#so much walking and standing still. we took the stairs whenever we could cos the escalators were so crowded | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

princessmisery666 · 2 years

Text

Samnesia - Chapter 3 - Girls' Night

Series Summary: Brooke is a calming distraction from the chaotic mess of Sam’s life. When a hunt keeps them separated for over a month, Sam returns to find she no longer remembers him. The need to find out what happened while he was gone sends Sam on a case that will change the course of his life. What he discovers along the way will change the way he looks at love.

Chapter Info

Summary:

Now: Sam and Dean try to narrow down the cause of Brooke’s memory loss.

Then: Sam and Brooke share their first kiss and get to know each other a little better.

W/C: 5.4k

Warnings: slow burn, fluff, angst.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Original Female Character (Brooke), OCs. Brief: Mary Winchester.

Extra special shoutout to: @slytherkins - this would not have been possible without her input, she deserves co-write credits.

Beta: @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: @talesmaniac89

Previous Chapter

Then

Sam pulled on his jacket as he hurried through the corridors of the bunker, propelled by thoughts of Brooke. It had been over a week since he had seen her, and he couldn’t wait to be near her again. Eager as he was, he couldn’t deny his nervousness. He had decided that whatever happened, he was going to kiss her. Properly this time, not on the cheek. A full-blown, make-her-knees-weak kiss. At least, that was the plan.

They had communicated almost constantly over the past week, texting and calling whenever they could. Sam was captivated by every chat and wanted to talk to her again as soon they bid each other good night.

They talked about everything under the sun, asking probing, curious questions about everything from religion to snack preferences. Sam had been as honest as he could be without endangering his secrets.

He learned so much about her, and the more he discovered, the more he wanted to know. Everything he learned about her only intensified his hunger for her, emotionally and physically. So he had promised himself that, despite any interruptions, he would make a move regardless of what happened that night.

That was, if he could escape the bunker and the inquisition Dean was sure to subject him to. Sam groaned silently, seeing Dean nursing a beer, feet up on the map table, watching something apparently hilarious on his laptop. Though Dean’s eyes never left the screen, Sam knew he’d been seen and wouldn’t be able to avoid him.

“Going to see your girlfriend?” Dean asked, still without lifting his eyes.

“I’m just going for a drive.”

Dean chuckled, looking up long enough to throw Sam a skeptical smile. “Dude, we just drove nine straight hours to get home.”

“I just want to get out for a while.” Sam’s shrug did nothing to placate Dean.

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, unconvinced. “So you’re not going to go see the reason you’ve been smiling at your phone all week?”

There was no way Sam could deny it. He had taken private calls, texted furtively like a high school kid, and walked around smiling seemingly without reason.

Sam decided he’d be better off not answering and walked away rather than stand there any longer and allow Dean to interrogate him. He didn’t want to lie, but he wasn’t ready to tell Dean about Brooke. He didn’t want to hear Dean’s you’re-playing-a-dangerous-game-Sammy speech. And in some small way, Sam wasn’t ready for Brooke to be anyone else’s but his own happy little secret.

“What’s her name?” Dean called after Sam as he ascended the stairs, jogging slightly faster with each step.

“Don’t wait up,” Sam shouted back.

“I think I’ve met her,” chuckled Dean, “she’s trouble.”

Emily, Cara, and Nikki had been Brooke’s best friends since first grade. The foursome had been inseparable and remained close even when they all went off to separate colleges. Nikki and Cara married each other a year after graduating. Emily and Brooke served as both maids of honor and best women for the couple.

Work commitments, families, and just being fully functioning adults took up a lot of their time, but they all made an effort to get together at least once a month. Tonight was Brooke’s turn to host. A mild summer's evening meant the friends could sit comfortably on the back patio as the evening turned to night. They consumed too many burgers and hotdogs, barely touched the salad, drank too much wine, and laughed louder and harder than they had for a long while.

Brooke loved nights like this; cherished them because it was rare in their busy lives that they got to spend time together. She giggled along with her three closest girlfriends at Emily’s latest hookup story. She’d literally fallen asleep partway through sex.

“I think he was more embarrassed than me,” Emilly chuckled, her cheeks a deep red.

“Maybe next time, lay off the white wine. You know it makes you sleepy,” Nikki suggested.

The melody of the doorbell chimed through the house, cutting off Emily’s snarky response. “Who the hell is at your door after ten on a Friday night?” Cara asked Brooke, her perfectly sculpted brows cocked suspiciously.

“It’s probably Old Man Simms,” Brooke guessed, rising to her feet, “asking us to keep the noise down.” She took the last sip of her wine and motioned for Emily to refill her glass before entering the house. Through the frosted glass of her front door, she could see the unmistakable silhouette of Sam’s large frame.

“Oh crap,” she muttered. She paused in the kitchen and checked her distorted reflection in the gloss-black sheen of her refrigerator. Her cheeks were a little flushed from the alcohol, but there was no ketchup on her shirt or food in her teeth.

She pulled open the door, an almost giddy smile on her lips.

Sam wore a similar grin. “Hey.” Laughter from the backyard filtered through before Brooke could offer a greeting of her own. His smile faltered, and his gaze followed the direction of the noise. “Ah, you’ve got company.”

“I do.” Brooke wrinkled her nose apologetically. She stepped out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her. “It’s our monthly girls’ night. I thought you were the strippers.”

Sam lifted a brow. “Oh, it’s that kind of girls' night?”

She smirked. “I wouldn’t put it past Emily to actually hire strippers.” She laughed with him, but she’d only been half joking. Brooke looked up at Sam from under her lashes with a mischievous grin. “Although, I’m sure they’d pay you a pretty penny to get naked.”

Sam’s shoulders shook with laughter. “And what about you?”

Brooke liked the confidence Sam seemed to gain as time passed, and they became more comfortable with one another. He flirted more and grew bolder. She liked how she was around him, too, the person she could be, completely herself. She could shamelessly flirt and was never afraid to say something embarrassing. Sam wasn’t the type to judge or tease her unkindly.

She took a step closer to him and used the buttons of his shirt as stepping stones to walk her fingers up his chest. “Something tells me I could see it for free.”

Sam dipped down at the same time Brooke rose to her tiptoes. They inched closer. He went left; she went right. She inhaled his aroma: coconut shampoo and peppermint gum he must have been chewing on the drive over. She closed her eyes, eager to finally feel his lips against hers. Sam’s large hands encased her hips and drew her into him…

The door burst open behind them with a whoosh of air, and all three women sang a triumphant, “BUSTED!”

Sam and Brooke were startled but didn’t separate much. With her hands still resting on his chest and his on her hips, Brooke giggled as she walked him backward, whispering loudly, “Run, Sam! Run! Save yourself!”

He chuckled, leaning around her to address their audience. “Hi, ladies.” He waved awkwardly at the women crowding the doorway to get a better look at him.

“He does not look like Old Man Simms,” Emily teased, strolling to stand beside Brooke.

“Ladies, Sam. Sam, meet Emily, Cara, and Nikki,” she told him, pointing at each woman in turn.

“Key Thief Emily?” Sam asked, shaking her outstretched hand.

“The one and only,” Emily grinned. “So, you know about me, so why don’t I know about you?”

Brooke noticed the slight hurt in Sam’s eyes and the knit of his brow. He recovered quickly, cleared his throat, and flashed a dazzling smile.

“There’s not much to know,” he shrugged. “We haven’t known each other long.”

“Oh, there must be something,” Emilly disagreed, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes roamed his body.

Brook sighed heavily and rolled her eyes at Emily’s flirting. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t mentioned Sam to them yet. It wasn’t as if she sounded the alarm every time she went on a date with someone new, but she already knew Sam was different. He made her happy. She often found herself smiling whenever she thought about him. Her stomach fluttered excitedly whenever his name popped up on her phone. He seemed too good to be true, almost like a fairy tale prince, and telling her friends about him would have plucked him out of the storybook and dropped him into the real world. Maybe he’d lose his magic here. Maybe she’d realize she’d been dreaming. She hadn't been ready to wake up just yet.

“He’s not a secret or anything. I was just- ”

Emily interrupted her, eyes still locked on Sam. “Keeping you all to herself... and I can see why.” She ran her gaze hungrily up and down Sam’s body, and he awkwardly pulled his hand from her grasp. “So,” Emily said, turning so she could see them both, “is this just a booty call?”

“Oh my god, Emily!” Brooke groaned. She’d heard enough. Emily and her shameless flirting were done. Emily knew Brooke wasn’t the booty-call type. Sometimes she wished she was, but being with someone on a purely physical level had never appealed to her. She didn’t like that Emily’s question could make Sam believe otherwise.

“Brooke, don’t tell me you haven’t got all up on that because if you won’t,” said Emily, stepping closer to him, “I most certainly will.”

Brooke laughed and mouthed a silent ‘sorry’ to Sam, who looked past Emily to her as if pleading for help.

“Y’know, I’ve been telling her for months that she needs to get under someone to get over Chris.”

“Emily!” chastised Nikki.

“And you’re done,” said Brooke, gently clasping Emily’s shoulders to guide her back up the step and toward the house. Nikki took over, escorting the overzealous woman back inside.

“We’ll give you two a minute,” she assured Brooke with a not so subtle wink.

Cara eyed Sam appreciatively, making no move to follow her wife and friend back inside.

“Cara, honey,” Nikki coaxed.

Cara held her hand up for a high-five from Brooke, an obvious gesture of approval. “I’m proud of you.” Brooke chuckled bashfully but obliged her friend, slapping her hand loudly. “You go, girl!” Cara called over her shoulder before disappearing into the house.

Sam waited for the door to be closed before he released a long breath. “I should let you get back,” he said when Brooke’s apologetic eyes found his again, “before they come back to interrogate me.”

Brooke agreed with a fond chuckle. “They really will.”

“Goodnight, Brooke,” he said softly as he backed away.

“‘Night, Sam.”

He gave her his megawatt smile and turned his back to her to walk to his car. Her brow furrowed as she watched him go. His stride wasn’t as sure as it usually was, and his head hung down a little lower. Maybe the disappointment of not finding her alone, the almost kiss, or the fact that she’d been keeping him from her friends had hurt him. She couldn’t be sure, but whatever the reason, she didn't like to see him that way. Sam had never had a cocky strut, but he’d always carried himself confidently.

Perhaps it was the fault of too much wine, being so close to kissing him moments earlier or seeing his almost dejected amble, but Brooke found her feet carrying her forward before she realized it.

As her wine-soaked brain finally caught up with the steps that carried her rapidly down the path after Sam, a smile crept to her lips; then lust and passion drove her forward.

Sam spun around at the sound of his name. Reading her intentions correctly, Sam planted his feet a second before she pushed off the ground and leaped into his arms. Her mouth found his as her legs wrapped around him, and he used a firm grip under her thighs to hoist her up so she could lock them tightly around his waist. Her hands tangled in his hair, and she pulled back to look at him.

Sam didn’t allow her to stare for long before he dove back in to kiss her again. Brooke felt his initial shock dissipate as he released a satisfied sigh into her mouth. She teased his mouth open with her tongue against his bottom lip, desperate to taste him. She moaned when he parted his lips for her, and their tongues found an eager rhythm. His lips were plush and soft, his tongue firm, and it danced with hers slowly and sensually.

Too caught up in the taste of him, it wasn’t until his hands squeezed her curves that she realized that they cupped her ass, helping to hold her in place but also taking advantage of the necessary placement. The sensation evoked another moan from her.

Air became an issue, and she prepared to pull away, but Sam must not have been ready for it to end because he ran a hand up her back, his long fingers finding the nape of her neck to hold her against him for a moment longer. When they eventually parted, they were gasping for breath. She kept her eyes closed, savoring the moment, committing the sensations to memory. When she opened them, Sam’s lust-blown pupils held her gaze. The emotion he clearly felt had made the pretty hazel of his irises all but disappear.

He exhaled slowly. “Wow.”

Breathlessly, she agreed, “I meet your wow and raise you a holy shit.”

Muffled hooting and hollering could be heard from the house, and they laughed.

“They’re all in the window, right?”

Sam reluctantly pulled his eyes from Brooke, and she turned her head to check her own suspicion. Sure enough, the three women stood in the large bay window of Brooke’s living room. Their thumbs up, clapping, and excited little dances made them both chuckle. She shooed them away with a wave of her hand as she untangled herself from Sam, and he helped lower her to the ground. His hands slipped from her butt to her hips to steady her. When her attention returned to him, he guided her into him and dipped to claim her kiss-swollen lips once again.

She grinned against his mouth before she broke the connection and began walking backward. “Night, Sam,” she winked as she turned.

“Really?” he scoffed in disbelief. “You’re going to kiss me like that, and then it’s just ‘Night, Sam’?”

“Yeah,” she called back without stopping. The smirk she wore was more than apparent in her tone. “I have to go tell my girls about this tall, handsome man I met who just so happens to be an incredible kisser.”

“Old Man Simms, really that good a kisser? Should I be jealous?”

“Immensely,” she laughed, twisting to look when she reached the top of the porch steps. “If you see him around here, let him know I’m free for breakfast tomorrow.”

“I’ll be sure to pass the message on.”

She bit her lip to stifle a grin. “Night, Sam.”

“Sweet dreams, Brooke.”

Sam couldn’t wipe the grin from his face the whole drive home. He hadn’t even bothered to try. He had been disappointed to find she had company and that it meant he couldn’t spend the night with his head in her lap while she stroked his hair - which could have led to so much more - but that kiss had unquestionably made up for it.

He had been disheartened to learn Brooke hadn’t told her friends about him. Had their dates not been worth mentioning? Was she not as into him as he was into her? It stung more than he liked. Maybe Brooke hadn’t spoken about him because of his sporadic visits. He’d had to cancel plans with her twice that week and had given her less than twenty-four hours notice each time. He hadn’t wanted to, but duty called.

Granted, he hadn’t told anyone about Brooke, either. Keeping Brooke a secret was to delay the inevitable. Dean, and maybe Mary, would more than likely try to talk him into ending it with her. Dean would be the voice of reason, the one to make Sam see sense, to make him understand what he already knew deep down: that what he was doing was dangerous, playing a game they rarely got to win.

But that kiss…

After that kiss, he wouldn’t stop seeing her. Couldn’t. Already yearning to do it again, he would have driven back over there in a heartbeat if she were to call and ask him to.

Striding happily into the bunker, the knowing smiles of the war room occupants went unnoticed. His attention was focused on writing Brooke a text, his smile wide and boyish.

Sam: I didn’t see the old man. Sorry. I’ll have to take you to breakfast instead. x

Brooke: I’m disappointed, but I guess you’ll do. X

He chuckled at her response, jogging happily down the stairs. The joyful spring in his step faltered when he noticed Mary and Dean gazing expectantly at him.

“Your boyfriend not home?” joked Dean.

Sam tried to wipe the jubilant grin from his lips but was unable to do so. The sight of Brooke leaping into his arms replayed in his mind, and his mouth responded by twitching up and down a couple of times as he tried to suppress the smile. Once he realized it was a losing battle, he let it stay and opted to tell Dean, “Shut up.” A heated blush crept to his cheeks, and he lied, “I told you I was just going for a drive.”

“Yeah, but these ‘drives’ you keep going on are normally a lot longer than just an hour or two.” Mary pointed out, grinning at her youngest son.

“What happened to ‘don’t wait up’?” Dean aimed his shit-eating grin at Sam. “You strike out?”

Sam had known they would question him about his absences sooner rather than later. Dean had held back from teasing him for far too long already.

Neither Dean nor Mary was dumb enough to believe Sam was merely enjoying late-night ‘drives’, but they must have understood it was something he wasn’t ready to tell them. Or else, they wanted to give him time to enjoy whatever it was for as long as he could. The curiosity must have been eating them up, though.

“Leave him alone, Dean,” Mary reprimanded lightly. “Let him be happy.”

Sam smiled thankfully at her, taking a seat to join them at the map table. Mary twisted the cap off a beer. As she offered it to him, she pointed toward the side of her mouth, “You’ve got a little lipstick...”

Sam’s face fell with embarrassment, and he wiped at his lips. Mary and Dean burst into fits of laughter.

“I KNEW IT!” Dean yelled, pointing an accusing finger at his brother.

Sam shook his head at himself. How could he fall for something so simple? He knew Brooke hadn’t been wearing lipstick when she kissed him. He stood abruptly, told them good night, and started retreating.

Dean was still chuckling when he called after Sam. “What’s her name?”

“None of your business!” Sam yelled over his shoulder, leaving his laughing family in the war room.

Now

Brooke covered her mouth to stifle a yawn as she readjusted her butt on the wooden seat. The library chairs weren’t the comfiest. She had been so lost in the timbre of Sam’s voice as he recounted asking for her number and their first kiss, so wrapped up in his storytelling and how much emotion shone in his eyes, that she barely moved a muscle for fear of disrupting his flow or inadvertently doing something that caused his adorably shy, dimpled grin to disappear.

She swirled the remaining whiskey in the tumbler before knocking it back and giving Sam a tight smile. Tears swam in her eyes, and she was unsure if the burning liquor or something he’d said had caused them.

Sam seemed to wonder the same and hastily apologized. “Brooke, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” she assured him, tipping her head back to blink the tears away. She took a deep breath to compose herself and steadied her voice before she looked back at him. “It just... it’s all a little overwhelming. It seems like we had fun, but it’s all still kind of hard to believe. They’re amazing stories, but they aren’t my memories. I wish I didn’t have to sit here not knowing for sure whether you aren’t just good at making up fairy tales. I wish I could remember you. Us.”

“You will,” he promised, his arm extending toward her out of habit.

She watched his hand, and panic widened her eyes. She didn’t fear him anymore, but she wasn’t ready for him to touch her. He was still, after all, a stranger. She didn’t know him, not in the way he knew her.

Sam seemed to understand her reaction, and he stopped his advance, his hand hovering above hers. He stared at it as if he hated his own hesitation to touch her, even in the casual, comforting way it was probably intended, but he must have known she felt it would be crossing a line she wasn’t ready to have crossed yet.

He withdrew his hand to his lap and spoke to his fidgeting fingers. “I promise you, Brooke, I’m going to make this right,” he told her with a resolute nod. “I’m going to fix it because I don’t know how long I can go without-”

He broke off and looked away. She waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she prompted, “How long you can go without what, Sam?”

He shot her a tight-lipped smile. “It’s late. Or early, I guess. It’s been a really long day. I’ve bombarded you with information. We should get some rest,” he suggested, getting to his feet.

Brooke followed him as he walked out of the library toward the bedrooms without a word. He seemed to take measured steps to avoid getting too far ahead of her, or maybe he wanted to spend those extra few moments with her. Regardless, it allowed Brooke to focus on the side of his face she could see.

He seemed in such pain. To hear Sam tell it, they’d been happy, in the ‘honeymoon’ period of a new relationship, the fun stages of getting to know each other. To have that taken from him without explanation, he must have been confused and hurt, even without the added pressure of trying to fix it.

Brooke held a deep breath as she reached out and cautiously slipped her hand into his. Sam froze, keeping his eyes on the floor, and waited for her fingers to delicately hook around his. She sighed, somewhat relieved when he showed no sign of resistance and tugged to coax him to turn to her. He twisted to face her but hesitated to bring his eyes to hers.

“I guess this is what you meant, right?” she asked, holding out her other hand, requesting his. “You don’t know how long you can go without touching me?”

He watched as she wove her fingers with his. Her smaller, softer hand was a contrast to his large calloused one, but somehow they just seemed to fit. Her stomach fluttered, and she had a strange sense of familiarity.

Sam found the courage to meet her eyes, and she wore a small, encouraging smile for him. “Yeah,” he admitted, “that’s what I meant.” The admission proved too much, and he dropped his eyes again. “You don’t know how hard it is for me to have you right here and not be able to touch you, even just to comfort you.”

“Can this be enough for now?”

He brought their interlaced hands to his lips and kissed the back of hers lightly. “It’s enough. For as long as you need it to be.”

Her smile widened in gratitude. Hope ignited his eyes, and she figured even if he couldn’t fix whatever made her forget him, she’d probably end up falling for him all over again.

The urge to kiss him overwhelmed her, so she reluctantly pulled her gaze from his and let him lead her by the hand to the bedroom across from his.

“I’m right in here if you need anything.”

Now

Brooke slept better than expected. The stress of the day and the whiskey with Sam caused her eyes to close as soon as her head hit the pillow. She woke just after ten thirty. She’d have rolled over and gone back to sleep if she hadn’t felt guilty. After all, she hadn’t gotten to bed until after six, but it was a Thursday. She should have been two hours into the day's work by now. She didn’t, however, feel guilty about missing her five a.m. morning run. She was sure the stress she’d endured in the last twelve hours had burned just as many calories, if not more.

She dressed in the same clothes from yesterday and made a mental note to ask Sam if she could go back to her place and grab some stuff as she made her way to the kitchen seeking coffee.

Her phone's text tone immediately chimed when she turned it on as she slid onto a stool at the kitchen table. She had sixteen messages and three voicemails from Tommy, two texts from her personal assistant, and three WhatsApp messages from her BFF group. She opted to read the ones from her friends first. Emily (who worked for Brooke as the Operations Manager) would have covered for her at work. Nikki, Cara, and Emily’s messages were all supportive - concerned but understanding her need to escape. She felt a pang of guilt for lying to her friends, but maybe she would be able to explain soon enough, if Sam kept his promise.

Tommy wasn’t so understanding. His messages got progressively angrier, asking where she was so he could join her, demanding she answer the phone.

Where are you?

Why is your phone off

tell me where you are I’ll come join you

you’re pissing me off, answer your phone

answer your fucking phone!

She stopped scrolling after reading the first six.

Dean entered, scrubbing his hands down his tired face. Brooke welcomed the distraction. “Morning,” she smiled brightly.

He grumbled something that resembled a greeting, and she laughed to herself, wondering if Sam was more of a morning person than his brother. The anticipation of seeing him made her stomach do a happy flip.

Dean’s butt had barely made contact with his seat before she asked, “Sam not up yet?”

He scoffed. “Please. That fitness freak is probably running his tenth mile.”

“He’s a runner?”

Dean sighed. “I forgot you don’t know him.” He gave her a small, sympathetic smile. “Yeah. Sam runs.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Every morning. Bit much, if you ask me.”

Brooke chuckled. “You're not a fan?”

“The only time this Winchester runs is if something is chasing him.”

Brooke laughed, but she felt like running back to her temporary bedroom and googling Sam Winchester. He’d been careful not to tell her his last name, and she hadn’t pried. Apparently, Dean hadn’t gotten that memo.

“You get chased often?” she asked, but the second the question left her lips, she knew she’d made Dean realize his own mistake. She had only meant that he must be chased often to be in such good shape, but that was not how Dean interpreted it. Being in his own environment and still half asleep, he had slipped up, and the realization was written all over his face.

“Look,” he began, setting his features into an unreadable mask, “if we’re gonna help you, then you should-”

Sam’s voice called for them from nearby, and Dean smiled tightly, almost as if he regretted his brother’s interruption. “In here!” he called back.

Sam grinned broadly when he saw Brooke and greeted them both, heaving a grocery bag onto the countertop.

“You went on a supply run already?” Dean asked. “I thought you’d be jogging with your woodland creature friends.”

Sam ignored the latter part of his comment, unpacked the loot from his early morning trip, and explained to Brooke rather than Dean, “I went to the grocery store. Thought you’d want your favorites.” He held up a jar of Brooke’s preferred coffee, and she smiled her thanks. “And I, um...I went by your place. Figured you’d be more comfortable in your own clothes.”

Brooke was taken aback. It was a sweet gesture, she’d had the same thought, but it also seemed like an invasion of her privacy. He’d gone through her things, no doubt her underwear drawer. He may already have seen most of its contents, but the thought made her a little angry. He didn’t have the right nor the permission.

She sighed heavily. She couldn’t keep going around in circles. She’d agreed to stay for four days to give Sam time to fix whatever he thought was wrong. She had never been one to do things by halves, so she needed to fully commit to it, embrace the doubts but push past them.

“Um, thanks,” she grinned as genuinely as she could muster. “I guess I can use it as a test to see how well you know me.”

Sam chuckled, and his returning grin made it easier to find the sincerity in her own. “I grabbed the essentials and all your favorites: gray Nike sweats, purple hoodie, white sneakers, and your work laptop. I know the guilt of taking a day off is probably eating you up.”

Brooke laughed authentically -- he does know me, after all -- and her ears pricked up at the mention of her computer. She could work remotely, ease some of her guilt, and google the man she couldn’t stop smiling at.

“I left it all in the library. Feel free to go change or hop on your computer. I’ll bring you some breakfast.”

Now

Sam brought Brooke a plate of food, and the two of them sat quietly in the library. While she ate and caught up on emails, he stared into his own laptop, occasionally lifting his eyes to her. He’d already started working on the mystery surrounding Brooke’s amnesia. His mind was filled with weather reports and her social media feed, and he almost didn’t notice Dean setting a fresh cup of coffee in front of him.

Dean’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He dropped a steaming mug in front of Brooke and took a seat across from her, kicking his boots up onto the table.

“So...” He cleared his throat, giving Sam a look. “I think it’d be best if Sam and I get a full rundown of everything you remember so we can start filling in the gaps.”

Brooke nodded and closed her laptop, and Sam gave her a tense smile. “Have you been anywhere new?”

She shook her head. “Other than here, no.”

“Meet anyone new?” Dean chimed in. “Someone that maybe offered you something that seemed kind of weird, and you just brushed it off as them being quirky?”

She eyed him suspiciously, “You mean like to grant me three wishes?”

“Not exactly,” Dean shrugged, “but something similar.”

“No.”

“Have you noticed any weird smells or powders?” Sam asked quickly after. “Found any small bags lying around? Any electrical interferences like flickering lights?”

“...No,” she said carefully, giving them both a sideways look, and Sam worried he might have lost some ground in gaining her trust. She seemed to be rethinking her decision to stay.

“I…need to make a couple of calls,” she said, excusing herself from the table.

Sam winced as she passed. Those questions almost always elicited the same mixture of confusion and reservation, but there wasn’t really a better way to put them. Sam watched her walk away and waited until she’d disappeared around the corner before turning to Dean. “Well, that rules out a few things.”

“Did you check out her place while you were out sniffing her panties?”

Sam shook his head at his brother, but not in answer to his question. “I did a quick search, EMF, sulfur, hex bags. Came up empty. I tried calling Rowena, but she didn’t answer, so I left a message. If it’s a spell, she’ll know how to fix it.”

“I tried Cas while you were making googly eyes at your girlfriend over breakfast, but he didn't answer, either.”

Sam nodded. It was a small step in the right direction, at least. He just hoped that one of them would return their calls soon.

Chapter 4 - Expectations

Series tag list is open.

Master Lists: Samnesia // All The Fandoms

#Samnesia #supernatural #sam winchester #spn #dean winchester #Sam Winchester fluff #Sam Winchester angst #first kiss #case fic #supernatural case fic #sam winchester x ofc #sam winchester x original female character

43 notes · View notes

castthy-nightedcolour · 3 years

Text

One- Shot: The Seaside Dream (written as part of my series ‘don’t worry about a thing’ on AO3, link can be found at the bottom of the post as it won’t let me embed it)

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: GN Reader, Aziraphale, Crowley

Warnings and Tags: depression, skipping meals, dynamic duo, here come the boysssss, soft crowley

Summary: you don’t show up for wine with crowley and aziraphale, and the two hurry to your apartment to see what’s going on

Word Count: 2281

Link to original: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31055930/chapters/83889112

‘Crowley, please hurry!’

The pained cry of the angel came from the top of the flight of stairs in your apartment block, echoing off the concrete walls. This mixed with the reverberant sigh of Crowley, and the ever- so- slow tread of his footsteps.

‘CROWLEY. This is important! Do you not care?’

The demon stopped dead in his tracks, planting his feet at the bottom of the set of stairs that the out of breath Aziraphale stood at the top of.

Crowley was not at all happy with the angel’s question.

‘Do I not what? Care? Oh Angel, you’re asking to be pushed down these stairs,’ he responded, almost growling under his breath. In any other circumstance, this might have actually pleased Aziraphale, however this time, he was actually terrified.

The scenario had started with what Aziraphale called ‘a dreadfully funny feeling.’

Since Armageddon was narrowly avoided, the angel and the demon had found themselves at somewhat of a loose end on Earth, enjoying their free time together but still constantly striving for some higher purpose.

That’s where you came in. Little did you know that a walk into a lovely little bookshop called A.Z Fell & Co. one day to search for an overpriced illustrated copy of your favourite book would lead to drinking a couple of bottles of wine with the owner and his companion for seven hours straight, and that this would become a weekly tradition. You just clicked with the pair, you found them magnetising and, well, you were a fascinating human to the angel and the demon, so they quickly grew fond of you.

