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heyitsjay03 · 3 years

Note

Headcanons about each of the lords (+the Duke if you're writing about him) if they ever happen to adopt a little child?

THANK YOU ANON MY THE UNIVERSE BLESS YOU WITH PILLOWS THAT ARE COLD ON BOTH SIDES

okay okay okay okay this has definitely been on my mind so lets get into the thick of it

Alcina Dimitrescu

(im starting off with alcina for obvious reasons)

Alcina would be on the way to the church with the slimy moron, the demented doll, that disgusting manthing and Mother Miranda

She'd kiss her daughters goodbye and head off through the snow, quietly muttering about how cold her ankles were

while Moreau is literally up to his chin in snow but its fine

as she gets closer to the church she keeps hearing this. thing. it sounded familiar but she couldn't exactly put her finger on it.

she strays from the path to find it because it was just so familiar

as she weaves her way through the snow, her dress gets caught on something. she leans down to get her dress unstuck when she realises its this tiny basket.

like seriously. just a little woven basket in the middle of the snow. and it doesn't look like its been there for that long- there's hardly any snow on it

when she tugs at her skirts again, the basket makes the same noise she's been hearing

she stands back up to her full height, staring down at the basket with narrowed eyes

this cannot be a good idea, can it? opening a strange basket in the woods after being lured out here. it's probably some village manthing's trap.

she's about to step away when she hears the sound again- much more intense and much more clear

Alcina leans down and opens the lid of the basket

inside is this tiny thing- all soft and warm in a padding of blankets

a baby

she stands and looks around

who on earth would be so moronic as to leave their baby in the snow? it's much too cold for a baby to survive-

she sighs, getting onto her knees to pull the baby from the blanketed basket

the meeting will have to wait. it's too cold even in the church for this tiny thing.

when she finally makes it back home, she's greeted by her daughters in a swarm of buzzing flies.

as they manifest in their true forms, they're asking what- or who, rather- their mother brought for dinner

Alcina smiles and shakes her head, unwrapping the small bundle clinging to her breast

"this... is your new sibling" she announces, "they'll be staying with us from now on."

and the sisters are ecstatic. a new sibling!

Daniela especially is happy that she is no longer the youngest. she usually is the one to parade around the castle with her sibling on her shoulders, showing them the coolest hiding spots for hide-n-seek and the windows with the best views

Bela is incredibly protective. like. incredibly.

she smelt blood from across the castle and when she found her little sibling sniffling about a skinned knee earned from a game of tag with Angie, she lost her shit and almost broke the damned thing with her sickle

And Cassandra has been caught reading bedtime stories by nightlight multiple times. she tries to play it off but everyone knows that she loves- absolutely adores- her newest sibling

we all know Alcina is such a wonderful mother to the girls so adding another baby to the mix was a guaranteed success

she's so doting and careful (a little overprotective at times but she means well) as she is with her girls

as the child grows into a teen, she panics a bit because "my beautiful baby is growing into such a beautiful, talented adult" so expect a lot of late night visits when she just sits on the edge of her bed and just admires how much you've grown

Salvatore Moreau:

now this one is an easy one too if i'm 100% honest

think Moses type beat

(if you don't know, Moses was found in the riverbank in a little basket)

apparently i really like baskets

anyways

Moreau was so out of his element when he found this tiny, screaming, writhing piece of soft flesh

the first few weeks were rough

but he eventually got the hang of it (with Alcina's help of course)

he would take his child fishing every now and then- just the two of them out on a boat for a few hours

the kid would literally swim more than walk and that little fact would make Moreau so freakin proud

also this kid would be so well-versed in movie and film history it's stupid

like expect this little 4 or 5 year old babbling not about toys or snow or how many sticks they found but instead about the copyright war over the film Nosferatu and the destruction of its copies

Moreau, as the child gets older (like 11 or 12) would have just a tad of trouble trying to keep the kid out of the village

he'd wake up one day and go out onto the lake, expecting his child to be swinging their legs off the dock and watching the sun rise over the water

and when he finds that they were not, in fact, swinging their legs off the dock and watching the sun rise over the water, he p a n i c s

i mean, full blown red alert

all of the lords are summoned to help Moreau look for his missing kid, the lycans are given an article of clothing to help find the scent, Mother Miranda goes to search the village herself- the whole shebang

and when the kid is found playing with the village children, Moreau bursts into tears

needless to say, the kid isn't allowed to go to the village anymore

until they're fifty (Moreau's words, of course)

but the kid sneaks off more and more as they get older, using Alcina or Donna or Karl as an excuse to be away

and Moreau knows but he never says a word

seeing his child happy and free with the kids their age makes him happy, even if he is a tad, a tad, a tad bit nervous

Donna Beneviento:

when Donna found this child huddled up against the base of the stairs leading up to her front door, she at first thought it was a doll of hers

it was only when she actually walked outside that she realised it was this shaking, shriveled child in tattered clothes

she spent a good five minutes just staring, wondering how on earth she's supposed to react

that's when Angie jumped in and pulled at her skirt, telling her to "let the kid inside, already!"

Donna went immediately to work on some clothes- why on earth were they wearing such ragged things?! it's freezing outside!- while Angie entertained in the parlour

honestly, it didn't go well

the kid was a little bit unsettled by the floating doll that moved and spoke on its own FOR GOOD REASON

and when Donna walked back in with her measurement tape and some fabric, the kid backed themselves into a corner of the room with their gangly legs tucked into their chest

Angie sighs from the opposite side of the room, letting her little feet fidget as she gestures to the kid. "they're no fun" she pouts, "wouldn't even let me know their name"

Donna puts her materials down slowly and lifts her veil back before attempting a small smile

it takes a while but upon the offer of food, the kid finally lets Donna make them some clothes while Angie makes conversation

she works in silence, only offering small awkward smiles

Angie finally brings up the topic of where their parents are when the kid's clothes are done

when the child goes silent, Donna nods in understanding before hurrying off to make a room for them

as Angie helped tug the blankets up to the child's ears, they promised they'd be gone in the morning

Angie was the one to tell them off.

"You'll stay as long as you need, you silly goose!"

and the child did

Donna would let them tag along for meetings so long as they promised to keep quiet and help keep Angie out of trouble

most of the time, it didn't work and they both would end up in trouble but Donna let them come nonetheless

and when the other Lords question where on earth this little kid came from- all dressed in black fabric that matched Donna's dress, she just shook her head and let Angie chase them off verbally

she'd spend literal HOURS locked in that workshop making new little friends for her child and when they were old enough, she'd let them into the workshop

and when they were even older, she'd walk them through making their very first doll on their own

she'd just watch with pride as they carefully painted the freckles with a shaky hand while Angie danced around their ankles singing of how excited she was to have another friend

The Duke:

he would be setting up shop near the base of the Dimitrescu castle when he catches a kid trying to steal some his wares

he wouldn't be terribly upset, more concerned

it wasn't something shiny or expensive that they were trying to steal

it was some of the steaming-hot food he had left to cool in the wintry air

he confronted the child gently and with a warm smile

"That's cordon bleu," he says, gesturing to the steaming plate. "I can make you some if you'd like"

and as the child eats, the Duke continues tidying up his shop for any future customers

the child, through a mouthful of food, points to different items and asks their purpose, their price, their possible enhancements

the Duke answers each question with patience, happy for the company

but he doesn't just let the questions go one-way

"How about a trade?" he asks as the child asks about the strange-looking bottle of green liquid. "An answer for an answer."

the child agrees and the Duke starts to peel back layers of why the child was here looking for food

they had been orphaned by the last lycan attack, only barely making it out by fleeing into the woods

they tried to forage off of berry bushes and successfully managed to kill a pig- only for the blood to attract lycans before they could properly eat it

the Duke nods and continues busying himself with his shop, feeding the horse that pulls the wagon

the thought had hit him when he watched the child petting his horse

that horse hated everyone. including him at times.

maybe...

when he offered to take the child in, the kid nearly burst into tears and thanked him repeatedly, swearing to earn their keep

and they did, seven times over

what started off as a purely business venture morphed into something more as time went on

when the child would come back from selling smaller household items like gasoline and the occasional package of bullets, the Duke would have them climb onto the roof of the wagon and watch the sun set together with a plate of food

speaking of which, like Moreau, the Duke would raise the most cultured child

this kid would know how to prepare and identify different dishes and their ingredients just by looking at them or smelling them

and their palate would be far more sophisticated than most adults

the Duke, as the child gets older, would eventually allow them to choose destinations to set up shop- even outside of the village

wherever his child wants, the shop would go

it allows them to see the world and its earthly wares together- something the Duke had lacked in his life before the child was brought into the picture

Karl Heisenberg:

listen to me very very carefully

this man would be the most chaotic father ever to walk this earthly realm

when he finds this kid in the elevator of his factory, he's kinda standing there like 🧍 "what the hell-"

and when the kid starts spamming the button while maintaining eye contact, he kinda snaps out of it and starts chasing after them as they drop down to a different floor

it goes on for a solid twenty minutes before he finally managed to track them down in the corner of his office

and when i say this man is confused, i freaking mean it

i mean

why the HELL would some random kid be in his factory? don't they like... play with ponies or something at this age?

to be fair, this man literally has never been allowed a childhood so

obviously he starts scolding the kid ("what the hell are you doin' in here? it's dangerous and there's some really freaky shit here, kid"), dragging them to a nearby sink because "holy shit kid, you're filthy"

the kid is silent essentially the whole time, just kinda staring into his eyes

and of course Karl's gonna be like "...the fuck're you doin'?"

the kid's face is cleaned off and Karl sends them back out towards the village with a scratchy blanket he pulled out of the bottom of his desk drawer

he's working on his 'equipment' one day when he starts reaching for a wrench, keeping his focus on the body on the table

when i say this man jumps skyhigh at the kid asking a question, i mean it

he drags the kid back out, yelling about how dangerous it is and how "you shouldn't do that! you're gonna get yourself killed! go back home!"

the kid doesn't listen

it becomes a regular thing- Karl finds the kid wandering around the factory, Karl brings the kid out of danger, Karl tells them to get lost

eventually (day thirteen of this) he asks why the child keeps coming back

and he hates the answer he gets

it was something along the lines of "it's warm and there's nowhere else for me to go"

so Karl reluctantly eagerly lets them stay

it's a lot of rules at first (a kid shouldn't be allowed to just wander around a bunch of mindless cyborg killers, let alone a factory) but eventually the child learns to mind Sturm and the others

doesn't mean Karl does not have a fullblown heart attack when he walks into his workspace to find the kid tracing their finger along the center of the battery for the Soldats

after a very long talk (and some deep breathing) Karl reluctantly eagerly lets them sit against the very far wall to watch him work on the machinery- not, under any circumstances, the actual bodies

as the child blossoms into a young adult, they start to help out with certain aspects of Karl's work

exclusively machinery because Karl could not physically handle having his kid watch him get elbow-deep into a corpse

and Karl is so freaking proud of it

when the Soldat is kicked to life, he's got his kid in his arms and cackling like the proud dad he is

yeah. paternal Heisenberg>>>

#anon ask #anon #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #re8 #resident evil 8 #the duke #resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil village fanfiction #gender neutral #headcanons #re8 headcanons #resident evil headcanons #resident evil village headcanons #yeah i had a lot of fun with this #thank you again anon

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stcveskent · 3 years

Text

with you ; steve rogers

warnings: fluff + swearing, mentions of panic attack and some old memories of harrasments (touches)

Pairings: steve rogers x reader

request on wattpad <3

----------

"Good morning!" Your favorite voice spoke and you turned to greet it with a huge smile on your face. It was Steve's voice.

"Good Morning Steve, how are you?" you asked as he wraps you in a warm hug which you wanted it to last forever.

"i'm great by the way, and you look gorgeous by the way!" He says and you blush, and he smiles back at you, you and him are way too stubborn to accept the fact that both of you are in love with each other.

"and you look good too, like always." You said and now it was his time to blush, you chuckled and he laughed hugging you again.

"and if you both don't kiss then i'm gonna die!!!" Tony annoyingly says looking at both of you, which results in you both pulling away and looking at him.

"what're you doing here? Weren't you supposed to be at work, when i asked you for the run?" Steve asked and Tony looks like he's been caught, which he was.

"I'll be back you two, i have some work with Nat, and Steve make sure to give a good lecture to Tony for lying!" You said and he chuckled while Tony rolled his eyes.

"Oh that i will!" He says and you smile at him, as you walk upstairs to the office where Nat called you.

You walked in and looked at Nat, who was annoyed with all the paperwork in front of her, and by that look, you knew she needed coffee, so that's what you did, brought coffee for both of you.

"Good Morning!" You said and she rolled her eyes.

"Bad Morning, Y/n, i hate this!" She said and you handed her the coffee.

"not anymore." You said and she nods

"Right, cuz you got coffee, finally!" She says and you nod. You both get to work for hours, until Steve called you on your phone.

"Sorry, i have to take this, its Steve." You said and she shoots a smirk to you, and you playfully roll your eyes.

"Hey!"

"Hey Y/n, what're you doing?"

"I was just working with Nat, and what about you?"

"Well, i am waiting for you to say Yes, so we both could go and have lunch together, and that would be tacos." He said and you smile

"Alright, we'll have lunch together."

"Come downstairs now! Its your lunch time!" He said and you smiled at how much he took care of you. You when got into work, keep forgetting to eat but he's there for you to always remind you.

"Alright, i'm coming." You said and end the conversation.

"so steve hmm?" Nat says and you roll your eyes.

"We're just friends, Nat." You said and she scoffs

"Oh sure, i'm gonna take that, you blush when you talk to him, Y/n you're so in love!!." Sarcasm evident in that reply.

"Fine i do love him,But he doesn't!" You confessed and looked down.

"we'll talk about that later, y/n, your date is waiting!" She joked

"He's not my date and Alright, see you after lunch." You said and walkwd downstairs.

Just right then, Tony calls Nat.

"What do you want?" Nat answers the call and Tony laughs.

"Y/n and Steve really need to get together, it's important!!"

"Yes okay, and what do you want me to do?"

"I'm throwing a party, push them onto eachother!!"

"I think i can do better than pushing them."

"I know, just do whatever to get them, together!!"

"Okay Tony, see you then."

———

"Hey dan." You picked up the call infront of Steve, and he looked at you with a confused look.

"Hey Y/n, how are you?"

"I'm great, so where have you been, its been so long." You said, a smile over your face as you talked to your old friend.

"everything's fine, i am in New York for a few days, thought of seeing you, but you seem to be busy.."

"Oh no, we can meet, i'll tell you when i'm free."

"Right, fine!" He said as you end the conversation.

"Who was it?" Steve asked , while he eats , and you look up to him, a small smile, he never asks who it was when you got a call from anyone.

"what?" He asked and you shook your head.

"Its Daniel, my old friend, you haven't met him."

"I guess so. What did he want?"

"Wants to see me..oh wait, Tony just sent a text." You said as you looked at your phone and he looks at yours.

"Me too!" He reads the text as you do, Tony's throwing a party, he groans and smirks

"oh gosh, he's doing it again!" He says

"Well, seems like he just wants to spend some time being happy, he deserves it though." You said and he nods.

"Right!" He says and you both continue with lunch. An idea popped up, you knew you couldn't see Daniel, in between few days, so you decided to take him to Tony's party with you, and you texted him the address to which he agreed.

-----

finally the day comes, when you see Daniel, after four years, he looks kinda different, but happy.

"Hey!" You said and he hugs you.

"You look so gorgeous!" He compliments you and you blush, your dress was a beautiful, emerald green, satin dress.

"Thank you, and you look great too!" You said and he nods as both of you walked to Tony's Party, Talking about old times when you guys met him, and he tells you how he feels living in Italy, now.

You walk in with him, no one noticed it until you saw Nat.

"Hey" Nat comes in and hugs you and hug her back.

"You look so good today, damn!"

"Thank you so much! You look so pretty too, babe!" You said and she smiled, her eyes, are on Daniel, and back on you, as a question of who's this?

"Oh! Sorry! This is Daniel, my old friend, and Daniel, this is Natasha, my very good and best friend." You introduce them and they shake hands ofcourse.

"Nice to meet you! Steve was waiting for you..thought you might want to see him." she said

"Yes, ofcourse i'll see him in a while." You said and she nods, going next to Tony and whispered him what she just witnessed, and you were in your conversation with Daniel back again.

"We should drink." He says and you nod, before you two go get Drinks, and Steve noticed you, a feeling of jealousy taking over him, and then he looks at you, that smile, that beauty. You're always beautiful to him, but today you look extra beautiful and happy, with someone else. He clenched his jaw, and his friends sitting next to him, Bucky, Sam and Sharon, giggling over his reaction

"Oh damn! Did i just witness Steve Rogers, who is seeing the love of his life with someone else and is jealous ?" Sharon laughs and he shoot her a glare.

"seriously, I don't know how are you my friends, i could do so much better!" He said and they laughed.

"They're just friends, bud." Bucky reassures.

"Yea sure, look at him, he's being so weird with Y/n." Sam says and Steve looks at him.

"What? Y/n never wears shit like that, but with him..cap, I think you should go get her." Sam says.

"Guys chill!!! but steve go get her." Sharon says and he nods, and then he sees how touchy Daniel has become.

"Guys, give me a minute!" He says and leaves towards you.

"Daniel, i-you should leave." You said as he keeps a hand on your waist.

"What if I don't want to leave." He says coming closer, and you push him away, and Steve came towards you.

"Stop it y/n! You know i love you alot, just come here once.." he said

"Stay away! I don't like you at all! Do not touch me without my permission!" You said and he scoffs

"Do you remember prom...when you let him touch you, but not me—"

"Sto-stop!!!" You said and Steve came and looked at you, your eyes filled with tears.. and then takes his way with him.

"Hey! You better walk off, or i have to do it my way!"

"And what is your way?" He asks as Steve pushes him.

"You try to come near her one more time, you'll

Be going home on a wheelchair!"

"And who are you? Is she your whore?" Just then you ran away, and cried while Steve tried to stop you, but Daniel punched him which he stops and kicks him in the stomach, just there he falls on the ground.

"Bucky! Sam! Sharon, take your way with him, I need to go to Y/n." He says and they follow him, and he runs upstairs to you.

You in your room, cries remembering that one day, where your anxiety started.

"Y/n.." his soft voice calls you.

"Steve." You reply and he comes in, and looks at you, your eyes messed with some mascara. He comes and sits next to you, and you wipe your tears.

"hey, look at me.." he says and you look at him, still crying, and he kisses your forehead, a feeling of comfort radiates from him. Your eyes closed as you feel his warmth, which is trying to calm you down.

"shh, don't cry, you wanna tell me what happened?" He says and you nod, and he comes closer to you, and holds your hand, and you look away.

"The same thing happened on Prom , the school's popular kid showed interest in me and tried to touch me, but I pushed him away, t-they all made my fun for not liking it, I spent years recovering from it, and when i could live a normal life, it happened again." You said and burst into tears and Steve hugs you and you bury your head in his shoulder.

"Shh, Y/n, i know, i can understand, i'm so sorry honey, i'm here, I'll protect you I promise." He says and you keep hugging him, and he presses small kisses on your head.

"god! i'm so sorry, that i always bring you up in my matters, i should stop, and let you have some fun." You say pulling away.

"No y/n, i'll always choose to be next to you, I don't like anything, if there isn't you." He says, cupping your face, and you smile, after a long time that night.

"Just never lose this." He says , slightly running his fingers over your lips, which are curled in a smile.

"How about you go take a shower till i set series you might want to watch?"

"Friends?" You asked and he nods with a huge grin.

"alright! I'll be back in 5 minutes."

"Alright! Go relax." He said and you walked to your bathroom. You took a shower, relaxing yourself, but you were already relaxed because Steve made you feel so good.

After a good 5 minutes, you get changed into a baggy shirt along with some leggings.

"You are very punctual." Steve says and you smile, slowly slowly, you two get comfortable on the same couch , you laying on top of him as he strokes your hair.

The scene where Monica tries to propose Chandler is on screen, while you silently watch, a smile over both of your faces.

"You know, they're my favorite!!" You said

"I know, they're mine too!" He says, as you meet his eyes, a small smile over both of your faces.

You cup his face, and he pressed a kiss on your palm, but something told you to go for it, and then you did. You pressed your lips on his.

He was shocked at first, but immediately kissed you back, slowly and softly, and you both felt the sparks, after pulling away you and him pant slowly , and you both of you giggled softly.

"You didn't know i wanted this for so long!" He said, holding you in his arms , and kissing your head

"Me too, i-i love you." You replied and in that moment you saw him so happy, that he kissed you again, and with so much love, you couldn't describe how it felt.

"I love you too!" He said smiling, and just then, you heard bucky, along with Sam and Sharon.

"Hey Steve! That dick is out! How's Y/n?" He asked and he held you in his arms as you answered the question.

"Y/n's fine, now when she got Steve." You said and he pressed a kiss on your forehead.

squeels of excitement were heard, as soon as you said that, from them.

"Does that mean you two are together?! Oh my fucking good! Tony's gonna die!! Let's go guys, its time to spread the news!!" You heard bucky say that and both of you laughed at how much excited they were for you.

Now that you got Steve, by yourside, everything seems so good, you knew that every step which would be hard to take, he'd hold you hand through that, and you would do the same for him. You both got each other, which was all that mattered at the end.

--------

Hope this was good

please send in yo requests , i love to write them ❤️

#steve rogers fluff #steve rogers #nomad steve x you #nomad steve x reader #steve rogers and reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers smut #chris evans angst #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans x reader #andy barber #andy barber fluff #andy barber smut #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fluff #andy barber x reader

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kikilefangirl · 3 years

Text

Old Ties

Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x Reader

(Word Count: 1629)

This was your first time back from school since Christmas, and you missed home. You had elected to stay in an apartment near campus for the summer and rarely went back.

This was your birthday weekend, and you had to see your family and old friends after going so long without. Sometimes your mom joked you were too slippery to answer the phone, let alone stay on for long. It was true, with one notable exception: your baby brother Jamal.

“Y/N!” He hollered excitedly. You laughed when you pulled up because he had a fake neck brace on as his injury of the month. And his friends were there, all grown up.

“‘Mal! It’s so good to see you.”

“What about me?” Ruby asked incredulously.

“You too, Ruby. Monsé, look at you!” You praised. Then you were one off your count.

“Where’s Cesar?”

He was the only one missing from the group. Each kid had different emotions flash across their faces. Oh. You knew the feeling.

“Well get in, we’re going to get him.” You declared. They let out a chorus of protests and excuses, but you had already started the car.

“A seat has some of my bags in it, so one of y’all sitting in the middle.” You added.

