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sugar-petals · 3 years

Text

🌹 Sub!SuperM 18+ HC: Riding Their Faces

↳ NOTE. These guys... I swear. Bringing some heat to the dash right here. Enjoy the SuperMadness 👀

word count. 3.7k | bullet points | ot7

WARNINGS. ⚠️ all explicit, cum play, latex, hair & sweat kink, bondage, spit, brat taming, toys, breath play, ass fixation going strong, dominant reader, femdom, degradation, hardcore, veins kink, graphic language, strap-ons, crying kink, clothed sex, some crack

⌜ 💋 byun baekhyun ⌟

▸ strength: energy

not for the faint of heart. baekhyun thoroughly enjoys you giving it to him roughly; it’s the leader being led, how sexy is that

i spy with my femdom eye, baekhyun likes the bossy dommes who bring him to his knees — quite literally.

case in point: hates seeing you hold back. tells you to just bounce on him how you want it. no fumbling around, it’s gotta be hot and proper.

whatever you’re insecure about he hasn’t even noticed. the more confidently you’re taking your designated seat, the better. this shit’s gotta make him all loud and squeaky, baekhyun can’t get enough of your wild and demanding side. “don’t you dare move your hands!” — he’s already hooked.

yep, he’s part of the feral squad. and louder than the bass in jopping for that matter

small as hell face but the jaw is sharp, you can literally feel it, he fits between your legs so well

endless breath. put your pussy all over that nose, grind on it, cum all over him. society will thank you for suffocating a millionaire

like seriously the breath play is off the charts. if he’s into asphyxiation you’d not be surprised

meanwile baek’s naughty hips keep on bucking, like hello there, giving you a cheeky 69 invitation

such a cocky little shit, whiny byun all the way from those ruined orgasms he’ll be getting cuz you might just touch him with two fingers at best, you know how to keep him on his toes

swallows everything he’s like whatever, almost chokes because he’s so messy and greedy to taste you. damn baekhyun

does a “mmhhhnnn...!” sound all the time, this guy has pussy all over his face and is still more vocal than you no matter what you do

eats ass, all day if he can, knows the most shocking techniques, wants to get crushed by booty he’ll end up admitting it. no matter how big or small yours is. because remember, that face is small, everything is big to him

the type to cum on his stomach way before you do. groans a lot, then goes on even more intensely, how the hell did he just leak out five ounces of semen and still manage a whole tongue workout

slobbery and all over the place, those are tongue movements you can’t even think of in your wildest dreams

baekhyun is never content just making you cum once or just really lowkey, much less hearing you being silent. he’s a moodmaker, he naturally wants to hear you, and see you twitch like the world ends for goodness sake

brattiest tongue ever, always pulls out the taunting puppy licks, tries to grope you all the time, he’ll get a rough spanking later believe me

also gets his payback from you being crazy wet, as beautiful and cute his face might be it’s gonna end up damn ruined

not gonna lie his voice acrobatics will turn you into a waterfall that’s coming down on him

you can punish him for teasing by going raw with your hips, mochi is in wonderland, seeing stars. put his wrists in a spreader bar and go off is what i’m saying, YOLO

since baekhyun annoys the members by being so hyper in the evening, they appreciate you knocking him out for sleep. and indeed baekhyun dozes like a baby, probably using your ass as a pillow or something

you’ve drained the shit out of him and um watered the flower that is his face, so

another cupcake down, mission success, baekhyun certainly had his fill not to mention lucky you having to deal with his wildly talented mouth ahem, moral of the story annihilate him with your ass

⌜ 💋 lee taemin ⌟

▸ strength: steaminess

you will come (heh) to discover that none of his lyrics were a lie

yeah he’s busy hot boy shit for his gal

taemin has an all-soft and plush tongue that’s super pinkish. it literally feels so good, how to ever get enough of it holy shit

it also happens to be very long so buckle up, he wants to be deep inside of you, serve and please you

probably the most slow and agile movement in the group, tantalizing is the right word for sure

prefers kissing and sucking over just licking because he’s sappy, good on him and good on you those lips are heaven and need to be used by all means

once you go on the pill, taemin will eat his own creampies straight out of you, maybe even two at once, it’s taemin c’mon he’s above-average horny lord knows how much sperm he’s hoarding

loves drowning it seems

raunchy stuff aside, he always dresses up nicely or wears the fluffy sweaters you like the most on him. what an exclusive ride, the scent of the clothing turns you on even more he’s pulling all the registers taemin is so docile and giggly

most sensual style in the group, will edge and give you goosebumps first before the main course even remotely goes down, taemin thinks in several stages hot damn he calculated this

his face heats up so much it’s crazy, then again kkoongie capitalizes on all the warmth from the radiator so you might as well be taemin’s personal heating alright. it’s fun seeing him sweat like mad, see his neck veins bulge... ugh

is gonna be a provocateur and try to nibble on your folds, man he just wants to get slapped around you can see right through this brat’s rowdy plan

might even want his ass played with while you ride his face so prepare for some intense contortions, fingering, butt plugs, prostate massage, the whole array, gladly taemin is flexible

always pulls it off hands-free because he’s a pro and well yeah he’s always tied up how um totally surprising

and any challenge he will meet that i guarantee you

he has immediately apparent shinee concert stamina, longevity like his career, taemin can lend his face to your purposes for the whole night he doesn’t care if he needs to chuck it in the freezer afterwards

bonus: if taemin doesn’t at some point wear one of his glittery masks for sexy time, somebody is probably impersonating him and it’s not the real lee taemin i’m afraid

so many orgasms you’ll stop counting, one blends into the other, even if you’re not moving much, how does he do it

that being said gee can we just appreciate how beautiful his face is, everything about him, it’s gonna be so sexy and soft to kiss him to sleep oh my god

⌜ 💋 kim jongin ⌟

▸ strength: escalating

just how industrious is he? dammit kai is the rent due or something, this shit is not a comeback stage cool down

jongin is needy as fuck, he’s desperate to taste you especially in the morning when his lips are all plump

since then he’s skipped his skin care routine you do the bulk of the moisturizing you see

jokes aside get ready for whimpery kai thrusting his face right into you because he can, should you need something to hold onto, his thighs are literally right there

constant high-pitched moans, some during quick pauses, others stifled, kai are you okay he’s really going all out

so thirsty

if you don’t put a harness on him for this you’re missing out, also you need something to hold this wild slutty motherfucker in place

rock-hard throughout, harder than a goddamn superm choreography

also: sturdy chin that can take a lot, it’s made to be sat on

does a lot of the work, very active, main dancer vibes you know, you can be lazy and just enjoy

most continuous style in the group, gradually getting more and more passionate and nervous — the second you thought it gets boring he goes off, have fun losing your mind and seeing him basically K.O. himself

if he wants to make you cum, rapid tongue jabs deep into your clit, and his hard breath against it, no fair play in here

absolutely has a thing for your shaking thighs, like what the hell he’s blowing a huge load the more you tremble, and he’s goddamn crying from pleasure every time woah

those big ole lips are an absolute treat, yeah i’ll say it again his face is meant for this

wants to be called all kinds of names wow jongin, it just spurs him more

kai. is. so. good.

you can most definitely film your own POV cam, jongin can put on one hell of a show. just this time it’s not his eyes flirting with the camera, it’s his tongue getting a nice rough treatment oh yum

don’t get me wrong he can deliver a romantic version of this, but kai just likes you being tough on his face he can’t deny it

uses his hands so you can ride him even harder, all his teddy bears will be falling off the bed like dominoes

might one day ascend to heaven while giving head, wouldn’t regret it

can do it until complete exhaustion you guys just pass out

being such an oral workaholic do i sense a masochist streak in him there?

fucking typical capricorn

⌜ 💋 wong yukhei ⌟

▸ strength: appetite

first off yukhei is hilarious

it’s called eating out and that’s exactly what he does duh, he’s not nicknamed foodcas for no reason — the restaurant is open my dear, and he just served himself five courses (you)

gets super sweaty, forehead and down the neck, a 6′0 glazed bun can you imagine

giggles a lot, makes the atmosphere relaxed, loves banter before and after, an allround sweet experience

though beware, this guy is hungry. most prone to open his mouth super wide he wants to eat all of you at once

don’t tell kun how nasty he is, much less leader baekhyun, promise me that

and especially nosy kai should not hear about what sexy shit yukhei is doing in his freetime unless you want to trigger a war

that being said the wayv dorm is still the safest place to sit on his face, so. it’s a lawless land there, nobody gives a fuck anymore at this point. yangyang would not even blink if ten murdered someone in cold blood on the balcony, that’s how the atmosphere there can be best described

lucas being a far more harmless himbo still ironically fits into the environment being so sexually insatiable, just how often are you going to fuck? it’s only natural to lose the overview

he loudly pouts and complains when it ends, wants to go on and on, you need a lotta stamina to get with this guy this is not a warning it’s a fact — yukhei really wants to tire himself out and give everything

if you lower your thighs just a little you can feel his dangly earrings. kinda sexy but also a safety concern i know i know, he’s not gonna wear them next time

noisy as heck, wants to do well, always goes the extra mile to be sure you are all happy and satisfied with today’s dining

his tongue is... big...

we’re not gonna talk about that giant bulge either, such a huge tent in those pants it’s a whole camping ground. anyway

what we’ll talk about. his super soft blonde hair, we’re talking salon quality soft, that’s amazing to feel against your legs, it’s great to pull as well, or to twirl really playfully

though there’s not much playful going down when the initial inhibition drops

he’s not made of glass you can really get those hips going

sliding down his nose when you’re all wet... damn good stuff.

lucas is the kinda guy that has you grunting and gritting he loves your reactions, and how aggressive you can get. usually he’s the reaction king but like this? he can get used to it.

totally into having that kinda frog perspective it’s a whole new thing, he’s such a giant now he’s below you, the sight is just superb to him

less likely to have toys involved, but rather a bunch of rope for his chest, his arms, his long ass legs. yukhei is a bondage insider tip y’all

stable as a block of metal. if you go a little too wild on baekhyun he’s probably gonna break his mochi neck but lucas is a different calibre, this mf is made of giant muscles galore, i can only say one thing: finish him

⌜ 💋 mark lee ⌟

▸ strength: speed

talks a lot, even occasionally curses — instantly apologizing, but you curse right back, so this becomes the cussing olympics at some point, taeyong would bury his face in the ground all his parenting efforts have gone to waste

mark basically chokes himself

he can’t control his spit by all means jesus... in his own words: must be the drip then

next to taemin and baekhyun here we have the third drowning victim, mark is in serious need of multiple tissues or towels afterwards but that’s exactly what he likes

mark’s slutty side is not to be underestimated i’m warning you

that’s a healthy young man right here

loves to do quickies to get you off during daytime, if you’re horny just tell him and he’ll find a quiet spot, might do it on his knees rather than you riding him sometimes for practical reasons

all options open, mark is flexible af. if someone can promote with nct dream and superm at the same time that’s the result

so yeah you’ll experiment with positions and even outfits, what’s the most comfortable to wear?

few people even remotely think about this. mark himself stays in his signature sweater but the glasses come off, you know very well he’s a nerd without them he has nothing to prove lmao!

the clothes will be cozy but don’t let that fool you yet alright

this guy has watched too much porn to just keep it light and cute

don’t get me wrong you can baby him ad nauseam for the more gentle femdom moods

but at the end of the day mark loves some intense shit, he likes feisty girls who aren’t coy and subby, the more perverted you are the better, in fact he enjoys being shocked with brazen attitude and getting orders on what to do.

loves it when you to take it all out on him, rough is good. mark lee’s face is the rodeo range of super m alright, just don’t break his glorious jaw or anything, he still needs it okay

but yeah mark’s face is tempting to ride hard not gonna lie

his tongue can go so fast it’s at the speed of sound, no, the speed of fucking light. mark goes crazy on your clit, wait a few seconds, boom five orgasms rain down on you.

it’s like an anime swordsman just lifting the sword hilt, walking off calmly, and one minute later things are in shambles like how? mark’s sword tech is just epic like that

he’s a leo what did we expect, show-off

in the meantime, RIP to mark lee’s pants. they’ll be soaked with cum, gonna be a bitch to hide your clothes from taeyong who’s always eager to wash everything by himself

that aside, mark really enjoys the position, he doesn’t need much else to be honest, he goes “oh my god oh shit” enough for you to know

thank god he’s a rapper, otherwise his dang technique would be dangerous, he doesn’t breathe for half a minute or so

enjoys you really doing shallow thrusts, super fast and sloppy, loves how much you enjoy it

needless to say: breaks a guinness world record for most licks per second, it’s that mark lee flow

long story short his face is your favorite spot he can prepare for a daily session

all that practice on water melons paid off good job markly

⌜ 💋 ten lee ⌟

▸ strength: allround skill

you know a pro by how he’s offering you a tall glass of water beforehand

and by the way he’s chugging one himself

champion, a keeper

you’re guaranteed to love it, ten is amazing

takes his time, gets to know your every inch, figures out your soft spots in a matter of minutes to seconds

everything for his sexy mama, service sub right here

take him on a leash, grind on his lips, make him kiss your clit, he’ll respond by circling his tongue around obediently

chittaphon might be a little fidgety at the beginning, but the atmosphere is not as tense anymore after doing it two or three times.

ten is actually quite good cracking lighthearted jokes and showing his more extroverted side, he always gets like that with a partner.

you have an easy time with build-up conversations and communicating in general, same with aftercare pillow talk

that being said the degree of professionalism this guy is heading for needs a lot of talk in the first place.

ten likes doing advanced things that aren’t just intuitively understood, you need to exchange yourself a lot

through trial and error you figure out how to incorporate sex toys into the little routine you have going on

the pleasure will be so intense you’ll never want anything else fuck

ten is also down for a lot of moving around, some athletic shit

you’ll go from bouncing on his dick to smothering his face back and forth pretty much, let’s see how fast you’re gonna bust a huge nut like that my bet is five minutes

those like “oh... ah—” moans are just angelic

since he focuses so much on your erogenous zones and always keeps his hands involved, ten is always guaranteed to have you breaking a major sweat

ten does not like to eat any fruits, they say. well that’s true, because he’s too busy eating you that is. boy can basically retire from citizenhood, he’s that busy between your legs.

enough fruit juice for an entire week impending, don’t worry about his nutrients, this is also a form of diet.

uses his chin, his cheeks, the nose especially, the damn nose it’s perfectly shaped

wants you to really ride him hard, and fast, no holds barred at all, going so feral he’ll be squeezing his eyes shut

sometimes his hair gets in the way, it’s just so damn long. the result: hair ties for face-sitting, always on his wrist

among all members, buries his face the deepest, turns him on so much

always makes sure you’re both washed up, no impromptu sessions. ten is a hygiene priest and he’s right

the mattress is kinda bouncy and he always uses his favorite soft pillow under his head so you can definitely take mister ten lee to pound town like work your hips give it to him

in case he survives i send my congrats, you got yourself the right guy, terrific choice queen

⌜ 💋 lee taeyong ⌟

▸ strength: ideas

how much more religiously can he eat you out, he treats this like the best reward he can get

as you can probably tell by now, all the lee surname members are definitely a certain brand and clan of highly distinguished pussy eaters like, these guys are a fucking gang like... well taeyong is no different

reckless abandon oral, eats you like it’s the last day, even death fears lee taeyong when he’s in giving head mode

you might be showering together beforehand and be all shy and kissy like it’s puppy love. but that is all for naught when the tongue of god is unleashed and taeyong gets himself as messed up as he can

yeah i like the thought of god being incarnated as kinky taeyong begging to have his mouth spit and cummed in it just makes sense

very deep mumbles, very hard breathing, those veiny hands on your waist, he wants to make you feel good so bad, fuck he’s so sexy

intense facial expressions, need i say more

also um... he likes to be... threatened. he’s the student you’re the teacher, strict as hell surveying his every move, the more you yell at him the harder he gets, jesus christ he has a thing for you acting mad and shit

taeyong doesn’t even need you to pull off your underwear, he’s gone get through any type of fabric with that leaking mouth

let’s just say he likes to experiment with innovative techniques... anyway, taeyong is a nasty fucking freak, he’s a grade A hoe, you never know what to expect

one time he just licks like a shy doe, the next second slurping explosion 5000

imagine whipping his thighs with a riding crop while sitting right on that ultra gorgeous elven prince face like

taeyong is almost always getting super emotional. he sheds even more tears than kai, like at some point you’ll develop a crying kink because of him SOS

nervous as hell, shaky hands. that can easily be fixed sir let’s tie em up

has you moaning nonstop, he’s so engaged and so dead-on with his movements. don’t be surprised if this damned man has your eyes almost falling out

beware, this guy is into full-on sensual deprivation as well. blindfolds are only the start.

you might end up with a whole lotta black latex involved, who knows, a whole gimp on him he’s down for that, he learned from ten what it is blame chittaphon’s vast kinky knowledge

even better: while you’re grinding on him, taeyong likes you pumping his cock with a fleshlight with zero mercy until he yelps in tiny oops

hell he might ask you to roughly fuck his face with a strap and then ride it, the mister likes double treats huh

then again: wants it to be degrading and dirty and intense on some days, and really wholesome and romantic on others

especially aftercare will be sweet and dulcet, you take care of him, pepper him with kisses for being such a dutiful boy.

looks pretty no matter what. maybe he’s born with it maybe it’s tyongbelline. yeah just how handsome is that face and hair like... t’yongreal paris in full splendor

long story short he’s an oral deity. i rest my case howdy and goodbye see you next time aye

superm masterlist

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damiano-mylove · 3 years

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Members of Måneskin with a mentally ill/disordered S/O

Illnesses included: Depression, ADD, Tourette's and PTSD (so warnings for that and SH, drug usage, isolation, and heavy topics in general) *Masterlist*

This was a collaborative effort between Nik, Lina, Lute and two unnamed but very appreciated people - all of us afflicted with the varying illnesses above

Vic

Vic would take an empathetic approach to your illness/disorder (relating to you, researching, never pitying)

Depression

Vic would take a more of a nurturing role to your sadness

On the more sad days, Vic would nap with you for a little bit but she'd get to a point where enough would be enough

She would coax you out of bed in ways that appeal to you more than you'd ever care to admit, starting out with just getting you to eat somewhere else than in bed, then eventually moving up to showering, etcetera, etcetera

Vic would be very acutely tuned toward your needs, and she always fulfilled

It broke her heart that you were so sad, but she could relate and that made it a lighter burden on your back

When you first told her, Vic just went silent, then hugged you for a long time

ADD

Vic wouldn't be as supportive in this, but not in a neglectful way

She had a way of getting your attention back on the topic at hand, but sometimes she was just as bad as you for getting away from the main point

The impulsivity, she wasn't the biggest fan of, but you two worked through it like adults

When you'd forget things, Vic wouldn't get annoyed - but she would always remind you when you forgot what you needed to remember

Also, she was the best for finding misplaced things

PTSD

Vic would be very careful to avoid your triggers, however she never felt as if she was walking on eggshells

Before you were able to fully tell her what happened, Vic would never force you to tell her anything you weren't already ready to tell her of your own accord

There was no way she couldn't feel a bit sorry for you, but she never showed it, and she certainly didn't pity you - she just was sorry that something happened to you to give you PTSD

She would be mindful to never act as if she would be able to fix you

Tourette's

It didn't annoy her as much as you thought it surely would - especially since you had been trying to keep the tics at bay in the beginning of your relationship

Vic usually went on like nothing happened when you'd tic, but sometimes she'd laugh if your tics would hit her

Vic would proudly go out with you, even though you were scared about the looks you'd get on the street, but she never minded because she loved you and she wanted to show you that she loved you

Thomas

Thomas would take a supportive approach to your illness/disorder (reminding you to take your meds, making appointments for you if you'd ask, doing anything he could to make you feel better)

Depression

Thomas would always be the perfect person who would just shut the fuck up and cuddle you, but he would only do it if you'd ask because he knew sometimes you didn't feel like being around people

Wasn't really trained in any of this so he just cared for you like he'd like to be cared for

He was doing his best, and it was apparent, but sometimes you'd have to tell him what not to do and what to do

Of course, Thomas wouldn't bat an eye to stop or start doing anything at the raise of your finger - whether it be rub your back or let you be alone for a bit

He understood that he alone could not cure your depression, but he understood that he would be around for the ride, if you would have him

When you first told Thomas, he was silent, just nodding. He asked you a few very respectful questions but would never dream of pushing you. He would rub your knee and assure you of his love for you, no matter what

ADD

Honestly, Thomas didn't know what ADD was, at first

He googled it, then thought better to just ask you for a primary source

During nights where you couldn't sleep, Thomas would be right beside you, not sleeping either, which wasn't healthy for either of you, but it sure as Hell made you feel less lonely

Thomas lost shit and things all the time, so he never judged you for that, and his memory was potentially worse than yours so who was he to speak on that

But he was extremely good at getting you to finish tasks before moving on (sometimes just finishing them himself)

PTSD

Again, didn't exactly know what it entailed at first, but asked you a few questions to clear the air

Thomas would lead you through deep breathing exercises (unless you told him not to) when you were triggered and started losing control

Would always do anything and everything he could to avoid triggers with you

He would he more than patient with you

Tourette's

He would find some of your tics endearing (not harmful ones)

At one point, you'd even developed a verbal tic saying Thomas' name, which he always chuckled at and responded to you every single time as if you'd requested his presence, each time with a new pet name and a smile

If your tics would hit him by accident, you would apologize profusely, but Thomas would always laugh and brush it off

During tic attacks, he knew to just let you be, unless you would stop breathing, then he would certainly step in

He would ask his doctor a "hypothetical" about how to help someone through a tic attack, then used that advice forevermore, and it usually made a helpful difference

Ethan

Ethan would take a companion role (letting you take the lead, showing him what would happen and what to do to help, always listening to you before making his own move)

Depression

He'd dealt with depression before, but thoroughly understood that everyone is different in how they display mental illness

Ethan would recognize what to do, but would ask you for confirmation before acting upon anything that had potential to make a difference

On days where you couldn't leave your bed, he would bring you food (not a steak dinner, but he would definitely bring you soup or toast or a sandwich)

On days where you couldn't shower, he'd either be in the shower with you, or he'd draw you a bath instead, or he'd buy dry shampoo and sanitary wipes (those would be the last case, because he didn't want to throw off your pH)

He would assure you of his love and that you didn't burden him whatsoever

You were suffering, and you didn't make him suffer, but he did take some of that suffering from you

ADD

Certain times, I regret to say, he may get slightly annoyed, but not for long and not to the point of icing you out or anything

Ethan always found things to keep your mind occupied (watching Monty Python (actually a great programme for AD(H)D people), intricate games, new books, etc)

The best at finding lost things, and also has the best memory under the sun

Your symptoms wouldn't bother Ethan, save for constantly speaking (which can get a little annoying during a film or something)

PTSD

Would basically just go one with life - he would avoid all things relating to your triggers and PTSD - but otherwise, it would be business as per usual

If you got triggered, he would be by your side and on your side

He would do anything; deep breathing, distractions, grounding, getting your meds, anything

Ethan would always let you speak about it, when you'd want to, but otherwise treated you the exact same way as he had before you told him

Tourette's

He's always looking for something to joke about, and sometimes your tics provide just the material

He wouldn't dream of taking the piss out of the harmful or mean tics, but if you were laughing, then he was sure to be laughing as well

If your tics involved a bird whistle, he'd call you his 'little red bird' but wouldn't anymore if that upset you

Tourette's are a tough subject to joke about, but Ethan would always listen if you told him it was offensive, unfunny, or just a bad joke and Ethan would always take it in good humour and apologize

Most of the time though, he could make some funny fucking comments

Damiano

Damiano would take a nonchalant approach (not explicitly talking about it, never take the spotlight off you (if he could help it), try his best to help you through any challenges without making you feel like you were an inconvenience to him

Depression

He was your best friend before he was your lover

As such, you were always able to talk to Damiano about your depression anytime you felt it getting bad, as to warn him

Damiano would never leave your side, unless you told him to, but he'd always have a film on in the back, or he'd play with your hair, or distract you by brushing your hair or having you help him pick out an outfit

He enjoyed cleaning, so your bedroom would never become a depression room, and that helped get you out of your slumps most of the time

Dami was also swimmingly good at getting you up, even if it be just for a dance in the moonlight then back to bed, or a walk around the block then on the couch

He understood wanting to cope, but if you were prone to drug usage, Damiano would totally discourage it and stop you from using as best he could

ADD

Not everyday is a trip to Disney, but with Damiano, it is

Damiano always had new records to catch your fancy, he'd always have some home project lined up for the two of you, he'd always let you do extravagant things with makeup on his face

It seemed if you lost something, Dami would find it, but if Damiano lost something, you would find it (good system actually)

Would always have reminders in his phone so he would add reminders for you on his phone (appointments, birthdays, events)

Damiano seemed to always have just the trick to get you to sleep, even when you felt like you physically couldn't

PTSD

After you told him, Damiano would immediately avoid the topic in future conversations

He would support you fully during any trigger or episode, but he never treated you any differently at all just because you have PTSD

It hurt him that something hurt you so badly, but he took it all in a deep breath - after all, he signed up for you, all of you, so he certainly wouldn't give up on you just because of a disorder

Damiano would be in your corner 100%, and you knew it and you knew you could always go to him

Tourette's

Some tics would get that beautiful smile on his face, but otherwise he continued conversations like nothing ever happened

He didn't bat an eye at a physical tic, not a verbal tic

But he was the man to go to during a tic attack

He wouldn't treat you like a science experiment, or like an insane asylum patient - he treated you with love and support, like no one else ever had

Damiano had read about a dozen books on how to support people with Tourette's, and he'd also talked to other people he knew who had Tourette's - Damiano was thoroughly educated on how to help you, the love of his life

headass this was hard to fuckin write and i know its shitty and the cw’s are a bunch and i cut it but im sorry and hope its good enough

#maneskin #måneskin #victoria de angelis #victoria maneskin #victoria de angelis x reader #thomas raggi #thomas raggi x reader #thomas maneskin #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #ethan maneskin #damiano #damiano david #damiano maneskin #damiano david x reader #fanfic #damiano david fanfiction

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shotorozu · 3 years

Note

hellooo i saw this tiktok video and was wondering if you can please do this for shoto kaminari and bakugou

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSJkeaV68/

‘i got a big fat 😳🎂’

character(s) : todoroki shouto, kaminari denki, bakugou katsuki (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, crack (x reader)

note(s) : LMAO ANON YOU LITERALLY READ MY MIND?? I WAS GOING TO DO THIS EVEN WITHOUT A REQUEST— great to know that i have the same thinking process with you 🤩

»»————-　♡　————-««

todoroki shouto

noooow

you know shouto’s always willing to do tiktok challenges with you— he might be clueless when it came to social media (because of end**vor)

but! he’s gotten used to your antics most of them anyway

but he’s sort of confused when you show him a video of a couple uh.. walking?? he can’t tell what they’re doing exactly

“what,, are they doing?” is what he asked when you showed him the tiktok, brows furrowed in confusion

“they’re uh.. kekeing how do i explain it— nevermind that! just do whatever i do, shouto!”

he’s still confused as hell 🧍‍♀️ but he decides to not ask any questions, and push through with it, just by seeing the excited look on your face

and the audio 😳 i mean, it’s not,, wrong. to him, your cake is some fine ass cake :))

you lead him out of the frame, and you hit play— not giving shouto time to ‘rehearse’

it might seem to be that shouto has no reaction to the audio, but if you look closely— the corners of his lips are tugged upwards slightly

and he follows your every command, when you gesture for him to copy you.

now, shouto’s got the dance steps down, but man’s terribly stiff 😭 he also kept looking at you (specifically your ass) to see if he was doing things correctly

afterwards, the two of you take a look at the video. and, he asks you if the tiktok needs to be filmed once again by your silent reaction

but he’s appalled when he sees you literally driven to tears from pure, unfiltered laughter

you assure him with a kiss that you’re fine, and insist that the tiktok is fine as you upload it— and you cuddle with shouto for the rest of the day, letting the tiktok marinate

the next day comes by, and tiktok BLEW UP. like.. blew up, really. they should be honored that they’ve witnessed shouto strut to nicki minaj

the comments being well, absolutely hilarious. you could read through the comments again and again, and not be bored

“mann your boyfriend 😭 he’s staring too hard” “YUHH GET IT, I GUESS” “go hot couple go ‼️”

needless to say, he didn’t hear the end of the conversation when bakugou found out about the tiktok

kaminari denki

if denki had a list of tiktok challenges he desperately wanted to do at some point in his life,

this would be in the top 3, for sure

so, luck seemed to be on his side when you approached him first— wanting to rope him in on another tiktok you wanted to do with him

hopefully one that doesn’t center him as the poor unfortunate victim

“you wanna do another tiktok?” he beams when you nod, and when you show him what the prank is— he’s excited!!

you can clearly tell that it didn’t take that much convincing

the blond’s also thankful that it’s not another tiktok that needs him to ask bakugou if he can say pegasus but without the pega 💀

“alright! tell me when we can do it,”

“right now.”

so here he is, standing beside you, as you set up your phone— absolutely confident on what he’s going to do

the tiktok starts running, and denki might’ve underestimated his eagerness, when the camera captures his eager expression 💀

there was no jumpscare warning

and you didn’t even have to say ‘c’mon‼️’ for him to follow your movements. as soon as you turned your back, he started moving along with you, and the music.

he was watching your movements, and he tried copying them to the best of his sloppy, hyper and exaggerated abilities

denki was so excited about being in the tiktok, to the point he literally crashed behind you— making the both of you tumble to the floor, laughing

and the tiktok’s results are pretty much unknown to him— minus the fact that you laughed HARDER when you re-watched the tiktok

“can i see?” he asks eagerly, but you swiftly reject— shoving his head away from your screen with a hand.

he pouts when you say “the results are a surprise!” a bummer, but he chooses to trust you, and the rest of the day is spent on the floor in pure enjoyment

you upload the tiktok and slowly but surely, it attracts people’s attention

because of denki’s eagerness— he,, did a fantastic job with the walk! you can even say that he did better than you, minus the not so graceful fall

even the comments agree with you “MAN HIS CAKE IS THANGING‼️” “he did awfully well omg 💀” “oh to have this relationship’s energy 😔 when can i find a dude like that?”

and when denki finally sees the tiktok’s results, he’s left in tears from laughing— reduced into wheezes

DANK-i : BABE WHDJWKDKE THE TIKTOK YOU JUST POSTED— 😭💀💀 IM IN TEARS

safe to say, his wish has been fulfilled, and he can pass away at any given moment, satisfied.

bakugou katsuki

bakugou katsuki will never admit that he does enjoy doing tiktoks with you

plot twist : he enjoys it a lot more than he expects

but he knows where the draw the line, and the line was at the new tiktok you’ve showed to him

“no.”

