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plasticferal · 3 years

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chasing highs | rafe cameron.

summary: you’re his lover, and he’s your brother’s best friend. both the secrecy and his addiction cause tension in your hidden relationship.

authors note: 2.4k words. explicit language, mentions substance abuse, angst and weaponry.

soundtrack: sober, childish gambino.

you struggle to support the grocery bags that are filled to the brim, and tearing at the seams. you use your elbow to pry the door open with a struggle and quickly dump the brown bags on the counter. you groan at the sight, the house is in disarray. empty glasses, crushed cans and powder residue scatter across the wooden table. the smell of dry grass that’s been tracked along the floors and a contrasting clean linen fills the small space.

“at least he did the washing,” you run the back of your hand across your forehead, looking around with a fatigued sigh. you begin unpacking everything into cupboards. your arrangement is disturbed by a banging at the door that rattles the wall, it seems desperate. you turn around to pull the handle, revealing rafe. you roll your eyes, murmuring an acknowledgement before leaving the door open for him to let himself in. “country club,”

he steps inside, looking around and acting neurotic. “only barry calls me that,” he counters. “well barry’s not here, so,” you fade off the last part of your sentence, not entirely being interested in conversation. you strain your toes to place a cereal box on the top shelf. rafe silently stands behind you, his chest pressed to your shoulder as he takes it from your hand to put it away, being able to reach with ease. you feel his warm hand crawl around the side of your hip. you grip the edge of the counter that’s underneath you, feeling his breath trickle down your neck.

“i missed you, you know?” he spoke softly. he smelt like faded cologne and dirt, an overall musky scent. it was oddly comforting.

you shrug him off and turn back to pull vegetables from the bags, excusing his body to reach the fridge. he follows your every action.

“did i do something?” he looks confused by your dismissive nature, and sudden sharp tone.

“wanna tell me what you’re here for?” you place the packaged food in the cold drawers of the fridge, slamming them closed a little more dramatically than intended. you know his answer, you just need to reassure yourself.

“i just, i just need a little bit-” he speaks apprehensively. you quickly turn around to look at him, your eyes are heavy and filled with dejection. you lick your lips and bob your head with thought, letting out a bitter chuckle.

“he’s all out,” you look up at him, “house is empty.” and once again, you go back to the groceries. rafe stands still for a moment, rubbing his knuckles. you can hear the friction of his skin.

“i know he’s got something in here, y/n,” he looks around, and you can hear the shake in his vowels. his heavy steps take over the creaking floor, a cabinet slamming, making you jump slightly.

“did you not hear me, or are you not listening? there’s nothing in here,” you follow the noise to catch the sight of rafe rummaging through any door that opens. you to reach his shoulder to pull him away from a brown t.v unit, knowing he won’t give up until he’s been physically stopped. the moment you reach forward he pushes your hand away, grunting and bypassing you.

“are you fucking serious?” shock seeping through. he freezes, hands digging through his hair as he bounces back and forth between his feet. he releases air from his nose in frustration, taking a step closer to you.

“i’m sorry, i, i just need you to help me out,” he lends a hand forward in hopes of taking you into his arms, but you step back.

“help you feed the drug addiction that my brother started?”

“god, not right now,” he shakes his head, shutting his eyes tight and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“help you come to realisation that you have a problem?” you continue, knowing that it’s only getting to under his skin more.

“i don’t have a fucking problem!” he screams. not a yell. a scream with chest, an angry reaction. a reaction you could handle from your brother, arguments often occurring in the house. but not from rafe. not from the man you go out of your way to protect and love.

“get out.” your voice is stern and your eyes are stinging. his tension quickly diminishes.

“i didn’t mean- i didn’t mean to yell, alright?” he bites his words back, fighting that belligerent tone that previously lashed out.

“i’m not repeating myself,” you shake your head, looking to the door.

“sweetheart, i’m sorry. i’m sorry, okay? i’m just on edge,” he rambles on his justification but it only seems to dig himself a deeper hole.

“yeah, that’s the only reason you’re here,” you mumble to yourself, looking at your hands while you squeeze the tips of your fingers. a distraction.

“what’s wrong with you today? talk to me,” he progresses a step closer, careful not to approach too fast, knowing you’d turn away.

“rafe, i know you have a lot going on but god, i don’t want you to pretend to want me if you care more about chasing a high,” you finally spill how you feel, wanting to take it all back the second you do, not because you didn’t mean it, because you truly didn’t want the confrontation. you look up to see his face drop, mouth open a jar and eye’s grave.

“are you kidding me? you’re the only fucking person on this earth i care about,” he speaks with a bounce of a laugh, more out of shock and disbelief that he has to say it aloud.

“i know i have a problem, alright?” he hold his palms together and digs his fingers into his chest, the fixed intensity on his face. he licks his lips, rotating back and forth between his heels before pausing to take a deep breath. he tests the waters in stepping closer to you, and this time you let him. you allow him into your space, admittedly craving his touch. his hand cups around your upper arm, sliding down your skin before his index finger slips around the belt loop of your jeans. he pulls your lower half forward until you’re touching bodies, and his forehead rests against the crown of your head.

“i’m gonna try harder, i promise,” his voice is soft, and assertive. it’s difficult to feel indifferently about him. you want a reason to be mad, a reason to get him out of the house before you run into more trouble, but you know he’s being genuine. in that moment, there were no doubts or fears.

“okay,” your voice faint, letting yourself fully sink into his touch. you reach up to drape your hands over his shoulders, fingers playing with the dirty blond hair that falls messily past his ears.

“i love you, you know that right?” he speaks, mouth now hovering over your lips. you laugh sweetly, pecking the side of his face. “yeah, i do actually,” your arrogant response prompts a poke from him into your side and you push his bicep with a giggle.

“shit, i think i fell in love with you the first day we met,” he pulls your body back to him, swaying you both back and forth. he moves when the gears in his head are ticking, can never keep still. so you allow your body to dance around with him while he ponders.

“you’re lying” you roll your eyes, assuming he was over compensating from the heat you put on him a few minutes prior. “no, i’m not,” he breathes out a smile.

“do you remember that day?” you dip your eyebrow at him.

“of course i do,”

six months earlier.

you slip into that grey shirt that hangs barely past your thighs, causing the shorts underneath to disappear. the heat within the metal surrounded home was intensified by the midday sun, making you irritated and desperate for a cold drink. you grab a can of soda from a cooler, not being your preferred means of refreshment, but better than warm tap water.

as you wipe the corner of your mouth slightly, you simmer in the feeling of the icy feeling in your palm. your moment of serenity is quickly disturbed by the front door being pushed open harshly, making you freeze in your tracks. your first thought was that it would be barry, but upon realising it was a complete stranger, your next thought was to grab that gun barry keeps under the couch cushion.

“barry, i need-” the tall mystery man speaks with heavy breaths, not being aware of your presence.

“who the hell are you?” he sounds mad to be confused, and you’re almost amused by it. given you weren’t afraid of strangers coming and going from the place, it not being an unusual occurrence, typically they have courtesy to knock.

“who are you?” you respond, standing your ground comfortably. the tall male washes his gazes over your body slowly, but snaps out of it swiftly.

“ah, rafe, rafe cameron,” he speaks quick, almost as if he has something more important to say other than his name. you let it sink in for a while, being more than thrilled to waste the home invaders time as you sip your drink. the name sounded familiar, and judging from his attire, you put the pieces together.

“oh! country club, yeah i’ve heard a lot about you,” you chuckle to yourself, knowing barry and him have a love-hate relationship.

“what have you heard?” he probes, face now taut.

“that you have money. no wonder you hang around here so often,” you return that judgemental glance he pulled on you, noting the polo shirt, then back up to his face. his hair fell over it, and his features appeared almost too perfect. it was unnerving. “and yet i’ve never seen you here?” rafe responds, still lost at the interaction he’s enduring.

“you’re way better looking than i thought you’d be,” you try to mutter, but he’s engrossed in your exchange.

“pardon?” he nods his head forward. you smile densely, placing your drink down on the coffee table behind you then waving your hand toward the couch.

“i said take a seat, make yourself comfortable,” completely dismissing his question.

you’re seated on the sinking lounge, while he opts for the single armchair beside it. you’re able to see each other this way. he taps is fingers impatiently against the wooden armrests.

“are you like his girlfriend or something?” he strings together with scepticism. you bite your cheek with a chuckle.

“sister,” you assure. he nods slowly, giving a look that says, ‘my bad’ for getting that wrong.

“good to know,” the words were under his breath but you heard. and you’re sure he wanted you to.

“so did barry say he left something for me, or?” rafe rubs his thighs, shifting in his seat. it slipped your mind, his initial agenda for being there, but you quickly come back to earth. you huff, standing up silently to retrieve the bag that barry did in fact inform you was going to get picked up that day. you walk into the bedroom that has a curtain as a replacement for a door, reluctantly taking it into your hands.

re-entering the room, you throw it onto the table, falling back into your seat. rafe leaps toward it like it was his lifeline. you rolled your eyes, pulling your knees up to your body, hugging them.

“that shit’s gonna ruin your life,” you voice.

“yeah well,” he sniffs, tucking the white packet into his pocket.

“you can thank your brother when that happens,” he gives a hopeless response, with attitude. he stands from his seat, and you follow, making your way back over to the front door.

you wanted to respond, but you’d be getting yourself involved in a sensitive topic. rafe halts between the door frame, his tall figure blocking most of the natural sunlight. you stand in front of him, one hand on the handle prepared to close it behind him, and this time lock it. you’re gazing up at him, wondering why he’s blankly staring at you.

“what?” you question, toying with the handle, apprehensive of what he’ll respond with.

“you’re nothing like him, are you?” his voice is gentle, almost like he’s only speaking loud enough for himself to hear it. your eyes are locked and it’s becoming an overwhelming feeling. you break eye contact, looking past him. there’s a sense of sadness that takes over. having always been a juxtaposition to your sibling, but often being associated, mean’t that someone seeing past the stereotype was a pleasant change. you shake your head, indicating a clear no. he nods, understanding. the silence spoke volumes.

“good. you’re too pretty for that shit,” and with that, his back was turned and he was slipping a black helmet on, momentarily returning to a stranger.

present day.

"and i still believe that,” he brushes a loose strand of hair from your eye. “so pretty,”

you’re fascinated by him. by the way you can tell that stash he was losing himself over has left his thoughts, and for a moment you remember the connection you two have. how powerful it was when he was with you, entrenched in your company.

“i know you’re trying, rafe,” you whisper, and his grip tightens. how much you believed your own words was uncertain, but the hope seemed stronger than any doubt.

“you’re the only high i wanna chase,” he uses his thumb to lift your face to him before he trails his touch along your bottom lip, gently prying your mouth open. he leans down and attaches your lips, yourself pushing toward him to deepen the kiss. you feel him smile against your mouth before you cup his jaw lightly to seperate.

“if barry comes home and you’re all over me, he’s gonna put a bullet in your head,” you look into his eyes. they’re glistening and bright, a drastic difference to how dark they were when he first arrived.

“i’ll take my chances,” before wrapping his warm hand around the curve of your neck, pulling you into another kiss, lasting for what felt an eternity.

the body heat between you intensifies. rafe rolling his hips against you every now and then, urging a response from you, and though you’re aware of the risk of that front door flying open, you dig your nails into his shoulder blades. earning a desperate groan from rafe, you’re utterly intoxicated by his touch, becoming lost and unbothered by any risk or fear.

for a brief moment you understand what he feels when that substance runs through his veins and why he chases it. in your own way, you understand that high.

#who:#rafe cameron #drew starkey #tags:#obx #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #barry outer banks

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simonsrosebud · 4 years

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the one where someone doesn’t know who kevin day is, pt. 3

part one two four five

kevin has a talk with them the next morning before practice. or more of just him storming into the lounge and going off. the four freshman are there, too, but he doesn’t quite care.

“dalton isn’t fucked up like the rest of us! there’s a reason i didn’t want any of you meeting or even knowing about him and it’s not because i hadn’t fucking come out yet. he’s not a fox, and he’s not even thea. he’s not involved with exy, he doesn’t know about riko and me and the moriyama’s and the rest! there’s a lot of shit he doesn’t know about yet and none of you had the right throwing it all out in the air last night just to have a fucking laugh. tell me, was it funny? was it fucking funny getting him shitfaced just to get some answers and take the piss?!”

dan stands, and kevin holds a hand out. she looks to andrew, but his silence sides him with kevin. “kevin, we were just trying to-“

“you have no excuses, dan. none of you do. you were trying to make a fool of me and my boyfriend for nothing. and now, i have to go cure his curiosity of the things you all said.” and he storms out.

wymack doesn’t stop him. if anything, he looks mad at those left. “the fuck did you do to him to make him skip practice?! you realize that’s never happened so long as he’s lived, right?! we don’t have protocol for the day kevin skips exy.”

meanwhile, dalton doesn’t actually have that many questions. the numbing of alcohol for a face tattoo is understandable, especially knowing that kevin’s sober and therefore must have had a problem. the cracker dust he asks about just because he doesn’t know what it is- he doesn’t like it, but trusts kevin that he’s done with it. he’s seen the scar along kevin’s hand, he already assumed it was from a surgery. the edgar allen thing was too vague for him to be curious about, but he does ask- not about, the father comment, but if he’s okay about it. kevin tells him this much; that he transferred from edgar allen to palmetto because he’d known for a few years that wymack was his father, and that he didn’t have the courage to tell him until last year.

kevin thanks the gods that dalton doesn’t ask about or seem to remember any mention of the yakuza.

they’re at kevin’s suite because he knows they’ll have a few hours by themselves with everyone at the stadium, but only an hour in there’s knocking on the door. dalton has his lips on kevin’s- he’d just said how he likes having access to his “real smile”. “gonna get it?” kevin shakes his head. the knocking starts again.

“come on, kevin! we’re sorry! just open up for a second!”

kevin knows dalton likes when he speaks french, so he sighs and kisses him before whispering, “i hate them all.”

dan is at his door with matt and allison in tow. “what do you want?”

“to apologize.” kevin raises his eyebrows. “look, we take the piss a lot and you never seemed to be visibly affected by it, so we didn’t realize that last night was upsetting you until you left.”

“you said never have i ever seen kevin have a meltdown. why do you think you’ve seen that? because i’m a toddler? you know what i’ve had my reasons.” riko. the moriyamas.

“i know. look, we don’t want to give you excuses. i-i don’t have an explanation. you’ve always kind of let us take the piss without saying anything, and we took it too far, especially last night. andrew looked like he wanted to kill nicky for the yakuza comment, but neil talked to him about it before we went to the stadium this morning,” she whispers the last part because she’s not stupid, and kevin huffs.

matt jumps in. “we wanna make it up to you, man. you’ve obviously hid him from us for a reason and we proved you right.” kevin honestly wants to get back to dalton and he wants it to just be over with. “bring him to the winter banquet, we’ll be nice. if anyone says anything i’ll punch em. neil will chew em out.”

kevin grimaces. the ravens will be at the banquet. it’s in just over a month, the second week of december. he’ll have to tell dalton some things by then. and he might have to say something to the public.

he doesn’t tell him anything. not yet, at least. he still has three weeks until the banquet- he hasn’t even asked dalton yet. he starts to like away games a little more than before, though. he gets dalton a little postcard from every new state they go to. he tapes them all to one of the walls of his room.

he’s on the phone with dalton at an airport general store, even, when he gets interrupted by two girls. he puts on his press smile before he even notices. “hold on, d.”

he doesn’t love fan interactions.

when they leave, dalton asks him with amusement if he’s got fans now, and kevin kind of decides he should probably tell him some more about his life because jesus, does he have fans. he needs to tell him about he and riko. what they were, what they were to fans of exy, what kevin was to fans of exy. what kevin was to riko- without involving the yakuza.

but he doesn’t, because dalton never brings up the topic of “fans” again.

he doesn’t tell him until a week later, when he wakes up from a nightmare.

dalton’s leaning over him, speaking, but all kevin sees is riko riko riko. it takes all of two seconds for dalton to back off.

“hey, hey, it’s me, it’s dalton. you’re safe, you’re in my apartment. no one else is here, i promise.”

kevin’s breathing so hard, dalton flicks the lamp on and he just crumbles. he sits up and presses his hands over his eyes, “i’m sorry.”

