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httpsaiki · 3 years

Note

Congrats on 300 love! I don’t think I’ve requested something yet from you even though I love your writing! Anyway, could I request a fic where Teruhashi and the (fem)reader are dating(usually I don’t mind what pronouns the reader has but for this one it’s kinda relevant. But you can make it gender neutral if you want)? So the two have been dating for a few months. The reason Teruhashi entered this relationship wasn’t because of “love” but because she wanted to get her fans off her back and what better was to do that than enetering a relationship with another girl. She this that it may help get her male fans off her and at first it’s great. Then the reader starts to see the relationship declining. At first Teruhashi was sweet and kind but now she is kind of rude to the reader, saying things like how she is embarrassing her or that if Teruhashi is so perfect why isn’t her s/o capable of being that way too. Mean ik (I don’t like Teruhashi if you couldn’t tell), the reader is also dealing with comments from her fans saying that the relationship is a charity case and such so she is feeling horrible in the relationship. A fight happens between the two and mean stuff is said. They break up and the reader isn’t taking it well. Not because she is upset she isn’t in the relationship cause she is happy to be out but because of the backlash from fans. Seeing this either Kuboyasu (jabjshsk I love him sm) or Saiki (love him too) comfort her and they begin to hang out more till they start to date. The two are now in a healthy and loving relationship and the reader gets to see what that feels like and how that wasn’t what she had with Teruhashi... I really just write this whole fic out lmao. I was going to write it but I’m simply lazy and I wanted to request something from you. As always ignore this or change anything if you don’t like it an take your time please don’t rush or stress yourself out. Ily hun❤️❤️

Hi!! Thank you so much <3! I wanted to say that I adore this request and honestly was ready to drop everything to write it, what an amazing idea you have here! I’m worried I focused a little too much on the Teruhashi part but, man, I’m a sucker for angst so it was a lot of fun. I think I may have gone a little overboard, as I don’t think I’ve written something this long before. I’m sorry if it’s wrong or not quite what you wanted. Thank you so so much for this request, I love it!

Small edit: I forgot to add I picked Saiki for this, as I think I write him a bit better than Kuboyasu!

— Reader is female! Warnings for slight angst, break up, fighting.

WC: 3041

Italics are Saiki “speaking” telepathically.

Teruhashi is the perfect pretty girl, on the outside at least. —————————————————–

“So, what I’m trying to say is… Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” Teruhashi asked on the rooftop one fateful evening after school. She looked as gorgeous as ever, trying to hide her slightly blushing face as she avoided your eyes. The wind was blowing gently through her hair, causing it to sway ever so slightly to one side. The sun was setting behind her, giving her an even more angelic glow to her appearance. You said yes, of course, how could you not? It was magical, especially when it was from the world’s prettiest girl. There was no way you could reject her.

The perfect couple. That’s how it appeared to be. For some time, that’s even how it was.

Teruhashi Kokomi. Your stunning, admirable, and perfect girlfriend. She’s amazing. A few months ago when she asked you to be her girlfriend you were exhilarated. The thought of dating what many considered to be the perfect girl was a chance you knew you just couldn’t pass up. All the time spent with her felt like cloud nine, she made sure you were happy no matter what, and of course, you tried to do the same for her. Her reputation truly held up, even in private.

Over those months, it amazed you what a wonderful girlfriend she was, having seemingly endless affection and love for you. It felt like she was more in tune with your emotions than you’d ever been. She was always ready to listen to your problems, whether you just wanted to vent or needed solutions. She was such a giver in the relationship that you even felt a little bad about it.

She knew that, but she’d never tell you. Not yet, anyway.

So many precious memories flashed through your mind as you thought about her. From getting ice cream on hot summer days to study dates amid a cold, snowy winter (where there wasn’t as much studying as there was cuddling). All the late nights you had spent with her, talking about everything and yet nothing. Video calls at the bright and early hours of the mornings just so she could get your opinion on what she should wear for the day. Every little thing you did together seemed as perfect as Teruhashi herself.

So where had it all gone wrong?

The relationship seemed like it was going great. What happened? What had you done wrong? Recently, Teruhashi had been acting anything but herself. She’s been aggressive, rude, and not interested in anything to do with your relationship at all. She’d avoid you, ignore your calls and texts. When she did see you, she’d throw insult after insult your way, blaming you for problems that were far from in your control, ones that her in her life, not yours. But that wasn’t even the half of it.

What made it even worse? That was only in private. In public, whenever she was with you (or without) she put on her little show of being Miss Perfect. You don’t know how you didn’t see through it before, looking back it was so obvious how fake it was. While in public you were sometimes able to convince yourself she still loved you, clinging onto a desperate hope that things weren’t nearly as bad as reality would tell you. Maybe she was just having a rough time? Her life must be hard, with the constant stalking and fans harassing her along with the need to keep everything in her life completely in order. She must just be tired of it and need somewhere to vent her anger. You didn’t mind being that person, but just not like this. You couldn’t always expect her to be perfect, and you hadn’t. You did your best to make it clear to her from the start that you didn’t need her to be perfect all the time and that you’d be there no matter what. If she wanted to relax in private with you, she was more than welcome to. She never did.

You had it rough, too. Her fan club was constantly harassing you as well. They called you names worse than she did, and had gone to extreme lengths just to get you to break up with her. They stole your things, drew on your desk, and were all-around horrible towards you. They claimed the only reason Teruhashi was dating someone like you was that she pities you, Teruhashi could do so much better. Deep down, you knew that may be the case, but she still asked you out for a reason, right? You never once complained about it, nor told Teruhashi. It would be okay in the end, and being with her was worth it.

Looking back, the red flags were there from the start. It would’ve been better if you caved to the fan club’s wishes from the beginning.

Your arguments seemed to only get worse with time. Insults being thrown your way more than once a day. During a particularly bad argument, she expressed how she felt she was the only one keeping the relationship alive, the only one that truly cared. For the first time, you fought back.

“How could you say such a thing! I do my best for you, I’m sorry we can’t all be Miss Perfect! I try so hard and yet it’s never good enough, is it?” You yelled in frustration, your voice was a lot louder and far more powerful than you intended. Teruhashi was visibly taken aback, despite her constant berating, you had never once raised your voice at her. She paused for a moment, clearly to think. You could easily tell just what she was thinking about.

You had no idea she’d been keeping track of everything you told her. Well, you did, but you never imagined your insecurities would be used against you in the way Teruhashi has been. Screaming them, bringing them up to your face, and forcing you to face them without warning. Using them to insult you, making them worse, and letting them dig deeper into the back of your mind.

Her face contorted in anger, even angrier than before. Listing things “wrong” with you as if her life depended on it, Teruhashi began her angry ranting. She wanted to get it across to you that she’s perfect and you’re far from that. She listed everything you’d ever done that irked her, every annoying thing you’ve said, and every problem you’ve ever told her about. She mocked emotions you’d told her in confidence and confessed that she always found them dramatic and ridiculous. She expressed how embarrassing it was to be seen in public with you, how she should only be seen with people on the same level as herself. If that wasn’t enough, she dealt one last finishing blow.

“I never loved you anyway.”

She turned and she left, slamming the door to your house shut behind her.

Your mind went blank and you barely noticed your knees hitting the floor as you collapsed to the ground. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt the tears soaking into your shirt. You couldn’t see nor hear, everything around you felt numb and dark. Did she really mean all of that? There was no way you were that bad of a girlfriend to her.

Why did you still not want to break up?

Days passed and you still hadn’t left your bedroom, let alone your house. Your phone was blown up with texts from your friends, asking if you were sick. You learned from glancing at a few of the messages that Teruhashi had told them that. Reading her name hurt, it made you feel ill as you remembered what had happened a mere few days ago.

Your phone dinged once again. You reached out and grabbed it with a weak grasp, not having the energy to do more than the bare minimum. The name on your screen made a wave of nausea come over you, the content of the message not helping either.

From: Kokomi♡

I’m coming over.

You really needed to change that contact name. That wasn’t what was important, though. Why was she coming here? What else could she possibly need from you, and what on earth else could you possibly offer? You didn’t have much time to think about it, you needed to appear at least somewhat put together by the time she got here.

Your hair was just finished drying as you pulled on clean clothes. You made sure the entrance and living room areas of your house were clean, along with the kitchen. The knock at the door sounded so familiar, Teruhashi always knocked the same way. It sent chills down your spine. Pulling on the best neutral face you could muster and forcing your legs to move, you opened the door.

She looked different. There was no glow to her anymore. She’d never looked less like an angel in your eyes. Even compared to when she’d been yelling at you. It was jarring, almost like she’s a total stranger. It’ll make talking to her easier, you mused.

You wordlessly invited her in, stepping aside as she avoided eye contact and made her way to sit in the living room. Even once you were sat in front of her, she still wouldn’t look at you. You couldn’t tell if that was because she felt shame or disgust. You just hoped it wasn’t the latter.

“What do you need?” You started the conversation, keeping your voice as steady as you could muster. You were quite impressed with how well you were doing.

“We need to break up.” She stated, still not looking up. You rolled your eyes.

“As if I’d stay with you after that.” You spit out, trying to keep your words from sounding too venomous. A moment of silence, you could feel your heartbeat quicken in your chest. The nerves were starting to get to you and one of you needed to say something before the panic could set in. Luckily, Teruhashi did.

“They were right, you know - the fan club?” She said quietly.

“What?” You were surprised, she knew about that?

“It was like a charity case. I only dated you to get them off my back. Didn’t work though. Shame.” Her voice was calm, way too calm to be saying something so harsh. She was fine just ending your relationship like that, no matter what you’d been through together.

“Oh... of course.” She really had never loved you. You were just a tool she could use to escape the mindless drones that claimed to support her. So it all had meant nothing. It was just too good to be true.

She stood and wordlessly left, walking out of your life for good. Good riddance.

Your pain was only beginning to set in. You couldn’t care less that she broke up with you, you were miserable dating her anyways. No, the hardest part was you would be truly alone now. You knew once word got out that she broke up with you the whole school would blame you. There’s no way their perfect pretty princess could do wrong. It hurt to think about it, you’d probably lose your friends over this. There was one person, though, just maybe one person you could talk to.

Saiki Kusuo. An average looking boy, he didn’t stand out much. You had been friends with him months ago before you dated Teruhashi but she forced you to stop talking to him when you started dating. You never understood why, but she eventually told you that it’s because she used to like him before she got with you and she found it awkward for you to talk to him. You understood. The guilt ate you alive, but you complied. From that day on, you’d never again spoken a word to him.

You could tell just by looking at him he wasn’t like everyone else. He didn’t fawn all over Teruhashi when she entered a room and maybe that’s what drew you to him right now. He’d be the perfect friend, someone that wasn’t obsessed with her. You just hoped he’d forgive you.

“Hey, Saiki?” You asked, shyly walking up to him. He glanced up at you, an uninterested expression plastered on his face. He wasn’t visibly upset by you, but that only made you more nervous. You have no idea what he’s thinking. Realizing he wasn’t going to reply, you continued talking.

“I was just wondering if you’d be willing to have lunch with me. I-I know we haven’t spoken in a while but there are some things I’d like to clear up.”

Saiki knew exactly why you stopped talking to him. He wasn’t going to blame you for that, either. It wasn’t your fault. Sure, he was a little upset about it, you were someone whose presence he actually could tolerate. You were nice to talk to, mainly because you knew when was a good time and when to stop. Traits Saiki greatly admired and appreciated in a person. He might have even liked you a little.

He wasn’t about to let you go. Not as easy as the first time. “Sure.”

His response was curt and blunt, but you couldn’t help the small smile that graced your features. It was your first genuine smile in months. Maybe the whole world wouldn’t be completely against you.

“Thank you.” You stated simply, turning to sit back in your seat. It seemed like such a meaningless thanks, but Saiki knew there was more behind it than that.

Lunch came quickly enough and before you knew it you were eating under a tree with Saiki. You explained everything that happened over the last couple of months, how awfully you’d been treated behind the scenes. You apologized more than necessary for abandoning Saiki, trying to convey that you didn’t want to, but your ex-girlfriend had somewhat forced you to.

Saiki was forgiving, and far more understanding than he needed to be about the situation you were in along with the one you found yourself in now. Deep down, he was happy to have you back. Even if you weren’t super close before, he wanted to help you feel better and get over the torturous relationship you had just left.

So Saiki was there for you. The little lunch meets becoming a daily occurrence and he did his best to keep the Teruhashi fan club away from you. Talking to Saiki felt different, it was like he was genuinely listening and cared about what you told him. He was eager to help and aided as much as he could in your recovery.

Weeks passed as the routine kept up. On the weekends you’d meet for dessert and studying. Everything you did with Saiki felt right, it felt safe and healthy. You hadn’t realized how suffocating your old relationship was - even during the good days.

It wasn’t until Saiki asked you out and you said yes that you truly experienced what being loved felt like. It was late, well after the sun went down. Saiki had snuck into your house, claiming that his parents were being annoying but you knew that was a cover for the fact he missed you. There was no way they were awake these early hours of the morning. He saw your tired face under the dim light that peaked in from your window, as you woke up from his sudden appearance in your bedroom. Saiki felt a small rush. He needed to tell you. Now.

“Y/N” He spoke.

“Saiki?” The confusion was evident in your voice, “You spoke?” You were clearly tired after being disrupted from your sleep. Never having heard him speak before wasn’t helping with your state.

“Yeah.” He whispered, reaching a hand out to brush the hair out of your eyes, letting it linger on your cheek. It was a little more than platonic, just like the look in his eyes.

“I really like you, Y/N.” He whispered once again, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

But you did. Your eyes shot open, blinking a little in surprise. There was no way he just said that, you must be dreaming. There was no way this pink-haired boy that made you feel more than anyone else ever had was standing in your bedroom, at four o’clock in the morning saying he likes you.

You sat up, “You really mean that?” It came out without you intending it to. It probably sounded rude, but you were far beyond the point of being awake enough to care.

“Yeah.” He said, a small chuckle coming out, “I do.”

You didn’t say anything, all you did was slide back on your bed, making room for Saiki and open your arms. He took the hint and made himself comfortable next to you. He let out a small sigh, doubting he’d be able to sleep like this despite his relaxation. He wanted to protect you for as long as he could. He stared at you, probably a little more than he should. Saiki couldn’t help it, his eyes wouldn’t leave your form. You looked like you belonged in his arms, or so he thought. He was having a hard time processing his happiness at your figure in his arms. It had always been you, he was well aware of that now.

“You still awake?” he asked, going back to his telepathic communication. You mumbled a small yes, prompting him to continue talking. “Thank you,” he started, “for asking me to sit with you at lunch that one day. For coming back to me.”

You let out a tired giggle, “You missed me.”

“I did.” He felt you tense when you said that as if you were shocked to hear it. That didn’t surprise him, he had his doubts you were told you were cared about enough, especially in your last relationship.

Looking down at you once again, he realized you’d fallen asleep. A smile grew on his lips as he made a silent promise to show you what real love feels like. He’d cherish you to the moon and back. It’s what you deserve and he was going to give it to you.

#the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki k #saiki kusuo #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki #teruhashi #kokomi teruhashi #kusuo saiki #kusuo saiki x reader #my writing

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hot-wiings · 3 years

Text

The One Where Katsuki Bakugo Gives You A Priceless Gift For Christmas. Alternatively, The One Where [Y/N] [L/N] Buys Her Boyfriend A Joke Gift.

Edited: 12-1-2020

The fire crackled as you walked into the entertainment room of the rented cabin you were staying in. It was nice, it had a fairly well fireplace that kept the entire cabin warm and it had relatively spacious rooms. It was supposed to be a nice romantic getaway from the city, Christmas in a rustic cabin. An escape from your busy lives as heroes, an escape from work, villains, and responsibility. You were sure Katsuki would have been enjoying his time with you had he not been so annoyed.

Last-minute Mina and Denki found out about your plans, she and he wormed their way into getting invited. It wasn't like you had a real reason not to let them tag along, it was a three-bedroom cabin, and you weren't going to tell them they couldn't come because you planned on getting railed on the holiest holiday of the year. You end up inviting them and Eijirou, much to Katsuki's displeasure.

You made a quick way around the presents on the floor as you reached the love seat next to the fireplace. Katsuki had woken you up and gave you specific instructions to get two cups of coffee and preserve the good couch for the both of you before 'those damn extras' get another chance to ruin his holiday.

You were glad you got the desired couch before Mina or Denki could. It was right by the fire giving you a toasty feeling, but you knew halfway through opening presents you would be curled up against your boyfriend, receiving his heat instead.

"You get the good seat?"

"Yup!"

Katsuki plopped himself down next to you into the two-person loveseat and took his coffee mug from your outstretched hand. He let out a soft grunt as he took some of the substance down his throat.

"I woke them up, should be out here once they dry off."

"I thought you were joking. I specifically told you not to throw snow on them."

"Since when do I listen."

"Santa's gonna give you coal for Christmas."

Your voice came out in a singsong voice, teasing him. He had no clue that you, in fact, did get him coal for Christmas. It was a joke gift that Mina convinced you to get him. The idea of your boyfriend opening coal was too enticing to turn down. To be fair, it wasn't like you didn't get him something else. The minute you're done opening gifts, Katsuki was going to get his real present in the bedroom.

"Speaking of gifts, you're never gonna beat the gift I bought you."

"Oh?"

"Fuck, you're gonna love your gift."

Katsuki placed a quick kiss on the side of your head before rummaging through all the gifts on the floor, looking for the small box he packaged up and wrapped months ago. He knew he wanted to give you this, he wanted to pop the question. He had been trying to pop it for months now but he couldn't find the right way, it had to be perfect. It was Eijirou who convinced him to just wrap it up for Christmas, but he hadn't counted on the two dumber individuals of his friend group to try and tag along on the trip, he also hadn't counted on you letting them tag along. Luckily he had Eijirou, shitty hair was supposed to keep dumb and dumber out of the room while he gave you this gift.

"Open it."

You caught the small box that your boyfriend tossed at you and smiled at him. You shook it slightly before taking a drink from your coffee and placing it on the table next to you.

"Katsuki, we've gotta wait for the others."

"Just open it, trust me. Before they come in."

"Fine..."

You bit your lip as you made work on the tape and peeled off the paper. You pulled a small black velvet box out of the wrapping and flipped it open. You pulled your hand up to your mouth in shock as you looked at the ring. It was gorgeous, and the diamond was huge. It must have cost a fortune. You looked over at Katsuki who had knelt to one knee and you couldn't help but smile. He was doing it, he was really doing it.

"[Y/N]. Every day with you is like waking up on Christmas. It's joyful, happy, and fuckin' fun. It's worth living. Do me the pleasure of marrying me."

"Oh my god, Katsuki... Yes, yes!"

You quickly slid the ring on your finger and examined it as Katsuki sat down on the couch next to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his body.

"Told you I got the best gift... So what'd ya get me?"

Your throat went dry as you remembered your gift to Katsuki. He was going to kill you, as a matter of fact, you were going to kill Mina for having the idea in the first place. How could you give your boyfriend--fiance cole for Christmas, you couldn't, not when he just proposed with the biggest rock ever. You would look like such an ass.

"About that... I left your gift at home."

You scratched the back of your neck nervous as you tried to find the gift among the pile of gifts all your friends brought and placed under the tree making a mess of wrapped boxes.

"Don't be shy just cause' I got you something awesome. I know you grabbed it before we left the apartment, I saw you."

As Katsuki stood up to rummage through the gifts to find the one with his name scrawled out in your handwriting you panicked. He couldn't open that gift. At the same time, Mina walked in and spotted your ring. She could sniff these things out like a dog.

"Oh my God! Your hand! That rock! It's huge!"

"I know! It's Katsuki's Christmas gift to me, he proposed."

"I didn't know Katsuki could be so romantic! That's like the best gift ever. Oh! oh..."

You and Mina made eye contact with the same thought in mind. He could not open that gift or he was going to skin you both alive.

"Katsuki, just sit down. Wait your turn."

"No, I wanna see what you got me."

Without thinking you threw yourself onto Katsuki's back, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and chest region you made it hard for Katsuki to move. Mina was quick to jump into action and grabbed the gift but she froze as Katsuki tried shaking you off of him. He didn't know why you didn't want him to open the gift, but with Mina involved he desperately wanted to see what it was.

"Mina, do something!"

"I- I-"

Mina wasn't sure what to do. She couldn't just dispose of the gift, not especially after he saw it. Oh, but she could! Without a second thought, Mina threw the box on the floor and shot her acid on it.

You let go of Katsuki, thinking you were out of the woods but you thought wrong. You supposed you and Mina should have paid more attention to chemistry class in school, maybe then you'd know acid does not get rid of coal. It creates a chemical reaction, a chemical reaction that makes fire. Rapid, quick fire. It wasn't long before the fire spread over the house due to the carpeted floor. You and Mina felt embarrassed, red cheeks spread from your necks to your foreheads as Denki and Eijirou came rushing in and trying to put it out. It just kept spreading like lighter fluid. The damage was far too severe to put out so Katsuki just blew a hole in the wall creating an exit for you all.

"What the fuck was in that box."

You and Mina looked at your feet before she spoke up. Her voice came out quick, quick, and fast before she took off to her car.

"It was coal. Merry Christmas."

You never saw a car pull out of a driveway so fast, and you would've been amazed had you not been enraged over the utter betrayal.

"You got me fucking coal for Christmas?"

"Eijirou and I are just gonna leave... Uhm... We grabbed your keys, congrats on the engagement, and merry Christmas."

Eijirou and Denki were quick to get to their car and left. Cowardly traitors. They were all leaving you to deal with a ticking time bomb, couldn't they at least stay until the fire department arrived.

"My God Katsuki! Look at this ring, it's so pretty! Aren't you glad I'm your fiance? If you think about it, burning a house down is nothing when you think about how I said yes."

Despite the fact you got him coal, despite the fact you started a fire and he was mostly going to have to pay for all the damage, despite the fact you were both barefoot in the snow, Katsuki laughed. Maybe it was because it's Christmas, maybe it was because he was happy you said yes--he knew he'd never find another soul like you, someone who put up with him and all his shit.

"You're lucky you're my fiance... We can call the fire department from the car. Let's go, if I speed we can make it home on time to have dinner with my mom, we can tell her the news."

Katsuki laced your hand with his and brought it up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. He dropped your hand, turned around, and bent down slightly at the knees.

"C'mon, I'll carry you to the car."

You were quick to climb into your fiance's back for the second time that morning. With your face resting in Katsuki's neck and your arms tightly wrapped around his neck, you smiled.

"Hey, Katsuki?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you proposed. I don't wanna burn a house down on Christmas with anybody else but you."

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willowbird · 4 years

Note

Congrats!! If you want, how about the first time Ronan sleeps over at St. Agnes? Like the pining!!

Yay! I was SO EXCITED to get a Ronan/Adam ask!! I may have gone a little overboard with the pining, but I hope you still like it <3 <3 This is actually my first Pynch ficlet! I hope you like it! Lemme know if you think I should post it on AO3 ^^; Since it’s my first time actually writing them and I haven’t read the books as many times as I’ve read AFTG I hope it’s okay!

-----

Ronan bounced the rubber ball against the sloped ceiling from where he lay on Adam’s bed, waiting for the other boy to get out of the shower. He’d been out, just driving around with no discernable purpose or direction, when it came around that time for Parrish to get out of work so he’d swung by and picked him up. There’d been no reason to say no when Adam had asked if he wanted to come up for a while. After all, he and Adam were friends -- no matter how much they seemed to bicker -- and Ronan liked being at St. Agnes. Sometimes, it was honestly more satisfying to be there than it was to be at Monmouth. Nothing beat being at the Barnes, but still -- St. Agness had a particular energy, it always had.

After all, Ronan Lynch was no stranger to St. Agnes. The hours he’d spent in the quiet pews could stack together to build a universe apart from the rest of the world, a separate realm that even the horrors inside his own mind couldn’t touch. And yet, since Adam came to live there, the hallowed halls of that familiar place had developed a completely new,,, feeling that Ronan had no idea how to feel about.

A part of Ronan wanted to be pissed off about it.

A bigger part of Ronan was fascinated in the way that the travelers in his father’s stories had always been fascinated by the glow of will-o’-the-wisps between the branches of the deep woods and frosted bogs. The peace that the church had once given him was spiked with something else now, something that fizzed like pop-rocks under his skin, and as annoying as that was -- he really couldn’t say that he hated it.

Considering he knew that the fizz of... enchantment was most definitely caused by the boy now living in that small, slanted room above the church? No, he really couldn’t say that he hated it at all.

Not to say that Adam I’ll-be-independent-if-it-kills-me Parrish didn’t make him want to punch his fist through a fucking brick wall -- because he absolutely did. But there was also something... undeniably right about the boy taking up residence above the church. After all, the infuriating pest already lived full time inside his head, he might as well sleep in the building that housed Ronan’s soul as well. At least he was fucking consistent.

The shabby door connecting the bedroom to the tiny bathroom creaked open and Ronan caught the ball on its rebound and didn’t throw it again, instead turning his head to look as Adam entered the room.

He did not expect to see Adam walk into the bedroom in nothing but a towel and instantly looked back up at the ceiling, throwing the ball again with a bit more force than necessary. Only his quick reflexes saved him from losing a fucking eye. He tried not to think about the way the other boy’s skin had been flushed pink from the heat of the shower, his hair damp and pushed haphazardly back from his face, exposing cheekbones and eyes that...

Okay, he tried -- that didn’t mean he succeeded.

“Sorry, it’ll just be a minute. I forgot to grab something to change into.” Adam’s voice was soft, lilted with the Henrietta accent in the way that only happened when he was either really emotional or perfectly at ease. Ronan would never tell him how much he loved hearing the edge of gravel and wild country grass around his vowels, not on pain of death, but that didn’t make it any less true.

“Take your time, Parrish. I don’t fucking care.” No one needed to know that the sigh that followed was relief at how nonchalant he had managed to make the words, instead of the dry irritation it sounded like.

Adam huffed a soft laugh and Ronan could feel the eye-roll being directed at him. He didn’t bother to hide his grin, just gave it a bit more teeth as he tossed the ball up and caught it again.

It was only another few minutes before the door creaked open again and Adam came out -- this time fully clothed. Ronan caught the ball and sat up, scooting over so that Adam could come over and sit down, which the other boy did with a flourish and a groan.

“Ugh, I just do not wanna do homework.”

“Then don’t.” Ronan shrugged and bounced the ball on the floor this time, angling it slightly so that when it rebounded it went toward Adam.

Adam caught it easily and bounced it back, timed perfectly with a familiar scoff. “Some of us care about school, you know.” Ronan waited for a beat, but when Adam didn’t follow that up with chastisement or prod for him to start caring about school, he gave a small shrug.

“Sure, but tomorrow is Saturday. It isn’t like you’ve got anything due tomorrow. You just got off work, learn how to fucking relax.” He caught the ball and held it for a moment, tilting his head back as he mimicked a thoughtful expression. “Oh, oh that’s right, you don’t know how to relax.” He gave a deep, mournful sigh and bounced the ball back at him. “Shame, for man so smart to be missing such a vital real-life skill.”

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” Adam sniped back, but his words were sharpened more with amusement than irritation.