The two supernatural beings then decided that their purpose would be caring. Caring for you.

Not in a suffocating way though, at least that was never the intention. Between the two of them, Crowley and Aziraphale decided from the get go that they would just be there for you as a friend, with little extras added on top like going out and buying your shopping for you whenever there was a thunderstorm, or baking you enough cake to feed the 5000. But, the pair’s talents in observance and intuition slowly made them realise that something was always just slightly off with you.

To them, it seemed like there was always something hidden behind a wall in your head, like a pretence that you constantly held up. Granted, part of their realisation came when in one of your drinking sessions at the bookshop, you let slip that you hadn’t eaten a proper meal for two days and they both nearly hit the roof. They asked you why, and kept asking why (Aziraphale in particular was extremely persistent) but you brushed it off- you always brushed it off.

‘No no, it’s nothing to be worried about, I promise! I’ve just been so busy, y’know? It’s nothing, please Aziraphale, you can sit down. Don’t you worry about me.’

Now, Crowley could sense a lie from a mile off considering he was the lord of them, and Aziraphale could feel that your inner emotions were about as steady as a mongoose riding a pedal bike, and they therefore deduced that they should in fact worry about you.

And so the slightly incompetent suffocation began.

This was definitely mainly from Aziraphale, as his senses for detecting emotional suffering and hurt were a lot stronger than Crowley’s- this was just down to how long he’d been pulling angelic manoeuvres. Crowley was a lot less practised however when he felt that something was off, he really did feel that something was off. This however meant that wherever in London you were, Aziraphale would realise that something was wrong, no matter how small the inconvenience.

Notable occasions included when the tubes on the Central Line were running one minute late and Aziraphale unsuccessfully attempted to miracle another train up, causing even more delay and destruction, when the bottom of your shoe fell off in a puddle and Aziraphale got so upset that he cried for an hour, (to be fair, he’d had a long day; someone had tried to buy a book from the shop which had displeased him greatly) and when a seagull crapped on your shoulder while you were sitting outside a bar at Canary Wharf and the angel managed to manifest a fluke bolt of lightning which struck the seagull down right into your food.

And all this from the comfort of his own home.

Crowley had tried to tell the angel that not every inconvenience could be sorted out, that the pair needed to pick their battles with the perils of the human life.

‘Yes yes, I understand. I’ll stop, I promise. We’ll stick to the original plan. Now have you seen my banana bread recipe? I think they could do with a pep up.’

This lasted for 22 hours.

You hadn’t shown up to the bookshop like you did every week.

‘Oh Angel do stop pacing, they have a life of their own you know,’ Crowley nagged, holding a bottle of red wine in one hand as he stood in the doorway between the main shop and the back room.

‘Something is wrong, Crowley. I have a dreadfully funny feeling,’ Aziraphale insisted, wringing his hands and pacing at twice the average speed of an angel.

‘Right, yes, okay but the problem is, you’ve said that every night for two weeks and it hasn’t been true once.’

‘You can’t sense it like I can.’ The angel stormed towards the coat stand, reaching for his coat.

‘Oh no no no, we agreed, no suffocation. Put that down, you’re not going anywhere,’ the demon asserted.

‘Oh yes we are. Put that wine in the back, you’re driving.’

Crowley had rarely heard Aziraphale’s voice like this before, low and extremely demanding. There wasn’t any way he was getting out of this, the angel was on a mission.

And so, Crowley drove the angel to your apartment block and the two of them ended up in the stairwell facing off with each other. Too highly strung for their own good.

‘What if this is the one time that I’m right? You’re here getting all… demonic on the stairs and-‘

‘I will get demonic, Aziraphale. I am in fact a demon, plus if this is the one time that you’re right then you’re holding both us back by squabbling. Move out of the way.’

Crowley marched up the stairs stony faced, swooping straight past Aziraphale to your front door.

He did care. He really did. He just didn’t like to show it around Aziraphale because he always felt inferior in they way that he cared compared to the angel. He didn’t have those massively intuitive senses, his baking skills weren’t up to scratch, he felt held back by control. But something in the demonic form burned when he thought of the idea that you were hurting- and that burning was made more painful by Aziraphale’s suggestion that he didn’t care.

He snapped his fingers at your door, and it violently swung open, hitting against the wall of the hallway as it did. He stormed inside, barely letting Aziraphale follow behind before he snapped his fingers again to close it. Darkness and silence fell over the hallway as the angel and the demon stood completely still, their anxious breathing slowly filling the space.

They could both easily sense one important thing- you were present in the apartment, you were safe within the four walls. There was a collective sigh of relief.

‘Told you,’ Crowley sneered under his breath, trying to hide his still present anxiety. As much as he could feel your presence, he was struggling with any of the finer details, your emotional state or your exact whereabouts.

‘Don’t be like that. I was only trying to help,’ Aziraphale whimpered, taking a small step forwards. Unlike Crowley, he could just about tell that you were somewhere in the general direction of your bedroom. The angel clicked his fingers and uttered a small ‘let there be light’, allowing the hallway to be illuminated by a faint white glow. There was no other light coming from anywhere due to a distinct lack of windows in the architecture of this building, the only three were in your living room, your bedroom and your kitchen and even then, you’d shut all of the curtains and all of the doors in the place.

The angel padded further down the hallway, leaving Crowley to look at the prints on your walls like an awkward cousin at a party. By the time Aziraphale had reached your bedroom door, Crowley had moved onto examining the items on the coffee table that was slightly further down the hall. There wasn’t a lot to examine, a couple of books, your keys, an Alexa that you’d turned the microphone off on. The one thing that caught Crowley’s eye was a small painting of a seaside town just laying down on the table. It wasn’t anywhere near being finished and much to Crowley’s dismay, it was crumpled up. He assumed two scenarios from this, either someone had given you an unfinished painting and you felt so strongly about it that you took to crumpling it up, or this was in fact your handy work that had been partially destroyed.

‘Crowley, what now?’ Aziraphale whispered from the end of the corridor, bringing Crowley’s gaze up from the table and back to reality.

‘Uhhh, don’t scare them. Don’t just burst in,’ the demon responded, moving down to meet Aziraphale by the bedroom.

‘I wasn’t planning on doing that! I just mean, do I knock? Just go in? Announce our arrival?’

Crowley rested his hand lightly on your bedroom door, looking quizzically at Aziraphale who was jumping through every possible scenario in his head. The demon sighed.

‘Just, shush. Okay, let’s just be quiet. Follow me, angel.’

Crowley very slowly pushed your bedroom door open, being greeted with yet more darkness from inside as he did so. Aziraphale hung over his shoulder to try and look inside, with Crowley grunting slightly at this. Through the darkness, Crowley made out a shape in the bed.

You, curled into a ball and fast asleep. Your breathing was heavy, but not laboured, and the bedsheets rose and fell accordingly. You were as close to comatose as could possibly be, dead to the world but luckily, very much alive.

‘Aaah. Oh, look,’ whispered Aziraphale. Crowley glared slightly at the angel, but inside, his sentiments were very similar. The pair stared at your form resting in the darkness for a few seconds, relieved with every breath that you took. With anyone else? It would have been creepy.

But not with these two. It was a deep devotion and concern.

Aziraphale went to take a step forwards but Crowley stopped him in his tracks, stopping the angel from getting anywhere near you.

‘Don’t even think about waking them, look. They’re deep in dreamland,’ the demon hissed, meeting Aziraphale’s puppy eyes.

‘Oh please, I just wanted to check that they’re okay.’

‘Aziraphale, they’re very clearly shattered. I think that we’ve discovered that they’re definitely not okay, but interrupting their sleep won’t help anyone. Let’s just, y’know, help where we can.’

‘But their soul-‘

‘I know. We’ll help with that tomorrow. For today, they sleep.’

Aziraphale eventually backed off slightly, looking down while nodding in defeat. While his deep concern could only ever have come from a place of love, he realised that stepping back for a second could be beneficial to everyone. He started to head towards the kitchen to see if there was anything that he could help with in there, turning back round for a second to ask Crowley what he should do. Crowley however was no longer stood in your doorway, and was instead sat on the edge of your bed, resting his hand on your leg.

The angel went to protest in some jealousy for a moment, but the warm glow that filled up his heart because of the sight stopped him. He just smiled, and turned back.

—

Between the pair of them, you were treated to a clean kitchen, a full fridge, a massive fuzzy blanket for the bed and soft, warm light for each room.

But there was one final detail bugging Crowley.

As the pair crept down your hallway back to the front door, Crowley let out a soft whistle to his friend as he stopped beside the coffee table. The angel turned his head, looking at the objects scattered about the surface.

‘What’s this?’ He asked, strangely intrigued by the small speaker- like object.

‘It’s an Alexa, it’s like a - y’know what, doesn’t matter. That’s not what I need you for. Look at this.’ Crowley picked up the ruined painting that he’d spotted earlier, showing it to Aziraphale. The angel scanned over it.

‘Ooh, its Whitby, the place with Dracula!’ He half gasped half squealed, failing to see what his friend was seeing.

‘It’s fucked is what it is, angel. I think they’ve crumpled it up in frustration or something, which I’m not exactly thrilled with. I’m out of niceness for today, can you do something?’ Crowley sighed, thrusting the painting towards his friend slightly.

‘Oh, easily. Your wish is my command, dear.’

Aziraphale swiped his hand across the paper and watched as the creases disappeared and the smudges eased. The colours got just a little brighter, and the beauty of your half- finished painting was restored.

‘We’ll help them finish it tomorrow, yes Crowley?’ The angel continued. Crowley gave a small smile with all the good energy that he had left in his body.

‘Yes angel. That would be nice.’

#good omens #good omens one shot #good omens fanfic #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader

90 notes · View notes

heyyyharry · 3 years

Text

Deep End - Chapter 9: Closer

...in which Ezi has her first kiss.

Word count: 5.4k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: Please tell me what you think about the chapter! Reblog if you could :)

“Do you know why there’s a true love’s kiss and not a true love’s hug?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? I was asking you.”

Harry sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He had to keep his eyes on the road, but Ezi would keep distracting him with her shifting in her seat every two seconds and rambling on about silly topics he had no interest in. However, he’d promised to not be a dick whenever she talked to him, so he wouldn’t.

“Can’t you see that I’m driving?”

“So?” Ezi snorted. “Just answer the question.”

Harry sighed again. “I guess that’s because a kiss is more special than a hug...romantically.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Why not not? You’re just exchanging saliva.”

“It’s special if you’re exchanging saliva with someone you care about.”

Ezi still wasn’t satisfied with that explanation. “Okay, but what if the person won’t let you kiss them? How will you know if it’s true love?”

“If they don’t want to kiss you, it means they’re not interested, and therefore, it’s not true love,” Harry said. He couldn’t believe he was actually giving this some thought, but oh well, it was a long drive to the manor anyway. “For me at least,” he added, “true love must come from both sides.” Then he stole a glance at her and did a double-take. “Are you taking notes on your phone?”

Ezi flinched and put her phone into her bag right when she made eye contact with him. “No.”

“Liar. You were.”

“I’m learning to be human.”

“Just say you wanna kiss me.” Harry smirked. “We’re the only people here. This is a safe space.”

“It’s never a safe space when you’re in it,” Ezi said.

Harry’s eyebrows went high. “Excuse me? Yesterday you almost attacked a child for cutting the line in the supermarket.”

Ezi gave a firm nod without showing any remorse. “And the child would have deserved it. You, on the other hand, are deadly with your words.”

“How?!” cried Harry. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since we started fake dating.”

Ezi rolled her eyes and checked her watch. “Yeah, your new record of being nice to me is two hours. Congrats.”

Harry exhaled, his shoulders slumped. “Okay, I think we should go over what to do when we see my mum, because if we act like this in front of her--”

“Why are we seeing your mother again?”

“Didn’t Jeff tell you?”

Ezi shook her head. She seemed quite confused, so Harry guessed Jeff had forgotten. To be honest, Harry found it funny and a little concerning that she had no idea why she was in the car after having been in the car for two hours. Someone could just kidnap her one day, and she wouldn’t even realise until they told her it was a kidnap. Or, maybe she just trusted him not to drive her to a government lab and donate her organs to science.

“Well, Jeff wants some new PR content of you hanging out with my family,” he told her.

“Why?” she asked, face scrunched up.

He lifted his shoulders. “To humanise you.”

“Good luck with that,” Ezi scoffed, rested her elbow on the window on her side and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “It takes a lot to humanise me.”

“Well, not literally. Just in the public eye, because a lot of people suspect that this is a PR relationship. We’ve only been seen together as friends or co-workers.”

“That’s not true. We’re not even friends.”

“Exactly!” Harry exclaimed. “So if we can convince my mother that we’re dating, we can convince the whole world. Trust me.”

Harry didn’t even exaggerate it; his mother could detect a lie from miles away. He could count the number of times he’d got away with a lie to her on one hand. However, he had never lied to her about being in a relationship. So hopefully, she’d be too happy with the thought of him not being a player like his dad to tell the whole thing was fake.

And so for the rest of the drive, he and Ezi tried acting out scenarios for when they met his mother again. They broke out laughing most of the time because Harry would say something too cheesy or Ezi would use some lines she’d learned from those Netflix originals that Harry had rated one star. Now that they were standing on the steps of the manor, they had to keep it together. Because no one would shout ‘cut!’ if they messed up their lines. This was almost like going in for a blind audition, and Harry knew his mother would be the toughest judge to impress.

“Harold!”

“Niall?” Harry’s eyes went wide when his best friend shoved the butler aside and embraced Harry at the door. Mikasa, Niall’s girlfriend, was standing right behind him, wearing a dark green satin dress that fell loosely to her knees. She gave Harry a lopsided smile, her black curls bouncing on her shoulders as she approached.

Harry hadn’t talked to her for weeks, but he assumed she already knew about Ezi. Hopefully just as much as his mother did. Unless Niall had broken the bro code and told Mikasa everything.

“Mimi, long time no see!” Harry said as he went in for a hug.

Mikasa eyed him up and down with her big smokey eyes. He always imagined those eyes having a special power that enabled her to stare right into his soul and read him like an unsealed letter. She was a psychiatrist and always making her friends feel like they were having a regular session in her office.

“So this is your girlfriend?” Mikasa asked, smiling at Ezi.

Harry’s gaze jumped to Niall, who subtly locked his lips with an invisible key and tossed it over his shoulder. Niall knew about the PR relationship, but Harry could always trust Niall not to tell anyone, even Mikasa. Especially Mikasa.

“Darling, you made it!” exclaimed Harry’s mother as she descended the stairs. Harry was just going in for a hug when he saw who were following behind her. And he froze.

Dawson and evil Aunt Beatrice. Dawson was wearing a simple black suit, completely made invisible by his mother in the tackiest neon orange sundress Harry had ever seen. He could hear his stylish crying just from seeing this outfit.

“What are they doing here, Mum?” Harry quietly asked his mother as they hugged.

His mother kissed his cheek and whispered back, “Since you invited Niall and Mikasa, I thought I should invite Dawson and his mother.”

“How is that the same thing?”

“Harry!” Aunt Beatrice said in her glass-breaking voice as she pulled him in for a suffocating bear hug. “Ah, you grew up so fast! I hardly recognise you!”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks, Aunt Beatrice.”

“I know, right? Kids these days.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Harry,” Harry’s mother reminded him, so Harry took a deep breath and went to stand beside Ezi. She looked at him like a deer in front of headlights. This couldn’t be good. His family must be overwhelming for her.

“Hey, Ezili!” Dawson waved at her with a smile, and suddenly, her face brightened, and she enthusiastically waved back. Traitorous little fish, Harry thought as he watched the two greet one another.

“Congratulations, you two,” Dawson said.

Ezi opened her mouth to reply when Harry threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her back to his side. He gave Dawson the best grin he could fake. “Thanks,” was all he said.

“Picture, everyone!” Niall interrupted the awkward interaction and pulled out his phone.

Everyone gathered together, and Niall winked at Harry. “Now, Mother Styles, could you stand closer to Ezili? Closer! Thanks. There we go. Looks like Ezili’s a part of the family.”

Once the picture was taken, he nudged Harry with his shoulder. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Harry patted him on the back. “Send it to Jeff for me.”

“Boys, are you coming?” asked Mikasa, who was walking ahead, holding Ezi’s hand.

“Coming, lovebug!” Niall shouted at her and told Harry. “See? She likes Ezili.”

“So what do you do for a living?” was the first question Harry’s mother asked Ezili when they sat down at the lunch table. They were eating in a glass house in the flower garden by the lake. There were people dressed in uniforms serving them tea and appetizers, and Ezili felt like she was Alice having tea with the Queen of Hearts and her courtiers in Wonderland.

“I work at a bookstore,” she said when one of the maids filled her cup with Jasmine tea.

She didn’t understand Harry’s mother’s appalled reaction and why Harry had to add, “Ezi owns a bookstore.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Harry’s mother said, sounding strangely relieved.

Irritated, Ezili leaned in and whispered to Harry, “Why did you lie?”

But he didn’t answer and only shushed her before smiling at his mother again.

“Can’t believe I get to live to see Harry bring home a young lady!” said Aunt Beatrice. Dawson opened his mouth to interject, but she didn’t give him a chance, “I always thought you were gay!”

At that, Niall choked on his tea, and Mikasa had to rub his back as he coughed violently into his fist. Ezili knew what gay meant, but why was it a bad thing?

“What if I were?” Harry asked his aunt. “I don’t see the problem with me being gay, which I’m not.”

“These biscuits are so nice, Aunt Annalise,” Dawson told Harry’s mother, probably trying to save the conversation from turning into a fight. But it seemed like Dawson’s mother was out for blood this morning.

“Harry,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and Ezili saw Mikasa and Niall sink into their chairs. “You’re a celebrity and the heir to this manor and your father's business. It’s so...unexpected of you to be dating some girl who works in a bookstore.”

Ezili wasn’t dumb. She might not understand a lot of things humans said, but she knew sarcasm like her mother tongue. It was her time to say something.

“What’s wrong with working in a bookstore?” she asked, making direct eye contact with Aunt Beatrice, who was shocked by the question. Everyone at the table seemed to be holding their breath.

“How much could you possibly do and make by owning a bookstore these days?” Aunt Beatrice laughed.

Ezili smirked and shook her head. “You could do and make a lot if you knew how to read.”

Harry kicked Ezili’s foot under the table, but she didn’t pay him a single glance. She believed she’d said nothing wrong at all. It was only the truth. Because why look down on people who worked at a bookstore unless you hated books because you couldn’t read?

Seeing his mother’s face turning red, Dawson burst out laughing. “Oh my God, she’s so funny!” Mikasa and Niall started laughing, too, and Harry’s mother awkwardly joined in.

“That’s what they call dark humour, Aunt Beatrice,” Niall told the angry giant lady. “Ezi’s a true Gen Z. She’s all jokes.”

Aunt Beatrice said nothing else. She shot a glare at a smiling Ezili and lifted her cup to take a sip.

“Oh, there’s my new cook!” said Harry’s mother as she waved at the door. “This is Dolores' first day at work. Come say hello, Dolores dear.”

“Good morning. I hope everyone’s having a wonderful time.”

Ezili’s entire body went stiff. Her eyes almost popped out of her head and dropped onto the plate in front of her. She knew that voice. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage as she held her breath. She felt the person’s presence beside her heavy like a weight ready to crush her bones into dust. Out of the corner of her eyes, she looked up.

Her sister Koa was grinning down at her.

“Ezili, are you okay?” Dawson asked, snapping Ezili out of her numbness.

Koa’s devilish grin remained as she circled the table after wishing everyone a pleasant meal, then disappeared out of the entrance.

Why was she here? Why did she have legs? How had she found Ezili?

“Okay, let's get straight to the point,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and everyone groaned at once. “How much did he pay you?”

“Mum!” cried Dawson.

“Excuse me?” Harry arched an eyebrow.

“It’s PR, isn’t it?” Aunt Beatrice said to him. Ezili was having a hard time paying attention to the argument while her heart was still pounding in her head. Her sister was here, either for her, or after her.

“You can’t do that to your mother, Harry,” Dawson’s mother went on. “She might be easily fooled but I’m not.”

“We should’ve gone for mini-golf,” Mikasa muttered to Niall, who exhaled into his hand.

Harry turned to his mother. “You’re just gonna let her disrespect my girlfriend like that?”

His mother opened her mouth to speak, but his aunt was faster. “If she’s your girlfriend then kiss her.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Harry scoffed and threw his hands in the air.

Ezili immediately stood up. All eyes fell on her.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice trembling. “I must go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll take you--”

“No, Harry, you stay.”

Harry slowly sat back down as Ezili pushed her chair out and headed straight for the door. Thankfully, he didn’t follow her.

She crossed the garden and asked one of the employees where the kitchen was. As it turned out, they had a separate kitchen for when they served food in the glasshouse. Ezili couldn’t see the point of having more than one kitchen, but this was no time to question it.

When she found Koa, no one else was there but them. It seemed as if Koa had known Ezili would follow her here, so she’d asked everyone else to leave.

Ezili stood at the door while her sister stood by the counter with her back turned to Ezili. The first thing Ezili noticed was the knives within Koa’s reach. Ezili must be wise when confronting her sister.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Koa in Séren.

Koa slowly turned and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I’m a cook. Can't you see?”

“How did you find me?”

The corner of Koa’s lips curled as she unbuttoned the collar of her white shirt and revealed a gold necklace. Ezili sucked in a breath when she saw the shiny trident-shaped medallion on her sister’s chest.

“Is that--”

“Mother’s trident,” Koa sneered. “Yes, it is.” Then she buttoned up her shirt to cover it. “Now we can see who mother trusts more.”

“Why--”

“Aunt Nerissa came for a visit last week,” Koa said. Ezili knew that name could never be associated with anything good. “Mother doesn’t trust her, so she asked me to go on land to find you, but also to keep the trident away from Nerissa’s clutches.”

Ezili swallowed hard, her fists tightly glued to her sides. “What happened to the cook?”

Koa clicked her tongue. “She’s swimming with fishes now. Like the ones swimming in her pot just then.”

“You drowned her?!”

“In the lake.”

Ezili gripped her head and advanced towards Koa. “How many humans have you killed?”

Koa chuckled and took a few steps forward until she was dangerously close enough to hurt Ezili. She stood with her back straight and arms folded, her silver eyes flickering in the sunlight. “The important question is…” She stared Ezili down. “How many have you killed?” Ezili bit her lip when Koa poked her chest with her long nail. “Or are you too busy dating now? People are talking about it everywhere.” Ezili said nothing, so Koa went on, “It’s a fake relationship, isn’t it?” She leaned in, taunting. “Come on, Sister. Admit that you’ve failed. That you can’t make the human fall in love with you. Why so quiet? Is it because if you admit it, you’re an embarrassment and you lose the trident to me, and if you deny it, then it means you’re becoming way too human to kill him.”

At that, Ezili shoved Koa away and stabbed a finger at her. “Leave me alone. Mother gave me a year for this mission.”

“We won’t have that much time, stupid,” Koa snorted. “Narissa is onto something. The queendom is already in danger as we’re speaking. And you’re here having...brunch?” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Pathetic.”

“Ezi?”

Both of them whipped their heads around and saw Harry, who stiffened in the doorway.

“Ezi?” Koa cackled, hugging her stomach. “Is that your human name? Are you his pet now?”

Though confused, Harry stepped into the kitchen anyway. “Ezi, you’re alright?”

“Harry, watch out!” Ezili shouted, but Koa was already on top of Harry on the floor. She sank her fangs into Harry’s arm with the rolled-up sleeve. Harry yelped in pain as Ezili dragged her sister off of him and slammed Koa’s head against the table. Hissing, Koa grabbed a knife on the counter and aimed it at Ezili, but Ezili was fast enough to kick it out of her sister’s grip and sent one more kick into Koa’s stomach. Koa was stronger than Ezili had thought as she plunged at Ezili again.

“Harry, run!”

But Harry didn’t run. He was back on his feet, grabbed a vase and smashed it onto Koa’s back. “Do not hurt my fake girlfriend!”

Koa rolled off of Ezili. The last thing Ezili could see was her sister’s bloodied face as she stumbled towards the door and ran off into the light.

Ezili lay there until her vision cleared again, and Harry helped her back to her feet.

“What the fuck?!” he yelled. “Who the fuck was she?!”

“My sister,” Ezili said, still holding her aching head.

“The one who tried to drown me? Why is she here?”

“To kill me, I think.”

“Why?”

“Harry--”

But Harry wasn’t listening. He was pacing back and forth like a mad man. “This isn’t good, Ezi. This is bad! Your crazy sister is gonna expose us!”

“Expose us?” Ezili grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. “She almost killed you.”

It seemed as if Harry had forgotten that his arm was bleeding until Ezili had brought it up. He suddenly winced and fell into a chair.

Ezili scanned her eyes around the messy kitchen, panting as she tried to make sure that Koa had escaped. Then, she got down on her knees beside Harry and reached for his wounded arm.

He stared down at her in confusion, then his expression turned horrified when she leaned in.

“What the fuck?!” he hissed and yanked his arm away.

She glared up at him in annoyance. “Let me help!”

“Hell no! You’re not gonna lick my blood.”

“You need to clean the wound!”

“With water! Not by sucking it!”

Ezili huffed and aggressively got up while silently cursing Harry in Séren.

“There’s a--” His voice cut off when she tore off a piece of her dress “--towel over there,” he trailed off. She ignored him and went to the sink to soak the piece of fabric in water. He shook his head and blew up his cheeks. “Nevermind. You do you.”

Still glaring at him when she returned, Ezili got back down on her knees and started cleaning Harry’s arm. The place her sister had sunk her fangs into had turned dark red. It would definitely leave a huge bruise tomorrow.

“Lucky for you Koa was distracted and didn’t aim to bite your whole arm off,” Ezili whispered and glanced up, meeting Harry’s gaze. “You sure you don’t want me to lick your wound?”

“Well, now that you’re already in this position, you could just lick something else,” he chuckled.

Ezili’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

To her confusion, Harry covered his face and shook with laughter. “Sorry, that was a dumb joke. I just couldn’t help it.”

“I didn’t get it.”

“Yeah, that’s how a joke loses its funny,” he sighed then snapped his fingers. “Ooh, maybe I should just pretend that I don’t understand whenever someone tells me a joke, so that they gradually lose their funny.”

“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” Ezili remarked.

“What do you mean?” Harry pouted. “I don’t get it, babe.”

Ezili rolled her eyes at his childishness, still, she couldn’t help but smile a little.

Once she had wrapped the piece of her dress securely around his arm, Harry pulled down the sleeve to cover it as he got to his feet. “That should do. Let’s hope my mother won’t suspect that we just got attacked in her kitchen by her cook, who was your evil siren sister in disguise. Damn, that sounds crazy even for me.”

Ezili stood with her arms crossed. “Do you think your mother can tell we’re not really dating?”

“Nah, my mother totally believes it.” Harry shrugged. “Honestly, I think we’re doing a great job pretending we’re in love when we can’t even have a conversation without insulting each other.”

“I don’t get paid enough to call you babe so many times.”

“Neither do I. This PR relationship is harder than I tho--”

Harry’s sentence got cut off by a sound at the door. When they both turned to it, Dawson was standing there, his eyes wide with shock.

Ezili was hoping that was the reaction to the messy kitchen and not to what she and Harry had said. However, luck wasn’t smiling at her tonight. Dawson’s appalled gaze jumped from Harry to Ezili. “What do you mean by ‘PR relationship’?”

“I can explain,” Ezi said, reaching for Dawson, but he backed away while staring at both her and Harry in disbelief. Harry believed Dawson wasn’t shocked that Harry could pull something like this, because Harry hadn’t been exactly the good kid growing up. What Dawson hadn’t expected was Ezi being part of this plan. Ezi must be an angel in Dawson’s eyes.

“So my mother was right,” Dawson said, flicking his finger between Harry and Ezi. “You were lying to everyone.”

“Dawson--” Ezi began, but Harry pulled her back by her wrist.

“Please don’t tell my mother,” he told Dawson and received stunned looks from both Dawson and Ezi. They probably hadn’t expected that coming from him. “This means a lot to her, and I don’t want her to be any more let down,” Harry continued. “Also, Ezi needs money, and I’m just trying to help. She’s also writing the next album with me, so it’s all good business.”

Dawson peered at both their faces for a long moment as if he was psychoanalysing each of them. Then, he breathed, “So you two don't have feelings for each other?”

“No.” Ezi shook her head fast and tugged at Harry’s sleeve. “Harry, tell him.”

