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anika-ann · 3 years

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Walk Me Home Tonight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, songfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 4700

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to be in a celebratory mood when all you can think of is that life sucks and that being left on your own to drown your sorrows is for the best.

Sometimes people who care about you know better than yourself and come crashing your party of one.

Sometimes, despite the popular belief, you do realize how lucky you are having been introduced to Steve Rogers.

Warnings: mention of blood and violence and death, mention of alcohol, angst, fluff and language

A/N: P!nk’s Walk Me Home just does something to me, alright? Music video included - it’s soooo beautiful.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

You stared at the amber liquid, lazily making it roll in the glass with idle motions of your wrist. It reflected the rather soft lights of the bar, an exquisite game of colour you found fascinating enough to dull your mind and muffle the noise of the party.

It wasn’t that you were a party pooper, not usually anyway; just… the timing wasn’t ideal.

Of course, Sharon could hardly move her birthday to make it more convenient for you, less so a party her colleagues had decided to throw for her. You knew Agent Carter for quite some time now; she had joined SHIELD about the same time as you, going through the same tough training. Except unlike you – and initially without your knowledge – she had an image to live up to.

You might even call her a friend, your chest bursting in pride for her when her hard work had finally borne some fruit and she had been promoted to an assistant director of the intelligence agency. Among other things, it earned her a lot of new potential friends.

You were hardly acting like one tonight, much to your own annoyance. But for some reason, you found it difficult to leave your momentary emotional baggage at the doorstep, slipping it off as easily as your coat. You had wished her all the best, conversed for a tiny bit and then happily made space for others, for the forming line of guests waiting to celebrate with her as well.

Then you retreated to your spot at the bar, possibly annoying the bartender, who would have been more delighted seeing some heavier drinker occupying your seat, tipping generously, instead of having you nursing each glass of alcohol for about two hours.

You weren’t even sure why you were still here; you had given up on the attempt on small talk with anyone, apparently unwittingly chasing away any potential company. And here you thought misery did love company – perhaps you were wrong, at least when it came to birthday parties of gorgeous women loved by everyone. You might as well pack up your bottom and sulk at home.

You were stubbornly shushing the voice in the back of your skull, whispering about knowing precisely why you remained in your seat; about feeling less alone here, despite being a literal loner in a crowd.

You downed the rest of the bitter scotch, basking in the burn which it left on its way down your throat, your eyelids slipping shut in content, the noise in your brain falling silent completely for few blissful moments.

“Party of one?” a male voice gently asked, the tinniest note of teasing in it and while your heart skipped a startled beat at being addressed, you felt the burn in your throat slip lower, warming your chest and causing the corners of your mouth turn up just a fraction.

There's something in the way you roll your eyes Takes me back to a better time When I saw everything is good But now you're the only thing that's good

“Felt like crashing it?” you hummed in response, side-eyeing the intruder and found a pair of cerulean eyes staring back. He blindly waved off the eager bartender who was about to offer him a drink.

Ah, poor guy. No tips for him tonight.

“Well, I didn’t get an invitation. Looks like crashing was my only option.”

You sighed tiredly despite Steve’s kind teasing. Tonight was just… so exhausting. Tonight. Today. This week. Gah, this whole month. This fucking year--- okay, maybe you were exaggerating, because you were simply crossing the line, moving from relaxed buzzed drunk to a miserable one.

Battling with yourself, arguing whether you should send him to hell – nicely, because Steve was nothing but kind, he was always so kind, goddammit, gentle humour spiced with the ability to become an utter troll, still benign though, that was why you usually enjoyed his company so much after all-… – or call it a night.

Or should you order another drink? Was there a point? You might cross the line to a clingy drunk eventually and you weren’t certain that was a good idea.

It was probably about as good of an idea as coming to a party despite feeling like shit on an emotional roller-coaster, dangerously inclining towards a very bad mood to put it mildly.

You tilted your head to side as you looked at Steve properly, tight blue shirt flattering his supersoldier frame, black pants with desperately needed leather belt considering his thin waist, his blonde hair a mess, gaze fixed on you, observing. Always observing to read people, to anticipate behaviour, evaluate the threat; sometimes simply to be considerate, to… to be compassionate.

Dammit, Steve.

“Must have got lost in the mail then,” you said eventually, offering a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he shrugged it off, the curve of his lips more distinct than yours. As if he was offering to cheer you up. Sweet, but possibly vain effort tonight. Sometimes, things simply piled up and there was no escape. Such was the fate of a government agent. And human, for that matter. “Doesn’t look like much fun and I think it’s about to end anyway.”

“I guess…”

Tryna stand up on my own two feet This conversation ain't comin' easily And darling, I know it's getting late So what do you say we leave this place?

This time, Steve actually made an eye contact with the bartender, who eagerly rushed to him at instant. His excited expression fell when he noticed you were pulling out your wallet to close your tab. You didn’t have the strength to shoot him an apologetic smile.

Steve’s eyes were on you the whole time, you could feel them, and you wondered why. Until he spoke again, as soon as the other man left.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he offered gentlemanly, coaxing you into saying yes, possibly unaware of the effect which such tone had on people.

Or perhaps he knew, using exactly that when he was trying to talk someone down, to calm them, gain their trust. The joke was on him, because it was a vain effort; you trusted him fully already. Surely, he knew that.

Right?

Trust was the solid base the team of Avengers needed and since you somehow found yourself with them, it involved you too. The team stood and fell on trust and mutual respect. But it meant so much more – they were friends. They cared about each other, about their well-being.

Right now, Steve was being a good friend and a good teammate.

And you were being exactly that too when you turned his kind proposition down.

“No, it’s fine. There are still some people who are actually able to speak coherently with you. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he pointed out, as if admonishing you for not noticing. Your eyebrow rose deliberately.

“…and?”

“And I’d feel better if you weren’t walking the streets alone,” he replied easily, ignoring the hint of snark in your comeback as you made your way to the coat-stand.

Still walking on the line of miserable and pleasantly buzzed, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mean to him for such patronizing approach. He had been raised this way and despite his open mind and admirable respect to women, he slipped sometimes.

“Steve, I’m a SHIELD agent basically turned Avenger. I can take care of my-“

“But you don’t have to. And-” He gestured subtly back towards the bar and a metaphorical lightbulb flickered above your head.

Not patronizing then, god forbid chauvinist; Peggy Carter would rise from the death to beat him with his own shield, with Natasha’s enthusiastic help, if he was showing any sign of aforementioned qualities and he was well-aware of that.

Just mother-henning then, the way Steve excelled at.

It brought the first honest smile of the night to your lips. You made sure to face him so he could see how wholesome his company was for you.

“I’m not too drunk, Steve. I had like two glasses of scotch,” you assured him, gently brushing his forearm before reaching for your coat and scarf. “And two beers.”

“I know,” he stated, stealing your coat only to hold it out for you to slip into it.

God, the woman who would once win his heart was about to be one lucky bitch.

Jim has never done this for me, flashed through your mind and you instantly shushed the whining voice in your head. Instead, you went over what he just said, blinking in surprise.

Huh? He… knew?

“I… might have kept an eye on you,” he admitted tentatively, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder before retreating and letting you to cocoon in the fabric.

“Why?”

Why would he keep an eye on you? Sure, teammates and friends and all that, but for some reason, you doubted he kept an eye on Tony, the only other Avenger (beside Steve, not Steve and you, you don’t count, a voice hissed in your mind and you winced) who attended the party, not being on any mission at the moment.

Why did Steve feel like you needed a chaperone?

No, that was too harsh of a word for him, you were certain his intentions were everything but malicious, but… why?

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

The genuine wonder must have been audible in your voice, much like your shock must have been clear in your expression, because Steve seemed sheepish all of sudden, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, I know that you probably wouldn’t-“ he started, only to grimace. “It’s not that I think you’re an alcoholic! It’s just that... you--- and it’s only been-…“

-four days since you got dumped, you finished the unspoken sentence and tried your best to ignore the cold seeping into your bones at the reminder.

One of the reasons why you had been in a sour mood and deciding to drink alone. Your amazing asshole of a boyfriend had dumped you, metaphorically kicking you while you had already been down. Lovely.

“-I was worried. But you didn’t look like you were interested in having company, I didn’t want to be a bother and-“

You pulled Steve out of his misery by placing a hand over his forearm, which stopped the words spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

He was actually being very sweet and thoughtful. It kinda made you feel bad, because… you weren’t looking for dragging someone down with you. As it was, he had his own reasons to not be happy about partying tonight, but feeling like he had to keep an eye on you probably didn’t help to lift his spirits.

“-and you had to spend some time with the woman of the hour,” you finished instead of him slowly, hoping you sounded at least half as thoughtful as he did and that you didn’t appear to be the greatest bitch, stealing attention from Sharon. “That’s understandable, Steve. It is her birthday party and I’m the one being antisocial.”

You bit down your lip, lowering your gaze, because the infamous worried wrinkle appeared on Steve’s forehead and you just knew he was about to protest and you… honestly felt bad about your behaviour and the welcoming colour of his eyes was not helping to make you feel any better, because of course he probably thought it was perfectly normal to look out for you instead of allowing himself to enjoy the night and- ugh.

“You… you shouldn’t have to look out for me. Your attention could have been fully on the birthday girl.”

Naturally, Steve Rogers basically shrugged it off. Covering your hand on him with his large palm, he slouched to look into your eyes once more. Insistent bastard, no doubt aware of your inability to say no to his amiable face.

“That’s what friends are for. Now, can I walk you home?”

You shook your head with a sad smile, rising your gaze towards the ceiling, hoping it came out as an exasperation at his stubbornness and not as it truly was – you in fact attempting to keep your tears at bay, because, miserable drunk, dumped four days ago apart from other things and there he was, asshole perfect, Steve fucking Rogers, gentleman and friend extraordinaire, caring for your well-being more than Jim ever had.

A twinkle appeared in his eye when he recognized he won and you chuckled, sealing his victory out loud.

“Yes, Steve. You can walk me home. It’s conveniently located on the way to yours.”

He smirked when he shrugged on his own coat. “Happy coincidences…”

There's something in the way I wanna cry That makes me think we'll make it out alive So come on and show me how we're good I think that we could do some good, mhm

Once you left the bar, silence fell on you, feeling heavy as did the cold November air.

Heavy and awkward. While you could tell with certainty you were barely affected by the alcohol you had drunk, your steps were wobbly, knees shaky as if you were a baby horse trying to stand up for the first time.

Steve walked by your side, majestic in his thigh-length coat, hands snugged in its pockets only halfway as if he was waiting for you needing his support. It irritated you as much as it warmed your heart.

On top of everything, you would swear every lone person you met stared at you, staring you up and down until they seemed to register Steve’s imposing frame and quickly went back to their business. It annoyed you to no end; it was just proving Steve’s point that you shouldn’t walk the streets alone at such hour, government agent or not.

“I would have been fine, you know,” you hummed, cautiously breaking the relative quiet.

It was never truly quiet in New York City, only rush hours alternating with calmer ones. You didn’t mind it; you enjoyed the city. Sometimes quiet meant that thoughts won the opportunity to become too loud; tonight, for some reason, despite the silence, Steve prevented that ever since he joined you.

It dawned to you then, how ungrateful you sounded and you quickly added “But thanks.” – a whisper full of honesty.

“Uh-huh.”

Perhaps the silence weighted so much because your mood wasn’t the only cause of it.

Steve was showing you that he worried; surely, you could as well? Because you did, worry about him that was.

“…are you? Okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked distractedly, but you could hear the frown on his face, the image of his nose scrunched in confusion painted in front of your eyes even without looking at him.

“Just… today-” you nudged him once more and vaguely eyed your watch only to be reminded that ‘today’ was a confusing term. “Or, more like, yesterday…”

A sharp inhale was drawn at your side and you could sense as he started closing off, putting up his walls so no one would catch a scent of his weakness. You hated when he tried to do that. You would have thought you were past that. You liked to consider you two friends at least.

Tonight was simply not your night. Of either of you, apparently.

“What about it-?“

You sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Were you truly such a crappy company, an insensitive friend or was there something sorrowful and cranky in the air, preventing your communication channels from tuning to the same frequency?

You were aware what the day meant for him – another painful reminder of what he had lost with crashing the plane in the forties only to wake up in a new millennium.

Though this particular loss – of his mother – haunted him even back in what some people called his days. It was an utter non-sense. Steve belonged there as much as he belonged here. He was brave enough to try and stubborn enough to succeed in fitting in.

“Nothing, I guess,” you sighed once more, this time rolling your eyes. “…Mr. Nothing Can Touch Me.”

The wry nickname hung in the air for a while, the faint noise of the night city washing over your pair. When Steve broke it again, there was a barely audible crack in his voice.

“I… I’m okay. I think. I… should be. It’s been so long. Decades,” he mused, turning his gaze to the sky. His eyes glistened and if you didn’t know him, hadn’t witnessed his walls lowering before, you would have thought it was just the streetlights reflecting.

You knew better. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his, not remembering when his hands had left his pockets. You were grateful for it now, especially when he didn’t retrieve from your touch instantly.

“Not for you,” you pointed out quietly, rewarded by the softest squeeze of his warm hand.

The heaviness and tension you had felt before resolved with the gesture. Something finally fell into place and you were almost you again and he was almost him.

Two figures, carrying their griefcases, but functioning and… harmonizing once more.

“How did you know?”

“That’s what friends are for, Steve,” you echoed his earlier words, sending a tiny smile his way, meeting his glassy gaze. “They remember important dates, good or bad.”

“No one else did. Not that I can actually hold it against Buck, of course... but no one… you…” his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought – or perhaps he had never truly directed it to the station in the first place.

Your shoulders moved a fraction, a hint of a shrug-off. His hand wrapped around yours tighter in silent appreciation, not showing any sign of intending to let go.

And you were alright with that. More than alright.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

His presence was always immense, overwhelming even; yet so comfortable you didn’t have the slightest problem with opening your heart to him, offering it to him even when it was bleeding. And now, finally tuned together, it was no different.

You bared your heart to him, even if it hurt.

“She didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice pained in the dead of the night and he didn’t react, letting you to gather strength to elaborate. You cleared your throat as the lump grew in it. “Kayla, one of the kids… from last week’s mission. I found out yesterday… she-she didn’t make it, she had too many injuries. Word is that perhaps it was even a blessing. A relief.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve repented, his grip growing stronger just a fraction, enough to make your chest and eyes burn.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Whatever he heard in your voice, it caused his fingers twitch in your hand, his footsteps slowing down. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Wasn’t it? If I was faster, if I-“

Steve stopped in his tracks completely, pulling at your hand to make you do the same and face him.

You closed your eyes when his blue ones met them, unable to stand the urgency in them. His free hand curled around your shoulder, caressing in attempt at comfort.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that to yourself.” Hypocrite, you threw back at him in your mind, stubbornly keeping your eyelids shut, simply knowing that if you saw the sincerity in his gaze in addition to the fervour he spoke with, you might actually believe him. “You did your best. I know that, Nat and Buck know, everyone does. A monster you helped to put behind bars hurt the kids. Not you. You saved so many lives.”

You shook your head with a sigh, staring straight ahead as you turned on your heels and continued your path. Steve, never letting go of your hand, followed reluctantly.

“Sometimes I think he might have been right, you know?”

Peripherally, you saw him frown again and you cursed yourself for drinking – it untangled your tongue and his stupid face made your spill your guts to him, vomit emotion. You weren’t too secretive about your feelings most of the time, but damn, you hated how alcohol pushed your boundaries of sharing them.

“… Jim. He said that maybe I should give it up. That I’m just running alongside you, heroes, pretending to be one of you, but in the end, I’m not even close to being as good-“

Steve’s feet took roots in the ground, his steely grip forcing you to stop – as long as you wanted to keep your hand attached, which yeah, you kinda did.

“I feel like taking a detour now,” he muttered darkly and for a short moment, confusion was everything you felt, blissfully overtaking the anger, the sorrow, the helplessness and the feeling of utter uselessness.

“Huh?”

“Where does Jim live?” Steve spitted out the name venomously and you couldn’t help the wave of affection washing over you. Affection towards this treasure of a man who apparently wanted to punch another human being because it offended his friend. “He has no business saying something like that. Especially if his bullshit actually affects you-”

“Steve, he wasn’t wrong, I’m just-“ you sputtered, caught off guard when you registered the fire in his glare.

“We all make mistakes. But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t even make any that day. I read the report, and I know you, you put everything you got and more into the rescue mission. How can he-“ he hissed, literally taking a calming breath as both of his hands balled into fist.

Well, one of them only nearly, since it was still holding yours. It actually stung a bit, the bones in your hand close to grinding against each other.

“-I haven’t met him many times, but if he said that instead of comforting you after an incredibly draining mission, then I’m glad that that asshole is gone from your life. … though I would still appreciate his address.”

Blinking away the few stray tears that welled up, you forced a smile as Steve’s strict glare found yours. It felt good, seeing his indignation; having someone else exasperated on how Jim had reacted. He should have given you a hug and hold you tight; that was what you would wish for. Instead, he told you to stop complaining and when you accused him of not supporting you, he called you a whiny bitch who should make up her damn mind and broke things off.

You deeply appreciated Steve’s display of chivalry, hell, you half-considered giving away the address just so Jim would hear someone else agreeing with you, but you were honestly just tired. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn’t stay only at words and seeing any more blood, any more aggression would have been too much for you tonight.

Tonight, you… you needed serenity and comfort.

“…thank you. That… that means a lot. But… maybe just walk me home? Please? Could you walk me home, Steve?” you pleaded softly, barely audible, not caring it sounded like weeping of a needy child.

Unbeknownst to you, that was the last thing you resembled in Steve’s eyes. Your imploring gaze, vulnerable and open, it moved something inside him, his anger silenced for the moment, leaving him defenceless, unable to say no. Not that he had an intention to do so. He always had trouble saying no to you.

So he forced his fists to relax, running his thumb over the back of your hand and whispered the only word that made sense.

“Always.”

You settled back to the comfortable silence after that.

Walk me home in the dead of night 'Cause I can't be alone with all that's on my mind Say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on

You reached the Tower hand in hand.

Neither of you released the other. Not during the elevator ride, not when you walked the halls lined with doors leading to each’s private quarters.

You were still holding onto each other when you came to a stop in front of your door; rest assured, Steve Rogers would lead you right to your door even if his was only at the end of the very same corridor.

Standing nearly chest to chest, his eyes bored into yours with seriousness that surprised you.

“For the record, you do a great deal of good,” he reassured you, saying it as if he truly meant it. It tugged at your heart, sweet and bitter. “You’re amazing and you’re the most authentic of all of us. I admire you.”

That claim caused you to chuckle. Now he was laying it on a bit thick, downright exaggerating.

“You admire me? Steve, that’s really nice of you to say, but don’t be ridi-“

Your words died in your throat when his large palm splayed over your cheek, cradling it gently. When the paddle of his thumb swiped over your other cheek, soft smile playing on his lips, his irises bright with a promise, time seemingly stopped along with your heart.

“And you’re a great friend to the whole team, a wonderful person. Do me a favour and finally learn to accept a compliment,” he asked of you in hushed voice, the electric blue and green of his eyes locking you in. “If he didn’t praise you enough for you to get used to it, he was doing something wrong.”

You gulped, a silly association with the word ‘praise’ allowing you to break from the cage of his gaze that had previously had your mind gone blank.

“I’m not a dog to be praised, Steve…”

One corner of his lips – and when did they got so close anyway? – twitched. And then a tender kiss landed on your forehead, just the softest brush of lips against your skin. The gesture, utterly incomprehensible for you, had your eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m very much aware. Believe me, doll, I know. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

You only nodded at the ridiculous statement – why was he thanking you? – too perplexed at the fact his lips had made contact with your skin. When did you cross the line towards the delusional drunk?

His fingertips caressed your face as he let go, wishing you to have a good night. Too baffled, you were unable to respond until he had already made his way to his door and you suddenly missed the warmth of his presence.

Breaking free from your haze, you acted on impulse, apparently startling him when you called his name out of blue so urgently.

“Steve!”

Whipping his head around to look at you, you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Uh… are you ready to go to bed or… or maybe… would you like to watch a movie or something?” With me?

I don’t think I’m ready to be alone. Ready to be without you.

Even from the distance, you would swear you saw his lips spread in a slow honey-sweet smile.

“I think I’d like that,” he called out lowly. “Ten minutes? I’ll get the blankets. You pick the movie.”

“See you in ten then.”

You pretended that your heart didn’t flutter, sending a wave of familiar tingle through your chest and to your fingers, as you slipped inside your room with your mouth curled up in a content smile.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong There is so much wrong There is so much wrong going on outside

*✧･ Bonus *✧･

If Tony found them two and half hour later, closing credits rolling, the pair curled up and cuddling on the couch, you fast asleep in Steve’s arms, and he noticed that the supersoldier was in fact only faking to avoid an interrogation from the Ironman himself, he didn’t mention it. He just whispered to FRIDAY to turn off the TV and turn off the dimmed lights completely.

He hoped Rogers would treat you the way you deserved, unlike the man who now had farts announcing a received e-mail or texts, unable to change it, and a laptop turning on randomly, dead-pale children staring at him from the screen with hollow eyes and in clothes dripping water. Tony would hate to have to hack more tech again just to avenge your broken heart without your knowledge any time soon.

He’d rather suffer watching the two of his friends being disgustingly sweet on each other.

Probably.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

S.R. masterlist

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

Silent thanks to the person who came up with the word ‘griefcase’ as an alternative to emotional baggage.

Also, I’m pretty sure songfics aren’t supposed to be so long... oops?

Thank you for reading!

#fanfiction #songfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #hurt/comfort #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #avenger reader #shield agent reader #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #walk me home tonight #anika ann

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namjoonswifey99 · 3 years

Text

What The Heart Wants Pt.4

Billy Hargrove X Reader

Warnings : Steamy , Profanity ,

Author Notes : It's a little steamy in the beginning and while reading you should listen to Feenin’ By Jodeci and Make It Last Forever By Keith Sweat if you want.

Y/N couldn't believe what was happening right now here. She is kissing her best friend who she’s in love with.

Meanwhile Billy was in heaven and he been fantasizing about kissing Y/N and being with her. Ever since he came to Hawkins she was the only one who didn't run from him and didn't try to use him. She helped nursing him back together after the mindflayer incident. He’s been extremely hurt knocking at death's door and he pulled through even the doctors wasn't expecting him to survive

When Billy woke up he noticed Y/N and her family was there and Max was there she was curled up to Y/N side on the layout couch from that moment he knew he was in love with her.

Both of them were so lost in the moment that they didn't notice Max was on Billy’s side of the car grinning at them. Max knew the pair had feelings for each other; she just was waiting on them to make it official.

Max then knocks on his window making the pair jump apart. Billy looked to the side seeing Max and rolled his eyes. Y/N turned around to hide her face. She was so embarrassed right now.

“ You don't have to turn away Y/N. I've known you loved Billy. It was only a matter of time.” Max says while getting in the backseat. It has always been a program they wait a block away from fom Max’s school then they'll head to grab half of the crew while Hopper brings the rest.

“ Max hussssssssh” Y/N says even more embarrassed. Y/N was trying to put more space between her and Billy but Billy grabbed her thigh and looked at her.

“ It's okay Y/N if anything I'm happy for you two you finally told each other your feelings for each other.” Max says with so much excitement she has been waiting for them to be together. She loves Y/N so much like a fun older sister or another mom figure she couldn't imagine her life without Y/N.

“ MAX” Both Y/N and Billy yelled out in surprise they weren't expecting her to say that.

“ Wait you love me since when” Billy asked Y/N with wide eyes.

“ Um i kind of been in love with you since i came to your house and seen what your dad did was doing to you ever since then” Y/N said looking down at her hands shyly.

Billy looked at her shocked that it was almost two years ago. Billy was honestly stuck; he was really blessed with an angel named Y/N.

“ What about you when did you realized you love me”. Y/N said now looking at Billy.

“ Well late last year when you took me and Max in and i fell deeper when you was by my side with the mindflayer I’m so glad I got another chance so I can live with the rest of my life with you whichever way you’ll have me” Billy said looking at Y/N while hold her hands.

Y/N can see how he really feels since they are facing each other and all she see is love.

“ Well Billy Hargrove you just got yourself a girlfriend.” Y/N says while smiling from ear to ear.

“ No I don’t got me a girlfriend i got me a wife”. Billy says while just admiring how beautiful Y/N is.

“ Okay lovebirds can you guys try not to eat each other's faces in front of me please”. Max says groaning in the backseat.

Billy and Y/N looked at each other and laughed. They decided to cut her some slack. Billy then started the car to head towards the Byers house to go get Will.

“ Soooooooo how are things with you and Lucas”. Y/N said in a teasing voice she wasn't the only one who was in a relationship now.

“ Well our winter formal is coming up so I'm hoping he’s going to ask me and not assume just because we are in a relationship he doesn't have to ask”. Max says with hope in her voice.

“ I believe he’s gonna ask you he’s probably just nervous , you know guys they are a little slow”.

“ Hey i take offence to that statement” Billy said feigning heartbreak.

“ Oh hush don't be a big baby” Y/N said pinching Billy cheeks.

“ Y/N stopppp”. Billy says whining trying to remove his cheek from her grasp.

“ You guys are so cute it's disgusting and cute at the same time”. Max says genuinely happy for Billy.

After 30 minutes Billy pulls up to the Byers house. Y/N then gets out the car to walk up to the door and rings the doorbell. Jonathan then comes to the door with his camera in his hand. “ Hey Y/N looking for Will ''. Jonathan asks.

“ Yea is he ready to go”. Y/N said feeling awkward especially after what happened at school and what she said.

“ Hey Jonathan I want to apologize for what I blurted out about you.” Y/N said looking sad. Y/N is not the type to hurt other people's feelings.

“ Hey its okay Y/N I know you didn’t mean to say that its no hard feelings.” Jonathan says putting his hand on Y/N shoulder.

“ Y/NNNNNNNNNNN I missed you!” Will says running towards her and almost knocking her off her feet with a hug.

“ I missed you too” Y/N says while wrapping her arms around him.

Even though the kids love Steve they prefer Y/N. She just understands them more; she helps out more; she is basically the real mother hen of the group. Anytime the kids need help or in trouble she comes to the rescue. Plus her cooking is amazing. Will definitely grew attached yo Y/N after his incident she cared for him like no other she took up for him when other kids bullied him she took the time t fully understand what happened she helped Jonathan and Joyce nurse him back to health Y/N was like the best big sister he always wanted.

“ Come on Billy waiting on us” Y/N says, grabbing Will’s hand and walking back to the car.

Billy just couldn't he got the girl of his dreams even after all the bullshit he went through he’s glad Y/N stayed by his side he’s going to treasure Y/N to his last breath.

Please leave feedback i would appreciate it.

Taglist:

@justfangirlthingies

@miss-starkov

#billy hargove x reader #billy hargove imagine #stranger things #stranger things x reader #woc reader #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery x reader

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specialagentsergio · 3 years

Text

wish i were

summary: Emily’s back where she belongs, but she’s learning that you can’t come back from the dead the same as you were before. Spencer’s reeling from betrayal and broken trust. Then there’s you—their safe port in the storm. But you’re not okay either, and you have a choice to make.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader (unrequited), emily prentiss x f!reader

category: angst

content warnings: lots of swearing, mentions of/implied sex, mentions of vomiting (nothing descriptive), fighting, negative feelings towards other team members, bittersweet ending

a/n: it’s finally here. thank you all for your patience. i wasn’t planning on posting angst and unrequited love on valentine’s day, but i don’t want to wait another day to post this; i’m kinda sick of looking at it tbh. anyways, i hope you enjoy it and it lives up to your expectations. sorry it’s so long. apparently i have a lot to say.

word count: 8.7k

series masterlist || masterlist

Ten weeks ago.

“Absolutely not,” Emily croaks out. Her voice is rough and broken from the breathing tube, and it hurts her throat to speak, but she ignores it. “No. I won’t do it.”

She can hardly believe what she’s hearing. She’s only been awake for a few hours and she’s already fed up with the bullshit the world is throwing at her. Right now, it’s in the form of her boss asking her to fake her own death. “You can’t seriously think this is an acceptable solution.”

Hotch is unreadable, his unit chief face firmly in place. “It’s for your own safety.”

Emily scoffs, then immediately winces at the pain that shoots through her midsection. But she continues. “So put me in a safe house or something. I’m not making my friends bury me.”

“It’s for their safety as well,” he replies. “Doyle’s still out there. He’s targeted them before. You know he’ll do it again to get to you if he finds out you’re alive.”

“Then let them in on this,” she argues. “They can keep a secret.”

His expression slips—just a little bit, but she sees it. It’s hesitance.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” she asks, a feeling of dread settling over her. “I want to see her. I’m not making a decision like this without her.”

Hotch folds his arms over his chest. “It’s not your decision to make, Emily,” he says quietly. “It’s already done.”

Her breath catches in her throat. She looks him up and down, searching desperately for any sign that he’s lying, that this is all just some cruel joke, that any second now you’ll be walking through the door, a smile on your face—

There are none.

Her lungs burn and she’s forced to take in a breath. “You son of a bitch,” she whispers. “You... son of a bitch. How dare you? How dare you.”

He doesn’t so much as flinch as her voice increases in volume, which only serves to make her angrier.

“How fucking dare you! You let me see (Y/N) right now, you bastard!”

The door opens—her heart leaps—

It’s JJ, who, if Hotch is to be believed, is the only other one to know about this. JJ hurries to her side and reaches out, but Emily yanks her arm away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she snarls. “You—” Her eyes land on the water pitcher on the table in front of her and she lunges forward, the searing pain it causes barely registering. She seizes it and throws it with all the force she can muster.

Hotch doesn’t move out of the way, letting it hit his chest and soak the front of his clothing. Its accompanying cup follows, then the TV remote. It’s not until she grabs the vase of flowers that he ducks out of the way. The glass shatters on the floor. All the while, she’s screaming obscenities at him.

JJ tries in vain to calm her down, holding up her hands placatingly. “Emily, please—”

“Don’t talk to me!” she yells. “You have the audacity to come in here and speak to me when you know I’m alive and my girlfriend doesn’t!”

“Emily!” Her voice is stern. “I understand you’re upset—”

“Don’t use your fucking mom voice on me, Jennifer, I’m not a fucking child—”

“What’s going on in here?” A pair of nurses enter the room, no doubt drawn by the commotion.

“She’s bleeding,” JJ answers immediately. “I think she might have aggravated something when she sat up.”

“She’s not supposed to be sitting up at all. What did you two do?” one of the nurses scolds.

“She just got some bad news—”

“Well, isn’t that a nice way to put it!” The nurses are trying to coax her into laying back down, but Emily resists it. “A really great way to describe the two of you trying to force me into letting my family and girlfriend think I’m dead!”

“I think some of the stitches tore,” the second nurse says.

“Go get the doctor,” the first one instructs an orderly standing in the doorway.

Movement catches Emily’s eye and she looks towards it to see Hotch taking a step backwards.

“Don’t you dare leave!” she screams. “I’m not done with you, you motherf—”

“Agent, please, you need to lie back.”

“And you two need to leave,” the older of the nurses says.

Then there’s a third person at her side. Judging by the white coat, it’s the doctor. “What’s the problem?” he asks them.

“She’s agitated and we think some stitches might have burst.”

“Damn right I’m agitated!” Emily cries. “They’re trying to—I—” She looks past the doctor to find that JJ and Hotch are gone.

“Emily, we’re going to give you something to help you relax,” he tells her.

Her vision goes blurry and she can’t figure out why until she feels the tears sliding down her cheeks. She lets the nurses push her back now and her head thumps against the pillow. “Please—” she chokes on a sob. “Please, I want to see my girlfriend.”

“What’s her name?” the doctor asks kindly.

“(Y/N). We’ve been together for almost a year. I need…” Her limbs are starting to feel heavy. “I need to call her, or—or something. She thinks… she thinks….”

“Shh, you’re okay,” one of the nurses soothes. “You’re going to be okay.”

Emily blinks slowly and shakes her head. “But she won’t be. She…”

The world fades to black.

---

There are tear stains on your pillowcase.

That’s the first thing Emily notices when she walks into your bedroom. She recognizes them so quickly because similar ones were on her pillows in Paris.

“Sorry, I’ve been meaning to run the sheets through the wash,” you say when you notice her looking.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” She sets her bag on the bedside table, careful to jostle Sergio as little as possible. He’s in her arms, pressed against her chest and purring loudly. He definitely remembers her—she’d been a little worried that he wouldn’t.

Emily is absolutely exhausted. It has been a very long day. Doyle is dead, Declan is safe, and now all she wants to do is take a nice, hot shower and curl up in bed with you. But you haven’t been able to keep eye contact with her for more than a few moments at a time.

She expected something like this to happen. She knew once the relief of seeing her alive wore off, there was going to be a heap of more, uglier emotions surfacing.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

You glance up at her just briefly, busying yourself with stripping off the pillowcases and replacing them with a clean set. “I don’t know what to say, Emily,” you sigh. “I just… I don’t.”

She strokes Sergio’s back a couple of times to calm herself before replying. “You can say anything. You’ve been through so much, and I… I’m not going to hold what you’re feeling against you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.”

It confirms her suspicions. “(Y/N), you’re allowed to be mad at me,” she says. “Hell, you could even yell at me if you wanted to and I’d be okay with it.”

You snort. “I don’t want to yell at you. But, um, could I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Okay. Well…” You shuffle from one foot to the other. “I’m… not really sure how to ask this, but, how… how did this happen?”

Your voice is hesitant. You’re holding back, but Emily can read between the lines. “You mean, how could I let you think I was dead?” she corrects softly.

You breathe in sharply and wrap your arms around yourself. Your eyes are wet when you look up at her and nod.

Emily tries not to let her next words come out too fast, lest it seem like she’s dismissing your feelings or making excuses. “I didn’t get a choice.” Her voice cracks and she clears her throat. “When I came to after surgery, the funeral had already been held.”

Your mouth drops open. You stare at her for a few seconds, then blink several times. Your eyes move around, focused on nothing in particular as you try to process what she’s just told you. Eventually, they settle on the bedroom door behind her. “I’m gonna punch his face,” you whisper.

Emily can’t stop the genuine laugh that bubbles out of her. “Yeah, Hotch heard similar things from me.”

“Oh my god, Em,” you breathe out, and her heart skips a beat at the nickname. “That must have been awful.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun,” she admits. “But at least I knew you were alive and that I’d see you again someday. It can’t come close to what you went through.”

You shake your head. “This isn’t the suffering Olympics. It was harder for you in some ways than it was for me, I’m sure. Like, if I was waking up after being stabbed, I’d want my girlfriend there holding my hand.”

Emily’s eyes prick with tears as she listens to you, remembering how it felt to be at the hospital without you there to hold her hand through all the scary bits. But you? You had buried her, and now you’re here considering how Emily had felt throughout all this. She’s not sure if you’re actively trying to make her fall even more in love with you, but if you are, you’re succeeding.

“I can’t promise to never be mad at you about this,” you continue, “but I’ll take being mad at you for actually being alive rather than being mad at you for dying.”

“That’s… really mature of you,” she observes.

“I started seeing a therapist a few days after the funeral,” you say with a shrug. “Can you put Sergio down and help me change the bed sheets?”

She nods and places him gently on the floor. She’s about to ask why you’re wanting to change them right now, when you’re clearly just as exhausted as she is, when she finds a tie wedged between the top and fitted sheets at the foot of the bed. She frowns as she lifts it up—it’s not one she recognizes as yours or hers, but she does think she’s seen it before.

“Oh, so that’s where that went,” you say.

“I don’t remember you having a tie like this. Is it new?”

“It’s Spencer’s,” you clarify.

“Oh. What… what’s it doing in your bed?” she asks hesitantly.

“He would stay over sometimes when I couldn’t sleep and he’s too long—“ you spread your hands apart “—for either of the couches.”

“I see.” Emily smooths out the wrinkles in the fabric and crosses the room to put it on top of the dresser, trying to tamp down the sting of jealousy. The other side of your bed is supposed to be hers.

“Nothing happened,” you say and she realizes she’s frowning.

“I know,” she replies, and she does—she just wishes it had been her in the bed with you. But you’ve at least given her a good lead-in for her surprise. “Anyways, you wouldn’t have even had the time with the amount of online Scrabble you were playing.”

Now it’s your turn to frown. “How do you know about that?”

The corner of her mouth turns up. “I was there for every game, sergio2010.”

It takes you a moment to put it together. “You’re cheetobreath?” you ask. “I thought that was JJ.”

“It was her idea,” Emily says. “And that’s what you were supposed to think.”

Your reaction delights her—you start laughing. “That’s ridiculous!”

“I had to stick it to Hotch somehow,” she defends, barely holding back her own laughter.

You shake your head fondly as you finish tucking in the fresh sheets. Emily helps you spread the comforter back over the bed and return the pillows to their spots. She isn’t sure what to do after that, though, and nervously clasps her hands in front of her. You’re silent for a few seconds, watching her from across the bed.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” you say eventually.

“Um, okay,” she replies. “But you know, I could go stay at a hotel instead if you’d prefer.”

You shake your head. “You’re gonna join me.”

“Ah.” Emily swallows, part nervous, part thrilled. “That’s… I mean, yeah. Okay.”

You hold out your hand in invitation; she circles the bed and takes it.

After, when you’re both clean and settled into bed, she pulls you as close to her as she can. “This is so nice,” you sigh into her skin. “You’re so soft, Em.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Um, thank you?”

“Spencer’s bony,” you explain.

Emily snorts. “Yeah, I know. I fell asleep on his shoulder on the jet a few years ago and it was painful.”

You giggle. “Did you know he talks in his sleep?”

“Morgan’s mentioned it. You learn anything else when you were snuggled up with him?” she teases, running her fingers through your damp hair.

“It wasn’t like that,” you protest. “We didn’t snuggle. I’d just kind of… press my forehead on his arm and one leg against his.” Your voice lowers as you continue, “I just really missed being close to someone.”

“I did, too,” she whispers back. “I wish it had been me, but I’m glad you had him.”

You nod against her in agreement. “I love you, Emily,” you say, briefly tightening your grip on her.

“I love you, too,” she replies, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “So much.”

You drift off to sleep quickly, and she’s not far behind.

It’s the best sleep she’s had in months.

---

Spencer’s barely heard from you since the hearing last week.

He’d gotten plenty of texts from Jennifer (all of which he ignored), but only a few from you. That’s probably normal for most adult friends, but not for you two, especially so when the fact that you were the only two people not to apply for reinstatement to the BAU is taken into consideration. He thought that he’d be able to seriously talk about it with you, to share his feelings and maybe work it out together. But all he had gotten was a brief message:

Emily was reinstated, so I’m going back, too.

It left him frustrated, but when it came down to it, he understood—he was the same. Since you were going back, so was he.

On Monday morning, everyone’s first day back together, he gets off the elevator and is immediately confronted with the last person he wants to see.

“Hey, where have you been? I wanted to do brunch this weekend,” Jennifer says.

Spencer barely resists rolling his eyes, instead keeping them fixed on the file he’s holding. “I had to deal with some stuff with my mom.” It’s not a lie—he did have to check in with his mom. It just didn’t take as long as he’s implying. “Have you seen Garcia?”

“Uh, she’s with Rossi,” Jennifer answers, and she sounds startled by his behavior, but he doesn’t care. You’re at your desk, and as he passes by, he takes your arm.

