put together without your knowledge. And Steve was looking at you just the same way. You were so unaware of your beauty, nonchalantly leaning back, your skin glistening in the sunlight.

You humphed, wanting to be closer, and practically crawled over to him. Steve’s eyes lowered as he watched you approach him, then settle into his lap with your legs on either side of his thick legs. The faintest grin appeared on his lips as you slung your arms around his neck lazily, holding the glass of wine between your fingers in one hand behind him.

“You really did all this for me, huh?” you asked, letting a finger trail along his chin, prickly from the beard he was growing.

He bit down on his lip, his hand traveling to grasp your wrist softly and keep your hands touching his face, coming down to cup his chin.

“I hope you love it,” he replied, and you giggled.

“Are you kidding? We have to go out here again before I leave,” you decided then and there.

You still had loads of time left with Steve, and luckily there was so much you had yet to do together.

“I promise we will.”

“Steve,” you sighed out his name, leaning in closer to him. “I’m so happy here.”

You kissed his lips, a sweet and full lipped kiss that left both of you wanting more. Your lips tasted like cherry flavored gloss and rose. You giggled to yourself at the way that Steve leaned in, searching for more when you pulled away. His voice was low and soft,

“I’m happy you’re happy.”

You both laughed quietly and Steve pulled you in for a kiss, his hand on the back of your neck making you lurch forward as he led you with his lips.

Your tongue slipped in against the roof of his warm, firm mouth. His grip on your neck got stronger, his hand drifting down to the nape of your neck and squeezing just right, eliciting a lush moan from you. The touch of your body in such close proximity to him combined with the vibrations your moans made in his mouth got him hard. Like a reflex, he shifted his hips upward, pressing the outline of his hard length into the white cotton underwear that was exposed when you fit your legs around him.

“Mmh,” you whimpered when you felt him. You unlatched your saccharine lips from his, which tasted faintly like rose, and threw your head back only slightly, which urged him to lurch forward and press his lips to the exposed skin there, all sunkissed and warm. You grabbed at his hair. “Fuck, Steve.”

“We haven’t even eaten,” you realized aloud, a giggle bubbling up in your throat that became a moan as Steve purposefully nudged his knee against your clothed clit again, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves easily underneath the fabric that hid it.

“No, not yet,” Steve shot back in a suggestive tone, and you raised a brow.

“Steve, are you trying to tell me something?” you teased him, choking on your words halfway through because Steve was practically making you ride his thigh, rocking your body back and forth between his erection and his thighs after you slid down his knee.

Every movement he made, he did it with ease, bringing you closer to climax just by rocking against you. He could feel every contraction your pussy made against the outline of his erection as you squirmed and bucked your hips and rolled into him. Any logical thought process had left your mind— here you were, riding Steve’s thigh in the middle of the morning during what was supposed to be a sweet picnic in the woods. He had you gripped close to him, so even with all your squirming there was no way you were going to be able to move away from him, not with how strong his arms were.

He didn’t seem to notice, but this was just another way he asserted that nonchalant dominance over you that you died for. His hands fit perfectly around the small of your back, keeping you in place. He kept suckling at your chin and occassionally leaving tiny love bites on your neck as you rolled your hips euphorically. The slow, tantalizing pace he kept you at only drove you closer to your impending orgasm, the friction between his body and your own unbearable.

Steve had this unbelievable control over you while you helplessly, wordlessly rode his thigh, brushing up against his dick every now and then. And to think you were doing this in such a beautiful outdoor surrounding, removed far enough from others that no one would walk up on you. The silence was filled with restless panting from you as your orgasm drew closer, and the ambience of wilderness - the birds chirping, the greenery scuffling in the breezes of wind that drew past.

“Gonna come, princess?” Steve whispered hotly into your ear, reaching his fingers down and feeling the wet mark that had formed in your underwear, pressing against your throbbing clit.

“Mm, mhm,” you groaned, arching your back as your hips rolled in tune with his fingers. You came with a shuddered moan, soaking your own panties as your climax coursed through your veins. Your whole body seemed to shake, only stabilizing once Steve dug his fingers into your hips to ground you again.

You stayed there for a moment, still grinding your hips against his and kissing him, holding him tight against you until you pulled away and pushed him back, still straddling him. He was laying on his back and marveling at the sight of you on top of him as you began to kiss him, your lips leading the way down against his toned body where they’d soon reach the place you wanted your mouth the most. How desperately you wanted your lips against those muscles, kissing there and really being able to feel him. You could feel Steve’s heart pounding when you layered kisses on his chest, and he was glad you couldn’t hear the thoughts in his head because they were positively swarming with nerves.

“There’s- oh,” Steve groaned when your lips reached his v-line, unsure of how he was still even able to talk with the way that his voice felt so constricted. “There’s still food-”

“Just relax,” you interrupted, and he accepted without argument, throwing his head back and letting you do the work.

| | |

Today, Steve was out at work until further notice, but he made up for it by ordering breakfast for you, accompanied by a lovely note that he left on the kitchen table that morning.

Had to go in today. Promise me you won’t miss me too much. Be back soon.

- Steve Rogers

The note had made you chuckle—he was such an old man, signing his first and last name like you were colleagues and you didn’t give him the best head of his life just a few days ago. With each passing day you were growing more and more used to each other, more comfortable with expressing intimacy and acting like… well, a couple. It was just, you hadn’t exactly given what you had a title. And while you thought about labels off and on, you weren’t rushing. Steve probably thought about it much more than you did—even though he was adapting to this modern world and the products of modernity (ie: cam girls), he was still traditional in a sense.

He didn’t want to string you along in a weird, titleless relationship. And while he knew that what you had didn’t need a title because of its unconventionality and the fact that you truly liked each other, he knew he’d feel a whole lot more secure when he could call you his girl, and have it be official. So he was brooding on it, because he knew that you didn’t want to rush things either, and in the back of his mind he knew you’d probably be fine going through these two weeks without an “official” title, but he decided the time for a conversation was due soon.

Though right now, he decided he’d take it easy, leave the harder conversations for later. He had something he wanted to show you. Now that you both seemed to have settled down, he wanted to take you out as much as he could. At least, while keeping a low profile.

You had only spent a few hours alone when Steve came home through the front door. You sauntered over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek when you saw him. He kissed you back, wrapping one arm around your waist.

“Hey!” you chimed.

“Hi,” Steve grinned, smiling down at you with that very same look in his eyes— it was funny, neither of you seemed to notice how infatuated you looked when you set your gaze upon each other, but you always noticed it on each other. “How was your day? Didn’t miss me too much, did you?”

You smirked, placing a hand on his chest,

“Maybe a little. Maybe.”

“Well, I missed you,” he grinned, his voice getting softer. He nodded towards the open door behind him. “Get dressed, I wanna take you someplace.”

“Ooh,” chills ran down your spine again at the prospect of Steve taking you out again—and again, you got that feeling of appreciation for the fact that he was planning things for you. The way Steve treated you felt like the difference between someone saying “if you want!” versus actually taking the lead. It was all part of your growth, but you liked feeling wanted. “Where are we going?”

“Well, it’s a place near my childhood home where I used to come just to sit and think and draw sometimes. Great view of the sunset. You down?”

“Always.”

You got dressed in a simple white crop top with a skirt, and followed Steve out the door into his car. The whole ride there, you had your head out the window, letting the evening breeze rush across your face.

“Here we are,” Steve pulled up to a vacant and vast parking lot.

You looked ahead of you, and lo and behold, the sunset was right in front of you. It seemed to be reaching for you, seemed to feel so close even though you knew it was light years away—now you had the sudden urge to ask Steve how far he’d flown on missions. Did he go up into space? Was his job like the real life Star Wars? These questions were all at a loss when you saw the hues of the sunset ahead of you, rich, deep purples and flaming orange-reds.

“This is so beautiful,” you sighed out in awe, Steve glancing between you and the sunset in front of him— to him, he had two amazing views. “You used to just come here as a kid?”

“Yeah. It was the parking lot to a factory building that’s out of business now. But Bucky and I, and a couple of other friends used to sit here… on the nights when it was peaceful. Then, things got too crazy to just sit and watch the sunset,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head as a nostalgic smirk tugged at his lips.

You glanced over at him, blinking slowly,

“I bet it was really nice.”

“It was,” Steve nodded. “One of the times I didn’t feel so alone. I used to just come here and draw.”

You perked up at Steve mentioning his drawing,

“My little artist!”

“Little?” Steve chortled, and you shoved his chest.

“Just pretend. I’m glad you’re getting back into drawing though. Think you’ll show me someday?” you cocked your head to the side, biting down on your lip, unintentionally trapping him with an irresistible puppy dog face.

“Anything, darling,” he grinned.

“Maybe you can paint me like one of your French girls one day,” you suggested, snorting at your own joke.

Steve shook his head,

“I wouldn’t be able to do you justice. It’s been a while since I’ve really drawn.”

You rolled your eyes, propping your elbow up on the dashboard and leaning your chin into your palm, facing him,

“Didn’t you win awards for drawing, Steve?”

Steve scoffed playfully,

“What, did you go on my Wikipedia?”

“Maybe so,” you beamed proudly. “Anyways. Any reason to be naked in front of you is a good reason. You could draw a stick figure of me for all I care.”

“Speaking of naked,” Steve choked out— even though you were adjusting to each other, your boldness still caught Steve off guard sometimes, “you haven’t been doing cam shows since you’ve been here.”

You nodded,

“Yeah, I told them I’m on vacation. But I have a bunch of videos and other cute things to tide them over while I’m gone. God, it’s so weird. They have no idea.”

Steve milled your words over in his mind. It was so strange to think that lots of people on the very site that you both met had had intimate moments with you. And while he knew what you two had was real and raw, and so different, he still wondered how you felt about all the other people that watched you, all the other people that were almost as mesmerized as Steve was.

“Lots of people love you on there,” Steve noted, and you shrugged.

“Yeah, you can say that. I mean, lots of guys wanna fuck me. Some of them really are my friends, you know? People who’ve been watching since I started— it’s hard not to build a bond with them. I mean, it’s kind of part of my job to build a bond with them,” you explained.

Steve nodded, taking in all your words. He knew that this was a job to you, that you had connections with other viewers and that he shouldn’t feel insecure about that. He didn’t feel insecure. But really hearing it was still something he had to swallow hard.

“But, it was different with you, Steve,” you continued without hesitation. “I mean, I talk to so many people there a day. None like you. So don’t be jealous, big guy.”

Steve chuckled softly, though his eyes were trained fondly on his lap,

“I’m not, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” you teased him, poking his cheek. He looked up at you, an amused grin on his face. “‘Cuz I think you’re a little bit jealous!”

“When they fly you out and get to watch the sunset with you, then I can be jealous. But for now… I think I’m good,” he squinted and you grinned, looking from his lips to his eyes.

“Touche,” you noted, and kissed him on the cheek, abandoning the banter for the slow hum of jazz music on Steve’s stereo and the following murmurs of admiration for the sunset you both uttered over the next hour before driving home while it was getting dark.

When you got home, you were racing towards Steve’s cabinets and practically raiding them for liquor. On the car ride home you had begun excitedly babbling about spending a relaxing night in with Steve and making “a date” of it. You were dead set on making a glass of wine and dancing around the kitchen like you would do with your friends back at home.

“Slow down,” Steve laughed, grabbing a bottle of unopened wine from your hands and holding it high above your head so you couldn’t reach.

You whined, standing up on your tippy toes as you tried to reach for the bottle.

“Steve, what the fuck!”

“Where are your manners? You know better,” Steve smirked at you, and you folded your arms and glared up at him despite the rush of warmth his words gave you.

“I wanna drink. You haven’t even opened any of your alcohol, you old man,” you teased him and he rolled his eyes, slightly pushing up against you until your back was pressed against the kitchen counter.

“Very funny,” he replied.

You squinted at him, trying to read his face.

“What’re you doin’?” you asked, your voice laden with suspicion.

Steve was closer to you than he’d been the whole day, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel like it was getting a little bit hot in the kitchen. You wondered if he was doing this intentionally or if he was just so attractive to you that everything he did made you want to jump his bones (in the purest way possible). But that was no longer a question when Steve finally spoke, his voice a few octaves lower than normal, the husky timbre sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’ll give you what you want, if you give me what I want,” he put it simply, and you couldn’t help but grin.

“And what exactly do you want?”

“You know what I want,” Steve smiled back, shaking his head and putting his hands on your waist, kissing you softly on your lips, then traveling down to your neck.

You let your head roll back for easy access, and let your arms drape down his back.

“When’d you decide to start shit, Steve,” you wondered aloud, but you weren’t complaining, you were just used to initiating things, and you weren’t used to Steve being this bold.

He looked you in the eyes as if asking for permission,

“I just felt like these past few days have been a bit different. We both want each other, right?”

“Of course I want you,” you reached up to stroke his cheek, smiling at how wholesome he was. You even leaned in to give him a sweet kiss on the lips. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Okay. So let me do my job,” Steve replied, effectively shutting you up.

He lifted you up by the hips and set you on the counter behind you. It felt like everything in the room was all starting to blend together, that was just the effect that Steve’s touch had on you. You wanted him on you everywhere, you were overpowered by his scent and his strong hands on your body. His lips were here, then there, hitting all the right spots on your neck and your collarbone.

“Can I take this off?” Steve asked, gesturing to your white crop top.

You nodded silently, watching Steve as he pulled off your top for you, then you pulled him in for a hot, passionate kiss that told him how much you wanted this right now. When he pulled away he looked down at the basic white bra you were wearing and whispered under his breath,

“Beautiful.”

“Take yours off too,” you almost whined, thinking of the way his back muscles would look flexing when he went down on you.

Steve chuckled quietly,

“Sure, doll.”

“Wait, let me,” you decided, leaning in and taking his shirt off, your fingertips brushing against his sides as you took his shirt off, giving him goosebumps.

Despite his burst in confidence since you got home, he was still in awe of you. And anyways, he really wanted to return the favor from the picnic. He’d been thinking about it in the days following, and now felt like the perfect time to return the favor. Or maybe he was just looking for a reason to go down on you again—not that he needed one.

“Fuck, you look so good,” you swore under your breath just watching Steve make his way down your body, worshipping every inch of your smooth skin.

“I could say the same,” Steve replied, just as turned on as you were, making his way down your stomach.

The hairs on your body stood up at the feeling of his plush, pink lips against your skin, getting closer and closer to that part of you that needed him so badly. You were throbbing already and he hadn’t even touched you there yet. You were wearing a skirt, which he pulled down with ease, and you didn’t fail to catch the satisfied grin on his face at how easily your clothes fell off. Less hassle for the both of you.

“For being so kind,” Steve said suddenly, reaching behind himself and placing the bottle of unopened wine beside you.

You hooted in celebration, clapping your hands once and snatching the bottle from beside you, thanking Steve before twisting the bottle open and throwing back a big swig.

Steve was kissing around your inner thighs now, leaving little love bites here and there that made you yelp out, taking your lips away from the wine bottle.

“Imagine the look on my viewers faces when they see the bruises you’re leaving on me,” you joked, and Steve shrugged.

“Good. They’ll know you’re mine.”

Your heart skipped a beat— Steve was suddenly so confident. You liked it.

“Thought you said you weren’t jealous,” you cooed, leaning back and pressing your palms against the counter, looking down at him.

“Not at all,” Steve replied calmly, and whatever you were going to say then was silenced when Steve pulled down your underwear, a rush of cold air hitting your bare flesh. He moaned at the sight of it, licked his lips like he was looking at his favorite food. “So wet already?”

You nodded with a slight pout, wanting Steve to give you what you needed now. But something told you it wasn’t your turn to speak, and that Steve was in charge tonight.

“Good girl,” Steve praised you, pressing his lips against your clit and leaving a soft, wet kiss there that made your legs twitch. Steve chuckled deviously and even though your brows furrowed at his cockiness, you didn’t say anything— you couldn’t act like you wanted him to stop being cocky.

“Baby,” you breathed out, bringing your hand down to run through his perfect hair, ruffling it a bit.

“Here, let me make you feel good,” was the last thing Steve said before diving in, his tongue drawing an intricate pattern against your folds and on your clit, sending the little bundle of nerves into complete ecstasy.

“Fuck,” you whined, taking another swig of your drink—you had no complaints right now.

Steve knew exactly what to do with it, just as he had the last time, and that was his very first time going down on you. The more Steve got to taste you, the more he wanted. He could see himself doing this for hours, making you cum over and over again until he really got his fix. He was probably just as, if not, more turned on than you were in the moment. His pants were bulged in the center, and he was burning up even without a shirt on.

“Mm, you taste so good,” Steve groaned the one moment he let his lips detach from your clit and your lips. “So wet for me.”

You moaned in response, unable to string any real words together because Steve was doing too good at his job. For a man who claimed he didn’t have much experience, he was the best you’d ever had. It was no surprise that your legs were already starting to shake when he added his fingers into the mix, rubbing soft circles against your clit and letting his tongue slide inside of you, fucking you deep with his tongue. You couldn’t help but grasp onto his hair tightly, your nails clawing into his scalp like crazy.

Steve’s name fell effortlessly from your lips, which were drenched with red wine.

“Fuck, Steve, I’m-I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come!” you exclaimed as if you were shocked by the prospect— your orgasm was coming up fast and hard. “Don’t stop.”

It felt like the breath was getting snatched from your chest as he kept up, moaning against you and roughly rubbing your clit.

He kept your legs spread with his other hand, stopping you from crushing his head with your legs, but you kept on tugging at his hair, which made Steve grunt in pleasure.

You tried and failed to lift the bottle of wine to your lips, your hands were shaking far too much. Steve was pulling this orgasm from you like it was nothing to him, putting all his concentration on making you feel good. You let go, and let yourself come on his face and tongue just like he had been hoping you would. While you were coming, he kept his fingers at your clit and pulled his lips away with a pop, savoring the taste of you as he licked his lips slowly.

“There you go, there you go,” he encouraged you, only making you come even more. You couldn’t speak, only gasp out and let out strangled moans as you rode out your high, your entire body twitching. “It’s okay, baby.”

Steve was cooing to you now, his entire demeanor had shifted— now he was puppy dog Steve again. He had his hand on your thigh to steady you, kissing your knee gently and caressing your body. Soon enough his fingers left your clit and soon enough, you came back to normal. Your heavy breathing and trembling had subsided and you were just sitting there blissed out. Your eyelids were heavy with tiredness, like Steve had worked you out.

“Steveee,” you groaned tiredly, a dazed smile spreading across your lips.

Steve kissed gently up and down your inner thighs, calming your shaky body with every touch. He stood up with a pleased grin, licked his lips, and patted your thigh.

“Okay. Time to get you up,” he declared, and you hurriedly took another swig from the bottle before stretching your arms around Steve’s neck.

He chuckled to himself and picked you up, letting you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

“Hey!” you exclaimed when you noticed his boner against you. “You’re hard.”

“And you’re tired,” Steve replied, glancing up into your eyes.

You put on your best puppy dog eyes, trying to grind against his thigh.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t get you off,” you practically whined, and Steve smirked, but shook his head.

“Make it up to me in the morning,” he peeled you off of him and set you into the bed, pulling the covers up and over your body.

“Fine,” you grumbled, turning over on your side. “Only ‘cuz I am tired.”

“I know, I must’ve worn you out,” Steve retorted proudly, and you scoffed.