Harry opened his mouth. Suddenly, he thought about how frightened he’d been when he’d thought Ezi’s sister was going to kill her. He could’ve run off and let her deal with it alone since he hadn’t asked to be part of her family drama, and he wasn’t brave, either. Nevertheless, he’d jumped in to help her.

“No,” he said, only to realise he shouldn’t have taken such a long pause to say only one word.

“See?” Ezi smiled at Dawson, who seemed less sceptical now.

“Okay,” Dawson said, his face relaxed as he put his hands on his hips. “Who else knows? Niall and Mikasa?”

“Mikasa doesn’t know,” Harry said. “Only Niall.”

“Alright.” Dawson nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But you guys are really bad at pretending to be in love,” he told them after another moment. “I’ll try to tell my mum to stop being rude to you. But just to be safe, you should make it more convincing.”

Ezi heaved a sigh of relief and placed her hand on Dawson’s arm. Harry swore he saw Dawson hold his breath as if Ezi had the Midas touch, and Harry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“Thank you, Dawson,” Ezi said in the softest tone Harry had ever heard.

“Your dress,” Dawson pointed out while eyeing her and then the kitchen. “What...what happened here?”

“There was a rat,” Harry blurted.

Ezi joined in, “Harry tried to kill it then it knocked over the vase, and I fell and pulled him down with me and ripped my dress on the glass.”

Dawson furrowed his brows as he nodded at the piece of Ezi’s dress in her fist. “That’s your blood?”

Ezi shook her head. “It’s the rat’s.” Then, she looked over at Harry, suppressing a grin. He stayed quiet and glared at her.

“Oh, God. That’s disgusting,” Dawson made a face. “Need me to help you clean up?”

“No, I’ll take care of it,” Harry said. “I’ll take Ezi upstairs to clean up. Could you distract everyone for a while?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dawson nodded, gave Ezi a tight-lipped smile and turned to the door. “Now, where the hell is the cook?”

Harry could hear every single word of the Jonas Brothers song playing downstairs. It seemed like everyone had finished brunch without him and Ezi, and now Niall was turning the manor into a concert. Niall and Mikasa had met at a Jonas Brothers’ concert years ago, and they would not let people forget about it. What they had was cute, but Harry could not imagine being with someone for that long. A PR relationship was tiring enough; he didn’t think he could ever handle a real one.

Back against the wall, he stared at his watch and tapped his foot impatiently before he came to knock on the door to his mother’s walk-in closet. “Ezi, are you done?”

“I don’t know how to put this on!”

Harry tossed his head back and groaned. “Do you need help?”

“Yeah!”

“Goddamn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Cover yourself. I’m coming in.”

Just to be safe, he had his hand over his eyes when he opened the door.

You'll say my name like it's been on your lips

Familiar in ways I can't explain

You got a heart that I know I can miss

Hold me like that and pull me right back again

The music outside became muffled. Harry peeked through the gap between his fingers, and nearly had a heart attack when he saw Ezi standing there topless with only jeans on. “I told you to cover yourself!”

“Oh, please, there’s nothing you haven’t seen.”

“It’s different every time.”

“How? I’ve only got one body.”

“No, seeing you feels different every time. It’s weird.”

Time stands still and it's only us

What we feel started way before we ever touched

Just imagine only us

Yeah, you found me right before I'd given up

Ezi said nothing, and Harry lowered his hand, feeling glad that she was facing away from him now. She looked over her shoulder, frowning. “Help me with this shirt!”

He ruffled his hair and padded over to take the shirt from her hand. “You got the button stuck?! This is my mother’s favourite Chanel shirt!”

“It was like that when I found it.”

“Liar.” Harry shook his head and started examining the stuck button. Ezi turned around, hugging her chest so her breasts weren’t exposed to him. He was trying his best not to look. Maybe he shouldn’t have put her in a dress that didn’t require a bra. He guessed he’d played himself.

“Harry.”

“Damn, maybe I should get you another shirt and buy a new one for my mum. I don't know how to fix this.”

“Harry,” Ezi repeated and tapped Harry on the arm. He looked up, face heating when he saw her.

I just saw the lightning strike

Knew it right then when I looked in your eyes

And I said to myself, "It's no surprise we ain't strangers"

Strangers tonight

Still, he acted indifferent. “What?”

“I think we should kiss,” she said, making him flinch.

“Why?” He was already sweating through his palms. His mother’s shirt could no longer be saved now.

“To make it more convincing,” Ezi said as if them kissing wasn’t a big deal to her. “Maybe if there’s a picture of us kissing--”

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

She froze at the question and blinked at him.

I came here looking for another excuse

To run away from something beautiful

It's like it's driving me closer to you

Every step back pulls me right back

At this question, Ezi’s whole life up until that point flashed before her eyes. She had lost count of all the times she’d kissed sailors before drowning them. But she wasn’t going to kiss Harry to kill him. Not yet at least. He would still be there, alive, when she opened her eyes. He would still be aware of her lips against his. And she would, too.

“No,” she lied.

And he believed it. He cleared his throat. Suddenly, her standing there topless wasn’t weird anymore. “Okay, it’s pretty easy.” He put the shirt aside. His fingers were shaking so he opened and closed his fists a few times before beckoning her over. “Come here.”

She took a step forward.

“Closer.”

Another step.

Harry’s face reddened with a small smile. “Ezi, closer.”

He’d never talked to her in that tone before. It was soft and firm at the same time, and she completely forgot having sworn to herself that she would never let him tell her what to do. She came so close she could not tell his breath from her own. His eyelids fluttered, and his pink lips parted, yet no word escaped. Then, he leaned in.

Must be from a different life

Been here before and it just feels right

No, this ain't the first time for you and I, we ain't strangers

Strangers tonight

But it was her who took his face between her hands and kissed him first. He froze for a second, then started kissing her back, his arms circled around her waist, pressing her against him.

Harry’s entire body grew hot. The voice inside his head told him to stop, but it only made him bolder. He liked that she’d taken charge. Her hands were under his shirt as his roamed across her naked back. His eyes went wide when she unconsciously let out a moan.

Strangers

Strangers tonight

“Ezi,” he breathed against her lips. But before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door.

“Harry, are you in there?”

Ezi pulled away as Harry threw his head back and exhaled harshly. “Yes, Niall?”

“Is Ezili there with you?”

“Yes,” Harry answered in a croaked voice and quickly cleared his throat. “Yes,” he repeated, sounding more stable. “Why?”

“You missed all the fun stuff. Your mother scolded your aunt for what she’d said to you and Ezi, and Dawson had to take his mother’s home.”

Harry looked over at Ezi, expecting her to be thrilled by the good news, but she only gave a small smile, her arms still tightly wrapped around herself to cover her breasts. Was she...shy?

Yes, yes she was. Ezi didn’t think she could ever be shy. But here she stood, blushing all over from a stupid kiss.

“Are they in there?” Harry’s mother’s voice outside the door made Harry and Ezi jump.

They looked at each other, scared when Niall told Harry’s mum that they were in the closet together.

“Not in my closet, Harry!”

“I’m just helping Ezi get changed, Mum!”

“You better!”

And then their footsteps faded down the hallway, along with his mother’s laughter.

Ezi and Harry made eye contact with each other and looked away at the same time as silence ensued. Suddenly, Harry started sniffing.

“What is it?” Ezi asked, worried.

Harry leaned in and started sniffing her neck, and she pushed him away. “What the hell?!”

“You smell.”

“Excuse me?!”

“No.” Harry shook his head fast. “You smell good. But..you didn’t have a smell before.”

Ezi quickly lifted her arm to smell herself. “I smell nothing.”

“That’s because it’s your own smell, so you don't recognise it. But--” Harry cut off midsentence and picked up a strand of her hair and brought his nose to it. Then, his lips curled. “Aww, my kiss turned you a little more human.”

“Shut up!” Ezi shoved at his chest. “I’m not turning more human! That’s not true!”

“It is true! Kiss me again. I’ll prove it.”

She said nothing, only glared at him as he burst out laughing and tossed her a t-shirt.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles angst #harry styles series #harry styles imagines #harry styles x mc #harry styles fic

142 notes · View notes

unloved-cadillac · 3 years

Note

hi!! i love your works sm!! they always make my heart flutter and it helps me get through these past few weeks without breaking down so thank you for your service <3 *salutes*

may I request levi with his SO (who just got over her 4 years of bisexual relationship then realized they became toxic af and just wanted to do nothing with that person anymore) and levi being patient with her + being a man of his words (because she never experienced it with her ex) and fluff prompts #2 and #8 if it's okay 🤗

love u!!! - ⚙️

C/n: *salutes back with tears in my eyes* I’m so sorry that you have breakdowns. I hate it so much but I’m honored that I have been helping you in coping with anything. Love you, take care of yourself, thanks for requesting and I hope that you enjoy🤍

𝖶𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 2.4𝗄

———————————————————————

I Wouldn’t Leave.(Levi x Reader)

TW: toxic relationship.

“Mia, come with me to watch the stars!”

“To watch the stars? What are you, five? Grow up Y/n. Seriously.”

“Mia I think I’m getting pretty good at this what do you think?”

“Your stance is shit and you would move faster if you weren’t that big. Lose some weight, yeah?”

“I love you Mia.”

“Whatever Y/n.”

This was how it was. You and Mia were dating for almost four years now. In the beginning, everything was perfect. Mia would steal kisses from you and make you smile. She would stick by you throughout the days and would sneak into your bed at night to cuddle. But that only lasted for the first year. After that, you two slowly drifted apart. You didn’t even know what had happened. One day, she’s the best thing that has ever happened to you and the next she’s bad-mouthing you to everyone. Although this happened, you didn’t leave her. Rather, you didn’t want to.

There was so much going on in this godforsaken world and to have someone there to lean on was rare. So letting go of Mia wasn’t the best of decisions right now.

But, would she even care if you died out there? If a Titan suddenly crushed you in front of her eyes? Would she even shed a tear to show her sorrow for the girl that stood by her for years?

“Mia?” You called her. She didn’t even hear you despite sitting next to you. So you tapped her shoulder and called her again. “Mia?” “What do you want?!” Mia yelled, shocking you. “Uhm, I just wanted to ask if you’re going to train with me tomorrow?” You ask and she scoffs. “Why would I train with you? I have others who could actually keep up with me. So no. I won’t be training with you.” She finishes and turns away from you. You nod to yourself and wake up to go to your room.

Levi noticed how badly Mia treated you. Everyone knew you two were together since your cadet days. You mentioned in a conversation to Eren that you were bisexual but it didn’t bother Levi. You loved who you loved but now, he doubts that you loved Mia. Maybe you did back then but that love wasn’t meant to last long. Levi hated seeing you sad or upset. He developed a little crush on you but he buried those feelings deep down because, well, you were taken.

He woke up and followed you out of the Mess Hall. You walked up to your room door but stopped. Suddenly, you ran away. Levi’s eyes widened and ran to you. You ran right up the stairs to the roof and slammed opened the door. Levi stopped running and walked quietly behind you. You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They fell to the floor and the cool air blew against your face making you shiver. You sat on the ledge and put your knees up to your chest and cried.

Levi stood by the door and watched you. This was your spot too, huh? He used to come here when he had the time to unwind. Levi heard your sobs all the way there and walked to you. He didn’t want to startle you so he made his presence known by clearing his throat. You gasped and looked up at Levi. Your current state could make him break down.

“C-Captain Levi? What are you doing here?” You ask in between hiccups. He turns and leans his back against the ledge. “I followed you here.” He says bluntly and your eyes widen. “Listen. I know it’s none of my business. Hell, you’re probably gonna slap me if I say this but I feel like you should know,” he begins and you face him while wiping your tears. “Your girlfriend is a bitch. She doesn’t deserve you. I see the way you look at her like she’s your everything and I see her looking at you like dirt. Mia might be the one you felt could love you the way you love her but it isn’t true. I respect you as a soldier and as a person so you needed to know. One day, you’re going to wake up and realize that there’s more to life than shitty people treating you like shit and you need to stand up for yourself.” Levi continues and faces you. Your eyes were red and tears flowed heavier than before. He was right. You didn’t deserve this shit. But hearing it come from another person, a captain nonetheless, meant that it was time for you to let go.

“There’s someone out there who could love you better.” He says quietly and you turn around and face the same way he was. You wiped your tears and looked back at his side-profile. Now that you think about it, Levi had always had an eye out for you. During training he’d always help out and expeditions would always check on you. But you always ran to Mia whenever you could, leaving him.

“I, I don’t know what to do. Should I break up with her?” You ask and he looks up at the sky then you. “You do what you feel is the right thing to do. I just wanted to let you know that you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” Levi explains and turns to walk away. “Levi?” You call and he turns to face you. “Hm?” You look up at him and smile through your tears. “Thank you.” He nods and turns and walks away with his heart beating through his chest.

~~~~

“What the fuck do you mean, Y/n?! We can’t break up!” Mia yells, catching the attention of the people around the pair of you. You flinch at her telling but you stand your ground and look back at her. “I’m tired of your bullshit, Mia. And I can’t believe that it took me this long to realize that you never loved me the way that I loved you. So it’s only fair for us to break up.” You say and Mia closes her fists. “You bitch. You’ll never make it without me.” She spits out and you chuckle. “I’ll be fine. Goodbye Mia.” You smile at her and walk away, leaving her shunned. You start walking to the stables and walk past Levi who caught your eye. You smiled and waved at him while he gave you a curt nod. You go to your horse when you hear footsteps approaching you. “You heard everything, didn’t you?” You ask and Levi scoffs. “With her big mouth of course.” You chuckle at his bluntness and face him. Your eyes were still swollen but you looked...happier. He liked seeing you happy.

“Thanks for yesterday, Levi. I needed the push.” You say and he waves you off. “Don’t mention it. You’re a good soldier. Don’t let people like her put you down.” Levi says and walks away leaving you smiling the whole day.

~~~~

The following days, Levi saw you become a whole new person. You became a social butterfly. Smiling more, laughing, cracking jokes. The way you were acting no one would ever think you just came out of a 4 year relationship. Levi’s heart would sometimes skip a beat when you looked his way. Your eye bags started to disappear and you looked so much healthier. You peaked in training and left Mia in the dust. He saw that she would sometimes try to talk to you but you just ignored her. Karma^

You and Levi had started to interact more and more and you felt so much happier. Levi had made it a point to come to his office to help with paperwork but in reality it was just to spend more time together.

Although it’s been three months since your break up, you could feel yourself falling for Levi. And it scared you. The little gestures you both would do for each other and the stealing glances made you have butterflies.

It was scary, this feeling. Not even Mia made you feel like this. You started to avoid him, little by little. You Knew that if you gave into your true feelings for him, it wasn’t going to end well. The fear showed on your face whenever you were with him and Levi took notice of the change in your behavior and called you to his office one night.

“Name and business.” His deep, monotonous voice called out. “Y/n L/n. You called for me?” You say and the door opens revealing Levi. He gestures for you to enter and you walk into his office, anxious. You heard the door close and Levi’s footsteps. “Sit. Would you like some tea?” He asks and you shake your head as you sit down. He furrows his eyebrows in slight confusion but brushes it off. You always liked his tea so it was confusing why you would reject the offer. Levi sat in his chair and looked at you. You seemed...uncomfortable. “Y/n?” He called out to you and you looked back up at him. “Yes?”

“Do you know that saying “beating around the bush”?” He asks and you nod. “Yes.” “I guess it’s time for us to stop doing that with our feelings for each other.” Your breath hitches and it seemed like time stopped when he said that. You just wanted to leap into his arms and plant your lips on his but it was too soon.

“I agree, Levi, but I don’t know if it’s time yet. Even though Mia was a horrible person to me, she was my first love and it still hurts letting her go. So maybe, if you find it okay, can we wait? Just for a little more. Until I know for sure.” You explain softly as Levi listens intently. The silence settles around the room and you exhale a breath. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. You wake up and turn to leave. “I’m sorry. I should-...” “No.” Levi says and holds your arm, turning you around.

He brings you closer and cups your cheek. He ghosts his lips over your forehead then plants a soft kiss on it. He pulled away and looked at you. “I’ll wait forever if that was what it takes. There’s no rush,” he takes your hand and places it over his heart, “it’s yours. I’m yours. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.” He assures you and you wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you, Levi.”

~~~~

Couple of months passed by and Levi gave you the time and space for you to get yourself together. Healing. He would wait for you. Even if it wasn’t in his favor, he still wanted you to find happiness. You deserved it and everything more.

Now you were on the training grounds, sparring with Annie. You improved quite a lot but Annie caught you and threw you down. “Ah, shit.” You pant out and Annie holds out her hand for you. “You’re getting better, L/n. Almost got me there.” She says and pulls you up. “Almost.” You smile and look around where your eyes landed on the captain. He was watching you with a glare, that other people would find terrifying, but you found it reassuring. You flashed a quick smile to him and went back to training.

That night you made your way to his office. He didn’t call you, nor was he expecting you. But you wanted to see him. So you knocked on his door which was quickly opened by the captain. “Y/n? What’s wrong?” He asks and you take a moment to look at him. Unbuttoned shirt, black pants with his feet bare. Looks like he just came out of a shower. “Does something need to be wrong for me to see you?” You ask and he shakes his head with a soft smile. “No. Come in.” He says and moves out of the way for you to enter. He shuts the door behind you and you face him. He was a few meters away and you took in a shaky breath. “Levi. I, uh, I’ve been thinking. For the past couple of months, I’ve realized that it was time to move on. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and about..us. I want you, Levi. I think I have for a while but I wasn't sure if it was true. But I know now that you’re the one who had my heart all this time. So, if you still want me, I’m here.” You say smiling and looking at the ground.

You see his feet in front of yours and you look up to see him. He had a smile of his own plastered on his face. “It’s about time, brat.” He whispers and kisses you softly. You melt into his kiss as his arms move around your waist and yours around his neck. This feeling. This moment. It was like all of your senses came to life and the joy you never knew you had blossomed.

When you both pulled away, Levi took you to his bedroom and laid you down on his bed. He crawled over you and planted kisses all over your face and neck. You giggled which in turn made him chuckle. He looked up at your flushed face as you cupped his face. “May I?” He asks softly as he brushes his nose against yours as his hands started to roam. “Of course. I’m yours.” And the night became the night you felt alive after all these years.

~~~~

The morning sun shines through the bedroom window and brightens up the room. You groan and move away from the light and roll over to the other side bumping into Levi’s chest. You smile to yourself and cuddle into him further. “You’re very lazy.” Levi says and you chuckle. “It’s too early. Plus we’re off today so shut up.” You groggily say and he scoffs and pulls you up and holds you. You slowly open your eyes and look at Levi who was already staring. “Hi.” “Hey.” You two stay like that for a few minutes but then Levi moves your hair away from your face and rubs his thumb over your cheekbone. “Never would I have thought that your eyes would be the ones that I want to stare at forever.” He whispers to you and you smile and hug him. He wraps his arms around your bare waist and holds you tighter. “I love you Levi.” You whisper with a few tears falling. He rubs your head and closes his eyes. “I love you too, Y/n. And just so you know,” he says and pulls away to look at you. He wipes your tears away and continues:

“I wouldn’t leave.”

———————————————————————

“You deserve everything good in this world.”

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

158 notes · View notes

hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Just A Dream Away

Chapter 1/13 read here on ao3!

my piece for @harringrovebigbang!