“Wha—Spencer?” You’re taken aback, but you let him pull you along and into a file room.

“What?” you repeat when he turns to you after closing the door.

He tucks the file into his bag, the folds his arms over his chest. “I barely heard from you last week.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “Well, yeah, I’ve been busy,” you say. “Emily’s moving in with me so we’ve been taking her things out of storage and to my apartment to unpack.”

Spencer glances away, trying to ignore the stab of jealousy in his chest. Just two weeks ago, he was in your bed and he’s quickly been replaced. And sure, he knows you don’t feel that way about him, but it was easy to pretend you did when you were asleep right next to him. “Not busy enough to make a decision about work,” he points out.

“So?”

“You’re the only other one who didn’t apply for reinstatement to the unit,” he replies. “You’d think that would be something for us to talk about.”

“You never said you wanted to,” you say, giving him a little shrug.

He doesn’t resist the eye roll this time. Does Spencer know he’s being a bit unfair? Yes. Does he care? Not particularly. No one bothered to seriously check in with him last week. He wasn’t expecting everyone to, but he was expecting it from you. He’s only been at work for five minutes, but his emotions are already running high, and he doesn’t care to reign them in. “I didn’t think I’d have to.”

“You should’ve. I can’t read your mind.” Now you’re getting defensive. “And what does it matter, anyways? You’re not my boyfriend; I don’t have to run my decisions past you.”

“I know that,” he snaps. He really could have done without hearing you say that. “I’m just there to warm up your bed when you’re lonely is all, huh?”

You’re shocked for only a moment before pivoting to anger. “I didn’t make you do anything. You could’ve said no. And I certainly don’t owe you anything from it.”

“Clearly,” he mutters.

You heave an angry sigh. “Look, I know you’re mad about the whole thing, but don’t take it out on me. I don’t know why you’re so surprised that I wanted to spend the past week catching up with my girlfriend after thinking she was dead for ten weeks. If you wanted to talk, you should’ve said so. Stop being such an ass.”

Spencer doesn’t answer. You’re right, and he knows it, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to admit it. He just looks down at the floor, avoiding your glare.

When it becomes clear to you that he has no intention of responding, you mutter, “whatever” under your breath and duck behind him, walking out of the door and leaving him alone again.

---

The case has been miserable.

In rural Oklahoma, their unsub is burning his victims with acid. Not the worst they’ve seen, but not pleasant, either—this job never is.

You’re still mad at him, which is bad enough, but he’s also had to watch you be far more… touchy with Emily than you ever were before. It’s not super apparent—you still keep it professional at the local P.D. and when you’re out on work assignments, but you’re going out of your way to find any excuse to touch her that you can outside of that.

Then there’s the motel they’re staying at and its thin walls. He heard a few things last night from your room next door. It was quickly followed by shushes, but he heard enough to infer what was going on. So he’d dug his noise-canceling headphones out of his bag. It had been a good solution at the time, but then he’d fallen asleep with them on. As a result, he’d slept with his neck at an odd angle. It’s midday now and it’s still aching.

To top it all off, there’s Jennifer. He’s been trying to keep his distance from her, and had thought the snide remarks he hadn’t been able to hold back might encourage her to stay away. But she keeps pressing the issue, and when she tells him she thinks he’s mad about micro-expressions, he can’t hold it back anymore.

“You think it’s about my profiling skills? Jennifer, listen, the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions is because I trusted you. I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

She protests, so he brings up Dilaudid. He knows it’s a low blow, and that she still feels guilty about them splitting up all those years ago, leading to his abduction and subsequent problem, but he doesn’t care. He just wants her to hurt like he is.

The team is staring and Emily says his name, but he just tells Jennifer that it’s too late to be sorry and leaves without another word.

Outside, he sits on the curb in front of one of the SUVs and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He’s not alone for long, though. Just a few minutes later, he hears footsteps coming from behind him. The sound that involuntarily comes out of his throat can only be described as a growl.

“God, Jennifer, what do I have to do to get you to understand that I want you to leave me the fuck alone!” he nearly yells.

But it’s not Jennifer that answers. “It’s me,” you say softly.

Spencer sighs. He drops his hands from his face but doesn’t open his eyes. “What?”

“Can I sit?”

He’s not sure he wants to be around anyone, but it’s hard for him to say no to you. “Sure,” he says dully.

You join him on the curb, but keep a few feet of space between you. You don’t say anything, though, just sit quietly, letting him make the first move.

“How are you okay?” he asks eventually.

“What?” You sound incredulous. “I’m not sure where you got that idea. I’m so mad at Hotch that I can barely breathe when I’m in the same room as him.”

Spencer considers this for a moment, recalling when everyone’s been in the same room during this case. He realizes that since he’s been preoccupied with you touching Emily and trying to avoid Jennifer, he’s missed how you tense up whenever you see Hotch, and that you keep him out of your eyesight whenever possible.

“But you’re fine with Emily,” he observes. That does honestly confuse him, because he’s mad at Emily as well. And if it had been you in her place? He’s not sure he’d ever be able to forgive you, even without you knowing the way he feels about you.

“For the most part,” you say. “I still feel a little mad at her sometimes, but it helps me to remember that it wasn’t her fault.”

He finally looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “Being alive in Paris and not telling you isn’t her fault?”

“She didn’t really get a choice. When she woke up after surgery, the funeral had already happened,” you explain. “Hotch made the decision without her.”

“Hmm.” He files that information away to think over later. “And Jennifer?”

You shrug. “I can’t be too mad at her, since she did so much for me during those weeks.”

He snorts. “Yeah, out of guilt.”

“Probably, yes,” you concede. “But not having to pack up Emily’s things and take them to storage myself, feeding Sergio and bringing him to stay with me, bringing me hot meals when I was surviving off of cereal alone because I could barely get out of bed, let alone cook for myself… it went a long way.”

On the one hand, it’s a bit comforting for him to hear how Jennifer helped the woman he loves. On the other, she could have ended your pain with three words—Emily is alive—but she didn’t. She let the woman he loves suffer the pain of the loss of a partner.

And she sure didn’t bring him hot meals.

This shouldn’t surprise you, Spencer. You’ve always been the afterthought. The burden. You should be used to this by now.

He clenches the fabric of his pants in his hands. “That doesn’t make me any less angry,” he mutters.

“That’s fine.”

“You can’t expect me to just—wait, what?”

“That’s fine,” you repeat. “I’m not trying to tell you to just get over it or whatever because she was nice to me. Like Em told me, you’re allowed to be mad.”

Spencer bites his lip, resisting the urge to ask you to stop calling her Em. You’re the only one that calls her that—or rather, is allowed to call her that, and it’s obvious why. It’s also similar enough to you calling him Spence that he’ll always start comparing himself to Emily when he hears it, and he’s been trying to stop doing that for months.

“Maybe you just, I don’t know,” you continue, drawing him out of his thoughts. “You could just try to be a little less passive aggressive with JJ?”

He opens his mouth, about to flat-out refuse, but before he can, you tack on, “For me? Just a little bit?”

God damn it.

“Only if she stops bothering me,” he says bluntly.

“Yeah, she, um… she was crying when I left, so I think she’s got the message now,” you say quietly.

He feels a bit guilty upon hearing that, but not enough to apologize, or even really regret it. I told her I didn’t want to talk about it, he rationalizes to himself. She’s the one who decided to push it anyways.

After a few moments of silence, you reach out and pat his knee. “I love you, you know.”

He knows what you mean, knows that you don’t mean it like that, but his heart still skips a beat. He responds to you with a nod.

You push yourself to your feet, tell him to take all the time he needs, and you’ll see him when he’s ready to come back in, then walk away.

When he’s certain you’re out of earshot, he whispers back, “I love you, too.”

---

Emily sits down across from him on the plane, and Spencer is immediately reminded of the morning after he caught you and her together. That time, Emily had folded her hands in front of her on the table. This time, she slides something across it to him. He looks up from his book and sees his missing tie, wrinkles ironed out and folded neatly.

“It was in her bed,” she explains when his brow furrows.

Spencer wonders if that made Emily jealous.

He’s not a good enough person to not hope it did.

“Thanks,” he mutters, putting it away in his bag.

Emily’s quiet, but she doesn’t leave. She must have something else to say. He sighs. “What is it?”

“Are you going to Rossi’s house tomorrow night?” she asks.

He looks back down to his book. “I don’t know. I’m not so sure I can make it.”

“Okay. Well, Reid, you can be mad at me for as long as you need to. I’m okay with that.”

Spencer frowns. He kind of wishes she wasn’t being so nice and understanding. It makes it harder to be upset with her, and he wants to be upset with her.

“I’d like to say something to you, though, if that’s okay,” she says.

He reluctantly looks back up. “What?”

Emily holds his gaze. “Thank you,” she says earnestly.

He blinks. “Uh, for what?”

Her voice wavers slightly with emotion as she speaks. “For looking out for her when I couldn’t.”

His eyes drift away from Emily and to the couch where you’re sleeping. “My pleasure,” he replies quietly. When he looks back at Emily, she has a curious look on her face.

For the first time, instead of panicking over keeping his secret, instead of shying away, Spencer looks right back at her. A few seconds later, he thinks he sees a flash of realization in her eyes, but it’s so quick he can’t be sure.

“Well, thank you,” she repeats, and takes her leave. He watches as she leans down and tucks the blanket closer around you. He closes his eyes, leans back in his seat, and imagines a world where he was the one adjusting it instead.

---

“You’re gonna go weeks, months even, feeling fine. And then you’re gonna have a bad day.”

Emily can barely get the hotel room door open, her hands are shaking so much. A bad day. What Hotch called it, she thinks, was a bit of an understatement.

She’s just come back from taking a witness statement to help wrap up the piano man case—or rather, she was trying to take one.

“I was told that you would only give your statement to me.”

“Why didn’t you let me pull the trigger?” Regina asks.

“Because you would be in prison.” Emily understands why Regina is mad at her, and she’s fine with taking the brunt of it. Lying to her to stop her from shooting the unsub was the right thing to do. “I know it’s hard--”

“No, you don’t. You have no idea what it’s like…” Regina pauses briefly, anger radiating off of her. “When the monster from your nightmares comes back for you.”

Emily breaks eye contact and looks down. She knows exactly what that’s like.

Regina recognizes it. “Wait--”

Redirect, redirect, redirect. “Look, I’m here as a courtesy--”

“Something happened to you.”

“So do you want to give me your statement or not?”

But Regina is relentless. “What did you do to him, huh? Did you arrest him like a good FBI agent? Or did you kill him?”

Emily sits down heavily on the spare bed, drawing your attention away from packing up your things for the flight home. “Em?”

She just shakes her head, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and closing her eyes. “It was the right thing,” she whispers to herself. “It was the right thing. I did the right thing.”

You sit down next to her and place your hand on her back. “What happened?”

Emily swallows hard, feeling sick to her stomach. Her hair is sticking to the back of her neck; she tilts her head to try and dislodge it. You catch on and pull it to the side for her.

“Talk to me, baby,” you urge gently. “Just something, anything I can do to help.”

She takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm down enough to speak. “I—I think,” she stutters. “I th—think I just ruined a woman’s pe—peace of m—mind for good.”

You start rubbing circles on her back and ask, “How?”

“You know, when they talk about victims getting revictimized by the system, they mean you.”

Emily shudders involuntarily. “I… you know how we found the unsub with a—a victim?”

Slowly, in sentences fractured by gasping breaths, swallows to hold back the nausea, and even a few sobs, she recounts what Regina said to her.

You murmur something under your breath that she doesn’t catch, then, ever so gently, you pull her into your arms.

Emily Prentiss isn’t one to break down, not in her own home and especially not in front of others. She controls any “negative” emotions as best as she can, her feelings only displayed through a trembling voice, misty eyes, or run-down nails. Screaming, tears, and nervous gestures were not befitting of an ambassador’s daughter, after all, and those habits formed in childhood have stayed with her until this day.

But there’s one person who’s the exception. There’s one person with whom those walls just don’t seem to exist. That person, of course, is you.

You pull her into your arms, and Emily Prentiss breaks down, because she can. She can because she knows you’ll be there to help put her back together again.

“You never had a chance to mourn your own death, did you?”

She hadn’t understood what her therapist meant when she said it yesterday morning, but Emily thinks she does now. This time last year, what Regina said would have unsettled her, and she would have felt sorry for her, but she probably wouldn’t have dwelt on it much. It’s not last year, though. It’s this year, and she’s coming undone in your embrace over Regina’s words, words she knows will never leave her.

“I didn’t pull the trigger.”

“Still… your monster’s dead. I have to live with mine. That’s my statement.”

Emily has a promise to keep, so she boards the jet early. A few minutes later, Hotch slides into the seat across from her and waits. It still takes her a few moments to collect herself enough to say the words.

“I’m having a bad day.”

---

Spencer’s not sure if you’re going to be able to keep doing this job. He became very familiar with your nervous tics and outward signs of stress during those weeks, and now he can notice them almost immediately.

You seemed okay for the first few months. A few habits cropped up now and then—biting your lip, tapping each fingertip to your thumb in turn—but that was fairly normal. It’s a stressful job.

But then your bottom lip starts getting chapped again, and during conversions with anyone other than Emily, you’re quiet; you often have to be prompted to share your thoughts.

He tries to find out what’s wrong, but when he asks, you shut it down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” he says quietly. “But, um, you probably should talk to… somebody, you know?”

You barely look up from your paperwork as you respond. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ve been seeing a therapist since this whole shitshow started. I’ve got Emily, too. If anything, I should be telling you to go talk to a professional.”

Spencer just says “okay” again, then a few minutes later he excuses himself to go hide in the bathroom and nurse his hurt feelings. He knows you weren’t trying to be mean. Flipping around the suggestion to him most certainly came from a place of love. But he’s not interested in receiving any kind of psychiatric care—he’s actively opposed to it. So being told anything of that sort upsets him and often makes him angry.

Today it’s just salt in the wound, though. The wound itself is Emily. And god, does he ever feel guilty about the resentment that crops up every time her name is in your mouth. She was dead, and every day she was gone, he wished she weren’t. He cried countless tears over her and would’ve given anything to at least be able to say goodbye.

Then the impossible happened—she came back. He didn’t have to say goodbye at all. And sure, there was the initial relief and happiness, and the warmest hug ever, but now he finds himself resenting her. He’d never wish for her to be gone again, but he can’t stop the jealousy, no matter how hard he tries.

Recently, when Emily was shot during a case in California, he held back your hair as you leaned out of the door of the SUV and threw up upon receiving the news. Spencer Reid would never deny that he’s a germaphobe, but he wants that. He wants to be the one taking care of you, the one whose shoulder you fall asleep on, the one going home with you at the end of the day.

He doesn’t want Emily gone, never, ever again, but he wants you back. Those ten weeks, as awful as they were, weren’t the worst he’s had, because during that time, you were always seeking him out. He knows you didn’t want him that way, but if Emily had really been gone, he thinks one day, that might have changed. The thought always brings tears to his eyes.

Still, he would settle for having you the way he did during the years before he fell for you. Things just haven’t been the same since Emily came back. You don’t stay up late talking anymore. You haven’t a movie night in months. You don’t ask about the books he’s reading or what he did over the weekend. This is it: this is exactly what he was afraid of happening when he found you with Emily.

Spencer doesn’t think it’s personal. He thinks it’s because you’re barely hanging on these days, and just don’t have the energy anymore to do things like you used to.

It still hurts, though. He wonders if it’ll ever stop hurting.

---

Respite can come at the strangest of times and in the oddest of ways. Today, it comes to Emily in the middle of a hostage situation at a bank, in the form of a job offer.

The team is trying to find the I.D. of the Queen of Hearts, one of the robbers, when she gets a surprise call from Clyde Easter, her old Interpol Unit Chief, who gives her the information he knows about the unsub. He doesn’t know her name, but he reminds her that she’s seen the unsub before, at a robbery in Paris while she was living there. Then when the team learns that their unsubs want to fly out to Chad, she calls him back.

“Well, unfortunately Interpol doesn’t have many assets in that particular region in Africa. Maybe that’s something you could help me with when this is over.”

Emily scoffs. “Work for Interpol again? That’ll be the day.”

“Not work, darling. Run,” he corrects. “You see, I’ve been promoted. So, the team’s yours whenever you want it.”

“It’s a hell of a time to bring that up,” she says, ignoring the questioning glances she’s getting from you, Reid, and JJ.

Clyde asks her to think about it, but there’s no time to do that now. She pushes it to the back of her mind and goes back to work.

By the time the day is over, she’s tired. Just tired. You both narrowly survive the explosion in the bank thanks to the alcove you were in, trying to help two elderly patrons. Then a mere hour later, you scare the shit out of her by finding Will strapped to an active bomb and deactivating it yourself. So Clyde’s offer doesn’t come up again until the next morning, when light is spilling through the curtains, illuminating the bedroom with a soft, warm glow.

You face each other in bed, legs twined together under the covers. “What was that about working for Interpol again?” you ask softly, tucking your arm under your head.

“Clyde was promoted,” she replies just as quietly, as to not disturb the peaceful morning feeling. “He offered me his old job. He wants me to run the London office.”

Your eyes widen. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“How are you feeling about that?”

Emily blows out a breath. “I’d like to at least… consider it.”

You reach out, finding her hand in the sheets and lacing your fingers between hers. “What’s stopping you?”

“I’m sure you can guess,” she replies, squeezing your hand back.

“Well, then I think you’re more than just considering it,” you say. “You wouldn’t bring it to me if you didn’t want to take the job.”

Emily thinks for a moment, then admits, “I… I do want to take it. But I have to know what you think, honestly.” She was already robbed out of making one life-changing decision without you in this past year. She has no interest in that happening again.

“Honestly?” you repeat, shifting a little. At her nod, you continue, “I think it’s a good option for us.”

“Us?” she asks, eyebrows raising.

“Yeah, us,” you affirm. “What, you think I’m just going to stay here if you move away?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe. This is the first time we’ve talked about something like this.”

“Fair point,” you say, then sigh. “We’re… both struggling here in D.C., Em. I know it and you know it. This place, this team. It used to be my home, but now, I just… it’s not like it was before.”

“You don’t trust Hotch anymore,” Emily says quietly.

You let out a small, broken chuckle. “I’ve tried. I’ve been trying so hard. I know he did what he thought he had to, but I just… I can’t.”

“It’s okay to feel that way,” she points out. She lets go of your hand to reach up and wipe away a tear that breaks your lash line. “In fact, I’d say it’s reasonable, with what you went through.”

You close your eyes and nod, putting your hand on top of hers to keep it on your cheek. “I know it’s been hard for you, too.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I wanted to come back, and at first, I felt like I was home. But I just can’t go back to my old life and pretend that nothing happened. The only time I feel at home now is… well, it’s when I’m alone with you, just like this.”

“Emily Prentiss, I had no idea you were such a romantic,” you say, cracking a smile.

“Oh, stop,” she says, but she’s blushing. When your giggles subside, she speaks again. “I would love for you to come to London with me. But I don’t want you to forget what you’d be leaving. There’s still a lot of good here.”

You nod. “There is. I’m just not sure it’s enough anymore,” you say softly.

“I understand. You can think about it. I don’t need an answer now.”

So you don’t give her one, not right away. But you do a few hours later. So Emily picks up her phone and dials Clyde’s number.

---

JJ’s a beautiful bride, but Spencer’s eyes keep drifting over to you. The dress you’re wearing tonight is wonderful; from the cut to the color, it suits you perfectly. But that’s not what’s really got his attention. It’s the way you’re carrying yourself. You’re smiling, and you seem truly happy, without any reservations. But there’s also a bit of sadness clinging to you, and he can’t tell what’s causing it.

The party has been going on for a while by the time he finds himself dancing with you. You’d asked him, and now you’ve steered him a little ways away from everyone else. “There’s something I have to tell you,” you say just as he’s about to ask what’s going on.

To his dismay, he doesn’t have a clue what it’s going to be. He doesn’t like not having at least an idea. He swallows, then says, “Okay.”

You can’t meet his eyes; you look down to the floor instead and watch your feet move in time together. So whatever it is, I’m not going to like it, he thinks, and his anxiety spikes. “What is it?” he asks, tightening his grip on you without really meaning to.

You take a deep breath, then look up. “Emily and I are leaving.”

His heart drops and he stops in his tracks, causing you to stumble a little over his feet. “Oh, shi—sorry,” he says. “I just—you’re leaving the BAU? But you’re still going to be in D.C., right?”

You sigh, then guide him off the dance floor and to a quiet spot not too far away. “You remember what Emily said about working for Interpol again yesterday?”

“Interpol?” he repeats, his voice pitching upwards. “You mean, like, overseas?”

“London, to be specific.”

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know what to say. Things were a little rocky between you and him when Emily came back, and for a little while afterwards, sure, but recently he’d started to feel like he had his best friend back.

Apparently he couldn’t be more wrong.

Spencer’s used to people leaving. First it was his dad, then Ethan. Elle was next, quickly followed by Gideon. JJ was forced out, and although she ended up coming back, it didn’t erase the pain he felt in her absence. And then there was everything that happened with Emily.

So, Spencer’s used to people leaving. In a way, he almost expects it.

He just wishes it would stop hurting so damn much.

What is it about me? he wonders. What is it that makes people run away? There’s clearly something wrong with--

“Hey!”

He jumps, startled out of his introspection. When his eyes refocus on you, you put your hands on your hips.

“I don’t appreciate people being mean to my best friend, you know,” you tell him seriously.

“Uh…” He blinks a few times. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“That includes him being mean to himself,” you continue. “I know what you were thinking.”

“What? No, you don’t,” he protests.

“Don’t I?” You put the tip of your finger on your chin. “Was it or was it not something along the lines of, people always leave me, why do they do that, there must be something wrong with me?”

He hates that you’re right, so he doesn’t answer, just scowls and looks away.

“It’s not true, you know.”

“Sure,” he mutters. Sure it isn’t. You’ve only just added your name to the list.

“I mean it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look at me.”

Spencer doesn’t, and your resulting sigh sounds so frustrated, and then he thinks, Oh, great work, Reid. (Y/N) tells you she’s leaving and what do you do? You piss her off. Honestly, it’s no wonder--

And then your hands are on his face, cradling his cheeks, and he’s too surprised to resist your gaze anymore.

“It’s not your fault, Spencer,” you say, your voice equal parts firm and gentle. “You didn’t drive me away. Not even close. There’s nothing inherently wrong with you, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He sniffs, trying to hold back the sudden onslaught of emotions you’ve just caused. “Well, I could have gone without picking a fight with you on our first day back at work,” he says, sniffling again.

“What’re you tal—Spencer, that was almost a year ago.”

“Nine months.”

“Whatever. The point still stands. You’re not why I’m leaving, okay? You’re…” you trail off and he’s alarmed to see your eyes grow wet. “You’re the opposite, actually. You were the only thing keeping me here when Emily was gone. And now, you’re why it’s so hard to leave.”

“I am?” he whispers before he can think better of it.

“You are,” you affirm. “I think Emily’s actually a little worried you’re gonna talk me out of it.”

It gets a laugh out of him, but right after a little sob escapes him and he squeezes his eyes shut. When you hug him, he immediately reciprocates, wrapping his arms around your middle tightly.

“Hey, this isn’t the end, okay?” you say, and he can tell from the way your voice is trembling that you’re crying, too. “I know you like to ignore it, but we do live in the digital age, and I’ll be hounding you to talk to me at least once a week. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I’d certainly hope not,” he murmurs, resting his head on your shoulder.

The two of you stay like that for a while, just holding each other, trying not to cry too much. Eventually, you pull away. “Besides, it’s not like I’m leaving first thing in the morning. Our flight isn’t for another ten days. I’m gonna be around.”

Spencer nods. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, then swipe at your face, clearing away the tears. “Um, we should head back. You still owe me a dance.”

And dance with you he does, swaying gently from side to side with his hand resting on your waist. A look over your shoulder shows Emily and Derek dancing in a similar manner; judging by the way he’s holding her, she told him the news as well.

He has an eidetic memory, but Spencer makes the effort to commit this moment to his brain all the same. He wants to remember the way you’re holding him, resting your head on his chest and running your thumb over the back of his hand every so often. He wants to remember how your skin feels against his, the texture of your hair. The lighting in the backyard and the way it makes you glow. The words that you said, telling him that it’s not his fault, that nothing’s wrong with him. He’s not quite sure he believes it, but you’ve never lied to him before, so he’ll try to accept it.

The song ends, and tears threaten to fall again when you pick up your head and take a step back.

“Hey, no more crying tonight,” you say. “Because if you start crying, I’ll start crying, and I don’t want to cry any more tonight. Save it for my grand exit at the airport terminal.”

That makes him break into a smile and he’s able to blink back the tears. “Okay.”

“Do you mind if I take this dance?” It’s Emily, and she’s looking at him, head tilted in your direction.

“Oh, um.” He clears his throat. “No, um, go—go ahead.”

He passes your hand to her, and what he feels is silly. You’re not some prize to be won; you don’t belong to anyone other than yourself. But he feels like he’s passing you off to Emily, almost… entrusting you to her. The look Emily gives him makes him think she understands this.

“Wait,” you say before she can properly take you into her arms. You lean towards him and press a kiss to his cheek.

Spencer doesn’t stay around to watch you two dance. He retreats back into the house, fingertips on the spot you kissed. He lets them sit there for a moment, then forces himself to drop his hand. It’s far past time for him to try and move on. He doesn’t want you to leave, but it might be what he needs.

Maybe, just maybe, with some distance, he can begin to heal.

---

On the first day at work without you, Spencer finds a small frame on his desk. He immediately recognizes the picture inside of it—it’s the one you’d kept as your lockscreen for months, much to his dismay.

It’s a picture from the relatively early days of your friendship, well before he felt anything that wasn’t platonic towards you. You’d dragged him out on a weekend off to a nearby amusement park, because, “you can’t die without having ridden a roller coaster at least once, Spence.” He had no desire to do so, but he didn’t have any other plans, so he went along with it.

The roller coaster ended up making him vomit, and the picture is from shortly after that. You’re holding up the camera with one hand and making a peace sign with the other, smiling from ear to ear. He still looks a little queasy, only managing a small smile, but he still looks somewhat happy. And he was, that day. Other than the nausea, he’d had a lot of fun with you.

He picks up the frame and feels something on the back of it. He flips it over and finds one of his lilac colored post-it notes, displaying your handwriting.

“When it’s time to go, remember what you’re leaving. Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.”

Tears blur his vision. Doctor Who. Of course you picked Doctor Who. And you’ve written something else, too, in smaller letters:

If you don’t answer my calls at least twice a month, I’ll tell JJ you’ve been stealing from her Cheetos stash for eight years. Love ya.

He laughs out loud, a little wet giggle that he has to follow up with a sniffle. He slips the note under the frame’s felt backing to keep it safe, then rearranges his things until he settles on the perfect spot for it to sit on his desk. He retrieves a fresh sticky note and scribbles down a reminder to himself to call you when he gets home, sticking it the cover of one of his books. After all, he can’t have JJ knowing about his thievery. The team’s good at what they do, but he doesn’t think anyone would be able to find his body once JJ’s done with him.

His eyes drift back to the photograph, coming to a stop on your face. He misses you already. He even misses the ugly bits, when you’d snapped at each other, when you were crying on his shoulder. When he saw you with Emily that first time. It’s an odd mix of emotions. Longing, nostalgia, grief, happiness, safety. Belonging.

Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.

Spencer couldn’t agree more.

---------------

tell me what you thought here!

oh my god, i can hardly believe it’s over. there’s still going to be a small epilogue, but it’s optional. thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who read and supported this series and your enthusiasm for it. you’ve made me so very happy. and if you relate to spencer in this, i want you to know you’re gonna find your someone someday. if that’s what you want, i believe you’ll find it eventually. much love to all of you. 💖

series taglist: @sobereinstein , @zizzlekwum , @goldensatine , @closetedreidstan , @afuckingshituniverse , @uswntxx , @johnmulaneyslut , @90spumkin , @mcntsee , @zhuzhubii , @shadyladyperfection , @mggbler , @eva-cadeau , @esmesisle , @anothergayinthelife , @wecouldbreakthedistance , @zozoleesi , @calm-and-doctor , i think that’s everyone?? so sorry if i missed you.

#spencer reid x reader #emily prentiss x reader #spencer reid fanfic #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #angst #spencer reid #emily prentiss #my fic #my god this took so long #i also referenced im3 twice in this i am a tony stan first and foremost lol

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pinkoptics · 3 years

Text

Cherik ‘Fallen Angel’ Fic

Part 2 (of Chapter 1)

Find Part 1 (of Chapter 1) here.

Charles is an angel. He loves Erik. He saves Erik. God takes issue with that. Hilarity and adorableness (with a smidge of angst) ensues. In this part, protective!Erik makes an appearance at the hospital.

“I don’t know what his last name is!” Erik growled at the nurse, just barely managing to hold back the ‘fucks’ he wanted to pepper the sentence with. “I wasn’t exactly trying to get all of his info while he was bleeding to death on me.”

Erik released them in his mind— Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She’s just doing her job. She’s just doing her job. Don’t strangle her with metal.

“I told you,” Erik gritted his teeth and repeated a variation of the same combination of sentences he had already uttered twice. “I was crossing the street. The car barrelled through the red light. He jumped in and saved my life. I tried to return the favour. His name is Charles. He’s cute. I promised to take him to dinner. That’s all I know and that’s as far as we got before he passed out.”

How was Charles? Was he okay?

It didn’t seem like he could be. It had looked like so much fucking blood. The utterly insane things the man had said (“You should know you’re beautiful. Before I leave this mortal realm, I want you to know that”). Those spectacularly bright blue eyes fading to a frightening dullness. Not that Erik knew anything about anything medical, but none of that had seemed promising. So, not only was this nurse annoying as all fuck, she was stonewalling him. They wouldn’t tell him a goddamned thing because he wasn’t Charles’ next of kin. No one, in fact, knew if he had any next of kin in New York because he didn’t have a wallet, ID or phone on him. This was why the nurse was presently grilling him for information he did. not. have. They hadn’t let him ride in the ambulance, so he’d taken a cab and prayed that the ambulance had made a hell of a lot better time than he had. The only reason they were talking to him at all was because he had been there, had a name, a first name, and that was it.

The swinging doors opened and a woman in scrubs emerged. Erik nearly lunged.

“Are you Erik?”

“Yes.”

“He’s asking for you. I don’t want to let you in at all, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to start anything beyond emergency treatment until he talks to you.”

Asking meant conscious. Living. Thank fuck. The relief was powerful and nearly knocked him on his ass. Later, when he wasn’t teeming with barely contained frustration, and desperately trying to ascertain just how okay Charles was or wasn’t, he might spare a moment to think about how unexpected it was to be so powerfully moved by a stranger (a cute stranger who’d saved his life, granted), but not now.

“How is he?”

“He lost some blood, will need stitches on his arm and he has a few fractured ribs, but he’s stable. He’s going to be fine. After he stops trying to get out of bed to talk to you, we might actually be able to treat those things with something other than bandages.”

If Erik had thought the first wave of relief was powerful, he was not prepared at all for the second.

She sighed deeply and gestured to the double doors from which she had emerged. “This way.”

He followed her a short way down the hall, nearly stepping on her heels each step of the way. She stopped so abruptly before they entered the room that Erik nearly ran straight into her back.

“I should warn you that he’s... well, you’ve both been through a trauma. The mind processes such things in all sorts of ways. If he doesn’t seem... ‘all there’ don’t be overly concerned. Play along, don’t distress him further.”

Charles certainly hadn’t been ‘all there’ at the scene of the accident. His bizarre last words kept spinning through Erik’s head at random intervals— you are so loved. On their own, they were strange enough, but the reverence of Charles’ tone had sunk the words into Erik’s bones like a telepath projecting the emotion behind what they were saying. He hadn’t heard the words, he’d felt the words. Even if Charles was a telepath, it didn’t make them make anymore sense. More forthcoming then... he nodded at the doctor.

“You’re here!” Charles beamed at him from his sitting position on the hospital bed, looking much happier than anyone had any right to be in his situation. “And, you look well. Are you well?”

Charles did too, relatively speaking. He was a little pale, a little bruised but nowhere close to as bad as Erik had expected. Though the car had clipped him as he’d tackled Erik out of the way, it seemed to have been a case of looking much worse than it was at the scene. Small miracles.

“I’m fine.” Fine enough, at any rate. Like Charles, he was understandably bruised, and it was probably going to hurt more in the morning, but his suit had taken the harder beating. Between contact with the pavement and Charles’ blood, there would be no saving it, not that that mattered in the slightest. “You’re the one who was bleeding out all over me. How are you?”

Erik was sitting at his bedside now, the doctor presumably hovering in the background for all Erik’s attention was on Charles. The man in question blinked, cocking his head slightly to the side and giving Erik’s question a more thorough consideration than Erik would have thought necessary.

“I really don’t know,” he finally answered. Charles stretched his injured arm out in front of him, now bandaged (if not stitched) and looked at it with a plainly perplexed expression. “I’ve never been hurt before you know. It’s curious... interesting, but I don’t at all recommend it.”

“You were hit by a car.” Erik couldn’t help but be amused. Perplexed Charles was endearing. “Not something that happens to a person every day.”

“Quite.” Charles conceded the point. He went from staring at his arm to deliberately poking his own rib cage, and subsequently wincing. “You’re all very fragile, you know. So much could kill you every single minute of your life and yet so many of you manage to survive until old age. How do you do it? I’ve only just arrived and I’ve already nearly died.”

He turned his focus from his ribs to Erik and genuinely looked as though he were waiting for a response. Erik opened his mouth and then closed it. Despite the doctor’s suggestion to ‘play along’ he didn’t have one. Erik decided to change course.

“The hospital needs your personal information— last name, address, insurance.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy enough. I don’t have a last name. Just Charles. Or an address for that matter. I feel it’s unlikely my former profession came with any benefits.” Charles suddenly laughed. “That’s not true. It absolutely had many benefits, but certainly not State Farm. Besides, I’m no longer working for Him.”

The emphasis on the last word was... odd. Was Erik supposed to know who he was?

“I was... goodness. I was fired I suppose. Fired. That means I’m—I’m unemployed. For the first time in a millennia, I’m... on the pogey!” He laughed a little harder, the edge of hysteria he’d had at the scene worming its way back in. “Wait, no, you don’t say that anymore, do you?”

Pogey?

“Oh you look so confused. I apologize. It’s a Canadian phrase come to think. Or it used to be, a century ago.”

Shit.

Had Charles hit his head? Was this some kind of bizarre amnesia? The doctor hadn’t mentioned either possibility but... Erik side-stepped again.“How about family? Is there someone I can call and let them know you’re here? Maybe they can provide your information?”

The shift in Charles’ expression and demeanour was so abrupt and dramatic that Erik’s gut clenched. The stunning blue eyes that had stared up at him with such naked concern and relief, took on an unmistakable sheen. The wetness made them impossibly bluer, an unnatural colour that was as striking as it was otherworldly. The tears did not fall, yet Erik somehow knew that Charles would cry beautifully if they did. Erik somehow also knew what the response was going to be before he uttered it.

“No. There is no one. Not anymore.”

Erik surprised himself by doing something he would normally never do, under any circumstance, even with someone he knew well, let alone someone he had just met. He reached out and took Charles’ hand, squeezing it gently. His was a pain Erik was all too familiar with.

“It’s all right. We’ll... we’ll figure this out. You’re Charles. You saved my life. You have me. That’s all we need to know right now. Don’t worry about the insurance or anything else.”

Charles stopped staring out into the middle-distance and focused on Erik. “Truly, you don’t owe me anything.”

Erik snorted. “The hell I don’t. Besides, we’ve got to get you healed up. I can’t take you to the diner in this state. We’ve got date, remember? So there you are. Here you think I’m indebted, but really my reasons are purely selfish. You’re hot and I want to date you. Humour me.”

The wetness retreated and that red mouth quirked up into a small smile.

“As long as you’re being self-centred.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.”

Somewhere behind them, someone cleared their throat. Erik turned. Oh, right, the doctor. “As much as I would love to watch the two of you keep flirting, we need to take care of those injuries.”

She was right, so Erik reluctantly stood and even more reluctantly released Charles’ hand.

“I’ll be back later, so stop trying to leave and let them take care of you, all right?”

Charles nodded. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

Erik forced himself to turn and exit the room. Only after he’d left it, did he truly exhale. Charles was okay. Charles was okay. Charles was flirting even... well, possibly. They were still on for that date. Erik took a few much needed breaths and strode more determinedly, and much less frantically, back toward the nurses’ desk. He would take care of this.

He would take care of Charles.

Thanks for reading 😊. I really hope inspiration continues to strike because I’ve had a lot of fun with this thus far.

On to chapter 2 part 1

#cherik #cherik fan fic #cherik fanfic #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #pinkoptics fic #fallen angel fic

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sarahjkl82-blog · 3 years

Text

Artistic Instinct Chapter 7

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 7,150 (being succinct is for wimps)

Warnings: Language, SMUT - this is your warning, no under 18s please.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

What the artist owes the world is his work, not a model for living.

Harry Crews

Chapter 7

Waking up comes to you slowly and languidly,as if the day was kind enough to filter softly into your eyes through a vaseline focussed lens, not unlike the ones shone onto Ingrid Bergman’s face and projected through Marcus’ iPad last night. Unlike your usual routine of falling out of bed and drifting with eyes still shut tight, in the direction of the kettle to make that all important cup of tea as your alarm sounds, you have instead woken as the first light of day paints the room in soft Degas pastels. Your sleep is normally quite fitful and filled with dreams that you wish didn’t cycle through your head for the rest of the day - but today feels different. Maybe it’s because your pillow is breathing.

Hang on, your pillow is breathing.

Shit, you fell asleep on Marcus.

How fucking professional, you absolute numpty!

Somehow during the night it was no longer just a case of you leaning into his shoulder but rather that your limbs had become confusingly entangled. From what you can work out, you must have both slid down the length of the sofa as whilst your head is still nestled on his shoulder, your forehead has now edged closer to the constellation of freckles on his neck. The steady percussion of his heart cradled within the gentle rise and fall of his chest is directly pressed against yours. Not crowding you despite the precariously narrow ledge you’re both huddled on, just fitting together like the most exquisitely cut puzzle.

For fuck’s sake, woman, what have you gotten yourself into this time?

You have one of the brightest minds in art history and are renowned for solving criminal activity but right now, you have zero idea as to how you will disentangle your limbs without both you and your boss showing willing.

But do you really want to?

There’s also a part of you that just wishes you could stay here- warm, safe and snuggled deeply in his chest. Jasper had always been so bony- all sharp edges and lean whereas Marcus offers a softer and more solid warmth as his body curls languidly around yours. His sleepy strokes and unconscious squeezes send little tingles throughout your body and whilst you’re utterly certain that nothing has happened other than the sheer exhaustion of two adults completely wiping out, you don’t feel ready to shatter the illusion of there being something more.

With the freest limb that’s slung over Marcus’ back, you try to wriggle some feeling into your fingers- psyching your body up to move. In an exchange of roles from the previous day, you stroke his cheek, tucking a curl of hair behind his ear before murmuring gently in his ear,

“Hey.”

Thick eyelashes start twitching before you notice an eye opening, darting around the room before coming in to focus upon your face, “Hey,” a shy grin slowly grows on his face, “I guess I didn’t get to put the comforter on you last night.”