“Oh, I know. I’m a regular comedy special,” Ronan agreed readily. “But that, actually, was not a joke.” He could press here. He could remind Adam that his whole world didn’t need to be as rigid as he was making it to be. He could tell him that he could afford to take a break every now and then, that he deserved to chill the fuck out. But if he did that he risked sounding too much like Gansey or repeating an argument that neither of them probably felt like jumping into tonight. So instead, he caught the ball and cocked his head, studying the other boy curiously.

Then he asked, “Where would you go? If you could go anywhere in the world with no consequences. What would you do? And not to accomplish anything great or whatever -- I’m talking just for fun.”

Adam held up his hand for the ball and Ronan tossed it to him. His eyes caught on the way he began to roll it between his palms, those long fingers curling around it, bony wrists twisting to pass it from one hand to the other. Ronan had the sudden urge to brush his lips over the prominent bump in each wrist. Not in a kiss -- but just to feel the protrusion against his mouth.

“That’s pretty broad,” Adam said with a hum, oblivious to his distraction. “There’s a lot of places I could go.”

“That’s the point. There’s no consequences, no limits. You could go anywhere.” He dragged his gaze away from those hands but this time they caught on the exposed bit of Adam’s collarbone on the way up to his face. “So pick a place, Parrish. Never known you to be so indecisive.”

Adam’s eyes dropped from where they’d been thoughtfully searching the ceiling, locking onto his as he flashed a sharp smirk. That expression cut him right between the ribs, twisted, and nestled in nice and deep for the winter -- because this, this was the Adam Parrish he couldn’t stop thinking about. Everyone seemed to underestimate him. Everyone thought he was so soft, thought he was so polite and sweet and yeah sure, he was all of those things, but that was only one part of him. It was just the surface setting to the multiverse that was Adam Parrish, and this sharp, biting, cunning side of him was closer to his core. Ronan knew he was one of the only people who knew that side was there, and was probably the only person who truly understood how much a part of him that facet was.

“All right,” he said, his voice smooth and low and Ronan had the distinct certainty that if that sound were a drink it would be a spiked mulled cider, husky and tart in a way that made your head light and your chest warm. “I’ll play. But you go first. Where would you go? Somewhere outside of the States,” he added, before Ronan could say the Barnes -- because he was apparently that predictable.

Ronan rolled his eyes, but shrugged and slipped off the bed, laying on the floor beside the bed and pillowing his hands under his head as he thought. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Adam stretch out on the bed on his stomach, hugging a pillow and using it to prop his head up a bit as he looked down at Ronan. The feel of Adam’s full and undivided attention on him did things to his pulse he didn’t want to think about.

“Probably Ireland,” he finally said after a long moment of thought that was torn up and distributed between flickers of distraction caused by Adam’s silhouette in his peripheral, from the way his damp hair was falling into his eyes now that it was beginning to dry all the way to the slump of his broad shoulders and the sharp jut of his elbows against the cushions. There just really wasn’t any part of Adam Parrish that Ronan didn’t want to look at.

A soft huff of laughter had Ronan turning his head to look at him straight on and the amusement on the other boy’s face told him that he was being predictable again. Ronan frowned -- he didn’t like being predictable.

“Don’t give me that look. Tell me why, Ronan Lynch.” There was a teasing note in Adam’s voice, and if it were anyone else that would have brought Ronan’s back up -- would have made him snap his teeth and snarl. Coming from Adam, he had to give himself a moment so he didn’t trip over his own foolish tongue.

Somehow he managed to avoid that humiliation. Instead, he told Adam about Ireland through his father’s eyes. He told himself he didn’t care about the softening of Adam’s smile, that it did absolutely nothing to him to watch the other boy close his eyes and rest his cheek on the pillow, leaving himself vulnerable as he dipped into his own thoughts. Rather, he focused on the stories he was telling Adam, reliving them as he did his best impression of his father’s cadence and storyteller’s hum. He told him stories about the fair folk, the fey and the night creatures. He told him about the magic of each valley and river and dale. He shared his favorite tales about cheeky brownies and powerful, dangerous sidhe that became captivated by the bright, fleeting magic of a human’s ability to create.

Adam listened to each one, and that smile...? It never faded, not even once.

“It’s your turn,” Ronan finally said, when his heart was full and his lungs tight -- torn between the memories caused by those stories and these newer, more electric feelings caused by the proximity of Adam Parrish’s smile.

“Mm, I think... I think that if I were to go anywhere in the world I’d want to see high mountains. High mountains and dark woods. Deep lakes. Flowers that seem to have their own language between the brightness of their colors and the way they sway toward and away from each other in a wind that affects them and them alone. Butterflies that cast shadows like birds of prey...” As he spoke his words drew further and further apart, his tone drifting as fatigue from the long day dragged him down toward sleep.

Ronan held his breath, almost wanting to prod him for more -- because it was rare to hear Adam talk... well, like a dreamer. Adam was a boy who kept himself grounded so deeply in reality it was sometimes painful for Ronan to be around him. This secret side of him, this side of dreams and hope and wonder... it was a vulnerable side that he knew Adam wouldn’t be indulging in if he weren’t perfectly comfortable and probably way more tired than he’d originally thought he was. It was a side of him that Ronan had always known existed (you couldn’t chase a dead Welsh king without being at least part whimsy, no matter how charismatic Gansey was) but one that Adam kept very close to the chest.

“Mm... Ronan?” Adam’s voice was soft and sleep-slurred, his eyelashes shielding the color of his eyes, he was barely able to keep them open.

“Yeah?” Ronan’s voice was rough, even to his own ears, but Adam didn’t seem to notice.

“Do you think a place like that actually exists?” The question was light, but there was a raw, sweet shard of hope beneath the words that cut Ronan in a tender space below his throat.

“Yes,” Ronan promised with certainty, not even needing to think about it -- not even needing to question it. “I know it does.”

Adam’s eyes dropped all the way closed and he smiled, sighing in relief. That sigh transitioned directly into the deep, slow breaths of sleep.

Ronan knew that he should get up. Sleeping on the floor would give him one hell of a backache, and Adam hadn’t said he could stay over. He should get up and stretch, then drive back to Monmouth, where he should crawl into his own bed for the night -- or maybe stay up longer and bother Gansey, because fuck knew that guy didn’t understand the concept of a regulated sleeping schedule.

Instead, Ronan watched Adam until his own eyes just couldn’t stay open any longer. Then, from the floor of St. Agnes, beside the boy who called to him like a fire-sprite, Ronan dreamed. He dreamed of dark woods and flowers that seemed to have their own language, between their bright colors and the way they swayed in their own self-contained breezes. He dreamed of butterflies that cast shadows like birds of prey. He dreamed of safe places even in the dark woods -- and when Ronan dreamed... well, when Ronan dreamed, reality itself seemed to listen.

#asks #anon #trc #pynch #pynch fic #fanfic #adam parrish #ronan lynch #pining #trc fanfic #adam parrish x ronan lynch #sleepovers!#my writing #100 followers #the raven cycle

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harringtonstudios · 4 years

Text

best friend’s ex.

plot: he’s your best friend’s ex and you should stay away.

A/N: i wrote this in one sitting and it’s very long <3 took some creative liberty here so imagine 2020!kells but he hasn’t made it just quite yet in the industry. this is heavily based off the song release tonight with blackbear so enjoy (maybe while listening!)

masterlist!

The circles in New York are different than the ones in Los Angeles. There’s a hint of familiarity in the New York circles, everyone seems to know each other connected by one person or a distant story of that one night the whole crowd tripped on molly. It’s dizzying, intricately knowing every single person backstage or at some club without recognizing them exactly.

You haven’t gotten used to the life, not yet acclimated with the high-fives and looks thrown your way at a party, or the nameless phone numbers crowding your text messages. It’s all new, fun and exciting and you have no one to thank but your best friend.

She’s made for this life, for the late nights and the rushes, the sticky floors and glittery lipgloss. This is her environment, where she thrives, and sometimes when you look at her in the club, necklaces shining with the overhead lights, you find it hard to connect this Domi to the one who you’ve seen crying on your bedroom floor after watching a despairing animal shelter commercial. But then she throws you a grin, crowds close, drapes her arm over your shoulder, and it just makes sense.

It’s been years of friendship, ever since you two met at freshman orientation for college. Her roommate was terrible, and more often than not, she’d be camping out on your twin-sized bed, offering you bites of her snacks in exchange for a safe haven. You both hadn’t really been into the party scene at school, too busy scrambling for reports and fibbing results for the endless lab sessions.

Domi graduated a semester early, spent an entire summer taking accelerated classes so she could go fly off to New York right before the new year started. That’s when things seemed to change. You’d been upset with her, hints of jealousy tinging in when she’d send you pictures of fancy clothes and people she was hanging out with, the nicely decorated venues she’d find herself in. She invited you to come to the city a few weeks in, buzzing on Facetime about backstage passes.

Then you were graduating yourself, packing two suitcases and jetting halfway across the country to live in the shitty apartment Domi’d been renting out with a couple of strangers. It had been hard to settle down at first, the air was different in the city and you’d had to up your resting bitch face game when you sat on the subways late at night, but before you knew it, you were enjoying the city that never sleeps, best friend right by your side.

Colson had stumbled into your life a year ago, and then been ripped out six months after. He was a up and coming musician (self-proclaimed) and had taken a chance bet on the city, moved from Cleveland with his friends and a mixtape. He was beautiful in a rugged way, angled cheekbones and lanky limbs, but Domi had taken one look and called dibs, so you tampered any attraction down.

It hadn’t taken long for them to start dating, even if Domi claimed they were just fooling around, it was clear to see that there was some level of intimacy there, a relationship itching to be formed. You’d been happy for her truly and it was easier than you’d expected to fall into a camaraderie with the guys.

Colson’s friends were funny, quick on their toes and absolutely chaotic. They fit into New York better than you did, and almost every single night, you would find yourself at their apartment, playing shitty drinking games and jamming to loud music.

Domi kept the relationship as lowkey as she could, and at some point, you would hear less and less about Colson. It didn’t really hit you then, but it was the beginning of the end in a way, and then she was walking in, eyes red and wet before yelling out the fated words, “We broke up.”

Everything you had gotten used to was suddenly taken away. You spent weeks consoling her, reminding her that she was better than this guy, stronger and that time was the only way this would heal. She begrudgingly listened, and then took your phone from you, casually blocking Colson’s number along with all his friends.

At first, you’d been mildly upset. She was the one who’d fucked up, the one who’d decided to break up with him, so why was this effecting you? It didn’t make sense, they were still your friends and you liked them more than anyone else you’d met here.

But then she’d given you her patented puppy dog eyes, and you’d dismissed it, decided that if this was what she wanted, so be it. You could stand to lose the drunken nights, your liver would thank you.

Colson Baker and his friends disappeared from your life as fast as they had appeared into it. You spent your nights cooking at home instead of going out, focused on building back your sleep schedule instead of getting drunk off your mind, and the days went by.

Of course, nothing lasts forever and six months later, your coworkers’ are begging you for a night out, like the old times. Everyone’s antsy for your reply, know that you haven’t been to a social function with them in ages, and you take one look at their faces before sighing and agreeing.

The entire office claps, you flip them all off before catching sight of your boss, who simply smiles and shakes his head. There’s a faint flutter in your stomach, memories rising from months ago, parties and late nights, flashes of lights and thumping music. You shrug it off, tap your pen against the desk, bring your focus back to work.

Three hours later, you’re catching the train back home. It isn’t exactly rush hour yet, you’ve gotten out a little earlier than usual, Friday evenings usually being dull at work anyway and you’re glad because there’s less people mulling around in the sticky heat of the train station.

The station doesn’t smell great, there’s a tinge of stale pee filling up the air and you discreetly move to the other side of the station, trying to get as far away from the smell as you can. New York City man.

The train pulls in, and you automatically put in your headphones, music blasting in your ears as you sidle into the train car, passing the passengers coming out. It’s relatively empty, being near the front and you thank the train gods before sliding into an orange seat near the door.

There’s a couple of guys sitting at the other end, they’re loud and boisterous, shoving each other and you give them a once-over before settling into the seat. The train moves, and you pull your purse onto your lap, patting it once before letting your eyes fall close.

The next stop comes abruptly, jolting you out of the little dreamscape you’d created. There’s a shout as the doors open and you pause your music trying to tune into what’s going on. It’s still the group of guys, but now there’s more of them and you roll your eyes at the banter drifting across the car.

The music starts up again and you lean your head back, try to get comfortable again, but it doesn’t work. There’s a weird feeling in your gut, making you uneasy but you brush it off, raise the volume until all you can feel is the dirty bass.

A minute later, someone kicks at your shoes and you open your eyes, ready to angrily scold at them until they can feel the rage across the car.

The words die in your throat. Colson Baker’s standing there in all his glory, lanky arm leaning against the metal, blonde hair puffing around his head, grin lighting up his face.

His nose is pierced now and you take it in, the way it brings out his eyes and you pause the music mumbling out, “Nose ring looks good on you.”

You bite your tongue right after, embarrassed that after months of silence that’s the first thing that falls out of your mouth. He laughs, body shaking and you’re flashed back to nights in his apartment, watching him laugh on the other couch, head thrown back.

“Thanks,” he murmurs before going, “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you answer honestly and there’s another shout from across the car, Colson turning to wave a hand.

“It’s the guys. They didn’t think it was you, but I could tell yanno,” he explains and you raise your eyebrows as he continues, “They’re all still kinda pissed you blocked us.”

The statement falls between you two, awkwardly as the train car rumbles on. You wince a little as he fake coughs to fill the empty space.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about all that man. You guys were like family,” you carefully mention, hands playing with the hair tie on your wrist.

“It’s cool. I get it, I mean we both know Domi,” he stammers out and his own hand goes to rub at his chin.

This conversation isn’t what either of you expected and you shift up in your seat, trying to change the topic at the mention of your best friend.

“So what’ve you been up to?” you ask and he smiles at the gateway question, eager to get rid of the uncomfortable energy.

“Got signed to a record label,” he murmurs and the smile that takes over your face is unreal. There’s pride blooming in your chest.

“No way!! Oh my god, congrats dude. That’s killer,” you gush out and his cheeks taint red at your words.

“Thanks,” he says, eyes meeting yours.

“I knew you’d do it. You’re immensely talented,” you continue on as the train comes to a stop.

It’s not yours but it seems to be his. The guys all shout over at him and he’s looking up and then gazing at you, caught between the two options before he makes up his mind.

He doesn’t choose you, you’re not surprised.

“I appreciate you!” he shouts out before running off the car, joining the rest of the guys on the station.

You turn in your seat and wave at them, catching a couple of glares and hesitant waves back before the car pulls away, to the next destination.

The music starts up again and you will your heart to slow down for reasons you can’t even comprehend.

Domi gives you a look as you rush into your room. Usually after work, you spend time in the kitchen, milling around grabbing little snacks as she cooks, but you actually have plans tonight.

It’s the first time you’re going out in months and you take a quick shower before pulling out all the old outfits you’d shoved into the back of your closet.

There’s a nice dress, black with faint traces of glitter and you eye it for a second before deciding against it. This is a fun night with the coworkers, not your insane best friend who’d always managed to get you to dress your very best.

There’s a pair of skinny jeans tossed into a dresser, and you eye the rips in it before pulling it on. It looks good, tight in all the right places and you root around for a shirt that can be just fancy enough.

There’s a nice purple one tossed in the closet, slipping off of a hanger and you grab it before pulling it on and tying it up in the front.

It’s pretty, makes you look just right and you play around with your hair before sitting down and committing to a makeup look.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re throwing your keys, a pack of gum, gloss and your phone into a small purse. It hangs off of your wrist and you take a look in the mirror before stepping out of your room.

“Where are you going?” Domi asks, her tone slightly cold.

“Night out. Coworkers invited me and I couldn’t say no,” you explain, running your hands down the jeans.

“Oh,” her face falls.

“Do I-look good?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yeah. You always do bitch,” she half-heartedly adds and you smile at her.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you say, grabbing a carrot from the countertop.

“I’ll wait up,” she smirks and you nod before heading out the door.

The club’s only a few stops away and when you swipe your metro card again, you groan at how low the funds are running. You haven’t filled it just yet, and the $1.25 flashes up at you, taunting.

“I’m poor,” you scoff at the machine and the girl swiping next to you laughs.

You get in somehow, sneakily using the swinging baby stroller door and by the time the train pulls up, you’re only running a few minutes late.

It only hits you when you sink into the familiar orange seat that you didn’t tell Domi about running into her ex. You know she doesn’t care as much about Colson now, scorchingly refers to him as that one rapper, but it’s an unspoken rule. You always tell if you run into the ex.

Your fingers tap against your phone screen, wondering if texting her is appropriate but you drop it quickly. It’s not a big deal. You’ll just let her know when you get home tonight.

The doors open, you leave and then you’re stalking towards the club doors, eyeing the long line. The bouncer is staring everyone down, and you wade up to the front. You’ve learned enough tricks in the short party lifestyle you’d had.

“I’m with the VIPs,” you flash your ID and then a $5 discreetly tucked under it. He looks you up and down, grumbles slightly before taking the money from you.

The rope opens and you smile before stepping through into the dark. It’s loud inside already, the lights contrasting the slight evening colors from outside. You look around before you spot the team and walk over to them.

“Hey!!!” they exclaim and then you’re being handed a glass, cheering the night as everyone drinks it down.

It’s tequila, stings in the back of your throat and you cough before wiping your mouth, “God, I haven’t had this in so long.”

“See that’s why we needed you out tonight,” one of them goes, checking your shoulder with theirs. You laugh before agreeing and order your drink of choice, chiming into the conversation.

It’s going so well, the night seems to be twinged with good vibes. You feel nice and loose, arm draped over your nearest friend as you two sway at the songs playing.

There’s a commotion at the door and you guys turn towards the bouncer only to see people scuffling around, pushing to get closer.

“Hey dude! I’m playing tonight. Musical guest here!!!” comes a loud voice, and it rings familiar in your head. It’s faint, digging somewhere into the back of your mind and you get on your tip-toes trying to see.

“Fuck you,” someone else spits and it echoes around the club.

The crowd splits open then, and you get a glimpse at old friends, adjusting their hats as they stalk across to the stage.

Rook’s fuming as he walks past you, and you spot the tell-tale crease on his face, the grit of his teeth. It scares you, the memory of it all after late night game losses, the way he would blow a gasket about cheating.

Slim and Baze wander behind him, they seem cooler, always are, but the anger is brimming under and you look away as they pass you.

AJ isn’t there and you guess he’s already in the club. He’s always been the sensible one, stable and ready to take control of the situation when it inevitably turns bad.

Colson’s following the rest but his eyes are on the crowd, hand going out to meet people, smiling at everyone. There’s a faint cut on his lip, blood trickling out and you want to scream at him. He comes up around to where you’re standing, and you step back, let your coworkers high five him as he passes.

He doesn’t see you, it’s better that way.

You order up another drink, ignore the whispers of the pesky rapper as they fill up the air around you. He’s well known here apparently, people aware of him in the scene. They mumble about the fights, the way he never seems to show up without a cut or bruise.

You take a shot, sip at the alcohol, smile fading as your coworker ravishes on about how good looking the musician is.

It takes about twenty minutes, and then the music shuts off. There’s a squeal of microphone feedback and everyone around you ducks, hands rushing up to cover their ears.

“Fuck,” a mumble comes across the sound system.

There’s another shuffle and your friend grabs your arm, pulling you closer to the stage. There’s already people there, milling around, clutching drinks and you try to stay on the sidelines, out of view.

“We should go closer,” he determines and then you’re being pulled forward again, swimming around in the second row.

Colson is standing front and center in all his glory. The shitty lighting makes him glow, and he looks big, energy filling him up. He pulls the mic off the stand and steps back before going, “Afternoon. We are Machine Gun Kelly.”

The name isn’t familiar. You don’t know it and quite frankly, it doesn’t place anywhere either but that’s all you get before the music starts up. It’s weird, a pace you don’t expect from him and then he’s off, singing with a grit in his voice, fingers flying across a guitar draped over his shoulder.

Everyone seems to bob along in the crowd and you do too, losing yourself in the way he sounds, the tone of his voice as he croons. The music is great, drums harsh and strong, guitar loud behind the vocals.

The set’s over quick and you’re slightly sweating by the end of it. He thanks the crowd before jumping off stage, and you immediately retreat back to the bar, anxious to steer clear of him.

Even in your drunken state of mind, it’s a bright red flashing light: Stay away from Colson. Stay away from the guys.

You switch to water for a while, try to stop your head from spinning with the lights. Everyone you came with is somewhere on the dance floor, so when an arm drapes on your shoulders, you freeze up, still facing the bar.

“Hey,” and then you’re looking up at Slim’s face, sweaty and eager.

“Slim,” you breathe out, vice in your chest loosening at the fact that it isn’t Colson. You don’t know why this is better, but it is.

“What’re you drinking?” he asks, hand going up to call over the bartender.

You don’t have the heart to say water, know that he’ll laugh and then get you a beer, so you murmur, “Get me a shot of vodka?”

His smile widens and he shouts the drink order over the counter before dropping his arm, “You sipping the hard stuff now?”

Shaking your head, you respond, “I’ve always drank the hard stuff.”

“Yeah, back when we hung out,” he slips into the banter, and your heart stops. You didn’t realize it had hurt them this bad, that months later, drunk and high off of a good show, Slim still manages to bring it up, voice tightening slightly.

“Look, I’m sorry about all that. I really am,” you start, but then he’s passing you the drink and locking arms.

“Cheers,” he says and you clink your shot glass against his, tipping it back.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out but he throws you a look.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says and then he’s shouting out, “Yo Kells!”

It clicks into place then, the Machine Gun Kelly. It’s his nickname, has been for years apparently since he was rapping in middle school hallways, but he’d always introduced himself as Colson to new friends, let them decide whether the Kells fit him or not.

You hadn’t called him Kells once, in the months of knowing him, had laughed about it a couple of times with Domi, who loved to mock it any chance she could.

“You stalking me?” Kells sleazes out, there’s already a drink in his hand, someone following him around with bright eyes.

“No,” you state, moving away from the counter. The red lights are in full effect, this could end up terribly.

“Seems like it,” he sums up, coming in closer to lean against the bar. His lip is still cut, looks swollen as he approaches you.

“You fucked up your lip,” you state, mind cursing at the lack of filter you seem to have around your best friend’s ex.

“What?” he goes, and then his fingers are rubbing at the fat lip, eyes scrunching, “Guess I did.”

“Well it was nice to see you again,” you try.

“I just got here, you leaving already?” he murmurs, brushing off the person following him.

Slim’s moved to the other end of the bar, Rook’s throwing you a glare.

“Don’t think your friends want me around,” you nod over.

He turns his head and makes some kind of motion. Rook drops his eye contact, head going to duck at the bar. Slim smiles.

“They don’t know what’s good for them,” he mumbles, head turning back. His fingers tap at the bar, and there’s a beer appearing. He smiles at the bartender.

“I’m good for them?” you scoff, there’s a hint of bitterness at your tone, but it’s not directed exactly at them. It isn’t their fault.

“Always have been. The good influence when we would try and do stupid shit,” he says thoughtfully. He’s almost as drunk as you, eyes slightly red.

You laugh at that, “You’re always doing stupid shit. Great set by the way, impressed the fuck out of me.”

“You didn’t expect it?” he says as if you were supposed to have known all his songs by heart.

“I haven’t heard any of your music,” you honestly reply.

“Not even the mixtapes?” he seems shocked.

“No, Domi never sent them to me and you all just assumed so,” you stop yourself, falling into dangerous territory.

At the name drop of his ex, he winces a little, “God she was a fucking head-case.”

“Hey that’s my best friend you’re talking about,” you shout a little too loud. You catch Slim slamming a hand onto Rook’s shoulder. The air becomes stifled.

“Sorry,” Colson offers, taking a long, pointed sip.

You sigh, “Don’t be. She can be a little much sometimes. I’m sorry for how it all ended.”

“You should hang with us tonight,” he calmly says, switching the subject. Your breath catches in your throat.

“I don’t know-“ you start.

He cuts you off, “I get it. If you want, we’ll be here for a while. Find us.”

That’s all you get and then he’s walking towards the gang, slipping into the crowd. You drop your head onto the shell covered bar, groaning out.

The night dwindles down, your coworkers trickle out, slamming messy kisses on your face before walking out. You’re left by yourself soon enough and there’s a pulsing in your head, matching the music vibrating under your shoes.

It doesn’t take long to decide. You want to hang out with Colson and them, with Machine Gun Kelly. It’s a bad idea, you can tell before you’ve even fully determined it, but it’s as if fate’s lined everything up for you. It’s gonna happen.

You push away the nagging thoughts, wander around the club trying to find someone, coming up empty. Everyone seems to have left and you roll your eyes before stepping out yourself. Maybe fate doesn’t want this to happen.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, you spot Rook across the street, blunt in hand. He hasn’t seen you, looking down at his shoes but you know him well and if he’s around it means the others are close by.

You brace yourself, work up some form of courage and walk over. He looks up at the sound and there’s immediate dislike flashing across his face.

Out of everyone, Rook’s been the most temperamental. You’d thought it was going to be Colson at first glance, but were quickly proven wrong by his friend, by the harshness of his demeanor at times. He doesn’t hide his feelings, and while you respect that, you’re also intimidated by his posturing.

“Hey Rook,” you mumble.

“Y/N,” he bluntly states.

“How have you been?” you try, but immediately know it’s the wrong thing to say.

“Cut the shit. What’d you want?” he bites out, eyes hard.

“Was wondering if I could catch a ride with you guys?” you question.

AJ usually drives them around, his black van large enough for the gang, and his self control strong enough to stay sober. You don’t know if it’s changed since the last time everyone hung out, but you’re hoping it hasn’t for the sake of your almost empty metrocard.

“Why’d you think we drove here?” he’s shrugs, giving you a hard time, and you shake your head wondering if your pride is worth this.

“Never mind dude,” you turn around but then he’s groaning behind you.

“Yeah we’ll take you back home. Kells’ kill me if I let you walk around here drunk. C’mon,” he says and you try to hide your smile as you follow him.

He takes a few more hits before tossing his blunt to the ground, and you’re glad he hasn’t offered you any. It would be too forgiving of him, too close to what you all used to be, and you wouldn’t know what to do if it came to that. Domi would kill you, hell she’d kill you if she knew you were getting into a car with them right now.

He stops in front of the familiar van, opens the door with force and everyone’s shouting inside, clambering over each other. You almost smile at the chaos, the familiarity of it all.

“Y/N!” Colson’s shouting and you do smile then. He slumps over long limbs and comes over to the door, reaching his hand out to you.

“You coming with us?” he asks and you nod before Rook mutters, “She needs a ride home.”

Colson purses his lips before looking back over at you, hand still outstretched, “Yeah, c’mon in. AJ got you.”

It’s late, later than you should be out and there’s a reminder that Domi’s waiting for you back home, wants to hear about your night. Your resolve flickers the minute his hand wraps around yours.

He tugs you in the van, and you follow, stepping in before they all scatter around, making enough space. There’s another girl with them, someone you don’t remember meeting or knowing but she smiles at you and curls into Rook’s side.

The music in the van is almost as loud as in the club, filling up the space. You wonder, not for the first time, how AJ drives like this, how he casually sings along, fist bumping the rest of the guys after a song.