Art and moodboard from my amazing team, @monochromegee and @shewritesdirty respectively, to come soon!

~~~~

Six months. Six months and twelve days.

That’s how long Billy has been in the hospital. In a coma. His health rapidly deteriorating.

After one month it was required he be put on a ventilator. Two and his wounds started getting infected. By month three, the hospital asked that a representative be chosen for him, just in case he didn’t pull through.

Neil Hargrove refused. Barked into the receiver something along the lines of, “What do I care if the boy wanted to go and get himself killed?” It was entirely defensive, his voice cracking as he finished his sentence, but the hospital still never contacted him again, not for updates or bills or anything. His wife was far too busy taking care of one grieving child and a lazy husband already to worry about an additional burden.

All of Billy’s extended family was still in California, had written him off years before they’d even left home for Indiana anyways. The moment his mother walked out the door, nobody else wanted him either, so they were off the table too.

The town of Hawkins had been turned inside out by the deaths of more than thirty community members, some of which were still being reported as missing so many months later. Nobody had the time, or in many cases the heart, to take care of the lone survivor.

That left only one person. The one who’d been taking care of him even before he’d fallen into a coma. The one who’d understood him better than anyone else, who’d given him a chance, who’d loved him more than anything.

Steve gets a call from the hospital, the way he is usually woken up these days. Every other morning, as soon as visitation opens, a nurse calls him for a quick update. The duties of a representative for someone unconscious, for his Billy in a coma.

He’s beyond exhausted, dragging himself to and from Hawkins General day in and day out, sometimes bringing Max or a few of the other kids along with him. Mostly because every day is the same thing, walking through the halls, facing the polite smiles from nurses who deal with this on the daily, don’t understand the way it feels to see the one you love on that bed.

If he does hear anything new, it’s usually not good news. He knows Billy is getting worse, but still he sits in that room for countless hours, watching and waiting for the moment he’s struck with a miracle, and he comes back to him.

The hospital is not quite as patient though, and since about month four of Billy’s hospital stay, they’d been encouraging Steve to consider his wards right to die. After so much time had passed by without signs of improvement, the nurses had started hesitating in the doorway when he was around, and offering kind little suggestions that were supposed to push him towards the decision to let Billy go.

Things like, “It’s not really him anymore, honey.” and, “He’s getting worse by the minute, poor thing.”, and Steve’s favorite, the one that made him leave the hospital in tears, “If he wanted to wake up, he would have done it by now.”

But no matter how true what they were saying may have been, Steve really did not want to hear it. The only reason the thought of letting Billy go had ever crossed the minds of doctors and nurses was because of what was on the news, all these up and coming stories about hospital ethics committees that were popping up all over the country recently.

They were being selfish, willing to let Billy die just because they were scared they wouldn’t be able to stand the heat that would come from keeping an eighteen year old boy on life support for as long as they had. Whether or not they actually thought they could save him was a question for another day.

So they would mail Steve countless papers and claims and pamphlets to try to reason with him, to persuade him that the best thing to do was to kill Billy because they didn’t want to deal with him anymore. It made him sick to his stomach, to think that people who were supposedly trained to help people were so hellbent on giving up on a patient.

He wonders sometimes, if they wouldn’t be so hasty to pull the plug had he been an easier case. If his father was more supportive and his biological mother present, or if the government hadn’t worked so hard to cover up the origin of his injuries. Maybe even if his representative was a nice young woman instead.

But there’s nothing he can do about it, so he just crumples the papers and ignores their premature condolences, and goes to visit Billy at every moment he can.

The drive to the hospital that particular morning feels like it takes a whole day instead of the 20 minutes the route actually is, Steve feeling like he’s suspended in time. It doesn’t seem real, taking the stairs up to the second floor, elevators were a no go after the free fall he took at Starcourt, and taking a visitor sticker and a bunch of papers from the woman at the reception desk.

He’s walked this route more times than he can count, but this time he can feel that something is wrong, different. On the top of the very first sheet the desk lady hands him, in bold black letters, are the printed words “Right-to-Die” and Steve already knows what is coming.

The woman gives him a half sympathetic look and reads off her scripted spiel. “The Hargrove boy has been unresponsive for six months now, with no signs of improvement in his condition. The recently instituted hospital ethics board wants you to seriously consider the contents of these forms.”

The words are so hollow, the look on her face mostly bored. Steve guesses this same speech was probably given to a thousand other people who’d come through this hospital, and it makes him feel nauseated just listening to it, her less than genuine pity as she reads off her clipboard, making it seem like she doesn’t even care what she is asking of him.

“It’s of course among your rights as representative to say no, but we want to remind you that he has no quality of life being artificially kept alive, and it might be best to let him go.”

“No, they told me he couldn’t feel anything. He’s not suffering.” Steve insists, and as much as he believes that he is right, the confidence in his voice is false. This was something he’d been thinking about every day for the last half a year. “You’ve kept him alive this long, right? That’s got to mean something.”

“Still, this is about him. We just want you to think about if keeping him alive is the right thing to do anymore when we can’t be sure what he’s going through. When he isn’t himself.”

Of course this was something he’d considered in his own mind, six months is a long time, and it was inevitable that a few times on his worst days, he’d have to think about pulling the plug. It was just so different hearing this nurse who didn’t know Billy insisting on it, it was just so impersonal, and it made him think about the hospital's greed, and how they probably just wanted to save money on ventilators and open up another bed.

Without saying another word to her, Steve walks away without the clipboard of papers, and off to room B-216. Of course he'd known this was coming. They’d been trying to drop hints since the moment Billy stopped being able to breathe on his own, but he’d been in denial. As long as Billy's heart was still beating, Steve had hope that he would recover if the doctors would just try.

Still, as he sits down in the chair next to Billy’s bed, he decides he doesn’t want to call Max today. He takes the desk woman's advice, as angry as it made him, and takes the time to truly reflect on the boy in that bed, with the feeding tube down his throat, the respirator breathing for him beside his bed, the IV in his neck, there because the veins in his arms had been so overused.

His hair is much longer now, just past his collarbones, but without maintenance, his blonde curls are knotted and dull. His skin is unnaturally pale, his freckles faded to nothing, and his whole body is littered with angry, dark red scars. The hole in the center of his chest still isn’t all the way healed, and the nurses are constantly fighting to keep it free of infection.

When he wakes up, they say he will be in immense pain and that he will have forgotten how to walk and talk and probably even breathe on his own. There was a chance too that his memory will have gaps in it, which could mean anything from forgetting what happened to him in July, to not even knowing his own name.

Basically if, no- when he wakes up, he won’t really be Billy.

Steve had always heard about and seen in the movies coma patients who twitch their fingers or moved their eyes, or who really give any signs of life, miraculously waking up and being themselves again, but Billy, he had only done the opposite.

At some point, he has to accept that Billy won’t be like one of those other patients, and, in the condition he is in, all pale skin and open wounds and zero signs of responsiveness, they were only prolonging his death. They had tried just about everything they could thanks to Steve’s willingness to cover the expenses, and, although he didn’t want to believe it, maybe just couldn’t accept it quite yet, it was, as the nurse had said, time to think about letting Billy go.

Not today though. He’d spend today with him at the very least, trying to push those thoughts to the back of his mind while he still could. The nurses used to say, when Billy had first been admitted and they still thought there was a chance of recovery, that Steve and Max, whenever she could come, should try talking to him, and Steve always did.

He never really has a whole lot to say, not since everything has been calming down recently. There were no more funerals to attend, no more grieving families to take a hot dish and his condolences to. The kids didn’t need him to watch them anymore, and Family Video had decided to lay him off until he didn’t have to make daily hospital commutes and he could work again. Basically, Steve’s entire world was Billy.

So it was only fair that Billy was what he usually talked about, reminiscing about everything they’d gotten to do together before the accident, telling him about what was happening with his sister now that she was getting older, and giving him updates on how many days it had been and how much he missed and loved him. One of the nurses had heard him say that once, seen him lean forwards and press a kiss to Billys forehead, but she had only turned away, pretending she hadn’t noticed.

Today though, it was much harder than usual to think of something to say to him. He always tried to leave all of the bad stuff at the door, didn’t think it would do Billy any good if he could even hear, to be listening to him always complaining or moping about their situation, but with death weighing heavy on his mind, what else was there to think about?

The anger and the remorse and the depression would be for when he went home tonight and downed a whole bottle of Fireball, Billy’s favorite whiskey, and called Robin drunk off his ass at two in the morning to tell her about how terrible he felt.

It was because he loved Billy with all of his heart that he wouldn’t put him through that. Even if it hurt more than anything else to see his love broken down and dying, which was, in Steve’s opinion, the worst thing that had ever happened to him, he always wore a smile on his face every day he walked into that hospital room.

As hard as that was, and as guilty as it made him feel to admit, Billy's sickness wasn’t the only thing making Steve miserable. He had also been through some unimaginable things himself while trapped in the Starcourt mall, and he didn't come out the other side the same.

Nightmares plagued him constantly, so that when he would eventually come back home from the hospital, he didn’t sleep more than fifteen minutes through the night. Being alone for too long warped his perception of reality, made him think everyone he knew and loved was gone, that he’d been abandoned or all his friends killed. He would constantly call to check on them, most of the time drunk and panicking, but they’d stopped picking up after the first few times. There were so many triggers too that could send him back to that night in an instant, where he’d just get stuck again.

And perhaps that is exactly why he can’t let Billy go so easily, because even if it is heartbreaking and makes him feel so empty inside being there with a version of his Billy who couldn’t speak to him or who he couldn’t hold, he was still alive. If he died now, Steve would have nothing. It would be no different from the losses everyone had suffered, the death of the chief of police and at least thirty other community members robbing them of their soundness of mind.

Letting go of Billy would just be another blow, to him and to the tight-knit community who had come so close together after the accident that rocked their little town. You wouldn't be able to tell from the fact that his room was always empty except for Steve or his sister, but the papers had revered him as a hero. Who he’d become after being hospitalized meant his death wouldn't just affect loved ones.

But more than any of that, he just didn’t want to give up on him. Pulling the plug meant sacrificing so many more moments they could have together, losing the chance to move on from what had happened. How could Steve ever know when it was the right time to do that?

When was it safe to say that Billy wouldn’t ever recover, and that they were just stretching out the inevitable? When could he feel right in letting his very best friend and the love of his life die? Deep down, past his initial reaction of shock and heartbreak, he knows he’ll never truly be ready to say goodbye, but that now was that time regardless.

Just like the nurses said, he wasn’t really Billy anymore. Who he’d been was a teenage boy with too much energy to burn, always getting into trouble and always in motion, bouncing his knee, twisting the ring on his middle finger or the locket around his neck, chain smoking cigarette after cigarette. It used to drive Steve insane how he wouldn’t sit still for anything, but now he would give anything just to have that back.

There was no personality left in him, no stupid jokes to cheer Steve up, no pestering his sister and her friends like a big brother does, nothing left in him at all that made him distinctly Billy. Steve wondered if maybe he had already given up.

If maybe, Billy wasn’t even in there at all anymore, and they were holding on to nothing just to feed their own selfishness. Steve wasn’t the most emotional of people, usually panicking before he got upset, but he could feel tears pricking at his eyes now, as he watched the slow rise and fall of Billy’s, or not Billy’s, chest, and listened to the beeps and hums of the machines that kept him going.

He knew what needed to be done. Just not today.

For now, he holds Billy's hand, unmoving and just warm enough that he could tell he was alive, and whispered to him anything that came to his mind.

If Billy could hear him, he knew he was probably tired of hearing the same stories over and over, thinking of Billy waking up and complaining about Steve being too boring made him chuckle to himself. An instant pang of regret tightens his chest, feeling guilty for being happy.

There was a really sweet nurse about the age of his mother who always checked in on him at the same time everyday, like he was the one with tubes and machines sticking out of his body. Her name was Dale, and she always peeked her head into the room around meal times to ask if he had been down to the cafeteria yet. Usually he hadn’t, and sometimes he still forgot to eat anyways, but it meant a lot to him.

Today though, she came all the way in the room, a sad look on her face, and he had to avoid her gaze entirely to keep himself from breaking down, choosing instead to focus on Billy’s slender fingers where he’d laced them through his own.

“Steve, honey, I know this is really hard for you, it’s hard for all of us when something like this happens, but you need to take care of yourself.” She was just being kind, but he wouldn’t hear it.

If this was going to be the last full day he’d ever spend with Billy, he was going to make it count. A soggy sandwich in the dingy old cafeteria wasn’t worth spending a single moment away from the other boy's bedside. He feels vaguely guilty about it, but he ignores the well meaning nurse, even as she says her generic condolences that all of them were trained to say.

He smooths out Billy's hair, brushing the part that always hung in his eyes to the side carefully, something Billy himself had always seemed to do when he was nervous. It reminds him of the time they tried to do each other's hair and Billy taught him how to make a braid, so he tells Billy about it.

When he hears the distant roar of a car's engine from the open window, it reminds him of the first time Billy drove him home in the now totaled beyond recognition Camaro, so he talks about that. A bird landing on the windowsill reminds him of sitting on Billy’s bed and talking about the seagulls and the beaches back in California where Billy had grown up, so he tells Billy that story too. The phone ringing at the receptionist's desk down the hallway reminds him of the time Billy had called him in the middle of the night to invite him out to the quarry, where they’d kissed for the first time and Steve clumsily asked him to make things official, so again, he told Billy all about it.

It's mostly a comfort to himself, keeping his mind off of the reality of the situation, but then the desk lady announces over the overhead system that visiting hours are over, and it’s time for him to go.

They had been giving him a lot of leeway here at Hawkins General, allowing him to visit every single day and sometimes with a 14 year old, which was strictly against the rules of the ICU. The end of visiting hours was a rule they always stood by though, and despite how much it crushed him to leave Billy by himself overnight, he always did it.

On his way out, he grabbed the stack of papers the receptionist tried to give him off of her desk. He would call Susan in the morning and ask her what she thought. He would try to involve her in the choice, since she’d technically claimed Billy as her dependent after her marriage to his father, who had given enough verbal and written agreements that he wanted nothing at all to do with his son while he was hospitalized that his wife could, and had, stepped in.

He went home that night with the thought in his head that this was the last time he’d do this, and by this time tomorrow, Billy would be dead.

#harringrove big bang 2021 #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #billy x steve #ej writer #story by ej!#so excited to start sharing!#chapter two will be on tumblr later today!#it’s up on ao3 already if you wanna get ahead!

31 notes · View notes

enbyprentiss · 3 years

Text

Roommates

Genre: fluff, i guess? maybe some angst if you squint.

Spencer x Fem!Reader

(Y/N and Spencer are in college but he's aged up so they're both 18. italicized is Spencer's thoughts)

CW: implied roofie (nothing bad happens)

Part ll (contains smut)

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

Our college has coed dorms. Which could be very unfortunate for some girls. However, I somehow was blessed with the beauty of a human that is Spencer Reid. He's a genius, a germaphobe, a bit of a loner but I'm cool with that--you get the idea, just overall a pretty dope kid. I always felt kinda bad whenever I stumbled into our dorm after parties, clearly drunk off my ass but always tried not to wake him up. I usually did though. Oops. We got along pretty well from the start. Despite what people might think about the lanky boy, he's actually quite funny. Ok, well not many people around here would understand his humor. But I do, and I love it. I was able to get him to break out of his shell a little bit, mostly by introducing him to my friends. We were both chemistry majors which is nice. Mostly because when I get stuck he's willing to spend hours explaining until I understand.

"Hey, Spence.", I walked into our room after my lecture. He didn't respond. He just stood there wide-eyed, "Are you....ok?", it wasn't until that moment that my brain processed what I was seeing. Spencer was standing there in just his boxers, not that I thought that was a big deal but, "Oh! I'm sorry--do you want me to um leave? I--"

He still didn't respond, just shrugged in a panic, "I'm sorry! I'll leave!", I called back as I closed the door behind me.

"Y/N, you can come back in now.", he cracked the door open behind me. Honestly, I didn't even realize I was still standing there.

"I'm really sorry, Spence."

"It's ok. Could've been worse."

I giggled at what he was implying while leaning against my bunk, "Well, we should probably go grocery shopping because I don't know if I can handle more dining hall food."

"Yeah, ok."

"Can I borrow a sweater?", he nodded turning towards his dresser to get one. Not necessary, as I had already taken the one that was laying on his bed.

"Why would you wear that one? It smells like me.", he laughed.

"Yeah, that's why I want it.", poor thing is so clueless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was disoriented. Not like drunk. Well, yes I was drunk. But it was something more than that. My legs felt wobbly. My vision felt blurry. I could barely keep my eyes open. Something just felt...wrong. So, I did the only thing that seemed to make sense.

"Hello?", he sounded tired.

"Sp--Spencer?"

"Y/N, are you ok?", Spencer sat up more on the other line. It wasn't rare for Y/N to call him when she was out but he always worried when she did.

"I--I don't...think so.", he could hear her words were coming out slurred and in between heavy breaths.

"What do you mean?", he tried not to sound panicked, not wanting to worry her more.

"I think....I think someone might've--slipped something into my drink."

"Can you walk?"

"I-I don't know!"

"Hey, don't panic, ok?"

"Yeah--yeah...ok."

"Do you know where you are?"

"The bar down the street."

"Ok, just--hold on. Don't talk to anyone.", he hung up quickly. Walking down the stairs and starting Y/N's car. Spencer found her sitting on the curb with her head in her hands, "Y/N?"

I looked up at him the best I could and I could feel the tears in my eyes well, "It's ok. I promise.", he put his hand out to pull me up and swung my arm over his shoulder, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"It sounds crazy, but I need you to throw up ok?", I nodded, "I'm sorry.", he whispered as he stuck his fingers in my mouth to make me gag. It worked.

It hurt Spencer seeing her like this. Panicked, confused, and hurting.

He swept me off my feet, carrying me into the car and handing me a water bottle.

"Don't drink it that fast, you might choke."

Spencer threw me over his shoulder and carried me into our room. If I wasn't so disoriented, I probably would've been surprised by his strength. He poured me a cup of pedialyte before sitting next to me on my bed to make sure I didn't fall forward or hit my head on the wall. We sat in silence for a while until words started pouring out of my mouth without me even realizing.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

She doesn't mean that. She's confused.

"Spencer?"

"Yeah?"

"Have I?"

"I-I- - no, but you don't mean that. There's this thing called transference. You think that you love me because I helped you out of what could've been a really bad situation."

"That's gotta be the dumbest thing you've ever said."

What? No, that's a real thing. What if she really did mean it? No. Y/N doesn't like people like me.

"Spencer, I have loved you since the very first week we moved into together."

"R-really?"

"Yes! I don't know how you never caught on. I love everything about you."

"L-like what?"

"Well, first off you have incredible bone structure, the cutest curly brown hair, and doe like eyes. All of which are a huge plus. You're smart and funny without even trying. I like that you dress like you're one of the professors. And that I'm the only person that gets to see you in sweatpants and a hoodie. And that you'll let me wear them too. Even though, I have plenty of my own clothes. The list goes on forever really."

You're being stupid. She won't even remember any of this in the morning.

"Spencer?...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No! It's ok. I just- - I don't think you're gonna remember any of this tomorrow."

"That may be true, but at least you'll finally know how I really feel."

What am I gonna do when she doesn't remember? How am I supposed to keep this all a secret? Does she even want it to be that? Do I tell her? No. That doesn't seem like a good idea right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up to the sound of the door opening. Spencer came in drying his hair frantically with a towel.

"Oh, hey, Y/N."

"Hi.", I remembered. I remembered everything. And I think he knew I did. What the fuck do I do? Do we talk about it? Do we pretend it didn't happen? I don't think he ever said he loved me back. In fact, I'm pretty sure he didn't believe anything I said.

"Spence, I- -"

"You remember, don't you?"

"Mhm.", I nodded, "I hope you know I meant it. It wasn't just 'transference' or whatever you said."

"Wasn't it?"

Jesus Christ, is he trying to crush my soul?

"Spencer, I know you think that you're just this nerd that everyone makes fun of, but you're not. In fact, quite the opposite. All my friends think that you're cute, you're just shy. And that's ok.", I took a swig of mouth wash and spit it into a cup, "It's one of the many things I love about you."

I think I should tell her. Right? She seems serious. And I think we're already past the point of no return.

"Iloveyoutoo.", he muttered it and said it beyond fast, but I think I got the idea. I still wanted to hear him say it though.

"Hm?"

"I-I-I love you too.", I couldn't help but smile, not to mention his blush was too cute.

I put my hands up but dropped them back down, "I know you have that thing about touch, but can I kiss you?"

"Mhm.", so I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer and placed my lips softly against his. For someone who claimed to have no sexual experience, he was a damn good kisser. And I guess I just happened to be lucky #1.

87 notes · View notes

purplesauris · 3 years

Text

Oasis of Green

He searches the coordinates, blinking rapidly to clear his vision, and hits one that looks familiar- somewhere that instinctively he knows will be safe.

In which Din searches for the comfort and safety he's missing.

Read on AO3 here!

There is agony in his blood, in his bones.

The world around him slides in and out of focus, going razor sharp and then wool soft, fuzzy and faded around the edges. Each breath is like ice in his lungs, pulling and scraping through his throat, scratching against the bruised parts of him. The bounty had many, many reinforcements. A whole platoon, basically- Din could only do so much, even with the Darksaber on his hip and a blaster in hand. He’d managed to get his mark, always, always did, and he sat, frozen in carbonite on Din’s ship as he hauled himself one handed up into the cockpit.

There was something wrong with his shoulder- he didn’t know if it was the exhaustion or the sharp, dragging pain whenever he tried to move his left shoulder, but his fingers tingle painfully with any movement and he isn’t going to test it. He can feel blood sticking the layers of his clothes to him, seeping down his side and under the seal of his helmet, and he’s woozy with it as he shakily gets the engines going. He can’t quite get his eyes or hands to work well enough to handle the ship himself, and he reaches for the autopilot, pain searing through him at the simple movement.

He searches the coordinates, blinking rapidly to clear his vision, and hits one that looks familiar- somewhere that instinctively he knows will be safe. The ship whines to life, and Din’s grip is death tight on the one yolk he can use- thank whatever is watching over him, because the ship has one handed capabilities. Perks of a bounty hunter’s ship, he supposes. His ascent out of the atmosphere and into open space is sloppy, half assed and just enough to keep his ship from ripping into pieces, but it does the job, and once Din is able to he flips over to autopilot, letting the ship jerk into hyperspace.

He tries to take stock of his injuries as best he can, but his eyes won’t focus anymore and each breath is like fighting to break the surface of the water. He floats, body screaming, and succumbs to the pull of unconsciousness.

His pain is a living thing, digging into his shoulder, his chest, his ribs, searing through his lungs and eating away at his heart. He fights with every breath to open his eyes, to keep the beating of his heart easy and steady, but any jostle of the ship in hyperspace jars him again and a fresh wave of pain sweeps him under. He fades in and out over and over, until the ship beeps in alarm, breaking through the atmosphere of whatever planet he’s piloted to. Din wakes up enough to sloppily land himself among the sandy dunes of a desert planet and stagger down to the ramp before his vision blanks out again.

He falls hard and fast, dropping away completely, and the only thing he remembers is a sea of sand and an oasis of green.

He isn’t expecting to see Din for another month at the least. After his ad’ikas capture and subsequent rescue and relinquishing, Din had taken to the jobs Boba could convince him to take like a fish took to water. With a co-dependence that would kill him eventually when he stopped and let himself settle. He knew that he would be back- Din seemed to gravitate to him in the same way that Boba longed to call out to him, to sit in silence, helmets heavy and breathing slow. To press themselves back to back in a fight, whistling birds dancing around them and Boba’s blood singing with adrenaline.

It hadn’t been something that they discussed when Din walked onto the Slave after capturing Gideon, saber heavy on his hip and shoulders slumped in hollow defeat. He hadn’t said anything when Din had flinched when Boba had reached to thumb at the dusty mark on Din’s helmet, the faint outline of a fist. He had only tilted his head, observing the quiet, resigned way that Din bowed his head and waited to be shamed.

“There’s a room in the hull of the ship.” Is all he had said, all he had offered. And when he found himself dropping off an angry Bo-Katan and resolute Dune, he hadn’t told Din to leave.

Din hadn’t left his side for long since.

Something in Boba liked that, in having Din close to him. Fennec was a partner, someone he found he could trust, could rely on to get the job done. Din was- different. A remnant of a culture his father had hardly ever spoken of, a reminder in the deadly efficient way that he fought what Boba lost when his father had died. What he gained when Din stayed, helped him take over the Hutt dynasty and stood resolutely near the entrance, ever vigilant as Boba took his place on the throne. Din had looked at him then, nodded in understanding, and Boba had felt the acknowledgement so deeply in his core that it still rocked him to this day.

So he knew that Din would be back, as surely as he knew what was happening in a small desert town halfway across Tatooine. When the Crest landed roughly in the sand, sending waves of it up into the air, Boba knew something was wrong- he had hardly watched on the camera for a moment before bounding up the steps as the roar of the engines grew louder and louder. The ramp was down by the time Boba made it outside, and Boba is halfway up, heart pounding against the durasteel of his armor as Din staggers out.

Boba has never seen his beskar so covered in blood. Oddly, it's the first thing Boba can think of when he sees Din, left arm tucked close to his stomach and whole body slumping to one side. He feels his lips form words, hears himself talking, but Din can't respond, knees giving out and hand shooting forward as Boba's arms come up to catch him around the abdomen. A sharp, agonized noise rattles from Din's throat as Boba hoists him up in his arms, the stench of blood and blaster bolts strong even through the filter of his helmet. He clicks over to Fennec's comm without a thought, voice strangled in his throat and whole body weak.

"Clear them out." The command is rough, sharp, but Boba hears Fennec begin yelling immediately, and relief floods him once again at having chanced upon someone he can actually rely on. It only takes a few moments for any lingering visitors to be ushered out of the entrance, and Boba sweeps down the stairs, Din held close to his chest as the unconscious man's head lolls, clinking gently against his chestpiece.

"Shit," Fennec says upon sight of him, standing abruptly a bit straighter.

"Bacta." Boba grinds out, arms straining with the weight of Din and all his armor. He can't stop, can't think past the strangely detached panic rushing every one of his movements. He brings Din to his room, mainly because of its privacy, but also because Boba can't bear the thought of him being further away than he needs to be. He doesn't care about the sheets when he lays Din out, working at the clasps of his armor with brutal efficiency.

There is something both intimate and betraying about working Din's armor off, peeling it away from his body and watching as more and more blood is revealed. Boba doesn't know how Din managed to make it back here, let alone land the ship and stagger out onto the ramp before finally succumbing. He's working at wrenching Din's jetpack and back plate off with one hand when his comm crackles, Fennec's voice low and only slightly breathless.

"Fett- there's no bacta. The stores are completely empty."

"It's a fucking crime syndicate, how is there not-"

"I can get some, but it'll take days." Fennec interrupts, voice quirking, and Boba heaves a deep breath, trying to clear his muddied thoughts.

"Fine. Bring water, bandages, whatever we do have."

The door to Boba's room pings softly a few minutes later, and while Boba eases Din back onto the bed, listening to the pained groan that earns him, the door slides open with the override of the lock. Fennec comes in, juggling a basket of what looks like all of their possible medical supplies, two huge jugs of water pinned under her arms. Boba takes the jugs, since there's blood on his hands and he doesn't want to ruin the linen yet. When Fennec's eyes linger on Din's unarmored form Boba finds himself shifting, obscuring her view, her dark eyes flicking up to his. "He needs more than we can give."

"He isn't leaving." Boba snaps, Fennec setting the basket on the bed and shaking her head.

"I'll get bacta, see if I can find a nurse droid."

"Do what you have to."

Fennec pauses, looking like she wants to say something, and then seems to think better of it. She gives him another curious, pitying look before leaving with the intent to get something to help Din. Boba in the meantime, locks the door again and washes his gloves off in the water before yanking them off and reaching up to remove his helmet. He isn’t going to be able to work properly with it in the way, even with its advanced optics, and he leaves it on the dresser as he begins stripping Din’s bloody clothes from him. He manages with the pants fine, keeping his eyes carefully averted, but the instant he lifts Din’s arm off his stomach to remove his shirt a hand comes up, clamping down so tight around his wrist that Boba feels the bones grind.

Din’s head moves, trying to lift, and Boba reaches to brace his head, allowing Din to look at him. Boba can see his chest rise, taking in a breath to speak, but all that comes out is a pained whimper and Boba shakes his head, shushing him quietly and gently lowering his head back down. “I had to remove it. Stay still.”

Din’s head turns again, searching, and Boba gestures toward Din’s armor, allowing him to look before urging him back down fully onto his back. Din finally drops his wrist, hand going limp, and Boba pulls out a knife, splitting the shirt straight up the front in lieu of trying to wiggle it off. It’s so saturated with blood anyway that it would have been hard to save, and Boba hisses at the sight of Din’s ruined torso. Bruises bloom across his side, so purple they’re nearly black, and when Boba presses in, searching, Din cries out, flinching away.

The sound breaks something in Boba, but he presses harder, feeling along the curvature of Din’s ribs and gritting his teeth when Din dips back into unconsciousness. Boba finds two ribs broken in his rough examination, and his eyes track further up Din’s chest, toward where he can very plainly see that Din’s collarbone has snapped. It hasn’t broken skin, but each ragged breath makes the skin shift, and Boba has only a cursory knowledge of how to set a collar bone.

He isn’t setting anything yet, though, not until he wipes away the blood staining Din’s skin, dabs at the cuts that managed to get into the small gaps of his armor. He’s careful about how much water he uses- he wants Din to be able to drink when he comes to, and he can’t do that if Boba douses him. So he uses it sparingly, just enough to get the blood to come away from his skin, to wipe him down until Boba can see the battered, bruised expanse of him in his entirety.