“Keep dreaming,” you sighed, closing your eyes and almost immediately drifting into sleep.

| | |

The next morning, the first thing you noticed was that your pants were missing, and then you remembered exactly why. Even in the midst of sleep, a smile appeared on your lips. Steve had been so kind and loving to you every day since you got here, but especially so in the past few days. The remnants of last night between your thighs only served as another reminder. Last night was a blur, a glimpse into a more confident Steve who initiated the things that you both yearned for.

You didn’t know how much more obvious you could be, but he still seemed to question the very concept that he was even with you. You were working to reassure him that he deserved you, and he was proving it more day by day. The sexual chemistry between the two of you was off the charts from the beginning, but now it was becoming more natural, more reciprocated.

Even though Steve wasn’t in bed next to you, you pranced around that morning fueled off the memory of last night. You got dressed and soon found yourself leaning against the doorway of the bedroom, ready to return the favor. Steve was elsewhere in the house, so you called his name.

“Yeah?” Steve replied, and you could hear him shuffling about the house, finding his way to your voice.

He paused in the doorway when he saw you, and a devious grin appeared on your face. Steve was unaware of your intentions, but he smiled back because you were. You tiptoed over to him, and put your hands on his shoulders, eyeing him like he was candy.

“I was just thinking… I should return the favor,” you shrugged innocuously, leaning in for a short kiss and pulling away despite his lips begging for more.

“Return the favor?” Steve asked in response.

His face looked clueless, but by the quirk in his voice you could tell he knew exactly what you meant.

“From last night?” you crooned, dropping slowly to your knees in front of him and giving him those eyes— those fuck me eyes that he couldn’t ever resist. If he didn’t have any self control, he’d have lugged you up off the floor and bent you over by now, never mind returning the favor.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, doll,” Steve cocked his head to the side, a devious edge creeping into his tone.

You pouted, furrowing your eyebrows in doubt, palming him through the grey sweats that worked you into a frenzy every time he wore them.

“Really?” you retorted, feeling him get harder the more your hand brushed against him. “This seems to say something different.”

“Jesus,” Steve shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “When’d things get so… good?”

“You tell me, babe. You were the one giving me head completely unprompted on the kitchen counter last night. I mean, have you no shame?” you poked sarcastically at him, because you weren’t complaining at all, you just weren’t used to Steve being so bold.

“‘M only gonna have you for two weeks,” Steve murmured, his jaw ticking involuntarily as he glared down at you through eyes that were growing heavier by the minute. “I wanna make sure I can still remember how you taste when you leave.”

Now, you were usually the one making Steve blush, but now it was your turn, heat rising up your cheeks and making you look away inadvertently.

“Hey,” Steve used his fingers to gently lift your chin up so you were looking at him. “I wanna be able to see your face. You’re beautiful.”

“Steve, you’re sweet. But don’t go being all cute, I’m about to have your dick in my mouth,” you snorted, wasting no time and pulling down his sweats.

Your hands, soft and delicate, ran down his thighs, the barely-there touch making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. You bit down on your lip, eyeing his length through his boxers, and put your lips around the tip, which was already leaking precum through the dark fabric. You looked up at Steve, who was already in shambles, his eyes clenched closed and his head leaning back against the wall. It was clear to you that, even though Steve took you by surprise last night, you were still the one in control, and you loved knowing you could have such an effect on him.

“Feel good?” you asked in a hushed, sweet voice, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

Steve sucked in a breath when your lips left him, and grunted in response. You took that as your sign to get on with it, and pulled his boxers down, his cock meeting the cold air and standing erect in front of your face. His tip, dripping with arousal, was red and swollen, practically begging to be put between your lips. You giggled, a devious glint flashing in your eyes as you inched your head forward, taking his cock in your mouth, just plump glossy lips around the tip and your tongue just barely teasing the shaft. His dick throbbed in your mouth as soon as you got a taste of him on your palate, salty and bittersweet, a taste you knew you would never be able to get enough of since the day you’d finally gotten a try.

Steve opened his eyes and lowered his head slowly to look down at you. You had your cheeks sucked in and your lips puckered around the tip, the perfect little image on your knees in front of the captain.

You managed as best a smile as you could without letting your lips leave his tip, and Steve smiled back, a wolfish grin that was more mischievous than his usual golden retriever beam. You fluttered your lashes up at him almost comically and received a chuckle from him in response. He shook his head slowly, playfully, and you took him further into your mouth, keeping his entire length lodged in the back of your throat, tightly constricted around him like a snake.

The entire room was quiet except for the sound of you gagging around his cock, which pulsated in the back of your throat and even threatened to finish quickly— despite all his endurance, you gave Steve a run for his money. Steve couldn’t even deny it himself— he had to stop himself from coming down your throat because you were just so good, but it was so early on. The feeling of your throat and mouth wrapped tightly around him felt like a warm glove or even a sweet hug.

You tested both your limits by swallowing while he was practically trapped in your throat, the sound it made incredibly obscene. Steve groaned loudly, his deep, gruff moan echoing in your ears like a lovely choir. You let go and started bobbing your head up and down, your lips wrapped around him tight, tongue brushing the underside of his shaft. He shuddered, then moaned, sucking in a deep breath with his eyes trained on you. Your eyes flickered down at what you were doing, focusing on the way he disappeared inside your mouth. You even raised your hands up to stroke what you couldn’t take in your mouth, though you devoted yourself to taking all of him because you were just that good. But Steve lowered his hands and softly pushed yours away, shaking his head. His voice was unusually low even for someone as gruff as him when he said,

“No hands. And look at me when you’re sucking me off.”

You looked up at him almost immediately and nodded quickly, brows furrowing in the middle as your puppy dog eyes turned on inadvertently. You liked how much more confident Steve was becoming day by day. He had no shame in telling you what to do and wasn’t nervous about how you’d react anymore. You had your hands practically pinned behind your back as you bobbed your head at a consistent, steady pace, spit drooling from the corners of your mouth and onto him. He sighed out in contentment as he looked down at you, unafraid to get messy and perfect at your job.

He ran his hands through his hair, raising his eyebrows at you as if he was in disbelief. And a part of him still was— though he got more and more comfortable with you every day, your inner and outer beauty and glow would always remain fresh to him. He would never get used to you, never get bored of you. He had never had much luck with love, and, to put it quite bluntly, the fact that a beautiful girl like yourself was on your knees for him was quite unusual for him.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” the apple in his throat bounced as he swallowed hard, then he clenched his jaw tight, staring down at you in deep concentration.

Duh, you wanted to reply, but you had to remind yourself it was rude to talk with your mouth full. You just gazed up at him with smiling eyes, slurping from the shaft to the tip, then taking his balls into your mouth, switching from sucking on them to licking beneath his shaft. Each time you shifted between one or the other, he moaned deeply, the sound reverberating in your stomach and triggering slick between your legs. You dared to venture your hand between your thighs and touch yourself, gently gliding your fingers from the dripping slit to your throbbing clit. Steve groaned as he watched you get yourself off while you got him off, inching a few steps forward, his dick sliding against your deft tongue.

“You look so good, doll,” he said, his voice just barely above a whisper.

You offered him a small smile, spit mixed with his arousal dripping down your chin. You spit on his cock, then got back to work and put your lips all the way around him again. You got back to bobbing your head up and down and Steve swore he was going to lose his mind at the sight of you playing with yourself and sucking him off so eagerly. You were so good at everything you did, but especially this, and so effortlessly hot. He almost forgot you had just woken up. He chuckled devilishly and smirked down at you.

“You do love doing that, don’t you?” he asked.

You nodded and batted your lashes, hollowing your cheeks out and making sure to pucker your lips hard around his lip.

“Mm hm,” you moaned around him in response.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he muttered under his breath, gazing into your eyes and earning another slight smile from you.

You let your eyes flutter closed as you worked Steve to the end, and Steve’s eyelids fell too, his hands balling into fists and his chest rising and falling heavily as you did your job.

“Yes, that’s it, you’re so goddamn good, you’re gonna make me come, baby,” Steve’s voice grew lower and deeper as you drew his orgasm closer and closer, and you grew more sloppy and untamed with your mouth around him as you slurped away. You could tell he was going to come the way he was pulsing inside your mouth, and the way his groans grew less inhibited the longer you sucked him off. He even started to stutter, his teeth grit as he started to come, shooting ropes of his cum down your warm throat, “Fu-fuck, that’s… yes, yes, YN, I’m coming.”

You kept sucking until he was done, which drove him crazy, and even after, you still kept your lips closed around the base, only departing when you were ready. You loved the taste of him, and wanted to keep him on your lips forever, but sadly you knew that’d be impossible. But like Steve, whenever you got the chance to have him, you’d have him. Even now, when you’d just woken up not twenty minutes ago. When you finally pulled away, Steve had gathered himself. You grinned at him, beaming even, looking so innocent and angelic despite the fact that you were on your knees with Steve’s dripping cock in front of you and spit running down your chin.

“How was it?!”

Steve just laughed, shaking his head and pulling his sweats back up.

“How was it?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t think I have the words for it, doll.”

Steve, polite as always, helped you up off your knees, and pulled you close to him, grabbing you by the hips, kissing you on the lips.

“That’s fair!” you shrugged, giddy from the sweet gesture. “You coming so hard was evidence enough.”

You teased him, bopping his nose with your finger, and he shook his head and rolled his eyes playfully at you.

“What can I say, you’re a natural,” he played along, then suddenly lifted you up and threw you over his shoulder, parading through the house with you as if you were a ragdoll.

“Steve!” you cried, flailing your arms against his back and laughing raucously. “Asshole, put me down!”

“Oh no, we’re gonna make breakfast like this,” Steve denied you, shaking his head with a mischievous smile.

“I just ate,” you snorted, and Steve’s hand landed on your ass in response.

“Don’t be nasty,” he teased you, and you sighed,

“Steve, you prude.”

The rest of that morning was spent making breakfast and listening to music. Or more like, burning all the pancakes, spilling the egg whip and blasting the radio, forcing Steve to listen to “new age” music that he didn’t understand, but he endured it because you loved it. (“It’s Megan Thee Stallion, not Megan The Stallion.”) You danced and laughed and sang with him, but by the time you ran out of flour (because a majority of it ended up on your face, and then Steve’s face as revenge), you really hadn’t succeeded at making anything, and it was lunchtime by then, so you just decided you would go out instead.

Steve didn’t seem to mind going to a more populated place this afternoon. You figured it was because perhaps he had loosened up a bit this morning after your little surprise gift. That still didn’t stop him from wearing a cap and fake glasses, which surprisingly disguised him quite well. Although, in the car ride over to the restaurant Steve was taking you to, you couldn’t help but ask,

“Why the cap and glasses though? Isn’t it a little, I don’t know, rookie for someone like you? I guess I always expected your disguises to be top class, like prosthetics and all that.”

“They can be. But trust me, it’s easier to deceive than it looks. And besides, if I’m out with my girl, I don’t want to look like a whole different person. I wanna look like me.”

There it was again, that sweet phrase of his— “my girl.” You made a soft cooing noise and tilted your head over to him, a pleased smile set on your sweet lips.

“My girl,” you repeated, laying your head on his bicep as he turned down the road where the restaurant was.

He glanced over at you and grinned down at you, loving the feeling of your head against him and the sound of your airy voice.

“Don’t you forget it.”

“Okay, baby,” you cooed again, your heart practically soaring with how content you were, biting down on your lip to restrain a goofy smile.

He had to do the same, a pink blush spreading to his cheeks at the sound of your voice and the pet name.

He parked soon after, opening the door for you as usual. He got a table for the two of you in the back of the restaurant beside of a big window. It was a fancier restaurant, bustling with people, light jazz playing on the speakers.

“You always bring me to the cutest little places,” you grinned softly at him, leaning close to him at the table.

Steve grinned back at how close you were to him, the way you leaned in as if to close space between you, talking to him like you were telling a secret just for you and him. He clasped his hands together and shrugged nonchalantly, like his heart wasn’t swelling from the compliment.

“I got a lot more to show you, doll,” he replied. “So much to do and such little time.”

“I know! It’s been about a week, hasn’t it?” you beamed, your cheeks rounding out when you leaned your head against your palm. You glanced out the window with a distracted smile on your lips. You laughed goofily. “I don’t know. I haven’t been keeping track of the days.”

“That sounds about right,” Steve said, wistful eyes gazing at your face, the afternoon sun glinting on your side profile.

You looked so angelic in this moment, and you weren’t even trying to look divine. Steve was silent for a moment, and you looked back at him to see that he was just staring at you with lovey dovey eyes. You laughed, shaking your head.

“What?” you giggled. “Earth to Steve.”

“You just look so pretty,” Steve replied casually.

“Aww, you too, lover boy,” you teased him, reaching across the table to squeeze his cheek playfully.

A waiter approached you and began to serve you. You ordered a mimosa to start, very typical of you, and Steve stuck with water. When the drinks came you slurped eagerly at the mimosa and Steve shook his head playfully, laughing at the sight of you drinking greedily. You looked up from the bottomless depths of your glass and raised a brow.

“What?” you asked cluelessly. “It’s good!”

“I bet. You college girls and your drinking,” Steve poked fun at you.

“I’m a college grad,” you corrected him, pointing a finger at him.

“Close enough,” Steve shrugged.

“Steve, you perv,” you smirked, folding your arms and slouching back in the booth. “You just like me ‘cuz I’m young and hot.”

“That’s part of it,” he admitted.

You fake gasped.

“Steve, you devil!” you leaned in close to his face and narrowed your eyes at him, biting down softly on your lips. Your voice was low and crooning, a fiery look in your hooded eyes. “You have a thing for the age difference, don’t you?”

Even though you were only kidding with him, your close proximity, the subject matter and your tone of voice had Steve shifting in his seat and clasping his hands together in his lap, clenching down on his jaw. His face was getting warm and he wished more than anything that you were alone together in this moment, because then he would—

“I’m… not interrupting anything am I?” the waiter returned with a pen and pad, ready to take your orders.

You slunk back instantly, an all too innocent smile on your face, perking your head up to look over at the waiter,

“Not at all. We’re ready to order!”

Halfway through the lunch, you had gone through a few mimosas and you were starting to get giggly and cutesy. Steve found it adorable. He’d never seen you in such a state, and you were somehow more bubbly and fun than normally.

“You don’t drink much,” you mentioned to Steve with a slight frown, eyes squinted and lids heavy from the drowsiness that the alcohol was setting in.

“Nah,” Steve smiled. “Doesn’t do anything for me. I mean, I’ll drink, but I can’t get drunk.”

“Hmm. Guess being a superhero has its ups and downs,” you chirped happily, burping a little bit afterwards.

Steve laughed, handing you a napkin for the bit of alcohol that was sitting at the corner of your lips.

“Superhero,” he repeated your own words, chuckling and shaking his head as if in doubt.

“What?!” you cried. “You’re a superhero, a-” you shushed yourself, remembering that you were in public, then whispered, “an Avenger.”

“Me? I’m just your average Joe.”

“You say potato, I say potato,” you shrugged, rolling your eyes drunkenly. “You say you can’t get drunk… I would like to test that theory some day.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head again,

“I got a feeling you were a wild child.”

“Oh yeah,” you said sarcastically, nodding. “Yeah, I was a real handful. Going out surfing and hiking every weekend of high school like a ne'er-do-well.”

Steve chortled at your drunken sense of humor. You were sarcastic enough, the mimosas just turned it on ten. He didn’t even mind that you were drunk in front of him right now— it let him feel reassured that you were comfortable enough with him to do this. After all, every day you were getting past all the niceties.

“A true rebel,” Steve replied, raising his eyebrows.

“Uh huh,” you took a forkful of salad into your mouth, chewing and swallowing. “My parents had a looot on their plate.”

Steve suddenly shifted, remembering what you had said about your parents. There hadn’t been much of an update since the last time you’d talked to Steve about them.

“Right, your parents. How’s that going? Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“Steve,” you squeezed his cheek. “It’s alright, I guess. We haven’t talked much since the incident, but… we’ve talked. I mean, it sucks that things went down the way they did, but at least I’m not hiding much from them anymore. I mean, besides this. But, them supporting my career is… cute.”

“Cute?” Steve smirked at your choice of words, and you hiccuped, smiling dazedly.

“I mean, nice. I don’t know, I’m drunk,” you giggled. You settled in, sighing and folding your hands on the table, fiddling with your fingers. “I just… I told them I need my space, you know? I don’t even really wanna have some big conversation. I feel like it’s like, whatever, you know? We move on and I move on, try to make the best of what we have of our relationship, for the remainder of time we have left together. That’s all I really have the mental and emotional energy left for, to be honest. I mean, we’re getting old. Them especially. But right now, I don’t wanna think about them. Or talk to them. Right now I wanna be with you.”

You finished your little soliloquy with a grin, gazing at Steve with friendly eyes. Steve nodded, understanding every word. He’d always be there for you when it came to your family matters, or anything you were going through. But he was glad you were taking this route. He wanted you to enjoy yourself, not be so stressed about everything the way you used to be.

He’d only been with you in person for a short amount of time, but he knew your habits, he knew your character— you thought maybe even better than your parents did. And for that, you were eternally grateful. Steve wasn’t just a lover, he was a friend. Someone you felt you could trust and give your all to.

“I understand,” Steve nodded. “I wanna be with you, too.”

He reached out and squeezed your hand, stopping you from your half nervous, half mimosa induced fidgeting. You perked up again, a big grin on your face,

“Yay! We should dance now.”

Steve scoffed,

“Yeah, this is where I get the check. We gotta get you home.”

No matter how much you fought it then, by the time Steve was carrying you from the car to his apartment, you were more than happy to be back home. He sat you down on the bed where you took a long nap, and spent the rest of the day indoors with Steve, crossing more and more modern day movies off his little bucket list. No matter how you spent the day, it was always good. And Steve treated you oh-so-right, no matter whether you were drunk or sober.

| | |

“You feel so fucking good,” Steve practically whimpered into your ear.

Right now, Steve was buried to the hilt inside you from behind you, spoonfucking you and stretching you out almost offensively from this delicious new angle. You’d suggested it to him that morning when you woke up to Steve’s hard on against your ass, rolling your head over sleepily and casually asking him, “wanna take me like this right now?” If anything could wake Steve up so quick, it was that question. He loved the accessibility. He barely had to move to get inside you where he was quickly realizing he belonged. Any way he could be close to you, sexually or otherwise, was ideal for him.

His thrusts were soft but firm and deep, his girthy, long length allowing him to hit every spot that he needed to hit. You were both delirious from morning fog and the euphoric sensations you were sharing together, like on a thick cord of energy that was impenetrable. Steve felt so deep inside you, deeper than the first time, deeper than your mouth could take him. You were rocking back and forth each time he fucked into you at that sweet, steady pace. He wasn’t wasting any time with you, but he was taking his time all the same.

His breath was warm on your neck, coming and going in heavy pants, and your breath was winding out along with the ever-pleased moans Steve drew from you.

“Fu-uck, baby just like that,” you groaned, hardly able to open your eyes until he hit a spot so right inside you that you had to crane your neck because you wanted to look at him.

He opened his eyes a bit wider when he saw you, and locked eyes with you. The very sight of your face had him throbbing inside of you, stretching your walls out impossibly further. He slammed his hips up into you, and you whined at the hard, pleasing sensation, your brows furrowing in the middle.

Steve looked down at where your bodies met, absolutely enamoured by the sight of him disappearing in and out of you, his favorite place. Your chest and stomach began to surge with that familiar, burning feeling, and you couldn’t help the warbled moan that came out of you. The eye contact combined with the feeling of Steve rocking his hips steadily into you was so deliciously overwhelming, you thought you had never been so turned on in your life. No one had given it to you this good.