“What?” In utter confusion, you push the back of your head into the cushion of the sofa so that you can angle your head to look more into Marcus’ face.

“I heard your breathing getting heavier last night n’ I thought of how you covered me the night before. Kept thinking I’d manage to do the same for you but you were so soft and warm, that I must’ve drifted off soon after,” his chuckling morning voice still painted with a sleepy rasp.

Giggling and grinning broadly at Marcus’ almost sweet gesture, you gently tease, “Well look, the quilt you nearly put on me, stayed on all night! Didn’t kick it off once.”

“Listen, thanks for not making this as awkward as it should be. No, no, no, I mean it,” Marcus emphasizes emphatically, his forehead wrinkling as his eyes implore you to believe him, “Not sure there are many people, who can wake up next to their new boss after less than 48 hours together and still crack jokes at their expense.”

Finally, working out a way to partially wriggle yourself free, you manage to push yourself into an almost seated position. A small groan and a flush runs through Marcus’ cheeks. And just before he flings his arm across his face to try to obscure his expression, you catch a look of embarrassment in his eyes.

In a low, gentle voice, you try to comfort him, “Come on, you have nothing to be embarrassed about- it’s a normal reaction. I’m going to shuffle across you, if that’s ok? I think it’s the only way we can get out of this tangle without both of us ending up on our arses on the floor.”

You take the small nod from Marcus as confirmation for the manoeuvre and start to crawl over him. Aiming to lift your hips up and away from the source of his embarrassment as possible, you end up overbalancing and tumbling to the floor in a heap of awkward limbs and laughter.

“Hey, you ok?” Marcus’ sleep creased face peers over the edge of the sofa down at you.

It’s now your turn for embarrassment to flush through your very being as you lie there staring at the ceiling rose and cornicing, “Ah I can’t ever pass up an opportunity to demonstrate just how clumsy I am,” you admit thickly through your eyelashes. Perhaps your limbs hadn’t been quite as ready as you’d hoped to carry your weight as you slowly shuffle yourself into a seated position on the deliciously deep pile rug that had cushioned your fall to the floor.

“Although, I may need to ensure that these rugs are kept around me at all times as at least there are no bruises this time. I swear my body is a map of mystery bruises,” you admit as you inspect the skin under your pyjama legs, pointing out inexplicable yellowing bruises.

“Well, Andy can look into that for you around the office,” Marcus says playing along with a wink, surreptitiously enjoying the little flashes you were revealing of your body, “Shame we’ve gotta leave today. I’m beat - but it’s been fun.”

“I’m not sure I’d have ever returned if it wasn’t for your insistence,” you admit, surprised at how the pain in your throat has already lessened to a mild dull ache.

“Guess we’d better get packed up and head off to the airport then.”

You observe Marcus’ bottom lip drop into a small pout, that delicious crease in the middle jutting out as if he was a petulant child rather than a man in his mid forties.

Oh how you’d love to suck...STOP IT! HE IS YOUR FUCKING BOSS, ANUSHKA MEERA LEAH PIERCE!

With an awkward wave and a quick turn of pace to hide the heat coursing through your face, you hightail it out of his room, stubbing your toe as you yank the door open far too viciously,

“SHIT ON IT!” You loudly curse, hearing the sofa creak as Marcus’ weight lifts from it. Not wanting to stick around for his latest sweet gesture when you don’t bloody deserve it, you painfully hop into the cool anonymity of the corridor to nurse your swollen toe.

Fucking smooth, Nush. REALLY fucking smooth.

✪✪✪✪✪

SLAM!

Marcus stands there, still slightly bleary eyed and dazed after experiencing some of the worst emotional whiplash he’s ever felt. How do you go from being genuinely sweet over feeling the morning glory of someone you barely know poking you in the belly to virtually running from the room and hurting yourself in the process to supposedly go pack your suitcase? Your words and actions seem so divergent- in total opposition to one another. Almost as if your brain and being are constantly at war with each other.

In one breath, you’ll tease him mercilessly, amaze him with the depth of your knowledge and the next you’ll shut off completely as if sharing even the time of day, would destroy you. You jump away from him as if it wasn’t the coffee that burns you but his touch and then, you lean into him, snoring sweetly with your face buried into his chest. He wants to shake you and scream WHAT DO YOU WANT in the same way that Ryan Gosling does in The Notebook, but life isn’t a romantic film. Something he’s never truly accepted.

Scrunching his eyes and scratching his head, rubbing the deep crevices that littered his brow, Marcus wonders what his next move will be. Should he run after you to check your foot? Wrap you in his arms and tell you that it will all be ok? Risk you running further from him? Unsure of whether your door would even open to him, Marcus sighs deeply before taking a few steps away from the sofa and tumbling face forward towards his as yet unslept upon bed.

Get it together, Pike.

How much of your constant pestering pushed Teresa away? It’s not a cute quirk, it’s fucking needy - and you need to stop before everyone runs from you.

Burying his face into the comforter, Marcus releases a deeply frustrated growl into its thick squishy noise-absorbing softness before using the springs of the bed to flip himself onto his back. Feeling his pulse throbbing a nervous beat in his neck, he shuts his eyes. All he can see is you. He can smell the tiniest imprints of your perfume and shampoo upon his t-shirt.

You’re fucking feral, Pike.

Feeling the blood rush to his groin as images of your face, bra strap and legs dance through his head, Marcus slides a hand under the waistband of his joggers to give himself a soothing stroke. He enjoys playing with himself as much as the next man- rubbing, stroking, cupping- but right now, all he can imagine is your hand being wrapped around it. Your hand gripping his cock - your skin so fucking soft - building up a rhythmic pleasure as you stare deep into his eyes.

Oh, fuck it.

With a quick arch of his hips, Marcus pulls down his pants in one smooth motion to allow himself full access to his dick. The immense pressure building and tightening as he works the shaft developing a pleasing rhythm whilst he is thinking of you. Filling in the gaps of the parts he hasn’t yet seen of you. How when you’d drifted off last night, he’d patted your hip and realised after feeling no ridge from where the elastic should have been that you had no panties on under your pyjama bottoms. The thought of your pillowy soft, warm, wet flesh so close to his fingers had made him grimace and groan last night when he couldn’t act upon it.

Now by himself, he gives into his basest wishes. Imagining licking, biting and stroking down your body, sucking on your nipples before lifting your hips to lower you onto his dick, sinking deeper and deeper inside you, feeling your warmth and wetness encase around him. Scraping his nails lightly across his balls, up the shaft and across the tip, he throws his head back as he thrusts harder into his fist. The first wave crashes over him pumping jet after jet of cum over his belly as his back arches up away from the soft mattress, his mouth crying out your name.

Dazed. Spent. Marcus lies there for a while, his hands and belly sticky from his release. Allowing the tiredness to wash back through him, his eyes close again- torturing his brain with images of you lying back with him. Being able to stroke your hair and press kisses into your sweetly almond scented skin. Hugging you tightly to him.

Never letting go.

Oh, you are utterly fucked, Pike.

✪✪✪✪✪

Lying upon your tummy, head resting on your arms, you rest upon your bed thinking over the events of the past two days. Burning yourself, burning others, coming back to France, panic attacks, confessions and oh, finding a piece of well faked art- nothing too taxing. The exhaustion is so exquisite as it courses through your veins. There is one thing you’ve tried to exclude from your list- the Voldemort of kindness- he who shall not be named.

Marcus Fucking Pike

When you’d seen his bank card, you’d noticed the F sitting between the M for Marcus and his surname of Pike. It had momentarily tickled you to think of what the F could stand for. You totally know that with his track record for openness, he’d have told you in a heartbeat but it was more fun to wonder. For now, it will stand for Fucking as from what he’d demonstrated of himself he can be really Fucking nice, a Fucking tease about your totally non-existent snoring and Fucking hot.

Stop it, Nush.

You’ve been there, seen that, done it and got the fucking t-shirt. You do not want to go down that road again.

Rolling yourself off the bed, landing with a little more grace than you had off the sofa previously, you set to grabbing everything- throwing it all into your rucksack haphazardly. You’d underpacked, not wanting to cart a wheelie suitcase with you, leaving you with fewer clothes than you actually needed for this trip. You don’t have a clean outfit for the office today. Shit. The dress, although pretty smart for work, wouldn’t be terribly comfy on the flight back and there are some small splatters decorating it from where your coffee shot out of your mouth from laughing hard. You’ll have to head home before travelling into the office today, meaning a later night to catch up with the work you’d not complete earlier. Cursing your inability to pack well and organise your life, you throw on your dress and hope that your cardigan covers the worst of the stains.

Dragging the Tangle Teezer through the motions of pretending to tame your mop before securing it in a high ponytail, you head towards the bathroom that is situated on the adjoining wall between Marcus’ and your bedroom. The old fashioned tap handle with its smooth enamel touches spins easily between your fingers with none of the guttering, spluttering and sudden gushes of cloudy water that yours does at home as you wet your toothbrush, ready to brush your morning breath away. Buzzing fills your bathroom as you set about starting your day, your eyes dancing around the room looking at the cool tiles, the elaborate cistern on the toilet- all very fitting of a Victorian era bathroom. Not your style in the slightest, but it suited the styling of the hotel well. You hated when buildings were stripped and gutted of their original features, fitted with cookie cutter IKEA furniture. Chairs should be a little creaky, floors uneven and tables a little rickety- no perfect lines. A bit like that gorgeous missing bit of beard from Marcus’ face- perfection in imperfection.

Stop it, woman.

Spitting the foamy bubbles into the porcelain of the sink, you turn on the tap to rinse it away. Spinning the handle to the off position, you grab the cleanser that Claire, your eldest brother’s wife, had convinced you to start using and to be honest, it certainly helped the hormonal breakouts when it was that time of the month.

Tearing the cotton pad packet open, you grab two of them, squeezing a blob between them, then squishing them together so that it makes a cleanser pad sandwich. It reminds you of those potions you used to make as a child out in the garden mixing any berries, leaves and soil, or in the bath where you used all your dad’s shaving foam and your mum’s stupidly expensive creams, oils and lotions, mixing wild concoctions that would stop your brothers from coming into your bedroom or your mum rolling her eyes at your grades.

Rubbing the cool ointment in soothing circles over your skin, a strange sound seems to come through the wall. From Marcus’ side. It’s muffled but did it sound like your name, or were you imagining it? Confusion creases your forehead- why wouldn’t he just call or text if he needed you, unless he’s hurt? Deciding that the only way to put your mind at rest is to ring and make sure that he’s ok, you scroll through the names on your phone until you hit Sir Agent Marcus Pike. Hitting facetime, you gaze around the room as you wait for him to pick up. A lopsided smile on a slightly flushed face arrives on your phone, “Hey! You ok?”

“Yeah, I was just ringing to check if you were- I thought I heard you say my name when I was in the bathroom,” you gently question, noticing Marcus’ face twitch awkwardly as his eyes widen, “I was just worried that you might be bleeding out in there. Can’t really have that happen twice or people will start to think it was me that did it!”

Covering his mouth, scratching his scruff with his fingers, Marcus tries to think quickly, “Urm, I was… just trying to um get packed up and I stubbed my toe. You probably heard a pained grunt- sorry,” Marcus shakes his head, flaming cheeks giving away his lie.

“Oh we’re a matching pair, now!” you giggle watching Marcus’ uncomfortable twitching and the way he keeps running his hand through his hair, not entirely convinced by his story but glad it isn’t anything more serious.

“Anyway,” you announce wanting to move the conversation along, “I’ve booked us a taxi to the airport- you’ve got about twenty minutes until it arrives.”

A genuine smile creeps across his face- his eyes creasing into half crescents, “Thanks Nush. Hadn’t actually considered how we’d get there. I promise I am capable of running this team.”

“No worries, Marcus. See you down in reception?” that delicious smile and a slight nod greets your question before a quick goodbye on both sides.

He bloody hadn’t stubbed his toe but what the fuck had he been doing? Eyes widening as a realisation crosses your mind.

He hadn’t, had he?

Giggling away to yourself at the very thought, you finish grabbing your things before flicking the switch on the kettle and opening those beautiful French doors so their gauzy curtains float like ribbons in the slight breeze. One more coffee on that glorious balcony before you head back to London. So that’s two major developments you have gained in regards to work- one faked picture and that Marcus Pike is a shit liar.

✪✪✪✪✪

The journey back to the UK had been pretty uneventful other than Marcus trying to take your bag from you whenever possible. A sweet gesture but entirely unnecessary when it is literally a rucksack with five light items inside and you are more than capable of carrying it unless he was secretly worried that you’d injure someone else by swinging around too quickly or something. In the end, it was just easier for him to hold it rather than bickering like an old married couple in the middle of Stansted airport.

“Just gimme it, Nush. You can concentrate on working out where on Earth I’ve parked my car- this is the info I’ve got from the email ticket,” Marcus pointedly says, passing you his phone screen.

“You don’t have to give me a lift. I have to go home first as I didn’t pack enough clothes to cover me for today too,” you own up, “You get yourself to work and I’ll meet you there in a couple of hours. I promise I’ll work late tonight to make up for it.”

Marcus shakes his head, “You hardly strike me as someone who does half a job. You’re in Blackheath too, aren’t you? To be honest, I could do with grabbing a few bits from home before going back into town, so it won’t be going out of my way.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take any more of your time than necessary- I know that I’m not the easiest person to be around and you’ve had to pretty much live with me for the past twenty-four hours,” you check noticing Marcus’ wince when you mention your difficult personality, “Ooof that bad huh?”

“You should stop talking about yourself in that way, Nush,” he gently soothes, lifting your chin with his thumb so that he can pick your eyes up from where they have fallen to the floor, “From what I’ve learnt about you in the past couple of days, you are an incredibly intelligent, occasionally clumsy but warm human. It has been a pleasure to have this opportunity to get to know you better and get to see the level of your skills so early on.”

Shifting uncomfortably in your coffee stained clothes, a smile crossing his face as he adds, “Can’t take a compliment can you? Ah well, that’ll have to be in your performance management plan- something for you to work on.”

“Ah hah! I’ve worked it out- your car is in the third bay, second row in Green Zone,” you triumphantly cackle.

“Lead the way, Nush. Let’s head home.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Roughly forty-five minutes later, you are kicking the base plate of your door to get the damp to release its powerful grip. Realistically, you had no need for a lock as the fluid retention of the wood would stop the most committed burglar in their tracks and unless you angled the kick just right, ah that’s it- home. You lean over the edge of the walkway to wave at Marcus, who is waiting below for a signal that you were in. He flashes his lights in acknowledgement of your gesture before smoothly reversing from where he has pulled in, watching his car disappearing from your estate, there is a tiny ache but you try to push it away as realistically, it is utterly ridiculous. You’re going to be seeing him in an hour for a lift into work.

After a scorching shower, a squirt of perfume and donning a pretty wrap dress with brightly coloured tights and your trusty cherry red Docs, you’re ready. Lying upon the sofa with your head upon a cushion, your knees bent and feet up on the arm rest, you flick through the various emails and messages that have slowly trickled in over the course of the morning. A sharp rap at the door, shakes you out of work mode.

“Hang on,” you yell through the door giving it the special shake and wiggle before muttering a prayer to the door gods to open first time, “Sorry, it’s the damn damp!”

A very smart, besuited, booted and bespectacled Marcus has a look of total alarm, “I’d say to get that checked but I’m guessing you already have?”

“Oh multiple times of pestering my landlord- apparently it’s on a list. Has been for at least three years,” you answer irritatedly, “Anyway, it’s my best security feature- no one can get in or out.”

“I didn’t realise you wore glasses. They look good on you,” you admire the black frames enjoying the flush being brought to Marcus’ cheeks before teasingly adding, “Ohhh, now who can’t take a compliment!”

“Get down your ass down those stairs, Ms Pierce, I’m pulling rank,” Marcus winks, lopsidedly grinning at you, “We have to at least pretend to do some work today.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Marcus opens the door to the office for you- ever grateful to his wonderful manners, you slide into the office first and inwardly groan at the pile of files that have seemingly made themselves at home on your desk.

“Oh there’s my girl!” Andy’s arms wrap themselves around your shoulders, encasing you in a bone crushing hug, “Missed your face yesterday but I’m guessing you’ve had no time to think of us poor souls slaving away here whilst you’ve been gallivanting across the French countryside? How was the hotel room? Enjoy the view?”

Feeling a little ambushed by your friend’s questioning, you blink hard to steady your thoughts of the glorious view you awoke to this morning, “Yeah, it was lovely!”

And warm. And soft. Snored quite sweetly too.

“I know what a mardy bum you can be if you don’t have something nice to look at when you wake up,” Andy adds with a gentle shrug. He then turns his attention to Marcus, who’s shifting uncomfortably behind you, “Welcome back, Sir. Good to have you back here.”

“Thanks Andy. Um, I’m going to get set up,” Marcus says as he steps out around from behind you, placing a hand on the small of your back. The warmth exists there for a moment before he’s already passed your desk and opened the glass door to his office.

“Coffee’s already waiting for you on your desk,” Marcus swings back to look utterly amazed at his PA, so Andy qualifies this, “I get reception to let me know when all of you arrive so that you can focus on the important things.”

“By the way, Nush and Marcus, before you get swallowed by case files,” Andy addresses you both as you lower yourself onto your chair, “we’re all heading to the Model Market on Friday to find some food and drink before drunkenly throwing some moves to my cousin who’ll be behind the decks. It’s only Wednesday and it already feels like a week!”

Dian sneaks over to your desk with a pastel de nata, “I heard these are your favourites so here’s something sweet to start off your day right.”

Your lip trembles and tears start to form as she passes you this sweet treat, “Thank you. They are my favourites. You are a truly lovely human, Dian.” You reach across the table and squeeze her hand.

“Oh I’m alright, I guess,” she winks one of her anthracite eyes at you, beaming widely, “I am just looking forward to finally spending some time with you in a context that doesn’t involve work. It’s so hard leaving a place that you’ve got your people who you vibe with and then you upend yourself to live somewhere new, where you’re totally on your own and have a job where you work odd hours!”

A sudden hit of guilt pumps through your veins, “I am so sorry, Dian, I hadn’t thought of that. I am so lucky to be from the same city that I now work in- I should have taken you to Borough. I will, and I promise I will show you all the little nooks you won’t have seen around there.”

“I was very jealous of Marcus stealing you away. Ridiculous when it was just for a day but I’d really like to get to know you. I feel like we could be friends,” Dian squeezes back, “Harper has family and friends here already, and I swear I overheard Kiri talking about a rugby team he has joined and meeting up with some mates from uni.”

“Yup- that’s probably true- plenty of Aussies and Kiwis in London but sadly not so many Canadians! Right, we’ll do this old school- come over to mine at seven on Friday, I’ll put some wine in the fridge and we can pretend we’re teenagers getting ready for a night on the town,” you quickly scrawl your address on a piece of paper, pushing it across the table towards Dian.

The smile on Dian’s face is the prettiest thing you've seen for a while. It seems to extend from her eyes to the very depths of her soul. Her reaching out to you makes you think of Marcus. Perhaps he could do with a friend here too- maybe another pizza and classic film night? Even though it had only been two nights, you feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of him not being there with you this evening. Ridiculous. Get a grip before you risk curling up on a sofa with him again.

As Dian returns to her desk, you are faced with the mountain of paperwork from yesterday’s adventure. Shutting your eyes to try and focus your brain, you try to figure out where to start- the report? Logging the video feed? Filing the pictures? Writing up the notes from the meeting?

“Already napping on the job?”

You open one eye to be met with Marcus’ amused face.

With a slight shake of your head, you dismiss his teasing inquiry, “Trying to figure out where to start. I’m not sure quite how we managed to achieve so much in a day but it allllll nowwwww neeeeeeds to be loggggggged, bleurgh!”

“Let’s start at the very beginning,” Marcus says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“A very good place to start,” you sing along, channeling your best Julie Andrews, highly amused by Marcus’ reference, “Actually- as my brain’s not quite in work mode yet, I should ask you before I forget. I was thinking- do you fancy making the pizzas and classic film night a thing? While London is always full of people, it’s easy to feel quite lonely until you find your group of friends.”

A genuine smile slowly crawls across Marcus’ face as he drinks in your offer, “I mean, it's just a thought. Of course you don’t have to and I’m not sure that my old sofa is anywhere near as comfy as the one in Lyon…”

“I’d love to,” Marcus grins at the fluster in your voice, was he happy to spend more time with you? “Let’s get something in place…”

“Nush- sorry to interrupt, Marcus- I have a highly animated woman called Élodie on the phone asking for you. Can I put her through?” Andy asks, “Seems like she has the lab results back for the possible Soutine.”

Lifting the receiver for your phone whilst whispering to Marcus that you’d catch him later, you lean into the backrest and spin yourself comfortingly from side to side, « Coucou chérie, ça va? Vérifie si mon numéro de téléphone fonctionne? » Hi my love! How are you? Already checking if my telephone number works?

«Coucou mon chouchou! Bien sûr- tu ne peux pas me quitter encore! Il a été complètement falsifié. Sur la toile, sous la peinture, se trouve une autre image qui me rappelle quelque chose qui a été peint par un ado troublé! » Hey my love! Of course- you can’t leave me again! It was completely faked. On the canvas under the paint, another image was found that reminds me of something a troubled teenager would paint! The words tumbling hurriedly from Élodie’s mouth into her phone.

You giggle remembering the angst-ridden art and poetry you’d created as a mopey teenager and are filled with amusement that someone might improve them by putting faked masterpieces on top.

« D’accord! Donc la radiologie l’a prouvé - mais qu’en est il des échantillons de peinture? Une joie avec ceux-ci? » Ok! So the X-ray proved it but what about the paint samples? Any joy there? Now spinning on your chair as far the cord would allow you, your mind wonders how on Earth it could ever have ever been thought to be real.

« Tous les échantillons montrent des peintures modernes telles que la phtalocyanine bleue et verte. Les résultats de la datation au carbone sont attendus plus tard dans la soirée, mais j'avais hâte de t’appeler! Je t’enverrai les résultats par e-mail dès qu'ils apparaissent» All of the samples show modern paints such as phthalocyanine blue and green. The carbon dating results are due later this evening but I couldn't wait to ring you. I’ll email you the results as soon as they appear. Élodie continues, « Comment s'est passé votre dernière nuit et le voyage de retour avec votre magnifique patron? » How did the last night and journey home go with that lovely boss of yours?

« Je raccroche le téléphone maintenant, femme ridicule, » I am hanging up the phone now, you ridiculous woman. You reproach your friend playfully.

Hanging up, after sending hugs and kisses to Jacques too, you see that your computer has now decided that no more updates need to be made. Perhaps it’s time to get started on that report…

When you read you begin with ay bee cee…

✪✪✪✪✪

The flurry of activity continues to hover around your desk and slowly your colleagues peter out in search of lives lived outside of the office space. In fact, you don’t notice the ageing of the day until Marcus goes to leave the office, “Hey, are you planning to sleep here tonight?”

“Had more sleep last night than I usually do so I am riding this high until I drop,” you snort without removing your eyes from your screen as you furiously type away, “You off home?”

“Gym first- gotta burn off the pancakes I’m going to have for breakfast tomorrow,” Marcus says as he fiddles with the strap on his laptop bag.

“That’s not the way that food intake and exercise should work. Food is for nourishing your body and exercise is for making it strong. Don’t get sucked in by that bullshit, Marcus,” you wag your finger at your boss, still hammering the keyboard with your other hand, “You have nothing to worry about, the way you look.”

You finally look up to see Marcus shyly smile, rocking from heel to toe in his highly polished brogues, his eyes on the toe of his shoes. Drawing a deep breath, he looks back up at you, nodding towards the report on your screen, “D’ya think you’ll be able to present that to the team tomorrow?”

“Yeah, just had the results from the carbon dating come through so I should be ready to speak to everyone tomorrow morning at the briefing, if that works for you?” You answer just as tiredness starts to take a grip on your body.

“Perfect. Can I offer you a lift home or are you staying a bit longer?”

“Staying,” you confirm, glueing your eyes back to the screen.

“Well, goodnight Nush,” Marcus wishes you warmly, as he makes to walk away from your desk.

“G’night Marcus. Try to sleep in a bed tonight.”

A throaty chuckle fills the cool office air before disappearing as the door shuts behind him. Bathed in the blue light of your screen, you try to jog your memory of which point you were about to make in your report but sit there utterly stumped due to the distraction.

Marcus Fucking Pike.

✪✪✪✪✪

“So what’s the big deal about this colour exactly?” Harper cuts directly to the chase, “Explain it like I’m five because as you are well aware, this is not my area of expertise.”

You always wonder how far back people need to know of a colour’s history to explain it well enough. Do you take it back to cave paintings or perhaps start in the Renaissance? Perhaps somewhere between the two?

“There was a blue that was known as the colour of the heavens. It’s called ultramarine and is created by crushing lapis lazuli. Now, lapis is only found in one country- Afghanistan, but it’s been used since antiquity to create this beautifully, insanely intense blue. The blue that you see in Tutankhamen’s mask, that’s lapis. Having been used by the Ancient Egyptian and Babylonian empires, lapis then fell out of favour as the Romans associated it with the woad used by Barbarian hordes.”

Tapping his pen on the table, Kiritopa nods in agreement,”Like Braveheart?”

“That’s a wee bit later in European history but a similar idea. Think more Boudicca- the Iceni tribes uprising against the marauding Romans,” Dian points out kindly before nodding encouragingly at you to continue.

“The use of ultramarine then slowly diffused through Europe thanks to the Crusades in the 13th and 14th century but even then, it was still an incredibly precious commodity and solely available to the richest of the rich. That’s why you only ever see it in pictures of the Virgin Mary, emperors, popes and other dignitaries. When a patron requested Ultramarine to be used, the contract would have to be super tight specifying exactly where it would be used and how much.”

“So over the years, scientists have attempted to replicate this paint to create a substance that’s more commercially available but when we try to make paints, we’re dealing with chemistry. When manufacturing paint, you’ve got to make sure that it’s a stable, preferably non-toxic product because well, we all know what happened to the Radium Girls.”

“It took until the first half of the twentieth century for the scientific community to create CuPc. I think it was 1927 when they first created a reaction between copper, cyanide and 0-dibromobenzene, finding that one of the byproducts was an intensely blue powder. This blue powder ended up being first manufactured in 1935 but it still wasn’t readily available until the sixties because Yves Klein tried in the fifties to create the blue used by Giotto and still didn’t manage to produce anything nearly as stable or non-toxic.”

“How does this all link up to this forgery in France?” Harper questions bluntly, clearly desperate for you to get to the point.

Blinking hard, you take a moment to steady yourself as Marcus’ eyes flit between you and the Australian agent.

“Kind of wishing that I’d asked you to explain it like I’m twenty five, might have reached the point by Christmas,” she mutters under her breath.

“Stop packing a sad, Harper. Nush has heaps of skills in this area,” Kiritopa shoots a glare in the Australian’s direction, “Keep going Nush.”

You go to open your mouth but Harper just can’t help herself, “There’s a skill in being succinct.”

“There’s also a skill in not being rude but you’re not managing that are you?” The look on Kiritopa’s face announcing that he is pretty much ready to kill.

“Whoa - guys…” Marcus chooses now to join in?

“Look,” you acquiesce- your heart racing in your throat, raising your hands to try and calm the situation, “Harper’s right, I’m blathering. I should have gotten to the point far sooner. The crux of the situation is that the paint found on the canvas in Grenoble dates from the sixties whereas the artist died in the forties.”

“All of the evidence points to it being a fake- carbon dating, x-rays- the lot. This was an easy find but I think we should be prepared for harder to spot ones,” after throwing paper copies of the lab results in the centre of the table for everyone to grab, you sit back in your chair. Your posture screams for everyone to leave you alone, burying your face in the agenda. Multiple sets of eyes look upon you but you refuse to meet them, feeling furiously obstinate and wholly uncommunicative in the moment.

As the meeting grinds to a close, you finally lift your eyes to find that Marcus’ regard has barely left you- only looking away when you catch him. Urgh, he’s going to be nice about this too. But it isn’t Marcus, who reaches out to you. It’s Kiritopa. Kiritopa, who wordlessly reaches his bear-like arm across the table and squeezes your hand before getting up and leaving the room. The gesture fills you with a grateful warmth and you decide to scarper from the meeting room before Marcus says something and makes you cry.

Time to put on my big girl knickers and get back to work.

✪✪✪✪✪

Friday passes in a blur of calls about a new possible forgery meaning that you can only pull silly faces at Dian from across the room. Kiritopa seems hugely excited by the prospect of a night out, chattering about how he’s invited some of the guys from his rugby team to meet up with him there later. Harper is her usual distant self, head down, beavering away- not really paying much attention to anyone or anything around her.

Where’s Marcus?

You throw a scrunched ball of paper at the PA’s head to get his attention, but entirely miss him, “Andy is Marcus not coming in today?”

Picking up the paper and without even looking up, he throws it back, hitting you square in the forehead, “Car trouble. Any issues, message him.”

Eventually, you hear his confident gait walk into the room. Looking up, you send him a smile which soon fades when you see what a mess he’s in. Hair sticking up all over the place from a stressed hand constantly running through it, a slight gleam of sweat across his skin and an oily mark on one cheek, shirt untucked, jacket draped over one arm, tie askance and lowered due to the top two buttons of his shirt being undone. All of him, in fact, looks undone and defeated.

Without thinking, you jump up from your seat, walk over to him and hug him tightly. With this action the other agents look up and see the state their boss is in. Marcus, whilst initially surprised by your gesture, leans into the hug and lowly whispers, “Thanks. I needed that,” before giving you a tight squeeze, releasing you and slowly trudging towards his office.

“Shit start to a Friday, Sir,” Kiritopa offers, “I’ll get the first round in tonight- you look like you could do with a beer.”

“Fuck, yes, I need a beer but as your boss, that’s my job,” Marcus forcefully asserts, “You can get the second round in.”

You make to slink off back to your desk but Marcus catches your hand, rubbing the skin lightly with his thumb, “You ok?”

“Yeah- just wanted to check on you. You look a fucking state,” you declare through an amused grin.

Marcus chuckles at your observation. “Not the best start to a day,” he grimaces, “I miss anything major this morning?”

“Not apart from the boss arriving at midday looking like he pushed his car all the way here,” you gently tease, “You know we have something called public transport in London- you should try it some time!”

“Yeah, I’ll have Andy look into that for me,” Marcus nods in mock-contemplation, “Hey, um, are you coming out tonight? With everyone, I mean?”

“Uh huh,” you concede reluctantly, “I’m not really a fan of nights out with colleagues but I think we could all do with a glass of something and some good street food in our tummies. What time are you getting there?”

Marcus scrunches up his nose, “Around seven but you know this job- it might be then or some time in September!”

Giving you a wink as he buttons up his collar and straightens his tie, Marcus turns towards his office and you head back to your desk- both with a renewed wish to get finished up and out of the office tonight.

Taglist: @astroboots @silverwolf319 @yespolkadotkitty @agirllovespancakes @danniburgh @lunaserenade @leonieb @tardisfangurl @mouthymandalorian @disgruntledspacedad @zukoyonce @pedropascalito @absurdthirst @mrsparknuts @sirowsky @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @green-socks @lv7867

#pedro pascal #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal#ppascaledit #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #the mentalist fanfiction #marcus pike x oc

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

alex WILL kick my arse // supergirl

summary: you learn that being supergirl's doctor came with its challenges

warning/s: none.

author's note: i’m lowkey posting a bunch of stuff that i posted on my wattpad a while ago lol

masterlist | wattpad

I was sat in the medical unit of the DEO, reading through some medical reports from the past few months. I had just transferred from the DEO's desert facility, where I was one of the doctors there to help with any of the agents' injuries. After a long time there, I decided to transfer here when there was an opening for the lead doctor.

I thought it would be best to settle in by having a look at what severe cases had been dealt with recently. It was usually the same stuff – agents injured on field missions. Bullet wounds, broken bones, sprained muscles, thankfully nothing too severe. There hadn't been many major alien attacks which meant less risky field operations.

I was pulled from the reports when the red alarm light began to flash for a few seconds, accompanied by a siren, before turning off.

"Agent Y/L/N, Supergirl is incoming with J'onn," my radio went off – it was Director Danvers. "She's had a solar flare and got a gunshot wound."

I recalled what a solar flare was from research I'd done in Supergirl's medical records. That was something I prioritised when coming here, since we didn't have Supergirl at the other facility.

"I'm prepping a bed and equipment now," I replied through the radio, before hurrying to do that. J'onn could literally fly, he'd be here any minute.

With the help of some nurses who were around, I prepped a bed and had the solar energy panels on standby for when/if her powers came back sooner than we thought. I had the tools ready to bandage up her gunshot wound temporarily when both heroes appeared beside me.

J'onn was stood there, holding Supergirl bridal style and lowering her onto the bed.

"Still getting used to that," I mumbled, surprised at how he just sped in here.

"I said I'm– agh, I'm fine," Supergirl complained, clutching her bloody wound and trying to sit up. "My powers will come back."

I stepped by her bedside and pushed her back down gently, moving closer to inspect her wound. "Please stay still for a second."

"Listen to the doctor," J'onn teased to lighten the mood.

Supergirl rolled her eyes and stayed still. I removed her hand and noticed it was covered in blood.

"Can somebody come clean this up?" I called out to one of the nurses, motioning to her hand.

One of the nurses did as I asked as I took a look at her wound. The bullet was still in there by the looks of it.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to overwork yourself?!" Director Danvers' voice called out as she walked in.

She was glaring at Supergirl, though the worry in her eyes was evident as she took in the hero's appearance.

"It's barely a scratch, Alex, it'll heal," Supergirl said dismissively, but as I cleaned up the blood with a cloth, I saw her clench her jaw a little.

"You need to be careful, you're not indestructible," Alex reminded her, before looking to J'onn. "Can you believe her?"

J'onn chuckled. "I'll leave you both to it. I should get back." He glanced at me. "Good luck."

I nodded his way, offering a small smile as he walked away.

"As fun as it is watching you both glare at each other, I do need to remove the bullet," I spoke up, interrupting both girls' staring contest.

"Go for it," Supergirl said, her eyes meeting mine.

"With anaesthetic," Alex added, shooting another glare towards the blonde.

"I don't need anaesthetic," Supergirl countered with an eye-roll and scoff.

"You're human for the time being, remember?" Alex reminded her before looking to me. "Anaesthetic, please."

I bit my lower lip as they erupted into another argument about how I should proceed. I didn't know either of them well enough to cut in, so I stood there awkwardly, trying to stop the blood loss and planning out how I could temporarily bandage her up so it could heal itself when she gets her powers back.

"I have to go," Alex finally said, pulling me back into reality. "I have to check on the bank robbery." She didn't seem too happy leaving Supergirl here, but she gave her a knowing look before looking to me. "Please make sure she stays put?"

"You got it, Director," I said with a playful salute. How hard could it be to keep her here?

Alex gave Supergirl one last warning look before leaving us be. I looked to the blonde who was finally breathing out, letting her guard down a little now that it was just us.

"The anaesthetic will make it bearable, just so I can remove the bullet," I spoke, causing her to open her eyes and look at me. "I'm just gonna bandage you up temporarily and you'll heal yourself when you get your powers back. Shouldn't be more than a few days, according to your medical history."

She swallowed hard before shaking her head. "I've been through much worse. It's okay. Just remove it and bandage me up. The sooner I'm out of here, the better."

I was ready to argue, but she gave me a convincing look and I couldn't help but give in.

"Fine, but you stay here and rest," I reasoned, to which she gave me a small, cute smile.

I got to work and surprisingly, she managed. It went well and I managed to bandage her up quite quickly, though it did mean I had to cut into her suit a little. Better safe than sorry though.

"Okay, you're all done," I said, patting her arm supportively, before packing away the gauze. "I'm gonna go get you some water and then you should take it easy, stay here maybe until you get your powers back. That alright?"

She gave me a thumbs up and a promising smile. "You got it, doc."

I was fairly confident that she would listen to me, since she seemed polite and was a trooper throughout the whole thing. However, I soon realised how naive I had been when I returned and her bed was empty.

I facepalmed and shook my head, realising she'd definitely played along the whole time.

The first thing I did was look around the DEO, asking around if anyone had seen Supergirl. I eventually followed the commotion coming from the main hall and spotted both Supergirl and Director Danvers having an argument.

"...stay and rest! You can't keep ignoring simple instructions, Kara!" Alex shouted around her.

Supergirl rolled her eyes and continued to look at the tablet in her hand. I approached the two and cleared my throat loudly to get the blonde's attention.

When she noticed me, she gave me a sheepish smile. "Doctor Y/L/N. Heeeeeeey."

"One job, literally," Alex mumbled, giving me a knowing look, before storming off.

I breathed out and glared at Supergirl. "Are you serious? I asked you to stay put!"

She straightened up and spread her arms out for emphasis. "But I'm fine! See? Nothing hurts, I'm walking, it's all good! Job well done, I must say. You're new, right? Well, I know why you got the job!"

She avoided my glare as she walked around me to get to the other side of the desk.

"You've heard of the term 'first impressions count', haven't you?" I asked her, raising an eyebrow.

She gave me a knowing look. "C'mon. You can't hate me for this."

I sighed. "I've got work to do. Call me if you tear your stitches."

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I turned around and began to leave.

"I'm not gonna tear them!" I heard her call out from behind me, but I didn't care. I wasn't her parent, she could do what she wanted.

I wish I'd known I was dealing with a stubborn Super before accepting this job though.

–

"What a surprise," I said sarcastically.

A few hours later, I'd been called into one of the medical rooms because apparently, Supergirl had collapsed from blood loss and tore her stitches. Shocker.

"Is she going to be okay?" Alex asked as I got to work for the second time that day.

"Yeah, if she decides to listen to me this time," I said, sighing. "Is she always this stubborn?"

Alex clenched her jaw. "Unfortunately, yes... you think you can keep her here next time?"

"I'll give it my best shot," I promised her. "I'll call you when she's up?"

Alex nodded, patting me on the shoulder. "Thanks."

She left me to do my thing and this time I did things my way, the right way, with anaesthetic and IV fluid. I managed to sort out Supergirl's mess before going back to my office to fill out some more paperwork.

Some time passed when I found myself going back to check on Supergirl and see if she was awake. I was cleaning up a little around her side table when I heard her stir awake. She seemed confused at first, as she looked around and saw the tube coming from her arm. Eventually, realisation set in and she sank into her pillow.

I decided to stay quiet as I finished up, about to leave, but she stopped me.

"Wait," she called out. I paused as she continued, "I'm sorry."

I turned around and waited, watching as, unlike before, she wasn't joking or being unserious.

"I should have stayed put before. And listened to you. I didn't mean to offend you or come across as rude," she continued genuinely.

I crossed my arms and straightened up. "Well, Supergirl–"

"Kara," she interrupted. "It's Kara."

I nodded. "Okay, Kara. Yes, you probably should have listened. I redid your stitches and I'm asking you to stay put again. You're human for now and you need to act like one."

"You're right," she agreed, breathing out. "Sorry."

I realised that she seemed to mean it and at the end of the day, I was her doctor, so I couldn't hold a grudge. Instead, I went to her bedside and checked her monitors to see how she was doing.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, glancing at her.

"Tired. Achey. But better than before."