You hadn’t been home five minutes and were already on your way to him. Indirectly, of course. All three kids piled in, and you drove off after a moan from Ruby about sitting in the middle seat.

“How do you know the way there?” Jamal asked skeptically. You gave him some throwaway response and put on some lip gloss.

You knew damn well why you expertly made the short drive to Spooky’s house, but they didn’t need to know that. Sooner that you were prepared to, you pulled up and hopped out.

You never once broke your stride past Santos and hynas. You heard your car doors slam, so the others were behind you, but you pressed on without soaring them a glance.

The music blasted along with the roar of engines and laughs from partygoers and clinking bottles. Your breath caught in your throat as you headed farther back in the driveway.

There he was, sitting down smoking a blunt next to him was Cesar. Damn, the kids had gotten older.

“Never thought I’d see you here.” Oscar said, finally.

He exhaled, and stood up not two feet away from you. Plump lips, intense brown eyes, no. You were never able to turn away from him.

Oscar was still fine as hell and you were losing focus.

“I came here to get Cesar.”

Not you.

The unsaid words were heavy between the two of you. Everyone who wasn’t drunk or oblivious could see the battle of wills going on. Even Cesar looked confused, and it was technically about him.

“He goes.” Oscar started, bringing a hand to your cheek, “You stay.”

Closure, you decided, was some bullshit because after two years of heartbreak and your determination to stay away...You accepted his trade.

Jamal, of course had heart palpitations the second a yes flew out your mouth. Ruby paled at the idea, and Monsé was staring at Cesar.

As soon as they left, it gave you some peace watching the four of them go off like they used to. Oscar struggled with the worst hand he could’ve been dealt, but his brother didn’t have to go through the same. Cesar was a different kid; Cesar was still somewhat allowed to be a kid.

Oscar put out his blunt and brought you inside.

You filled your eyes at the hoots and whistles from outside as you shut the screen door and then the real one.

You and Oscar were truly alone, now.

“How long before you’re gone, again.” He lamented, pulling out two beers from the fridge.

You winced at his words.

“The weekend.” You admitted. Spooky scoffed at you as he popped the top off of either bottle. He slid one over to you as you tapped your nails on the counter.

“Got over your little cholo phase and dipped, huh.” He spat out. You slammed your hand on the counter. Your palm stung from the impact, but your anger was more pressing.

“You know good and goddamn well that wasn’t it. Do I look like some white girl who took the wrong bus and got lost!” You roared at him.

He made it seem like an easy choice for you. That it was easy leaving everyone and everything for a whole new world you’d never even really seen before.

You flared your nostrils at Oscar, mostly to keep the tears at bay.

“I told myself I wasn’t gonna do this shit, Osc. You gonna keep doing your Santo shit, and I’m supposed to what? Sit here popping out your babies so twenty years from now they supposed to do the same shit? You go down, and I don’t got nothing to stand on? No.”

You shook your head violently. No. No, no, no. You spied where he kept his good liquor and grabbed it. You guzzled as much as you could in one pass.

Oscar stood there watching you with a look you couldn’t care to decipher.

Modesty wasn’t exactly a priority between you two. You and Oscar dealt in the raw, honest truth. It was what cooled the two of you, and it was doing so now. You knew it and he knew it.

“You messing with anyone up there?” He asked. Oscar was steady in his slow, rolling voice. Never tentative, always patient.

“Nothing serious.” You admitted. There was a fling that lasted a couple weeks in May, a failed date or two, and a car hookup once. In short, no one was ever him.

“You?” You stared intently at him, searching his eyes for any hint he was holding back.

Oscar’s list of names was shorter than yours. And to your surprise, you let out a sigh of relief.

He smirked and put his hand over yours, squeezing it for reassurance.

“We’re okay.” He said and against all reason you believed him.

He leaned in closer, and pulled you into a hug.

But like the ass he was, Oscar chose a less romantic course. His breath fanned your neck, and you short circuited. You always went blank when Oscar was so close to you and he took full advantage.

You had the willpower of a goldfish.

You hopped up on the counter, the two of you exchanging hungry, passionate kisses, desperate to make up for lost time and old grievances.

...

You stayed at the house well into the night.

You sweated out your edges, smudged your makeup, and damn near limped back to your car. By the time you left, the party had gone somewhere else and the lot was quiet. Not even Cesar had returned.

You sat in your car and Oscar leaned into the window.

“Happy Birthday.” He said. You smiled and gave him a long kiss, savoring the memory of him. When you pulled away, you deflated.

“I’m going back to school on Monday.” You said softly. You drummed on the steering wheel.

“Then come back tomorrow.” He suggested. It wasn’t the same anymore. You two weren’t teenagers sneaking away during football games. His life was as real as yours, if not more. You held in the tears threatening to spill over.

“I’m sorry, Osc. That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

The silence that came next was deafening. You stared straight ahead and let the tears stream down your face with no abandon. A gentle hand wiped them away.

“No crying. You gotta go see the world for the both of us, ‘kay.” He told you. There was no bitterness or sadness in his eyes. Just love. Love for you, for him, and for everything the two of you went through together.

You let your forehead rest on his.

“I promise.” You whispered to him. At that, Oscar stepped back and you saw him in full view.

He nodded one last time, and you pulled off into the night.

...

“Oh. My. God. Is that a hickey? That’s a hickey. You let Spooky give you that! You could be infected with all kinds of diseases that will haunt you for the rest of your life!”

Jamal’s freakout made you crack a smile. He had only seen Oscar as the Santo Spooky, Cesar’s scary ass older brother. But you had known him since you were twelve and had been with him since you were fifteen.

“We had history, it’s over now. Chill out.” You replied.

“Damn it, Y/N you know I can’t fight, why would you put me in this position!” He barked out. You smiled.

“Oh I know you can’t fight, you know being a D1 athlete and all.” You teased. You knew he’d eventually work up the nerve to tell your parents the truth, but it was fun messing with him in the meantime.

“Okay seriously, are you and Spooky gonna keep--ew, I can’t say it.” He rambled. You put your hands on his shoulders.

“Jamal, listen. I love Oscar and I always will. But we’ve outgrown each other. We grew up here, this our home, but you and I have stability and a way out that Oscar never had. Neighborhood will drag you back in and I can’t afford to do that. Grown decisions, ‘Mal.”

You plopped down on your bed, and stared at nothing. It really was over.

Jamal hugged you tightly, and you hugged him back. You hoped Cesar wouldn’t share his brother’s path. You had given up hope a long time ago that Oscar would. He couldn’t.

And it was cruel of you to hold onto him any longer, so you didn’t.

#black!reader #poc!reader #on my block #Oscar Diaz #spooky #spooky diaz #spooky diaz x reader #oscar diaz x reader #on my block fanfiction #julio macias #Oscar Diaz angst #sad ending sorry #spooky Diaz angst

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breakyeol · 4 years

Text

Give Him a Show

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Genre: college au, friends to lovers au, suggestive, tiny pinch of angst

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: strong language, fuckboy!chanyeol being an complete asshole, !!! themes of harassment (not with malicious intent but it’s still not okay) !!! , mentions of drinking and marijuana use, mild groping, heavy making out

A/N ; hey guys. I feel like there is a slightly more serious topic addressed in this one shot. never let a man or woman or anyone treat you the way Chanyeol treats reader in this. don’t be afraid to put your foot down and tell them to fuck off. and if you don’t feel comfortable doing it then ask a friend or family member or anyone you trust for help. please be safe and don’t be afraid to say no ♡ also! this one shot in NO WAY portrays Chanyeol’s true character!! we all know that he is a respectful gentleman in real life thank you and goodnight

It was too often that you found yourself in places like this, surrounded by people like them.

Places like this being an entirely too crowded apartment, the scent of weed and sweat intertwining in the air, the deep bass of a song pulsing from unseen speakers causing the floor to vibrate beneath your sneaker clad feet.

People like them being your so called ‘friends’ who partied every weekend and got shit faced or cross faded every time an opportunity presented itself.

Don’t get it wrong, you knew how to get down and dirty with the worst of them. But tonight had been one of those nights— one of those nights that all you wanted was to sprawl yourself out in your bed and binge watch Scream for the gazillionth time while stuffing your face full of all your favorite snack foods. It hadn’t been the best day in the world, and just being able to sit back and unwind seemed like the most ideal use of your free time.

Unfortunately, that plan was abruptly negated when your friends got the brilliant idea of partying until their legs gave out. They found it of the utmost importance to drag you along as well, claiming dramatically it had been forever since you last hung out with them.

Since the beginning of the night, you had been tucked into the corner of the room on one of the unoccupied couches, pretending to nurse the cup of god knows what kind of alcohol, and wearing your best resting bitch face in hopes that everyone would just stay the fuck away. Thus far, the strategy had been successful. If someone started coming in your direction, all you had to do was shoot them an icy glare and they’d immediately spin around and walk in the opposite direction.

Though, there was one particular person that seemed to be completely oblivious to your blatant disinterest in being here.

“Y/n!”

You grimaced at the familiar booming voice, reluctantly tearing your eyes off of the window where you’d been counting the lights of passing cars on the street bellow. The one and only Park Chanyeol stood before you, signature lopsided smirk plastered across his face.

You’d known Chanyeol since high school, but you really only knew each other because of your mutual friends. In all honesty, you didn’t consider him much more than a good acquaintance. He was a sweet guy, funny and bright and very outgoing.

But, he was also one of the biggest fuck boys you’d ever met. And he was not shy in displaying the fact that he had wanted to hook up with you, to the point where you couldn’t even pretend that it was just your ego. Not-so-subtly eye fucking you whenever you walked into the room, constantly pressing you about your ideal man or what kind of guy you were interested in, finding any and every excuse to be near you or touch you in one way or another. It was all a bit excessive, especially considering that you just weren’t interested in him like that. Unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to get the hint— or, he just didn’t care.

All his indirect advances made it a bit uncomfortable for you to be around him. That was another reason you’d been subtly avoiding hanging out with the big group of friends, because he was always there. And every time you weren’t, he’d text or call you about it and you’d have to make up an excuse as to why you didn’t show.

It wasn’t even like he actually liked you, either. All that he wanted was to snag a quick fuck.

You’d told him straight up on several occasions that you just were not interested, when his advances got too much for you to put up with. He’d lay off for the rest of the night, and if you were lucky the rest of the next day. But by the next, he’d be right back to his flirting and excessive touching. The dude was relentless.

And it was honestly getting a bit exhausting.

But for tonight, you smile politely and just deal.

“Hey, Chanyeol.”

“I’m surprised you came!” He said, voice louder than usual, falling onto the couch beside you like it was where he belonged. You tensed at the feeling of his thigh pressing firmly against yours, and attempted to scoot away from him, only to be stopped by the arm rest digging into your side.

Shit. Did he not know about personal space? More than likely he did, but just didn’t give a fuck.

You only offered a mild nod of your head in response, lips tight, body rigid. He should have been able to feel it with how tightly he’d pressed himself up against you, should’ve felt the tension in your muscles, the uneasiness rolling off of you thick, heavy waves. But he didn’t even flinch, tossing a nonchalant arm over the back of the couch behind your head. You curled in on yourself as his fingers feathered over your shoulder, the corner of your lip lifting in an uncontainable grimace.

“Yeah, me too.”

For whatever reason, the stiff, grumbled response coaxed a round of guffawing belly laughter from the boy squeezed against you. Personally, you didn’t think it was all that funny.

“Well, I, for one, am very glad you came. But why are you over here all by yourself?”

You shrugged, sinking your teeth into the inside of your lip and turning away from him, opting to give your attention to the lack of stars visible in the light polluted night sky. “Just... not in the mood for all this, I guess.” The empty reply was intended to cut this one sided conversation short as soon as possible.

“Then... do you wanna get out of here?” He whispered the question against the shell of your ear, and you couldn’t help the way you lurched away from him. His breath reeked of vodka, the scent so strong that you couldn’t help the way your nose wrinkled in disgust. One thorough look at him was all it took to confirm your suspicions. His cheeks were flushed a deep red, his hooded eyes unfocused and bloodshot.

“You’re wasted, Chanyeol.” You deadpanned, arms folding over your chest.

“What?! N– no I’m not!” You could clearly hear the faint slur of his words now, only solidifying your point further. He was thoroughly shit faced. And if you weren’t too off base, you thought you caught a whiff of weed clinging to his plaid button up. “I’m fine, y/n!” He insisted, apparently lucid enough to catch the look of disbelief that flashed across your face. A sober Chanyeol was one thing, but dealing with him while he was cross faded? That was above your qualifications as an acquaintance.

“Listen, let’s just go somewhere, yeah?” He hiccuped and you almost hissed as one of his hands fell on your knee, and quickly pushed it away. A faint downward twitch of his lips was the only indication he even noticed it had happened, before he was covering it up with a wide grin and leaning in closer. “I know this great pancake place, open 24/7, most delicious milkshakes you’ve ever had in your life. Then maybe afterward we could... chill at my place. What do you say?”

You knew damn well that just ‘chilling’ was nowhere near being on this man’s mind.

“I say you’re drunk and need to lay down and drink some water.”

“Come on, y/n~” He whined at your blunt reply, and your brows furrowed in distaste as he tugged you closer, only to leap into your hairline when you caught his hazy gaze slip down to your mouth. He bit his lip, eyes fluttering. Fuck. Fuck. Was he going to kiss you? Shit. You couldn’t let this happen. But as you pulled away, he pushed further, and all at once you found yourself trapped against the wall. Fuck!

“I—!”

“Chanyeol.” Both yours and Chanyeol’s head turned, surprised by the sudden interruption. A soft breath of relief escaped your lips, though you also felt the familiar tug of embarrassment in the pit of your stomach.

“Sehun?” He mumbled, blinking in confusion.

“You’re fucked up, Chanyeol. Go drink some water.” The younger boy huffed, rolling his eyes.

“But I—”

“Seriously go, Chanyeol. Before you do something you regret when you sober up.” The exasperation in his voice brought a faint glower across Chanyeol’s face, but, to your relief, he pulled away. You watched with pursed lips as he stood on shaky legs and stumbled past his younger friend, roughly bumping his shoulder as he went.

“Fuck.” You cursed once he was out of ear shot, rubbing your palms over your face, frustration peeking.

When you looked up, Sehun was still standing there in his stupid leather jacket and ripped back jeans with his stupid black hair that fell perfectly over his annoyingly handsome face, pretty eyes narrowed into slits and focused sharply on you. You hated it when he looked like you like that. Hated the way your skin burned and your heart sped up in your chest. Hated the way your stomach stirred with butterflies. You hated it. But at the same time…

“What?” You sighed, grimacing at the faint quiver in your voice.

Sehun folded his arms over his chest. “You don’t have to put up with it, you know.”

“What?”

“It’s so obvious that you’re uncomfortable. Why don’t you just tell him to fuck off?” He asked, shifting his weight onto one hip.

“I have.” You groaned. “I’ve told him I’m not interested. He lets up for a bit but then he goes right back to pulling his usual shit.” You tried to explain, face twisting in irritation.

“Have you told him to go fuck himself?”

“Not in those words, exactly.” You admitted, rubbing at the back of your neck.

“Why not?”

“Isn’t it a bit mean? He’s an asshole but I don’t want to hurt his feelings or something...”

“Why the fuck should you care about his feelings when he refuses to consider yours?”

He wasn’t wrong.

Then again, Sehun is rarely wrong when it came down to things like that.

Even though he was the youngest, he always seemed to carry this strange sort of wisdom. He saw and understood things in ways your other friends, in ways most people just didn’t. He took the time to try and see deeper than most cared to look. You had always respected that about him.

While your other friends egged Chanyeol on, pushing you to get with him, Sehun saw past the fake smiles and forced laughter. He saw just how uncomfortable you really were. And he spoke up about it when he saw it going a bit too far. When Chanyeol got too touchy or too bold, he was usually the one to smack him upside the head and tell him to back off or pull you away. He was good like that. And it was nice to know that someone knew and was actually on your side.

Sehun had been a fixture in your friend group since high school. You hadn’t been very close to him at first because he was more on the quiet side and didn’t go out of his way to talk to you. Not to mention, the kid was intimidating as hell with all his leather jackets and ripped jeans and sharp, penetrating eyes.

Put bluntly, he scared the shit out of you the first time you met him. But then you saw him smile for the first time, saw the sweet blush that coated his cheeks when the older boys teased him, heard that goofy, high pitched laugh that rang like the loveliest bells in your ears, felt that unfamiliar fluttering in your chest. And you knew that you were done for.

The two of you hung out a lot in your freshman year of college, going on late night drives and blasting music and just living. For a while you thought that maybe— just maybe there was something there. A spark. A chance.

But he never made a move, and neither did you. Then there was Chanyeol and his flirting and annoyingly persistent determination to fuck you. Things got complicated and nothing ever ended up happening between the two of you. You thought you’d at least keep up the same momentum in your relationship, but Sehun started pulling away from you. His late night visits became less frequent, his texts dwindling to almost nonexistent, and his presence in your life becoming less and less every day. It hurt. But what the hell were you going to do about it? It was frustrating at first, but you got over it.

... kind of.

... not really.

That’s besides the point.

When you didn’t answer, Sehun sighed, taking a few tentative steps before dropping onto the couch beside you. You weren’t too sure how to feel about the space he left between you. It almost felt representative of the distance that had grown between the two of you in the past year. You didn’t like it.

“It’s not cool what he’s doing to you, you know that, right?” He asked, tilting his head at you. Concern shone through his gentle eyes, uncertainty. You couldn’t ignore the way your chest warmed at the thought that he cared. He cared about you, about your feelings. He cared, and you couldn’t begin to describe the immense joy that ignited inside of you. But you bit your lip to keep from smiling, to keep from sighing blissfully and melting into the familiar comfort of his presence brought you. The seriousness in his gaze kept you upright and alert, the topic at hand pulling you down from the brief high and you nodded gently.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Sehun pursed his lips, a thoughtful candescence falling over his handsome features. “I’ve known Chanyeol for a long time. He’s not a bad guy, but he is a fucking idiot and doesn’t always realize when he’s being a fucking idiot so sometimes you just gotta slap him in the face and tell him straight up to get his shit together. And he will.”

Just then, you spotted Chanyeol sauntering out of the kitchen, a water bottle gripped in his hand, a hazy kind of smirk on his face. You watched him toss an arm around Minseok’s shoulder and whisper something in his ear, tipping his head in your direction.

“You want him to back off?” You flinched at the unexpected closeness of Sehun’s voice, and made the mistake of turning to face him. He was close. So close. Close enough to count his eyelashes if you wanted. Close enough to see the faded pink of the scar on his cheek. Close enough to smell the subtle wisp of his earthy cologne. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin. Your heart began thundering violently in your chest, a blazing heat blossoming beneath your skin.

“Yeah.” The word came out as less than a breathless whisper. You didn’t miss the way his eyes flashed down to your lips, before quickly snapping back up to your eyes, searching them with a tenderness that made your heart throb.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” There wasn’t a moment of hesitation, not the faintest hint of uncertainty. It was the truth. You trusted him.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye, and you followed his gaze to find Chanyeol standing across the room staring intently in your direction with brows furrowed. Gentle fingers pressing into the curve of your jaw drew your attention back to the man sitting in front of you. Ever so slightly, he tipped his face closer, his nose nudging against yours. Shallow, insufficient inhales swirled in your lungs as your eyes fluttered, utterly overwhelmed by the mere closeness of him.

“Then follow my lead.”

His lips met yours with a gentleness you weren’t entirely prepared for. They were light and cautious, waiting to see whether you’d push him off or pull him in. He let out a soft breath of relief at the feeling of your hand curling around the back of his neck, urging him closer. In an instant, he relinquished his restrains, melting into the warm pressure of your lips as you simultaneously melted into his.

You’ve experienced your fair share of kisses in the past. But something about this one — whether it was the slow, deep pace of it, or the lingering presence of ring clad fingers tracing the length of your throat, or the mere fact that it was with Oh Sehun, the boy that could set your heart ablaze with a single smile — there was just something about this kiss.

When he pulled away, you could still feel the phantom warmth, tingling on your skin. You refused to open your eyes, trying to keep the sensation alive as long as possible.

“Is that alright?”

Finally, you looked at him. And god, had you ever seen a man so beautiful? His cheeks were flushed a soft, endearing pink, deep chocolate eyes hooded and melting, lips just a touch darker in shade then they had been before. You were so awestruck by him that it took you an extra moment to realize that he’d asked you a question.

You nodded, tightening your hold around his neck in order to pull him closer and breathe the word into his open mouth before closing the distance completely, “Yes.”

Immediately following your consent, any and all of Sehun’s lingering reservations vanished. His hands dropped away from your neck, one coiling tightly around the curve of your waist and flattening against the small of your back, the other gripping your jean clad thigh and tugging it gentle over his lap. The new position ignited a dangerously familiar heat in the pit of your stomach, that quickly began to swell into something large and uncontainable, spurred by the delicious pressure of his fingers and skilled movements of his lips.

He groaned deeply as you tugged at his hair, silky tendrils clenched in a tight fist. The sound resonated through your body, vibrating in your chest and shooting straight down to your growing arousal.

“Fuck that was sexy.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat and you realized with an embarrassed flush that you’d said that out loud. But the buzz of nerve was quickly soothed when he mumbled breathlessly, “right back atcha.”

He emphasized his point by sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh of your lower lip and tugging, eliciting a low, drawn out moan from the depths of your chest. Smooth flicks of his tongue soothed the afflicted skin, before he asked for permission to enter, not waiting a single moment to dive in when it was granted.

Feeling the burn of someone’s stare, your eyes flicked open for a moment, sliding lazily over to where Chanyeol still stood, seemingly rooted into the spot. His eyes were wide, lips gaping, cheeks flushed, though you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcoholic something else entirely. The grip he had on his water bottle had tightened substantial, and you couldn’t help the mild smugness that washed over you.

Without breaking to kiss, you kept your gaze on Chanyeol, making sure he was watching as you slid a hand around the front of Sehun’s throat, and captured his tongue between your lips, sucking gently. If possible, his mouth fell open even wider, eyes looking ready to pop out of his damn skull. Smirking to yourself, you cocked a brow at the gaping man. He visibly swallowed, before his eyes suddenly snapped down. You followed his gaze curiously and nearly scoffed in disbelief.

Of course he’d get a hard on from watching something like this. Nasty fucker.

“He still watching?” Sehun mumbled, detaching his mouth from yours only long enough to get the words out. You hummed softly in confirmation, shivering when you felt the slow upward curl of his lips. “Good. Let’s give him a show.”