“but—”

“fuck no— if you wanted to twerk infront of a camera, go ahead by all means, just don’t rope me into it.”

he does have his reasons. one— the bakusquad will make fun of him, and two— if the tiktok were to blow up,, he wouldn’t live it down.

and it always does— he knows that tiktoks do particularly well if he makes an appearance.

“if i didn’t post it, would you do it with me?”

but katsuki seemed to be fine with that. with a roll of the eyes, he sighs— looking at the tiktok once again. he gets up from his seat when the tiktok’s over

“let’s do this fucking thing.” he says with determination, even though no one was going to see the tiktok anyway or so he thinks

the tiktok’s video timer starts counting down, giving the both of you guys ample time to get into position

a smirk couldn’t be held back when you state that “i have a big phat 🎂” it’s anything but lies, and it would be the only time katsuki would smile on camera

you go forward, and you gesture for him to follow on beat— with a focused glare, katsuki starts strutting with you like no one’s business

it’s at a slow pace, and people would’ve guessed that he had a stick up his ass, sure— but damn‼️ he has those moves.

and before the video actually ends, he’s seen turning around with a glare— to see if the camera’s not filming it’s still running, and the camera captures his expression

“not bad.” he can’t help but smirk at the results, when you replay the video “i’m referring to the both of us. and, didn’t know you could move like that.”

“katsuki, your pace was like a grandfather’s—”

“shut the hell up!”

but little did katsuki know, when he wasn’t looking, you published the tiktok online, for everyone to view (basically, 3M people have seen him strut to nicki minaj)

the comments were having a blast “we’ll disregard the pace, buT DAMN‼️WHERE DID HE GET THOSE MOVES?” “LOL HIS FACE AT THE END WAS LIKE👹🤨” “y’all catch that at the beginning? woooh he’s lovesick.”

when you woke up the next morning— you can hear the boom of his quirk outside of your room, and you can practically hear his not so happy voice

fly high 😔🕊 you will be missed

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

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pingutats · 3 years

Text

my dearest darling

in which you and harry spend a sunday morning having coffee & cake, and spontaneously decide to go engagement ring shopping together.

warnings: a little suggestive at the end. mostly just pure fluff!

word count: 3.4k

. . . . .

The little alleyway off the main street filled with café tables is a perfect place for you and Harry to sit unseen. In fact, in this little alcove, it’s easy to watch the world pass by the two of you. It’s a nice reprieve from the usual of the world watching Harry.

He’s wearing sunglasses anyway, just in case—despite the overcast weather.

You frown at him, resting your elbows on the table and lacing your fingers together to rest your chin on. “I really think that makes you more conspicuous.”

He scrunches up his nose. “Nah. Or at least, if people notice, they’re going to notice an odd bloke in sunnies, not me.”

“They’ll notice it’s you.”

He glances at the busy footpath. “‘S working so far, love.”

A young waitress rounds the corner from the cafe’s front entrance and sets your coffees down on the table. You move your elbows off the table politely to give her space.

“Thanks,” Harry says, reaching for his black coffee.

You smile at the waitress as you wrap your hands around the latte you ordered, warming up your freezing fingers. You notice the way she hesitates before she leaves, how she looks at Harry like she wants to say something before before quickly spinning on her heels and walking away. When she’s out of earshot, you look at Harry. “She knows.”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

The waitress reappears a minute later with the little cakes you ordered. This time, she’s braver. “I’m so sorry—are you Harry Styles?” she asks, saying his name in a voice that’s akin to a reverent whisper.

His eyes dart to you for a split second and he raises his eyebrow enough that only you’ll notice, conceding to you, then smiles at her. “Yeah, I am. Sorry, what’s your name?”

You watch him navigate the encounter easily, like you’ve watched so many times. The girl asks for a photo and he politely declines, explaining that he doesn’t want to draw attention, but offers to sign a napkin for her instead. He a short message (nice to meet you, all my love) to her and draws a couple hearts after he signs his name, then passes it to her with a sweetly genuine thanks her for her support.

“Oh my gosh, no, thank you,” she says earnestly. “It was so, so nice to meet you.” She glances at you, then, and her cheeks go even pinker. “Thanks,” she says again, and then she’s gone.

You let a giggle free at the awkward way his fans treat you, like they don’t know if it’s appropriate to talk to you as well, and how they struggle to find something to say to you anyway. Once it might have bothered you. It’s just amusing to you now. You raise your brows at Harry. “All your love?” you tease, quoting the message he wrote on the napkin. “Where’s my share?”

He pouts from behind his sunglasses. “Don’t be like that.”

You kick his shin gently underneath the table. “I’m kidding around. She was sweet. I like watching you do that, you’re so good at it.”

His foot swings around to trap your ankle between his. “Trying to play footsie at eleven o’clock on a Sunday morning? You little minx.”

You roll your eyes and wrench your foot free, rattling the table as you do so. He laughs—a sharp barking ha! that makes you smile through your embarrassment at causing a small commotion.

“Who’s conspicuous, sorry?” he asks.

You shake your head at him and stab your fork into your apple and cinnamon muffin. He keeps giggling as he slides his own plate with the carrot cake to his side of the table and picks up a fork himself.

“Mm, that’s good,” he says after he swallows his first bite. “Better than the one I make.”

“Well, baking isn’t known to be one of your talents.”

He claps a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded.” He leans over the table and skewers a piece of your muffin on his fork, dodging your attempts to swat his hand away with great agility. He pops it in his mouth triumphantly, cocking his head like he’s challenging you.

In return, you steal a piece of his cake.

“That was a much larger piece than what I took,” he accuses.

You shrug.

His phone, face down on the table, dings. He glances up at you.

“Check it,” you tell him. You know he only has alerts on for his closest friends—otherwise his phone would be ringing all day long. “I don’t mind.”

He bites his lip apologetically and flips the phone over, reading it. “Oh, it’s Tom. Hang on a sec.” He starts typing back.

You crane your neck around to read the message—something about Tom being free at the end of July, and Harry is giving a thumbs-up to that.

“Where are you off to?” you ask.

“France, maybe,” he replies. You’re aware that discovering this kind of information so suddenly would be jarring for most couples, enough to even incite a fight—but you and Harry aren’t exactly a normal couple, and international trips are just part and parcel of your relationship. Hell, he goes on world tours for months at a time. You’re lucky, you suppose, that you function just as well long-distance as you do when you’re living together.

“Lads’ trip?”

He sends the message and clicks his phone off, leaning back in his chair. “Nah. Taking you to Paris and getting down on m’knee in front of the Eiffel Tower,” he says, nodding sagely.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, Tom’s there to get the photos.” He shovels a forkful of the cake into his mouth and then points his fork in the general direction of a street busker playing a violin across the road. He swallows. “And I’m getting that guy to play a little tune, for the atmosphere,” he adds.

You raise your brows. “Oh, you’ve got budget for this, then.”

He smiles. “Nothing but the best for my dearest darling.”

You snort.

He carefully cuts a piece of cake with the edge of his fork. “Nah, we’re thinking of doing a trip down to his friend’s studio in—somewhere in France, I can’t remember really. Friends and family welcome too, if you want to come. Apparently it’s a real nice place.” He eats his mouthful and then lifts his sunnies to look at you with clear eyes. “We are getting married, though. I mean that.”

Your cheeks threaten to burst from how badly you want to smile, but you force yourself to assume a serious face, just to humour him. “Of course we are.”

Despite the butterflies it inspires, this conversation isn’t new. You’ve been with Harry a couple of years now and you both know you’re on the same page when it comes to your shared future. There are no hard plans, but the direction is set. You’re getting there someday.

He puffs his cheeks out. “I feel like you aren’t taking this as seriously as I am.”

You sigh melodramatically. “Well, sweetheart, I haven’t seen a ring yet.”

“A ring? You should have asked,” he drawls, then suddenly sits up straight and points a finger at you. “Don’t take that as a challenge. I want to be the one to ask.”

You shrug. “Can’t make any promises.”

His arm shoots forward to grab at your hand and you almost laugh out loud at the puppy-eyes he’s making at you. “No, please, baby, I swear you can do everything else, but let me do the proposing bit.”

In your heart, you’re happy he’s so insistent, because this is exactly how you want it to be too. In your mind, though, you really enjoy tormenting him.

“I’ll think about it,” you concede, and he groans.

“I’m buying a ring soon as I can, just to lock it in,” he tells you as he destroys what’s left of his carrot cake.

Once you’ve finished and Harry’s gone up to pay for the coffee and cake (he also took a moment to lean over the counter to snap a group selfie with the waitress who served you earlier and a couple others too) you walk back up the street in the general direction of your car that’s parked a few blocks down. The weather is pleasant today and the sun is even peeking out from behind the clouds now, justifying his sunglasses.

Your mind starts to drift (his arm wrapped loosely around your waist anchors you to the real world) as you think about how nice it is to be with Harry, how you’ve learned to appreciate each physical moment you have with him because they are so precious. After the tours, the promotional trips, the film sets, and all the little things in between, you understand how to be with Harry. You know not everyone can handle a life like this, and you’re sure that if it wasn’t Harry whose return you awaited, you wouldn’t be able to either. But he always returns.

Harry comes to a sudden halt in front of a shop window, gazing in. You’re nearly yanked off your feet as you keep trying to walk with your arm around him—he’s so steady that he doesn’t budge. You stand next to him and look into what you realise is a jewellery store.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“Huh?”

He looks down, his arm squeezing around your shoulder. “Said I’d get you a ring, didn’t I?”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. “What, today?”

“‘M not asking. Just preparing.”

You raise your eyebrows up at him. “That is… that is really a technicality.”

“Humour me,” he says. “C’mon.” He shepherds you into the store, steering you by your shoulders.

It’s small and pretty in here, the air from the fans cool against your sun-warmed skin. There are hardly any other customers at the moment, so you have some kind of valuable privacy. There are a couple of glass counters that run along either side of the store with meticulously placed themed displays inside them. You gravitate immediately to the closest thing, a cluster of rough amethysts hanging from necklaces.

“Aren’t these so cute?” you comment to Harry.

His arms wrap around you from behind and you reach up to grasp onto his crossed forearms resting against your chest. “Oh, yeah, they are.”

You stay there looking at the necklaces for a little too long—it’s not like you’re really that fascinated by the jewels, but more that you’re just enjoying Harry’s head leaning over your shoulder and his chest pressed to your back as you stand there. When your gaze meanders along the counter and you see something new, though, you shake free of his grip and follow your whims.

This store isn’t labelled out front with a massive brand. You’re pretty sure it’s an independent jeweller, judging by the neat description cards that accompany each small collection, explaining the theme in a lively and personal manner. This is what makes you really fall in love with the place and feel sure that this is where you’ll find the perfect ring. You know Harry could afford any ring from any famous brand, the heaviest jewels imaginable, easily worthy of a feature article in Vogue magazine. He could probably organise to have a diamond dug up fresh specifically to go on your finger.

It’s the fact that Harry could give you anything in the world that makes you not want it at all. Special, to the two of you, isn’t something that you’ll find in wealth or the crowds that adore him.

It’s found in a day like this.

“Oh, my god, H, look at this one,” you gasp, grabbing his wrist and pulling him over.

He bends over the counter, his gaze following the line of your pointing finger. “Oh, that is pretty,” he says.

It’s a simple gold band with a small, neatly carved diamond fixed to it. It isn’t flashy at all, which is what drew you to it. You knew he’d like it too. Despite the decadence of his performances, he can be a different man behind closed doors and you love that part of him. The secret part, the one that only you know so well.

“I’m in love with it,” you tell him.

Harry nods. “Yeah, I think that’s the one.”

You never doubted that he would agree, but his assent sends a bolt of excitement up your spine. It’s all so real, suddenly, and you can’t wait to see him on his knee for you, to see that ring on your finger. You know your ring size off by heart (how could you not, being in a relationship with the jewellery connoisseur that Harry is), so there’ll be no need for you to try it on today. You’re left with only the raw anticipation of the day he’ll slide it onto your finger.

His hands come down to rest on your hips as you both stare at the ring. You imagine you can hear his heart, knowing that it’ll be beating erratically because his excitement must match yours—you know how he feels about the idea of marriage.

He spins you around to face him, leaving his hands on your hips. He looks at you very seriously. His sunglasses are resting on top of his head now, pushing back his curls and revealing his green eyes and furrowed brow to you.

“You know, if we’re seen buying an engagement ring…” he begins, trailing off. He shrugs. “Just want to think about that.”

You screw up your nose. “According to some magazines we got married last week, and also six months ago. Just being in here is probably going to spark something.” You glance behind you, as if you’ll see journalists scribbling away on their theories, then flatten your palms against his chest, smoothing out his shirt. “I’m happy to ignore it. I want to just do our thing, H.”

He nods, pursing his lips, and gradually the crease in his forehead disappears. “Okay. Good.” Twin smiles spread over your faces and you have the feeling of being two giddy kids, high-schoolers about to have their first kiss. Something new, unknown, exciting, that the two of you are going into together. His eyes are practically sparkling at you. If this was a cartoon, you think his pupils would be shaped like hearts right now. Something is starting to bud and you can feel it growing up inside you and between you, preparing to bloom.

“Alright,” you say, breaking the insulating silence to draw you both back to the real world.

He blinks a couple of times as if he’s just waking up. “Alright,” he echoes. “Let’s get it.”

He waves over a man drifting through the store in a neat suit and points at the ring. “Excuse me, can we please have a look at this one?”

The two of you watch the man unlock the cabinet and slide the plate of rings out, placing it on the counter. He picks up the one Harry pointed out. “It’s a lovely one, sir.”

“It is,” Harry says. His hand finds yours and squeezes your fingers. “What size is it?”

The man checks the price and tells you, and your mouth drops open. Surely there is something supernaturally perfect going on, because it’s exactly your size. You and Harry look at each other incredulously.

The man seems to notice your unspoken conversation, because he helpfully adds, “We can resize it if you need.”

Harry chuckles. “No, it’s perfect. I think…” he trails off, looking at you. “What do you think?”

You nod at him, grinning. You rub your thumb over the back of his palm as he tells the man, “Thank you. We’d like this one, please.”

You stand slightly behind him as he pays for it, flexing your hands and wringing them in front of you. You know it’s all in your head, but your left ring finger is tingling as if it senses that it’s missing a piece. You really just want to wear the ring at this minute, but when the man selling it to you offers, Harry shakes his head quickly.

“I’ll hold onto it for now,” he says. He accepts the little box from the man and slips it into his pocket. “Thank you so much.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, sir. Enjoy it, and congratulations to the two of you.”

Harry snakes his arm around your waist as you walk back out to the street. His hips knock against you as he squeezes you into his side, and you can feel the little box in his pocket. You can’t help the grin that takes over your whole face. You worry you look like an idiot, smiling so widely at nothing, but when you glance up at Harry, he looks exactly the same.

Your car is parked down a quieter road and you get to relax a little once you’re away from the crowds of the main shopping strip. You can walk a little more slowly and Harry loosens up a bit. His hyper-vigilance starts to strip away. You can see the tension in his shoulders dissolving and here’s your Harry, emerging from his defensive layers. Most people wouldn’t notice this change, but you do. You feel how he adjusts the grip of his hand on your hip, how he leans into you a little more as you walk. In your closeness, you can smell his cologne and you think of how you watched him spray it on this morning—and how you’re going to be watching him do that for the rest of your lives.

He glances over his shoulder and you copy him. The narrow street behind you is empty, but you don’t get a moment to really register this before you feel his arms tighten around your waist and you’re swept off your feet for a second as he crashes his lips into yours.

You close your eyes, letting the kiss envelop all your senses. The sweetness of the cake’s icing lingering on his lips; his arms locked around your waist, holding you up; the rapid beating of your heart. He pulls away slowly and your eyes flutter open. His face is just inches from yours and he’s looking at you with such intensity you feel naked. Not for the first time, you’re in awe of how impossibly green his eyes are; you could make a palette from every forest in the world, and it wouldn’t hold a candle to what you see in front of you right now.

“Y/N,” he says. He cracks a grin. “I’m so fucking happy.”

Your reply is simply to grab him by the back of his neck and pull him in for another kiss. Your hand tangles in his hair and you feel his tongue running along your bottom lip before he pulls away again quickly.

“Fuck,” he says, sounding lost for breath. “Need to stop before I make a fool of m’self in public.” He even physically takes a step back from you, his eyes comically wide.

You giggle. Your gaze travels down his body and you notice the indent of the box in his pocket. “Is that a ring in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

He shakes his head at you. “You’ve gone all giddy. ‘M getting you home right now and then we’re celebrating properly.” He turns around and starts walking towards the car, his long legs carrying him faster than you can keep up.

Your stomach flutters imagining what his idea of celebrating might be. Suddenly, the only thing on your mind is getting back to your house as soon as humanly possible. You run after Harry, skipping around in front of him and jogging backwards as you waggle your fingers in his face. “So, when are you going to pop the question?” you ask.

“Oh, honey,” he says, patting his pocket with the ring. He grins. “It’s going to be when you least expect it, I’ll promise you that.”

. . . . .

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed—if you did, a reblog or a message is really encouraging and lovely for me to see!! the title is taken from the song by etta james.

this fic is the first part of a series called “here we are in heaven,” and i’m really really excited about it. you can read my earlier fic, at last!, if you want to see where this will end up, but there will be more parts to fill the in-between. plus blurbs and stuff! let’s chat about it!

my masterlist can be found here. have a beautiful day!

#harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #fiance harry #fic #here we are in heaven

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shuahoonie · 3 years

Text

holidays with tom [tom holland]

PAIRING: tom holland x female!reader

SUMMARY: life isn’t exactly back to normal. with another lockdown in place and the holiday season is vastly approaching, you and tom are stuck in quarantine with each other the problem? there was supposed to be at least 5 of you in that house and tom is the last person you want to be with. shouldn’t be too bad right?

WARNINGS: in no particular order swearing—err foul language lmao, sexual innuendos, things get heated but not that much??? exuding sexual tension but also fluff??? alcohol consumption, a series of bad decisions??? idk writing this made me experience the 5 stages of grief tbh lmao it’s not that bad I promise lmao

WORD COUNT: 6.9k!

A/N: hello and happy new year! I was supposed to post this during Christmas Day but guess who got into a writing rut—yet again. I didn’t want to abandon this because I actually had fun writing it. I hope you all had a festive and safe holiday. I know things have been hard but I still hope you guys enjoyed the holiday.

2020 has finally came to an end and we’re all ending it the same way when the pandemic started—staying at home, hopefully following the appropriate health measures. I can only hope that 2021 is a brighter and hopeful year for all of us.

stay safe, sending u all my love.

gif credits: @underoos-shield

vanessa’s masterlist | taglist form

Two hours. It’s been two hours since you found out that you were going to spend your holidays alone. You were aware that you weren’t going to spend your holidays with your family as you normally would, embracing the fact that working in a different country whilst in the middle of a pandemic was going to be challenging.

Working in the film industry, constantly visiting sets while still living in a pandemic means that you threw away your chances of being home for the holidays. However, you weren’t entirely the only one who shares a similar struggle.

“We should still do something for Christmas, you know,” Tom muttered as he watched you lay down on the sofa, your head is supported by the armrest.

See—it should’ve been you, Ophelia, Alex, William, and Tom in that AirBnB, not just you and Tom.

The five of you reside abroad, however, you all had to fly to Los Angeles for work. You all collectively knew that it would be irresponsible to fly home for the holidays and it wouldn’t make any sense as you would all fly back for work anyway.

The five of you had a brilliant idea of renting an AirBnB for the holidays since you were all in each other’s personal and work bubble anyway. Obviously, the three of them bailed as they’ve decided to stay with their partners instead, leaving you and Tom alone—which is the last thing you’ve wanted.

“There’s just us two, Tom,” You replied as you sent a lengthy text to Ophelia, telling and reminding them about what happened between you and Tom. “I’m not entirely sure if it’s worth anything if we did plan on doing something remotely festive.”

There are four more days till Christmas and if you were being honest, the last time you felt festive was on the 18th of December...of 2019.

“Surely there’s something we can do, right?” Tom’s optimism still shined beneath him. “This year has already been shitty enough, we don’t need to feed more into that.”

The three dots bubble immediately popped up on your message thread with Ophelia as soon as you sent your passive-aggressive rant. Your focus was now on your phone.

Suddenly, Tom’s face appeared on top of yours—his face was definitely close enough that it’s not CDC approved. He was standing on side of the sofa, both of his palms planted against the armrest as he loomed over you.

“What do you and your family do during Christmas?” He dared to ask as if he wasn’t towering over you.

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Uh—give each other personal space?” You answered out of sheer reflex. You always had a problem with keeping your mouth shut, especially when it sounds rude to other people. In your defence, being unable to do so has helped you put people back in place.

To be fair, you were used to people standing at least 6 ft away from you ever since the pandemic started.

Tom’s cheeks went bright red. “’m sorry,” He apologized, giving you a shy smile and scratched the back of his neck. You muttered a quick apology too, for acting so rashly.

You rose from your position and sat upright instead. “Well, we never do anything special during Christmas,” You said as you threw your hair into a bun. “We usually just go to the movies on Christmas Day because that’s the only thing you can do back when life was normal.”

Tom nodded understandingly as if he was taking this into account. Now you were curious.

“Do you guys do anything special for Christmas?” You asked him.

“Well, on Christmas Day, we would usually just lounge around the house and use it as a chance for me and my family to catch up,” Tom replied. “However, on Christmas Eve, my mum always made sure my brothers and I would have this scavenger hunt to look for our gifts—It’s really fun, actually.” Tom smiled sadly.

You could easily see how Tom was genuinely broken about not being able to be around his family over the holidays. Heck—he really just misses his family. But who wouldn’t? Britney Spears didn’t sing the line “my loneliness is killing me” for nothing.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say. Aside from biting your tongue, being able to easily comfort people was one of your weaknesses too.

“Oh, there’s nothing to be sorry about, darling.” Tom quickly dismissed the genuine heartbreak he was trying to hide. “We’re all making sacrifices and we chose to be responsible for the benefit of other people.”

“Yeah, I know.” You said softly. “We’ll just try our best to make something out of this holiday season. I mean—we have to or else we’ll welcome 2021 with a fresh face of misery.”

“I’m sorry!” Ophelia pouted at the screen as they mindlessly walked around their partner’s place, something that most people do when they’re on the phone with someone. “I genuinely forgot about what happened between you and Tom.”

“Well, Ollie, it seems like you weren’t the only one.” You replied, adjusting your glasses. Tom seems to be genuinely fine around you, no awkward tensions or anything. If anything, it’s just you who feels weird around him. “But I guess that’s a good thing right?”

Ophelia forced a smile but they couldn’t, for the life of them, say anything about it.

“Oh my god,” You sighed “Seriously, Ollie?”

“It’s just—how could he forget?! You were literally on top of him as I recall and that very much left a permanent image on my mind. I—You know, I really tried my best to forget that ever existing in my mind. So really, if anything, it’s your fault.” Ophelia rambled on.

“I—I wasn’t on top of him. That’s absurd! I was merely pressed against him” You said defensively, in which Ophelia just laughed atrociously. “Why am I friends with you again?!” You asked rhetorically, bewildered by the fact that you two lasted this long.

“First of all, that is a hate crime. Second, I’m cool—like everyone wants to be my friend and you should be glad that I gave you the privilege to be even on a nickname basis as me.”

You rolled your eyes at them. Despite the never-ending banter, you were grateful to have Ophelia as your friend.

“But seriously, Y/N,” Ophelia said, “You can always just stay with me and Ericka. She’ll be glad to have you over for the holidays.”

“Ollie, as much as I love spending time with you two—I can’t stand being a third-wheel, especially when it comes to the both of you. You two are inseparable when you’re together.” You replied. “I appreciate the offer though.” You smiled at her.

“I’m just saying—” Ophelia replied, shrugging her shoulder. “Unless you and Tom really want to have the house by yourselves.” They sang teasingly.

“Ophelia!” You gasped.

“What?” They feigned innocence. “I gave you an option to stay with us! Plus, I know Alex and Will are would’ve asked you to stay with them if they had any idea what happened between you two.”

“I can’t leave him!” You started to whisper “Tom seems genuinely bummed being here. I can’t just do that to him.”

It’s as if a light came on inside them. Ophelia started to smirk and you recognized that smirk from anywhere. For christ’s sake, their eyes twinkled like Christmas lights. It drove you nuts. “I fucking knew it.”

“What?”

“You like him don’t you?!” They teased, but all you could do was blush.

“I do not!” You denied it as you could still feel the burning heat emitting from your cheeks.

“His tongue is that good huh?” Ophelia decided to pry even further. They clearly find enjoyment as you squirmed your way out of this conversation.

“Bitch, I am ending this call.” That was all you could say. Even if you did find a smart retort, it was no use, especially with Ophelia. They can see right through you and there’s no point in trying to hide it.

“Honestly, Y/N, we’re living through a pandemic. If there’s any time to make any rash decisions, it’s now. Go get that dick, bih—”

You drowned out whatever Ophelia was trying to say with your goodbyes and proceeded to end the call. The one time you asked your friend to be serious and they come up with this.

So—what really happened with you and Tom?

It was two years ago. You were at a party that you didn’t even plan on attending. However, you were dragged by Ophelia and their partner, Ericka—your new friends in the area. You couldn’t say no to them, they were your first friend in LA!

You thought about it though, saying no. But when you got a message from your friend back in Canada sending a photo of your boyfriend ex-boyfriend (the same guy who had ghosted you ever since you moved to LA), swapping spits with another girl, you suddenly had the strong urge to drink until you die of alcohol poisoning.

You were burning with anger that you really felt tears pricking your eyes. You were so close to crying or punching someone—whichever comes first.

One thing’s for sure, though, you weren’t going to cry over a man. So what did you do? “Ophelia, where’s the booze?!” You asked your friend whose eyes nearly popped out of their head.

Well, you weren’t really going to punch a stranger. Though you felt this burning sense of violence, it’d be much more satisfying to punch the living daylights out on your ex.

“Y/N, honey, are you alright?” That line always puts on the waterworks, no? Ophelia was clearly concerned about your newfound thirst for alcohol.

You furiously wiped the tears off your face. “Um just found out my boyfriend—er ex-boyfriend, who stopped talking to me as soon as I moved here, is seeing someone else now? I don’t know, am I allowed to feel angry when I don’t even know if we’re still together as soon I moved? Fuck—” You tried to explain as you wiped every tear that left your eyes.

“Oh—of course, hon.” Ericka who handed you a drink. You weren’t exactly sure what it is, but you knew it has alcohol in it and that’s all that matters. You gulped the entire thing and you wanted more. “Y/N, you need to slow down.”

“Are you sure you want to stay? I mean we can crash at our place, eat take-outs, watch movies and be totally disconnected from the world.” Ophelia suggested, but you shook your head furiously.

“No, I—I’m ok.” You answered “I can’t let the both of you be stuck in misery with me. I need this. I’ll get drunk and if I'm up for it, I’ll hook up with someone. It’s not a healthy coping method but I really want this night to be a series of bad decisions. I don’t want to be myself, even just tonight.”

So that’s what you did. You were going from one drink to another in record time. Both Ophelia and Ericka kept an eye on you, just in case someone tried to take advantage of your drunken state.

You were talking to some guy you met in the kitchen, one thing led to another and next thing you knew, you were making out with this dude in someone’s bathroom. Ophelia and Ericka were drunk enough to pester the guy you were making out with but not drunk

As you were propped on top of the sink and your legs wrapped around his waist, you felt every bit of his lips explore the side of your neck as his hands explored every inch of your body. With his hand under your shirt and his fingers tracing every part of your skin, it just reminded you of how lonely you were.

Here you were, a thousand miles away from home, all alone just so you could do the one thing you really love. Your family would sometimes call to check up on you but it just wasn’t the same. Your ex tried to guilt you into staying in Canada, but you couldn’t do that. You love what you do and you love yourself too.

You were willing to risk everything, even if happiness came at a price.

Now you were crying, and the guy you were making out with definitely noticed.

“I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” He asked as he pulled down your shirt.

“No—no, I’m just—” You tried to calm yourself down. “I’m not sure if I want to do this anymore.”

“That’s alright,” He mumbled wiping the tears off your face. “Do you want to talk about it? You seem rattled.”

“It’s just I’m so tired of pretending everything is alright—that I’m okay being alone, that I don’t need anyone. But it’s just so hard because I’m—” You sobbed “I’m so fucking lonely. I’m so tired of being alone.”

The guy tucked the stray piece of hair behind your ears as he carefully wiped your tears with his thumb. He was just silent as he listened to you sob.