Din is still unconscious, blissfully unaware of what is about to happen as Boba grabs the bandages and carefully lifts him up. He slips behind Din’s limp form, bracing him against his chestplate, and begins to wrap. It's awkward, working with just himself, but he's bound ribs in worse conditions, and Din isn’t in any condition to fight against him. He’s careful not to wrap too tight- he needs the ribs to stay mostly in place, but Din still has to be able to breathe, and Boba watches his chest for each and every breath. His collarbone is another story: he doesn’t know if anything has been damaged, and without a nurse droid to scan or advise him Boba makes due.

He dips out momentarily to find something long and flat, coming back to the room with held breath. Din hasn’t moved from his prone position on the bed and Boba is grateful; whatever happened to him is over now, and he can only hope that Din was at least successful in getting his quarry. Because if not… There are many, many things that Boba will do to the target before the night is over.

Boba’s second worst part of the night starts- he gathers the bandages and his length of wood, setting a cloth between Din’s collarbone and the wood before abruptly pressing down in one movement. Din’s screams echo in his ears far after they’ve cut off, and Boba grits his teeth, wrapping around Din’s shoulder and over his chest to secure the makeshift splint in place. Din’s chest rises and falls with broken, grating breaths, and Boba uses a length of bandage to tie it around Din’s wrist and across his chest, pinning his left arm up onto his stomach to prevent him from moving his shoulder. He’ll fashion a more permanent sling when he can see properly, when he can blink the wetness from his eyes and keep the tears from falling onto Din’s bandages.

With Din’s most pressing injuries taken care of and his blood cleaned as best Boba can manage, he realizes he only has one thing left to do- check underneath Din’s helmet. The thought is horrifying, demeaning, and Boba’s skin crawls at the thought of being the one to shatter Din’s Creed further than it already is, but he- he can see blood, has cleaned blood from the undamaged slope of Din’s neck and he knows that it’s seeping from under his helmet.

Boba gathers all of what he’s going to need near him on the side of the bed, drawing in a deep breath and closing his eyes. He reaches forward, bumping lightly across the front of Din’s visor, following the t-shape down until his hands are around the back. Din’s seal lock is in the same spot, and Boba pops it with a gentle movement. He pauses there, breath held, and only lets it shudder out when Din doesn’t stir. He pulls back to brace his hands on either side of Din’s head, thumbs dipping into the hollow of the cheeks, and bows his head, eyes squeezed firmly shut. Forgive me.

He lifts Din’s helmet from his head in one smooth, gentle movement, using one hand to catch Din’s head before it can thump back. His brain shorts at the feeling of Din’s hair, soft and curling in his palm. A bit damp with either blood or sweat, but when Boba pulls his hand back, sniffing, he gets only the soft tang of sweat. No blood on the back of his head, at least. Boba sets Din’s helmet off to the side gently, not wanting it to go far, and then reaches out with both hands. His fingers bump over Din’s chin, scratching faintly against stubble, and Boba is surprised to say he never expected that. Boba traces the line of his jaw, following the bit of facial hair he has, and moving up slowly. Din’s breaths are shallow but warm when Boba’s fingers pause over his mouth, tracing his lips for any scabbed blood and finding none.

He continues his way up, checking to make sure Din’s nose is in the correct position, his cheekbones haven’t been broken in. He brushes over Din’s closed eyelids, feeling the way that Din’s eyes twitch madly underneath them, trapped in a dream or nightmare. He doesn’t find anything wrong until he gets up closer to Din’s hairline, and there he finds a long cut just below his hairline, already scabbed over. Now that Boba can feel where the wound is he grabs for a washcloth, gently dabbing at the cut and wiping the area around it. When he runs his fingers through Din’s hair they tug with the blood dried in his hair, and Boba freezes. He doesn’t want to cause more pain, but Din doesn’t wake up and Boba spends a few minutes trying to work the blood from his hair without being able to see.

The longer he touches Din’s hair the more he begins to admire the texture: it’s curly, though not in the tight, bunched curls that Boba remembers himself having. No, these are softer, easily brushed through, and Boba very suddenly misses his own hair- the care he’d taken, the way it had made him seem like Boba, not Jango, not a clone, but him. He realizes that he’s sitting here, playing with Din’s hair, prolonging his time helmetless, and shame so hot it scalds sweeps through him. Boba touches lightly at the cut again, relieved that it hasn’t opened with his cleaning, and fumbles for Din’s helmet.

Din can’t stand the pain- fingers are digging into his side, rending him, ribs shifting under his touch, and he grabs blindly for whoever has hurt him. Whoever continues to hurt him. Boba’s face comes into view when a hand cradles the back of his head, and his eyes are wide, near imploring as Din realizes with faint shame that he’s been stripped of his beskar. Boba says something, an excuse, but Din is distracted again by the pain, and his neck is too weak to support his head as he looks for his armor. His armor. Boba shows him it, disgustingly red but close, and when fingers stab back at his side Din careens back into unconsciousness.

The next time he wakes he can hardly breathe- each breath rattles in and out of him, made harder by the bandages crushing at his ribs. He breathes as deep as he can, but that only sends pain searing through his shoulder, and Din’s head lolls. The light in the room is all but gone, and Din searches with what strength he does have. His armor is gone from his side and a bolt of panic goes through Din, nearly overriding the pain keeping him bound to the bed. He shifts, neck aching, and stops when he sees Boba, hunched by the only lamp in the room, scrubbing resolutely at the front of Din’s chestplate with deliberate care. Din wants to reach out, to say something, but his mouth won’t work, and he sinks back into sleep.

He wakes again briefly to a hand brushing through his hair, heart rate spiking in panic and breaths coming fast and rough as he peels his eyes open. Each image before him is blurry at best, but he stares at Boba’s closed eyes, the ugly, resigned pinch to his brow as fingers find the throbbing cut on Din’s forehead. Din stares at him, stares and stares and wills himself to say something, but Boba is spraying something cold that smoothes the pain, and Din is sinking back into sleep before the helmet can even seal back around him.

The pain isn’t what wakes Din this time. It’s the absence of it, the utter lack of anything other than a faint uncomfortable stickiness. He shifts, turning his head, and finds Boba pacing the length of the room, armor left in a heap with Din’s and black clothes rumpled in a way that suggests Boba has been working. Din chokes on a breath trying to talk, and the other man’s head snaps toward him, watching as Din scrabbles at the back of his helmet with one hand.

“Gev, gev, Din, stop-”

“Can’t- breathe-” He chokes out, each word eeking out with harsh gasps. He watches as Boba lunges, grabbing at his wrist and forcing it into the bed as Din’s breaths come faster and faster. “Gaa’tayl.”

Help.

Boba’s hands are shaking as his eyes close and the helmet comes off, Din sucking in whatever greedy breaths he can manage. Boba holds the helmet close to his chest, as if cradling the anonymity that Din has always craved. Din’s heart cracks in his chest at the bitter, angry set of Boba’s lips- not at him, never- but at the way he’s broken Din’s creed, twice now that Din knows. It doesn't hurt to think about as much as he expects. Din reaches out with the one hand that isn’t strapped down to his body, taking his helmet from Boba’s hand and forcing words up from his chest.

“It’s already broken.”

“Not by me.”

“Boba.” Din says, and that word alone is what breaks the stubborn set of the other man’s shoulders, what causes his shoulders to shake as a weak, aching sob shudders through him. His moment of weakness is that- a moment before Boba reigns himself in, face evening out, but Din is reaching for him the same moment Boba’s hand slips under Din’s head, holding him steady as their foreheads press together.

He wants to marry him.

He wants to say the words and never take them back and hope to whatever god is listening to him that Din says them too. Somehow in Boba’s mind, in the dark, twisting and turning of his reality after the sarlacc, he forgets that Din isn’t invincible. That the saber heavy on Din’s hip is a reminder of his mortality, not a shining beacon of all that Din has become: all that he’s risen above, to be the man that he is now.

He has survived worse than Boba could ever imagine a normal man surviving, though with every breath that Din draws in he proves him wrong. It’s too much- the soft, pained rasp of Din’s breath, the slow rise and fall of his chest- the stark white of the bandages against his skin. The image of Din outside of beskar is one that Boba has longed to see, to touch, to taste, to feel, but seeing him now, none of that matters. Nothing about him matters, not his feelings, not the blood that he knows is Din’s that won’t scrub away from his nail beds. Not the sharp, stabbing ache in his wild beating heart that throbs with each and every breath that Din continues to pull in. Seeing Din breathe is all that Boba cares for- the longer he breathes, the easier he settles into bed, the better Boba can think.

He'd torn the Slave apart looking for the med kit he knew was on board, and used up his entire supply of bacta just to ease Din's pain for a little bit. Fennec was on her way to get and bring back more- objectively Boba knew this, but he also knew Din better than he sometimes knew himself. The mandalorian would stay down for all of two seconds before insisting on going back to do something else, to return to a hunt or head off to gods know where. Boba just had to figure out how to keep him here long enough to actually recover.

He's still thinking about it when Din groans behind him, legs shifting under the blanket that Boba had tossed over him once the suns set and the temperature had plummeted. It's probably the only part of him that Din can move without his body screaming in pain, and Boba turns to him, eyes carefully downcast. "Are you in pain?"

Din grunts, trying to use his right arm to shove himself up. Boba is careful, quick as he hoists Din further up to lay among the pillows piled at the head of the bed. There are dark smears of blood staining the sheets, but the last thing Boba cares about is sheets. "I'm fine." He mumbles, voice weak with the strain of moving.

Boba doesn't comment on the lie, instead moving to carefully sit at Din's side, close enough that he can brush his hands over the bandages, trying to feel for any spots where blood might have seeped through. The cuts and gashes on Din's exposed sides and arms are almost healed already with the generous helping of bacta that Boba had sprayed him down with. The bandages pressed to his skin are soaked with it as much as Boba could manage, and he has no clue if bacta will really do anything for bone breaks without them having a bacta tank, but he can hope.

"What happened?" It's probably one of the last questions that Boba wants to ask, but Din huffs, the sound turning into a wheeze as he slumps against the pillows completely.

"The bounty had friends."

"Are they alive?"

Din somehow forces out a laugh, and Boba jerks when warm fingers slip against his chin, lifting his head. His eyes flick up of their own accord, but he averts them before he even gets to Din's neck. "Do I take prisoners?"

"Lately?" Boba asks, voice teasing but chest constricting with the knowledge that he doesn't have anyone to punish. "How many?"

"Twenty, thirty maybe." This time Boba can't stop his reaction, and it feels as much a betrayal as anything he's ever done, but Din's eyes are hard and glittering and Boba feels like he's plummeting hundreds of feet back into the sarlacc pit. His skin burns with Din staring at him, and Boba keeps his eyes carefully on Din's, refusing to wander until Din says, voice quiet, "My Creed is my own."

"I know." He croaks, throat tightening. Din's eyes narrow slightly with what Boba assumes is a smile, corners crinkling, and he feels too hot, too smothered and yet too laid bare all at once.

"Look at me, Boba Fett." His full name, his last name shocks through him with such intensity that his eyes close before he can even think to keep them open. Din's hand touches his face again, draws him closer, and Boba fights the urge to grab a handful of Din's dark hair- because it's black, with white peppering his temples- from stress or age Boba doesn't know. His eyes are still dark, so brown they're near black, and Boba loses himself within their depths as Din's thumb sweeps along his cheekbone.

Having a hand so close to his eyes, his throat has Boba's body tensing on some unspoken, fear driven impulse, but Din's touch is featherlight, achingly gentle over a scar that twists along his cheek and up onto his temple. "I'm looking."

And he is. Gods, but he is.

He still doesn't think he should; Din's Creed is what he clings to, Boba knows this as surely as Boba clings to the fiery, burning pit of loss and rage and flames that fuel him. But it isn't his place to decide what Din should ask for- it's only his place to give Din what he asks for, if he's able. And this, Boba is able to give him a thousand times over.

Din is soft, with doe-like eyes, a scruffy beard and mustache that looks like he should have trimmed a few days ago, hair that stands on end from where Din had been sleeping on it. There are wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from smiling, a dimple that pops on his right cheek when Din grins, teeth flashing. Boba is struck by the urge to reach out and touch him, despite never having craved anyone's touch himself. He reaches up, hiding the shaking of his fingers, and pauses, waiting, until Din nods, closing his eyes when Boba's fingertips bump his cheek. The scratch of stubble is more familiar than it should be under Boba's fingers, and he slides them until they touch right behind Din's ear, palm pressed flat to Din's cheek as he leans heavily into the touch.

He doesn't know how much longer he can sit like this, lingering on some unseen edge, heart fluttering in his chest in a distinctly scared way. A way he's desperately tried not to feel since he was orphaned. Set adrift.

"I get to choose." Din whispers, soft enough that Boba hardly hears him.

"Choose me." He blurts out, before he can think better of it. It doesn't make sense, what he's said, but Din's lips quirk in a small, pained smile, and Boba falls silent when those soft, warm eyes open and lock onto him.

"Together." It isn't a question, isn't a request- it's a plea, a call to Boba that he rises to meet. That he runs to meet, lips forming the words in time with the more sinuous melody of Din's Mando'a.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

Somehow Boba doesn't expect it to be different- and it isn't. But somehow nothing is ever going to be the same again, with Din bound to him and someone his equal waiting for him, no matter how far apart they are. He’s never fancied himself a romantic, even now with Din looking at him with that soft, curious look and tilt to his head that Boba knows is because he isn't used to being helmetless. This way, Boba tells himself, this way he can look at Din and not feel like he's intruding on something- Din is his now, just as Boba is Din's. He's somehow lost himself in thought long enough for Din to think he can try to move, and Boba's hand shoots out, palm heavy on Din's chest as he presses the other man back into the bed.

"Don't even think about it, Beroya."

"Unless you want me to ruin the sheets, I have to use the 'fresher."

"You already ruined the sheets." Boba points out, clenching his jaw to keep from smiling at the way Din's nose wrinkles in distaste. "With me, Beroya."

"I can-" Boba shoots him a look as he stands, moving to swing Din's legs out of bed. Din wheezes with the simple movement and Boba gives him another look, brow raised, causing the other man to glower. It takes another few minutes for Din to be able to support enough of his weight that he can walk, and Boba stays tucked resolutely under Din's right arm the entire way, glad for once, that his height allows Din to lean without straining him.

It takes a bit of awkward maneuvering and swearing from Din, but they manage, and Boba leaves Din sagging against the dresser while he strips away the bloody sheets and changes them out. No need to risk some kind of infection from the wounds Boba couldn’t slather in bacta. Din settles back into bed without much protest, skin pale and sweat dotting his brow.

“Thirsty?” Boba stoops to gather up the jug of water he’d saved for Din, holding it steady as Din’s hand braces against it, keeping it close as he drinks. “Alright, alright, don’t drown yourself.”

Din glares at him when he pulls the jug away, but there’s water dripping down his chin from how quickly he drank and Boba reaches to wipe it away without a thought. Din stills at the touch, shocked, but when Boba goes to pull back, lips pressed together Din catches his hand, leaning into his palm and closing his eyes. “Don’t. You’re allowed to.”

“Is that what you want?”

Din laughs, though the action of doing so causes a shudder to go through him, and his face pinches with pain. “I married you, Fett.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Just come over here.” He frowns at Din, thinking over what Din could want, and he inches slowly closer, careful of his side and arm. Din allows him this hesitance, this moment to puzzle him out before he holds out a hand, brushing his fingers over Boba’s cheek. “I’ve never seen you hesitate.”

“I don’t.”

“So stop doing it now. If I had a problem with you touching, or you looking, I’d have kicked you out.”

“It’s my room.” Boba points out, chuckling when Din raises a brow.

“Our room.” He knows that Din is half joking, but something warm and flimsy settles in his stomach and he can feel himself smiling without meaning to. There’s a question in his statement too, of whether or not Boba wants his own space, and he tips forward, bumping their foreheads together as gently as he can manage with Din’s hand goading him on. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You can stay until you piss me off.” Din barks out a laugh that turns abruptly into a groan, and Boba frowns, ready to chastise him.

“What if you piss me off?”

“I’m king.”

“So am I.” Din shoots back, though Boba knows he hardly cares to acknowledge that fact in owning the Darksaber.

“I’m king of this castle.” He fires back, just to watch the way that Din’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Though technically, you are as well, now.”

“Ugh.” Boba can’t help the low, pleased chuckle that comes from him at Din’s obvious distaste. “I don’t want a crown.”

“Trophy husband?”

Din rolls his eyes.

Boba has to physically restrain Din twice before he agrees to stay in bed. The first time Boba had just sat on his thighs, pinning him into the bed with his weight and waiting until Din tired from the pain in his side and lack of an arm to help shove Boba off. The second time was harder, because by then Fennec had brought droves of bacta, and Boba was near religious in smearing it along Din’s collarbone and rib in the hopes that it would help past healing the bruises.

The nurse droid that Fennec brings back is a great help as well, and gives Din a once over before Din shoves it away. It reports that the splint and wrapping is sufficient, and that there are no bleeds or tears in Din’s muscles or tendons. All it takes is time and a whole lot of rest. Rest that Din insists is unneeded, that he doesn’t want. The bacta helps with his pain, and that makes Din reckless with his arm and his side. It makes him reckless, and sometimes a little stupid when he really wants to get going, but Boba is nothing if not indulgent, and whatever Din asks for he’s given.

When Din asks him after a week to let him go outside, Boba straps him into his armor and walks his through the courtyard. When Din tires Boba tucks under his arm like there's nothing he'd rather do, allowing Din to sag his full weight against him and pant through the modulator of his helmet.

When Din demands that he be allowed to go return his bounty to claim his reward Boba goes with, leaving Fennec to watch over Tatooine while they're on Nevarro dropping off the carbonite encased Rodian. Boba refuses flat out to let Din look at bounty pucks, though, and Din gets one look in warning before Boba is dragging him out of Karga's office, ignoring the swears and protests that trail behind him.

When Din begs Boba to kiss him, Boba only denies him for the first two days. The last thing he wants is to hurt Din, and he knows himself and he knows Din too well to think that either of them will stop if they get going. So when Din demands instead of begging, grabbing Boba's collar with his good arm and yanking him close, he only laughs and finally, finally gives Din what he wants.

When Din crawls into his lap, regardless of the way his side twinges, Boba holds him by the hips and denies him what they both want. Boba may give Din whatever he wants, but in this he's firm, and no amount of sweet talking or noises or touches will bend Boba to Din's will. He tells Din to wait, to be patient, and kisses the protests from his lips until Din is once again leaning all his weight on Boba, good arm up around his shoulders and fingers idly tracing along the nape of Boba's neck.

Boba will continue this dance for as long as he needs to, until Din can walk and breathe without wheezing, and until Din can move his left arm and still have strength in his hand to grip.

He is swimming in frustration. He wants to move, to run and fight and stop laying around. But each breath is still a knife in his side, even four weeks later, and he's just beginning to work strength back into his left arm despite all of Boba's protesting. The feeling of wood, straight across his collarbone and hindering his movement has become something of a comfort, because sometimes when Din lifts something too heavy he feels like the bone is creaking inside of him, ready to snap at a moments notice, and the only thing keeping that from happening is the slat of wood pressing down into his skin.

He spends each night under Boba's careful attention, reeking of the mint-sharp smell of bacta as Boba sits on his thighs and smooths his hands over the yellowing on Din's side. Occasionally his fingers will dig in, just to check on his progress, and Din has to hold onto Boba's knee to keep from punching him in some automatic retaliation. But for all his protesting and prowling, Boba takes it all in stride, and Din's chest burns with the thought and sight of his husband- his husband caring for him.

Din watches him now, the broad slope of his shoulders, the careful way his brows flinch when he's concentrating on feeling the ribs that are nearly healed. Din slips his hand higher on Boba's knee, thumb tracing along the seam on the inside of Boba's thigh, and hopes his face won't betray him for once. Boba's attention doesn't stray, but his legs shift, spreading just so, as if the gesture is more unconscious than conscious. Din isn't sure Boba even knows that he does it. He's not going to point it out.

His eyes remain carefully on Boba's face when he slips his hand a bit higher, bolder, and he can tell the moment that Boba notices him. His body goes still, head twitching in a brief tilt, and his eyes flick up, lingering on his throat before finally glancing up to lock eyes. It's the quickest way that Boba seems to be able to convince himself that he's allowed to look, even after weeks of Din waking up to Boba leaning on one elbow, staring down at him like he's some buried treasure that Boba is still trying to uncover.

"I told you to be good."

"I am." Din says, not moving his hand another inch but continuing the slow sweep of his thumb. "Haven't even tried to hit you today."

Boba's eyes narrow, but Din can see the amusement that softens any hard edge, and he flashes what he hopes is a smarmy grin. It seems to have worked because Boba rolls his eyes, shaking his head and scooting a bit further to sit on Din's hips so he can reach his collarbone. Din makes an encouraging sound, tilting his head to the side and raising his brows. Boba snorts, pausing to squeeze more bacta onto his fingers before dipping to smooth it over Din's collarbone.

Din waits until that concentrated look crosses Boba's face again to move his hand, inching it further up. He feels Boba shudder, just a small quake in his thighs, and Din bites the inside of his lip to keep from grinning. Boba’s fingers are warm and gentle on his collarbone, smoothing over the faint bruises and working the bacta into Din’s skin as best he can without potentially shifting the bone. Din loses himself momentarily in the way that Boba traces along his collarbone and leans to grab at a washcloth he keeps nearby, wiping his fingers off and glancing down at Din with an appraising look.

He remembers his purpose suddenly with a roar through his veins at the sight of Boba above him, and his fingers dig into Boba’s thighs, thumb rubbing hard over the sensitive skin on the inside of his thigh. He delights in the small, pleased gasp that falls from Boba’s lips, but then Boba’s fingers wrap around his wrist, snatching his hand up while his dark eyes narrow. Din’s fingers twitch, arm straining as he tries to tug away, but Boba’s got him now, and his attention is firmly on Din, like a predator tracking prey.

“Your ribs are broken.”

“They’re healed.” Din protests, though they definitely aren’t fully healed yet.

Boba knows better, of course he does, because there’s no one that Boba bothers to pay attention to more than he does Din. It makes Din feel warm, flushed with want and love and everything else he doesn’t really have a name for.

“You’re being impatient.”

“I’ve been a saint.” He says, frowning with displeasure when Boba shifts his hips back a smidgeon. “We’re married, I think it’s normal to want-”

“Din.” Din’s teeth snap shut with an audible snap at the sound of his name on Boba’s lips, and he stares, entranced, as Boba lifts his hand. His breath catches in his throat, chest aching for an entirely different reason as Boba kisses at the soft inner skin of Din’s wrist, eyes warm and affectionate. Din, despite his protests, feels himself relaxing, sinking back into the sheets and watching as Boba places another kiss, humming quietly. “I’m not going to do anything yet.”

“But-” Boba’s teeth scraping lightly over the tendons of his wrist makes his brain short out, and Din’s vision goes blurry at the hot, aching twist in his stomach. His tongue flicks out to soothe the spot, as if in apology, and a rough, strained noise rattles from Din’s chest.

“Do not think,” Boba murmurs, “That this isn’t torture for me. To see, to touch, and not be able to do anything. I just happen to have better control.”

Din laughs- really he can’t help himself, and he tilts his head, ignoring the faint tug at his collarbone. “Are you saying I’m being needy?”

“Are you not?” Din laughs again, this time more in disbelief than anything else. Boba drops his hand, dipping down to touch their foreheads together, Din humming softly in contentment at having him close. “Wait until you can actually breathe.”

“I don’t want to.”

Boba’s lips quirk in a smile that’s too attractive for Din to ignore. “Tough shit, Princess.”

Boba is beginning to enjoy telling Din no. If only to watch the way his brows pinch in puzzled confusion, as if thinking over how best he can convince Boba otherwise. It’s a fun game, to see what Din will come up with for the bigger requests, and just how long Din will stare with wide, imploring eyes until Boba sighs and gives in for the smaller ones.

Like now.

Din has that look on full display, sitting shirtless on the edge of the bed while Boba straps his armor on. He has to go off planet for a problem with some trade routes, and Din has demanded he come too- much to Boba’s amusement and Din’s frustration.

“Why can’t Fennec stay?”

“She’s the only one the contact will talk to.”

“But-”

“I need you to stay here, Beroya. Please.” His voice softens at the end, and if Din thought he was good at begging, Boba can do so much worse when he puts his mind to it. Din’s pleading expression crumples into one of soft, resigned adoration, and Boba is near breathless at the sight.

“I want to come on the next one.” He says, as if bargaining.

“We’ll see.”

Din groans at that answer, clearly not pleased, and Boba rolls his eyes as Din flops back. His ribs have healed well with the bacta and time, and the only worry Boba has left is the tenderness in Din’s shoulder. The nurse droid assured them it would work out with therapy to strengthen the muscles around it, but Boba isn’t ready to push it yet.

“-the worst husband I could have gotten-”

“Hey.” Boba protests, striding over to frown down at him. Din continues his lament. Boba dips down and grabs a handful of his hair, holding him steady as Boba’s lips press to Din’s, cutting him off mid monologue. Din’s hand comes up to cup the side of Boba’s neck as a soft, pleased noise rumbles from him, and Boba nearly ruins the kiss by smiling at the sound. “I’m the best husband.”

“A good husband would let me come.” Din says, lips twitching in a smile when Boba groans.

“A good husband would stay here, to protect their home.”

Din hums, as if thinking that over before his smile grows into a grin. “You’re right.”

“Come again?”

“You’re right.” Din says again, “You can stay here- I’ll go with Fennec.”

“That isn’t what I meant, you little shit-” Din laughs, bright and open, and drags Boba down into another kiss, silencing the both of them.

#bobadin #boba fett #din djarin #hurt/comfort #graphic depictions of violence #whump #marriage proposals #in the way only two idiots could do

60 notes · View notes

echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Whatever It Takes : RELOADED

More safe house shenanigans as the gang looks for leads.

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : My Damsel in Distress

Delayed Flight

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

Safehouse 110197, Brazil

Soap haven't slept like this for quite a long time. He almost felt guilty that he's peacefully sleeping all while the world was in chaos.

Slowly got up after noticing that Alex and Ghost were still asleep beside him, they looked like they just slept and he didn't bother waking them up for breakfast. Another scan of the room indicated that everyone else is downstairs.

John quickly tiptoed across the room and swung the door open. On the other side of the door was France who looked focused while carrying two mugs of coffee.

"Oh! You're up!" she said in surprise as her coffee mugs wobbled. John's quick reflex immediately caught her hands and held them tight until it stabilized.

"I'm sorry I surprised you. Are you okay?" he asked worriedly, a smirk escaped his face as he noticed a faint blush from the female's cheek.

"Yeah. I brought you coffee since the hot water was almost out and you were still asleep." she stammered, not making eye contact to him. Soap looked curious, where was the woman that confidently rejected him yesterday?

"Aww. So you are concerned!" he mused, holding her hands tight, drawing the steaming coffee mug close to him.

"Not really. I just thought that you're the last one to drink some so the kettle would finally be empty. Don't get your hopes too high, MacTavish." she gently shoved him the mug and carefully stormed off. There she was, back on her guard.

"Well, thanks for the concern." He greeted as he stepped down the stairs while sipping his coffee and met with everyone in the living room.

"Aren't we supposed to do recon for Samantha?" He asked, addressing the leaders who were casually reading a newspaper.

"Negative." Jack said, not looking at the Scottish soldier.

"We still have fuel from Nikolai's plane but we can't waste in on suspicion alone. We have to get solid intel." Price added.

"So we're like chilling here. Doing nothing." He said.

"Not exactly nothing. Ghost might have a lead anytime soon. For now, why don't you run some errands. Maxine needs some things for us here." Price replied, eyes still focused on the paper.

"John?" Maxine peeked from the kitchen and both Price and Soap turned to her.

"I meant Price." she dismissed, making Soap turn away from embarrassment.

"Can I come with them instead of making a list?" she asked, Soap could see Roach behind her eyeing on the interaction.

"Sure. You've got three bodyguards with you. Just make sure you're always with at least one of them." he muttered. Beside him, Jack stood up and placed the paper on the table.

"All-righty then, I'll lead you to the town just this once. Next time out, you'll be on your own. It's quite a long walk. And you lad, dress less suspicious." he pointed to Soap's camo pants. Soap actually felt scared at Alex's former CO. His very being still intimidated the Scot.

"I'll be back in a minute." he mumbled and dashed upstairs while France walked by Maxine to the door.

"I know Price told us to wear civilian clothing but for some reason you still have the ability to stand out and raise suspicion." France announced as the small team of four exited the safe house en route to the nearby town.

"Is it the hair?" Soap quickly placed one of Price's bucket hats and flashed a grin at the two ladies behind him. "Happy now?" he asked.

"Aside from the fact that you're wearing a t-shirt too small for your size? Yep. When did you last buy clothes for yourself?" France replied sarcastically and asked. Maxine giggled as she walked beside her sister, something she started to accept and try to recall.

"You're just finding an excuse to look at me." He muttered as he dashed to catch up with Jack, who was peacefully enjoying the walk.

"I'm amazed as to how you two act like you're not soldiers right now. How do you do it?" Jack chuckled as he rolled his eyes to Soap's direction, trying not to laugh at the Scot. If he was being honest, the hat did him a worse job. It made his head look small and unproportional to his bulky build. He turned back to France and Maxine who were silently signaling him to keep quiet.

The road was quite long and Soap finally found a small puddle of water to look at how he looked. No wonder they were giggling. He looked like a teddy bear who had a small head.

He then shyly took off his hat and glanced back at the puddle. Maybe it was time for him to buy larger clothes.

"Yeah. Guess someone has to help me pick some clothes as well." he muttered, while France paced beside him and gave him an assuring smile.

"I could always help, John." she said cheerfully and their eyes met. John slowly felt the sincerity on her smile, his heart sped and he found himself inching his face closer to her.

"The town's almost there!" Alex yelled from the distance as the two broke their gazes toward each other and quickly caught up with the two.

Awkward silence. They walked together behind Jack and Maxine who were now discussing what Jack's interests were back in the day. Not that it mattered to John, as all his mind was thinking was this pretty lady walking beside him. He wanted to graze his hand against hers, just to feel her smooth touch, he wondered if she'd let him hold her.

But he insisted, France was more of a slow but steady kind of person. She pointed it out to him multiple times and if he really wanted them to work, he had to do it the old-fashioned way. Sure the kiss was sudden, but what they had back at the Gulag was something worth waiting for and kissing her anytime now would never feel the same as the first.

Jack and Maxine quickly split off toward the market while the two of them remained by the center of the plaza. John scratched his head as he stuttered to ask her where to go.

"So… um… where to?" He asked.

"Looks like they got some cool jackets over there! You think you look good on those?" She asked excitedly.

"What do you think?" He asked shyly.

"Hmmmm.. Maybe… I'm not quite sure." She replied. John expected the classic you'd-look-better-without-any joke but she's not that kind of girl, and he's digging it.

When they say time flies by when you're having fun, John resonated with the quote. They spent most of the time laughing over clothes whose designs didn't make much sense and ended up buying most of them. Despite all the things going on around the world, John felt normal when he's with her, something he hasn't felt in quite a while. He'd even imagined that they're actually boyfriend and girlfriend whenever people around look at them. He was happy. He could get used to this.

It was about lunch time when they returned to the Safe house, and the scenery inside was the most unexpected thing ever.

Price was sleeping by the couch, his whole head was covered by a newspaper which had "End' times" written as the headline. Ghost and Roach were fighting over a piece of broccoli on the table while Alex sat by the stairs, wearing a shirt with a huge whale printed on it, playing with a lighter, flicking it open then closing it back as he stared at the flames.