“can i touch you?” he nods. dalton’s sitting at his side, cross legged, and gently pulls kevin’s hands off his eyes. “you don’t have to be sorry. i know there’s shit in here,” he lightly lifts his hands to hold kevin’s face and taps his temple with a finger, “i don’t need to know what it is, just know you don’t have to apologize for it, and know you’re safe.”

kevin nods and twists to hug him. and dalton wraps his arms securely around kevin’s back. he presses a kiss to the top of his head and mumbles “c’mere” to prompt kevin into climbing into his lap.

dalton slides his fingers through kevin’s hair and it’s just so soothing, it nearly puts him to sleep. and when dalton lays back down kevin stays wrapped around him with his cheek pressed to his chest.

when kevin wakes up it’s to find they’ve switched positions overnight. dalton’s got his arm lazily draped over kevin’s waist, almost holding him close like a pillow. his ankle is thrown over kevin’s, and his head is pressed into the back of kevin’s neck.

kevin doesn’t want to move. in fact, he stays so still so as to not wake dalton, that when he stirs kevin just shushes him and pulls dalton’s arm back around him. he holds his hand close to his chest.

dalton’s not stupid. he knows kevin’s awake and nuzzles himself closer. “you like being cuddled.”

“you’re the one doing it, not me.” but he definitely tilts further into the pillow to expose his neck when dalton starts kissing up the side.

“you like being the little spoon.” and pushes himself up over kevin. “you like when you’re on the bottom, kev.” he kisses him deep into the mattress despite morning breath, and noses down his neck. “i like it.”

kevin tugs at dalton’s hair. “and what… what about it?”

ahaha. aha. sex.

anyway.

he tells dalton everything afterwards. he leaves out the yakuza part, and the fact of neil’s past, because that’s another monster. but he tells him the rest. who his mother is and why he’s such a big deal in the exy world; why he really left edgar allen and came to the foxes; the tattoo that’s buried under his chess piece and what it meant. what his relationship with riko was really like, and everything about their past and the abuse he endured.

and he fills him in on what triggers him because of that: small pitch black rooms, confined spaces without an easy way out, holding his hand too tight, the mention of riko moriyama, a lot of other things.

and dalton stays.

so kevin asks him to the banquet. when he says yes, he asks wymack for help arranging an interview. there are enough people and press lingering outside the exy banquets, and he’d like to hold his boyfriend’s hand on the way in this year.

it’s scheduled to be live the morning before the banquet. it’s with sophie silletti for espn college exy, and she posts about it as soon as it’s booked.

kevin sits with her. it’s nothing like kathy ferdinand. they talk strictly about exy and eventually, with his pre-approved questions, she brings up thea’s team’s most recent game. “and forgive me if i’m wrong, but you and thea muldani split recently, yes?”

kevin nods. “back in may, i’d say. we’re still friendly, i have the utmost respect towards her. in the end it just didn’t work out.” i haven’t talked to her in months.

sophie nods. “everything happens for a reason, i’d like to think.”

“of course. it wouldn’t have led me elsewhere.”

“is that hinting at something? i feel we don’t normally talk about this, but does kevin day have someone new in his love life?”

kevin palms are sweating. he hopes his face isn’t red with nerves. “i do, actually. i won’t say anything about him for his own privacy” i don’t want the public’s prying eyes “but we’ve been together for a bit, now.”

sophie is grinning, she feigns surprise. “i heard you say him, did i not? anything else to tell us?”

he keeps his smile easy, but he can feel the worry in the back of his head telling himself they can see right through it. “if you’re asking, then sure. i’m a bisexual man, so yes, my partner is also a man. this is the first time i’ve ever announced it to the public, actually.” as if that wasn’t the whole point of today.

“at least your fangirls can keep their hopes up, then, yeah? still got a 50/50 shot! and i’ve got to say, i feel honored you trusted me and my show with a milestone like this. coming out certainly is a big deal, or at least nerve wracking! how do you feel?” she laughs. “is it like a weight lifted from your shoulders?”

“i was never too stressed about it.” lies. “some will hate, sure, but my job is the game. if my fans are true then this won’t change that. speaking of,” and then it’s back to exy.

wymack drives them back to palmetto, and when they’re close enough he says, “i’m proud of you for doing that.”

“thanks.”

“where am i dropping you off?”

kevin knows andrew and neil probably watched the interview, and he doesn’t feel like dealing with whatever they’ve got to say about it. so wymack drops him at dalton’s who hugs him as soon as he opens the door.

“you watched?”

“of course.” he kisses his cheek.

all posts/updates relating to this au can be found in the “OC: dalton miller” tag!

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staticscreenwriting · 3 years

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Love like the movies // Bucky Barnes // 6

SIX - GHOST

Trigger warning: Alcohol, food, mention of sex (nothing graphic and no actual smut)

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

"You held hands?"

"Mmh."

"And then you cuddled."

"We didn't cuddle, I was just kind of - leaning into him. Sort of."

"So you cuddled!"

"Sure. If that's what you wanna call it. We cuddled."

"Then what?" Robin inquires. Smirking at (Y/N) over the rim of her wine glass, like a giddy pre-teen waiting for the kissing scene to come up in a romance movie.

"And nothing. That's it."

"Oh come oooon. You cozied up to each other and then just what - acted like it never happened?"

"Essentially. But that's okay. It's not a big deal. And don't say it like that."

"Like what?" Robin continues to poke and by this point, it's not so much her wanting information than her trying to rile up (Y/N). Though she's very well aware of this, (Y/N) falls for it anyway.

"Cozied up to each other," (Y/N) says and scrunches her nose up in distaste. "Like we had dirty sex or something."

"Do you want to have dirty sex with him? Oh man, imagine what that arm can do."

Holding her hand out to stop her best friend from talking, (Y/N) takes a big gulp of white wine, emptying her glass. This is a conversation that can't be held entirely sober. "First of all, don't say those things about his arm. It's- I don't know. It doesn't sit right with me."

"Sorry yeah that was … not cool" Robin apologizes and by the tone of her voice (Y/N) can tell she means it.

"I'm the first to admit that Bucky is insanely handsome and if things were different, sure. But we're friends and I really enjoy the time spent together and our friendship. I don't wanna do anything to jeopardize it or ruin it by adding unnecessary feelings to it."

"Feelings aren't unnecessary," Robin replies, combing her fingers through her fiery red curls.

"Sometimes they are. The last thing Bucky and I need is broken hearts and ruined friendships."

"What if it doesn't end that way?"

"Relationships never work out well for me, you know that."

Robin places her glass on the countertop. It means whatever talk is gonna follow, it'll be a serious one. There's been very little need for a serious talk between the girls over the time they've been friends but neither of them has ever been afraid to start those conversations and say things as they are. Sometimes that's what friendship is, being blunt even if it's not what your friend wants to hear.

"Look I'm not saying you have to take the relationship to another level. If this is making you happy the way it is, then that's all that matters to me. I just don't want you to give up on something that could be great, because you're scared and because some stupid assholes in the past didn't realize what they had in you."

Where she's only had shit luck with relationships, (Y/N) thinks she's really lucked out in the friend department. Robin is as wonderful as they come. Even if she drives her crazy sometimes.

"They weren't all assholes." (Y/N) chimes up weakly though there's not even enough determination in her voice to convince herself.

"Weren't they? Let's see ...I'm not even gonna talk about Russel. He doesn't count. Who else was there? Pete liked to show you off but he didn't like you. Did he?"

"Not really."

"See? Asshole! Kylie only wanted to be with you so she could be the cool girl who's fucked another girl once and use that as something to brag to the guys about."

"She was figuring herself out."

"She was straight, babe. She was using you and your sexuality as some kind of badge of honor so guys would think she's cool. She only wanted to make out with you at parties and when there were men around to ogle you. I’m the last person to blame anyone for trying to figure out who they are and who they like but that wasn’t the case here. She used you, and what does that make her?"

“ An asshole? “

“ An asshole!”

“ What about Ricky, he wasn’t an asshole! “ (Y/N) chimes in, filling her glass up once more.

“ Okay sure but he was your High School sweetheart and that rarely lasts. I’m not gonna count him. What about Mike —“

“— Okay, you’ve made your point. I have a bad taste in romantic partners, I get it. Doesn’t change anything. Me and Bucky we’re — we’re good as we are. No romance needed.”

“ Just don’t want you to miss out on something great.”

It’s not that the thought has never crossed her mind. In fact, when she’s being really honest to herself, it swirls around her head a lot. When he grants her one of his smiles. The rare ones that make his eyes crinkle. Or when he comes to see her and brings dog treats for Lady, just because he’s that thoughtful. Or when she noticed he put a popcorn and a sun emoji next to her name in his phone. The popcorn, as he said because she liked movies and the sun because she’s always happy and smiling. Or when he held her hand throughout the entire movie. Those are moments when (Y/N) thinks about what it would be like to be more than friends.

“ It’s great as it is now. He’s great.”

“ Then that’s all that matters to me.” Robin smiles. She has one of those smiles that makes you feel at home. Comfortable and soft. Like warm milk with honey a mom makes their child when they can’t sleep.

It’s a while later, when (Y/N) strolls back into the room, another bottle of wine in hand, that a knock sounds on her front door. Her eyes wander to Robin then to the door then back. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

“ Oh, that’s Bucky.” Robin, who’s by now migrated over to (Y/N)’s huge fluffy couch, Lady cuddled onto her lap, says with the most casual of tones (Y/N) has ever heard. As if Bucky and her have been lifelong friends. As if there is nothing strange or peculiar about this situation.

“ How do you know?”

Robin shrugs and goes back to petting Lady’s curly fur. “ He texted you when you were getting the wine. Said he was around and had food. I told him to come join us for movie night. What’s the big deal? “

“ I uh — it’s not I just — you could’ve told me. “

“ That was literally 5 minutes ago babe. I had no time to tell you yet. By the way, this man uses entirely too many emojis.”

A smile pulls on the corners of (Y/N)’s lips. She’s asked him once why he never used any emojis, or smileys as he called them (all of them — even the ones that aren’t faces). He told her he didn’t really understand when to use most of them, like the shrimp or the Hockey stick. (Y/N) told him it’s because they’re fun. Ever since then he uses all kinds of emojis with her. None really relating to his messages. It’s quite endearing if she’s being honest.

“ Are you gonna let him in? “ Robin asks, shaking (Y/N) out of her thoughts.

The smell of Chinese food floods into the apartment as (Y/N) opens her door to Bucky. He looks so effortlessly cool in his leather jacket and boots. With his hair a little longer now, all swoopy and quiffed. Like the bad boy straight from a romance novel. The one with a heart of gold. The one that gets the girl.

(Y/N) is not that girl, the one from the novels, the Hallmark movies. The one that’s quirky but never weird. The one that makes all the boys fall for her. She’s not the main character, at least according to herself. She’s the side character that shows up like twice. The one that helps the main character on their quest to self-discovery or true love. That’s who she is. Not more, not less.

“ I brought food!” Bucky exclaims as he steps inside, waving the bag around before placing it on the kitchen counter, to which Lady jumps up from her position on Robin’s lap.

Lady, (Y/N) has realized a while ago, has somehow fallen head over paws in love with Bucky. Always following him, looking up at him with her big brown puppy eyes. Always looking to be close to him. Maybe, (Y/N) thinks, it’s the treats he always carries around. But maybe it’s Bucky too and his patience and his affection and the way he greets the little dog like she’s the main reason he’s come around.

Moments like this, they come with those little flutters around the heart. People always compare them to butterflies. (Y/N) thinks that’s wrong. Butterflies are gentle, graceful, and soft. This feels like a swarm of bees. Chaotic. Overwhelming. A little bit scary.

“ Man, did you plan on coming here, or did you buy all this for yourself?” Robin asks, eyes wide in surprise at the sheer amount of styrofoam containers Bucky keeps pulling from the bags.

“ I kind of bought it with the intention of sharing, yeah. “

Robin’s eyes meet (Y/N)’s across the room and there's a silent secret there, hidden in her teasing smirk. One shared only with a friend. No words. No sounds. Just the truth and two knowing hearts connecting.

“ Am I intruding? If you guys want me to leave, I can leave. “

While he tries to keep his voice casual, the sad tint doesn’t get lost on (Y/N).

“ Absolutely not, don’t be silly. We’re just drinking wine and watching a movie and you are free to join us in both.”

While he shakes his head at her offer of wine, Bucky helps (Y/N) bring the food over to the couch and plops down in the middle of the couch, Robin to his right and (Y/N) on his left.

“ What are we watching? “ he asks, a dumpling already on the way into his mouth.

“ Well, “ Robin responds filling her glass up once more, “ it was (Y/N)’s turn to chose so —”

�� A rom-com”

“ A rom-com. “

Something about seeing these two interact and joke around inspires a fuzzy feeling to wrap itself around (Y/N)’s heart. Even if they’re making fun of her.

The way Bucky fits in here, as if it’s where he’s always belonged. The way he’s not a stranger imposing but a friend added to the mix. It’s a nice feeling. She hopes he feels it too.

“ Okay, whatever. This isn’t your usual rom-com though, there are ghosts in this one. “

“ Is it ghosts falling in love?” Robin asks and lets her laugh get swallowed by her wine glass.

“ No. Well — uh kinda but not really. They fall in love be — you know what, just start the damn movie! “

There’s an undeniable intimacy in watching your favorite movies with other people. It’s like giving away little pieces of yourself and sharing them with others. No matter how insignificant it may seem to anyone else but you. These are the things that make us who we are. Our passions. For art. For music. For books. For movies. And opening up is always scary. Even if it’s just a teeny tiny bit.

Through the corner of her eye (Y/N) glances at Bucky and Robin, trying to judge their reactions. See if they’re enjoying themselves or not. Bucky displays his ever-present scowl. It’s the default setting. Sometimes she wonders if that has always been the case. If that's just what he looks like or if years of abuse, horror, pain have left their marks on him, on not only his heart but also his face.

Maybe this can be his safe place, she thinks. Maybe she can be. Not someone to fix him, because he’s not broken, just lost. Not to fix but to hold his hand while he heals. Slowly but surely.

For a while, the three sit in comfortable silence. The kind that fills you with this inexplicable calm. Where no words are needed.

And then the beginning chords of unchained melody spill from the tv speakers. It’s a touch there, a kiss here, hands covered in clay. Bodies covered in clay. Gasps and heavy breathing. Hands grasping skin, wandering, loving.

Robin’s presence falls completely to the back of (Y/N)’s mind. Bucky’s however...

“Do you want to have dirty sex with him? “ her friend's words ghost through her head like a particularly annoying jingle for some tv ad. The room feels warm all of a sudden. Not warm — boiling. There’s a heat radiating from her right, from Bucky. So what if he’s attractive. So what if she sometimes lets her mind wander and think about how his hands would feel on her skin or his lips on hers or his — yeah okay you get the point. So what?

Bucky slumps down into the couch a little more with every second of steamy pottery sex that’s fluttering across the tv screen. Is he — nervous? Uncomfortable ? No, she must be imagining it. Projecting, that’s what this is. She’s projecting her own chaotic emotional state onto him. There’s nothing there. (Y/N) has to remind herself. Just secret little thoughts that have to be kept between her and her. As long as no one knows, no one gets hurt. It’s the easy way out. The safe way. The right way.

Right?

“ Sooo, what did you guys think?” (Y/N) asks, turning her body towards her friends and sitting criss-cross on the couch.

“ Didn’t expect all the murder. “ Bucky replies as he takes a sip from his beer. “ And the — “

“ The messy sex! I know.” a visibly intoxicated Robin cuts in.

“ Not where I was going but okay.”

She doesn’t pay his words any attention, instead of launching herself backwards over the arm of the couch, dramatically fanning herself with her perfectly manicured hand. “ I am not going to lie, oh boy that was some hot stuff. Wouldn’t say no to that.”

“Oh please,” (Y/N) chimes in, wine glass clutched in hand and smile on her face. She can clearly feel the alcohol washing through her system bringing her to the place between sober and drunk where everything feels light and your confidence seems to get a little extra boost. “ What do you have to complain about? You’re getting married in two weeks! I’m sure you get enough action as it is. “

Robin doesn’t answer right away, just throws (Y/N) a giddy, boozed-up smile. Though in her eyes, there’s a loved-up glimmer of someone about to marry the love of their life.

“ Yeah, that’s true.”

“See, so you’re not the one that should be complaining. Us, however…”

Her red curls swing around her like a spark of fire as Robin sits up again, pointing her finger at (Y/N).

“ And whose fault is that? You could be getting some if you didn’t get so lost in your romantic fantasies. And him — “ the red-haired girl exclaims before pointing her finger towards Bucky “ don’t even tell me he ain’t getting some. Look at him! Are you sexually active, Bucky? “

“ You don’t have to answer that. Robin, come on.”

“ No, you don’t have to but you should. I’m trying to prove a point. Help me prove a point, Bucky. “

“ You’re making him uncomfortable. “

“ Am I making him uncomfortable or you? “

“ Ooookay, I think it’s time for you to go to bed. “

“ Nooo, we’re having a conversation. “

“ Would you look at that, my drink is empty. I’m just gonna — I’m gonna get another one. Okay? Okay.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for an answer before getting up and rushing out of the living room and into the kitchen, clearly uncomfortable. Clearly embarrassed.