Before you know it, there’s a blunt being passed around. Colson skips you on the first round, and you try not to let it hurt, remind yourself that you’ve stung them harder than this, hurt them worse.

He leans into your space after handing it off, whispers, “You still don’t smoke right?”

There’s a painful twist in your stomach at his question. When you all first met, you wouldn’t smoke blunts with them, hesitant about the strain and Domi’s eyes on you. She hated weed, despised the smell and would always remind you of that fact before you’d all spend the night out.

After the breakup, she’d loosened up on that, didn’t care if you smoked out on the fire escape, and sometimes even joined in, it was weird. Weirder than the fact that Colson somehow remembered all this months later.

“I do,” you whispered back, licking your lips, “smoke I mean.”

“Oh,” he softly says and then the blunt’s coming back around. He barely takes a hit before handing it off to you, pushing your hand slightly with his fist.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smoking it in. It’s strong, brings an immediate rush. You close your eyes.

When you open them, Colson’s too close to you. The red lights flash hard in your head and then the car’s stopping in front of their building.

You don’t even hesitate, “Is it wrong if I come up with you?”

His eyes look into yours, it’s quiet enough that you feel the weight of your statement sink in. This is bad, so bad.

He doesn’t say anything but everyone around you is moving, pulling off instruments and slamming doors. He carefully takes your hand, pulls the blunt out from your other one.

“AJ, we’re gonna chill for a while,” he says, towards the front seat, giving him the blunt. There’s a hum and then he’s opening the door, pulling you out just as he’d pulled you in.

For a second, you hesitate and then you’re falling into him. His arm wraps around your hips, pulls you back up on the sidewalk.

“You okay?” his voice is quiet, the world still moves around you both but it feels like you’re the only two people who matter.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Wanna go home?” he says, and the words hit you for a second before you shake your head.

“No, this is cool,” you tongue out.

You’re both walking into the building then, satisfied with your answers. The manager gives you a once over at the front desk but that’s all before Colson’s thumbing the elevator button.

“What about everyone else?” you murmur.

He looks at them unloading the van and lets out a laugh, fingers tightening slightly against yours as he shakes, “They’re gonna be busy a while.”

You laugh back, try to tamper down the feeling of seeing him full-body laugh for the second time that day. The elevator dings and you step in, he follows.

It’s the same damn elevator as it was six months ago, but there’s something different in the air right now. It’s staticky, thrumming through you and it feels like you’re stumbling right on the edge of something.

The doors close, it’s just you and him. The feeling gets stronger, his fingers loosen against yours. You grip harder and he looks up straight into your eyes.

The door dings open again and he huffs a little, “Forgot to click the button.”

You smile but it feels thin. Your brain is flashing wrong, flashing red, screaming Domi’s name, but your heart is racing, pounding against your chest.

You screw your eyes shut.

He hits the button, the elevator starts going and you step closer to him. His back is against the elevator wall and there’s a calm look on his face, but you can tell he’s nervous, can feel it in the clamminess of his palm where it’s sticking to yours.

“I’m going to kiss you,” you blurt and you don’t even have time to regret the words before he’s pushing into you, lips finding yours within seconds.

They’re warm and softer than you expected. He lets out a groan as you kiss back, and you’re reminded of his cut, the swollen lip he’s sporting now. You move back, rest your forehead against his.

“Sorry, your lip,” you attempt to explain, but he shakes his head, forehead sliding across yours, twisting it.

“I like it,” he mumbles and you smile before kissing him again, feeling his arm wrap around you, pull you closer.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed him, he’s strictly off limits, a forbidden idea, but it feels like everything has suddenly fallen into place. The warning signs dissolve into bursts of serotonin as he makes little sounds, pressed up with your mouth.

The door dings open. You break apart and step out. Is kiss drunk a thing, or are you losing your mind? He grins at you, pulls your joined hands up for a soft kiss brushing on your knuckles.

Your heart flutters right then. If you’re losing your mind, you’re glad it’s with him. Dealing with the aftermath is something you’ll do later, so you push all thoughts of Domi and her complications aside and follow him straight into his apartment, consequences be damned.

taglist: @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyths @rosegoldrichie @mayaslifeinabox @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @sophroniaa @enchantedamusedslightlyconfused @calum-defense-squad

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apenapaperandadoofus · 3 years

Note

Can you write something in which the RFA learns about Jumin's mother, it just irks me that they don't realize the damage they unintentionally perpetuated with the way they treat him. Specially Zen, I'm sure they'll be baffled if they just knew...

YES this one is amazing actually, I'd love for them to understand him better bc they do treat my man poorly :'(

RFA finding out about Jumin's mother (mentions of emotional abuse)

After a year of being together, you and Jumin decided to move out of the penthouse and go and live at his old childhood home. You were a bit nervous about the whole change, but Jumin assured you that it was all going to be alright.

You fell in love with the house as soon as you saw it, and that night as you laid in your bedroom with Jumin, you talked about the place, and about your future.

"This is the place I'd want to raise our children." He murmured against your skin that night, and you smiled as you imagined the happy future that would await the two of you.

A few weeks later, after the two of you had gotten everything ready, you decided to do a housewarming party, and so, you invited the whole RFA.

You handed out appetisers with Jaehee by your side, as Jumin and V chatted, probably catching up after a while of not seeing each other. Yoosung was talking with Saeran, while Zen was dramatically moaning in the corner as Saeyoung played with Elly and tried to get her as close as Zen as possible.

After you were done eating, Yoosung stood up from the sofa. "Oh! Hey guys, you haven't even done a house tour yet, that's the most important thing!"

Jumin looked at Yoosung. "Hmm... a house tour? I don't see why not. Are you alright with it love?" He asked you and you nodded, standing up from your spot and grabbing Jaehee's hand.

"I'm actually pretty excited to show you all around! C'mon!" You said as you led everyone out of the living room and showed them around the rooms.

Everytime you showed the group a new room, Yoosung would let out a gasp and moan about how lucky the two of you were to have such a giant house, while Zen would scoff and say, "why do you even have these many rooms? I bet you don't even use them all."

Eventually you all made it up to the third floor, where you showed them your room and the guest rooms. As you explained to Jaehee and V what you wanted to do with one of the rooms (you wanted to build your own office and were asking for their input on the decorations) Yoosung found a room at the top of some small stairs and slowly opened it.

"Woah what's this!?" He asked as he went inside, with Zen following behind him.

"Oi, trust fund kid, why is there a room full of creepy toys?" Zen said, and then Saeyoung whistled as he looked around.

"You know this looks as if it was from those creepy horror movies where the kid dies in here or something and becomes a ghost to haunt everyone! Saeran look at these toys!"

The younger twin only rolled his eyes but did agree that it was a pretty creepy place.

You had never really seen the room before, so you were really confused too. You looked at Jumin and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey Jumin, did you know this was here?" You asked, and he nodded.

You exchanged a look with V, since it was pretty clear Jumin was feeling a bit uncomfortable. You cleared your throat trying to get the other guy's attention.

"Hey everyone, why don't we go downstairs now? I think lunch is ready."

Yoosung popped his head out from the room, an elephant plush on his hand. "Awww but I was actually having fun! Besides, Jumin hasn't even explained why you have this place.... wait." He looked you up and down and let out a small scream. "MC DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE PREGNANT!? SINCE WHEN, AND SO EARLY!? YOU TWO AREN'T EVEN MARRIED, I MEAN CONGRATS BU-"

Zen immediately walked out of the room and gaped at you, then he glared at Jumin.

"No way, YOU GOT MC PREGNANT? DUDE WHAT THE HELL ISN'T SHE A BIT TOO YOUNG TO-"

"OH MY GOD CAN I NAME THE BABY?!" Saeyoung screamed from behind and you sighed. Jaehee, thankfully cleared her throat and quieted the guys down.

"Why don't we listen to what MC wants to say instead of coming up with random conclusions? And Saeyoung, stop touching the toys, please we don't know if they hold a special meaning to Jumin."

You gave her a grateful smile and then looked at Jumin. "Well, I don't exactly know what this place is, but I am definetly not pregnant! We aren't ready for that yet haha. Anyways, maybe Jumin doesn't really want to talk about this place, so why don't we go back down?"

The boys let out a disappointed sigh but started leaving the room in a single line, and you were about to nag them when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around and saw Jumin, who was giving you a small smile.

"It's alright love, thank you. I think I can tell them...after all they're my friends and I trust them."

Saeyoung let out a whoop and held a small duck finger puppet he had found inside.

"Yes! I can't wait to listen to what crazy things Jumin used to do as a child, I mean, this used to be your play room right?? What I don't get though is why it's in an actual basement, and the reason it feels so gloomy...you didn't murder someone in here did you!?"

"Saeyoung please." V spoke up from behind him and looked towards Jumin's direction, a worried expression on his face. "Jumin, you don't have to tell them, why don't we go and eat?"

Jumin shook his head and smiled at his friend. "It's fine. Like I said before, the RFA is a group I whole heatedly trust, and I'm alright with telling them. They did ask after all."

"What's the big deal?" Zen grunted. "This was probably just a room where he would play. That's all. Although I have to admit I'm surprised you even have a whole toy room for yourself. I didn't think you were one to play with toys."

Jumin smiled, although you could see that it was a sort of sad, forced sort of smile.

"You're correct, I wasn't the sort of kid that used to play with toys. Instead, I loved to read and investigate about things that intrigued me. I also enjoyed studying."

Zen scoffed. "Of course, so you had a whole room full of toys that you never used. Seriously, do you rich people care that little about everyone else? There must've been plenty of kids without any toys at home that would've killed for a room like this."

"Zen." You glared at him and he stopped, a guilty look appearing briefly on his face.

"I'm just saying..."

"Love, it's fine. He's right in a way." Jumin said. "These toys were a sort of...present from my mother. She didn't like that I wasn't like other kids, that I didn't really play with toys. So she decided to buy a bunch of them and give them to me, to see if I would finally play with them. I didn't really find them interesting though, so that only made her more exasperated in a way. To this day I don't really understand what would make her so angry but it did. She ended up filling the basement with toys and then she would lock me up in here for hours to try and get me to play with them."

You felt your eyes widen, and everyone in the RFA stood in silence as they listened to Jumin who was saying all of this in a really nonchalant way.

"Jumin...I didn't know. For how long would she lock you up?" You asked, and Jumin shrugged.

"Sometimes it'd be between four hours, if not more. One time she locked me for 15 hours straight."

"That's horrible!" You gasped. And Jumin caressed your cheek. "Jumin I'm, I'm so sorry. We shouldn't have...I'm sorry." You buried your face in his chest and hugged him tight.

"It's alright love, it's all in the past now. And I don't mind sharing it with the RFA. They're my friends and it's fine if they know. Now, why don't we go and eat? I'm sure you're all starving."

The whole group was suddenly startled by Jumin's sudden mood change but they nodded, unable to really say anything. You decided to leave downstairs first with V.

Yoosung quickly put the toy back in the room and shyly glanced up at Jumin, a guilty look on his face. "I'm...I'm sorry Jumin. We really shouldn't have been so nosy."

"Yeah... Yoosung's right." Saeyoung said from beside him, his tone serious. Jumin noticed that Saeyoung had a dark expression on his face, just like Saeran, as if they were suddenly remembering something. Saeyoung looked at Jumin and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry for joking about it. I'm sure it was hard...especially to tell us. Sorry for making you remember that...that horrible thing your mother used to do...no one should ever go through that."

Jumin smiled at his friend. "Like I said, it's alright. You all didn't know, and I trust you enough to tell you. I don't mind that you asked at all."

Yoosung and Saeyoung nodded, and gave Jumin encouraging smiles before following you downstairs. As Jaehee passed by she nodded at Jumin and looked as if she wanted to say something, but instead, she reluctantly grabbed his hand and squeezed.

Jumin felt himself taken aback for a bit, after all Jaehee had never really touched him like that before, and the only times she did, it was because they were shaking hands as boss and employee.

But this time, it was different. Jaehee was now touching him as a friend. Jumin felt his heart warm, happy at the thought of Jaehee seeing him as a friend and treating him as one.

She quickly let go and walked downstairs followed by Saeran who gave Jumin a nod.

Jumin looked back at the room and was about to close the door, when he noticed Zen standing stiffly behind him.

"Zen?" He asked, and the young actor only huffed, his face suddenly becoming red.

"Uhm. I...listen. This is the only time I'm saying this, and I'm not going to repeat myself alright? So pay attention. I'm...I'm sorry about the whole basement thing. Uhm, like Seven said, we shouldn't have tried to pry into your business like that."

Jumin felt the corners of his mouth twitch, but he tried his best to keep a serious expression. "Thank you Zen. To be frank, I'm surprised that you're actually apologizing for this, it wasn't really your fault."

Zen huffed. "Idiot, I'm apologizing because I made fun of the situation without knowing anything about it. And...I mean...I am also apologizing because I might've been too harsh in you all this time. Don't get me wrong, I still think you're a brat that has always had a silver spoon on his mouth, but I guess I never thought you might've dealt with some... pretty heavy stuff too." He blushed and tried to look anywhere that wasn't Jumin, who didn't know if he should laugh or just look at Zen in surprise.

"...I probably shouldn't be saying this but, I'm glad you told us. At least now I know that you're human like the rest of us and not a robot." Zen tried to joke, and Jumin smiled.

"I certainly am not, but I'm glad that your opinion towards me has changed. I still find it strange though that you would think I'm a robot, after all, currently it isn't possible to actually make a full functioning machine that behaves like a human. Actually if there was one then I'd like to know, maybe having a robot working on C&R would help us raise stocks even more than usual, I have to ask assistant Kang to-"

"Alright shut up, I get it, I get it. Anyway we should go downstairs, the rest are probably waiting for us to start lunch."

Zen quickly walked down but before he could completely leave Jumin grabbed his arm, making Zen freeze and glare at him.

"What?" He said.

Jumin chuckled. "Nothing. I'm just glad we got to understand each other better today."

Zen scoffed. "I...yeah whatever. And I mean...like I said I'm glad you told me. I know what it's like to...to have a parent force their ideas on you. I just want you to know that I understand. I-I mean, I still despise you but...listen next time just tell us something like that, don't keep it inside. You're...you're our friend after all and we do worry."

Jumin couldn't help the smirk that appeared on his face, and Zen coverrd his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah, yeah laugh all you want. Just don't tell anyone else that I told you this or I swear I'll never speak to you again."

Jumin chuckled. "Alright I won't."

"Good." Zen started going down the stairs.

"Hey Zen." Jumin said, making Zen sigh and look back at him with an eyebrow raised.

"You're a good friend. Thank you."

Zen felt himself blush once again and he quickly mumbled a 'you're welcome', then he quickly went downstairs.

Jumin locked the basement doors and went to the living room, where the RFA was talking. He smiled as he saw his group of friends joking around and teasing each other.

Thankfully the mood became lighter during lunch, and Jumin enjoyed talking with his friends. He was happy to be in a room full of people that he cared about deeply, and he felt even happier when you reached for his hand under the table and gave him a big smile.

The RFA behaved differently towards Jimin from that day on. It wasn't a bad different, but instead they started treating him like an actual person, that could have feelings and could joke around. From that day on Zen, Jumin and the twins definetly became closer, and even if Zen didn't want to admit it, he had really become fond of Jumin.

Eventually, you wanted to know what to do with the room, and Jumin decided to turn it into a nursery for your future kids.

"Jumin I...are you sure?" You asked him, and he nodded.

"I don't want to pass by that place and only remember the bad things. This time I want to make good memories in there, with you, and with our future family. I promise that I will try my best for all of you."

You smiled and kissed his nose. "Thank you Jumin. I'm sure that you'll be a great father, and I can't wait to start that new phase with you. Of course we have to get married first."

He chuckled and nuzzled your nose. "Yes, and I can't wait for the day where I get to call you my wife. I love you MC."

"I love you too Jumin."

#mystic messenger #jumin han #saeyoung choi #mysme #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #jihyun mysme #saeran choi #choi bois #mysme zen

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blushingbaka · 4 years

Note

Ahh Mads your sleepover sounds so fun!! I'm definitely gonna pop in for some ask memes as well :3 I hope it's okay if I send in my drabble request now ^^ can I get Kuroo + 6:15 am + coffee mug? Hopefully that can inspire something for you! If not, feel free to ignore. Thank youuu, love you lots & congrats again on 100 followers!!

AHH KRIS TYSM !! and as if i could ever ignore you, my love💗💘💖💓 i can’t wait to see what you send in for the sleepover hehe, but tysm for sending me this request! i got a bit carried away with it ngl so i really hope you enjoy it bby🥺 ilysm❣️

also for anyone else reading this, this is technically timeskip! kuroo so there’s vague mentions of his work. just a fair warning~

[ 6:15 am ]

Your eyelids fluttered as you slowly awoke from your slumber, the time displayed on your alarm clock barely coming into focus. When the time registered with your brain, you jolted up, tossing your duvet to the side and off your form. You hadn’t slept in that much, but you should already be up getting ready for work. You didn’t even give yourself time to question why your alarm hadn’t gone off, your feet automatically carrying you to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Like the past couple of mornings, you felt a dull ache in the pit of your stomach seeing your lone toothbrush, but you quelled it with the knowledge that Kuroo would be home from his business trip soon.

Wait.

You paused, your toothbrush dangling in between your lips as you had your realization. Not fully trusting your morning brain, you rushed to retrieve your phone, seeing that today was in fact the day. Kuroo would return home in a few hours, and you had taken the day off work to pick him up at the airport and spend the day with him, hence the reason your alarm didn’t go off. You slowly padded back into the bathroom, your lips gently sloping upward, and you felt a tingle of anticipation. As you finished up in the bathroom, you felt as if your brain was making a silent plea for you to consume some caffeine because you swore you could smell the faint aroma of coffee. You stood in the doorway separating your bedroom and bathroom, a finger to your lip in contemplation as you debated with yourself on whether you should return to bed for just a few moments more.

Your eyes flitted to your closet, thinking of the outfit you had already carefully picked out for today. Your eyes were drawn, however, to a familiar small suitcase, neatly tucked in the corner of your bedroom. A small gasp fell from your lips, your eyes immediately scanning the room for more evidence of what that suitcase insinuated. And then it hit you.

The smell of coffee.

You rushed out of your bedroom, and despite the sound of your rapid footsteps thumping down the hallway, you could begin to make out the low melodious hum of your boyfriend. As you rounded the corner and saw his mess of black hair, an overwhelming amount of elation bubbled up inside you, and that happiness dripped from your voice as you exclaimed his name.

“Kuroo!” You rushed forward, but your foot slipped clumsily on the floor. Kuroo, still reflexive as ever, swiftly closed the distance between you, and your face collided with his chest, his hand grasping your elbow.

“Still as clumsy as ever” he teased you, a deep chuckle reverberating in his chest, and he used this opportunity to press a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. Your chest swelled with affection, and you eagerly looked up to meet those hazel eyes that seemed to hold nothing but a warm fondness for you.

“You’re home” you muttered, giggling gleefully as you threw your arms around his neck. He immediately responded to your touch, his fingertips soothingly tracing the length of your back. “Why so early though?” You questioned pulling back slightly, your fingers playing with the tie that hung loosely around his neck. He was still dressed in his suit except for his jacket, and you wondered how long he had been home.

“The final meeting this morning ended up not being necessary. I tried to find a flight back last night, but this was the best I could do” he explained, his hands dropping to your waist.

“So... what you’re saying is that you rushed home to see me?” You grinned smugly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Something like that” he lazily grinned pulling you in for a slow, sweet kiss. You hummed contently against his lips, eliciting a smirk from him. After a few moments of comfortably basking in each other’s presence, you remembered the alluring aroma of coffee that originally led you to find him. Glancing over his shoulder you could see that it was your coffee mug that steam was still rising out of.

“Did you fix me coffee?” you lifted one eyebrow in question.

“I did” he grabbed the mug acting like he was going to hand it to you, but at the last moment, he pulled it away from you, a teasing glint in his eyes as he looked at you over his nose.

“You look wide awake to me though.” he tsked. “I think I deserve this coffee more than you” he emphasized his point by taking a small sip, but he immediately scrunched up his nose, muttering a complaint about how sweet you liked your coffee.

“You think any coffee is too sweet if it’s not black” you pointedly remind him, hand on your hip. “And it’s not like you need coffee either. You should have come straight to bed” you softly chide him, only causing him to roll his eyes.

“Excuse me for wanting to be a gentleman. I’m just trying to give you the anniversary you deserve” his words caused your heart to flutter. Even though he tried to hide it, you could see the exhaustion weighing on his shoulders and the heaviness of his eyelids. He’s fighting that tiredness, however, for your sake. You smile softly up at him, your hand grasping his tie so you can gently tug him closer to you.

“I for one can think of nothing better than spending all day in bed if it means I’m in your arms,” you tell him honestly, softly pressing your lips to his. He still has a soft scowl on his face, but you could tell he was seriously considering your offer.

“We’re still going out for dinner” he huffily insisted.

“Deal” you chuckled, giving him another peck.

“And you’re going to drink this coffee” you simply nodded your head, easily giving in to his small demand.

“I love you” you voiced the words echoing in your heart, barely able to kiss him properly due to the wide grin taking over your features.

“I love you too. Happy anniversary babe.”

✰ 100 followers event ✰

#kuroo x reader #not me posting this late at night when i know you're probably asleep #if I'm lucky maybe you'll have time to read it in the morning~#I wonder how you like your coffee tho??#kris💞#kurokris >>>>#mads 100 followers event !!#answered

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skiesofthesketchy · 4 years

Note

congrats honey!! number 41 with JJ and please make it fluffy🥺🥺

thx babe! i hope you like this!

masterlist

41. What? Are you jealous?

gif credit to the owner

“What’s got you all smiley?” Sarah giggled as you entered the chateau and plopped yourself down on the couch. You didn’t realize that you were still sporting the grin that you acquired on your walk over to John B.’s. You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t falter, and Sarah poked you in your side. “Oh my god, is it a boy?”

“What’s this about a boy?” JB asked as he sat on the couch next to you. It seemed you had grabbed the attention of all the pogues, so you decided to spill.

“There’s just this guy I’ve been talking to. He’s pretty cute and he asked me out for this weekend,” you shrugged, trying to downplay how excited you were. It wasn’t so much that you liked him, but he was sweet and was interested in you. It felt nice to be wanted. It was better than pining after one of your best friends who didn’t see you the same way.

“Ooh, our little Y/N might be getting laid this weekend,” Kie winked. You shoved her shoulder but laughed along with the group anyway. You didn’t notice, but JJ was listening from the kitchen, and he felt his blood getting hot. He didn’t like the idea of you going on a date. Why? The idiot had liked you for the longest time, but he was always too afraid to do anything about it. JJ wasn’t shy when it came to girls, not in the slightest. But for some reason, you were different. You weren’t just some girl he wanted to get into bed with, you were everything he could ever possibly want. You were his best friend, so he felt pretty content with how things were because you were in his life. However, hearing you animatedly describe how hot this dumb guy was to Kie and Sarah had jealousy swimming in his veins.

You guys had spent most of the sunny day out on the boat, anchoring somewhere along the marsh and going into the water when you needed a break from the hot sun. JJ was acting strange, and it was something you noticed almost immediately. You didn’t ask him about it because you knew JJ didn’t really like to talk about his feelings. If it was serious, he would tell you. This time though, JJ didn’t feel like he could talk to you about his sour mood. He didn’t want you finding out that he was jealous in fear that showing his feelings for you would ruin your friendship. He also knew how excited you were about this stupid “Chad” guy, and didn’t want to make you unhappy in any way. So he kept his mouth shut, but you definitely noticed something was wrong.

After the sun had set, and you all ate dinner around the fire that JB and Pope had built in the yard of the chateau. As the group laughed about silly things, drinking beer and enjoying the warm summer night, your mind drifted back to JJ. He was still in a bad mood, and the longer you stared at him from across the firepit, the more you worried about whatever was on his mind.

Your phone chiming pulled you out of your thoughts. You checked the message you had received, and it was from Chad.

Hey beautiful! Saw this and thought of you...

Attached was a photo of a dog wearing sunglasses. You giggled at your phone, your heart swelling a bit at the thought of him thinking of you, just because he knew you liked dogs. It was sweet.

“What’s so funny?” Pope asked from beside you.

You shook your head with another laugh. “Just something Chad sent me.” Your friends all broke out in a chorus of “oohs” and teasing kissing noises while you blushed and told them all to shut up. Everyone had stopped poking fun at you when JJ stood up angrily, his chair falling backwards from the force, and marched away into the house. You furrowed your brows and gave looks to all of your friends, but none of them knew what JJ’s deal was. You tucked your phone into your pocket and went to follow him.

You found him pacing around in the spare bedroom, jaw clenched and hands squeezed into fists. “What’s wrong?” you asked him from the doorway.

He shot you a look, but then turned away. “Nothing,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, okay. I believe you,” you rolled your eyes, walking into the room and gently grabbing his arm to calm him down. “Wanna talk about it anyway?”

To your surprise, he yanked his arm away from you. “It’s nothing.” He still wasn’t looking you in the eyes.

“It sure doesn’t seem like nothing,” you glared at him. He scoffed.

“Don’t worry about me, babe. Go have fun with your new boy toy.” He didn’t mean to, but he just gave away why he was so pissed off. Your eyebrows raised in surprise, and you couldn’t figure out why he would be so bitter towards the random guy you were talking to. Unless of course...

You found yourself giggling, making JJ turn to you with a bewildered expression. “What? Are you jealous?” You gazed up at him with a teasing smile, and the blonde rolled his eyes, but not before giving you a look that told you how right you were.

“No. I’m not jealous,” he growled, arms folding across his chest in a tough guy stance. You shook your head, your smirk only growing wider the more you looked at the handsome man, your best friend that you’ve liked since forever.

“I didn’t realize you had such a big fat crush on me, Maybank,” you laughed. His blue eyes shot to you again, and you knew you were right.

He put on a painful smile. “Couldn’t care less, actually.” You weren’t buying it.

“Oh, okay. In that case...” you pulled out your phone. “I’ll just call him right now and see if he wants to hang out tonight.”

You were more than surprised when JJ had let out a growl and stepped forward to pin you against the wall with his body, your phone falling to the floor. You didn't have time to process what was happening because his hungry lips landed harshly on yours. You melted easily into the kiss, doing your best to kiss him back with just as much enthusiasm. You had been waiting for this moment forever, and you couldn’t believe it was finally happening. His hands kept a firm grip on your waist while yours landed on his large biceps. This was all you ever wanted, and you were pleased with how possessive he was being with you.

He finally pulled away, and you practically drooled at the dark, sinful look in his eyes. “Fuck no. You’re hanging with me tonight, babe.” You wanted to giggle again, bubbling with happiness of JJ actually reciprocating your feelings, but his lips were crashing to yours again. You allowed him to pick you up in his arms so that you were straddling his torso, and he grumbled against your lips, “You’re fucking mine.”