"That'll be the meds kicking in," I said, giving her a reassuring smile. "I did have to get in there twice."

Her cheeks went pink as she smiled with embarrassment. "I'm not used to being so..."

"Fragile?" I finished for her.

"Exactly," she said, nodding. "I'm not used to it and staying put isn't exactly my forte."

"I could tell," I joked, making her laugh a little. She had a nice laugh.

"About that first impressions thing..." she began, blue eyes holding mine nervously.

"It's nice to meet you for the first time, Kara," I said, holding out my hand. "I'm Y/N. Your doctor."

She cracked a smile, realising what I was doing. She shook my hand and said, "Nice to meet you, too, Y/N."

"Okay, I should go and get Alex," I said, backing up to leave. "Now please don't leave because Alex will kick my arse if you're not here when she comes back."

She laughed again. "I promise I'll be here when you return."

"Fingers crossed you're not playing me again," I mumbled loud enough for her to hear.

Her laughter seemed to follow me out the room, leaving me smiling to myself.

#supergirl imagine #supergirl x reader #kara danvers x you #kara danvers imagines #kara danvers imagine #kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #melissa benoist

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surrealsunday · 3 years

Text

A NYE Mood Tattoo Not-So-Snippet...

NOTES: This is Explicit. Hear that? EXPLICIT. You’ve been warned.

Sorry this is a little late, friends (or a little late for Canadians, VERY late for Europeans). It was supposed to be a snippet. But I think I blacked out and now it’s over 11k. So... er... Happy New Year 😂!!! Hope you enjoy.

* * * *

Eliott turns the corner in the hospital to a not unfamiliar sight, but a welcome one all the same. Idriss and Daphne stand facing one another. Daphne has her hands on her hips, the look on her face so fierce she might look intimidating if not for what she had called her ‘New Years Eve scrubs’, pink decorated with splashes of colour like fireworks. Even in profile, Eliott can read the amusement mixed with what is likely genuine irritation, written across Idriss’s face.

And then there’s Lucas.

He stands to the side and between then, with an expression of such exasperation, Eliott can’t help the way his own face immediately breaks into a smile at the sight.

He stops before reaching the trio, leaning his shoulder against the wall as he watches. None of them have noticed him, too caught in their current squabble.

“I wasn’t the one who administered it, goldilocks,” Idriss says through gritted teeth. “I wasn’t even on shift.”

“But you followed up, muscles,” she argues. “You should have seen the error.”

“Oh right,” Idriss scoffs. “With all our free time.”

“It doesn’t require free time! It’s our job!”

“Jesus Christ, shut up!” Lucas interrupts, a hand moving to press against his forehead, before he rakes it back through his hair, his frustration clear. He seems to think better of his tone, however, when both Daphne and Idriss direct their ire his direction. “I’m just saying, I don’t care.” His voice has softened infinitesimally but it has maintained its hardened authority. “Fix it. I’ll talk to Dr. Faure. And you two better back me up after I do.”

Idriss and Daphne both cross their arms against their chests as they nod in perfect synchronicity, looking a lot like children on the received end of a scolding, who desperately want to talk back, but realize the consequences of doing so are not worth the impulse. Eliott very nearly laughs, biting his lip around his smile as he watches the scene unfold.

It still amazes him the way Lucas can look like he’s towering over others, even when – in Idriss’s case at least – they should be the one’s doing the towering. But there’s something so powerful about the way Lucas stands, the way he speaks, and the no-nonsense way he demands everyone else keep up because he won’t be waiting on him. There’s no question Idriss and Daphne feel the same, though Eliott doubts their reactions involve a sudden and desperate desire to pull Lucas into the nearest on-call room.

“What?” Lucas asks with eyebrows raised when Idriss and Daphne continue to stand staring at him. “You waiting to be dismissed? Go.”

Daphne huffs, and with an impressive flip of her ponytail, stomps off. Idriss pauses before he takes his own leave.

“You’re a prick,” he says. Despite his words there’s a small smile on his face when he looks at Lucas. Eliott knows that feeling – loving Lucas for his prick-ish ways as much as they piss you off. “But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for the screw-up.”

Lucas nods. “It’s not your fault anymore than it’s mine. But we’re the one’s picking up the pieces so… just sort it, alright?” Lucas doesn’t look particularly forgiving, but his words are measured and more agreeable than Eliott would have expected, if a little exhausted. But then… it’s been a very long week.

Working straight through Christmas to the eve of the New Year has taken its toll and Eliott knows just how much of himself Lucas gives every shift. Eliott is no different, of course, but Lucas’s approach to work takes an emotional level of control Eliott will never quite understand, nor master. Something Eliott has come to realize since being with Lucas, is that the restraint Lucas uses while at work – adopting a professional veil that allows for little emotional expression outside of when he’s with the kids in the cancer ward – emotionally and physically exhausts him in a way Eliott hasn’t experienced – not like that. But despite Eliott’s protests that Lucas let himself go – relax on occasion – his boyfriend is nothing if not stubborn.

It’s alright though. It just means Eliott gets the most excellent pleasure of helping him relax, within hospital walls and outside of them. Of course, Eliott takes this honour quite seriously, and is happy to do so at every possible opportunity.

Though… Eliott considers the past week with a frown… there hasn’t been a lot of relaxing as of late. Exhaustion has won out even over everything else, including Eliott and Lucas’s fairly insatiable appetites for one another. The most they’ve managed over the past week is to wrap arms around one another as they’ve collapsed into bed together. It’s been nice. Certainly nothing Eliott would complain about. But the prospect of having the next two days off has his blood singing with the possibility of more.

Eliott lets his gaze glide across Lucas’s profile as his boyfriend turns with Idriss, saying a few more words and watching their friend disappear down the hall. His eyes catch on the side of Lucas’s neck where it meets his shoulder and a tendon strains against skin. Eliott wants to press his lips there, sink his teeth in and suck until the skin blooms with a bruise. Lucas will complain, tell Eliott he’s an asshole and leaving marks is ‘so highschool’. But then Eliott will catch him in the bathroom, staring at his own reflection as he presses two fingers down on the bruise and shivers.

Fuck.

Eliott wants him.

Lucas turns back towards the nurse’s station, depositing the paperwork he holds onto the surface and leaning over to leave a note. The line of his jaw is sharp. He’s clearly still irritated, his authoritative mask still in place. It slips the moment he turns, and his eyes finally catch Eliott’s. His formally hardened expression softens instantly, and he smiles. Eliott’s smile mirrors Lucas’s own and he presses off of the wall and approaches as Lucas does the same.

“So, you just stood there and watched as I dealt with those two?” Lucas says the moment they stop in front of one another. He’s cocked an eyebrow, but paired with the sweet smile on his face, the effect only makes him look like the sort of adorable troublemaker you want to smother in kisses… or, maybe that’s just Eliott.

Eliott raises an eyebrow to match Lucas’s in challenge. “You’d rather I’d have stepped in to rescue you?” Lucas snorts but doesn’t answer, both of them knowing Eliott’s idea of a rescue would be anything but. “Besides,” he adds, letting his eyes drag down Lucas’s body before they travel back up again to meet his eyes. “I like watching you.” Eliott knows he’s not imagining the way Lucas’s cheeks have taken on a sudden, rosy tinge.

Lucas’s eyes skitter away as he scoffs. “Perv.”

Eliott laughs. “Hey, I meant that in a purely innocent way. Just appreciating how hot and in-charge you are. In a strictly professional sense of course.”

“Mmhmm,” Lucas hums as he looks back to him, clearly not believing a word Eliott says. “What are you still doing here, anyways? Thought you were gonna go home to check on Daisy before dinner.”

Eliott nods, glancing towards the clock hanging above the nurse’s station. Shift should have ended almost an hour ago.

“Got caught up,” he admits, looking back to Lucas. “You too?”

Lucas nods. “Bit of a screw-up. Gotta go find Faure. You go home and check on Daisy. We can meet at dinner.”

Eliott eyes him suspiciously. “What about your clothes?” On a normal day, Lucas could get away with casual wear for a dinner with friends, but a New Years Eve celebration demands a different level of formality.

“Brought ‘em with me,” Lucas says with a shrug. “I’ll get ready here.”

Eliott takes in Lucas’s overly casual disposition. “This isn’t some elaborate plan to be late to dinner, is it?”

Lucas rolls his eyes and Eliott can hear the sarcasm in his voice before he even speaks. “Why would I ever want to be late to dinner with your ex?”

Eliott sighs, smiling despite himself as he reaches to pull Lucas closer by the front of his scrubs – a move Lucas allows likely only because the surrounding hallways appear to be deserted. “Anna was never my girlfriend,” he says unnecessarily. Lucas knows this so course. “And it’s not like it’s just dinner with her. Yann will be there,” he reminds Lucas, though it once again feels a bit unnecessary – not like they haven’t already discussed this dinner at painful length. “Idriss and Manon too.”

Lucas doesn’t look comforted by this at all, though Eliott didn’t expect him to. “Idriss won’t even get there until later.” A result of Idriss working a longer and less convenient shift than them. “It’s a double date and you know it.” His lower lip juts out just enough to hint at the pout he would have committed to if not for their current work setting.

“Yeah,” Eliott agrees with a shameless shrug. That had been the point of course. But he and Yann had agreed to somewhat soften the potential Lucas-shaped reaction to such a suggestion, by expanding the guest list to include the other couple. “And it’s going to be fun.”

Lucas dips his head and steps closer, curling fingers into the front of Eliott’s scrubs and looking up through his lashes. Eliott’s mouth drops open, surprised by the sudden change in mood from his boyfriend, but far too enraptured to question it. “More fun than staying home?” Lucas bites his lower lip, letting it pop from his mouth shiny and wet. “Could stay in bed,” Lucas continues, his voice soft and suggestive. “Just me and you. Naked.” He blinks slowly, his eyes wide and deep blue. “I could ride you. Ring in the new year with you inside me.”

Eliott shudders, squeezing his eyes. It does nothing to stop the flood of images filling his brain. He slips his hands down to Lucas’s waist, squeezing as he opens his eyes and calls on every measure of self-control he’d normally allow to desert him when faced with such a suggestion. “You are…” He stares at Lucas’s guileless face – a façade he’s perfected, “an unbelievable brat. And we’re going to dinner.”

Lucas huffs, shoving Eliott away from him and crossing his arms across his chest with his face turned away. “You used to be easier for me.”

Eliott laughs and it comes out as a low rumble, the air between them so heady with want, he’s beginning to question his own decisions now too. “You have no idea how easy I am for you, baby.”

Lucas’s eyes track back to him and rest for a moment. “You better make good on that later.” It should be a threat. Instead, it sounds only like an invitation.

Eliott nods. “I will.” It’s a guarantee and they both know it.

“Fine.” Lucas’s arms fall back to his sides. “I need to get going. I’ll see you at the restaurant then.”

Eliott nods. “See you there.” He doesn’t make a move to leave.

Lucas stares at him for a moment before he turns and begins making his way down the hall.

“Dr. Lallemant,” Eliott calls after him, smile already growing on his face.

Lucas stops and glances back curiously. “What?”

“It’s red. Definitely red.”

Lucas’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion before his eyes clear with understanding and he glances down at his arm, his tattoo half exposed by the way he’s pulled up the sleeves of his lab coat. When he looks back up it’s with his middle finger raised. Eliott laughs, watching as Lucas spins back around and rushes down the hall.

In all honesty, Eliott isn’t sure how they’re supposed to make it through a dinner with friends, and the party at Alex, Emma, and Lucille’s that is to follow, without jumping one another. The anticipation feels tangible in the air, licking at his skin, both hot and cold. He can practically see the flames form, blue at their core, red as they lick at his skin. One thing is for certain, if history has taught Eliott anything… Lucas is worth the wait.

* * * *

“And how’s my baby?” Eliott asks before rethinking his choice of words. “Don’t tell Lucas I call you that when he’s not around. He’s the jealous type.”

Eliott smiles down at the furry face of Daphne’s pet bunny. Eliott and Lucas had agreed to care for her over the next four days as Daphne and Basile were going away following Daphne’s shift at the hospital. Eliott and Lucas had been pondering getting a pet for a while but being as busy as they were at the hospital had decided to put it off until they knew they could devote themselves a little better to the undertaking. Knowing how much they both missed having pets around, however, Daphne had given them a chance to take care of Daisy while she was away. ‘A pet-parent test run’ she’d called it and they’d been more than eager to accept. And so, Daisy was theirs – at least for the next four days.

Eliott pulls her from her cage, giving her the requisite snuggle and kisses before he lets her down on the floor to explore and goes about cleaning her cage, providing some fresh water and food, before cutting up a couple radishes and strips of bell pepper to leave her as a treat for later. Maybe they spoil her a little. Eliott feels confident Daphne won’t mind, and Lucas and Eliott had both agreed that as Daisy’s uncles it was their job to overly indulge her.

Eliott spends a little too much time playing with Daisy and is forced to rush through his shower, changing quickly into a simple maroon button up shirt, and black slacks. He’s just pulled his coat on and is scrutinizing his artfully tousled hair in the mirror by the door when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Eliott smiles when he sees Lucas’s name on the screen.

He picks up. “Hey baby, I was –”

“Where are you?!!”

Eliott’s eyebrows rise, surprised by the ferocity of Lucas’s tone. He quickly glances towards the clock on the stove in the kitchen. There’s a good five minutes until their dinner reservation and the restaurant is right between their apartment and Eliott’s old one. They’d specifically planned it that way. At this pace, he’d likely have ended up being five or so minutes late but… the point is, he’s not late yet.

“I’m… on my way.” It suddenly seems in the best interest of his desire to have sex with Lucas again at some point in the future that he not tell Lucas he hasn’t left yet. He rushes to collect his keys as he speaks. “Why?”

“Why?! Because I’m here you asshole, and so is SHE.”

Never in his wildest dreams did Eliott expect Lucas would be early to dinner. “Oh.”

“Oh? Oh?! That’s what you have to say? I swear to –”

“Wait,” Eliott interrupts as he locks their door, hurrying down the building’s hallway, “you’re calling me with Anna right there?”

“She went to the bathroom,” Lucas huffs. “Probably ‘cause she knows this is fucking awkward too and that our boyfriends suck.”

“Yann isn’t there?” Eliott asks, knowing immediately this was a stupid question to ask.

“If he was here, would I be calling you?! He’s late too, the dickhead.”

Eliott decides against pointing out he’s not actually late – not for another two minutes. “Well, I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.”

“And what am I supposed to do ‘til then?!”

Eliott holds his breath for a moment so as not to laugh. “Talk to her maybe? Make conversation.”

Lucas is quiet for a moment. “God, I hate you.”

Eliott grins, pushing out of the front door of their building and making his way to the street. “You don’t.”

“She’s coming back. I have to go.”

“Love you, baby,” Eliott rushes to say before Lucas hangs up. “Please don’t kill one another before Yann and I get there.” Lucas hangs up.

Eliott tucks his phone back into his pocket, picking up his pace to a gentle jog.

It’s not Anna he has to worry about – not Lucas either really. That’s the ridiculous part of Lucas’s protests when it comes to spending any time with Anna. Eliott is almost positive Lucas actually likes her. It makes sense really. They’re both funny, smart, witty people, able to trade barbs and jokes with the sort of seamless back and forth that’s more familiar in a scripted movie than real life. And Eliott is positive Lucas harbors a grudging amount of respect for the way Anna refuses to back down when faced with any misplaced animosity directed her way in the form of one blue-eyed boyfriend. But while Lucas and Anna’s tentative foray into friendly acquaintance has been in process for months, they’ve never been forced to test their precarious comradery while alone. This was admittedly not a contingency he and Yann had considered. Eliott slows his pace enough to pull out his phone and text Yann.

You almost at the restaurant?

Yann responds immediately. Had to drop something by my mom’s. Running a bit late

Eliott sighs unhappily, texting back. Same. He adds a few alarm bell emojis for good measure.

Yann texts back a series of question marks.

Lucas and Anna are there. ALONE. Eliott stares at his phone as he watches the typing bubble appear on Yann’s end.

Oh fuck

Eliott snorts. Please hurry. And pray he doesn’t murder me too

On my way

* * * *

When Eliott rushes into the restaurant, harried, perhaps a little sweaty, and eight minutes late, it’s to a sight he didn’t foresee. While he hadn’t actually expected Lucas and Anna to be in the midst of an all-out brawl, the picture before him seems just as impossible.

Anna and Lucas are sat across from one another at a table for six – not just sat across from one another but leaning towards one another. They’ve both got their forearms pressed to the table as they speak, heads bent forward and together in body language that would suggest… well, a date, if Eliott didn’t know better. Anna is smiling as she speaks, waving a hand in gesture through the air as Lucas listens. And even more shockingly, there’s a slight smile on Lucas’s face, begrudging maybe, but present all the same. He’s nodding as Eliott approaches.

Anna cuts herself off as she sees Eliott. “Oh, well, look who decided to show.”

Eliott smiles with a bashful shrug. “I’m not the only one who’s late.” He nods towards the empty chair beside Anna.

“Yeah,” Anna agrees. “But my boyfriend warned me he’d be late. What about you?” She raises her eyebrow like she knows the answer. She likely does.

“I didn’t think I’d be late,” Eliott says, adding a bit of a pout in fruitless hope of garnering some sympathy. He slips off his coat and folds it across the back of his chair. Taking the seat next to Lucas, he directs pitiful eyes his boyfriend’s way. “I planned to be on time.”

Lucas snorts, looking back to Anna. “Probably convinced himself Daisy didn’t want him to leave and spent an extra ten minutes cuddling her. That or he lost track of time doing his hair.” Eliott cannot admit that Lucas is right.

Anna laughs. “That sounds likely. Always was too nice and pretty for his own good.” Eliott winces, looking to Lucas in preparation for his boyfriend’s irritation with Anna for acknowledging any positive attributes in Eliott. But Lucas is… laughing? Eliott stares agape as his boyfriend speaks, his voice relaxed and amused.

“It’s a deadly combo really, but I guess you know. Yann’s so nice sometimes it actually pisses me off.”

“Oh lord, tell me about it,” Anna expels in a dramatic breath. “We’re walking the other day,” she leans forward as she begins her story and Lucas mirrors her position, “and he sees this old lady struggling with her grocery bags –”

“Oh god,” Lucas groans as though he’s already guessed where this story is going.

Anna nods in agreement with the unspoken assumption. “He insists on helping her. Not just organize her bags – oh no, no – we have to walk her home. The lady lived, like, three blocks in the opposite direction we were going.”

Lucas laughs. “Shit. That sounds just like him.”

Eliott doesn’t understand why they’re sharing this anecdote as though it were a bad thing. “But that’s nice,” he protests with a frown. “What if she couldn’t have made it on her own?”

Lucas looks to him with a dramatic roll of his eyes, glancing back at Anna. “So now you know I literally feel your pain.”

Anna giggles. “For real. And it’s not like I wanted the lady to struggle or something. I would have helped her get organized and sent her on her merry way.”

“Totally practical,” Lucas agrees with a resolute nod.

“And we’re not at the beginning of dating,” Anna continues. “Like the kid doesn’t need to impress me, anymore. Believe me, I’m impressed.” She adds a suggestive raise of her eyebrows and Lucas laughs. “Nah, he just does this stuff out of the goodness of his heart.” She says it as though this is a miraculous – and perhaps ridiculous – quality for a man to possess.

“A freak of nature,” Lucas agrees with a shake of his head. “Should’a seen teen-me trying to get over his ass when he insisted on being such a nice guy.”

“The nerve,” Anna laughs. “He could have at least been gay if he was going to insist on being nice to you.”

“All I’m saying,” Lucas agrees with a laugh of his own.

Eliott’s gaze swings between them both, incredulous. “You told Anna you crushed on Yann?” He and Lucas have barely even discussed that. Though perhaps that’s due to Eliott’s desire to forget entirely that Lucas has ever been attracted to other men – celebrities they are unlikely to ever meet being the only exception.

Lucas glances at him quickly with a shrug, before directing his attention back to Anna. “I ever tell you about the time we were in the locker room and he changed extra slow so I could have a look?” Eliott frowns.

“Shut up!” Anna laughs. “He would.”

Eliott watches as Lucas goes about retelling the story to Anna’s delight. He should be glad they’re getting along. And he is – don’t get him wrong, he is. It’s all he and Yann have wanted. But there’s a niggling feeling like disappointment sitting in his gut too, and Eliott can’t totally explain it. Or perhaps he can. He knows what it is. It just feels too ridiculous to acknowledge out loud – even if ‘out loud’ means ‘inside the privacy of his own mind’.

It’s only that… he likes the way Lucas gets all huffy and possessive when Anna’s name comes up. And no, Eliott doesn’t want a relationship of mistrust and jealousy. But he and Lucas aren’t like that. Not normally. They love one another. They trust in their relationship and one another. But… well… sometimes it’s fun to want one another so badly, they can’t help but behave like the occasional jealous moron when it comes to others. And sometimes it’s even more fun to work out that pent up frustration in other – less public-restaurant appropriate – ways.

And yes, Eliott will agree, he’s definitely an idiot. He needs no convincing where that is concerned.

He sighs and tunes back in just as Lucas is saying, “Fuck. A whole four minutes. Consider yourself lucky.”

Eliott narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

Lucas looks over to him, his eyes reflecting challenge. “You’re sitting right here. Shouldn’t you know?”

“He was ignoring us,” Anna jumps in to comment. “We should probably be insulted.”

“Yeah,” Lucas agrees with a smile as he continues to look at Eliott. “But he probably just got lost in imagining me naked. It happens.”

Eliott is torn between being insulted and, well… actually picturing Lucas naked. It’s not his fault! Lucas put the thought right there. “You don’t need to speak of me in third person when I’m literally right here.”

Lucas grins, bringing a hand up to brushing fingers along the shell of Eliott’s ear. “Are you though, baby?” Baby. Lucas so rarely uses that term of endearment, it still hits Eliott like a ton of bricks every time he does. He’s thankfully saved in having to respond by Yann’s appearance.

“There’s my man,” Anna squeals when she sees him, standing up as he approaches the table.

Yann’s eyes widen at the sight of her. He looks at her as though they haven’t been seriously committed to one another for over five months now. It’s incredibly sweet. “Damn,” Yann crows, reaching around Anna’s back to pull her closer as he kisses her in greeting. “You sure you’re with the right guy?”

“How’s that?” She asks with a laugh, winding her arms around his neck as she leans back with a vibrant smile.

“No way a woman this beautiful gives me the time of day,” Yann continues, moving a hand to brush against the riot of natural curls framing Anna’s face.

“Must be something pretty special about you then,” Anna banters back.

“Alright,” Lucas interrupts loudly. “That’s enough of you two being disgusting. Take a seat, Cazas.”

Yann laughs and with one more kiss pressed to Anna’s cheek, he moves to do as asked.

“At least someone got a proper hello,” Eliott grumbles beneath his breath, but admittedly, loud enough for Lucas to hear.

Lucas turns to him, one eyebrow raised. “Something to say, average?”

Eliott’s eyes narrow and he sits back in his chair with a huff that maybe wouldn’t be out of place in a primary school classroom. “No.”

“So,” Yann says, looking between Anna and Lucas, “you two are getting along then?”

Anna laughs while Lucas scoffs and answers. “You’re not supposed to just ask like that. Have I taught you nothing about how to avoid situations until they blow up in your face, Yanny boy?” Yann joins Anna in her laughter and Eliott can’t help the way his mouth twitches at the corners into the beginnings of a smile. “Now, we’re gonna have to go back to pretending to hate one another.”

“Is that what we were doing?” Anna asks, her smile bright. “Here I thought there was some authenticity to that hate.”

Lucas shrugs. “Yeah. But look where that gets me.” He directs a thumb in Eliott’s direction.

“You never hated me,” Eliott protests, forgetting he’s supposed to be pouting in the face of such fallacious slander. It’s to no avail, however, as the others are too taken with one another to give him any attention.

“Well, I can at least promise I won’t follow you around trying to dry-hump you like I’m sure he did,” Anna says with a laugh as she settles back in her seat with Yann’s arm resting around her shoulders.

“I didn’t,” Eliott says, sitting up slightly from his chair, feeling a lot like he’s talking into a void.

“We kinda skipped the dry-hump stage,” Lucas says with a smile, not even glancing at Eliott as he speaks. “Went right to getting his dick in my mouth if I’m honest.”

Anna laughs, looking quickly with a smile to Yann before she responds. “Well… same, so, I guess I can’t judge.” Lucas and Yann laugh.

“I’ll drink to that.” Lucas lifts his wine glass.

Anna does the same, clinking glasses with Lucas. “To dicks in our mouths!”

With truly impeccable timing, Manon and Idriss take that moment to appear.

“Uh,” Idriss grimaces at he looks down on them. “Did I miss when that became a toast?”

Manon laughs. “I dunno. Has a certain ring to it I’d say.” It leads to a new round of laughter that even Eliott – determined as he is to sulk – is helpless against.

They all settle at the table and into conversation, and eventually, when their waiter appears looking impressively bored, food too. It’s a truly pleasant evening, as Eliott and Yann knew it would be once Lucas and Anna finally relaxed around one another. Laughter comes easily and it really would be the perfect night out if not for the way Lucas is barely paying attention to Eliott. It’s not that Eliott needs his hand held at all times – not even that he needs Lucas’s focus on him, but he can’t help but feel a little like he’s being intentionally ignored. Lucas is all laughter and smiles for everyone but him. He’s being his most charming self, effusive, witty, and interesting, but it’s missing a dynamic Eliott hadn’t realized he’d gotten so used to. The shared smiles and the quick glances of understanding, that silent acknowledgement of one another in the form of subtle touches or lingering eye contact, the inside jokes and comments directed only at one another… it’s all just… absent. Eliott isn’t about to make a monumental ‘the world and our relationship as we know it are ending’ deal over it, but what he is going to do is mope. And loudly… or as loudly as one can without actually speaking at all.

Idriss’s hits the side of Eliott’s leg just as everyone are finishing up their main courses. He waits until Eliott glances at him before he speaks in a quiet enough voice that it’s almost lost in the riotous conversation happening across the rest of the table.

“What’s up with you pouting all meal, bro?”

Eliott’s frown deepens. “I’m not.”

Idriss’s expels a disbelieving breath. “Right.” He glances past Eliott towards Lucas before asking, “You two fight or something?”

Eliott shakes his head, sighing as he glances towards Lucas who sports a bright smile as he chats with Yann and Anna. He feels like a dick for being upset when Lucas is clearly having a great time – when that is all Eliott wanted. He’s just… a mess.

“No.” He turns back to Idriss, not bothering to school his unhappy expression. “We’re fine actually.”

Idriss’s eyebrows pull together with concern. “You wanna take a breather?” He juts his chin towards the exterior of the restaurant. “I’ll come with.”

“That’s a good idea,” Manon interrupts, having rounded from her side of the table to wrap arms around Idriss’s neck from behind. She presses a kiss to his cheek. “I was going to go freshen up in the bathroom. Maybe you should do the same, Eliott.”

He stares at her in confusion before grabbing for his napkin, horrified, and pressing it about his mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Bro, I would have told you,” Idriss laughs. Eliott doesn’t actually agree with that statement. Once, Idriss had let him approach a hot guy at bar with the tail end of his shirt hanging through his open fly like a very tiny, white dick. But he generously doesn’t mention that memory – not particularly wanting to relive the humiliation himself.

“Nothing like that,” Manon says, brushing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I only meant you might feel a little better if you had a chance to splash some water on your face. That always helps me.”

Her suggestion is still incredibly odd and feels just a little out of place, but Eliott shrugs, figuring its better than continuing to sit and sulk at the table. It also occurs to him that perhaps she wants to speak to him away from the table – maybe there’s an issue with her and Idriss? – and while the last thing he wants to do is take on the worries of another couple, it would be the very least he could do considering the many ways Idriss and Manon have been there for Lucas and Eliott.

“Alright.” He stands from the table, glancing towards Lucas but his boyfriend doesn’t pay him any mind, steadfastly continuing the retelling of a story to Anna. He’s talking about a recent article he read about the removal of an enormous tapeworm from a surgical patient. He’d already excitedly told Eliott about it as they’d laid together in bed one evening reading. It’s the least dinner appropriate story Eliott can imagine. He loves that Lucas isn’t the least bit concerned by that, continuing in his graphic retelling as Anna’s face transforms with more and more disgust. It makes Eliott smile, perhaps a little sadly, as he turns to accompany Manon to the restaurant’s bathrooms.

Manon doesn’t speak as they begin walking, a serene smile on her face.

“Are you and Idriss ok?” Eliott asks, more bluntly than he ever would normally but he doesn’t quite have the energy to be anything but. And it’s not like a very short walk to the bathrooms allows for any subtly.

Manon looks to him in surprise. “Yes. We’re great. Why do you ask?”

Eliott gestures around them as they walk. “Thought you wanted to get me alone to talk shit about him maybe.”

Manon laughs lightly. “No. Nothing like that. I’d say we’re still very much in the honeymoon stage.”

Eliott smiles a little. “I’m glad.”

They pause awkwardly outside the bathrooms and she turns back to him with a mischievous smile. “I suppose it is a bit annoying that I can’t ever save leftovers. He eats them all.”

Eliott laughs. “I know. You can’t even hide them. Once I tried the back of the freezer and –”

“Me too!” She cuts him off with a laugh. “I saved the rest of this amazing chocolate cake I couldn’t finish at the restaurant. I tucked it under the frozen Brussel sprouts, and I was sure he wouldn’t find it but –”

“He did,” Eliott finishes for her. “Yeah. Been there. No delicious food is safe from Idriss.”

“He said anyone who didn’t finish dessert deserved to have their leftovers eaten,” she finishes with a snort, affection dripping from her every word.

“Eh. He might not be wrong there.” Eliott laughs as Manon swats at him.

“Well, you live with Lucas who will absolutely eat you out of house and home, so I won’t feel too sorry for myself,” she says as Eliott snorts in agreement. “Anyways, I’m going to go freshen up. You should do the same. I’m sure you’ll feel better.”

Eliott isn’t so convinced but he does as told. He pees and washes his hands, leaning against the counter as he stares at himself in the mirror. There’s no one else in the communal bathroom, and he takes a moment to feel sorry for himself. It’s silly to work up such a fuss over the loss of attention of one’s boyfriend for the finite duration of a meal, but it’s such a rare occurrence to not have Lucas’s attention, Eliott isn’t quite sure what to do with this needy feeling gnawing at his gut.

He turns the tap on for the cold water and leans down to splash it on his face, listening as the door to the bathroom opens behind him. That’s just great. Now some random person is going to know him as the weirdo who washes his face in the restaurant bathroom. Eliott quickly straightens and reaches for the stack of paper towels on the counter. He pats his face dry before he dares to look up into the mirror’s reflection to see if the newcomer has given him any notice. He stops short when he sees the face staring back.

Lucas.

Eliott turns around, reaching to throw away the paper towels before he looks back to Lucas in question.

“Need to pee?” He asks somewhat stupidly, feeling strangely insecure and maybe a little out of sorts.

“Remember the first night we met?” Lucas asks instead of answering.

Eliott’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. As if he could ever forget. “Yes. Of course.”

Lucas approaches him slowly, stopping when they’re separated by a meter of space. “You followed me into the bathroom then.” He smiles a little, looking away as he gets lots in the memory. “So fucking smooth I didn’t know what the hell to make of you.”

Eliott laughs a little, his smile widening as Lucas looks back to him. “I really wasn’t. I was seriously freaking out actually. But…” He shrugs, “felt important you thought I was smooth.”

Lucas tilts his head as he looks at Eliott, small smile decorating his lips. “Offering up a blowjob was pretty smooth.”

Eliott shrugs, unashamed and unabashed. “You can’t blame me. Look at you.”

Lucas steps closer, stopping when they’re separated only by the width of a stretched hand. “Sure I can.” He says it softly, tilting his head back as he looks at Eliott. It sounds a lot like he means something else – like kiss me should be in place of the words he’s spoken. But despite the very real need Eliott feels to meet this silent demand, he can’t quite let go of his former sulk.

“You’ve been ignoring me all night.”

Lucas doesn’t look particularly surprised by this complaint, his eyes just barely registering acknowledgement. “I have.” It sounds more like a statement than a question.

“Yes,” Eliott confirms unnecessarily. “Laughing with everyone. Talking. Being all… cute and funny. But not to me.”

Lucas’s eyebrows rise and his smile pulls into a bit of a smirk. “And you think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Eliott frowns. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

Lucas breathes a slight laugh. “Exactly. Sitting there pouting because I wasn’t giving you any attention.”

Eliott can’t exactly argue with that. “Well… so? You’d be the same if I was ignoring you.”

“Yeah,” Lucas agrees easily with a shrug. “Probably.”

“So then why?” Eliott asks, staring at him in confusion.

Lucas licks his lips, and Eliott notices there’s a flush to his cheeks that wasn’t there previously. “I can’t look at you when I’m like this. I can’t talk to you – feel your eyes on me like this.”

Eliott’s mouth parts as he stares down at Lucas. “Like this? Like what?”

Lucas looks around them, glancing to the empty stalls before he takes hold of Eliott’s shirt, spinning them so his back is to the mirror. He reaches for the button on his own pants.

“Lucas,” Eliott warns in a hushed whisper, glancing quickly to the surrounding bathroom though he knows it’s empty, “we can’t. Anyone could come in.”

“I know.” Lucas doesn’t look at all deterred. He unzips his pants and reaches for Eliott’s hand.

Eliott is helpless to stop him, so desperate to get his hands on Lucas, every patron in the restaurant could walk in on them and Eliott would probably only shrug. Lucas doesn’t pull the hand to the front of his pants as Eliott was expecting, however, and Eliott’s eyebrows fly up in surprise as Lucas instead presses Eliott’s hand to the back of his pants, pushing it down against his heated skin.

Eliott steps closer, pressing their bodies together with a shudder as he gropes at Lucas’s ass. “Baby…”

“Lower,” Lucas directs, his breath now coming in quick pants.

Eliott does as told, knowing their time alone in the bathroom is precarious and undetermined, and having no idea what it is Lucas has planned. He slides his hand lower, fingers seeking until they reach the area on Lucas’s body he’s come to know so well – that he’s worshiped with his fingers… his tongue… his cock. Only… he freezes… this is not at all what he expected.

“Lucas…” He sounds awed which is only appropriate. His fingers prod at the hard, circular shape blocking Lucas’s hole from his prying fingers.

“Can’t look at you when I know,” Lucas pants, his words a rush of breath as Eliott’s fingers continue to feel out the butt plug Eliott now realizes Lucas has had inside him the entire evening. “Can’t talk to you, touch you, without thinking about it.”

“What?” Eliott prompts, so turned on he feels dizzy with it. He gets his fingers around the rim of the plug and tugs, watching as Lucas gasps loudly, falling forward to press hands against Eliott’s chest.

“You,” Lucas pants, looking up at Eliott with dark eyes. “You inside me. Knowing –” He chokes on a breath as Eliott’s fingers continue to prod at the plug. “Knowing I’m ready for you – stretched for you – for your cock.”

“Lu, baby –” Eliott doesn’t get a chance to finish his thought when Lucas is grabbing his forearm and pulling his arm away, removing Eliott’s hand from his pants. “But…” Eliott trails off desperately, watching with disbelieving, confused eyes as Lucas goes about refastening his pants. His dark jeans bulge a little at the front, but he looks otherwise just as put together as he had when he’d entered the bathroom.

Lucas looks back up and bites his bottom lip. Eliott needs to kiss him and is only stopped by the firm hand Lucas presses to his chest when he realizes Eliott’s intent. “We’ve got a dinner with our friends to finish,” Lucas points out. Eliott is satisfied to see his breath remains unsteady and affected. Eliott has never been less interested in socializing with the people he loves more than right fucking now. “Was your idea after all.” Lucas smirks and Eliott can’t do anything but stare at him with renewed awe.

“You’re…” He can’t even finish the thought. Lucas has done it to torture him. He’s… diabolical. The most cheeky… clever… teasing brat on the planet. Eliott loves him so goddamn much.

Lucas smiles, as smug as anything. “Now c’mon. We wait any longer they’re gonna think we’re hooking up in here.” With that he spins on his heel and makes his way to the bathroom door.

Eliott stares down at his own pants, more formal than Lucas’s and more clearly showing the shape of his erection stretching the front of the fabric. He sighs, untucking the ends of his shirt and letting them hand down his front. He’ll look a bit like a slob but better that than a horny pervert with a dick so hard it could be registered as a weapon. He buys himself an extra moment to compose himself as he washes his hands once more, but it does nothing to help the way his heart is pounding in his chest.

Lucas is smirking as Eliott turns to him, his eyes skating down to where Eliott’s shirt hangs loose before rising to catch his eyes. He looks… proud. That’s the look reflected in the deep blue of his eyes. And all at once, Eliott feels… settled… calmer and more at peace than he has all evening.

Lucas wants him. Badly. Eliott wants him back. Just as desperately as he ever has.

All is right in their world.

* * * *

They’ve been at the party for a grand total of maybe ten minutes and Eliott is going to lose his goddamn mind. He’s convinced Lucas is being especially hot for the sole purpose of driving Eliott to the brink of total madness.

Lucas stands across the room in conversation with Alex. He’s rolled the sleeves of his shirt up and his tattoo stands out, bright and colourful in the twinkly lights hanging down the wall of the living room. Alex laughs at something Lucas has said, moving a hand to clasp the spot Eliott had admired on Lucas earlier – that space where Lucas’s neck and shoulder meet. Eliott twitches.

“Are you planning on listening at any point in this conversation or should I leave you to your staring contest with Lucas?”

Eliott looks quickly back to where not just Imane, but Mika stare at him with identical expressions of judgement. He adopts an appropriately apologetic expression. “Sorry, sorry. I was just –”

“Ignoring us in favour of staring at your boy,” Mika finishes for him. “We know.” He turns to look at Imane. “Don’t feel bad about it. This is my life at the hospital.”

“I can only imagine,” Imane laughs. “Supervising these two is a challenge I would not trade you for.”

“It’s not,” Eliott interrupts to disagree. “We’re totally professional when we’re at work.” It’s most certainly a lie, and all three of them know it.

“Mmhmm,” Mika hums with an eyebrow raised. “And last week when you both showed up to rounds, sweaty and out of breath? You expect me to believe you hadn’t just been fucking in an on-call room?” They hadn’t actually. On that particular occasional they had been rushed and nearly late because they’d spent the morning fucking at home.

Eliott smiles smugly. “We hadn’t been. Because: professional.” Mika rolls his eyes and Eliott turns his attention back to Imane. “Besides, it’s not a staring contest.”

“Oh no?” She questions, looking amused.

“No. He’d have to be looking back for it to be a staring contest.” Eliott eyes return to Lucas to see that he and Alex have been joined by Emma. She hangs off Alex looking like she’s been happily partaking in the plentiful alcoholic options the apartment has to offer.

“Well, if there’s one thing I know for absolute certain,” Imane says, her hand landing on Eliott’s shoulder as she too turns to look Lucas’s direction. “You’re not going to have to wait long for him to look back.”

* * * *

Eliott mingles among the guests, making pleasant conversation but the buzz beneath his skin doesn’t fade. It’s matched by the buzz of party guests as the clock approaches midnight.

Eliott admires Lucas in the room through his various conversations, but at one point, deep into a conversation with Imane and Sofiane, Eliott looses sight of him among the guests.