“ See what you did? You scared him off. “

“ I couldn’t scare that man off if I tried. Trust me. “ Robin murmurs, a loud yawn cutting through her argument. There’s a certain determination in her words though. Some truth hidden in there that (Y/N) can’t quite put her finger on. It’s like Robin knows something she doesn’t. And maybe it’s good this way. Maybe she doesn’t need to know.

“ Alright, whatever that’s supposed to mean, Tipsy. I’ll go see what he’s up to. You go the fuck to sleep.”

“ Whatever mom, “ Robin bickers and cuddles closer into the soft couch anyway. “ Oh, don’t forget to invite him! I like him. We’re friends now. “

“ Go to sleep! “ (Y/N) orders again, earning herself a salute from her best friend who starts snoring no more than 2 seconds later.

He feels like a 13-year-old. Actually — no. Things were easier at 13. Situations like this one were easier at 13. Being horny was easier at 13.

It was all new to him then, yes, but it was new for everyone at 13. He’s 106 now, a grown man. He should be able to talk or at least think about these things without turning into a full-blown mess. His hand is clammy, his face is probably the same shade of bright red as Robin’s hair. And by god, his thoughts are a jumbled mess, swirling around all over the place.

Truth be told, he hasn’t had a lot of time to actually think about anything even remotely physical. It was never very high on his list of things to figure out and the opportunity hasn’t really presented itself to him either. Not since the 1940s at least.

Have things changed? Surely not, right? Maybe people got a bit more experimental and for sure they talk more openly about it now but the fundamentals must have stayed the same. He sure hopes so at least.

His thoughts get interrupted as (Y/N) steps into the kitchen. Her eyes are slightly glassed over from the wine though she’s nowhere near as drunk as Robin. She seems happy, then again she always does. For a little moment, he feels jealousy wash over him. About being able to get drunk. It’s damn stupid, he’s well aware. But that doesn’t make his feelings less valid. To just drink and let go and forget, that sounds really nice.

But that’s just one of the things the serum has taken from him. By far not the worst aspect of it all but unpleasant either way.

“ Hey uh — you okay? “ she asks leaning against the kitchen island across from him.

“ Sure. Are you? “

“ I uh — might be a little drunk, “ (Y/N) confesses as she lifts her hand and indicates a tiny space with her fingers.

“ Yeah, I think you might be.” Bucky laughs. Actually laughing comes naturally when she’s around and quite honestly, at first, it made him feel guilty. Guilty about the fact that he got to laugh along with a pretty girl while so many people had to die through his hands.

He tries to push those thoughts away. They aren’t doing anyone any good. Not him and not those people either.

“ Hey, I’m sorry she was making you uncomfortable. She gets — well she has no filter when drunk. Or ever really.”

Bucky shakes his head. His finger nervously trails along the grain of the stone countertop. There are conversations he needs to have, sooner or later, if he wants to live his life. Not just coast along but actually live. But it doesn’t mean those come easy. Not for someone who’s been through all he’s been through. Not for someone who’s grown up the way he has, who’s been raised the way he has.

“ Ah, no. Don’t worry. I uh — I just. It’s been a long time since I had talks like this. “

“ Like what? “

“ Between friends, you know. About — stuff. “

“ About sex? “

“ Mmh. “

“ You don’t have to talk about it with us if you don’t want to. It’s fine. “

“ No, but I do want to talk about sex with you. I mean — not you, you. You both. But not in a weird way. I mean — with friends. “

“ Okay. “

“ It’s just that I was raised in different times and the last time I had a real actual friend that I talked to about intimate things was so long ago. Steve and I talked about everything and even then there used to be reservations. One because I don’t think Steve really wanted details and two because Steve wasn’t — he didn’t have the most experience when it came to women so it was a very one-sided conversation. And I’ve never talked about any of this with a girl. It’s all new to me but I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you. “

(Y/N) regards him with a glimmer of amusement and mischief in her eyes as she munches away on some cold leftover spring rolls.

“ You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Buck. I know you trust me, I hope you know I trust you. “

He does. And he doesn’t hate how it sounds when she calls him Buck.

“ So, Robin and Charlie are getting married in two weeks. I was wondering if you’d like to be my plus one. Back when they announced it I was under the impression Russel and I would be a thing by then but uh — clearly that didn’t happen. It’s in upstate New York. We’re all gonna stay at this gorgeous Inn and well there’s a spot open if you want it.”

“ As a plus one? “

No matter how much he wants to deny it to himself, his heart does a little flutter as she says those words. A plus one sounds like something. He’s not sure what but something, surely.

“ Yeah, as a friend, obviously. “

“ Obviously. “

There goes the flutter.

“ Robin is okay with it by the way. She explicitly told me to ask you.”

“ So Robin wants me there, not you. “

“ No! I want you there! I love spending time with you. Also, Robin’s family is crazy. I need you by my side. I need you there. I want you there. “

“The need to be needed is an individual’s sense of significance rooted in the sense of being part of a community or cause beyond themselves. The need to be needed is one of our fundamental desires. We want to feel significant in the eyes of others, even if it is only one other person. “

Bucky has read those words in one of the many magazines stacked on the little side table in the waiting room of Dr. Raynor's office. They didn’t really make much sense to him then. He always thought he’d be fine by himself.

In that moment he realizes that was all a big pile of absolute bullshit.

The feeling of being wanted, of being needed, even if it’s just one person that needs him, that means everything.

“ Okay, I’ll come. “

“ Yeah? “

And there it is again, the smile that reminds him of the sun. The smile that he’s sure could bring a thousand men to their knees, including himself.

“ Cool. I’m — I’m really happy about that. “

“ Mmh. Me too. “

For a moment they just look at each other, words unspoken swirling in the air between them, neither brave enough to let them slip from their tongue.

It’s not until a particularly loud snore coming from the living room pops the bubble and breaks the spell.

Both of them fall into giggles before Bucky speaks up again.

“ It's late I should probably go. “

“ Yeah and I should go to bed. I’ll have a hangover tomorrow for sure.”

Bucky slips into his leather jacket and places a soft kiss goodbye on Lady’s head before turning back to (Y/N).

“ For the record, I’m not getting any. “

“ I uh — okay. Good. Well not good, “ (Y/N) stumbles over her words “ not good for you. Good for me. I mean. Not that I don’t want you to have sex. But I mean, Robin was taking the piss, and if I don’t get laid it makes me feel better to know you aren’t either. Oh god, this sounds horrible. I’m just gonna stop talking now. “

Bucky smiles the brightest smile she’s ever seen him smile, it almost breaks his face in two. And even though she wants the ground to swallow her whole right then, if it puts a smile like that on his face, she’ll gratefully embarrass herself again.

“ Have a good night, (Y/N). “

“ You too, Bucky”

And with a kiss to her head, he leaves the flat, a smile staying on his lips the entire way home.

“ Why did I have to come again? This is a bachelorette party, I thought men aren’t allowed. “ Bucky grumbles as (Y/N) parks her truck in the parking lot of the convenience store. The pink and blue neon lights reflect on the wet asphalt.

“ It’s a shared party. We’re all friends so it makes sense for the couple to celebrate together. Stop moaning. “ (Y/N) exclaims as her heels create a click-clack sound.

The store is empty as they enter except for the bored-looking teenager leaning against the counter by the cash register.

There’s something about empty stores at night that makes it feel like time stands still. Like for a moment, reality is altered. There’s only you and the outdated music coming from the speakers and the hum of the refrigerators holding the soda cans.

“ I can’t believe Hannah forgot to bake the cake. It’s all she had to do. I did everything else, everything. She had one job. “

Bucky’s learned by now to just let her rant about this topic. It’s all she’s talked about for the last hours since Hannah, public enemy number one that day, has called her to inform her she’s forgotten about the cake. Why there needs to be a cake at this party, Bucky doesn’t know but hey, who is he to question it.

(Y/N) walks straight over to the counter that holds the bakery items only to be met with disappointment.

“ Well great. We can choose between one single cupcake, a box of stale donuts, and a croissant. “

“ What about this one? “ Bucky asks and points towards a bright pink cake decorated with candy roses and white icing.

“ It says Happy Birthday. “

“ Ah, don’t worry we can fix that.”

(Y/N) raises her eyebrows in doubt. “ You sure? “

“ 100%. Trust me. “

She regards him for a moment, uncertainty shining through, before granting him a little smile and a nod. “ Okay then. You get the cake, I’ll be over there for a second. “

Looking through the fridges, (Y/N)’s eyes fall onto a pack of popsicles in the shape of Captain America’s shield.

Ripping open the fridge door she calls out “ Hey Grumpy, would you like thes— “

All she hears is a smack and then Bucky’s voice exclaiming a loud “Fuck!”

And in that moment she doesn’t know what’s more shocking, the fact that she just slammed the door right into his face or hearing him swear.

“ Are you okay? I’m so sorry. “

“ I’ll be fine.”

“ We gotta put ice on it. “

“ No (Y/N) I — “

She’s already on her way to get a pack of frozen peas. And if Bucky is being real honest, his cheek does hurt quite a bit. Super Soldier Serum and all …

“ I am genuinely so sorry. “

Bucky sits on the bed of (Y/N)’s truck, frozen peas pressed to his face and a chuckle falling from his lips as (Y/N) sends yet another apology his way.

“ It’s okay, (Y/N). I told you, I’m fine. “

He pulls the peas away from his face and places them next to him, before picking up the cake and lifting the plastic lid off of the container.

“ Alright, let’s see if I can fix this. “

“ You have a bruise on your cheek. “

Bucky looks up at her with those gorgeous blue eyes of his, that (Y/N) sometimes finds herself drowning in. Calm and story all at once. Like oceans.

“ Does it make me look rough and handsome? “

“ You’re always handsome. But yes, it gives you a roguish charm. “

“ Good. “

(Y/N) feels a heat rush to her face as Bucky focuses back on the cake.

“ Mmmkay. Let me see. What if we — “ Bucky murmurs, more to himself than to (Y/N). He swipes his finger, sans glove, over the white icing letters and while there’s a good intention there, when he lifts his finger back up the cake looks like a downright mess.

“ Ta-da “ he exclaims and turns the cake towards her.

“ It says Happy day now “

“ Is it not a happy day? “ Bucky asks, eyebrows raised in question.

“ Let me rephrase that. It says ‘Happy messy white stain Day’ “

Bucky pulls his lips into a grimace, eyes wandering from (Y/N) down to the cake and back to her. “ Yeah, we can’t bring that “.

Laughter fills the air as they regard the sad mess of a cake before them. If this was a movie, (Y/N) thinks, this would be their moment. The one where they realize. The one that feels like time stops and all that matters is them.

Something wet and sticky against her cheek pulls her from her daydream.

“ What the hell? “

Bucky only grins at her. There’s the boyish charm again. It’s so insanely endearing to see these little moments flare up and push through the perpetual gloom he seems to carry with him. He doesn't hold the weight of 90 years of fighting on his shoulders right then.

“ Oh you didn’t “

Before Bucky can react she grabs a handful of the cake and smashes it against the uninjured side of his face.

“ Is that how you wanna play it? Okay. Fine. “

Cake flies through the air as their laughter rings through the night. Not a thought wasted on pain, on worries, on heartbreak.

The rooftop bar (Y/N) booked specifically for this night is covered in fairy lights and glitter decor. There’s a karaoke machine in one corner and an open bar in the other.

A loud cheer sounds from the crowd as Robin steps out into the open, fingers intertwined with those of a petite brunette with big square glasses sitting on her nose.

They get swallowed by a tidal wave of people, pulled from one hug into another, and while his eyes stay with them, Bucky feels a touch against his metal arm. (Y/N) wraps herself around him leans her head against his shoulder and stares lovingly at the couple before them.

“ I’m so glad she’s happy. I love her so much. “

“ She loves you too. “ he says.

And really how could anyone not?

A little while later, when the crowd has allowed them to breathe again, Robin and the brunette wander towards Bucky and (Y/N), matching smiles on their faces.

“ Buck, this is Charlie, Robin’s fiancee. Charlie, this is my friend Bucky. “

“ It’s so nice to meet you,” Charlie exclaims, a strong English accent dripping from her words. “ What in the world happened to your face? Are you okay? “

While Bucky smirks, (Y/N) flinches at those words and shrinks into herself a little.

“ Oh you know, funny story. Someone here was a little too excited about some red white and blue popsicles. “

Robin lets out a loud laugh “ Now that sounds like someone I know very well. “

“ They were shaped like Cap’s shield, okay. I thought it was funny and fitting. “

Charlie’s eyes move between the 3, a look of confusion settling on her features.

“ Why fitting? “

“ Oh babe, let me catch you up,” Robin says and steers Charlie in the direction of the bar.

The night flies by and for the first time in so long, Bucky doesn’t feel out of place. Not for a single moment. Even being surrounded by people he doesn’t know and while listening to music he doesn’t get. It’s nice, feeling like you belong.

Robin and Charlie have just finished their karaoke rendition of Don’t Stop Believing when a familiar voice echoes from the speakers.

“ Hello guys, my name is (Y/N). You may know me, I’m the maid of honor. I am responsible for this party — you’re welcome. Anyway, I guess it’s my turn to sing tonight but I can’t do this one alone. I’m gonna require my friend, Mr. James Buchanan Barnes up on this very stage with me. “

Oh no. Definitely no. Not in a million years. No w—

“ Because this one’s a duett. “

Her eyes meet his across the way, shining with amusement, mischief, affection. Even across the dimly lit roof, her sunshine smile seems to light up the entire night.

“ I’m not doing it, “ Bucky says and shakes his head as Robin slides up to his side.

“ C’moooon. “

“ Nope. I probably don’t even know the song. “

It’s like the universe wants to make a fool of him as in just that moment Bill Medley’s voice sounds through the night.

“ I know you know this song. “ Robin says and nudges his side “ come on don’t make her do this by herself. “

“ I — “ he looks at (Y/N) again, with her sunshine smile and those expressive eyes and the buttercream stain on her shirt. And he doesn’t see fear or pain or regret. All he ever sees when he looks at her is happiness and fun and laughter.

“ Ugh. Okay. Alright. “

Cheers follow him as he steps on stage and (Y/N) hands him the second mic. Though it’s supposed to be a duett, (Y/N) doesn’t really care and sings both parts with unfiltered joy and unapologetic passion. And while it takes a moment for him to warm up to it, Bucky can’t help but let her enthusiasm light a spark in him too and by the time the pre-chorus hits he joins her in singing their hearts out.

“ You're the one thing I can't get enough of. So I'll tell you something. This could be looooooove “

New York comes alive with the promise of a better tomorrow. One where Bucky feels like he belongs. To a place or a group of friends or a person. A tomorrow where he can laugh with a pretty girl, have food fights in a parking lot, and sing some silly song at the top of his lungs.

Maybe the song isn’t all wrong. Maybe he’s having the time of his life. And maybe, just maybe, he owes it to (Y/N).

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#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter solider fanfiction #winter soldier x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #marvel imagine #tfatws imagine #james barnes x reader

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thatslikely · 3 years

Text

Seeker - D.M.

Seeker- Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (unspecified house but not slytherin)

Warnings: none! just lots of fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: This is my first ever fic! I hope I potray Draco accurately! Feel free to D.M. me for any requests or anything like that. I’d also really love feedback, positive or negative. Special thanks to my friend Ocean, who is an amazing author and editor <3

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name - Y/L/N is Your Last Name - Y/H is Your House

----

Draco Malfoy.

Anyone who has ever graced the steps of Hogwarts during his reign is bound to have heard the name. The poor first years hear about the hexing of their friends after so much as glancing at his striking blond hair. The second year Quidditch players hear about his skill and precision on a broom. Even the O.W.L.s-stressed fifth years hear of his (almost) unparalleled smarts.

You, of course, heard all these things too. You’d seen firsthand his occasional ruthlessness. There was no doubt in your mind he was a force to be reckoned with. You never let his daunting image intrude your thoughts, however. He would never have a reason to bother you; so why should you care what he did?

That all seemed true until Quidditch results came back for your house. Your eyes scanned over names on the list until you saw your name next to the title of Seeker. You were thrilled to be on the team. You worked so hard over the summer, waking up at dawn to fly laps around the lush forests by your home.

After everyone in the common room was informed of your new title, they all congratulated you for what seemed like hours. They all chanted “Y/N!” at the top of their lungs or gave you encouraging pats on the back. After a while of sober celebration, someone finally managed to sneak in a few bottles of Firewhiskey. You eagerly downed a shot or two before your head started to feel fuzzy. The music and chatter of the party seemed to make your head pound, and you decided you needed some fresh air to clear your head.