So early in the morning, Steve was ready for you, and you’d been going for a while, the time filling with endless cycles of him making you cum on his cock over and over, no end in sight. He held back every time he was going to come because he wanted to cherish this time with you. So close and so intimate, the light of dawn tickling the morning sky outside.

“I’m gonna come,” Steve moaned, and you nodded— you had been more than sated in the long period of time you’d been fucking.

“Come inside me,” you prompted him, reaching your hand over to stroke his cheek. “Keep looking at me, baby.”

Steve gazed deep in your eyes, fighting the urge to look down at what he was doing. There was nothing more personal than this right now, looking into your fucked out, glazed over eyes while he rode out his orgasm, coming inside you until he was sure he had nothing left in his entire body. Even after he came, egged on by the sounds of you cooing words of encouragement, telling him how you wanted him to stuff you and fill you up, he kept rocking his hips up into you, slowly and softly, even lovingly.

“Make sure it’s all in there,” he kissed your sweaty neck and you stretched it out, facing away from him and burying your cheek in the pillow, still feeling his thick length inside you, stuffing all his come deep inside you.

Even then, there was so much that when he pulled out, some of it leaked out of you and onto the bed sheets, spread out on your pussy. He used his fingers to slick it all up, then reached over your shoulder and pressed gently to open your mouth, inviting you to suck the cum off his fingers. You did it eagerly, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. And then you both laid there for a while in silence, you still recovering and laying on your side, Steve pulling you into him so you could lay the back of your head on his outstretched arms while he lay on his back.

“That was disgusting, in the best way imaginable,” you breathed, a pleased, hazy smile on your face, turning to face him. “Again?”

“Again?” Steve laughed, shaking his head and looking over at you, surprise laden in his ocean blue eyes. He had no problem going again, it was you he was concerned for. He ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head and nearly biting down on his lip at just the thought of going rounds. “I’m not gonna go easy on you, you do know that right?”

“You call that taking it easy? I came like…” you drifted off, not able to keep track.

“Five times. I counted,” Steve answered proudly.

You chortled at his prideful demeanor. Steve could be such a different person in the bedroom, and you were absolutely not against it. It was kind of cute how cocky he could get, and it was lovely seeing him blossom like a flower and get more and more physically confident with you.

“Yeah… I think we should just cuddle for now,” you decided, not able to fathom what Steve might do to you if you actually followed through with your delusional suggestion. Steve was silent but his face said it all. You playfully shoved his face. “Wipe that smirk off your face.”

“What smirk?” he asked faux innocently.

“Shut up,” you giggled, cuddling in closer to him and practically coiling up next to him.

He put his arms around you instinctively. It felt like he was wrapping you in a sheath of protection.

“You’re so warm,” he noted, kissing the top of your head.

“It’s that Cali weather stuck on me,” you decided quietly, letting your eyes close.

“You’re like that Katy Perry song,” Steve noted, and you laughed to yourself. He glanced down, brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. You’re getting more modern by the day.”

Steve laughed with you, and in the silence that followed, the thoughts he’d pushed away earlier that week started to flood his mind. Labels, officiality. The idea of the conversation gave him plenty of nerves at first, and he’d been brooding on it. But these past few days, you’d grown so close, almost unexpectedly. You were close from the start, but now topics like these felt a bit easier to approach. You got much closer physically and emotionally in the course of a few days. He still didn’t want you to feel rushed, but this felt like quite a comfortable, languid moment to bring this up. The light was poking through the blinds in just the perfect manner, and you looked so delicate and content laying on his arm, nuzzled into his chest like that.

The room was quiet and fuzzy with the aftermath of what you’d done, but the energy couldn’t be purer. It was like soft music was playing over the silence that wasn’t quite silent at all.

“You awake?” Steve asked, fixating down at you.

“Mm hm,” you hummed, your eyes still closed. You were extremely relaxed and cozy in this moment, your mind and body wrapped up in Steve’s snug arms.

“I’ve got something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” Steve’s fingers traced light strokes on your collarbones, soothing and gentle.

You eased even further into his touch, but poked one eye open, raising a curious brow,

“Good or bad?”

“Good,” Steve laughed quietly, fingers still gently caressing your supple skin. “Always good.”

“Okay, shoot,” you smiled, the apples of your cheeks turning upwards in that way Steve always noticed— there were so many small things about you that Steve absolutely died for.

“I’ve been thinking about us. And we haven’t spent a lot of time together, and this isn’t something I’m used to. I mean, I’m really kind of still new to all this.”

“Mm hm,” you hummed, the vibrations of your voice easing him.

“And, you know, I’m still a kinda traditional guy. I like to be sure that I’m treating you right. And I feel like part of that includes, you know, what I’d call you. Like… if I would call you labels.”

“Mm hmm,” you hummed again, looking up at him and making eye contact. “Be more specific.”

You were sure you understood what he meant, but you wanted crystal clear communication— even though you trusted Steve, it was just one of those things you had as a result of your past. A condition. And he understood that completely, another reason why you felt you could trust him. Plus, it was kind of nice to see Steve get his words out, this big strong man trying to figure out what to say to you, a simple, special girl. So special on your own, and so special to him, a kind of pleasant surprise to you.

“Say if I were to call you my girlfriend. I… I just find myself thinking about when the time is right to ask. Or if… if I should, at all. I don’t wanna go too fast, or-or pressure you into anything. And, a part of me realizes that we don’t need a title because, well, this isn’t a normal relationship and I get that you young people— for lack of a better word— don’t care much about labels anymore, which I respect. And I know you’re not looking to rush into anything too soon because of how you’ve been treated in the past but…” here, Steve almost got emotional, thinking of how special you were to him, unable to believe that you’d been treated so poorly in the past— all he wanted was to show you just how you made him feel. “But I just want to treat you right, and make you happy because well, you make me happy. And it’s… it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way. And I’m sure that for you and me both, these feelings are rare. And I can treat you the same regardless of whether or not we put a label on it, but… it’s just been on my mind.”

He continued,

“And I’m not asking anything of you right now. I just wanted to get it out there. I know how important it is to you that we communicate. And I wanted to be able to talk to you about it before I spring anything on you.”

You swallowed down everything he was saying, and even you were getting a bit emotional. He had said so much, and everything he said had resonated so heavily. He truly cared about you, and to even bring this up in this way showed how much he understood that you needed your own personal time and space.

As much as you liked Steve, and wanted to pursue something, anything with him that was good for your emotional and mental health, you still highly valued communication and your time. It was just how you were structured, it was how time and your life experiences had built you. And you understood what he was saying.

Right now, you still weren’t even sure what you wanted. You just knew that you liked this, even though it felt like a commitment. He’d flown you out after all. He really wanted to see you and be with you, and the same went for you. But you didn’t get the vibes that he was forcing you to commit or that he expected anything from you because of your amazingly unique circumstances. It would just make sense to put a label or be official… but all the same, it would make sense to just keep things playing out and enjoy your time together.

That didn’t have to mean you were just fooling around, because you got the feeling that you both took each other quite seriously in the relationship area of life, exclusive or not. And it had been on your mind as well, but you were just living in the moment.

You finally replied, a small smile on your face, placing a consoling hand on Steve’s chest,

“Thank you, Stevie. Really, it means the most to me, you coming to me like this. And everything you’re saying makes complete sense to me.” You gave him a short, sweet kiss on his jawline. “And honestly, I can tell you were still a little nervous to bring this up to me. But there’s no reason for you to be. I want you, there’s no doubt about that. And I really respect your traditional tendencies. And I feel like even though we’ve only known each other in person for so long, we’ve been talking for quite some time. I feel like I know you well.”

“So do I,” Steve grinned, almost letting out a sigh of relief as he listened to your words.

“And I really am open for anything. I think, these days though, I’m just trying to live in the present. I’m gonna be with you, whether I’m officially your girlfriend or not. I’m not obsessed with labels right now, and neither are you. Being asked officially would just be a nice little perk to what we already have. So I’m not in a rush. But I’m also not at all against it. I’d love to call myself your girlfriend one day. It’s our call.”

Steve nodded, grinning stupidly to himself. To hear those words was so reassuring. He knew exactly what he wanted to do, and he was glad you felt the way you did, though he wouldn’t have been upset if you felt any other way. He just wanted to be with you, the same way you just wanted to be with him. You were comfortable enough with each other not to feel like you needed to rush into anything exclusive, and also comfortable enough to be able to put a label on what you had and move on accordingly.

“Our call. I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah? Me too,” you agreed— unity over one person wearing the pants in your relationship.

If and when the time did come that Steve should ask you to be his girlfriend, you would be happy for the day—ecstatic, even. But you were comfortable enough in your own skin to just keep on living through the days. And the days with him were quite wonderful.

No rush, just serenity.

AHHHHHHHH!!!

it’s been done

i hope y’all loved that :)))

tbh i think this series is gonna have 20-25 parts, 30 max. ion want it to get too crazy! there is an end in sight, but fear not, there is a lot to go <3

*tags added later*

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supercantaloupe · 4 years ago

Text

@dimension20alphabet prompt fill #6: Flowers

title: A Little Fall of Rain - campaign: Fantasy High: Sophomore Year - 1882 words - set post-fysy

Aelwyn learns a new way to grow.

The window of the wizards’ tower overlooks the backyard of Mordred Manor.

There’s a small graveyard plot, its grass overgrown. There are a few trees, as old and strange and history-filled as the rest of the house. There’s a hill that gently slopes down to the edge of the woods, a short walk into which you’ll reach a creek. But you can’t see that from the window; just the hill and the trees and the messy grass.

Aelwyn spends a lot of her time looking at that yard, when she’s home-where-it-does-not-feel-like-home. Plain and drab and sad. Her sister and her friends go to school and the adults go to work, but Aelwyn spends most days home alone. She can hardly stand to look at that empty yard for another second.

So, she decides she won’t.

She goes to the library one day, and spends hours browsing the shelves and reading, taking notes. She comes home in the evening when the library closes with a stack full of books, and stays up late reading them in bed while her sister trances in the bunk below. The next day she scours the garage and basement and storage of the manor for tools, anything she can scrounge together. She gathers them out back in preparation, leaning them against the wall outside. The next day, she goes out again, borrowing cash from Jawbone to get the items she’s missing. She thinks about stopping by the mall, too, for the right outfit, but Sandra Lynn catches on and gives her an old pair of boots and overalls for free.

The next day, she gets up early, and gets to work.

The first few days are nothing but digging, ripping up grass and sprinkling fertilizer and turning the soil until there are new, neatly defined beds outlining the house and the yard, blank canvases.

She loses two days to a spring thunderstorm, one raining her out all day and one sunny but swamped with mud, setting her progress back at least a few more days. She feels like tearing her hair out, and throws a trowel across the yard in frustration.

She comes back the next day, pulls the trowel out of the ground from where it’d stuck, and gets back to work. She spends hours one day lining the beds with rocks to keep them neat and pretty, and checking the levels of soil temperature, nutrient balance, everything. She makes a chart in her notebook, portioning out where everything will go.

The next day she spends ten straight hours planting. Her only break, around noon, is when Jawbone comes out and brings her a sandwich and a lemonade and practically begs her to take a rest. She obliges, if only to quiet the distracting growl of her stomach. He has to come back out and drag her in when the sun goes down for dinner, despite her protests. When she washes up to eat, it takes her two minutes of scrubbing to remove the dirt stubbornly caked into her fingernails.

If there’s anything good to come out of being an unemployed, out-of-school teenager slowly and painfully rebuilding herself from trauma, it’s that Aelwyn has a lot of free time. Free time she spends every day out under the sun in her new garden, planting seeds and sprouts and monitoring their progress, new greens popping up row by row. She covers the beds with mulch and straw to protect their roots, just like the books say to do. She waters them every morning, and curses when the rain comes and renders her work redundant. Her delicate elven skin starts to burn in the sunlight, even after she takes to wearing a wide-brimmed hat, but after so long it just starts to tan instead. Now when she washes in the evening she sees someone her parents would have hated – face sweaty and flushed, hands caked in dirt and callouses from work – and it feels good, in a strange way. There is a satisfaction in going to bed each night, climbing up onto the top bunk and collapsing in the pillows with the deep-set, satisfied exhaustion of hard work in her bones.

Her garden starts out well enough, neatly arranged and manicured and ready to go. Then days pass, and weeks, and there is not much more to show. Nor is there enough new work to sustain her breakneck pace. Aelwyn stares out the window of the wizards’ tower and grows restless and frustrated again. She’s doing everything right. She’s double checked every book in the library about it. Why aren’t they growing? Why isn’t it perfect?

The manor’s inhabitants have long since figured out Aelwyn’s project, and her dedication to it, and they respect it. They don’t bother her when she’s working and they don’t offer to help, an interference. But visitors don’t always get that so intrinsically, and the Bad Kids have a lot of friends. There are the girls who live here, and then their male partymates, and occasionally other guests. The half-orc brings a satyr girlfriend along often, most times he visits.

“I like your garden,” she says. Aelwyn is sitting on the back porch, staring broodily over her stunted plants. She glances over her shoulder at the satyr unkindly, she who has broken the unspoken rule against disturbing her in her yard.

Aelwyn grunts and turns back, scowling. “I don’t.”

“O-oh,” Zelda says nervously. “I’m sorry, that was stupid. It’s, um, it’s just…fine?” she stammers to correct herself.

Aelwyn huffs. “They won’t grow properly. I’ve done everything right.” She gestures in frustration at the neat rows of plants, manicured but underwhelming.

“Some people, uh, some people just don’t have a green thumb,” Zelda says. “I mean, like, satyrs are supposed to be, like, really in touch with nature and stuff, right? But I can’t even keep a fern alive in my room, it’s like, crazy,” she continues. Aelwyn grunts again. “Have you tried talking to a druid?” Zelda continues. “They’re supposed to, like, know a lot about plants, right?”

“I don’t know any druids,” Aelwyn says bluntly. She’s talked to Sandra Lynn; a ranger is as close as she can get, but Sandra Lynn doesn’t know any more about gardening than Aelwyn does.

“I could ask Danielle for you?” Zelda offers. Aelwyn turns again and looks at her, confused. “Danielle Barkstock. She’s, uh, my party’s druid.”

“Danielle Barkstock,” Aelwyn repeats, placing the name. “She was one of those girls in the crystals.”

“Um,” Zelda says. “Yeah. Um. We all were. Uh…we formed an adventuring party together after…that.”

Aelwyn laughs once, no humor to it. “I’m sure she would love to help me out with my pathetic little shithole here.”

“I could ask her for you,” Zelda repeats, sounding intensely nervous again. “I don’t have to tell her it’s for you.” Aelwyn looks her over again. “Sorry, it’s a crazy, stupid idea, I’m just…ignore me, haha, it’s stupid–”

“Would you?” Aelwyn cuts her off, sounding uncharacteristically soft. Zelda blinks, then nods.

A few days later, all the Bad Kids and all the Maidens are over at the manor for a party. Aelwyn pointedly stays out of the way, spending the afternoon in her garden. She hears the back porch door slide open and looks back to see who’s there. Zelda, and a half-elven girl with flowers braided into her hair. Actually, there’s a third with them: a small silver fox.

“You must be Aelwyn,” the half-elf says.

“You must be Danielle,” Aelwyn returns coolly. Danielle descends the porch steps and wanders through the garden, observing Aelwyn’s work silently. Aelwyn waits, kneeling in the dirt, for any kind of feedback. “You’re a druid, then?” Aelwyn says, breaking the awkward silence. Danielle nods. Her fox wanders between the plants, sniffing them as it goes. “You know what’s wrong here, then? Why they won’t grow?”

“I know more about animals than plants,” Danielle responds neutrally. Aelwyn shuts up and looks down. “But I think I have an idea here,” she continues, finally looking at Aelwyn. She turns around and meets her gaze, hopeful if restrained. “It’s too perfect. You have to step back and let them grow on their own for a bit.”

Aelwyn’s brow furrows, confused. “I’m doing everything the gardening books say to do.”

“Then stop reading books,” Danielle says simply. “Plants are living things. They’ll tell you what they need if you let them grow and listen.” With that, she walks back to the house, her familiar following at her heel.

Aelwyn blinks, dumbfounded and confused, and offers a feeble “thanks” as she goes. Danielle holds up a hand but doesn’t look back.

It feels strange, and foreign, and wrong to sit back, but Aelwyn forces herself to heed the druid’s advice. She returns the gardening manuals to the library. She spends time in her garden still, but without tools in her hands. She lays in the grass and looks at the sky. She drinks tea and reads under the shade of the tree. She keeps the grass in the graveyard plot trimmed.

It does take a few days for her to notice, but her plants do start to grow again. They creep beyond the boundaries she’d so carefully delineated for them, and she fights the urge to trim them back. She watches and listens to them closely, not with the eye or ear of a drill sergeant but of a parent, a real one, a loving one, one like Sandra Lynn who offered her overalls and one like Jawbone who brings her lunch and lemonade and asks her to rest. She finds what the plants ask for, and she gives it to them; plucks insect pests from their stems, prunes diseased leaves, ties them to stakes so they can grow tall, waters them when they’re wilting.

By summer, it is no longer just green. Aelwyn wakes up one morning and looks out the window in the wizards’ tower, and for the first time, she sees pink. The next day, yellows. Soon, there is a rainbow of flowers blooming all over the yard, of a variety and vitality Aelwyn has never seen before. Her old home had a garden, sure, but it was too manicured, too neat, too formal, too artificial, and never was she allowed to tamper with it; that’s what hired landscapers were for. Mordred Manor has no hired hands; Aelwyn has her own.

Jawbone and Sandra Lynn meet her in her garden one day. It’s sunny and hot out, and Aelwyn is watching the bees and butterflies flit from plant to plant, drinking their fill of sweet nectar. They say how beautiful it is, and Aelwyn agrees. They tell her how proud they are of her work, and she agrees. They say they’re proud of how much she’s grown. (At first she thinks they mean the plants, but she realizes after what they really mean.) And they thank her for livening up the manor, and bringing some color out to the yard.

When they go inside, Aelwyn gets up, and grabs her shears. She finds the best blossoms from the best plants and carefully snips them off, tying their stems together in a bouquet with ribbon. And she sends them to Danielle, with an apology and a thank you.

#fantasy high #d20alphabet21 #fantasy high sophomore year #aelwyn abernant #fanfic #dimension 20 live #dimension 20 #danielle barkstock #zelda donovan #let the poet bless this round #remember when these were supposed to be short? lol #no proofreading! we die like men! I have to be on a train ten minutes ago!

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music-in-my-veins14 · 3 years ago

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I know you're hopin' to find Someone who's gonna give you peace of mind When times go bad When times go rough Won't you lay me down in tall grass And let me do my stuff

#Second Hand News #Fleetwood Mac #Music #Lyrics

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claireunoia · 5 years ago

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↬ 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 ·˚✩

↳ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗦𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗟!𝗔𝗨, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 ♡.