“I think the way the show blends philosophical theory with real world problems and does it in this way that’s just really, really funny is what captured my attention most,” Imane is saying. Eliott nods as he listens, subtly scanning the faces behind her for any sign of his disappearing boyfriend.

“And yet it took me forever to convince you to watch,” Sofiane says with a laugh.

“I don’t like sitcoms,” she defends with a smile. “How was I supposed to know it was brilliant?”

“Because I told you?” Sofiane asks incredulously. Eliott laughs along with Imane as his attention returns to the couple. “Admit it,” Sofiane prompts, “you only agreed to watch when Lucas told you to.”

“What can I say?” Imane says, her tone teasing. “I value his taste.”

“Careful in insulting my taste,” Sofiane challenges, pulling Imane closer with an arm wrapped around her waist. “That includes you.”

“Oh, where I’m concerned, your taste is impeccable,” she responds with a grin. “In television, I defer to Lucas.”

Eliott laughs a little. “You really shouldn’t. Lucas’s taste in TV is a strange and confusing thing.” Both Imane and Sofiane laugh as Eliott adds, “And he only watched The Good Place because of me.” Maybe he’s a little proud of that fact.

“Have you gotten to that part when –” Sofiane is immediately cut off by Imane smacking a hand against his chest. And while Sofiane’s sentence didn’t give away a thing, she seems to know where his sentence was headed anyways.

“No! You’ll spoil them like you did me! They’ve only just started the third season.”

Eliott frowns. “We’re just at the end of the second season actually. Besides I’ve seen the whole show. It’s only Lucas you could spoil.”

Imane looks to him with furrowed eyebrows. “Lucas said he’s already watched a couple episodes from season three.”

Eliott gasps, almost choking on his outraged breath. “He what?!”

Imane looks faintly apologetic while Sofiane only looks confused. “What am I missing?” He asks.

“Lucas watched without me,” Eliott answers. “I cannot believe…”

“Didn’t you just say you’ve already seen it?” Imane asks, looking like she’s one breath from a full-body laugh.

“That’s not the point!” Eliott argues. “That little brat knows it too. Oh, I’m going to…” He can’t finish his sentence. The unspeakable things he wants to do to Lucas in punishment not at all appropriate for the ears of his friends. He quickly scans the room once more and this time there are eyes looking back. Lucas. And he’s finally looking back.

He stands just at the edge of the room, leaning against the corner of the wall. He’s with no one else and he’s staring at Eliott with intent. He raises an eyebrow, biting his lower lip and turns, moving into the shadows of the hallway. Eliott just barely remembers to turn back to Imane and Sofiane, offering a pithy excuse they no doubt see right through, both of their faces reflecting barely restrained laughter.

Eliott hurries across the room, thankful that his desperate chase of Lucas is somewhat masked by how crowded the space is, filled with friends, hospital staff, and any number of faces Eliott has never seen before in his life. When he reaches the hall, he finds Lucas standing next to what had once been Eliott’s bedroom door. Eliott approaches cautiously, hyper aware of the other people crowding the hallway as they wait for access to the one bathroom.

“Took you long enough,” Lucas says and reaches for the door handle.

Eliott grabs his hand before he opens it. “Lucas,” he warns, “it’s not my room anymore.” He doesn’t know why he bothers to object. He’d follow Lucas anywhere.

Lucas smirks. “That gonna stop you?”

Eliott stares at him, eyes dropping to the smug curl of Lucas’s lips. “Fuck no.” He reaches for the doorknob himself, twisting it and pushing Lucas into the space as someone in line behind them says something about the room being off limits. Eliott ignores them, following Lucas in and locking the door behind them. He reaches for the light switch, flicking it on to illuminate the space in a dim glow.

Lucille and Alex made good on their desire to turn the room into a home gym of sorts. The equipment is lacking but it’s been clearly split between Lucille’s space, filled with a yoga mat, a number of foam blocks, exercise bands and weights, and Alex’s space, which consists of a weight bench and a selection of heavier weights.

Eliott couldn’t care less. The only thing that matters is Lucas, standing at the center of the space, his chest rising and falling with his unsteady breaths, beautiful, and looking at Eliott like this is all he’s wanted too – the both of them – only them – together. Finally.

Eliott would swear the force of their impact as they reach for one another shakes the room. He wraps Lucas in his arms as they kiss, squeezing him tightly as he presses his tongue into Lucas’s mouth, matching the frenzy of his hands moving across Lucas’s body with that of his tongue. He slides a hand down until it reaches Lucas’s ass, squeezing one round cheek before drifting further, sliding down the seam of his pants until he can press fingers against the spot he knows the plug is buried deep inside Lucas’s body.

Lucas rips his mouth away with an animalistic sound when Eliott does so, throwing his head back as he grinds his body forward and into Eliott.

“God,” Eliott groans as he watches him. “You drive me crazy.”

“Eliott, Eliott,” Lucas gasps, pushing Eliott’s hands away from him until he’s able to reach for his own clothing. “Now, now,” he chants nonsensically. “Off. Get them off.” What he means is clear enough in the way he’s ridding himself of his own clothes, almost ripping the buttons of his shirt as frantically goes about removing it.

Eliott doesn’t needs to be directed further, quickly stripping himself of every item of clothing and watching as Lucas wobbles unsteadily as he kicks off his pants. Lucas’s erection stands proud, jutting hard and red from his body. It makes Eliott feel a bit better about the state of his own dick, throbbing so badly he knows they’re in no danger of being in the room long enough to be discovered. He feels ready to burst at the simple feel of Lucas’s eyes on him.

“On the bench.”

Lucas’s eyebrows rise in question before he looks beside him to where Alex’s weight bench rests. There’s a slight slant to Lucas’s smile as he glances back to Eliott. “You think you can tell me what to do?”

Oh god. If Lucas really thinks tonight is the night to continue being a sassy, teasing, little shit, he’s got another thing coming.

“Yes.” Eliott’s voice has dropped a couple octaves without conscious intent and he sees Lucas shiver at the sound. “Now. On your back.”

Lucas swallows heavily but does as told, sitting down on the bench first and releasing a surprised gasp. He’d done that at the dinner table too when they’d arrived back after using the bathroom. He’d gasped, just a little, as he’d sat down, squirming slightly until he’d apparently found a position – an angle – that had satisfied him, and he’d rejoined conversation. No one had noticed but Eliott, and the knowledge had filled his body with a growing heat that had settled into a smolder in his balls. That they had made it through the rest of the dinner without Eliott mounting him in the middle of the restaurant, directly on the table, had felt like an accomplishment in itself.

Lucas rolls down onto his back, blinking up at Eliott with wide and expectant eyes. Eliott approaches slowly, eyes tracking down Lucas’s body until he reaches his feet, pressed to the bench.

“Bend your knees. Back to your chest.”

He sees the way Lucas inhales – the way he pauses before obeying, no doubt torn between his constant need to challenge Eliott, and his more overwhelming desire to listen… to let Eliott give him what he wants. His eyes war until in the end, he does as told, bending his knees back to his chest and revealing the end of the plug tucked up inside him. Eliott inhales sharply at the sight, pressing a hand against the back of Lucas’s thigh to spread him further. Eliott rests a knee against the bench and moves a hand to the plug, pressing his thumb down onto the circular end. It’s blue – sparkly and blue.

“Eliott. Fuck.”

Eliott looks up to see Lucas’s eyes squeezed shut. He’s raised his arms above his head and holds tight to the other end of the bench.

“Feel good?” Eliott asks, pressing against the plug once more.

“God,” Lucas groans, hazy eyes blinking open to stare down at Eliott. “Yes.” He sucks in a breath before speaking once more, his voice demanding. “Now get it out of me and fuck me already.” It’s the sort of demand Eliott is happy to obey.

Eliott grips the edges of the plug and tugs gently, watching the way the flared end stretches Lucas’s hole. His muscles clench as though attempting to hold onto the silicone shape as it leaves his body, tightening again when he’s left empty. Eliott moves a thumb to his rim, slick with the remnants of lube.

“Eliott.” Lucas’s leg lashes out, catching Eliott in the shoulder.

Eliott stumbles back slightly on his heels, raising an unimpressed eyebrow as he looks up at Lucas. “Impatient?”

“This is supposed to be a quicky,” Lucas pants, doing his best to look annoyed though the sweaty flush to his face robs him of the composure he seeks. “Put it in me.”

“It?” Eliott grins, holding up the butt plug, shiny and gleaming in the bedroom light. “This? Or me?”

The colour in Lucas’s cheeks deepens to an even more impressive red, just as Eliott expected it to. “God. Just… you. Put that down. Get inside me.” Lucas bends his knees back towards his chest, spreading his legs while he does so and Eliott feels a measure of his self control slip. He swallows.

“Yeah. Yeah, I – lube?”

Lucas shakes his head. “I’m fine. I lubed up before. Just fuck me already.”

And Eliott would like to – and he plans to but… this is the first time they’ve done it like this and he’s not taking any chances. “Lucas. Tell me you brought lube.”

Lucas huffs, looking irritated but resigned. “Fine,” he groans. “Pants pocket.”

Eliott grins and rushes to find it, pulling out the small tube but pausing before slicking himself up. He looks back to Lucas in question. “Bare?”

Lucas nods. “Yeah. C’mon. Hurry.”

“But…” Eliott moves towards him, unsure. “It’ll be messy after. Not like we’re at home.”

Lucas shakes his head, looking suddenly just a little shy. “No, it won’t.” He directs his eyes to where Eliott had placed the plug, propped beside their clothing. The meaning behind his words sinks into Eliott’s slowly, and with heady awareness he looks back to his boyfriend spread before him on the bench. “Yeah,” Lucas whispers as though Eliott had spoken a question out loud. “Yeah. Now.”

Eliott’s hands shake as he coats his erection with lube. He wipes the remnants on his own thighs as he reaches for Lucas, sliding him until his ass reaches the end of the bench. Lucas allows the manhandling, holding the back of his own thighs to spread himself further.

“Baby,” Eliott whispers overwhelmed as he takes hold of his erection and leans down with his other hand steadying himself above Lucas’s head on the bench.

“Yeah,” Lucas groans as the blunt head of Eliott’s cock presses into him. “Fuck. Yeah.”

Eliott removes his hand from his erection as he sinks deeper, clasping it to the side of Lucas’s ribcage instead as he breathes through the incredible feeling of sinking into the tight heat of Lucas’s body. He’ll never get used to this feeling – the physical sensation of being inside Lucas without a barrier matched with the extraordinary knowledge of what it means to get to do so, the incredible trust Lucas shows in allowing him this privilege.

Lucas’s hands move to Eliott’s chest, scratching lightly as he moans. “Move. Fucking move.”

Eliott chuckles lightly. “I will. But baby?” He struggles to speak, his voice strained and words clipped.

“What?” Lucas gasps, squirming beneath him as though he could force Eliott deeper. “Fucking – what?!”

“Need you to co – come for me ok?”

Lucas releases a breath like a laugh. “Yeah. Was planning to.”

“No.” Eliott waits until Lucas’s eyes focus on him. “Fast. Need you to come fast because I’m gonna –”

Lucas nods, jerky and a little frantic now. “Yeah, I – I will. Please, Eli. Please.”

Eliott inhales a deep breath, searching for control as he pulls his cock from Lucas’s body. It shouldn’t be this good already – when they’ve barely even begun. Somehow, it always is. Somehow, every time Eliott is inside Lucas it feels as overwhelming – as fucking good – as it did the first time. He slams back in. They both grunt with the impact and Lucas throws his head back, his nails biting into Eliott’s shoulders.

Eliott doesn’t bother with a building rhythm, making it hard and fast from the very first stroke. It’s what they both need and there’s sense in pretending otherwise. Eliott presses his body down against Lucas and barely pulls out, pounding up into him with a force that would have Lucas’s body pushed up and off the bench if not for the way Eliott’s weight holds him down.

Lucas can barely squeeze a hand between them, but he manages, reaching to wrap it around the head of his own erection as he shudders with each thrust of Eliott’s cock inside him. When his eyes open and fix on Eliott, there’s a need in them Eliott knows just how to meet. He leans down, pressing lips against Lucas’s ear as he continues his relentless pace driving into Lucas’s body. His own orgasm is licking at his balls, just on the precipice of exploding, but he holds it back, determined to give Lucas this first. His voice.

“That’s it, baby,” Eliott encourages. “My boy. Beautiful boy. Come for me. Lu.” He presses a kiss to Lucas’s temple as he feels his control begin to slip. “Love you. Fuck. Love you.” Lucas makes a low sound, and his body seizes with his orgasm, coming apart as he shakes in Eliott’s arms.

Eliott’s body reads it as a signal, and he groans loudly, falling down onto Lucas as his orgasm washes through him. He drives his cock up into Lucas’s body in a series of rapid bursts as he rides out the wave, gasping for air as the pleasure releases its strangle hold on his lungs.

He lays against Lucas, face tilted down against Lucas’s chest as he feels the rise and fall of the chest beneath him. When he finds the strength to press himself up it’s the sight of Lucas, sweaty and red, and looking so incredibly well fucked and content, one would think they’d been at it all night versus the… well, Eliott doesn’t want to admit exactly how pathetic both of their stamina was in this case. Though there is a certain level of pride that comes with knowing Lucas was just as hopeless.

Lucas licks his lips as he stares up at Eliott. “You should put it back in.” His voice is low and husky with satisfaction. Eliott looks at him in confusion, glancing down to where he hasn’t yet parted their bodies and his cock remains, buried inside Lucas’s body. “The plug,” Lucas says, reading Eliott’s confusion. “You should put it back in.”

Eliott’s eyes snap shut and he groans as his cock jerks inside Lucas, making one last valiant effort to fill Lucas even further with evidence of him. “Oh god.”

Lucas squirms beneath him. “Eliott. Do it.”

Eliott nods. “Ok.” He inhales sharply as he pulls his spent cock from Lucas’s body. He reaches for the plug, pressing the tip against the dribble of come that’s already begun leaking from Lucas’s body, moving it until the tip becomes shiny with come. He stares mesmerized by the sight.

“Eliott. Fuck!” Lucas reaches to grab the plug from his hands and shoves it into his body without ceremony, inhaling around a gasp as he does so.

Eliott’s lower lip juts out in a pout. “I would have done it.”

Lucas snorts as he sits up on the bench. “Sure.” He grimaces as he stands, squirming slightly as he gets used to the feeling of it back inside him.

“Is it ok?” Eliott asks. “If it’s uncomfortable – if it hurts – we can take it out.”

“No,” Lucas answers immediately with a shake of his head as he goes about collecting his clothes. He reaches for a roll of paper towels at the side of the room, quickly cleaning the evidence of his own orgasm from his stomach, before he tosses the roll to Eliott. “Just feels a little strange.” He begins to put on his underwear and pants and Eliott moves to do the same, after a cursory cleaning of the bench and himself.

“It feels… wetter.”

Eliott freezes in the midst of buttoning back up his shirt. He looks back at Lucas to see he’s struggling to do the same. And it’s just… the reality of what they’ve done slams into Eliott a little like a second orgasm, the wave of euphoria so instant, he’s a bit lightheaded with it. “I came inside you.”

Lucas glances up, having just finished buttoning his shirt. “Yeah?”

Eliott swallows heavily, removing his hands from the buttons of his own shirt when Lucas steps forward to finish the job. “It’s – it’s like I still am. Inside you.”

Lucas doesn’t look up, studiously fastening the last of the buttons of Eliott’s shirt but he nods. “Feels that way too. It’s like – I can feel you.”

“Lucas,” Eliott breathes and reaching for Lucas’s face, tilting it up until he can press their lips together. They both sink into a soft kiss, enjoying the taste of one another’s mouths without the frenzy of their former need driving every movement. Lucas pushes him back after a moment with a soft smile.

“Come on. Probably near midnight by now.”

If Eliott’s honest, he’d forgotten about the celebration of the New Year entirely. He’s almost a little sad they didn’t time it so he was inside Lucas as the clock struck twelve – just as Lucas had originally suggested.

They attract a few curious glances as they leave the room, and at least a few giggles, but thankfully the hallway is filled with no one Eliott immediately recognizes.

“Where you two been?” Arthur asks as they re-enter the living room. Despite the question, his expression suggests he already knows. “You almost missed it,” he continues, voice raised to be heard over the din of rising noise in the room. “Minute to go!” He adds. Eliott smiles. He supposes, in the end, he and Lucas did time that quite well.

Lucas is suddenly tugging at his hand, pulling him towards the front door of the apartment.

“Lucas?” Eliott questions but follows. “What are you doing?”

Lucas looks back at him with a wide grin, his eyes lit up with a familiar blend of excitement and mischief. “Let’s go!”

Eliott doesn’t question him, rushing to find their jackets as they hurry from the apartment. Lucas breaks out into a run the moment they reach the hallway.

“Lucas!” Eliott calls out laughing, immediately giving chase. “What are you doing?!”

“There’s no time!” Lucas yells, bolting down the stairway and not stopping until they both burst into the cold night air.

It’s begun raining Eliott realizes with surprise. It’s a light drizzle but cold. It’s the sort of rain that hints at snow, though they’re unlikely to get it, and he suddenly desperately wants to see Lucas in the snow. Eliott can perfectly picture the snowflakes catching on his eyelashes.

“We should go north.”

Lucas spins around in the rain, his smile as bright as the moonlight casting a glow around them. “What?”

“Next Christmas. We should go north. I want snow.”

“Ok,” Lucas agrees with a laugh.

The distant sound of people chanting the countdown sounds from the building. Their friends or someone else celebrating, Eliott doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter. He reaches for Lucas just as Lucas does the same, and they pull one another close.

Eight! Seven!

A raindrop drips down Lucas’s face. The rain is growing heavier.

“We should get out of the rain,” Eliott suggests. “It’s cold.”

Five! Four!

“No,” Lucas disagrees, tilting his head back to catch more drops on his face. “I love it.”

The sound of the countdown drifts into background noise, irrelevant and unimportant when faced with the beauty of the boy in his arms.

“I knew I loved you then.”

Lucas looks back to him. “What?”

“That day in the rain,” Eliott continues. “When we drove back from my parents place. I knew I loved you then.”

Lucas’s mouth parts with his surprise, before a smile begins pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I loved you then too.”

Eliott stares at him in wonder. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Lucas admits with a slight laugh. “Was pretty annoyed about how goddamn much I did but, yeah – I loved you then.”

A wide smile stretches across Eliott’s face. “I love you now too.”

Lucas smiles, sweet and pleased. “Good. Now kiss me. You missed the countdown, you dork.”

The noise of New Year’s revelers suddenly filters back into Eliott’s consciousness, cheers and laughter mixed with the pop of fireworks being set off in all corners. He smiles.

“Maybe,” he admits. “We’ve always been better at making our own rules.”

Lucas makes a sound of amusement, looking charmed. “Gonna make our own countdown then?”

“Five, four –”

Lucas cuts him off, pressing their lips together in a hard, lingering kiss before he pulls back.

“So fucking cheesy I don’t know what I see in you.”

Eliott laughs into the next kiss, smiling too hard - far too fucking happy - to do more than press their lips together in an uncoordinated attempt at sharing his bliss with Lucas.

Lucas’s eyes are shining when Eliott separates them to look at him once more.

“Why’d you pull me out here?”

Lucas’s eyes move to a drop of rain trailing down Eliott’s cheek and he cups his hand there, his thumb brushing across the skin to capture the moisture. When his eyes look back to Eliott’s they’re filled with such warmth, it spreads through Eliott like a living flame, fierce and powerful, but comforting too. And he feels safe. Safe and so very loved.

“I only ever want to be with you.”

* * * *

END NOTES: I’ll add this and the Xmas snippet to ao3 shortly. Hope you liked it!!! Smooches to you all and here’s to saying good fucking riddance to 2020!!!

#skam france #elu #skamfr #mood tattoo fic #skam france fanfic #elu fanfic

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masterofmunson · 4 years

Text

bleeding love

Frat boy!Harry x Sorority!Reader

Summary: There’s no way in hell you would give Harry Styles the time of day. At least you don’t until he accidentally gives you a bloody nose.

Warnings: blood, language, drinking, puking, mentions of sex

Word Count: 7.7k+

Author’s Note: Frat boy fic is here! I had a blast writing this! Some bits are a little self indulgent based on my experiences at frat parties and being in a sorority myself haha. If you don’t know what cuff night is, it’s basically where you’re hand cuffed to a frat boy for the night because he asked you to be his date and you have to drink a bottle of champagne or wine together until it’s empty to get uncuffed (at least in my experience). Enjoy and tell me what you think!

here’s the playlist accompanied with the fic

“I’m surprised you’re coming,” your friend Gretchen comments as you and your small group of friends walk to the Pi Alpha Kappa house from your sorority house.

“Why’s that?” you ask her, carefully stepping over a pile of trash left on the street.

She laughs, nudging you gently as you walk. She shakes her head at you, her teased curls hitting you in the face. “Don’t play dumb, Y/n. We all know the reason you don’t go to Pike parties is because Harry’s there.”

You scoff at the mention of his name. You roll your eyes. Just hearing Harry’s name makes you want to gauge your eyes out. You wonder how many times he’ll bug the living shit out of you tonight. “Well, if he wasn’t so insufferable maybe I would come more.”

Your friend Lucy laughs loudly. “You guys should just have sex and move on,” she tells you. “It would solve the disgusting sexual tension you two have going on right now.”

Heat spreads up your neck and across your face. You scoff in disgust and shove Lucy on to the sidewalk. She stumbles and all your friends laugh. “We do not have sexual tension, Lucy. You’re crazy. The only reason I’m coming is because of the theme. I helped Peter curate the playlist tonight.”

“Ah, right, because who doesn’t love a decades themed frat party?” Lucy teases while your friends giggle at your embarrassment.

You nod, “Exactly.”

Walking up the long driveway your friends Logan and Frankie stand up from their lawn chairs in front of the house. Logan hugs you before complimenting you on your outfit, a pair of bell bottom jeans and a yellow tube top. A pair of circular blue sunglasses rest on the top of your head. You walk past him to the back patio towards the garage.

The music rings through your ears as you open the door attached to the garage. You make a beeline to the bar and one of the pledges pours you a drink before you disappear into the growing crowd. You hurry over to where Peter’s standing and he pulls you in for a hug.

“Who knew letting you curate a playlist would get you to come!” Peter laughs, taking a sip of his beer.

You roll your eyes at him, shoving him gently. “That’s what I’ve been told. Thanks for letting me help.”

The song changes and you let out an excited scream. Peter laughs again and the two of you chug the rest of your drinks before you’re dragging Peter towards the front of the garage. There’s plenty of space as the sound of Footloose rings through the speakers. You went to high school with Peter and have been friends for as long as you can remember. You helped each other learn the line dance from the movie when you were 11. It also doesn’t hurt that Peter danced for nearly 10 years either.

Your friends squeeze through the growing crowd to join you and you grin excitedly as you start to dance together. People join in, watching you and Peter lead the dance with your friends beside you. You’re too into the dance to notice Harry watching you with a smug smirk on his face.

When the song ends, your friends all laugh breathlessly and you grin. You make a beeline towards the bar counter again, asking for a beer when Harry approaches you. He smirks and leans against the counter. You know without looking that he’s standing beside you. You know he’ll tease you about what he just saw, but you don’t care. You were having fun. You won’t let Harry ruin your night.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile like that,” Harry tells you, sipping his beer. “Especially over a song like Footloose.”

There it is. The small jab Harry always has to sneak in to get under your skin. You won’t let him. Not tonight.

You turn your head to look at him. You fake a smile. You notice that he’s dressed just like Marty McFly from Back to the Future. At least he dressed up for the theme. Of all the times you’ve been to the house for parties, you’ve never seen him dress up for the themes. You wonder briefly if he knows you helped plan the party and the theme.

“I know you mean that as an insult, but I don’t care. I won’t let you ruin my night because you enjoy bugging the ever loving shit out of me, Harry. Go find Chelsea or Caroline. I’m sure they’d be happy to keep you company. See you later,” you tell him with a curt nod before disappearing with your drink in your hand to find your friends.

You find them only moments later dancing and grinding on each other to Smack That. They cheer when you join them and you smile. You and your friends dance together and scream the lyrics to the song. Sweat slides down your face and you take a deep breath before joining Lucy in screaming the song. Her jean jacket is wrapped around her waist as you pull up your tube top. Gretchen laughs, forgoing the curls on her shoulders and throwing her hair up into a bun.

“Harry’s been eyeing you the whole time we’ve been here!” she shouts over the loud music, winking at you.

You shrug. “Don’t care, Gretch!” you shout back, finishing your beer. “I’ll be right back. I’m getting another drink!”

You weave through your friends and walk around the beer pong table to get to the counter.

You never make it.

Instead a hard wack on your nose makes you stumble back and fall backwards on the floor. You scream loudly and the music stops. Your head starts to spin and you immediately clutch your nose. Tears blur your vision. Warm liquid coats your fingers.

“Shit!”

You groan. Of course Harry is the one to accidentally give you a bloody nose. The night has officially gone to shit, and you were having a great time!

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you,” he apologizes, leaning over you and helping you to sit up. Harry helps you to your feet and you grunt. You don’t say anything in fear of getting blood in your mouth.

He holds you by the waist, and normally you would argue if he was touching you, but you couldn’t see and you needed help. You walk past the girls in line for the bathroom and Harry opens the back door of the house. You step inside and he guides you down the hall into the bathroom attached to what you assume is his bedroom. Harry sits you down on the toilet seat and frantically opens the bathroom cabinets for the first aid kit.

At this point, blood starts leaking down your mouth, chin, and through your fingers. You still can’t see and tears still sting at your eyes. You hear Harry sigh in relief when he finds the first aid kit and nearly rips it open. He gently takes your hands away from your face and immediately presses gauze to your noise. You groan and hiss in pain.

“Sorry,” he mutters, “I need t’ put pressure to stop the bleeding.”

“I know,” you grumble, “still hurts though.”

Your head still spins and you feel like you’re about to puke. You can still hear the music from the garage and tears still coat your cheeks.

“I know we’re not friends, but I genuinely didn’t mean to hit you in the nose,” Harry breaks the silence, laughing awkwardly. You can’t even see him.

“I know, Harry,” you sigh as he adds more gauze to your bleeding nose. You wince again and he apologizes quietly. Your vision clears and your eyes meet his. “It was an accident.”

Harry throws the gauze into the small trash bin beside the toilet before grabbing a clean cloth. The bleeding has finally stopped, but the burning sensation you feel in your nose doesn’t go away. Harry gently holds your face in his hands and stares at your nose. You don’t know why your heart starts to race. His fingers gently press into the sides of your nose and you groan.

“Does it hurt when I press on your nose?”

You roll your eyes at him. What a stupid question. It makes you want to smack him. You wish your hands weren’t covered in blood so you could back hand him. “Isn’t it obvious? I just groaned in pain,” you snap at him.

Harry glares at you. “I’m just making sure. I think you may have a broken nose. I’m going t’ grab a bag of ice to put on your nose ‘nd some Advil.”

“What?!” you shout at him. “How do you know that just by touching my nose?”

“I’m a nursing major. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You stare at him in complete shock as he hurries out of the bathroom, shutting the door slightly. You had no idea that he was a nursing major.

You let out another groan. The pain from your nose spreads across your face through the back of your head. You feel like you’re about to puke.

“Oh, no,” you whimper to yourself, sliding off the toilet seat as fast as you can. You spin around and pull the seat up, ignoring the red stain you leave behind. You puke immediately. It burns your throat and you can’t see again. You’re a flaming hot mess with a broken nose.

You start to gasp for breath when you feel a gentle hand on your back. Your hair is pulled out of the way as another way of nausea makes its way through you. Tears burn your eyes and you let out a soft cry. You’re completely embarrassed.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Harry says softly. It’s the first time you’ve heard something kind come out of his mouth towards you and your head is in his toilet. “Just breathe f’ me. I can’t have ya passing out on me. You’re dehydrated.”

Your breathing starts to slow and you pull your head out from the toilet. You flush quickly with the back of your hand and tear a few pieces of toilet paper off the roll to wipe your mouth. You groan when you notice a red stain as you toss it in the garbage bin.

“Ah, shit,” Harry curses, grabbing the first aid kit from the counter and grabbing a clean thing of gauze. He reaches for your chin and quickly wipes the blood trailing down your nose before holding it against your face. “You puking most likely aggravated your nose. That’s why it's bleeding again.”

You grunt in response as Harry goes through the motions to stop your nosebleed again. He pulls away a few minutes later and tosses the piece into the trash. He stands up, quickly and thoroughly washing his hands before grabbing the cup of water he got you from the kitchen. You take it with a soft thank you. He grabs the bottle of Advil and shakes out two pills. He hands them to you carefully and you pop them into your mouth. You take a careful sip and swallow.

You lean your head back on the bathroom wall and sigh. You set the cup down and Harry gently sets the ice bag on your nose. You wince and he apologizes under his breath. Your fingers brush his as you hold the bag in place.

You’re silent for another moment before you build up the courage to speak. You’re incredibly embarrassed and you know he won’t let you live this down. Harry has never seen you so weak and small. Harry has never seen you cry.

“Thanks for doing all of this for me, Harry,” you mumble quietly as you stare at the bathroom wall. You can’t look at him. You’re too ashamed. “I’m not normally this much of a mess. I’m sorry about all the blood everywhere.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Harry turn to look at you. He’s smiling at you. You turn your head to meet his eyes. “I know. It’s okay, I’ll clean everything up later,” he laughs, “and you’re welcome. I feel really bad. If you just keep taking Advil ‘nd ice it, you should be fine. It doesn’t look like a severe break so there’s nothing else you can really do for it.”

You hum, fighting back a smile. “For the three years we’ve known each other, I had no idea you were a nurse major.”

“We’re normally too busy bitching at each other to have a civil conversation.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and switch hands on the ice pack. “Right.”

Silence falls between the two of you when there’s a harsh knock on the bathroom door. It’s opened immediately and Peter pokes his head inside. He looks down at the two of you.

“Is everything okay? I heard something about a nosebleed,” Peter asks. His eyes never leave yours and you know without looking that you’re a disaster.

There’s most likely alcohol and puke in your hair. Your jeans are wet and you’re missing an earring. Your makeup is smeared all over your face and blood stains your precious tube top and your hands.

“It’s all taken care of, Pete,” you tell him with a soft smile. You’re grateful to have a friend like him. “Harry’s my personal nurse.”

“Okay, good. I was worried. Let me know if you need a ride back to the house.”

You nod and Peter shuts the door, leaving you and Harry alone again. Harry sighs softly, glancing over at you. “How are you feeling?”

You laugh. “Better, thanks. My nose is numb, but I’m good. I’m sure I’ll feel better tomorrow since I threw up.”

“Good. I think it’s about time we get ya home now.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, embarrassment washing over you again. Of course Harry wants to dump you off to someone else. You’re not surprised in the slightest. You most definitely ruined his night as well as yours. “If you grab Peter, he can take me back to the house. I should get out of your hair.”

Harry’s brows pinch together in confusion as he stares at you. “I’m taking you home. I would feel better if I did. I still feel shitty about it.”

Oh!

You certainly didn’t expect that kind of a response. You expected him to be thrilled. You would no longer be his problem and he could go find someone to fuck for the night.

“Okay, thanks.”

Harry’s up on his feet faster than you and he watches you carefully as he washes his hands again. You stand up slowly and take a quick peek at yourself in the mirror. You’re absolutely mortified as you take your turn to wash your hands thoroughly. You look like you got hit by a train and a bus and a car all within one fell swoop.

“Oh my god,” you groan in embarrassment.

There would be no way to save your precious and favorite tube top. Yes, there’s blood, plenty of it stained on the shirt, but that’s not the worst part. It’s the puke stain mixed with it. It makes you want to puke again.

Your hair is a mess and there’s a wet spot on your jeans. Makeup runs down your face, nearly all of it wiped off in the process of stopping your bloody nose.

“There’s no way I can go out of your room looking like this,” you tell him. “I look terrible!”

Harry laughs and you frown at him. “You can borrow some of my clothes. I can wash your clothes and give them back tomorrow,” he tells you with a warm smile.

“Thank you. I owe you,” you tell him as you quickly wash your hands. Harry shuts off the bathroom light and you step into his bedroom. The main light is on and you quickly glance around the room. You try not to look surprised. His room is so…. clean. You wouldn’t have pegged him as someone to have a neat room.

You watch Harry dig through his dresser until he pulls out an old pair of shorts and a sleep shirt. He hands them to you and smiles gently.

“I’ll stay in here. You can use the bathroom to change,” he tells you. “Just try not to make more of a mess.”

You nod in return, thanking him for the clothes before disappearing to the bathroom again. You change quickly, getting rid of your stained and wet clothes. You carefully wrap your tube top in your jeans before washing your hands again and open the bathroom door and shut the light off.

“Thanks again, Harry,” you smile softly.

“You’re welcome. You can just toss your clothes into the bin right there. I can clean them for you.”

Your brows pinch together. He doesn’t have to wash your disgusting clothes. You can handle it. He’s already done way too much for you. There’s no way you’ll ever be able to live this down.

“Harry, my clothes are disgusting and stained. I can bring them home. It’s not a big deal,” you tell him.

“I have to do laundry anyway. Just throw them in the bin. I insist. I’m the reason they’re so gross in the first place.”

You sigh. You’re not in the mood to argue. Now all you want to do is go home and sleep off the pain and embarrassment you feel.

Throwing your clothes into the laundry bin, you follow Harry out the bedroom door and close it behind you. You wave a quick goodbye to Peter and ask him to tell your friends that Harry’s driving you back to the sorority house.

Harry opens the front door to the house and you step outside. You walk quietly to his car and open the door without a word. You shut the door and buckle your seat belt as Harry climbs in. He starts the car and carefully pulls out of the driveway.

The five minutes it takes to get to the house are silent. You don’t know what to say and you’re guessing Harry doesn’t either. He pulls to the back of the house and you sit for a moment before glancing over at him.

“Thanks for everything, Harry. I know this isn’t how you pictured your night to go, but I really appreciate it. You weren’t horrible tonight,” you laugh softly, biting the inside of your cheek bashfully.

Harry smiles, laughing with you. “Even though I accidentally broke your nose? You’re an angel.”

You roll your eyes and open the car door. “See you later, Harry.”

You shut the door and climb up the stairs to the back door. You look back briefly and Harry sticks his tongue out at you, waiting for you to get into the house safely. You shake your head before punching the code into the keypad attached to the door before stepping inside. You peek out the window and watch Harry pull out the back.

Walking through the dining area and the living room, you climb up the stairs to your bedroom. You turn on the light, suddenly grateful your friends were still at the frat house. You have the room to yourself for now.

Heading into the bathroom, you brush your teeth and wash your face as gently as possible. You look and feel better now that your face is clean.

Walking back into your bedroom, you turn off the lights and climb into bed. You fall asleep with Harry’s clothes still on your body.

He smells like aftershave and vanilla.

….

You wake up with a raging headache the next morning. You groan loudly and fist at your sheets. Your nose still burns.

You roll out of bed and grab a clean towel from your closet and slip your shower shoes on. You step into the bathroom and lock the door behind you. You stare at yourself in the mirror.

Holy shit!

Your nose is completely swollen. Black and blue spread across the bridge of your nose and towards the corners of your eyes. Now it definitely looks like someone punched you in the face and gave you a black eye.

You sigh, shaking your head. You turn on the shower and take off the clothes Harry let you borrow last night. Stepping into the shower, you let out a blissful sigh. The warm water washes away the remnants of last night’s party.

You thoroughly shampoo and condition your hair before gently washing your face and body. Once you’re finished, you turn off the water and dry off.

Stepping out of the shower, you scoop up the clothes you borrowed and head back into your room. You change into a pair of comfy gray joggers and a shirt that says Florida State Dad that your brother got you as a gag gift for one Christmas.

Reaching for your phone, you check the time. You groan. It’s just past 2:30. No wonder no one’s in the room. You’ve slept the day away. Now you have to stay up late to do your assignments.

Your phone buzzes with a text message and it makes you jump.

Unknown Number: Hey, it’s Harry. I’m outside, can you let me in?

Unknown Number: I have your clothes and a few other things.

Unknown Number: Also I got your number from Peter.

You laugh softly, shaking your head.

Y/n: I’ll be down in a sec, weirdo.

You slip your phone into your pants pocket before heading downstairs. You open the door and your eyes meet Harry’s. You smile and let him inside. You look down at his hands. He’s holding a small white basket.

Peeking inside, you see your clothes. They’re clean and the bloodstain on your yellow tube top is gone. You wonder how long it took to get rid of the stains. Surrounding your clothes are some of your favorite snacks and candies. It makes your heart flutter inside your chest.

“You didn’t have to do this Harry. You’re too sweet,” you tell him with a gentle smile. “Thank you.”

Harry grins, laughing at you. “Do my ears deceive me or did you just call me sweet?”

You roll your eyes and shove him playfully. “Shut up. Don’t ruin the moment.”

You turn and walk into the dining area and Harry follows close behind. He sets the basket on one of the empty tables as you fish around the cabinets for a plastic bag to fill with ice.

“Did I come at a bad time?” Harry asks you.

You shake your head and zip the bag up once it’s filled. You laugh softly. “I slept through most of the day. I woke up about a half hour ago and took a shower. You just caught me in the middle of my hair routine.”

He hums as you gently place the bag of ice on the bridge of your nose. Harry frowns and walks towards you.

“Now it looks like I gave ya a bloody black eye too,” he grumbles.

You laugh at his pout. “It’s okay, Harry. I’m past that now. It’ll heal. I’m fine.”

He sighs. “I still feel bad. Have you eaten anything yet? I was planning on going to Munchies for lunch. Would you like to come?”

Your heart stops and you swallow hard. You did not expect that. Is Harry asking you on a date?

“It would be my treat, because y’ know…”

“I-I, um,” you stutter bashfully, “sure! Just let me go put the basket in my room and get my shoes and we can go.”

He nods and you scurry off, grabbing the basket and holding the bag of ice to your nose. You’re practically running up the stairs. You hurry into your bedroom and set the basket on your bed. You quickly pull on a pair of gently worn gym shoes before making your way downstairs again. You stuff the bag of ice into the freezer so you can use it later.

“Ready?” you ask him.

He smiles and nods as the two of you make it to the front door. He opens it for you and you step outside. You walk side by side towards Munchies Cafe. The two of you make small talk as he holds the door open for you. You thank him quietly.

You’re seated almost immediately and Harry smiles bashfully at you. It makes your stomach flip. It’s so weird and strange and foreign to you. You would’ve never guessed that the accidental broken nose would lead to this.

He’s kind and cordial. You don’t bitch or groan at anything he says. Instead you laugh loud and joyously at nearly everything he says. It makes your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. You had no idea you had so much in common with Harry before last night. It makes you wonder why you never got along before today. You don’t even remember the real reason behind the hate and disgust you had towards each other. Every time Peter, Lucy, or Gretchen asked why you didn’t like him, you never gave a definitive answer.

Your only response was a childish, “I just don’t, okay!”

Now you feel stupid because Harry’s great. He’s amazing. Now you understand why everyone likes him.

You wonder briefly while the two of you are eating your lunch together if he feels the same way about you.

Does he think you’re kind and funny? Does he think it’s cool that the two of you have so much in common? Does he wonder why you hated each other for so long when you couldn’t think of a good answer?