The moment you stepped out of the bustling common room, you felt way better. Your whole body calmed, releasing the tension you didn’t know you had. While you could still very well feel the effects of the Firewhiskey, you felt clear enough to walk all the way to the Owlery.

The Owlery had always been a place of comfort for you. You had never owned an owl for yourself, instead opting for an adorable black cat, but something about the flying creatures comforted you. Maybe it was their piercing yellow eyes or their fluffy feathers that seemed to stick out in any direction, or maybe just because they remind you of whenever your mother’s owl brings sweet letters at breakfast every month.

The air tonight was chilly, but you were simply grateful that it was too early in the year for snow because whenever Hogwarts was covered in soft white blankets, the steps up to the Owlery were dangerously icy. Thankfully, the only things on the steps were your boots and the occasional fluttering orange leaf.

Once you reached the top, you breathed a sigh of relief. The thoughts of you becoming the new Seeker came back to you and you were able to celebrate a little bit again. Before you could fully imagine yourself flying around the Quidditch pitch in search of the shiny Golden Snitch, you were interrupted suddenly by none other than Draco Malfoy’s taunting words.

“Well, well, well. Who do we have here? Y/L/N?”

You froze. In all the times you had been to the Owlery at night, this was the first time you had company. And his company at that. His voice seemed strong and almost amused. Before you could give him a response, he kept going.

“You’re the new Y/H Seeker, aren’t you? Maybe this year I’ll have some actual competition, though I doubt it.”

You felt your face heat up in rage, a feeling you rarely expressed. The Firewhiskey must’ve brought it out of me, you thought with a sigh. You knew you wouldn’t want to say something you’d regret, especially to your new Slytherin rival.

“I think you might be pleasantly surprised, Malfoy. I’ve been training all summer.”

Draco didn’t deserve to know that you had been practicing all summer, and the summer before that, but you inexplicably felt the need to prove yourself to him. He always seemed to be one step ahead of you, though.

“And I’ve been training for Quidditch since I could walk, Y/N. You’re not special.”

His comment stung a little. But you knew you deserved to be Seeker, and you could prove that to him next match.

“What brings you up here so late anyways?”

“That, Y/L/N, is none of your concern. I could, however, ask you the same thing.”

“Just getting away from the crowd is all. The Common Room’s loud as all hell.” Why did you tell him that? He didn’t need to know anything about you or your common room.

Draco pulled up the sleeve of his black blazer, presumably looking at his watch. You didn’t notice how Draco’s platinum blond hair shined so handsomely in the moonlight until he pushed himself off of the wall he was so casually leaning on to walk towards you.

“It’s past curfew, Y/N. I could so easily tell my Slytherin prefects that I found you out so late at night, especially after a loud night in the Common Room…” The smirk on his face as he looked up into your eyes was so charming but mischievous.

“You wouldn’t da-” you muttered, before quickly getting cut off.

“I won’t tell them, though, only because I plan on crushing you next game. The look on your face as I hold the Snitch will be priceless.”

You desperately tried to find some way to rebut what he said, but his words it seemed, took the air from your lungs. You watched him, stunned, as he casually handed a black envelope to what you assumed was his owl. As the owl flew out of the window and into the pitch-black sky, he walked towards the doorway, which you happened to still be standing in.

He purposely brushed your shoulder as he walked past you and down the stairs. Without even looking back, he simply said, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You stood there, almost breathless. That had quite possibly been the strangest and most unexpected interaction you’ve ever had. You’d always seen Draco as some stereotypical bully, but you never realized how truly witty and quick-on-his-feet he was. He would be a tough opponent, both on the field and off.

----

Quidditch practice these past few weeks has been very tiring but helpful. Every time you mounted your broom it made you feel that much more confident, which was good because you needed as much of that as you could get if you wanted to even stand a chance against Draco. By the time the first match came around, you felt as though you could easily beat the green-jerseyed players.

The practice room pep-talk before the game was finally the moment your confidence was cemented. As your captain stood on the bench, yelling and inspiring, you were on top of the world. You could see Malfoy zooming on his broom far behind you as you reached for the Snitch, its shiny metal now covered up with your worn leather gloves. You could hear the crowd cheering your name as Draco sat in awe of you.

That daydream was short-lived however when everyone got up from the benches to grab their brooms and fly into the stadium. As you proudly mounted your broom, a sudden spike of anxiety hit your chest. Of all the times nerves had to hit, did it have to be two seconds before the match began?

The stadium was filled to the brim with students from each of the four houses. The large pillars of red, yellow, blue, and green emitted cheers as your team glided on the field, doing a fun formation along with it. Not long after, the green and silver-clad team swooped onto the field. They flew around the oval-shaped pitch in the shape of a very coordinated V. It was more intimidating than you’d like to admit.

As the Slytherins settled down and hovered in the air, ready for the match to start, you saw Malfoy send you an intimidating glare. You rolled your eyes in return before the referee shouted a loud, “brooms up!”

With those simple two words, you darted off towards the top of the pitch. You gripped the broom as if your life depended on it, which it might. Your eyes scanned the field for any signs of the snitch before you saw a flash of blonde next to you.

“Scared, Y/L/N?” Draco spat, clearly trying to tease you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You smirked, your gaze reaching his enticing silver eyes. He cocked his eyebrow at you, playfully, before you sped off, the air from the tail of your broom blowing his pale locks over his eyes.

The Golden Snitch had caught your eye while you hovered up with Malfoy, and now you surely had the advantage. You were mere feet away from the golden snitch, with the blonde Seeker trailing behind you. The crowd sat captivated, wondering who would reach the snitch first. Just as your fingers brushed the golden sphere, it shot straight up, out of your grasp. You both wasted no time shooting upwards on your brooms. He was now at your side, both your arms reached up to the sky.

Suddenly, you felt the metal of the snitch in the palm of your gloves. But you also felt something else, and you almost fell off your broom at the sight of Draco’s fingers intertwined with yours, both of your palms wrapped around the snitch.

Without hesitation, you both recoiled from each other, your interwoven hands breaking apart, which sent the snitch flying. Your face got red and hot with embarrassment, and by the expression and color of Draco’s face, he felt the same. He managed to mime himself gagging before he swooped in the opposite direction in search of the snitch once again.

----

As you stepped through the painting guarding your common room, you could already hear the screams and cheers. Some people chanted your name, some people talked about the highlights from the match, and there was loud music blaring in the background. Your close victory that afternoon definitely produced some happy house-mates.

You weren’t in much of partying mood tonight though. The match had worn you out, and you were ready to lay down. You did have a lot to think about, after all. The way you and Draco’s hands fit together perfectly around the snitch, or the way his face contorted into a frown when the Slytherins accepted defeat. Or even the way, when your team picked you up in celebration,, a smile pricked at the sides of his mouth, barely noticeable.

You didn’t know why you couldn’t get Draco out of your mind. You guys were rivals, but the way his image played back in your mind, you didn’t feel hatred. You didn’t feel a big success by proving what he said in the Owlery wrong.

You finally came to the conclusion that maybe it was because you thought he was handsome. Just a little bit, of course. The way his blonde hair blew in the wind was attractive, sure, but you didn’t like him or anything. You’d never even talked to him before the night at the Owlery. He was just the Slytherin Seeker, as you were just the Y/H Seeker to him. Simple.

Except, you didn’t know that he also thought the same about you. The way you smiled in victory after his (very close) loss made it sting just a little bit less. The disapproving stares from his fellow green-wearing peers didn't hurt his pride as much when he remembered you two’s hands together around the snitch.

It’s only because she’s my rival, he thought to himself, but he couldn’t even fool himself with that lie. All he really knew was, he had to talk to you tomorrow.

----

“Congrats on the win yesterday, Y/N. But don’t think next time I won’t hesitate to push you off that cheap broom of yours.” Draco spat. He never really had a way with words, especially with people he took interest in. He really did try to make it as nice as he could.

You merely smirked at his comment as you sat down at your table in the Great Hall. “It’s okay, Draco. I know you just can't accept that you got beat.” He huffed a bit at your comment, but his expression quickly changed to that of a sarcastic smile.

He reached across the table and grabbed a goblet of pumpkin juice, much to your surprise. Just as quickly, he sat down next to you. You finally got a good look, and smell, of him for the first time. His silver eyes and blonde hair looked as alluring as ever, and he smelled really good, like green apples and cologne.

Just as you were about to ask why he decided to sit with you, of all people, he stated, “It’s rude to stare, you know?”

“Sorry, it’s just weird seeing someone in those green robes of yours sitting at our table.” You replied sheepishly, snapping out of your trance.

He only let out a small chuckle before grabbing a green apple from the middle of the table. He gave it a small toss before looking back at you. You glanced into his eyes, which apparently you like to get lost in, but you couldn’t read what emotion ran through them.

“Why did you decide to sit here, by the way? Don’t you have some first years to hex?” You asked, partially defensive and partially curious.

Your friends, and some other fellow house-mates, all watched in anticipation for his response, but instead he said, “If my prescence bothers you that much, I can just go back to my table. My ego won’t be too hurt.” He gave his signature smirk at the end of the sentence, clearly not taking it seriously.

“I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I don’t mind the Slytherin prince sitting at our table for one day. Two may be pushing it.” He didn’t answer your question though, about why he wanted to sit here. It did seem a little odd, but you weren’t complaining.

“Very funny. Well, I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer. I have more pressing matters, like preparing to absolutely crush you next Quidditch match.”

He left just as fast as he had come, still grasping the green apple in his hand. Once he was back to his throne at the Slytherin table, you glanced down to where he was previously sitting, only to find a shiny black envelope resting on the bench. It had your initials written down in silver ink, the same shade as his eyes. You quickly shoved it beneath your robes, so your friends wouldn’t see.

Once you were safely out of the field of vision of the Great Hall, you broke the emerald green seal of the envelope. You pulled out a crisp, white piece of parchment. Your eyes read the inked black text, which read:

That’s strange, you thought, he’s top of the class for potions. Why would he need my notes? You quickly brushed it off as you just overthinking. Clearly, he only sat at our table and wrote me this letter because of stupid Potions class. Right?

I need your Potions notes from last class. Meet me at the astronomy tower at 11.

D.M.

Eleven o’clock came around faster than you expected, and you were rushing out of your dorm in order to make it. Luckily all your dormmates were still up, gossiping the night away. Much to your surprise, they didn’t question where you were going, besides knowing that you had to give a friend some homework. You didn’t blame them, it did seem like a lame way to spend your after-curfew hours.

By the time you had finally gotten to the top, Draco stood with his back to you, his chisled hands holding onto the cold railing. You walked up to him quietly, your Potions homework fluttering in the wind. His eyes weren’t focused on you or your notes though; instead they were pointed at the crystal-clear sky. The moonlight bounced magnificently off of his platinum blonde hair once again, just like it did at the Owlery.

The air was colder than it was last time you had seen him against the inky-black sky, and you started to shiver. All you wanted was to be back within the walls of your cozy dorm. You let a signaling cough emerge from your throat as you leaned against the rail.

Instead of asking about the Potions notes, he asked, “Aren’t you cold? Why didn’t you bring a jacket?”

His eyes still seemed glued to the shining stars, but you did notice his hand sliding down the rail, closer to you. Your eyebrows furrowed as you grumbled, “Yes. I’m freezing!”

He let out a small chuckle as a response before his eyes finally moved to you. “I’ll only be a minute… unless you want to stay longer.”

Despite the uncomfortably cold temperature outside, you felt your cheeks get warmer. You kept telling yourself it was only because he did seem a bit good-looking tonight, dressed in his signature black turtleneck, with a matching long black peacoat on top. Suddenly, the cold didn’t feel so bad.

“Likely, Malfoy. Here’s the Potions notes you asked for.” You slowly handed over the ruffled papers. For a second you thought you saw a look of confusion flash onto his face, but a small grateful smile covered it up almost instantly.

You continued to shiver, and your nose started turning pink. Draco almost felt bad for dragging you up here, for the Potions notes of course, so he sent an enticing offer your way.

“You look absolutely miserable, Y/N. I think if we can sneak into the kitchens, I could make you some tea. Though I do expect a favor from you in return, of course.”

Your eyes lit up at the idea of a warm cup of tea, especially made by none other than Draco Malfoy, who was supposed to be your Quidditch rival. Even you couldn’t come up with an excuse about enjoying his company this time.

----

Draco stood one of the many kitchen counters, swirling an ornate sliver spoon in your warm tea. Once it was stirred to his satisfaction, he handed the steaming cup to you with a warm and genuine smile, one rarely seen by anyone. You smiled back thankfully, before taking a large sip. The tea tasted nearly perfect, which surprised you. Someone who was raised with house elves doing everything for them had made a delicious tea.

“I must say, I’m impressed, Draco. I never pegged you to be a tea expert.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.” His sarcastic and slightly cocky attitude was back once again, though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

After the evidence of your late-night tea making had been erased, he leaned against the counter, a content smile on the corners of his lips. Your shivering was long gone, replaced by a cozy warmth from the tea.

Comfortable silence filled the room for many minutes before he simply said, “You know, Y/N, I’d like to get to know you better. I don’t think we have to be Quidditch rivals, off the field at least.”

“I feel the same. Though don’t get your feelings hurt when I absolutely beat you again.”

“I bet I could get the snitch years before you, with my eyes closed!”

“Like you did the other day, right?” He put up a sarcasticly angry face on, but you could see the fire of determination in his eyes. He really would try to get you next match. But you would never let him.

After a night full of talking with the dashing Slytherin, you soon grew too tired to continue. The tea must’ve made you extra sleepy because soon enough you could barely think straight. You held onto poor Draco for dear life as he carefully walked you back to your common room.

He put on his classic face of annoyance, but underneath you saw that his mind was filled with nothing but admiration. As you finally reached the painting, you withdrew your hand from his shoulder. Since you were so sleepy, he thought you wouldnt notice the loving look on his face as you walked through the doorway. You waved him goodnight.

“Night, love. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he smiled.

And that was the start of something wonderful.

You can read Part 2 here!

#draco fanfiction #dating draco malfoy #draco #draco fluff #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfic #draco fuckingmalfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fluff #hogwarts #harry potter fanfiction

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tamagochiie · 3 years

Text

pairing: timeskip!kenma x fem!reader

synopsis: You come home late from your cousin’s funeral, and though Kenma didn’t expect much from you but perhaps a few leftovers you’ve managed to steal away from the dinner, he finds you with a surprise: a sleeping child cradled around your neck and a teenage boy hovering behind you.

Your poor boyfriend wondering what in the hell it is you’re plotting…

tags: angst and fluff, time skip!, slight spoilers if you squint

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of depression, cursing

w/c: 2.2k

tagging list: @angrylittleriri @chims-kookies @gooseyhouse

a/n: hello! welcome to the second chapter of the series! i’m posting this a little later than expected because wifi is really trying to cock block me from posting :’) i honestly wasn’t expecting people to like or interacting with this fic, so my heart is super warm right now :>

anyway, I hope you enjoy!

happy almost new year! see you all next week!

master list

<< life as we know it | life as he’s known it >>

You wonder what the younger version of you would think if you went back in time and told her she'd be eating at a dining table filled with food that wasn't microwavable, and the air wouldn't be filled by the sound of metal clanging and scraping against each other, but instead be filled by the lilting giggles of a little boy; his older brother pressing him to keep it down; and Kenma's casual yet awkward attempt to relate to the two.

She would probably cry.

Your parents' work piled up to the late hours of the evening and spilled into the morning, leaving you in a constant state of dejection. The house would be barren, nothing but the faint ticking of the old grandfather clock to keep you company. But even if your parents were home, it would still be the same; the air cold and unmoving.

Your parents were not warm nor were they emotional, and maybe that's what drew you to Kenma; he was quiet, rarely affectionate, and gave you more than enough room to breathe. Sure, there were the occasional forehead kisses, the head pats, the 'how are you doing' texts, and sometimes if he was brave enough, he’d interlock pinkies with you in public.

But you grew selfish, finding yourself wanting a little more each time you saw him, and you weren't sure if it was okay.

Was it okay to yearn for things?

Was it okay to ask for more?

But Kenma saw through your facade of accepting things as they are and right into your neediness. He was willing to give as long as you asked or even when you were too shy to do so. He even gave you his whole life without sparing a second thought even if the realization that he had done so came much later.

"Here, let me." Kenma slips his hands over yours, taking the plate from within your grasp to wash it in your place. He bumps his hips against yours, causing you to stumble away from the sink.

You mumble a thank you before resorting to wiping down the dishes and setting them on the rack.