↳ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

↳ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘦, 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘵 :)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the sum beamed down not so harshly as the cool spring breeze blew around the beautiful park peacefully. children running around the playground set and some teenagers that you recognize from school socializing with one another, some making out on the benches but hey, you weren’t judging.

you sat down on the grass, up against a big tree- under the shade with all of your homework and folders spreadout, making sure to place your backpack on top so it won’t fly away. you had your hair up and in a ponytail so the locks wouldn’t get stuck onto your shiny lipgloss that covered your lips because it literally irked your soul when it happens.

you took a moment to give yourself a quick break, taking a sip of your chilled water, the cold liquid feeling amazing going down your throat. you looked over to see your bestfriend making small talk with her ultimate school girl crush, bucky. now everyone knows that the bucky barnes is a extreme ladies man. with one move or look he’ll have a girl swooning on their knees in no time... i mean who blames them? he’s hot as fuck, his long chestnut hair so beautifully laying right where he shoulder connects, and that little stubble? gosh...

now even though bucky is extremely attractive, he wasn’t really your type. yes, bucky is very well known in your school and a jock on top of that but he is just a all time gentleman. when you first came to stark high, you instantly thought he’ll be a dick— just like all of the jocks but... he’s the complete opposite. he always helped you when you dropped your books or being the clumsy shit you are, he even catches you when you're close to falling right on the ground. bucky was just a sweetheart but once again.. a ladies man. you just wanted the best of the best for your bestfriend but she knows what’s she’s getting into and that was completely fine with you.

you had stopped doing your homework when you felt and saw that the sun had disappear.

a tall (6’3 to be exact) very built, dirty blonde haired boy is standing right in front of you. you looked up to his face and went stone.

the boy apologized, holding a white sheet of paper in his calloused hand as he looked at you, “i’m so sorry but uhm, your paper flew away and i grabbed it for you... i hope that was fine” you heard him nervously speak.

you went to open your mouth it but quickly shutting it, then opening it again after you came up with words. “no that’s fine! thank you so much for doing that, i didn’t even see it. i am literally going to be dead if i don’t get all of this done” you chuckled, taking the paper from his hand gently as he held it out to you.

the boy did a quick look over at your work and smiled. “you’re in biology? i’m in the same hour as you, i did this already- i can help you if you want” he beams, a hopeful glint in his bright blue irises that you swore that sparkled.

you sent him a soft smile with a nod that eased his noticeably nerves, he took a seat on the blanket you had on the grass right next you. as he sat you turned your head to really look at him and wow... his face is literally something else, just beauty is all you could see when you look at him. but the confusion was evident in your face because he said he has the same biology hour as you and you’ll never in your life forget a face like his.

“what’s your name?” you ask him, his head snapped to yours answering your question.

“steve, steve rogers. what’s yours?” he asked back.

“y/n, y/n y/l/n.... how come i don’t see you around school? cause i’m pretty sure i’ll never or anyone would ever forget a face like yours” you unintentionally flirted, a cheeky grin spreading your across your lips a bit when you saw a pink-reddish hue paint his cheeks and the top of his ears. making him so much prettier than he already was.

“well um, i’m usually one of the quiet ones you know? i don’t really have any feelings about school whatsoever, i just go in do what i need to do and just walk right back out. never really socialize all that much with someone from school until now... with you- well bucky too but he isn’t the subject” steve explained, his full pink lips going between his pearly teeth, nibbling.

“i can so understand that, school can be a lot especially with of bunch of fucking people thinking their better than everyone... you know bucky?” you quipped after a moment, the both of you just sitting there against the tree peaceful and content just getting to know one another.

“yeah, he’s a childhood friend. knew that jerk all my life” steve held a nostalgic smile, slips of memories hitting him in one swift second. you looked up at him before tilting your head in question, “do you have any friends besides bucky?”

his eyes met yours, shaking his head with a hum. “nope, just bucky. it has always been like that” his tone held a bit of sadness as he spoke, but it also held conformation like he was cool and okay with it being that way.

“well, mr. rogers, you have just made a new friend” you playfully smirked, nudging his broad shoulder as steve met your eyes once more with a wide toothy grin, his anxious state instantly fading “well, miss. y/l/n, since your my friend how about we go and do some friend activities? that new carnival just opened up and i heard their funnel cakes are to die for” and he likes carnivals?? and he wants to take you?? funnel cakes? no, steve rogers is the one to die for.

“i’d love to go! that sounds so awesome- wait right now?” you interrupt your previous sentence, seeing steve putting all of your stuff back into the folders.

“yes”

“no, wait i don’t have any cash!”

“it’s on me, if that wasn’t obvious enough”

“okay you certified smartass what part of ‘im literally going to be dead if i don’t get this done’ did you not understand!” you pointed towards your work that steve was putting away.

“shhh” steve laughed loudly as he shushed you, putting your folders in your open backpack neatly, zipping up the bag before slinging it over his shoulder; walking backwards as he spoke to you, “who says no to funnel cakes? aliens” steve deadpanned with his arms out

“that makes no sense- hey wait up!” you shouted with a laugh when he took off towards the parking lot. you followed quickly behind him, steve slowed down and stopped at a motorcycle that you just prayed wasn’t his. you came to his side with wide eyes, “steve. i am not riding on a bike”

“oh come on, why not... scared?” he chuckled when he felt a light punch at his arm.

“i’m not scared” you defended, arms folding in front of your chest. he raise a brow, lifting the seat part of the bike; pulling out a helmet. “so what’s the problem?” steve teased, earning himself a eye roll.

“hey, if you don’t want to go it’s okay i promise, i just want you to be comfortable” his voiced turning from its teasing tone to a comforting one. you smiled at this before slowly taking the helmet out of his hands. “let’s go”

steve returned the smile before starting the engine, “just hold on to me and relax. you’ll be fine, i positivity promise, i’m good at this” steve informed, a soft beam on his face when he felt your arms wrapping around him.

“if you say so”

𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴: @nsfwsebbie ♡.

𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵: @ballyhoobarnes @cloudystevie @dummiesshort @itstaskeen ♡.

#avengers #marvel #avengers fan fic #avengers imagines #marvel imagines #avengers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #avengers fluff #marvel fluff #high school!au

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mikeisthricedeceased · 4 years ago

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Mike, dear, I need to know how much marcus m would love to be held down and ridden. Like arms pinned down over his head no where to go ridden hard and put away wet.

Oh, Julia. I’m so sorry this took so long. It’s been forever and there’s a good chance that you don’t even remember sending this.

I had a good bit of it written out shortly after you sent this, but then decided I didn’t like what I wrote and ended up falling into a long period of writer’s block before I could rewrite it

Hopefully, this kinda makes up for the wait

Warnings: D/s, choking, light roleplay, bruising, fighting as foreplay, very mild degradation

~ Smut 18+ under the cut ~

“I always forget,” Marcus pants as he pushes himself back onto his feet, “that we both end up covered in bruises after doing the ‘Hero and Villain’ thing.” He rolls his shoulder, wincing slightly as the muscle strains before it relaxes.

You laugh breathlessly, holding a hand over where he’d gotten a hit in on your side. “You’re the one that suggested it. I think you just like playing villain sometimes. Get to try out all those pent up one liners.”

He wheezes out a laugh. “You got me.”

“C’mon,” you nod to the house and reach for his hand, “we should shower. I don’t want to smell gross when we pick Missy up from school.” Then, you smile and whisper, “Plus, I want to get a few kisses in before she’s home to say ‘ew.’”

When you try to pull him toward the door, he pulls you back. “It’s Friday, honey. Ms. Vox is picking her up.”

It takes you a moment to remember. “The sleepover. Right.”

Marcus hums, smiling softly. “But we can still head to the shower and do some kissing.”

You squeeze his hand as you look him over. “Not yet.” At his look of surprise, you continue, “Since we have the time, I think I want to go another round. I’ll be the villain this time, and you’ll be the dashing hero.”

He grins when you pat his cheek, a brow raised. “Dashing, huh?”

“Oh, very.”

There’s a beat as he just looks at you, considering. “One round?”

You nod, brushing your fingers through the short hair curling over the top of his ear.

He sighs. “Okay. One round.”

~*~*~*~

It starts off like a usual round of sparring; full contact, adding bruises on top of bruises and spiking adrenaline. You exchange breathless quips and dart around one another. No weapons, no powers.

The first time your hand brushes along his ribs instead of fully landing, he assumes it’s a miscalculation and moves to take advantage.

But you twist away like you’re ready for it. Your next strike is the same, barely bumping his shoulder. Things continue like that for a while, skimming touches that ignite a particular form of frustration that he doesn’t usually feel when sparring.

He’s fully onto the game by the time your palm brushes his inner thigh when you duck under his swing. He returns the favor, pressing a hand to your lower back as he steps around you at one point. His pulse spikes when he catches the sharp look in your eyes once you’re face to face again, both shuffling around each other near the edge of the training mat.

“The fences are pretty tall,” you say suddenly, gaze steady on him.

The comment throws him off but you don’t move to take advantage, instead waiting for him to respond. “Fences?” is all he can manage, confused.

He watches your eyes move, can feel them drag down his body.

You meet his gaze again, lips quirking. “No one is coming to your rescue here, Moreno. They won’t even know you’re in danger until it’s too late.”

The offer behind the actual words registers and heat prickles along the back of his neck. “I’m not worried about a rescue. Your tricks don’t work on me.”

“So confident,” you say, subtly pushing forward to get him closer to the edge of the mat, “I’ll have to prove you wrong.”

He wets his lips and nods. “Be my guest.”

The urge to touch him is almost unbearable, only ramping up as you watch his gaze drop to follow a bead of sweat roll down your neck.

You lunge for him and he braces for the impact, but you pull back at the last second. He isn’t prepared for you to twist toward his side and plant a foot behind his leg, using what’s left of your forward momentum as you push his chest, forcing him backward.

Stumbling, he gives a surprised shout and falls back, upper body landing in the grass and legs splayed out on the mat.

You’re on him immediately, straddling his chest and pinning his arms over his head.

His chest heaves under you as he catches his breath, eyes wide.

“Sure you won’t be needing that rescue?”

The look in his eyes burns you from the inside out. You let go of his hands and he tries to reach for you, only to be foiled by a set corded roots wrapped around each of his wrists. He looks at them with a frown. “Thought we said no powers?”

You smile slyly, leaning close to his face. “Villains fight dirty, Marcus,” you whisper, kissing his cheek.

He huffs.

“If you really want them off, I’ll take them off.” You shift to straddle his hips, your hands sliding down his chest. “Otherwise,” you continue softly, sitting back on the tops of his thighs, “you can stay right where you are,” your finger hooks into the waistband of his shorts and you bite your lip as you meet his eyes, “and we can have a little fun.”

Groaning, he lets his head fall back onto the grass. “Fuck.” He looks back up at you, those soft brown eyes now endless and dark as he squirms between your thighs, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Leave them on.”

“Yeah?”

Even when you’re being a little intimidating with him, he can still see how your expression brightens through it all. Somehow, that makes the whole thing even sexier to him, knowing how pleased you are. The way you’re sliding his waistband down doesn’t hurt either.

Then it’s like all the frustration that had been building up is finally set free. You lean down, catching his mouth in a messy clash as you tug his shorts lower until you can get a hand on him. The angle is awkward, his hips a bit higher than his torso because of how he’s laying halfway off the mat, and you’re barely able to hold yourself over him with one arm.

But you’re kissing him, a hand around his cock while you trace the crown with the tip of your thumb, tasting every gasp and moan as you stroke, and it’s worth the slight twinge in your forearm.

His hips jerk. “Like it when you play the villain,” he grunts.

You hum, biting his lower lip and relishing his sharp intake of breath, how he desperately fucks into your fist when you squeeze him a little tighter. “I like having you where I want you,” you tell him. “And you always look so good when we spar like this. Out of breath, sweaty, hair a fucking mess. Been wanting to ride you since the third round.”

He curses, eyes squeezing shut. You kiss down his neck, the salt on his hot skin making you groan. He swallows and you can feel his throat bob under your lips. “Do it,” he pleads gruffly. “Ride me. Please, baby.”

It’s your turn to curse as you push yourself off of him. Kicking your shoes off, you frantically shimmy out of your workout pants and underwear, only pausing for a moment when you catch sight of him.

He’s watching, lips parted and chest still heaving. There’s a hot blush across his cheeks and down his neck, making him look thoroughly ravished.

And you haven’t even really started yet.

He says your name, voice rough while he blinks up at you and shifts his legs, still restricted by his shorts.

You straddle him again, down on your knees, and kiss him hard. The moan that rises out of him fills your chest and warms your blood. It pushes you to reach down and take hold of him again, to get the angle right and sink down until your moan is mixed with his.

This is usually slow. You’d take your time and explore, toeing the line until neither of you could hold back any longer.

Today, though...today, you’re riding hard and fast because you feel like you’ll combust if you don’t.

So, you kiss him until you can’t breathe, all tongue and teeth and frustration, grinding down on his cock. You sit up and bounce, tugging his shirt up so you can drag your nails over his chest and stomach, steadying yourself while leaving half-moons in his skin.

He tries to hold your gaze but the angle is wrong with his hands tied over his head, and you can see tendons strain in his neck when he holds up his head. So you wrap a hand around his throat to keep him down, making him whine and buck up into you.

“Fearless leader,” you growl, taunting, “so eager to give in. What would your team think?”

Marcus shudders, muscles tensing as his back arches. “Harder,” he gasps.

You dig your nails in and tighten your hold on his neck, earning a voiceless whine. “One nudge in the right direction,” you fuck down onto him hard, “and you completely fall apart.”

His head is full of white noise and everything else is sensation. He hears you tell him to come as you let go of his throat, and there isn’t anything else he can do as his whole body is flooded with pleasure, hot and slick and you, you, you.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to open his eyes but he’s looking up at the sky, panting, feeling your breath against his neck.

“Good boy,” you’re whispering, fingers tangled in his hair, “Did so good for me, Marcus.”

His shoulders ache and the roots are gone but he can still feel where they’d been wrapped around his wrists, the skin itchy.

Slowly, groaning at the shift in position, he brings his arms down and holds you.

“We still have that stuff you make? For the bruises?” he grits out.

You laugh softly. “Yeah, and I can make more if we need it.”

He pats your back. “We might.”

“Painkillers, too.”

He closes his eyes and sighs. “God, I love you.”

“Love you too,” you snort, kissing his shoulder.

#huliabitch #marcus moreno #we can be heroes #ask prompt

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marilynsweet · 4 years ago

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WITCH AU: Red

Part 2/3,the first part is “The Witch’s House.”

General warning for PG-13 esque stuff, I don’t wanna spoil too much;;

The gentle glow of the sunrise glimmered through the curtains. The window, closed, kept out the freezing air. The icy chill of late autumn had begun to set in, though there was warmth in the room. Scents of fresh greenery permeated the air.

Asriel’s eyes opened, finding himself staring up at the ceiling. His arms rested above his head.

After taking a few moments to stir himself from slumber, he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

He’d been here for about two months. The lack of such a busy lifestyle had made this place seem like paradise; he’d grown used to the quiet chirping of the birds in the woods, the sound of wind rustling through the tree’s branches, and the sounds of the goats and chickens outside each morning. His injuries had healed to the point where the only thing that irritated them was sudden quick movement. Frostbite trusted him on his own, now, to not hurt himself trying to do too much.

After a quick change of clothes, Asriel made his way out of his room and into the kitchen. The wood stove contained the soft embers of the previous night’s fire. Though it was still warm, a chill had spread through the house. Asriel took it upon himself to add another log and some twigs to reignite it.

His attention was grabbed by the sound of a THWACK! outside. Curious, Asriel took his boots from the mat by the door, laced them, and headed outside.

His breath fogged before him, and icy frost decorated the outside world in white crystals. The grass crunched beneath his feet, and sunlight sparkled through the few remaining leaves upon the trees. Two black goats trotted across the yard, along with a small flock of chickens. The thwack interrupted the air again, and Asriel followed the sound around to the side of the house.

There, he found Frostbite. She had laid her cloak across a stack of cut logs, and her arms had slipped out of her wide-necked shirt, the sleeves tied neatly behind her to keep it in place. In her hands, she held a woodcutter’s axe, and she stood in front of a pile of uncut logs. She had taken one log, and placed it upon the trunk of a long-dead tree.

He noticed black markings and symbols decorating her arms. Her arms themselves were toned by years of hard work and turmoil. She swung the axe, Asriel noticing the outline of her muscles in the movement, and slicing the log before her in two with another thwack!

He shook himself out of his staring, suddenly aware of the heat in his face. He took a deep breath, turning away from the scene to watch the goats, trying to purge the pink in his cheeks.

“You still can’t sneak as well as you think you can!”

Asriel perked, turning back to the scene to see Frostbite facing him, running a hand through her hair. Her breath fogged up quickly, sending clouds into the frosty air as she caught her breath. She swung the axe into the trunk, where she let it rest.

“Just came to see what you were doing!” Asriel replied, watching her retrieve her cloak and untie her sleeves. She slipped her arms into them, and then clipped her cloak back around her shoulders.

“Yeah? Wanna help me feed the goats?” Frostbite asked when she approached, offering him a smile. Her cheeks were flushed from her previous efforts, and she again ran a hand through her hair.

“Sure!”

She walked across the yard towards a small shed. Asriel had helped her build it about a month ago, to store the animals’ feed somewhere other than her bedroom. Following, Asriel watched her drag out a heavy canvas bag, pulling it open.

“Need help?” He asked, and she shook her head.

“I got it,” she replied, heaving it into her arms to get a better grip on it. “I’ll carry, you dispense.”

They made their way over to the wooden trough, worn through years of usage. There, Asriel helped Frostbite lay out a batch of alfalfa, and the two goats came trotting over.

“I’ll have to get more of that,” she murmured, closing up the bag. “They seem to love it.”

They returned the bag to the shed. Their footsteps left prints in the frost, and the sun was beginning to rise further against the tall trees. Beautiful reds and oranges and pinks decorated the sky, along with shadowed clouds.

“I fed the chickens earlier,” Frostbite stated, tossing her hair to move it back in place over her right eye. Her hair was smooth, shining in the gentle morning light. Her amber eyes glowed with that same shimmer. She took the heavy board hanging on the shed and swung it forward over the door to keep it shut tightly.

Asriel shook himself again, blinking as if awakened from a trance.

“You alright? You keep spacing out,” Frostbite asked, though she walked back towards the house. She motioned towards it with her head, indicating he should follow.

“Yeah— Yeah! I’m alright, I… I think I had a weird dream last night. I just… don’t remember anything about it,” Asriel replied, walking after her. “I think it threw me off.”

The kitchen had been warmed in their absence as the log caught fire in the stove. The chilled air was left behind when the front door closed.

“How long have you been awake?” Asriel asked as Frostbite sunk into one of the chairs at the table, stretching her arms above her head. She seemed tired.

“A few hours,” she murmured with a yawn. “That wood wasn’t going to cut itself, it has to be done before the snow comes.”

“I could’ve helped—!”

“No. I want to be sure your neck isn’t going to act up again before I let you exhort that much energy,” Frostbite replied quickly, before he could retort. “I’m not taking the risk of you hurting yourself again.”

Asriel couldn’t think of a retort to that.

“I’m going to gather eggs for breakfast in a bit, then I’ll make something. Bread should still be fresh.”

“I can make breakfast, if you need a break! I know how to make eggs!” Asriel replied, perked and eager to help.

A small smile crossed her face as she leaned back into her chair, running a hand through her hair. She took a deep breath before letting it out.

“Fine,” she murmured, sitting back up to look over at him. “But don’t hurt yourself!”

“I won’t!” Asriel replied, and before she could get up or retort, he had already headed outside.

When Asriel returned, Frostbite wasn’t at the table.

“Frostbite?” He called out, setting the eggs into the designated basket on the wooden counter.

No reply, but he could smell the faint whiff of a freshly lit candle.

Curiosity sparked in him as he looked over to the stairs. In his time here, he had never been upstairs. Frostbite had moved her things from his room to hers once she had made room for them, but he hadn’t been able to help because of his injury. Now, he was curious.