It shocks you that you momentarily care what he thinks of you because you don’t. He’s Harry for crying out loud! He lives and breathes female attention and you’re giving him exactly what he wants. You shake away the feeling. He just feels bad about your nose. That’s all it is. There’s nothing more to it. He’s not getting anything out of this right now, you are. He’s the one getting you lunch because his guilt about your nose won’t go away.

You groan when Harry gently smacks away your hand as you try to put down money for the tip once you’re done eating. “Harry, at least let me cover the tip!” you exclaim, glaring at him.

He laughs and shakes his head at you. “I told you before, this is my treat. Put your money away, woman!”

You roll your eyes. “You already bought my favorite snacks and candies for me. How is that any different from this?”

“Because, my dearest Y/n, I’m trying to clear my debts with you. I know you and I don’t want you to hold this over my head until the day I die.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest stubbornly. You know he’s right. You will hold it over his head.

“Fine, but I’m paying next time.”

Harry raises a brow at you and smiles. “Next time?”

Heat spreads across your face and you bite the inside of your cheek. “Um, only if you want to.”

Harry laughs softly. “I do. You can breathe now, Y/n. I was just teasing.”

You nod, laughing awkwardly at him as your waiter comes to collect the check. You let out a soft breath of air before leaning back into your chair. The waiter returns a few minutes later as the two of you talk and finish your drinks. You watch Harry sign the receipt before his eyes meet yours.

“Ready?” he asks you. You nod and push your seat out. You walk out of the cafe with Harry beside you.

“Thanks for lunch, Harry. I had a good time,” you tell him as you stand in front of your house. “I’ll see you later.”

He smiles warmly at you. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you later.”

You punch in the code to get into the house and turn to wave goodbye to Harry before stepping inside. You shut the door and let out a blissful sigh. You try your best to fight off the butterflies in your stomach, but it doesn’t work.

You let out a girlish squeal before running up the stairs to your bedroom.

….

Your relationship with Harry shifted after you had lunch together.

You don’t bitch and moan at each other. You’re not looking for ways to plot his utter demise. He doesn’t get on your every last nerve like he used to. He doesn’t purposely say or do things to antagonize you.

It’s a weird change, but it’s a good change. You’re glad that you and Harry have moved past the petty bullshit and bickering. You like having him as a friend. He’s funny and kind and he helps you with biochemistry.

With the shift in your relationship, you’ve also come to realize that your friends won’t let go of the idea that you have feelings for Harry. It’s all they talk about and you hate it. It’s crazy talk. You don’t have feelings for Harry. That’s a recipe for disaster.

“Would you drop it?” you snap angrily, glaring at Lucy and Gretchen. You’ve been trying to work on your biochemistry homework for the last 20 minutes in the study room, but you can’t focus with your friends grilling you about your new found friendship with Harry. “We are just friends, that’s it! I thought you would be thrilled to see that we’re getting along now.”

“We are!” Lucy replies defensively. “It just seems as if the two of you are made for each other! You would be so cute together.”

You groan in frustration. “Luc, I don’t have to date every single guy I’m friends with. I’m friends with a lot of guys that I’ve never dated or consider dating.”

“We’re just saying you should keep that option open if something does happen between the two of you,” Gretchen says with a soft smile. “We like seeing you happy, okay?”

“I know. Don’t worry about it, okay?” you tell her, packing up your things. You’re no longer motivated to study, especially with your pesky best friends.

You walk back to your bedroom and throw your bag down before collapsing on your bed. You let out a comfortable sigh and reach for your phone. You grin.

Harry: are u doing anything rn?

Y/n: I was trying to study, but Gretchen and Lucy are bugging me. Why?

Harry: fantastic. come with me to the library instead.

Y/n: okay! should i meet you there?

Harry: I’m already across the street. Come downstairs.

You laugh loudly. Of course Harry was already on his way over. You roll your eyes and respond quickly.

Y/n: ur a stalker, i hope u know that.

Harry: u can’t resist me ;)

His response makes your stomach flip and you quickly grab your backpack and swing it over your shoulder. You slip on your slippers and put your phone inside your hoodie. You make your way downstairs and open the front door, nearly running into Harry in the process.

“Hi, Harry,” you grin at him as you step outside.

“Hey, Angel,” he responds.

It makes you roll your eyes and Harry laughs as the two of you make your way to the library.

When you arrive at the library, you find an empty table easily. You and Harry sit across from each other and pull out your laptops, notebooks, and the textbooks you needed.

You work quietly for a while, occasionally asking Harry questions about a specific problem you were working on for biochemistry. He’s patient with you and works through the problem so you understand it. You’re incredibly thankful for his help.

Once you’re finished with your work, you start drafting an essay for your writing course. Harry gently calls your name. You hum and look at him, looking away from your computer.

“Can you be my date to cuffs?”

Your eyes widen. You always went to cuffs with Peter. Now, looking back, you wonder briefly if Harry’s the reason Peter hasn’t asked you yet. Harry wants you to be his date.

You know the rumors with Harry and his reputation surrounding cuffs night. He always brings a girl that he fucks later that night, at least that’s what Peter told you.

He wouldn’t do that to you. You’re just friends. Friends don’t have sex and tell everyone about it. You don’t see him in that way. Nope, absolutely not.

The thought lingers. The idea sounds fun. You always have fun at cuffs night. You get trashed and Peter is a gentleman and takes care of you. Harry wouldn’t be any different from Peter. Harry’s already taken care of you. You trust him. It would be fun to go with someone other than Peter.

“Sure, Harry,” you respond eagerly, nodding in confirmation.

Harry grins exsatically. He’s definitely thrilled you said yes.

“Great. The theme is famous duos. I was thinking we could do Wesley and Buttercup from The Princess Bride.”

You laugh. “Sounds good. You’re lucky I have a red dress in my closet. Now I know why Peter was taking so long to ask me. You want to take me instead!”

Harry laughs and you feel butterflies inside your stomach. You try your best to ignore it.

You don’t have a crush. Absolutely not.

….

“Harry is so into you!” Gretchen screams, watching you get ready for the party from her bed. You roll your eyes and poke your head out the bathroom door.

“Would you be saying that if Peter asked instead?” you retort, fixing the belt around your middle before returning to your makeup.

“No, because Peter is your friend and you’ve known him since you were a kid. It’s so painstakingly obvious that Harry is into you! You’re going as Wesley and Buttercup for Christ sake! If you went with Peter you’d probably go as mustard and ketchup. If Harry wasn’t into you, you probably would be going as sexy Batman and Robin.”

Heat spreads through your neck and up to your ears. You ignore the warm feeling inside your chest as you apply mascara. You don’t know what to say, so you keep your mouth shut. You don’t want to accidentally admit to your best friend that you may have feelings for Harry. She will never let it go and shit spreads fast inside the house. Everyone would know.

You turn off the bathroom light and pull on your gross frat shoes. You slip your phone into the pocket of your dress and spin around for Gretchen to see the full outfit.

“How do I look?” you ask.

“Smoking hot,” Gretchen compliments, making you laugh. “Knock ‘em dead. Have a blast and I expect a full report tomorrow.”

“You got it.”

You make your way down the hall into Layla’s room. You knock gently before opening the door. You peek your head inside and find Layla fixing her black leather top. Her and Frankie are going as Sandy and Danny from Grease.

“Almost ready?”

“Just about, I just need to grab my phone,” Layla answers, reaching for her phone on her night stand before walking out the door with you.

The walk over to the frat house is fast. You’re both eager to get to the party and have fun. You’re excited to see Harry.

Walking up the driveway to the house, you find Harry waiting for you. You walk faster and grin at him. Harry looks great.

He’s wearing a loose black shirt with strings attached and black jeans. The collar of the shirt is popped. He’s wearing a matching black belt and a fake sword is hanging from his hip. A black mask covers the top half of his face.

“You look fantastic, Harry!” you compliment, taking in his costume. His smile is breathtaking.

“You look absolutely gorgeous, Y/n,” Harry returns the compliment and you grin. It makes your heart race. You hug briefly before Harry holds up the handcuffs. “Gimme your right hand.”

You hold it out for him and he gently cuffs your hand. Harry does the same to his right hand and you follow him to the back of the house. You make a stop inside and he grabs one of the bottles of wine on the counter and he looks over at you.

“Once we finish this bottle, we get uncuffed.”

You laugh, nodding at him. “I know, Harry. I’ve done cuffs before.”

He smiles again. “I know, just making sure.”

You step inside the garage and Harry’s immediately surrounded by his friends and the girls they brought. You take the bottle of wine from Harry and take a generous sip as you stand awkwardly beside him. Peter and Logan are the only ones that acknowledge you and you appreciate it.

“You look hot, Buttercup,” Peter teases, winking at you.

At least he knew who you were dressed as. You laugh loudly. You curtsy in response and thank him. You take another long sip of the wine, ignoring the weird feeling inside your chest as you watch Chelsea flirt helplessly with Harry. You want to dance. You don’t want to be a third wheel, so you poke your head into their conversation.

“Hate to break up whatever conversation you’re having, but I want to go dance. I’m taking my date with me,” you grin at Chelsea before pulling Harry away. Harry laughs and takes the bottle from you and takes a generous sip. Some of it slides down his chin, soaking his shirt.

“Thanks for saving me!” Harry thanks you.

Your eyebrows crease together as you look at him. You don’t believe him. You totally just cockblocked him and he’s thanking you. That’s unheard of, especially for Harry.

“What? I thought you would be mad!” you shout as you move to the music.

“No!” Harry laughs again. “I’m not interested, plus I came with you. I’m not going to ditch you.”

“Awe,” you coo, pinching his cheek, “how sweet of you.”

Harry rolls his eyes at you playfully and you grin. You take the bottle from him again and take another drink. Another song starts to play and the two of you start to dance and sing together. It makes you giggle uncontrollably and Harry throws an arm around your shoulder. You dance obnoxiously, but you don’t care. You’ve never felt this carefree. You would’ve never imagined it was because you were with Harry.

You dance together for what feels like hours. You’re a little buzzed from how fast you drank the wine. You don’t want this night to end, not when Harry’s hand is holding yours. You don’t care if it’s because you’re dancing together.

His hand is soft and warm in yours. It makes your insides twist as he tries to spin you around even though the two of you are still handcuffed together. His arms hold you against his chest as you dance together. Your heart races and you feel like you can hardly breathe. It makes your head spin.

Shit.

You most certainly have feelings for Harry. There’s no point in denying it now with your back against his chest and him breathing down your neck. You’re too stupid to do anything about the sudden realization of your feelings for Harry so you do what you do best, you ignore it altogether.

“Wesley and Buttercup,” Peter greets the two of you as the song ends. He holds up the key to the handcuffs and your mood immediately sours. “I know you finished the wine ages ago. Time to uncuff!”

You resist the urge to strangle Peter. You were having such a good time. Now it’s all ruined.

Peter quickly unlocks the handcuffs and your hand is free. You rub your wrist gently and Harry does the same before his eyes meet yours. His smile is soft and warm and it makes your heart flutter inside your chest. All you want to do is kiss him senseless.

“Harry?” you say his name gently.

He hums in response.

You’re going to do it. You’re going to tell him. You’re going to tell him that you have feelings for him. You’re going to tell him that you want to be more than friends. You’re—

“Yay!” Chelsea screams, running between you and shoving you away, ruining your plans. “You’re free! Do you want to do body shots?”

You’re so frustrated and upset you could scream, cry, or do both. Why does everyone interrupt you? You just want to talk to Harry!

You noticeably frown, resisting the urge to cry. Shit. You’re one of those bitches now, upset over a stupid boy. Upset over Harry, no less! There’s no way he could reciprocate the feelings you have. He’s Harry! He doesn’t have girlfriends. You should’ve never been friends in the first place.

Disappointed and trying not to cry, you turn your back towards Harry and make a beeline for the door. You ignore Harry shouting your name as you step outside. Your resolve is holding on by a thread when you hear Harry yell after you. You ignore him until Harry gently grabs your arm and pulls you back.

A few tears fall down your face. You feel utterly pathetic. You’ve never been this upset over a stupid boy.

But none of the stupid boys before were Harry.

They didn’t help you with your bleeding nose or puke when they accidentally broke your nose. They didn’t buy you lunch in order to get back on your good side after accidentally breaking your nose. They didn’t help you with your biochemistry homework when you struggled. They didn’t make you laugh so hard that you cried. They didn’t make you ever feel so carefree.

Harry is the only one to have made you feel that way.

You want Harry more than you can imagine, but there’s no way he feels the same. He’s only close with you because he sees you how Peter sees you, a friend.

“Angel,” he murmurs gently, reaching to caress your face. The mask he had on is long gone. You look away, too upset and ashamed to look Harry in the eyes. His thumbs brush away your falling tears. “Why are you crying? What’s gotten you so upset suddenly?”

You shake your head. You can’t tell him. Absolutely not. It’ll just make it worse. There’s no way. You don’t want to lose him. You can’t.

“It’s nothing, Harry,” you answer pathetically. “Just go back to the party. Chelsea’s probably waiting.”

“It’s obviously not nothing if it’s making you this upset. I don’t give two shits about Chelsea. She can fuck off for all I care. I’m focused on you, nothing ‘nd nobody else.”

Silence falls between the two of you and you can’t even look at him.

Then Harry speaks again, as if a realization dawns on him. He gently pulls on your chin so you’re forced to look at him. He smiles and brushes the last of your tears away before pulling you closer.

“Oh, darling,” he murmurs softly, “I’m crazy about you, in case you haven’t realized it yet. You don’t have to be sad, my eyes are only on you.”

Your heart stops.

Did you hear him right? Are you hallucinating? Did he just confess his feelings for you?

Harry’s eyes are soft and gentle as you stare at him. His fingers are still brushing softly against your cheeks. He laughs. Your shock must be noticeable.

“You’re so cute. It kills me. I thought I made it pretty obvious.”

You finally find the courage to speak. “Really?”

He nods, pulling you into his chest for a warm and inviting hug. You relax immediately and hug him tightly. He kisses the side of your head.

You pull away briefly and your eyes flicker to his mouth. You bite the inside of your cheek and let out a careful breath. Harry grins, leaning until his mouth is nearly on yours. His nose brushes against yours.

“Can I kiss you?” you whisper softly.

“I thought you would never ask,” he teases, his mouth meets yours in a soft, gentle kiss. It sets fire to your insides, warming you all the way from your toes to the top of your head.

You never imagined kissing Harry like this. It’s sweet and romantic and it makes you want more. His mouth is smooth against yours and the smile you feel against your mouth makes your stomach flip.

His hands hold your face and you cling to his shirt before pulling away. You bite your lip and meet his soft gaze. He presses a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. You lean into his touch.

“And that’s for breaking your nose,” he laughs, pulling you in for another kiss. “Now it’s healed completely.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Seems fair,” you whisper. “Now I get all the kisses I want from you.”

He smiles pressing kisses along your face and down your neck. “That seems like a win for me too, darling,” he murmurs against your skin. It makes you giggle and you pull him in for another kiss on the lips.

When you arrive back at the sorority house the following morning in another one of Harry’s shirts and a pair of his shorts, Gretchen and Lucy are thrilled to say the least. They never let you forget that your relationship with Harry started because he accidentally broke your nose.

At least you know he’ll always be there to fix it if it were to happen again.

#pls tell me what u think!! i crave validation thx #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry imagine #harry imagines #my writing

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jenonctcity · 4 years

Text

Destroy Dick December - Jaemin

Na Jaemin – Smut, Crack, Fluff

Warnings: Graphic smut, oral.

Word Count: 3k

Summary: 00’s line take part in Destroy Dick December

Like No Nut November, Destroy Your Dick December is a month-long challenge related to orgasms of the penis persuasion.

On the first day of December you orgasm once, on the second you orgasm twice, on the third you orgasm three times, and so on.

Day 1:

As if making up for lost time, Jaemin had gone a bit sex mad the last few weeks of November. You’d previously hoped that if he had succeeded in no nut November, then the sex he’d provide you with in the beginning of December would be mind-blowing and unforgettable. He’d only lasted a week, and since then, he’d been trying to worm his way inside of your underwear nearly every day. You didn’t mind, he was pretty good at using his penis and the charm he used on you was enough to make the fabric of your panties stick to your dampening heat. But, where he had warned you in advance to no nut November, he’d neglected to tell you about his decision in destroy dick December.

He’d just finished fucking you till your eyes were rolling into the back of your head when he tucked his face into your perspiring neck, his cock still inside of you as it slowly softened, and his arms wrapped around your body to stop you from escaping him. Not that you wanted to.

“Baby,” He sang in a cute voice, hoping if he used a bit of aeygo on you it would persuade you to go along with his ridiculous idea. “I have something to tell you.” He started to whisper now, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine with every word.

“What?” You sighed, bracing yourself for whatever stupid thing he was about to propose to you. “You didn’t accidentally send my mum a selfie of you wearing my dress again did you?” You raised an eyebrow, sniggering at the memory of the time you’d left Jaemin alone whilst you showered, and he’d taken it upon himself to put on your dress and take a mirror selfie, meaning to send it to your phone but accidentally sending it to your mother instead. He groaned loudly, wiggling his hips and nipping at your neck.

“You promised never to speak of that again!” He whined like a spoilt brat, cringing at the vivid yet embarrassing memory. You laughed in response at his cute reaction and trailed your hands down his back, swirling your fingertips around his damp skin to soothe him. “I’m going to do destroy dick December, its basically a challenge th-” You cut him off as he started to ramble.

“I know what it is Jaemin. And no. I am not helping you with it.” You put on your stern voice, hoping if you showed your displeasure in it then he’d drop it and not take part in it.

“Why?!” He squeaked in surprise, sounding almost scandalized that you weren’t going to help him.

“Because its so unsafe Jaemin! All that masturbating and sex isn’t healthy for your body.” You scolded him, genuinely concerned for the health of his heart because in your opinion his health was way more important to you than a stupid internet trend. He huffed in annoyance, his breath flooding over your skin again and causing another shiver to ripple down your spine.

“Pretty please.” He whispered in the cutest voice he could muster, your eyes rolling in response.

“No. You can take part in it if you like. But I am not helping you.”

“But surely you can’t go without sex for a whole month and if you won’t help me then you can’t have sex with me.” He used his arms to suspend his body above yours, staring down at you with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, believing he’d caught you out. You deadpanned at him, not responding which caused him to wiggle his eyebrows at you to encourage a response.

“Fine, I’ll have sex with you once a day but that is it!”

“Deal!”

Day 4:

“Baby…I want to eat you out so badly…can I?” Jaemin’s sultry voice whispered in your ear, his teeth nipping at your ear lobe as a gentle persuasion. You closed your eyes, picturing his face between your legs, a smug look plastered on his face from how wet he’d made you and how you whimpered under his touch. A hum ripped from your throat, almost sounding like a soft moan as you actually felt a dribble of arousal leak from your entrance.

“I already gave you one orgasm today, that was the deal, remember?” You thought back to when you woke up beside Jaemin this morning. He’d rolled himself on top of you and rutted his leaking cock into your thigh until you parted your legs and let him have his way with you.

“I never said you had to do anything to me…” He circled his fingers over your thigh, ghosting his fingertips against the bare skin leading goose bumps to rise up. You scoffed a laugh, rolling your eyes at him as you took his hand in between your own.

“Na Jaemin, do I look stupid?” You raised an eyebrow at him, his eyes widening to show innocence and fake confusion. “I know you’ve had three orgasms so far, and you need another one so you’re trying to butter me up, so I’ll cave and perform another one on you. It isn’t happening.” He didn’t respond, his eyes darting around the room as he thought of something to say.

“Please?” Was the best he could come up with. You sighed, smiling cutely at him with a twinkle in your eye.

“Okay!”

“Really?” He gasped, his face lighting up like a struck match.

“No.” You said in a monotone voice, your face falling to one of no emotion. His face also fell, his eyebrows lowering and a pout forming on his face.

“You’re no fun.”

Day 8:

You hadn’t heard from Jaemin since earlier on in the morning. He’d sent you a simple good morning text and also told you how beautiful you looked despite the fact he hadn’t actually seen you. It was this charming personality that you fell in love with when you started dating Jaemin. His text had brought an undeniably huge smile to your face on your morning commute to work, patterning your good mood for the day. The day before you’d arrange to go to the dorm to see Jaemin in the evening after your shift at work had finished. You let yourself into the door like you usually do and raised a sceptical eyebrow at how silent it was. The eery silence not sitting right with you and leading your gut instinct to tell you something bad had happened.

“Nana?” You called out gently, removing your shoes and adventuring cautiously further into the dorm.

“I’m here.” A gruff and solemn voice called out from his bedroom. You let yourself in and gasped upon seeing his body all tucked up in bed, his head the only thing visible, a pout that told you he was feeling sorry for himself moulded onto his lips.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You rushed to his bed, sitting on the edge and staring down at him and scanning his head for any damage.

“No.” He stared up at you, a short sigh leaving his lips as he shuffled around underneath his cover, pulling his arms out from their confines. He held up his right hand to you, a wrist brace attached securely to his hand and wrist. Shock took over your body, your mouth popping open and eyebrows dropping in sadness at how your baby was hurt.

“What did you do?!” You moved around so that you were laying underneath the covers with him, resting your head on his chest and rubbing your hand over his chest comfortingly.

“I slipped over and sprained my wrist.” He cuddled you tightly, his chin resting on the top of your head. You knew he was going to milk this, your attention being too irresistible to him for him not to milk it.

“How did you do that?” You very gently grabbed his injured hand, pulling it towards you to place a delicate kiss to each of his fingertips. He remained silent, almost as if he was trying to avoid telling you how it happened.

“Erm…ha…funny story really.” He started to stumble over his words as he got nervous, his cheeks flushing red as embarrassment overtook him.

“Jaemin just tell me.”

“Okay well I had already jerked off four times and my penis was starting to get sore from only using spit. But lube is messy, so I decided to use it in the bathroom.” He cleared his throat, letting out another sigh as he continued on his story. “I dropped the lube and it went all on the floor, so I went to get something to clean it up with and when I came back, I misjudged how much lube was on the floor…and I slipped on it…” You had to use every ounce of self-control inside of you to stop yourself from combusting into a fit of giggles. “Don’t laugh!” He whined, snuggling his cheek into your hair, his face now bright red from his mortification. You couldn’t contain it any longer, laughs spilling from your mouth and your chest rising and falling rapidly as you chuckled.

“I can’t believe you sprained your wrist because of lube!” You pulled away from him, gazing at his pouty expression.

“It was so embarrassing babe, I had to shout for Jeno and then explain to him what had happened. Then when we got to hospital, I had to make up a lie to tell the nurse!”

“I hate to say it Jaemin, but I told you that this challenge was bad for your health.” Before you’d even finished your sentence, you’d started laughing again at the irony of the situation.

“Ha ha. So funny.” He deadpanned with no expression on his face. He then whined and started to pout once more. “I have a huge bruise on my hip too and I feel sore. I only have four more orgasms to go too before I completed the day.” You smiled gently at him, leaning forward to cup his face in the palm of your hands. You pressed a tender kiss to his puckered lips and bite your bottom lip at you pulled away.

“Can’t you use your other hand?”

“No, it’s useless.” You gingerly kissed his lips again, letting them linger against his own as you giggled softly.

“Well, I’m not going to make you cum four times, but I’ll hold up my end of the bargain and get you off once. How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect.” He reached forward and connected your lips once more. You carefully straddled his thighs, not wanting to jostle him too much and hurt him as he was in a delicate state and very sore. You stroked his cheeks with your thumbs, kneading his lips with your own as the kiss heated up, his tongue breaking the barriers of your soft pillows and pushing against your tongue. He explored your mouth with his tongue, it brushing the roof of your mouth and almost dancing with your tongue in your passionate state of affair.

You moved around, removing your own clothes with ease and discarding them haphazardly on the floor. Jaemin had already gotten his pyjamas on before you’d made your entrance, so it was easy to pull down his pyjama bottoms and free his half-hard cock. You pulled away from the kiss, reaching down to his cock and gripping it firmly in your grasp. He seethed at the sudden contact, his bottom lip finding purchase between his teeth as he watched your every move with interest. You smirked up at him, leaning down to place a barely there kiss to the tip of his dick. Pre-cum coated your lips, your tongue swiping out to rid your lips of it. He groaned as he watched, erotic thoughts swirling around in his mind of all the dirty things you could do to each other. You pumped his shaft repeatedly until he was fully hard, soft breaths leaving his parted lips. Without any warning you took him in your mouth, hallowing your cheeks and sucking him harshly as you sank down further on his cock. His leg twitched up in response, his good hand finding its way to tangle in your hair. You closed your eyes momentarily, enjoying the heavy feel of him on your tongue as you bobbed your head up and down, his hand tugging at your hair in encouragement. You pulled off, your lips smacking together as you leaned down to lick up the underside of his shaft, purposely putting on a show for him. You trailed up the prominent vein with your tongue teasingly, placing another delicate kiss to the head as you reached it.

“No more baby, I want to be inside of you.” You smiled smugly at his request, pulling away from his hard appendage immediately to shuffle back up so you were hovering over his cock. “Wait, hold it there.” His injured hand gently settled on your waist to stop you from sinking down onto him. He used his left hand with slight inaccuracy as he stroked two fingers from your dripping hole up to your clit, only to drag them back to your hole and dip them in swiftly. He curled his fingers, pumping them in and out of you with not much rhythm, the use of his hand proving that it was his non-dominant hand. Nonetheless, it was doing a wonderful job. The tips of his fingers sending sparks of pleasure up through your body causing a chain reaction of your nerves.

“I’m ready.” You whispered, his fingers retreating from you without having to be told twice. Jaemin always liked to prepare you before you took his cock, the thought of hurting you from the sudden intrusion making his heart hurt. So just to be on the safe side, he always fingered you first or ate you out. You held his cock to your entrance, taking a deep breath before sinking down onto him slowly. You let out a whine, feeling how his cock rippled up your walls as he entered you without any resistance. His eyes screwed up as your tightness felt like heaven wrapped around his cock. You leaned forward, attaching your lips to his as you both took a moment to adjust to the sudden connection you had between your bodies. “Tell me if I’m hurting you Jae.” You whispered against his lips, rolling your hips forward and gripping onto his shoulders for support.

“You’re fine baby, go crazy.” He would endure the pain if it meant he could keep his cock buried deep inside of you when he finished. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your bare chest to his as his arms automatically connected around your waist. You ground your hips into his before starting to bounce, his cock doing wonders to your insides. You felt tingles go up your spine, your head wanting to loll back from the pleasure you felt. Jaemin had a tight grip on you, moving his own hips in time with yours despite the slight ache of pain he felt on his hip. You felt your body get hotter the more you moved against him, his skin starting to feel slick against you from the heated activity. “You feel so good doll.” He moaned out, attaching his hot lips to the skin of your neck, sucking his mark into your skin as you slowed your hips to circle them slowly.

“Jaemin you’re gonna make me cum.” You whined, letting your head roll back as Jaemin planted his feet against the mattress, bucking his hips up into yours. His cock started to hit your sweet spot inside of you, stars floating around the backs of your eyelids as you winced from the overwhelming feeling of white-hot ecstasy took over your system. You gripped onto him hard as you rode out your orgasm, moving with him to bring him to his own high.

“Hold on baby, take it like a good girl.” He grunted into your ear, holding you to him tightly as he continued fucking up into you at an almost superhuman pace. You started to experience the high inside of you build up again like a bottle of fizzy drink being shook up. Something inside of you snapped again and you found yourself cumming on his cock for a second time within the space of five minutes.

“Jaemin!!! Oh my god!” You squeaked, feeling yourself release over his cock, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he neared his own peak. The juices you’d leaked onto his cock made a slick sound resonate throughout the room only to be interrupted by Jaemin’s loud moan, his hips slamming into your one more time as he came. The tight rope inside of him breaking as he realised hot sticky cum inside of you.

“Shit.” He cursed, relaxing against the bed in exhaustion from how hard he went. He then winced as the pain he felt overpowered all his other senses. “Your turn to clean me up this time.” He shot you a cheesy grin, his chest rising and falling fast as he tried to regain control of his breathing. You let out a weak laugh, very slowly rising off of him and smirking as you stayed crouched over him, letting his cum dribble from you onto him. “Hey!” He groaned, watching as you made more mess on him.

“I have to clean it up anyway, let me have my fun first.” You leaned forward, pecking his lips before you stood up off of the bed with shaky legs, pulling on his robe before making your way to the bathroom to get a hot cloth. When you came back you wiped him down, doting on him in the same way he normally would for you when he was giving you aftercare.

“I could get used to this.” He winked at you; his cheeky smile still plastered on his face.

“Well don’t.” He pouted at your words, trying his best to be cute. “Still can’t believe you slipped on lube.” You burst out laughing at the memory of his confession, his face immediately falling, cheeky smile completely wiped from his face.

Destroy Dick December: Na Jaemin - Fail.

(A/N: Hey! This was the last part to my No Nut November/ Destroy Dick December series, it’s been two long months and I’m honestly quite proud of how much I’ve written and by how much love this series has gotten. I hope you’ve enjoyed this series and look forward to my upcoming fics. Please let me know some feedback on this series, or just tell me your favourite part in a certain piece, or which members was your favourite. Love you all!)

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sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years

Text

More Than a Melody

Warnings: None

Pairing: Amateur musician!Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Thank you guys for following! I wanted to try out the idea of an au for my next fic, and an au I really really love is amateur musician!harry who plays in bars and writes his own music in a little one bedroom apartment so that’s basically what this is. This first part is more of an introduction, but if you guys like it, I’ll write more! Please let me know what you think, and if you want more!

{masterlist}

If it were up to you, you would’ve been staying in that night.

“Except it’s not up to you, Y/N.” Charlotte rolled her eyes, rooting through your bedroom closet and tossing clothes onto your bed. Or, more precisely, onto you.

“It should be.” You rolled your eyes back at her, pushing the clothes off of yourself. “I have a psych test tomorrow, and—”

“And it’s just going for drinks at a pub!” Charlotte sighed in exasperation. “It’s not a huge deal. You can spare one evening out!”

“If it’s just drinks…” You flipped a page in your notebook. “Then why are you tearing through my closet?”

“Because you don’t seem to own anything that doesn’t say ‘I only leave my flat for uni and grocery shopping’.” She said flatly. “Seriously, I know you have going out clothes. Are you hiding them from me?”

“I can’t hide anything from you, you’re the world’s most intrusive roommate.” You muttered, getting off your bed to open a drawer in your dresser. “Here. Check here. And I do only leave the apartment for class and groceries.”

Charlotte bumped your hip with hers to get you out of the way, and continued her assault on your wardrobe. “I know. What a boring life.”

“Don’t be rude.” You chastised her, picking up the clothes on your bed and placing them back on the hangers she’d pried them from. “You’re trying to get on my good side, remember?”

Charlotte tossed another tank top at you. “I’m trying to help you! When was the last time you went out for drinks?”

“I don’t remember.” You shrugged. “But it probably wasn’t the night before a test!”

“You need to relax. Have a bit of fun.” Charlotte said firmly, throwing another top at you. “Let your hair down. Take off your bra. Get on the bar and dance.”

“I’m not really a ‘dancing on the bar’ kind of girl.” You said flatly, returning to your seat on the bed. “Besides, I thought this was supposed to be casual drinks with friends? Why would I be dancing on a bar?”

“You never know when you’ll need to dance on a bar. It’s not the type of thing you plan.”

“My apologies. I have limited experience with the subject.”

“You’re forgiven. We’ll change that another night.” Charlotte pulled out an off the shoulder top with a triumphant grin on her face. “Tonight, you’re going to put on that shirt and your dark blue jeans and those little heeled boots that, by the way, I need to borrow for a date next week, and you’re going to go out for drinks and have fun!”

You groaned, taking the top from her. “Why is tonight so important?”

“Because you’re stressed and need to relax.” Charlotte paused. “And because there’s this guy coming out that I want you to meet.”

Your expression grew colder. “Charlotte—”

“I know—”

“I told you I’m not ready to date again!”

“I know!” Her voice turned pleading. “But Y/N, I promise, Jack is a really nice guy! He’s nothing like Parker—”

“That doesn’t matter.” You looked down at the shirt in your hands. “I’m not—I can’t—”

Charlotte sat down next to you on your bed, wrapping an arm around you “Parker was a cheating asshole. A liar. He didn’t deserve you.” She said softly. “But you can’t shut yourself in forever because of what he did. Come out tonight, just for a bit. If you’re not enjoying yourself, we’ll come home. I promise.”

You sighed, but you nodded, agreeing to what Charlotte said. That was how, less than two hours later, you found yourself in the outfit she chose, nursing a cocktail at a table in a crowded pub. Charlotte did her best to include you in conversation, but because everyone at the table were her school friends, you found it easiest to sit back and listen to the conversation instead of adding to it. Although, truth be told, you were only half listening to the conversation, which is why you had to ask Jack to repeat his question when he spoke to you.

“What was that, sorry?”

“I asked where you’re from, and how you met Charlotte.” Jack smiled at you, taking a sip of his beer.

“I’m from America, but I’m in London for school.” You answered. “I met Charlotte during our freshman year. We were roommates. Still are, actually, except now we rent an apartment a few blocks from campus instead of sharing a tiny dorm.”

“That’s wonderful.” Jack replied, his hand moving closer to your arm. “And you like London, then?”

You could tell Jack was flirting. It was obvious in his body language, his tone of voice, and how he found every uninteresting thing you said absolutely fascinating. He was an attractive guy, and you were flattered, but you couldn’t reciprocate the flirtation, so you tried your best to shoot for friendly. “London is amazing. I really love it here.”

Your side conversation continued for a few minutes as Jack asked more questions about you. There were a few moments when you could sense Charlotte’s eyes on you, watching the two of you interact. You did your best not to focus on it, and ignored her prying questions when Jack got up to buy the table another round.

“He likes you, Y/N! You should give him your number!” Charlotte insisted.

You shook your head. “Nope. He’s nice, Char, but I’m not looking to date anyone. In fact…” You checked your watch. “I should get home. I have more studying to do—”

“What? You can’t leave yet!” She shook her head. “You haven’t even heard the musicians!”

“Musicians?” You asked in confusion.

Charlotte nodded. “There’s live music here every week, and some of the musicians are really good!”

“Maybe another time, Charlotte.” You smiled apologetically and grabbed your bag as you stood up.

“Leaving so soon?” A voice you didn’t recognize rang through the bar through the speakers around you.

You turned your attention to the stage. The voice seemed to belong to the man standing at the microphone, his eyes on you. He had curly brown hair that was pushed back from his face, with a single curl still hanging down on his forehead. He was grinning, dimples visible from where you stood, and his eyes reflected the mirth apparent on his face. He was wearing high waisted slacks and a t-shirt, the logo faded to the point where you couldn’t read it.

You flushed when you caught his eye, hurrying to grab your jacket and leave the bar.

“You didn’t answer the question, love.” His voice was amused, laughter apparent in his tone. “People usually wait until I’m halfway through my set to grab their stuff and leave. Are you already bored?”

He kept his eyes on you like he was waiting for an answer. Your friends were staring at you too, as well as everyone in the bar.

“I…” You cleared your throat, more heat rising to your cheeks. “I have to go.”

“Why?” He raised an eyebrow. It was clear to you that he was enjoying this exchange. “Where do you have to be at 11PM on a Thursday night, besides in this pub?”

“She has a test tomorrow!” Charlotte called towards the stage. It was clear to you that she was enjoying this, too.

“A test?” He smirked a bit. “You’re already out and a few drinks in. It’s too late to study for a test. The best thing you can do is sit back down, grab another pint, and listen to some music.”

“What’s happening?” You heard Jack whisper to Charlotte as he came back to the table with the drinks.

The man’s eyes looked over Jack, something changing in them, but his tone stayed the same when he addressed you again. “See? You’ve got another round. Stay, please. Enjoy the music.”

Charlotte tugged on your arm, pulling you back down to your seat. You felt your face burn again as the man smiled.

“There we go! Alright, now that that’s all sorted out…” He walked over to the corner of the stage and grabbed a guitar from its stand, slipping it over his shoulder. “Nice to see you all again. M’name’s Harry, and I’ve been given the wonderful opportunity to play for you tonight. Is everybody doing well? Nowhere else they need to be?”

The customers of the pub clapped, a few people calling out answers in response. Harry’s eyes flickered to you one more time before he continued to introduce the first song of his set.

Conversation at your table began to carry on, quieter than before, but you still didn’t participate. This time, however, it was because you were watching Harry sing. Your attentiveness, while partially due to his talent, was caused by your embarrassment at being called out. You felt the least you could do was pay attention.

By the time Harry finished his set an hour later, the number of people at your table had dwindled. Almost everyone was gone, except for Charlotte, Jack, and you. Once Harry finished his last song, however, Charlotte stood up.

“Alright, I’ve got to get going.” She grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. “See you later, Y/N. And Jack, I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

“If you’re going, I should go too.” You said, beginning to stand.

Charlotte shook her head. “No, you and Jack still have half your drinks to finish. I’ll just call a cab for myself. Jack—” She leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Make sure she gets home safe, alright?”

“Of course.”

And then you and Jack were alone. This was, you suspected, all part of Charlotte’s plan, as she had a mischievous glint in her eye when she walked away. Her absence left a silence between the two of you.

Jack took a sip of his drink. “I’ve just got to run to the men’s room. Will you be alright on your own for a few moments?”

You nodded, sensing genuine concern in his voice. “I’ll be fine. Go ahead.”

You nursed your drink while Jack was gone, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly to pass the time. Part of you considered just leaving while he was gone to avoid the weird pseudo date you’d been left on, but it seemed rude.

“So.” A now familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts. “You stayed, then. And all your friends left.”

You looked up to see Harry standing over you, a charming smile on his face. Heat rose to your cheeks again, the embarrassment from earlier still fresh in your mind.

“I did. And they did.” You nodded. “You were really good, by the way. Your cover of Landslide was amazing.”

“Thanks.” Harry’s smile grew bigger, but then turned sheepish. “I hope I didn’t embarrass you earlier. I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, it—it’s fine.” You tripped over your words. “I’m glad I stayed. It was nice. And who needs to pass every test in their classes, anyways?”

Harry laughed. “Exactly. But still…could I buy you a drink, maybe? To make up for it?”

“Oh, I don’t—I should really be getting going, actually.” You said apologetically. “I’m just waiting for—”

“Hey, Y/N.” Jack returned from the washroom right on queue, one hand going to the back of your chair while the other grabbed his beer from the table. “Hey, Harry, right?” Jack smiled. “You put on a good show, mate. We really enjoyed it.”

“Thanks, mate.” Harry’s eyes flickered between the two of you. “I’m glad to hear it.” He turned his attention back to you, his tone growing bolder. “So you’re heading out, then? I can’t convince you to stay for another drink?”

“Thank you, but no. I do have to get going.” You stood up, glancing at Jack as he watched the interaction between you and Harry with guarded eyes. “It was nice to meet you, Jack. And you too, Harry. I’ll…see you both around sometime.”

“Wait, Y/N, let me walk you home.” Jack grabbed his jacket, but you shook your head.

“No, you still have half a beer left. I’ll just call a cab.” You slipped your own jacket on. “Thank you, though. I’ll see you around.”

You turned around before he could stop you, quickly making your way to the door. You shivered once the cold outdoor air hit you, your eyes scanning the streets for a cab.