You delight in his banter. He asks you about your day, stealing glances between you and the stack of dishes before him while you give him the run down. He listens to you intently, gaze wandering a little longer when he hears an exasperated sigh escape your lips, but you let him know you're just fine.

"What about you?" You ask, tilting your head and playfully moving it in front of Kenma's face, blocking him from the plate he needs to scrub. "How was your day?"

He hums, tiptoeing over you to finish the chore like the diligent little worker he is. "It was another day," You frown at him and his lack of effort to push further. He rolls his eyes, chuckling at your pouty face. "I played another trial game with Eiji—"

"And how'd that go?"

"Oh, he's absolute shit—ow!" Your slap against his arm resounds throughout the apartment, causing Yuki and Eiji's to jerk their attention towards you both. You mold your face into a look of ease, sparing them a warm smile, telling them you saw a fly.

"The hell?! I wasn't finished!" The pudding head seethes. "Sure he was shit, but he was still better than you."

The cocky grin slipping across his lips matching with his lidded eyes has you throwing your hands, erupting a series of ow's. "You're such an ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, the ass you chose." He sneers, handing you the last plate to dry.

He rubs his arm in an attempt to soothe the stinging, glaring at you begrudgingly. It takes you a while to ease back into his trust, but you do, and he picks up where he leaves off as if he wasn't in any pain to begin with.

He tells you about his little trip to the convenience store with Yuki for his strawberry milk, and the foreign, constricting feeling that wouldn't leave his chest until they came back home. How he couldn't let go of Yuki's hand when they were in the store, and if he did, it would send him in a state of sheer panic.

"Must be your mommy instincts kicking in," You joke, and he only rolls his eyes.

He also admits inadvertently turning all your favorite whites into various shades of pinks and blues. As someone as analytical as Kenma, he was challenged by the task of separating the lights from the darks.

You snort, earning a scowl from your boyfriend and a string of explanations to defend his case. But it isn't the mistake that makes you laugh, but rather how far you've come after a month of adjustments and an unfortunate series of events.

The first two weeks were exceptionally trying. No one spoke a word and everyone walked on eggshells. Eiji was still too shy to look at you, his responses down to a bare minimum and quieter than a whisper; Yuki cried almost all the time over every little thing, and the vein in Kenma's neck was threatening to pop every time he did.

It didn't help when you and Kenma would end your nights at each other's throats, bickering till you fell asleep. And when morning came, you'd be greeted by the emptiness from his side of the bed.

And it helped no one when the two of you would avoid each other, never crossing paths or breathing a word the moment you came home until it was too painfully awkward to continue.

Two and half hours charged with petty arguments, things of the past, and all the little things that came in between only to have finally arrived at one conclusion: You weren't parents and you weren't Akihiro-san. You were your own people and it was okay to do things differently.

Even if different meant that Kenma might call the kids by the wrong name or forget the fact he's living with someone else other than you. Even if different meant that you'll be absent-mindedly teaching Yuki a few curses to add to his vocabulary or forgetting to enroll them in school.

The truth is no one from the family was going to return your calls, and you were probably going to spend the rest of your twenties making up bedtime stories and giving pretty bad advice to someone just a few years younger than you.

Which brings you here, wearing your bathing suit as you share your bubble bath with Yuki because he wanted to play with the rubber duckies he whined and moaned at Kenma to buy for him at the store.

Lathering his hair with shampoo, Yuki's head leans against your chest, eyes gleaming beneath the bathroom lights. He beams at you, giggling at the ticklish feeling as you massage his head. He brings attention back to his ducks, making crashing sounds as he splashes them into the water.

"Is that how ducks swim?" You ask, washing away the soap from his hair. "Don't they just kinda...float around?"

He shakes his head before twisting his body to face you. He's got a tough expression plastered on; brows furrowed, his jaw clenched, eyes unwavering.

A very serious boy.

"These are special ducks," He explains, raising one to your face."These are battleship ducks."

Your lips fall to an 'o', still not picking up what he's putting down but you pretend you do.

Is this what kids are into these days?

Yuki goes on to tell you about his special ducks; something about lasers in their eyes, super special flying skills, and...echo location? You ask him if he's sure—if you heard him right, but he's as firm with his stance as he is with the death grip he has on his rubber duckies.

You drain the tub before rinsing yourselves beneath the warm water of the shower. Yuki flips his hair around, air drying himself as he steps out of the tub. You tell him to brush his teeth while he waits for you to finish rinsing.

"Hey, Oba-san," Yuki's call is muffled by the foam of the toothpaste still in his mouth. "Are you and Kenma-san married?"

You nearly fall when you slip off of your bathing suit and into your pajamas. "Ah, no, Yuki. We're not."

"But aren't you in love?" He asks, oblivious to the sudden shift in the atmosphere, spitting into the sink and washing his mouth.

Your eye twitches and you swallow the lump in your throat before it goes big enough for you to choke and die. "Uhh, people don't always have to marry right away just because they're in love..."

"But Kenma-san said he's been in love with you for four years."

"I—Yeah, well—"

"That's sounds like a really long time, Oba-san." You can't tell if he means to sound condescending. You can't tell if your mom has awakened from the grave and possessed the young boy because she woke up thinking she had a few more things she'd like to pester you with.

"Well, Yuki," You gather the little patience you have left, taking a deep breath as you step out of the tub. The bathroom tile is cold against the soles of your feet, sending a shiver down your spine. Enough to keep you sober for trivial conversation with a six year old boy. "Love—Love kinda looks different for everyone, Yuki."

You choose your words carefully, not wanting to say anything that might confuse him.

You help him into his clothes, his hair leaving wet patches onto his his dinosaur pajamas. He listens to you intently, looking right into your eyes. "There are people marry the moment they meet—or at least after a short while—because they can't help but feel sure?”

And you can’t help but feel flustered at your own explanation, not too sure with your words, “...and other people don't do that. Some relationships move at a faster pace and other's move a bit slower; and Kenma-san and I...we're happy with how things are right now."

He hums, nodding his head as if he understands. "Even though Eiji-san and I are here?"

"Yes, little love." You assure him with the new nickname, booping his nose. "Even though you're both here."

You grab his towel and dry his hair. You pat down the tiny puddles of water on his face and neck, noting to wipe behind his ears.

"But," Yuki mumbles through the material of the towel, swatting your hand away to to catch his breath, "sometimes people don't like different..." Yuki pushes the towel to this side, his glossy eyes meeting yours and your heart cracks. "They didn't like my dad 'cause he was different."

"H-He didn't love someone th-that looked like y-you..." Yuki bites down on his bottom lip, keeping it from quivering and fixating his eyes onto the tiles of the floor to prevent himself from choking on his words. "H-He...He loved someone that look like Kenma-san."

You understand what he means. You know full well. Their father was gay and because of that, your family ostracized him without wasting another breath. As if it was easy as blinking.

You knew what their father had been going through, you had enough time to help, yet you stood idle, doing nothing but add to his loneliness.

You kept all the sunshine Akihiro-san shared with you during your bluest days, even when it had been so obvious he needed it more than you.

But not once did you ever think about returning a sliver of it. And you wonder maybe if you hadn't been so selfish and naive, a silver lining would've been enough to avoid something as painful as this.

Instinctively, you pull him close to you, threading your fingers through his still damp hair. You shush him and press kiss on the crown of his head as his petite figure trembles in your arms. You let him sob into your shirt, his fingers twisting the material in anguish.

And it breaks your heart that a little human like him would not only know the meaning of anguish, but how it feels to have it tear through his heart.

It takes a few moments for Yuki to catch his breath and for you to ease him. He slumps onto you as he regains his strength. You tell him you're sorry because you are and because you don't know what else to say.

You try to use his strawberry milk and his brother as an incentive to keep him from crying again. And after a few minutes it works.

You trail closely behind him when he walks out of the bathroom. He begins to run when he gets closer to Eiji, the pitter patter of his wee little feet carrying in the apartment.

You watch as Yuki thrusts himself forward into the arms of his brother, and Eiji doesn't fail to catch him. The sight before you leaves you gawking in silence, watching Eiji unravel into his big brother form as he lifts Yuki to the ceiling, playfully sniffing his under arms, the crook of his neck, and even his little bum before complimenting him, "Good job, you smell just like flowers."

His giggles float in the air, swarming around the apartment as if he hadn't been crying just a few minutes ago.

And as you watch the scene unfold do you decide to step out of the sidelines, using this warm moment shared between the boys as your driving force to keep the last of your cousin's light safe.

#Kozume Kenma #Kenma x reader #Kenma x y/n #Haikyuu!!#Kenma imagines #Haikyuu Imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #kenma headcanons #kenma kozume headcanons #kenma hcs #kenma fluff #kenma angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

Text

Chapter Three

Hiiii, all you cool cats and kittens 😂😂😂😂. Okay but seriously, imma just word vomit all the things I need to cover in this author’s note — that I can remember.

I’ve been writing this chapter for like a week, I’m super nervous about it, I’m really sorry if this angst is upsetting you, I am gonna do my best to make it all right in the end, the angst is gonna continue though for a bit longer, yes this fic is only 10 chapters, yes I still want your comments even if you’re upset, my eye is still having trouble so I can’t look at a computer screen for too long because it physically hurts so I’m editing on my phone and there is a high chance I’ll re-edit these chapters after my eye isn’t all Heltor Skeltor anymore.

Okay I think that’s everything, I very much am gratefully for all the feedback I’ve received and I hope you all continue to read this fic.

Peeta stayed for hours after that. He smiled and laughed and, for a while, made me forget all about my unbearable loneliness, how empty this home feels, how uncomfortable I am with the prospect of my mother moving on with her life, how much I really miss my sister right now.

How I miss my sister more than anything.

He still makes me feel safe, I realized, as we sat on the couch and ate our third helping of the chocolate cake he’d baked for me. He knows how much I love chocolate from all the meals we shared on the train.

“Actually, from the time you decided to just eat the chocolate fountain by itself,” he had corrected. Off my quizzical look, he added, “At Snow mansion? We were there for a party?”

“Our engagement party?” I amended, teasing him a little.

My attempt at levity works as I watch his mouth contort into smirk in response. “Sorry, I guess I forgot what party it was.”

“They did drag us to a lot of them,” I agreed, not foreseeing the jab he was about to throw.

“And you pigged out at every one of them.”

I pretended to be offended for a moment but his proud laughter made me lose the facade far sooner than I should have. The joyful glint to his gaze, the way his body language was relaxed and open, the way he seemed to remember small details of our shared past now, I just couldn’t hold even a false grudge against him. I just couldn’t help giggling alongside him.

But he had to leave around dinner time, having an appointment to get the construction for the new rebuilt bakery approved and in motion.

As soon as he departs, and I’m left once again inside a void, hallow house that only emphasizes the greatest loss of my life—the one I’ll probably never go a single day without feeling the ache of—I decide I need to leave too. I decide as soon as I glance around the empty place that it’d be in my best interest to get out as well, to prolong the inevitable despair the deserted home brings come nightfall.

My first thought is to drop off the liquor I picked up for Haymitch a few days ago at the train station. He was passed out drunk and I was already there and it seemed at the time like a good bargaining chip when he was feeling particularly caustic towards me. Which lately had been often.

Now it just poses a good excuse to go talk to the sour man, to perhaps pick his brain about Bailey Robyn. To perhaps see what he knows that I don’t about the mysterious girl who blew into both our lives.

And only evidently disturbed one of them.

He has clearly has gotten to know her better than I have, and he’s quite transparently taken quite a liking to her. If I want to know this girl, or even begin to understand what Peeta sees in her, it only makes sense to get Haymitch to share some details in exchange for his favorite liquor.

After all, our entire relationship has always been a series of bargains, one way or another.

Throughout mine and Peeta’s entire time together—which amounted to the whole afternoon—he had never once mentioned Bailey. He hadn’t said she was waiting for him or what she thought about the cake or if she even knew he would be at my house today.

And for some reason that led me to assume she was busy in town somewhere. That she was working on the salon she mentioned wanting to start up, that she was out doing things herself, that she wasn’t even concerned with Peeta celebrating my birthday today.

That she wasn’t sitting on Haymitch’s counter, talking to him about that very subject.

“It just doesn’t make me feel great, you know?” Her clear and high voice rings out from the window right as I’m gearing up to barge my way inside the pig sty. “I want to go with him, in case he has an episode or something, and he tells me no. Like flat out, full stop, no.”

I slip in through the unlocked front door, quiet as a mouse, eavesdropping like I know I shouldn’t. Like I know is a complete violation of privacy, both for Bailey and for Haymitch. And maybe even Peeta, since he’s the one they’re conferring about.

“He’s stubborn,” Haymitch agrees, sounding more sober than I’ve heard him in months. Sounding more sober than I’ve seen since we were in Thirteen. “Try mentoring him in the games.”

Bailey scoffs at that. “No. You couldn’t pay me enough.”

They share a laugh and I feel my hands tighten around the bottle, as an extremely uncomfortable sensation settles into the pit of my stomach.

They sound like old friends. They sound happy and pleased to be hanging out and conversing. And if I’m being honest, it gives me one more reason to instinctively dislike Bailey, despite the fact that I’m trying hard not to.

Because in the short time she’s been in Twelve, she’s slid into my place in both Peeta and Haymitch’s lives with complete and utter ease. Even beyond taking my place, she’s outrankedme in both men’s lives and entirely knocked me out of the saddle.

That’s what disturbs me above all else. Because—even though I’d never admit it about Haymitch—they were mine. They were my family. They were all I had. They were my haven from the darkness surrounding my entire life. The three of us were a team once.

And now it feels like she didn’t join the group, she kicked me out of it entirely. Haymitch has never had me sit on the counter of his kitchen—not that I really wanted to, the place is absolutely filthy—and talk about my problems. He’s always mocked my feelings and troubles, when they didn’t pertain to the war or rebellion.

I don’t get what is so special about this girl that the two most important people in my life are willing to just let her in. Are just willing to let her take me out without a second thought.

“I mean, is it odd that I wanted to be included?” She inquires genuinely and to my surprise, once again, my old mentor gives her a pretty thoughtful answer. For Haymitch Abernathy, at least.

“They’re both a little weird. War messes with people. Especially kids,” he murmurs and then grunts uncomfortably. “Don’t get worked up over nothing. Just let whatever happened go and try to be happy.”

For some reason, even without hearing my name mention specifically, I’m fully convinced that they’re conversing about me as well as Peeta. About our afternoon together, void from Bailey’s presence. Without hearing my own name, I still know in my bones I walked in on a talk about me.

Bailey wanted to come today and Peeta told her no? Peeta told her an unequivocal no? Because he wanted to spend time with just me?

That satisfies me beyond measure. That makes me even happier than the carefully handcrafted birthday cake did.

Suddenly, for the first time since she’s arrived in Twelve, I don’t feel like Peeta put me on the back burner to make her more comfortable. I don’t feel like I’m being slided so she can be accommodated to her liking. And that’s a better present to me than anything else I could have asked for.

“But I’m his girlfriend,” she states quietly, before sighing deeply and setting down a glass that she must have been drinking from. Risk-taker, she is. “And I just feel like every day all he thinks about is Katniss. He’s either worried about her or afraid of her.”

Now that catches me completely off-guard. Peeta’s afraid of me? Is he telling Bailey something I don’t know? What did I do that he’s so afraid of?

Please, I internally beg to no one. Please tell me he doesn’t still think of me as a mutt. Please tell me he doesn’t feel the same way about as he did in Thirteen.

No, I venomously refute. That wouldn’t make sense. If he still thought of me that way—the way Snow tried to brainwash him into—he would surely not be baking me a cake and spending an afternoon alone with me.

At least, I don’t think so.

But I’m always wrong nowadays and I long ago learned to stop trusting my instincts because they don’t any good for me in the end anyway and I just end up more jumbled and confused and stressed than I started out.

I take a deep breath to calm myself down just as Haymitch mutters, “That description isn’t a far cry from the kid I met two years ago on the tribute train.”

Evidently, I breathed out too loudly almost immediately, Haymitch barks out, “Is that you, girl?”

Realizing I’m caught, I rip off the bandaid and step out of the corner of the entryway, where I was hiding. “Sorry, I just got here,” I quickly explain. And then, despite my atrocious acting ability, I throw out for good measure, “I didn’t hear anything you guys said, I just didn’t want to interrupt.”

Neither of them believe me. In fact, they both appear pretty disgusted with me now. But when I pass Haymitch the bottle of liquor, his features shift and I feel him lightly pat me on the head as he passes me to grab a bottle opener.

“Haymitch,” Bailey murmurs unceremoniously, as she hops off the counter with a grace I have no dream of ever possessing. “I’m going to head on home.”