Tentatively, he took hold of the railing and began to climb the stairs.

When he reached the top, he was taken aback by the room. Two walls were entirely covered by bookshelves, upon which rested more than books. Crystals, jars, plants, and small chests. A bed lay on top of a rug on the wooden floor, above which was hung a wooden ring, decorated with feathers and strung with pink blossoms he hadn’t seen anywhere in the village. Above that, a hand-carved moon cycle was hung in an arch. Candles were placed upon the bedside tables, as well as on empty shelves. To his left, a wardrobe was pushed against the wall, in a hollowed out area of the shelved wall. Plants hung in hangers around the ceiling, in strange balls with what looked to be small trees and ivies sprouting from them. To the right, Asriel found Frostbite.

She was sitting on a cushion next to a low table. The table was set against the wall, with an open ornate box sitting upon it. There was a statue of a woman holding a staff, a closed book, a wooden cup, a variety of crystals set into an arch, and a rainbow of colored candles upon the table. Asriel noticed that only the red and pink ones were lit.

Frostbite sat cross-legged, with her hands in her lap. Upon approaching, Asriel noticed her eyes were closed.

“You should really knock before entering someone’s room,” she said without moving. “I could hear you.”

“What are you..?”

“Meditating,” Frostbite replied, again not moving. “I’ll be down soon.”

Asriel chose not to comment, only staying for a few more moments before heading back downstairs.

The room was quiet, but Asriel quickly set to work preparing breakfast. About halfway through, he heard the padding of footsteps on wood.

“Surprised you went to find me,” Frostbite said, and Asriel heard her moving a chair.

“I could smell the candles — wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“...I assure you, I can handle myself, don’t worry,” she replied, and Asriel could almost sense the smile on her face. “Breakfast smells wonderful.”

“I picked up on a few things from my mother,” Asriel replied, taking two plates from the cabinet. “She taught me how to cook.”

“Impressed, I am. Not many seem to know how, aside from the women in the village.”

“Eh, mother thought I should know, and I enjoyed it.”

Asriel was done quickly - eggs didn’t take too long to cook, nor did slicing bread - and returned to the table. He set a plate before Frostbite, and then himself, before sitting across from her at the table.

“How’s your neck?” Frostbite asked, watching him eat for a few moments.

“It’s fine, better than it was. It only hurts now if I do something like jerk it to the side too quickly.”

She nodded, before divulging in her own food. Asriel took notice of how her ears pricked at the first bite.

“You did very good,” she said, causing a smile to cross Asriel’s face and pink to flush his cheeks.

“Thank you! It’s, ah… it’s been a while,” he said a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I might just keep you around!” Frostbite said with a small giggle, and Asriel perked upon hearing her laughter.

“I’d hope so! I do like it here!” He said, returning to his own food. “I figure I should at least try to do something.”

“You can help me bring water back to the house and stack the logs, how’s that sound, hm?” Frostbite said, shooting him a smile. “You can do that.”

“Of course! But you need to finish eating! Gives energy for hard work.”

Frostbite rolled her eyes, snorting.

“I wouldn’t let such a good meal go to waste,” she joked with a small smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll finish it.”

The rest of the day was busy. Asriel helped Frostbite with the wood, with her cutting the logs and him stacking them up against the side of the house in a way that would keep them the driest. Asriel was in awe of her strength and efficiency, and more than once Frostbite had to remind him that the logs wouldn’t stack themselves. By the time the afternoon came, the final log had been split, and they had a sizable stack against the house.

After the wood, Frostbite took him into the forest, along a well-beaten path she had traveled many times. She carried with her two sturdy buckets, as well as some jars. From the house, she led him deep into the woods, where Asriel was able to take in the fresh breezes and chirping of the birds. Clouds drifted across the bright blue sky, visible through the branches above. Winter was coming - the clouds were gathered in larger and larger clumps.

Deep in the woods, they stopped at a creek. The water was clear and fresh. Occasionally, a fish would swim by. The pebbles were visible in the bottom, along with tall grasses along the banks and stepping stones that peeked out of the water. Frostbite took the buckets and walked out onto the stepping stones, again leaving her cloak behind, draped over a dry rock on the bank. She rolled up her sleeves, crouched upon the rock whilst balancing on her toes, and dunked the bucket under the water. Asriel assumed that to be the deepest part of the creek.

She did this with both buckets, Asriel helping by filling up the jars. Their breath fogged in the chilled air, the cold nipping at their wet hands and making them shiver. After filling their containers, they made the hike back to the house. Frostbite carried the buckets, Asriel asking many times if she needed help, to which she simply shook her head.

At the house, Frostbite dumped the water into an airtight barrel, kept in a cabinet under the stairs, so well-hidden Asriel hadn’t known it was there until she had first shown it to him. Many hikes and many hours later, they eventually had filled four barrels, stashed safely in the cubby.

Night seemed to come quickly with the hard work of the day, the darkness spreading over the woods. An occasional star would dot the sky through the gathering clouds, and the cold sunk deeper into the air.

After a hot meal and a change of clothes, Asriel sat on the floor next to Frostbite’s bed. Frostbite had lit her red candles again, though he didn’t ask why. A few rose petals lie upon her table by the wall.

She had a hand on either side of his head, gently tilting it either way to gauge the healing process. The rope burns had long scarred over, but the internals had taken much longer to heal.

“This doesn’t hurt, does it?” She asked softly, and Asriel shook his head.

“Feels better and better every day,” he said, feeling her lean his head back.

“You’ve got a leaf,” she murmured, and he felt her pick something from his hair.

“Thanks.”

Frostbite didn’t reply, though she did shift her hands to his neck, and her touch was soft. One of her hands was roughened by age-old burn scars, and the other soft and smooth. He guessed that was because of the glove she wore to protect it.

There was a mild discomfort when she pressed against the back of his neck to feel the bone, but nothing he couldn’t bear.

“You’ve healed well,” he heard her murmur, though her hands let go of him after a few moments.

“That’s good to hear — means I’m not going to be unable to do anything forever!” Asriel said with a soft chuckle, lifting his head to look up at Frostbite. His head was about level with her knees, from where she sat cross-legged on the bed.

He noticed her shifting her hands in her lap,

“Frostbite?”

She wasn’t looking at him, seeming deep in thought. He didn’t like the look of reluctance on her face.

Before he could ask again, she slid off the bed and walked over to her table by the wall. Confused, Asriel stood up, following after her.

“Hey— Frostbite, what’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer, taking one of the rose petals in her palms.

“...You’re going to want to leave,” she murmured after a long silence. “You’re going to want to go back. You’ve healed - why stay?”

Asriel felt his heart sink at the heartbreak in her voice.

He hadn’t considered that. Yes, he had missed home, but he hadn’t been thinking of the day that he’d leave. Maybe every now and then, he’d consider it, but the thought never came to him that it would come to pass.

He felt a tug on his heartstrings. Frostbite was refusing to look at him, running a thumb along the delicate rose petal in her hand.

“...I won’t make you stay,” she muttered. “I’m not going to keep you hostage, force you to live here. I know your beliefs conflict with mine. I know you have family elsewhere. I know you miss home. I just…”

Asriel noticed her hands shaking as she tightened her grip upon the petal, crushing it in her palm. He was lost for words. What could he say that wouldn’t make it worse? However, it was the next words that took his breath from his chest.

“...I love you.”

His cheeks flushed with heat. Before he knew it, she had grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him.

Asriel was taken aback. Unable to think, to move, for a long moment. His eyes were wide, and he felt stiff all over, frozen in shock. However, he didn’t push her off of him.

She was soft and gentle, the grip on his shirt loosening.

Frostbite let go of him after a long while, slowly, almost seeming shocked by her actions. Silence fell, once more, broken only by the chirping of crickets outside and the hooting of owls in the distance. The moonlight shimmered through the curtains, illuminating the room in a soft glow.

There was a fluttering in his chest he hadn’t felt before. Butterflies filled his stomach in a swarm. He raised a hand, and touched his lips.

Had that just happened?

Frostbite stood in silence, not looking at him, but at a spot past him, seeming to consider her next words very carefully. She bit her lip, trying to find the words.

After a few moments, she began to speak.

“...I’m sor—“

However, before she could finish, Asriel had taken her face in his hands and returned her kiss. Though the butterflies swarmed, though his heart raced, his mind told him one thing, and one thing only:

I love you, too.

Though his eyes closed, he could feel her run her hands along his shoulders, pulling him closer. One of her hands trailed into the hair on the back of his head, the other moving to wrap her arm around his neck.

Though he had to let go of her face to do so, his hands moved to her waist, holding her close as the kiss broke apart. He instead moved to press slow kisses against her cheek, then jaw, neck, collarbone, and then exposed shoulder. She leaned her head back, giving him more room. Every new kiss against her skin prompted her to grip him tighter, hold him closer.

I need you.

Her touch was gentle against him. In turn, her skin was soft against his hands. Burn scars be damned, the feel of soft flesh wasn’t only foreign to him, but it was addictive. He hadn’t felt anything like it. A lover’s caress, a kiss, holding and being held. The way she held him tight, the way her hands traveled across him, the way they seemed to just… fit together. The way her hands ran through his hair, holding him closer, longing for his touch, his kiss. The shivers down her spine when he buried himself into her neck, the feeling of his touch, the need for him.

It was intoxicating. They needed more.

The night had never felt so long, but not empty. Far from it. In the heat of the moment, in the desire, the need, they didn’t want it to end.

However, it did.

In the dead of night, when silence fell and the night grew cold, sleep came quick from exhaustion. The bed felt unusually comfortable, the blankets warmer than normal, the pillows softer.

The room fell into silence, the red candles on the table finally flickering out.

Frostbite woke that morning to the sun’s beams peering through the curtains. Birds outside sang their familiar melody, and it took her a few moments to register the morning.

Though, from her position, she didn’t want to get up just yet. It was warm… warm and comfortable. She trailed a hand behind her, feeling the sheets.

“Asriel?” She murmured, rubbing her eyes and turning over.

He wasn’t there.

She shrugged, yawning and stretching in her bed. He’d probably woken early.

It took her a long time to get out of her comfortable bed, though upon doing so, she wished she hadn’t. The air was icy and cold, especially against bare skin.

Odd… He would have thrown a log into the stove. Did he forget?

She picked up her clothes off the floor, with a wince, before walking over to her wardrobe. Everything felt sore from the previous day. It hurt to lift her arms, and her calves hurt from the trekking to the creek.

She pulled open the doors, tossing the previous night’s clothes into a hand-woven basket at the bottom. In the back of the wardrobe, a tall mirror hung, allowing her to take in her reflection.

Her neck and shoulders were covered in small bruises, and her hair was a tousled mess. She tidied it with her hand, tucking strands back into place and combing through it with her fingers. She then quickly dressed herself, hurried by the cold air nipping at her skin.

“Asriel?” She called out again, a bit louder this time, making her way down the stairs after closing up her wardrobe. On the way down, she clipped her cloak around her shoulders.

Upon reaching the kitchen, she noticed that the stove was cold and ashy, no embers glowing inside. The front door was slightly ajar, and Asriel’s room remained silent.

Eyebrows creased, she walked over to the door and shut it. Something was wrong.

Had he gone to the creek, perhaps, and forgotten to start the fire? Why would he leave the door open?

Looking around the room for clues prompted her to spot a torn sheet of paper on the table. She approached the table and took the scrap into her hands.

Her heart sank into her stomach.

Upon reading its contents, tears began to quickly flow from her eyes and down her cheeks. Her hands began to shake, then the rest of her, and it wasn’t from the cold. Her grip tightened on the paper, threatening to tear it.

On the paper, written in hasty, messy handwriting, was one sentence:

God forgive me, for I have sinned.

#witch au #witch! frostbite #witch! asriel #undertale oc #undertale #undertale au #frostbite #oc #frostbite storm #asriel #asriel dreemurr #frostriel #oc x canon

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

Ever in Your Favor, Chapter Five (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: Denali and Rosé officially enter the arena.

A/N: Thank you so much for the amazing comments on the last chapter! It really does mean a lot to me, especially because this one has been a little challenging to write. I'd really appreciate any feedback you have on this chapter!

Denali opens her eyes to gray.

The arena is gray and wet, mist falling over the damp grass, fog curling around tall trees and a massive cliffside. A chill bites at her, but Denali doesn’t mind. She might even have an advantage here. The warmer districts don’t know this cold, wet weather, but Denali knows the cold like an old friend.

Rosé coached her for this part, said to find a bow and whatever she could grab, but not to go in too deep or engage in any fights. After that, her first priority is getting far away and finding water.

Denali repeats it to herself, avoiding how the other tributes tower over her. The gong sounds, and she runs—

“Denali!”

Rosé’s voice brings her back, and the world around her isn’t wet, but grassy, with forest all around. Pine hits her nose, and it reminds her of the hours in the woods back home, her dad showing her which plants were safe to eat. The odds just might be in her favor this year.

Rosé is on her platform a few feet away, and the Cornucopia looms in front of them, an enormous golden horn stuffed with weapons and supplies. The others are spread in a circle around the Cornucopia, waiting for the gong that releases them.

The gong sounds.

“Denali, run!”

Denali doesn’t think twice. Her boots fly over the grass, the other tributes just blurs in her vision. She reaches the Cornucopia seconds before anyone else, and in those seconds, she finds what she needs: a bow and a quiver stuffed with arrows. The quiver is a comforting weight on her back, the bow warm in her hand, and if it wasn’t for her pounding fear she could almost convince herself she’s back home. She grabs a backpack and two knives in another heartbeat before footsteps and shouts erupt.

The tributes have arrived.

Most brush past her, deeper into the Cornucopia, where the best stuff is--weather-proof tents, huge bags of food, medicine. Part of Denali wants to join them, but there are always a lot of deaths at the Cornucopia, and she has what she really needs. She can’t get killed on the first day.

Blood suddenly splatters over Denali’s boots, and she sees the District 7 man hit the grass with a knife in his back. Denali tugs it free and adds it to her weapons, running towards the woods. She can’t see Rosé among the bodies at war with each other, and her heart skips a beat at the thought that something happened to her--

A distinct flash of red comes on her side, and Denali almost crumples in relief. Rosé has a sword and two spears, plus a backpack. And better yet--four full water bottles. Denali doesn’t want to know what she went through for those.

“You good?” she asks Rosé.

Rosé nods. “Let’s get out of here.”

---

They go for hours, switching between walking and jogging, trying to get as far from the Cornucopia as possible. They haven’t run into any dangers yet--no murder-wasps or anything--and Rosé doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. They don’t want to be complacent, and they keep pushing themselves, not even stopping to check their supplies, taking only the smallest sips of water. Rosé’s grateful for all that running with Denali--she probably would have dropped by now without it.

When the sun sets, bathing the arena in a golden light so warm and peaceful it almost makes you forget where you are, they finally stop. They’re in a clearing, and Denali arranges thick bushes and leaves to cover them.

“Let’s see what we have,” Denali says, and they lay out their stuff.

A sword, two spears, a bow, thirty arrows, three knives, four water bottles, a tiny first aid kit, six packs of dried meat, matches, and a sleeping bag.

“Damn, we did good,” Rosé whispers. “I got a freaking plastic tarp and a sword I didn’t know how to use for my first round.” She doesn’t want to get overconfident yet--it’s still day one, after all--but there’s comfort in knowing they have stuff, in not ending the first day so hungry and thirsty it hurts.

Denali nods, splitting up the food, and it’s almost nice in their little hiding spot. If they weren’t in the arena, if they both weren’t constantly looking around for danger, it’s a place Rosé might like to be. Berries even fill the bushes, ripe and juicy-looking.

“You think we can eat those?” Rosé asks. Denali taught her the most common edible leaves and plants when they trained, but Rosé’s never seen berries like these.

Denali almost jumps in the air. “Do not eat those, Rosé. They’re nightlock, they’ll kill you instantly. If we--if we get separated or anything, promise me you’ll remember.”

“Promise,” Rosé says. She’s quiet after that, and it’s because of what Denali said. If we get separated. Rosé’s been with Denali so much lately that she can’t imagine her not being there. She did fine on her own last time, and figured she’d be on her own again this time. But they’ve somehow crawled back into each other’s lives, and Rosé doesn’t want to do this--doesn’t want to be here--alone. The thought of them getting separated, of losing Denali in the arena, is enough to make her sick.

The anthem cuts across the dark sky, and they look up to see the images of the tributes that were killed today. It starts with the man from District 3 and ends with the woman from District 11. Ten dead tributes ticked off on Rosé’s fingers. Pretty high for day one, but not the highest. She knows she should feel something, but she doesn’t. She didn’t even learn their names. It’s easier that way.

“Twelve more left besides us,” Denali says.

“Glad all that math help I gave you paid off,” Rosé teases, and Denali smiles big enough to show her dimples. God, those dimples. Rosé forgot how much she missed them. She grabs the sleeping bag and hands it to Denali. “Get some sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Wake me in four hours.” Denali slides into it with a white-knuckled grip on her knife and her bow within arm’s reach. She keeps twisting in the bag--Rosé figures she’s right on Denali being afraid to sleep around people--but eventually settles down, exhaustion winning over.

It’s too dark to see much, and quiet enough to hear Denali��s gentle breaths. Rosé doesn’t think any tributes will attack tonight--they’d only be putting themselves in danger attacking in the dark--but she wouldn’t put it past the Gamemakers to spring something. Rosé is sure she keeps hearing noises, every muscle tense in preparation of an attack. The only thing that eases the tension is closing her eyes and listening to Denali breathe. It centers her somehow, helps Rosé figure out what she’s really hearing and what her mind is making up. As long as Denali’s here, as long as she’s breathing, Rosé is okay.

“Denali, wake up,” Rosé says softly after four and a half--she gives Denali some extra rest; she probably won’t know--agonizing hours. She’d tap her shoulder, but something tells her it’s not a good idea. Definitely not, because Denali immediately shoots awake and her knife hits Rosé’s chest. Even with the tip there, Rosé’s reluctantly impressed at how good Denali’s sight and aim are in dim moonlight.

“It’s just me. Rosé.”

Denali inhales sharply, yanking the knife away. “I--Rosé, I--I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Rosé understands. She’d shoved Lagoona after a nightmare once, her brain convinced her sister was a threat.

Rosé crawls into the sleeping bag and feels Denali’s unease seep over her. Besides her family, she never has anyone around when she sleeps. What if something happens? What if they’re attacked before Denali can do anything? What if she has a nightmare in front of Denali? She doesn’t know if they’re on camera, but that won’t look good in front of the Capitol. They want strength and toughness from their tributes. Waking up screaming from a nightmare will only hurt their cause, make them question Rosé’s strength, and she can’t do that.

But she’s tired, really tired. The sleeping bag is surprisingly plush, so thick she can’t even feel the hard ground beneath her. Everything is warm and soft, and though she tries to fight it, she sleeps.

---

The sun wakes Rosé before Denali does.

Day two in the arena, and Rosé resists the urge to burrow back into the sleeping bag and sleep until it’s over.

“I was just about to wake you,” Denali says. She’s ready to go, bag on and weapons in hand, and Rosé thinks Denali gave her some extra rest too, paying back the favor. “There should be a water source nearby,” Denali continues.

Rosé nods and follows, trusting Denali to guide them. Rosé’s world was one of icing and sugar and butter, of kneading dough and sweating in front of hot ovens. But Denali knows forests better than anything, her childhood made of branches and trees and plants. Rosé is amazed at how she keeps track of it all. Those water bottles won’t last forever, and if anyone can find water here, it’s Denali.