In an instant, Sehun pulled you over to straddle his lap. Warm hands roamed over your body, though careful to keep a respectful distance from anything he thought you might not want him touching. You appreciated the sentiment, but with Sehun? You didn’t need respectful.

The younger boy faltered beneath you, chest swelling with a deep inhale when you reached around to grab hold of his wrists and slowly lowered them to the swells of your ass. He groaned roughly, fingers digging greedily into the jean clad flesh and pulling you flush against him.

You gasped when you felt him beneath you, hot and hard right between your hips. The rough friction made you clench and shudder, wetness spilling from your core and soaking through your panties. You probably should have been concerned about the heavy arousal seeping through the thick material of your jeans, but your mind was too far gone in the intoxicating warmth of his kiss that you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Fuck, Sehun.” You hissed, hips rolling hungrily over his.

“Baby.” He purred in response, and you swear you nearly had a fucking aneurism on the spot. Baby. Baby. Oh Sehun just called you baby. How long had you waited to hear him call you that? Too fucking long.

A desperate whimper pulsed from your throat, so entirely unlike you that it took even you by surprise. He didn’t seem to mind, pulling you so tightly against him that your ribs ached. But the pain was welcome, melting into a delicious cocktail with the fierce pleasure pulsing through your every cell.

“I don’t think he’s watching anymore.” Sehun breathed, glancing over your shoulder.

“I don’t care.”

You weren’t concerned about Chanyeol any more, far more focused on how Sehun’s lips tasted like mint and honey, and not like alcohol. The fact that he hadn’t drank made you feel even better, if that were possible.

Honest to god you probably would have fucked him right then and there on that couch in front of everyone (and felt damn good about it too) if not for the gentle pressure of Sehun’s fingers digging into your rolling hips, forcing their slow grinding to come to an abrupt halt. You pulled away from him then, completely out of breath and more turned on than you’d been in your entire life. Sehun was in a similar state, panting and flushed, damn near throbbing in the tight confines of his sexy ripped jeans.

“What is it?” You asked, still panting.

He shot you a lopsided grin. “As much as I would love to fuck your brains out in front of all these self centered assholes...” a hand drifted up the line of your body, delicate fingers following the cut of your jaw to trace over the seam of your bottom lip. “I think I’d prefer our first time together to be somewhere a bit more… private? Intimate? Somewhere I can treat you how you deserve to be treated.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, warmth spreading through your body in thick, invigorating waves.

“What’d you have in mind?” You asked softly, feathering your lips over his. He smiled.

“I know this great pancake place that’s open 24/7, best milkshakes you’ve ever had. Then maybe afterward we could... chill at my place. What do you say?” Laughter bubbled at your lips as he mimicked the same line Chanyeol had used on you earlier with a cheesy grin.

And yet, the feeling was entirely different.

Sucking your lips into your mouth, you nodded shyly, arms going slack over his broad shoulders.

“Only if you’re paying.” You hummed playfully.

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, “I’ll make an exception to my ‘seniors always pay rule’ just this once. Only for you.”

Only for you.

You could definitely get used to that.

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

3 Simple Rules for Dating a Centenarian - ch. 3

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Chapters: 3/3

Read chapters one and two on Tumblr.

Chapter three summary: Sam and Bucky take a breather from Sharon’s party in High Town.

Sam walks back into the room from before. The one that could be a high-end boutique, or the lobby of a shady but untouchable law firm, or the backdrop for a photoshoot featuring an Avenger who wanted their surroundings to exude enviable elegance and expensiveness without at all detracting from their presence. Not to name names, or speak disdainfully of the dead.

Shrugging off the brown leather jacket Sharon leant him, Sam tosses it at the couch. Yeah, technically it’s on a collision course with the back of Bucky’s head, but since Bucky dodges without turning to look, he figures he can claim poor aim. Which Sam would normally never do, especially to Bucky, but he has downed a few drinks tonight. Sharon wanted them to blend in at the party; Sam couldn’t see an easier way to blend than by doing his bit to deplete the contents of the event’s bar. He sure as hell wasn’t going to stand there pumping his arm to the beat like that motherfucker Zemo. Sam doesn’t know exactly what to blame for the Baron’s excruciating dance moves, he’s just glad he got away. Being near enough to Zemo for people to assume they were acquainted? Come on. That’s just insult on top of injury.

Bucky’s head swivels to follow him once Sam tracks into his line of sight.

“Where’s Zemo?” is the first thing he says.

Sam avoids his gaze until he’s good and comfortable on the couch at his side. It’s closer than he meant to be, since the damn thing has a curve to it, but the chairs don’t look comfortable. Unless, he supposes, you’re a percher, like Sharon. Sam doesn’t perch.

To cover for the fact that he picked his seat without thorough reconnaissance and is, with his inhibitions a little lower than usual, both far too nervous and not nearly nervous enough, Sam spreads his knees to take up even more of the couch, draping his arms along the back. Finally, he glances at Bucky.

“Sharon’s doing her shift as babysitter,” Sam says.

“Hasn’t she done enough?”

“You wanna go back down there and spell her, be my guest.”

“Nah,” Bucky says, “I think I’m good.”

Bucky’s jacket is gone too, Sam notes, moving his own from where it landed to the chair opposite. Briefly, he lets himself be curious. Why does Sharon have a wardrobe of men’s clothes in enough sizes and styles to reasonably clad himself, Bucky, and Zemo for the evening? Are these things expensive? Are they valuable, like the Monet he saw on the way in? Maybe the clothes on his back belonged to some celebrity and are set to be sold off to the highest bidder. If that weren’t a selling point before, it could be now—everything itemized and tagged as having been worn by Sam Wilson, the Falcon, the Man Who Wouldn’t Be Captain America.

In the short silence, Sam feels himself beginning to frown, but he’s just the right side of buzzed to prevent those thoughts from dragging him down. He’s a cheerful drunk. Always has been. A hugger, a giggler, a piggyback ride-giver in his younger years.

“Do you think she’s doing alright?” Bucky asks, forever ready to be morose. “Sharon?” Sam wants to stick his finger in the indentation between Bucky’s eyebrows and wiggle it until the seriousness drops from his face. He wants to smooth his thumb over Bucky’s chin, wipe out the memory of Zemo’s touch when he offered Bucky to Selby like a thing instead of a human being. “I know she took your deal, a favour for a favour, but I’ve been trying to work out what my debt to her is. My notebook—”

“There’s no math for it, Buck,” Sam says. Though his tone is lazy, his words are certain. “Who owes what to who. We just have to make it right.” Mildly annoyed that he’s been drawn back into a heavy conversation, he sighs and slings his foot up to rest his ankle on his opposite knee. The movement bumps Bucky’s thigh momentarily. “Think I might owe Sharon a little less now that she made me wear a turtleneck to that party.”

Bucky snorts a laugh. Sam turns his head and gives him the finger, though he’s also smiling.

“I’m laughing at what you said,” Bucky claims, “not the shirt. You coulda picked something else.”

“It’s black and doesn’t have a pattern. After that Smiling Tiger getup, I felt like being inconspicuous, ok?”

“Ok. You don’t need my approval.”

“You’re damn right I don’t,” Sam agrees, still grinning.

“Suits you,” Bucky half-mumbles.

Sam huffs from his nose, all his laughter in that puff of air as he faces forward again, then tips his head back to check out Sharon’s high ceiling. With nothing but night through the tall windows and the room under-illuminated by the two lamps either left on by their host or switched on by Bucky, the ceiling’s dark grey instead of white. Shadowy. Unlike the menacing shadows that seemed to stretch after them on the streets of Low Town, sending an unpleasant tickle up the back of Sam’s neck, these are soft. It’s a surprisingly peaceful end to the day, considering what the past 24 hours have encompassed. Suddenly, Sam feels as though he’s been awake a long, long time. Doesn’t mean he’s ready to sleep yet.

“So,” he says, “downstairs. Why’d you leave? Most date-like thing we’ve done yet and I tear my eyes away from the trainwreck of Zemo’s dancing to find you gone.”

“The noise, the crowd, Zemo,” Bucky emphasizes, “like you said.”

“You brought him.”

“I know, I just…” Bucky slumps forward and hangs his head, hands clasped between his knees. He turns pained eyes on Sam and Sam moves his hand from the back of the couch to Bucky’s shoulder. From there to his upper back. From a grounding pressure to a gentle rub. Just a couple times, but he doesn’t pull away, perennially touchy when less than sober. “I don’t want him to control me.”

“He doesn’t,” Sam says firmly. “You were yourself at Selby’s.”

“His version of me. I don’t like the reminder. I don’t want to find out if I’d do it again, in that crowd of people, attack someone just because he told me to.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. I’m trusting you not to.”

“Is that smart?” Bucky asks, expression raw. Sam can feel the heat of his back through his shirt.

“It’s not totally smart. Can’t be, with you involved.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and smiles and Sam wants to cheer.

“I don’t know about that date,” Bucky says lightly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leans back into the couch once more. It was a t-shirt under that jacket of his and Sam’s gaze slides to his arms, trying to look without looking. Only because the Vibranium one isn’t on display a lot. That’s all.

“Oh, here we go.”

Sam’s amazed at how his complaint sounds in this room, in this light, on this couch. Like the ceiling, it’s soft.

“It was too loud.”

“The last thing you called a date was a fight on the top of a truck speeding down a highway. Wasn’t exactly quiet.”

“Well,” Bucky tries again, “there were too many people.”

“Again, extra people weren’t a problem last time. Half a dozen Flag-Smashers, as I recall.”

“That was fun and all—”

“Which part?” Sam asks, smiling. “The part where you got hurled into a windshield by the woman you’d assumed was a hostage? Yeah, that part was fun for me too.”

“Can it.”

Bucky accompanies the words with a look that Sam could pick out a mile away as fake-grumpy. It cracks him up and he lifts his hand from Bucky’s back to shove his arm as he laughs.

“You called tonight a date,” Bucky says suddenly.

“No, I said… I said…” Sam squints at nothing as he retrieves his words in his mind. “Date-like.”

“Zemo got in my head and I got in yours.”

Instead of saying this miserably, Bucky looks quietly smug at his joke. Sam needs to set him straight; of course he didn’t think tonight was a date. With a massive bounty on their heads at the other end of Madripoor? With Zemo the third wheel always only an arm’s length away? And the current circumstances are beside the point because, fundamentally, Sam doesn’t know whether or not Bucky’s been joking from the start. Intentionally wrong-footing him, messing with him, like they’ve been doing as long as they’ve known each other.

“You’ve definitely done something,” Sam volunteers.

It’s his fourth drink talking, or maybe the fucking pickled snake organ he forced himself to swallow earlier. His jaw clenches fleetingly at the memory. Sarah’s gonna laugh her ass off when he tells her. Should be enough to balance out whatever ire she’ll be sending his way for that dumb shit he said about laundering money. Although she’ll get that he only said it to avoid getting shot (he won’t tell her how narrow that success was), she still won’t be thrilled that he made himself out to be a criminal. It’s the furthest thing from the kind of people the Wilsons are. He could always point a finger at how Bucky behaved—dropping everyone who ran at him with icily efficient twists and kicks—but he knows how Sarah would look at him, what she’d be thinking. That he and Bucky aren’t held to the same standard, externally or internally. That he talks about Bucky too often, so often that if he let his sister in on this stupid running joke they have about their ops being dates, she’d take it all wrong, think this was something serious and inevitable.

Sam swallows and laces his fingers together in his lap so he won’t reach out for Bucky again.

“I know I should’ve let you in on the plan to spring Zemo from prison,” Bucky says. Oh, he thinks Sam’s words were a subtle criticism, not an admission. That’s… good.

“But?”

“No excuses,” Bucky promises, stretching his neck from side to side. “I shoulda told you. Once I explained it, you would’ve seen that I was right and agreed with me.”

Sam gives the side of Bucky’s head a hard stare until he catches the smirk hiking his lips up on one side.

“Wow,” Sam says dryly, “that was almost you taking responsibility.”

“I take responsibility all the time.”

“The notebook, right?”

“Yeah. Can’t believe Zemo put his fuckin’ hands on something so private, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I get that it’s private,” Sam assures him, “but you can tell me shit. If you want.”

Bucky’s folded arms loosen and he shoots Sam a sideways glance that scans all over his face, measuring, cataloguing, computing with that cyborg brain Sam teases him about. Sam blinks back. He means it, and he meant it before when he said he’s trusting Bucky.

“Feels a little one-sided,” Bucky says.

“That’s because you won’t come home with me to meet Sarah and the boys. You already got your invitation into my personal life, you just haven’t used it.”

“We’ve been a little busy, Sam.”

Sam sighs loudly and pushes his sleeves up his arms against the warmth of the room.

“You can make time. Once we’re not on Zemo’s schedule.”

“He was supposed to be on ours,” Bucky mutters. “I don’t know how that happened.”

“It happened because you’re an idiot who didn’t tell me the plan.”

“It’s my fault we keep getting shot at.”

Sam ignores that, the happy looseness surging up inside him battling the gravity of Bucky’s self-pity.

“It’s your fault if you didn’t like the date,” he counters. “You got Zemo out of Germany, Zemo brought us to Madripoor. Low Town, Selby, Sharon—all that happened as a consequence. You didn’t like tonight’s date? That’s on you.”

“Date-like,” Bucky corrects with a sly smile. “The noise and the fighting last time were fine—”

“Were they?!”

“—I just thought the next date should be different.”

Sam laughs softly because this isn’t the first time Bucky’s made this sound like more than a joke, but it is the first time he’s done this at night. And without Sam’s sister and nephews in the next room, or the potential for anybody to drive past them on a country road that runs alongside untidy fields, but when they’re truly alone.

“How so?” Sam asks, heart pumping like the bass in the basement, where the party’s carrying on without the two of them.

Bucky loosens his arms even more, until his forearms rest on his thighs, until—when he rocks to the side, repositioning to face Sam—he can rest one on the back of the couch where Sam’s used to be. His hand hangs down and his fingers skim Sam’s shoulder.

“More private,” Bucky confesses.

“I didn’t know that’s what you wanted,” Sam says with an easy laugh because Bucky’s face is still a little too stern, but that could be self-consciousness. “Tell me how to get more than four stars, man.”

“And you’ll do it?”

“Depends. Try me,” he blurts.

He watches Bucky’s face pinch in then relax, going especially slack at the mouth, which gets closer when Bucky angles into his space. Sam’s fingers release and his back straightens as he shifts to square his body to Bucky’s. They’ve done something like this before, locked into stubborn, confrontational posture when Bucky makes Sam’s life difficult by refusing to go along with what he says, but not this. Not this exactly.

Sam doesn’t stiffen or jerk away, so Bucky keeps coming.

“Are you…?” Bucky asks, eyelashes fluttering as his lids raise and lower, looking from Sam’s eyes to his lips. “Is this…?”

Always talking.

Tilting his head and closing his eyes, Sam stamps his mouth to Bucky’s. He goes to break away after a few stunned seconds, but then Bucky’s hand lands on the back of his neck—warm; not the metal one—to hold them together. Sam meets Bucky’s seeking tongue with his own and feels scruff against his face as their mouths test and react to each other. Reflexively, Sam grips the front of Bucky’s tight, black t-shirt. The kiss is quick and feverish and, when Bucky’s fingers untense on his neck, Sam rests his face against Bucky’s.

He wouldn’t say he’s scared to move, but he’s wary. He can’t tell if they’ve fucked up their whole dynamic or taken it, at last, to a level it was always going to reach. Raising a hand to pat the side of his head and check that his goggles are in place, Sam stops, remembering he won’t feel the strap because he’s not in the air. It’s been a while since he felt lightheaded on the ground.

He clears his throat and draws back. Bucky starts to remove his hand from Sam’s neck, but Sam reaches up to keep it there. He juts his chin out challengingly as he holds Bucky’s eyes, thinking, for a second, of their joint session with Dr. Raynor.

“What’s the verdict?” Sam demands.

Bucky stares back solemnly.

“Four and a half.”

“I’m leaving you here in Madripoor,” Sam declares, pointing a finger down at Bucky’s abruptly and broadly grinning face as he pushes up from the couch.

He strides over to Sharon’s crystal decanters, laughing to himself and looking for water. There isn’t any, but she does have an insulated canister of dissolving ice cubes. Sam scoops a few into a tumbler and turns back to look silently at Bucky. He cups the base of the glass in his hot palm. Slowly, the ice starts to melt.

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes #sambucky

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sincerelynamkook · 3 years

Text

Hennessy (01)

Latina Y/N x Jungkook

Genre: Angst, Fluff

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

Word Count: 2.6k

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

Series Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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rosecoloredbi-writes · 3 years

Text

When the Spark Came Back

Summary: Y/N and Steve dating in high school until suddenly, they weren't. Steve had pushed Y/N away with no explanation. Years later, Y/N finds Steve on stage playing with his band and gathers the nerve to take a step towards healing.

A/N: there is a part 2 to this that I'll be posting momentarily.

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: Swearing? Mentions of parents divorce and kicking their kid out, I think that's it.

It had been too long since you had seen him. You think of the time that has passed by cruelly. Back then you had all been so full of life, so excited for the future, and now, here you were: a jaded 25 year old just looking for relief. College had been good to you, you grew into your own person instead of staying on the steady path of who everyone else had wanted you to be. You opened your arms to adventures rather than shrink from them. You put what you wanted first, and loved yourself first.

The thing that was cruel about time is that now, you no longer felt that excitement about life. Instead you dreaded facing the next day and drug your feet around.

But everything was different around him.

The steady beat of the bass filled your senses. The vibration practically waking you up from the awful nightmare life had been. Then you saw him, and your heart finally felt less heavy. He began strumming his guitar easily and you started singing along. Then you felt the warm glow in your chest and a blush rose to your cheeks as the memories started flooding back.

He had been your first love. In high school he was popular. Everyone loved him or was jealous of him. Eventually, a new boy moved to town and dethroned him of his title of King of Hawkins. He chilled out then. Became more down to earth, and that is when you really began to notice him. He hung out with kids around your sister’s age and could be found driving them to the arcade or bowling or every once in a while he would take them out one on one to get ice cream. He was more tender than he ever allowed himself to be.

To your surprise, he had begun to notice you too. He noticed the way you would shyly smile at him anytime he caught your eye. The way your eyes would light up when you got passionate in classes, and eventually on dates. He noticed everything and was quickly smitten.

The lead singer asked the crowd how they were doing, and the erupting cries brought you back into the present. He was just as lovely now as he ever had been. He had grown out of some of his boyish features, but his eyes still shined with childlike innocence. He still had his long wavy hair that he would run his hands through when they weren’t busy attending to the guitar strings and gripping the neck of his guitar.

You allowed yourself to get lost in the music, but as the concert came to an end you were filled with anxiety. Coming here had been a terrible decision. What if he had forgotten about you? What if that flame you still secretly held had fizzled out over the years apart? You knew that was a huge possibility, but your heart still silently thumped in hope that maybe, just maybe he still felt the same. Even though he had hurt you there had to be a reason, right? You don’t go from being absolutely in love to not overnight.. right?

Your feet carried you to the merch table where the band was hanging out, talking to fans and signing shirts and vinyls, and taking photos. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you heard your voice call out to him.

“Steve?” you yelled a little more than you asked. You closed your eyes for the briefest of moments and took in a deep inhale. When you opened your eyes, his were glued to you.

“Y/N? Is that really you?” he asked as he closed the large gap between the two of you.

“Ha, yeah, it’s me…” you answered, playing with your hair to give your hands something to do. “Uh, hi.” you smiled shyly up at him and suddenly you were both back in high school.

“Hey! Hi. Uh, you are Y/N, right?” Steve asked, running his hands through his hair quickly.

“Yeah… do you need something?” you asked. That would be the only obvious reason Steve Harrington would ever talk to you. Maybe he needed notes from a class or something.

“Actually yes,” he said smiling, “I am in desperate need of your number.”

Your eyes grew wide with shock, but you nodded, knowing words were not going to help you at the moment. You grabbed a pen from your bookbag and quickly wrote down your phone number on his hand, double-checking it to make sure you wrote it down correctly in your fuzzy state.

You hadn’t noticed then, but Steve blushed at the contact of your hands and he swore he had fallen in love with you right then and there.

Steve wrapped his arms around you in a soul-crushing hug that you wished could have lasted forever. Much to your disdain, you were the one to pull back, looking over him all sweaty and still pumped from playing with his band. When your eyes met his, you realized he had been staring too.

“Do you want to get some food once I am done here?” he asked, running his hands through his hair quickly.

You nodded, “I can wait over there?” you said pointing to a few benches, “Take your time, I don’t mind.”

Steve pulled you into another hug before you walked over and sat down.

You watched him interact with fans, and couldn’t help but feel the familiar rush of butterflies anytime he looked at you. You busied yourself staring at your hands and picking carefully at your nails, an anxious habit you had. You smoothed out the black, denim mini skirt you were wearing a few times and retucked your t-shirt until you were satisfied with how it looked and cleaned your glasses. Finding anything to help keep your nerves down.

Finally, you felt a hand on your knee and looked over to find Steve kneeling in front of you, smiling up at you, just like he would in high school.

“You ready?” he asked, offering his hand to help you up.

You took his hand and allowed him to pull you up before answering, “Hell yes I am ready.”

You both decided it would be best if you drove since the vehicle Steve had access to was the band’s tour van. So there you were, driving down the street to your favorite diner. It was still hard to think straight, him being so close to you, but you managed to drive safely in your dad’s old VW Bug. Once the car was parked and you were both out of the car, instinct took over and you grabbed his hand, leading him inside to your favorite booth near the kitchen.

After you had both sat there awkwardly staring at the menu for far too long and the food got there, the conversation started flowing freely. You guys talked about what you’ve been up to, college for you, the band for him. How your families were, how you handled the death of your father. You found out that Steve had gotten a dog, which had been his dream since he was younger, but never could because his parents weren’t around long enough for him to ever bring it up.

“Okay, Steve… I have to ask. What happened?” Your eyebrows drew up, worried about the answer you may get. “I mean… What happened to us? Did you not love me anymore? Was there someone else? I have just been so confused all these years. I haven’t been able to get over you because you never gave me closure.”

Steve thought long and hard before answering and stared long and hard at the mostly eaten burger in front of him. Steve looked like he was going to open his mouth, but stopped for a moment. Instead, he looked you in the eyes before reaching to grab your hand. Something that had always been comforting to you.