Her eyes meet mine for a split second before flirting away, and all I see there is irritation.

I hope she doesn’t try again to make nice in a day or so. Quite frankly, there’s a reason I never made many friends. Social interactions aren’t my thing and they just wear me out unnecessarily. Especially girls, who only want to gossip about other people or share clothes or irrelevant life tips. I’d much rather be left alone in solitude than have to yo-yo with Bailey’s mood swings.

Haymitch has always empathized with this trait of mine. More than empathized. He embodied it to the fullest, in a way I never even have. That’s what makes it so startling to me that he’s found such a friend with Peeta’s new girlfriend. It’s downright shocking how pleasant he is towards her.

When he returns now, she’s already gone and he’s right back to his surly self.

“No one clears a room like you do, sweetheart.”

But I’m not interested in swiping back and forth with one another. “Why are you hanging out with Bailey Robyn?”

Haymitch rolls his eyes as he takes a seat at his still unwashed kitchen table.

I mean, if Bailey wanted to help clean in here, that’s where I would have suggested to start.

“The better question, Katniss, is why are youhanging out with Peeta alone? How do you think that makes his girlfriend feel?”

“He’s my friend,” I argue, infuriated by the implication that I have to go through a random stranger to be around Peeta now. Infuriated that it’s Haymitch making the implication nonetheless.

“But he isn’t!” The old man snaps back. “Peeta isn’t your friend, Katniss. You look at him like he hung the moon and you do it right in front of his new girl.”

“No, I don’t,” I retort sharply, because I definitely don’tand I repel the accusation.

“Anyone with eyes can see your stupid little crush,” he exclaims and it stings. The words sting for some reason and I feel the ache in my chest come back once again, because apparently I’m stepping over a line I didn’t even know was there and I’m once again the root of every problem and it’s all becoming too much.

Evidently, Haymitch just doesn’t care if he hurts me today. “Just back off of the boy. Let him be happy for once.”

I uncharacteristically spit an unkind name at Haymitch as I slam his door in my furious wake.

Through his still open kitchen window though, I hear him chuckle. “Well, that’s one I haven’t heard before, sweetheart.”

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#everlark #thg #hunger games #everlark fic #my writing #dancing on my own 💔👸🏼✨#fic #fanfic #creative writing #idk what else to tag

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corrupt-fvcker · 4 years

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Tuesday Mornings (Javier Peña x fem!Reader)

Tuesday Mornings ( Javier Peña x fem!Reader )

Warnings: NSFW, unprotected sex, fluff, pining, curse words, arguing, soft beginning and ending, domestic life

Word Count: 5.8K... this was supposed to be 800 words.

Author's Note: this was supposed to be all fluffy and cuddly but then it turned into a smutty five thousand word treasure. i don't write smut often so pretty please tell me what you think 🥺

Rain patters softly against the bedroom window, the foggy glass striped with droplets that left transparent streaks in their trail. The heavy rainfall pelts against the roof, resulting in a heavy, rhythmic, rapping sound that incessantly echoes through the bedroom, rousing Javier from his sleep.

A gravelly groan reverberates from deep in his chest as he stretches his arms above his head, his back arching slightly as his muscles flex and his eyelids tightly scrunch shut before melting back into the plushness of the pillows. With a twinge of reluctance weighing in the back of his mind, his eyes flutter open, his blurry vision stubbornly sharpening after a few lazy moments. The bedroom basks in a dim gray light, courtesy of the dark thunderclouds looming over the city.

He feels you shift bedside him, one of your legs curling up at an angle by your side.

His eyes flit over to your side of the bed and you're still sound asleep beside him, lying on your stomach with your face buried in the pillows. And you're naked... which is, y'know, nice.

But a little disappointing because it's Tuesday and you're lack of clothing raises his hopes before he realizes its the middle of the week.

So he glances over to the alarm clock and silently prays that it isn't set to go off for another hour so that he can simply exist next to you before having to go to work and pretend that you and him are just work friends.

But he has no such luck. Ten minutes to spare before the cube-shaped clock shatters the peaceful aura of the bedroom and forces the two of you to get up from the safety of the covers and move on with the day.

Could he work with ten minutes? Honestly, probably. But he decides against it, you need as much sleep as you can get, and thanks to his horny ass, both of you fell asleep at ungodly hours last night.

Also, he's glad you're still asleep. It's domestic. Waking up beside you brings a sense of normalcy to his life, stability that only you can offer him. And he doesn't want to even admit it to himself but warmth swells in his chest every time he thinks about how lucky he is because he's the only person in the whole world that gets to wake up next to you in the morning. And he's also a little proud because you chose him. Javier Peña — the DEA agent that had a publicly bad reputation with longterm arrangements and was honestly a bit of an ass to you.

He deeply regrets the latter, because at the time he didn't have a clue that he would be absolutely smitten with you by the end of your first year in Columbia. At first, he was abrasive towards you because you were new. And even though you were no rookie, every hotshot DEA agent that tries their luck in Columbia always either discover that they're in way over their head and leaves or get killed by the end of their second month.

But then you didn't quit, and then you didn't die.

Which is a surprise. A pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless.

And Javier realizes that, yeah, he's been kinda an ass to you and he should probably ease up on completely ignoring you until he's barking orders in your direction. Because if you're going to have a breakdown it might as well be because of Pablo Escobar and not a grouchy DEA agent that has had really no plausible cause to treat you like shit.

But apologizing isn't really his thing so he opted to just ignore the fact that he's been an asshole towards you for the past four months and instead buys you a cup of coffee as some sort of olive branch gesture.

Which he quickly learns is a mistake. A big one, at that.

Because you really don't like him, which is warranted because he has really only been a dick to you. And you're smart enough to realize this. You know he has the decency to at least treat everyone else in the building with some level of fairness. His manners are decent, you've seen him open up doors for passing secretaries and thank them when they drop files off at his desktop. He's confident, but he's not a cocky asshole that treats other agents like they've got a total of two and a half brain cells.

But he doesn't treat you like everyone else, he treats you like you're no better than last week's trash, waiting impatiently for the garbage truck to come lift his burden and haul you out of his life.

So when you basically tell him to go fuck himself, he can't really be too all upset about it. Because, as usual, he deserves every word of it.

So instead of getting all defensive and trying to explain himself like you thought he would, he stands silently from the other side of your desk for a few moments before nodding slowly, like he's actually processing and accepting your two-minute-long speech about how much of an asshole he is, and then he sets the cup of coffee on the edge of your desk and leaves.

He doesn't really make an attempt to interact with you after that, maybe because he's guilty about the whole situation or maybe because it's just not worth it.

You hate him, so why try to cross an already burned bridge?

So instead, he just continues on with life — chases Escobar, bickers with Steve, fucks informants, smokes a pack of cigarettes a day, and drinks a little more whiskey than he probably should. Though he does make the effort to begin treating you like everyone else, which may not mean that he's all sunshine and rainbows towards you, but he's fair. He's equal, and you appreciate it more than he realizes.

It takes a little over a month, an entire bottle of wine, and some deep contemplating before you finally decide that if Javier can treat you fairly, you can do the same. No more ignoring him when he walks into the room, no more only meeting his gaze when your eyes are narrowed into a glare, no more uttering out one-word responses to his questions. Just treat him like you treat everyone else.

Which you soon realize is not as easy as it sounds. Because the morning after you release your five-month-old grudge and you politely thank Javier when he holds open the door to the office for you, the man nearly chokes on his coffee. He stands dumbstruck in the doorway for a few seconds too long, staring at the space you had stood even though you're already halfway down the hall.

Were you messing with him? He figures, yeah, you probably were.

And if he knew better, he would've just dropped it. He should've just shrugged and continued on his life because what you thought of him really didn't matter. You didn't matter, not to him at least.

And he most certainly shouldn't let some random rookie agent distract him when he's so close to taking down Escobar.

That's all you could possibly be to him, a distraction. You didn't matter, you shouldn't matter.

But that's the thing.

Javier Peña doesn't know better. And you do matter — even if he interprets it as just not wanting to see you on the side of the road dead. Because even if you're in a little over your head in Columbia, you're still fighting just as hard as any other agent in the field. And it most certainly doesn't help that you have a set of pretty legs and an even prettier set of eyes.

So Javier comes to a few conclusions while nursing a glass of whiskey. You don't hate him; you're not completely worthless; he shouldn't treat you like you're worthless; and damn, you have some nice legs.

So instead of treating you like he treats everybody else, he treats you like he treats everybody else and then some. Which is a little bit of a step backward because you instantly notice that now he's being friendly, but you try your best not to react to his shift in behavior because it's always going to be better than him being an ass to you.

But then he asks you out.

Well, not really.

He asks you if you want to go to the bar with him and Steve after work, which is strange because he's never expressed any interest in getting to know you before. But thankfully when you politely decline his invitation he takes your rejection gracefully and returns to his own office room.

But then no longer than ten minutes later Steve Murphy pops into your office, and you don't mind because Steve has been nice to you since the very beginning and you might actually consider the two of you friends. You might've even hung out with him in the past if it didn't consequently mean spending time with his asshole partner.

Well, former-asshole partner.

And you almost smile when you see Steve but then he starts pressing you to come hang out with him and Peña after work. Teases you about being a stick-in-the-mud and not having any friends in Columbia, and then about how both he and Javier really want you to come. And you're about to kick him out of your office when he adds that he will pay for all of your drinks — you're out of booze at home and today was no walk in the park. You crack, agreeing to go to some dingy bar with two of your co-workers as long as there will be free and endless drinks.

The night surprisingly goes well. You're pleasantly buzzed but not drunk enough to share some embarrassing secrets that sober you would regret in the morning. You sit next to Steve in a booth, across the tabletop from Javier, which isn't exactly ideal because you realize the more you drink, the more you stare. But then again, you figure it was better than sitting next to him on the cramped bench.

They ask you a lot of questions, which is weird because you've grown so used to not talking about yourself after spending now six months in Columbia without making a friend besides Steve.

Does Javier count as a friend?

You decide that no, he doesn't. You're just co-workers going out for drinks. He probably didn't even want you to come, Steve probably made him ask you first because he knows that there's some sort of turmoil between the two of you.

But regardless of who wanted you here and who didn't really care, you had a good time. And it soon became part of your weekly routine, working hard from nine to at least six and then going out for drinks with Steve and Javier. And it takes a few outings but you finally decide that your friend's list could double into two by adding Javier.

But then one night Steve brings Connie along and somehow that changes everything. Because it's no longer three work friends drinking together to forget the troubles of the workday. Now it's a married couple and two single idiots sitting side-by-side in a cramped booth. And it no longer felt like going out to a bar for drinks, now it felt like an awkward double-date.

And if Javier didn't feel the same tension that had your muscles rigid and your grasp around the amber beer bottle tight, he certainly did when Connie gestured between the two of you.

"So how long have you two been together?"

Steve chokes on his beer, droplets dribbling down his chin and Connie jumps at his reaction, you and Javier both frozen like deer in headlights.

You try to save the evening, you really do. "We're, uh— we're just— not together..."

Connie quirks a confused brow. We're just not together?

Javier's brain seems to start working a few seconds too late.

"We're not together," he clarifies, his voice sounding surprisingly impassive despite his strained posture.

You pray that the bar is too dim for Connie and Steve to see how mortified you were, and thank god Javier was too busy staring off into the distance and nursing his beer to crane his neck to look at you. Though you weren't totally saved because both Steve and somehow Connie could see how fucking humiliated you are, but they spare you the mercy to not say anything or, heaven forbid, stare.

And thanks to Steve's small talk and Javier's decision to leave the booth to go hit on some brunette making eyes at him from the bar, the night resumes as normally as it could've gone. Steve and Connie leave together, Javier leaves with the brunette, and you leave with a headache because you had a little too much to drink.

The next few days are off. Steve apologizes in private for any discomfort that Connie's comment caused you, even though you assure him that it's fine because it's really no big deal.

And you believe it because it was just a simple mistake and Javier didn't seem to care, which consequently means that you don't care.

But that's where you're wrong, about both statements actually. Because firstly, Javier did care — he cared a whole lot, actually. And secondly, Connie had only said something because Steve had been telling her how he thinks the two of you are going to get together for months now. And when Javier and you sat beside one another and talked together with such ease and chemistry, Connie had assumed that the two of you had finally gotten together and that it was a double-date.

But none of that mattered now because Javier wasn't talking to you. He was giving you the classic cold shoulder treatment like you had done something wrong. Reverting back to his old ways of treating you like a piece of shit because Connie had made a mistake. Could you possibly negotiate him redirecting his disdain and resentment towards her? Probably not.

And after an entire three months of being treated like absolute garbage, the tension between you snapped, like a tautly drawn back bowstring just before the release of an arrow.

You followed him out of the building when he got up to leave, the two of you being the only agents left in the office. When you called out his name just before he unlocked his car door, his head dropped back as a frustrated groan heaved from his chest.

That only pissed you off a lot.

"What the fuck's your problem, Peña?" You snarl, marching up to him, eyes narrowed into a threatening glare. You're not entirely sure what possessed you, but the next thing you know you're so close to him that you can feel his controlled breaths fanning against your face as he stares down at you with an expression of indifference — staring down at you like you're not even fucking there.

"Go home," he drawls out dismissively through an exhausted sigh, the keys in his hands jingling as he turns unlocks his car door. "We've got a long day tomorrow."

"Oh, fuck off," you snap, your fury raising in your stomach like a swelling ocean, growing and building itself up until it crashes down on your trembling form.

He shifts, the keys in his hands forgotten as he slowly turns on his heels to face you. "What's your problem?"

Your jaw drops, because he has the audacity to ask you what your problem is? No, he's out of his fucking mind.

"No, what's your problem?" You retort, jabbing your finger into the firm muscles below his shoulder as you gradually lose more and more of your self-control. "You've been treating me like a piece of shit for the past three fucking months. What the hell did I do to you? I thought we were friends but now you act like you want nothing to do with me."

Your words are harsh, tone hardened, and confused. Javier can hear it in your voice and it makes his heart ache, but as soon as you touch him — index finger pressing against chest — his resolve shatters.

"Don't touch me," he utters lowly, his once impassive expression morphing into a darker glare.

You shove him, which is a little disappointing because he doesn't fucking move. Doesn't even stumble back half a step, your actions only hardening his glare. "No, you don't get to fucking ignore me. You don't get to treat me like garbage. And I'm not gonna stop until you tell me why you hate me so fucking much."

"Jesus," he scoffs, his head dipping back as he takes a step back and eyes flitting to the sky like you're some ridiculous, immature child that he can't wait to get rid of. There's a pause, his chest heaving up and down. His hands are on his hips as his eyes avoid your stare, he doesn't want to escalate the situation further. He doesn't need to make an even bigger scene. He doesn't need to create yet another memory that plays on his head in a loop, distracting him every minute of the day. This is the last thing he needs.

After a moment he sighs, dropping his head and breathes for a moment. And as you see his hostile composure shift, you feel the storm of rage that you're drowning in lessen.

"I don't hate you," he answers lowly, his eyes still settled on somewhere other than your face. "Just... just don't take it personally."

You shake your head, your voice just as angry but quieter. "No. Not taking it personally was when you didn't talk to me for my first four months in Columbia because you thought I was just some dumb rookie."

"Look..." He's drained, weakened, and has little fight in him left. And he can see how you're trying to stop yourself from crying, he can hear your throat straining from holding back a sob that's painful trying to rack through your chest. He can see how much pain he's caused you, and he knows that you deserve none of it. "We should just... stop."

Your eyebrows raises. "What?" It's merely a whisper, the malice in your tone melting away as a wave of confusion crashes down on you.

Javier ignores the pang of hurt that sears through his heart at the sound of your voice. "We— we shouldn't... it's better if we're not friends."

You swallow thickly, your tongue heavy in your mouth. "What do you mean?" You ask, unsure of yourself.

"Just..." he tries, his hand running over his exasperated features as he struggles to string a sentence together. His mind is blank, any words rising in his brain not seeming right and leaving him scrambling for a single coherent thought. It's embarrassing being speechless when you're staring up at him with wide, glistening eyes. He's never rendered speechless, nobody has ever made him feel so helpless. He isn't sure when his smooth composure cracked, words came so naturally to him. He could charm the shoes off of anyone else.

Fuck, when did it become so hard to speak?

Probably when he realized you weren't like everybody else.

He forces himself to speak because if he's quiet any longer he's scared you're going to give up on him and leave, even though that's what he should be wanting. He should be hoping that you just learn to distance yourself from him, even if it ruins him. And he has a feeling that if you tear yourself away from him it'll ruin you too, but only for a little while. You'll move on, heal over time no matter how much it hurts now, you'll learn to be okay without him.