“Y/N!”

You turned around, surprised to see Harry outside in just his t-shirt.

“Harry, it’s freezing!” You exclaimed. “Go back inside!”

“Can’t.” He said with a shrug.

You sighed. “And why is that?”

“Because you’re out here.” He said simply, pulling a pen from his back pocket. “And you’re about to leave, so—” He grabbed your hand, scribbling a phone number onto the back of it. “Here. Call me.”

“What?” You tried your best not to focus on how warm his fingers were on your hand. “You don’t even know me.”

“That’s why I’m giving you my number.” He chuckled. “So we can get to know each other.”

“But—”

A cab pulled up to the curb, and Harry reached down, opening the door for you. “Here. Get home safe, love.”

Confused at the turn of events, you climbed into the cab, and Harry shut the door behind you.

“Where to, miss?” The cabbie asked, and you muttered your address to him.

When you glanced through the back window as the cab pulled away from the curb, Harry was gone.

(part ii)

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #fine line #fine line album #amateur musician!harry #barmusician!harry #guitarist!harry #writing #and YES the title is from sunflowervol6 if you cant tell from my url thats my fave song on the album and everything i post has to relate to #harry styles fluff

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hobicomeholla29 · 3 years

Text

Chronicle of a heartbreak Foretold - P1

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff/ Lovers to Enemies

Word Count:1.9k

Warnings: Cheating/ Heartbreak/ Distrust/ Lying/ Manipulating/ Cursing

Rating: PG

A/N: Unedited. This is part of the October project for Castle Bangtan. Which was take a popular trope and reverse it. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Park Jimin was what you had always wanted in a man and maybe also what you didn’t want.

Masterlist

Intro

December 15th

Oh December 15, you are one hell of a memory.

Who could forget the first time Jimin had tried ‘befriending’ Taehyung?

You had barely told your best friend about the new guy in your department who had quickly turned into your boyfriend. Gushed about him until he couldn't take it any longer.

Every waking second where Taehyung would give you an opening, you would take the chance to talk about Jimin.

“I get it… you feel like this dude is it for you.”

“He-“

“He’s not. He’ll hurt you and you know it deep down.”

And just like you took every chance to speak about him. Taehyung took every chance to shoot you down on the spot.

Now, the memories of that day had nothing to do with you and more to do with Jimin giving him another reason to despise him.

According to Taehyung’s angry phone call that day, Jimin was acting a fool.

They ran into each other at work. Now you think maybe working with your best friend and your boyfriend wasn’t the best idea. But what was done was done.

"Ay, what's up?" Just the opening of that conversation was catastrophic. It was meant to be such a disaster that people around them who had no clue about what was going on, knew that the outcome would be negative.

Taehyung nursed a hot beverage, using all of his self-restraint to avoid pouring it over the young man in front of him.

"Hey" his face remained stoic during his answer.

"I'm Y/n's boyfriend. Jimin."

"I know" no change whatsoever.

"And you're her best friend, right? Taehyung?"

"Yes."

What was the need? What was the reason? Taehyung couldn’t quite figure it out. But there had to be a hidden agenda behind why this man -who he was sure knew he despised him- was trying to initiate a conversation with him.

"So, I was wondering..."

About what? He wondered. There was nothing he could ask from a stranger. Because that is what they were until then.

"Do you think there's a possibility that I could borrow like 2k from you? I had this thing come up and really need the mo-"

The scoff and amused smile that followed, effectively cut Jimins's sentence off.

"You must be kidding."

"I'm not..." He had the audacity to say that with a 'genuine' smile.

"Listen here dude. I don't like you and even if I did like you, I don't know you and even if I knew you, I wouldn’t give you 2k just cause you asked."

What pissed Taehyung off the most, was that fact that you had mentioned to him that Jimin was going on a trip to Busan in a week to visit his best friend Hoseok and they had a whole lot of activities planned. So how come if he had an emergency, he couldn’t cancel his trip and use the money for that.

Yet who was Taehyung to confront Jimin about an issue that had nothing to do with him.

The phone call that you received that night was hurtful, a bit annoying and a tad uncomfortable.

Taehyung told you about the entire thing. Brought up the trip to Busan. Told you to end things with Jimin. That he was using you for who knows what reason. That someone who lies to their girlfriend about something so small is only hiding something worse.

“I’m not going to stay around forever to protect you!”

“I didn’t ask for your protection or anyone’s, Taehyung!”

“Well you evidently need it ‘cause no sense is entering that thick skull of yours! Your boyfriend is using you! Bye!”

The warnings -to you- we're unnecessary and uncalled for. But he was only looking out for you, right?

January 1st

Some days, you just forgot about all the bad that surrounded your relationship. All the ominous air that exuded from the ground, the walls, the people, and anyone who sentenced your love to death.

You contrasted all of it with a bubble. A bubble that couldn’t be destroyed from the outside, a bubble that contained only Jimin and yourself. Keeping you both safe from the toxicity in the air.

"Happy 4-month anniversary babe!"

"Happy anniversary Jimin!"

You were so excited about today. Jimin had promised a day full of fun and laughter. Both of you relaxing from a stressful week at work and enjoying your 4-month anniversary.

It all began with him picking you up —well technically going to your apartment and having you drive to the place— but that wasn't important.

You opened the door to your apartment with excitement, bouncing on your tippy toes in expectance of your loving boyfriend.

The view in front of you didn't disappoint. His blue-gray hair swept to the side, white buttoned-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black slim fit slacks with a pair of loafers. His eyes crinkled as a reaction to his wide smile, his cute little teeth showing up to greet you.

In his hands, a turquoise box presented itself with a red bow around it. You didn’t expect for him to buy you anything for a 4-month celebration.

"Aww, baby you didn't have to. What is it?"

"Open it and you’ll see."

You both took a step inside the apartment and took a seat on the couch, setting the box on the coffee table, ready to investigate the contents of the box. Your hands shook with excitement, a reflection of the speed of your heartbeats.

Slowly undoing the bow, careful not to rip it and removing the cover for the box, you were left speechless, when did he even get the time or money to buy you this.

The gasp heard throughout the room, was a clear indication of the feelings roaming your body.

"You did not!" Your eyes were saucers as they stared at him.

"But I did!" He smiled widely.

"No frikin way!"

"Yes, way!"

"How did you get LawBreakers Collector's edition. I thought it was sold out?"

"Not for my baby, she gets what she wants."

"You are the best!" You said, hugging him around the neck so abruptly that, you ended up knocking both of you off the couch.

“That I am!” He said in between giggles as he stroked your cheek lovingly.

Needless to say, the rest of your day got even better as Jimin took you to a nice restaurant for dinner, later guiding you to a park for a late night walk as you both spoke about everything and nothing and back to the apartment to play with your new game for a while until he finally had to go.

January 20th

As per Jimin's text the day prior, he wanted some help arranging his apartment. He said something about getting rid of old stuff he no longer needed and open space for newer things, so as the dutiful and helpful girlfriend you are, you complied.

You arrived as early as possible, meaning 10am since Jimin —and your self— slept a lot.

You began at the bedrooms and expected to finish in the living room.

You were currently cleaning the spare bedroom, trying to not meddle too much into his personal things, limiting yourself to only touch and move stuff that were necessary for cleaning purposes and as soon as you were done, you set them back into their place.

In the process, you accidently stumbled into a box, knocking out its content.

You didn’t bother checking any of it and shoved it all back in with your hands.

"Jiminie, where do you want this box?" You yelled from the room.

"Which one?" his head popped through the door as he asked.

You shook the box slightly, showing him the one you were speaking of.

"I don't even know what's in there"

He sat on the floor beside you to inspect the contents of the box in question. finding a ton of old puzzles and... some letters.

You picked up one that he set on the side, investigating further, and noticing that they seemed to be addressed to him.

"Who's Naeun?" You asked.

"She's my ex, the one who helped me rent out this place, remember."

You did recall him mentioning her once or twice, but not enough to think about her much. Maybe you should have paid more attention.

"And you… keep the letters she gave you?" You knew how it sounded —like you were insecure— but it didn’t matter, you needed to hear his reasons, for your peace of mind.

"Not 'cause I wanted to, I probably forgot about them, since I moved here when we were still together. Just get rid of them."

"Ok..." The inner peace never came, but you pushed down the feeling and did as requested.

You walked with a small pile of at least 20 letters in hand, ready to dispose of them in the kitchen’s trash. Yet you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t throw the out. Why not?! They weren’t written for you or by you. But they felt heavy in your hands. And without a second though you hid them in the backpack you had brought with you, quickly returning to cleaning.

3 hours went by of cleaning and re-arranging stuff. Your letter misappropriation, already forgotten. You decided on ordering some sushi and sat on the living room’s floor enjoying this long-awaited break.

"So..." You began hesitantly.

"What? What are you thinking?" he eyed you expectantly.

"What was she like?" you blurted out.

"Who?" He asked, half a roll in his mouth.

"Naeun… what was she like?"

"Oh, she was nice… at the beginning of our relationship. She was caring and loving. We had a lot of fun together, and she was very giving. We met back in Busan and we lived together for a while, but… then she started to change… and she started coming home less and less, until one day she came home… smelling like perfume… another man’s perfume for that matter and on the following day they showed up together, just to tell me that she had to leave and could no longer be with me..."

"No…"

It broke your heart; how could someone be so selfish. She could have at least broken up with him first and why bring the dude to his place or …well their place. Suddenly you remembered the letters and felt bad. Maybe those letters were her apologizing to him or maybe being cruel and giving him goodbyes. You were prying, you knew that, but you couldn’t fix it now. You would wait until you were home and get rid of them like you should have from the very beginning.

"Yeah, she took some of my stuff as well when she left."

"That's so unfair, you should have fought for your things babe." how could she?

"At the time I didn't feel like I wanted things that could later remind me of her. But I guess I should have fought for them... at least the important ones."

“What kind of things did she take? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Not at all. We used to have 2 gaming consoles; she took one. Also took away a couple of my shirts. Some Jewelry; nothing expensive. And games.”

You nodded in understanding, letting a silence fall over both of you after his last sentence.

The remaining rolls were swiftly consumed right after and in the blink of an eye, you were back to cleaning.

#btsghostie #bangtanhq #bangtanscenery #btsnoonanet #thehouseofbangtan #castlebangtan #jimin x reader #jimin x poc #jimin x woc #bts x woc #bts x poc #fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fanart #writing #fiction writing #bts fanfiction #bts jimin

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sherrybaby14 · 5 years

Text

Eternity

This is my entry for Darkficsyouneveraskedfor’s challenge. Congrats lady!

Prompt: “Shh, it’s okay. It’ll only hurt a little.” And I combined it with this request: I absolutely loved your Sannr Ast series😍😍 I can picture a dark! Steve/ Bucky/ Tony in a medieval AU where you are forced to be the new queen and they want to consummate their marriage but she doesn't want to 😏💕💕

Warnings: Dub-con, smut, angst, virgin reader

Summary: Princess AU. Your life gets turned upside down after a royal decree.

Pairings: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader (not a cheating fic).

A/N: I might have some wrong medieval terminology, please don’t shoot me. Also..because of passage of time your age changes through out the story, which might make it a bit off putting at first.

The bump of the road made you fold your arms and stick your tongue out.

“That’s not how a lady behaves.” Your nursemaid glared at you. “We’re almost there. Aren’t you excited to meet your future husband?”

“No.” You looked out the window, longing to escape to the forest and climb the trees, maybe find a lake. “I am never getting married.”

“Do not be ridiculous. Your father has secured a wonderful match for you.” She sighed. “This arrangement will allow the two of you to learn about one another long before the wedding bells.”

“I don’t care. I won’t like him. He will not like me.” You slouched in the seat. “I have no desire for a husband.”

“He is best friends with the Prince. You will attend court, lavish parties, eat fine foods. Your life is set.”

You ignored your maid as the castle came into view. It looked more like a prison than a palace. Maybe the boy would hate you as much as you hated him. Hate was a strong word. Maybe the two of you could have been friends, but knowing he was your fiancé made the situation too peculiar.

“Straighten your dress.” The nurse leaned forward and started poking at your hair, fluffing and changing the style. “You want to make a good first impression.”

“Do I?” Even as you asked the question you did as you were told and smoothed out your skirt. “We’ve been on the road for over a week. We look traveled and weary.”

“It will be a short introduction, then we will retire to your rooms, possibly sleep.” The nurse smiled.

“I’m to stay the entire summer? What if it is awful? Can’t we leave? I want to go home.” You felt tears form at the corner of your eyes. “I’m too young. I don’t want a husband.”

“This is the first of many summers.” Your nurse tucked a hair behind your ear. “Eventually, when you wed, this will be your home year round. Now smile.”

The carriage came to a stop. The dread in your stomach went into overdrive. You knew the greeting, the formal line of receiving, the proper behavior. As the footman opened the door and offered his hand your reluctance came forward.

“I am certain the young man is as nervous as you are dear.” Your maid took your hand and moved it to the foot man’s. “Let’s not delay any further.”

You rose from the carriage, feeling out of sorts, as if your brain was not in control of your body. There was the line of people to greet you. You scanned them and stopped upon a boy with dark hair and bright eyes. That was him.

Your heart fluttered at his good looks, but before you could stare you moved to the next and your jaw dropped at the blonde next to him. It was Prince Steven, you recognized the portraits. Your betrothed really was the Prince’s best friend.

When your feet hit the ground, the Prince snickered and nudged James Barnes forward. He scowled as he walked up to meet you.

“You are a little girl.” His eyes looked you up and down. “Is this a joke?”

He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than you and you scoffed at the suggestion.

“I am thirteen years old.” You clenched your fists. “Hardly a child.”

“Do I really have to spend all summer with her?” James turned to look at his parents.

You saw the anger on their faces, but noticed the grin the Prince wore. As far as introductions went this was the opposite of what you were expecting, but were relieved. Manners didn’t seem to matter here.

“James!” His mother chastised him. “Remember what we discussed.”

“Lady Y/L/N, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Welcome to our kingdom.” He didn’t hide the sneer in his voice.

“Master Barnes, I am not pleased to make your acquaintance. I do not want to marry you and I hope to spend my summer avoiding you at all costs.” You held your chin high.

“Y/N.” Your nurse gasped. “Please excuse us. It has been a long journey. I believe the lady is tired.”

“Of course.” Lady Barnes gave a sad smile. “Let us show you to your rooms.”

As your trunks were unloaded you followed with a new goal for the summer: make yourself scarce or scary. If he objected enough maybe you could get out of this arrangement after all.

~~ You were giddy when your estate came into view. Home after a terrible long summer. You stuck your head out the window and waved to your parents. Too eager for the carriage to stop you flung open the door and jumped out.

“Stop!” Your nurse cried out, but it was too late.

You ran to your parents and through yourself into their arms.

“How was it? We missed you dear.” Your mother held you tight.

“It was terrible.” Your nurse was right behind you, breathing heavily. “They spent the entire summer bickering at each other, if they even spent any time together at all. I swear she forgot all of her lessons on decorum.”

“What was the Prince like?” Your little sister chimed in.

“Quiet.” You pulled away from the hug. “What the Nurse said was right. It is not a good match.”

“If you spent the summer fighting, sounds like a perfect match.” Your father laughed and shook his head. “Time will tell.”

You scowled, but your sister grabbed your hand and tugged you inside. And you were eager to hear how her months had been. ~~

The next summer was worse. They forced you to spend time together.

“I bet you don’t know how to shoot one of these.” James pulled out an arrow and aimed for the bullseye. “Too busy reading or learning cross-stitch.”

He fired the arrow, barely making it on to the target. Prince Steve seemed to be the only exception to your private time, as he was always glued to James’ side, rarely speaking.

You rolled your eyes and took the bow, lining up an arrow.

“My father has no sons.” You let the quiver go, unsurprised when it hit the center. “He insists on a well rounded education.”

Steve started to laugh as James’ face fell.

“I would offer to teach you, but I do not think your brain is capable of handling the lesson.” You dropped the bow. “I suppose that is enough for today.”

You walked off the yard, head held high, dreading the next time they forced the two of you together.

Summer number three was more entertaining. You had made a friend with one of the guards and each night awaited your little chats. It made your forced time with James easier, since you had something to look forward to.

“How is your boyfriend?” James asked as he walked into the library.

“Excuse me?” You lowered your book.

“You shouldn’t be flirting like that.” He sat down next to you.

“Are you jealous?” Your eyes went wide.

“No.” He sneered, but a smile crept on your face. “What are you reading?”

“You care?” You knew he was sent here, not by choice.

“No.” He relaxed his features. “But if we have to spend time together, may as well make it interesting. Tell me the story?”

Prince Steve stepped forward and began scanning the walls, looking for a book and ignoring you. You wondered why he wasn’t courting his own future princess.

“Alright.” You started filling James in, there were worse ways to pass the time.

Summer number four came and your flirting friend disappeared from the castle. You weren’t as upset as you thought.

It was more of the same, only now you were old enough to attend some of the nighttime events.

“May I have this dance?” James offered you his hand.

The looks from his parents told you it was an order, but he did look handsome in his dress and you placed your hand in his as he led you to the dance floor.

“You look lovely.” He glanced at the floor as he spoke.

“That sounded genuine.” You were shocked. “Where is the snarl afterward?”

“No snarl.” James looked up at you. “I mean it. You look lovely Lady.”

A smile crept on your face as he spun you around. He was handsome. Something in your stomach fluttered, and for the first time, it wasn’t a feeling of dread.

The fifth summer you were almost excited when you arrived. James stepped forward from the receiving line and took your hand.

“Welcome Lady Y/L/N.” He placed a small kiss. “I am happy for your safe travels.”

“The long journey is worth the destination.” You smiled.

The forced spending time together stopped. You found yourself seeking out James’ company. He was always with the Prince, who continued his indifference toward you. But the three of you took walks, went for rides on the horses, even took turns choosing books to read together. It was more fun than you’d imagined.

The final night of your stay was another ball. You’d spent the summer dancing away in James’ arms and tonight you were sad it was the last time. When the song stopped he did not drop your hand, instead he led you out to the balcony to look at the castle grounds.

“I will miss you.” He leaned over the railing. “May I write to you?”

“I would like that.” You gave a coy smile, trying hard to fight the instinct to babble away to him. “And I will miss you too.”

“Next summer, its our wedding.” There was a nervousness to his voice. “Does that please you?”

“I suppose.” You bit back the urge to tell him you were thrilled with the prospect.

“It pleases me.” He stood straight up and turnt toward you. “Very much.”

You thought you were going to melt. Then his hand reached out and tucked a lock of your hair back, his fingertips dragging across your skin. His heavenly blue eyes focused on yours as his face dipped down.

Your first kiss. You’d wanted this all summer. Your lips began to pucker, eager to feel his touch them. He was moments away when a loud crunching sound made both of your necks turn.

Prince Steve stood at the doorway. His face was red with embarrassment.

“Apologies.” He spun on his heel and walked inside.

You looked back at James, but he kept his eyes on his friend.

“I should go see what that was about.” He moved to follow, leaving you alone on the balcony.

You were bitter over the lack of lips, but also tingly at the thought of what was to come. One year from now you would be a married woman, with the love of your life. ~~

The letters were poetic and beautiful. You spent the entire trip reading them over and over, focusing on the last line of the latest one:

I love you.

It was so simple, but so intoxicating. James loved you and you were about to become Lady Barnes. You could not wait to start your life.

“Are we there yet?” Your sister yawned.

This trip was different. This was your wedding. There would be no end to your stay and your entire family came along.

“Yes.” You smiled as the castle came into view, sticking your head out the window.

“Stop that.” Your mother touched your thigh. “We all now how eager you are, but you must behave like a lady.”

“Three days.” You leaned back in your seat. “Three days. It feels like an eternity.”

“After you will have eternity together.” Your mother smiled. “You can wait three days.”

When your carriage came to a stop you waited for the footman, wishing you could throw the rules out the window and dive out, running into James’ arms.

The door opened and a hand was offered. Your mother went first and it seemed like she was taking her time. Such a contrast to that first summer six years ago.

It was your turn and you were grinning so large your face hurt. When you stepped out you scanned the receiving line and your smile began to fade. Where was James?

“Oh my.” Your mother bowed. “Your majesties.”

It dawned on you who was there. The king, the queen, and Prince Steve. Why would the royal family be here to greet you? You expected Steve at the wedding, but didn’t think his parents would attend.

“Please stand.” The king stepped forward. “May I have a word with you Lord?”

“Of course.” Your father went to meet the king and your mother followed with the queen.

You looked at Steve with shock as he came forward.

“What is happening? Where is James?” You feared the worst. “Is he sick or injured? His letters mentioned nothing.”

“I don’t know.” Steve shrugged. “I was told to come meet you and that my parents were attending. I expected him to arrive as well. I saw him last night and all was well.”

“Do you suppose he changed his mind about me? Is the engagement off?” You walked next to Steve.

“You’re wonderful Lady.” Steve offered you his arm. “He would be a fool to do so.”

Your brain wracked with worry and fear you didn’t speak as Steve led you to your room. Where was James?

You paced, knowing exactly where James’ quarters were. Should you go there and pound on his door? It would scandalous, but you were to be married in three days. Those would become your quarters as well then.

The waiting was killing you. You went to the door ready to storm the halls, but it opened before you got to the handle. Your parents walked in, beaming.

“What has happened? Where is James? Is he alright?” Your fear contrasted their glee.

“The most wonderful situation.” Your mother took your hands as your father placed his on your shoulder.

“Has the wedding been moved up?” Maybe that’s why he wasn’t there. He was busy preparing.

“Yes. Tomorrow.” Your mother wiped a tear. “But that is not the most glorious part.”

“Tell me.” Your patience was running out.

“You’re to become the queen.” Your father squeezed your shoulder. “A match I never would have dreamed of.”

“Queen?” You dropped your mother’s hand and stepped out of your father’s touch. “Was there a royal decree? Is James now a prince?”

“James is no longer the groom.” Your father’s smile did not falter. “You have made quite an impression the past few summers and the king and queen believe you will make the perfect daughter-in-law.”

“What?” All feeling from your body dropped. “Steve? I’m to marry Steve?”

Images of your time together flashed before your eyes, the way he was so quiet, lurking in the background. His eyes on you as your danced with James, the crunch that broke your kiss.

“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t love him. I want James.”

The joy on your father’s face turned to anger. Your mother put a hand on his chest.

“I am sure what she means is that the news is stunning, but she is thrilled with the development.” Your mother calmed your father. “What a way to honor your family and your kingdom. A crown. You will be a fine queen.”

“Does Steve know?” You thought back to your earlier conversation with him.

“Already so informal.” Your father’s smile returned. “What a match.”

Your mother began discussing changes to the wedding and the dress that was being delivered, but you zoned out wondering two things: how could this be happening and where was James?

You were under strict orders not to leave your room until it was time for the wedding. There would be no speaking to Steve or finding James. In order to appease your parents, you agreed, but when bedtime approached and sleep never came you rolled out of bed and made your way into the halls.

Familiar enough to not need a light to guide you while you crept to James’ rooms. When you arrived you debated on knocking, but didn’t want to risk drawing attention.

When you pushed open the door you noticed a lit fire. James rose from his seat, his hair longer and blue eyes illuminated by the flames. Your heart felt like it was drawn towards him, tugging at your chest.

“James!” All your fears fell away when you rushed to him, throwing you arms around his neck. “They say I’m to marry Steve. I don’t understand. It’s all happening so fast and I’ve missed you. And I love you.”

He smiled at you, but there was pity on his face. He reached behind and grabbed your wrists pulling them off and in front of his chest.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He shook his head. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

“You don’t care?” This was not the response you were expecting. “But you’re my betrothed, I love you.”

“A part of me will always love you too.” He let go of your hands. “You’re to be queen. I am happy for you, and for Steve.”

“I don’t want the crown. I want you.” You pressed your hands to his chest. “Let’s run away. Steal horses and flee. We can live a simple life.”

“I am getting my own castle in the south.” James smiled at you. “I will be the leader of the region. I’ve been made a duke.”

You studied his face, unsure how he could be serious. Your hands on his chest felt foolish as you took a step back.

“This is for the best.” James gave a half smile. “Return to your room and get some sleep. There is no finer person fit for the crown. I will see you at the wedding. I am sure you will look lovely.”

Your world was spinning out of control. Tears on the verge of breaking through. You would not let him see you cry. You turned away and went for the door, heaving yourself into the hallway before a sob broke loose. How could this be happening?

When you turned to your room you hit something hard and bounced back, almost hitting the floor when strong arms grabbed you. You were found out of your room, but you didn’t care. Whatever punishment coming could not be worse than the broken heart you were feeling.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice brought you no comfort. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you know?” You tried to hide the shake in your voice.

“No.” Steve’s hands steadied you. “I was a surprised as you were. I came here to talk to James, try and find a solution.”

“He doesn’t love me.” You let the sob come out and fell forward. “It was all a lie.”

“That’s not true.” Steve touched your back as you sobbed against his chest. “That would make him a fool.”

“I was supposed to marry him. My entire life, I don’t understand.” You cried into Steve. “We have to stop this. I can’t be with you. I don’t love you.”

“We will figure out a way.” Steve continued to comfort you. “I promise.”

The tension in your shoulders rolled out. Steve was on the same page as you, at least that was a relief.

“How?” You wiped your eyes and looked up. “The wedding is tomorrow.”

“And we will wed.” Steve wiped a tear away. “Worry about the rest later.”

“Promise?” At least part of your broken heart had some stability.

“Let’s get you back to bed.” Steve put his arm around your shoulder. “Everything will work out. I promise.”

You believed him. All James needed was time. Steve seemed to respect your decision. You would go through the wedding for appearances and find a way to sneak off with James. The life you dreamt of was still possible.

In the morning your nerves were in over drive to the point you couldn’t focus on anything. The maids came and dressed you, doing you hair and make up as well. The black and silver gown your father paid for was disregarded as the Royals provided you with a red and blue one, the color of their own house over that of the Barnes.

“You look so beautiful.” Your mother brought her hand to her mouth as her eyes welled.

You hadn’t thought much about appearances, but when you were spun to see the mirror the image staring back at you was that of a stranger. Perfect complexion, perfect hair, and the gown accentuated your body like it was made for you, of course it was made for you.

Go through with the wedding for appearances. Then Steve would find a way to help you out of this. He promised. You shut your eyes and repeated the thought in your head, over and over.

A knock came on the door, snapping you back to reality.

“It’s time.” Your mother grabbed your hand and gave one final squeeze.

Your father was on the other side, offering you his arm. He beamed at you and guilt set in. He shouldn’t be so proud. Once the night was over you were going to bring shame on your entire family. James was worth it.

The walk through the palace was silent. Every soul was in the main chapel for your wedding. You neared the doors and felt a shiver run through you. This was all for show. You reminded yourself of that as the doors pulled open.

Everyone rose, their eyes on you. Some gasped at the sight. It was undeserved attention. Your eyes scanned the crowd, but stopped at the top of the alter. There was Steven, you had seem him in finery, but never like this.

You had never paid much attention to his looks, always distracted by James, but there was no doubt he was equal in attractiveness if not more so. You shook away the thought. What did it matter? James was your love.

As you walked down the aisle you tried to focus on Steve, knowing that scanning the crowd would draw suspicion and also terrified that one look at James would break your spirit. He said he was here. Was he smiling? Happy for you? Was there no love left in his heart? Tears started to form.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world.” Steve kissed your cheek and shook hands with your father. “I am a lucky man.”

His word choice was odd, but you assumed it was for the benefit of your father. Before you had time to ponder it, the ceremony began. It was one ritual after the next, repeating words in a language you did not understand.

At one point your hands were bound together, another a beautiful diamond crown placed on your head. The officiant continued with his strange words and you repeated them. Finally he went to prepare something and you whispered to Steve:

“What did I just say?” You gave him a stolen glance.

“That you bound your soul to mine for all eternity.” His eyes narrowed on you with a flash of possession.

It made a small whimper escape your throat, but before you could follow up the officiant returned.

“From this day forward you are one. The Prince and Princess Rogers, until the day you are King and Queen Rogers.” He put a hand on both your shoulders and spun you to face one another. “Seal this union.”

Steve put his hands on your waist and pulled you tight to him. His head dropped and he kissed you with a fever. His lips hard on your own as he urged you to part. This was your first and you didn’t know how to respond, so you followed his lead as his tongue slid into your mouth.

The congregation roared with applause and Steve’s kiss departed. He pulled away and looked at you with a devilish grin. You didn’t think you’d ever seen this level of emotion on his face before. He grabbed your hand and gave it a kiss before turning and waving.

The stun of his actions wore off as you saw the joy in the crowd. Your heart broke a little more that this was all a show. They seemed to like you, but you would never be their Queen.

Right away the festivities started. People arriving to give you gifts, dancing, eating, and drinking. Your eyes always searching for James, but never seeing him. Steve was too busy receiving congratulations to have a real conversation with you. He did ask if you were alright and remind you to smile several times, but this was not the place to discuss your plans.

You were lost in the whirl of it all. The colors, the joy. A stark contrast to your own nerves and worries. A deep thought had taken hold over the disappoint you were about to bring.

“Congratulations to the happy couple.” The voice shook you.

“James.” You started to stand, but Steve held your hand.

“Thank you, Duke Barnes.” Steve smiled. “When will you be leaving us for your new home?”

“In the morning.” James smiled. “I will be back to visit in a year. Maybe there will be a niece or nephew to play with by then?”

James playfully punched at Steve, who stood from the chair and gave his friend a giant hug.

“I will miss you.” Steve pulled away.

Both of them looked at each other with sheer joy. Did James already know of the plan? Were you to sneak away with him? It was confusing, this attitude.

“Now that you have a wife, I don’t think you will have time to miss me.” James dropped the embrace. “And you, what a lovely Queen the kingdom will have.”

“Thank you…” You looked between the two of them, unsure if this was a ruse.

“The evening is about to come to an end.” James looked back to Steve. “I suppose for the two of you it’s only getting started.”

“You always were a boar.” Steve nudged James.

“Better a boar than a bore.” He winked. “I wish nothing but the best for both of you. Congratulations.”

James shook Steve’s hand and gave you a bow. The tears started to form again. You bit back every urge to throw yourself at him, tell him how much you loved him, how you needed him, how you would be following soon. He must have known that. It was the only explanation.

“Breathe my love.” Steve leaned over and grabbed your chin, turning your attention to him. “Breathe.”

“What was that?” Why was he calling you his love? “You promised. That you would help me get back to James?”

“No.”Steve slid his hand down your cheek. “I promised that we would find a way. For you to love me.”

Your eyes went wide with horror as you replayed the situation in your head. It went further back, all the days you spent with them, the way Steve’s eyes were on you, always lurking, never talking. Never leaving you alone with James.

“You set this up. You tricked me.” What were the words. Bound your soul to his for all eternity. “Why?”

“Because I love you.” Steve’s brow furrowed. “Because I loved you since the moment you stepped out of that wagon.”

“But I love James.” You thought about the letters. “And he loves me too.”

“Oh, you are so innocent my Love.” Steve caressed your cheek. “James loves anyone that can stand on two legs. You would struggle to find a woman, and some men, in attendance he hasn’t spent time between their thighs.”

A lump in your throat formed.

“You’re lying.” You blinked away the tears. “We belong together.”

“Me on the other hand, I’ve had a tryst or two, but only when I am imaging your face.” A hunger came over him as he took you in. “I worship you. I would die for you. Give you a kingdom. If my parent’s wouldn’t have agreed to the union I would have denounced my thrown and ran away with you.”

“But I don’t want to run away with you.” You started to shake. “I never had.”

The pressure of his hand on your face increased as his blue eyes grew darker.

“I wouldn’t have asked permission.” His pupils grew larger. “Don’t for a second think you ever had a life with another. I would have taken you, shown you how to love me. All the months you returned to your home, to you know the agony is caused me? Now we will never be apart.”

“I…I…,” you didn’t get the words out before a bell started to ring.

“Thank you all for the wonderful gifts, attention, and pleasure of your company.” The King rose. “Please stay until the wine goes dry, but I fear my son and his beautiful wife do not have that privilege.”

A sound of ooooos came from the crowd. Before you knew what was happening your chair was hoisted into the air. A roaring applause came as Steve’s was as well.

“Wait…STOP…” Nobody could hear you over the applause as the group of men carrying your seats moved to exit.

You thought about how you’d jumped out of the carriage after your first summer, eager to be back with your family. You wanted to jump out now, run to them for safety. But then you looked down and noticed one of the people holding Steve’s chair. James.

There was nothing but pure joy on his face. He was happy for you. Truly. Were you fooled? Was his love false? How could he have loved you and take you to bed for another? Steve was telling the truth. It was all a lie. Your heart broke all over again.

Everything was happening too fast for your brain to comprehend. To make matters worse, when you were dropped off in Steve’s suite the room was breath-taking. Gigantic, decorated in bright blues and deep reds. The bed was larger than you thought possible.

“I know you’re scared Princess.” Steve was in front of you, he started to take off his jacket. “But we are man and wife. You will learn to love me. That I did promise.”

You were still focusing on James’ betrayal. It wasn’t until you looked up to see Steve peel off his shirt you realized you had other things to worry about. You spun to look away, but the image of his torso was glued to your mind.

“Please. I can’t. Too much has happened.” You wrapped your hand around your mid section and braced yourself against a love seat. “Not tonight.”

Steve approached you, his hands went to the bindings on your gown. They started to loosen and you held yourself tighter.

“I’ve never been kissed before today…I couldn’t…please…if you love me you will wait.” The tears started to fall.

“That fact brings me more joy than you could comprehend.” Steve pushed your dress down, leaving your shoulders bare. “All mine. For all eternity.”

You sniffled as his lips met your bare back. If you dropped your arm you would be nude for him.

“Please no.” The beg came out like a squeak. “This is not right. I am not ready.”

His mouth vanished, but before you felt any relief he scooped you up in his arms, cradling you to his chest as he went to the bed. You knew the tradition and saw the white sheets exposed.

“I’ve felt enough pain the last two days. My heart cannot handle any more.” You tried to wiggle out of his arms, but he was too strong.

“Shhhh…it’s okay. It’ll only hurt a little.” Steve sat down on the bed, still cradling you. “I promise, once the pain subsides I will bring you much pleasure.”

“If you really love me, you won’t do this.” You looked up at him with glossy eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“It is because I love you that I must.” He kissed your forehead. “If I don’t consummate, they will take you away from me. And nobody will take you from me. Ever.”

His eyes flashed with evil lust again as his words worked their way through your body. You had to stop this.

“I don’t love you.” You shook your head.

“Then let me teach you.” His head dipped.

You quaked as his lips met yours and he laid you down, spinning his body so it was on top of you. In a moment of confusion you moved your arms to his chest and he lifted himself, pulling down your gown.

A yelp left your mouth, stifled by his as he pulled the garment down, leaving the two of you naked against each other.

You tried to squirm back, but he moved with you, peeling the dress even further. The room felt like water and you were drowning in him as his tongue moved against yours, his cock pressed against your sex.

His mouth moved away and you twisted your head to the side, trapped below him.

“I don’t want this.” It was the truth.

Then you felt a sensation like no other as his hand moved between your legs, fingers gliding up your sex. Steve held them in front of your face. You noticed the glistening slick.

“Your body does.” His lips kissed your neck, biting and pulling at your skin. “No one is every going to love you as much as I do.”

He moved his hand back between your body and you felt another piece of his body coat itself in your juices.

“Let me love you.” He stopped, his cock at your entrance.

You braced yourself for the pain, but it didn’t come as his body stilled. You opened your eyes and looked up at him. Worry was plastered all over his face.

“Please? Can I love you?” All of his features were alive.

You felt yourself crumple underneath him. You wanted to scream no, shove him off, but the look on his face, the patience. You had no response. His hand came up and he brought his thumb to his mouth, licking the digit before moving it between you.

“What are you…”. You didn’t get the question out before your body was met with pleasure.

He found some spot and pressed his thumb to it. Your back had arched and a moan left you as he rubbed, sending a strange sensation through you.

“Stop…” It came out like a whimper.

“Shhhh Princess. Let me love you. Please?” His mouth was on your neck again.

Whatever Steve was doing your chest started to heave. He was igniting something inside of you, something you’d only dreamt of. You stopped biting back the moans and let them come forward, almost forgetting that his shaft was close to spearing your innocence.

Your hands went from fisting the sheets to squeezing his arms as he worked you, stroking and rubbing. Putting pressure in circles.

“Please…” it came out as a whisper.

“What was that?” Steve raised his head. “Say it again?”

“Please.” Your body had taken complete control.

A shriek and shake left you as he pushed inside, his thumb distracting you from the stretch and burn his cock caused. You tried to twist your body away, feeling like you couldn’t handle his love. You didn’t know if you meant mentally or physically. Probably both.

“I can’t.” You went for his shoulders and dug your nails in. “It hurts.”

Steve pushed down harder with his thumb and your legs relaxed as you squeaked, coming undone for him.

“Shhhh.” He pushed forward more, sliding through your resistance.

He came to a settle and his thumb disappeared. He flexed his body down and you realized his pelvis had taken it’s place.

“You’ve done so well.” He peppered your shoulder with kisses. “I’m all the way inside.”

That was it. Your virginity was over. Bound to him for eternity.

“You’ve ruined me.” You didn’t pull away, but rocked your body against his, wanting the friction back.

“You ruined me the moment we met.” He kissed your lips. “It’s only fair I return the favor.”

He ground his body against yours, making you ache for more of him. Then he started pulling out, you whined when his body left yours and purred when it returned. Who were you? What was this? Did you care?

“For all eternity.” Steve grunted with his thrusts. “An endless lifetime together.”

Your mind was gone, your brain fogged over. You reached up and grabbed his chin.

“I promise.” You lifted your head as you rocked your hips. “Eternity.”

Steve let out an animalistic noise and stopped holding back. The burn subsided with need and you kissed him with instinct, not training. The pressure in your core went to overload, unable to handle the way he filled and touched you.

Was it him? Was it always him? Tears stung your eyes for different reasons as you worked together. A loud moan left your mouth as your toes curled, euphoria spreading through your entire being. A feeling you never knew possible.

Your vision blackened and your body convulsed. What was this magic? Was he more than a prince? Soon he stilled inside of you, causing a strange vibration. He was laying his seed, truly owning you.

Instead of fighting back or resisting you welcomed it.

Once he left your body consciousness had vanished. It felt like you were floating as he rolled you away, your eyes fluttering to see the blood and fluid on the sheets he was required to hang outside the room.

This was your life. Your strange Prince, who would love you until the end of time.

#steve rogers x reader #stever rogers au #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #princess #medeival #captain america #Bucky Barnes

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knylinphd · 4 years

Text

inosuke x flirty!reader | your own game

inosuke hashibira x reader

female reader

You're always flirting with Inosuke, mostly because he doesn't understand much of it, which makes him even more fluster than most boys.

no warning

(I/N) = how Inosuke pronounces your name

that turned out longer than my usual one shots lol

''You're amazing, Inosuke !'' (Y/N) said, hugging his right arm, as she was pushing her breast against him. Even if he was a wild boy, Inosuke knew that women's breasts were personal, and even if it wasn't considered as sexual sometimes, it was still something you couldn't touch as you pleased. But Zenitsu told him so many wonderful things about those ; the best pillows that ever existed, he was calling them squishy. Well, Inosuke couldn't feel directly the girl's skin, but he could still tell that it was that part she was pressing against his arm, and he felt very awkward about it.