“I’m sorry, I know you definitely didn’t come to this party to watch a complete stranger cry over something stupid.” You couldn’t even look him in the eye, you were embarrassed as this was the first time you felt really vulnerable—especially in front of a stranger.

“No, you’re alright.” He tried to console you “I think that’s the beauty in strangers, no? You can act and do whatever you want in front of them because there’s a slim chance you’ll ever see them again.”

You were definitely drunk enough that trying to make sense of who the person was a struggle enough of itself. You tried your best to look at the guy but your vision was getting hazy and you could feel your head thumping that focusing made you feel like you want to crack your head in half.

A loud knock on the door caused you two to jump. “I’m coming in,” Ophelia yelled and opened the door. Ophelia looked at the guy for a while, trying to make sense of who he was before their eyes widened. “I remember now—You’re Tom Holland.”

Imagine your surprise when you found out that you were going to work with Tom Holland for a while. You tried your best to avoid Tom at work but of course, that didn’t work out. He never brought up what happened between you two and you assumed he probably forgot all about it.

You tried to rationalize that he meets a lot of people every day. Surely, one failed hook-up wasn’t worth remembering (especially with alcohol involved) and you held on to that.

At least that’s what makes you sleep at night and also one of the reasons why you considered spending the holidays with him. However, you were also expecting your crew friends to stay with you and not just Tom.

“Y/N, did you like the gift? It’s from me and Ericka!” Ophelia asked. It was the next day and you two were just chatting on FaceTime. You were sorting out your closet out of sheer boredom. You figured if you were going to stay here for three weeks, the least you could do was sort your clothes out.

You stared at the neatly wrapped box that Ophelia and Ericka dropped off earlier this morning. “I haven’t opened it yet.” You said as you showed them the box. “I wanna open it till Christmas.”

“Oh my god, just open it. Christmas doesn’t exist this year, babe.” Ophelia waved their hand, encouraging you to open it.

“Fine,” You gave in. You opened the box and saw a very lush and well-made lingerie set. “Ophelia, what the fuck” You gasped. You held out the lingerie in front of the camera.

“Y/N, I definitely outdid myself this time.” Ophelia sighed happily, staring at the screen. “Try it on!”

“Ollie, this is gorgeous but when am I ever going to use this?” You asked holding it out on your body and looking at the mirror.

“Uh—you’re stuck at home with your failed but also potential hookup,” Ollie suggested, wiggling their eyebrows. “Who knows what might happen?”

You rolled your eyes at them. “Bold of you assume that something might happen.”

“Something won’t happen if you don’t try that one,” Ophelia said. “C’mon, I wanna see.”

You shook your head and went out of frame in order to strip off your clothes. You tried on the lingerie—it’s a black lace teddy with a very exposing back. IT fit you perfectly—it accentuated your figure and definitely showed off your boobs. You weren’t really fond of showing off your body but you still tried your best to show it to your friend.

“What do you think?” You asked, stepping back to the frame.

“You look gorgeous, babe!” Ophelia squealed. “I knew I made the right choice with black.”

“I still don’t know where I should wear this though—” You were stopped mid-sentence when your door swung open.

“I know what we’re doing this—Oh shit. I’m so sorry,” Tom stood there, frozen, his eyes widened and immediately shut the door.

You couldn’t even say anything. You were frozen in shock.

“Was that Tom?” Ophelia asked from the call, briefly forgetting that you were talking to them through FaceTime.

You nodded slowly, unable to talk.

“What did he think?” Ophelia asked excitedly.

You snapped out of this haze. “Ollie,” you groaned. “I think he was mentally scarred.

“What do you mean scarred? You look great!” Ophelia said, appalled. “If he doesn’t think you look banging in that lingerie then it’s his loss.”

“I gotta go, I need to change.” You said, bidding Ophelia goodbye. “Thanks for the gift, Ollie. Tell Ericka thanks too.”

You ended the call and changed into comfier clothes. You couldn’t help but wonder how on earth you’re going to face Tom now that he’s seen you practically naked. Well, it’s not like that’s a new sight. He did see you with your bra on when you were making out in the bathroom that one time. But still!

Are you actually going to spend your Christmas in your room?

It was the next day and there are only two more days till Christmas. You spent the entirety of last night in your room after the incident between you and Tom.

You were about to make yourself some coffee when you found Tom in the kitchen, making tea for himself. You stood there frozen, wondering if you were going to proceed to the kitchen or just run back to your room since Tom hasn’t noticed you—

“Oh—good morning, Y/N.” So close.

You smiled at Tom and said, “Good morning, Tom.”

You grabbed a coffee pod and waited for the Keurig to make your coffee. You leaned back against the counter and fiddled with your phone—all in the hopes that things move quickly and for this awkward tension to be over.

Honestly, why were you so worked up about it? People have seen you in a bikini before and that’s no different from lingerie. If anything, lingerie is itchier and has lace. You should be able to feel confident in your own body and you shouldn’t have to mind what other people think of it. It’s yours alone and it’s your opinion that should matter—

“I’m terribly sorry about last night, Y/N.” Tom apologized, sincerity was written all over his face. “I should’ve knocked and I just got so bloody excited about what we can do over Christmas—but that’s no excuse for what I’ve done. What I did was incredibly intrusive and you deserve a proper apology.”

“Tom, I—”

“I wanted to apologize last night—over dinner—but you didn’t come down to eat, so I figured you didn’t want to talk. “ He rambled on.

“Tom—”

“But even then I should’ve asked you to come down and eat dinner because that’s what any decent human would do! And yet I didn’t. God—I’m just doing one wrong thing after another—”

“Tom, listen to me.”

“Hm?” He finally snapped out and looked at you in the eyes.

“It’s okay. It was an honest mistake and you sincerely apologized, and for me, that’s enough.” You smiled softly at him. “So—what’s this thing you planned over Christmas?”

“I was thinking we could do both our family traditions over the next two days. My family and I usually do a roast dinner and open our Christmas stockings on Christmas Eve. Then on the 25th, we can watch movies all day just like you do with your family.” Tom grinned, clearly satisfied with his plan. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” You smiled “However, I don’t think we have any ingredients for a roast dinner and we don’t really have Christmas stockings. Well—I don’t have any Christmas stockings and stocking stuffers.”

“That’s true,” Tom mumbled “But I have to do the food shopping anyway. We’re running low on food and I couldn't really book one of those online delivery things that most groceries now offer.”

You nodded. “Okay, so I guess I have to get the house sorted then.”

When you two first arrived in this AirBnB a few days ago, it had already been decorated for Christmas. It had a massive tree in the living room decorated with stunning and intricately-themed ornaments. Christmas garlands were wrapped around the stair-bannisters and foliages were placed by the fireplace and the tables.

All you really had to do was clean the place—do a bit of vacuuming and get things nice and neat for Christmas. It didn’t take you too long to do it too. It had only been a couple of minutes since Tom left to do the food shopping and you prayed to the gods that he doesn’t get too much attention whilst out.

You figured you might as well do some last-minute shopping while Tom was out, so you can grab gifts for him as well. After all, this whole thing was orchestrated by Tom and you don’t even have anything to give him for his stockings.

You arrived at your AirBnB a tad later than Tom. He was in the kitchen putting things away when he saw you walk through the door.

“Ah, I was wondering whether I spooked you with my plan,” Tom commented, making you chuckle and roll your eyes.

“Trust me, I would’ve made it very obvious if you did.” You replied, earning a laugh from Tom. “I went out to do my last-minute shopping. Granted, it’s not ideal since we’re still living through a pandemic, but there’s not actually that many people where I went to considering it’s the Christmas rush.”

You made sure to hide the stuff you bought using the handmade tote bags that a friend gave you for your birthday. No retail bags, no clue. “How did you survive the groceries? I bet it’s busy out there.”

“Yeah, it was.” Tom chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Remind me to never do that again for Christmas.”

“Sure,” You said, “That is if I spend another Christmas with you.” You said jokingly, hoping that Tom didn’t find that rude.

“You’ll never know,” Tom shrugged. “What if you liked our Christmas this year and you’d be begging to spend Christmas with me and my family in London,” Tom smirked, playing along.

“Yeah, right.” You scoffed playfully, crossing your arms. “If anyone’s begging, it’s going to be you.”

Tom stepped closer, “Wanna bet?” He whispered, a teasing look in his eyes. “Whoever has the most fun during our respective holiday traditions would have to spend the holidays with them next year.”

“Oh, you’re on, Holland.” You took a step closer. “We will both film our holidays for the entire two days and then we’ll ask Ophelia, Alex, and Will to vote whoever looks like they had the most fun.”

“Okay,” Tom nodded “But no editing! We’ll give them raw footage so there are no chances of tampering.”

You laughed but you agreed anyway. “Of course, we’ll give them hours of footage. The least we could do is make them sit through hours of content after they ditched us all alone on the holidays.”

Tom gave a broad smile. “Let the festivities begin.”

It was the 24th of December—Christmas Eve. You spent the entirety of last night wrapping Tom’s presents for later. Not that you despise Christmas, but it’s been a while since you were actually excited to celebrate it. It was pretty clear that the magic of Christmas dies once you grow up.

Today was different; you were looking forward to whatever Tom has installed for tonight.

You went downstairs to make some breakfast only to be greeted by Tom blasting Christmas music and preparing some ingredients for breakfast in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Y/N, happy Christmas Eve,” Tom greeted with a huge grin. “Say, hi to the camera.”

“Oh, we’re starting this early, huh?” You asked, putting your hair into a loose ponytail.

“Why of course, we have to make the best out of this,” Tom said, holding the camera to your face. “I made you coffee.” Tom handed you a cup of coffee.

“Are you using my love for coffee as an advantage?” You tried to hide your smile while drinking your coffee.

“Obviously not,” Tom feigned his innocence. “I obviously did not know you were obsessed with coffee—it’s not like I don’t see you on set without one.” He mumbled in which you definitely heard, giving him a smack on the head. “Ow! I’m kidding.” He laughed.

You rolled your eyes at him. “So, what’s for breakfast?”

“We’re going to make french crèpes,” Tom replied and propped the camera on the kitchen island, facing the two of you.

“Do you know how to make french crèpes?” You asked, washing your hands.

Tom blinked, almost trying to decide whether he wants to be honest or impressive. “Do you know how to make french crèpes?” He returned the question.

“Oh honey, my mom resents me in the kitchen.” You replied, taking a sip from your coffee. “But you know, I manage.” You murmured.

“That’s giving me a lot of hope, darling, thank you.” He said half-heartedly.

“Shut up,” You nudged him playfully, rolling your eyes. “Tom, honestly, most of the footage is just us bantering for 20 minutes.”

“To be fair, that’s part of the fun.” Tom smiled. “Okay, I think you just mix all of these in a bowl. Start with the dry ingredients first.” He said, looking at the recipe on his phone.

“Okay, that shouldn’t be too hard,” You commented pouring the ingredients into the bowl. As you started all of the ingredients together, you noticed small lumps forming in the batter. “Tom, did you sift the dry ingredients by chance?”

“You were supposed to sift it?” He asked, completely clueless.

You nodded slowly. Panic was now clearly painted on his face. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” You tried to reassure him.

It was not fine. The first time you two tried to pour the batter in the pan, you burnt the entire thing. It’s not even the cute, lightly burnt crepe. It was activating the smoke alarm-burnt crepe.

The next one was pancake-like. The next one after that had pocket flours on the crepes because you two didn’t sift your dry ingredients beforehand. You ran out of the batter when you two finally got the consistency right—you managed to get one proper crepe from the entire batter.

“I feel like Sam would probably curse me out as soon as he finds out I fucked up a simple crepe,” Tom said, delicately filling the crepe with creme and berries. “My brother’s done so well in culinary school.” He cut a piece with his fork and brought it to your mouth.

“Well, you can’t have everything.” You said taking a bite out of the crepe. “This is better than the last one.”

Tom nodded, taking a bite of it himself. “It’s not as tasty as Sam’s but I’ll take it.”

“Now, I’m curious as to what your brother’s cooking tastes like.” You commented taking another bite from the crepe.

“I guess I’ll just take you home to London to find out,” Tom teased with an annoying grin.

“As long as I’m being fed, I’m fine with it.” You remarked. What in god’s name are you are you two playing?!

The day rolled by very quickly. It was already evening when you finished wrapping the presents for your friends. You plan on dropping it off tomorrow before you persuade Tom to glue yourselves on the couch for the entire day.

You grabbed all of Tom’s gifts—Christmas stocking included— when you went downstairs, only to be greeted by someone yelling at Tom through his phone.

“I did everything right, Sam. I don’t know why you’re yelling.” Tom yelled back at his phone. His back was turned against you as he was putting away the pots and pans that he used.

You quietly walked up behind him and said calmly, “Why are you yelling?”

Tom probably jumped six feet away from you, making you laugh. You always forget that he gets scared easily. “Holy shit, don’t scare me like that, Y/N.” Tom breathed out, putting a hand over his chest.

“I’m sorry,” You said whilst laughing. “I promise I won’t do it again.” Tom rolled his eyes, murmuring something about you being insincere about it.

“Please do it again!” You heard, whom you assume is Sam, say from the background. You looked at Tom’s phone that’s propped on the island and saw his brothers on FaceTime.

You beamed at them. “Any recommendations?” You asked, hearing Tom groan behind you.

“Well, he hates—”

“This is the last thing I want in 2020, for my brothers and Y/N to conspire against me,” Tom said loudly on purpose, drowning his brothers' voices.

“Tom, don’t be rude. Let your brothers finish—” Tom put his hand against your mouth.

“I’ll call you guys later,” Tom said “Wave goodbye, Y/N.” He used his free hand to grab your hand and forced a wave towards his brothers. The call soon came to an end and you could only roll your eyes at Tom. You seem to do that a lot around him. You also do a lot of that when you try to hide your feelings towards a person you like but that’s beside the point.

“So are we going to have dinner first or are we going to do presents first?” You asked fixing your Christmas sweater, a gift from your parents since you and your family usually wear matching sweaters for Christmas. “Or are you the type to wait until Christmas Day to open presents?”

“We can do the Christmas stockings after dinner tonight, then do the presents tomorrow, if you’d like,” Tom answered with his arms crossed.

You shrugged, telling him it doesn’t matter since you don’t really go all out on Christmas. Your family on the other hand—the house is always full of people, especially since most of your extended family are usually around during the holidays. You had this ongoing game you made for yourself whether or not you’ll be able to greet everyone with the number of people in the house.

You could only guess how quiet your family’s Christmas is going to be. You definitely needed to call your parents later.

“Is the sweater that itchy, Y/N?” You heard Tom ask, breaking away from your thoughts.

“Huh?” You asked, confused. You didn’t even notice that you’ve been scratching yourself subconsciously.

“You’ve been scratching yourself since I saw you.” Tom said, chuckling. “It’s a cute sweater on you.”

You smirked. “That reminds me—I got something for you, Tom.” Tom raised his brow as you grabbed the bag you stashed behind the tree. “Actually my parents got this for you. A little thank you gift apparently for having the tolerance to stay with me over the holidays—as if you had a choice.” You mumbled the last part.

Tom curiously opened the bag and there revealed a matching sweater such as yours. This year’s sweater was green and had red tinsel all over it, probably the reason why you’re itchy. The real kicker is that—

“No way,” Tom gasped “It lights up?!” He asked laughing. It lights up.

“Yeah, I don’t recommend turning that on. I did it earlier and I’m pretty sure I was about to combust—it’s a real fire hazard.” You replied, enjoying the genuine joy that Tom is showing on his face.

“Oh but we have to turn the lights on when we take pictures,” He commented as he put on the sweater. “Thanks, Y/N.” He said softly, surprising you with a hug.

It’s the first real physical contact that you two had ever since that night when you made out and you were pretty adamant that people were just making up this notion of having butterflies in their stomach—they weren’t.

Tom’s roast dinner went surprisingly well. You kept teasing him that it’s Sam that you had to thank because you knew that Tom wouldn’t last in the kitchen without his brother’s instructions. Tom pouted the whole time. You eventually had to tell him

“It was sweet.” You told him as you helped him clear out the plates.

Tom was confused.

“I don’t think I’ve known someone that went through hell and back just to make a great effort Christmas dinner —even if it means getting yelled at by your brother.” You said, smiling softly at him. “I mean it’s just us two, really. We don’t even have to do this.”

“Think that’s the reason why I wanted to do it,” Tom replied. Now you’re confused. “It’s because it’s the two of us—that’s why I wanted to do it.”

As soon as you heard those words come out of Tom’s lips, you tried your best to stay calm. To say that you weren’t overwhelmed with emotions would be a huge lie. For someone who couldn’t hold their tongue, you were speechless. Tom’s giving you a run for your money and you weren’t exactly thrilled about it.

After dinner, you and Tom opened your stocking presents. The presents were pretty tame at the start—you both got each other socks, which was hilarious but greatly appreciated. You love socks, especially comfy and cushiony ones. You came to learn that Tom does too, which prompted you two to wear the socks immediately.

You got him candy canes, he got you chocolates. You also snuck in those small, in-flight alcohol bottles in there too—which he ended up loving. He got you those 10-pack skincare face masks, in which you let out a huge gasp, making him laugh.

“Oh, we have to use this at some point!” You exclaimed happily “Like, we need to have a spa night—where we just watch movies, doing face masks, eating takeouts. Oh, that’s the dream!” You sighed happily.

“We still have two weeks left till we go back to work, I'm sure we can find the time to do that,” Tom said with a permanent smile on his face, watching you with pure joy made him feel like he accomplished something big.

You got him one of those Instax polaroid cameras—true, it was a bit too much for a stocking stuffer especially since the box definitely stood out against the stocking, but you figured he’ll like it.

“Darling, this is too much but I’m thankful,” Tom commented as he took out the camera from the box. “I can’t wait to use this and keep memories using it—why don’t we start right now?! Let’s take a photo of us and our matching sweaters!”

Tom took a lot of photos of you two, in the end. A couple of overexposed photos, one with the matching sweaters, one with your faces pressed against each other, one with your faces way too close to the camera, and one where he gave you a kiss on your cheek (he asked if that’s okay, of course, you said yes. it’s not like he hasn’t kissed you before— still no conversations about that, by the way). It was a good thing you got him at least 3 boxes of those 20 pack films in his stockings as well.

The real kicker was Tom’s “small” stocking present for you. He got you this dainty, gold necklace with a crescent moon charm. You were pretty sure it was expensive because of the teal box it came with.

“Stop,” You gasped “Tom, now this—this is too much.” You stressed out. “I can’t have this. Nope, you have to return this.”

Tom shrugged as if it was nothing. “You deserve it. Darling, you deserve something nice after this shitty year.”

“Tom, I’m serious. This is too much.”

“I’m serious too, Y/N. Keep it, please. I’d be offended if you don’t.”

After the roller coaster of emotions due to the stocking presents, you gave your parents a call to wish them a merry Christmas. They insisted to do a video call because they wanted to see Tom in the family sweater—which your mom wouldn’t stop gushing about.

“I think your mum loves me,” Tom whispered closely in your ear. He didn't have to try too hard. With the laptop propped up on top of the coffee table, you two were sitting close together on the living room floor—knees touching, maximum close skin contact. CDC would never approve.

“Yeah, I think it’s the accent,” You mumbled jokingly.

Tom moved his head to take a good look at you, smiling. You could feel his eyes burning your skin. Why does he have to look at you like that? Why does he have to be this close?

The initial video call with your parents turned into a whole family reunion when you found out they set up a group call with your extended family. Imagine the dread and fear in your eyes when you heard your one aunt ask,

“Finally, Y/N, is that your boyfriend?”

Your eyes widened as you stuttered to say your defence, making Tom chuckle. You frowned at him and nudged him saying, “Don’t laugh, tell them no or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“No, unfortunately, I’m not,” Tom replied, laughing. “However, I do believe we make a cute couple, don’t we?” He teased, earning an earnest yes from your mom.

You could only wish for the floor to swallow you whole.

As the clocks rolled to twelve, it was officially Christmas. You and Tom figured you might as well start opening gifts again because Christmas Day is going to be a drag for the two of you.

“Okay, start with this.” You said as you handed him a gift bag. You didn’t give him a lot of gifts for the actual Christmas Day because you went all out on the stuffers.

“Pyjamas?” He asked with a grin. You made a signal for him to give you a minute. You ran to your room and changed into pyjamas.

“Not just pyjamas, Tom, but matching pyjamas!” You exclaimed, laughing. “I saw it and figured we should do this for my day.”

“Sick!” Tom laughed. Tom got into his pair of pyjamas as well and of course, he didn’t forget to pull out his new polaroid camera to take a photo of you two. “Shit, I forgot to film our entire Christmas Eve.” He said as he saw the camera that was still sitting on the kitchen island from earlier that morning.

You shrugged. “I’m pretty sure you’ll win either way. Just that content from the breakfast crepes was enough to secure your place.” You said jokingly.

“All I’m hearing is that you’re going to spend Christmas with me in London next year.” Tom sang teasingly.

“Yeah, maybe bringing you to our big Christmas holidays is a bad idea.” You wondered out loud.

“I like your family,” Tom commented with a smile “and I think they will love having me there for the holidays.”

“That would be a nightmare.” You mumbled to yourself.

The rest of the night dragged on. You and Tom finished the rest of your gifts—you got him a watch, he got you a vinyl player. You two managed to watch the first Harry Potter film before you called it a night.

You were about to head into your room when you heard Tom say, “Mistletoe.”

“Hm?” You hummed, confused. He placed a finger under your chin and gently tilted your head. There you saw a mistletoe hanging by one of the light fixtures.

“How did that even—”

“Can I kiss you?” Tom asked, cupping the sides of your face.

“Hm?” Tom was definitely giving you a run for your money. How can a girl with a speech turn speechless?

“Can I kiss you?” He asked more softly. All you could do was nod. For if you even dare to open your mouth, all of this would cease to exist.

His lips gently touched yours and then soon moulded into one. It was soft, sweet—familiar. His lips were something you never thought about—at least not a lot but you craved it. You crave his lips, his touch, him. You were riding a new high and you thanked every single god that you were sober to remember this—because this, this is something you want to cherish.

“You told me you’re tired of being alone,” Tom whispered against your lips. “You don’t have to be anymore. Not when you have me, not ever.”

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @quaksonhehe @dark-infernal-instruments @trustfundparker @emsma11 @tomshufflepuff @spider-babe @goodgirlgonetom

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x fem #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland blurb #tom holland and reader #tom holland and you #tom holland angst #tom holland imagines #tom holland x y/n #tom holland au #tom holland and y/n #tom holland x you #the girl writes i guess #txmhoellandwrites

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batgurl1989 · 3 years

Text

A Beach To Remember

Summary: Henry flies you out for a beach getaway while filming is on a break.

Word Count: 1680

Warnings: None

A/N: This is the beach scene mentioned in A Campsite To Remember, and comes before that camping trip. The series starts off with A Hike to Remember and A Picnic to Remember. My taglist is open, if you want to be added to it, let me know. This had not been proofread, so sorry about the mistakes.

Taglist: @rmtndew @princesssterek @henrynerdfan @cynic-spirit @daddys-littlewhitegirl @diegos-butt @summersong69

The waves crashed on the white sand, lulling me to sleep under my large-brimmed sunhat. The day had been warm, but with the ocean breeze, there had been no humidity. Henry’s breathing had evened out underneath my head a while ago, and I knew he was napping. Tipping my head to rest my chin on my hands where they lay across his chest, I saw that his hat was pulled down over his face, and his book was laying beside him. His thumb was tucked in the pages, still holding his place even though he was asleep. I couldn’t help but smile.

Henry had flown me out here during a short break filming was taking. The Canary Islands were a place I never thought I would get to visit, but now that I was here, I couldn’t believe it hadn’t been on my bucket list the whole time. The white sand and the crystal blue water were plucked right out of a dream I once had, but this wasn’t a dream.

We had spent the morning exploring the length of the beach, Kal bounding along beside us in the surf. The Akita would leave to go take much needed breaks in the shade, where Henry had set up a water bowl for him that we would check on every few hours to keep it topped up with fresh cool water. We swam together, never going too far from shore, but far enough that Henry could just touch the sandy bottom.

He had held me tight, not letting me float too far. It was much more intimate than what we had been doing. The video calls, and the picnics back home in Washington were nothing compared to the minimal clothing I was now wearing in front of the man I had the biggest fangirl crush on. Sure, we had discussed how we felt about each other, and late one night for me (early morning for him), he admitted that he had a huge crush on me as well. Still no labels, but that wasn’t how we operated. I knew what I meant to him, and he knew what he meant to me. Nothing else mattered. It was all a part of the experience.

Surprising him for the Durrell Challenge last year had been a new experience for me as well. It seemed with this man, that was going to happen a lot. But I couldn’t resist. The cause means so much to him, and nature was kind of our thing. We hadn’t gone for a picnic, but we still managed to get out for a long walk with Kal before I had to catch my flight home. Surprise trips were usually short for us. The jetlag was worth it.

Henry’s hand stroked up and down my back, bringing back to the present. He was still asleep as far as I could tell, and the hat wasn’t helping me see if I was wrong. I laid my cheek down on my hand, comforted by the sounds of birds singing in the trees on the edge of the beach. I don’t know how we ended up laying like this, with me practically on top of him, but when I asked him if he was uncomfortable, he told me not to move. I wasn’t about to go against what he asked. My legs were between his legs, our torsos were lined up, with me lounging up his chest. I was on my stomach, and originally, I had been reading, my one arm pillowing my head. But now my book lay discarded on the towel beside Henry’s hip.

“Still comfortable?” Henry’s low voice rumbled out from under his hat. Slowly I lifted my head again, resting my chin on my hand. He dropped his book so he could lift his hat off his face, showing me his dazzling smile. I returned it with a slow one of my own.

“Ridiculously.” If I could have, I would have snuggled down into him more. I felt like melting, and it wasn’t because of the heat from the sun. But what if he wasn’t comfortable? What if I was too heavy? Too warm? I moved to sit up, but the hand on my back wouldn’t let me.

“Stay.” Henry didn’t need to say more. I could hear it in his voice and see it on his face. He was comfortable, and he wasn’t trying to get me to move. He was just being his regular considerate self. “I like having you in my space.”

I tucked my face down, hiding my blush from him. It wasn’t the first time he had said that to me, but usually he said it when we were on the phone or on a video chat and we were talking about how we missed each other. I liked having him in my space as well. There was something domestic about it, that made this feel like it was something more than your average relationship. But the fact that he could still make me blush, that just showed me that it meant a great deal more to me than I thought.

“You don’t need to hide from me, sweetheart.” Henry gently tilted my chin up so he could see my face again. He smoothed a thumb over my still blushing cheek, making my blush deepen. “I like that I can still make you blush.”

“I like it too.” I said quietly, trying to keep my voice under the waves in the hopes that he might not hear me. But with my hat curving around my head, and my hair fluttering in the breeze, it was as though a curtain had been pulled around us, making our intimate moment all the more private. His smile told me he had heard me loud and clear.

“Are you worried about tonight?” Henry’s question took me by surprise. I didn’t think I was worried about tonight, but he had always been able to read me well, so maybe he saw something I hadn’t considered yet. His thumb stilled its path, his whole hand cupping my cheek as he looked at me intently. “I know we have talked about taking this slow, so I got us a room with two beds if that had you worried.”

“It doesn’t.” I tried to offer him a relaxed smile, so he would stop thinking I was worried. I knew he would respect what we had talked about in our many calls to each other. “I appreciate the thought, though. And I do still want to take this slow, if that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay, love.” Henry lifted his head, pressing a kiss to my forehead. He smiled when he pulled back. “What do you say we have one more dip in the sea, and then head out to find some food?”

I grinned playfully as I sat up. I tossed my hat aside and made a run for the ocean. I laughed as the cool water splashed around my feet and legs as I plowed into the water, eager to beat him. My laughter turned into a squeal when his arms came around me, and he scooped me up, taking us deeper into the waves. His chest rumbled against my back as he carried me, but I didn’t struggle to get away. I couldn’t be sure this isn’t exactly what I had had planned when I raced down the beach.

Once we were deep enough that my feet wouldn’t touch the bottom, he spun me in his arms, still holding me against his chest. The waves lapped around us, but they had calmed compared to earlier. Henry rested his forehead on mine, enjoying the closeness of the moment. I brought my hands up his biceps to rest on top of his shoulders to steady myself as we floated in the water. I caught a glimpse of Kal on the shore, watching us, a smiling pant on his face.

“I’m going to miss this.” Henry whispered, readjusting his grip on my waist, so he was holding me tighter, his arms hugged around my back. “I like having you on location with me.”

“I like being here. But eventually filming is going to pick back up, and you are going to be so busy, you won’t notice I am not here.” I played with one of the curls that had fallen on to his forehead, smoothing it back. I rubbed the frown lines forming between his eyebrows, smoothing them away too. “Besides it’s not like we don’t have plans to go camping when shooting wraps.”

“Very true. And this time I will be coming to you.” Henry rubbed his nose on mine.

“Okay, but I don’t want you to think I mind flying to see you.” I pulled away enough so I could see his whole face and so that he would know I was serious. I didn’t want him thinking this was a one-way relationship. I loved flying to wherever he was to visit him, just as much as I loved having him Washington. “I don’t want you thinking I am not willing to put the same amount of effort in as you are.”

“I don’t. Don’t worry about that.” Henry laughed, pulling you close again with a hand on the back of your head. Tentatively, he brought his lips to yours. You tasted sea salt and him and knew that you would forever be addicted to this taste and to this moment.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” You said quietly when he pulled back from the chaste kiss. It was over far too quickly, but you didn’t want to seem greedy for his kisses.