***

obx tags: @sportygal55 @jazbarnes05 @rafej-cambanks @lovelogan @lannxyz @caseyabel28 @falling-perfectly @thisismynerdyself @mattelblake @justanotherbooklover @hemmingsness @queenofthepouges @dontjinx-it @pink-meringues @outerbnx-stiles

jj tags: @kaylinfayezink @unfortunatekiwitrash @shy-1234 @bijleegiregi @cheshirecat107

#1k celebration #skiesofthesketchy #blurb #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #obx #outer banks fic #rudy pankow #request #asks

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greensword101 · 3 years

Text

My secret santa was @freedom-barricades-bighero16! I am so sorry for the late gift, I tried to finish yesterday, but I had a sudden case of vertigo. But I am pleased with the final product and I hope you are as well. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

“No…” Hiro murmured again, balled up the paper and tossed it over his shoulder. He barely heard the thud of paper hitting paper; no doubt wondering that the wastebasket would need to be emptied again. He combed a hand through his tousled, jet-black hair and slipped another sheet of paper in front of him. The pencil scratched for a few minutes as he worked out what he wanted to draw before discouragement overcame him again and he crumbled the paper and threw it away without a second glance. He dared a glance at the clock and wanted to bang his head against the desk ad nauseum.

Wow. Washed up at fourteen. So sad. He almost heard the rustle of paper from behind before he remembered and scrunched up his eyes to keep the tears from forming. Tadashi wasn’t here to help him now, and he never would ever again. But it helped at times to think of what he would say were they living in a better world. It was effective when thinking of an idea, but every time he tried to imagine Tadashi’s voice now, it would not come to him. He tried to think of what he would say now, what sort of wisdom he would try to impart on Hiro, but he wasn’t sure if Tadashi had ever given him advice on a girl before.

Aunt Cass would be after his hide again if he didn’t put himself into bed, Hiro knew. Bitterness filled his mouth, and it was all he could do to not throw something. Instead, he pushed himself away from his desk and collapsed onto his bed in a dead heap, not bothering to change into pajamas. He just laid there, prone and tired. Seven days until Christmas, he told himself, another year without you, Big Brother.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he knew that he hadn’t been underneath his blankets earlier. Now, Mochi was resting, curled up on Hiro’s stomach and a glance at his alarm told him it was just before eight o’clock in the morning. He managed to trudge his way downstairs for breakfast, still groggy with sleep as the hustle and clamor of the café washed over him. Aunt Cass had a plate of eggs and bacon set up for him at a single table with a tall glass of orange juice, which he began to wolf down fervently.

“How’s your little project going?” Aunt Cass asked. His mouth full of food, Hiro took a large swig of juice before he could respond.

“It’s…it’s going bad,” he said bluntly, “I got nothing that might work, and Christmas is in a few days.”

“You could always buy your Secret Santa a gift,” Aunt Cass suggested.

That would work…but I don’t it would be good enough. If it was anyone else he had to get a present for, Hiro would have leapt at the chance to go shopping. But he knew that it had to special, it had to be meaningful since it was coming from him. Tadashi still managed to get him one last Christmas gift even after passing on and it was a meaningful gift that he hoped to cherish for years. For Karmi, it had to be meaningful too.

But what could he get for her that wouldn’t come off as saying Hey, here’s a nice present for you? What’s that? Why does it have your initials engraved into it? It’s because I wanted to show off how much I like you now. Would she like jewelry? He never saw her wearing anything flashy, even during parties. Would she be alright with a stuffed toy? Hiro wasn’t certain if Karmi kept anything plushy around at her age. And what if she didn’t like the gift? Would that mean she would make fun of his efforts?

Suddenly, his appetite left him all at once. He pushed his plate away and looked down into his lap. What was he supposed to come up with in a few days as a gift? Bells jingled as the entrance was opened and a jangle of voices came in with it. He could pick out a few of them, but the noise swallowed up the words too fast for him to follow. Thankfully, Fred was never capable of keeping his voice ‘room appropriate’ and that was the one Hiro was able to focus on.

“Come on, Wasabi! You gotta admit this was my best idea ever!”

“Fred,” Wasabi drawled, “All you did was tape mistletoe to a hat and wear it all day.”

“That didn’t stop you from kissing me!”

Wasabi chuckled deeply, “I guess it didn’t. Hey, little man. Feeling the reason for the season, yet?”

Hiro turned around and had to hold back a snort of laughter. Fred had decided that a fishing hat was most appropriate for his idea. The mistletoe dangled dangerously close to the edge and had a little strip of scotch tape keeping it there. Wasabi decided to wear a dark green, short-sleeved shirt with a Christmas tree embroidered into it instead of his usual sweater.

“Not really,” he admitted and noticed the two of them flushed, “Are you two feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” Wasabi’s voice went up a pitch as he replied, “We’re…we’re good. Really good –”

“Wasabi finally kissed me!” Fred shoved his face close to Hiro’s. He pointed to his hat, “I wish I knew sooner! I’m gonna wear this every year, now!”

“Huh?” It took a moment for Hiro to register what Fred had said, “Oh! Congrats, guys. Maybe you can double date with Honey Lemon and Go Go…”

“Or, we could triple date!” Fred smiled broadly. Hiro looked at him oddly and Fred rolled his eyes, “You know…us, them, you and…”

“It’s not a thing, alright?” Hiro grimaced, “It is certainly not a thing and I don’t think it will be a thing, ever. Forget I asked.” He made to stand up, thinking that Fred would take the hint and drop the matter.

“You’re her Secret Santa, aren’t you?” Hiro stared at him incredulously and Fred just smiled, “Just because I love comic books doesn’t mean I can’t notice these things, little dude.”

Hiro looked around quickly in case he caught sight of someone who shouldn’t have been listening. He looked at Fred, feeling exhausted just looking at his friend now, “You got me. Luckiest guy on Earth. Just a few days till Christmas and I got nothing to show for it.”

Wasabi looked sympathetically at him, “Is there anything we could do to help, Hiro?”

“Not unless you could pull a time machine out of Fred’s hat so I could get back to the start of the month and have more time to get something made for her.”

“I’m serious,” Wasabi grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it over to Hiro’s table. Hiro reluctantly took his place back at his own seat while Fred leaned over Wasabi’s shoulders like a monkey. “So, you still don’t have a gift yet. You can go simple.”

“Simple? For Karmi?” Hiro was incredulous, “Like, what? Show up at her house dressed as…” He did a quick scan around the café before leaning in and whispering, “You know…”

Both men looked at each other and grinned. Hiro gulped nervously; he was used to seeing Fred smile with impish delight, he just didn’t have any idea how scary Wasabi looked with the same kind of intent on his face. Before he could begin to protest, Fred took hold of his arms while Wasabi seized his legs and hoisted the boy into the air. He tried to kick and squirm in their grip, but it was iron clad. They carried him upstairs and into the first floor.

“What are you doing?!” Hiro felt Fred release his grip on his arms and found himself dangling upside down.

“We’re doing this in Tadashi’s stead,” Wasabi was supposed to be the one convincing Fred not to pull crazy stunts, not encouraging them! That was their dynamic. “Just do your thing, little man, and look for a new angle.”

Hiro stopped struggling and allowed himself to dangle, hoping that an idea would come before all the blood went to his head. He trusted that Wasabi wouldn’t let him fall to the hard floor, and he had to trust that he and Fred were on the right track. Baymax couldn’t do something like this for him; lifting a ton in weight didn’t mean that his body was able to do “looking for a new angle” safely without letting Hiro get hurt. It would have gone against his protocol altogether to let someone in his care get hurt.

Protocol…help…Hiro’s eyes lit up with inspiration and he let out a loud whoop of delight that almost had Wasabi dropping Hiro.

“I got it!” He cheered as Wasabi righted him and barreled into the larger man’s chest, hugging him as tightly as he could, “Thanks, Wasabi! I needed that!”

“Hey, what about me!” Fred pouted. Hiro turned to him and threw his arms around Fred’s neck, threatening to choke him. He made a dash for upstairs, “Gotta go, guys! Feel free to bum around!”

The moment he got into his bedroom, Hiro swept away the mess off his desk with one arm and laid down a large sheet of paper, taking careful measurements for the designs and hoping that Karmi would like it…

(0-0)

Karmi felt the beginnings of an agonizing headache coming upon her. It always happened when she was stressed or failed to get enough sleep. This was one of those times and no drink or medicine would prevent it from overcoming her at any rate. The best remedy was to usually fall asleep, but Christmas was almost here, and her gift still wasn’t ready yet! In any case, sleep was for the weak and weary. Karmi wasn’t weak or weary and she had faced more dangers than any sixteen-year-old ought to. It had taken much pleading with her parents and the crime rate in San Fransokyo to go down before they decided to move back. Now that she was home, she wasn’t going to waste a gift like that.

She looked down at her work and frowned. Half-finished patterns, torn pieces of fabric, and loose string caked her worktable. It was always in such an orderly state that Karmi wanted to tear her hair out in frustration. Part of her missed the days where she would recline on the couch and watch Christmas specials as a kid, free of worry or care for serious work while she cherished the sparce days away from school. School was never a happy place for her, truthfully. And it had taken three years of pleading with her parents before they conceded and hired tutors to come to the house. But all she did was exchange bullies for loneliness and Karmi had taken to writing and sewing to dull the ache.

It hadn’t come easy at first; her fingers bled from needlepoints and her hands struggled to create what she would imagine in her mind. The struggle still persisted to this day, but Karmi had learned simple tricks and techniques that made her projects easier. She just prayed that it would help her now as she struggled a few days before her gift needed to be made. Why couldn’t she find an idea that would stick?

Karmi wasn’t always nice to Hiro when they met. In fact, she had been overtly hostile, reeling back from the new threat that had made itself known in SFIT. He was the parasite to her ambitions as he took the honor of youngest student to ever enroll away from her. But, like swimming for a long period in cold water, she had grown used to the boy. In fact, she began to see him as a friend before the crisis with Sycorax forced her to move away. Returning briefly for the summer made her realize how much she missed Hiro. It had been like an early Christmas present when her parents told her that they’d be moving back to the city.

Part of her wished she got a chance to know Hiro more personally. She couldn’t think of anything she knew of the boy regarding personal interests. All she knew was that he was intelligent, cheeky, headstrong, stubborn, liked hanging out with talking robots and that he was the younger brother to the Legend of SFIT. How was she supposed to make a gift based on that alone?

Her head felt like someone had crammed a large bell inside of her head now and was ringing it endlessly. She tried pinching the edge of her palm to delay it, but all she rewarded herself with was more pain. Some part of her wanted to go to find Hiro and ask to see Baymax for help. There must be some protocol in his databanks that could help her deal with her headache…

Her eyes widened with realization and the dull agony in her head was briefly forgotten. A smile crept up on her face as she cleared off her table of waste and debris before laying down a fresh sheet of paper. The measurements had to be precise, she knew it. She wasn’t used to making anything from scratch before, there was usually a reference for her to go by. That thought brought cold prickles to her toes, but she brushed it aside.

As the process continued, her movements became less halted and smoother, like grooving into a fresh block of wood. Her hesitations had lessened, and new thoughts came to mind as she created the patterns for the plushie. And she knew that when Hiro caught sight of her gift to him, it would be a Merry Christmas indeed.

(0-0)

The music was pleasantly mellow and quiet a few days later in the large Exposition Hall of SFIT. Hiro had a fierce battle with his hair earlier that evening, fighting to untangle the gnarls and knots that had been developing overtime unattended. It had taken over an hour before it was decidedly flat and malleable for a comb to attend to. He decided to dress in a red dress shirt with a dark green tie and a pair of black slacks. Fred had suggested he wear a mistletoe on his head, but Hiro had dismissed the idea. He wasn’t going to willingly invite the mockery and teasing of others.

Fred and Wasabi were already there, arms linked together and laughing at something Honey Lemon was saying. She was with Go Go, who had decided to wear a formal suit like Hiro’s, but with a green shirt instead of a red one. Honey Lemon was dressed in a lemon-yellow dress that ended just below her knees. Fred and Wasabi were dressed as alike as a cat was a dog; Wasabi had a black bowtie while Fred had a white tie. Wasabi had a white dress shir Fred wore a black sweater.

Somehow, a pang of jealousy hit Hiro and he tried not to show it. He looked at Baymax warningly in case the robot decided to announce his emotional readings to the rest of world.

“Hiro!” Honey was the first to see him and glomped him, planting a peck on each cheek as they embraced. Once, that would have had his cheeks flaming, but now he just smiled and chuckled. Honey Lemon saw the roll of paper he held under one arm, “Is that your Secret Santa gift, Hiro?”

“Maybe,” Hiro chuckled nervously and tried finding Karmi’s face in the crowd, “I actually need to go find them right now. Catch you later!” And with that, he ran off into the crowd, muttering apologies and pardons to each person he accidentally rammed himself into.

Karmi slowly entered the hall just a moment later, holding a sloppily wrapped bundle in her arms. She was dressed in silvery and gold with long sleeves that ended just below her knees with a blue scarf draped around her shoulder. She had been hoping to see Hiro at the entrance when she came in, but only found his group of friends instead. She looked to Honey Lemon, the one she was most familiar with, “Hey, have you seen Hiro? …not that I’m interested in seeing him or anything, just wanted to know where he was so I could um…not be near him…?” Her smile in the end would have frightened children if they dared to look at her.

Go Go half smiled, “Try the crowd he just bodysurfed into. You might catch him there.”

Karmi looked at the audience of people with trepidation before her eyes hardened with resolve, “Wish me luck, everyone. I’m going fishing!”

“When you come back with Hiro, be sure to bring some sushi!” Fred called out to her as she entered the mob, cradling her present protectively. Wasabi looked at him funnily and Fred shrugged, “What? I’m hungry!”

“How about my lips? You hungry for them?” Wasabi pressed his lips lightly against Fred’s.

Fred’s face burned as he took a hold of the front of Wasabi’s shirt and began to drag his boyfriend away, “Um…excuse me, we need some privacy.” Wasabi’s eyes widened with surprise for a moment before he shrugged and let Fred carry him away without protest.

“Pardon me. Excuse me. Coming through. Really sorry! Nice dress. Love your shoes, wear them more often!” Hiro danced through the crowd, hopping on one foot to the next as he tried to catch a glimpse of Karmi. Hindsight told him that he should have just waited by the entrance or had Baymax scan the room for any sign of her. Stubbornness told him that determination rewarded the daring. His stomach told him that the food at the snack table must be worth skipping out earlier at home.

Meanwhile, Karmi was on the verge of screaming that she had a dangerous bacterium in her hands at the top of her lungs. If it didn’t get her thrown out of the party, quarantined or crushed under a frenzied mob, then it would allow some breathing room for her to move around with ease. She clutched her present tightly, horrified of dropping it to the floor and having some careless foot smash it underneath. After all of those hours of sewing, stitching, and nursing pricks on her finger, Karmi was not going to let it be demolished so easily. Someone bumped into her from behind and Karmi tightened her grip on her gift as she hit the floor.

Someone else tumbled to the floor next to her with a grunt and the crinkling of paper. Karmi got to her feet, reaching down to help the stranger to their feet when she saw that it was Hiro.

“Hiro?”

“Karmi!”

Hiro looked at her outstretched hand for a moment and hastily pulled himself to his feet. They sheepishly tried to avoid looking directly at one another. A moment of courage came to them at the same time and they both noticed how red their faces were. Hiro tried telling himself that it was pretty warm inside. Karmi dismissed what she saw as a trick of the light.

“Nice dress,” Hiro muttered weakly.

“Good color coordination,” Karmi mumbled in reply.

They stared at each other for a few more moments, trying to find the right words to say. They both tried desperately not to let the other see what they were holding in their hands.

“It’s kind of cramped,” Hiro observed, “Snack bar should have some more room.”

“Yeah!” Karmi eagerly leapt at the invitation, “Snacks! I’m hungry!”

They managed their way to the snack bar without difficulty before they both realized that their hands were linked together. Neither of them pushed away from the touch.

Give her the gift, Hiro thought to himself as he eagerly snacked on a plate of pigs in a blanket. This is the best chance you have, just give it to her already.

Shove it into his face and have him open it already! Karmi slowly nibbled on some cheese and crackers, barely tasting them at all. Just do it now.

“Hiro…”

“Karmi…”

They both looked at each other.

“You first,” Hiro smiled nervously.

Karmi flushed and fiddled with the gift in her hands, “I…some party, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t gone to a lot, to be honest,” Hiro rubbed the back of his neck, “Last time I went, the dance got cut off because of High Voltage. I thought Megan was going to get hurt…”

“Megan?” Karmi tried to keep the terror out of her voice.

Hiro looked at her with wide eyes and hastily added, “She’s just a friend! A friend with a really crazy cop for a dad…who wanted to hook up with Aunt Cass.”

Karmi winced, “Are they still seeing each other?”

Hiro’s smile grew mischievous, “They haven’t been on a date since Aunt Cass learned he was being a…”

“Jerk?” Karmi suggested.

“Yeah. A jerk.”

Karmi looked at her present and grew determined, “Hiro, I wanted to…”

“Karmi, I…”

“Merry Christmas,” they both said at once, shoving their gifts forward, eyes wide shut and braced for impact. When they both braved a look, however, they each stared in silence at what was being offered to one another.

“You first,” Hiro held out his gift to her, looking more fourteen than Karmi had ever seen him. She took the roll of paper from him and hastily gave him her poorly wrapped gift in exchange. She undid the wrapping and unrolled it. When she looked inside, Karmi saw a small Chibi design of herself looking back at her on blueprint. Measurements were inscribed as well as features that would be included in it. Her own personal aid in the lab, meant to be programmed with features to help keep her projects safe and monitored.

“It’s not finished yet,” Hiro murmured apologetically, “This is the final draft I made and it’s going to take a few weeks, and I figured…” He chuckled weakly before continuing, “Who else could you trust with your lab than yourself?”

You. She wanted to say it. I would trust you, Hiro.

“I love it already,” Karmi said instead, “Thank you…you should open your gift too. I didn’t think I could make a robot like you, but…this was the next best thing.”

Hiro ripped the present open and felt his mouth widen. He knew it was made with minky. He couldn’t help but think of Mochi as he caressed the fabric in his hands and sorely wanted to press it against his face. Two black button eyes stared back at him and Hiro was certain that it would sound just like Baymax if it could talk.

“Karmi…” He began, but words failed him.

“I like to sew in my freetime too,” Karmi blushed, “I didn’t know if this was your thing or not, but I know how much you love Baymax. Its like having a piece of your brother with you. You could have that in your room and it’d be like…having a piece of me with…”

The rest of her words were cut off as Hiro slammed into her and wound his arms tightly around her chest.

“Thank you, Karmi,” he whispered in his ear, “I love it.”

Karmi reached around with her arms and hugged him back fiercely. They stayed like this for a few minutes before pulling apart. Hiro reached out and grabbed her hand into his own and guided her through the crowd again without another word.

When they reached the entrance again, they saw Honey Lemon and Go Go waiting for them with knowing smiles on their faces. Wasabi was walking back to them, straightening out his mussed shirt and tie, hastily covering his neck with one large hand when he caught sight of the others. Fred came following afterwards with a blissful look on his face that came right off when he noticed Karmi and Hiro and said, “Hey! Where’s my sushi?!”

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acdeaky · 4 years

Text

are you ready for love?

warning: fluff, alcohol consumption, strong language, slight angst?

note: congrats on 4k followers @writingfortoomanyfandoms ! i began writing this and then fell out of love with it, but i (finally) figured out the ending and fell back in love! enjoy!

word count: 4.5k

black lives matter

“what I'm saying is - and this is not a come on in any way, shape or form - is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way!” dan spoke, a little too loudly for the restaurant the group was in, trying to voice his (very out-of-date) opinion above the rest of the group. he was met with a lot of voices arguing he was wrong, and a fry from shane’s plate. “what?” he practically whined.

“just because you want to shag any girl you're friends with, and who doesn't have a boyfriend, doesn't mean that every guy is the same!” harry perked up, practically punching dan in the arm after his comment.

“it so means every guy is the same,” dan argued, looking over at you. “you and ben are only close because he wants to get in your pants.”

“why did we let him join?” you asked everyone else, basically pretending that dan wasn't sat a few seats away from you.

“because he's my brother and has no other friends.” erin replied from next to you, a hand resting on your thigh which was pressed against her’s.

“that is not true.”

“oh, dan, sweetie, it is.” erin just smiled sarcastically at her brother, her eyes showing faux sympathy.

“you all know i’m right, but you don't want to say it,” another chorus of disagreement came from the group, as did another fry from shane’s plate. “mate, would you stop that?” shane just shook his head, wrapping his arm around the back of renee’s chair and lightly brushed his fingers against your shoulder. next to ben, you were definitely closest to shane with him being like a big brother to you.

somehow, the rest of the meal went without a hitch. dan quieted down with the unpopular opinions and everyone else enjoyed each other’s company as they finished their meals and had a few drinks afterwards. shane and renee were the first ones to leave. both of them had had long days at work, but made it out for the meal, and were now more than ready to collapse into their bed. harry and erin were next. as they paid their part and begun to leave, they dragged dan out with them, keeping him from saying something inappropriate to you and/or lucy.

after those three left, you and lucy stayed a little longer. it had been a while since the two of you had hung out together alone, and a catchup with definitely needed.

“so what’s the real reason ben didn’t come tonight? he's definitely not ill else you would be there nursing him back to health.” she teased, giving you a light prod to your side.

“he didn't want to have to deal with comments from dan,” you stated plainly. “and i’m glad ben didn’t come else he would have had to deal with exactly what he didn't want to deal with.”

“yeh, that's fair. maybe we should stop inviting dan to these things.”

“maybe,” you both giggled, thinking of how much more civilised somethings would be without him. “that's too mean, though. erin would not be happy.”

“she most definitely wouldn't be, but dan’s a dickhead.”

“oh, yeh.” the two of you sat gigging for a little longer, the few drinks the both of you had had making their way completely into your system. after chatting for a little longer (and realising you should both definitely go home), you paid the rest of the bill and left, still chatting as you got into your car, travelling back to your same apartment building.

the ride home wasn't long. luckily, the group had mutually decided on a restaurant that was close to both of your apartments, meaning it only took about ten minutes to get home. the traffic was light and it seemed that every light turned green just in time for you. sooner than you knew, you were heading out of the garage of the apartment building, heading towards the lift and pressing the ninth floor button for lucy and the tenth floor button for you. as you reached her floor, you shared a slightly emotional goodbye with each other. it took exactly 23 seconds to get from the lift to your apartment (you had counted many times) and as you swung the door open, there was ben, sat idly on your sofa with his feet up and netflix playing on the TV.

“hello, wanderer.” he teased as he heard you pull off your shoes and collapse onto the sofa next to him. “did you have fun? was dan a dick?”

“when is dan not a dick?” you only replied, pulling your knees closer to your chest as you turned your body into ben’s. one of his hands lifted off of his thigh for you to do so, landing back down on your knee.

“that's true. what did he say this time?”

“that men and women can't be friends because the sex part gets in the way.”

“well that's not true, look at us!” ben said, his eyes quickly flitting to you and then straight back to the TV.

“yeh, look at us.”

“you are woman, i am man. we no sex.” he spoke in a deeper voice, making you giggle at his ridiculous impression of a caveman.

“i’m just glad you weren't there; another comment from him would have sent your fist through his face.”

“oh, yeh. but erin would not have been happy.”

“she most definitely wouldn't be.” you giggled again, thinking back to the conversation you had had with lucy. “i’m actually so tired, i think i’m just calling it a night. you stay as long as you like” as you got up, you pointed to ben, giving him a look which said ‘keep it down’ which he replied with a salute. you gave the other a quiet ‘night’ before placing a kiss on his cheek and dragging your feet to your bedroom.

as you got ready for bed, you couldnt help but think back to what dan had said. if you told erin and lucy (or even ben) that you were contemplating his words, they would have told you to stop and say that ‘dan was just being dan. he didn't mean it’. you just couldn’t help thinking about whether it was true. of course, you were close to shane and harry, but they both had girlfriends, they definitely wouldn't want anything to do with what’s in your pants. but you were also close to ben, and he didn't have a girlfriend. the only explanation for you two being close was that he wanted what was in your pants, not in your head nor your heart.

it pained you to think of that; ben being here only to try it on. of course, ben was attractive and had sex appeal, but he was also your best friend and you weren't about to jump in to bed with him at the first chance. you have never, and will never, go about relationships like that. to you, it was unbelievable how much you let dan’s comment cloud your mind, yet you almost hoped there was some truth to it.

only a wall away, ben was sat thinking the exact same thing. the show he was binging was still playing in the background, but in the forefront of his mind was dan’s comment. ben knew men and women could be friends without sex getting involved; he had those relationships with all the girls in the group, except her. although he wouldn't openly admit it to anyone, he had developed feelings, but didn't want to ruin what the two had by trying it on with her. so ben sat back and tried to let his feelings settle. that instantly failed when he continued to hang out with her almost everyday and talk to her everyday. it didn't take him long to realise he was in love.

ben didn't stay for much longer; his eyes were being to strain to properly see the TV and dan's comment was still lingering in his thoughts. he quietly turned off the TV and left the room, practically tiptoeing past your room as he entered the guest room (which was almost his considering how often he slept in it). all he did was slip out of his jeans, jumper and socks, leaving on his boxers and slid into bed. just like you, it didn't take him long to fall asleep, soon drifting off nestled within the comfy sheets and only imagining what it would be like to hold you in his arms.

in the morning, ben woke up before you (like usual) and set himself the task of making breakfast. he knew you'd be hungry this morning and, as soon as he got out of bed and put on a pair of shorts, he made his way into the kitchen and began making his famous pancakes. it didn't take long for you to wake up nor did it take long for you to smell the pancakes.

“morning, chef.” you smiled lazily as you walked into the kitchen.

“morning to you, too.” like usual in a morning, ben was clad in some shorts and a plain t-shirt as he stood in front of the hob. the teapot had already been filled and there was a half empty cup stood on the side next to the hob. “sleep well?”

“yeh, i guess.” ‘don't tell him’ you thought to yourself. “i just couldn't stop thinking about dan's comment last night.”

“love, i've told you before to take no notice of him-”

“no, ben, he said something else last night. not just the men and women and sex thing.”

“well, what else did he say?” he asked, less annoyed this time, switching off the ring and giving you his full attention.

“he said that you and i are only close because you want to get into my pants.” although he asked you to tell him (and you would have told him anyway), you couldn’t help but feel ashamed at telling ben. you knew he would be mad that you let something dan said cloud your judgement about him, but you also knew that he would deny it. you wished he wouldn’t.

“you know that’s not true, right?” there it was. “you know i would never do that to you, or anyone for that matter. don’t let him get into your head; he’s a dick.”

“yeh, course.” you mumbled as ben turned back to the pan, flipping out the pancake onto a plate. as both of you ate, you sat talking about anything and everything. you were content just being here with ben, and yet you still couldn’t get those thoughts out of your head.

to ben, all you would be is his best friend; he made that perfectly clear last night and this morning. to you, your feelings would always be there, making it unfair on anyone else you dated. your heart was wrapped around ben indefinitely.

after breakfast was finished and the kitchen was tidy, you said your goodbyes to ben (even though you don’t normally kick him out this early), making up a lie about finishing off some things for work. what you really wanted to do was talk to erin and lucy; you needed to empty your head to someone.

“hey, you guys are okay to chat, right?” you asked as soon as the facetime connected to the both of them.

“yeh, of course!” “i’ve got my wine, i’m ready.” they both replied, supportive smiles already on their faces.

“okay, i’m sorry i’m bringing this up again, but i’m still thinking about dan’s comment last night.”

“which one?” erin giggled, taking a sip of her wine.