They continue through the woods, and again they don’t encounter anything. It has to be deliberate. The Gamemakers want to lure them into a false safety so the danger is that much more frightening when it does come. Rosé doesn’t want to think about what they might send.

She makes a mental map of the arena as they go. The forest seems to be the largest part of it, leading to another large valley, and then the mountain. Not an obviously threatening arena, and again Rosé thinks it was a choice. When faced with tributes who’ve seen so many different arenas with so many different dangers, leave them guessing about what to expect. A basic arena like this could accommodate anything the Gamemakers want to unleash.

But nothing is unleashed the second day, and they trade uneasy sleep shifts.

---

Day three brings the first threat--a group of lizards in bright neon colors that roam down a tree when Denali and Rosé are resting. They're definitely a Capitol hybrid, and Denali isn't sure if they're poisonous, but she doesn't wait to find out. Five arrows, five dead lizards, before they even know what hit them. It's almost comforting, in a way, to have something to fight against for a few seconds. Instead of just wandering the arena and waiting.

They decide to move on in case more lizards come, and see the District 4 tributes crossing the field.

Denali freezes, grip tight on her bow. They're out in the open, and she could get them both before they even hear her arrows whistling by them. Two less tributes to worry about. More odds in their favor. But they're defenseless. No threat at all, just walking along. Denali knows that they'll have to be killed eventually if she wants to win. She just doesn't want to be the one doing the killing. At least not unless they try to kill her first.

She lowers her bow. "Rosé, I don't think I can do it. I'm sorry." She hangs her head, expecting Rosé to tell her she's being stupid, or get mad at her for blowing an opportunity most tributes would literally kill for. What if Denali's lost her nerve? Will she be able to kill when her life really is on the line, when she really has to?

But Rosé just nods. "It's okay."

And they move on.

---

By day four, Denali is on edge. She flinches at every rustle, every snapping of a twig, but they haven't run into anything or anyone since District 4. Two tributes die, cutting it down to ten more besides them. They’re at the halfway point, and that surely means something big is coming. The Gamemakers won’t leave things alone this long, won’t let the tributes stay separated. This suspense, this tension hanging over their heads, while intentional, has to break at some point, to the interest of the viewers and horror of the tributes. Something has to come.

And on day four, it does.

Denali senses the change in the air before the rain comes, reaching her hand up to catch a drop.

It sizzles against her palm.

“Run!” she barks at Rosé, cradling her singed hand to her chest.

Burning rain pelts off their jackets as they tear through the woods. The material offers some protection, but tiny drops make their way over Denali’s hands, on her face, down her back. She hisses against the burning, and Rosé curses beside her as they try to find dryness. In one direction, gusts of wind almost bring Denali to her knees, ruffling her jacket and making the rain pound down, and she glimpses a thick spiral in the distance that she numbly realizes is a tornado. A fucking burning rain-tornado combo. The Gamemakers really want their money’s worth today.

“There,” Rosé pants, and Denali realizes a valley to their left is perfectly clear. They sprint into it, collapsing on the grass, and Denali can’t even look at the blisters on her hands. There’s a plant that helps burns, her father told her, she just has to remember--

“Aloe!” She runs to the leaves. She finds the plant and cuts it with her knife, letting the cool gel soothe her hands and face, sighing in relief. She cuts more and takes it to Rosé, who’s bent over in the grass so no one sees her face screwed up in pain.

“Rosé, it’s okay. I can help.” She places the gel on Rosé’s hands, ignoring the tingle in her arm at the touch.

“Can I do your back?” Denali asks gently, and Rosé only hesitates a second before she nods.

Denali lifts Rosé’s shirt and jacket, letting her hands trace up the hard muscles of her back as she spreads the gel over her blistered skin. She keeps her touch gentle, not wanting to cause more pain, and she knows this has to be on camera and exaggerates her touches, makes herself seem extra caring, even if she hates herself for it.

“Let me do yours now,” Rosé offers.

Denali freezes. For the briefest second, her ankle tightens with the grip of the girl from District 4, but Rosé isn’t her. Rosé is only trying to help, not hurt, and Denali nods, even if she hasn’t asked for help in years. It would blow their cover if she refuses anyway. She holds her breath as Rosé moves her shirt, not letting herself tremble or show pain in front of the Capitol.

“I’m gonna put it on now,” Rosé says. Denali sighs when the gel hits, grinning when Rosé scolds her to stay still. She hasn’t had someone care for her like this since her mother died. In seconds, the pain is gone, and they watch the rain. Denali wonders how long they’ll be trapped here. Not to mention that finding aloe seems too good to be true. Too suspicious.

“Some rain, huh?” Rosé mutters.

“Don’t forget the tornado,” Denali laughs bitterly.

“Wait.” Rosé stills, ear toward the rain. “Do you hear something?”

Denali doesn’t hear anything before five tributes sprint into the clearing. The storm was clearly meant to send them into one dry spot, and even with the burns, a windswept tribute from District 1--Denali thinks his name is Castor--launches himself at her with a sword. It’s too late to string her bow, and he’s too close--but Rosé jumps in front of her, the sword cutting across her leg as she swings her own sword at him. Metal clangs as they go at it, and Denali can’t even process that Rosé just saved her life before the woman from District 4 comes at her. Denali grabs a spear that Rosé dropped and blocks the woman’s arm, sinking the point into her chest a second later. The woman hits the grass, and cannon fire joins the noises of battle.

“On your left, Fox!” someone yells. The voice is too deep to be Rosé, and Denali realizes it’s Finn from District 4, currently locked in battle with the man from District 8. She barely has time to thank him before the woman from District 1 pounces at Denali, nails clawing at her neck. Denali blocks her just in time. The world is sweat and blood and heaving breaths, and Denali just hopes Rosé is still alive.

The fight ends as suddenly as it started, when Denali stabs the woman and looks around and realizes the rain has stopped, and there’s no one left to fight. The man from District 8 escaped into the woods, but the clearing is littered with dead tributes from Districts 1 and 4. Her bloody hands still grip the spear, just in case. Her arm is trickling blood, and her neck stings with scratches from the woman grabbing at her, but she’ll survive. She hardly feels it, hardly feels anything, really, as she looks around. And Rosé--Rosé is still standing, thank God, limping over to Denali. The gash on her leg is huge, soaking her pants with blood, but she’s alive, and Denali’s knees almost buckle in relief.

“Are you okay?” Denali asks. “We gotta get out of here, then we can bandage your leg.”

Before Rosé can speak, a wheeze sounds from the ground, and they dart toward the noise. It’s Finn, clinging to whatever life he has left. The man from District 8 must’ve got him. As she looks at him lying there, golden hair stained red, she finds the numbness fading into emptiness, emptiness that swallows her heart. Sparing his life yesterday had been for nothing. But deep down she knew it would be. There's no escaping the fate of the arena. He had been kind, had offered her an alliance she barely considered, had warned her of an attack even when she killed his fellow tribute. And now he’s dying. Would things have been different with an alliance? Would they have protected each other? Would he have become a friend that she would inevitably lose? He was going to have a baby, she remembers, but hearing it in the training room and remembering it now are two different things, and she wishes she didn’t remember. She understands why Rosé avoided the other tributes and didn't talk to them, why she tries to avoid the Games entirely.

“You said he was having a kid,” Rosé says quietly. Her normally wary eyes seem sad.

It’s not a question, but Denali nods anyway.

Finn wheezes again, letting out a hoarse please. Please what, Denali has no idea, and watches in confusion as Rosé approaches him. She can’t mean to kill him--he’s good as dead. Instead she crouches down, takes his hand, and begins to hum something. It’s a simple melody, one that sounds like a lullaby. Denali understands--Rosé can’t help him, no one can, but at least he won’t be alone. Denali kneels with her and just listens, goosebumps on her arms, and pretends she’s somewhere else. Somewhere she never had to do this. Somewhere the two women she killed today never attacked her in the first place.

The cannon sounds, and they leave the clearing in silence.

---

They don’t talk again until that night.

They bandage each other up and eat some fruit Denali found as they walked, lost in their own minds. Rosé’s eyes finally lose that far-off look as she eats, though she keeps turning her apple over and over like she’s never seen one.

Denali doesn’t know what to say. The cold side of her has already calculated that six other tributes remain--both from District 2, both from District 8, the woman from 7, and the man from 9. But how can she focus on who’s left after this afternoon?

They both jump when two parachutes appear.

The first contains a medicated cream, one that instantly starts healing their burns and soothes any remaining pain. The second is a platter of bread and fish, clearly from District 4, the fishing district, and Denali knows it’s because of what Rosé did for Finn. She swallows the lump in her throat, resenting the part of her that’s so hungry it wants to grab the food and shove it down without a thought. Another part of her doesn’t want to eat it at all, doesn’t want this reward when there’s blood on her hands. They don’t deserve this. They weren’t even friends with him, didn’t do anything to help. But Rosé made his last moments easier, and maybe that counts for something.

“I almost don’t want to eat it,” Rosé whispers, and Denali knows she feels the same way.

“I know. But I think it’s disrespectful not to,” Denali says.

Rosé nods. She turns her head, because there’s clearly a camera on them, and thanks District 4 for their gift. They split the food and eat slowly, savoring each bite.

The silence continues until the anthem ends, and Rosé nudges the sleeping bag toward her.

“I don’t really feel like sleeping,” Denali admits.

“Me neither. Nightmares are a bitch.”

Denali had long assumed Rosé had nightmares, given that the lights in her house are on almost any time Denali wakes up in the night. Denali’s not worried so much about dreams--it’s more that she’s sure she won’t be able to sleep and will just be lying in the sleeping bag with nothing to do but think of today’s deaths, or how Rosé protected her. Denali’s come to rely on her, to enjoy her company, and today just proved how close she is to losing Rosé and doing this on her own.

“Things seem...different now,” Denali says.

“It feels more real,” Rosé says simply, because she understands.

Denali nods. “We left while everyone fought at the Cornucopia. We didn’t see the other deaths. But this time...”

There’s a difference between watching someone die and killing them yourself, and it’s a difference only a few people fully understand.

“We did what we had to,” Rosé says quietly.

Denali nods, because it is true. She never wants to kill just to kill, only when she has to in order to live. And being in the arena again makes her realize how much she wants to live. She wants to go home and and watch the sunrise each morning instead of just ignoring it on her runs. She wants to invite Kandy and Kahmora over for dinner, and talk to Jan and Lagoona again, wants so many people in her house that she’ll need a whole new set of coffee mugs. And she really wants Rosé to be part of it. Maybe she can. Somehow.

Denali doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, and she can tell Rosé doesn’t either, from how she’s picking at her sword.

“I--I’m glad we both made it,” Denali says. “I’m glad I’m here with you. Thanks, by the way. For saving me back there.” Her subconscious knows it's a good thing to say strategy-wise, to prove the romance, but she really means it. She’s used to fighting tooth and nail for what she wants, not anyone helping her or protecting her. She didn’t have an older sister running to the stage to save her from the Games, didn’t have an alliance in the arena last time. She really is grateful for Rosé.

“So am I,” Rosé says sincerely. “And you don’t have to thank me. We look out for each other, okay?”

“Yeah. What was that thing you were humming?” Denali asks before she can stop herself.

Rosé looks down at her lap. A shaft of moonlight falls over her face and bathes her in silver, and Denali’s heart skips a beat. “It’s a lullaby my mom used to sing us. I don’t actually know all of it. We were usually asleep before she finished. But I never forgot the melody.”

“Oh.” Denali’s mother wasn’t one for singing. She told stories instead, old fairy tales of princesses and knights that Denali used to fight sleep to hear the end of. Sometimes her father would join in, and when he died, Denali lost not one but two storytellers. Her mother became a half-finished story after losing him, one that ended abruptly eleven years ago. Denali’s hand goes to her necklace, but she meets empty space.

No. No no no--

“What’s wrong?” Rosé asks.

Denali hadn’t realized she was speaking aloud. She doesn’t answer, instead digging through their bags while her heart pounds. She’s making too much noise as throws aside knives and food packets, but she doesn’t care because it’s gone--

“Denali,” Rosé says, and her calm voice breaks through. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom's necklace. It’s gone. I must’ve lost it in the fight.” Denali remembers the woman from District 1 clawing at her neck. She must have torn off the necklace in her struggle, and Denali didn’t notice among the chaos. Now it’s gone and she’ll never get it back, when she has so little of her mother at all, and she angrily forces back the tears stinging in her eyes. She won’t cry. Not in this arena.

“I’m sorry. It's your mom's, right?” Rosé asks quietly, and Denali nods. “Tomorrow we can go look for it. It could still be in the clearing.”

Denali knows it’s a long shot, but the mere offer—an offer to go back into danger for something that’s not physically necessary—stirs something in her chest. It’s more kindness than she’s been offered in years, more kindness offered without any reward expected, just like Rosé sneaking cookies into her bag, and it’s too much to take. She mumbles a thank you and crawls into the sleeping bag, explaining that she’s tired after all. It’s an excuse to not look at Rosé, at the concern in her eyes, because Denali can’t bear it. No one has looked at her like that in years. She feels too exposed, just like at the interview, and looking at Rosé is impossible when every part of her is raw and laid bare.

Surprisingly, sleep comes easy, and it brings not nightmares, but dreams of Rosé.

---

The sound of trumpets wake Rosé the next morning, after a restless sleep of tossing and turning. Her leg felt like it was on fire, and sweat ran down her neck all night even though it was cool outside. Her head kept swimming with images of the fight, but what really kept her awake was her confusion over Denali. Why couldn’t she look at Rosé, and why did she throw herself in the sleeping bag minutes after saying she didn’t want to sleep? Maybe it was the stress of losing the necklace. Maybe she wanted to hide in the sleeping bag so no one saw her cry. The necklace is obviously a touchy subject for Denali, and she’s probably just stressed. They both are. Rosé won’t pry.

She sits up and rubs her eyes with a groan. “What’s with the trumpets?”

Denali shrugs, seeming back to normal. “Must be an announcement. Maybe because there’s only eight of us left? We’re at the last third.”

Rosé can’t believe sixteen people have died, that they’re already at the final eight. It feels like ages and yet like no time at all has passed.

“After we win this, I should be a math teacher,” Rosé says, heart lightening when Denali smiles. Announcements are usually done to bring tributes together for a big bloodbath. Though the rain accomplished that yesterday. Maybe this is something different.

Rosé listens as the announcer explains an unprecedented rule change. In light of three full teams remaining, the most ever at the eight-tribute-mark, both tributes from the same district will be winners if they are the last two alive.

“Does that mean…”

“It does,” Rosé answers. If she and Denali are the last two standing, they’ll both win.

“We can do this. We can really do this.” Denali leaps to her feet, all the sorrow from last night gone. Rosé hesitates, a dark part of her wondering if there’s a catch, or if this is a trick. But they can’t just announce something like this and take it back, not when the audience will expect a team victory. Not when the audience will expect a District 12 team victory, because the parachutes last night just prove that they’ve succeeded, that their love has won over the crowd. They can win this, and the audience is rooting for them.

Rosé nods. “Let’s move, before they send more rain.” She hauls herself up, but a sudden pain explodes in her leg. The world spins around her, blackness closing in on her vision. She hears Denali saying her name but she can’t answer, can’t do anything but close her eyes and let the darkness take her.

#rpdr fanfiction #s13 #denali foxx #rosé #rosnali #lesbian au #hunger games au #ever in your favor #athena2 #tw violence #tw blood #tw injury #tw minor character death #concrit welcome

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a-monsters-love · 5 years ago

Text

Distance - Soulmate AU

Gif found [here]

[Master List]

Aizawa Shouta x Reader

Summary: When we turn 8 our dreams don’t just become our own. We don’t know when it started but we start to share our dream scape with our soulmates. The closer we are to them the better we can hear them in our dreams, the farther we are the less we can hear them. When the other wakes you get a small, very brief, glimpse of the world around them. If soulmates have different sleeping schedules then the dreams you have without them you typically won’t remember.

Genre: oh it’s fluffy y’all

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: mild swearing, implied abuse, quotes from the MHA Vigilantes series, native language I’m using for y/n is English

A/N: I’ve always wanted to write a Soulmate AU ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡. And y/n’s quirk is based off of Jinx from the Teen Titans lmao

With love to my favorite bby who helped me form the ideas for this @eraser-baby

(Y/N) = Your Name (H/C) = Hair Color (E/C) = Eye Color (H/L) = Home Land i.e country of origin (N/L) = Native Language

————————————

If you’ve learned anything in your life it’s that girls love talking about soulmates. Sure, it’s romantic and very fairytale-esk but isn’t there anything better to talk about? You sighed as your classmate gawks about her soulmate and what they did together in her dreams. “Come on (Y/N)! Tell us about your soulmate! You never participate in these conversations!” Your friend says. The other girls in the locker room agree and you let you head drop back dramatically.

You roll you neck and look at each of them, “I don’t have one.” You shrugged, “I don’t have anything to offer.” Their faces grow visibly shocked at your statement but you weren’t one to lie, “Don’t look at me like that. Come on, we have to get to training.” The last thing you want is for them to pity you. Pity for not having a soulmate was the last thing you should ever receive pity for, not with how your life was. You couldn’t help but huff at the idea as you pulled your gym shirt over the scars that were riddled all over your skin.

——

“You’re lying!” Oboro accused his friend, “No one just doesn’t have a soulmate!” His nagging on the topic has only gotten worse as his friendship with Aizawa Shouta went on.

Hizashi chuckled, “He’s telling the truth, I don’t believe he doesn’t have one either though. They’ve just never met.”

Shouta groaned at the conversation, “If I have one I’ve never met them, not having one makes more sense.” He shrugged, “I mean, it’s been 7 years and I’ve had zero contact.” Oboro groaned into the pillows on Shouta’s bed in frustration. “We have like 30 more minutes to study before we should get to sleep.” He tapped the textbook in his hand.

Not having a soulmate was unheard of, both of you knew this. Both of you were certain that the other died or you were an anomaly in the universe. Of course you both would enjoy it but neither of you cared enough to worry about something you didn’t have.

———

“Come on, (Y/N)! You can do better than that!” Your gym instructor yelled, you hissed at how sore you were but knew it would be worth it. You weren’t in the heroics course for nothing, you were here to prove your quirk wasn’t villainous.

“Fuck.” You huffed to yourself, you propelled yourself up and bent low towards you opponent. You pressed your hands to the ground letting magenta hues blast from your hands to destroy the field directly in front of you. Having the quirk ‘Jinx’ also referred to as ‘Probability Manipulation’ will make you malleable for hero work but took twice as much training.

The earth cracked towards your opponent causing them to fall, only to kick a decent sized chunk of stone towards you. The impact knocked you unconscious.

You hit the ground hard, “FUCK.” You yelled, “Why didn’t I go for the knee caps? Should I just strike them with Bad Luck?” You start rambling before realizing you don’t recognize where you were. You look around and see blue skies and tall grass surrounding you, you see a boy with messy ebony and dark eyes staring at you in surprise. You look at yourself, still in your gym uniform, and then back at him. “What?” You hiss at him.

Shouta looks over you, the way your (H/C) hair framed your face. He visibly gulps at the way your (E/C) eyes bore into him, he knew who you were immediately. He opens his mouth to speak but you started to fade.

When he doesn’t respond you squint at him before waking up. Shouta catches a brief glimpse of your fight, it’s day light where you’re at. You’re face was stoic as blood ran down it when you shove yourself off the ground and sling two magenta crescents at your attacker from your hands before the vision stops.