“It was entirely my pleasure.” Henry grinned, kissing your forehead before moving to let you go so you could swim.

You splashed him as you swam away from him. Henry laughed, his smile catching in the sunlight, and you knew the game was on. You also knew he was probably going to win. And you didn’t care, because you were having fun, and so was he.

#henry cavill x female reader #Henry Cavill Fanfic #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #Henry Cavill x Reader

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animatedarchives · 4 years

Text

trust • trust fall (part i) || bakugo x reader

a/n: hi dear, yes you absolutely can!! this turned out a LOT longer than i anticipated it to be because i couldn’t stop writing LOL anyway i really hope you enjoy it :) i’m so sorry if this is not what you wanted ;-; also please prepare yourself for bakugo absolutely cHuGgiNg his respect woman juice skkjmcknscsk

► genre: ANGSTTT, fLuFfy aT thE EnD i love soft katsuki ;-;

► warnings: mentions of cheating

► word count: 1.2k words

“Izuku… Why?”

“I’m sorry Y/N… I didn’t know how to tell you…”

“Am I not good enough? Is that it? Is that why you cheated on me? Is there someone better?”

“I… I’m sorry Y/N…”

“Wait, don’t leave! Izuku, wait! Please! Please…”

You’ve been replaying the conversation over and over in your head for the past hour, each time failing to find the answer to your question.

Why? Why did you leave me?

The poor condition of the abandoned hallway you were in mirrored your despair; paint peeling off the walls, windows coated with grime and the dusty ground on which you sat in melancholy.

You leaned your head back against the wall, desperately trying to pull yourself together. You felt and looked like an absolute wreck. Your hair that was perfectly styled this morning was now disheveled, acting as a curtain that attempted to shield you from the hurts of the world. The trails on your cheeks held traces of all the tears you had shed. Your throat was parched for water and your eyes burned from the overproduction of saline.

Well, at least no one is here to see you like thi-

“Oi.”

Crap.

“What the hell are you doing here, sitting on the floor like a damn idiot?”

You have got to be joking. The universe just had to give you someone you knew. You shifted your body so that your back was facing him and swiftly wiped your eyes in a pitiful attempt to hide your misery.

“Oi! Don’t ignore me when I’m talking to you, shitface!” he spat.

“Dammit, Bakugo! Can you just mind your own business and leave me the hell alone?” you yelled over your shoulder.

You’ve never been very close to Bakugo and usually just tried to avoid him. It wasn’t because you hated him - because you didn’t - but you weren’t exactly very fond of him either. You just never appreciated the way he treated your now ex-boyfriend. Being fiercely protective of him, you were always the first one to come to Izuku’s defence and never backed down from a fight - whether verbal or physical - even if it was against Bakugo, one of the strongest, most hot-headed people in class. After multiple scoldings from Iida and your teachers, you decided it would be best to just avoid him altogether.

Eventually, as time went on and your relationship with Izuku began to get more serious, Bakugo’s bullying began to cease and he also started to keep his distance from the two of you. You found it slightly unusual at first, given he had years to stop picking on Izuku but chose not to until now. You weren’t complaining though. Whenever you and Izuku were together, you would also catch him glaring daggers at the two of you, more so at Izuku, but he never approached. You knew it wasn’t because he was afraid of you - he was hardly afraid of anything. Could it be that he possibly respected you for standing up to him? Your curiosity reaped no answers. Not that you cared much, but it would be a lie to say you weren’t interested in knowing the reason for his change in behaviour.

After your outburst, Bakugo’s footsteps stopped about three metres away from your curled up body, letting a tense silence settle between you. Even with your back turned, you could feel his eyes locked on your frame, watching your every move.

“Look, I don’t know what your damn problem is but if you think you can tell me what to do, you’d better think again,” his voice dripping with annoyance.

Oh my god, why was he so persistent? Could he not just go away? Your blood started to boil and the heat rushed to your face.

“Stop acting so weak and pathetic-”

“YOU KNOW WHAT BAKUGO,” you snapped, standing up and finally facing him. Bakugo’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of your tear-stained face, but he didn’t look away. “YOU’RE RIGHT. MAYBE THAT REALLY IS WHAT I AM. WEAK AND PATHETIC.”

Bakugo opened his mouth but you cut him off.

“I’m constantly there for others and I always try to give everyone my all but in the end, who’s there for me? No one! I’m always the one that’s suffering, but people don’t notice because no one actually stops to think about me!”

“But Deku-”

“IZUKU CHEATED ON ME!” your cries echoed down the empty hallway. Hearing yourself say it out loud finally cemented the reality you were denying for so long. A lump started to form in your throat and you could feel your eyes starting to well up with tears again.

Bakugo’s body became stiff, a million thoughts running through his mind. You could have sworn you saw his eyes flash with anger, but you couldn’t see clearly through the thin film impairing your vision.

You choked out a sob. “I thought that someone had finally accepted me, finally acknowledged that I was worthy of being loved. But in the end, even the person I gave my everything to thought I wasn’t good enough.” You inhaled deeply and let out a shaky breath. You couldn’t cry in front of him. You wouldn’t. A wave of exhaustion finally hit you and you slid back down against the wall, curling into a ball and resting your chin on your knees. You were just so tired of everything.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” you laughed bitterly. “It’s not like you even care anyway.” You watched as an ant crawled across the space between you and Bakugo. Even ants had a colony, others they could depend on. And you? You had nobody.

“I do.”

Your train of thought came to a screeching halt as his words reached your ears. Your eyebrows furrowed and you raised your head to look up at him through your wet lashes. You had been here for so long that the sun was beginning to set, bathing Bakugo in a soft peachy glow.

“What?” you asked.

He looked at you straight in the eye, unflinching.

“I said I do,” he repeated. “I do care. About you.”

You blinked at him once. Twice. Three times. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Bakugo Katsuki, the last person in the world you thought you would be pouring your heart out to, just said he cared about you.

“Don’t lie,” you scoffed.

“Tch, I’m not lying, you idiot. You just don’t want to accept it,” he replied flatly.

Well, how could you? Words were just words after all. Izuku consistently told you that he loved you and still he shattered your heart. Trusting people just wouldn’t be so easy anymore. Your disbelief became apparent when you broke his gaze and pulled your knees closer to your chest.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You never let me finish, by the way,” he said. You made no move to respond, but you were listening to every word he was saying, weighing the sincerity of each one.

“I said stop acting so weak and pathetic, not because you are, but because it is everything you are not.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe him so bad but you couldn’t find the heart to.

“You have never backed down when it came to protecting Deku against me. You weren’t afraid to stand up and challenge me. In fact, you are always at the frontlines, defending people you care so deeply about. That doesn’t make you weak. It shows that you’re strong. Putting others before yourself is a trait that every great hero has. And I admired you for that. A lot.”

Your mind was whirring. Not only were the things he was saying difficult to believe, but the words coming out of Bakugo's own mouth being anything but foul was so terrifyingly uncharacteristic of him that you couldn’t possibly believe it was true.

“Which is why…” he muttered, so softly that you almost didn’t catch it. You waited for him to finish his sentence but he never did.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and saw him looking at the floor. You had never seen Bakugo this vulnerable before. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“Which is why…?” you urged him to continue. You weren’t sure if it was the radiant sun that gave a reddish tint to his cheeks or if you were actually witnessing the infamously brash Bakugo Katsuki blushing.

“Which is why I li…” he mumbled, the end of his sentence dissipating due to lack of articulation.

“Why what?” you asked again, mildly irritated that he wouldn’t just spit it out.

He groaned loudly.

“WHICH IS WHY I LIKE YOU, DAMMIT!” he finally admitted, raising his voice as he turned to look straight at you.

Your eyes widened so much you thought your eyeballs were going to pop out of their sockets. You didn’t even bother hiding the shock on your face. This was simply incomprehensible.

But the more you mulled it over, the more it started to make sense. The explanation for Bakugo’s behaviour towards you and Izuku could finally be explained: he was jealous. Seeing you with anyone but himself infuriated him, especially if it was the boy who was effortlessly gaining everything he had ever wanted. That was why Bakugo continued tormenting Izuku, only he never expected it would be you that he would end up fighting as you stepped in to defend your boyfriend. As your relationship became more serious, Bakugo was forced to step back out of respect, but he never stopped glowering whenever he saw you two together. The reason he stopped tormenting Izuku was not because he was afraid of you, nor was it because he respected your determination to defend the boy you loved. It was because it would break his heart to be the cause of your distress. Everything he did… was because of you.

“WELL? Don’t just give me that stupid look! Say something!” he shouted in frustration, desperate for an answer.

Part of you felt relieved to see Bakugo return to his familiar aggressive self, but another part somehow knew that he was only doing it to cover up the fact that he was deeply embarrassed. The thought made a small smile tug at the corner of your lips. You valued the fact that he trusted you enough to let his guard down.

And you wanted to trust him too. But with everything that had happened, you just weren’t sure if you were ready to put your heart on the line again. Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you tried to form a coherent string of words that could accurately express everything you thought and felt.

He watched intently as you bit your lower lip and fiddled nervously with the hem of your skirt. Although the suspense was eating him alive, he respected the fact that you needed to collect your thoughts and waited patiently for your answer. Besides, it meant that you were seriously considering his confession, which was all he could have hoped for. Finally, you got to your feet and made your way over to him, his crimson eyes never leaving yours.

“Bakugo…” you started gently. He might have seemed collected on the outside, but his heart was beating impeccably fast and his anxiety levels were off the charts.

“I really appreciate your honesty but… I’m just really unsure. It’s not that I don’t want to trust you but…” you exhaled shakily. “I’m just scared. I can’t just keep giving my heart to people I’m not sure would treasure it… I just can’t. I need to protect myself too. I don’t want my heart to get broken again. I-”

He grabbed your face and pressed his lips against yours, cutting you off. Caught by surprise, you weren’t sure how to respond. But as he kissed you, you could feel how much he meant every single thing he said. Suddenly, they weren’t just words anymore.

The kiss was soft and gentle as if he were afraid to hurt you, especially when you were already in so much pain. Yet, he never lacked passion, because he wanted to prove how true his feelings were for you. But above all, the kiss… his love…

It was sincere.

Genuine.

Honest.

You melted into the kiss, hesitant at first but eventually willing to give love another try.

Bakugo broke the kiss and leaned back to admire the face he thought was so beautiful. His strong hands traced down your face to your shoulders and finally came to a rest at your arms, rubbing your skin soothingly.

“You’re right, you know. You can’t just give your heart to people. If you do, you’re bound to get heartbroken,” he said.

You frowned and stared forlornly at your feet, unsure of what to say. You knew he was right but you couldn’t help it. All you ever wanted was to be loved. To matter to someone.

“Which is why,” he took your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up to look at him. For the first time, you saw his eyes up close. They weren’t the blazing hot embers everyone associated with his rageful and dangerous behaviour. Right now, under the warmth of the setting sun, they were the soft comfort of red satin that whispered a love so pure, you couldn’t help but feel enraptured by them. His eyes burned, but it was far from malicious. They burned with desire for one thing alone.

You.

“I will do whatever it takes to earn it.”

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

DATING BTOB A⇴Z HEADCANON ⇴ Lee Changsub

A ⇴ AFFECTION

Changsub is always incredibly cuddly around him, it’s very much a habit of his to wrap his arms around you whenever you’re in reaching distance, he can’t help but have you as close as he can into him as often as possible.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

Your first meeting was all a bit of a misunderstanding, you caught Changsub pulling a funny face, presuming that he was doing it in your direction, pulling one back. It was only when you noticed a guy behind you, you realised it wasn’t actually at you, but Changsub was far too much of a tease to ignore what you’d done.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

It all ended up working in your favour though, and the two of you got to know each other well. Changsub ended up confessing how much he enjoyed getting to know you through a short song that he’d written. Music was his best way of expressing himself, and so he invited you over to his place one day, with plenty of instruments laid out in the living room, inviting you to sit down and listen to what he had to say.

D ⇴ DATES

His love for music often resonated into your dates as well, Changsub loved to take you to live gigs and other events in the city, whether it was music, a film, or even sometimes a comedy event, he loved seeing someone else go through the adrenaline of being on stage as he often experienced. You just tended to trust him and his suggestions on places that the two of you could go to, but they usually turned out to be a pretty good time anyway, with only a few minor hiccups along the way with some acts.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

Changsub had some old dating rumours which certainly played on his mind when the two of you began to get together. He was determined to keep you protected out of the vicious cycle that the Korean media could be, and make sure that you were sure that a relationship was something that you definitely wanted before things got too serious between you both. Changsub couldn’t help but worry, and also the last thing he wanted was to deal with the attention of a dating rumour once again.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

If there was one thing you learnt about Changsub quite early on in your relationship, it was that no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t hide whenever he was in a bad mood. It usually ended up working in your favour as you’d know when to steer clear of him and when not to start an argument because he was feeling pretty low. But if you managed to catch him off guard, then the bad mood would very quickly be very obvious to you, and once you’d been caught by his vents of frustrations, it was usually a pretty terrible loophole for you to find your way out of without the two of you arguing with each other first.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

Changsub was incredibly close with his family, which made you incredibly anxious to meet them all. You were terrified, putting off your first meeting for as long as you possibly could, until his sister’s birthday came around, and Changsub promised that you’d be in attendance without even asking you to join him.

H ⇴ HOME

You were quite quick to move into Changsub’s place, he loved having you there and the company that you brought. It was no fun for him to mess around in such a nice apartment all by himself, and so having you there to enjoy it with him was definitely something that he wanted sooner rather than later in your relationship.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

Changsub ended up being the first of the two of you to say, ‘I love you,’ on a letter that he wrote whilst BTOB were in the middle of a tour. He was far too nervous to ring you or say it in person, so at the end of a lengthy letter about all the adventures he’d been on so far, he signed it off with his name, and his confession too.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

Just like with his bad moods, it was very apparent to you too when Changsub would be feeling jealous too. His face always managed to give it away, how his eyes would narrow at whoever was making him feel jealous, and how he’d always poke his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Whenever you’d challenge him about it, he’d always vow that he wasn’t jealous, but as soon as you’d imitate the face that you saw him pulling across the room, he’d know the game was up and that he didn’t have a leg to stand on.

K ⇴ KIDS

You certainly felt the pressure from his family to start considering a family of your own quite soon into your relationship. They knew the two of you were great, and it was obvious to them all that the two of you were going to stick together, and with that, their minds instantly looked to kids. Changsub could often only apologise for how forward they were, assuring them it was something you’d think about when the time was right.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

Changsub had plenty of quirks and weird habits that meant there weren’t many times around him that you didn’t have a smile on your face. You never knew quite what to expect from him next, one minute he’d be serious and an adult, the next minute he’d be running around the place like a kid, trying to get you involved in all sorts of pranks and jokes on the other members. Changsub loved to enjoy himself and was more than happy in expressing himself and how crazy he could be without the fear of what others would think. All that mattered was that you loved and enjoyed the person that he was.

M ⇴ MISSING

Just like with many other stages of emotion, it was very clear to the group when Changsub was missing you on the road too. Of course, as with his jealous, he’d argue that he was fine, but the group hadn’t spent a decade together for no reason, they knew Changsub better than he knew himself sometimes. Eventually they’d manage to wear him down into admitting that he was struggling, but not before he made them all promise that they wouldn’t tell you how low he was feeling, because as he always told them, and you, the last thing he wanted to do was make the tour more difficult for you.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

Changsub loved to give you cute nicknames that he knew would make you blush. He was always coming up with new ones, sometimes very random, but each one always managed to get him a reaction out of you.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

He was obsessed with your eyes, he could always tell exactly what was going on and how you were feeling, usually just by the way that you looked back at him.

P ⇴ PDA

You could never expect Changsub to be normal with his affection in public, he loved to clown around, and would often play up to any cameras that were around too, knowing that the fans loved to see the two of you too. No matter what, it would always take you by surprise, and leave him scolded when you got home too.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

He’ll always make sure to check in and see how you are at various points throughout your day together. Your eyes are always a giveaway, so if you lie, then he’ll just keep asking until he gets the truth out of you.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

You’ll often find yourself falling asleep with your fingers tracing over Changsub’s tattoos, usually with him already fast asleep beside you. You’ll often doodle new ones too, tracing random patterns along his arm or his ribcage. Although he never lets on, the feeling of your fingers trailing along his skin is definitely a feeling that helps him sleep tonight, although he’s far too scared to admit that to you in person.

S ⇴ SEX

For the most part, Changsub is always incredibly loving when it comes to intimacy, he enjoys the moment and the adrenaline rush that comes with it. However, it usually isn’t long before he starts up with his usual antics, when he finds himself falling too deeply, he’ll come out with a joke or make a funny remark to try and make things a little less intense between the two of you, never quite knowing how to cope with the sudden passion.

T ⇴ TEXTS

If he can’t ask you in person how you’re doing, then Changsub will often text you instead. Although he never wholly trusts in your response, the fact that you responded alone is usually a good enough sign for him.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

More than anything else, Changsub loves that you’re someone who can really appreciate his sense of humour and give him somewhere to be himself. He never has to hide or pretend around you, because you love every part of who he is.

V ⇴ VACATION

It had been quite a while since Changsub got to spend some time with his family, and so when the chance to go away came around, he decided to create a huge trip for you, him, and his family too. It was also the perfect chance for you to get to know them more too, and another event that you couldn’t back out of.

W ⇴ WHINING

There were definitely times that Changsub would whine, whilst he didn’t crave attention, sometimes he just couldn’t help but want your eyes on him.

X ⇴ XXXXX

He would love nothing more than when he was able to tease you with his kisses, he loved to pull away just as you began to deepen a kiss, or tug gently against your bottom lip when you were busy in the hope that it would distract you from what you were doing and put your attention on him. However, if you ever did that to him, you could be guaranteed to be in big trouble with him, unimpressed by your antics.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were his best friends, together you were the best possible team.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

The struggle was definitely real when it came to trying to wake Changsub up in the morning. You’d never known someone sleep as well as he did, often resorting to dangerous tactics to try and wake him up and get him out of bed.

---

Masterlist

59 notes · View notes

writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

smoke and fire (03)

word count; 10,638

summary; you and thomas almost find some common ground, but clinging to petty hatred might ruin it all.

notes; making some progress, and I know y’all are going to love the tension building.

warnings; burnings buildings, minor burns, reference to injury, reference to explosions.

Humming along to the tune playing from your phone, it was plugged into the speaker atop the counter, the lowest volume you could get it as you tried to keep the volume down. You never had been one to sleep while at the Firehouse, no matter how late at night your shifts were, and while this was your team’s two weeks of night shift rotations, you’d adapted to it easily.

Maybe you’d been forced to. Maybe you’d force yourself to. You weren’t exactly comfortable with the team yet, and something about going to sleep surrounded by people you didn’t know felt uncomfortable to you. You trusted them with your life, your job required that you did, but you would only get restless sleep anyway.

Cooking, however, was something you were comfortable with. Cooking at night while the rest were asleep, the clock barely tickling past 5AM as they all slept until called to duty gave you free time to be with your own thoughts.

The smell of frying bacon was filling the room, lyrics falling quietly from your lips as your hips swung, and you heard the first of your colleagues begin to shuffle into the room. You turned to look over your shoulder, Minho being the first to wake, and you’d learned recently that he was always the first to wake. He was an early bird, someone who normally went for a jog before coming on his shifts, and he groaned, scratching at his stomach while the other arm stretched over his head, trying to wake himself up a little more.

“Smells like bacon. Did you make enough for two?”

“I made enough for about twenty.” You teased, hearing his sleepy laugh, and he came to hop up onto the island counter behind you, bypassing the chairs as he took a seat on the higher surface instead, and he rubbed at his eyes.

“You cooked for us?”

“I cooked for me, and figured I might as well make sure you all get a healthy breakfast in, too. Can’t have you slacking on the job because all you ate for breakfast was three candy bars and a skittle, can I?” You grabbed for a plate, a stack that you’d placed beside yourself, the first one being dished up to your friend. A couple of pancakes from the hot plates, sausages, bacon, eggs, and a pot of coffee, and you dished it up, sliding it towards a seat as he fetched a set of knives and forks for you both, groaning loudly at the sight of food.

“This looks amazing.”

He took a seat on the stool this time, poking at it all in the lower light as he chopped up his food, folding a piece of bacon inside a pancake, and lifting the bundle to his mouth. Serving yourself up and covering the rest, you leaned against the counter in front of him, beginning to chop at your food. As he chewed the mouthful longer, he tipped his head back, a louder and longer groan falling from his lips as he showed his appreciation for the meal, and you covered your snicker with your food, chewing a mouthful and shaking your head fondly.

“Who’s folding porn in here? It better not be Minho, again.”

“Again?” You almost choked on your food as Winston came wandering in, your brow raising as you turned to your colleague, and he sighed dramatically.

“They were filming a tour video for the Firehouse for a thing online, I don’t know.” He waved his hand, shoving another forkful into his mouth, and you realised the men here had never been raised to chew with their mouths closed, as though they were raised wild as teens. “Anyway, I was seeing this chick at the time, and y’know, she was hot. A bit too feisty even for me.”

“I somehow find that hard to believe.”

“Hey, there are things even I wouldn't do!” He objected, and behind you, as he helped himself to food, Winston snorted. “Yeah, not much, though.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, she comes to visit me at work. She’s got her hands all over, she was just dating me because I was a fireman. She drags me behind a truck and we were, well, making out pretty heavily. Like teenagers behind the science block. They caught it on the camera while touring, and had to cut it all out and refilm that section.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal, and Winston took a seat beside him, your eyes fixed on your coworkers, brows raising.

“It was more than just making out. She had her legs around your waist.”

“She did not!” Minho scoffed, crumbs of the food flying everywhere, and you couldn’t contain the laugh as he turned to punch his friend in the arm, the two setting off in a weak match of slaps and punches as they tried to keep eating.

Brenda was next through the door, already seeming to look composed and poised like she’d had hours to get ready, all but gliding through the room, and she flickered her eyes over the two tussling boys. “What’s going on in here?”

“Winston was just telling me about the time Minho got caught on camera kissing a chick behind the trucks.”

“Oh, you mean the girl with her legs around his waist?” Brenda was then immediately drawn into the argument, hissed whisper-shouts as you tried to contain your laughter, and as the hours ticked on from the discussion, your plate slipped into the dishwasher, a fresh pot of coffee being started, more and more of the team began to join the room. The next was Gally. His nose turned up at the offer of coffee, Brenda mocking him for his selective taste in teas, trying to copy his accent too, but he did help himself to a plate of food. Clint and Jeff were next, the two practically attached at the hip, moving as a unit, always one with the other. They were talking among themselves as they got their breakfasts, but took enough time free to offer their greetings to everyone, mumbling a vague ‘thank you’ to ‘whoever had cooked’, before they were sitting at the table and becoming invested in their conversation once again.

Newt came in next, bright and cheery and full of energy, as he had been for the last three days since getting the boot taken off his foot and being able to rotate his ankle and walk normally again, limp barely present now he was like a bright ray of sunshine, rising with the actual sunrise. Fry and Zart followed, passing through as the sun in the room rose, the music being drowned out by the loud chatter in the room, the clattering of cutlery and utensils, with the vague noise of the morning news being turned on for a weather update.

Taking your phone back from where it was placed on the stand, you lifted it up, barely any of the food you’d made remaining, and you felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment at providing for your team, and never having a single complaint. It wasn’t often that you made this kind of gestures, it wasn’t often worth it, not when you were so used to take your meals and finding a quiet spot to eat alone, but more and more, you’d been finding yourself enjoying the company of the people around you, progressively feeling more included in the conversations and activities as the ripples across the water caused by your arrival began to settle.

Chuck was a late riser, still looking completely dazed as he stepped into the room, a little wobble in his step, and you took the liberty of creating a plate for him, and a large mug of coffee, taking it over to where he had slumped down at the dining table with his head rested on his hands, eyes already closing. Creeping up behind your friend, you leaned down, light snores leaving him as he began to doze off again, despite being surrounded by stimulation, noise and light.

“Boo!”

He jerked violently, almost knocking the food and mug out of your hand as he sat up, looking shocked for just a moment, before red-twinged cheeks were facing your directions, narrowed eyes in a glare, and a scowl on his face. “You suck.”

“I brought you food and coffee.”

He considered it for a moment, eyes sweeping over the plate, before sitting up a little straighter. “Okay, you suck slightly less now.”

He accepted the offerings, digging in almost instantaneously, and you took a seat beside him, sipping the hot drink in your own hands as you absorbed the environment. Making friends was hard when you skipped about so much, even making friends outside of work, as you moved from one side of the city of the other to new houses, never bothering to decorate or properly unpack because you weren’t sure how long you’d ever be in one location.

It was undeniably nice to be surrounded for once, and not be immediately looking for the next exit.

Chuck was happy to just talk, filling the space between you both as he spoke about everything he could think of. He told you about his mother, and his four older sisters, the second of whom was getting married, and the first of whom was halfway through her pregnancy, and how excited he was to become an uncle. He asked you about your bruises, and how the swelling was doing, making you demonstrate the rotations of your arm for him as the muscles no longer ached as you could lift them over your head, some discoloured splotching where the bruises were almost healed was all that was left.

As the clock ticked over, just past 8AM, the room was full. Even Vince having passed through and joined you all for a cup of coffee and a reasonably quick chat, giving into the teasing he was getting from Newt and Brenda about an update on the doctor he’d been seeing, her name revealed as Mary now things were getting serious, and you hoped to meet her one day at the hospital.

It was clear to you that the people here were a family, and despite the friction between you and some of the members, certain ones sticking strong with their guards up against you as they followed in their Lieutenant’s footsteps, you were winning some of them over. Newt had yet to bring it back up, the challenge that he’d issued you of giving it a year, and promising that this house would be different, but you knew he hadn't forgotten the conversations, because every so often, you’d catch his gaze lingering on you when you were chatting to another colleague, and reaching out a little more.

Chiming about your head signalled a call coming in, the room falling from commotion and filled with activity to dead and silent as everyone listened, and the second it was over, all of the chairs were scraping, pots and cutlery clammering as plates were stacked up haphazardly, and the room was cleared in seconds. Only you and Newt remained, being given a free minute, maybe two at the maximum, as you waited for the foremen to grab their equipment and swap out shoes for protective boots, gear in hand as they loaded the trucks.

“I’m going to go and check on Tommy, make sure he’s up.”

You nodded, realising now why the atmosphere around you was so peaceful. There was no walking on eggshells or lingering glares, nothing that might put you off about saying the wrong thing in fear of getting yelled out, or burning gals into the back of your skull, but simply the calm and quiet of being surrounded by people who were at least civil with you, instead of hating your guts.

Grabbing the trays that were barely even warm now, the food having cooled a while ago, you stacked up what was on a single plate, covering it with a quick wrap of foil, and watching as Thomas stumbled on past in a flurry of movement that made you think he might trip, grabbing his boots from the floor and his coat and helmet form the rack, not even bothering to change them before getting onto the squad truck waiting, and watching as it disappeared.

Tucking the reserved plate into the fridge, everything else was left out to be sorted later, and you grabbed the keys from the rack, meeting Newt in the doorway, the two of you jogging side by side to the vehicle. Since the period of time when you’d been driving instead of him while his boot was on, he seemed to have gained a little more trust in you, allowing you to drive the vehicle instead, every so often, despite how precious the rig maybe to him.

Doors slamming shut on either side, and as soon as the engine was on, Newt flipped on the emergency sirens, letting you strap yourself in beside him as you began to pull out of the courtyard, chasing after the red trucks ahead of you both in a rapid pursuit to your destination.

Early morning traffic cleared, the palm of your hand continually pressing down on the horn as people tried to pull back across lanes in the road as soon as the firetrucks had cleared, never having the patience to wait for the ambulances to go through to, but you battled to keep up with them, the smaller vehicle making it easier to navigate and weave through the other cars.

Smoke was already curling up into the air as you arrived, thick and dark, worrying bursts of it, and the stench of gas was filling the car as soon as you arrived on the street, pulling up to the sidewalk and throwing the van into park.

Hopping out of the vehicle, you let out a long breath, trying not to cringe at the smell on the air or the taste it was leaving in your mouth, your stomach twisting a little. You shared a look with Newt, looking around at the situation as you tried to assess it all, feet carrying you closer to the group of firefighters who were coming up with a game plan for the situation at hand. Thomas was already barking orders, hair messy from scratching at it and running his hands through with stress, a look you’d seen several of the men get when things shit the fire, pun intended, and you came to a halt.

Crossing your arms over your chest, Thomas’ eyes flicked to you and Thomas, words pausing in his mouth, snapping shut as he tried to reevaluate the plan. sniffling at the air, he groaned a little, skating his head.

“Alright, Minho’s on shutting these gas lines. Go and find an override until we can get this fixed. Take Chuck with you.” The official firefighter nodded, the unofficial firefighter perking up a little at the task, and pulling on their masks, the two of them set off. “Can I get paramedics setting up a stretcher straight away, we got reports that there’s a family inside, the house that started the fire. Mother was cooking when the main exploded, and it shot right through to her stove.”

You had your instructions, the two of you heading in a quick jog back to the van, because no matter what everyone else did, you had your instructions. The back of the van was opened, and you worked on unfastening the stretcher wheels as Newt prepped the van, a medkit laid out on the shelves and the ramp down. There were already people beginning to inch their way, undoubtedly complaining of headaches and nausea due to the exposure.

There was a breeze along the road, warm and reasonably calm, nothing intense enough to whip up smoke and dust into your eyes, and it was good at clearing away the lingering cloud of gas on the street, but it wasn’t so good for the firefighters. You couldn't help the way that your eye swerve flickering over to the house every so often, bright and roaring as you felt the heat all the way from here, warm cheeks under the burning glare, and you worried the flames would spread.