“the one about ben only being close to me because he wants to get in my pants.”

“that’s not true.”

“it’s true.”

“what?” you and erin asked lucy, who sat with a slight smirk on her face.

“ben does want to get into your pants, but not as a one time fling or being friends with benefits, he really likes you.”

“he does?”

“yeh,” both you and erin looked at each other, pure shock coming over your face and slight shock on erin’s. “he got drunk with the lads one night and came to my place instead of yours-”

“makes sense,” erin perked up, taking another sip of her wine. “your apartment is literally a floor below Y/N’s.”

“exactly; he miscounted the floor numbers and came to my door. he kept on apologising so i let him in and he just ranted about dan saying stupid things again about the two of you. then he spilt his feelings and almost broke down asking me not to say anything. i told him he should go to your place and tell you himself. he said he would and i assumed he did, but obviously-”

“he didn’t. that night he came up to my apartment and basically passed out on the sofa. i pulled his shoes off and left him a glass of water and some painkillers for the morning. that was it; he didn't really say anything at all until the next morning.” you frowned, thinking at how literally minutes before ben stumbled into your apartment, he'd stumbled out of lucy’s.

“wow, well i knew benny boy had feelings, but i didn’t know he did that.” erin said, turning and making sure harry hadn't heard any of that conversation.

“no one knew, i kept ben’s drunk escapade a secret. he couldn’t even remember it happening.” after that, all three of you were slightly stunned into silence. it was a minute before anyone spoke.

“what are you gonna do?” erin’s voice was small, something that isn't normal for her. her wine glass had been discarded (though half empty) and she and lucy were both looking at you. you knew your face hadn't change. even without looking at your screen, you knew the only look on your face was disbelief.

“i-i don't know.”

“surely you're gonna do something?” lucy gasped.

“and say what to him? ‘hey, ben. i've just been chatting to our good friend lucy and it turns out you drunkenly told her about your feelings for me’. i’m not good with confrontation!”

“and that's why you two will never be together!” erin chuckled, shaking her head at you.

“what do you mean?

“i mean, you're scared of confrontation and ben will never admit his feelings for you because he's scared you’ll reject him.”

“but i wouldn’t-”

“he doesn’t know that.” she was right. ben doesn’t know what you're thinking, and you don't know what he's thinking. right now, the only way to get over the situation is if you say something. yet, you couldn't help but think that ben’s drunken confession was just that: drunken and stupid.

“i need some time to think, girls.”

“okay.”

“just keep us in the loop, yeh?” lucy asked, pity absolutely drowning her face.

“will do, bye.” you waved as did lucy and erin, saying their own goodbyes before you ended the call.

this had changed everything. of course it had. you definitely didn't feel the same way you did before the call, and you definitely didn't feel the same way about ben as you did before the call. you couldn’t help but think if this had changed things, if this had given you the confidence to finally tell ben about how you feel.

it was something to sleep on, something to cloud your thoughts for another night.

but you didn’t get the chance to do that. before you had even managed to settle down for the night, there was a loud, and brash, knock at your door. the thought of ignoring them crossed your mind, hoping it would be a drunken fool who had stumbled across the wrong apartment.

yet, no matter how long you stayed laying on your back, staring at the blank canvas of your ceiling, the knocking did not cease. with a grumble, you made your way through your apartment and towards the front door, not bothering to switch on any of the lights on your way.

as soon as your door was open, whoever was on the other side flung themselves inside, stumbling as they attempted to pull off their shoes. you couldn’t even see who the person was, the low light of the hallway doing little to help you figure out who the intruder was.

and, just as you were about to speak up, the person spoke - though it was more of a grumble - and said, “luce, i’m sorry for doin’ this again.” ben. his voice was slurred and his actions were full of haste. the way he threw his shoes to the side and his jacket on to the floor made you realise he truly thought he was on the floor below; everywhere he was throwing things were where lucy had furniture.

then you realised something else; it was happening again. that night lucy had told you about, with ben drinking with the lads, had happened again. though, you weren’t sure if he was drinking alone or not, but whatever had happened to ben had made him feel the need to see lucy, before anything.

“i know it’s prob’ly late, but i can’t stop thinking about her and you’re the only person who knows how i feel.” came ben’s mumbling voice again. he sounded weak, vulnerable, something you’d never heard in any tone of his voice before. well, there were some exceptions, but this voice, this tone, was something else. and it scared you.

but you stayed quiet, waiting for ben to either say something again or... something else to happen, like a meteor hitting the earth, to save the both of you from this conversation.

“fuck, you moved things around in here?” he grumbled, walking around to find something to grip onto or sit on.

your head was screaming to say something, to reply and end whatever this was, yet your heart was screaming to save yourself the heartache (from what, you didn’t know).

it wasn’t until ben managed to find a lightswitch that your heart began to race even faster than before. you were met with his disheveled look, his boots haphazardly pulled off and scattered across your floor and his jacket thrown carelessly across the wood of your dining table mismatched his reddening eyes and mess of his hair.

and, as if time was frozen, ben stood against the wall of your apartment, his eyes as wide as ever and his heart thumping against the case of his chest. you were no better; at least you knew who had stumbled into your apartment, but ben was in shock. because it was you. of course it was you, who else could make ben’s heart beat as fast as you could?

which is why ben stood still, acting as if he stayed deadly still, the predator before him would ignore his very existence. but the elephant was in the room, and you could not ignore the existence of that.

“ben,” you whispered, your voice stretching out to fill the gap between your bodies. instead, it died upon it’s journey, failing to reach the only person who mattered to you at that minute. “ben, it’s okay: i know.”

that didn’t settle his nerves. the only things those two words did was set his heart racing faster and he felt like his world was collapsing in on himself.

“no,” he shook his head, finally pulling his eyes away from your glance, turning his back towards you as his hands made his hair even more of a mess. “no, it’s not okay.”

but it was. it was more than okay because somewhere between ben stumbling through your door and this moment right now, you had found the courage to tell him that you knew, that you felt the same, this it was okay.

taking advantage of his back facing you, you stepped over to him carefully. at first, you were unsure of your movements, letting your hands linger in the air just above ben’s back before you took the final step and pressed them against his t-shirt-covered skin. the muscles in his back tensed and tightened, but he quickly let the warmth and welcoming feeling of you relax him.

only then did you become more confident, letting your hands move lightly over his back, mapping every bump and dimple they found. you ventured down to ben’s hips, covering the skin of his sides before settling around his front on his stomach.

“it’s okay, ben.” you said once again, your voice falling into a quiet whisper next to the shell of his ear as your chin rested on his shoulder. both of hands met yours. they were warm and fit comfortably between yours, something you had always imagined.

“how do you know?” he tested the waters, only letting his voice be loud enough for you to hear, like this was your little secret. you weren’t sure if ben was asking how you knew how he felt or how things would be okay, but you chose the former.

“lucy told me,” you replied in an equal tone, moving your head from his shoulder to press against his back, just between his shoulder blades. “she told me about that night you went to her apartment after you had been out with the boys: she told me how you felt about me.”

“and?” he said soon after, not wanting to wait any longer for a response that could change his life.

“ben, you mean the world to me, and i was always afraid that if we began a relationship, it could ruin our friendship. but i’m not afraid of that anymore, and i just want what i want: you.”

ben had never felt so sober. he had begun the night alone and, somehow, ended it in your arms; one of the places he didn’t think he’d be for a while.

his thumb began tracing small circles on the back of your hand, letting himself know that this was real and this was happening. it also grounded you. it gave you something to focus on when you needed it. but you didn’t want it to be that; you wanted it to be something that happens regularly and often. now, that might happen.

reluctantly, you pulled your hands from his, taking your arms away from his body as you circled around him. once his face met yours, neither of you could hold in the tiny smile which threatened to appear at the corner of your lips. god, you could only imagine what his lips felt like, what they tasted like. and you imagined that they felt like silk.

your hands quickly found purchase on ben’s body once again. this time, you traced the outline of his face, allowing yourself to take your time as you moved along his jawline. as one hand did that, the other tangled it’s fingers into the hair on the nape of his neck - something that he was growing out for a role, but you enjoyed it regardless.

ben was so overwhelmed, the only place he could find to anchor himself to you were your hips. he squeezed and pressed the skin lightly, wanting to live in the moment as much as he could, just in case you slipped through his fingertips, like silk does.

you can’t help but notice that you’ve never seen him like this before, so vulnerable and open to you and your touch. of course, you had touched each other before, but not with the softness and meaning like now.

“i want you, too,” ben finally whispered, never letting his gaze falter from you. his hands seemed to grip your hips a little harder as your hands slid down from his head and onto his shoulders. “that’s all i’ve wanted since i met you.”

just then, you pushed yourself onto the balls of your feet, managing to slightly close the gap between you and ben as his head bowed lower, too. your lips met like a perfect melody, so soft and gentle and better than you could have ever imagined.

slowly, and once again, your hands traced their way up ben’s skin, circling around his neck before toying with those little hairs you had suddenly become so fond of. and, as a response, ben’s hands shifted from your hips to your lower back quicker than you could register, pushing and pulling your body flush with his own.

his hands were warm and big and better than you could have imagined. they were strong, keeping the two of you together in perfect harmony as you explored the other’s touch after so, so long.

but, then ben pulled away, keeping you pressed against his chest while looking down at you, your lips swollen and red and, god, so beautiful. he only smiled, pulling away to grab your hand a second later.

he was your personal guide through your home, taking you towards your bedroom (only after turning off the light he switched on earlier). as soon as you got in the room, ben let you go, turning to close the door as you stood waiting for him; you almost felt like a stranger, standing there in your own room with no feeling of anything but ben.

once the door clicked shut, he turned his attention back to you. while he walked forward, you stumbled backwards, only stopping when the back of your knees hit the side of your bed.

“get in,” he spoke gently, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “i’ll be there in a second.” and so you did. since you were already about to settle down for the night when ben knocked on the door, you just sat underneath the covers again.

seeing the cast of ben’s shadow on your walls from the beaming moon was a sight you knew you would never tire of. the way he moved gracefully as he pulled off his shirt and jeans, leaving on only his boxers and turning back to you.

he was a ghost striding towards you. a vision as his body drifted towards you, so bright and beautiful under the moon, so quiet as he slipped under the covers to lay next to you; his arms open and welcoming.

so you accepted, letting yourself have this, this moment, with ben. you found yourself tucked into his side, one arm dragged across his torso with your head on his chest. his left arm wrapped itself around your shoulders, his right arm laying adjacent to yours, letting your fingertips touch and ghost along one another.

you stayed there, for a minute or two, just getting used to each other’s rise and fall of your chests and the dips and bumps of each other’s skin. neither of you had felt more at peace than in that moment.

and as you lay there in ben’s arms, the steady beating in his heart right below your ear and finally feeling content, you knew that you were ready for love.

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#Courts4KWritingChallenge #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy imagine #bohemian rhapsody #ben jones #x reader #acdeaky

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laws-yellow-submarine · 3 years

Text

Incandescent

Author's Note - Hiiiiiii this is my first time ever participating in a writing contest and I am S O incredibly nervous, please be gentle. 🥺 Thank you for hosting such an awesome event and huge congrats to your follower milestone! I enjoyed stretching my brain a bit for this event! Sorry it's right at the deadline, hehe. Ok, I'll shut up now~

Pairing - Drake x F!Reader

Warnings - SPOILERS // 1 paragraph that refers to sex // angst ending 🥲

Prompt Choice - Light

Word Count - 2.8k

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Parties, dances, formal attire. The annual Marine Ball. Though Drake had surely been accustomed to high society due to his Marine affiliations, he never cared for such lavish activities. With an aloof demeanor and two left feet, it was well evident among his comrades that he was far from the life of the party. Still, he made his appearance known at every tedious event. He took his job seriously after all.

All things considered, one can imagine the utter panic he endured when the third woman of the night caught his eye and made her way towards him. In the brief seconds it took for her to approach him, he had already constructed a mental list of countless benign excuses that would be reasonable enough to reject her without hurting her feelings. It took him some time, all thanks to many tears and a few too many slaps to the face, to figure out how to achieve such gentle refusals.

His first excuse was locked and loaded, equipped with a follow up, just in case. However, even as the words were placed on the tip of his tongue, all things left when she pleaded with him.

“Dance with me. Please.”

His eyes widened down at her. This was entirely different from any dance offer he had received. He was well known to dismiss even the most pitiful of beggars, but something about her plea seemed desperate.

“Ma’am, I’m not sure you-” He began, halting when a slur of what was assumedly her name, pierced through the chattering crowd. “Miss (Name)! Playing hard to get I see! Don’t worry, I’ll find you. And when I do, youwilldance with me.”

She hid her face in embarrassment, eyes bulging as she pleaded with the Marine once more. He internally sighed, why me?, but when the drunken man had found her and was rushing towards her, Drake acted on instinct. Placing his hand gently at the small of her back, he guided her through the tight crowd towards the other end of the room. He cringed at the man’s whines, having half a mind to swiftly knock the brute out once he heard some derogatory remarks escape his lips, but getting her to safety was paramount.

They found themselves rushing out onto the balcony, far from the bustling crowd and entirely out of sight of that wretched man pursuing her so dangerously. Before joining her outside, Drake had relayed the information to one of his comrades who stood on guard at the balcony’s door, encouraging him to keep an eye out for the pervert and to remove him from the party if he made any attempts to follow the pair outside.

“Thank you.” She breathed as she sat along the bench, “Though, a dance in the other room would have sufficed.”

He stood in front of her awkwardly, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Miss, I have to be honest with you. I’m not much of a dancer.”

She giggled, and an unfamiliar sensation swelled in his chest, “Oh, I’ve assumed as much, Mr. Dory. Why else would you reject all of the pretty admirers? Though, I believe the defaulted rumor among them is that you swing for…”

He stiffened, ears growing warm, “Drake is fine. I don’t care much for rumors.”

She hissed as she removed her shoes and rubbed at her heels, “What’s your rank, Drake, if I may ask?”

“Rear admiral, ma’am.”

“A handsome rear admiral who can’t dance? Well, I guess we can't all be perfect, hm?”

“I don’t need flattery to do my job, Miss.”

“(Name).” She corrected with a roll of her eyes.

“Pardon?”

“It’s (Name). We’re on a first name basis, yes? And you don’t have to refer to me so highly. I’m not like the nobility that swoon at your feet.” She ran her fingers through her hair, “I’m just the caterer’s daughter. Only here to encourage guests to dine on our food. Unfortunately, however, it would seem some men interpret simple acts of kindness as desperation for their affections.”

“Only pathetic ones.” Drake scoffed.

“Let me guess. You’re not like other men?” (Name) laughed loudly this time, and if it weren’t for the sudden rush of embarrassment he’d felt, he’d be captivated by the way she glowed under the moonlight, “Haven’t heard that one before.”

She was entirely correct. (Name) was far from being similar to the other women who more than likely only wanted a dance with the rear admiral for bragging rights. Even if he’d had few formal conversations with the gaggle of swooners, none would dare challenge a man of his rank as she did. It was entertaining, to say the least.

“How can I prove myself then?” He questioned aloud. The teasing tone laced in his words caught the both of them by surprise. He wanted to hurl himself off the balcony, until her reassuring smile offered him solace.

(Name) pretended to be in deep thought for a moment, and Drake grew increasingly anxious as the seconds passed, “Prove to me that you really can’t dance. I find it hard to believe the gods blessed you with those legs and no rhythm.”

It was his turn to laugh this time; genuine laughter. She was taken aback and silently admired the music of his amusement. Even the guard who stood watch outside the door stiffened in disbelief at hearing the typically stoic Drake laugh so heartily.

“I’m afraid you might be setting yourself up for disappointment. Or perhaps you wish to have me step on your toes?”

“It’s alright. You can step on my toes as much as you want.” Her tone was serious now as he opened the door for her, “Just keep me safe, please.”

He swallowed hard, feeling underprepared for what he was getting himself into, “I think I can manage as much.”

They made way to the dance floor, Drake nervous as ever underneath the burning stares of the party guests. Yet as he took her gloved hand in his, a brilliant, incandescent glow seemed to illuminate his entire body at the intimate contact. Her eyes held his and what with the warm smile she offered him, he had briefly pondered if she had felt that sudden jolt of electricity as well.

How’s one to know when you’ve met the one?

Drake couldn’t help but wonder as he danced with this alluring stranger, the caterer’s beautiful daughter. Because as she spun around the room with him, catching him when he’d trip over her dress with reassuring glances and a too-forgiving smile, he couldn’t help but imagine their lives together, a reel of redamancy.

They’d continue spinning around the room, unbothered by the wandering eyes and hushed whispers. She’d hold him steady, eyes twinkling under the light of the chandelier as she laughed, scrunching up her nose and throwing her head back without a care in the world, making him fall harder with each passing second. He’d pull her closer, an evident blush blooming on the both of their cheeks at the contact, further deepening as they realize they are one of the only few stragglers left well after the party is over.

He’d walk her home, picking off a stray flower when she wasn’t looking, offering it to her as a parting gift, a thank you for keeping him company through the night. She’d smile, wider than he had seen that night, a smile he wanted to keep on her face forever. As their hands touch, he’d bring hers up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss along the satin fabric covering her knuckles. Another parting gift, another thank you - a subtle invitation for more, if she’d have him.

He’d pray that she couldn’t see the nervous quake that shook his body, how he was dying to get this right, but she would, of course she would. She was incredibly perceptive, and that’s one of the wondrous things about (Name) that made him fall, after all. Yet, she wouldn’t say a word, just smile and laugh as she hesitantly closed the door, hurrying up to her bedroom window to call out his name like it was her new favorite word as she waved a final goodbye for the night. He’d wave back, butterflies fluttering madly like he was a teenager all over again. That feeling would make home in his stomach until he laid his head on his pillow, dreams painted with her beaming smile glowing under the chandelier light as he held her close once more. His pillow would suffice for the time being.

He’d visit her father’s restaurant, casually of course; purely coincidental. Yet as with all blooming romances, random happenstances turned to every other day, then quickly to every evening after he’d finish his paperwork for the day, and would ultimately result in him asking her father for permission to court her. She’d laugh that million-beli laugh, mocking him for being so old-fashioned, while he mocked her in turn for being so contrarian. His Marine buddies would pick and tease, but as he arrived at each dinner party, each ball, each and every event with her by his side, he would only take it all in stride. He’d watch as she got on with his friends, how they’d gang up to make fun of him, but he could care less as her enjoyment, how she melded so perfectly with his lifestyle, reigned supreme. He’d know in that moment, that the shape of her was the missing piece in his heart all this time.

They’d promenade through town, arms linked as he walked tall and dignified, herself excitable as she yanked him in every direction to browse shops and visit with the coastal townsfolk. They’d believe no one had ever seen a love as pure as theirs as they interlaced their fingers, Drake never quite getting used to how her small hand fit perfectly in his, all the while garnering a few jealous glances from men and women alike. Neither of them would pay the gawkers any mind, and as each gentle embrace from her ignited his skin to the warmest degrees, the possibility of being loved in return was no longer improbable in his mind.

She’d be the one to initiate their first kiss, stealing his affection and attention when he’s rambling about nervously. He’d curse himself for not being braver, but with lots of encouragement from her and plenty of practice, he’d soon find a newfound confidence that resulted in a struggle to keep his lips to himself. Yet not without blushing madly and a few nosebleeds here and there, of course. They’d steal kisses from each other any chance they got, bumping into things and laughing quietly as their lips chased each other fervently in the privacy of an empty shop’s dressing room or the storage room in her father’s restaurant. Drake wasn’t one to break the rules, but all sensibility left him when her lips were plastered against his own.

It would be so much more than her lips. Her eyes, her hands, her hair, her legs; every inch of her was intoxicating and there seemed to be no peak to the love he had for her in every sense he was familiar with. That would be until one night when the two found themselves desperate for something bigger than what they knew, bodies tangled in heated passions, and the wild beating of their hearts and breathy pants filling the empty room. He’d ask her countless times: “Are you sure?” “Is this okay?” “Do you want this?” “Is it really me you want?”

She’d laugh, placing shaky, gentle hands along his cheeks, and pulling him in for a searing kiss, “Yes, I want everything with you. It will always be you.”

They would make love that night, and Drake would have to fight back tears. Even after courting her for so long, he’d never experienced such tender touches and praises as these from her before. After years of abuse from his father, he had wondered if he was even worthy of gentle affections of any kind. He’d spent many years cold and alone, his training as a Marine only further icing over his stone heart. Yet she would see him, truly see him that night. The love that would reflect in the light of her eyes as she stared up at him, loving praises of his name and utter adoration for him spilling from her parted lips, her soft hands caressing his skin like he’d disappear if she’d let go - it would be pure heaven sent, and Drake would not help but bask in the love she offered him, biting his lips as he quietly sobbed into her skin as she slept peacefully beside him, holding him in her embrace.

He’d buy a ring the next day, ignoring the snickers and childish name-calling from his comrades. He’d ask her father once again for permission, this time to marry her, though at this point, Drake would be far removed from seeking approval. He’d propose to her on the balcony where they first met, and they’d wed later that season. They would build a home on the cliffside, facing the sea, in a quiet neighborhood not too far from base. They would share a beautiful domestic life together, a few pets and two kids bustling about in the yard. The townsfolk could only ever dream of having a life as perfect as theirs. Drake would practically thrive off of the jealousy, bragging endlessly about his wife and kids, keeping a framed picture of them on his desk, and making sure to tell any and every soul who entered his office random tidbits of a day in the life of the Drake family.

He could see her out in the yard, belly swollen with their third child, being pulled in every direction by their two little ones who looked so much like her, much to his endearment, and their dog running around. She’d wave him over when she’d catch him staring, his two baby dinos running toward him excitedly, yanking on his hands to bring him out into the yard to help catch fireflies. They’d laugh and chase each other around the yard, her smiling widely and whispering to him how great of a dad he is. He’d place his hand on her belly, content and full of love for his growing family, thanking whatever being was responsible for blessing him with the family he’s always wanted. He’d pull her close, gently of course, spinning her around the yard with confident legs, smiling cheesily as he asked her if he’s proven himself yet. She’d laugh that famous, knee-weakening laugh of hers, and reply -

“Drake?”

Head still fuzzy, he peered down at her, “Hmm?”

“You’ve been staring. Is there something on my face?”

Regaining his consciousness, he was struggling to remember where he was, “No. There’s not. I apologize, I- we- ”

“Sir, we’ve escorted the perpetrator from the ball. He has been arrested, so I assure you she will no longer be pursued.” An officer under Drake muttered in his ear. Drake stilled as the realization crashed over him like a tidal wave.

It wasn’t real? None of that was real?

(Name) looked up at him with questioning eyes, and he had to avert his own in order to avoid sinking into her depths once again, “Very well. Excellent work, officer.” The man saluted Drake before disappearing into the crowd.

Drake slowly turned to her, “It seems your stalker has been arrested, Miss. I’ll no longer be of any service to you.”

Her hands dropped from his shoulders along with her smile. The return of Miss breaking her heart piece by piece, “Oh, I see.”

He so desperately wanted to reach a hand out to stroke her cheek, encouraging her smile to return, but he didn’t actually know her like that. No matter how beautiful the fantasies he created in his head of their potential life together, in reality, he only knew this woman’s name. She would probably be appalled to know of the things he dreamt up of her, so Drake decided it’d be best for the both of them if he kept his distance.

“If you ever run into trouble with another man, please don’t hesitate to reach out to an officer. You’ll always be in good hands, I’ll make sure of that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She replied dryly.

“Good night, Miss. I hope my company was not too bothersome.” He bowed to her. She quickly wiped at her eyes as he remained at half-back, averting her gaze when he rose up. As she struggled to look into his eyes, waiting, internally begging for him to say more, mentally pleading for him to stay, Drake took that as his cue to leave.

As he walked away from her, his mind, body, and soul screamed to run back to her, confess to her. But that would be insane right? He’d only met her tonight, how pathetic would he look to confess his heart out to a total stranger? It didn’t matter how her eyes offered him home, and in the mere minutes it took for them to share a dance, he effortlessly imagined their futures together; unconditional love shared between them in the purest forms. She'd surely think he was delusional, a creep. Just like the other guys.

To save himself the embarrassment, he concluded it to be just temporary infatuation, and he did not have the time to play with such trivial feelings. The coastal town Drake resided in would never get to see him helplessly in love with the caterer’s daughter, and his heart would only grow colder in (Name)'s absence. A heart befitting a pirate.

#writing contest submission #950 follower event #submission

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221bshrlocked · 5 years

Text

Starstruck (1)

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader

Words: 3445

Warnings: Bullying. Nothing else.

Prompt: “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

A/N: This is for one of my absolute favs @moonbeambucky . I love you dude :) Congrats on the milestone friend and yeeepepepe I hope you like this. Chris is getting his MA degree and reader is an undergrad. I don’t remember writing anything for our favorite spaceman so tell me how it is please and thank you. And sorry it is so last minute I am still struggling with writing.

Part 2

Pretending you didn’t just hear Emily mock your major for god knows what time this week, you plugged your headphones in and blasted some music in hopes to tune her out. You laughed at your own joke, and read the paragraph again to try and learn something.

Hmm, tune her out, that was funny Y/N!

But the harder you tried to focus, the louder and more obnoxious everyone became. You knew what they were doing, you knew why they kept on teasing you, and you thought ignoring them would eventually make it stop but that wasn’t the case. You’d never feel self-conscious about your major but sometimes, they hit you right where it hurt. Too many nights were spent crying just because they called you stupid or slow or unnecessary.

It’s okay, they don’t understand what the world would be life if music didn’t exist. Just ignore them. Don’t let them get to you.

Thinking back to when you started living here, you couldn’t help but sigh because all of this was avoidable had you not listened to your friend. Yes the price was lower than everywhere else, especially for this campus, and you weren’t far from where your classes met, even the grocery store was a minute away. Fine, this was the best deal and you’d probably not change your decision just because some assholes had issues.

They’re all leaving this weekend anyway so just power through this Y/N alright. You can do this. Fucking power through it and you’ll do gr-

You looked up as soon as you heard the front door opening, a part of you for once wishing this man was not walking through the door right now and was that his friend behind him?

“How did I just get to see your place man?” The blonde man asked before remembering he should probably leave his umbrella outside. You frowned when you noticed just how much it was raining, realizing there was no way you’d attempt to go to the library now.

The brunette glared at him before turning to you, a small smile adorning his face for a second right as he walked past you. You heard him ascending the two flights of stairs to your floor, probably to get something from his room and leave again. He was the only one living on the same floor as you, the other six being on the first and ground floors.

You snapped out of your haze when you heard someone tapping on your book, causing you to jump and take your headphones out.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Liam by the way.” He pulled out a chair and sat next to you, flipping the book to see what you were studying.

“Well this is fun,” he commented while pointing at the organic chemistry problems, making you cringe at his reaction because who in their right mind would call organic chemistry fun?

“Easy for you to say, this isn’t my major and frankly, I can’t stand it.” You crossed your arms, smiling a little because there was a cute blondie laughing at what you said. “I’m going to be honest with you, this is the shit I deal with on a daily basis and I agree with you. Can’t fucking stand it most of the times, especially when that genius upstairs makes it look like a piece of cake.”