"So that's where Smokey went." Soap muttered.

"Smokey?" France asked.

"My lighter." Soap replied confidently.

"Really?"

"Yep." he said, popping the 'P' as he unloaded most of the supplies to the kitchen.

"What happened here?" Jack asked, taking off his jacket, completely regretting wearing it in a tropical country.

"Roach ate my broccoli!" Ghost complained.

"Ghost ate my pie!" Roach complained back as Jack sighed and placed a palm on his face.

"We had pie?" Soap asked, his eyes beamed at the table, only to be disappointed that there was none.

"Technically it's a tart and it's supposed to be for Maxine." Ghost smiled shyly eyeing at Maxine.

"Well, it didn't have her name on it so I assumed…" Ghost replied.

"You don't have to assume! You should've asked!" he yelled.

Soap was amazed at the spectrum of the team, which ranged from very righteous and courageous warriors to actual toddlers. It made him happy that he joined this little group he could call family.

Another day had passed and they still had no leads. But Ghost looked like he was onto something as Soap found him with Price as they discussed matters that sounded serious. He just hoped it was a lead. He's starting to worry about Alex who was constantly moping around. With nothing to work on, all he could focus on was Samantha.

"Guess you liked playing with that lighter so much." Soap leaned by the door, looking concerned at his comrade.

"Hey man. How was the market." Alex asked, his tone was nonchalant, almost lifeless.

"Well, it was busy. Jack led us there because you were asleep all morning…"

"Yeah. I couldn't go there. We shared so many memories in that town. I just can't handle it at the moment." He frowned and tossed him the lighter which Soap caught immediately.

"Thanks for this. And if you ever need someone to talk to… We're here for you, pal." Soap said awkwardly. The term pal was very American and he thought it'd be appropriate.

"Thanks, pal." Alex chuckled and stood up.

"Let's go get dinner." Alex added, his eyes were fueled with determination. And Soap was happy that he's taking small steps to recover.

Next Chapter : Lurking in the Shadows

Notification Squad my Beloved

@beemybee @smokeywhalee @enderio @samatedeansbroccoli @ricinbach @whimsywispsblog

#horRAYfic #whateverittakes #reloaded #ilysm #john soap mactavish #john price #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1

26 notes · View notes

bubblesuga · 4 years

Text

Leave Me Lonely

A/N: I’m mad so here’s some angst that turned into smut :)

Prompt: The reader broke up with Yoongi six months ago. Just as she feels like she’s able to move on, he pops up on her doorstep with watery eyes and whiskey laced breath.

Warnings: alcohol, angsty yoongi, cussing, crying, squirting, unprotected sex (don’t do this), mentions of Plan B, oral (F receiving), riding, yoongi and the reader are a mess and don’t know what to do

Yoongi didn’t know what he was doing here, or how he ended up here. He just knew that he drank a little too much, and his feet carried him from the bar to here.

Your apartment.

He could navigate his way here with his eyes closed, which he practically did because he had no idea how he got here. The alcohol running through his veins was thanks in part to the lovely members in his band, insisting on celebrating their comeback with a lot of drinks and food. Unfortunately for him, that also meant that the alcohol was breaking down a barrier that he built up months ago when the two of you broke up.

It burned. He already had frustrated tears in his eyes just staring up at your balcony, debating whether or not it was actually worth it to walk up the stairs and knock on your door.

Sober Yoongi would stop him. Sober him would rationalize the break up, saying that there was no reason to bother you and that you more than likely had already moved on with your life especially with how quickly you managed to cut him off.

Drunk Yoongi is a different story though. Drunk Yoongi is mad that you left him so easily, seemingly unscathed by putting him through one of the worst things he had ever experienced. Drunk Yoongi is upset that you left when he needed you most, when you were the one thing holding him up from barreling into a whirlwind of depression and anxiety. Drunk Yoongi is sad, because sober him loves you still.

Annoyed, Yoongi reaches up and wipes the tear that slipped from his eye. Namjoon was probably already looking for him, and he knew that he should get back before the cops were called, but with ever step backward he was taking two steps forward until he eventually found himself gripping the railing of the stairs.

“Fuck.” He mutters to himself, taking one last glance downward before he began his ascent up the stairs.

The third floor seemed to take way longer to get to than before. Maybe it was the way his feet collided with the edge of every step or his hand having to constantly catch himself from stumbling backward. Through the perseverance of his stubborn mind, he made his way up the stairs and with out thinking about it twice, he knocked on your door.

Well, pounded. He pounded on your door.

“(Y/N),” he whined, his voice husky, “please open up.”

The pounding turned to gentle taps when he felt his eyes grow heavy, leaning his face against the door while his finger nails tapped against the door.

Just as he was about to give up, to stumble his way back down the stairs and forget that this whole thing happened by morning, he felt the weight of the door shift and before he knew it, he was on the ground in the doorway of your apartment.

“Yoongi?!” You yell, stepping backward when you heard the thud of his body hitting the ground.

Yoongi groans loudly, picking himself up off the ground, “Your apartment is cold.”

You roll your eyes, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Yoongi could already tell that this was a mistake. Okay, maybe he knew that it was a mistake before but his internalized fight with himself was much too loud for him for him to comprehend anything that was actually happening.

“I-” he groans as he grabs his head, “I wanted to see you.” His eyes traveled up from the floor to your face. You still looked the same, but now you had lighter hair and it was longer than before. Your face was still the same though, the concerned curve of your brow still rested above your eyes whenever Yoongi did something stupid. God damn, though, you were still just as beautiful.

“Why? Why on Earth would you think that coming here was okay, Yoongi?”

Even your voice was the same. The way your lips pursed and the curve of your tongue while you scolded him was still the same. It hit him, the familiarity of you was the reason he was here. He spent so much of his 20s traveling the world that the concept of having a ‘home’ was indescribable. His home was you, because everywhere he went he had you to lean back on, the scent of your Strawberry conditioner in his nostrils and your laughter filling his ears.

“Because I miss you.” Yoongi shrugged, plopping onto the couch. Your jaw dropped, throwing your hands up in the air as you kicked the door closed. It was close to midnight, you had work in the morning, and you had your ex-boyfriend sat on your couch with red-rimmed eyes.

“We’re broken up.” You whisper, sitting opposite of him and allowing your face to fall into your hands.

“Why?” He questions.

“Why what?”

“Why are we broken up?” Yoongi’s eyebrow raised in question, his hands clasped together in front of him. His mouth was dry while looking at you, the feeling of having you close yet again was somewhat overwhelming.

“I told you,” you clench your jaw, “your life was too hectic for me. I couldn’t keep up, I just wanted a sense of normalcy.”

“Normalcy?” Yoongi scoffs, his earlier anger returning, “You want fucking normal? You think I asked for all this shit to be thrown at me? That’s fucking laughable, that you think I wanted this.”

“Yoongi, I-”

“No, let me talk for once,” he stands, throwing his hands around wildly, “you walked out on me because you wanted to be normal? How fucking boring.”

You swallowed, the sting of his words setting in while you stared at the floor.

“What happened to the woman I fell in love with when we were 20 years old? Where did she go? She was willing to go on every adventure with me, she was there for me when I spent hours upon hours recording and re-recording songs that I wrote, about her might I add, and came home exhausted. She was the one who helped me navigate fame!” Yoongi was yelling now. Although it had been six months without you, his anger was just as futile. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel anything in so long.

“And what about me?” You spoke quietly, your eyes not leaving the floor.

“What do you mean, what about you?” Yoongi’s fists clenched and the stench of whiskey was far stronger than you realized before.

“Well, you sat there saying all the things I did for you. How I was your rock, and I helped you with everything. What about me, Yoongi? You were so caught up in your own feelings that you never stopped to think about how it was affecting me. To be entirely honest,” your nails dug into the palms of your hands while you were trying to prevent yourself from getting in his face, “it was exhausting to try and help you through it while never having any help myself. A relationship is a two way street, and you seem to forget that part.”

Yoongi was quiet again, sitting back down slowly on the couch while an emotion you couldn’t read was on his face. Immediately, he brought his nails up to his teeth, gnawing anxiously at them. Fuck, he thought, I’m an idiot.

“Well?” You gesture to him, your eyebrows raised.

He didn’t respond.

“I don’t even now why I’m entertaining this conversation. I’ll let you crash on my couch tonight but I want you out once your sober enough to get home. I’m going to sleep.” You speak, standing up from the ottoman. You went to your closet and grabbed a pillow and blanket, taking it out to Yoongi who still sat in the same position you left him in a few moments ago.

Placing the pillow at the edge of the couch, you couldn’t help but feel your heart hurt for the man beside you. You knew that navigating the world of the suddenly famous was difficult, you watched it happen for years, and it took a toll on you as well. You were mentally exhausted, and you never felt like you could talk to Yoongi about your problems because his seemed to be so much more. You felt foolish if anything to try and compare your co-worker yelling at you to Yoongi’s legs giving out from practicing for 12 hours straight.

Wordlessly, you pat the pillow to soften it, giving him one last glance and turning away while you heard the crack of his teeth biting into a nail. Old habits die hard.

~*~*~

Yoongi tried his hardest to sleep, but when six in the morning rolled around, he realized there was no use.

Leaning over to the notebook on the table beside the couch, he flipped to an open page and began writing. If there was anything he was good at, it was putting his words to paper.

It felt like he was writing for hours, his mind clouding over with thoughts of you as he wrote. Sober now, he had the ability to properly reflect on the words that you were saying last night. It was difficult to discern last night. He was listening, and he heard every word, but he couldn’t get passed the tone that you were using. It was so mature, like you had aged mentally in the six months more than you had in the entirety of your relationship. He feared that he was the one holding you back from your full potential.

After what seemed like ages, he placed the pen on top of the open notebook on your coffee table, and stood. His feet took a moment to carry him out the door, but he made sure to lock it as he left, hoping you wouldn’t just throw away the note without reading it.

It didn’t take long for you to wake up after that, stretching your limbs before remembering the events of last night. Quickly, you hopped out of bed and rushed to the living room, scanning the area of the slept in empty couch.

You sighed, but you weren’t sure if it was in relief or disappointment. Despite everything that happened last night, you still thought it was nice to see him. You had yet to admit it to anyone but yourself, but you missed him.

You walked towards the coffee table, grabbing the notebook curiously and beginning to read.

I’m sorry.

It’s probably better for me to start it off like that than with anything else. I’m an idiot, and I’m so sorry for that. I was so caught up in everything happening that I never stopped to take the time to see how it may be affecting you. Sure, I wasn’t the only one experiencing this at the time so I wasn’t alone, but I felt so alone when I wasn’t with you.

I used you as a shoulder to cry on, and you didn’t use me. I had no idea you were so hurt, and that’s my fault. You were my partner, you are the love of my life. I should have pulled my head out of my ass long enough to see that you needed me just as much as I needed you.

I’m in no way trying to excuse my behavior. I’m just trying to explain my side of things. I’m in a better place now, as far as coping with fame goes. I don’t find it to be such a disaster anymore, I’m more comfortable with what fate has laid out for me. Well, everything but being away from you. I’m still working on trying to handle that.

Thank you for letting me stay here. It warms my heart a little bit to know that you still care about me in some way and didn’t just throw me out on the street.

Although I know I was in the wrong here, I do hope you can forgive me. Even if you never talk to me again, I just want me to be one less thing that had you scorned.

I still love you Yoongi.

You dropped your head once you were done reading, pinching the bridge of your nose. The sight of his handwriting alone made you emotional. You remembered seeing his scribbles on post it notes strewn across your apartment and his studio of random topics to write songs about. You always found his handwriting endearing.

Taking in the words on the page, you re-read his sign off more times than you’d like to admit, your chest aching more and more with each time.

“Fucking Yoongi,” you groan out into the empty room, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, then standing abruptly to get ready for work.

As you showered, your mind was racing with thoughts of Yoongi. Of course you still loved him as well, but after careful consideration all those months ago, you realized it was better for you to take a bit of time for yourself and your mental health.

Last night you were angry, and you said some things that weren’t entirely true. Yes, Yoongi did help you out when you were down from time to time. It just felt like your entire existence was spent helping Yoongi that it overshadowed the times he helped you.

Admittedly you did leave him abruptly. The break up was filled with ‘I’m sorry’s and ‘It’s not you, it’s me’s. You told yourself that you had to get out then otherwise you knew you wouldn’t be able to do it.

Being without him was so hard for so long, now that you felt like you were in a place where he wasn’t on your mind constantly, he pops up on your doorstep. He looked so damn good, too. Black hair (a stark contrast to the reddish brown you saw him in the day you broke up), black shirt and white jeans. He looked thinner, something that you always worried about with him, but he was still the same Yoongi that you love.

His face didn’t leave your mind the entire day. The red-rimmed dark brown irises staring up at you in shock as you spewed on about your bullshit reasoning for leaving him. The way he just sat there and took it. The way he looked so defeated when you turned off the light and left him on your couch in the dark.

After you got off of work, you sat in your car, staring at your phone.

The contact name was changed from “Yoongles <3″ to just “MinY” a few months ago, something that it took you far too long to do. You couldn’t bring yourself to delete the contact, just in case.

Sighing, you opened your messaging app and began typing.

You: are you at genius lab right now?

MinY: Yes. Please don’t come visit out of pity.

You rolled your eyes, gnawing at your lip.

You: just let me come see you, dumbass.

It took him a moment to reply, but when he did you unlocked your phone faster than you ever had before.

MinY: ok. the passcode is the same.

The drive went by a lot quicker than you had anticipated. When you pulled into the parking lot of BigHit studios, anxiety filled you to the brim. Why were you doing this? What encouraged you to suddenly come here? How was staff going to react to you prancing back in there like you had so many times before?

Clenching your keys tightly in your hand, you stared at the doors and continued to debate whether or not this was worth it.

You had no clue what you were going to say, but you had to see him.

Walking inside, you made it to the elevator successfully with no questions asked. Pressing the top floor button, the elevator stopped midway through and in walked Jimin.

He didn’t seem to notice it was you at first, walking in while staring at his phone and noticing that the button was already pushed. He glanced your direction to see who needed to go to the top floor, his eyes going wide and his jaw dropping.

“Wh- what are you doing here?” Jimin stuttered, shock washing over him in rolls.

“I’m here to talk to Yoongi.” You say simply, clearing your throat and trying to avoid his eyes. You couldn’t help but feel like he must be mad at you for hurting his friend.

Jimin didn’t speak again, only allowing you to walk out of the elevator and down the hall. Your eyes stayed on the floor, your arms crossed over your stomach in the process. You knew that people recognized you, but you just couldn’t face them before you talked to Yoongi.

Yoongi was never one to be vocal about stuff, and you knew your break up never hit the media, but you couldn’t help but feel like everyone within the company was well aware of what happened.

Stepping up to the door, muscle memory kicked in and before you could hesitate any longer, you were punching in the pass code and listening to the door unlock.

You had walked into this scene many times before. Yoongi was sat in front of his piano, headphones on his head, his eyes closed as his fingers played silently across the keys. He was always so focused.

Seeing this room again had images of you bringing in take out many times and massaging his shoulders while you told him to relax playing through your head. You glanced carefully at the black leather couch in the corner, unable to count how many times you and Yoongi had made love on there.

He still didn’t notice you, opening his eyes and scratching notes across the music sheets. You walked behind his chair silently, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling away quickly once you felt him jump.

“Jesus fucking-” he turned and met your eyes, his facial expression softening immediately, “-sorry I thought you were Jungkook.”

“It’s okay.” It was quiet. Both of you were just puddles of anxiety, and Yoongi’s eyes searched yours for any ounce of pity, but there was none. He couldn’t figure out why you wanted to come here, and it took every piece of him not to begin panicking when he initially saw your text.

He knew if he looked directly into the eyes of his bandmates, he would tell them everything in a panic and they would try to talk him out of saying you could come here.

“Still looks the same.” You say suddenly, looking around the studio. The shelves of plushies from fans made you smile, he always tried to keep everything that was given to him. You noticed that the mannequin holding the Chicago Bulls jersey now had a BT21 hat sat on top of it, with various chains dangling from it’s neck. Whether Yoongi liked to admit it or not, he took pride in the way his studio looked.

“Yeah,” he inhales, “I like the aesthetic. Makes it feel like home.”

Making conversation with Yoongi had always come to easily before. Now that you hadn’t seen him in half a year, it felt tense. Not necessarily awkward, you knew if the circumstances were different you two could talk for hours whether it be about songs he’s writing or projects you’re working on. He just kept looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to say something.

When your eyes trailed along his desk, you saw the photographs lining along the side. They were mostly Polaroids of him and his bandmates, except for one framed picture of the two of you when you first began dating.

The picture was taken on one of your many visits to the dorm, Yoongi’s arms wrapped tightly around you while he looked down at your sleeping figure. You knew Namjoon took the picture, and later teased Yoongi immensely for the amount of love and adoration in his eyes while you slept soundly with him so close to you.

You haven’t slept that well since you broke up.

Yoongi spotted where your eyes were staring, reaching over and putting the picture face down. Silently, he saw the pained look in your eyes as he did so, swallowing and slowly placing it back up.

“W- why?” You asked softly, his expression unreadable while he stared down at the floor.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I still love you.” He didn’t look at you when he spoke, so your eyes went back to the photograph.

Even in your sleep, your fingers clutched his arm around you, never wanting him to let go. Despite always feeling like he wasn’t there for you the way that you were there for him, you realized in that moment that his love language was different than yours. He silently supported you, loved you, cherished you. It was different from past relationships so you weren’t sure how you could see the signs.

All this time, he was there for you in his own way, and you were too blind to see that.

You didn’t break your gaze away from the photograph until you felt a single tear slip from your eye. You moved quickly to wipe it away, but Yoongi had already seen.

Normally he’d rush to comfort you, to pull you in his arms and allow you to cry it out on his shoulder, but he couldn’t right now. You weren’t his to comfort.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper softly, meeting his burning gaze.

Again, he was unreadable. He only soaked in your words silently, before tossing his head back, “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I didn’t see that you were there for me, just in your own way.” Another tear fell from your eyes. Yoongi had seen you cry before, but rarely. Every time, it was silent. He’d never seen sobs rack your body like you had seen him, but even this was enough to be jarring.

“So I guess we were both a bit stuck in our own worlds, huh?” Yoongi spoke up after a moment, allowing you to silently soak in his words.

It’s true. You were both so caught up in trying to navigate your own feelings that helping each other almost felt like a chore. Although you wanted to help each other, when your anxieties get overbearing it just makes it that much more difficult.

“Past tense?” Your eyes were still on the picture.

“Past tense for me. As I mentioned before, I’m in a better place than I was before, again besides the not having you around part.” He explains, suddenly feeling a little more relaxed than before. His nails weren’t being gnawed at constantly, instead his hands rested in his lap, clutched together.

“I-” you begin, swallowing a choked sob, “I thought I was doing better without you.”

You could read Yoongi’s expression again. Sympathy crossed his brows, his eyes beginning to shine over with unshed tears while he watched you cover your mouth in an attempt to quiet your cries. It took everything in him not to reach forward and pull you into his arms.

Then he couldn’t stop himself.

Sliding his chair closer to yours, he hesitates for a moment before pulling you forward and into his arms.

You fell into them so easily, your head falling onto his shoulder while your legs moved to straddle his thighs. He held you tightly, inhaling your scent while silent sobs racked your body.

“I’m so sorry,” you cry into his neck, “I’m so stupid.”

All of your thoughts were a jumbled mess. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t properly think through leaving him, you wanted to tell him that you were so caught up in your own mind that you were being selfish. You wanted to shout it from the rooftops that you were the idiot who broke Min Yoongi’s heart, but your tongue wouldn’t form the words you so desperately wanted to say.

“No you’re not, baby,” he strokes your back, “I did the same thing, remember? Our early 20s were a weird time for the both of us. We couldn’t expect perfection when we both had a lot of growing up to do still.”

“You’re always so good with your words.” You pull away from his neck, noticing your tears on his shirt. Yoongi reached up and wiped away the wetness on your face with his thumbs. A sad, somber smile rested on his lips. It was the same one he had when you left him.

The memory makes more tears begin to fall.

“P- please forgive me.” You whisper softly.

“Oh baby,” Yoongi pulls you back in for another hug, “there’s no need to forgive each other because there’s nothing to forgive. We’re grown more as people, and we can both admit our mistakes.”

“I love you.” You breathe.

Though it was something you said routinely when you were with him, it felt foreign on your lips to say again.

“I love you too.” Yoongi responds, his hands stroking the back of your head.

Then he pulls you down to him. You feel excitement rush through your body at the thought of his lips on yours again, but instead he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“What does this all mean?” You ask.

“I don’t know yet,” Yoongi right now was such a contrast to last night. He was much more composed than before, and you no longer smelled whiskey on him, “I feel like we shouldn’t try to define what’s happening to us right now. If we hop into something too quickly, it won’t end well. I just know I want you in my life in some way.”

You nod, wiping your nose. You took this as his way of saying that you were too close right now, so as you went to crawl off of his lap, his hands flew to your thighs and for the first time since you entered the room, his eyes seemed pleading.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want you on me right now,” his fingers dug into your hips, “this is the first time I’ve touched you in so long. Please let me savor it.”

Wordlessly, you move your hands to his wrists, guiding them up the sides of your body until they reached your cheeks. You embellish the feeling of his hands on your face, closing your eyes for a moment.

His fingers were so long. You couldn’t help the images of his fingers knuckle deep in your heat flashing through your head. You opened your eyes to meet his, silently hoping he would begin to touch you again. You didn’t realize how starved for touch you were, but only his touch.

Yoongi’s hands slipped off your face, trailing down your chest softly until he palmed both of your breasts in his large hands. You tossed your head back at the feeling, your tears long forgotten as you silently thanked yourself for wearing a thin bra today.

“Do you want this?” He questions, his hands still kneading you. You looked down at him, unable to form words as you nodded.

Yoongi moved his his hands underneath your shirt, slipping it over your head to expose your bra-clad chest. The minute your shirt was over your head, you couldn’t take it anymore. You gripped his face in your hands and slammed your lips onto his.

The kiss was filled with so much need, but was also a silent apology. Yoongi was just as greedy as you were, his tongue darting out and into your mouth the moment you gasped at the feeling of him tugging at your nipples.

The chair was too small for the two of you, so you tugged softly on the collar of his shirt to follow you to the couch. His lips didn’t leave yours as you moved, his hands unhooking your bra in the process and tossing it haphazardly.

Yoongi fell on top of you when the back of your knees hit the couch, careful to catch his weight but unable to ignore how hard the sight of you shirtless in front of him was making him. Instinctively, he ground his hips into your spread legs, allowing you to feel him through the thick material of his jeans.

“Please.”

Yoongi took your plead as permission to slip your skirt and panties off of your hips. The sweet smell of your arousal immediately filled his nostrils. He thought he would burst through his zipper at the sight of you. Though your eyes were still rimmed with red from your earlier tears, the sadness was replaced with lust, need, and love.

Yoongi slipped off the couch and pulled you towards the edge, moving your feet to each of his shoulders.

“Fuck,” the word fell so effortlessly from his lips, “you’re so fucking wet.”

“All for you.” You say, tutting your hips closer to his breath.

Then Yoongi dove in. His tongue delved into your soft, pink flesh. You spread your lips for him, allowing him better access as his tongue wrapped around your swollen clit and sucked harshly. Your body convulsed at the feeling, finally feeling his fingers press into your entrance.

Animalistic moans fell from your lips, your free hand flying to his hair and tugging harshly at the roots. This caused a groan to leave Yoongi’s throat, the vibration heating your core.

“You’re still so loud,” he peaks up from you, his face half covered by your pelvic bone, “give me more, baby. Tell me how much you like it.”

His fingers moved so much quicker now, his tongue lapping at you like it was his last meal. His words were enough to encourage you to scream his name as he curled fingers in just the right place, your orgasm rushing through your body in heated rolls. You didn’t even realize you were squirting until you unscrew your eyes open, glancing down to see Yoongi’s shirt and face soaked as he drank in your orgasm with blown out eyes.

Something about the way his tongue kept finding itself on your clit as you rocked through your release made you come undone again seconds after the first.

“Oh my god,” his hands shook at the sight in front of him, “I- I almost came in my pants. You’ve never squirt like that with me before.”

You hid your face shyly, your chest heaving. You had never squirt before in your life, and both you and Yoongi had knew that.

“Can you keep going?” his eyes were still wide, “are you- that was so hot.”

“Fuck me, Yoongi.” You say as you lean forward, unbuckling his belt quickly. His hands beat you to unzipping his fly, pulling his jeans and boxers down in one go.

You didn’t hadn’t had anyone inside of you since the last time you and Yoongi had sex, and the feeling as he pushed the head of his cock into you again was one of absolute euphoria. A harmonized moan fell between the two of you and he didn’t move for a moment, just drinking in your fucked out expression as your jaw dropped when bottomed out.

His teeth grit together, “So tight and wet.”

“Please move.” You ask, grinding your hips down onto him for any sort of friction.

“I-” he couldn’t form a sentence. Yoongi was always the one in charge in the bedroom before, but having you around him again was breaking him. He didn’t know how to think, how to move. All he knew was your clenching walls milking his cock for everything that it was worth.

You sensed his hesitation and flipped the two of you, straddling his thighs and beginning to ride him to your hearts content. His fingers dug into your hips as you did so, and all he could do was watch you.

You leaned down to him, pressing your lips to his. He reached a new spot inside of you, his hips beginning to tut into you to meet yours.

“I love you.” You breathe, Yoongi swallowing your gasp in the process. He didn’t respond, only allowing his hands to roam your body.

“I’m gonna- oh fuck- where do you want me to cum?” Yoongi managed out, and you felt him twitch inside you.

You had completely forgotten he wasn’t wearing a condom, and that your birth control ran out months ago. You just wanted to feel him cum inside you, the thought pushing your orgasm closer to the edge.

“Baby-” Yoongi struggled to contain his moan, “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna cum inside you.”

You nipped at his neck, “Then cum inside me, Oppa.”

The use of the honorific was enough to send him over the edge, his hands stilling on your thighs as hot, thick strings of cum shoot inside of you. You moan his name as you come around him, milking his orgasm out of him in one of the most intense orgasms you had ever had in your entire life.

Sweat drenched the both of you, your chest shining as Yoongi took your nipple in his mouth in a last ditch effort to please you just a little more. You couldn’t move, knowing that his cum was slowly leaking out of you and covering his own cock.

Yoongi moved you to sit beside him, most of his cum spilling out in the process and covering the couch. He was too spent to care, only being able to look over at you while you cuddled into his side.

“We’re going to have to get Plan B.” You whispered suddenly, your thoughts unclouding in the after math of your release.

“Fuck,” Yoongi said, his thumb stroking your thigh, “you’re not on birth control anymore?”

You shook your head, “Didn’t need it.”

This made Yoongi’s heart flutter, knowing that you hadn’t had sex or wanted it anytime soon if it wasn’t with him. For a moment he forgot the last six months had happened, and that you were back for good, ready to softly stroke his head to sleep again.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, moving so you laid on top of him, “Shall we take a nap?”

“But-”

“We’ll talk about everything when we wake up. We’ll make decisions once we aren’t recovering from mind-blowing sex. Just, hold me right now. Then whatever we decide later will move our lives in the direction that it needs to go.” Yoongi said, silently begging you not to leave him high and dry.

You only nod, laying your head on his chest.

In your sleepy state, you try not to over think his words too much, only trying to inhale his scent and the memory of his arms around you because there’s a chance that this is the last time that this happens. Even if that’s not what you want at all.

So you two fall asleep, the soft breathing shared between the two of you lulling you into a deep sleep, your dreams filled with thoughts of a black haired boy with a gummy smile. The love of your life.

#this may or may not be similar to something that happened to me lmao #anyway that's why i'm mad so i just started writing #a mess i know #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader smut #min yoongi x reader angst #yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader smut #yoongi x reader fluff #suga #suga x reader #suga x reader smut

361 notes · View notes

scarletwinterxx · 4 years

Text

Coming Home pt. 2

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

PART ONE || TWO || THREE || FOUR || FIVE || FINALE || BONUS

“This place looks nice” Mark said for the third time since we got to Jaehyun’s apartment building

We’re waiting for Jaehyun to answer the door, deciding to drop by early since Mark wanted to see Chae Yoon.

“Hyung can you please hurry up” Mark said through the intercom, the door opening with a Jaehyun wearing a bright red polka-dot apron and a smile

“Why do you look like that?” Mark asked the older one

“I’m cooking breakfast for Chae, hey” he said nodding my way, “She’s up already?” I said as we enter his apartment

Apart from the furniture he needs there weren’t a lot of stuff in his place. The only thing that makes this place look likes it’s Jaehyun’s is the electric keyboard in his living room.

It’s his hobby; he likes to play when he’s not that busy or just to relieve some stress. It was one of the few things he took from our then shared apartment

“Wow hyung, your place looks great”

I chuckled at my younger brother who is happily looking around like a puppy exploring a new place, “He’s been saying that since we rode the elevator” I told Jaehyun making him laugh at the younger one

“It’s okay, you want some pancakes?” he asked us, Mark nodding his head in agreement.

At the same time the baby monitor went off, signalling that Chae woke up

“I’ll go get her” Mark said before neither Jaehyun or I say something

“The door on the left” Jaehyun said with a chuckle, my brother already skipping away

“Is he really in college? He looks like a kid” Jaehyun said from where we has standing, infront of the stove flipping some pancakes

“He’s my baby forever, let him be” I say then sat on the stool by the counter

��You baby proofed the place?” I asked, noticing little details around the room. The electric sockets were covered, sharp corners were covered and no stuff was laying around where Chae Yoon could reach it

“Yea, tried as best as I could. The landlord was planning to give me a bigger place with stairs but I told her I have a baby that just learned how to crawl so it’s a big no no”

“She’s starting to stand up too” I said, making Jaehyun smile a bit

“Don’t remind me, I don’t know whether I should be happy or sad she’s growing up too fast” he answered, setting the cooked pancakes on a plate before putting them infront of me. I took them to the table, while he gathers utensils

“Next thing you know she’s telling us she’s going on a date” I teased him, the smile was replaced with a frown

“She’s not allowed to date until she’s 30” I turned to look at him with a raised brow