They were only raising higher, the entire downstairs of the house had taken alight, and Thomas and his team were still trying to work out how to get inside of the house without endangering themselves, and how to get the family out. Brenda was on hoses, dragging the reel down the street to the closest fire hydrant as fast as she possibly could, trying to screen the nozzle into place.

It was easy enough to access people, giving them each a small mask and an oxygen tank, sitting them down on the opposite curb of the sidewalk, and making sure to run along and check on their symptoms again every five minutes. The roads had been closed off on either side, barricaded by police cars and trucks, and Minho and Chuck were returning, helping Brenda with the hose as they went. The first member of the family was being brought out, a young girl being carried by who you assumed to be Gally, purely based on the height of hi as he came running over, the little girl in his arms out cold as she hung limply in his grip, and he rushed to lay her down against the bed.

“Newt, can I get a monitor?”

He yelled his reply, words not making much sense as he fumbled in the back of the van, grabbing at the monitor as best he could, and you began your initial assessment of her. Your suspicions were confirmed as the helmet and mask form the firefighter before you were removed, Gally staring down at you, wide eyes as your hands scanned along her. Tipping her head back, you opened her mouth, checking her throat hadn't become blocked, before using the small flashlight on your keychain to check the reaction in her pupils.

“She’s got some rapid ration to light in her pupils, no brain damage, smoke and gas inhalation isn’t too bad.” He let out a sigh of relief, lips flicking up at the sides as you confirmed her safety to him. Pressing gently along her lungs, you found no broken bones or ribs, making sure to keep her head a little tipped back so her airways were open as best they could be, and Newt rounded the table to the other side Bumping Gally out of the way slightly, the taller boy stepped back, waiting anxiously for more confirmation. It was sweet, his concern for the younger ones, and you’d noticed it over the last month and a half, watching him interact with children was always special. “You got a sister, Gally?”

“How’d you know?”

“Call it a lucky guess.” You teased, watching Newt beginning to cut away the sleeve of her shirt to hook up a child-sized heart monitor band onto her arm. Gally seemed just as panicked, and you’d be willing to bet money on his little sister being young, probably around this girl’s age, and seeing his own family in the victims. “Tell me about her? I bet she’s really cute.”

“She is, actually. She’s going through a unicorn phase, has been ever since turning seven.”

Bingo.

“She likes glitter too, and if you ask her what her favourite colour is, she’ll probably say rainbow. My parents have this neighbour, who is a couple years older than her, but they still hang out. The neighbour just got her first eyeshadow kit, you know, those ones they give away as free gifts with kids magazines and stuff? All the latest gossip on Selena Gomez or High School Musical, or whatever?”

You laughed a little bit, stepping away into the truck long enough to find another of the pre-prepared rows of oxygen tanks made up, and bringing it back with a small mask. Putting the band over her head, a soft beeping took up around you both as Newt confirmed that he couldn't find any further injuries on the girl, her stomach feeling soft and so there wasn’t much likelihood of any internal injuries, she was just unconscious. “Hey, don’t knock those magazines! That’s where I got my first lip gloss from!”

“She’s too young for makeup!” He huffed, the overprotective brother in him shining through to the foreground as he spoke. “So, uh, this little one. She’s going to be okay?”

“Of course, she is. Newt and I are a great team!” You beamed, Newt cheering from a few metres away where he’d wandered off to go and check on the other patients, check they were all still doing okay, no further symptoms arising. Turning the box with the heartbeat to him, his eyes closed in on it, looking as confused as ever. “There’s a lot of symbols and crap that looks confusing, I know, but just listen. Steady heartbeat, nice and strong.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, it is.” Pointing to a collection of numbers, the meaning of which was like reciting the alphabet to you but you didn’t have time to explain it to Gally right now. “See these numbers, that means her heart is staying at that strength too, she’s not fluctuating or dipping, she’s doing just fine. She’s got a mask on, and other than a killer headache when she wakes up, she’s going to be just peachy.”

“Thank you.” He finally let his shoulder’s slump, looking back towards the house, and pulling his mask back on, a nod shared between you both as his helmet followed, and with that brief break to check on the young girl he’d saved, he was returning to guide his team.

The flames in the wind were getting awfully close to the other house, despite the teams trying to put out the flames, but there were only two hoses, and they had to focus on getting the downstairs of the current house controlled first. Now that the gas was out, the flames were beginning to be tamed, no longer having an accelerant to burn on, only the fuel of the house, but it didn’t make the charred black marks along the outside of the house any less concerning.

The second patient you were receiving was the father, coughing and spluttering, conscious but in a worse state than his daughter, though he looked like he didn’t care about any of it as his eyes locked onto the little girl, and he tried to put more weight on his own two feet and less on the member of your team who was holding him up.

You didn't get to see who this was, because he was dashing away from the second that the man was showing signs of being able to support his own body, right back into the flames to become a hero once again. You rushed forward as he stumbled, hands grabbing onto him to try and keep him held up, and you walked him backwards slowly as he wheezed, sitting him down on the edge of the truck, his eye moving over to his little girl.

“My girl-”

“-is going to be just fine, sir, don’t you worry. I’ve already checked her out, and she’s doing great. She’s strong, a little fighter!” You offered him a smile, one that he weakly returned, his shoulder’s slumping as he coughed violently. “Can you tell me your name?”

“John.” He wheezed, and you nodded, grabbing a fresh set of forms from the truck and placing them down beside him. Checking his airways and his vision, you deemed him okay, asking him about his pain levels, while preparing a new mask for him, and hooking it all up, twisting the oxygen on and hearing the canister let out a little hiss as it was activated.

“Can you tell me your last name?”

“Davidson.” He muttered, accepting the mask happily from you as you held it out to him, lifting it over his head, and he was covered in soot, ash still lingering in the hair around his head, a light burn on the patches of clear skin on the top, his head ducking as you began to check them over.

“Well, Mr Davidson, I’d say you’re looking rare, maybe medium-rare, but you’ll be just fine.” His eyes creased a little at the sides, a muffled laugh from behind the mask as he tried to take deep and steadying breaths, nodding his head. “You think you can start filling out those forms for me? Get one filled out for every member of your family, and it’ll save you so much time at the hospital, and it’d really do me a solid.”

He held slightly shaking hands out to you, a collection of them all pinned on the board, beginning to write his name slowly, both of your attentions looking up at the sound of snapping wood. The porch had collapsed, the smoke in the doorway clearing a little, but just because the lower flames were beginning to give way, the upper was still burning bright, only catching more heat, and you nibbled on your lower lip.

“Everyone is alright, neighbours are doing a headcount among themselves, but there’s an elderly chap, mid-seventies, name of ‘Mr O’Hare’ seeming to be missing.”

The sound of a pain clattering onto the metal of the ambulance floor before rolling away and hitting the concrete made you jump, both of you turning with raised brows to look at the man behind you, Crouching down to get the pen again, you handed it back to him, and he raised a weak hand to pull at his mask, concern and imminent fear on his face again. “That’s our neighbour.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Mr O’Hare, that’s our neighbour. He hasn’t been doing so well, lately, my wife brings him groceries every week, his family comes to visit. He sleeps a lot, he gave us a key to get in to put the groceries away.” A wash of panic set over both you and Newt, your eyes flicking back up to the house you’d been concerned about, the black marks of charring on the walls beginning to grow as the flames curled over, and as you squinted a little, you found the edges of the rood were already beginning to powder to ash, sizzling orange as the risked igniting.

You grabbed ahold of Newt’s arm, encouraging the man in your care to go back to the sheets he should be focusing on, trying to keep him calm. “Nobody has been in that house yet, Newt. That house is full of gas, the doors and windows are closed. It’s a time bomb waiting to go off.”

“You’d better go and find a fireman, because here comes the wife, and I’m going to need to go to the hospital as soon as she’s checked out.” You only nodded your head, grabbing for your medkit, swinging the bags up onto your shoulders and setting off. The first you came across was Chuck, standing outside of the building at the back of the house, making sure no wires were becoming trapped, and just as you were about to try and get his attention, a blur of movement in your peripherals brought you to a stop.

A concerned neighbour, no idea what was about to happen but you felt like you were watching it in slow-motion as the young man made his way up toward the door, kicking at it roughly as he did, the lock popping as he tried to venture inside for his neighbour. A split second, he’d barely gotten through the doorway, before the loud explosion of a houseful of gas igniting in an instant made your eyes ring, as though your eardrums had shattered. The blast sent you down to the floor, smoke, splintered wood, shards of glass, all flying around you at the sudden implications.

You could hear muffled screaming around you, your fingers digging into the dirt beneath you as you scraped your hands back to your body, and pushed yourself up. Cuts along your skin, nothing you couldn't take care of, simply the light pieces of glass that had flown past, leaving a message in their wake, a warning not to play with anything sharp. Large hands locked onto your body, pulling you to your feet, and you blinked away the stunned feeling you had, watching as the mask was lifted.

Shaking your head little, it all suddenly came back into focus, piercing sounds, the yelling of worried neighbours, and the closer yelling of the man in front of you. Gally. “(Y/L/N), are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m good, I’m fine. A few bumps and scratches, nothing serious.” He nodded his head, eyes sweeping over you regardless, and you pushed messy hair back out of your face. “There’s someone in that building, though. I was going to suggest going through the door after leaking the gas out slowly, but it’s a bit late for that now.”

You looked around, a cord forming around the man who’d been blasted back, and it wasn’t looking good.

“We’re going to need another ambulance. Call med, get one here.”

He nodded, his head, stepping away from you for a second to bring his radio to his mouth, and your hand snagged onto Chuck’s arm, shaking him a little as he stared in abject horror at the scene before him, his age really showing on his face now. Orange flickered over his features, the presence of freckles on your friend’s face distracted by hair that almost looked red in front of flames, and you shouted his name to catch his attention, wide eyes snapping to you.

“Where’s your team?” He raised a hand, pointing to the smoke of the building, and you nodded your head. He was rattled, and you shook him a little, hands on the lapels of his fireproof jacket for leverage. “Hey, Chuck, listen up. This is no time to freeze, alright? You’re a firefighter, now get someone who can spare a hand on the radio, because there’s someone else who needs saving.”

He swallowed thickly, nodding his head, and bringing the device up, button on the side pressed to talk into, and it crackled for a minute as he put the message out there, waiting for someone to reply. Grabbing his arm, you dragged him along behind you, letting him stand behind you as you shouldered through to find the groaning man on the floor, skin raw and burned, grit stuck to him from where he’d rolled along the floor in the blow back, and you hissed a little, kneeling down.

Dropping your bag and snapping on a fresh pair of gloves, Chuck sent out another call for help, and you rolled the man onto his back carefully. There wasn’t much you could do for him here, except get him on a mask and disinfect his wounds, but it wasn't going to be a pleasant process. A canister of disinfectant was your best bet for covering raw areas this large, and you pulled it out, shaking it aw you went.

“Chuck, what’s wrong?”

You bit your tongue from groaning at who replied, glancing over your shoulder for a second, the nervous boy’s eyes meeting yours, and you gave him a nod, staying focused on your task at hand and waiting for Chuck to speak instead. “We’ve got a situation, Lieutenant. That building that just went up, (Y/N) says there’s someone trapped inside, upstairs, I think.”

“Fuck. Not exactly getting in through the bottom floor, are we?” There was a series of rattles, scuffling as you assumed them to be checking over the rooms, and you swallowed thickly, hearing the wailing sirens of another ambulance beginning to get close enough to you. The conversation around you fell away, letting Chuck and Thomas hash out a plan, before you were looking back to the man on the floor, his eyes wide and on yours, shaking with pain as he still tried to stay strong.

“Hey, that was real brave of you there. Trying to save your neighbour, huh?”

“I just wanted to help.” He mumbled, words broken and light as he tried not to cry them out, his voice strained, and you nodded your head.

“Yeah, and it was admirable. One of the bravest things I’ve ever seen, and I work with firefighters! I’m going to get you patched up, alright?” He nodded his head, gritting his teeth as you warned him that it was going to hurt, before spraying the cleaner over his skin, and a shrieking scream left his lips. It was blood-curdling, and you’d never get used to the way your stomach clenched or your teeth ground together when you knew you were causing someone that pain, even if you were trying to help. It would cool, a foam setting over his skin as it dissolved softly, and the pain faded away as the paste helped start to remove trapped heat from his skin, soothing burns and making him slump back a little. “You hear those sirens, real close now. They’re for you.”

He only nodded, before a hand was finding your shoulder, and Chuck was pulling you back a little, much to your confusion.

“What is it, Chuck? I need to get him loaded onto an ambo’.”

“No, you need to come with me.” Your brows furrowed, his hands finding your wrist, and as the ambulance pulled up, you caught sight of another paramedic, one you’d seen around the halls at the hospital, flagging them down to where the man was as they grabbed a board and set off toward him. “Lieutenant has a plan, best we got.”

“Alright, what is it?”

He stopped you before the truck, opening up one of the storage doors on the side, eyes scanning over you for a second, before he was beginning to pull out equipment. “We’re going to extend a ladder from one window to the other, crawl across, and get him. Then, come back across the ladder.”

“That’s a twenty-foot drop, you’d break bones if you fall, maybe even your neck, and the older man in that house won’t be able to balance.”

“He’s going to have to.” Chuck placed a helmet onto your head, wrapping a jacket around your arms, and you barely caught the mask he was pressing into your hands. “You’re going to have to as well, because he’s going to need a medical check.”

“A medical check? The man won’t even be conscious with the amount of gas built up in there!”

“Good thing you’re coming then. Do your job well, save his life.” The static-covered voice over the radio called out, and you glared at the device, jaw clenching at the insinuation that you ever did anything less than your best. Gally and Winston were unloading a manual ladder from the truck, setting off into the house with it, and you gulped as you felt your friend's hands move along the front of the jacket to fasten it up. Pants came next, a large pair of baggy and protective pants, stepping into them as he held them out to you, as fear filled your body at the idea of having to crawl from one burning building and into another. “Hurry up and get her kitted, Chuck, we don’t have all day! Floors getting weaker up here by the second.”

He followed with boots, a little too big for your feet but they would do, your sneakers left discarded on the floor beside you as he laced them up, and you forced yourself to be strong, just like everybody else had been today. Leaning down to take the radio and make sure it was on for you to speak into, you found yourself rearing into action. “I’m going to get a neck brace from our ambo’ and a blackboard, our best bet is to just slide him across it while he’s unconscious, like a conveyor belt, fastest way.”

“I’ll get you two men and we’ll call in for a third ambo’ to collect him.” Thomas confirmed, and you tried to get used to walking in the heavy material, feeling like your body was being weighed down by all the gear. Newt was just getting himself ready to leave for the hospital, closing up the back of the ambulance, and his eyes scanned over you before a cheeky grin was taking place.

“Wow, look at you. Hot date?”

“Yeah, real hot.” You muttered, jabbing a finger over your shoulder. “I need the backboard and the neck brace, I’ll meet you back at the station, alright?”

He only nodded his head, hanging both pieces of equipment to you and sealing up the van, but before you’d managed to catch sight of the smile that John had sent you, his wife petting their daughter’s hair as they were confirmed to all be alright.

Chuck checked your mask, turned on your tank, and a rush of pure air filled your lungs as you took a breath, before the helmet was being placed over your head, and you already felt like you were burning up from the inside out. You’d dashed into a burning building before, hopped up on adrenaline and desperation, but this somehow felt different.

Like an out of body experience as you felt the wooden flooring chip under your feet, crunching as it burned away to ash, the actors half-fallen apart, and Chuck guided you upstairs slowly the bottom of the house utterly destroyed. Brenda met you at the top, her hands held out for you to take, her fingers wrapping around your forearms as you reciprocated, and she eased you the rest of the way up.

Minho was next, visible through his mask as you got closer, and he nodded his head to you, hands holding firmly onto the hose as he tried to get control over the building once again. It felt odd, like you were walking in one of those simulation arcade attractions or playing a video game, every movement you made never feeling like your own through the layers of equipment.

The ladder was already set up, balancing precariously from one window ledge to the other.

The one opposite you seemed much more secure, not yet tarnished by flames, whereas this one was uneven, the end being held down by Gally, and all the men in the room stood a little teller, springing to action as you reserved. “About time.”

“I was doing my best.” You sneered, brown eyes rolling a little at you through the cover of the glass. Gally took the board from you, tying a piece of rope to each end of it, and checking the length, and you wandered over to the window ledge, looking out and peering down at the grass below.

“I’m going to go over fist, and secure it at the other end for you, then you come over. We get him on the board, send him back. Gally and Chuck will take him out to the ambo’. You’ll go across next, Minho will hold the ladder for you, and I’ll come last, you got it?”

You could only nod your head, feeling like the information was going in one ear and out of the other, and your head spun a little as you watched Thomas climb up and out of the window, crawling his way across the divide in a fast shuffle, no hesitation present, jumping right into the action.

He pried the window open, a precarious balancing act that made your breath hitch in your throat as the ladder-bridge wobbled, before he was slipping inside. Turning back and waving his hands out, Gally sent the board across, a piece of string pulled tighter, and now, you understood what the string had been for, the length reaching all the way from one house to the other, even when the board was taken inside and laid on the floor.

You were next, hands placed on the edge of the window, and jumping back a little as still fighting flames from the lower floors roared up at you. Your back pressed to Gally’s chest, and he placed a shoulder on your upper arm, the tank between you both that had collided with his chest making him huff, but he squeezed reassuringly and pushed your forward again.

“Any time today would be great, (Y/L/N).”

“I’m fucking scared, okay? Give me a damn minute, this isn’t what I do, I don’t go into the fires!” You yelled, hands forming fists as you tried to contain yourself, and Thomas didn’t say anything else after that. You climbed up, one knee pressed to metal that was already beginning to get warm, you could feel it through the protective pants you wore, and your hands sealed around the edges. Bringing the other own up, you found yourself kneeling over a twenty-foot drop directly into a fire from two windowsills, one of which was crumbling. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck..”

“You’re doing great, alright?”

His voice was much softer this time, your head snapping up, and while one hand was still holding onto the ladder, the other was reaching out, pointing a little ahead of one of your hands.

“One rung at a time, alright? You can do this, c’mon. This man needs your help.”

The brace you had clipped to your back swung a little, your body moving as your instinct to catch it kicked in, and the ladder rocked, a small shriek leaving your lips. The encouragement he gave you was a nice alternative to the constant feuding, but it was more the other words he’d said that gave you the confidence to go on. Someone’s life was in your hands, and you’d be damned if you took so long being scared that he died before you could help him. Picking up motion, you did as he said, one rung at a time as you moved out toward the middle of the ladder.

“That’s it, nice work.” He nodded, pointing at other spots to put your hands, before lifting his own, offering a thickly gloved hand to you, and you hesitated for only a moment, pausing, before reaching out to take it, and he gripped onto you tightly. “See? I got you, you’re fine.”

He tugged you closer, inching you the rest of the way forwards, and helping you down from the window at the other side, until you were balancing on your feet again. This room wasn’t yet on fire, but smoke was filling it, beginning to seep between the floorboards as an ominous and foreboding orange glow was present, the floor burning away beneath your very feet.

As told, there he was, the old man on his bed, looking as peaceful as though he were sleeping, and you made your way over to him. Smoothing along his body, you tried lifting one of his eyelids, barely being able to get a soft grip through the gloves, and struggling to hold down the tip of your keychain flashlight.

“I can’t do a damn thing with these stupid gloves on!”

“Don’t you da-” You didn’t care, stripping them off and pushing them into his hands as you hissed, not having realised just how much these clothes were shielding you from, the heat in the room almost unbearable on your flesh as your skin tingled. Checking his eyes and his pulse, you found movement of his pupils, slower than ideal but still there, and a low but prominent pulse under his skin.

“He’s okay, we’re all good here.” Thomas only nodded his head, handing the gloves back to you urgently, and moving to unclip the neck support from your pack as you worked. Sealing the plastic contraption around his neck to keep his head secure, you rolled him onto his side, the board coming next, rope beginning to pull tighter as you tried to cross the room to reach him, before finally getting him situated.

Strapped down and sealed on tight, you helped Thomas begin to place him delicately on the ladder, and once again fear was taking you over completely. There were flashing cameras, a group of people far bigger than it had been when you were on the street, and a final ambulance ready to offer assistance.

“That’s a lot of people.” You mumbled, feeling a hand on your shoulder as Thomas pulled you back and away from the window.

“Then don’t look.” He tossed you a glance, before helping Gally begin to inch the man across the bridge, rope always pulled tight to keep him secure, and it felt like lifetimes passed as you watched him go, inch by inch, until Chuck was taking a hold of the top half, pulling it further inside until Gally could take the other, and just like that, the man was safe.

Minho took their place, the man on the stretcher disappearing into the smoke with both of the taller firefighters as Thomas was stuck with you, and you shook yourself out, trying to rid yourself of tension and patting yourself down to check everything was okay.

“Don’t pay any attention to them, okay?” Hands found your arms, turning you to look at him, looking up through the glass to find his eyes. “They’re a distraction, just focus on my voice, and Minho’s voice, that’s it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You ready?”

You weren’t sure you’d ever really be ready to crawl over a pit of fire on an unstable bridge between two burning buildings, but you nodded anyway, and climbed up onto the frame. One inch at a time, you made your way across, whimpering a little under your breath with every shake and jolt it made as the windowsill finally started to collapse. You wanted to be fast but cautious, keeping it steady without freezing up, and there was a point in the middle where the hands Thomas had placed on your hips to keep you steady slipped away, but you were not yet in reach of Minho, and you were completely on your own.

Two feet, and then you’d be able to reach Minho, to let him pull you inside and back to reasonable safety, and you were pretty sure that after this, you were never going to be offering to go into a burning building again. One foot, and Minho was lifting his hands up to you, the gentle but firm mumblings to hurry up echoing from Thomas, and then a hand wrapped around yours, giving you the confidence and security to speed up.

When your feet finally touched the ground once again, you were letting out a happy sigh, a kind of high racing through your system at the relief of being safe once again making you feel like you could float in clouds. You turned back, watching Thomas adjust his gloves, the flames in the room behind him beginning to grow as the floorboards started to give way at the cracks, and Minho was holding the ladder secure, but the flames were growing higher, and the charred wood was beginning to give way.

“Lieutenant, you need to speed up, this window is going to give way soon.”

“My glove won’t tie.” He muttered, trying the toggle again, but the plastic clip seemed to have snapped, and as he tried to fasten it again, the creaking of the wood made his head snap up. Surveying the scene, the ladder was already sitting at a slightly uneven angle now, and you swallowed thickly at the sight, now wishing you’d had the bravery to move a little faster. “Right, well, guess we’re going as it is.”

Climbing his way up onto the bars, his body was tilted, slumping a little towards the flames as the team below moved the hose, trying to spray the flames enough to keep them down, but without creating smoke that would blind him. Stepping back, you crossed your arms over your chest, anxiety taking over, and you brought a thumb up to your mouth to chew on the nail from habit. Your thumb hit against the glass of your mask, a low curse on your lips as a single strike of pain moved along your arm.

Thomas was only halfway across, before the ladder was shaking again, a chunk of burned wood falling away as the ladder shuddered and fell, falling onto its side a little further, and Thomas had only stuck to the rung by hooking each foot into the rungs, body leaning into the flames a little more. The sirens, the ambulance pulling away and the shouts of those outside, the burning of flames, creaking of wood, spraying of water, all fell away. It was terrifying, to think that if you had just moved a little fast he could be back by now, if you’d made it to the door to leak the gas faster, or notice the neighbour a little sooner that nobody would have been on a ladder at all.

“Thomas, hurry up!”

“Yeah, thanks for that, I was thinking I’d take it even slower!” He huffed into the comm, and you weren’t sure where your own words had come from, but the desperation and fear of losing a team member had you on edge.

The window was giving easy, the closer he got and the more weight was on that spot, the more it began to crumble, and you saw it give way before it registered, Minho’s hands leaving the handles of the ladder to grab for Thomas, and you heard the grunt he let out as the side of his body collided with the building.

The ladder clattered to the ground outside, and just like that, plumes of smoke were rising as the flames were finally put out, black clouds rising up and blocking your view of the other house as an acrid smell filled the air. Minho had one hand, pulling him, up, and the other latched onto the windowsill, scrabbling. His wrist was exposed, a raw gap between the sleeve and the glove that wouldn't fasten, and you managed to find action on shaky legs, stepping forwards and wrapping your hands around his wrists, helping to pull him up and through the window, protecting the exposed patch.

He rolled over the floor, a loud banging as he collapsed down onto it, splayed out across the floor and relieved. One hand lay across his chest, and your legs felt weak and wobbly from the exertion and adrenaline of the day, and you leaned on the wall for support. Minho patted at your shoulder, a weak laugh on his lips, and the floorboards and you creaked with the weight of Thomas shifting, before you could sense eyes on you, cracking them open to see him standing before you.

“Go, c’mon. This house is still dangerous, you need to get out.”

You nodded, body trembling a little as you tried to control it, following in his steps as he led the way, thick smoke and glowing ass as the house was destroyed, melted plastic and synthetics, like some kind of horror scene, and you supposed that, in a way, it was. When your feet finally found the grass again, you stripped your helmet off from your head, mask following, a gasping breath as you felt the cool breeze sweeping over your skin, and you felt practically layered in sweat. Making your way back to where your pack and your shoes were still laying by one of the firetrucks, you leaned against it, sinking down to the floor as you finally let the tension go.

Your elbows propped up on bent knees, holding up your head as it fell forwards, and you let out a shaky breath, finding that you weren’t a fan of the fire scene. It wasn’t what you were used to, last-minute decisions in burning houses weren’t your forte. You were good with medicine, and you knew how to save lives, that was your skill. Burning buildings and heights over a sinister drop to your death, not so much.

A scuffing sounded beside you, and you looked up, frowning at Thomas as he let his jacket fall down his arms, the red and burned flesh of his wrists shown to you more obviously. He placed it back inside, before turning to you, hand held out to take your helmet and mask from you, silently as he put them back in the correct places within the van. Next up was your jacket, and you stretched your legs out before yourself to lean forwards and strip it off, handing it up to him, and shivering and the sudden cold that took you over as you were down the layer you’d grown accustomed to.

Leaning forwards to undo the boots, you pulled one foot forward, beginning to struggle with the laces that Chuck had down for you, unbelievably tight, and huffing as you finally got it untangled. “You did good in there.”

You paused from where you were loosening the laces down, turning to look up at him, and he wasn’t paying any attention to you, but he did catch your eye for a split second. “Thank you. I hated every second of it.”

His lips flicked up at the sides, and he nodded his head, moving to take a seat in front of you, and pulling your other foot to sit before him on the concrete and beginning to undo the knots. “I can tell, but you pulled through as a part of the team, it was good work.”

“I think this is the longest you’ve ever been nice to me.”

“I’m not being nice, I’m simply giving you feedback. If I wanted to be nice to you, I would be.” He muttered, pulling both boots from your feet and standing back up, leaving you to wince as your heels hit the ground, a shock running up the nerves along your legs. “Hurry up and get yourself up, Brenda is already rolling up the hose, we’re going to leave soon. You’ll have to get a lift back with us.”

“Sure thing, Lieutenant.” Your eyes rolled, standing up to push the baggy pants down your legs, leaving you once again in your paramedic trousers, and kicking them off at your ankles, leaving them in a pile at his feet, a sickly sweet smile on your lips as you bent to collect your bag and your shoes. “I’ll get a lift with Truck.”

You gave him a small salute, walking right past him as his stare flickered between you and the pile of clothing, a growl on his lips, but you were already walking away from him. Gally was more than happy to offer you a lift, holding open the back of the truck, and settled down into the leather seats, the smell of sweat and burn lingering in the cabin. Tying up one shoe, you switched feet, sorting the other out, before slumping into the chair.

Fry was the first back, up into the front seat as he restarted the vehicle, the engine under your feet chugging to life, and as the humming of the engine started up, the pounding behind your eyes becoming apparent, rubbing at your eyes as they closed. Winston was next, sliding into the seats opposite you, Clint following, and you slumped out as they began to discuss the day.

It had been exhausting, everything in you was screaming out for sleep, and with only a few hours left of your shift, you knew you would be collapsing into sleep from the moment you got home tonight. The day had been taxing both mentally, physically and emotionally, and as Chuck squeezed in beside you, your head fell to his shoulder.

“You’re all sweaty.” You grumbled, and he only laughed, the vehicle charging into motion once Gally was in the front seat and the rest of the Truck team were on board, your eyes sliding closed.

The journey seemed to slip away, the headache in your skull pounding away, and you managed to find your phone in your backpack, bringing it up at one point to text Newt and find out where he was, only to discover he'd been back at the Firehouse for almost half an hour, and was probably eating the cereal bars you’d hidden.

The time slipped away, and you felt as though you’d almost drifted off, against your own intentions, jerking up a little as the truck came to a halt.

“You’re tired, huh?”

“Yes.” You muttered, groaning as you forced yourself to your feet and stepped down from the platform of the truck, leaving the men to swap out their shoes and hang up their equipment, and Newt had his arms held out to you with a grin on his face, cooing at you as you stumbled forward. “Stop making fun of me.”

“Someone looks exhausted!” He practically sang the words, and you groaned, slumping into him as his arms wrapped around you, and he laughed in your ear while rubbing a hand up and down your back. He eased you for a second, going quiet as he held you, before pulling back, and squeezing at your arms. “How’s that headache?”

“Raging.”

“I got you some painkillers out.” He mumbled, one arm wrapping over your shoulders and guiding you over to the truck. He had a hot bucket of disinfectant and the mop, and as well as all the cleaning equipment, the smell of chemicals already present and showing off that he’d already started on the work to be done. “If you keep me company, I’ll clean the ambo’.”