“Oh? W-what’re you guys studying?” Knowing you’d never have the guts to ask your ‘neighbor,’ your curiosity got the best of you and blurted out the question before you can stop yourself. “We’re not in the same program actually but I’m in biomedical engineering and Chris over there is m-”

“Your late friend.” Chris came running down the stairs, wearing a NASA sweatshirt and a leather jacket on top and if you weren’t so occupied with what you just heard the girls in the other room were saying, you’d have gotten a better look at him. “Hey man we have a few minutes, I was just telling your cute housemate what you’re doing. You know she’s studying organic chemistry right? Maybe you c-”

“Liam I told you we needed to cut lunch short and now you’re being a dickhead again. Let’s go. Sorry Y/N!” Chris grabbed his friend and shoved him out the door but not before you heard his friend looking back at you and whispering “the Y/N? That’s Y/N??” You waved goodbye when they left, turning around and seeing Emily and Letty staring you down while the guys tried to catch their attention again. You’d think people would grow out of that phase in university but nope.

You dove back into your book and ignored them, trying your hardest not to think about Liam and who you now know as Chris. An hour later, you finally had the house to yourself, knowing fully well that everyone else was probably partying somewhere. Everyone has finished their finals, including you, except unlike everyone, you didn’t pass all of yours. Luckily, your professor grew very fond of you and appreciated how much time and effort you put into his class, informing you that while he takes your improvement into account, he couldn’t possibly pass you with that final grade. So you concluded with an agreement, if he gives you a chance to retake the final, you’d help him grade the other classes’ finals as well. When he smiled and shook your hands enthusiastically, you were relieved.

Two chapters and three cups of coffee later, you knew you couldn't stay awake any longer. As you packed your stuff and headed to your room, you couldn’t help but remember what happened a few hours ago again.

Wait, how did he know my name?

Thinking he probably just heard it from someone in the house, you threw your books on the desk and headed to your dresser, grabbing a pair of panties and your hair products before walking to the bathroom and hanging your towel near the curtain.

As the water warm water hit your back, you silently prayed the next week would pass by as peacefully as possible. But those thoughts scattered away when an image of Chris popped up in your head. Of course you had to fall for the quiet, uninterested, probably rude science dude, knowing fully well he wouldn’t give you a second glance. If only you wouldn’t freeze up whenever you saw him. Thinking back to when you were checking out the house, you smiled at what your friend said when she saw him walking into his room. And it took you two whole semesters to convince her he was definitely not the reason you moved here.

Well, he wasn’t the main reason but he was among the pros on your list. Rinsing your hair, you shut the water off and stepped out, wrapping the towel around your body before looking for your panties. When you couldn’t find them anywhere, you thought you probably just forgot to bring them, unlocking the door and heading to your room. Shutting your door, you were about to let go of the towel when you heard a knock on your door.

Pulling open the knob, your eyes widened in horror when you saw Chris standing in the middle of the doorway, hands crossed and-

Shit shit shit this is not happening.

“Hey Y/N you dro- fuck…” Chris knew he should shut his eyes but seeing you in nothing but the towel, hair still wet and thighs peeking from below the towel made him shift in his place. He realized he swore out loud and swallowed thickly, blinking before looking down at his feet. “S-sorry to bother you I know it’s late but...I umm, you seem to have dropped these and- well, here you go.” Chris held out his hand to you, fingers entirely intertwined with the soft cotton of your pink panties.

“Th-thank you, I...was just, sorry it’s uhh, getting late. Good night.” You didn’t wait for his response, stepping back and shutting the door quickly before resting your back on it. You heard him bid you goodnight from behind the doorway, steps leading away from your door letting you know he already left. You tried to calm your heart for a few minutes before slipping into your pajamas and rolling under the covers, pretending the last fifteen minutes never happened.

Chris on the other hand paced back and forth, the image of your body so slick and shiny under your bedroom light making him hiss before looking down and seeing his hard-on pressing against his sweatpants. He only just spent the last three hours telling his friends to fuck off because there was no way a girl like you was single. He came up with so many excuses to not ask you out, knowing the only thing stopping him is his fear of rejection. But now that he got a glimpse of you, he knew he had to at least try, even if it made things awkward later on.

When you woke up the next day, and walked downstairs to make breakfast, you’d completely forgotten everything that happened the night prior, cooking some waffles before pouring yourself some coffee and sitting down to check your emails. As soon as Chris walked in, hair messy and sweatpants hanging low on his hips, you choked on the liquid, holding your hands up when he stepped closer to you and patted your back.

“Shit you okay?” You tried to not think of the very tight white tank top he was wearing but the coughs only grew louder. “W-wrong pipe,” you managed to say between attempts to clear your throat. “Yeah just don’t speak, deep breathes, leave this for now.” He pushed the mug away and continued to rub your back, failing to notice how you’d already stopped coughing. You looked up at him and smiled, noticing the blush creeping up his neck when he realized he was still touching you. Chris pulled away reluctantly, rubbing his thighs before returning the awkward smile and heading to the coffee maker.

You stayed silent, afraid to say something because all you could think about is Chris holding your panties in his hands. He’d turned around and leaned against the sink, drinking his coffee and staring intently at you.

“You take your coffee black?” was the only thing you managed to come up with, cringing at your attempts of making conversation because of course he does, he’s drinking it right now isn’t he?

“Yeah, like my soul!” Chris chuckled before shaking his head and mentally slapping himself. But then he heard you snort at what he said, face beaming from happiness.

She thinks I’m funny? Okay, so she likes a little bit of dark, weird humor, cool. I can do that. Definitely doable.

Before he could say anything else, you were already getting up and rinsing the plate and mug, putting them in the dishwasher before telling him you’d see him later.

“Great job man.” Chris murmured to himself, finishing the rest of his coffee before heading upstairs to get dressed. He walked past your room and stopped, finally understanding why you probably almost died downstairs not ten minutes ago. He completely forgot about last night and realized you didn’t and shit shit shit did he need to apologize again? When he heard some rustling behind the door, he ran to his room and shut it as silently as possible.

What are you five years old? Get your shit together and act like an adult. You’re in medical school man for fuck’s sake!

You weren’t planning on leaving the house today but this was the first time you’d seen him in the morning and you panicked because what if he was going to stay inside for the day? It wouldn’t end well because at some point, you would’ve made a fool out of yourself, again, and that wasn’t going to be good for your already stressful self.

Chris was in fact planning on staying inside, even though it was Friday. But he didn’t want to run into you again, knowing he was completely unprepared and needed to ask one of his friends for advice, much to his dislike.

You thought the library would be the perfect place to get your head in the game but you couldn’t have been proven more wrong. You couldn’t stop thinking about how more talkative he became around you in the span of a day, occasionally zoning out and thinking of different scenarios where you weren’t a complete dork and actually held up a conversation with him.

Chris spent the day helping his friend plan some of the talks he and the others were going to give during the Annual meeting for the American College of Surgeons. But as hard as he tried to be of use, he wasn’t able to do much, mind running a hundred miles in attempts to come up with something to say to you. By six o’clock, his friend told him he should go home and get some rest before next week, and when he apologies for not helping out as much as the others, she told him not to worry about it and to try and talk to you.

“Wow, might as well give Liam a fucking mic so he can tell everyone.” Chris didn’t bother tying his shoes or changing out of his scrubs. “Relax, he said it by accident and let’s be honest, there is no way anything else can get the famous Chris Beck this distracted unless it was a girl. Seriously just be yourself and I’m sure she’ll like you.”

“I can’t even say one word without making a fool out of myself.” He stood up and put on his NASA sweatshirt.

“Well maybe you can help her out. Liam was telling me she was doing some chemistry stuff and was close to crying because of it. Come on Beck woe the girl, buy her some coffee and help the damsel in distress and you’ll see how far that goes.” Chris laughed at what Diana said, shaking his head before turning around and leaving.

“If that works, I swear I will help you out all of next week.” He pointed at her and shut the door behind him, heading to the nearby coffee place with a smile on his face.

You’d already left the library with a friend and decided to go to the coffee shop just around the corner with your friend, immediately regretting it when you entered and saw the rest of the house crew sitting on the couches.

“Hey look, our very own Mozart has a social life.” One of the guys yelled and made everyone around stare at you. Your friend asked if you wanted to leave and you told her it was fine, ordering a hot cocoa and keeping busy with talking to her about your new assignment. You could distinctly hear them still teasing you, shaking your head and laughing when your friend told you she can easily hit them with her cello.

“Let’s just leave,” you grabbed your cup and were about to head out when you hear some ruckus from behind you.

“What do you mean we have to leave?” Emily yelled at the barista standing in front of her group.

“It means, if I don’t see your little butts making their way out that door in the next minute, I will call campus police and file a report against you.” She placed her hands on her hips and didn’t budge when one of the guy stood up and got in her face. “Oh yeah and why should we believe you?” He pulled up his sleeves and smiled down at her.

“Because under Section 2.7-C, I have the right to kick you out for not only being unreasonably rowdy, and having already finished your orders an hour ago, but also lacking adequate hygiene seeing as you are, I’m assuming, football players and frankly, smell like ass. Since you’re in a public restaurant, it is my responsibility to keep this space clean and peaceful.” None of them said anything to the barista, blank expressions making everyone laugh and clap before Emily stood up again.

“You’re bluffing.”

“Sweetheart, I’m in three-L, I’m getting hired to become a prosecutor, and the Bar exam in this state is a piece of cake. So I would leave if I were you. Enjoy your pumpkin spice latte!” She smiled at her before looking at you and winking, crossing her arms and seeing the entire group ignoring you as they left. You walked up to her immediately to ask her what that was all about.

“Thank you so much you we were just leaving and I-”

“Don’t worry about it. There’s no place for bullies here and honestly they were too fucking loud.”

“That was so freaking cool and I’m in awe.”

“I may have pulled that law out of my ass but technically, it still applies. Just forgot what section it was under.” She rubbed your shoulder and told you to enjoy the rest of your night. You left with your friend and headed to your place, laughing along with your friend because how scared they looked.

“You have it bad Chris. Make a move on her or else I will.” Angela threw her towel at the corner where Chris stood the entire time. “Don’t you fucking dare!” He pointed at his friend and grabbed the coffee meant for you.

“Thank you by the way. I owe you one.” Chris lowered his head, clasping his hands together to thank his friend.

“Hell yeah you do, got get’em tiger,” she smiled before pushing him out the way and getting back to her work. When he made it back to the house, he smiled when he saw you making dinner in the kitchen. But that smile evaporated as soon as he heard the obnoxious yelling coming from the second floor. Ignoring them, he walked towards you and cleared his throat, waving when you turned around and and said hi.

“So Liam was telling me you needed help with some chemistry and I- well I was on my way back and thought....umm, you’re probably going to study tonight and instead of making yourself some coffee, I got this.” Chris placed the cup on the kitchen table and stared at you.

“Oh, wow god you didn’t have to Chris that’s, you’re too nice.”

“I asked for hazelnut, I know you like it so, yeah it it was nothing really.” He stuttered and if you weren’t blown away by what he did, you would’ve found it really cute that a man like him was shy around you.

“I’m sure you’re really busy and I’d hate to have you waste your time helping me out with something like that and-”

“No no seriously it’s nothing. I’m already done with my exams and I’m not doing much next week.”

“You’re not going back for Christmas?” You didn’t want to sound too desperate to have him around but you couldn’t help it.

“Nope, I’m doing some interviews here then I leave to Pennsylvania for another one and then Washington and then California but until then, I’m a free-ish man.” Knowing it wasn’t in your place to ask him about the interviews, you just nodded and shut the stove off, telling him you’ll eat quickly before bringing down your stuff.

“How about we just stay upstairs? Avoid those idiots and wait until they leave.” He tried not to look to nervous asking you that question and relaxed when you took it with the best intentions.

“Yeah sounds good, and thank you so much it means a lot. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong but I just can’t seem to understand any of that stuff.”

“It’s definitely not for everyone. I can barely stand it sometimes.” Chris wasn’t one for showing off and he raised his hands when you called him on his bullshit. “What do you mean?”

“I was talking to your friend and he told me you were a genius when it came to all of this...he even told me you make him feel stupid sometimes.” You laughed when Chris looked offended by what you said, and thought this wasn’t too bad of a start after all.

“I never!! I just happened to study more than him and don’t fuck around when the professor is lecturing.” He grabbed a cookie from his bag and started eating. You tried not to let it affect you but the way he swore made you feel some kind of way that you hoped would go soon.

#chris beck #chris beck x reader #sebastian stan #the martian #sebastian stan x reader #chris beck fanfiction #space #nasa #chris beckxreader #music #the martian au

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beckzorz · 5 years

Text

Dressed to Kill: Killer Shoes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Words: 9852 Summary: Ever since Bucky found you on that island beach, you’ve been each others’ best-kept secret. So why are you looking at him like he’s a stranger when you’re supposed to be miles away? Warnings: NSFW (language, smut), 18+ A/N: Sequel to Dressed to Kill, one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, for @jewelofwinter‘s 1.5k writing challenge! Congrats to my dear Jessica on this awesome milestone! My prompt was booze. Hope you enjoy!!!

Sidestepping a tipsy woman’s flailing arm, Bucky snags a fingernail-sized quiche off a passing waiter’s tray. He pops it whole in his mouth, ignoring the snort of derision from the comm device hidden by his ear.

“Jesus, Barnes, you’re supposed to be the classy one.”

“Shoulda sent Wilson,” Bucky mutters as he dabs the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

Hill just chuckles. “Yeah, probably. If only he wasn’t the most recognizable superhero in America.”

How he manages to keep from rolling his eyes is a mystery. Thankfully, Hill doesn’t say anything else, even when Bucky makes the mistake of licking his fingers after eating a tiny, glistening slider.

For some reason, the cocktail party spirit is evading him tonight. Hill doesn’t know why, but she sure as hell knows he’s not on top of his game. If Sam were here, he’d be giving Bucky even more bullshit than Hill.

Well, Bucky knows the reason if no one else does. No one else had better know.

You’re his secret.

He’d be doing better if he didn’t know you were in town. He might have smuggled you a ticket, finagled your help, done something more fun than this private eye bullshit somewhere private—but no, you’re working too.

A different place, different mission, different target.

Presumably a different end goal, too. Well, whatever. Hill might judge, Wilson definitely would, but Bucky’s done too much murdering of his own to give a fuck if you’re off murdering someone who deserves it tonight.

He assumes they deserve it. You might have unconventional methods of making the world a better place, but that’s what you’re doing.

What he’s doing, too, even if tonight is the biggest pain in his ass since that long mission posing as security in Ukraine. If only you weren’t working. God, how nice that would’ve been. Bad table manners aside, he’s done his job. There’s loads of nooks and crannies in this place that’d be perfect for—

Bucky chokes on his champagne.

A woman just walked in. Black dress, deep lipstick, killer heels. Under all that, a face and body to die for.

It’s you.

Bucky turns away, face hot. He wipes his mouth as daintily as he can to disguise the utter bafflement he feels. Is the room warmer than before? He can’t tell. All he knows is that the mingling crowd is too much. Last time he’d seen you in a crowd…

He surreptitiously adjusts his pants. Best not to think about that now.

What the hell are you doing here? Did you finish your mission? How the hell did you even get a ticket?

He traces the outline of his phone in his breast pocket. It’s quiet. Can he sneak it out for a look, or is that too rude?

No, fuck that, he doesn’t need to look. If you’d called, or even texted, his phone would’ve vibrated.

Why didn’t you call?

Hell, why aren’t you looking at him? Talking to him? Running your hand down his lapel…

Bucky chances it. He turns around, but you’re leaning against the bar, eyes resolutely elsewhere. Mission be damned; the assignment can wait a few minutes. He makes his way through the crowd, silk dresses whooshing against his suit as he squeezes between clusters of the rich and ambitious.

He’s not the only one stunned by you. You’re smiling coyly at the bartender, whose eyes keep drifting back to you as he mixes a drink and slides it your way.

Huh. Bucky’s never seen you drink a martini before.

You stir the olive through your drink, eyes drifting down the bar and passing over Bucky with no more feeling than if you were looking at a stranger.

A chill runs down his spine.

You’re good at your job, damn good, but there’s never been a single moment that you haven’t reacted to the sight of him. For the first time, Bucky looks closer. The curve of your neck, the size of your breasts…

Ah.

Quite.

He orders a whiskey from the bartender, props himself on the bar with his elbows, and tugs his phone out of his pocket. Clicks off his comm device. Dials a number. Waits. His lips curl into a smirk when someone picks up.

“Hey, darlin’.”

—

You cross one leg over the other and lean back in your chair, lips pressed tight together as you adjust your phone against your ear. The man across from you watches with a sympathetic grimace as he cuts his steak.

“Ballsy of you to call after all this time,” you say stonily.

A pause, then a low chuckle that makes you glad you’re wearing closed shoes—Nicholas can’t see the way that sound curls your toes.

“Well, better late than never, right?”

“No, I think never would have been better.”

Nicholas nods approvingly. You reach over and slide your hand into his, mind a million—or more accurately, a quarter dozen—miles away.

“If you have something to say, say it,” you continue. “Otherwise—”

“I can see you when I close my eyes.”

You can hear the smirk in Bucky’s voice, but the next words come out sounding less sultry.

Less sultry, more ominous.

“Sometimes, like right now, I don’t even need to close ‘em.”

What?

Questions swirl in your brain. What the hell does he mean? He can see you? But you’re miles away, in some rich loser’s eat-in open-concept kitchen—

You swallow, set your jaw, and squeeze Nicholas’ hand. His eyes are blue, but they’re the wrong shade, the wrong shape.

Wrong everything.

“That’s very sweet,” you drawl. “But you can stop wasting your time. Go use those cheap lines on someone else.”

You hang up and groan, burying your face in your hands to disguise your racing pulse.

“Just block his number,” Nicholas says. He takes a sip of his wine.

“I will,” you lie. A few deep breaths help settle your nerves, but your mind is reeling. A sniff for good measure as you recreate some semblance of composure. “God, I can’t believe I let him get under my skin.” You rub your arms and shiver. “You think you know a person…”

“People can be awful,” Nicholas says. He sets down his fork and pats his knee. “C’mere, you.”

You glance at him from under your eyelashes as you set your napkin on the table and sidle around to drop on his knee. You loop your arms around his neck and press your cheek to his shoulder.

Nicholas settles his hands on your hips, his thumbs tracing circles low on your belly as he murmurs placating nonsense in your ear. You’re not listening. You’re busy unsticking a patch from the inside of your wide bangle.

“—and you know you can always trust me,” Nicholas says.

You cup his neck in your hands, the finger-sized patch latching seamlessly onto his skin and already starting to dissolve.

“I know,” you murmur.

You lean in slowly, but Nicholas blanches. He lurches to his feet, sending you sprawling to the floor.

“Nicholas?!”

“I—I’m sorry—I think I ate—”

He darts to the bathroom, and within seconds you can hear him retching.

Finally.

You climb to your feet and grab your phone, mind racing back to the Bucky problem now that Nicholas is out of the way.

What the hell did he mean, he can see you? How can he? Does he mean he’s watching a video feed? But there aren’t any here. You turn your phone in your fingers and bite your lip. Bucky’s working tonight, same as you—well, sort of. It would be silly to call him back before you’ve even thought his riddle through. Not to mention while Nicholas is still on his feet. You don’t know how much that patch will affect him.

How can Bucky be seeing you if he’s miles away? It’s impossible.

Unless…

Unless—

“Oh shit,” you mutter.

Someone is impersonating you at the party.

Someone.

Is impersonating you.

At the party.

Well that just takes the cake.

You slip your phone back into your purse and go knock on the bathroom door.

“Nicholas? Are you alright?”

A groan.

“I’m coming in,” you tell him. A beat, and then you push the door open with as concerned an expression as you can manage.

Nicholas is back on his feet, but he’s pale and shaky. Perfect.

“Oh, love!” you gasp. You rush over and steady him. “Let me help you.”

“You’re a godsend,” Nicholas says weakly. He leads the way to his bedroom—his apartment is sprawling; how the hell does he manage? Who needs this kind of space?—and lets you tuck him in.

“Shouldn’t have had that steak,” he says. “You did warn me it looked a little off…”

“Oh please,” you tell him. You press a kiss to his brow to conceal your scowl. Can’t he just go to sleep and stop talking? You’d only warned him about the steak in case of emergency. You hadn’t expected to need to pull off that trick… “Rest, dear. I'll come by tomorrow to check up on you, alright?”

“You’re an angel,” Nicholas mumbles. He smiles, finally letting go of your hand.

Angel?

You pull back as fast as you reasonably can, a little queasy yourself now. No one calls you an angel but Bucky. It’s wrong, sickening, to hear it from this dumb jerk.

It’s a disgrace. How dare he.

You’re out of Nicholas’ place before you even have time to consider your own mission. So much for his bank accounts, his trust funds, his shady offshore properties…

Well, screw that. It can wait. You’ll be back tomorrow.

—

Easy enough to catch a cab, easy enough to namedrop the most upscale venue in the city. Easy enough to hook into the video feeds you’d had Kasie hack into back when you didn’t think you’d be going.

You call Bucky as the driver peels away from the curb. He answers in a ring and a half.

“Didn’t know if you’d call,” he says.

“Is she wearing a black dress?”

“Uh… yeah. How’d you—”

“Feeds are fuzzy. Can’t tell for sure if that’s her,” you say curtly.

“Don’t be like that,” he says.

You bristle as you fix a fresh patch to the inside of your bracelet. Just in case. “Like what?”

“Like you aren’t glad I called.”

You close your eyes, tip your head back. “I’m a little preoccupied,” you murmur. “Not every day I find out my cover’s blown.”

“We’ll figure it out, darlin’.”

Bucky’s voice wraps around you, almost as comforting as if he was holding you in his arms. You'd had to hide your delight before, at Nicholas’ place, but no one’s looking at you this time.

This time, you let yourself smile.

—

The first time you’d met Bucky, you’d swept from the street up marble steps not unlike these. Of course, back then the whole point had been to distract him.

You smooth down your skirt as you wait for Bucky to let you in. This time, you’re distracted even before you walk in the door. Bucky’s nowhere in view and you’re already a bundle of nerves. Of course, Bucky’s not the one making you nervous.

He really should be, you decide. You’ve never not gotten a swoop in your stomach from catching sight of him, whether through a rifle scope on a rooftop or from the bottom of a carpeted staircase. Or from a bed. And he’d looked so good in the feeds, blurriness aside… No man had ever looked better in a suit.

If nothing else, thinking about Bucky is doing wonders to distract you from the more pressing problem. Who has time to consider the implications of someone posing as your double when in just a few moments, you’ll be able to run your hand down his velvet lapel?

A sigh escapes your lips. You lean against a column by the door, gazing down at the street. Cars start and stop as they ease by, the occasional bike or scooter weaving between traffic. Black taxis reflect the last pink stripes in the sky, the white streetlamps, the red-yellow-green of the traffic lights. Pretty, but your focus is still caught up with the man coming to fetch you.

It’s been too long since you’ve seen him, touched him… You’ve been in the same city for a few days, but his team is too perceptive for him to have snuck away. Every meeting with him has been snatched, secret. Your hands curl, fingernails digging into your plans.

What you wouldn’t give to have the freedom to have him whenever you want.

The desperation, the need tugging at you makes you feel like an addict, but god if Bucky Barnes isn’t the best drug there is.

“There y’are.”

You flinch, pulse racing under your skin, as that smooth voice washes over you. A swallow, and you press your eyes closed just for a moment before looking at him.

It’s the same exact rush you’ve gotten every single time you’ve seen him. The swoop in your belly, the clench of your thighs, the way your mouth goes dry when his lips quirk into their customary smirk. And gosh, that suit looks even better in person. It’s black, with sharp lines that mirror the sharp line of his jaw, and a velvet lapel that you just know won’t be nearly as soft as his lips. All your frustration melts away.

Finally.

“Hi,” you breathe.

Bucky offers you his arm, his blue eyes dark as they drink you in. A new dress, a black dress, the perfect match. The style he likes, with a fitted bodice and draping skirt. You hook your arm through his elbow, trying to hide your relief at finally being with him. Not to mention the absolute thrill of having his strong, solid arm under your hand…

Bucky flashes his ticket—and a SHIELD badge—at the doorman, who lets you both in with an inquisitive frown. Did he see your doppelganger earlier? No matter.

“Nice of you to join the party,” Bucky teases.

You snort. “I’d thank you for the invite if I wasn’t so damn aggravated.”

Bucky drops a kiss against your hair as you study your surroundings. A gilded lobby, just shy of ostentatious, with a a row of polished wooden doors leading into the function hall. Two concierges at the long counter by the doors, glassy-eyed and bored until they notice you looking, at which point they turn on megawatt smiles. You bite your tongue as you smile back. Ah, nothing like customer service.

That’s at least fifty percent of your own job, really. All that simpering at Nicholas…

You shudder.

Bucky pauses mere feet from the door—you can already hear the lounge singer crooning away—and frowns down at you.

“Y’alright?”

“Sure, sure.” You adjust your hold on his arm, then step back. Time to get back in the game. You rub your temples. “Is there a plan? Or are you just winging it?”

Bucky scratches his cheek, brow pinched. “She seems to be focused on one guy in particular, but I don’t know if it’s about murdering him or what.”

“And you just left her in there?!” you gasp. He rolls his eyes.

“Calm down, darlin’, no need to blow a gasket. Got my backup to come in, keep him busy. But not so busy the other you suspects.”

You let out a stream of air between your teeth. Fine. That works.

“Anyway, if you’re done accusing me of not knowing how to do my job—” he shoots you a sardonic look bordering on a glare— “I figured we’d just corner her, get her out, get her talking.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

You brush past Bucky, eyes ahead, and push the doors open before he can stop you. Enough talking. Time to take this bitch—whoever she is—down.

—

Unlike the first—and only—time you’d been dressed to the nines together, you’re geared up. These are your killer shoes, with the blades hidden in the soles and a needle inside the right heel. There are two holsters hidden under your skirts, and false pockets granting easy access to your pearl-handled pistols. Your necklace hides a garrote, your bangle a drugged patch.

And you’ve got murder on your mind.

No one, not once in your entire career—or maybe even life—has ever pretended to be you. No catfishers, no copycats…

Well, not that you have a style that enables copycats. You’re an assassin, not a serial killer.

There’s a difference.

Right now, though, you feel the self-righteous pull of a worthy target more than ever. How dare she steal your face.

Barely anyone glances your way when you enter into the function hall. High ceilings, sparkling chandeliers, bubbling champagne passing by on a waiter’s tray. You snag a glass, but Bucky nabs it out of your grip before you can so much as take a sip. You scowl at him, but his eyes are twinkling as he drinks.

“Thanks,” he says. He offers the half-empty flute back to you, but you ignore it.

“Where?” you demand. “Where is she?”

Bucky tilts his head, and you turn to follow his gaze. There, at the bar, a woman in a black dress. Thicker straps than yours has, a fuller skirt… But it’s a close enough match.

A chill runs up your spine. Is that what you look like, in the flesh, from the outside? Are those your shoulders, your ears? Is that the curve of your cheek?

How?

You turn back to Bucky, heart pounding, a million questions on your lips. He touches your elbow and leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“She’s nothing to you.”

A shiver runs through you at the low timber of his voice. You pull back and meet his eyes. They’re burning, bright with determination and dark with—you can’t tell. Murder? Desire? Both?