Shouta jumps out of his bed in a panic, he looks around and see’s Oboro and Hizashi asleep on his bedroom floor. Hizashi stirs and rubs his eyes, “What’s wrong listener?” He mutters, still half asleep.

“I think I just found out why I hadn’t met my soulmate before.” He huffs out, catching his breath. Hizashi’s eyes widen in surprise and elbows Oboro awake to listen to him explain his dream.

“I fucking knew it.” Oboro whisper yells as he sits up from under his blanket.

“It was so weird though, I could see them talking but I couldn’t hear them.” Shouta pushes his hair back with one hand.

“Well you said it was day time for them so they must not live in Japan.” Hizashi suggests, the three agree and drop the subject to go back to sleep. Shouta wouldn’t admit it but he was excited, and relieved. He’s glad you’re alive.

You’re sent to nurses office after you finish your match to bandage up your wound. You can’t get the image of the strange dark haired boy from your mind but decide not to worry about it. “Weird dream.” You mumble to yourself, rationalizing it as dreaming of someone you’ve met before or some nonsense dream. The fact of meeting your soulmate was the farthest thing from your mind.

———

Shouta tries his best to catch you at random hours in the day for him, he justifies it as looking for confirmation but isn’t able to catch you. “When does she sleep?” He groans to his friend, he’s tried his best but there’s only so much sleeping he can squeeze into his school schedule before getting into trouble.

“I’ve never seen you so devoted to something.” Oboro teases giving him a wide toothy smile.

Shouta rolls his eyes, “I’m getting the feeling I just hallucinated the whole thing.” He presses his face into his hands with a groan. “I just want to know if it was real..”

His two friends chuckle and pat his back, “Give it time man.” They reassured him.

———

You on the other hand hadn’t thought much of the incident again for months, you didn’t have time to. You went to school, did homework in the library, trained and only went home to sleep. You tried to avoid your foster parents as best as you could, knowing the consequences of disturbing them. Your focus was on your heroics work and aging out of the system.

Over a year had passed and you had completely forgotten about the incident. Shouta had given up trying to track you down, your soulmates, you’re meant to run into each other at some point, right?

“The three of us should open up our own agency!” Oboro said over lunch one day. Shouta hummed in curiosity, “I think we work well together.” He took another bite of his lunch, “Take you for example, Shouta. You’re not the type to get action started on your own, but you’re always sweating the small stuff. You’ll add a layer of polish to everything!” Oboro smiles wide and slings his arm around Hizashi’s neck and pulling him closer. “Cause we suck at it!” The two laughed loudly.

“Yeah… I guess so.” Shouta frowned at the idea. “You two share the same two brains cells.” His friends laughed harder and the conversation continued.

“We could recruit your soulmate!” Oboro adds.

“You said they looked like they were in hero training.” Hizashi adds.

A light blush heats Shouta’s cheeks and his brows knit. “That feels like a cop out.” Shouta mumbles, “I should be able to stand on my own before asking for someone else’s help.” He scowled at his bento.

———

You were taking a break from your morning jog by laying in the grass on your schools campus. “(Y/N)?” You hear, you stretch your neck and look in the direction of the voice. “You’re here early.” Your teacher says, look at their watch. “Very early.” They hum the last part and sit next to you.

“Yeah, I just prefer jogging on a track.” You make an excuse, you didn’t want to talk about your home life with a teacher. Knowing it would make things messy, you continued. “I’m just an early bird, I like to stay busy, ya’ know?” You smiled at them and chuckled a bit.

They hummed in understanding, “Your performance has gone up a lot. Are you still planning on being - as you say - a freelance hero?” They question, nudging you with their knee.

You smile wide and look at the clouds above you. “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to travel.” You hum and talk about all the places you’ve read about, not sure where you’ll end up.

Your teacher hums at the idea, they’re a retired hero. “I wish I had that mindset when I was your age.” You both chuckle and you hop upright, offering a hand for them to get up. “Is your soulmate a hero or a hero in training?”

You freeze at the question, dusting yourself off as an excuse for your silence. “I dunno, I’ve never met them.” You shrug at their confused look. “I’m gonna run a few more laps and I’ll be out of your hair.” You smile politely and run off.

“Don’t over do it, (Y/N)!” They yell out to you. “You’ll get sick!”

You wave at them in acknowledgement, you think about their words for the rest of the morning. You remember one of your friends mentioning how most soulmates quirks are typically balanced matches for each other. You have a mutation quirk so you doubted the validity. “What could balance with Bad Luck?” You question aloud.

“Something to get rid of the bad luck I imagine.” One of your classmates chirped, you jumped at the sudden appearance. “I wonder if your Jinx quirk is the reason you haven’t met yet.” They further suggest.

You hum at the idea, that would make sense. Not that you had any clue as to what would but you didn’t let it bother you too much, having an answer satiated your curiosity.

It wasn’t until you got knocked out again that your curiosity was piqued again. You sat in a field of tall grass and flowers, you looked over yourself and realized your in your gym uniform. You snap your fingers and imagined your favorite outfit. When it appeared on your body you figured it was a dream.

You stood and looked around and saw the same ebony haired boy staring at you. He sat against a tree in the shade, a breeze blew in and brushed the hair out of his face. You gave him a once over, noting it’s the same boy from a year prior and waved at him. A blush dusted his cheeks and he shyly waved back. You walked towards him, squatting in front of his figure and tilted your head. “You stare too much.” You said, his brows knitted. “What?” You questioned, he was quite cute now that you had a better look at him. He looked at you the way a wet kitten looked at a passerby in the rain, confused and nervous but full of hope.

Shouta watched you appear in his dream, you appeared out of nowhere. You faced away from him, he couldn’t see anything but your (H/C) hair at first. When you stood he was able to take in your figure, you were beautiful. He could see the confidence radiating off of you in the way you carried yourself. When you squatted in front of him he felt like the dream was almost real. When he watched you speak he noted that he couldn’t hear anything again. “I can’t hear you.” He pointed from his mouth to his ear and shook his head. He watched you make a small frown and plop down to sit. You stared at each other for a moment, taking in each others existences. His eyes scanned the visible scars littering your skin, you watched the way his cheeks heated as he shamelessly checked you out. It wasn’t until you visibly looked like a lightbulb popped with an idea that his attention was pulled back to reality. You smirked and closed your eyes, two whiteboards appeared in front of you with markers.

You handed him one and started to write, ‘Hello, where are you?’ You wrote, flipping the board around and waved at him. He squinted at the letters on the board, understanding what you wrote by your body language. English is a required language to learn in Japan but he wasn’t the greatest at it. When he wrote a greeting on the board you frowned again, not recognizing the language, this time you imagined a globe and two pins, a purple one for him and a yellow one for you. You scanned the globe and put a pin in your general location and pointed from the pin to yourself with a soft smile, he felt his heart flutter at your smile. You handed him the globe and the black pin, he looked at where you were and frowned himself as he put his own in. Shouta handed you the globe and you frowned again as you looked at the two locations, he was in Japan. It makes sense that you’ve never met, the difference in your time zones was vastly different.

You grabbed the whiteboard again, ‘Well Fuck.’ You wrote down your name and pointed at yourself. Shouta did the same and you two briefly practiced writing each other’s name before you disappeared. He watched the glimpse of you again, you were in a nurses office and he watched you shoot up and frown at your friend. Your (E/C) eyes light up and the machinery around you spark and popped. He watched your friends phone explode and you just shrugged when the vision stopped. He practiced writing all the things your wrote in his dream before he woke himself.

When he did wake up he wrote everything he practiced in his notebook and brought it to school. He showed Hizashi and Oboro what you said and told them what country you were in. The two laughed louder than necessary at your words “She wrote ‘Well fuck’ at the fact that you’re so far.” Oboro snorted, “I like her already.” Shouta rolled his eyes, but held a small smile as if to say ‘me too.’

Moving forward he works on his English better than he had before, and you made it your mission to learn Japanese. In the random and few dreams you shared you practiced each other’s language, using the near magic of the dreamscape to correct each other. Even though you couldn’t hear each other you each made the other practice writing short notes you could remember when waking up to make the process easier. Things to the degree of ‘work on pronouncing hard letters like L’s and R’s first’.

You hadn’t seen Shouta in your dreams again for sometime, the next time you saw him was at night your time when you went to bed. You were surprised when he appeared in your dream, however you were more worried about the way he seemed to be followed by a small storm cloud. Something must’ve happened, you thought. You sat beside him, wishing you could say something comforting but you knew he couldn’t hear you. You imagined an umbrella and held it over the two of you and rubbed his back. Shouta glanced over at you, you had a solemn expression on your face. Your mouth quirked in a half frown as if to ask if he was okay. He shook his head ‘no’ and you leaned your head on his shoulder.

He showed you a memory of the fight he had during his work study a few days prior. He watched you gape at the scene, at the loss of his friend. You cried and dropped the umbrella, you turned and pulled him into a tight hug causing tears he didn’t know he had left fall from his eyes as he returned the embrace. You pet his hair as the dream went dark in his anguish. When he sat back up he wiped his face and nodded at you in thanks.

You decided to share a few of your own memories with him, your hero training at school, a bit of your school life. He chuckled at how much you study, you flash him a memory of the past week of you learning Japanese and stick your tongue out at him. He blushes lightly and rolls his eyes, leaning into you lightly before he started to disappear.

You watch the scene unfold of him waking up from his nap in class, you chuckle as he crawls out of a bright yellow sleeping bag in his school uniform. His blonde friend says something that causes Shouta to cover his ears. The glimpse fades and you drift off to deeper sleep.

Over the next several years you only ever met him briefly, your exchanges were demure and always quiet due to the circumstances. You found out you both became underground hero’s after graduating, you exchanged emails after forgetting to for so long. You found typing in Japanese was harder than writing it and speaking it combined, he didn’t mind though. He wrote to you in English at times but your interactions were limited due to hero work.

Due to being underground hero’s both of you had sporadic sleeping schedules, you received an email from him at one point telling you to go to sleep. You chuckled and looked at your phone, I could go for a nap, you thought and emailed him in response. You returned to the place you were staying and laid on the couch, quickly drifting off to dreamland.

When you appeared in you shared dream Shouta pulled you into him, rolling you over so he could lay into your stomach with his arms wrapped around you. You giggled at the action but made no effort to rouse him, running your finger through his soft hair. He felt you giggled as you felt him talk, he wished for subtitles as he talked but it was too annoying to focus on them and talk at the same time. Shouta talked about some vigilante brats he’s started to run in to, about what he was dealing with. “(Y/N), I don’t know what to do.” His arms barely squeezed you but you felt it, you tightened your grip around him instinctively. He buried his face in your abdomen, you smiled sadly, you were barely sure but you knew you felt the same.

After a few years you had completely traveled around your entire country while working as a hero. You told him about your completed travels and how you became something of an urban legend, almost a boogie man for villains.

“Don’t you want to meet her?” Hizashi asked over the phone.

Shouta hummed at the question, thinking about an email you sent a few weeks ago. “I mean sure, but I don’t have anything to show for.” He sighed, “I can’t just ask her to move out here and expect her to be okay living the way I do.”

Hizashi went to argue but he understood the point, he had made a comment once about how private you were over email. Suggesting you might be more open in person like you are in your shared dreams, but your schedules were too different to have a proper conversation. With instant villains popping up all over the country the last thing he has time to think about is keeping up appearances.

“What about that gig at UA Kayama suggested? It’d be a stable gig.” He could hear his friend smile over the phone. The last thing Shouta thought was a good idea was him being a teacher.

“I don’t have time for this I’m on patrol, I’ll talk to you later.” He quickly hung up on Hizashi and stuffed his phone in his pocket, looking up at the moon that shown brightly even in the dark alley he stood in.

———

You stared at an email Midnight sent you, regretting the suggestion you made to Shouta to exchange emails of your most trusted associates/friends ‘in case of an emergency’. You sighed and leaned back into the sofa you sat on. “You know my office isn’t your office right?” Your friend said, you looked over at them and pouted. “Seriously, I have an agency to run.” They snorted.

You rolled your eyes and picked up your laptop, “Take a look at this for me.” You placed the device on the paperwork they were looking it, forcing them to read it over. “I don’t think it’s a good time but I’m not sure how to respond.” You scratched your head thinking about it.

They read through the job offer and hummed in cognizance. “I think it’s a good idea but you are right it might not be a good time, with-“ They waved their hand around. “Everything going on. Maybe just say that?” They advised.

You both tossed ideas back and forth, as much as traveling to Japan enticed you, you knew how long it would take to wrap up all your current cases. You sent Midnight a response, apologizing and declining the teaching position, informing her that you’d love to but you are currently in no position to just pack up and leave. You pulled out your Nokia Brick phone for the time and started packing your bag. “I have to go, thanks for letting me mooch your internet.” You winked at your friend who groaned.

“When are you going to get a smart phone?” They teased.

“When they make one I can’t break, this thing is a beast!” You pointed the device at them and were on your way. Upon entering a back alley past your friends hero agency you received a call. “Detective!” You answered, “Oh. You found the- uh huh.” Your eyes narrowed, “I’m on my way.” You ended the call and ran to their office, maybe it wouldn’t take as long to wrap up all your loose ends as your originally thought.

———

5 years have passed as you and Shouta have grown closer via dreams and emails. He shows you memories of things that happened with his class during the day, most of it you find hilarious and he scowls at you in response. You write an apology and provide suggestions, he finds that he quite likes laying his head in your lap or on your stomach as you comb your fingers through the messy mop of hair he has. You find it almost natural, both of you rant about your day. Fully aware that the other can’t hear you, you’ve found writing and showing memories became second nature. You nearly cried laughing when he showed you the memory of him expelling an entire class as an example to say ‘I wasn’t joking’.

You and Midnight chose not to tell Shouta about your potential teaching position at UA, you didn’t want to say anything because you didn’t want to get his hopes up. Midnight suggested keeping it quiet in case you decide to come, saying it would be a ‘pleasant surprise’ for him. You rolled you eyes reading that, knowing how she can be.

You received another email halfway through the school year from Principal Nezu, inviting you personally. You didn’t reply to the email for sometime while going over your case work, when you did respond you informed him that it would take you about a month to finish up the cases you’re involved in and that you would be late in regards to when summer break ends and the new semester begins. He tells you that’s fine, and you request that he doesn’t mention who the ‘new teacher’ would be.

That night you have a pleasant dream, when Shouta enters your dream he found you reminiscing. He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pulling them tightly under your bust as he rests his chin on your shoulder. You lean your head against his and squeeze his arms, a smile crept up your face and you start speaking about you coming to surprise him at UA. He can’t hear you which makes you chuckle, you turn you head and kiss you cheek. It’s been years since you’ve met but you’ve never kissed before, part of you wanted to save it for when you met him in person but you were so excited.

Shouta watches you talk, wondering what you’re talking about that has you laughing. He’d give anything to hear you laugh in person, anything to be with you. He watches your memories, chuckling when you show him the fight that caused the two of you to meet. When he feels your lips press against his cheek he blushes deeply, almost jumping away with his hands still wrapped around you. He watches your fingers curl and hover in front of your mouth as you giggle. He pulls you into his chest and leans in to kiss you.

You reach up for him but give a sad smile as he starts to fade, indicating that he’s waking up. You cup his face in your hands and then he was gone, you can’t keep this up. You know you need to meet him, you know you will soon but it feels so far. You see a glimpse of him waking up, the scowl on his face and his students freezing made you chuckle. You were so excited.

If looks could kill, the classroom would have been massacred with the deep scowl on Aizawa’s face. The room felt like ice when he sat up from his in class nap to prepare the class for gym, the sensation of your hands on his cheeks is still present. He cups him own face in frustration, unable to think of something that could allow you two to meet.

After a few week Shouta meets up with you in your sleep again, your face held a deep blush and you sent him the goofiest smile he’s seen on you yet. You clap your hands together in front of your mouth as you tilt your head, he rolled his eyes and chuckled as he realizes you’re drunk. You show him memories of your going away party, you and a handful of hero’s all suited up in their uniforms were drinking at someone’s large house. Even in your drunken stupor you manage to keep anything that says ‘going away party’ out of the memory. You did accidentally slip a memory of you drinking 2 hero’s, that were 3 times your size, under the table. He sees you sitting behind the table with a mischievous grin on your face as the other two were either throwing up or passed out. When he glanced over at you there was an air of pride on you, he starts to play with your hair affectionately. He smiles when you lean into him, blushing slightly when you lay across his lap. Somehow you had snaked your arms around his waist, he chuckled in any attempt to admonish his growing feelings that made his stomach flip and his chest quake with desire.

———

You slept off your hangover on the flight to Japan, you saw Shouta a few times while you flew towards Japan. The closer you got the more nervous you became, you knew Midnight would be picking you up so you weren’t too worried. You wondered what he would sound like, what he’d smell like even.

When the plane entered Japanese waters you knew immediately, even in your sleep. You could hear him talking, you blushed as soon as the audio became clear. His voice was so smooth and deep you couldn’t help but blush. He looked at you questioningly and you moved your mouth like you were talking but didn’t let your voice escape. This was a lot more difficult to do that you imagined, you silently chuckled. He kissed your forehead, “God I wish I could see you in person, I can’t stand this.” Sadness and pain laced his voice like barbed wires, you cupped his face and gave him a sad smile. You gently pressed your lips to his, the action seemed to surprise him as he quickly poofed out of his nap. You catch a glimpse of him shooting up out of his chair and off his desk in the teachers lounge, a deep blush coating his pale skin. You woke up soon after and started getting your carry on bag together to get off.

You and Midnight had exchanged pictures via email before your flight so that the two of you would have an easy time finding each other. When you got off the plane you carried a small backpack and a briefcase with your hero uniform. “(Y/N)!” She yelled, waving her hand fast. “I’m so excited you’re here!” She hugged you tightly as soon as you were close enough.

“Midnight, I’m excited to be here.” You said, “I haven’t told Shouta yet so we need to make a plan to surprise him.” You wink at her, noticing the devilish grin growing on her lips.

“Call me Nemuri.” She says and loops her arm with yours, you nod as the two of you walk to baggage claim. She told you all about the dorm system and that there’s a room prepared for you, telling you that it’s pre-furnished and about all the finite details.

——

He took another nap, hoping to apologize for being surprised awake. When he did manage to sleep it was only for a short time and you weren’t there. Aizawa would admit he was confused, he looked at his phone to check the time when he woke. Knowing you should be asleep, he worried that something happened. Gym class had started and a few of the student looked at him in concern, noting his grumpier than usual attitude.

“What do you think happened?” Uraraka said, “Aizawa-Sensei isn’t usually this grumpy after his naps..”

Asui and Midoriya nodded in agreement, sneaking glances at their teacher. “Maybe he just didn’t sleep well?” Midoriya suggested with shrugged shoulders.

“He does keep looking at the time, kero.” Ausi notes.

Shouta glares at them and they separate for their training. When gym is over he takes another nap, hoping to see you again.

You and Midnight made quick work of getting your bags into your new room, you had swiftly changed into your Hero costume and headed towards the school. Nermuri used her quirk to help you calm down as you approached class 1-A, “Do you think he’ll be mad?” You whisper to her.

She chuckled softly, “I don’t think he could be mad at you.” She patted your shoulder as you slowly opened the door to the classroom. Class was almost over so you knew he’d be napping.