“So you’re that kind of parent”

“I mean she can date when she can make a decision for herself and make the right judgements, there that sounds better. But you best believe I will be there on her first date” his statement making me bust out a laugh

“If she’s anything like you then you’d be in trouble”

“I’m not that bad, I’ve dated like one girl. And that was you incase you forget” he said, pointing the spatula at me. I rolled my eyes at him,

“She’ll be breaking hearts left and right”

“I wasn’t like that! what are you talking about?” I can’t help but laugh at his reaction

“Yea right, I can’t even count how many confession you turned down. Do you even remember all those letters they leave in your locker during valentines day” I stated, recalling the old memories

“All those cards and only one says happy birthday”

It was from me, it was no secret that people leave gifts by Jaehyun’s locker every year during valentines. No one just ever left birthday gifts from him.

“You’re welcome” it was now his turn to roll his eyes

“At least tell me you’ll choose a seat four spaces away from Chae and her date” I said, enjoying the conversation we were having

“Three, and they’re sitting on opposite sides”

“What are you two laughing about?” Mark asked from behind us, making us turn to him. Our daughter already reaching out for Jaehyun

“We were talking about Chae going to her first date” I said taking a seat on the table while Mark sat beside me and Jaehyun across from us and Chae Yoon on her high chair

“Does hyung know her little crush over Jeno?” Mark asked no one in particular, I looked over at Jaehyun who has a confused look on his face.

“What crush? She’s a baby, she doesn’t know what that even is” Jaehyun defensively said making me chuckle

“He’s talking about how whenever Jeno is around, her eyes just follows him, quite literally too. One time she swatted Mark away from Jeno” I told him as I cut up the pancake into smaller pieces to give to my daughter

“Maybe she finds him cute, that adorably eye smile and all” Mark mumbled, the frown on Jaehyun’s face getting more prominent

“Stop saying that, you’re going to give Jae wrinkles if he keeps on frowning like that” I pointed to the guy sitting across from us

“I was joking! Kind of, I mean she does look at him like he’s the most fascinating thing” Mark said inbetween chuckles

“Okay enough talks of that, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there” Jaehyun mumbled, pushing a pancake in Mark’s direction to shut him up.

After hanging out at Jaehyun’s place for a couple more hours, Mark needed to go back to university. His friends on their way to pick him up, they all decided to go home for the weekend and carpool together since they’re roommates anyways.

“Nice place hyung, definitely will hang out when I get back” Mark said as Jaehyun walk us out. Chae Yoon in her stroller hugging the bear given by her dad when she was born

“Sure, give me a call when you visit. You already know, call me when you need anything” he said directing the second half of his statement to me.

“Will do, come on you still need to pack” I told Mark, saying my goodbye to Jaehyun.

This has been the set up we’ve been doing for the past five months, Chae Yoon spends the weekends with him when he doesn’t have any work to do. He either drive over to pick her up or I go over to take her.

It’s been a good system for us. If we’re being honest, we did it for the both of us.

It was hard trying to make something work when we both knew we were already on the edge. Jaehyun wasn’t the type to give up, but his actions told me otherwise. That’s how I knew we had to call it off.

I can’t be the selfish one and ask him to stay when he didn’t want to. I knew it was nothing against being a father to Chae Yoon but entirely about being my fiancé. So I made the decision to break it off. It did break my heart, I still have a hard time reminding myself the once promised future of us being together is not there anymore.

But my daughter comes first, above anything. I didn’t have a doubt that he’s trying to be the best father to our daughter, and he is. There is no one in this world that loves her the way Jaehyun does.

The moment she was born in this world he was a goner. The way he cried and said a silent thank you to me when they laid tiny Chae Yoon in his arms, I knew she would have someone to love her for the rest of her life.

I also realized I love Jaehyun too much to tie him down like that, it was always a push and pull with him. Back in our high school years, he was the popular but down to Earth kid. He knew people talked about him, he also knew almost no one was immune to his charms. I took pride in the way his eyes light up when he see me in the crowd or the way he always shoots a salute my way before his game starts or the way he can’t let go of me after a very long tiring day because he needed cuddles or the way he whispered I love you in my ear in the middle of a party just because he felt like saying it.

I’ve seen Jaehyun in lights that no one ever has, I was with him through the ups and downs. I always tried to catch up with him, I just realized now that I probably never will. I also realized how I never ask why he once never asked me if I was keeping up or was I okay with the steps he was hurriedly taking.

I’m not mad.

Deep in my mind I’ve always known I loved him more that he loved me.

After what felt like the longest weekend ever, I was back at the office. Buried in piles of paper work that needed approval and signatures.

“Hey Y/N, the digital artist from Japan is here. You have a meeting with him?” my co-worker, Wendy said. I looked up from the drafts I was currently reading

“Oh he’s here? I thought the design department said they will have an on-boarding meeting with him first?”

“They said they’ll do it after you” she shrugged then passed me the folder

“Okay, I’ll be there give me a minute”

I stood up from my chair and made my way to the meeting room Wendy told me where the new hire was waiting, “Hi, sorry for the wait. I wasn’t expecting you” I told him when I enter the room.

He immediately stood up shaking his head, “It’s fine, I wasn’t waiting long”

“Right well take a seat, the head of our design department recommend you himself so he must trust your work. We’re glad you could make it here”

“Yes, well I actually live here I just visited my hometown for a while. I’m Nakamoto Yuta by the way” he said then extended his hand out which I gladly shook

“Lee Y/N, Taeyong has told me a lot about your work. We’re very happy to have you in our team”

After the meeting, I was back in my desk tied down to a bunch of paperwork.

I do love my job, I have enough time to focus on my daughter and also grow my career. I was lucky to be given this chance and I wasn’t going to let it pass.

After a long a couple of weeks of the same routine: go to work, go home to Chae, take Chae to her dad.

One weekend Jaehyun called that he was on his way up to the apartment, taking Chae back to me after his weekend with her.

“Hey Y/N” He greeted me with a smile when I opened the door,

“Hi”

“and hello to you beautiful girl, how was your weekend?” I said to the excited little lady who was reaching out for me

“She was trying to walk all over the place. I bolted every furniture I had in my apartment just to be safe” Jaehyun answered as he put her stuff in the living room with me following behind him

“Oh right I still need to do that”

“Do you need help? I can come over some time next next week maybe”

“Next next week?” I asked

“I have a business trip to Japan this Friday until Tuesday next week. Too bad I can’t be with her next weekend” he explained, I nodded along completely understanding his work schedule

“By the way is my box of documents still here, I’ve been meaning to get it” he asked, “It’s probably in the office, I haven’t really touched anything there so things are the way you left it” just as I say it an emotion crossed his face, it went quickly as it came. I almost wouldn’t notice if I wasn’t looking at him

“Thanks, can I?” he asked gesturing to the office at the end of the hall “you lived here too, go” I chuckled. He shot me a quick smile before walking in the direction of his old home office.

I was playing with Chae Yoon when I hear Jaehyun call out my name

“What is it? You didn’t find it?” I asked him when he walked back to the living room

“I did, I was just going to say we have this company party tomorrow. I know it’s very short notice and it’s a Monday but if it’s okay with you, will you come with me?” he asked, eyes staring straight into mine

“Me?” I asked back, I sounded stupid I know but I was just confused why he wanted me to come with him

“Yes, you” he said with a small smile on, a dimple showing slightly. I almost agreed then and there.

“Why?” I asked sceptically

“Well who else would I ask? I mean you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, I absolutely understand. And I know you can’t leave Chae-“

“I’ll come”

Even I was surprised by my answer, he looked like he was too.

“Okay, that’s great. I’ll come pick you up at six?”

“Sure”

We both didn’t know where the conversation was going, but suddenly Jaehyun looked behind me. I thought something bad happened but when I turned Chae Yoon was standing up by herself, about to take her very first steps

“Oh my god, Jae” I whispered, careful not to scare her

“That’s it baby girl, want to walk here?” Jaehyun calmly told our daughter, kneeling beside me so he could look at her eye to eye

A determined look was etched on Chae Yoon’s face, she put up one foot infront of the other. Still a bit wobbly

“Careful there” I mumbled, feeling a bit anxious. Jaehyun must have sensed it because he shot me an assuring smile before looking at our daughter again

“She’s fine, she can do it. Right, baby?” she squealed then suddenly took many steps straight to where Jaehyun was. She stumbled a bit but Jae had his arms waiting for her ready to catch her if she falls.

The little laughter’s she was letting out was worth everything.

“You did it!” I told her, giving her cheek a little squish. The proudest look on my face, I didn’t notice Jaehyun was just staring at me

When our eyes met, a small smile was on his lips

“Thank you” he whispered.

I didn’t need an explanation, I already knew what he was saying thank you for.

It was for this little girl who had become the center of both our universe the moment we knew of her existence. The late night drives to the convenient stores when I was craving something, the early morning sickness and terrible nausea, the sudden outburst of tears I had because of hormones, the back pains, the tears, all of that was worth it.

We had a silent agreement, even after all of the things we went through we would gladly do it again if it means we’ll end up in this moment right here.

Chae Yoon was, is and forever will be worth all of it.

“Oooh how about this dress?” Wendy asked while holding out a yellow flowy dress

“It’s a company dinner, not a picnic. Cute dress though” I said then continued to browse through my closet

“I know, can I borrow this?” chuckling at her question I looked around the row of clothes in front of me

“Maybe I should just cancel, I don’t have anything to wear”

“You’re standing in the middle of your walk-in closet, what are you talking about?”

Okay maybe I was just looking for an excuse not to come. After thinking about it all night, it just dawned on me now that this will be the first event Jae and I will be attending since we broke up.

I tried so hard to get some sleep but my mind wouldn’t shut up.

Also Chae Yoon decided to wake up at 5am, I didn’t have the time to put her back to sleep before I needed to go to the office.

And now I’m here, I asked Wendy for some help to pick out my clothes and look after Chae Yoon while I get ready

“Chae Yoon-ah, look at your mommy getting all nervous about her date with your dad” she told the baby playing with her blocks on the carpeted floor

“It’s not a date”

“He asked you to be his date, Y/N” she deadpanned, I was trying to think of an excuse but she had be backed up on a corner with her statement

“Not to sound rude, but why did he ask you?”

“I asked him the same thing” I mumbled, picking out a long fitted dress with straps and a slit on the leg

“How about this one?” I asked holding out the dress to show her

“Yes that one, perfect. So back to my question”

I sighed, putting the dress on the lounge chair, picking out shoes to match with the dress

“He didn’t say why, he just said why not”

“That’s a lame answer” she muttered, making faces at Chae Yoon. The little one giggled, holding her hands to her face.

“It’s just a friendly invitation, he didn’t have anyone to ask that’s probably why”

“Are you two sure you’re done?”

Her question made me stop on my spot, for a moment I wasn’t sure.

“Of course. We’ve talked about it. He moved out”

“That’s not what I mean though, yes he moved out and yes you literally called the engagement off so why are you two acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Are you serious? Like you two are still together, Y/N. The getting him dinner, driving you home, asking you to be his date”

“He’s Chae’s father. I can’t just completely erase him from my life, whether we mean it or not we’ll always be in each other’s life so we could be there for her”

“I know that, and you two are doing such a great job at being her parents. But it’s not your job to care for him anymore”

“I can’t just stop caring about him”

“You can’t but you don’t have to give so much to him when you don’t have to anymore. I love you I really do, but don’t you think it’s about time to live a life that didn’t revolve around him?”

I knew she had a point, what was the use of being broken up when we still do things like this. In my mind I keep repeating that I’m doing this as a friend.

But I don’t really know how to be just his friend.

“I don’t mean to pry in your business, I just want you to be happy and guard your heart”

I shot her a grateful smile, fully understanding that she meant well.

Her words where ringing in my head for the rest of the night, even after Wendy bid goodbye after helping me get ready.

I was just reading a book to Chae when the door bell rang, “Looks like you have a visitor, little lady” I mumbled, putting her down. She immediately stood up and tried to walk to the door on her own. Of course I was close behind her, ready to catch her just in case.

I opened the door, I swear I doesn’t matter how long I’ve known Jaehyun because he can still steal my breath away.

He looked good, wearing an all black suit with a white dress shirt. His hair did differently from its everyday style. And of course his most attractive accessory couldn’t be forgotten, his smile.

“Hey” he said when I opened the door, he looked down at the baby who is now holding onto his leg

“Hey you, are causing trouble running around like that?” he playfully asked Chae then took her in his arms peppering kisses all over her face.

“I think I have to put cushions all over the house at this point, come in” I told him, holding the door open for him

“I have a few more of those covers you can put on corners of table and stuff like that, I’ll bring it over when I get back”

“Thanks, I’ll just get her bag so we can leave” I was leaving her to my neighbor while we go to the party. I packed an over night bag just in case I stay out too late, and in case of any emergency

We walked over the apartment across from mine, waiting for Unnie to open the door

“Is that Chae Yoonie?” she called out from the other side of the door before opening it

“Hi- Oh hi Jaehyun, I haven’t seen you in a while” she said when she saw it was Jaehyun holding Chae Yoon

“Nice to see you too, Noona. You sure you can handle her, she can walk now” he jokingly said

“I heard! I’m so excited to see her run around, and you already know I love having her around. Don’t worry about it, go enjoy your night” She said with a smile on

“Here, all of her stuff is in there. Can’t forget about her favorite bear” I said while handing over her the bag and Chae’s favorite stuffed toy

“You’ll be good for Unnie, right Chae? I’ll see you later” I told my daughter giving her a quick kiss. Jaehyun did the same before passing her to Unnie.

“You two have fun, okay? Bye” we bid goodbye then made our way to the elevator

We didn’t say much, a comfortable silence while we make our way to his car.

“Thanks by the way, for coming tonight” he said when we started to exit the parking area and out into the streets

“No problem” I answered,a small smile on my face.

“You look great, by the way” I just chuckled at his statement, already seeing the redness starting to show on his ears. One thing he can never hide.

“Thank you, I see you decided to go with the bangs up hairstyle”

“The what?”

“You know, that hairstyle. The I’m the boss here kind of hairstyle” I said pointing at his styled hair, he was just smiling at me. probably finding my statement weird,

“Oh yea? Do I look cute?” he asked making me roll my eyes

“You’re a dork” i muttered, making him laugh out loud

“I’ll take that as a yes” he said then we were back to the comfortable silence.

In that moment I realized just what Wendy meant when she asked me are we really done being together

This night so far is not helping me clarify the blurred questions I’ve been thinking about.

I just knew I was in it for a long night.

282 notes · View notes

salmonmakiii · 4 years

Note

Could I request a timestamp! 20:53 of husband Yaku with fluff and maybe a lil’ suggestive?

How can I turn down a request when it’s my MAN? ♡✧( ु•⌄• ) Here ya go sweetie!

[20:53]

About : Yaku x reader Note : Fluff, suggestive at the end though! Forgive me if I have any errors in this one!

You pressed your thumb to the little square scanner on top of the door handle, you waited for a second and when it let out a beep you pushed the thick wooden door opened. Yaku didn’t fail to notice the little excited squeak you let out.

“We’re finally home!” You cheered, throwing your hands up as you turned to the corner of the hall. Yaku hummed as he closed the door behind him. Once the door clicked, the man pulled both of your suitcases and set it aside. He then went to your side and snaked his hand around your waist.

“Did you hate our trip that much?” He chuckled, placing a kiss on the side of your head as he reached the light switch with his other hand. You turned to him and shook your head.

“What? Of course not! I love it,” Yaku’s features soften at your cheerful face, “I just miss home. We’ve been there for months!”

“Two in a half weeks are not months,” Yaku watched you giggle and free yourself from his hand.

Around three weeks ago, Yaku informed you about the upcoming game in Russia. It was normal for him to go overseas for weeks and you were okay with that, you were prepared. However this time, your husband had asked you to come with him.

You hadn’t forgotten how his eyes glowed with pure happiness when you accepted. Both of you were busy with your works and these past few months had been hard for the two of you to spend time. Yaku would always leave early and come back home late at night, tired from his practices. You would already be asleep by the time Yaku was home, exhausted from all the meetings and projects you did.

The hard part was to find someone in the office who can take care of your position while you were away. Surprisingly, one of your closest co-workers insisted on helping you and you were more than thankful.

“It’s no problem at all! I’m tired of you having to whine all the time about not spending enough time with your husband every time we have breaks together,”

You thank the world for people like them.

You took off your shoes and socks, stepping on the rather cold tile of the floor.

“Eh? It’s a bit dusty here,” You purposefully dragged your feet on the floor. You lifted your right foot to see the soles of it getting a thin coat of dust. Yaku walked from behind you, peeking from your shoulder.

“How come? I bought that little cleaning robot for every room,” He said, walking towards the corner of the living room.

“Maybe it ran out of battery?” You suggested,

“It shouldn’t. Even if it did, it should automatically go to the charging station.”

Yaku crouched down and picked up the circular object. He checked the circular object, raising an eyebrow when he saw the little red light, a signal that the battery ran out. He inspected the charging and flinched when he saw the power button wasn’t on.

“The charging station isn’t on!” He facepalmed and massaged his temples. Registering what he just said, you let out a loud laugh at your clumsy husband.

“How could you forget to turn on the charging station?” You wheezed receiving a groan from him.

Is that why he didn’t get any notifications on his phone from the robot?

You went to his crouched down figure, patting his head.

“Don’t worry, I’ll just clean it up a little,” You said, rolling up your sleeves. Yaku turned to you and raised an eyebrow as he stood up.

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Not at all,” You shake your head. Yaku sighed and gave you a small smile he then walked back to the suitcases.

“Then I’ll help you.” Yaku took off his coat, his back facing you as he did. Placing it on his coat on his suitcase handle, he turned to you. He loosened his tie, placing it on top of his coat. He proceeded to open the first button of his shirt and his sleeve, rolling it up when his wrists were both free. You bit your lip, the action never fails to make you feel some type of way. At this point, you don’t know if he was doing this on purpose or not.

Shaking the naughty thoughts out of your head, you cleared your throat.

“Aren’t you tired, Mori?”

“Nope. It’s only – “ He paused, bringing up his left wrist to look at the time, “ – 20:53 anyway,” He waved his hand at you, brushing off your question.

“Now, less talking, more cleaning!”

You and Yaku shared tasks. At first, you were supposed to clean the living room and kitchen but Yaku told you to unload your clothes and wash them. You plastered a grin and teased him about not being able to use the washing machine properly. He never did understand those things but he didn’t want to admit it.

You brought the suitcases upstairs and turned down Yaku’s offer to help you, saying that you’re strong and independent. Your husband shook his head and played along. You walked towards your room and unlocked the door. You were a bit surprised when you saw the robot in the room was wandering around.

I guess he didn’t forget to turn this one on.

You checked the other rooms upstairs and indeed the robots were roaming around. You ran to the edge of the stairs and yelled about the new information you had. Yaku sighed in relief, looks like you guys would only be cleaning the living room then.

Running back to your room, you began unloading your suitcases. You hummed a little song that’s been stuck in your head for a while as you placed your items back to their places. You then went to the washroom and began putting the dirty clothes in as well as the new clothes you and Yaku bought. You were lucky that there weren’t many clothes needed to be washed, since the laundry service was great at Yaku’s apartment in Russia. While washing, you look back at the events that happened there.

There were lots of fun memories with your husband. You met his teammates and his friends there, you watched his practice and would go visit his favorite spots right after. But of course, the most exciting was when his official match started. His performance was amazing; how fast and how accurate he dug the ball never fail to amaze you. But there’s always this one routine you caught him doing whenever he’s about to enter the court.

Yaku might love volleyball but he values everything when it comes to you, even the little things. So you could imagine how much he values your wedding rings, the very item that proves your love and strong bonds for each other. He never wanted to take off the ring, except when it’s necessary or emergency.

Volleyball includes a lot of movements, especially in the arms and hands. Even if his position is a Libero – a position that doesn’t include his hands so much – he was still worried that he might ruin the wedding ring. So he bought a chain necklace and every time he’s going to play in a game, he’d slid the ring to the necklace and wore it throughout the game. He thinks of it as his lucky charm.

Now back to the routine.

You sat on the front row, even though you were high-key scared of being smacked by a ball coming at you at 100 mph, you wanted to see your husband better. He was standing at the sides, waiting to be switched again by a player. Every once in a while he would turn to you or even steal glances. The rotation of his team changed and it was time for him to get back in the court. You watched him high five his teammate and just as his feet were one step away from the court, he reached into his jersey and pulled out the wedding ring, giving it a kiss and once he was in, he tucked it back safely inside.

Your heart exploded in pure happiness every time he does that. But you would never tell him that.

After finishing your cleaning duty – and washing up – you went downstairs to see if your husband needed any help. On the way there you overheard your husband singing a very familiar song. (psst, press the link!)

Once you were in the living room, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

He was sweeping the floor with a broom, his earphones in both ears, and his hips swaying as he sang aloud. You plastered a smile, stifling your laughter as you walked slowly towards him from behind.

“Boo!” You slapped both of your hands on his shoulder and he visibly jumped like a cat, the broom dropping on the floor. He turned around and frowned.

“(Y/n)! I thought I told you to stop scaring me like that!” He yelled, his expression made you howl in laughter.

“You were singing so loudly and your voice sucks, Mori! I had to stop you from getting us in trouble for noise complaints from the neighbors.” You joked,

“My voice isn’t that bad!” He pinched your cheeks, pulling it a little to teach you a lesson

You ordered him to go and wash up as you continued his cleaning work and about twenty minutes later, the two of you laid down on the bed, your limbs tangled as you talk about nothing in particular.

“But it was nice wasn’t it?” He asked, his fingers tangled in your hair.

“What was?”

“The trip. We’re able to spend some much needed time with each other,” You hummed in agreement, a moment of silence engulfing you.

“Are you tired?” he suddenly asked. You looked up at him and shook your head.

“Weirdly enough, no.”

“Good,”

Yaku abruptly sat up and pulled you into his lap. Before you could process what was happening, his lips were already pressing tender kisses to your collarbones and the crook of your neck. You let out a small moan and he pulled away.

“I can help you with that,” he whispered before exploring your neck with his lips, possibly leaving marks.

You didn’t want to give in that easily.

“Are you sure?” You asked, massaging the back of his head with your hands. He pulled away once again and stared at you, his eyes had a mischievous glint in them.

“Believe me, by the time I’m done with you, you’re going to be exhausted.” He smirked. His hands pulled you close as he whispers in your ear.

“Maybe even get noise complaints from the neighbors,”

Seeing that you were speechless, your husband chuckled.

“What do you say?”

#Haikyuu!!#Haikyuu #Haikyuu!! Fluff #Haikyuu Fluff #Haikyuu!! x reader #Haikyuu x reader #Yaku Morisuke #Yaku #Yaku Morisuke fluff #Yaku fluff #Yaku Morisuke x reader #Yaku x reader #Yaku Morisuke scenario #Yaku scenario #Yaku Morisuke imagines #Yaku imagines

121 notes · View notes

sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

Text

First Day

Summary- 1.7k Detective Paul Diskant x Y/N. Paul passed his detective exams and first day on the job. Although he's been an officer since you've two been dating, your nerves still get the best of you. Soft and Some Smut. Written for @jtargaryen18 30 Days of Chris

Fresh youthful face stared back at Paul in the mirror as he buttoned up his shirt, his fingers shaking slightly until you peeked around his arm, and tugged to turn him away from the mirror, smiling up at him as you took over for him, sure to make sure each side lined up correctly. “Diskant, you know everything is going to be fine.” You say with pride, stepping back so he could stuff the tail ends of his shirt in his pants, to zip up the fly and button them shut.

“I feel like my heart's going to just beat out of my chest.” He said as a confession while you moved to your shared closet and opened the door, going through his ties. You pulled out a blue one with a pattern to it, moving back over to hold it against his chest while he flipped up his collar so he could put it on. You hum to him in agreement as you draped it over his shoulders.

You ducked back around so you could stand in front of him and fix the length, and start to twist and fold it with nimble fingers, having done this for him a few times now over the years you two have been together. His blue eyes slid appreciative over your concentrating face, the tip of your tongue caught between your teeth. “And it will go smooth. Remember you earned this Handsome. They don't just give out Detective status to anyone. You studied hard and passed all the exams.” Your fingers clasped around the knot of his tie and wriggled it up. “Besides, I thought I worked all the nerves out of you last night.” You bit your lip in a grin, and his pupils widened in excitement, recalling last night.

You pushing him onto the bed with a purr, your lips tasting sweet after a few wine coolers that you had enjoyed around the small fire pit you two sat around before deciding to retire.You straddle his lean hips and his hand fisted in your hair with an urgency, and you giggled against his lips. knees gripping against his waist, your tugging his shirt over his head, and he's doing the same to yours, tossing them aside. You fall forward to place kisses all along his chest, sure to give a bit of tiny love bites, and his hands are cupping your breasts through your bra, teasing your nipples through the fabric. “Get it off Paul.” You whine, and he reaches behind, and snaps it loose. “Sit back Y/N.” He said, pushing you back so he can draw it off your body, topless, you were fucking stunning, running your hands over your breasts, your own fingers pulling at your nipples. It was just to much and Paul, wrapped and arm around your waist to roll you two over, taking over with his mouth where your fingers just were.

Grasping the back of your neck, he pulled you in against him to take a deep claiming kiss, tongue trailing over teeth and claiming your tongue, you grasped his belt buckle giving a jerk at it and moan into the kiss, looking up at him slightly dazed. “You did, fucking went from my Kitten to a Wildcat last night.” His thumb slid across your bottom lip to clean off the residue, and winked. “You always know how to treat me good Kitten.”

Letting go of his belt buckle and patting his chest with a wink. “Wonder where I learned that Diskant. You can just figure that out for yourself Detective.” You teased and twisted away to leave the room, Paul right behind you with a playful swat to your ass, grabbing his wallet and badge off the dresser as he left the room, to finish getting ready for the day. Now he was bubbling with a good mood, you easily had that effect on him. And when you gave him a kiss goodbye, tilting to your tip toes telling him how fucking turned on you were by him with that badge on his hip, he walked out of the house a confident man.

You watched from the door frame, wiggling your fingers as you watched him straighten his tie and slip into his car. You couldn't help but worry your lip, turning away when he was gone and going to get yourself ready, pouring your coffee, you carried the mug up the stairs and into your bedroom to actually get dressed for work. 9 to 5 at the bank. You and Paul didn't have a bad life. The little house with the bit of back yard just outside the city. Both of you had good jobs, you just couldn't help but worry about his. Maybe now it would be better, he wouldn't be on patrol anymore, but working actual cases of crimes that already happened. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't help but grin at some of the darker marks he left scattered across your breasts, his love bites, just as you managed to leave some on his.

He lavished his tongue around your erected nipples, your hands shoving through the short crisp hairs on his head you had just cleaned up for him earlier to dig into the bunches muscles of his shoulders, arching yourself into his mouth. “Impatient Kitten?” He growled out and you nodded while rolling your body against his, reaching down to tug at his jeans. “When am I not impatient Paul?” He laughed as he continued down your body, your stomach fluttering under his teeth while he tugged your pants open and pulled back further to yank them off. Quick to get off his own, he fell over you, settling in between spread thighs and mid kiss, he plunged fingers in you, pumping you open and having you clenching around him, gasping against his lips. “All wet and fucking hot Kitten, your right, you are ready.” With a easy glide, he stretched you around him, leaving you pushing your head back with a hissing and he took advantage, sucking on your neck.

A tug over your blouse covered your body, and you pinned your hair up at the nape of your neck, placing on a gold chain Paul had given you a while ago, as well as a bracelet. It was easy to put on this look, hiding some of your worries, and as you left that day, locking your door on the way out, and started your day. At your lunch time, you had messaged him, telling him you hoped his first day was good, and walking the mall your bank was located in with your co-worker friend Cat, you two discussed a bit of your worries. It was good to be able to talk to a friend.

“Well you said so yourself, that Paul wasn't going to be chasing down crimes in progress.”

You picked at your soft pretzel and shrugged. “No, but it's still a dangerous job, and it's not like Boston is exactly the safest city of cities.” You wrinkle your nose and pause at a jewelers window, studying the display.

Cat paused to, looking at the pendants, when she pointed one out. “Why don't you get him a St.Micheals Pendant? His is supposed to protect the police officers from harm.” And you ditched your soft pretzel to enter the shop and look. Soon you were walking out with a black box being tucked into your purse. Cat looped her arm through yours and already your mood was a bit better as you two entered the bank, when five o clock rolled around, you were quick to get home, wanting to be home to welcome Paul home on his first day as Detective. You were just getting dinner in the oven when you heard the front door open and Paul call out your name. “In here Babe" you call back and quickly dry your hands off.

When he came in, he found you drying your hands, looking him up and down now in a more relaxed look, tie loosened, sleeves half rolled up his arms, suit jacket he was quick to drape over his chair. “Smells good Kitten, what you got cookin'?” He teased as he went to you, wrapping arms around your waist. You smirked up at him, and loped your arms around his neck. “Pizza, with that crust you like. But it JUST went in the oven, so what are you smelling?”

“Must be you Kitten.” He dropped his head and kissed your neck with a bit of tenderness that wasn't there last night, traveling to your lips. “And you taste good to.” You laugh as your swaying a bit around the kitchen, a slow dance without any music, just a natural body movement for you two in this moment. “Arnt you a charmer Diskant. I got something for you today to congratulate you on your new job.” You grinned and reached into your pocket.

He backs the two of you up so he can sit down in the kitchen chair, kissing your shoulder. “You didn't have to give me anything, you’ve done more then enough sticking with me all these years.”

“I didn't have to, but I wanted to.” You pick up his hand resting on your thigh, and put the box in it. “Your girlfriend is allowed to give you gifts whenever she wants.” Paul knew better then to argue with her about it, and he pried open the lid to see the silver St Micheal’s charm. Well aware of the significance, he set the box aside and drew you into him and handed him the necklace, which you slipped over his head and then tucked into his shirt so it wouldn't get caught on something. “Perfect” you say as your cuddling into his chest and rested your forehead against his, his blue eyes studying yours, and placing a gentle loving kiss on your lips. “Its perfect Kitten, Thank you for this.”

You smiled back and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “Your welcome, I love you Detective.” You grinned getting to use his new title. “By the way, did you ever solve that case I gave you this morning?”

He furrowed his brow and danced his fingers up your back. “Why no, in fact I have to question the witness, how much time do we have?”

You check the timer on the stove and bite your lip looking back at him. “30 minutes Detective.”

“Oh, plenty of time.” Scooping you up bridal style, he carried you off to the couch, and that night you two ate slightly burnt pizza.