“You’re a blessing.” He only nodded, handing you two tablets and a plastic cup of water, you chugged them down, all but crawling through the van to slump into the front seat, legs curled up a little as you rested against the still warm fabric.

The rhythmic motions of the mop along the floor created a soft noise, one that was steady enough to lull you into sleep, and even from in here, you could hear the loud ticking of the clock on the wall outside, every single second passing by being counted off in your head as you matched your heartbeat to it.

“Newt, I need a favour.” You groaned, keeping it internal as you bit on the inside of your cheek at the grating sound of a voice belonging to the person you arguably despised most in the world right now. “I got a little burned up, so I need some treatment.”

“I’m busy right now, Tommy. (Y/N) can do it.”

“I’m perfectly fine, I’ll just wait.” You cowered a little behind your chair as you hoped Newt would let him go, but your meddling blond friend tutted his lips, putting down the mop, and you already knew what was coming.

“Not with those burns you won’t. You don’t mind, right, love?”

“I really, really do mind.” You raised a hand over your head, flipping the pair off, but waiting only a second longer, before standing up. Making your way through the vehicle, you were at least feeling a little better, even if the weight of the equipment you’d worn, the heat and the terrifying near-death experience was still making you feel physically drained, your almost-nap and painkillers had taken care of you mentally. “Fine, but you can come here. I’m not standing up.”

You collapsed down on the edge of the van, a white vest-clad chest filling your view as he came to stand before you, and you reached for your bag, Grabbing at the medkit inside, Newt snorted, hopping down and moving away to empty the mop bucket, whistling obnoxiously. Pulling on a fresh pair of rubber gloves, you wiggled your fingers a little, latex snapping against your wrist as you let the edge go, before moving onto the job at hand.

Doing an assessment of his injuries, you sighed, letting his hand go to sit in the space between you both, to find both the types of disinfectant. Holding up one canister and one clear bottle, a coppery coloured liquid inside, he looked between them both, brows furrowed, before looking back to you. “Which do you want?”

“What’s the difference?”

“This one-” You held up the can, shaking it a little. “-is a foam, it stings a bit more, but it makes a cool covering that makes it feel better. But this one-” You shook the bottle, the liquid inside sloshing a little as a layer of bubbles built up. “-is just a liquid, doesn’t hurt as much, but won’t take the heat out.”

“I literally could not care less. I just want to get something to eat, and go back to sleep.” You shrugged, grabbing a pad of cotton and tipping some of the liquid onto it, making sure the soft bundle was soaked enough, before folding his fingers into a fist, and beginning to clean at the skin, ignoring the hiss on his lips.

“I made you a plate of food, from breakfast this morning. It’s in the fridge.”

You jumped a little as you heard the aww-ing from across the room, both of your heads turning to look at Newt as he leaned on the cabinets not far away, arms crossed over his chest as he was busy with absolutely fuck-all, and you scowled at him.

“You made me food?”

Thomas’ voice was whispered, and you only glanced up at him for a second, before dipping your head in a series of slow nods, confirming his question, and reaching for some burn cream. Smearing it on your fingers, you rubbed it against the back of your hand, warming it up until it was longer as stiff, and rubbing it onto his skin.

“Thanks, that was nice of you.”

“I’m not being nice, I’m simply doing my job.” The neutral expression on his face dropped into a scowl as you grinned, using his own words against him. Switching to a set of wrappings, you adjusted his arm in front of you, placing the edge of the gauze between his thumb and forefinger, you sealed it down over unblemished skin with bandage tape. “You know, it’s actually in my job description to keep the firefighters in peak health.”

With each layer of bandaging, you added a layer of cooling spray, and he grunted under his breath. “You couldn't just accept a compliment?”

“Well, you made it very clear that we aren’t nice to one another.”

“You’re being petty.” He grouched, snatching his hand back from you as soon as the wrapping was sealed up, one more glare at you before he was glaring at Newt, and walking back out of the room and ignoring you both, especially Newt’s laughing. He made his way over to you, still cracking up, his hand wrapped around his stomach, and you raised a brow at him as you began to pack everything away.

“What’s so funny, chuckles?”

“You and Thomas. Your bickering,” You turned to him, shaking your head as you tried to find an argument for his meddling, and pulling off the gloves from your hands. “You’re like a married couple.”

“If married couples argued like Thomas and I did, they’d be getting divorced.”

“I don’t even think you know what you’re arguing about anymore. You’re just getting at each other, now.” He shrugged, pulling you up from where you were sitting, in order to lock up the doors of the ambulance. “You just got off on the wrong foot, but mark my words, you won’t hate each other forever. I already know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Newt.”

#thomas #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #smoke and fire #SAF #tomuary #tom-uary #tommy month #thomas/reader smut #thomas x reader smut #thomas the maze runner #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner

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gladdygirl18 · 3 years

Text

An Emerald Surprise

Summary: While watching a movie at Jotaro’s, Kakyoin decides to annoy his friend. Jotaro saw this as a challenge and ran with it. He just wasn’t expecting Kakyoin to giggle when he poked his side.

Word Count: 2132

⚠️Warning⚠️: Mild swearing (from you know who)

Let’s get one thing straight. Jotaro Kujo is by far the most serious young man you will ever meet. His calm demeanor towards tough situations is honorable and acknowledgeable. To his enemies, it’s scary as hell. They could never tell what he’s thinking. No one can, for that matter. The only one who really knows him is his ever-so-sweet, happy-go-lucky mother, Holly. Holly is the only one who can see past her son’s cold attitude.

It was a warm, summer afternoon in Japan, and school was out for everyone. Kakyoin had come over to Jotaro’s house to hang out. Luckily for them, they didn’t have any work to do over the summer. Holly and Kakyoin’s mother were close friends, so they didn’t mind their sons visiting one another every now and then.

“What movie do you wanna see?” Jotaro asked.

“Any movie is fine, JoJo.” Kakyoin said from the couch.

Jotaro hummed as he scanned through the movies. He soon picked up a VHS tape that read “Never Cry Wolf,” his favorite film. Sliding the film in the player, he walked back to the couch and plopped down next to Kakyoin. The black-haired teen picked up the remote and started the movie. Even though Jotaro had seen this movie a thousand times, he still enjoyed watching it. Kakyoin eventually found enjoyment in the film once he got a grasp of the plot.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Jotaro asked suddenly.

“Some water would be nice, thank you.” Kakyoin said with a genuine grin.

Standing up, the black-haired teen patted his friend’s shoulder before heading into the kitchen. Kakyoin slumped into the couch as he let out a content sigh, watching the men move across the screen. The redhead soon sat up when he came up with a cheeky idea. It’d probably cost him his life, but it would be worth it.

“Let’s see how much it takes to really annoy the shit out of JoJo...” Kakyoin though, a sly smirk forming on his.

Jotaro soon came back and handed Kakyoin a cup with ice water.

“I didn’t know if you wanted ice or not.” Jotaro said as he sat down.

“It’s fine,” Kakyoin said with a kind smile, “Thank you!”

Jotaro gave his friend a small grin before turning back to the movie. Kakyoin waited a few minutes before putting his plan into action. The redhead let out a dramatic yawn and rested his feet across Jotato’s lap. The black-haired teen glanced at his friend before looking back at the TV. Kakyoin often forgets that Jotaro is a patient, young man, and it doesn’t take a lot to piss him off. Kakyoin knew this and used it to his advantage. Kakyoin pretended to stretch and dramatically crossed his legs. Jotaro continued to watch the movie as if nothing happened.

“Yeah, this is gonna harder than I thought...” Kakyoin thought, “No matter. He’ll crack soon.”

What Kakyoin didn’t know was that Jotaro had caught on to his intentions to annoy him. He knew his redheaded friend like the back of his hand, and if he was going to annoy him, he at least wants to give him a run for his money. Kakyoin sighed and placed his heels and Jotaro’s shoulder, playfully tapping the side of his head with the tip of his shoe. No reaction. Now, Kakyoin was getting frustrated. Jotaro noticed this and let the corners of his lip curve upwards.

“Is something wrong, Kakyoin?” Jotaro asked casually, allowing his grin to fade to mask the facade.

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong,” Kakyoin lied, “Nothing at all...”

Jotaro nodded and his attention back to the TV.

“Don’t worry, Kakyoin. I’ll annoy you when you least expect it and see how you like it...” Jotaro thought, glancing at the redhead.

After a few minutes of trying to annoy the crap out of Jotaro, Kakyoin let out a defeated sigh and sat upright. Jotaro smirked when he did this. Leaning back into the couch, Jotaro glanced over at Kakyoin to see his annoyed and defeated look.

“He annoyed himself.” Jotaro thought, “Let’s help him with that...”

Jotaro sat up and saw that Kakyoin was completely engulfed in the movie; it almost looked like he was sleeping. Making sure, the black-haired teen poked the redhead’s side, causing him to flinch away with a giggle. The two teens glanced at one another and Kakyoin’s cheeks turned red.

“What was that?” Jotaro asked.

“N-Nothing! It was nothing!” Kakyoin said quickly, “Nothing to worry about!”

Jotaro knew exactly what was going on and Kakyoin was praying that he didn’t. The black-haired teen shrugged his shoulders and went back to the movie. Kakyoin breathed out a sigh of relief and placed a hand on his side where Jotaro poked him. That’s when Jotaro pounced on top of him, causing Kakyoin to let out a surprised yelp. The two wrestled on the floor until Jotaro was finally on top.

“What the hell, Jotaro!?” Kakyoin asked, “What the hell was that for?”

“Good grief, Kakyoin. You really thought you could hide your secret from me?” Jotaro asked, raising a brow.

Kakyoin swallowed hard and looked away from his friend.

“W-What secret...?” Kakyoin asked with a nervous smile.

Jotaro groaned and shook his head. Not wasting any time, Jotaro raked his fingers up and down Kakyoin’s ribs and sides. Kakyoin let out a giggly yelp before dissolving into adorable giggles.

“Jotarohohohohoho! Stohohohop!” Kakayoin giggled out, “What are you dohohoihihihing?!”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Jotaro asked casually.

Kakyoin twisted from side to side, giggling his heart out.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t catch onto what you were doing?” Jotaro asked, “Trying to annoy me the shit outta me, huh? Well, now I’m gonna tickle the shit outta you!”

“How are they relevaahahahahahant?” Kakyoin asked.

Jotaro shrugged his shoulders and moved his hands down to Kakyoin’s belly and hips, moving one of his thumbs in a circular motion on the bone itself and the other vibrating on his belly. Kakyoin bucked upwards, sat up, and latched onto Jotaro’s wrists to make him stop, all while giggling wildly.

“Nohohoho! Don’t do thahahahat!” Kakyoin cried, shaking his head, and trying to pry Jotaro’s hands off him.

“Why? Too much for ya?” Jotaro asked.

The black-haired teen then started vibrating his hands all over his friend’s belly. Kakyoin wheezed before falling back to the ground, letting out louder giggles.

“Oh, my Gohohohohod!” Kakyoin cried, “Stahahaaaaap!”

The redhead flopped around like a fish out of water, his giggles gradually getting louder.

“Stahahahap! Jotaro, plehehehehease!” Kakyoin pleaded, trying to wriggle away.

“You’re not going anywhere...” Jotaro said.

That’s when the black-haired teen manifested his Stand and had it hold down Kakyoin’s hands above his head. Kakyoin’s struggling soon started into frantic thrashing, but he wasn’t getting out of Star Platinum’s titanium grip anytime soon.

“Nohohoho! Let me gohohohoho!” Kakyoin cried.

“Quit your bitchin’ and just take it.” Jotaro said in an annoyed tone.

Kakyoin could barely move. With Jotaro straddling his waist and Star Platinum holding down, he was practically bolted to the ground, and he couldn’t do anything but laugh and plead for mercy that probably wouldn’t be coming anytime soon.

“Jotaro, plehehehease! Stop ihihihit!” Kakyoin cried.

“Good, fucking grief,” Jotaro sighed, “You’re too ticklish for your own good, ya know that, right?”

Kakyoin could barely form a proper word. When Kakyoin didn’t answer his question, Jotaro groaned in mock annoyance and reached a hand behind him to squeeze his friend’s inner thigh. The redhead squealed and kicked his legs out.

“NOT THERE! NOT THEHEHEHEHERE!” Kakyoin cried.

“Weak spot?” Jotaro asked.

When Kakyoin didn’t answer, Jotaro sighed and used his other hand to squeeze his friend’s other thigh. Kakyoin wheezed and shook his head in defiance, the only part of his body he could move beside his legs.

“Next time, you better fucking answer me, understand?” Jotaro asked, “Is this a weak spot?”

“OBVIOUSLY! WHAT DO YOU THIHIHIHIHINK!?” Kakyoin asked.

Jotaro didn’t like Kakyoin’s sass, and to punish him, he started massaging one of his thumbs into his friend’s hipbone again, causing the redhead to give a wild buck and let out a new stream of laughter.

“Ya better watch it,” Jotaro said in a low voice, “Do you have any other weak spots you’d wish to share?”

“LIKE HEHEHEHELL I’D TELL YOHOHOHOHOHOU, YOU AHAHAHAHASSHOHOHOHOLE!” Kakyoin laughed.

Now, this was the sentence that sealed Noriaki Kakyoin’s fate. Jotaro stopped his attack and glared down at his panting friend.

“Thank... Thank you...” Kakyoin panted.

“Who said I was done...?” Jotaro asked.

Kakyoin looked up at his friend and felt helpless the minute he looked into Jotaro’s eyes. He was already shorter than him in height, but now, having Jotaro loom over him like this, Kakyoin felt as small as a mouse.

“I don’t appreciate your shit-talk, Kakyoin. So, until you’ve learned your lesson about not being a shitty bitch, you’ll just have to take your punishment,” Jotaro said, “Now, are you gonna tell me where your weak spot is, or are you gonna be a bitch about it?”

Kakyoin scoffed and rolled his amethyst eyes.

“You don’t scare me anymore, JoJo,” Kakyoin lied, hoping his voice wasn’t too shaky, “I have no other weak spots than my thighs, so good luck, JoJo.”

Kakyoin was just digging a deeper grave for himself. Jotaro chuckled and grinned down at his friend.

“Was hoping you’d say that ‘cause I already know where your other weak spot is.” Jotaro said.

Kakyoin stared up at his friend with wide eyes.

“How...? That’s impossible! H-He’s just bluffing! He’s gotta be...!” Kakyoin panicked.

Kakyoin prayed that Jotaro was bluffing. One thing about Jotaro Kujo that Kakyoin has forgotten in this kind of situation: Jotaro rarely ever bluffs, and at this moment, he isn’t! Jotaro started squeezing his friend’s thighs to get him laughing.

“NOHOHO! JOJOHOHOHOHO!” Kakyoin laughed.

After a while, Jotaro shot his hands into Kakyoin’s armpits. Kakyoin literally screamed with laughter, thrashing in Star Platinum’s unrelenting grip.

“NOOOHOHOHOHOOO! ANYWHERE BUT THEHEHEHEHEHERE!” Kakyoin cried.

“Thought so. I figured this would be your weak spot.” Jotaro said casually.

What Jotaro said startled the redhead.

“YOU MEHEHEHEAN YOHOHOHOU DIDN’T KNOHOHOHOHOHOW?!” Kakyoin asked, “HOHOHOW DID YOU FIHIHIHIND OHOHOHOHOUT?!”

“Pretty simple, actually. I tested every other part of your body except here,” Jotaro deadpanned, “Truth speaks for itself if you ask me.”

Kakyoin was laughing like a lunatic. Kakyoin could barely move his upper body, and to have one of his worsts spots tickled, you can imagine how torturous it must be for him.

“JAHAHAHAHAHAAAAH! JOJO! PLEASE, STAHAHAHAHAP!” Kakyoin cried.

“Have you learned your lesson about not shit-talking towards me?” Jotaro asked.

Kakyoin let out a new stream of laughter at that question.

“YOU DO IT AHAHAHALL THE TIHIHIHIME TO MEHEHEHE! WHY CAN’T IHIHIHIHI DO IT TO YOHOHOHOHOU!?” Kakyoin asked honestly.

“’Cause it’s fucking annoying.” Jotaro answered.

Kakyoin was able to growl through his gales of laughter.

“YOU DOHOHOHON’T THINK I DON’T GEHEHEHEHEHET ANNOHOHOHOHOYED!?” Kakyoin asked.

“You never say anything.” Jotaro said nonchalantly.

Kakyoin threw his head back and let out a louder stream of handsome laughter.

“OH, MY GAHAHAHAHAHAD! YOU’RE FUHUHUHUHUCKING RIDICULOHOHOHOHOUS!” Kakyoin laughed.

“What was that?” Jotaro asked, moving one hand down to squeeze Kakyoin’s thigh.

Kakyoin fell limp with laughter. He felt tears of mirth streaming down his cheeks.

“OKAY, OKAHAHAHAHAY! I’M SAHAHAHAHAAAAAA! I’M SOHOHOHORRY!” Kakyoin cried, “PLEASE STAHAHAHAHAP!”

“Did you learn you’re fucking lesson?” Jotaro asked.

Kakyoin threw his head back when Jotaro hit a sensitive part of his armpit, causing the redhead to squeal once more.

“YEHEHEHEHES! OH, GAHAHAHAHAD YEHEHEHEHES!” Kakyoin laughed, “JUST STAHAHAHAHAP!”

Staying true to his word, Jotaro stopped the ticking and called back his Stand. Kakyoin panted underneath Jotaro, sweat, and tears dripping from his face.

“You suck... so hard...” Kakyoin panted.

“Watch it, jackass.” Jotaro said pointing a finger at him.

Kakyoin rolled his eyes with a wide grin on his face. Jotaro did the same and proceeded to place a kiss on Kakyoin’s quivering lips. The black-haired teen got off the now flustered redhead and offered a hand to him. Kakyoin wanted to question the action displayed upon him, instead, he took Jotaro’s hand and stood up.

“Never tickle me like that again...” Kakyoin said, even though his cheeks were redder than before.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Jotaro asked, “I’m not ticklish.”

Kakyoin glared at his boyfriend and poked his side. Jotaro didn’t even flinch.

“Shit...” Kakyoin muttered.

Jotaro chuckled and pulled his lover into his chest.

“Don’t worry. You’ll have the whole summer to try and get me back.” Jotaro said.

Emphasis on try. And try Kakyoin will. He didn’t care if his boyfriend was built like a brick wall. After all, every wall has a weak point, and Kakyoin was determined to find Jotaro’s.

#tickle #tickle fic #jjba fic #jjba part 3 #jojo tickle #jotaro x kakyoin

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kiruuuuu · 3 years

Text

Protection Mountain: The Finale⛰️

Yes. It is here.

Montagne/Bandit conquered my heart so quickly with what was meant to be a oneshot, then turned into a small series of oneshots, and ended up as my longest series in Siege. And now their main story is coming to an end. I would like to thank absolutely everyone who participated in this journey, be it through direct messages, magnificent art, shared ideas, comments, reblogs, likes, the simple act of reading and enjoying - you helped make this happen, you motivated and encouraged me. Thank you for falling into this bottomless hole with me 💖

A special thank you goes out to @ekhap, who commissioned this piece in the first place - without you, it’s likely I never would’ve written it. I’m so happy you enjoyed it, and I hope all of you who stuck around long enough to read this will too.

I have actually managed to post the entire series on AO3 as well, so you can comfortably read (or re-read) it here!! And without further ado, here is the final chapter of Protection Mountain. (Rating T/M, hurt/comfort + a ridiculous amount of fluff, ~8.5k words)

“I’m leaving tomorrow”, says Madeleine, voice soft and always a reprieve from the harsh reality of the hospital room around them. “I don’t think coming back will be necessary this time.”

Montagne squeezes her hand, making her smile.

She’s been juggling family and career for her entire life and right now is no different: on slower or off days, she hops on the train to visit, taking the opportunity to report on some local stories on the way, utilising her travel time to write up or edit her pieces. A busy bee, always worried about being overshadowed by her older brother. They haven’t seen each other this much for years and though the occasion could be merrier, Montagne is fiercely grateful for her presence. He’s unloaded some of his worries onto her and she onto him, and somehow they ended up lighter than before. Tourés tend to stick together, given the opportunity.

“Why do you say that?”

“You might not realise, but you’re looking much better, Gilles. You’ll be let loose on the world again soon.”

They exchange a quick grin over her choice of words. She’s certainly more of a menace to society than he is, and they both know it.

Next to her, Lion is sitting in a second chair, rigid. He’s confessed to Montagne in private that Madeleine reminds him of his mother – whatever that might entail – and so he’s unfailingly awkward around her, probably ruing the fact that they happened to drop by at the same time today. Dealing with strangers isn’t usually a problem for him; dealing with family of friends, however, is.

Apparently, Bandit won Madeleine over immediately, surprisingly enough. She says it’s his horrific German accent whenever he attempts to speak French and his deadpan humour, but Montagne is relatively sure she senses a bit of how much Bandit cares for him. Tourés are also protective of each other, siblings even more so. She wouldn’t have told him a thing about Montagne’s current condition if she hadn’t thought his worry genuine.

And then, out of the blue: “Cathérine called me.” She still sounds conversational, but her gaze becomes a tad more attentive.

Montagne stills.

Lion’s gaze is jumping back and forth between them, the man even more uncomfortable now.

It’s the last person he expected Madeleine to mention, so he needs a second to compose himself. “What about?” He tries to search for emotions, for any kind of reaction to encountering his wife’s – ex-wife’s name, but comes up empty. It’s like hearing about an old, lost friend of his: someone who once used to be important enough to be mentioned in his will, now someone who barely counts as a remnant in his thoughts.

“You, of course. Maman tattled and, eventually, it reached her. She wanted to know how you are and whether contacting you directly is a good idea.”

“And your reply?”

“I said I’d ask you.”

He nods, thankful. During their divorce, too many people presumed what would be best for either side instead of addressing them directly. It didn’t feel like their own private business anymore, somehow it affected everyone and so everyone was entitled to an opinion and a listening ear. He appreciates Madeleine allowing him this kind of control. “I don’t think she has my current number. Please give it to her and let her know I’d be happy to talk.”

And that’s that. They kiss cheeks and do a half-hug, exchange verbal pleasantries which are nonetheless heartfelt, and then she and her mild perfume are gone, leaving behind a slightly relieved-looking Lion.

“You do look a lot better, you know”, he confirms Madeleine’s earlier assessment, and though he seems intent on changing the topic – for him, family is still a sore topic most days –, Montagne’s mind lingers. Vague memories form a blurry whole, the image so distant it may well originate in a film he once saw or a book he once read.

Catou used to be his entire world and there were days he was convinced he couldn’t go on if she were to leave him. Yet time, the wound-healer, sometimes corrodes instead – and in their case, it must’ve mistaken their passion and devotion for sickness, for it cured them. They noticed before comfort turned into indifference, but only barely. By the time they decided on breaking up, another man was involved as well, though Montagne assigns him no blame whatsoever. Until their divorce was finalised, Catou kept her friend at arm’s length and he never even attempted to get any closer; but while she didn’t allow herself to fall in love again until Montagne openly gave his blessing, he could see the seeds growing already.

Neither of them cheated, he knows this for a fact. They’d never. He noticed how she became aware of the possibility of being with another man after a few of their long talks which denoted the beginning of the end, and while it hurt, he vowed not to stand in her way. If he couldn’t support her, he at least didn’t want to hinder her.

What hurt the most wasn’t any misguided feeling of betrayal or even jealousy, no. It was the realisation that he simply didn’t suffice. He gave her his everything and it turned out it wasn’t enough.

Maybe this is why he won’t accept Bandit’s proposal: the creeping fear of committing fully and finding it to have been in vain.

“You never spoke about her.” His friend has indubitably noticed his mood by now, or maybe the lack of response gave it away.

He supposes he hasn’t. Neither to Bandit nor to Lion, actually, not even when the topic had strayed to Claire and Alexis. “There isn’t much to say”, he summarises well over a decade of companionship, eroded and erased slowly by the very thing which tainted it in the first place: time apart. “We fell in and then out of love. She was a remarkable woman. She deserves someone who can keep up with her.”

Lion fidgets a little, avoids eye contact. Montagne’s words might’ve struck a chord but he’s too exhausted, too restless to talk it out. Madeleine’s statement has given him hope that he can leave soon, leave Bandit’s birthplace behind, hopefully to return and make happier memories in the future.

His friend’s next question catches him off guard. “Why did you marry her?”

It’s so much out of character for him to ask that Montagne needs a few seconds to come up with a reply. “I loved her, with all my heart. I expected to spend the rest of my life with her. Why do you -”

“Then why are you saying no to him?”

Montagne stares, shocked. The slight petulant undertone, the hint of defiance, the blunt accusation – Bandit himself could’ve posed the question, and it’s not for the first time Montagne realises how alike the two of them really are. But what leaves him utterly dumbstruck isn’t the implication of Lion approving of a marriage between them, no, it’s the fact that he can’t come up with a reasonable answer.

At least not one which doesn’t sound like an excuse.

He must’ve realised the impact his words have left behind, so Lion swiftly changes topics yet again, allowing for Montagne to recover and respond to a few simple inquiries, but nothing really manages to soften the blow.

~*~

There’s a reason he chose le Roc over more modern, flashier, possibly more efficient alternatives.

When he was younger, he used to hide his height by slouching, felt embarrassed by the fact that he’d stick out due to something he neither chose nor controlled – as a tall, muscular man, he’s perceived as intimidating or, worse, a challenge. He reacted to mentions of his physique with sheepish smiles and laughed it off when people referred to his ability to beat up whomever he liked, portraying it as enviable.

It took him a while until he began seeing his build as an advantage. It took friends confessing they felt safe with him around. Acquaintances appreciating his company during the dark. His soon-to-be wife admiring his drive to put his stature to good use. Ultimately, it influenced first impressions only, a quick glance upwards, but as soon as people heard him speak gently, noticed his aversion to unnecessary violence, be it verbal or otherwise, they forgot about his impressive physique immediately.

Like le Roc, it’s a shield. He utilises his own body to protect others and has subconsciously done so his entire life, be it to separate his little sister from her bullies, friends from aggressors, or even two agitated strangers: he absorbs the blows which to him are no more than light punches whereas they could cause more harm on their intended victims. He’s been likened to a mastiff and their instinctual drive to break up fights by simply standing in the way.

Like le Roc, it’s an asset. And like le Roc, it can get damaged.

What he hadn’t realised is just how much he relies on his body to function exactly the way he needs it to.

His life is his job, they’re irredeemably intertwined, and imagining one without the other is … nigh impossible. His mind struggles to come up with alternatives – helping others is in his essence, but picturing himself working in a nursing home maybe or a school, a community centre, is madness to him. Catou had been very involved in these kinds of projects, volunteered wherever there was a need, and while he saw the good she did, the joy she spread, she had a certain soft touch he simply lacks.

He’s a mountain. He can kill and besiege and protect and recover and rescue, but the thought of being responsible for children not his own, or the well-being of elderly people, terrifies him. A small mistake, a brief distraction could prove fatal. He’s trained for combat.

He needs to recover.

Sometimes, he wakes up and can’t feel his limbs. He hasn’t stood on his own two legs for who knows how long. Movement hurts, lying down hurts, existence hurts. But what hurts most is the prospect of never returning to the work he’s destined for.

No one is allowed to catch a glimpse of his frustration as he feels it’s ungrateful, possibly even malicious. Not only should he be elated over having survived at all, it would also imply he regrets having taken the actions he did, and nothing could be further from the truth. Saving Lion was inevitable; he just wishes he could’ve gotten away with less serious injuries. He wishes so fiercely. Bottling up his anger is destructive and being fully aware of how irrational his behaviour is merely continues the spiral of negativity, yet he’s powerless to change it. The people closest to him are still processing the shock of almost losing him and don’t need the added burden of his dread for his own future.

He wonders whether Bandit is repulsed by him. Aside from his atrophied muscles, he’s lost weight, there are the burns which will likely mark his body for the rest of his life, another ugly scar on one thigh where he’s been stitched up. His skin is discoloured in multiple places and he vividly remembers the way Madeleine winced when she visited him the first time. He already doesn’t consider himself overly attractive, so he must seem frightening. It doesn’t help that Bandit distanced himself the way he did at first – though it was likely the shock affecting him still.

Recently though, his lover has been doing much better. He’s been doing amazing, actually: when Bandit isn’t visiting him, he’s out and about, meeting with friends from the GSG9, eating at exotic restaurants, working out, keeping himself entertained. He keeps messaging Montagne, sending photos of dogs he meets or particularly tasty dishes they need to cook together (or rather attempt to), and every line of text lightens his heart. Bandit even keeps Six and Blitz up to date, informing Doc of Montagne’s condition unprompted, and converses with Madeleine as best he can. Of course, there are bad days sprinkled in now and then, days on which his gaze is endless and unfocused, days on which Bandit is either taciturn or won’t stop talking about unrelated things so Montagne can’t ask him how he’s doing. Recovery isn’t fast or linear, Montagne knows this.

He’s so goddamn proud nonetheless.

And even though seeing Bandit flourish, having watched him pick himself back up and carry on where he left off, witnessing the man he loves with all his heart succeed over this void in his chest once again causes Montagne’s chest to swell in pride and adoration, there’s a bitter note to it. An out-of-tune note, a scratchy, unpleasant one. Because Montagne believes he knows the reason for Bandit’s sudden motivation to improve his existence. And it’s not for its own sake, not for Bandit’s own benefit alone.

Montagne remembers stewing in his own thoughts, fighting the urge to call himself useless, agonising over what might become of him, and there’s no way Bandit didn’t catch him wiping his face when he burst into the room that one day a while back. He must’ve noticed how red Montagne’s eyes were, unusually red. He must’ve realised how fucking weak Montagne is. And probably decided it was his turn to take care of his love.