He nods once, squeezes your hand, and melts into the crowd. You press your hand to your pounding heart. A few people glance at you, but you deftly avoid their gazes. A waiter passes with a tray of hors d’oeuvres; you take a tartlet, bat your eyelashes at the waiter, and trail after Bucky, caviar bursting in your mouth.

You don’t have any problems spotting him. He’s leaning against the bar now, chatting you—her up. Her shoulders are tense; you can see her back, and you have a suspicion she’s not quite able to meet his eyes.

Bucky calls the bartender over and orders her a drink; you can just make out the coaxing smile in his voice as he asks, “What’s your poison, doll?”

“Is booze poison to you?” your double asks. She shakes her head. God, even her voice sounds like yours. Eugh. “A martini, please.”

You slip between two men and slide onto the barstool right next to her. She’s still facing Bucky, and she doesn’t turn her head quite far enough to realize she’s been cornered.

“You know,” you drawl, calm as day, “what I really prefer is champagne.”

The woman freezes. Bucky slides his half-full flute of champagne past her to you, and you take a long, slow sip, gaze fixed on Bucky. His face is serious, but there’s a thrill behind his eyes.

Your double shifts back on her stool, twisting to face Bucky even more, sliding out of her seat. You stand up too, your breasts nearly pressed against her back. From here, you can see the differences. Her skin tone is a little darker, shoulders a little broader… The hair at the nape of her neck isn’t quite the right shape either.

You fiddle with your bangle as you wait for something, anything to happen. Should you play your cards and drug her? Chase her to the bathroom, corner her there? Or let Bucky lead her away, keeping her head unmuddled for easy interrogation?

It’s a choice you don’t get to make.

The woman spins, and the sight of your own face snarling has you reeling, breath catching and eyes going wide. It’s you, but it’s wrong, backwards, wrong wrong wrong—

A harsh shove sends you careening back, and then she darts off. You knock a stocky woman halfway over, barely managing to catch yourself on some man’s sleeve, but your eyes are latched onto her.

Did she really think she could run away from the Winter Soldier?

Your double only makes it a few quick steps before Bucky’s hand clamps onto her shoulder, spinning her back to face him, his SHIELD badge tucked in his fingers, a thin, dark-haired woman rushing forward to assist.

The man whose sleeve you're holding helps right you, and you shoot a sorry to the woman you’d nearly knocked over. She’s too busy gaping between you and your doppelgänger, her eyes round as dinner plates.

Now that your double’s being led away, your fury dissipates. She failed, she’s got her head slumped, and she doesn’t look anywhere near as good as you. A giggle escapes your lips, and the stocky woman stares.

“Evil twins, am I right?” you say.

The woman blinks, too shocked to answer, and then you dart after Bucky and the others, a bounce in your step and every single wrong thing turned right.

You weave between hobnobs as they slowly sink back into their sedate ignorance. How strange. How could anyone go back to their dull party when there’s something like this going on?

Bucky opens a door, and his associate drags your double through. You step ahead to follow, but he catches your eye and shakes his head just before he vanishes.

You freeze. Right. Of course. You can’t just run after him. He’s working. Your relationship, if you can call it that, is a secret. He’s an Avenger. And you’re just…

You’re…

Someone puts a hand on your back. You stiffen.

“Jeez, Mal, what the hell happened while I was in the bathroom?” a low voice mutters.

What the hell…?

You turn and take in the bland face of the middle-aged white man frowning around. Your heart skips a beat, and you let out a slow breath between your teeth. You know that face.

“Some woman got dragged off by the feds,” you whisper, linking your arm in his and angling him away from the bulk of the crowd.

His eyes widen as he looks around, more scared than confused this time. “Are you kidding?”

“No,” you say curtly. “Come on.”

Your grip is solid on his arm, but he puts up no resistance as you lead the way to a door, not the one Bucky dragged your double out of. Mal? Is that her name? Is it short for something? Mallory, Malia?

No. Malinda.

The name rings a bell, but for the life of you, you can’t place it quite yet. You push your guesswork aside as you lead the man—his name is Christian Havemeyer, old money, shady enough to get him onto your radar—down one carpeted hallway and then another to an out-of-the-way powder room.

Your radar.

Oh, of course. Havemeyer was connected to Rex Carston, your target back when you’d first met Bucky. And Carston’s date that fateful night had been Malinda.

Is the woman who’s stolen your face the pretty woman who’d been on Rex Carston’s arm the night he died?

Well, Bucky will find out. Right now, you’ve got your own job to do.

Havemeyer is pacing, hand clutching his dyed hair—there’s no way a man with so many wrinkles on his neck has hair that black—as you lock and lean against the door. You slide your hands into your pockets, watching Havemeyer carefully. He doesn’t seem armed. Better than that, he doesn’t seem the least bit suspicious.

Well, that’s about to change.

“Got any ideas?” you ask. He whirls on you, face red.

“What the hell do you think? You said this event was clear!”

“Well, clearly I missed something,” you say evenly. “That doesn’t mean we can’t still follow through.”

“Follow th—follow through?” Havemeyer gapes, then narrows his eyes. He looks you up and down, realization dawning in his face. He steps back, glances around. “Wait. You—”

“Hmm?” you drawl. You push away the lacy strap holding one of your pistols in place and curl your fingers around the grip. No point turning off the safety; you could take this guy barehanded.

Well, probably. It better not come to that.

Havemeyer’s face shifts from fear and confusion to stern determination. He steps towards you, puffing up his chest and balling his hands into fists.

“Where is she?” he hisses.

You raise your eyebrows, impressed despite yourself. Well, to be fair, he doesn’t know you’re armed to the teeth.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“You’re not Malinda,” he snaps. He takes another step.

A little too close for comfort.

You draw your pistol and press the barrel against his gut faster than he can blink. “Down, boy,” you say coolly. “You should know better.”

Havemeyer slowly puts his hands in the air. You push your gun against him, and he steps back one, two, three times before you’re satisfied. You click off the safety, just for added measure.

“Now,” you say, “let’s talk.”

He swallows. “Maybe you can put down the gun first.”

You tap your chin. Consider.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

Behind you, the doorknob rattles.

Well, fuck.

You keep your eyes on Havemeyer as you turn your head towards the door, trying to listen over his ragged breathing and your own. Not that your breathing is ragged.

“Mr. Havemeyer?”

A deep male voice, one you don’t recognize. Havemeyer’s face lights up as your stomach drops.

“Help!” he calls.

“Bad call,” you snarl.

A vicious crack—they’re shooting the door open. You shoot Havemeyer in the kneecap, his howl music to your ears. He collapses like a wet rag. You kick him low in the gut, further immobilizing him, and swing the chair at the counter around to wedge it under the doorknob.

You drop into a crouch and whip out the knife from your left shoe. Havemeyer is curled around his knee, whimpering.

Suits him, the bastard.

You dig your fingers into his jaw, the knife scraping against his clean-shaven cheek, and dig the barrel of your pistol into his wound. He sobs, scrambling, but you don’t give in.

“Talk.”

You’ve got a minute, maybe, before his goon opens the door. But it’s enough.

Havemeyer doesn’t just talk.

He sings.

—

A swift kick to the head knocks him out. Kind of you not to kick him in the knee; the pain would’ve done the trick, but meh. You’re not really here for him. It’s just a nice little bonus, learning things.

Anyway, better not to get blood on your shoes.

You wipe the barrel of your gun, bloody from being jabbed against Havemeyer’s knee, on his suit jacket. It’s been seventy-five seconds since you told him to talk. You really are good at your job.

Of course, you still have to deal with whatever’s waiting behind the door. It’s been quiet. Have they gone for help?

The powder room had no other exits, not even a window. Well, whatever’s waiting outside can’t be worse than things you’ve faced in the past.

Hell, you’re the woman who faced down the Winter Soldier and came out on top—well, not literally on top, but…

Eh, maybe later. Hopefully later.

You press an ear to the door, listening, not daring to breathe. It’s silent in the hall.

Worth the risk. You’re a professional, after all. If some rich man’s security is good enough to get you, you probably deserve to get caught.

You step back and whisk the chair out of the way.

The second you do, the door bursts open.

Oh, bother.

Tall, broad, bulky—you’re nearly pinned by his long arms, but you manage to duck aside. Still, he knocks your pistol out of your hands. You tighten your grip on your knife as you whirl to retaliate, but he jumps back. Your knife grazes his open jacket, cutting a neat slice in the thick material. You don’t have time to admire the clean cut because he’s lunging again.

And he’s got a knife too.

Oh, bother.

You kick the chair in his way, scrambling at the inside of your bangle. He throws the chair at you. It hits; you stumble back, but there’s just enough time as he tosses the chair aside. You hurl yourself at him, latching the patch from your bangle onto his neck with one hand while you drive your knife into his thigh with the other.

He grunts—more pain tolerance than his boss, apparently—and aims his knife at you. But with the patch administered, you’ve got a hand free.

He’s got no chance at all.

Well, let’s be fair. He never had a chance.

A knee to the groin, an expert twist of your hand, and his wrist cracks. This time, he does howl. He stumbles back, away from your knife, back through the open door into the hall. You stalk after him, a feral grin on your face as he slumps against the wall.

“That’ll teach you to pick on girls,” you tell him.

“Who are you?” he whimpers.

“None of your goddamn business.”

Your knife is still bloody. You hike up your dress and carefully wipe the blade clean on the inside of your skirt, still watching the bodyguard carefully.

A low whistle echoes down the hall.

You pause, a smile edging onto your face as you tilt your head. You don’t take your eyes away from the bodyguard, but your whole body lights up. You can sense Bucky from meters away.

“See something you like?” you call.

The bodyguard blanches.

You don’t blame him, really. It takes a really dumb criminal to be delighted to see the Winter Soldier.

What does that make you?

A lovestruck idiot, probably.

Bucky saunters down the hall, smirking. A pair of handcuffs dangle from his right hand; his left hand is tucked neatly in his pocket. “I might.”

Havemeyer’s bodyguard shifts a few inches down the wall as he holds out his trembling hands, one at an unnatural angle. Bucky spins him to face the wall and cuffs his hands behind his back. You slide your knife back into its slot in your shoe as Bucky shuts the bodyguard into the powder room.

“This yours?” Bucky asks.

You turn, still smiling, and reach for your pistol. But Bucky holds it out of your reach, the pearl handle clinking against his metal hand. You stick your hands on your hips and raise your eyebrows.

“That’s mine,” you tell him.

“No time for that now.” He loops his arm through yours and drags you down the hall. “Hill’s on her way over.”

Hill? Is that his associate?

Her?

You press your lips together as you run alongside him. Envy coils unpleasant and heavy in your chest.

Her?

You’re not jealous. You know Bucky well enough now to know he’s got no eyes for anyone else.

But… someone he can work with? Someone he can be in public with? Someone he can see without subterfuge, without shame…

You don’t have regrets about your career. None whatsoever. You’re talented, you’re passionate about it… Some people think murder is wrong, but the world is far better off without certain people in it.

But Bucky—he’s from another world.

A world where you’re not welcome. Not you, not your team, not your delight in a perfectly executed kill. He can ravish you all he wants—all you want, if you’re being honest—but at the end of the day, you’re just a dirty little secret.

It’s never bothered you before. Right now, though?

You hate it.

Bucky drags you down a back staircase, gripping your hand tight. You burst outside into a back alley, the fresh air cool against your clammy skin. A high fence shuts out the rest of the world, but when you look up, you can see the hazy sky, stars barely visible past the light of the city.

“That went well,” Bucky says cheerfully.

“Mm,” you answer, feigning cheer. “Can I have my gun back?”

“Oh this?” He dangles the pistol in front of your face, smirking. You stare stonily, not taking his bait.

Bucky’s smirk drops as you stand there. He passes the gun to you; you check the safety and slide it back into its holster, refastening the snap with a muffled click.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice low.

“I—” You draw your lower lip between your teeth and start to pace. A glance at Bucky; he’s confused, worried, his playfulness fading fast.

But the right words don’t come out.

“What did Malinda say?”

His face screws up, adorably confused. Even as you’re metaphorically kicking yourself in the foot, you’re half breathless by how much you love to look at him.

“Huh?”

“Malinda,” you say again. “The woman impersonating me.”

“Ohhh.” Bucky nods, his face smoothing. “She didn’t give her name, though I assume Hill is on it. Without her mask, it shouldn’t be hard.”

Your eyes bug out. “Didn’t you recognize her?!”

He frowns. Tips his head back. Then his head falls forward, chin nearly brushing his chest.

“Well, shit,” he says. “She was there when we met, wasn’t she?”

Oh my god.

“More than that,” you snap. “She knows who I am! She was Rex Carston’s dinner date the night we—”

You clap your hands to your mouth, but Bucky’s caught on. He steps closer; you step back, until your back is against the wall. He’s boxing you in, face stern.

“What’s this really about?” he says, voice low.

You lower your hands. They’re trembling. “She knows me, Bucky. She has to know me. How else…”

What else is there to say? If she’s in SHIELD custody, and she knows you, she’ll talk. She’ll talk, and you’ll be on their radar.

And then Bucky really will be in bed with the enemy.

“I hate being your dirty little secret,” you mumble, eyes fixed on his lapel. “I don’t want to have to be your enemy too.”

“No,” Bucky says firmly. He grips your face and tilts it up towards his. “You’ll never be that.”

“I'm basically that already!” You knock his hands away, shove him back. “Bucky, I’m tired of sneaking around! It was fun, but I’m tired of it! You don’t care, but I’ll never be good enough for your moralistic friends, and I’m tired of it.”

He blinks.

“But they like what you do,” he says. “I mean, the ones that matter.”

Thank god you’re leaning against the wall, because you’re pretty sure you just fainted.

“Excuse me?”

“They don’t know about us,” Bucky says slowly, “and they don’t know what all of you look like—at least they didn’t—but your team is on SHIELD’s list of outfits not to bother. An unofficial list, but it still counts.”

You’re a fish. A gaping fish. Bucky scratches the back of his head.

“Assuming you don’t take a sharp left turn in the evil direction, I mean,” he adds.

He peers up at you from under his eyelashes, hands stuffed in his pockets. Even with the sharp-as-knives suit and cheekbones, he looks more adorable than ever.

With Bucky clearly nervous, you find your voice.

“So all this time,” you say slowly, “there hasn’t been a reason to be all—” you gesture vaguely— “secretive?”

Bucky’s lips quirk up. “Well, I mean, there’s fun in intrigue. At least…” His tiny smile fades. “I think so.”

“Well shit, I think so too!” You snort. One step away from the wall, towards him. “I’m not in my line of work because I don’t like intrigue. But my god, Bucky, I could have been your date all night! You’re telling me I’ve been missing out on you for no good reason?”

“I figured you had good reason,” he retorts. He steps towards you now, his hands light on your waist. You melt into his touch, warmth spreading from his hands so close to your skin. His face softens. “I never wanted you to think… Shit, angel, I’m sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay.” You brush a hand across his face, thumb tracing his sharp cheekbone with a new kind of reverence. He’s close, his darkening eyes fixed on your face, your barely parted lips.

The world is wide open now, isn’t it?

You lean in, his breath on your lips before he stops you. His eyes dart over your heads, by the door—a surveillance camera, red light holding steady.

The very thing you’ve avoided.

The very thing you’re done with.

“Fuck that,” you murmur.

You grab his chin and kiss him, rough and hard and without mercy. He gasps into your mouth, and you bite his lower lip before drawing back. No blood, but his lip’s already swollen, dark pink and even more plump than usual. He’s the one gaping now. You drag your thumb across his mouth, admiring it.

“Fuck that,” you repeat. “Let them see.”

He stares. “Seriously?”

“Am I a liar, Mr. Barnes?”

“Not in the usual way,” he says, lips twitching.

“I’m serious. Now kiss me before I change my mind.”

Bucky crushes his lips to yours. You knew it was coming, but his intensity still tears a cry from your throat as he slams you back against the concrete wall. His hands knead your hips; his teeth nip at your lip just as you’d done to his.

Well, fair’s fair.

Heat thrums though you. You thread your hands in his hair and tug hard enough to break the kiss. His head falls back and you waste no time in leaving a mark against his neck, frantically unbuttoning his jacket, his shirt. He hisses into the open air as your teeth press just deep enough against his throat to hurt. Your lips follow your hands, kissing across that sculpted chest, fingers stealing touches of his skin as his hands skate up your sides.

When you reach the last button on his shirt, you snake your hand straight down his pants and take his hardening cock in hand. His hands squeeze painfully tight on your waist, but you revel in it.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You draw back, lick your lips. Smirk coyly at him from under your eyelashes as you stroke him lightly, one hand still tracing his chest.

“Something the matter?”

Bucky shakes his head and leans one arm against the wall. He’s panting, but he manages a grin all the same. “You and your mouth.”

“Oh, you want my mouth?”

You fall to your knees, cement biting into your knees through your dress, but you don’t care. You tug his zipper down with your teeth and pull his cock free. A fresh wave of want surges through you.

Damn if he doesn’t look like the best snack in the world.

One hand around his base, the other cupping his balls, you draw him into your mouth with a hungry moan. Hot, heavy, perfect; god, there’s that delicious stretch you’d been missing, the taste of him, of Bucky, heady on your tongue.

It’s like your first time together. You on your knees, his hand in your hair, him singing your praises, your mouth around him and your hand cupping your own sex, touching yourself through your dress, desperate for release but too busy tasting him to beg him for more.

It’s like then, but it’s not. Because right now, you’re not lying to him. You’re not fooling him, distracting him. No ulterior motive beyond letting the whole world know how much you want him.

How much he wants you.

No more hiding, no more sneaking, no more looking over your shoulder—it’s all you and him, him and you, the two of you together—

Bucky’s hips are rocking now, seeking you out. Lipstick stains his cock dark in the shadows, but you can’t take your eyes from his face. That beautiful face, a flush across his cheeks and a pinch between his brows. Those beautiful eyes, so dark and full of that thing that neither of you have to hide anymore. His panting echoes in the alley, sweet sounds falling like the first spring rain. Beautiful, vital relief. Your skin prickles, pressure building as you struggle to breathe.

You squeeze the base of his cock as you relax your throat, drawing more of him into your mouth. You hum around him, the vibrations pulling a fresh stream of whimpers from his pretty mouth that makes a fresh rush of want pool between your legs. God, it’s filthy how he’s moaning your name, leaking in your mouth…

“Fuck, yes, f—fuck!” he rasps.

A swirl of your tongue around his head, suction so strong it makes your cheeks hurt, and the lightest squeeze of his balls. Then your hand dances back, teasing his rim, and Bucky shouts his release, spilling down your throat as you swallow hungrily.

You pull back and lick your lips clean, smirking up at him as you lightly graze your clothed breasts. Just a pause, to let him come back to himself. And to bask in his afterglow. Looking at him like he is now, flushed down to his chest and his eyes squeezed shut in bliss, is like looking at God.

It’s not long before Bucky’s eyes open. He tugs you up. His breathing is heavy, but he catches it enough to kiss you long and tender, one hand still buried in your hair. You moan into his mouth, breasts tight against his chest. Can he taste himself on your lips?

You break the kiss with a gasp as Bucky pushes you against the wall. He smirks and starts bunching your dress up around your waist, his body still pressed against yours. The air is cool on your legs, all the more so when your thighs are bared.

Bucky leans his forehead against yours, both of you panting as he grips your thigh, toying with the lace of your holster. He shifts his wrist, his eyes blacker than the hazy sky. His touch between your legs buckles your knees; you’re held up by his chest on yours and his other hand on your waist. His hand slips under your panties.

The merest brush of your clit and the world shudders, all your focus zooming in on that tender touch. You’ve been on the precipice for what feels like hours, and his touch, Bucky’s touch…

It’s everything.

You clutch his arms, chin trembling as you try to hold on. His fingers dip between your folds, circle wet and slick against your clit.

“Let go,” he murmurs. He nuzzles your neck, teeth scraping against your collarbone as he works his magic. His left hand holds you steady against the wall, the concrete scraping your shoulders. “Let go for me.”

He curls one hot finger inside you, and it’s enough to tip you over the edge. A cry tears from your throat as you quake in his hold, sparks shooting through you. He coaxes you through, sweet sounds—full words, perhaps, but you’re too overwhelmed to make them out—falling from his lips as he slows his ministrations.

You ease down from your high as Bucky takes his hand away. He’s gentle, his eyes dark but so damn sweet. They’re the first thing you see when you resurface.

He sucks his fingers clean, smiling all the while, as you steady your breathing. He smooths your skirt back over your legs, zips his fly, buttons his shirt. Your face screws up.

“What, is that all?” you manage.

Bucky’s laugh echoes loud and clear in the alley. He slings his arm around you, squeezing your bum fondly as he leads you away. “Not a chance.”

—

The city twinkles outside of the wide windows of your hotel room. Warm lighting, a queen-size bed that might be a bit snug for Bucky—well, it’s upscale, not platinum; you have a budget, after all—and his suit jacket already hung in the closet. Bucky’s standing in his shirt by the window, on the phone with Hill. Maria Hill, Nick Fury’s right-hand man.

“I ran into an old associate,” he tells her for the third time. His voice is steady, though you can see in the reflection his lips pursing. He’s being just vague enough to keep her suspicious. He’s quiet for a moment as you fill a cup in the bathroom sink.

You wander back into the bedroom, nerves humming. The whole cab ride over, Bucky’s hands had been all over you, light and teasing and just enough to keep you right on edge. And the elevator ride up to the seventh floor had him rutting against you like a dog in heat.

Now he’s putting your patience to the test with his drawn-out call when all you want to do is scream his name. You clench your thighs as you swallow, waiting for him to finish. But he’s still got the phone to his ear.

This won’t do.

You finish your water and lick your lips dry, the taste of your lipstick heavy on your tongue. Is his cock still stained with it? You’re dying to find out. The cup clinks against the dresser, abandoned. Bucky’s eyes meet yours in the window reflection as you wander over to him and lean against his back, circling your arms around his waist to start unbuttoning his shirt for the second time tonight. His lips twitch.

“Hill, listen, I gotta—”

“Not until you explain yourself, Barnes.”

You sink your teeth into his shoulder as you slide your hand inside his pants. He jerks, nearly dropping his phone.

“Fu—Hill, it’s fine, just—”

You palm his cock through his boxer briefs.

“Fuck!” he gasps. He slams his fist against the window, but there’s no swallowing back what’s just come out of his mouth.

Hill’s silent for a moment. Then she laughs. “Oh, I get it. Have fun, James. Don’t forget your paperwork!”

Click.

Bucky twists in your arms with a growl. His phone thumps against the floor as he forces his mouth on yours, bruising. He grips your upper arms and pushes you back until your knees hit the bed. A shove, and you’re falling, lips parted from his onslaught as you bounce on the mattress.

“You little devil.”

The low tenor of his voice sends a shiver through you. Bucky crawls over you, his open shirt brushing your arms as you push it down his shoulders.

“Thought I was your angel,” you murmur.

Bucky sits on his haunches and shrugs off his shirt. You lick your lips as you feast on him with your eyes alone, your fingers light on your breasts. Bucky’s eyes fix on your hands. He sucks in a breath as you squirm, nipples hardening under your dress.

“Whatever you are, you’re divine.”

Bucky stands for just long enough to push his pants and briefs off, barely giving you a chance to see how hard he is. But you see well enough: cock jutting out, thick and heavy. And yes, still painted with traces of your lipstick.

He pushes you further up the bed until your head’s on the pillow, then settles back between your legs. His hands knead your thighs, spread them apart. It’s his turn to lick his lips.

“And I’m going to worship the hell outta you tonight.”

Bucky glides his hands down your skirt. You twist your hands in the blankets, breathing shallow as you watch him. He lifts your leg and presses a kiss to the inside of your ankle, fingers dancing along your shoe.

“Killer shoes, huh?”

You laugh breathlessly, but you can’t answer because he’s kissing his way up the inside of your leg, his hands sliding up your skirt so smoothly that you’re a mess before he’s even reached your thigh holster. Fuck grabbing the blankets; you bury your hands in his hair and pull.

You half expect him to resist, but no, he lets you pull him between your legs, pushing your dress up over your waist. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the crotch of your panties, his tongue flicking against your clit. You cry out; your hips buck against his face, but he only chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. He peels your panties away, shifting so he can toss them away with the rest of his clothes. You reach for the satin bows on your holsters, but he grabs your hands.

“Safety’s on, leave ‘em,” he says, eyes glinting.

Your eyebrows fly up. “Really?”

He shrugs and tucks his hair behind his ear. “What can I say, watching you at work earlier was a turn-on.” You giggle and run your foot against his side.

“Let me guess, you want me to keep my shoes on too.”

“If it’s comfy.” He winks. “Think you’ll accidentally kill me if I drive you too crazy?”

You nudge at him with the toe of your shoe until he falls back onto you, his cock nestled between you. You twine your arms around his neck and kiss him til you’re out of breath.

“Kill you? Never.” You bump his nose with yours. “Now eat me out, or I might start charging you for my time.”

Bucky laughs out loud. Music to your ears. Then he dives back between your legs, pulling your thighs over his shoulders and settling on his elbows. One last wicked look, and then he latches his mouth to your clit, sucking and flicking and oh god you’re ruined, you’re wrecked. He’s pulling your soul out with his lips. Your hips buck up again, but he stills you with a single warm hand. Sounds fill the room, sounds you barely register as your own moaning.

He’s insatiable. His tongue dipping inside you, fucking you, his metal thumb circling smooth as silk against your clit. His other arm holding you in place so he can devour you, all your whimpers and cries and moans be damned. Your legs are shaking, thighs squeezing his head so tight you’re sure he’s suffocating, but no, he’s just lapping you up, humming, every vibration building you into a tighter frenzy. Sweat beads on your brow, on your chest—you grab hold of his hair, your breasts, the blankets, anything to ground you, but it’s impossible because he’s there, right there, his hips thrusting against the bed as yours strain towards his mouth.

More, more, more; it’s a chant in your mind, on your lips, back arching off the bed as his soaked metal fingers vibrate—

The throes of your orgasm are enough to wake the dead. Bucky lifts his head to watch you come undone, his hand still working on your clit. He lifts his arm from your hips, but by now you’re no more than a pile of mush on the bed, your silky dress sweaty and tight on your body, too much against your sensitive breasts. You twist bonelessly and reach for the zipper.

“Let me,” Bucky murmurs. He slides the zipper down slowly, careful not to let it catch on your skin. Peels the dress down until your arms are free, your breasts free in the open air. A few gentle tugs, and it’s gone, and you’re bare beside him.

Bucky doesn’t touch you, not yet. He hovers next to you, his hands reaching and falling back every second until you look at him and smile.

“C’mere, you,” you mumble. He settles in your open arms, propped on his elbow, his torso stretched across your chest. You brush back his hair and let your eyes drift across his body. Your gaze lands predictably on his cock, still red and hard and lipstick-stained, a bead of precum just at the tip. You take him in hand tenderly, reveling in his quiet hiss. “Poor Bucky. So much time worshipping me he hasn’t had a moment for himself.”

“I mean, you did—fuck, darlin’, just like that—you did suck me off earlier,” he says breathlessly.

You keep stroking him, your hands gentle, rubbing the lipstick stains into new shapes on his skin. Bucky’s tense, every muscle from his neck to his abs to his thick thighs in stark definition as you work along his length.