Or maybe you won't, you may never get the chance to learn to live without Javier Peña. Maybe the cruel universe would consider it an act of mercy to kill you before you ever got the chance. Maybe you'll get gunned down by one of Escobar's men or die in a car crash on your way home from work. Or maybe Javier will finally slip up and get himself killed. He's not exactly sure what will happen to either of you, but he knows it's bound to happen.

With this job, it's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when.

Fuck.

Speak, you fucking idiot.

His feet shift against the blacktop, gravel crunching beneath the soles of his boots. His hands are still firmly placed on his hips, his eyes finally tearing away from the streetlight shining in the distance to look at you.

His gut clenches, chest tightening. "It'll be easier if you hate me."

Oh.

You don't need to ask what exactly would be easier if you hated him. You know the fears that plague every DEA agent's mind. You live your life in the line of fire, the closer people get to you, the more likely they're going to get shot.

But something breaks inside of you, shatters into a million pieces. A part of you that cannot be repaired, no matter the amount of tape or glue.

You slowly drag a breath of air into your lungs, trying the shake the heavy feeling that was going to suffocate you as you stare into his eyes. And you know your bottom lip is quivering and tears are threatening to spill from your eyes.

"But I don't hate you."

And I don't think I ever could.

Your words crack through a broken whisper, and you almost cry at the confession because it just hurts so damn bad.

Javier darts his gaze away from you, knowing that if you start crying he's going to break.

"Then you need to stay away from me," he replies, his voice low but firm. He keeps telling himself that he's not going to lose this argument, he's not going to be selfish and ruin you both for good.

"Why?" You inquire, stepping forward. His eyes flit over at your sudden movement, watching you cautiously as you invade his space one more. "I don't see you pushing Murphy away."

Javier huffs out a soft scoff. Maybe he would've even chuckled at your comment if he was able to breathe. "You know you're not Murphy."

Well, no shit, you're not Murphy. You're not some six foot two blond from Tennessee with a wife and kid.

"What does that even mean?" You sigh, your eyes squinting from a mixture of exhaustion and confusion.

Javier faintly shakes his head, almost disapprovingly. "Don't do that. Don't act like you don't know you're different."

Threads of your patience snap, and you force yourself to not let your calm composure to crack and crumble under the flames smoldering in your chest.

"Why do I have to be different?" you reply sharply, though Javier can hear that your anger is more directed towards the situation than at him.

Because I'm not in love with Murphy.

Fuck, shut up, Peña.

"You just are," he answers eventually, maybe an eternity later.

Well, that's not fair.

"Why?" You muse quietly, and Javier's brain short-circuits. Because have you always been standing so close to him? He can fucking smell you from a here — some floral perfume that makes his head spin and his knees buckle, though he can't help himself from wanting to bury his head in the crook of your neck and breathe you in.

He has to crane his neck to look down at you, and his pulse quickens once he realizes that all he has to do is lean slightly forward on his toes and he'd be kissing you. Your eyes are no longer clouded with tears and the anger in your voice has melted. Your calm, which is new, but it doesn't make it any easier to look at you. Because you're gazing up at him with eyes that reflect the night sky and he thinks he's about to pass out.

And it takes him a moment to remember that you've asked him a question.

Why? Why are you different?

Why does he distance himself from your soft touch? Why does he avoid your curious stare? Why does he have the urge to leave the room whenever you enter it? Why does he only offer you half-assed responses and quips? Why does he refuse to look at your even though all he ever thinks about is your sweet face? Why does he let himself fuck whores when he keeps letting your name slip from his lips? Why does he allow his gaze to linger and trace every outline of your face after you've turned away? Why does he wake up glistening with sweat and a painful ache between his legs because he fell asleep thinking about you?

Fuck. He wants to kiss you right now.

Why does he want to kiss you right now?

"Javier?" You breathe out, still waiting for him to speak even though you are starting to understand his silent answer.

Javier doesn't remember hearing his name softly drip slip from your lips in a whisper. He doesn't remember his hand shaking as he lifts it to cradle your cheek. He doesn't remember the calloused pad of his thumb brushing against your cheekbone as you softly shudder beneath his touch. He doesn't remember gazing into your eyes like he's looking up into the summer night sky, stargazing. He doesn't remember the shaky breath the leaves your lips as his thumb drags lower to graze your plush bottom lip. He most certainly doesn't remember leaning forward on his feet and capturing your lips with his.

His lungs constrict and he's kissing you — desperately, touches drowning in need as the taste of you floods his senses.

But fuck, you're kissing him back. And your tongue is pressing into his mouth, practically purring as your hands rake through his hair.

And you're not entirely sure how the conversation ended with you kissing Javier Peña like you were trying to devour him whole, but he doesn't seem to be complaining as he picks you up with a small grunt and lays you down on the backseat of his car without breaking away from you once.

He's breathing is frantic, grabbing at your blouse and tugging it off of you before your arms are even extended above your head. Your lips part from his with a loud smack and you whine out in pure want, squirming as his mustache tickles the swell of your breasts as his head dips down and sucks a purple mark into the plush flesh that spills from the bra cups. Your stomach is churning with lust and desire as the thought of him burns into your memory like a hot iron searing through flesh.

"Hermosa," he calls out through a heavy breath that ghosts against your collar, his sinful hands groping your chest draws out airy moans. His cock is hard and leaking, the arousal the settled in his belly is burning through him like a wildfire.

Fuck, you're touching him and it's shaking his mind to shambles. Your hand rests on the nape of his neck as he pulls your bra down to run his hot tongue over your taut nipples, your other hand weaving through his dark hair and tugging.

"Javier," you keen, your back arching off the leather seat as something inside your bursts. You rock your hips forward, desperate to reveal the tension that had coiled in your stomach. "I need... I need—"

"I know," he grunts because he needs the exact same things. He's panting, quivering, shuddering out broken breaths between kisses as he hovers over your trembling body. "Fuck, baby. I know."

Then it's like his mind goes on autopilot, acting on pure instinct as he fumbles to unclasp his belt and yank the front of his jeans down far enough so that he can take his weeping cock out of its confinements. His hands then find their way to your pants, hesitating to make sure you still want him but you're one step ahead, already pushing your pants and panties down in one harsh movement.

But as soon as he looks down at your naked lower half, his daze is snapped in half like a twig and his mind spirals out of control as he realizes that he needs you right fucking now. And you're no better, tears prickling your eyes as you beg him to fuck you in the back of his Jeep.

And even though he craves to taste your wetness on his tongue, he thinks he's going to die if he doesn't fuck you this very instant. He can't stop himself from lining his cock up with your entrance and applying the slightest bit of pressure, relishing in the needy moan that echoes throughout the cab of his car that makes pre-cum drip down the base of his cock.

"Javier." You're chanting his name like a prayer, like he's your sweet salvation. Your hands squeeze his shoulders as your head lols back before one drops to find his, lacing your fingers together to anchor yourself. He's hovering about you, one quivering arm propping his body up while the other is holding yours — he thinks he's about to explode.

"Please fuck me."

Then he's spreading you open, pushing inside of you with one slow and deliberate stroke. You squeak at the tightness, the full feeling that stretches your walls and makes you shudder. Javier's head drops to the crook of your neck and presses a chaste kiss to the pulsating skin, pausing momentarily so that you both can catch your breath.

And as you ask him to finally move, all coherent thoughts as ripped from his mind. All he knows is that he's thrusting into you like he's going to die if he stops. You're going to kill him.

I'll die if you stop. You don't know if you actually said it aloud or if it was only an echo of a thought in your ruined mind.

Neither of you last long, which isn't much of a surprise at the state you're in. Though Javier feels weird because he has some weird sexual reputation and he nearly came in his pants when he was only kissing you. And he wanted to draw it all out because he's secretly scared that you'll never talk to him again after this, even though that's what he originally wanted. But now that he's finally gotten a taste of your lips, he's drunk off your touch and addicted to it. He doesn't want you to leave and pretend that none of this ever happened. He doesn't even know if you like him in the same way he likes you—

No, fuck, he loves you. He loves you and doesn't even know if you like him enough to allow him to take you on a proper date.

So when he asks you if you want to get drinks with him on Friday, skin sticky with sweat and chest sill heaving as he helps you dress, he's surprised when you agree with a coy smile. And he huffs out a small laugh when you teasingly ask if you should expect Steve to tag along or if it's a legitimate date.

And honestly, the following months are a blur — filled with wandering hands, lingering shared gazes, and hot kisses. He can't control himself after the torturous ten long months he spent waiting, ten months of longing and yearning for your touch while he pushed you away.

All that matters now is that you're fast asleep in his arms on a rainy Tuesday morning. Your cheek is squished against his bare chest and he knows that the dark hairs that litter his torso are probably tickling your nose, but you don't stir once your arm is lazily draped over his middle.

And he can't help the dopey smile that tugs at his lips when you nuzzle even closer, still stuck on the thought that you somehow managed to fall in love with him.

"You're warm," you mumble mindlessly, voice heavy with sleep.

Oh, you are awake.

"Have to get up soon," he replies, though his words don't seem fitting as he tightens his hold around your waist and drags you up his torso so that he can tuck your head beneath his chin.

And for a split second, Javier thinks that you've fallen back asleep because he's learned the hard way that you are by no means a morning person. Your heartbeat his soft against his chest and your breathing pattern returns to a slow and silent pace.

"Call in sick," you suddenly murmur as you squirm a bit before stilling.

Javier breathes out a soft chuckle, his breath ghosting over the top of your head. "We can't both call in sick," he refutes lightly, even though the offer is very tempting.

"Fine," you utter before tilting your head up to look at him with dreamy eyes. And as your eyes land on him, Javier remembers just how beautiful you are and how much he really wants to stay in bed with you. "Then you call in sick, I'll play hooky."

A dangerous game, it's hard to keep a secret relationship a secret when there's a pattern of both parties missing work on the same days.

Though, apparently, the game is all too tempting. Because as soon as you lean up to press a gentle kiss in the crook of Javier's neck, he finds himself reaching for his phone.

"Wanna make me breakfast?" You eventually ask through a coy grin, peering up at him through your thick lashes as he ends the call.

He rolls his eyes, a playful gesture that you don't take seriously in the slightest. "You're ridiculous," he answers grumpily even though you both know he's going to cave and make his specialty of coffee and eggs.

"But you love me anyway," you reply smugly, pushing yourself up on your elbow to peck a chaste kiss to his lips. Javier's hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. You can't stop the moan that slips from you breathlessly as his tongue parts your pursed lips.

It's safe to say that neither of you gets out of bed for another hour.

----

tags (let me know if you want to be added): @yespolkadotkitty

#smut #corrupt-fvcker #javier peña #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #javier pena x you #self insert #reader insert #narcos #fanfic #fanfiction #narcos fanfic #my writing #spicy

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lexa-lives-in-us · 3 years

Note

!!!!!!

May I request a Marion/Dairon snippet of what their future might look like in the undercover au?

The small celebrations turn into a fully fledged party. There is food, and music, and Dairon makes sure to keep an eye on Veth and Yasha for the first hour, because they keep tinkering with the shirt cannon until they are quite sure it's not fit to only throw t-shirts anymore.

But Caleb lures Veth away with the promise of good cocktails, and Yasha is easily distracted when Beau starts to drunkenly dance in the middle of the room.

The kids drink a bit more than what Dairon feels is necessary, and they suddenly feel very old and very boring.

They know they would've done the same at their age, and they also know that, as intoxicated as they are, these kids would probably be able to successfully go out and rob a bank and disappear into the night if it was needed.

So they sit back on the couch and try not to worry.

They sip at their drink, a concoction of something that Caduceus has put together almost casually, and she begins to feel the slight buzz of the alcohol. They're not drunk, not as much as the kids are, but they are positively and happily tipsy.

Marion collapses on the couch next to them, her own drink nearly finished in one hand and a darker shade of red on her cheeks.

Dairon leans back, rolling their neck on the back of the couch, before smiling softly at her.

"Are you happy, my darling?" Marion asks, husky and just slightly slurred.

Dairon chuckles, feeling lighter and more carefree than she's felt in a really long time.

"I am." they murmur, and Marion places her own empty glass on the ground before reaching for them.

Long fingers clasp Dairon's jaw, and Marion's tongue slowly licks Dairon's lips before the woman decides to kiss her.

Dairon melts against the couch, maneuvering themselves to also get rid of their glass and use their free hand to cup Marion's neck.

They make out, a bit sloppily, and Marion grabs their tongue between her teeth and sucks slowly on it until Dairon's hips slightly jerk forward.

An imperceptible movement for everyone else in the room except for Marion.

"Take me to bed." she commands, voice low and dripping with want.

Dairon could not say no if they were sober, and there is absolutely nothing more that they could want right now.

They barely throw a glance to the rest of the room, but Caleb and Caduceus are passed out in their beds, Fjord and Jester are curled up on their own bed and Beau and Yasha are still pressed against one another, slowly dancing at the rhythm of the new song.

No one is going to even notice they're gone.

Dairon gets up, pulling Marion with them, and they barely make it to the room before Marion's hands are digging beyond the hem of Dairon's pants.

They barely manage to close and lock the door behind them before Marion falls to her knees, dragging Dairon's clothing with her.

They barely notice the soft, steady pumping of the music coming from the other room, as Dairon finally pushes Marion onto the mattress and drives themselves into her, fingers curling and searching, their mouths locked in a searing kiss.

***

Veth leaves first, and they wave goodbye to her, Jester and Fjord as they all drive to the airport.

Witnessing Marion hug Jester and hold her closer to her chest, tears threatening to escape, is something Dairon never thought they would want to see.

Marion traces her daughter's face as she stares at her with loving intensity, almost like she's trying to commit it all to memory.

"You be careful, my sweet Sapphire." she tells her, and Jester closes her eyes and leans against her mother's touch.

"You, too, Mama." she says, and if anyone other than Dairon notices her voice shaking, they don't say a word. "I love you. Be happy, yes?"

It's a powerful, charged question, and it almost surprises Dairon when both Marion and Jester turn to glance briefly at them, before Marion whispers "I will."

Dairon feels like they're intruding, but Jester gives her mother one last squeeze before she approaches Dairon to hug them as well.

"Be careful and be happy." Jester repeats, and Dairon closes their eyes for a brief moment, allowing themselves to hold Jester's close for a long moment.

"I will do my best to protect her, Jester." they promise in a whisper, and they feel Jester smile against their shoulder.

"I know, Dairon. I'm not worried at all." she says, and she sounds incredibly sincere.

They watch them go, and only after the car has disappeared past the treeline Marion reaches for Dairon and lets herself cry.

The Nein watch her with dark expressions on their faces.

Dairon holds their lover with their heart breaking in two, and when they catch the somber expression on Beau's face, it shatters even more.

"It never gets any easier." Beau mutters, pulling Yasha against her side to squeeze her closer.

"It never will." Caleb echoes. "Let's get back inside."

***

It takes another day for them to clean up and close the safe house, picking up the equipment they can't leave behind and making sure everything else is undetectable.

Dairon and Marion help however they can, mainly observing the expert movements of these kids who are way too used to uprooting their lives to move them around the globe.

By the time nighttime hits, Beau comes back from driving Caduceus and Caleb to the airport, and then it's just the four of them.

They eat dinner in silence, finishing up all the leftovers Caduceus has saved up for them, and they don't stick around long afterwards.

In the darkness of what has been their room for the past few weeks, Marion places her head on Dairon's chest.

"A lot is going to change."

Dairon frowns.

"A lot has already changed, love." they mutter. "This feels like an avalance that we can't seem to stop."

Marion is quiet for a long moment.

"We'll be fine." she says, and it's determined.

Dairon decides to believe her.

***

They settle in Paris, and it's weird to go back to the same city where they have almost all died.

Dairon settles in Beauregard's safe house, a medium size two-bedroom apartment with a balcony facing the Eiffel Tower.

They raise an eyebrow at Beau and Beau blushes slightly.

"Yasha wanted a place with a view, how could I say no?"

"Whipped." Dairon grins, but before Beau can say anything back, Marion interjects from where she's taken a seat on the queen size bed.

"This bed is too small."

Dairon reply without even thinking about it: "We'll get a bigger one."

To which both Beau and Marion respond with a grin.

Beau backs away from the room to go and find Yasha, miming the sound of a whip hitting target.

***

Life in Paris is surprisingly easy.

As it turns out, Parisians don't really want to interact with tourists, or foreigners in general, and Dairon is more than happy to keep it that way.

They move around the city by foot, and start working with one of Marion's physiotherapists to get their arm back in tip-top shape.

After that, they sign up to a local gym, take personal training lessons to get back into shape and then rent out the studio for their own training classes.