You saw him asleep against the wall and the students looked at you confused. You and Midnight both pressed a finger to your lips to indicate they should be quiet and ignore you. You snuck into the classroom as quietly as possible and squatted in front of Shouta. You watched the way he slept so peacefully, his ebony hair messy in front of his face. You resisted the urge to move it and waited for what seemed like ages for him to wake.

When Shouta woke he rubbed his eyes before opening them, yawning and noticed someone in front of him. His eyes saw your feet first, quickly traveling upwards to see you sitting in front of him. Your (H/C) perfectly framed your face, your (E/C) eyes bore holes in him as you made eye contact with him. This has to be a dream, he thought. “Surprise.” You said shyly, you voice was soft. It was so delicate that it made his face burn, eliciting a few ‘ooo’s and ‘awes’ from his students. He stared at you in awe, frozen where he sat in utter disbelief. You giggled softly, you stood and introduced yourself to the class. Informing them and Shouta that you were a new teacher at the school. They had a million questions for you but you dismissed them stating they’ll find out later, the bell rang dismissing the class.

With school over the students made their way out of the classroom, leaving you and their homeroom teacher alone. You went to close the door and turned back to face him after waving the kids out. He unzipped himself from his sleeping bag and instantly pulled you into his chest. You blushed loudly and completed the embrace, wrapping your arms around him. One of his arms was wrapped around your waist while the other cupped the back of your head. “(Y/N). Why didn’t you tell me?” He said softly, you giggled into his chest and squeezed him a bit. The sound of your name on his lips made you happier than you imagined.

Lifting your head to him, you never realized the difference in your height while you dreamt. You hummed at his question, “I wanted to surprise you.” You offered a small smile. “And I didn’t want to give you false hope if something came up and I couldn’t come.” Your admission seemed to quell his confusion.

Shouta smiled and lifted you up, “I couldn’t have asked for a better surprise.” He leaned his face into yours, pressing his lips against your own. His lips were soft in comparison to his calloused hands that held you against him. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, cupping the back of his neck. Desperate to not let go. He tasted like coffee and smelled like spices, he was warm and felt like home. When you pulled away to take a breath you pressed your forehead to his. “I couldn’t begin to imagine my life without you now that I have you here.” He said with a soft smile.

You giggled as he set your feet back on the ground, “I was thinking the same thing.” You both to a moment to look over each other. He was taller and more muscular that you had anticipated, you were shorter and softer than he imagined. He loved every ounce of you, “We should go home.” You offered your hand to his, god he could melt at the sound of the word ‘home’ falling from your lips.

You would be introduced to the rest of the faculty and students tomorrow, soon you would meet the teachers responsible for class 1-A at the faculty dorm you’d be staying in. Tonight you’d be spending all your time with Shouta, familiarizing yourself with each other. He had never slept so well as he did with you wrapped in his arms and pulled into his chest, he was never going to let you go.

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dem-obscure-imagines · 5 years ago

Text

Stranded - Part 1

Steven Hyde x Reader

Note: I’ve been watching That 70’s Show all day every day for the past three days and we already know how I feel about fics that use time travel/dimension hopping so…Also, we’re pretending Hyde and Jackie aren’t together at this point for…reasons…

Warnings: Drug mention/use (weed; it’s the 70’s), some language

Word Count: 3.3k

When you came around, there was a horrible pounding in your head. Your entire body was sore, pain blossoming every time you tried to move. You groaned. Oh God. Oh no. Everything hurt. And…why did it smell like weed?

“She moved.”

“I see that she moved, dumbass.”

“Do you think she’s okay? Should I get my mom?”

“Not yet. It still smells down here. Don’t want Red calling the cops.”

“I think it’s alright. She’s coming around.”

You groaned again, clutching at the sharp cramp in your abdomen. “Shit.”

“She speaks!”

You heard the sound of someone hitting someone else and one of the strange voices, a boy, groaned.

“Shut up, Kelso.”

“I’m just saying, chick falls from the sky, you don’t really expect her to—”

“Shut UP, Kelso.”

You struggled to sit up and opened your eyes despite the pain in your head. You were surrounded by boys, four of them, all of their eyes locked on you. Two of them were standing behind the couch you were laying on, one was sitting on the chair by your feet, and the other was sitting on a coffee table in front of the couch. From the looks of it, you were in a basement. A basement that smelled incredibly like weed.

“Where…am I?”

*Eric Forman’s Basement - 20 Minutes Earlier*

“Man, I’m telling you, the government is tooootally hiding aliens in Area 51.” Hyde leaned back in his chair, smoke billowing out in front of him.

Kelso laughed. “Dude, if there were aliens, don’t you think we’d know that by now? One of them would have gotten out.”

“Why, are you an alien?” Eric raised an eyebrow.

“What if I’m an alien and I didn’t even know it?” Kelso murmured, his eyes hyperfocused on the table.

Before he could open his mouth again, there was a bright flash of light outside followed by a loud crash and the sound of all of the car alarms in the neighborhood going off.

“What the hell…?”

The boys all looked at the back door, slowly rising from the table. Kelso was the first outside, followed by Eric and then Fez and Hyde. There was a great big steaming crater in the grass out back, a girl with blue hair laying unconscious in the middle of it.

“Man, I think she fell from the sky.” Eric looked up into the stars as if they held the answer.

“That’s ridiculous.” Hyde shook his head. “No fucking way.”

“She has blue hair!” Fez pointed. He gasped and covered his mouth, his eyes wide. “Maybe she’s an alien…”

“Is she okay?” Eric asked.

“She’s breathing.” Kelso pointed out.

“Maybe we should get her inside.” Fez suggested, looking around for signs of cops. If he got caught with weed, he was sure he’d get sent back to his home country.

“I’ve got her. Move over, dillhole.” Hyde pushed Eric out of his way and rolled up the sleeves of his undershirt, kneeling down in the dirt to scoop her out.

Eric walked back toward the door and opened it, Fez walking in to get things on the couch ready.

“I mean, she’s pretty hot. I think it’s our civil duty to—”

Hyde cut Kelso off with a glare as he carried the unconscious blue-haired girl into the basement.

*Eric Forman’s Basement – Now*

“Where…am I?” You asked, looking at the boys for answers.

The one that was closest to you, the one sitting on the round table in front of the couch, had neat brown hair parted to the left. He was wearing a flannel and jeans. “You’re in my basement. You were, uh, in my backyard unconscious.”

“How long have I been out?” You asked, trying to sit up, but slumping back against the couch, wincing. You’d definitely bruised something on your way down.

“Twenty minutes.” The one sitting in the folding chair across from you answered. He had curly hair and sideburns, sunglasses, and he was wearing a black band tee over a white shirt. Led Zeppelin, you noted. That and his flared jeans would indicate…

Oh God. Your head was spinning. You looked at the slick silver watch wrapped around your wrist and tapped on the screen. 1978, Point Place, Wisconsin. Holy shit 1978. No wonder everything hurt.

“You okay?”

“What?” You blinked a few times, lost in thought. “I—yeah, I’m…I’ll be okay.”

“You got a name, gorgeous?”

“Y/N. L/N.” You swung your legs over the side of the couch and put your feet flat on the floor. You stood up, but your legs wobbled too much and you wound up against curly-haired sideburns guy’s chest, his arms around you. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Let’s get you back on the couch…” He gently lowered you back down and you took a deep breath. “You okay?”

“Did I have a bag when you found me?” You looked up at curly-haired sideburns guy.

“Uh…”

“I found this after Hyde got you out of the hole.” The tall lanky one with the long brown hair handed you your bag, a silver messenger bag with your things crammed in it.

“Thanks.” Hyde, you noted. Curly-haired sideburns guy was Hyde.

“I’m gonna…get you some water.” The one in the flannel got off the table and walked up the stairs.

You rummaged through your bag until you found what you were looking for: your phone. The only problem, the silver rectangle was sparking, the screen cracked badly and the panel on the back was open, exposing the wires.

“Fuck…” Well, that wasn’t good. Stranded in the 1970’s and you couldn’t even contact a ride home if you wanted to.

“What is that?” asked one of the guys behind the couch, pointing to the device in your hand.

“Walkie-talkie.” You replied quickly. You shouldn’t have taken it out in front of them, but given the circumstances, you figured the TSE would just have to forgive you. “Really high-end walkie-talkie.”

You jammed it back in your bag and slumped back against the couch as flannel guy came back down the stairs. He handed you a glass of water and you drank some down. It helped, a little. You still weren’t really sure what to do, though.

“Could I get some names?” You looked around. “I mean, I did wake up in your basement.”

“That’s fair.” Flannel guy chuckled. “I’m Eric. The long haired idiot over there is Michael, sunglasses is Steven, and that’s Fez.”

“So did you like…fall from the sky?” Michael asked.

“Probably.” You groaned, stretching. Something popped. “Yeah, I definitely fell from the sky.”

“Well in that case…” Fez leaned against the couch, his face very close to yours. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

“Yeah, it hurt a lot.” You touched your neck and winced. Yeah, that was definitely gonna bruise. “Could I get some ice?”

Steven got off of his chair and walked to the freezer up against the wall. He fished around before handing you a bag of frozen peas. “Here.”

“Thank you.” You held the bag to the spot where your neck met your shoulder.

“Where are you from?” Eric asked, sitting back down on the table.

“Not around here.” You sighed and raked your fingers through your very blue hair. If you’d landed a few decades later, that might have been alright, but you were definitely going to stick out. “My ex dumped me off here. I’m kind of stranded.”

“Well, you can stay here for a while. I’m sure my mom wouldn’t mind.” Eric offered. “I mean, they let Hyde stay here.”

“Welcome to Forman’s, home of orphans and misfits.” Steven—Hyde—chuckled, leaning back against the chair. “We can blow up an air mattress in here.”

“No, Mom might come down to do laundry, I can’t have some random girl out in the open.” Eric looked to you and amended, “No offence.”

“None taken.”

“Then we’ll blow up the air mattress in my room. I don’t care.” Hyde shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Thank you.” You shifted the bag of frozen peas, sighing at the slight bit of relief the cold brought.

“Come on, Fez, let’s get the mattress set up.” Michael started walking back towards the room Hyde was staying in.

Fez winked at you. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“You didn’t really fall from the sky, though, right?” Eric asked, still confused over the whole ordeal.

“My head hurts…” You murmured, avoiding the question.

Shrugging, Eric stood up. “I’m gonna head up to my room.”

“Night.” Hyde nodded. He looked at you for a moment, considering you quietly before saying, “I like your piercings.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” You reached up to touch one of the studs in your earlobe. “I like your shirt.”

“You like Zeppelin?”

“Hell yeah.” You grinned and so did he.

“I knew I liked you.”

*Eric Forman’s Kitchen – The Next Morning*

“Y/N, honey, I am so sorry to hear about what happened to you.” Eric’s mom, Kitty, set a plate of pancakes in front of you. “You’re welcome to stay in the basement until we get it figured out.”

“Great.” Eric’s father, Red, grumbled. Hyde had warned you about him. Said he was a bit of a hardass. “More teenagers.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. and Mrs. Forman. I promise I won’t be here long. I’ve just gotta make a few calls and get some things arranged.” You took a bite of fluffy pancakes. “These are amazing, Mrs. Forman. Thank you for breakfast.”

“Of course, dear. It’s about time someone appreciated my cooking.” She shot a look at Red, but he was too preoccupied with his newspaper to notice.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I was wondering if you had any tools. A little screwdriver and some pliers.”

“You need tools?” That got Red’s attention. Hyde’s too. They both sat at attention. “Hear that, Eric? The girl knows how to use tools.”

“I heard.”

“I have some you can borrow. What size do you need?”

“Probably the smallest one. It’s some very fine detail stuff.”

“I’ll get some out of the garage later.” Red folded the newspaper and set it on the table. “You know, the blue hair and piercings had me skeptical, but maybe you’re not so bad. Teach Eric a thing or two while you’re at it.”

“Will do, sir.”

“So where are you from, Y/N?” Kitty asked, smiling.

“Up north. Tiny little town. My ex-boyfriend and I stopped here for gas, and…well, you know the rest.”

“Sounds like a total dillhole.” Hyde shook his head. “You’re better off.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” You shrugged. “Life is full of adventures. I guess this is just going to be one of mine.”

“Well, if it helps, it’s never boring around here.” Eric said, taking a bite of his pancakes.

You laughed, nodding. “Yeah, that definitely helps.

***

A while later, you were sitting at the little round table in the basement. You had pulled Hyde’s usual chair up to it and were focused intently on the “walkie talkie” in front of you. You were wearing a pair of protective goggles, your work gloves covering your hands.

“What are you doing?” You jumped at the voice behind you, but when you turned to look, it was just Hyde standing there.

“Trying to fix my walkie talkie.”

He thought for a second, looking at the device in front of you. “That doesn’t really look like a walkie talkie.”

“Yeah.” You shrugged, using the pliers to twist some wires together. “It doesn’t.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah.” You screwed the panel onto the back of it and thankfully, it came to life, the screen, though it was cracked, glowing blue as it started up. You exhaled a huge sigh of relief and rested your head on the table for a second. “Oh thank God.”

“Are you sure that’s a—?”

“I’ve gotta make a call. I’m gonna hop outside.”

“Okay. I think the Circle is gonna get started up down here. You want me to roll you a blunt?” He offered. A 1970’s boy offering you his precious weed? You never imagined that happening in your life…

“I’m alright, but thanks. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Alright.” He nodded, trying not to watch as you walked out the door, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t sure why, but there was something about you that was just…different.

You walked into the chilly night air. It had taken you almost all day to get your damn phone working, and you could only hope the temporal chip was working or you’d really be screwed. So, hesitantly tapping on your horrible ex-boyfriend’s contact, you exhaled a long sigh. A few rings later, he picked up.

“Hey.”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, you fucking asshole! What gives?!”

“What’s this about?”

“You stranded me in the goddamn 1970’s! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Listen, sugar, it’s nothing personal—”

“Bullshit, Jaxon! You get back here and take me to the station right now or I’ll get you banished to the fucking middle ages, you hear me?”

“I wouldn’t take that tone of voice with me, little lady. You’re not in any position to be making demands. Maybe I’ll just have to tell the society you deserted…”

“I’ll get you for this! You hear me? You will not get away with this.”

You could just about hear the smirk in his voice when he said, “We’ll see about that.”

The line went dead with a click and when you looked at the screen, there was a message that read: Temporal Chip Corrupted. Take to Repair Station Immediately.

“Fuck…” Tears fogged up your vision and rolled down your cheeks. You couldn’t believe you were crying over that asshole, but you were. You were stuck in the 1970’s and you’d used your only call to talk to the one person in the entire Time Society of Earth that didn’t give a single shit about your wellbeing.

A wave of hopelessness washed over you and you collapsed onto the grass, your phone laying on the ground beside you as you sobbed into the starry night.

“Hey, are you…alright?” You weren’t sure how long Hyde had been standing there, but he was walking towards you, his hands jammed in his pockets and his sunglasses, for once, off of his face.

“No…” You shook your head and sniffled, wiping at your tears with your hands. “I…” You choked on tears. “I’m stuck here.”

“Well hey, we can get you a ride back home. Kelso has a van, Red has a car, we’ll figure it out, okay?”

“It’s not that simple.” You shook your head.

Hyde knelt down on the grass next to you, a soft look on his face, his eyes exposed to you and sparkling in the starlight.

Your heart raced, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the look he was giving you or because he was onto your secret. Maybe a little bit of both.

“Are you…” He started, the wheels turning behind his eyes. “Are you an alien?”

You laughed and shook your head. “No. No I’m not.”

“But…”

“I mean, I guess you were kind of close, though.” You looked at him, weighing your options. It might not be so bad to have someone in on your secret. Then, at least you wouldn’t be alone. “You can’t tell the others, though, alright? The less people that know, the better.”

“I can keep a secret.”

“I’m from the future, Steven.” You whispered. “I didn’t fall from the sky, I got pushed out of a time machine.”

He was quiet, staring at you for a long time. “Well, fuck. That’s not good.”

“Yeah. I mean, eventually someone has to realize I’m gone, but…he could cover up my disappearance really easily. I…” A tear rolled down your cheek and you stared at the grass. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do…”

“You’re gonna stay right here.” He tilted his head, slowly reaching out to tilt your face up so he could look at you. “We’ll take care of you. Help you figure out a way home…”

“Thank you.” You sniffled, smiling finally. Yeah, this wasn’t ideal, but things could be worse. At least you weren’t alone.

“Let’s get you back inside, yeah? It’s cold out here.” Hyde stood and helped you to your feet. His arm settled around your shoulders.

When the two of you got back into the house, the Circle was mostly gathered. Hyde pulled up a chair for you right beside his and you sat down next to him while the boys started smoking. A few puffs in, he patted your thigh, looking over at you.

“I’m gonna get a soda. You want anything?”

You motioned him closer, and he leaned in before you whispered, “Has Pepsi been invented yet?”

He laughed. “Yeah. I’ll get you one.” Hyde walked across the basement and up the stairs, leaving you with the other three.

“You and Hyde are awful cozy.” Kelso smirked. “Don’t tell me he already claimed you.”

“What, is he not this friendly usually?” You laughed.

“He didn’t even give me a chance to impress you with my foreign charm.” Fez pouted, shaking his head. “I was just saying how girls don’t fall out of the sky. Doesn’t that mean I get the one that does?”

“I mean, I don’t know how long I’m gonna be around.” You shrugged. “I don’t do long-distance. I wouldn’t get too attached.”

“Better let him know that before he does.” Eric warned.

You nodded. “Believe me, he already knows.”

Hyde returned a few seconds later, settling in beside you. He set a Pepsi can on the table in front of you and you admired the label, noting how different it looked than the cans you were used to. But when you cracked it open and took a few sips, it tasted just the same as it always did.

You talked to the boys for a while, bullshitting your way out of their questions and absorbing as much as you could about the situation you’d landed in. You had a feeling that blending in wouldn’t be too hard, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t have to be careful not to blow your cover the rest of the way.

Eventually, Fez and Kelso went home and Eric went upstairs to his room, leaving you and Hyde alone in the basement.

“How far in the future?” He asked. When you said it, you could tell the question had been on his mind all night.

“Pretty far.”

He sighed, chuckling to himself. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“I’m stationed in 2020 in a space station orbiting earth. Time doesn’t really…pass there. It’s a null area. It’s been 2020 since…well, since I’ve been there.”

“Fifty years? Is that math right?”

“Yeah, just about.” You finished off your Pepsi.

“Damn.”

“Yeah, damn.” You sighed, raking your fingers through your blue hair, the decades standing between you ever-obvious. “I, uh, forgot to ask Kitty for some of Laurie’s old clothes. To sleep in.”

“Oh. Let me grab you one of my shirts. Hang tight.” He walked back into his room and came back with a band shirt and a pair of shorts. “These should work.”

“Thanks, Hyde. Being here isn’t easy, but you’re…you’re making it a bit easier.”

“Well, I’m nothing if not a charmer.” He smirked.

You stood on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek before turning to walk into the bathroom and change. When you emerged a few minutes later, he was out on the couch, some show playing on the screen, the volume down low.

“I’m gonna get to bed, I think.”

He turned around to look at you, his voice caught in his throat when he saw you in his clothes. You looked good. Really good. He snapped out of it. “I’ll be in there soon.”

“Night.”

“Goodnight.” Hyde turned back around to face the TV. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he couldn’t help thinking he was lucky you’d been stranded there.

Part 2

#hyde #steven hyde #hyde x reader #steven hyde x reader #that 70's show #that 70's show imagine #stranded

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