“After we graduated, I seriously felt like there was nothing we couldn’t do. That it would always just be me and you and we could take on the world. Then, my parents were home for a while if you remember. They had seemed like they were closer than ever, and I was so happy. I had my parents and I had you and we were no longer stuck in high school. Then, I watched as my parent’s marriage fell apart… and it shook me. It really should not have been a surprise, they generally acted like things were wonderful and they were happy before shit hit the fan. But this shit was permanent. They announced their impending divorce and that I should look at moving into my own place. I just… I couldn’t handle it. I mean, we had been looking at places to move into together, but this made me feel like I was being kicked out of my family. That my family didn’t really exist anymore.” Steve took his hand back for a moment and ran them through his hair a couple of times.

“Y/N, I felt like I had nothing. I know I had you, but the only way I knew how to cope with things was to push everything and everyone as far away as possible. I have regretted not saying goodbye to you every single day since and it has torn me apart. I so wish I could have explained everything to you, and maybe things wouldn’t be the way they are now.” Again he looked at you intensely, but his eyes were soft, before continuing.

“If you need to get over me, I understand. I was so, so selfish 7 years ago. But I also need you to know that I am still in love with you. Seeing you today, it was almost like the lights had come back on. I have been living in the darkness I didn’t know about until today and I will be damned if I don’t say something. Just… please think about it? I know so much time has passed and we are probably so different than we were, but I would be so honored to get to know you again.”

It looked as if tears were welling up in his eyes that he was willing to not spill over.

“Steve, you really hurt me. I need you to understand that one day we were attached at the hip and just, so enthralled with each other, and the next, you were gone. It was almost like you had died in the middle of the night. If you were to leave me again like that, I honestly think it would break me into pieces that could not be mended.”

You took a deep breath, soaking in everything, including the way your eyes began to fill with tears and even let them spill over onto your cheeks, finally getting the relief you have needed for so long. You dabbed at your face with a napkin and looked back up at Steve, who sat there utterly heartbroken at seeing the hurt spill out from you.

After another deep breath, you finished your thoughts.

“I would love to get to know you again too, Steve Harrington.”

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fandom #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington reader insert #reader insert #stranger things reader insert #fem reader

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itsmelaurel · 4 years

Text

Begin Again

Summary: When your best friends move away for college, you think life is officially over. However, you find yourself making new friends including the blonde surfer from the other side of the island.

Story Notes: Everyone’s parents don’t suck. Sarah and Topper never happened.

Author Notes: This story is fully completed, but I’m not sure what my upload schedule will be yet. Also, I’m new to tumblr and y/n pov. So go easy on me please.

—————————————————

one.

When Sarah Cameron started dating John B. Routledge, you thought she had lost her mind. You didn’t actually care who she dated, but she made it very clear after Kiara left our friend group that she would never associate with the pogues in any capacity for the rest of her life. So, it came as quite a shock when she announced she was going on a date with John B at the beginning of summer.

Now, you were very thankful your best friend had started dating the pogue.

Summer was officially over and your other three best friends were leaving the island. Rafe, Topper and Kelce were all off to university on the mainland leaving you and Sarah behind for senior year of high school. At first you ultimately decided to never think about the boys moving away. Then when summer started it became harder to ignore. It felt like it was the only thing the boys could talk about all the time. While you were trying to make memories with them, they were focused on preparing for new ones that didn’t involve you.

When that realization hit, you ended up crying yourself to sleep that night and staying in bed the half of the weekend. You ignored every phone call and text you received hoping the less you saw their names the less it would hurt. It didn’t work, but thankfully your mom forced you to talk about it. She reminded you that it was necessary for our lives to continue moving forward and it was your job as a friend to be supportive no matter what. They couldn’t stay in Figure 8 just for you.

So, you made it your mission to be the best friend you could be the rest of the summer. That seemed to make time fly by and before you knew it it was time for their moving weekend.

Kelce was the first to leave on that Friday. His parents were making a weekend trip out of it and stopping to see his grandparents before moving him into the dorm. He came over that week and your mom made his favorite meal. Your mom was fighting back tears just as much as you were when he said his goodbyes.

“I’m not moving across the country, you know? I’m literally going to be two hours away.” He said sarcastically as you hugged him on the front porch.

“You could be moving to the cut and I would still be this sad.” You pulled away from him. He rolled his eyes in response, but he knew it was true.

Topper left Saturday morning. He invited you over to dinner that Friday night. His mom ended up crying throughout most of the meal, which resulted in you and him hiding out in his room the remainder of the night. The once boyish room that held so many memories now looked so empty.

“Hey, I almost forgot. I have something for you.” Topper said while climbing off the bed and moving towards his closet. He grabbed a large light pink gift bag and sat it down in front of you on the bed.

“Shouldn’t I be the one giving you a gift?” You furrowed your brows at the blonde boy.

“It’s not so much a gift as a- well, just open it.” He eyed you then the gift bag, nervously rubbing his hands down his shorts before clasping them together.

You opened the bag, pulling out the paper before letting your hand reach around for whatever was inside. When your fingertips met soft fabric, you immediately knew what it was without having to see it.

“This is your favorite sweatshirt.” You say softly as you pull the gray fabric out of the bag.

“I know and I know how much you love it. I wanted you to- I don’t know, I-” a light pink hue rose up to his cheeks as he became tongue tied. He took a deep breath and began again.

“I wanted you to physically have something that reminded you of me.” He got out before swinging his eyes to yours. The emotion swimming around in his eyes was too much for your heart, so you let your eyes drop to the sweatshirt in your lap.

“Thank you, Top. I love it.” You leaned forward wrapping him up in a hug and trying your hardest to swallow your own emotions that were trying to escape.

Rafe was the last one to leave that Sunday. You had spent Saturday at his house swimming with him, Sarah and Wheezie. After playing every pool game imaginable, you and him had snuck off to the pool house to light one up. He never let his eyes off of you as you passed the blunt back and forth.

“Maybe you can come up for a home game?” His voice seemed hopeful as you leaned back on the bed.

“Maybe, but where would I stay?” You ask like there isn’t an obvious answer.

“My bed.” He answered shyly. It wouldn’t be the first time you shared a bed with Rafe or any of the guys for that matter, but that wasn’t in a dorm at college.

“Y/n, your parents are here for dinner and dad needs your help with the grill Rafe.” Wheezie’s voice on the other side of the door has you both sitting up in a panic. Rafe quickly puts the blunt out while you grab the eye drops from the nightstand. Both laughing at almost getting caught.

That Sunday, you didn’t plan on getting out of bed. Your mom brought breakfast to you, staying to make sure you ate everything. After, your dad came in to watch the sports center top 10 with you. It was something you usually did down stairs in the living room, but he plopped down on your bed while turning on the tv like it was normal. When it was over, a soft knock on your bedroom door had your dad jumping up to let whoever it was in. Sarah waltzed in, high-fiving your dad as she passed him before jumping up on your bed.

“You look like shit.” Her eyes scan your face.

“Fuck off, I’m in mourning.” You say with an eye roll causing the blonde to laugh.

“We are not mourning those assholes-”

“Hey!” You wrinkle your nose at her words, still sensitive to your best friends moving away.

“Sorry sorry, we aren’t mourning those lovely boys. Better?”

“Better.”

“Okay, now get up. We have plans.” She hopped off your bed, walking over to your swimsuit drawer and digging through it.

“I’m not going anywhere especially when you said I look like shit.” You huff and raise an eyebrow at her.

“Y/n, you literally could be wearing garbage from the marsh and would still be the prettiest girl on the banks.” Sarah said truthfully as she turned around to wink at you. “But seriously, get up. Our ride will be here in like ten minutes.”

“What’s the plans?” You question making no move to get out of bed. Sarah didn’t respond as she throws a bikini at you before moving to your bathroom for a beach towel. You stare at her while she puts the towel on the bed next to your bikini. She avoids eye contact, eyes flicking around the room as you stare her down.

“Sarah”

“Ugh, fine! The pogues are picking us up at your dock. We’re going out on the boat.” She throws her hands up as if she is totally over this argument that hasn’t even started yet.

“What! No way. Those guys hate me.” You squeak out.

“They don’t hate you.”

“Yeah, fucking right.” Shaking your head no you pull the covers back over your body.

“They don’t! They hate Rafe, Kelce and Topper. They absolutely don’t hate you.” She yanks your covers off and pulls on your hand to get you out of bed. “Well, they may hate you if you aren’t ready in the next five minutes.”

After much convincing and running around getting ready, both of you stand on your dock waiting for the pogues to arrive. Sarah is double checking your bags to make sure everything y’all will need is in there.

“Nothing like getting out to the middle of the water and not having something.” She says like it is a life lesson she learned the hard way.

After a couple more minutes, a boat with all the pogues on it comes into view. You get nervous all the sudden, wondering how much Sarah will hate you if you throw out an excuse and cancel on her. The pogues may not hate you, but they hate your best friends.

Your mind immediately wanders to the three of them. A snort escapes as you can only imagine their reaction to you hanging out with their island enemies.

A sudden feeling of betrayal hits you, but then Sarah’s hand grabs yours. She gives it a gentle squeeze and effectively brings you out of your thoughts. Her smile tells you that she knows where your head is.

“Well, if it isn’t the prettiest kooks I ever did see.” JJ Maybanks wiggles his eyebrows at you as the boat pulls up to your dock. He reaches a hand out to help you aboard and you take it willingly. John B helps Sarah and then you’re off without even completely stopping.

You drop your stuff down near the back of the boat and sit next to Pope and Kiara.

“Are you a beer or whiteclaw kind of girl?” Pope asks as he opens the cooler to show you the selection of drinks.

“I’ll take a beer.” He hands you one before throwing Sarah a whiteclaw.

“Damn” JJ says while handing Pope a ten dollar bill.

“He was positive you were a whiteclaw girl.” Pope says with a shrug while pocketing the money.

“I’d much rather have tequila than either.” You say while looking over at JJ. He smirks as if he can see just how wild you really are on the inside.

“Now that’s my kind of girl.” Kiara leans over and clinks her can against yours. Her smile makes you relax a little. Maybe they really don’t hate you.

The day ends up being one of the best days. It was filled with so much laughter and goofiness. The way the pogues banter with each other had you missing your friends at one point, but then JJ threw his arms around you and jumped into the water. All sadness gone in seconds.

None of them bring up Rafe, Topper or Kelce which surprises you, but you’re grateful for.

By the time you get back to your dock, everyone except John B is tipsy. Kie, which she begged you to call her, is making plans with you and Sarah for the following week. Pope and JJ are arguing about who the best X-Men character is while John B stops the boat.

“Welp, this is me.” You say before everyone is shuffling around to give you a hug goodbye like you’ve been in this group forever. JJ helps you out of the boat and onto the dock again, his rough fingertips skimming over the back of your hand.

“It’s been a pleasure to have the kook princess grace us with her presence today.” JJ puts on a fake British accent and bows. You giggle as you curtsy back.

When you get inside, your mom tells you to go wash up and get ready for dinner. You throw your things down hazardously before jumping in the shower. When you’re done, you head back into your room to get dressed when you spot something light up on the side of your bed.

Fuck, is all you think when you realize you left your phone at home all day. You weren’t exactly attached to your phone, but you’ve never not taken it with you before. If you weren’t with Kelce, Topper and Rafe, the four of you had a very active group chat going. It had included Sarah at first, but last year she wouldn’t stop sending pictures of sloths which ultimately got her muted. When she started dating John B it got her permanently banned. Not that she cared anyways.

There are several missed messages and phone calls. You click on the group chat message first to see what you missed. A picture pops up of the three of them with another guy, presumably their new roommate Parker. Your heart sinks a little as you look at their smiling faces.

You send the heart emoji and move onto the rest of your messages. Before you have a chance to read any of them, your phone starts ringing.

Topper FaceTime

You let it ring for a second as you contemplate what to do. Honestly, the petty side of you doesn’t want to hear about how awesome their dorm is. Plus, you don’t want to tell them where you were all day either. So, you decide it’s best to just let it ring out.

As you’re getting dressed, your phone beeps indicating a new message. You roll your eyes knowing it’s most likely one of the guys, but you are pleasantly surprised when it isn’t.

Unknown: hey its jj. wanna go to the beach tomorrow?

Y/n: how’d you get my number?

JJ: i wouldn’t let sarah get off the boat until she gave it to me

His response makes you giggle.

Y/n: why doesn’t that surprise me?

Y/n: of course I’d love to go to the beach.

JJ: awesome I’ll pick you up at 10

“Y/n, dinner is ready!” Your mom shouts from downstairs.

“Coming!” You shout back before quickly sending a text to Topper saying you will call him back later.

Your mom and dad are already sitting at the table when you get downstairs.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” You respond as you slide into your designated seat. It’s quiet as you let your eyes travel over the food your mom made. When you look up, your mom and dad are both looking at you with goofy smiles on their faces.

“What?” You question as you feel your face to see if something is on it.

“Oh, nothing.” Your dad says in singsong before digging into his food. Your eyes swing over to your mom for a clue at what has them so happy. She just smiles and shrugs her shoulders before taking a sip of her wine.

“Did you have a good day?” Your dad questions in between bites.

A goofy smile spreads across your face “I did”

“And you thought your life was over just this morning.” Your mom says with one of those I told you everything was going to be okay grins while your dad quirks an eyebrow.

For once, you’re happy to admit that your parents were absolutely right. You survived the day thanks to Sarah and new friends.

Maybe this year wasn’t going to be so bad.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj obx fic #jj x y/n #sarah cameron #topper thornton #rafe cameron #kelce obx #pogues x reader #obx fic #obx x reader #soft!kooks #soft!pogues

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hiddlestonsbabygirl · 4 years

Text

Care For Me (Steve Rogers au) SugarDaddy!Steve

•prologue•

An alternative universe where Steve isn’t an Avenger, but rather a CEO of one of the biggest companies in the US. His best friend and business partner Bucky secretly made him an account in an online dating site for sugar daddies and sugar babies, setting Steve up on a date with the only suitable sugar baby he thought was best for his best friend among the million others in his inbox.

It’s you. You’re the sugar baby.

Or,

Where reader is a med student who is badly in need of financial support and resorted to desperate measures by signing up to an online dating site with a little help from reader’s best friend, Nat.

•••

You ran up the staircase, not bothering to apologize as you bumped into strangers along the way. Your heart hammered against your chest as sweat outlined your forehead, thoughts running through your mind as you wondered what could have happened to your apartment. You just got a call from your good neighbor Mrs. Sally that the landlord stormed into your hallway followed by two men in white muttering angry words as he unlocked your door with his duplicate key. You knew instantly why he was there. You were getting kicked out of your own apartment since you weren’t able to pay for your rent in six months. The landlord had warned you beforehand to pay sooner, but it was getting harder and harder each day. You were already broke, all your savings spent on your medical school. You didn’t want to stop your studies—you were already on your third year and ever since you graduated college your goal was straight; finish med school, pass the licensure exams and become a doctor. You couldn’t even last a week on your countless part-time jobs because of your coming in late due to knee-deep work you have to face every single day in school.

Your financial status was making it hard for you to finish your goal. Very hard.

You reached your floor, and, as expected, all your things were outside your door in boxes. Your heart sank as you stared at the mess, your clothes and books thrown aggressively into the containers as if they meant nothing but pieces of trash.

You rushed inside and your landlord was standing by your small kitchen, barking orders at his two men, without even noticing that you entered.

“Please, sir,” you cried as you neared him. “Please give me one more chance. I’ll pay by the end of the month, I promise!”

He scowled at you. “I’ve given you too many chances, (Y/N). You’re too much.”

He turned his back at you and proceeded to march into your bedroom, calling out one of his men to follow him inside.

“No!” You yelled angrily this time. You couldn’t believe him. You may haven’t paid your debt owed to this man but that didn’t give him the right to intrude into your privacy.

You ran past them and stood in front of them before they could get any closer to the door, your cheeks flushed and eyes filled with angry tears.

“You can’t just walk into someone’s bedroom and take everything away!” You cried. “I can pack up myself! I don’t need your filthy hands on my belongings!”

Your landlord looked furious. “Then throw your damn things out of my apartment in the next hour or I’ll fucking rip this room apart by myself!”

You flinched at the loudness and anger of his voice before he turned around and left without another word, his men following close behind. Once you heard the main door slam shut you bawled your eyes out, sinking to the floor as you struggled to think of places where you could find refuge without having to pay. All you had in your wallet was a 20-dollar bill, and you didn’t have any extra cash in your bank account. You considered searching for very cheap rooms in the vicinity without having to ride because riding meant paying. But you couldn’t walk on the streets while struggling to hold boxes of your things. They were even too many for only two small hands.

You sobbed. At this point you felt so hopeless already. You almost convinced yourself that you were going to throw your unnecessary things away and sleep on the streets, while asking for spare change. You’d have to give up your med school since you couldn’t shoulder all the expenses anymore and just look for a job where it pays just enough for food and shelter. You didn’t have a family anymore to back you up. Your addictive mother left you for a stranger, and your father’s been gone even before you were born. You didn’t have any siblings, nor uncles or aunts or extended family members where you could go to for help. You had no one. It was only you.

You wiped away your tears, swallowing your pride as you took out your old, worn-out phone from your pocket and dialed your best friend’s number.

Natasha.

She’s been your best friend since high school, and you both shared the same passion in life. You both wanted to become a doctor. You both have so much in common, and you both agree to almost everything. You’ve been there for each other through the ups and downs, and Natasha has helped you through your own struggles financially. But asking for this big favor from her was just too much for you. You didn’t want to add a burden to your best friend—med school is already hard enough as it is.

But you were already desperate. You didn’t have any more options. This was the only one.

“Hello?”

You felt a sudden wave of relief hearing a voice so soothing in the midst of the chaos. “Nat, hi.”

“(Y/N), have you been crying? What happened??”

You hiccuped. “I-I’m fine, Nat. C-Could you come over? I k-kind of need your help.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

As promised, a knock came from your door and you stood up to open it, revealing a worried Natasha standing over your disarrayed valuables.

You couldn’t help yourself. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes as she pulled you in for a tight hug and you sobbed into her shoulder.

“We’ll pack up your things and go to my house. You’re staying there for as long as you like. My home is always open for you, (Y/N). And you know that.”

...

“So? How did it go with Katherine?” Bucky spoke up as he stabbed his medium-rare meat with his fork, clearly playing with his food rather than eating it. It was lunch break and Bucky and Steve were in their usual go-to for lunch, Redbird.

“Despite the fact that we called it a night early? It was okay.” Steve replied with a scoff, bringing a spoonful of rice to his mouth and watched as Bucky gave his best friend a deadpanned look.

“And you were the one who ended things early, not her, right?”

Steve nodded. He was slowly getting tired of Bucky setting him up with several women, whom he doesn’t even take interest in. He always has the need to pair Steve with someone because “you always look so bleak and somber,” as Bucky would put it.

“Buck, I really appreciate you doing these stuff for me, being my wingman and all, but I really don’t feel like dating right now.”

“Oh, yeah?” He retorted. “Then why do you always look so depressed? You can’t fucking tell me your wealth and fame is making you distressed. That’s some absurd bullshit right there.”

“Language.” Steve glared at him. He always hated when people cussed. For him it was indecent and dirty.

Except, of course, cussing in bed. He can only tolerate profanity under the sheets. But not often, though. That would be too much to listen to.

“Seriously??”

“And yes, James. Wealth and fame does not automatically make you happy and unproblematic. Do you know how many rich and famous people died because they took their own life? Because they hide their problems. The only image the public sees is the happy and successful façade they show.”

Silence. Steve was almost convinced he had won over their little argument.

“That shit deep, man.” Bucky only chuckled to which his best friend exhaled an exasperated sigh. Steve couldn’t even bother to point out that Bucky said a bad language word again.

“But you’ve got friends. Your family loves and supports you, you make time for sports and leisure...what could possibly make you so sad??”

Steve breathed out. “I told you, I’m not depressed, I’m not sad. I just don’t feel like dating as of the moment.”

“Will you feel like dating again tomorrow?”

“Haha, very funny.”

Bucky only stared at his best friend as he took a sip of his drink, studying him with confusion and amusement. Very formal man, always has a steely look on his face, very dominant demeanor, couldn’t even stand hearing curse words! What could his best friend possibly like in a woman?? Were his calculations wrong? Did he expect differently? Was he looking at it in a wrong angle?

Is Steve gay??

“Barnes, quit staring at me like that. You’re making me uncomfortable.” Steve brought him back to his senses.

And then it hit him.

“Hey, Steve, I think I need to go.” Bucky announced as he stood up and gathered his phone and wallet lying around on the table.

“Oh? Why the sudden hurry?” The blond-haired man asked as his eyes watched his best friend suddenly look distracted.

“It’s nothing. I just forgot to feed my pet dragon.” He then proceeded to pace towards the exit, leaving Steve confused and asked himself how he was acquainted with a weird and funny man like James Buchanan Barnes.

Little did Steve know that his best friend was up to a very stupid but brilliant idea. He knew he was going to get in trouble if Steve found out about it, but it was worth a shot. And his plan involved an online dating site and younger girls.

........................... ........................... ...........................

A/N: New series! Yay!!! Tags are also open, just hit me up! Next part coming soon ❤️

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jjmaybanksblog · 4 years

Text

Good Old Days - JJ Maybank

Gif credit @toesure !

Summary: you and JJ meet once again after a harsh break up.

Word count: 1,982

Warnings: cheating, angst underage drinking, implied sex at the end. I do NOT condone the action of going back to someone who cheated.

You sat alone in a booth at a local restaurant, diagonal from where your friend Nicole sat with an unfamiliar boy. You had offered to 'be a look out' for the girl when she brought up how her friends had helped her get a blind date. Nicole had the fear that she might embarrass herself or something might go south, so you decided to lend a helping hand to calm her down.

You subtly flicked your eyes up and down from the menu to your friend as a waitress came up to you. "What can I get you hun?"

"Just a vanilla milkshake and fries please." The lady nodded and took the menu from your hands. You reached inside of your bag and pulled out your notebook. Finding a pen, you began to mindlessly draw little doodles of whatever came to mind.

You were actually enjoying the peace and quiet until the front door bell chimed. Before you could react, JJ Maybank took the spot right across from you. "Can I help you?" You scoffed, closing the notebook.

"Nope. I'm helping my friend out and it looks like you happen to be doing the same thing for your friend too." JJ said, looking behind his shoulder to see his friend give him a thumbs up. You rolled her eyes, defensively crossing your arms.

"Okay, well how about you move to the other booth where you can 'help' by yourself." JJ dramatically put his hand to his heart, "does Y/F/N Y/L/N not want to spend time with me?" "The last time I was near you it didn't end well." You hissed. JJ immediately got quiet as the waitress came up to deliver your order.

"Oh! Would you like anything dear? On the house for the couple!" The waitress smiled, "oh no we're not-" "actually I would love a hamburger and a chocolate milkshake please!" JJ grinned. "Coming right up."