Tags- @jtargaryen18 @what-is-your-plan-today @stardancerluv @what-just-happened-bro @princess-evans-addict @patzammit @onetwo3000

#paul diskant #paul diskant au #detective paul diskant #street kings #street kings au #chris evans #chris evans fanfic #paul diskant x you #paul diskant x y/n #paul diskant x reader #amber writes #sweater writes #30daysofchris2020

230 notes · View notes

extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

the unseen one - 03

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: i wanna apologise for being a bit late with my requests, been working on my uni assessments like crazy trying to keep any sanity during online learning (idk how people do this willingly). i’ll try and get all my inbox requests done this week. enjoy xx

Next Chapter >>

James didn’t have the power do deny her request. How could he deny her when she had the sweetest smile he’d ever seen? She had been on his mind ever since he accepted her request with her sweet sunny face and the way she was constantly changing her grocery bag from arm to arm clearly showing how heavy the bag was to her.

Here he was now, the god of the underworld, thinking about a mortal who’d probably hate him in fifty years or so. He never really understood why Hades was so violently hated, besides being the gate keeper of the dead, he had never done anything that could be considered evil. Sure, whenever he voiced that concern at the God’s council, they’d bring up the abduction of Persephone but that was a very badly understood story. From what he knew from the position he had inherited from the past king of the underworld, Persephone had found the entrance to the Underworld herself and had chosen to eat the fruit of the dead. Besides, if mortals and gods should fear someone it was Persephone, not him.

From what Hecate had told him, the late goddess of spring and the underworld had crushed a nymph into the plant now known as mint just because she dared to say she was better than her. Now, that was a lady James could respect.

- You look very happy for someone who claims to be miserable. - Hecate strolled into the office, torch in hand. - When Thanatos told me, I thought you’d finally gone insane.

- Don’t you have a job to do? Be worshipped by a cult or something? - he lifted his head from paperwork. How come he had to file in every single soul which came in was a surprise for him.

- I thought you’d still be annoyed at Zeus and his get a wife request. - she pointed at the ambrosia standing in his silver cart as if asking for permission to have some. James nodded making her take a glass for herself.

- I didn’t know it was public knowledge that I need a wife. - he stopped writing, removing his glasses and pushing the pile of papers away. She shrugged, pouring him a glass of ambrosia too. - I assume it was probably mentioned on the Olympus council.

- I think you’re being stubborn. Zeus and Poseidon are so desperate to get you married that you can pick whichever goddess you want. Even Aphrodite and we all know how much Aphrodite likes the idea of being Queen.

- Until someone finds the entrance of the underworld, I won’t take a queen.

- No one will find the entrance to the underworld. - Hecate rebuffed.

- My point exactly. - James drank what was left of his glass’ contents. - Go back to work.

She mumbled something under her breathe as she left his office, leaving James to return to his beloved work. The hours seemed to go by slowly as he waited to meet up with Y/N, however, as per usual, as Apollo left and Nyx took his place he was free to wander off. He climbed up to the Earth, the night a bit warmer than the last one as the sound of music and children’s laughter pointed him to where the block party was.

There was a big banner standing at the entrance of the block along with some vendor trucks. He walked through the people who were laughing, enjoying themselves, a completely different sound from the underworld. He missed it but he didn’t deserved it. He hadn’t been the best of men during his mortal time.

As he was about to dwell on his own misery he saw her, Y/N. She was wearing a short green summer dress, hair partly braided with a few lilies sewn into her hair as she handed out cotton candy to a few kids. James thought her to be the most beautiful creature in the whole universe at that time, Aphrodite even paled in comparison to her.

Her eyes light up as she saw him standing there in dark jeans, dark t-shirt, leather jacket, leather gloves and hair slightly tossed. Y/N left her co-worker to take over the stand, standing from from it and walking over to James, who leaned his head down to stare at her.

- I’m so glad you came, James. - she held her hands over her stomach.

- There was free food, couldn’t miss it really.

- Well, I ...

- Y/N! - a blonde girl came rushing from the crowd, stopping once she realised her friend was accompanied. - And who are you?

- Oh, James this is my friend, Anna. Anna, this is James, he just moved in.

- Tall, dark and handsome. - Anna scanned him from head to toe, a slight smirk on her lips. - My favourite type of man.

- Thank you. - James was used to having ladies compliment him back when he was a mortal, however he did not care for this one. He looked over at Y/N who was staring at her feet like a shy child. - Would you show me around, Y/N?

- Of course, James. - she smiled, giving her goodbyes to her friend and walking in through the crowd, holding his hand which he found rather touching. Her hand was warm through the glove that covered his cold metal one. She led him to a hot dog vendor, climbing the little stairs with that sweet smile of hers as she asked for something. The man handed her two cartoons, one of which she extended to James. - Will’s Hot Dogs are the best in town.

- I’ll take your word for it.

- So, James, where did you move from? - she took a seat on one of the benches, legs crossed.

- Brooklyn. - he replied, staring at her. God, she was beautiful, he thought to himself. - What about you, Y/N? How long have you been living here?

- I inherited the flat from my parents, I’ve been since I was 18.

- Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bring in bad memories.

- No, it’s alright. I’m sure wherever they are it’s better than here. - probably not, James thought to himself fully knowing where most people went once they died. - I’m really glad you came, James.

- Bucky.

- Pardon me?

- You can call me Bucky if you want, my friends used to call me Bucky.

- Bucky. - the name coming out of her lips sounded like the most beautiful sound in the whole entire world and he knew Orpheus. - I love it, how do you get Bucky from James?

- Middle name’s Buchanan.

- James Buchanan, like the president?

- I see you remember your presidents, Y/N. - she chuckled at him, pushing her hair behind her ear, one of her flowers falling on her lap. - Losing flowers?

- They keep falling off. - she raised the flower, handing it to him. - You should keep it. Outfit’s too gloomy.

- Shouldn’t I be the one offering you flowers?

- Modern times, require modern solutions.

315 notes · View notes

peakatseven · 3 years

Note

MICHAAAA CONGRATULATIONS

🌕 broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door I got splinters in my knuckles crawling across the floor

andddd

🎸 haunted

this bitch really came for me asking for a story AND a cover of such a hard song to sing. okay thanks i guess.

nah im just kidding babe i had so much fun writing this! i feel like it’s the first time in years that i’m posting proper fanfiction? kind of? idk i was trying to find another name for the mc but i kept picturing frat boy harry so here we go:

Concentration is impossible when the silence is loud and the work is important. The worst part is when one starts thinking about the need of being concentrated, rather than the actual work that needs to be done. As a university student, Harry was no different than most: his anxiety about school and his future co-existed with the emotional backlash of relationships and the need to "experience the best years of your life". There were few people with whom he wouldn't worry about meeting some kind of expectation. But she had been silent with him for the better part of a year. Images of Caro kept coming back to him, a trauma he couldn't let go off. Granted, it was the one painful brake up he'd experienced, one that was never truly over. Even now, uncountable names in between him and her, he still couldn't get her blue eyes off of his mind. The thought of her porcelain skin over his sun-kissed body came to him every single one of his one-night-stands. And at that moment, sitting on his desk, trying to get his homework done, the memory of her laughter drowned every sentence he tried to compose. He forced everything out with a loud grunt, grabbing his head with both hands and pulling on his hair. "The results show that 73.3% of patients responded positively to the treatment." He voiced out loud, trying to silence Caro's laughter in his mind. "No, that's bullshit." After a few moments staring at the cursor beeping at the end of his last sentence, he finally shut the laptop down. On an impulse, he unlocked his phone and opened a conversation from three days prior. He should've answered it when he got the text, but he wasn't in the mood at the time. "Hey, babe, wanna go for a beer rn?" He wasn't even done changing when the phone buzzed on the table. Two happy emojis popped up, and then a "Meet you there in 10". He kept the speed up as he rode off campus, through a park and then into the city. He was glad for the chill air against his face, numbing it to the point where it was the only thing he was able to think about. Finally some peace of mind. It wasn't dark yet when he got to the bar, but the sun had already set behind the buildings. There was one single tree, barely taller than him but strong enough to hold his bike. As he secured it, a red leaf fell to his knee. It was autumn when he got to kiss Caro for the first time, and it was also autumn when he kissed her last. "Nope. Something else, think of something else." he thought to himself. Incapable of coming up with anything, he brought out a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Somewhere inside him, there was a bit of guilt about what he was trying to do. But it'd been so long since he started that it no longer bothered him. His new game was called Darren. The younger guy looked like a model, straight silver hair and pale skin that Harry couldn't wait to leave marks on. All he could think about when Darren was around was the things he wanted to do to him. It was purely sensual, and that was pretty clear from the start. Or at least that's what he told himself. That Darren was on the same page as him- no strings attached, just fun and games. But the way his phone had been buzzing ever since he got on the bike, there was clearly more interest from one side. But instead of doing the right thing, and not stringing him along, Harry was about to sleep with him again and leave with a lame excuse to not spend the night. And then it was back to emotionless texts, conversations on the verge of ghosting him just in case he'd be in the mood again. But it was okay, Darren was playing the same game. He had the same dynamic with a lot of people lately. None knew of each other. They didn't have to, and they didn't ask either. He was no monster, though. Harry would tell that to himself constantly. That because no one had explicitly asked for exclusivity, it was implied they weren't obliged to it. The only one who did, what was her name again? Odella... no, that's not right... Ornella, maybe? He laughed dryly at himself. He'd become one of those guys that didn't even remember the names of all of his

partners. But he was no dougebag, when Ornella asked to be exclusive, he straight up told her no and then never bothered her again. They weren't on the same page anymore, so no more games. He wondered if that would ever happen with Darren too. There was not much time to think about this, because he was soon greeting the guy with a half hug and a gentle kiss just beside his lips. "You smell nice." Darren said, hands in his pockets and scarf almost over his mouth. "You just like the smell of tabacco." Harry smirked and put the unfinished cigarette down. "Let's get in, you're freezing." The night went exactly how Harry planned it. All his jokes were welcomed by Darren, and he let the young boy win at pull- he was cute when he bragged about his skills. But the best feeling was whenever Harry would approach Darren. A stroke of the lower back, a smirk from the other side of the table, a kiss when no one was near... Darren accepted any and everything Harry was willing to give him. The power high that it gave him to have someone be so devoted to him was indescribable. But the night was fully set and he was growing impatient. "Let's get out of here." He whispered to Darren's ear right before his turn. Darren had already started pulling Harry's bike for him when the phone on his pocket buzzed again. Harry walked alongside his date, though his eyes were on his phone. He had a lost call that he hadn't noticed while inside. The number wasn't saved to his phone anymore, but he hadn't managed to erase it from his own memory yet. "Oh, shit." He whispered. "I... Sorry, man, I have to go. There's a- um, it's a family thing." Harry was on his bike before his date could answer. He didn't even look at Darren's eyes before leaving. There was a sting of guilt building up, and maybe he'd feel disgusted by himself if it wasn't for the sheer adrenaline running through his veins. Maybe the alcohol had a bit to do with it too. This had only happened a few times before, and the outcome was always the same. Still, Harry couldn't keep himself from falling to his knees when it came to her. As he rode his bike as fast as he could go, a cynical smile crept on his lips. How ironic. Darren was probably feeling the same way about Harry just a few hours prior. Whenever Caro was in town, she stayed at her best friend's apartment- all the way on the other side of the city. So it was past midnight already when he got to the building. There was a party on the roof, maybe they could sneak in for more drinks. She had some catching up to do, as Harry was already tipsy. Still, he didn't have to check the phone to know which floor to go to and which door to knock. Just like everything else about Caro, he had it indefinitely memorized. 409, the doorknocker was a silver seagull. A very heavy, silver seagull. At first, Harry didn't feel it when his finger got caught in between the door and the seagull, but by the third time he knocked, it started changing colour. "Hm." He said to himself as he examined the swollen-red finger. He put it in his mouth and kept on knocking to the beat of the music coming from above. Why did they have the music so loud? Harry could barely hear his own thoughts, so the neighbours had to be furious about this noise. Carolina was probably waiting for Harry, who was already late due to how far he was when she texted him. "Fuck!" He said, taking his phone out of his pocket again. He hadn't answered. Dumb ass. "im herre" He sent the text before reading the ones Caro had sent before. One was a laughing emoji and the other was a voice note. There were people laughing on the background, and someone turned the music down a bit for Caro to speak into her phone. "I'm so sorry, ignore that, it was a dare." She half said, half laughed. Harry didn't understand, so he played it again. Again. Again. And again one more time. Was she talking about the lost call? or was it about her being in town? Had he really fallen for such a stupid trap? Harry fell to the floor, phone glued to his ear as the voice note played over and over again. His chest was about to

explode, face red and throat dry. He knocked on the door again, now with his fist. The inevitable tear fell down his cheek, though it was impossible to know if it was sadness or anger that caused it. "Oh, god." Someone said behind him. But when he turned around, the stairs were empty and someone on hills was running up the stairs. He got up and ran after them, but he was too intoxicated to keep up. He fell halfway up the stairs, having to crawl for a few steps before getting up. On the rooftop, there were too many people in heels to know which one had seen him. "Great." He sight. Might as well look around. He walked around the place, inhaling the cold air of the night and trying to calm down, make sense of what had just happened. He was about to light up his last cigarette when someone took it from him. She had long purple nails and her skin glowed under the moonlight. She smirked as the cigarette reached her mouth. He lit it up for her. "I didn't think you'd actually come." She said. Her smirk turned into a sincere smile. "You told me to." "Yes, but I also said you should ignore that." "Well I didn't." He took the cigarette from her fingers and smoked himself before speaking again. "Should I go?" He wanted to seem as cool with the situation as she appeared to be, hide the fact that he had just been played like a puppet for a fucking drinking game dare. "What happened to you finger?" She shouted, stepping closer to him. "I- I don't remember." Harry lied. There was still a bit of dignity to be salvaged. And there it was, but this time it was real. Her laugh, once again, drowned every thought on his mind. There was no music and no people around them anymore, it was just him and her, together again, laughing in the middle of the night. "You know I meant to call you, right?" Caro said, a hand tenderly rubbing his arm. She knew exactly what she was doing, and he knew it too. "I'm sure you did." He said. "I did!" She pushed him a little, both cracking a knowing smile. "I promise I did, it's just that-" "Shut the fuck up." He felt more stable now that he'd taken some air and the alcohol effect had cooled down. "It's okay, Caro. Let's just have fun tonight and see what happens." "Sounds fun." She leaned in and kissed him on his cheek, the kiss lingering just a second too long. He instinctively put a hand on her hip, but she walked away swiftly after the kiss. The pain on his chest came back, and the little composure he had gained crumbled. She wasn't coming back to him. This time it was definitive, and it had been for a while now. But the worst realization that came to him that night, was how much power she had over him. How much hope, urge, love, anger and pain she could cause in just a matter of hours. She had him at her mercy, like a puppet she could toy with however she wanted. They were both the same kind of wicked, using others for validation, feasting on their adoration. But as much pain as it caused him to know he was at the other end of his own game, it also sparked joy to know he could provide that for her.

#idk how to add an audio file to an ask so the cover is posting in a bit #hope you like it!!!#asks #micha's 700 celebration!#thelasttimeyoueversawme

7 notes · View notes

iworshipkeanureeves · 4 years

Text

There Are No Rules (2/3)

Keanu Reeves x Reader (The Devil Wears Prada AU)

A/N: We are getting closer to @toomanystoriessolittletime birthday, so I’m updating the story dedicated to her birthday challenge. This one is a little dramatic with a lot of mixed feelings and some angst, but I hope you’ll enjoy it :)

Summary: Reader applies for a job in a fashion magazine where Keanu is editor-in-chief.

Warnings: angst, brief mentions of alcohol

Words: 3.2K

-Part 1-

“Keanu Reeve’s office, how can I help you?”

These words got carved into Y/N’s brain over the past couple of weeks. She had been repeating them at least fifty times a day, usually through her gritted teeth, and most of these calls would eventually leave her on the verge of tears.

No matter how much she hated this job, every day seemed easier than the previous one. Y/N felt like she was finally getting the hang of it all, and it was a little glimpse of hope that perhaps she was going to survive this madness. Maybe she was stronger than she thought she was.

Was Reeves as terrifying as everyone had told he would be? Yes, but in a strangely different way.

He had never really shouted or insulted her directly, yet Keanu had his way with words to make Y/N understand how immensely she had failed assigned tasks. Sometimes just his presence was fearsome, as his nit-picking gaze would land directly on Y/N’s desk, making her guts squeeze. Even if Y/N knew she was doing everything correctly, she felt like it wasn’t enough, it was impossible to live up to his standards.

When not in meetings, Keanu would sit in his office swiveling in his chair, enjoying the spectacular view of the New York skyline. Honestly, it didn’t appear like he was doing much, but Y/N could tell from his focused eyes that his mind was constantly at work.

Creatively Reeves had no rules, but when it came to his office, he preferred having everything structured. Every morning Y/N would receive a text stating Reeve’s breakfast order, and she had to get it before he came to work. A cup of plain black coffee, ready on his desk on time, was essential in order to make the day better for the whole office. Y/N was responsible for that, and whenever she failed, every co-worker would be badgering her for the remaining day.

The worst of them was Emily, who wouldn’t shut up about her upcoming Fashion Week in Paris and all expensive garments she was going to be able to wear. Y/N was neither bored nor jealous, but it was very hard to concentrate hearing Emily babbling for the whole day. Eventually, it would leave Y/N making more mistakes, which led to even more disapproval received from Reeves.

---

It was one of those calm days when Keanu didn’t have much on his hands. “Y/N, come over,” he called, and based on his frigid tone, Y/N immediately knew something was wrong. “Where are the Valentino samples I asked for the run-throughs?”

Y/N could already feel her hands sweating and her heart beating through her chest. “What?” her brows furrowed with tears threatening her eyes, she was simply too tired. “But you never mentioned those…”

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Reeves sighed expressing his disappointment, which at this point was so familiar to her. “Will you ever do anything right here?”

Anything right…?

His words left Y/N helpless. For the past couple of weeks she had been working hard like never before, giving all her energy to keep the office organized and satisfy every single one of Reeves’ whims. Yes, she had made a few mistakes, but they were nothing compared to how much right she had done.

It was the moment Y/N realized she had had enough, she wasn’t even an assistant anymore, she was Reeves’ maid and it was time to save the last bits of her dignity.

“Oh come on,” her eyes were beginning to fill with anger, tears evaporating in the feverish air. Y/N didn’t even notice her clenched fists with nails digging into her damp skin. “Most of the things I do here are right, they are freaking perfect,” she breathed out, nearing to his desk. It looked like she was ready to fight him.

“It’s nice that you think so, but…”

“You never even notice, do you?” Y/N cut him off with a slight rise in her tone. “All you do is sit in your office, drinking coffee and flipping through the same couple of pages for the whole day,” she knew she was exaggerating, but Y/N was furious, she wanted to make Reeves feel bad, just like he had been making her this whole time. “You know, you couldn’t even manage to tell me to go get those samples, maybe you should start doing things right yourself?”

“Oh sweetheart,“ Reeves exhaled fixing his expensive scarf and stood up in need of reestablishing his dominance over Y/N, his wide shoulders were blocking the sun and casting shadow over her enraged face. He confidently walked around his table, and as Y/N saw him getting closer, she got scared not knowing what he was about to do next. Luckily, Reeves stopped crossing his arms and was ready to say something, but Y/N interrupted him again.

“Don’t sweetheart me,” Y/N knew she had crossed the line and there was no way back, disrespectful words had already escaped her throat, so she decided to go even further. “I am the only one here working my ass off, while Emily is barely functioning on her messed up diet. And yet somehow she’s still taking all the credit for my work. I-I just can’t deal with you and your crazy people anymore. You’re all delusional here,” she was practically shouting at this point.

It all felt like a dream to Y/N, she could barely understand what was happening, and her hammering heart was leaving her lightheaded. Y/N was gasping for air, all trembling and looking a little disoriented, Keanu could see that she physically wasn’t doing well.

Y/N felt his presence closer than before, his warm breath tickling her forehead. “Go on, I’m listening,” Reeves said, raising his hands up to her shoulders for better support. His words were unbelievably calm again, but this time it seemed like Keanu had no intention to intimidate, he genuinely wanted for Y/N to slow down a little and breath. She was questioning though, whether Keanu truly cared for her, or he just didn’t want to deal with the problem of Y/N passing out in front of him.

“I’m done,” she grunted escaping his grip. “I’m so. Fucking. Done.” Her words were quiet but convincing.

For a moment they stood still, Y/N was breathing deeply, debating whether it was time she should turn around and go, but Keanu’s sly smirk managed to catch her eye. “What’s so funny?” she asked, still annoyed, but slowly realizing she had been acting a little crazy, Y/N was beginning to regret her words.

“I’m proud of you, Y/N,” Keanu grinned, leaving her extremely confused.

“What?” She expected Reeves to be angry with her, maybe even come back with more hurtful words. But he didn’t.

“You’re done walking around with those sad puppy eyes, and I can finally see that you’ve got something in you. I saw that fire burning inside, keep it up.” He was about to come closer again, but tucked his hands back in the last second, keeping a polite distance.

“U-uh, okay..?” Y/N was still in shock, trying to understand how he could be so nice to her all of a sudden, especially after this little tantrum she had just thrown.

“Now I can be sure you’ll keep things in place here when I and Emily leave for the Fashion Week,” he tried to locate her sight, checking if she was fine. “Unless you really meant it when you said about being done, but I don’t think you did,” he gave her one last encouraging grin and returned to his usual state, solid and untroubled.

Indeed she wished she could take her words back, Y/N needed this job more than anything, she wasn’t going to find another one soon that would pay enough, and she couldn’t afford to be unemployed. She had secretly applied to a couple of other magazines, but since no one had reached back to her yet, she had to settle for what Reeves was offering her.

Still, it left Y/N wondering whether Keanu had been playing her all along, pulling strings one by one in order to see how far she can go before lashing out. She felt like his little toy, maybe one of his creative projects, something for him to have fun with. But Y/N was having no fun at all.

“I’ll go call Valentino about the samples,” Y/N exhaled turning around and rushed to the phone. Her heart was still racing with adrenaline flowing in her veins, and honestly, she was proud of herself too.

---

At 1:00 AM Y/N’s phone rang and she really thought about not answering it. Just in case, she decided to open her eyes and check the caller’s ID, unfortunately, it said Keanu Reeves.

In an hour, Y/N was standing on his doorstep holding a custom Tom Ford suit tailored just for Reeves. Of course, Keanu made them work on it until the very last night before leaving for Paris, and Y/N had to be the one bringing it to him.

“What took you so long?” He reproached opening his front door. Y/N was expecting to find him all pampered in some chic robe, but he was wearing simple jeans paired with a grey t-shirt, and his hair was messily falling over his face. To Y/N’s surprise, he looked like a normal human being, completely different from what she was used to see.

“Sorry, I was trying to be as quick as possible,” she smiled apologetically, hoping he wouldn’t be too mad.

Keanu just sighed opening his door wider, implying Y/N should come inside. She was immediately looking around for something to hang the suit on, so that she could quickly turn around and go home.

“Yet, here you are, wearing a full face of make-up,” he spoke locking the door, and Y/N took this as a sign that he wasn’t going to let her easily leave. “You know, showing up twenty minutes earlier would have impressed me much more.”

“Come,” he invited her up the stairs, waiting for Y/N to make up her mind. She was quite reluctant at first, lagging in the hallway, but she was also very intrigued, and ultimately, curiosity took over her.

Y/N was following Reeves mesmerized by the penthouse he was living in. High ceiling and tall white walls decorated with colorful artwork, it seemed like he was living in an art gallery. Every painting was more eccentric than the previous one, but it wasn’t happy kind of art. In fact, Y/N felt surrounded by a somber ambience, and the quietness of his home only added to it.

“So, you live here all alone?” Y/N realized she knew nothing about his personal life, no one had even gossiped about him in the office.

“Mhm,” Keanu hummed, showing the way to his living room, where his luggage was set ready, together with the rack curving from numerous expensive suits, which all looked the same to Y/N. “Hang it here,” he commanded turning to the console table to pour himself a drink.

Y/N was very careful, afraid the rack wouldn’t hold any more weight. Fortunately, everything went fine, and she was about to leave the room, when Reeves stretched his arm handing the bottle to her. “Help yourself,” he offered, leaving Y/N unsure whether she should accept it or not.

“U-uh, I think I should go,” Y/N kind of wanted to agree, she was interested to learn more about him, but at the same time she thought it would be wise to keep a professional distance between them.

“Do you have someone waiting for you?” He was unexpectedly persistent to make Y/N stay, and she didn’t really know what to think of it.

“No, I just don’t want to disturb you,” she was trying to turn him down, but her words didn’t sound too convincing. Maybe it was his tacit loneliness bringing sympathy to Y/N’s heart, which was forcing her to stay for a little longer.

“Be my guest.” His arm was getting tired, so he pushed the bottle further, practically sticking it in Y/N’s hands. Instead of waiting for another rejection, he went past her and got himself comfortable on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

For a minute Y/N still hesitated, she wasn’t afraid to tell him no, but there was something mysteriously captivating about Reeves and she wanted to explore it further. Y/N poured herself a modest glass and went to join him for a conversation.

“Did you force me to go get you Tom Ford in the middle of the night just because you wanted company?“ she asked jokingly, but then immediately realized it was probably true and the question might have sounded a little offensive.

“Don’t you already know the answer?” Keanu mumbled looking down, and Y/N couldn’t believe it was the same man that she had been terrified of before. Now he seemed vulnerable and exposed, without that mask putting a stone cold expression on his face.

“Can I ask you something else then?” Y/N was much softer now, sipping her drink and thinking if the alcohol was going to start working soon.

“Go ahead,” he smiled.

“Why did you hire me?” It was the question bothering Y/N from the very beginning. She had been feeling so out of place at Vogue that even she wouldn’t have hired herself there.

“I needed some fresh air, I was getting tired of seeing the same kind of people.” Y/N was looking at him hypnotized, his husky melodic voice was like music to her ears. When at Vogue, Y/N would pray for Reeves to just shut up and go away, but now she felt like she could sit for hours just listening to him. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate Vogue girls, I really fancy them. They live on caffeine, nicotine and five hundred calories a day, yet they’re still always perfect and on top of their game, it’s impressive… But honestly, they can be depressing sometimes, and I thought I just needed someone like…” Keanu stalled, thinking about his next words. “Like you,” he silently said.

“What am I like?”

“I don’t know, you’re just different. You seem like you don’t care at all.” Keanu put an empty glass down, shifting his core towards her.

Every little move was bringing them closer, and Y/N knew she was walking a very thin line here. “And that’s good?” Y/N asked getting a little bolder, she was curious to know more of his opinion on her.

“It’s definitely not bad,” Keanu murmured, gazing into Y/N’s eyes. They both had their elbows leaning on the backrest and Y/N felt Keanu’s hand gently landing onto hers. She was trying to think of possible questions to keep the conversation going, but his touch was too distracting, and Keanu got the chance to speak first.

“What would you do if I kissed you now?” He asked, locking his eyes on Y/N.

Her mind went blank and she didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. Briefly she thought that maybe the words were all in her head, just her imagination disclosing her deepest desires, but very soon she realized this was a real question.

Maybe Keanu was playing her feelings again, provoking and expecting a reaction, but fuck, she really wanted him to kiss her. Part of her hoped it was the alcohol speaking, but Keanu only had so little of it that it was an impossible case. It was all him, loud and clear, asking Y/N what she would do if he kissed her…

“A-are you going to?” Y/N stuttered, feeling the weight of his sturdy palm pressing on her.

A long silent pause followed after her words, or maybe time just felt different as Y/N was anxiously waiting for Keanu’s actions, she was desperately holding herself back from falling into his lips.

“No,” Keanu suddenly came back to his senses sliding his hand away. It was obvious he felt uneasy too, getting all flustered and trying his best to stay composed. “That would be highly inappropriate. I am your boss.” He exhaled with disappointment in his voice.

“Y-yes,” Y/N gulped, downing the remaining of her drink.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, that would be inappropriate.” Y/N stretched her arm trying to grasp the handbag lying next to her on the sofa. “And I should get going, it’s late,” she blurted standing up and heading towards the exit. Y/N completely understood that running away was not very mature, but she thought it was better this way than staying to talk this through and saying something much more stupid.

Meanwhile, Keanu was rushing after, following her to the front door looking all worried. Y/N was relieved remembering she would not have to see him for another week and she foolishly hoped that everything would be forgotten once he came back. Keanu, on the other hand, had something else in mind.

“Wait” he grabbed Y/N by the wrist, turning her away from the door. “Come to the Fashion Week with me.”

Keanu struck Y/N with his words for the second time this night. She knew they had to leave in the morning and Emily was probably sitting at home with her bags full, getting ready for the event she had been dreaming about for so long.

“What?” Y/N knew that agreeing would make her a terrible person. “No, I can’t, Emily would never forgive me,” she was eagerly shaking her head, failing to understand what the hell was happening. She didn’t want to reject Keanu, but betraying Emily like that was not an option too. What would that make her? No different than any other person from Vogue.

“Why do you care?” he asked moving closer, and all Y/N could focus on was his lips, the ones she almost got to taste tonight. “Just please don’t tell me she’s your friend, because trust me, there are no friends in this business.”

“No, we’re not friends, but still… Don’t you understand how mean it would be to do so?” Y/N was trying to uphold her values, but Keanu was ripping them away from her.

“Has she ever been nice to you?”

“Well not really, but…”

“Great, I’ll call her to tell the news,” Keanu said with his chest almost pressing Y/N to the door, while he was working behind her to undo the lock. For a moment Y/N felt like Keanu was kidnapping her, but at the same time, she knew that a simple ‘no’ coming from her could resolve everything. She just didn’t want to say it. “I’ll pick you up at eight, good night,” Keanu smiled letting her go.

“Good night…” Deep down Y/N knew how wrong it all was, she didn’t feel like she deserved it, not to mention how devastated Emily was going to be, and on top of everything, there was that awkward kiss moment, which Y/N still couldn’t fully comprehend.

Nonetheless, it was Y/N’s chance, her big opportunity to put herself out there, make connections, and maybe soon she was going to be the journalist she had always dreamt being of.

-Part 3-

Tag-list: @keandrews @rdjloverxxx @jadore30-deactivated20200603 @danceoftwowolves

>Masterlist<

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfiction #StephsBirthdayWritingChallenge #keanu reeves series #the devil wears prada #the devil wears prada au #there are no rules #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fic

98 notes · View notes