And despite his boar mask, the girl could tell he was feeling giddy about it ; he had made that cute noise he would do. It made (Y/N) giggle, releasing him. ''You should maybe wash your mask, though.'' She started, squeezing its cheeks with both her hands. ''That was very nice of you to save me from that demon, though. But you still have dust and blood all over your mask.'' She said, before releasing him and walking away, heading back to the Butterfly Estate.

Actually, they had to go there as Tanjiro and Zenitsu were still hurt from a previous fight. Since Shinobu was healing them for free, the 2 remaining ones had to do some chores and help the nurses there, by watching their friends. ''And I felt her woman's features against my arm.'' Inosuke said, as Tanjiro had told him it was a bit awkward to say 'boobs' and stuff. Moreover, the brunette didn't want to sound like his blond friend.

''No way ! How do you get a girl like this before me ?! Never a girl hugged my arm like this ! Why doesn't (Y/N)-chan hug me like this ?!'' Inosuke scoffed. ''Why would she do that ?! You didn't save her from a demon like I did ! And I'm the great Inosuke ! You're just that guy Monitsu.'' He said, making the said blonde furious. ''WHAT DO YOU MEAN ?!'' He shouted. But Tanjiro stopped him.

''Well, you told us the story, and it sounds like she actually didn't really need your help.'' He commented, making Inosuke arch an eyebrow in wonder. ''Hm ? Then why didn't she fight ?'' It made his friend sigh. ''See, Inosuke... (Y/N) is kind of acting with you like Zenitsu acts around girls.'' Tanjiro explained. ''Does that mean she wants to marry me ?'' The brunette asked, his 2 friends looking at each other. ''Kind of ?'' Tanjiro wasn't done, but his boar friend was already laughing like a maniac at his reply.

''But I don't want to wear that !'' Inosuke shouted to Aoi a few hours later, as he had to wear something conventional to clean -she considered that his shirtless upper body was dirty enough. Once he arrived in the same room as (Y/N) -i.e the boys' room, as Zenitsu was strangely taking his medicine when she was the one telling him to- the girl snorted. ''I miss seeing you half naked.'' She said, Inosuke totally oblivious. ''I don't like this top !'' He said. ''Take it off, then.'' (Y/N) suggested, smiling while she put the spoon in Zenitsu's open mouth.

''(I/N) is right ! I'm gonna rip it !'' The brunette shouted, making his 2 friends roll their eyes. ''That's exactly what she wants.'' Zenitsu said. ''Uh ?! But that's what I want, too !'' The boar boy replied. His friends sighed as (Y/N) giggled, and he took it off, leaving him in his state. However, this time, the girl walked to him. ''Why do they say you're too dirty to clean ? You take baths, right ?'' She asked, making Inosuke arch an eyebrow -he had had to take off his mask as well, as it was surely full of dirt.

Then, she traced one of his pecs with her finger, bringing it close to her eyes to analyze it right after. ''Nah. It's not dirty.'' She said. However, as she looked at the boy, she saw his face and couldn't stop laughing. ''Why are you so red ? Oh my God, you're fuming ! I can feel your face is burning from there !'' She said. But Tanjiro smelt something ; Inosuke was actually feeling something about it.

It smelt like happiness ? Nervousness ? Well, a mix of many feelings and emotions that made the Kamado brother conclude that Inosuke had actually a crush on the girl, and maybe wasn't as oblivious as he seemed. At least, his odor had changed around her, and he was often doing that pouty look with his lips whenever she was around, but would stop if she was ever looking at him.

And even Zenitsu, who had a crush on every girl he saw, could tell that Inosuke's had genuinely changed around (Y/N), and it wasn't because he was nervous she was going to flirt with him. As they were both walking out to start cleaning, Tanjiro and the blonde made up a plan. They had to call Shinobu for help, cause Inosuke was never going to listen to them if they ever tried to bring it up. And as she loved gossip -and them- Shinobu couldn't help but agree.

That's why the same evening, she walked to Inosuke -who had put back on his usual outfit and mask- and started to pat his head. She explained to him the whole situation about (Y/N) and the flirt thing, making him actually understand everything since he was finally listening to the whole speech. ''So she really wants to marry me, then ?'' He asked, remembering Tanjiro's short reply. ''I guess so ? But it's obvious she likes you too. I notice things like that. She's very good at not showing it, but the way she looks at you -I don't need to be the love pillar to tell me that.’’, ''... What do I do, then ?''.

The insect pillar explained the boys' plan ; to make Inosuke flirt back so she would be confused and that could also make them get even closer. Maybe even finally confess, even if it was difficult with a boy like Inosuke ! ''But you don't have to do it, if it's too complicated for you. I just know that (Y/N) really is beautiful and strong and will need someone even stronger than her, and many many boys will flirt with her like she does with you to marry her. She might even accept one proposal, I don't know.''

Reverse psychology. It was what worked the most with the brunette, and the way she could see him fuming through his boar head's nostrils and ears, she could tell he was jealous. ''Of course I'm going to do it ! I'm the great Inosuke ! Just tell me how I do that, and I'll do it better than anyone else !'' He shouted, making Shinobu excited, telling him the details of the plan.

Inosuke was sent on a mission, and without (Y/N). Despite Zenitsu and Tanjiro getting much better, they still weren't able to go on missions and fight. ''Where are you going ?'' The girl asked. ''I have to go on a mission.'' The brunette replied. ''Aw, but we were just about to paint things on our bodies.'' (Y/N) whined, as the occasion to draw anything on Inosuke's body would've presented itself if it wasn't for his mission. ''I wanted to paint something on your abs.'' She continued, making Inosuke only reply abruptly : ''I would've painted on yours.''

Actually, it was a part of Shinobu's plan ; to play (Y/N)'s own game. But this time, it seemed to fail, as the (h/c)-haired girl only snorted at the comment. ''I don't have abs.'' She said. But Inosuke was already gone, to Zenitsu's happiness, as he was going to be the girl's target for the body paint, now. However, the brunette knew the next part of the plan was going to make her flustered and confused.

He was back from his mission, but he had taken off his mask -she preferred to see his face. He had some blood on his body as well, and he remembered how many times she told him he looked so strong with all that blood on his skin. She was sure going to appreciate it. Indeed, he took her by surprise by hugging her back, his arms tight around her collarbone. She blinked several times, before widening her eyes once she noticed who it was, as she turned her head. ''Inosuke ?! What are you doing ?!'' She asked, making the said boy laugh hysterically.

''I'm playing your own game ! It works, right ?! You're all giddy !'' He said, tightening his embrace and grinning at her. She was blushing, and he felt really proud of it. (Y/N) tried to use some words to express her feelings, but the only sounds that came out of her mouth were weird stutters. Satisfied, Inosuke left out a laughter before releasing her and looking at the paint she had on her arms and face. He was putting back on his mask when he asked : ''Hm ?! What are you ? A wild human ?'' which made her snort. ''It's body paint, Inosuke.'' She replied, making him arch an eyebrow.

''Why would you do that ?'' He asked, putting his hands on his hips and staring at her -now that his face was hidden, he could release the pressure and be giddy on his own. ''Fun ?'' She said, unsure. Inosuke remained silent, as he also looked at Zenitsu, Tanjiro and Nezuko's bodies. ''Do you wanna try ?'' (Y/N) asked, seeing him confused. ''Okay ?'' He agreed. She told him to wash the blood from his body so she could have a 'clean canvas'.

He did as she said, and when he came back, he sat in front of her, their friends only watching from afar. (Y/N) asked which color he wanted, and he pointed to a (e/c). ''It's your eyes color.'' He replied, making the girl blush a bit at the comment, biting her lip. She wrote several kanjis, each on one of his abs, making him shiver at the touch. ''What did you write ?'' He asked, recognizing those were kanjis. ''(Y/N) (L/N).’’ She replied, proud of herself.

As she scratched her eyebrow, some paint stained there. ''Okay, my turn ! I know how to write my name !'' He said, pointing to himself, before taking off his mask so he could see more clearly and be precise. ''It's the only thing you can write.'' The girl said, as Inosuke tugged at her collarbone to lower her top, so he could write on there -her arms being full already. ''So what ?! You're the weak one from turning red so easily when I'm behind your back !'' He said, referring to his action from earlier.

That said, (Y/N) only pouted, making the boy grin, proud of himself once again. Once he was done writing his name, Inosuke giggled at himself. ''That means you're my property !'' He said, standing up, the girl following. ''There's my name on you, too. You're my property.'' She said, touching his abs with one finger. ''UH ?! That's not how it works !'' He shouted, putting some paint on his fingers again, trying to put some on her face.

The paint fight was quite funny, until (Y/N) ended up with paint on her lips. Inosuke stopped, seeing her thinking of something. ''Uh ?! What's going on ?! Don't do something weird !'' He warned her, pointing to her. She only giggled, walking towards him. Seeing him flinch and step backward, the girl rolled her eyes. ''Calm down, I'm not gonna hurt you, dumbass.'' She said, which made him stop, still his eyes widened. And suddenly, she kissed his cheek, making it instantly burning.

His lips were parted, even his mouth agape, when he stared at her. ''You have to step up your game if you want to beat me at my own game.'' She said, before walking away. ''Don't be confident ! I'm gonna beat you ! Cause I'm the great Inosuke, I never lose a fight !'' He shouted, pointing to her, but not before he put his boar head back on to hide his burning face and the paint he had inherited on his cheek from the one and only (Y/N).

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #inosuke hashibira #hashibira inosuke #inosuke x reader #inosuke hashibira x reader #hashibira inosukex reader

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broadwayandnetflix · 4 years

Text

Smitten - Bill Hader x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: Fluff galore.

Summary: You’ve always admired him, as he does you, what will unroll during one chilly Saturday night in New York after a show?

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: never in a million fucking years did I think I’d be writing for a celebrity. but here we are. happy holidays y’all.

You glanced down at the clock on your phone with a slight grimace at the late hour that stared back at you, a frown etching its way across your lips. The margarita that you had ordered without much thought sat in front of you, taunting you almost.

Why you decided to go out for drinks after the show was beyond you, this was definitely not your type of entertainment. No, you’d much prefer to be curled up at home, binging the latest episode of whatever you were into these days.

Yet there you sat nuzzled into a booth at a local pub with some close friends that worked beside you at 30 Rock. John Mulaney and Seth Meyers sitting across from you as you sat alongside Bill Hader.

That wasn’t to say that this night wasn’t fun; every time you found yourself with the three of them, you laughed your ass off. You’d often find yourself in utter awe at the way they so effortlessly bounced off of each other, chemistry and all.

Yet the effects of the long week that you had just endured left you rather emotionally and physically drained. A sigh escaping you at the thought of doing it all over again as soon as Monday hits.

Slipping your palm around your glass, you swirled the liquid in it round and round. Despite being across from Seth and John, the music that blasted throughout the bar made everything sound fuzzy and faint.

John was currently explaining a story that involved his girlfriend Anna, and the newest addition to their family. A french bulldog named Petunia.

Unbeknownst to you, Bill, who sat beside you, watched you with growing concern. He could practically see you deflate as the night went on, much like you actually, he did not wish to be here either.

In fact, he almost didn’t join the lot of you, but when John mentioned backstage that you’d be tagging along, with a knowing glint in his eyes, Bill instantly agreed.

So there the four of you were, you occupied with your barely touched Margarita, Bill with a half-finished beer bottle, Seth with a glass of whiskey, and John with a can of Sprite. Bill’s thighs pressed up against yours, his arms tangled together, unsure of where exactly to go.

If there was anything that caught his attention at first was your lack of commentary. Of course, you spoke and shared with the group, but he often couldn’t help but notice how you just silently nursed your drink.

During the long weeks in preparation for Saturday, Bill would often notice your infectious smile and upbeat personality. So to see you so off from your typical demeanor was concerning, to say the least.

When John and Seth had indulged in a separate conversation to the side, he gently nudged you in the shoulder. Within seconds you looked up instantly, catching his gaze, confusion settling upon your expression.

“Everything okay?” he murmured softly so only you could hear, you blinked slowly in response before nodding heavily.

“Oh yeah, just tired, that’s all.” you forced a smile, but it didn’t exactly meet your eyes.

Bill opened his mouth to respond before clamping it back down, he pauses deep in thought, your breath hitches, before he continues.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he stammers all at once, you could feel him shift his legs underneath the table anxiously.

A hint of a smile aglow on your lips, you nod before glancing back at John and Seth, still very involved in a conversation. They wouldn’t care, would they?

“What about John and Seth?” you whisper curiously, focusing your attention back towards Bill once more.

Bill only smirks in response to your question before turning towards his side, his hands fumbling around to find his wallet, gently brushing against you at one point. This ultimately prompted you to blush at the sudden contact, not that he noticed.

It doesn’t take long for him to find his wallet, raising it up under the table within his right hand, grinning victoriously towards you, prompting you to giggle.

“I think we’re going to call it quits for the night,” Bill starts causing John and Seth to both glance up.

John’s eyes falling onto yours, his lips turning up into a slight smirk and wiggling his brows at the prospect of you leaving with Bill. You feel your cheeks get even warmer than before.

“Yeah, honestly, I could use some sleep.” you agree in response, ignoring John’s playful gaze that lingered on you.

That is until you spot a twenty slipping out of Bill’s hand and onto the table, you glance up to protest at him paying for you, but he shakes his head.

“I can pay for my own drink, Bill, you don’t have to, it’s fine,” you argue, quickly grabbing for your own wallet before he places his hand on top of yours, stopping you.

“Nope,” he tuts, emphasizing the ‘p’ for added effect, you pout. John and Seth watching unbeknownst to the two of you with little grins.

Bill had to refrain from telling you how cute you looked right there and then. You always looked adorable, that was simply a given.

“Sorry,” he chuckled before sliding himself out of the booth, looking back at you expectantly to join him.

“Thanks for the night out, boys!” you chirp as you promptly slid out from the far end of the booth.

Seth and John murmuring some jumbled series of goodbyes as you and Bill were already halfway out the door. Prompting you to almost miss the little wink and flirty gestures that the two remaining comedians made.

The bitter wind bit at your cheeks as the two of you walked through the city, winter, it seemed was always toughest within New York. If Bill was cold, he didn’t appear to show it.

Yet there the two of you walked, side by side, practically shoved up against each other. Obviously, for warmth, this wouldn’t happen anywhere else? Right?

The silence between you two was comforting almost, complete with stolen glances, hidden grins, and dizzy minds.

Bill always had that effect on you, whether you care to admit it or not. He made you feel light on your feet, almost as if you were levitating off the ground when you were with him. He was genuinely funny, empathetic, soft, tall, the whole package really.

Okay, so maybe John wasn’t all that off when he teased you about your supposed “crush” on Bill. In all honesty though, who wouldn’t have one on him?

You shivered at the truth that floated about within your mind space, what the two of you had was special, you couldn’t ruin that with a silly little crush.

“Do you want my jacket?” he jutted out the words falling from his lips in puffs of air.

You shake your head instinctively, but he won you over without much of a struggle. The two of you stopping by a now-closed deli that resided close to your apartment. Bill looming over you as he awkwardly watched you slide his jacket onto your much smaller frame.

“Thank you,” you whisper before falling back into his side, soaking up the warmth that radiated from him.

Bill hums in response, mumbling that it was merely nothing, leaving out the part where he tells you how cute you look in his jacket.

It doesn’t take long for your apartment complex to come into view, yet as with every passing minute, it seems that your shared strides seem to get slower and slower. The experience dragging on all since the two of you couldn’t bear for the moment to end.

You pondered the courage that you could’ve possessed by asking him to join you inside for the night, but the multitude of ‘what if’s’ nag at you like tiny nats. Bill, on the other hand, considering what it would be like to slip his hand within yours, getting a feel if they would fit together as perfectly as he had imagined.

“This is my stop,” you draw out the syllables before bringing your shared stride to a halt.

The idea of going inside and curled up in bed after a long week seemed like paradise to you. Yet as he stood beside you, gaze flickering back and forth between you and your apartment door, you worried that he’d have to walk home within this weather.

“Hey Bill?” he blinks back at you.

“How far is your complex from here?” you ask quietly into the night, the wind it seemed almost pushing your words away from you.

He huffs out another cloud of air, you can practically see the wheels turning and spinning within his mind. A couple brushes past the two of you, causing you to glance behind you, following their movements before glancing back towards Bill.

“I’d say twenty minutes from here, why?” he stammers almost tripping on his words, his nose now red and cheeks flushed.

“Oh no, that won’t do!” your heart speaking before your brain can process your words, the words two minutes prior, you would’ve never imagined falling from your lips. You slip one hand into his right palm, and the other into your jean pocket to find your keys.

Once you got a tight hold, you walked forward towards your door, Bill’s body going rigid at your touch prompting you to jolt backward.

“S-sorry.” he sputters. “Y/N, I can always take a cab just because it’s like,” he glances down towards his wristwatch, “-two in the morning doesn’t mean that cabs aren’t still running.” he proclaims.

“Bill, it’s fine, I just don’t want you to freeze. Plus, I’ve got a guest room, and I need to give this back to you at some point,” you emphasize the heavy jacket that is now cloaked around your figure.

He smiles slightly at that, eyes crinkling at your warming offer for the night. “Okay.” he breathes, your little awkward grin growing wider.

Looking back at him with a sort of hesitation you pull forward, his now sweaty palm still encased within yours, he follows.

#@broadwayandnetflix #2019 #bill hader x you #bill hader x reader #bill hader #fluff #john mulaney #seth meyers #snl #fanfiction #bill hader imagine

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kickingitwithkirk · 4 years

Text

Happy Coincidence Chance Discovery

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Piper, Jared Padalecki x Piper,

Characters: Dean Winchester /Jensen Ackles, mentions of Chad Michael Murray

Word Count:4367

Warnings: cursing, kissing, nudity, implied sex/genital fondling/teasing

*Jared and Jensen are single.

A/N: for @idreamofplaid Thanks for the Memories Challenge #plaid and the memories HAPPY BIRTHDAY JARED🎉

Prompt: Season 11, episode 4, Baby

A/N: Baby is my favorite episode but every time I’ve watched it I kept wondering; Sam’s hook up with Piper the waitress? So this is my fill in that blank with a Jared twist.

Divider: created by @writeyourmindaway

*No beta all mistakes are mine

Dean drives into the parking lot of a roadhouse just after dusk and Sam looks at the marquee shaking his head in disbelief.

“Are you serious? Dean, it's late, I’m exhausted and..and.. and starving. And this place. I mean, even Swayze wouldn't come to this roadhouse.” Sam groused.

“First of all, never use Swayze’s name in vain, okay. Ever.” Dean chastises his brother for such a sacrilege, “Second, you don't remember this place? You don't remember Heather, the hunter we worked the wendigo case a couple years ago?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam partially smiles, remembering that night of fun.

“Yeah, exactly” Dean taking the same trip down memory lane.

“What, she’s here tonight?” Sam asks, perking up a bit.

“I texted her, she's working a rugaru case in Texas.” Dean says.

“Actually, she never texted me back. That's not the point, the point is that we have a ton of driving left to do just to go to a town where it's not probably a case.” Dean points ahead, “But in there, good times.”

“Uh...” Sam hedges looking at the building.

“But time heals all wounds, especially good times. What do ya say?” Dean looks at his brother hopeful.

“I say... knock yourself out.” Sam answers with his usual reply and Dean looks away, “I'm gonna find a diner and dig into the lore like Cas did, see if anythings ever happened where we’re headed.”

“Ah man, you really got to learn to have fun.” Dean’s reply was full of disappointment in his little brother.

“Seriously. It’s pathetic.”

They both climb out of the Impala. Sam grabs his bag from the backseat and starts walking back towards town as Dean heads into the roadhouse.

***

Sam had walked over a mile looking for somewhere to eat. Being Saturday night he thought there’d be more open but that’s small town living, the streets roll up at noon on the weekends.

He was about to give up and hike back to that mom & pop gas station he passed for a microwave burrito, preferably bean to get back at Dean, when he happened upon a small, local place, Mak’s Diner.

Hitching his bag up, he pushed open the door expecting the usual greasy spoon Dean's unerring sense navigates towards and stops just inside the front door.

It was an older establishment, obviously one of those passed down from generation to generation places but to his surprise it was well maintained, despite the C on the marquee being burnt out.

“Evening, have a seat anywhere and I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice called out from the kitchen. Sam walked past the counter smiling at only other occupants, an elderly couple having coffee and dessert, heading towards the back where family seating was located.

As he passed the next to last booth he noticed a closed laptop, several open books with notes scrawled around their margins, highlighted paragraphs and a few notebooks scattered on its tabletop.

He dropped the bag on the seat and shed his jacket before sliding into the booth, fishing out his laptop and the legal pad that he had started making more notes on earlier.

“Hey there, what can I get you?”

Picking up the menu laying by his elbow Sam glances through it, “Coffee and the Cobb salad, thanks.” He orders closing the menu and looking up to hand it to the waitress. She is differently not what he would have expected to find in a backwater burg like this one.

Her makeup is understated, nails painted a neutral color and her copper hued hair is pulled back in an elegant chiffon, not a high ponytail or hastily bobby pinned up-do, held in place with a real silver clip, the type that’s handed down as an heirloom.

“Just the Cobb salad?” She asked looking under the tabletop, taking in Sam’s long legs somewhat stretched out under it, boots bumping against the other side of the circular booth. Her blue/grey eyes slowly travel up appraising his body till they meet his.

“Big boys like you need more than a few leafy greens for stamina.”

Sam felt himself blushing like he was seventeen again. Waitresses blatantly flirt with Dean and vice versa all the time so he’s taken aback by this woman's more than blatant appraisal of his physique.

“I, um, yeah, ju..just the salad.” Sam stammers out.

“Okay, be back with that coffee.” Her smiles genuinely, not that faked for the customers sake one he’s used to.

Sam appraises her retreating figure like she did him. She’s not wearing the nurses white or black rubber soled shoes that’s usual waitress gear he’s seen but a brand of tennis shoes he knows are out of the typical income of career restaurant staff.

The fifties style, yellow uniforms color is completely unflattering, not fitting her right, way too tight around her bust and hips and far shorter than it should be, her mile long legs on display.

Sam shifts in his seat and tries to discreetly palm down his spontaneous erection but not so little Sam is putting up a fight, making it known it's been way too long since he’s gotten wet and he wants to enjoy her junoesque attributes.

***

While he is waiting for a page to load Sam hears the elderly couple preparing to leave. He watches as the husband helps his wife into her jacket and gently takes her hand, resting it in the crook of his arm as they slowly make their way to the exit, feeling the pang of loneliness that’s his constant companion.

“Mr. Reynolds’s, hang on a sec,” the waitress calls from the kitchen emerging with a white cake box tied shut, “Auntie wanted me to make sure you got this before leaving. She’s sorry she missed your anniversary party.”

“You tell her we missed her, needs to hurry up and get well.” Mrs. Reynolds remarked as her husband took the box with his free hand. She glanced back towards Sam, “Sweetie, you gonna be okay here with the likes of him?”

Sam kept his expression neutral, waiting to see how this plays out. He knew people found him intimidating because of his size and being a stranger in a small town, he definitely stands out but not many were that blatant about it.

“He ordered a Cobb salad, I think I can handle him,” she jested winking at him.

The couple bid her goodnight and she went back into the kitchen, Sam realizing they were now all alone. Sighing, he starts reading the info again trying to figure out what exactly their hunting is. Or not.

He was so focused on his research like usual he didn’t acknowledge the waitress standing there with his order.

“Kmm hmm,” Sam’s head snapped up, “must be something really good if you don’t notice the likes of me.” She chided him setting down a coffee decanter and cup.

“Sorry, guess I was kinda caught up.” Sam moves the laptop and notepad over as she sets down his salad and two types of dressing. “Figured you might not be a ranch type of guy so I grabbed the vinaigrette too.”

“Thanks, I prefer vinaigrette, don’t usually get offered it.”

“I’m pretty good at reading people which is why I also brought you this,” she set down another plate with a lettuce wrapped, curiously colored and, by the smell, not meat burger with all the fixings, a generous helping of baked sweet potato fries and a green colored milkshake.

“I didn’t order this.”

“I know but it cooks night off and I’m trying some new recipes. Seeing as you're the only other one here, you've been conscripted as my guinea pig.” She slid into the other side of his booth where an identical plate rested, “I wasn’t kidding about you needing more than just a salad. Besides, I hate eating alone, you wouldn’t believe how often it happens. Fuck, where’s my manners, I’m Piper.” She stuck her hand out across the table.

He takes her preferred hand amazed how it fits perfectly in his, “Sam.”

“So Sam, figure out what you're hunting yet?” She asked nonchalantly as she picked up her burger, “Cause, not being judgey, but that’s some really random shit you got there.” She takes a bite, watches as his expression bounces between startled and incredulous.

“How…”

“Saw your Tarsus 99 when you took off your jacket. I had one as a kid, then daddy got killed on a hunt and I got sent here to live with Auntie, she doesn’t cotton to hunting.”

Piper picked up a fry pointing it at him, “But what I really wanna know, where the hell did you get that demon blade, ‘cause I’ve never seen one like it before.”

Sam hesitates, “That’s a long story.”

“Don’t close till one and I’ve got nowhere to be after.”

Sam decides to deflect instead of answering. “So what is it you do, because you're definitely not a waitress.”

“Officially, I’m an antique appraiser. Unofficially, I’m helping a wayward hunter who graced my door with something he can’t figure out.”

***

Sam and Piper, after closing the diner, stayed another three hours hashing out the research for his case were now taking their time walking back towards the roadhouse.

“I’ve been wanting to ask, what’s with that name tag?” Sam noticed early it read Maggie.

“Came with this god awful uniform. Auntie insists that we all adhere to how her daddy ran the place. So when I came back to temporarily help out after her surgery, Maggie decided she was not gonna take orders from someone younger, quit and I got stuck with this. I told Auntie it wouldn’t fit, even with letting out the hem. Maggie was like five-four and I’m over five-ten!

Ugh! I keep popping these stupid top buttons and can’t freaking bend over without showing everyone my C U Next Tuesday.”

Sam smiled that nervous smile he got when unsure how to respond to an answer he wasn’t expecting.

“I normally wear this to cover it,” moving her pocketed hands in the light weight, knee length sweater she had put on when they left the diner, “but I have to confess,” Piper turned around, walking backwards, “I took it off when I saw you come in, thought what the hell, been long time since a really cute guy has walk through my door so...” She bit her lip, turning back around as they continued down the lane in companionable silence.

Sam mused over her confession admitting to himself he was interested in her too. He enjoyed sharing different theories and bouncing ideas of what they might be hunting back and forth with her, surprising him with her unique take on things.

Piper might not have been the type he consciously steered towards since Jess but she was comfortable to be around, didn’t feel his usual awkwardness he normally had around most women.

They arrived at the roadhouse a few minutes later and Sam led her towards the Impala.

“Damn, you brother is a fucking artist, how many times has he rebuilt her?” Piper asked walking around the car, running her hand over the Impalas pristine exterior.

“To many.” Sam replies, putting his bag on the front seat. “Can I have a look?” He turns to see Piper standing by the trunk. “Um, sure.” Strolling over he unlocks it and lifts the interior wheel well exposing the car's hidden armory.

“Is that a grenade launcher?”

“Yeah, Dean found it at the bunker.” Sam laughed remembering how excited Dean had been when he discovered it.

Piper shook her head shutting the trunk and hopped up on it, “What’cha wanna do now, go in,” gesturing at the bar, “or hang out here for a while longer?”

“I think I’m good hanging o...”

Piper grabbed his jacket dragging him between her spread legs and kissed him.

It took Sam all of five seconds to process what was happening before his hands grabbed her hips and tugged her to the edge of the trunk, her short skirt riding even higher as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer.

Sam jerked back as headlights flashing over them, a patrol car drove into the parking lot. He lifted Piper off the trunk and led her to the car's back door dragging the green cooler out of their way.

Piper climbed in as he hauled it to the trunk and grabs the army blanket Dean keeps then gets in depositing it and his jacket over the front seat.

“Where were we before being rudely interrupted?” Piper asked, sliding onto Sam’s lap and leaning in to resume kissing him.

Sam tangled his long fingers into her now loose hair pulling to halt her, “What about that patrolman?”

“Won’t be back till closing, around six A.M.”

“That means Dean won’t either,” he says closing the space between them, heatedly attacking her lips.

***

Piper ran her hand over his bare chest, “How long is your refractory period?”

Sam shifted to look down at her, “umm, around twenty minutes.”

“Hmmm, I’m gonna have to see what I can do to shorten that ‘cause we are so doing that more than once again.”

“And how are you gonna do that?”

Piper stared at him slowly trailing her hand down his torso. Sam’s breath hitched as she lightly teased her fingers across his lower stomach, running through his treasure trail and over to his hip.

Shifting further down his body she continued running her fingers over the top of his left thigh feeling the hard muscles flexing under the skin. She placed both of her hands in between his legs shifting his left one off the seat and bending his right leg back placing his foot flat on the bench seat.

Piper kneels in the space between Sam’s spread legs continuously moving her fingers in random patterns over the insides of both tights, touching him everywhere below his waist.

Sam closed his eyes groaning loudly, dropping his head back against the window as her fingers played over his balls feeling her other hand travel behind them teasing over his...

“You fell asleep in the fucking car!”

His eyes snapped open startled. Blinking rapidly he sees Dean leaning through the open car window looking at him.

“Dean what...where’s Piper?”

“What’s a Piper?” He growled out, “Dude, we wrapped twenty minutes ago and I’ve been looking for you, got worried cause you weren’t answering your fucking phone Jay!”

He took a good look at Dean. His foggy brain finally realizing its mistake, taking in the headset hanging around his neck and the ball cap he likes wearing when directing. “Jen, sorry, guess I’m still in Sam headspace, got disoriented for a sec.”

Jensen laughed, “You find one grey hair and suddenly you're getting memory loss and needing naps? I’ll have to remember to have you in bed by nine, old man.”

“Your fucking hilarious Jack.” Jared shoots back sliding across the seat getting out, “Man, I had the weirdest dream.”

“From the happy noises you were making that was far from weird. And speaking of happy,” Jensen's eyebrows went up as he pointedly looked down.

Jared glances down thinking he’s drooled all over himself only to see the prominent bulge in his jeans.

“Bob’s called a meeting in five but I think we’re gonna be late.”

***

“I’m telling you it was so real! She was tall with coppery blond hair, tasted like chocolate peppermint and has this tattoo above her...” Jared paused grinning, keeping that specific location to himself, “I’ve never in my life had such a vivid dream like that.”

“Dude, you like petite brunettes.”

“I know..so why would I make her a redhead?”

“Hell if I know, it’s your giant melon. Maybe all that sugar ribbon you eat is finally getting its revenge.” Jensen snarks as they enter the meeting room.

They were greeted by Bob’s gruff voice, “About time you two showed up. Alright, now that everyone is finally here, we need to get everyone up to speed. We’re having to make changes to the filming schedule.” He pauses looking at him notes, “Jared, don’t need you to come tomorrow for those new promo shots with, what was that new character again?”

“Y/N Y/L/N, Sam’s new love interest.”

“Right, anyways, writers scraped that idea. As some of you heard, several of our exterior locations got flooded with that last storm and it’s taking time to find new locations so instead of doing blocking we're gonna do a quick read through of the new episode.”

Jared opened his copy of the new script to episode 4: Baby.

Reading the opening scene he experiences deja vu, quickly scanning the first two pages: bunkers garage: Dean washing the Impala, Sam having a possible case in Oregon. Next scene: interior shot Impala, Sam gets a protein shake out of cooler, Dean wants to know about the beer. Next scene: pulling in roadhouse parking lot, Dean trying to get Sam to join him, goes to eat instead, shot from Impala view watching Dean walking. Next scene: daybreak continuing from the view of the car...

“Fuck me.” Jared whispers, catching Jensen's attention. “What’s wrong?”

“This is how my dream started.”

Jensen pulls a yeah right face.

Jared shifted in his chair leaning closer to Jensen, looking directly into his green eyes, “I’ll prove it. Next scene: Dean gets in the car at daybreak and a naked waitress pops up in the backseat with a voice-over from Sam. Dean gets out peeping in the driver's side back window at her getting dressed. Cut to next scene: Sam climbs into front seat buttoning his flannel as he apologizes for having sex in Dean’s car. Dean, happy his brother finally got laid drives off quoting Bob Sager lyrics, playing Night Moves and Sam changing a lyric.

Jared continued to lay out the entire episode from memory as Jensen flips through the script following.

“Bullshit Jared, someone snuck you a copy of this script, you're totally fucking with me.”

“Jensen, not this time.”

***

Jared walked back to his trailer aggravated that Jensen won’t believe he didn’t get an advance peek of the script. He can’t shake this unsettling feeling that he was forgetting something important.

He was two steps into his trailer when his phone vibrated. Chad left a voicemail instead of texting, weird.

“Jay man, you gotta do me solid. A friend of mine got the part of Y/N on your show and I don’t know what the fucks happening up there but she flipped the fuck out on me! Need you to check on her, she’s outside one of the guest trailers. And have her call me back after she’s calmed the fuck down!”

Jared snorted, another woman pissed off at Chad, shocker. “The fuck you getting me into this time Murray.” Jared mutters to himself as he heads over to the guest stars trailers and hears a somewhat familiar voice outside of one.

“What do you mean there’s nothing you can do? I get here and now they're telling me they’ve dropped the story line.”

There was a pause in conversation as Jared walked closer to hear more clearly over the lot's noises and was shocked when he saw her sitting on one of the trailer's steps.

“But I signed a contract...what? I don’t remember seeing that in there. So they can just arbitrarily drop the part with no notification, that’s bullshit! I’ve never had a clause like that in one before. I gave up my job and apartment for this!” She gets up and paces around not noticing him.

“They're giving me the bit part of the waitress in this episode, have a five am call for hair, getting a blonde rinse so I look more like a Dean type girl. I don’t know what the fuck is with these writers, it’s like they don’t get Sam, should’ve left him like Kripke originally created him.” She paused, “paying me what? At scale! That’ll just cover my petrol for the drive back to L.A. Wait, what about my six month lease? Could you check on it.”

“Oh, giving me two nights at the Hilton. How magnanimous of them,” she sarcastically replies, “can I still get that part on Arrow...cast someone else.” She abruptly ends the call and sits back down on the step slumping over her knees.

“So, how much of that fucked up conversation did you overhear?” She asked not looking at him.

“Um, almost all of it.” Jared confesses, “I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping but I got a voicemail from Chad,” she looked up staring in disbelief at Jared, “he’s worried and wanted me to check on you.”

“Fanfuckingtastic, can this day get any better? I’ve completely humiliated myself in front of Jared Fucking Padalecki!”

Jared can just make out her blushing in the still dimming light. “I wouldn’t say completely, I mean, you could drop your pants and yell Pudding.”

She blinked at him before doubling over in laughter, “Alright, point taken. Still, it’s a crock of shit you don’t need to be bothered with.”

“Chad’s kinda made it my problem. Look, I don't know all the details but maybe I can help, I can call casting..”

“Oh hell no! Thanks but no thanks. Bunch of assbutts on social media were already speculating about how someone like me got the part in the first place. Last thing I need is more ammo for the haters, they’ll tweet something like I had a three way with you and Ackles because I was desperate to get the part back.”

Jared cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair embarrassed to feel turned on by the imagery she conjured up in his mind.

“Mmm, that’d be my wet dream come true, but not the point, they’ll just come up with some random shit.”

Jared understood being all too familiar with the anti whatever’s having been the target himself.

“Okay, how about we go to my trailer,” she gave him a skeptical look, “where you can have some privacy to call Chad back. I’ll get de-Sam’d and we can talk some more or grab a bite if you're hungry.”

“You don’t know me from Adam, what if I’m some psychotic serial stocker nut job?”

“If your friends with Chad, you absofuckingloutley are Ms. what's your name.” Jared sarcastically remarks given her a mischievous grin.

“Touché, and it's Piper,” Jared froze at her name, “and you’ve been friends with Murry longer than me so I know you’re straight up batshit crazy.” She smarts back standing up, “lead on, oh gallant knight.”

***

Jared walked out of the bath toweling his wet hair sees Piper lounging on his couch still on the phone with Chad.

As he crossed over to the kitchen's fridge he couldn’t help but notice her low rise jeans had ridden lower, revealing the top half of the tattoo just above her..

“Dude, should’a told me Padalecki has a tattoo kink,” Jared tripped over his feet before catching himself embarrassed at getting caught, “Yeah, that was your boy.” She winked at him, “No way in hell I’m ever showing it to you perv.” Jared loudly laughs at that. “Hey, when I get back I’m PA’ing for you till I get another gig. Don’t you dare argue, you got me into this so it’s that or I’m on your couch for a month,” Piper rolled her eyes at Chad’s response, “Yeah, yeah, talk to you later.”

“Is that how you met Chad, working as a PA?” Jared inquired coming over to sit down next to Piper handing her a beer.

“Yeah, paid the bills while doing auditions, was starting to pick up a few bit parts around LA.” Piper starts nervously fiddling with the bottles label, “I heard about the casting call for a new Sam girl and Murry talked me into trying out for it, so I figured unless I kiss Crowley I don’t have a shot in hell and holy fuck, I got it.”

She stopped talking but kept playing with the label.

“Hey, whatever it is you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Jared says gently touching her shoulder in a reassuring manner.

She took a long pull of her beer before continuing. “My Auntie died and I inherited everything, including her debts. I negotiated a smaller settlement but it wiped out all my savings.” She paused draining the rest of her bottle. “I figured it was serendipity..”

Jared is half listening, feeling that uneasy sensation again at that last word.

“...gonna be Sam Winchester’s...”

“If we’re meant to meet again,”

“.. weren’t killing her off after three episodes but then they decided to drop that story line...”

“we will.”

“...I should be going. Thanks for the beer and letting bending your ear, I’m gonna get out of your hair.” Piper gets up heading for the door.

Jared finally remembers.

“I believe in serendipity..maybe you can too.”

He quickly jumped up moving between her and the door blurting out, “I know you said you didn’t want my help but you can’t go, not yet.”

“Okay, why not? ‘Cause any other time I’d be up for some wham bam thank you ma’am but so not in the mood right now.”

Taking a deep breath he goes for it, “So, get this, after we finished filming today, I fell asleep in the Impala and had this dream…”

***

Jared sat on the couch nervously chewing on his thumb watching as Piper paces back and forth mulling over his story.

She abruptly stopped and sat down on the table in front of him. “So here's the deal, I will believe everything you've told me,” Jared opens his mouth to say something but Piper reached out laying her fingers on his lips, “if you can answer one question.”

Jared took her hand remembering how it felt so right in his, “Okay.”

“Since you’ve seen it in your dream, what does my tattoo mean?”

“In Japanese, it means happy coincidence,” Jared confidently says sitting back as Piper climbs onto his lap, “but that's the first line, the second one is chance discovery.”

Jared pulls her in, brushing his lips against hers, running his tongue across them so she’ll part them , allowing him access. He can taste the beer they’ve been drinking but there’s that sumptuous flavor of her underneath he finds intoxicating..chocolate peppermint..thinking to himself..

Serendipity.

#plaid and the memories #Baby #sam winchester x piper #jared padalecki x piper #SPN Supernatural #sam winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #Jensen Ackles

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