"Seriously JJ why can't you just sit somewhere else?" You asked as you dipped a fry into the milkshake. JJ furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you take a bite. "What? It's good." You defended.

"See I could, but Steve made me promise to help him out. And now I get to talk to you which is exactly what I want to be doing on my Friday night." Sarcasm dropped from his voice as you bite your tongue.

"Well you can leave. You never were good at keeping promises anyway." You seethed, taking the cherry out of the milkshake and popping into your mouth. JJ became quiet once more as the sudden flashback hit him.

Flashback:

2 years. 2 years was all it took for something so positive and bright, to turn into something dead. 2 years was all it took for JJ Maybank to own, and then break your heart.

You two had been dating for a full two years, both of you guys admitting you were in love. Making promises that you two couldn't keep. One of them being, 'I'll always love you.'

JJ broke that the minute his lips touched some tourons at an end of the year school party. You had lost sight of your boyfriend in the middle of the party after telling him you were going to the bathroom. It took you 10 minutes to find him with the unknown girl.

"Have you seen- oh." Your words slipped your mind as you saw a boy and girl break away from a kiss. Only to reveal that face that made your heart break. "I better... I better g-go." You stumbled over your words, your legs moving as fast as they could out of that house and far away from JJ.

You didn't know what to do, what to think, how to act, what to say, everything just became numb. Like someone had just ripped your heart from your chest, and dangled it in front of your face as if it were mocking you. So you just ran, and ran all the way to your house. Dried tears stained your face as you were panting, on the verge of passing out.

Your mind felt fuzzy, as if it were an old TV and an antenna was knocked loose, like all you heard was static and a ringing. You shook your head frantically as you paced in the living room. A rapid knock echoed in the silent room as you let out a sob. You slowly walked to the door, your hand shaking as it hesitantly reached out.

You twisted the handle and pulled the door open to reveal a frantic JJ. "Y/N please let me-" "Don't even fucking start JJ." You said, cautiously backing away from the door. JJ walked into the house as he tried to grab hold of your wrists.

You pulled your wrists back from JJ's grip as you began to have trouble breathing. "You fucking kissed some random girl. Who knows what the fuck would've happened if I didn't walk into that room." You mumbled to yourself as your head began to ache.

"Y/N you know I wouldn't do that!" "When you're in a relationship you don't fucking kiss somebody else! I didn't think you'd do that yet here we are!" You raised your voice as you paced again.

"Open your fucking eyes, it's so obvious I'm in love with you!" JJ yelled back, causing you to flinch, his breath smelled of alcohol. Your eyes suddenly fell to the ground, afraid to look at him without breaking down.

"You need to leave," your voice wavered, "you need to leave and not come back. You can't look at me. You can't speak my name. You can't have anything to do with me, Maybank. We're fucking done." You breathed out, feeling as though you had a boulder crushing your body.

"Y/N. I made you a promise that I'd love you, please let me keep going with that promise." JJ begged, his eyes burning harshly with tears. "You broke your promise, you can't come back from that."

JJ let out a sigh as his head slumped down, forcing his legs to walk out the front door, and out of your life.

Memory over.

"Look, this isn't a guilt trip: I just genuinely want to know if you dislike me so I can stop bothering you." JJ said, fidgeting with his fingers. You sighed as you swirled the straw around the milkshake. "I don't dislike you as a human, I fucking despise what you did to me." You admitted.

"I've changed Y/N. I haven't been with any other girl, I haven't spoken with that other girl since then. Please just give me a break. I've been busy trying so fucking hard. I'm doing the best I can. Please, please don't ask more of me." JJ frowned, his leg now anxiously tapping.

You let out a scoff, but you couldn't lie to yourself. You missed being with JJ, you missed him so damn much, but you didn't want to admit it. Your eyes flickered to your friend who was standing up and giving Steve a kiss on the cheek.

Their date was over, but you and JJ sat firmly in the booth. "Let me just drive you home like the good days, just hear me out." JJ begged. You cracked your knuckles, a habit you gained after the break up. "Fine. But so help me Maybank if you fuck it up you will never, I repeat ever come speak to me again." JJ let out a breath of relief and thanked you.

You couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of luck when he offered, glad that you chose to walk to the diner. You two sat in silence for a bit of the ride before JJ turned on the radio. 'Wonderwall' by Oasis played through the sound system, memories of this song hitting you in the face like a brick.

JJ began to obnoxiously shout the lyrics like he would when you guys went on drives together. He would roll the windows down, blast the volume and just let it all out. At first you were annoyed with the boy, but as soon as he nudged you with his elbow you began shouting the lyrics as well. At that moment, things felt normal. Like nothing bad happened between them, and that scared you shitless.

When the song ended, JJ turned down the volume and began to speak, "you know, I never took your school photo out of my wallet. It's still there. And every night after... we broke up, I would just look at it and cry. Because I drank and I ended up losing the best thing I ever got in life. And believe me I know drinking is no excuse for what I did. I lost the one person that understood me more than my other friends, than myself. And I fucked it all up. And I know I can't take back what I did. Saying sorry won't change the hurt I made you feel. But I want you to know I'm truly trying my best to be a different person than who I was before." His voice was shaking as he found it hard to look at the road.

"I can try to forgive you Maybank, but that night has been burned into my memory. And it's gonna take a lot of time before I can forget it." You mumbled, looking out the window watching the trees zoom by.

"I'd wait 100 years if it meant that you would talk to me again." JJ muttered as he pulled into your driveway. "Do you.. want to come in? And like, catch up?" You wanted to punch yourself in the face for your offer, but again you couldn't deny how much you missed him.

JJ was shocked at your words, his mouth slightly open as he nodded his head. You walked into your house and to your luck, nobody was home.

You guys sat in your room, silence filling the air once again. You walked over to a picture frame on the desk and picked it up. The picture was of JJ after he had fallen asleep with his head in your llap. "Remember this night?" You asked as he looked over your shoulder.

"Yeah. I came over to make cupcakes for John B's birthday but we ended up just throwing flour and eggs at each other." JJ laughed loudly, remembering how he would find flour in his hair and ears for days after. "Then we sat on the couch and you laid your head in my lap. I played with your hair until you fell asleep and you snored so loud." You smiled at the memory.

"God I fucked up." He whispered. "Yeah. Yeah you did. When you sat across from me in the booth I wanted to flip my shit. I wanted to go off on you and say something like, 'oh fuck off you piece of shit. You think I care about you? That I give a damn about your feelings? Fuck off.' I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me." You confessed.

"Damn Y/N. I- I don't even know what to say." JJ said as you faced him. You couldn't help but stare at his lips, the lips you craved so desperately. You hated yourself for this. You hated yourself for making this move, but you leaned in anyway and kissed him. You were taken back at your actions, but your knees nearly buckled at his touch.

JJ gently held the side of your face as he pulled back. "I don't want to hurt you." He said, his words echoing in your head. "I'm desperate. And I'm pretty sure you are too. This is a one time thing until you gain my trust back. But for now, just shut up and have sex with me."

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teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years

Text

Season 1, Episode 7: Night School (Part Two)

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

Notes: Okay, this one is a lot too. I may have gotten a bit carried away, but so much happens in this episode! And it’s my favorite!

P.S. Jackson manages to be more suspect than the alpha, Allison needs a chill pill ASAP, and Derek is wanted for murder

———————

“Why did you come? What are you doing here?”

Scott rushed the words out the second he laid eyes on Allison. She looked between the three of us, her gaze pausing over my underdressed state, before staring at him in bewilderment.

“Because you asked me to...” She held up her phone as proof, pointing to a text that was very much from him telling her to come here.

Scott’s eyes widened in shock and he snatched the phone out of her hands. She reeled back, surprised.

“I didn’t send this.” His voice was hard as he scrolled through their messages.

“What? What’s going on? Who sent it then?” Her eyes continued flickering between us, searching for answers.

The phone stated ringing in Scott’s hands and she took it back quickly. She glanced at the caller I.D, huffed out a breath of relief, and put it up to her ear.

“Where are you?” She immediately demanded.

Just then, Lydia and Jackson came striding through the lobby doors. They both seemed annoyed to be here, but at least Jackson didn’t look like he was actively dying anymore.

“Finally.” Lydia sighed, raising her eyebrows at us expectantly. “Can we go now?”

Before any of us could respond, there was a loud thud in the ceiling above us. The tiles started creaking as slow footsteps stomped around. We all froze. My heart instantly began racing again at the thought of the alpha so close.

“Run!” Scott yelled at the same moment it came crashing to the floor beside us.

He grabbed Allison’s hand and they took off, the rest of us not far behind. The alpha growled and barked as it chased us down the hall, which was honestly surprising. I never imagined werewolves barking.

I struggled to steady my breathing as we made our way down the hall and into the cafeteria. Scott slammed the doors before locking the deadbolts into the floor. Instantly, everyone started freaking out.

“Help me get these in front of the doors!” Scott was trying to use a table to baracade us inside.

“What was that? Scott? What was that?” Allison shrieked, tugging her hands through her hair.

“Was it in the ceiling?” Lydia added, throwing her arms up in confusion.

“Wait. Not in here.” I heard Stiles mutter, and I wasn’t sure if he was even talking to us or just himself.

“The chairs! Stack the chairs!” Scott was rushing around frantically, not even bothering to check if anyone was actually listening to him.

“Guys, can we just wait a second? You guys, listen to me!” Stiles raised his voice, annoyed that he was being ignored.

Jackson, Lydia, and Allison sprang forward and started grabbing anything they could to add weight to the table. I just wrapped my arms around myself and watched, worried about the level of noise they were all making.

“Guys? Stiles talking. Can we hang on one second please? Hello!” I jumped in surprise at his unexpected shout, and turned my attention his way.

Everyone else whipped around to face him expectantly, ditching their effort at the doors.

“Okay. Nice work. Really beautiful job, everyone. Now...what should we do about the twenty foot wall of windows?” He gestured toward the aforementioned windows with a jerk of his arms.

I cringed, knowing he had a point. The alpha was in the school with us now, but that didn’t mean it would stay that way. It had already proven its intelligence by trapping us with the dumpsters. I wasn’t about to make the mistake of underestimating it again.

“Can somebody please explain to me what’s going on here? Because I am totally freaking out and I would like to know why.” Allison’s voice shook as she tried desperately to fight back tears. She tugged at Scott’s arm and called his name when he avoided her pleading eyes.

Alright. Come on. This is when you tell her.

He pulled himself free and stalked over to a nearby table before letting his elbows rest on it and pinching the bridge of his nose. Allison threw her hands up in exasperation and her gaze moved to me in question. I gave her a one shouldered shrug, not knowing what else to do.

How the hell would we get out of this without telling them everything? A few moments of tense silence passed and I huffed in frustration. If he wasn’t going to do it, I would. I was beyond done with the secrets and the lies. I opened my mouth, about to spill the beans, when Stiles interrupted me.

“Somebody killed the janitor.” He sent me a pointed look and took a few steps toward where Allison, Lydia, and Jackson stood in a line.

I clenched my jaw and tightened the sides of his jacket around my torso. They were going to find out eventually. It would be much better if it came directly from the source.

“What?” Lydia looked terrified by that news, her emerald eyes widening in horror.

“Yeah. He’s dead.” He confirmed with a surprising lack of emotion, glancing around the room to gauge everyone’s reaction. I blame his weird fascination with his dad’s line of work. He’d seen way too much even before the supernatural was involved.

I’d somehow almost forgotten that had happened, and the reminder brought the seriousness of our situation crashing back down onto me. Someone was dead because of the alpha. And now we were stuck, bound to be next any minute.

“What’s he talking about?” Allison forced out a pained laugh and looked to Scott. “Is this a joke?”

“Wha—who killed him?” Jackson spoke up for the first time, not sounding completely convinced.

“No, no, no, no.” Lydia’s eyes welled with tears as she started breathing erratically. “This was supposed to be over. The—the mountain lion...”

“Don’t you get it?” Jackson interrupted harshly. “There was no mountain lion.”

“Who was it? What does he want? What’s happening?” Allison demanded, her voice hard.

I chewed on my bottom lip nervously, feeling like we were quickly losing control of this situation. Keeping them in the dark was making things so much worse right now.

“Scott!” She snapped when he didn’t respond, and he finally spun around to face us.

“I-I don’t know. I just—if we go out there, he’s gonna kill us.” His voice wavered on the lie and he barely raised his eyes from the floor.

“Kill us?” Lydia asked pointedly, crossing her arms over her chest with a pop of her hip.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Leave it to her to think she’d be exempt from a psychotic murderer.

“Who? Who is it?” Allison was nearing a complete panic attack at this point.

I was ready to end this whole thing and face the stupid consequences later, when he finally spoke up. He shook his head and pinched his eyes shut tightly with a sigh.

“It’s Derek.” He muttered, avoiding both mine and Stiles’ stunned expressions. “Derek Hale.”

What the hell was he doing? Derek is dead. And, not to meantion, pretty much the only person we know for sure isn’t the alpha. He must’ve lost his damn mind.

“Derek killed the janitor...?” Jackson narrowed his eyes at Scott skeptically.

Yeah, you’re onto something buddy. Maybe for the first time ever.

“Yes. He killed them. All of them.” He rushed the words out, still refusing to look at anyone.

My jaw clenched tightly. Why couldn’t we just tell them the truth? Would it really be that bad? They were already majorly freaked out. Might as well hit them with the supernatural shit too.

“But the mountain lion...” Lydia tried to reason.

“No. It’s been Derek the whole time. Starting with his own sister—”

“And the bus driver?” Allison was visibily calmer now that she had an answer, but her voice still shook with fear.

“And the guy at the video store. He’s in here with us, and—and if we don’t get out now...”

He finally raised his gaze to look around the room. His eyes were shining with several intense emotions including fear, anxiety, and guilt. He should feel bad. He just threw a dead man under the bus, and lied to his girlfriend in the process. It wasn’t going to end well on either account.

He let out a heavy sigh and carefully considered his next words before speaking. “He’s gonna kill us too.”

A moment of silence passed before Jackson scoffed in annoyance. “Call the cops.”

I had to agree that it seemed like the most logical choice at this point. I’m not sure what they’d be able to do, but they at least had more resources than any of us.

“No.” Stiles said immediately, shaking his head for good measure.

“What do you mean, no?” Jackson furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief.

“I mean no. What, do you wanna hear it in Spanish? No.” Stiles threw his hands down to his sides in frustration. “Look, Derek killed three people. We don’t know what he’s armed with.”

For some reason, his willingness to go along with Scott’s lie really bothered me. He was by far the most loyal person I’d ever met, so it wasn’t surprising, but it still didn’t sit well with me. Sometimes it was hard to distinguish the truth with them, and that made me nervous.

“Your dad is armed with an entire sheriff’s department. Call him!” Jackson raised his voice, his anger spiking at Stiles’ apparent hesitation to do anything helpful.

He had a point. I knew the last thing Stiles wanted to do was involve his dad in any of this stuff, but there came a time when we needed adults to step in. I’d say this was one of those moments.

“I’m calling.” Lydia pulled out her phone and began pacing away from their bickering.

“No! Lydia. Would you just hold on a second?” Stiles moved toward her, one arm outstretched, until Jackson stepped between them and shoved him away harshly.

“Hey!” Scott rushed to Stiles side, who just narrowed his eyes angrily.

Oh, God. The last thing we needed right now was a fight. They shouldn’t even be arguing about this, either. I didn’t care what it was, we just needed to do something—anything—to try and get out of here safely.

“Yes, we’re at Beacon Hills High School. We’re trapped and we need you to—but...” Lydia lowered her phone from her ear slowly in disbelief. “She hung up on me.”

“The police hung up on you?” Confusion seeped through my voice as I stepped toward her. Why would they do that?

Her eyes snapped up to mine, her bottom lip quivering. “She said they got a tip saying that there would be prank calls about the high school. She said if I called again, she’d trace the call and have me arrested.”

“Okay, so call again!” Allison cried from behind her, growing frantic again.

“No, they won’t trace a cell.” Stiles mumbled. “They’ll send a car to your house before anyone comes here.”

Once again, I was surprised at his level of knowledge about police procedures. Just how much had his dad let him in on?

“What the—what is this? Why does Derek want to kill us? Why is he killing anyone?” A stray tear escaped Allison’s eyes as they jumped around the room, hoping anyone could answer her questions.

They were all valid, and I felt terrible that she was so freaked out. Although, I had a feeling that knowing a werewolf was actually the one chasing us wouldn’t help to put her mind at ease. I wanted nothing more than to tell her the truth. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?

“Why is everyone looking at me like that?” Scott asked upon noticing that all the attention was on him.

“Is he the one that sent her the text?” Lydia rushed the words out quickly, her eyes wide with fear.

“I don’t know.” Scott muttered through clenched teeth.

I wasn’t sure why they thought he’d have all the answers. I mean, he did have some kind of connection to the alpha, but they didn’t know that. To them, he should be as clueless as the rest of us.

“Was he the one that called the police?” Allison threw her hands up in exasperation as she desperately tried to piece any of this together.

“I don’t know!” Scott snapped, the sudden anger in his face immediately disappearing as he saw the way Allison recoiled from him.

Okay, this conversation was going nowhere, and fast. I grabbed ahold of Scott’s elbow and dragged him across the room as Lydia wrapped a comforting arm around Allison. Tensions were incredibly high right now, and everyone needed to chill the fuck out and stop fighting if we wanted to survive this.

“Okay, first of all.” I whispered with a raise of my eyebrows as Stiles quickly joined us. “Throwing Derek under the bus? Nice one.”

“I-I didn’t know what to say. I had to say something!” He tugged a hand through his hair as he tried to calm his breathing. “And if he’s dead, it doesn’t matter, right? Except if he’s not. Oh, God. I totally just bit her head off.”

He tried to sneak a glance at Allison over my shoulder but stopped when Stiles clasped a hand on his bicep. “And she’ll totally get over it. Bigger issues at hand right now. Like how do we get out of here alive?”

“But we are alive.” I cut in, voicing something that had been bothering me this whole time. “It could’ve killed us already. It’s like it’s...cornering us or something.”

“So, what? It wants to eat us all at the same time?” I glowered at Stiles for suggesting that ridiculous theory and he shrugged.

“No!” Scott whispered harshly. “Derek said it wants revenge.”

“Against who?” I couldn’t help but wonder which one of us could’ve somehow wronged the thing this badly.

“Okay, assheads!” I jumped as Jackson suddenly yelled and strode toward us with a scowl. “New plan. Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. We good with that?”

God, what was his problem with Sheriff Stilinski? He’d made so many comments about him recently. At this point, it was getting weird. Everyone looked to be in agreement, though, which wasn’t good for Stiles.

“He’s right.” Scott said, surprising both of us. “Tell him the truth if you have to. Just...call him.”

“I’m not watching my dad get eaten alive.” He insisted harshly with a twitch of his eyes.

“At this point, the alternative is that we get eaten alive.” I hissed, annoyed with all of this back and forth. We just needed to do something.

“Alright, give me the phone—” Jackson lunged forward, ready to call the sheriff himself.

I let out a yelp as Stiles reared back before landing a punch square on his jaw. Allison immediately rushed to his side as he fell to the floor, clutching his face. Scott put a hand on Stiles’ chest to hold him back, but he looked pretty satisfied with the damage he’d done.

I didn’t miss the way Jackson smirked to himself, seemingly getting exactly what he wanted. I realized at that moment that he’d been trying to provoke Stiles to this breaking point the whole night, and he’d finally succeeded. But why?

I’d never seen Stiles so much as kill a bug, let alone punch someone in the face. His dad was a really sore subject, apparently. He huffed out an irritated breath and begrudgingly yanked his phone from his pocket. Our gazes locked as the call went to his dad’s voicemail, his honey eyes shining with fear as he left a hasty message.

We all jumped as the cafeteria doors started rattling violently. Allison and Lydia ran over to where we stood, hiding behind Scott and Jackson. My eyes grew wide as I watched the large bolts bending in the floor from the force the alpha was using to try and get in.

“The kitchen.” Stiles pocketed his phone and strode over to my side. “The door in the kitchen leads to the stairwell.”

“Which only goes up.” I reminded him, my attention still locked on the doors. They wouldn't be able to hold back for much longer.

“Up is better than here.”

With that, we all took off running again. We stumbled up the stairs and into a random unlocked classroom, falling silent as we waited to see if the alpha had followed. Allison stood with her back against the wall just beside the door, Lydia and Jackson huddled close in front of her. Me and the guys stood on the other side of the doorway.

I tried to steady my breathing as I watched the hallway closely through the small window in the door. Scott leaned toward it, trying to listen for footsteps, until Stiles fisted his jacket and jerked him back. A shadow moved across the glass, everyone visibly relaxing once it was gone.

“Jackson.” Scott whispered. “How many can you fit in your car?”

“Five, if someone squeezes on someone’s lap.” He breathed, bracing his hands against the table behind him.

“Five?” Allison snapped incredulously. “I barely fit in the back.”

“It doesn't matter.” I shook my head solemnly. “There’s no way we’re getting out without drawing attention.”

Now that we were on the second floor, our chances of escape had dwindled to almost none. There were no exits up here. We couldn't jump from any windows without getting seriously hurt. There really weren't many options.

“What about this?” Scott suddenly jogged toward a door in the corner of the room, and we all followed. “This leads to the roof. We can go down the fire escape to the parking lot in, like, seconds.”

“That’s a deadbolt.” Stiles snarked and pointed to the spot that held the door firmly locked.

I rolled my eyes at his attitude. Scott was only trying to help. Now was not the time for his signature sarcasm.

“The janitor has a key.” Scott looked hopeful at the realization.

“You mean his body has it.” I corrected, my stomach twisting painfully at the memory that someone had died right in front of us tonight.

So much had happened since then. I hadn't even begun to process it.

“I can get it. I can find him by scent, from the blood.” He leaned toward us as his voice dropped on the last sentence.

“Well, gee. That sounds like an incredibly terrible idea. What else ya got?” Stiles quipped.

I had to agree. While using the fire escape was probably our only hope at this point, going out there with the alpha was not a smart move. According to Derek, Scott is the one it wants. What’s to say it wouldn't just kill or take him on sight?

“I’m getting the key.” He insisted, his face tightening with determination.

He pushed past us, heading straight for the door, until Allison stepped in his way. “Are you serious?” Her eyes welled with fresh tears and she looked up at him desperately.

“It’s the best plan.” He tried to reassure her, but she just shook her head in disbelief.

I mean, it was a dumb plan. But Scott could handle himself. He’s a werewolf. Someone had to do something already. I was about to go out there myself if we didn’t get a move on.