Bucky tugs your hand away all too soon. He settles between your legs; they’re spread wantonly, heels and lacy holsters an added bonus. His cock is scorching between your legs, sliding slick between your damp folds as he teases you.

“Fun as that is,” he rasps, “I just wanna be inside you already.”

A thrill shoots through you. Bucky rocks his hips gently, teasing, not fast or hard enough to provide relief. You tilt your hips, moaning, anything to spur him on. This dragging out the inevitable is torture.

“Fuck, what are you waiting for?” you gasp.

No warning, no caution—Bucky slams his cock home. Your body arches off the bed as you cry out, tears springing to your squeezed-shut eyes as he sinks deep, so deep it’s just shy of painful. But god, there’s no pleasure in the world better than this. His thick cock in you, his pelvis putting pressure on your clit, stars once again bursting behind your eyes.

Bucky doesn’t give you any time to adjust. His thrusts are fast, long, deep. Your feet scramble for purchase, heels catching on the blanket. A harsh rip as the comforter shreds, but it barely registers.

He notices. He growls, pulling your leg up, still pistoning in and out, pounding you into the bed. With your knee against his chest, he’s hitting all kinds of spots inside you, the ones you’d barely known of before him. Your walls flutter around him, a wail tumbling from your lips—

“Oh god, fuck, Bucky!”

Bucky litters your chest with kisses, alternating between tweaking your nipples and teasing your hypersensitive clit until tears run down your face and all you can do is beg.

“It’s ‘kay, darlin’,” he pants. His pace slows, the long drag of his head tugging at you, pulling fresh sobs from your throat. “Fuck. Look. Look how pretty y’are,” he urges.

You force your eyes open and stare between you. His cock, red and shining from your arousal and his, sliding in and out, your cunt stretched tight around him. You clench the muscles there as he sinks in once more, his prolonged groan enough to make you laugh triumphantly until he rolls you over, his hands strong on your waist as he sits you up, the movement shifting his cock inside you. You hiss and steady yourself with a hand on his chest.

“You seriously expect me to hold myself up? I’ve had two orgasms tonight and you’ve had none,” you tease.

Bucky’s eyes glitter. He rocks his hips up. You can’t move.

“You’re the one who was desperate for more,” he quips. “Prove it.”

“Ugh, fine.”

But you smile as you plant your hands more solidly on his chest, one finger just close enough to trace the scars at his left shoulder. You circle your hips, moving slow and small until he’s clenching his jaw. But he doesn’t beg for more. He just watches you, his hands still on your waist and his eyes black with lust.

The little movements prove your undoing before his, every roll of your hips providing fresh pressure on your clit. You mewl with pleasure as you start to bounce more solidly on his cock, chasing the building pleasure. Every slam has you both gasping. Your nails scrape against his skin, digging in, leaving marks. His hands shift to your breasts, just holding them, rubbing his palms back and forth across your painfully hard nipples. Every shift of his hands, every drop of your hips, every thrust of his send a shower of sparks through you until your whole body is fireworks, starbursts behind your eyes, fire in your blood—

One hard thrust of his hips when you’re not expecting it, one intense burst, and you seize up, shudders racking through you as he holds you up by your chest, walls milking him, eyes unseeing, all of you focused on the pleasure between your legs and the twitching of his cock inside you until he too explodes. He spills inside you, your name falling from his lips, offered up to you like a never-ending prayer as you fall forward to kiss him because you have to, you must.

“Bucky,” you murmur into his mouth. “Bucky.”

Every inch of skin is hot, damp with sweat, but you couldn’t move if the world was on fire. He’s wrapped around you, in more ways than one, and you never want to let him go.

And for the first time, he doesn’t have to go. Whatever his people think of him, they’re leaving him alone. Let the Winter Soldier blow off some steam, they must be thinking, and he’ll be our perfect operative when he gets home.

You smile into the crook of his neck as he strokes your back, your neck, your hair. He is perfect, isn’t he.

It’s a while before either of you have the strength to move. Bucky rolls you off him.

“Stay,” he murmurs. He drops a kiss on your forehead, and you watch his bum as he heads to the bathroom. Your eyes slide shut as you listen to him run the tap, splash water on his face. You don’t hear him come back, but you blink your eyes open again when he settles next to you. He cleans you up with a damp washcloth, tugging your shoes and holsters off as he works.

“There,” he says. He tosses it all off the bed—well, he puts the holstered guns gently on the nightstand—and lies down, pulling you into his arms. You wiggle your toes, stretching out your feet as you snuggle into his side.

Bucky’s quiet, oddly so. Usually he at least says how much he enjoyed himself. He’s never been shy with his words before.

Nerves gnaw at your stomach. What’s the matter with him? You’re not sure how to break the silence, so you let it settle, and wait.

It takes time, but eventually Bucky sighs and kisses your hair.

“It’s real fuckin’ nice that I can stay,” he says quietly.

You nod.

“And…” He swallows. “Were you serious earlier?”

You look up at him with a frown. “About what? I say a lot of stuff, y’know.” He chuckles, but sobers quickly.

“Were you serious about wanting to… be my date?”

The words tumble out of his mouth.

You sit up, heart pounding, and lean over him. His face is cupped in your hands, your eyes are fixed on his, and the whole world is in his hopeful smile. You kiss him, chaste and heartfelt as a ingenue.

“Am I a liar, Mr. Barnes?”

“Not in the usual way,” he answers.

“There we go,” you murmur. You push the damp hair off his forehead. He’s gazing up at you with something past liking, past wonder, past fondness in his eyes. It’s mirrored in yours, whether you acknowledge it or not. Either way, here you are, with him, with everywhere to go. “There we go.”

#winter’sgemswritingchallenge #winter soldier smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier imagine #becca writes

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lailannajacobs · 5 years

Text

Harbour in a Hurricane

Pairing: Bucky x ShieldAgent!Reader

Prompt: You can look all you want, but I bet you’re dying to touch me

Warnings: just a little blood and a lot of feels!

Word Count: 5k

A/N: This is my entry for @moonbeambucky‘s writing challenge!! Congrats again for the 5k Tara, you deserve it so so much!! Hope you guys enjoy! I always love to hear what you think!! <3

Pacing back and forth in the living room of your one-bedroom apartment, you refused to sit down, relax and take your mind off of him - refused to do the exact thing they had sent you home to do. Everyone had told you repeatedly that the compound was no place to calm down, but the apartment you had moved into less than a month ago felt less like home than the compound did. At the compound, you had your family there with you. But still, they had all insisted, saying that you needed to step away. If you were being honest, you were pretty sure all your pacing was driving them insane.

Bucky should have been back from his mission a week ago, and his failure to show without any sort of message or explanation was driving you crazy. He had gone off on a risky mission, made even riskier by the fact that he had refused to take anyone else with him. Any one of his good friends could have gone with him, any of the hundred capable agents could have gone with him for that matter, but he had refused.

You should have gone with him.

But just because you were partnered for most missions, didn’t meant that you went on all of them together.

Running your fingers through your hair, you stopped pacing, knowing you should at least eat something. You couldn’t remember when you last had, and you knew running yourself into the ground wouldn’t help anyone. But it wasn’t like there was anything you could do to help anyways.

Steve had refused to tell you where Bucky had gone on the basis that you would do something stupid like go after him. It didn’t matter that he was right, it didn’t make the wait any easier.

Sam had tried to comfort you by telling you that Bucky was more than capable of taking care of himself, and before he sent you home, reminded you that it couldn’t be all that serious if Steve wasn’t worried. If Steve started to worry, Sam promised you would be the first to know.

He had said all of that with a funny look on his face as if he could tell that all your worry stemmed from a more-than-just friends’ kind of feeling rather than the general colleague concern you should have felt. But if he figured out that you had feelings for Bucky that you definitely shouldn’t have, he didn’t let on or react in that obnoxious brotherly way of his. You almost wished he had, just to take your mind off of things. Almost.

You stared pacing again, unable to stay still for long. No matter how useless treading a path in the shiny would floors was, it felt better than doing nothing. maybe if you slept - your phone nestled in between your hand and the pillow with the ringer on high - you wouldn’t be driving yourself crazy. You knew it could be the only way to stop yourself from imagining a million different horrible explanations as to why he wasn’t back yet.

Even if you would hate yourself if you knew that Bucky had gotten hurt while you were sleeping, you reminded yourself that getting hurt was a constant risk in your line of work. You also reminded yourself that your current feelings were the reason you refused to even let yourself think about dating the blue eyed, dark haired soldier - not that your plan was working out so great with regards to keeping your cool at work.

With a defeated sigh, you knew sleep was your only option. Putting yourself trough hell wouldn’t do anything to help Bucky, and if Sam did call, you weren’t going to be much use fatigued and stressed. Even though this was probably the hundredth time you had come to this conclusion since walking through your apartment doors, this was the first time you walked into your bedroom.

Checking your cell’s ringer five times just to be sure you’d hear it, you flopped onto the bed, without bothering to tuck yourself under the sheets. Despite everything, or maybe because of it, you passed out within seconds.

I’d ask what you’re up to, but the getup is pretty self explanatory.” You leaned against Bucky’s bedroom doorframe, admiring the view in front of you. His black combat suit covered practically every inch of his body, the design reminiscent of one of Cap’s older suits, “So why is it that I’m missing out on all the fun?”

He looked up from his attempt at securing a particularly difficult weldor around his wrist.

“Firecracker,” He smiled, but it felt strained, “I’m not sharing this one with anyone.”

“What do you mean exactly?” The words were a question you already knew the answer to, but it didn’t stop you from asking it anyways as you walked up to help him.

He let you take his wrist, staring at it instead of you. “You know what it means.”

“Then why the hell are you going alone?” You slapped the strap together and threw his wrist at his chest, unable to contain your irritation, “I know you only wear this suit on the dangerous missions.”

“Every mission is dangerous.” He answered calmly, checking over the rest of the suit.

“You know what I mean.” You huffed.

He looked down at you, capturing your gaze with his piercing blue one, and murmured, “I do.”

“Then take me with you,” You whispered, “Or if not me, then Sam. Or Steve. Or Nat. Or Scott, I heard he’s back from San Fransisco and incredibly bored.”

“I can’t. This is something I have to do by myself.” He sighed.

“Don’t be an idiot Bucky.”

He smirked, “Didn’t Maria tell you when you took the job? You’re surrounded by idiots.”

“You don’t have to be part of the majority.” You grumbled, staring at ground.

“You know I have to be.” He took your wrist, silently begging you to look up at him. “Nat and Wanda are the only exceptions and you and I both know three would be a crowd.”

A defeated sigh escaped your lips, and you tried once more in vain to reason with him, “Well then, if you’re going to be an idiot, can you at least bring another idiot along with you? Or preferably one of the two exceptions?”

“If I didn’t know any better, Firecracker, I’d say you truly cared whether I lived or died.” He grinned, trying to make light of a subject both of you knew was far more serious than he was letting on.

“Of course I care, You still haven’t bought the first round you owe from our last mission.” You shot him your most no-nonsense look. “So don’t die, okay?”

He let out a little amused huff and nodded, “Okay. For the sake of your free beer, I won’t die.”

“Good. Now,” you forced a grin to mask your worry, “do you need me to braid those luscious locks of yours? I’m just saying, they wouldn’t be in the way…”

He shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips, “See you in two weeks Firecracker.”

You watched as he walked out his room, leaving you to stare out after him, wondering if you were really going to see him in two weeks.

“Promise me you'll come home Bucky.” You whispered when he was too far to hear.

It was still dark when an ominous scraping on your fire escape woke you from your fitful sleep.You listened carefully, hoping it was another squirrel rifling through your newly planted geraniums, but the sound didn’t feel right. Whatever was there sounded too big to be a squirrel, and your gut told you that whatever was there was extremely dangerous.

Wide awake, you slipped out of bed, slid open the top drawer of your bedside table, and pulled out your handgun. Your bare feet were silent on the old wooden floor, avoiding the creaking boards you had memorized after your first week living here.

There was enough light pouring in through your living room window that when you turned the corner the broad figure squeezing in through the fire escape window was impossible to miss - both with your eyes and your gun.

“Take another step and you’ll get two bullets through the eyes.” You warned, staying a safe distance away.

Someone his size could easily overpower you in tight quarters and you weren’t about to give up your advantage.

Your mind raced, trying to figure out who would be breaking into your new apartment in the middle of the night. You weren’t a public icon like any of the Avengers, and you were in no way powerful enough to merit high profile enemies like some of your colleagues had.

The logical explanation was that you were being robbed, but your windows had been locked before you had gone to bed, and anyone who opted to pick a complex lock rather than smash the window was either an exceptional thief or wanted to get in unnoticed.

Your job most certainly meant it was the latter.

Which left you where you started. Who the hell was trying to kill you?

The figure kept moving, your warning either unbelievable or he didn’t think a bullet would slow him down. Whatever he believed, you hoped you could prove him dead wrong if it came down to it.

Now that he was practically in your apartment, you cocked the gun in warning. “I don’t like to repeat myself. Another step and it’ll be the last one you take asshole.”

He straightened, even taller and squarer than you had guessed, which only made you realize that you had underestimated just how far he had gotten into the apartment. You were suddenly glad that you were the one with the gun.

You hadn’t been expecting a fight tonight, but now that you had one, you would damn well finish it. After all, maybe this was the distraction you needed tonight.

A groan escaped the man’s lips, garbling the words he attempted to speak, and he cleared his throat. Raising the gun a little higher, your finger on the trigger, you aimed for his head, but you weren’t ready to shoot him yet. The sound he had made was one of an injured man and you still had questions you wanted answered.

He took a step forward and you almost shot his thigh before a street lamp outside your apartment flickered to life, glinting off the intruder’s arm. Your breath caught in your throat, but you didn’t lower the weapon. Odds were, the stress, fatigue and malnourishment meant you were imagining him. But it didn’t matter what the odds were.

The next words out of your mouth might have cost you your life, but you couldn’t help but whisper, “Bucky?” your voice so low it was only heard because it was the middle of the night.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t take another step forward either.

Backing up, your gun still raised and pointed at his head, you flipped the lamp switch.

Pale blue eyes were staring back at you in the pale light, framed by dark greasy strands of hair. But instead of feeling relief, worry tightened its grip and twisted. Blood caked his blanched face; his hand was pressed against his abdomen and he was tilted at an awkward angle that let you know that his climb up the fire escaped had to have been painful.

Whatever had done this to him had to more than dangerous. You didn’t dare think about the very real possibility that Bucky hadn’t won the fight and that whatever it was, was still out there. He wasn’t about to die in your apartment either. You refused to even let that be a possibility.

For some reason, it was as if all your training vanished, and you were left sunned, gaping at him like you weren’t sure if he was real or if it was a nightmare.

“You can look all you want, but I bet you’re dying to touch me.” The smirk on his face seemed more like a grimace and his voice was dry and hoarse, but it was the cocky playfulness lighting up his eyes that snapped you out of your trance.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s dying, idiot!” You whispered yelled, taking in the purpling bruise on the corner of his right eye and his cracked lip, “What the hell are you doing here? I could have shot you! Why aren’t you at the compound? I could have shot you!”

Thankfully, your voice was steady and whatever inkling was left of your training covered just how worried you were.

He shrugged, but even the minimal movement seemed to cause him pain. He was probably standing out of pure stubbornness alone.

“Here was close.”

“Here was closer?” You echoed. “You decided to scale a fire escape up five floors, half dead, to a tiny apartment without medical professionals because here was closer? I could have shot you!” You repeated, trying to get it through his thick skull. You wondered if he might have a concussion.

“Had I known you’d be pointing a gun at me for this long, I might not have.” He half smirked, half grimace once again, but you knew it was forced.

Any other day, he would have told you that there was no way in hell you could have shot him, but he was too hurt, even for that bravado.

Then his words sunk in.

You stared at the gun, horrified that you were still aiming it at his chest. Flipping the safety back on, you dropped it to the table and burst into action, crossing the distance between the two of you in frantic paces. Your hand immediately fluttered to his face, not wanting to touch him in fear of hurting him but needing to assess the damage.

“Did you really expect me not to? You broke into my place in the middle of the night. Of course I was going to point a gun at you.” You murmured, your fingers gingerly tilting his head from side to side, inspecting the bruises and cuts.

Your heart tightened. That was only the damage on his face. From the way he was standing, his injuries weren’t only external.

. “I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t. But I figured that if I didn’t break your window, then you might not have pointed it at me for so long.” He kept still, eyes closed

You let out a breathy laugh. “So the only reason you didn’t break my window was so that you didn’t get shot.”

“I also didn’t want to break your window. You did only move in a month ago.”

You shook your head, not sure if you wanted to smack him or kiss him. “You could have. Broken the window I mean. It would have been a lot faster and less painful. Now we need to get you to the compound.”

He grabbed your wrist, eyes snapping open, “No.”

The wild look in his eyes told you it was nonnegotiable.

“Then we get the compound to come to us. Bucky, you need help.”

“No.” He repeated, those piercing blue eyes pinning you to the spot. “I know I wasn’t followed. They don’t know where you live or who you are. I won’t bring you into this anymore than I have already by trying to get back to the compound. Laying low here is the safest option Firecracker.”

“Not for you! Do you I need to remind you that I’m not a doctor? I can’t fix a broken rib, which you clearly have by the way. You need an actual doctor, not someone who’s first aid training was in high school.”

“You can’t do much more for a broken rib than a doctor can.” He pointed out through gritted teeth as he shifted his weight, “But you can do something about the stab wound.”

Your eyes widened, and you would have smacked him upside the head if he hadn’t been so injured, “Oh my god Bucky. What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t break in here cracking jokes and then tell me you’ve been stabbed five minutes later. Sit. Now. We need to get you out of that suit you idiot.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into that crooked little half smile that apparently seemed to make your heart flutter even when his life was on the line. “Is that the only thing we need to get me out of?”

“No.” You knew he had only said that jokingly to distract you from your scolding and himself from the pain, which was why he looked so surprised by your answer. Not wanting him to think you were serious - even though you might have been if he wasn’t half dead and if he might have been even remotely interested - you quickly continued, “No. I also want you out of my apartment and in a real hospital, but I know you’re not going to do that are you?”

He shook his head, the movement as small as the slight raise of the of his lips so that it wouldn’t cause him pain.

“Then I need you out of this suit so that I can clean the wound. Thank god you didn’t get shot.” You grumbled, “You know how much I hate fishing for bullets.”

“You’re welcome.” As soon as he took his hand off his wound, he stumbled, grinning onto your sofa for support.

You ducked under his arm and guided him to the tiny sofa that looked even smaller with him sitting in in. “Sit still.”

“I feel so coddled when you bark orders at me like that.” He gripped his abdomen tighter.

At least his eyes were still alight with humour, which meant he wasn’t about to pass out any time soon. You let out a small sigh of relief.

“You’re a soldier. You don’t get coddled. Now, try not to get any blood on my sofa. I got it yesterday.” You barked, trying to keep you the worry from your voice.

You wondered if you were overdoing the clipped professionalism a little, but you were afraid to drop the act, knowing if you did, he would be able to tell how much seeing him like this was eating you up inside.

“If I do stain it, Firecracker, I promise I’ll come over and clean it up myself.” The way that piercing gaze seemed to bore into your soul gave you the impression that he was trying to tell you something, but you couldn’t figure it out.

Lost in those stormy eyes, you couldn’t help but whisper, “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Good.” He breathed so softly, you realized the only reason you heard him was because the two of you were now inches away.

You backed away quickly and cleared your throat, unclipping and unzipping the ties furthers from his wound.

He tried to help but you swatted his hand away, “Keep pressure on that wound.”

Bucky complied, only removing his hand when you needed to get him out of his sleeves. His expression remained neutral through the whole thing, but the slight narrowing of his eyes and the way he held his breath a second too long at times let you know he was in serious pain.

When you peeled the material down to his chest, you couldn’t help but wince - at least you hadn’t gasped - at the sight. Patching Bucky up in the field wasn’t something you did often, and when you did, they were only small cuts and minor inconveniences that only needed disinfecting.

Whatever he had been stabbed with had gone in far, and from the looks of the dark blood smeared across his contracted abs, and the fleshy, jagged line, it had been meant to hurt.

“I thought this was your vibranium suit.” You muttered, confused.

“It is.” he coughed. “The other guy’s knife was also vibranium. Surprise.”

You forced a smile, “And that’s why I hate surprises.”

He let out a little huff and nodded, but you could tell it didn’t distract him from the fact that both of you were very aware that his opponent had known more than he should have. No one in this business was that lucky. At least not against Bucky.

With an awkward little tap on his bicep you got up and went to find your first aid kit in the bathroom.

“Funny,” Bucky said as you walked back in the room, “I didn’t think I needed you to get me in and out of this suit.”

You let out a sigh of relief when you saw that he was still awake. He was holding out a lot better than most people would have, and even if you were away for less than a minute, you had been worried the whole time that he would fall asleep and not wake up. You knew you were worrying too much, but in your defence, you weren’t exactly prepared for this.

Unable to wipe the light smile from your lips, you shook your head, “You always need me.”

“I do.”

You wanted to ask him if he really meant it or if it was just the pain talking, but you kept your mouth shut. Knowing you were getting dangerously close to feelings you didn’t want to dig up, you decided to try and hide them as best you could, “That’s why we’re mission buddies. I have to keep you out of trouble.”

You tried not to wince at how awkward that sounded.

He nodded, “Right. Mission buddies. Of course.”

You began cleaning the wound, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the captivating look in his eyes. If he hadn’t been so injured, you were pretty sure he would have guessed your feelings by now. You wanted to smack yourself for the way you kept steering the conversation into dangerous territory. Normally you had no problem keeping your emotions in check but with all the not knowing and waiting this past week, it seemed you couldn’t keep your walls up high enough.

“You know, you owe first round for the next ten missions.” You hoped to steer the conversation into friendlier territory.

“What?” he winced at the pressure you applied, “I only remember one.”

You pressed the cloth against his cut more gently this time, “I added one for every day you were late.”

“That seems reasonable.”

“Of course that’s reasonable, I was worried sick.” You chided.

“You were worried sick?” He asked softly, causing you to look up.

He was looking at you with a strange look on his face, his head titled slightly as if he wasn’t sure he had heard you right.

You only stared, realizing your mistake and racking your brain to find a way to recover.

“Yeah dummy,” you forced a laugh and looked down at his cut so that he couldn’t see your face, “We all were. Especially Sam. You should have seen him. He kept asking Steve if we should go find you.”

He lifted a brow, “Really. Sam? That doesn’t-”

Although it probably made you a bad person, you took that opportunity to pierce his skin with the needle, not having warned him that you were starting the stitches.

He grimaced. “Remind me never to get patched up by you again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind as long as you don’t get stabbed again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He echoed.

By the time you were finished you finally got up the courage to ask him the question that had been going through your mind from the moment you saw the wound.

“What happened out there?” You whispered.

He tried to shrug off your question with a chuckle, but you had pulled back to disinfect the cuts on his face, so he had nowhere to look but in your eyes, “I’m serious Bucky. There aren’t too many people that can get the jump on you.”

He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, but you knew he wouldn’t ignore your question. Not when you had him in your apartment in the middle of the night and were patching him up. He stayed silent for so long that you got back to work, softly dabbing the cut near his eye. You knew you weren’t doing much to help at this point, but you needed to be doing something and he didn’t seem to mind.

You were just about to move onto the cut on his lip when he put his hand on yours. The soft touch and warmth of his hand stopped you in your tracks.

You looked up at him in question.

“Thank you, Firecracker.”

You sighed. “You’re not healed but at least you’re alive. But Bucky, you need to tell someone what’s going on. It really doesn’t matter who as long as you tell someone who can help you if need be. I can’t… I don’t know… I don’t know what I’d…we’d do if you didn’t come back.”

“I’ll come back. I’ll always come back.” He looked like he wanted to say something else but changed his mind and forced a little smirk, “Sam would go crazy if I didn’t, right? And I can’t let you live with Sam if he’s crazy, now can I?”

“No. No you can’t. You absolutely cannot.”

He cocked his head, “That’s a lot of insistence there, Firecracker.”

You averted your eyes to your new task, but unfortunately that was the cut on his lips, which was probably the worst place for you to look to hide your feelings. So you moved onto the shallow slash on his collar bone. You knew he was only teasing to keep distracted from the pain in his chest, but you refused to let him even get an inkling as to how you were feeling.

“You owe us ten rounds remember? Can’t have you dying on us just yet.”

You felt the laughter in his chest, “Of course.”

Before he could say anything else that you decided he was as fixed up as you could ever manage.

“You need to rest. Now. You’ll take the bed and I’ll be right here if you need me.”

He started to protest but you shook your head, “I’m not letting you sleep on my couch when really you should be in a hospital. Need I remind you that you have a broken rib.”

“And you shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch because I made a stupid mistake and got stabbed.” He growled.

You carefully picked up a heavy arm and slid yourself under it to carry as much of his weight as you could. Whatever adrenaline had been keeping him up earlier had vanished, and his body felt about fifty pounds heavier than before.

“You came to me Barnes, instead of the compound. My house, my rules.”

“Any other rules I should know about Firecracker?”

“Not at the moment.” You puffed, straining to keep him up.

“So there are others?”

“Of course,”

You felt his breathy laughter on the top of your head.

“Maybe you should stop laughing.” You said when he groaned in pain.

“I just need to sleep it off.”

You rolled your eyes and eased him onto the end bed.

He sat there looking at you expectantly.

You had to admit that it wasn’t exactly how you pictured having him in your bed. You pushed the thoughts away. He was here because he was hurt. That was all. And he was safe. He was safe. Bucky was safe. Finally realizing it, you stumbled a little, overcome with relief and somehow, the man with the broken rib, your partner in the field, caught you.

“You okay there?”

He eased you down beside him and you sat, shoulder to shoulder, staring off into your living room.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. It is,” you looked over at your alarm clock, “3:45 in the morning.”

“(y/n)?”

“Hmm?” You didn’t look at him.

He gently grabbed your hand and repeated your name. You turned to look at him, your face now inches from his, “yeah?”

“Thank you.”

You shook your head. “It’s what you would have done, you don’t need to thank me.”

“Stay here tonight.” He whispered.

“With you?”

He smirked. “I promise I won’t hog the sheets.”

You hesitated.

“After all you’ve done I can’t let you sleep on the couch.”

“I don’t know.”

“I do. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re here next to me.”

You really didn’t want to sleep on the couch, so you shrugged and crawled around and under the sheets. Painstakingly he did the same but refused your help when you offered. When he was settled, you shut off the lamp, listening to his breathing for a few moments, almost touching his warm body in your double bed that now felt tiny.

“Bucky?”

“Firecracker?”

You stared up at the dark ceiling. “I have one more rule.”

“What’s that?”

What you really wanted to say was, “Don’t make me fall for you even more than you already have.” but what you did say was, “there’s no moaning and groaning in pain all night. I need my beauty sleep.”

He chuckled, “I can do that.”

“Oh and Bucky.”

“Yes Firecracker?”

“Last rule.”

“yes?”

“Don’t you ever do that again.”

He stayed silent like you knew he would. That wasn’t a rule he couldn’t break. If he needed to do the same thing tomorrow, then damn the consequences he would. You were in that half dreaming half-awake state when you thought you heard him whisper, “As long as I keep having you to come back to, you don’t need to worry about me.”

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