The next day, Bandit announced having joined a local gym for the time being, as well as his intention to watch a film by himself later. It can’t be a coincidence.

There’s nothing worse for Montagne than being a burden.

~*~

Bandit’s energy is enviable. It seems he’s attempted to prepare for every scenario imaginable: he’s washed all of Montagne’s clothes, bought a variety of snacks and pastries, piled magazines on the bedside table, purchased all kinds of toiletries and remedies including a remarkably well-stocked first aid kit, arranged lush-looking fruits on the small desk of their hotel room, and even produces ear plugs and a sleeping mask the moment Montagne mentions feeling vaguely tired.

It’s hard not to get swept up in the atmosphere his lover creates, especially when his own chest seems unusually light compared to the weeks prior – he’s elated to be discharged from the hospital, even if all kinds of other worries creep up on him during moments of quiet. Being able to return home is a wish he harboured without realising: he thought all he needed was distance from the very place that so consciously reminds him of his own frailty, but it turns out privacy and a new environment don’t suffice, not even close. Sharing a space with Bandit and Bandit only is an immense improvement, yet he longs to sleep in his own bed, feel like he belongs instead of being a perpetual guest. Still, he’s grateful for the spacious hotel room, some peace and quiet, and the assurance that no one is going to randomly check up on him anymore.

Except for Bandit, of course.

Maybe it was Madeleine’s comment which inspired him, or maybe he hadn’t realised how much he’d recuperated already, but once his sister had bidden farewell, his condition improved fast. It culminated two days ago, when Bandit entered his room to find him awkwardly holding on to the bed frame but standing, fully upright with no outside help, due to his own strength. He half expected to be scolded, though his weakness must’ve taken its toll on Bandit as well because all he did was burst into tears from happiness.

Montagne very nearly joined in.

Six arranged a flight directly once she received the message, paid for a wheelchair without batting an eye and ordered him to take it easy nonetheless. His leg will take a while to heal and the broken ribs forbid the use of crutches, so Montagne dutifully agreed and thought he could hear her smiling over the phone. He missed her curt, professional yet caring attitude, and it seemed she’d be glad to see him again as well.

All of which is why he’s allowed to spend his last night in Germany’s capital in the very same hotel room he occupied before it all fell apart. The life before tastes like honey, sweet and much too rich, thick in his throat and welding his mouth shut: how much he took his health for granted baffles him. How careless he was. How ungrateful. He longs to get back to lazy evenings with an oversized cat purring on his chest, to the chaos of messing up yet another recipe, their light-hearted bickering, not a care in the world. He’s desperate to return to it, without that creeping feeling of guilt over turning Bandit down for a mixture of sentimental, inadequate reasons he can’t even explain to himself. He lacks the words to express why the image of swapping rings or – heaven forbid – inviting his entire family to a big ceremony fills him with nothing but dread when instead he should be exuberant. Flattered, maybe.

“Do you want to shower?”

Bandit reminds him of a puppy, easily distractible and well-meaning, radiating pent-up energy. Montagne regrets having to refuse him anything. “No, I’d rather just read a bit and sleep. I can shower at home tomorrow.”

His lover very nearly pouts. “Are you saying I have to find another excuse to touch you all over?”

Montagne’s chuckle almost gets stuck in his throat. He’s not ready yet and has been racking his brain for reasons why they can’t sleep in the same bed, or why he won’t be able to undress at any point. He’ll have to deal with this eventually, but his foolish mind has convinced him he’ll be able to postpone it indefinitely if only he manages to use his injuries as a pretext.

If he wasn’t so fucking terrified, he’d call himself childish.

There’s no doubt Bandit has made an effort to tidy up the room, yet there are unmistakeable traces of his prolonged stay everywhere – the overflowing suitcase, tissues poking out from under furniture, too many cables for too many electronic devices carelessly strewn about. Housekeeping probably gave up after two weeks and resigned to only vacuum wherever possible and change the bedsheets, and the thought of exasperated staff dealing with the stubborn git he missed like hell makes him smile. He’s heard stories from various nurses and highly enjoyed Bandit’s redemption arc of starting out as a nightmare and turning into the highlight of their days. If he saw correctly, Bandit even bought them flowers. He must be very proud of his newly discovered move to weaken grudges.

“Wanna get on the bed?”, Bandit interrupts his thoughts a little too casually, so Montagne eyes him with suspicion.

“Do you want me to get on the bed?”

His better half purses his lips, probably considering whether it’s worth pretending like he has no idea what Montagne means (and oh, he hasn’t even considered this prospect, they’ll be finally alone and undisturbed, and despite his aversion to show any part of his skin, his body expresses some interest in the scenario) – but Bandit still manages to surprise him by muttering, almost embarrassed: “I just really want to cuddle right now.”

It’s disarmingly adorable, and Montagne’s heart melts. “Let’s do it, then”, he agrees. There’s some awkwardness in manoeuvring him out of the wheelchair and onto the much-too-soft mattress, but Bandit is stronger than he looks and able to provide enough support. As soon as Montagne sinks into the plushy pillows and Bandit presses himself against his side, all tension suddenly vanishes: his muscles relax, his thoughts calm down, his skin stops prickling. He hadn’t been aware how much he missed simple contact like this, the heat of another body against his own, the blissful feeling of being safe, being home, being loved.

This tiny bubble of everyday life suffices to soothe his cracked soul. He wishes he could wrap around Bandit fully, envelop him whole, drag him onto his chest, pull him into his arms – even offering his shoulder for Bandit’s head to rest on would help with his burning desire to be as close to him as possible, but for the moment he can’t. Not without considerable pain. Still, Bandit’s hand has slid into his, their fingers interlaced, and a gentle, regular breath caresses his cheek. Now and then, Bandit nuzzles him, presses a kiss to his cheek, sighs in contentment. They could stay like this for eternity.

And yet, Montagne’s guilt prohibits him from letting go completely. He has rejected this man. Refused to accept him into his life fully.

“If you wanna watch something, I pirated eleven films we haven’t seen”, Bandit murmurs against his jaw and makes him chuckle.

“I remember the hotel’s internet being unreliable. Don’t tell me you used public Wi-Fi? Mark would be horrified.”

“Yeah sure, I just sat down in the nearest McDonald’s and downloaded a hundred gigs of illegal stuff.” Bandit’s grin is boyish and attractive and so cute Montagne just wants to burn the image into his brain. “Better, actually – I asked one of the boys to do it. So we conspired together.”

“Are you going to miss them?”

Bandit thinks about it and eventually shrugs his shoulders. “Sure. It was nice seeing them again. But I think I miss everyone at Rainbow more. I haven’t been apart from everyone this long… ever, I think. Since I joined.” There’s more on his mind, Montagne can tell, so he waits and peeks down at the dirty blonde hair, the wild beard. Apparently Bandit decided shaving was too much of a hassle, so he gave up on it completely for the time being – and Montagne wholeheartedly understands. If he could grow one, he definitely wouldn’t be running around with naked cheeks.

After a while, Bandit adds, quietly: “I did visit Cedrick.”

Montagne wants to smack himself. How could he forget that Bandit’s twin still lives in Berlin? And while he’s proud of Bandit for taking the initiative and seeing him of his own accord, Montagne feels that he himself could’ve raised the possibility sooner. He knows they’re close, as close as any family member could ever hope to be with someone as fickle as Bandit, and he probably would’ve done wonders for Bandit’s psyche. “How is he? How is his family?”

“Good. They’re good. Gave me too much food, as usual. His wife got a promotion recently and the boys are doing great in school. They want to go to university later, imagine that. The first Brunsmeiers to go to uni.” Bandit glances up at him. “I also told them about you.”

There it is. He must’ve been dying to tell Montagne, judging by his pink cheeks and nervous fidgeting, and his demeanour as much as his words conjure up a bright smile on Montagne’s face. They had an unspoken agreement, an implied promise that they wouldn’t tell their families until they’re ready, which meant until Bandit was ready – coming out to friends was a big step, coming out to Rainbow a massive hurdle, and coming out to his family must’ve been a mountain to climb. His comfort zone has been steadily expanding, yet actions like these still turn Bandit into a skittish cat sometimes.

For someone with commitment issues like this, it’s incredible that Bandit decided for them to get married.

“Dom, mon amour, I am so proud of you.” He kisses Bandit’s temple and smiles even wider at his desperately dismissive mumbled reply of ‘’s nothing’. “That is wonderful news. How did they react?”

“Well, they wanted to meet you immediately.”

Yet they didn’t. Montagne’s smile fades a little. Did Bandit not want anyone to see him like this? Best case scenario, he figured that Montagne’s current state simply wouldn’t do him justice, and worst case… Would he be ashamed of him?

“But obviously, that didn’t work out, so I told them -”

“Why didn’t it?”

He must’ve noticed something, maybe an odd expression, because he reassures him instantly: “My love, I saw them yesterday evening. You’ll meet them soon enough, trust me. They were very supportive, in any case. I think Ced is just glad to know there’s at least one person out there who can tame me.” Bandit’s hand brushes over Montagne’s belly, toying with the hem of his shirt, and he puts his own over it.

Maybe he’s being dramatic. Thinking about it, his recent thought spirals followed a similar pattern to the dangerous ones Bandit entertains much too often, the ones Montagne has been trying to interrupt whenever he notices them. Except that Bandit can’t read minds as of yet and probably has no idea what’s going on with him, and how should he. Montagne hasn’t said a word. They haven’t mentioned their brief engagement, or whatever the fuck was going on for a bit, at all.

Maybe when Montagne said that he was worried about losing Bandit, he didn’t just mean Bandit’s own withdrawal from their relationship.

“I don’t like that you see me like this.”

Bandit reacts not, doesn’t glance upwards, but there’s a tightening of his half-embrace. He’s listening.

“I can’t stand it, in fact. I feel useless and powerless and I can tell it weighs you down as well.” Once he’s started speaking, the words nearly tumble out of his mouth by themselves, one by one does the truth finally spill over. “I’m sorry. You’re trying so hard, mon cœur, I know you’re trying so hard to be strong for me, and I love you for it, but… I don’t want this. I don’t want to be like this. I should be the one there for you.” His heart is heavy, his mind darkened and his eyes burning, threatening tears as evidence of his own fragility. Rarely do his emotions get the better of him yet his self-control is raw and worn out from too much use without a chance to replenish. “I know I should be grateful I survived, but I feel like an annoyance. I don’t even know if I can go back to Rainbow, I don’t know whether I’ll fully heal and I hate it.”

Before he can feel guilty for loading even more onto Bandit’s shoulders, his love cradles his head in surprisingly warm hands, whispers his name and puts their foreheads together. “It’s okay”, Bandit mutters, even though both of them know it isn’t, “Gilles, stop. It’s okay. Listen to me.”

Montagne expects platitudes and white lies, misplaced optimism, a few phrases people throw out and pat themselves on the back for consoling someone, but instead, Bandit says: “Look. All of this fucking sucks.”

Well. It sure does. Montagne frowns.

“I’ve been in the hospital before, I was injured pretty badly and felt less worthy than a sack of potatoes, believe me. I was hardly myself, I couldn’t sleep, the constant pain was horrendous and on top of that, all the pretty nurses were talking smack -”

This startles a small huff of amusement out of him and effectively interrupts his intrusive thoughts. “Aren’t you supposed to make me feel better?”

“- I’m getting to that part. But you probably know how degrading it is when you can’t even piss by yourself, right? That’s the fucking worst. You’re like a baby, and you definitely feel just as stupid. It was one of the worst months of my entire life. But you know what? I got better.”

Ah. There we go. Montagne’s mouth goes thin.

“No, I know what you’re thinking: empty promises. You don’t understand how true it is, though. I’ve been rock bottom a few times, but it gets better. You’ve been there for it, so you know what I mean. And don’t even think for a second that each rock bottom was the same level, no, there were times when everything seemed hopeless, but honestly? Each time, it got a little easier to get back out. To get out and get to a better level than before. My parents…” He catches himself and shakes his head a little. “I don’t wanna keep talking about me right now.”

Montagne nudges him. “Please do. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

A deep breath later, Bandit continues: “My parents valued independence highly, so Ced and I were encouraged to help ourselves, which I suppose is a good thing. But it also taught us to not rely on anybody else. To not expect any safety nets: you fall, that’s it. Convincing yourself it’s worthwhile to go on after you’ve fallen was hard. I felt like I failed at life, and for a bit, giving up was the better alternative. But I did have a safety net after all: Ced did his part, a few friends did, my boss, too. So it worked out.”

“But you got worse again”, Montagne mutters.

“Yes. I got worse. Still, by then I knew not only that it was possible to get back out, but also that others would help. Miles away from asking for help, mind you, but with more hope. I kept learning. And…” Despite his reluctance to go on, Montagne remains quiet and waits. Some part of him realises it’s something Bandit has to say. “And… as horrible as that sounds, as much as I don’t even want to imagine it… I think I’m at the point where I could go on without you. If you didn’t – didn’t make it, for example, I could… I think I could. The beginning would be the absolute fucking worst, no doubt, but I’d find something to – to make it worth it. To continue.”

Wordlessly, Montagne drags him into a bear hug. Presses their bodies even tighter together, ignoring the stabs of pain in his side, ignoring all his muscles protesting, ignoring the uncomfortable weight against his injured ribcage. He just needs this man like air all of a sudden, and it seems impossible to him how he could’ve ever rejected him in anything.

He knows exactly what Bandit means. It might be put in a morbid way, but he’s trying to express just how much Montagne has helped him. Comparing this version of him with the fragile creature he once warmed in his arms is unthinkable; this Bandit isn’t vulnerable anymore. And though he was hit hard by Montagne’s near-death, he ended up recovering, largely due to his own strength. A few years ago, he would’ve reacted very differently to nearly losing a loved one, that much is certain.

Bandit is clinging to him as well, taking measured breaths against his jaw and hiding his face. “You’re the strongest fucking person I know”, he whispers, voice cracking. “And even if you lost all your limbs or your eyesight or what the fuck ever, you’d still be you. You’d still be as great as you were before. That’s a fact, you dumbass. And if you can’t do Rainbow anymore, you’ll open a stupid dog café in Marseilles or sell Fairtrade products in a corner shop, I don’t bloody know. All I know is that you shouldn’t listen to that irritating voice in your head because it has absolutely no fucking idea what it’s talking about.”

By now, Montagne is chuckling and crying at the same time, overcome by too many emotions to be able to process any of them. It feels like he was allowed a deeper look in Bandit’s workings, like he’s able to understand him a little better. More importantly, he does feel significantly less stupid now that he knows Bandit is familiar with thoughts like these and already opened himself up about them.

“I’m also worried you’d be put off by all my injuries”, he admits after a while of comforting physical contact, feeling much more confident in himself and assured they can actually talk things out.

His better half lifts his head to squint at him in confusion. “Put off…? Like, grossed out? This is nothing, I once had someone in my arms whose guts were – wait, you don’t mean that I’d find you unattractive, do you?”

Montagne eyes his love for a moment, the man whose knees get weak whenever Montagne whispers a single filthy word in his ear, the man who has admitted to having more wet dreams about him than he’d like, the very man who so valiantly held himself back until Montagne allowed him to let loose, and who has never held back since. The man Montagne missed every lonely second he spent without him over the past weeks. “Well, I’d hope not”, he mutters.

Bandit looks at him like he grew two heads. “Are you serious?”

“The bruises still look quite bad, and all the -”

“Okay, listen. You stop talking. I’m going to kiss every one of your bruises until you’re not sure whether it hurts anymore, and then I’ll make you come so hard you’ll pass out. To hell with waiting, I won’t take this for another second.”

He’s not sure whether he should take it as a threat or a promise, but when Bandit starts pulling Montagne’s clothes off his body, he finds that he has no intention to argue whatsoever. And it’s good to know this part of him still works. “Be careful, mon cœur.”

Dark eyes flick up and are accompanied by a growl: “Can’t promise that.”

And though this one was definitely a threat, all Montagne does is smile. He didn’t even realise how much he missed this.

~*~

Bandit continues to do all the work for them the next morning: he orders room service and serves Montagne breakfast in bed while also shoving everything he finds into their suitcases. No need to separate their clothes or belongings; they’re going to the same destination anyway. They should travel more, take some time off and explore the world together – a notion Montagne hadn’t entertained until now as he was never really tempted to leave France or just Europe in general without good reason, and their missions abroad together with the other operators’ supplemental information used to be sufficient for him. But now, the thought of spending a week in a hotel with no one familiar around him but Bandit, the image of them going on walks while holding hands, pointing out quaint aspects of the place around them… it’s enticing. He vows to bring it up sometime.

Muscles still sore from the previous night, his mind is the opposite: he feels refreshed, optimistic, motivated. Part of the reason is undoubtedly the sex, he can’t deny it – falling asleep with Bandit in his arms, the faint feeling of satisfaction still coursing through his body, it’s as invigorating as the act itself, the knowing, challenging stare as Bandit swallowed -

Well. He shouldn’t dwell on it. They don’t have a lot of time planned between leaving the hotel and the departure of their flight.

But anyway, it’s not just that, it’s also the conversations before and after. The way Bandit made him realise what exactly is important, that he can rely on his lover without a guilty conscience. He kept repeating how beautiful Montagne was, even during, and though it caused him to blush in considerable embarrassment, he certainly feels less self-conscious now. There wasn’t a single second in which Bandit’s assurance wavered, no moment where he showed doubt. He meant what he said.

And, thinking about it, it would be the same for Montagne. He wouldn’t care about Bandit’s physical state. He’d still love him unconditionally.

Then why are you saying no to him?

It’s different, Montagne wants to argue in his head. But is it? He’s known Bandit for longer than he did Catou when he proposed to her. They were at a different point in life then, not entirely sure about their careers (well, she wasn’t), uncertain about their future (and children is still a sore spot he refuses to entertain), really too young to make such a momentous decision. He’s been living together with Bandit for long enough to assess how well they work together. How well they fit.

No. It’s not any different in his heart. Where it’s different is his head: he’s twice shy, irrationally worried about getting hurt. And consequently hurts Bandit instead. Bandit has openly declared his wish to make their undying love and loyalty official, whereas Montagne punishes him for a crime he didn’t commit. A crime which was nobody’s fault, in the end.

Watching Bandit tear through the room and toss most of what they own into the nearest suitcase, Montagne notices how there’s one object Bandit hasn’t touched. Montagne’s passport. And he probably never will again, without explicit approval. He made a mistake, apologised and learnt from it.

Now it’s Montagne’s time to do so.

“Dominic”, he says, and instantly all activity halts. Bandit is comically frozen mid-throw, like a deer in headlights. Montagne never calls him by his full first name. “Mon amour.”

“… yes?” He seems unaware of the severity of the situation as of now.

“I would like to change my mind. If it’s still possible.” Montagne extends his hand and, instinctively, Bandit glides over to take it and sit down on the edge of the bed. “I do want to marry you.”

Bandit blinks at him. “Oh”, he says. And then: “Really?”

“Yes. I’ve thought about it, and I realise I’ve been unfair. We don’t have to rehash how… questionable your proposal was, but it made me overlook the most obvious truth: that I do love you above all and want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I do want to make it official that way.”

Bandit still looks dumbstruck, probably overwhelmed from the suddenness of the announcement. “Uh -”

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like us to have rings, too, so I can carry something on me at all times that marks me as yours and the other way round. So yes, mon cœur. My love. I hope your proposal still stands, because I would like to accept it.”

By now, his lover has turned crimson. He’s fidgeting with Montagne’s hand, bending his fingers and generally not knowing what to do with his own, and his embarrassment is terribly endearing – up to the point where he mumbles something Montagne would swear he misheard. “… for the benefits”, Bandit ends, apparently addressing his own feet.

Now it’s Montagne’s turn to blink, uncomprehending. “What was that?”

“I wanted to marry for the benefits”, Bandit repeats, louder, and Montagne’s mind screeches to a halt.

He stares at Bandit, Bandit stares at the ground. “You… what now?”

“Not just – well I mean, also, but definitely not only… you know, financial, because I think there is…” Bandit’s tongue seems to be disobeying him. “But, mostly because…”

“What on earth are you saying, Dom?”

“I wasn’t allowed to visit you.”

The shoe drops.

Boy, does the shoe drop. This explains so much. Montagne blanks for a second before his brain retroactively feeds him bits and pieces of information which now neatly fall into place, now that he’s been handed the solution on a silver platter. In his delirium, he never questioned why Madeleine was the only one coming to visit him – hell, even his parents did – instead of Bandit as well; he did hear about a fight between Bandit and Lion and probably, in his feverish mind, figured that Bandit was banned because of this and couldn’t visit him as a result. But never, not for a moment, did he consider the option that they simply turned Bandit away because he was no more than a stranger to them, no official connection between them.

No wonder Bandit went stir-crazy, no wonder his mind snapped and convinced him faking official documents was a reasonable long-term solution, no wonder he announced their wedding so casually without ever officially proposing. It was never meant to be a step forward for them as a couple, was never meant as any kind of declaration – it was meant as a preventative method in case they ever find themselves in a similar situation.

No wonder Bandit is thoroughly embarrassed by Montagne’s acceptance speech.

If there even was any left, all of his residual anger vanishes upon this revelation. He’s not even dismayed about Bandit’s motives: had he, at any point really, explained himself, Montagne might’ve actually agreed with him – because while a marriage means something much more sentimental and symbolic to Montagne, he understands Bandit’s viewpoint as well, especially under the circumstances.

Bandit is still avoiding his gaze, so he lifts his lover’s hand and kisses its palm until he has his full attention. “We’ve become victims of a grave misunderstanding”, Montagne states, a smile playing on his lips. “I understand now. Still, my point stands: I would like to be married to you, for the reasons I stated, and also for the reasons you had in mind. But I’d like you to think about it, because we obviously have different approaches and I want to be sure our expectations match.”

And this is the moment burning eyes meet his, framed in an expression so open and vulnerable that Montagne has no doubt about the authenticity of Bandit’s next words: “I don’t need to think about it.”

Montagne’s heart doubles in size. His composure, his tension, all of it melts instantly, replaced by a heady rush of pure serotonin as he realises just how right this decision feels. Inevitable, almost, like this has been their destination all along without either of them being aware, but now they’re here; exactly where they belong. All their time together has led up to this, the difficult conversations they had, the obstacles they overcame, all the beautiful little moments which were wholly theirs. It’s incredible to him how far they’ve progressed, from near-strangers who barely exchanged a word to lovers so intimate they’ll spend the rest of their lives together.

It’s not about the proposal itself, not about the wedding or even the marriage after – Montagne himself knows best that a marriage is no guarantee for happiness; instead, it’s something deeper, significant only to them. A promise to each other, a promise to take care of each other, to stay loyal and supportive, to listen and talk to each other. Ultimately, it’s extremely private, yet they might decide to share it with the world regardless.

“Come here”, he pleads and kisses Bandit, half drags him onto himself and pushes his hands under Bandit’s shirt – no, his own shirt, he notices, the one Bandit slept in. A shirt he brought Montagne to wear in hospital and a shirt he took back to wash it, but it seems he didn’t get around to doing so. Instead he just wore it. “I love you so much”, Montagne whispers against scratchy beard hair, and of course that moment someone knocks on their door.

They look at each other and simultaneously roll their eyes. Lion has terrible timing.

“We don’t have much time left!”, the other Frenchman announces from the other side of the door. “So whatever it is you’re doing, you better -” He stops once Bandit yanks open the door with an annoyed scowl.

“We were actually getting ready”, Montagne lies smoothly and can’t help his beaming expression. The same glowing, fluttery feeling which has settled in his stomach is tugging on the corners of his lips, forcing him to grin.

Lion raises a sceptical brow. “Seems like you kissed and made up then.”

“And out”, Bandit provides helpfully. “Don’t stand around, get this luggage downstairs, I’ll take care of Gilles.”

“That better not be a euphemism”, Lion scoffs, but Montagne catches him fighting a smile himself.

Maybe the two of them are contagious. It would certainly make for a more pleasant flight.

~*~

By the time they’re back in England, Lion is thoroughly done with their shit.

The entire jouney, Bandit fawned over Montagne and tended to his every wish – uttered or not –, all of this done on top of all the accommodations he’d booked in advance. They spent a relaxed hour in the airport lounge, sipping on overpriced drinks and listening to the bustling around them, and even flew first class despite the shortness of the flight. Not even the screaming baby that performed the entire duration as if it was having its debut on the big stage was able to put a damper on Montagne’s or Bandit’s mood, and part of him understands Lion’s irritated response to their admittedly disgusting lovey-dovey aura.

His friend started out being cordial and visibly swallowing various remarks, progressed to thin-lipped, high-browed and disapproving, and ended with eye rolls and audible sighs. Every affectionate nickname worsened his mood, every public display like kisses or interlacing their fingers prompted a judging glance, and every soft-spoken sentence had him check his phone for the time.

Montagne has no space in his fully-occupied heart to feel any sort of guilt, especially because he suspects Lion is largely doing it for Bandit’s benefit as the German seems to relish the reactions he provokes. He is very smug.

His suspicions are apparently confirmed when he’s alone with Lion for a minute while Bandit bodychecks his way through an unmoving and uncaring crowd blocking the baggage claim. “Seems like you came to an agreement after all”, Lion states neutrally.

“We did. And if I’m honest, something you said helped with my decision.” Lion only nods, like he expected it. Curious. “Don’t tell me you’ve come to like him? If so, I won’t need a wedding present from you because that’s all I could wish for.”

“Let’s not go that far”, comes the hasty response and Montagne chuckles.

“Then why?”

A one-sided shrug. “I think everyone deserves a second chance.”

They share no more than a significant look before Bandit returns, masking his annoyance with overdone cheeriness, and so his statement remains unexplained. Whether he finally noticed the mirrored qualities he and Bandit share, whether he’s referring to Montagne’s first marriage, or whether he’s implying that he might meet Bandit with a different attitude in the future, Montagne doesn’t know. Still, the assertion resonates with him.

Seeing the oh so familiar landscape rush past the window on the last leg back to Hereford evokes an odd kind of nostalgia in Montagne. The view is one he’s always enjoyed, it marked the end of a difficult mission, the return to normalcy in a way – because his life at Rainbow has become the new normal for him, his everyday life, the foundation for his daily routine. The company of his colleagues is dear to him, as is the work itself, and as gruelling their training schedule is, he sleeps better when his muscles are sore and his head heavy.

Knowing he won’t be able to go back to this life for the foreseeable future causes a bittersweet feeling in his stomach. He will still participate, no doubt, will be included in briefings and kept up to date, will confer with teammates, offer advice. So it’s not like he’ll be isolated or exiled. But the knowledge of being incapable of doing what he’s used to stings a little.

Even so, his mind is focused on another matter. There are many more obstacles to overcome in the future concerning their engagement, starting with their respective families (though he’s under the suspicion Madeleine has realised something is up, even if she might not be aware of the severity of the situation) and ending with important decisions on how to hold their wedding party – but the most valuable aspect is that they’ll be doing it together.

Although he’s not so sure whether Bandit is ready for some of it.

“Take it to your grave or I’ll haunt your son when I’m dead.”

Lion seems largely amused by the threat, patiently waiting in front of the main entrance to Rainbow’s headquarters for Bandit to open the door. “One of his friends is a flat-earther, so he’s faced worse.”

Montagne snorts and Bandit nearly slams into the doors from scowling back at the other Frenchman. “Seriously though. This is just between us for now, alright? Even I haven’t told anyone, and neither has Gilles. Right, my love?”

“I’d like to point out that you were the one who told Olivier about your ‘proposal’ in the first place, mon cœur. Drunkenly, if I remember correctly.”

“Does that mean I can’t even tell Gustave?” Lion seems intent on making Bandit faceplant after all – he’s got the easy job of pushing Montagne around whereas Bandit is tasked with the much more difficult assignment of holding doors open for them on the way to their canteen. “I would love to see his face.”

“No. Nobody. Especially not in Rainbow.”

“What about Père Bertrand?”

“Absolutely not. Who knows whether he’s a snitch.”

“Who would he snitch to? God?”

“Look. I don’t know why this is so hard for you.” Bandit’s voice is rising in agitation as he shoulders open the last door, back turned to the room behind him, eyes fixed on Lion. “Just don’t. Tell. Anyone. Okay? No one needs to know. No one! This is just between us.”

Montagne’s composure is crumbling. Wordlessly, he indicates the entirety of the canteen with a vague gesture, trying his best to hold back a hearty laugh.

In response, Bandit whirls around with a wild expression, only to be faced with an entire room decked out with the gaudiest decorations in pink and white, plus literally all of the other operators arranged along the wall, holding confetti cannons or glasses of champagne, wearing party hats and utterly aghast expressions, and above them, floating below the ceiling, are gold balloons spelling out E N G A G E D.

The awkward silence is palpable.

The champagne bottle in Blitz’ hand pops with a startlingly loud noise, making everyone jump and almost taking out Twitch’s eye in the process, and Lion just starts roaring with laughter, holding on to the wheelchair as to not lose his balance.

“Welcome back, Gilles”, Doc offers and lifts his glass for a toast, and that finally breaks the spell. Everyone rushes at them, congratulating them and greeting Montagne after his long absence, Rook with tears in his eyes and Jackal with an encouraging smile, there are too many faces and too many well-wishes to identify them all. Their gesture is heartwarming, and though Bandit stands in the middle of the crowd, hiding his bright red face with one hand (and repeating that no, he is not taking questions right now), he’s far from fighting the many hugs he receives. When Sledge takes him into his arms, there’s audible bone cracking and joint popping, and Montagne is suddenly glad to be confined to the wheelchair.