“You can’t go out there unarmed.” She tried to reason with him, but his mind was already made up.

He looked around before pulling out a flimsy pointer finger on a stick. I tried my best to hold in a snort at the thought of him defending himself with that. Everyone just stared at him, and he shrugged.

“It’s better than nothing.”

“There’s gotta be something else.” Stiles said hopefully.

It was obvious that he didn’t want Scott going out there, either. I wouldn't say I was thrilled about it, but I knew that someone was going to have to make a sacrifice to get us out. He was the most obvious choice, plus he was willing. Who were we to stop him?

“There is.” Lydia glanced toward a cabinet filled with chemicals in various sized beakers behind me. I hadn't even realized we were in one of the chemistry labs. “In there is everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail.”

“Well, we don't have a key for that either.” I pointed out, turning around to inspect it. It didn’t exactly solve our problem.

Jackson rolled his eyes with a huff and reluctantly stepped toward the glass case. With a scowl, he used his elbow to easily smash it to pieces.

Well, there’s one way to do it.

————————

It had been nearly ten minutes, and there were no signs of Scott or the alpha. The five of us had barely spoken, simultaneously processing this insane situation and being too afraid to make any noise. The air between us was thick with tension.

Allison had gone into full freak out mode when Scott left. She’d tearfully begged him not to leave, but he obviously didn’t listen. I understood her fear for his safety, but she had to know that it was our only hope. I had every bit of confidence in him. He would be able to get us out of this.

Suddenly, an earthshattering growl echoed through the school. The floors beneath our feet shook with the sheer volume of it. Lydia winced and covered her ears as if the sound pained her. I glanced at Stiles, silently asking whether Scott could make that kind of sound. I’d heard him howl earlier, and it had been impressive, but it was nowhere near whatever the hell that was.

I staggered back a step as Jackson unexpectedly fell onto his knees in front of me with a groan. He scratched at the back of his neck and began breathing heavily. Lydia and I grabbed each of his arms and hauled him back onto his feet as he continued wincing and moaning. He shoved us away, and I stumbled over my own feet.

“Don’t. I’m fine.” He turned to face us, still rubbing at the spot where I knew Derek’s claws had dug into his skin not long ago. “Seriously, I’m okay.”

“That didn’t even look remotely okay.” I huffed, concerned.

I mean, what the hell was that?

“Hey, what’s on the back of your neck?” Stiles peered over Jackson’s shoulder and stretched an arm out toward him.

He swatted it away and avoided all of our eyes. There was no way that was normal. Why would he react that way to the alpha’s growl? It didn’t make any sense.

“Well? It’s been there for days and you won’t tell me what happened.” Lydia crossed her arms skeptically. Clearly, it had been bothering her.

“As if you actually care.” He barked harshly, and she looked away, tears glistening in her eyes.

I was just about to lay into him for how not cool talking to her like that was, when police sirens sounded from outside. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and ran toward the windows, before looking down to confirm that help was actually here.

For the first time tonight, I felt myself relax. We were going to be okay.

————————

I pulled the sides of Stiles’ jacket tighter around myself, shivering against the frigid night air. My eyes were locked on him and Scott as they talked to the Sheriff. He was called away, and they continued whispering nervously. I would’ve preferred to be right there, listening, but Stiles said he’d drive me home. So here I stood, leaning against his Jeep. Waiting. Freezing to death.

I let my eyes follow them as they walked over toward an ambulance that Scott’s boss was sitting inside of. I had to admit, his mysterious disappearance—and subsequent revival—was insanely suspicious. I wasn't entirely convinced that he was the alpha, but he wasn't exactly in the clear, either.

After briefly talking to him, Scott and Stiles went their separate ways. Scott joined Allison, who had already told Lydia and I that she was going to break up with him. She was doubting pretty much everything about him after tonight, and I couldn't really blame her. He was keeping a huge part of himself secret, and it was pretty obvious at this point. I didn’t envy him having to figure a way out of that one.

“You could've gotten in.” I jumped at the sound of Stiles’ voice next to me, but forced myself to relax as he popped open the passenger door for me.

I climbed inside, buckling my seatbelt just as he slid into the seat beside me. My house was only a few minutes away, and I already felt my anxiety rising at the thought of sleeping there by myself after everything that had just happened. Mom was working the night shift again.

My fingers began trembling in my lap as the weight of tonight’s events came crashing down onto my shoulders.

I felt Stiles’ eyes on me, but kept my head down. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. It wasn't technically a lie. I was still breathing, and that counted for something. “I’m just not really looking forward to being home alone tonight.”

I felt heat crawl up my neck as I continued to avoid his curious gaze. I don't know what had compelled me to admit that. There was no reason for me to share that with him. I’d be fine.

I finally looked at him as the car jerked to the left so quickly I nearly fell out of my seat.

“What are you doing?” I balanced myself on the dashboard as we made a full 180 degree turn.

“You’re staying over.” He’d said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I gaped at him, shocked that he would even suggest it. The last time we did that... “Stiles—”

“It’s okay.” He interrupted hastily, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “My dad won’t care.”

“Stiles...” I let myself trail off that time, not sure what I wanted to say.

I didn’t want to be alone, and the last time we slept in the same bed, I’d had the best night of sleep since moving. It wasn't a bad idea per se, but...I don't even know. It was Stiles. And he made me nervous.

“Look. It��s really for my benefit. I mean, that was terrifying.” He let out a sigh, trying to make that sound believable.

“Nice try.” I scoffed, shifting back in my seat now that we were driving straight again. “You’re so not afraid of anything.”

He glanced at me briefly. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s true?” I finally looked at him again, studying the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. I took a moment to admire the view I had of his profile. The yellow lighting of the street lamps outside beautifully highlighted the freckles that dotted his skin, and pulled out the natural orangey tint of his eyes.

“You’ve had all this supernatural stuff thrown on you, and you’ve just accepted it like it’s no big deal. You’re always jumping at the chance to help, even though you’re human, and you’re usually the one who figures things out first. None of that strikes me as someone who’s easily scared.”

He looked at me with a small smile, his eyes trailing over my face appreciatively, and I felt my own lips tugging upward in return.

About ten minutes later, I was following him into his bedroom. It was much cleaner than I expected. It was small, nothing more than a bed with a plaid comforter—of course—a couple of bedside tables with a small lamp, and a desk. He shut the door behind us, and we stood there for a moment awkwardly.

I wasn't sure if I should sit on his bed or the plush chair in front of the desk. He was still by the entrance, one hand on the doorknob while the other rubbed at the back of his head. I made my choice and walked over to the bed.

I plopped down, tucking one of my legs beneath myself while the other dangled off the edge of his mattress. I let my toes brush against the cool hardwood floors as I watched him consider his options.

After some hesitation, he moved to join me on the bed. He sat about a foot away, and I was simultaneously disappointed and grateful for that little bit of distance between us. He played with his fingers in his lap and avoided my eyes.

“We could’ve died tonight.” I breathed, mostly wanting to break the silence but also just beginning to process everything.

He looked up at me tenderly and reached a tentative hand forward to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “But we didn’t.”

“Don’t you find that weird?” My skin erupted with heat as he let the tips of his fingers linger on my neck. “I mean, the alpha had so many opportunities to kill us and it just...didn’t. It was almost like it was playing with us or something.”

I could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes as he studied me for a moment. He parted his lips, and it looked like he was going to say something before thinking better of it. “We should get some sleep.”

“Or...we could do something else.” I rushed the words out before I could let any doubt creep in. His gaze quickly flickered to my mouth as I chewed on my bottom lip nervously.

“Something else?” His voice was barely above a whisper as his eyes moved back to mine.

“It’s just...” I swallowed, trying to gain the courage to say what had been swirling around in the back of my mind all night. “Our first kiss was at school. While being chased by a psychotic werewolf...”

“Yeah.” He breathed, chuckling quietly. “That’s not really how I imagined it.”

I blinked a few times, only just then noticing that we’d been moving closer together this whole time. “We could try again?”

There were only a few inches separating us now. Stiles’ eyelashes fluttered as he leaned forward and connected our lips gently. He tilted his head, slanting his mouth against mine, and I couldn’t help but arch into him as my eyes slid shut. The kiss was timid, just a bunch of barely there caresses as we slowly got more comfortable with each other.

We both pulled away fractionally, our noses still barely touching. I let out a shuddering breath as my anxiety slowly melted away. This was really happening.

“Was that better?” He murmured against me, his warm breath fanning my skin.

“Much.” My hands found the sides of his face and I pulled him back to me, locking our lips together again.

My mouth parted against his as one of his arms snuck around my back to bring me into his chest. His hands trembled against me and I felt my lips tug upward into a small smile, reassured that he was nervous too. I let my fingers trail toward the back of his head and tugged him impossibly closer.

A soft gasp escaped me as one of his hands squeezed at my hip before dragging me on top of him. With my legs on either side of his, I suddenly realized how quickly this was moving and pulled away. My eyes fluttered open just in time to see Stiles pout with a hum of disapproval. He leaned forward to capture my lips again, but froze at the sound of his door being thrown open.

“Oh, dear God. Son, really?”

I scrambled off of him as my eyes landed on his father. He was still wearing his uniform, so he must’ve just gotten back. I smoothed down my clothes and crossed my legs, trying to make myself look more presentable.

“Um. It’s not—uh...what it looks like?” I cringed at that sorry attempt at defusing the situation, and cleared my throat.

“Mr. Stilinski.” I greeted, hoping the twitch of my lips looked more like a smile than a pained grimace.

His eyes narrowed at me before moving to Stiles, who was stiff as a board beside me. “Call me Sheriff. And get to bed.”

With that, he was gone just as suddenly as he’d appeared. I let out a sigh, deflating with exhaustion. I had been through way too much for one day. We shared a quick glance before Stiles turned off the lights.

We crawled beneath his comforter and followed his dad—I mean, the Sheriff’s—advice. Once again, I quickly fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Episode 7, Part One Episode 8

106 notes · View notes

extratragic · 4 years

Text

relapse (2)

pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!reader

warning: underage drug/alcohol use, addiction, major breakdown

word count: 1813

summary: you’d been home for two weeks, completely clean, until one party ruins it.

“Where are you going?” Topper asked.

“To get food, Top. Not all of us just drink through these things,” you told him, walking away before he could find a way to stop you.

Heyward and his son were standing behind the table they had set up. Seeing the two of them here was normal, but now there was a blonde boy standing behind the grill. He was cute with his black cap keeping his hair out of his face and the white shirt bringing out his blue eyes.

“Hey, Pope,” you said, smiling at him.

“Oh, um- uh, hi, y/n,” he smiled nervously.

You laughed lightly and looked over at Heyward, grinning.

“Hello, y/n. Can we do anything for you?” He asked.

“I was actually going to offer to take this plate up there. We’re running out,” you told him.

“Shit. I’ll get it. Thank you for telling me,” he sighed.

“Of course,” I nodded.

Heyward took the large plate, one you knew damn well that you couldn’t carry. Even though what you told him was true, the plate up at the buffet was running low, but that’s not the real reason why you came over. The blonde boy caught your attention.

“Hi, I’m y/n,” you told him.

He looked up at you, confused. Why was a Kook talking to him?

“That’s JJ. One of my friends,” Pope told you.

“He’s almost as cute as you,” you whispered to Pope.

Pope laughed and JJ looked offended and also surprised that there was a Kook making jokes with a Pogue and not about a Pogue. He liked it.

You stayed by them for almost the entire night, even dragging them away one at a time to dance with them. Heyward only let you pull them away for one dance, though. He wasn’t about to admit how much he enjoyed seeing the two boys having fun at a place they hated.

“JJ, seriously, touch my ass one more time and I’m gonna hit you with this board,” you threatened.

“Just trying to help you get the right form,” he laughed.

JJ had been trying to help you learn how to surf for the last week. Pope tried to teach you first, but everyone knew that JJ would be the only one to handle your attitude and be somewhat patient with you.

“Come on, man. It’s been a week. You should have this down by now,” he groaned.

“Oh, I do. I just like having your hands on me,” you said casually.

He chuckled and shook his head, lightly hitting your side.

“Maybe I just like having my hands on you,” he replied.

“You’re high as hell, y/n,” JJ sighed.

“You’re always high, JJ. Don’t even try that bullshit with me,” you snapped.

“Are you kidding me? You snorted fucking cocaine. Weed and coke are completely different!” JJ yelled.

You rolled your eyes and laid your head back on the couch. It had been three weeks since the first party that Topper convinced you to do a line. JJ was sick of you acting like your brother and Rafe, and this was probably your third fight over it already.

“If you only came here to fight, then you can leave, JJ,” you told him.

The next time you saw JJ was when he broke up with you.

It had been almost two weeks since you got home. Almost every day was spent with Sarah and the small group of Pogues. Sarah and John B were adorable together, and Sarah said the same thing about you and JJ.

You and JJ hadn’t had that talk, but the two of you had been very touchy since you got home.

He was adorably careful around you, too. No smoking or drinking allowed near you, no mention of it, and not even hinting at it. He even left his Juul and blunts at John B’s house, hidden from sight. You’d told him a million times that it was okay if they did those things around you. Sure, you were called an alcoholic at rehab, but that’s not what got you in there.

A little weed wasn’t going to send you straight back to rehab, especially if you weren’t the one smoking it. You got the group to relax after a week, but they still wouldn’t smoke around you. Pope was always the only sober one with you, and the others would drink beer that one of them brought for the day.

But now you were going through the ultimate test of sobriety.

Yes, you should’ve waited a lot longer than two weeks, but you wanted to have fun like a normal teenager with your friends.

So, you went to a Kook party.

JJ swore to stay sober and by your side the entire night. He even promised to not beat Rafe’s ass. (cause he may have already done it right after you left a year ago)

But then you lost him.

JJ went to the bathroom while you were talking to some of your old friends after promising that he’d be back in less than two minutes. Those friends didn’t used to be involved in Rafe’s cocaine operation, but apparently, they were now. While you thought that you were just catching up with them, they were bringing you to the room where Rafe, Kelce, and a lot of other people were sitting around a glass table.

You saw the lines on the table with rolled-up money and small baggies with more coke in it and you tried to leave, but everything was spinning.

“Sit down, y/n. You need to chill out,” one of the girls, Kaylee, told you.

“I should go. I can’t be here,” you said, shaking your head.

They laughed like you had told them a joke and sat beside you, keeping you on the couch. You didn’t know how the hell you suddenly felt like you just drank an entire bottle of vodka when all you’d had that night was the strawberry juice that you’d jokingly put in a flask and water.

“What did you do?” You choked out.

“Just relax and have fun, y/n. Do a line,” Kaylee told you.

You tried to stand up but your body felt heavy and weak, and Kaylee holding down on your arm was no help. Jazmine, another girl beside you, gently pushed your head down until you were hovering over a little white line on the table.

“Stop, please,” you cried, trying to push her away.

“Just one time and you’ll love us after,” they coaxed.

Kaylee pushed one of your nostrils shut and you closed your eyes tightly, wondering why the hell no one was trying to stop this.

“She’s not doing it. Lay her head back,” Kaylee snapped.

Jazmine pulled you back so you were leaning back against the couch with your head rolled back. Someone put their hand over your mouth and while you were trying to breathe through your nose, it hurt.

It burned, and then you felt a rush of adrenaline. But you knew better than to let it go further.

You pushed the hands away from you as hard as you could manage and bent over, your face in your hands as the tears kept falling.

“Glad your back,” Rafe said.

“You fucking dick! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Hey, y/n, look at me. Open your eyes,” Sarah told you.

JJ was screaming at Rafe and Sarah was on her knees in front of you. “What happened?” She asked.

“They drugged me,” you cried.

“Kaylee?” She asked.

You nodded and she stood up, yelling for Kie. Before you knew it, you were outside and at John B’s van with Pope. You’d stopped crying by then and you felt fucking great. Subconsciously, you knew that you shouldn’t give in. You should throw up, drink water, do anything to flush this out of your system, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You felt numb for the first time in a year.

“I’m gonna go back in,” you told Pope.

“No you’re not,” he said, pulling you back to him.

“You’re not the boss of me, Pope,” you snapped.

“I don’t give a damn. Get in the van,” he told you.

You shoved Pope away and turned around, walking towards the house again. He kept yelling at you and every time he’d grab your arm, you would shove him off and threaten that you would scream. You made it to the table of drinks when JJ grabbed your arm and ignored how you yelled at him as he dragged you out.

JJ drove the van, his bloody knuckles gripping the wheel tightly. He knew none of this was your fault. Sarah and Kie beat the hell out of Kaylee and Jazmine while JJ had beat the hell out of Rafe. It was their fault. You were okay there. You were having fun while being sober at a party, and they took advantage of you. JJ knew you were innocent, but he was still pissed.

He was pissed that he had to take care of you like this again. He was pissed that you were high. He was pissed that the girls you trusted drugged you. He was pissed that Rafe was a douche bag. He was pissed that he broke the promise that he made to you that night.

He was pissed that he left you alone when you needed him.

When you woke up the next morning, JJ was sitting at the end of the bed with his head in his hands.

“I don’t wanna go back.”

That was the first thing you said.

JJ was quick to move up the bed and sit beside you, pulling you to his chest.

“Baby-” “I can’t, JJ. I’ll be careful. I’ll stay home. I’ll stay anywhere else, just please don’t make me go back,” you cried.

He closed his eyes and held you tightly as you cried. What was he supposed to do? Rehab was the best option, but he selfishly didn’t want to lose you again. He called for Sarah and it only took a few seconds for her to run into the room.

JJ looked desperate. She sat beside you and JJ, running her fingers through your hair.

“I can’t go back, Sarah. My mom would hate me. She wouldn’t let me come back home,” you choked out.

“Okay, okay. It’s okay, shh,” she said calmly. “You can stay at my house. We can work on this together. Your mom doesn’t need to know anything.”

“Seriously?” JJ asked.

He was shocked that Sarah would just accept that you didn’t want to go back. But Sarah knew how hard your mom was on you and Topper, so she thought of their best option to keep it quiet.

“I’m so sorry, JJ,” you whimpered.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he told you.

It felt true while he was holding you so tight.

177 notes · View notes

catfe-overlord · 4 years

Text

“Feral”

Part 3

Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

::in which the Bakusquad comes in clutch, and Kirishima and Bakugou have a cutesy moment together::

<><><><><><><><><><>

“Kiri, you with us?”

That voice was Ashido. Yeah, that was definitely her giggle that followed. Funny, because he was just dreaming about her.

“You were, were you?” she snorted. Someone else snickered.

Yeah, he’d dreamt they were at the amusement park. Kaminari got sick on a roller coaster. Ashido got cotton candy stuck in her hair. He’d nearly pissed himself in the haunted house.

Laughter erupted, jarring him out of the last remnants of sleep that were clouding his mind. He blinked up at his three friends, who were all grinning down at him, their giggles dying down to welcome him back to the world of the living.

“Do you always talk in your sleep, dude?” Sero asked, holding his stomach after laughing too hard.

“Uh, I wouldn’t know,” he retorted. “I’m sleeping.”

“Oh my gosh, that was hilarious. My face hurts from smiling so much,” Kaminari stated, wiping a tear from his eye. He forced himself to turn serious after a few moments of collecting himself. “Hey, Kirishima, I’m really sorry about electrocuting you yesterday. I panicked, and I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. It’s just, Bakugou is terrifying on a good day! When he turned on me and something was definitely wrong, like, he had claws and slit eyes and he looked like he wanted to cut me to shreds, I couldn’t stop myself! It happened so fast, I—”

“It’s okay, Kaminari,” Kirishima stopped him there. “I totally get it. Mistakes happen. It was probably a good thing you stopped Bakugou when you did. He could’ve killed someone.”

Ashido leaned in to give Kirishima a big hug. He was thankful for the warm embrace. Other than the new gauze Recovery Girl must have applied after he passed out, he’d slept shirtless and his blanket had fallen down to his waist at some point in the night. He could feel the goosebumps on his arms.

“How are you feeling?” Ashido asked after pulling away.

“Better. Groggy, definitely, but it’ll pass once I’m up and moving. Thanks.”

She pinched his cheek before standing up straight and snapping her fingers at Kaminari. “Fetch the gifts, peasant.”

He stuck out his tongue in her direction before turning toward a few plastic bags on a table across the room. He brought them over to Kirishima’s bed and dumped the contents at his feet. “Ta-da!”

It was everything Kirishima had purchased yesterday at the mall. His crocs and hair dyes and gel and the red sweatshirt. He was so relieved to see them. He’d spent nearly ten-thousand yen on everything, and after Bakugou had been hit he’d just dropped everything and didn’t think twice about it.

“Whoa! I can’t believe you guys found all my stuff,” he beamed, the smile evident on his face. “Bakugou’s too?”

“You bet!” Ashido winked. “We left his two bags outside his dorm, since the door was locked. I doubt anyone would have the balls to touch something of Bakugou’s anyway, so I don’t think we have to worry about it going missing before he gets back.”

“Speaking of Bakugou,” Sero said warily, “how’s he doing? I mean, I know you just woke up, but you were with him last night, right?”

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m honestly not sure how to answer that one. He was definitely still struggling with the quirk when I left him last night, but he’s a fighter.”

“What exactly did the quirk do you him?” Kaminari asked. “He looked terrible. And he had murder in his eyes, like, more intense than usual.”

Kirishima chuckled at that, but he didn’t really find it funny. “Aizawa kind of explained it to me. It’s like he’s stuck in some—how’d he say it?—oh, ‘animalistic rage’ is what he said. And it changed some of his appearance, but I’m sure you guys saw that. I’m actually going to visit him in a little while.”

“You are?” Ashido asked excitedly. “Where is he? Is he still here, at UA?”

“Uh, yeah, he’s in a safe room. But I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to see him right now. He could hurt you guys. The only reason I can go is because of my quirk.”

Ashido pouted. “I know you’re right, but it still sucks. Just keep us updated on Blasty, okay?”

Kirishima offered her a smile. “I will. And I’ll tell him you guys said hi.”

Sero stood then and stretched, cracking some of his joints. “So, Recovery Girl said you should be good to go once you were up. Wanna grab some breakfast?”

Kirishima could feel his mouth water at the thought. “An omelet sounds delicious right now.”

After Kirishima cleaned himself up, removed the last of the bandaging from his torso, and threw on his new red sweatshirt and his fresh crocs, the proclaimed “Bakusquad” made their way to the cafeteria. It was a Saturday, and other students were filing in and out at their leisure. Kirishima caught sight of Midoriya and his own group of close-knit friends, and they waved to one another.

Kirishima inhaled his food. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he took the first bite. His friends chattered amongst themselves, and he half listened to their conversations, but he didn’t say a word other than a grunt of affirmation here and there until his plate was clean.

His phone buzzed in his pocket as he was just leaving to head back to the dorms. It was Aizawa.

Heard Recovery Girl gave you the OK. Visit Bakugou whenever you want. Text me when you get here and I’ll let you in.

Kirishima smiled down at his phone. “Guys!” he said, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. “I’ll catch you later. Aizawa just texted me with the go-ahead to see Bakugou.”

Ashido slumped, but she waved him off. “Alright, but tell him we wanna visit soon too!”

“You got it,” he said, spinning on his heels and heading over to the building he remembered Aizawa leading him to last night.

Once he’d been buzzed in by Aizawa and lead down the elevator to the sub surface level that held his best friend, Kirishima suddenly found his stomach fluttering with nerves. He wasn’t sure which Bakugou was waiting for him: the angry, feral Bakugou he’d fought on the street yesterday or his angry, less-feral-more-bitter friend that he cared so much for.

Or maybe it was the Bakugou he’d said goodnight to. The quiet, careful Bakugou who didn’t dare hurt his friend. Who fought the quirk with every last ounce of strength he had to hold himself back.

When Kirishima peered through the one way mirror, it wasn’t a sight he’d expected. It was just Bakugou, still obviously under the effects of the quirk judging by the black, clawed hands and cat-like eyes, and he was just laying on his side on the shredded mattress, head propped up by his elbow. He was finishing up a bowl of rice and chicken, and he had a manga in front of him that he slowly flipped through.

“He’s been like this for the past hour,” Aizawa informed him. “He goes between ballistic and himself pretty often. I’ve had a few conversations with him this morning, but no one can get near him yet without him attacking. If you want to go in, I’ll allow it, but I want you to stay away from physical contact.”

Kirishima nodded. “I mean, Bakugou isn’t a very touchy-feely kind of guy on a good day.”

Aizawa swiped his key card through a small device attached to Bakugou’s door. The little red light turned green. “Well, he’s been asking when you’d come by.”

Kirishima was genuinely surprised by that. “Really? Why me?”

Aizawa sighed. “Because you’re his best friend.”

Kirishima tried to suppress his smile, but he knew he was failing miserably. Aizawa waited patiently while Kirishima pulled off his new sweatshirt and tossed it onto a chair before he finally opened the door for his student. He’d raised an eyebrow, surely wondering why the redhead decided to go shirtless, but he didn’t ask questions.

As soon as Kirishima stepped through the door, Bakugou looked up at him and stared for a long moment. His face slowly twisted into a snarl. Kirishima suddenly felt pretty self conscious and a hint of fear at what his friend might do next, but before he could say anything, Bakugou was yelling.

“SHITTY HAIR! WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR SHIRT?!”

Kirishima stopped breathing. His heart might have skipped a beat. His lips twitched into a smile, so grateful to have his Bakugou back to normal, at least for now. “I was wearing my new sweatshirt, and I didn’t want you to ruin it.”

“Well, fuck. Go put it back on, dipshit.”

“But what if you get all angry again and tear it up? I like it.”

“I’m not gonna do that, fucker. And if I did, I’d just buy you a new damn sweatshirt.”

Kirishima smirked. “What, you’re not enjoying the gun show?”

He flexed, and the look on Bakugou’s face was priceless. His cheeks turned a deep shade of pink, and he turned away to glare at the wall. It took Kirishima a moment to realize he was blushing.

He put his arms down and turned back toward the door, but the smile was still evident on his face. “Alright, I’ll put it back on. But don’t ruin it, Bakugou. I swear, I’ll be really pissed off.”

Aizawa was already standing at the door holding the red sweatshirt. Kirishima thanked him and pulled it back on before making his way over to the wall beside the head of Bakugou’s bed. He slid down to the floor into a criss-cross position and stretched his spine.

“Kirishima,” Bakugou said then, a seriousness in his voice Kirishima wasn’t used to. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday. For hurting you… and ruining your favorite shirt… and probably losing all of the shit we bought.”

Kirishima blinked. “What?”

Bakugou glared at him. “I’m not gonna say it again, Shitty Hair, so accept it.”

“Oh! No, dude, listen. You don’t have to apologize for anything. The Bakusquad found all of our stuff. See?” He used a hand to refer to his sweatshirt and crocs. “I bought these yesterday when you were looking at those headphones. Ashido said they left your stuff at the dorms. And don’t worry about the shirt! It was getting pretty old anyway. I have lots of favorite shirts.”

“No, that one was the favorite. And I fucking ruined it.”

Kirishima tilted his head. “You were under a quirk, Bakugou. Really, it’s okay. I was way more worried about you than some stupid shirt.”

Bakugou looked like he wanted to keep arguing, but he managed to restrain himself. Instead, he said so quietly, “You called me Katsuki yesterday.”

Kirishima looked up at the blond, surprised. “Uh, yeah. I did. Sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I just… I thought maybe it would help? Like, help you to remember yourself, and overcome the quirk.”

Bakugou wet his lips. “Yeah. It did. Help, I mean. It did help me. So, uh, thanks.”

They were both quiet for a few long moments. Kirishima thought about the way his name sounded in Bakugou’s voice yesterday. He wasn’t going to point out that Bakugou had returned the favor in calling him Eijirou, thinking maybe he didn’t remember it. Kirishima didn’t want to make things awkward. Er, more awkward.

“You can keep doing it. If you want.”

Kirishima stared up at Bakugou, trying to read his calm expression, but the blond wouldn’t look at him. “Huh?”

He sighed through his nose. “You can keep calling me by my given name. I wouldn’t mind it. Fuck.”

Kirishima went light headed for a second. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod—!

He gave Bakugou a bright smile and a thumbs up. “Sure, Katsuki! And feel free to use mine too!”

Bakugou sank to the floor a few feet from Kirishima, leaning back against the cot. He had his arms wrapped around himself protectively. His face was still flushed pink.

“If you don’t want to waste your day here, it’s fine,” Bakugou spoke. “It’s boring as fuck, I get that. It’s Saturday, and I’m sure there are a lot of better ways you could be spending it.”

Kirishima laughed. “No way, dude. I’d rather spend time with my best bro, even if we’re stuck here. You’re not a chore, Katsuki.”

He seemed to shrink in on himself. “Well, you’d better fucking bring some cards or something next time. I’m not a conversationalist like you and the other extras.”

Kirishima made a mental note of that. “Cards. Gotcha. Anything else you’d like?”

Bakugou’s eyes tightened. “Mm. There’s a book I was reading that I left on my desk. You still have the other key to my dorm, eh?”

“Yep! So, cards and book. Got it. Just text me if you need anything else. You have your phone, right?”

He grunted in confirmation. “Aizawa has it. I don’t want it because I’ll probably just fucking break it. I’ll have him text you.”

Kirishima nodded. He’d stretched out his legs so their feet were almost touching. Aizawa was pretty persistent on avoiding physical contact, but Kirishima couldn’t help wondering if a simple touch really could throw his friend into a frenzy. He didn’t want to ruin the moment though, because he really did enjoy being with Bakugou.

It was at that moment Kirishima noticed the jolt that seemed to pass through the blond. His eyes were wide, and his hands were shaking as he stood in a rush.

“You should go,” Bakugou said quickly, unable to look him in the eyes.

Kirishima quickly scrambled to his feet as well, aware that Bakugou stood between him and the exit. “Are you alright?”

“Get out, Eijirou.”

Kirishima flew past Bakugou on his way to the door, but he stopped to look back at the blond. “I’ll be back later.”

Bakugou clutched his head—the source of his pain—but he managed a nod.

And with that, Kirishima left.

+++++++++++++

Oh boy oh boy I love these kids. They take up too much of my brain capacity. Anywho! I have two more chapters planned and I think that’ll be it. I have many a fic planned, and as much as I love this lil guy (which was honestly supposed to be a oneshot), I’m just about ready to move on. Also, I love prompt suggestions !!!???? So like ???? Please send them my way ???????!!!

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed and stick around for the last two chapters (which will hopefully be up by the end of the week). Have a lovely night, friends

Read part 4 here

Read part 5 here

Read part 6 here

8/19/2020

#bakugou is hit by a quirk #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #kirishima angst #kirishima whump #bakugou whump #bakugou angst #kiribaku #bnha #mha #kirishima eijirou #kiribaku fics #boko no hero academia #my hero academia #whump #angst #kiribaku fluff

65 notes · View notes

viktorrotkiv · 3 years

Text

Trust Me

This fic was written for the @snowbaz-sweethearts-exchange as a gift for @seducing-a-vampire , and beta-read by @stevenuniversestolemyheart (<3).

Read on AO3

Simon was being weird again. Avoiding him. Being evasive and distant.

Baz has been through this once before, and he really doesn’t want to do it again. This game of avoiding one another, almost-talking about feelings, trying to keep hold of a sinking ship. They survived the last time, but just barely. Baz thinks maybe he didn’t do enough then, because it feels like they survived on pure chance. Luck of the draw. Fate had tested their relationship, pushed it almost to the breaking point, then got bored and gave up, and they bounced back. Slightly broken, and a little less idealistic, but realer, and stronger. Different.

Baz couldn’t stand change. He had had enough ‘different’ for a lifetime. This time, the ship won’t even start to sink, because he’s going to stop it.

He’s going to prove to Simon Snow that he’s the best boyfriend around.

At first, Simon was worried about Baz’s birthday. He wanted to make sure it was perfect and special. After everything they’d been through, Baz deserved some happiness and peace. But the moment he thought of his brilliant idea, he relaxed completely. He sunk fully into planning and organizing, devoting hours and days to it, but he wasn’t worried anymore. He was confident.

The grand plan was this; on the morning of February 24th, Simon would show up at Baz’s parents’ house, where Baz was staying for a few weeks. They would have breakfast with Baz’s family, after which, everyone, including Simon, would give Baz his gifts. Simon’s gift will be a pair of jeans, reminiscent of Simon’s first visit to Baz’s house, and a hand-made gift card, entitling Baz to “give Simon Snow a makeover of your choice, including, but not limited to, hair, clothes, and manners.” Baz will laugh and immediately change into the jeans (this was, of course, a crucial part of the plan). They’ll spend the morning with Baz’s family (and maybe some of it in Baz’s room, decidedly away from his family), and then Simon will noncommittally suggest lunch with a few friends. Baz could either accept or decline; this was important in order to make it seem like the day wasn’t orchestrated. In the afternoon they had tickets to see an exhibition at a Normal museum that Baz was buzzed about; this part he was aware of. On the way back from the museum, Simon would suggest walking through a park, where, lo and behold, all of Baz’s friends and family would be waiting with balloons and home-cooked food and cake.

The only problem was that Simon was terrible at keeping secrets, and worse at lying. There was only one solution: he would have to try and avoid Baz for the next few weeks.

February 1st

Mordelia was going to be the death of him. Last night there had been one acceptable clean pair of trousers in his closet. He was sure of it, because he had checked specifically, because he knew that most of his clothes were in the laundry. And now, as he was getting dressed to meet Simon, it was gone. The only things he could find were old trousers that didn’t really fit anymore, and a few pairs of pyjamas.

“Mordelia!” Baz slammed the closet door shut and stormed out of his room. “What did you do with my clothes?! Good morning, Daphne. Mordelia, I’m going to hex you!”

“What?” His little sister peaked innocently out of her room, seemingly trying to shut the door on herself.

“You know what you did. Where are my trousers?”

“Oh, these?” Mordelia bent down and picked something up from the floor behind her.

“Yes, these!” Baz snatched them away angrily. “What on earth did you need them for?”

“Nothing.” She shied away from his inquisitive gaze. “I was, er – I was playing dress up.”

Baz huffed and sighed, but walked away. He didn’t have time for this. The ‘perfect boyfriend’ that he was trying to be was never late. But seriously, who on earth thought that moving back home while he looked for a flat near Simon and Penny was a good idea? Oh, right. All of his friends. His parents too. His siblings were happy to have him. And he wasn’t paying rent.

Simon’s secret phone beeped with a message. Yes, he had gotten burner phones for the Top Secret Baz’s Birthday Surprise operation. Growing up in a Normal orphanage had left its marks, and a love for trashy spy movies was one of them.

The message was from Mordelia, one of his many accomplices, and it contained Baz’s trouser size.

Also, he’s mad at me now. Can you tell him it wasn’t my fault that I had to take his trousers?

You’re brilliant, Simon wrote back. And no! You mustn't tell him either, remember?

Will you buy me sweets?

Only if it makes you shut up and promise not to tell Baz

Alright :)

Fine. Simon saw Baz through the window of the coffee shop and quickly put the phone away. As Baz entered the shop, holding a bouquet of flowers, Simon stood up to wave him over. When he reached the table, Baz gave Simon a quick kiss on the cheek, and held out the bouquet.

Simon accepted the flowers and brought them to his nose to cover his embarrassingly big grin. They didn’t usually kiss in public; Baz was as shy about kissing as he was about eating, and they never knew what seemingly-charming old lady would shoot them a disapproving glare. This was a nice change of pace.

The flowers smelled good, and like they had been kept fresh with magic. Simon wondered what they were called.

“They’re Gerbera daisies,” said Baz, seemingly reading his mind. “Now, what disgustingly sweet monstrosity do you want to drink today?”

Simon couldn’t help but grin again. Avoiding Baz was going to be very, very difficult.

February 5th

Simon picked up a pair of jeans, only to be horrified at the amount of tears and holes it had. There was virtually more empty space than cloth. He quickly put it back down, trying and failing to fold it into the right shape, and moved on to the next display. He was feeling kind of lost. Now that Mordelia had acquired Baz’s trouser size for him, he could actually buy Baz’s present, but this wasn’t his speed at all. Big shopping centres. The actual shopping. Lots of Normals around. Fashion. God, he felt completely lost.

“Need any help?”

Simon turned to find that a chipper employee had appeared behind him. They popped up like mushrooms after the rain. “No, thanks, I think I’ll be fine.” Simon did his best to smile as he spoke, but he guessed that the vibes he was giving off were actually ‘terrified’ and ‘lost’ and perhaps ‘sad puppy’.

The employee seemed doubtful but didn’t push it. She was short, with short hair, and her store-mandated vest was covered with optimistic pins. Her ears reminded him of a pixie.

She had started walking away when Simon changed his mind. “Actually! If you don’t mind, I think I do need help.” Her kind smile encouraged him to continue. “I’m looking for jeans for my… my, er, boyfriend. I’m looking for something without many tears, and not too tight.”

“Do you want me to bring you a few options?”

Simon sighed in relief. “That would be great, thanks.” He told her the size he needed, and she walked purposely towards a rack on the other side of the store. As he watched her pull out different pairs and pile them in her arms, fascinated by her decisiveness, Simon’s phone rang. The regular one, not the burner phone. The phone he had forced Baz to buy with him, so they could talk. Baz, who was the one calling him right now.

Shit, shit, shit. He took a deep breath, finger hesitating above the screen, and let the phone ring almost five full rings before picking up.

“Hey, babe.” Simon closed his eyes and mentally kicked himself. He had been going for ‘casual’, but there was nothing casual about pet names with them.

“Babe?” Baz’s incredulous tone was almost enough to make Simon hang up.

“Erm. Yeah. No. Ignore that. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh.” Simon looked nervously around the store. The employee was halfway back to him, still stopping at displays and racks.

“Remember how I told you that Mordelia stole my clothes? Now she’s decided to teach the baby how to play the piano. The sound is deafening. I’ve started taking walks around the garden just to avoid her.”

“Oh, that sounds awful.”

“It is! It really is. Erm, so, I tried to find a reason to get out of the house, and I’m in the coffee shop we like, and they have a sale on chocolates, and I was just wondering if you like marzipan.”

“Erm, yeah, sure. It’s sweet, right? Then sure, I guess I like it.” The employee had almost completed a full round. He’d have to hang up soon.

“What about hazelnut? Or – or, get this, hazelnut coffee.”

“Er…” Simon smiled apologetically at the employee, who was back in front of him, carrying a pile of clothes almost as tall as her. “Yes to hazelnut chocolate, no to the coffee. I, er, I kind of have to go, can we talk later?”

“Sure, I – I guess.” Baz let Simon hang up.

Simon thanked the employee profusely and started going through the pile of jeans.

Baz pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the blank screen, disappointed. Mordelia really was trying to teach the baby to play the piano, that much was true, but it wasn’t the reason he was looking at chocolates. He was trying to do something nice for Simon, and his boyfriend was still acting weird and pulling away. That had to have been the shortest phone conversation they’d had since Simon had forced him to buy the damn thing. What could he have possibly done wrong?

Baz paid for the chocolate in a stupor and left the store deflated.

February 10th

Dearest Basilton,

No. Simon crossed out the words. Who was he, Baz’s grandmother? Wait. Did Baz have a grandmother? Obviously, genetically, he had to have grandmothers. But were they alive? How could Simon not know this? He’d have to ask him.

Simon shook his head and stared at the paper.

Baz, he started again. Simple and personal. You already know how much I love you.

Simon chewed on his pen. No: I hope you already know how much I love you.

But birthdays are a time to state the obvious again. So, I love you, I love you, I love you. You’re the best person I know. The bravest, the strongest, the most resolute person I know. The smartest. Wait, nevermind. Second smartest. Stop glaring at me and read the rest of the card.

I love how good you are with your siblings. How patient and gentle you are with me when I need it most. I love how dramatic you are, and how dramatic our story is. I love that you’re looking for a flat near me and Penny. Maybe eventually we’ll be looking for a flat near Penny. I hope so. I hope we get there.

I wish you the best birthday ever. The best fucking birthday anyone on this planet has ever had, Baz. And an incredible year. And an amazing life after that. You deserve it. I’ll be there to share that year and that life with you, for as long as I can.

Well. If all goes according to plan, you’ll be reading this in front of your family, and I don’t want you to sob like a baby in front of them, so I’ll stop now. But I just need you to know that you matter, so much.

Love,

Me.

There. Perfect. Simon started copying the words from the draft paper to the card.

Baz glanced at the recipe again to make sure. Three quarters cup of butter wasn’t going to be enough for his boyfriend. He turned back to the counter and filled the cup to the brim with melted butter.

As he poured the butter from the cup to the bowl, he heard Mordelia’s small, barefoot steps entering the kitchen, and then he was attacked from behind with a waist-height hug.

“Hey!” He turned around, pretending to be mad. “Never put your sticky little hands on my clothes again. As your punishment, you now have to help me bake.” He lifted her onto the counter and she giggled. “Here, take this and mix the batter.”

Mordelia turned to the bowl beside her and started mixing with great concentration as Baz added the rest of the ingredients. Mordelia helped him shape the batter into scones, and when they came out of the oven, round and fresh and smelling like the feeling of home and lazy mornings and butter, he let her have one.

The rest of the scones went with Baz to Simon and Penny’s flat. Baz hardly bothered to knock these days. He had a key to the flat, but since Simon was the world’s biggest airhead, the door was usually left unlocked. It was the first in a long list of things that both Baz and Penny chided him on.

He called out as he entered, but spotted Simon almost immediately, sitting at the kitchen table with a look of intense concentration. When he noticed his boyfriend, Simon quickly shoved the piece of paper he was working on under the napkin holder.

“What’s that?” Baz gestured to the table.

Simon waved his hand, trying to blow away the question, but he looked a bit worried. “It’s nothing.” He enveloped Baz in a hug and a kiss. “Are these scones for me?”

Baz nodded. “Home baked.”

Simon’s thrilled yell startled Penny out of her room. The three of them spent a cozy afternoon together, eating scones and watching movies, but Baz couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Simon was hiding something from him.

February 14th

Valentine’s day wasn’t nearly as big a deal for mages as it was for Normals, but Simon had told Baz all about what it was like for Normals a few months ago. Apparently, they went completely out of their way to show their partners that they loved them. To Baz, it seemed kind of obvious that people liked who they’re dating. But apparently Normals bought ridiculous gifts, like huge teddy bears that were completely impractical, or much too much chocolate for one person.

Actually, in Simon’s case, there was no such thing as too much chocolate. Baz supposed the whole ordeal was kind of sweet. At least, it was sweet how excited Simon got over the holiday. So he decided to surprise him with a date.

He was currently at a Normal shopping centre, making preparations. Baz looked at the bags he was holding, wondering if anything was missing. He had bought a teddy bear (medium sized, so it could fit on Simon’s bed); a box of chocolates (not heart shaped, God forbid); a bouquet of red and white roses (these, Baz could appreciate the value of); and a box of pastries (chock-full of butter, of course). It seemed like enough, until a colorful stall caught Baz’s eye. In a clear plastic case sat a pile of colorful heart shaped candies, engraved with cheesy-sweet sentiments. Kiss me. First love. Be mine. Baz thought that some grubby little child had probably put their dirty hands all over the candy. Simon, on the other hand, would love them. Baz added a bag of the candies to his shopping pile.

Next was picking up Simon’s favorite dishes at an Italian restaurant they liked, and finally, picking Simon up and taking him on a surprise picnic in the park.

Simon didn’t usually bake, but since he wanted everything to be special on his boyfriend’s perfect birthday, he had announced to Penny and Agatha that he was going to make the cake himself. They had promptly laughed in his face, and then offered to teach him how to bake.

At the time, Simon had protested that there was always a recipe, and you didn’t need to learn how to bake. Now he couldn’t be happier that the girls had convinced him to make a practice cake, especially after Baz’s scones had set the bar pretty high. Apparently, there was a certain cup size you had to use for measurements, and there were different types of flour for different types of doughs, and some people (Simon included) needed to break a few eggs wrong before they could break an egg right.

So the brisk knock at the door, followed by Baz’s voice floating in, couldn’t have come at a worse time. Simon was wearing Penny’s ridiculous apron, which had the names of classical composers printed haphazardly all over it in strange angles, and he was covered in flour and a milk stain.

“Shit. What do I do?”

Agatha pulled the apron off Simon’s neck and patted most of the flour off his shirt. “Make up some excuse, if you can.”

Simon walked around the corner to the front of the house tentatively. “Hey!”

Baz flourished yet another bouquet of flowers. What had gotten into him lately? “Hello. I’ve come to steal you for a few hours.”

“Oh, it’s… it’s not the best time. Er, Agatha is here, and, erm, she and Penny really want me to bake this cake with them…. Can we please reschedule for tomorrow?”

“Actually, we can’t. You can bake a cake any other time. Oh, it smells good…” Baz started to walk towards the kitchen, but Simon quickly got in his way. “Snow, what are you doing? I would like to say hello to Penny and Agatha.”

“Snow?” Simon seemed dumbfounded. “You haven’t called me that in a while.”