Maybe their reveal didn’t go quite as planned, but the support they’re receiving is invigorating. Montagne might’ve preferred a small wedding prior to this, yet being confronted with hard evidence of how much all these people care for them is beginning to change his mind.

He will talk about it with Bandit, later. For now he has a party to attend.

#rainbow six siege #montagne #bandit #montagne/bandit #lion #fanfic #protection mountain #I'm personally very happy with how all this is concluded #thank you to the one person who started all this you know who you are #thank you also to suzie for keeping this ship alive all this time #thank you all #💗💗💗#ALSO #CAN YOU GUESS WHO'S THE SNITCH?

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remys-lucky-franc · 3 years

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Remy x MC (Queen of Thieves) - Kissing Prompt #14

This is the final ‘kiss prompt’ that I have on my request list. I’m sad 😔

I’ve really enjoyed working on these - this wee challenge got me back into the habit of writing regularly which is so nice as I’d been doing ‘sit and stare at a blank page’ thing for months, thank you for inviting me to join in folks.

Prompt #14 - a kiss so desperate that that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished - requested by lovely @mcira for lovely Remy

It’s a sort of a ‘good heist goes bad’ alt-version of the ‘first ever kiss on film’ heist from Remy’s S1. Also, I relocated it to Barcelona because Paris is too inland 😂

Written from MC POV.

Word count ~6100 (marked #long fic if anyone wants to filter it away - adding ‘read more’ isn’t reliable - don’t want to clog anyone’s dash x)

TW: drowning / broken bones

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I curse, scrambling to keep my balance as the yacht lists suddenly to the right; my arms flailing, thrown backwards trying to grip at the doorway to stay upright. I collide with it and stretch my hands out to save myself as I hit the ground awkwardly: the crack from my arm makes me feel sick to my stomach. Furniture shifts. Decor clatters to the floor. Lights overhead flicker violently. What the hell was that noise? Something has gone very, very wrong.

—-24 hours earlier —-

Remy and I have spent well over a month on this con now, establishing and ingratiating ourselves with the obnoxious specimen that is Parker Vos. Ugh, even his name makes my skin crawl. Tonight we’ve met up for some drinks: Parker’s idea. Remy’s positioned himself between Parker and I at the bar of the plush cocktail lounge and I watch on as Parker charges his glass again, loudly laughing, clapping his hand on Remy’s shoulder. Remy clinks glasses with him, smile jovial, eyes full of myrth; swallowing down the liquor to perfectly conceal the bile I know is steadily rising within his throat. If there is anyone who dislikes Parker Vos more than I do, it’s Remy Chevalier.

Watching Remy work a con has been quite an experience. He knows instinctively what people want to see and hear - oftentimes even before they know themselves. He reads their body language with practiced ease and plays his part to meet The Gilded Poppy’s ends: a master of assuaging insecurities or fuelling egos. And I have never known an ego like Parker’s. He’s spent half of the evening acting like Remy’s his long-lost best friend, and the other half undressing me - his buddy’s ‘wife’ - with cold, soulless eyes.

Parker’s on his feet, moving to refill my champagne flute but I move my hand to cover the top, opening my mouth in a half-protest.

He grins at me as I giggle, “I shouldn’t - I’ve had too much already-”

Tutting and moving my hand away from the opening of glass, he pours another generous serving of fizz. I make a big deal out of rolling my eyes at him and exclaiming that’s he’s ‘such a bad influence’. Inside I’m far from smiling - I hate guys who behave like this.

Parker doesn’t seem to want to let go of my hand, his fingertips trace my palm casually, an amused, self-satisfied grin spread over his face. I feel colour rising rapidly from my chest to the tips of my ears and Parker raises an eyebrow at me - clearly delighted that he’s gotten me flustered - but it’s not his touch or his gaze that’s set me alight. It’s the way that Remy’s eyes burn into me from the next seat, flecks of gold and green glitter like fire and the mask he wears is one that I can’t quite decipher, the only clue to his true feelings being the exaggerated bob of his throat as he continues to pretends he’s oblivious to the game Parker’s playing. I simper as I extract my hand from Parker’s to toast our glasses. I know Remy and I aren’t really married, but Parker doesn’t: this guy really has zero shame.

Remy’s seamlessly switched to wearing a playful smirk as he reaches across me, clinking all three of our glasses together, “Ma cherie, the bubbles are going to her head, Parker - look how flushed she is!”

His free hand reaches up affectionately cupping my cheek and I feel myself sink longingly into his gentle touch, his daring wink makes my heart stutter as Parker drones on, boasting about only ordering the very finest champagne for his friends.

A short time later, Remy excuses himself and he hasn’t even reached the bathroom before Parker has slid across to occupy his stool, angling himself into me just a little closer than could be considered appropriate. He’s such a snake, it takes all my energy to fix a sweet, naïve smile on my face when his hand comes to rest on my arm; the way his touch makes me feel compared to Remy’s is so stark in its contrast. He’s watching my face intently as he smirks at me - always bragging about his wealth and possessions, always looking for any sign that he’s impressing me.

He’s acting shocked that this is is the first time I’ve been to this particular bar, given that it’s one of Barcelona’s hot-spots, wondering out loud why my husband never brought me here before now. I sip daintily at my glass as I tell him this sort of place is generally outside of our budget, that it would only ever be somewhere that we’d come for a special occasion. As Parker nods, sacharrine-sweet condescension guising as sympathy, I think about how Remy was absolutely right when he told me he reckoned Parker gets a real kick out of feeling like the Alpha Male in any room and I lean into it. He’s back onto his favourite brand of champagne again - asking me if I ever tried it before tonight. I have, but I play along, feeding the narrative, telling him exactly what he wants to hear: Remy would be proud of me.

I shake my head wistfully, “It’s really delicious, it’s such a lovely treat to have something so decadent. I can understand it being your favourite, Parker - you have really good taste.”

He sighs, looking almost troubled, “You know it makes me sad that a girl like you can’t have everything her heart desires. I’ve got cases galore of the stuff on my yacht. I have it brought in directly from the vineyard just outside Epernay.” He pauses, quirking his head at me, “Say, have you ever been on a yacht?”

I think about what Remy’s always tells me about the best and most convincing cons: they stick as closely to the truth as possible. I feel a genuine smile blossom as I tell Parker about the little sailboat my grandfather had and how I loved spending time on it with him when I was a little girl. I can hear the warmth in my own voice and I know my eyes are sparkling as I think about those happy memories, but rather than ask me anything about my grandfather or my childhood, Parker patronises me and uses it as another opportunity to play ‘The Big I Am’. He chuckles as he tells me that wasn’t a real boat, then reels off what sounds like the manufacturer’s sales pitch for his top-of-the-range, fully customised yacht. Heaven knows, I really want to punch this guy but I nod, maintaining my rapt expression - all wide-eyed and utterly impressed. As he drones on, my brain wanders thinking how the same conversation would have gone sitting here with Remy instead.

Parker’s incessant boasting continues as he drawls about how much he would love to take me out on his yacht, “I think a girl like you would appreciate a boat like mine you know, and you’d look so good on it.”

Such. A. Creep.

I shoot him a rueful smile before biting my lip and looking down at the my hands. My fake wedding ring sparkles up at me under the low lights of the bar. I can feel Parker’s beady eyes on me watching my every move like I’m his prey. I fidget with the golden band and I know I’m working this con just right when he pushes my hair back from my face and tips my chin upward to look at him. A grin slithers across his face - poison hidden just behind the facade.

“Why don’t you come on the yacht with me this weekend, baby? You can have as much of this champagne as you like - I’ll show you how you deserve to be treated.”

I don’t have to fake being a little taken aback: I know it’s been our objective to get on that yacht, and I knew we were reeling him in, but the blatancy of his invite still knocks me off guard!

I glance towards the bathrooms and see that Remy’s making his way back across the bar. I use the shock of the invitation to my advantage, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth as I tell Parker, “Remy’s coming back.” I look up at him through my lashes and breathe, “Parker, I- I don’t know? It sounds amazing, but honestly, I’m not sure I should.”

Parker searches my dark eyes, voice smug, so confident that his charms have me falling for him; that he’s so irresistible I’d be ready to betray my husband with him, “I think you do know. You just don’t want to hurt Remy, because you’re a sweet girl. But I’ll make a deal with you, I’ll send you the directions to where she’s docked - and I’ll be there waiting. If you come...”, his thumb brushes across my lips and I draw in a sharp breath while my stomach lurches. His voice lowers as he stares at my mouth, “I’ll show you, I can give you everything you ever wanted and more besides.” Then he’s gone, quickly slithering back to his own bar stool, duplicitously clasping and shaking Remy’s hand as he returns, as though he didn’t just proposition his wife.

—-

Remy fumed about the audacity of Parker Vos the whole way back to the penthouse last night. And I thought he disliked the guy before... I’d hate to see how Remy would react if someone hit on his real wife because he is the most convincingly jealous fake-husband I’ve ever seen. And his attitude towards our mark got even worse when Parker text me with the coordinates for Port Vell Marina.

When we got back we debriefed Nikolai on all of the night’s events and came to the conclusion that me going to the yacht alone was not an option. I argued that I was more than capable of handling him but Remy was adamant that Parker was an entitled creep and it was too dangerous. Nikolai agreed with Remy, and when I huffed that he would trust Vivienne to fly solo, I have never seen him look more annoyed. He barked at me that he it was his decision, his responsibility and he refused to put any member of his team into that position alone, especially where there was no option for back up if things started to take a wrong turn. As much as I hated to back down, I knew from his tone that he was being completely honest and I should apologise and accept his decision. We spent the rest of the evening coming up with our next move - for Remy and I to arrive at Parker’s yacht together.

—-

We arrive at the beautiful Marina at Port Vell the following afternoon and I don’t have to feign how impressed I am. It is absolutely stunning - the sun dapples the turquoise blue waters while every gleaming yacht is sleeker and grander than the last.

Remy’s holds my hand firmly as we head towards Berth 26 where Parker’s imposing yacht is docked. Our play this afternoon is that I was heading out to meet Parker when Remy asked where I was going and I couldn’t think of any reason for him not to come along that didn’t seem strange or suspicious.

We reach the yacht and I see Parker. The irritate look on his face is replaced in an instant as he wraps us both in a friendly hug, before ushering us onboard. As he takes my hand to help me up the steps, he shoots me a look as though to enquire ‘why the hell aren’t we alone?’ and I drop my head like I’ve never been more deeply disappointed by anything in my life.

Remy has Parker chatting about the spec of the boat and I fear that he may never shut up about it. We spend at least fifteen minutes in the cockpit as Parker regales us with tales about how he got rid of his last captain, how he prefers to sail the yacht himself: bravado, bravado, bla bla bla. My cheeks hurt from the fake grin I have plastered across my face but I really lose the will to live as he places a captain’s hat on my head, cracking a joke to Remy about female drivers and saying that if I felt brave enough, he might even let me steer later. As we walk I ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ where appropriate, observing the ostentatious gold fixings and over-the-top ornate features and I conclude that no amount of money can buy you class.

When we eventually reach the sun deck, Remy raises an eyebrow at me, “Oh. Ma cherie, I think we may be intruding. Parker, were you expecting other company?”

I cringe as my eyes land on the biggest bunch of roses I’ve ever seen, sat next to a bottle of the same champagne we were drinking in the bar last night. I know Parker is a truly awful person, but I can’t help but feel a little sorry for him. His cheeks colour lightly, clearly having forgotten that he paid someone to set this up for him and his mouth works hard at opening and closing for a few painful seconds before his brain catches up, “Oh! Those? A ‘friend’ of mine was supposed to join me a bit before you both arrived. Then I thought we could have some drinks together, all four of us.”

Remy nods, his expression neutral, but eyes sharp, “I see. And they’re running late?”

Parker shrugs, eyes flicking to look at me as he lies, “She cancelled at the last minute. Something else came up.”

Remy wraps his arm around me making a show of planting a soft kiss on my cheek, his sympathetic words juxtaposed to the smirk apparent in his tone, “How awful, cherie! Good old Parker’s been left in the lurch. And after going to all that trouble too!”

I grimace, “I’m really sorry to hear that, Parker.”

Parker clears his throat, snatching up the champagne bottle, “Yeah. I’ll grab us some glasses.”

As he heads inside, I dig Remy in the ribs with my elbow and hiss, “What the hell was that?!”

Remy grins, his face full of mischief, “It’s obvious that I suspect there’s ‘something going on’ here”, he gestures between me and the roses, “and if he knows I’m willing to fight for you mon couer, it makes you all the more attractive to him...”

Knowing he’s right, but hating it, I pull a face.

He winks at me, “Plus, your Remy wants to have a little fun making him squirm.”

—-

We set sail a little after two-thirty, and as the afternoon progresses, it’s not just Parker who Remy is making squirm. Aside from a variety of vaguely passive aggressive jokes about being stood up and dating disasters - at one point even suggesting that I set Parker up with one of my friends, Remy is possibly the most tactile he’s ever been with me during this con: his hand is either holding mine, on my knee, or touching my face at every given opportunity. And his strategy is working because every single time Remy’s hands are on me, Parker’s eyes follow.

I know it’s all for Parker’s benefit but I just can’t help the way my heart races when Remy touches me. I have to keep telling myself it’s just for the con - all a part of his strategy. I repeat it over and over like a mantra: ‘It’s just for the con. It’s not real. It’s just for the con.’ But it feels so good. So real. And I want him so badly my chest aches.

Part of my role on today’s outing is scouting out the location of the reel of film we’re trying to steal. We’ve long suspected that it’s somewhere on the boat. So while the men continue to drink and chatter, I excuse myself and head to the restroom, getting myself deliberately lost in the labyrinth below deck. I’m fascinated by the amount of cool and interesting stuff that Parker owns despite being an uncultured jerk. I wonder if he has any genuine interest in any of it at all, or if it’s entirely for bragging rights and to impress other people. The further I wander unrestricted, the more I marvel and get to wondering just how rich Parker actually is? It’s so unfair - he deserves pretty much nothing that’s aboard this floating treasure trove... Then I see it - a can of film inside a glass case! Surely that’s got to be it? I quickly check the case, it’s pretty secure and looks like it’s inbuilt to the wall cabinet?! That means... This must be it - the first kiss ever recorded... I beam from ear to ear as I think about how excited Remy is going to be when I tell him!!

Unbeknown to me, upstairs whilst Remy and Parker stand at the railing staring out into the glittering dark blue of the Med, Remy decides to lean a little further into his role of suspicious and jealous spouse. Remy subtly turns the conversation from small talk to a grilling before Parker even realises that he’s walking into a trap, “It’s a shame your friend couldn’t make it, Parker. It would have been lovely to meet the woman who’s caught your eye... You were hoping that the four of us could have drinks together, right?”

Parker nods, sipping at his glass.

“But you didn’t know I was coming?”

Parker laughs, deflecting, “Uh, yeah! I got that wrong, I thought you were otherwise engaged. I’m so glad you could make it, buddy! It’s always great to see you!”

Remy cocks his head to the side, face still open and neutral, like he’s trying to understand, ”Sure, I’m glad I could join. But I’m confused? You were planning on the four of us drinking that champagne, oui?”

Parker clears his throat, suddenly realising that Remy might actually not be as much of a mug as he’s taken him for.

Remy continues, face visibly hardening as he speaks, “From where I’m sitting, there’s no mystery lady, and no Remy? And - well - that just leaves you and my wife sailing around the Mediterranean with a bottle of champagne and a big bunch of roses, Parker.”

Parker waves his hands in the air defensively, “Wow, Remy!! Slow down - I don’t know where you think you’re going with this, but you’ve got it all wrong! You’re putting two and two together and getting five, my friend!”

Remy huffs a bitter laugh, his voice now dripping with sarcasm, “Oh, five? So, I have it all wrong that my wife was halfway out the door to come here, to be with you, alone? Seems convenient that your lady-friend mysteriously couldn’t make it at the last minute? The one I’ve never heard you mention before? Please, explain it to me, Parker. Because it looks to me like you’ve got designs on my wife.”

Parker stutters to find an answer for a second before the yacht jolts violent throwing both men to the ground.

—-

I cradle my arm to my chest and grit my teeth as I clamber back onto my feet, nausea washing over me as I try my best not to move it again. Safe to say I don’t need a medical degree to tell me I’ve broken something.

After that god-awful metallic grinding, groaning noise everything has gone quiet. Eerily quiet. The normal lighting has gone, but the emergency lighting has kicked in casting a sickly green hue all around. I need to get back up to deck, to see what the hell just happened, to make sure Remy is ok!

I move towards the stairwell door and as I wrench it towards me, I’m met with a rush of cold water that makes me gasp. Oh this is bad. This is really, really bad. I stare at the fast-moving seawater spilling in, swirling around my feet: I’m rooted to the spot as panic rises rapidly in my chest. I’m not sure how many seconds have ticked by when I hear the roar of my name. Remy. I can’t see him, but I scramble towards the sound of his voice and call out to him, “I’m down here! Remy! I’m here!”

Water is rapidly filling the space below deck as Remy throws open the door of the opposite stairwell. I lurch towards him, sloshing through it, my limbs twice as heavy and struggling to stay upright against the slippery surface.

Remy wades through the corridor to reach me, calling to me, “I’m coming, cherie, it’ll be ok!” As we meet somewhere near the middle his hands grasp my shoulders as he gives me a quick once over, brows knit together when he sees how I’m holding my quick-swelling arm, “Merde! Is that broken?!”

I wince, nodding. The pain radiates from my wrist making my fingers tingle and my head buzz. Remy’s got one arm around me and he’s gripping at the walls with his free hand, moving us steadily toward the stairwell he came down: the water’s around my waist now. He keeps repeating, ‘it’s ok, it’s going to be ok’, but his usually calm voice jitters and I’m not sure if he’s saying it for my benefit or if he’s trying to make himself believe it. We reach the stairwell and Remy ushers me through the door. The tilt of the yacht makes it hard to climb the steps, but we fight to ascend. Up. Up. Up. We’re around half-way when the yacht jolts unexpectedly again; Remy grabs for the wet handrail. Every muscle in his body strains to keep us in place, to somehow stop us from careering back down the staircase. I feel lightheaded from the way my damaged arm jerks as he catches us, but it’s better than the alternative of plunging back down into the murky water. We resume our climb and make it up the final steps together. Only at the top do I truly appreciate the incongruous angle the yacht lists to, and start to properly grasp just how deadly this situation could be. The sounds of straining metal and hissing water fill the space around us and I’m scared. More scared than I’ve ever been in my life.

 We scramble our way out across the badly-angled yacht, clinging to the side rails for purchase as we move: we need to get off this boat. It can’t end like this. In the time I’ve been below deck, dark clouds have rolled in and the rain pelts down on us. As we reach the side of the yacht, and I suck in a deep lungful of air trying to black out the pain radiating up and down my arm. Trying to steady my nerves, I tell myself, ‘We just need to get on the lifeboat, getting upstairs was the hardest part. Come on, you can do this - you can do this! We’re almost there, it’s going to be-’ But my silent pep talk is cut short and a sense of dread floods through me as I watch Remy surge around and around, a hand raking through his soaking hair as he yells,

“He’s gone! That bastard! He’s left us!”

Remy’s hanging over the side, trying to locate Parker, frantically yelling his name out into the dank, misty distance. But it’s useless - he’s long gone. Fresh panic rises as what that means sinks in: that snake abandoned us and the sinking ship. And he’s taken the only life vessel with him. A storm’s rolling in and visibility is poor. We’re miles from the coast without another boat in sight. The water this far out isn’t frigid but it’s still cool enough to catch hypothermia without the right clothing if you’re in it for a couple of hours - but we’re likely to end up in there because this yacht is going down. I’m not sure how long I could tread water for with a broken arm? I choke back my horror as I realise - I don’t think we can’t make it back. He’s left us out here to die.

Tears silently streak my face, mingling with saltwater and rain as I turn to Remy. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion, but he’s the most animated I’ve ever seen him, his hands shake and he curses as he pulls useless items out of one of the inbuilt storage benches, tossing them onto the wet deck behind him. I tug at his sleeve and rasp, “There’s no way off, is there?”

He refuses to meet my gaze, yanking his arm away from me, rummaging deeper, muttering in frustration. But I refuse to be brushed off, not now. I pull on his sleeve again, “Remy! Just, stop.”

He whirls on me, his usually smiling eyes are wild as they meet mine. And before I know what’s happening, right there on the deck of the part-submerged yacht, Remy pulls my face to his, mouth crashing desperately into mine. I gasp at the sensation of him. Rough. Passion-filled. Real. His lips spill every frenzied confession I ever wanted to hear and I’m losing myself in him; rapt in every disclosure. The surge of emotion between us swells my pounding heart and fills my soul, a choir with one refrain: he loves me, he loves me, he loves me. My body breaks into song - lyrical, a groan against Remy’s supple lips: rejoicing, dancing, dopamine-high. A million melodies, harmonies, symphonies rush through us as we cling to each other against the stormy saltwater spray. His touch is electric, flesh warm against my skin, deft fingers knotted in my hair drawing me close. Closer. So close I feel two heartbeats pulse through me like an orchestra nearing crescendo. I’m soaked, hurt and terrified, but somehow I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now, exalted in his arms. My hand grazes over the stubble of his jaw, the high arc of his cheekbone: my fingertips trace every beautiful feature, mapping every crease, every dimple. If this is our coda, if this is how it all comes to an end, I want to succumb remembering every delicious second of this kiss - every sensation, every caress, every breath, every poetic unspoken word. I want my finale to be us.

Our kiss ends breathlessly, foreheads touching: both unwilling to part. Remy’s lips hover over mine like we’re magnetised. Green eyes search my own as I gaze upon the face I love through dark lashes, trembling. I cover his heart with my palm - I never want to let him go. Seconds tick past that feel like minutes until he finally breaks away and I gulp for air. Bereft, my body aches for him.

Remy’s rifling through the storage benches again, items shoved from side to side, thrown and discarded until he shouts triumphantly, flare gun in hand! Slick hands fumble to load the cartridge, then he steps away from me, pointing the gun above his head, firing high. We watch as a plume of intense fire illuminates the sky above us, a beautiful SOS, hanging in the air before slowing making its descent to the sea.

The stricken vessel below us strains and groans as Remy grips my hand in his, “We aren’t going out like this, cherie.” He says it with such conviction and determination that my heart stutters. My eyes widen as he brandishes a life buoy at me. “There’s only one.”

Why am I not even surprised that a jerk like Parker went for 24-Carat light fittings but scrimped on the most basic of safety features and maintenance? I shake my head at Remy, fear threatens to take over, “We’re not jumping?!”

Remy exclaims, “We have to! We can’t stay on ‘til it sinks, it’s too dangerous! We need to get as far away as we can. We jump together and I promise you - I won’t let go of your hand. Ever.”

A cacophony of glass cracks and metal tears. Engineering crumbles against a backdrop of smoky neon as we huddle together at the edge of semi-capsized yacht. The rain continues to drive against us, and I understand why we have to jump, but I hate that it’s the only option. My hand fits inside Remy’s and he squeezes it tightly, my pulse racing as we count down together from three, two, one...

As we hit the cool water I cry out, pain seers through my busted arm and makes the world seem dull and frayed around the edges. Everything under water is eerily dark and silence rings in my ears as I plunge beneath the surface. In those seconds it feels strangely peaceful. Serene. My mind, so busy moments before, is a blank. An instant sedation - each nerve numb: novocaine static. It’s not until I feel Remy jerk at my hand, still firmly clasped in his, that my brain reconnects. I kick my feet and follow Remy upwards, breaking the waves, choking and gasping for air.

Remy manoeuvres the life buoy between us, urging me to take hold, his hand cupping my cheek, pushing back my sodden hair, eyes raking over me, “Are you ok??”

I cough and splutter as I nod my head at him: I’m fine. Remy doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue with me either. He takes charge of getting us away from the yacht and I follow him blindly, feeling dazed, clinging to the buoy. Minutes later, the yacht goes under and the rapid movement of air and water sends pieces of debris swirling perilously to the surface. A watery scrapyard bobs around us.

I feel sick and dizzy and I’m so cold that my teeth chatter. Did anyone see the flare? Is help coming?

Remy repositions himself and wraps both arms around me as we float aimlessly together. I don’t know how long passes, but every so often he says my name and jolts me to keep me awake, and honestly, I’m trying, but it’s so hard to keep my eyes open. I tell him I’m trying, but I feel so weak. Remy says I’m in shock and I mumble, “That kiss was the best shock I ever had.”

I feel the rumble of his laugh roll through me, and then his lips meet mine again. Soft this time. Slow. Tender. His affection washing over me. I feebly smile and sigh into his kiss, his comforting warmth surrounds me. His touch is like a beacon in the bleak dark water, keeping me focussed, keeping me hanging on. The situation is desperate, but at least I’m with Remy.

As time swirls past us, I drift in and out of consciousness, pulled back a final time by Remy shaking me, “Listen!! Do you hear it??”

I startle and try my best to concentrate... Then I hear it, a horn blasting. Someone’s coming! They must have seen our distress signal. Remy’s swimming as fast as he can for both of us, moving our heavy, tired bodies in the direction of the sound until we finally see it. Remy yells until he’s hoarse, waving, whistling - anything to attract their attention. As the vessel approaches, I hear rough, deep voices yelling in Spanish but my head’s too fuzzy and it’s fast for me to understand. Remy is shouting back at them to take me on board first, and before I know what’s happening, I’m being lifted - strong hands grip under my arms as I cry out for Remy. They pay me no heed: saviours in oilskins wrap me in a foil blanket, checking me over, patting my cheek and trying to get me to focus. I struggle to evade them, “Where is Remy?? You have to help him!!”

They won’t let me stand up, won’t let me move! Agitated tears blur my vision - they need to get Remy out of the water. And then I hear his voice and relief consumes me. The fishermen part to let him reach me, he’s dripping all over their deck and he looks so pale, but he’s here and we’re together. He throws his arms around me, clutching me close, face buried in my neck. We cling together, exchanging sweet words, counting our blessings and relishing the feeling of each other. A tall, thin, official-looking man wraps a second blanket around Remy’s shoulders, talking into his ear. Remy nods to him and then suddenly we’re moving below deck, to somewhere warm and dry. My good arm is around Remy’s neck, the other gentleman walks slowly by my other side, hand hovering to support me as my legs wobble. They give me a towel for my hair and large hooded sweatshirt to change into - Remy helps me and the feeling of the clean, dry fabric against my skin makes me want to weep. I sit on a makeshift bed, exhausted and sore, my head buzzing. Remy hasn’t changed into the fresh clothes they’ve left for him yet, he shivers but refuses to let go of my hand - as though he believes I might evaporate if he does.

The sailors tell us the coastguard is on their way and it won’t be long til we’re back on dry land. I can’t wait for my feet to be firmly on the ground. Remy asks the sailors for something to drink, but they refuse telling us not until we’ve seen a doctor. But Remy insists and eventually they relent, giving us both a large brandy. I swallow it down, grimacing at the taste and the burning sensation in my throat. I lie on my side, cheek pressed against a soft cushion, still shivering. I cradle my swollen arm to my chest, rising and falling as I struggle to come to terms with everything that’s happened today. Remy’s finally in dry clothes, and has crawled into the space by my side on the bunk. It’s going to take a while to process all of this, but it feels so nice to lie here with Remy gazing into my eyes, bodies close, to see him smile at me. I feel drained, but calmer now I’m near to him. I reach out and trace his features, just as I did when we kissed on the yacht a short time before; his stubbled jaw, the curve of his cheek, the little dimple that appears when he grins at me. He catches my fingers in his, and presses gentle kisses to my knuckles, to my palm, his other hand smoothing out my damp hair, “I promised you I wouldn’t let you go. We’re safe now. Your Remy’s here, it’ll all be fine mon coeur. ”

—- 24 hours later —-

Leon pats my knee affectionately as I slide into the passenger seat, “Ready to go home?”

I nod and thank him, as Remy reaches over the headrest, squeezing Leon’s shoulder, “Merci, Leon. Thanks for coming back to drive us.”

Leon meets Remy’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, brows tight, looking perplexed, “It’s no problem. I still can’t believe Parker just... Left.”

Remy shrugs, “I can. Proves he was exactly the type of person we steal from.”

I sigh and scrub my hand across my face, “Except we didn’t steal anything from him, Remy. Everything’s gone. The film, lots of really amazing sculptures and artwork - all at the bottom of the sea...”

Remy shrugs, “But you and I aren’t at the bottom of the sea, and that’s what’s really important mon couer.”

And I know he’s right, but it just seems like such a terrible waste, that’s all. I suppose it might be better that no one has all of those treasures, than Parker hoarding them all and appreciating none of them. It was all just ‘stuff’ to him, for bragging rights, nothing more. Someone so shallow didn’t deserve any of-

Leon makes me jump, chuckling while reaching across me to clip my seatbelt in, exclaiming, “What’s this?!”

I glance down and see black Sharpie ink on my plaster cast. I lift my reset arm, and tilt my head to see it properly, there are two doodled little stick-people, one with my initials, one with ‘RC’, surrounded by sweet little hearts and the words ‘je t’aime, toujours ’ scrolled below. I feel my heart leap as I take it in. My cheeks start to colour as I stammer, “I don’t know- I- When-?”

Leon’s sporting a knowing smirk at Remy’s reflection, “To commemorate your fake marriage? Because there’s no need for you two to pretend anymore, right?”

I twist round in my seat to look at Remy who simply leans forward and cups my face in his palms. His eyes gaze into mine, face open and honest - no mask in sight. He meets my lips with a warm kiss as he confirms, “I’m done with pretending.”

#long fic #queen of thieves #remy chevalier #lovestruck #tw: drowning #tw: broken bones

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