Baz sighed. “I’m sorry. It just feels like you’ve been pulling away from me lately. Which makes me feel like we’re in school again. Which is one of the reasons you need to come with me right now, because I planned a lovely date for us, and the food is getting cold.”

Simon ran a hand through his hair, mussing up the curls. “Give me three minutes, and then we can leave, okay? This is really sweet. Thank you.”

“Alright. I’ll say hello to the girls and then wait in the car. I’m not sure that it isn’t going to get towed away.”

“Erm, no. I – I need three minutes first, and then you can say hello.” Simon hurried into the kitchen and shut the door firmly behind him, feeling very guilty. “Ladies. We need to wrap this up. I told him we were baking a cake, but he probably expects something much… smaller than this.”

Penny looked back and forth between the multi-layered cake and the door, behind which stood Baz. “We’re just about done. It needs to go into the refrigerator for a few hours.”

Agatha shook her head. “He might want to see it if it’s in the refrigerator.” She picked the cake up carefully and slid it gracefully into the oven.

Penny, ever the rule stickler, looked shocked. “You – you can’t. It’s a chilled cake.”

“Just trust me, okay?” She shut the oven door just as Baz opened the door.

“Simon, this is ridiculous. Hello, Wellbelove, Bunce. Please tell my idiot boyfriend that he can bake with you any other time, and that today is Valentine’s Day, which he was excited about, and he has to come with me before our food gets cold.”

“That sounds like kidnapping.”

Agatha, ever the peacemaker, shot Penny a glare. “I personally couldn’t agree more. We actually just put the cake in the oven, so it’s the perfect time for Simon to leave.”

“The oven… isn’t on.”

“We’re using magic. That’s why it doesn’t look turned on. Penelope wanted to practice her heating magic. Right, Penny?” Agatha sickly-sweet smile still held a remnant of the murderous glare.

“Erm… yes. Exactly. Simon, go and have fun. It is Valentine’s Day, after all. We’ve got this.”

February 24th

The last week and a half before Baz’s birthday passed uneventfully. He and Simon toured a few apartments and had some nights out, but neither one had any more steps to their plan. Simon was done with his. Baz was just exhausted and out of ideas.

In Simon’s opinion, Baz’s birthday passed without a hitch. He showed up at the Pitch manor at the appointed time. Breakfast, presents, and a lazy morning all went according to plan. Baz even teared up a little when reading his card.

“You’re such a sap, Sn– Simon. I– I love you too.” Baz embraced him, but Simon was practically buzzing with giddiness and pushed him off.

“Open the rest of it!”

“This gift card entitles you to–” Baz burst out laughing. “That’s incredible. I am definitely using it in the next week. And this is… jeans. These are jeans. You probably want me to change into them right now, don’t you?” Baz walked into the guest bathroom accompanied by excited cheers from both Simon and his siblings, and emerged wearing a snug pair of jeans to excited claps and whoops from his parents.

Later, in Baz’s room, Simon decided it was time for a little digging. “Do you… this is a bit random.” He picked at Baz’s duvet absentmindedly. “Do you still have grandmothers?”

“Daphne’s parents live an hour away. We see them once a month or so.”

“And your biological grandparents…?”

Baz shook his head minutely.

“Oh! It’s one already! I told Penny I would let her know– your dead relatives are fascinating and everything, but do you want to have lunch with the girls? Maybe Dev and Niall?”

“My dead relatives are fascinating, don’t disrespect them like that.” Baz broke out in a smile. Maybe Simon’s cold patch was over. “Sure. Let’s have lunch.”

Later, much later, they were walking on a lamp lit street, arms hooked together and frosty breaths mingling in the air, and Simon leaned his head on Baz’s shoulder. “I have to admit, that exhibition was actually interesting.”

“I know. Robert was a genius. But I’m still having a bit of a hard time believing that you enjoyed an art exhibition so much.” Baz could feel Simon shaking with laughter beside him, his warm body pressed to his shoulder to hip. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. He really didn’t. But… “Simon. We should talk.”

Simon picked his head up and Baz immediately missed the comforting weight on his shoulder. “Huh?”

“You’ve been distant lately. As if you don’t really want to spend time with me.”

“Don’t be silly. I love you. Here, let’s walk through this park.” Simon was barely listening, pulling on Baz’s sleeve to steer him towards a lit patch of grass.

Baz took a deep breath. “You’re avoiding my questions again. It feels… It feels like you’re hiding something from me.”

Simon stopped walking and looked back at him with sudden realization. “Something like… your birthday surprise?”

Baz squinted at the park ahead of them. Were those...?

“Don’t be silly. I would never hide anything from you. Not again.” Simon reached up and kissed Baz sweetly. “Now come on. Everybody is waiting for us. I’m in charge of bringing the birthday boy, and it’s too simple a job to mess up.”

Baz let Simon lead the way. He didn’t want him to see the ridiculous grin that he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face.

#snowbaz #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #penny bunce #agatha wellbelove #mordelia grimm #mineltg #my writing #carryonsource #rainbow rowell #snowbaz sweethearts exchange

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Note

and the last one for now (till we get more of the 100 arc) - we kinda need a director's cut on enough? 🥺 (BECAUSE YOU SPOIL US WITH SHOWING HIS RECOVERY).

anything for you my love! (i have a LOT of these coming, so i’ll queue them up through the rest of the week :))

commentary in bold italics because i cant figure out how to do the fancy colors

You knock on his door, takeout in your hand. “It’s me!”

After a minute of silence on the other side of the door, you take your keys out of your pocket and start to open the door. “Don’t shoot me. I’m using my keys.” You move to open it, and the chain is in place.

Okay I just love the fact that they have a key to his apartment?? After everything he’s been through and how unsafe he feels in his home? I’m soft.

Damn it, Aaron.

Then -

Is he okay?

The transition to light panic here was really important to me - I wanted to establish right away that the threat and the fear was still there, and the last time they couldn’t find Aaron, he was stabbed nine (!!) times.

“Aaron?” You call through the gap in the door. You leave the keys in the door and pull your phone out of your pocket, hitting the first number on your speed dial.

You hear his phone ring, a smack, and both from down the hallway and through the speaker (with an echo): “Hotchner.”

“I’m here with dinner. Open the door.”

His voice is thick with sleep. “You have a key, right?”

“The chain is on. I’m surprised I didn’t trip the alarm.”

He makes a little dissatisfied noise and hangs up. I love him. You can hear him plant his feet and walk down the hallway. You smile a little at him as he approaches the door, almost looking inconvenienced as he shuts it, removes the chain lock, and opens it again.

“Are you seriously upset that I brought you food?”

No, dear, that’s just his face.

He shakes his head and steps back, letting you in before closing it. “No, sorry. I just didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

You take stock of him as he turns his back on you and sits on the couch, settling with a slowness that looks painful. You set the food down and then return to lock the door. It’s easier for him to answer your question when you’re not looking at him.

I love how well they know him. Like...he refuses to be vulnerable with the rest of the team, and even with them, he only feels safe when he can’t be seen.

“How are you feeling?”

A sigh. “Alright.”

And yet...

You look over your shoulder as you slide the chain lock back into place. “Don’t lie to me. It won’t work.”

His head is in the takeout bag as he answers, still avoiding your eyes. “I’m sore and I can’t sleep at night and everything is healing slower than I want.”

There we go. There we go, indeed.

You sit beside him. “Do your dressings need to be changed?”

“I got most of them earlier, and Jess came over to help me yesterday, but there are a few that need to wrap around and I can’t -” He stops with a huff. “I can’t reach without -”

You put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I got it.”

His jaw is tight, shaky. “Thanks.”

Hotch and them just communicate with each other so well. They can understand what he needs and how he needs it presented to him.

“First,” you say, grabbing one of the boxes, “food.”

There’s a grateful little pull of his lips as you dig in. The news is on, but you pick up the remote and change it to some ridiculous reality TV program.

“I was watching that.”

“No you weren’t.”

He wasn’t.

This made me LAUGH like you wouldn’t believe. My parents do this all the time and it always makes me smile.

You avoid his exasperated eyes as you set the remote on your side of the couch - farther than he can reach without stretching.

You eat together in silence, the trainwreck on the television only marginally holding your attention. When you glance at him, you catch the side of his face twinge when he reaches for his glass of water.

“You know, not taking your pain meds doesn’t make you Captain America. It just makes you stupid, and in pain.”

This is the piece of dialogue that got me started on this little fic. I was like “wait a minute - this fucker won’t take his meds and he’ll need someone to take care of him and the writers DEPRIVED us of joy so maybe i’ll just give myself a little joy, as a treat.

He levels you with a glare.

+++

“Stop squirming.”

“Sorry.”

We love starting in the middle of a conversation/activity. I really hate writing build-up to stuff if it’s not actually relevant, so I’ve kind of worked on making scene starts feel active without being too abrupt. I’ve been known to write full on scenes and then just chop the shit out of them for pacing and structure.

My outtakes document is like 25 pages long because I never really get rid of anything.

With gentle fingers, you tape and tuck gauze around one of the wounds on his ribs. He flinches, a little pained noise leaving his throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Your fingers flutter for a second before setting back to work. Reaching blindly behind you, you grab the roll of gauze wrapping. “Hang on for just a second - this isn’t going to feel good.”

He takes a deep breath (as deep as he can, anyway, considering his injuries), and you begin wrapping the dressing around his ribs, passing the roll from one hand to the other. He grits his teeth whenever it pulls the right amount, and your lower lip disappears between your teeth.

I probably watched Aaron being in pain in carious episodes for close to an hour while putting this together. It sucked.

“I’m going to tuck it in front so you can reach it, okay?”

He nods, his eyes closed.

You’re sitting on his desk while he’s perched on the edge of his chair, his arm resting along the back - up and out of the way. This is the only place in the apartment he’s comfortable removing his shirt.

Every other room has a mirror or a big window.

ALRIGHT we’re gonna touch on Aaron’s insecurities here - we see his growth and confidence shift by the time we see him and Reader in mean it, where he feels comfortable when they take his shirt off and see his scars.

“Okay, one more.”

You’ve saved the hardest one for last, but it has to go in that order. It’s the one just above his collarbone, right off the hollow of his throat, that needs the most attention and frequent changes.

I noticed this dressing - the one right below his neck - on my final rewatch of Faceless, Nameless. I was scanning for things I missed, not looking at anything I’d seen before, and that just stood out to me. Thus, we got the extension of this scene that was originally going to end with “Every other room...window.”

You tip his chin with the tip of your finger, giving you more space to work.

Okay I didn’t even touch on the touching in this one. I think this is the most contact they’ve ever had, and I think something shifts in their friendship after this.

Gingerly pulling at the tape, you remove the soiled dressing. Aaron’s breath comes as deep as he can through his teeth. When it quickens, you stop.

You readjust so he can keep his head where it is and you can sit in his eye line. He meets your eyes with a tight jaw.

Yes, we are mirroring the shaving scene in mean it here! There are a lot of mirror moments between that fic and this one - a kind of breakthrough of intimacy in both cases.

“What can I do, Aaron?”

He closes his eyes again and tilts his head further to the side. “Just keep going.”

The tears come unbidden into your eyes as you continue your work, but your hands and breath are steady. They are so moved to his pain it literally made me cry. I just thought of the way their hands must have shook and like...the sight of the wound itself. My best friend was hospitalized two years ago, and even seeing her in any pain just brought me straight to tears. For these two, where that’s so part of their everyday, I can’t even fathom it. You can hear him match his breath to yours and you’re thankful for your relative composure.

The wound still looks wretched - angry and red and black and blue and weeping - but it’s not infected.

You hold a towel up and he gingerly presses it to his chest while you reach for the wound wash, hiding your face from him. This is as much about protecting themself as it is about protecting Aaron.

“Thirty seconds, thirty seconds,” you assure him. “Do you want me to count?”

I like the implication that they’ve counted the thirty seconds for him before, so I left it there.

He shakes his head. “Just do it.”

You shoot a gentle stream of the solution across the open tissue, held together by more stitches than you want to count, both internal and external. There are SO many delicate little ligaments and muscle fibers in the neck and upper chest - I asked my dad about it (reminder: he’s a former paramedic from Alameda county where paramedics can make an execute medical decisions lmao) and he said neck and clavicle injuries were a nightmare. Apparently, it’s like a minefield in there. The other arteries and delicate tissues of the body dont have so many key items, but the neck (obviously) does, with lots of room to damage upper and lower respiratory tracks. Thus...Lots of stitches. Anguished noises leave his chest through his teeth and you know he’s trying to suppress them with unsteady breath. His eyes are shut impossibly tight, and you can see unauthorized tears gathering in the corners.

Unauthorized tears came to me while I was searching in vain for an appropriate adjective here. I didn’t want to just say that he was crying - it wasn’t good enough. I wanted to demonstrate that he didn’t want to cry, that neither one of them wanted to make the other feel badly for their own anguish.

This is always the hardest part, and you’ve never gotten through it without crying. You hate how much he hurts. It’s like you can feel it yourself, the sting, the bone-deep ache, the throbbing.

Tears fall down your cheeks, some landing on your shirt and others wandering down your throat.

Even then, he knows you don’t pity him.

If he thought that, he wouldn’t let you anywhere near him.

You wash and dab, wash and dab, until the wound is clean and fluid-free, apologizing the whole time. You throw both the wash and gauze to the side and reach for fresh wrapping while swiping at your eyes.

Fuck.

“Just a second.”

You’ve touched your face, so now you have to wash your hands. Again. We love good hygiene practice! You leave him and go into the kitchen, wash and dry your hands, and return to him.

He catches your eyes before you settle back down. There’s something behind his eyes you can’t name, and it sends something flying around your body.

That’s love, babey!! Haley smacked sense into him since last we talked and Reader has NO clue! Wild! I love dramatic irony!

You always feel a little guilty for your tears, but he understands. He thought for a moment, in the beginning, about what he would do if the situation was reversed.

I can just see Aaron thinking of this, almost getting stuck on it. He’s so sensory-oriented, so grounded in sensation and memory, that he would force himself to feel the full brunt of a hypothetical scenario where Reader is seriously injured.

He doesn’t have to imagine too hard because of course he remembers the gunshot wound in through and through, but it would be different if they were hospitalized or something.

After scant seconds of consideration, he had decided he could never be as composed as you, as vulnerable and open as you. He could never offer to clean and dress your wounds - the thought of causing you pain of any sort, even helpful pain, was unbearable.

Besides that, he would be so angry that you were hurt at all and wouldn’t be able to keep his hands steady.

Nothing like the barely-contained rage of cis white men born in the 1960′s! (Or maybe I’m just projecting my father here....anyways.....)

At the very least, he would probably scare you with the intensity of his fury. Anyone who ever laid a hand on you would be subject to a wrath comparable to that of God.

And Aaron’s mom is Catholic, so he would know.

I can’t wait to have more Mama Hotch! (For those of you who haven’t gotten to the reality check trilogy, I’ve named her Evelyn because a. it was popular when she was born and b. I needed Aaron’s mom to have a soft and elegant name)

There is not a moment where he takes your execution of this particular task for granted. He knows how difficult it is. He thinks, perhaps, that this is the bravest act of love he’s ever seen.

I love the way Aaron shows love. He’s adoring in kind of a different way, brave in a different way. There’s so much hiding beneath him if you know where and how to look. I don’t think people, either in the show or in the fandom or in general, really look critically at him that way.

But could you love him?

Love?

No.

Too old. Too broken. Too divorced. Too married to work. Too poor a father. Too many other things that make me wholly undeserving.

He couldn’t, wouldn’t, subject you to himself.

God I mean there is SO MUCH in him that internalizes EVERYTHING. He thinks everything is his fault and I just????? Ugh.

He’s satisfied loving you in silence. He’d done it for a while now, he realized, after his conversation with Haley.

It would have to be enough.

It would have to be enough to watch you carry on with your joyful, vibrant life.

It would have to be enough to watch your face light up for someone who loves you, who puts a ring on your finger and makes you happy.

It would have to be enough to spoil your children if and when you became a parent, to hold the title ‘Uncle Aaron’ instead of ‘Dad.’

I added this last bit as almost an afterthought, and it was the one everyone seemed to love the most. Looking back, it’s my favorite too.

It would have to be enough to know you would outlive him and die loved.

It would have to be enough.

You pick up your tools again, using three fingertips this time to tip his head to the side at the temple. He almost smiles.

Here, I think its the juxtaposition between the direction of his thoughts and their gentle touch that makes him smile. It’s not a happy one, but I think its one of acceptance. He’s in a place, in this moment, where he actually trusts that they’ll be there.

“What?”

He shakes his head the barest amount and raises his eyebrows. “Nothing.”

I think they would have told them, if there was some way to explain it. But there wasn’t.

With a roll of your still-watery eyes, you get back to work, folding and pressing the gauze to the wound with a light, even pressure. You try to ignore Aaron’s hiss as the smile dissolves off his face, replaced by restraint and pain.

Holding the pad in place with one hand, you take the tape, hanging the roll on your thumb while you pull with your other hand. You tape all around the perimeter of it, gently warming the adhesive against his skin.

“Alright. Almost done.”

You have him hold the end right under the wound while you stand to better get around him. Once, like a sash, around his shoulder and across his back and under his other arm, once around his ribs, repeat.

Again, you tear and tuck it in front so he can reach, and gently pat it into place.

When it’s low-profile enough to disappear under his shirt -

“Finished.”

You turn and gather everything into the little bin that lives under his bathroom counter before he can say anything. And this is their way of hiding from him. I purposefully focused in on Hotch’s inner monologue during this part, instead of Reader’s. We already know how they feel and how much they love him and yet deny it from here to next year. I thought it was much more interesting to examine Aaron’s acceptance of his feelings in this moment. He watches you, and you can feel his eyes at your back.

The first time you came to visit after he got home, he was worried you’d look at him differently, was worried you’d pity him.

This was originally up where the first mention of pity is, but I needed that inner moment with Aaron before I went back to a recollection.

He shouldn’t have.

You showed up at the door looking at him just the same way you always did. He wasn’t sure quite what way that was, exactly, but it was the same.

The first time you offered to help him with his dressings, he refused outright. It was only when you saw that a wound on his left side had ripped a little and bled through his shirt that you wrestled him down and took care of it.

Harder still than exposing his pain? Taking off his shirt. You’d reached for the top button the first time and he flinched like he’d been burned.

He refused to meet your eyes.

This little memory was SUCH a clear image in my head - it was such a struggle to figure out where and how to include it. I was happy that I found a way to do it in a way that wasn’t jarring and didn’t detract.

“What on earth are you so afraid of?”

He opened his mouth as if he was going to raise his voice at you, but then snapped it shut, his jaw working. His eyes were trained on the carpet.

“Hey.”

He looked at you somewhat reluctantly.

“It’s just me.”

I know, he thought, that’s the problem.

“This,” you gesture to his general torso area, “is not going to scare me or freak me out. What does freak me out, however -” You point at him with a packet of sterile gauze. “- is the thought of you trying to do this on your own, ripping your stitches, you not going back to the hospital, getting infected, going septic, and having a generally bad time.”

He finally speaks, the barest bit of sarcasm in his tone. “That’s quite a reach, isn’t it?”

You shoot him a withering look. “If you can look me in the eye and tell me you’d willingly go back to get your stitches fixed every time you ripped them, I’ll leave you alone.”

He won't meet your eyes again, looking like a guilty child as his eyes wander to the corner of the room with a bit of a squint.

You made your point rather elegantly.

You pass him his shirt over your shoulder and he takes it, slipping his arms into the sleeves.

BECAUSE IT’S NORMAL. Reader simply doesn’t acknowledge his vulnerability because they don’t need to. They just accept it in him and make it safe.

His ridiculous number of button ups were coming in handy, especially considering the increased risk of stains. You’ve soaked more shirts in peroxide in the last week than you care to count.

Occupational hazard, I guess.

Getting blood out of dress shirts is an ART and Reader has MASTERED it.

You pick up the little bin and take it back into the bathroom, your fingers tracing over the framed photos of Haley and Jack in the hall as you pass.

There’s one of you and Haley, too, at some sort of summer function where you were all together. If you aren’t mistaken, Jess took the photo as you and Haley lounged in lawn chairs, laughing.

I love these little scenes that are captured in pictures. Most of the pictures I write in are not only for implicit characterization, but to capture little images and scenes I can’t find context for, or aren’t something I can put into a fic in any kind of neat and orderly way.

So, just like in my head, they live in still or just-moving-a-little images.

Another one of the two of you sits on the dresser in Aaron’s bedroom. You’ve never seen it.

It’s another Jess-capture. Haley has Jack in her arms, kissing him on one cheek with a smile while you press a kiss to the other, eyes shut tight. One of your hands rests lightly on Haley’s arm, the other makes bunny ears over Jack’s head. The boy’s face is all crinkled like he hates it, but Aaron knows that photo was bookended by a screech of laughter and many, many giggles.

It’s times like this where I wish I could draw Reader, so I could take this and paint it. I still might try with a vague impression of them....But I’m not sure.

+++

You bounce into the office in the morning, looking no worse for wear even after spending the night on Aaron’s couch.

Hey, it’s a comfortable couch.

The pair of you stayed out on the couch watching bad movies far later than you meant to, but it’s alright.

I just LOVE this image.

Not the first time that’s happened.

You could neither confirm nor deny that Aaron slept, but you saw, through his open bedroom door, that he was still and quiet for most of the night.

The open door was an important detail here. Naturally, Aaron would want to close himself off to as much of a threat as possible, but I think he actually feels safer with the door open when Reader is there just outside of it, rather than the alternative.

“You look chipper this morning,” Penelope notes.

You shrug. “I slept well last night.”

“How’s Hotch?” Emily asks.

Oh, gals you have no idea how related those questions are.

That’s another mirror moment to mean it, by the way.

You make a little wavering noise. “About how you’d expect, but alright.”

It’s later in the day when Dave pulls you aside and thanks you, wrapping you in his arms.

You lean into him and you’re almost frustrated, but not surprised, when tears press at your eyes again. It seems you’re made of them, these days.

“We’re so lucky to have you.”

You shake your head, burrowing into his shoulder. “Other way around.”

He pulls back and kisses you on the cheek, patting your other one affectionately before offering his hand to you. “Agree to disagree?”

You roll your eyes and shake on it.

“Sure, Dave. Sure.”

This reminds me of that little scene in redamancy when Dave and Mom are talking about how much he deserves to have one of the babies named after him.

And thus concludes director’s commentary for enough!! I’m always happy to answer process questions if y’all have any!!

#ssaic-jareau #a joyful future #aimz tag #tali provides commentary #tali talks cm

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