They build their contacts back from scratch, using some of Beau's resources, some of Marion's and some of their own old ones.

Dairon lays low and doesn't make friends.

Not outside the Chateau, at least.

Inside of it, on the other hand, everyone learns who they are, or at least what is essential to know.

Dairon is Marion's lover. They are not a famous companion, they are not a VIP, they are not a well paying client. They are the person who gets to ask for Marion at any moment of the day and they get to know every single one of Marion's movement.

Marion Lavorre is very adamant of the fact that Dairon is to be allowed to handle the place as if they were Marion herself, and after Dairon slams one of the door security guards and lifts them against the wall with their good hand on the first week for trying to make fun of them and their relationship with Ms. Lavorre, nobody dares saying or doing anything ever.

Dairon and Bluud, the security guard, actually end up becoming pretty good friends, to a point where he invites them over to the Chateau gym to spar with him and the others on the security team.

Dairon learns every nook and corner of the Chateau, and they stop by at least once a day to either greet Marion with a good morning kiss, bid her goodnight with an evening one, or simply have a meal break with her.

Sometimes, Marion would drag them down with her eyes still half closed with sleep. She would kiss them with closed lips, always very self conscious about her morning breath, and she would snuggle closer to Dairon's chest until they both doze off to sleep.

Sometimes, Marion would wait for them at the end of the day with a bottle of fine wine and freshly baked goods from the kitchen and they would chat, sitting on the outdoor chairs on the balcony, telling each other about their days.

"Does it ever bother you, what I do?" Marion asks, almost every day for the first few weeks.

"No, it truly doesn't." Dairon responds in honesty. "I trust you, and I know you enjoy what you do. You love it, and I love you."

It comes easier and easier, to say those few words.

Marion always smiles and doesn't respond, kissing them instead.

Sometimes, Dairon would come back to their own place after a long day of sneaking around to find Marion already sitting on their bed, with her long hair draped around her shoulders and a pair of jeans and a shirt that would remind Dairon of different times.

Dairon would then press her against the mattress and claim her as theirs, kissing every inch of Marion's body to make her shiver.

"My darling." Marion would whisper, body arched in pleasure, nails scraping the back of Dairon's head clutched between her thighs. "My Dairon."

Sometimes, Dairon would drop on the mattress face first, and Marion would be the one taking care of them in the way Dairon would mostly need on the day.

"I was made for loving you." Marion tells them on the day of their sixth month anniversary.

Dairon's breath catches in their throat.

"You're a dangerous woman, Marion Lavorre." Dairon responds. "You make me want to do dangerous things."

Marion giggles, hand caressing the top of Dairon's head, looking absolutely stunning above them, naked body barely illuminated by the moonlight coming through the open window.

Sometimes, they would talk about their jobs.

"What do you want to do?" Marion would ask regularly, and Dairon updates her on their progresses, on what they built and what they discovered.

They both keep in touch with the Nein, and Dairon secretly picks up Jester at the airport to then show up at the Chateau's doors with her in tow, surprising the hell out of Marion.

Dairon receives a similar visit from Beauregard as they walk to their usual table at the Chateau's restaurant, finding their adopted-like daughter sitting comfortably with Yasha at her side and Marion grinning like a madwoman in front of them.

They are leisure and business visits at the same time, because shop talk is inevitable when they're all spies, but Marion never seems to mind.

They are all making good way with their leads on the Angels of Iron, and Dairon and Marion are constantly reassured that Marion is still safe since the Gentleman has left town and found refuge in Turkey, and Dairon sighs in relief every time Beau confirms no one seems to suspect they're actually still alive.

"We still don't have enough information to close in on them." Beau tells them one time, on a rare occasion where Jester, Fjord, Beau and Yasha all manage to find themselves in Paris at the same time.

Dairon nods, and Marion simply waves for another bottle of wine.

"Soon, my darling child." Marion promises, and Beau smiles gently at her. Dairon knows the kid way too well to not notice the way Beau's shoulder seem to lose a bit of tension every time Marion acts to motherly towards her.

Dairon wraps their arm around Marion's waist as they wave goodbye at the four kids from their balcony at the Chateau.

Beau and Yasha walk hand in hand in the middle of the Parisian street, followed by a dancing Jester and a laughing Fjord.

"Did you ever think we were going to adopt all of them, one day?" Dairon half-jokes, and Marion giggles, hiding her face in Dairon's neck. When she's not wearing heels, she's much shorter than them.

"Never." she admits. "Not that I mind."

"Having seven unhinged young-adults to look after?"

The moon reflects in Marion's eyes when she turns to look at them.

"Being a parent with you." she says, bluntly, honestly, and Dairon's jaw drops.

"Flies don't make a good snack, darling." Marion chuckles, placing two fingers under Dairon's chin to force their mouth closed. Once it does, she presses a quick kiss to their lips.

"Are you implying...?"

Marion shrugs, snuggling closer and looking out towards a half asleep Paris.

It's been almost thirteen months, and yet Dairon doesn't think they could ever get used to that view.

"I'm not implying anything." Marion murmurs. "I'm just putting ideas into the universe for the future. I have no interest in bearing a child, my darling, nor, I assume, do you."

Marion shrugs, her hand lazily caressing Dairon's chest.

"We lead dangerous lives. That much is true. We are far from being safe, and even once the A of I are out of the picture I doubt you would just... Retire from the scene."

Dairon thinks about it for a brief moment, then nods.

"I don't think I ever wanted to, no." they confirm.

Marion hums, like she wasn't expecting anything different.

"Precisely. No, I'm not talking about a baby." Dairon feels her smiling against her shoulder. "Maybe a teen. Someone we can help and rescue. Someone who just needs a roof, a family, and who should not grow out of the system."

Dairon's shoulders tense. The wording feels way too specific.

"Who told you?" they murmur, without any real anger behind their words. Only the usual, instinctual response of a past that will never stop haunting them.

"Fjord." Marion admits freely. "He also grew out of the system, and he mentioned you might as well. He is pretty good at picking up these things, I must say. My daughter is lucky to have him."

Dairon swallows, feeling their throat very dry, all of a sudden.

"Not even Beauregard knows, I don't think." they murmur after a while.

"I would never tell her." Marion promises, and Dairon believes her.

"I never really thought I would be a parent." Dairon whispers, eyes fixated on the horizon. If they focus hard enough, they might be able to spot the minuscule dots that are Beauregard and Yasha walking away.

"And yet..."

"And yet, that obnoxious child has plummeted in my life when I least expected it." Dairon grunts, making Marion laugh.

"Darling Beau is not obnoxious, Dairon." she pokes at them. "She is much more similar to you than you would ever like to admit, so if anything, she's just as obnoxious as you."

Dairon scoffs, but they can't hide the laugh behind it.

"You are impossible."

Marion hums in agreement.

For the longest time, silence hangs comfortably between them.

The gentle breeze envelopes them, and Marion's evening dress floats gently with it. Marion hides her face in Dairon's neck and Dairon presses a kiss on the top of her head.

Finally, a smile tugs at their lips.

"A teenager will be a lot of work." they murmur. "But I think we'll handle it."

Marion's breath itches, and the woman presses her face against Dairon's skin.

"Oh, my love..."

#cobalt ruby #spy au #undercover au #eheh #critical role art #marion lavorre #dairon #dairon x marion #beau x dairon #beauyasha

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rafecameron · 4 years

Text

evasion

Summary: You don’t understand why your best friend is suddenly avoiding you like the plague, but once he confesses his reasons you have a decision to make.

Pairing: Topper Thornton x Reader

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: alcohol, a little bit of angst

*GIF is mine*

Topper had never been as tough as he’d made out to be. His interior was soft and his heart was easily broken that’s why after Sarah he vowed to himself he’d never fall in love again. So when he found himself falling for his best friend he unconsciously started distancing himself. Making excuses as to why he couldn’t hang out, letting texts go unanswered for days. He hadn’t meant to do it, but his mind was so scared of going through the pain again it decided the best option was to block everything out. That meant you’d suddenly gone from seeing him everyday, to clinging onto his arm as you walked and falling into each other due to laughter to not hearing from him for days on end. To watching him make an excuse and leave whenever you would show up.

At first you didn’t think much of it. Maybe he really did have a family dinner to go to or plans with Kelce he had forgotten about until now. But after a couple of weeks you started to believe that he wasn’t just forgetting important events and that he was in fact avoiding you. And you couldn’t figure out why. Had you done something or said something to make him upset with you? You’d never fallen out with Topper before, sharing your fair few tiffs with Rafe and Kelce over the years, Topper was always the one that stuck around no matter what. So why was he now avoiding you like you were some deadly disease.

You make your way through Rafes house and out to his garden where you knew your friends would be. Kelce was swimming laps in the pool, Rafe was talking animatedly into his phone and Topper was lounging on a sun bed watching them both. He looked over and caught your eyes, offering what seemed to be a half hearted smile in your direction.

You stroll over to him, determined to talk to him and get things back to normal. You missed your best friend. But as you get closer you notice him glance down at his watch and sit up, worry seeping through your body at his actions.

“Hey, Top.” You offer him a small wave and a nervous smile.

“Uh hey,” he replies as he stands up from his sun bed, “Sorry I actually have to go. Promised my mum I’d help with some things around the house.”

“Oh…” you watch him fumble around grabbing his things before he disappears into the house without a second glance. You knew he was lying, he never helped around the house and his mother would never ask him to. You avert your eyes over to Kelce who had stopped his swimming and was resting his arms against the side of the pool watching the interaction. The boy simply shrugs when your eyes meet his and he pushes back off the wall again.

You sigh and plop down onto the bed Topper had just vacated. You already wanted to slink off back home, Toppers quick departure and cold greeting enough to ruin any hopes you had of having fun today.

You’d asked Rafe and Kelce that day if they had noticed anything different, Rafe said no, though you were sure this was more because he couldn’t be bothered to get involved. But Kelce had noticed his friends' quick disappearances and feeble excuses for the past few weeks to why he couldn’t attend events he’d usually be all over. But he had no ideas as to why so you continued to be left in the dark.

After that day you couldn’t help but fall into a sulk. A frown prominent on your face every second you were around your friends. You didn’t mean to take it out on them but you couldn’t help it. Being around them made you think of Topper and thinking of your friend ignoring you caused your heart to drop and shatter.

It had been a little over a month since you’d even seen Topper now and you were moping more than ever.

“For gods sake y/n, would it kill you to smile a little?” Rafe groans as you sink into his couch with a face like thunder.

You shoot the boy a glare, “It might actually.” You huff.

“I can’t take this anymore, either you say something to him or I fucking will.” Rafe states matching your glare.

“You don’t think I’ve tried? He’s ignoring me Rafe, I can’t talk to someone who doesn’t want to know me.” You sigh out.

So Rafe decides to intervene, coming up with a simple plan to get you and Topper alone together so you could talk through whatever the hell was going on with him. He pushes you up the stairs and into the study, his phone perched between his ear and shoulder as Topper talks on the other end of it.

“He’s on his way, stay here.” Rafe instructs you, pulling the door halfway closed as he disappears back downstairs.

So you wait, pacing up and down the study, your lower lip being assaulted by your teeth. You’d never been nervous to see Topper before but now your hands were shaking and you couldn’t stop your heart beating out of your chest. It felt like you had been stuck in this study fretting over the inevitable meeting for the whole day but you knew it couldn’t have been more than half an hour.

Once you heard two voices getting closer you stopped pacing, turning to face the door. Soon enough Topper was stumbling through the door before it was slammed shut, the sound of the key turning in the lock. Topper hadn’t even noticed you, instead he banged on the door calling for Rafe to stop messing around and let him out. You cleared your throat and Topper's hand stopped on its way to the door again, he slowly turned and when his eyes met yours the colour seemed to drain from his face at the sight of you and your heart sank. You just couldn��t understand why he hated you so much all of a sudden.

“Can we talk?” You ask quietly.

“Rafe never said you’d be here.” Topper replies, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“I know. You wouldn’t have come if you’d known.” You state, you let out a sigh and turn to lean back against the desk, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt as you looked down.

Topper stayed quiet, he didn’t even try to pretend he hadn’t been avoiding you which only served to hurt you more. You chewed on your lower lip, you’d rehearsed a whole speech in your head but now he was here you had forgotten all of your words.

“Why are you avoiding me?” You finally ask, lifting your eyes from your feet to look over at him again but his eyes aren’t on you, “Did I do something wrong?”

His head snaps round at that, eyes swimming with what looked like anger, “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Topper tells you adamantly, “Don’t think that.”

“Well what else am I supposed to think?” You ask your voice raising a little, “You haven’t spoken to me in over a month! How am I not supposed to think I’ve done something wrong?”

Topper let’s out a groan and runs his fingers through his hair, the frown constantly prominent on his face, “Look, it’s my problem, okay? You didn’t do anything.” He almost tells you, he almost spills out his feelings for you with the hope that you feel the same but before he has the chance to, you speak again and he knows he can’t tell you.

“You’re my best friend Topper! Please don’t shut me out.” You beg him.

Topper's frown is replaced by a look of sadness which he quickly recovers himself from, he shakes his head and turns to bang on the door again.

“Rafe, I know you’re listening asshole, let me out.” He kicks at the door and you lean back against the desk, willing the tears not to fall.

The door unlocks, an annoyed looking Rafe appearing behind it, “My dad will fucking kill me if you damage this door.” He frowns pushing past Topper to look down at where the boy had been kicking.

Topper takes that as his opportunity to slip out of the room and disappear down the hallway. You let the tears slip past your eyes now he’s gone, ignoring Rafe mumbling to himself about the door while you let yourself break down.

Once Rafe realises you’re crying he hurries over, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders a concerned look plastered across his face.

“He’ll come around, y/n.” He tries to reassure you but you just shake your head. You didn’t think he’d come round, you’d lost him forever and you had no idea why.

“He won’t, Rafe.” You sob out, “He hates me and he won’t even tell me what I’ve done wrong so I can fix it!”

You sob into Rafes chest, your body shaking with your cries as Rafe holds you silently. Rafe had never seen you upset before, he wasn’t very good with sympathy so whenever you were upset you would go to Topper. So Rafe held you awkwardly, trying his best to soothe you and tell you everything would be okay, but no matter what he said you couldn’t stop crying. No matter how many times he repeated that it would be okay and things would work out you just couldn’t believe him.

The next couple of weeks you spent mostly by yourself. You tried your best to get over your heart break by doing things to take your mind off Topper. You baked cookies - which were awful but still, you had tried - and you took care of yourself. You took long baths, read novels, plastered on face masks and hair masks, painted your nails. And it all made you feel good and a little less heart broken.

So when Rafe called inviting you to a party you didn’t even think twice about agreeing. Topper only entering your thoughts after you had hung up the phone. It was a waste of time wondering if he would be in attendance, of course he would be. But as confused and upset as you still were at him, you felt you could face him without breaking down when he inevitably ignores you.

You dressed up in your best dress, spending more time on your hair and make up than you usually would, wanting to take pride in your appearance. You hoped feeling confident in your exterior would make you feel stronger on the inside.

You arrived to Rafes house two hours after the party had started, your usual time of arrival. There was nothing worse than being at the start of the party while everyone was still awkward and sober. You entered the house, heading straight towards the kitchen to get a drink, you also knew that was the most likely place you’d find Rafe and Kelce.

You were right of course, Rafe was leant back against the kitchen island, Topper and Kelce in front of him chugging beers while the group around them cheered them on.

“Not missing the fun am I?” You ask as you appear beside Rafe.

“I was beginning to forget what you looked like.” Rafe joked pulling you into a one armed hug before quickly mixing you a too strong drink.

“Hi.” You smile over to the two boys who had finished downing their drinks. Kelce returns your greeting, Topper offering you the slightest of smiles before turning and placing his empty bottle on the counter beside you.

Topper ignoring you still hurt like hell but you were determined not to let him see it. If he was okay with not talking to you anymore you were going to pretend you were perfectly fine without him as well.

Drunk you however was not so confident she was okay without Topper. After four beers, two overly strong drinks from Rafe and three shots instigated by Kelce you were more than a little drunk and you were on a warpath to find your blonde friend - or ex-friend, you weren’t entirely sure which fitted best.

“You!” You slur out when you find him on the landing upstairs, you push against his chest causing yourself to stumble much more than the boy in front of you, “Why do you hate me?”

Topper frowns, grabbing at your hands and trying to steady you. He looks around the hallway nervously as you shout at him, quickly pulling you into Rafes room for privacy.

“Y/N, I think you should try and sleep.” Topper instructs you trying to lead you towards your friend's bed.

You shake your head and push him off of you, “No! I refuse to leave without answers. Why do you hate me? What did I do to you? Why can’t you just tell me instead of avoiding me, you’re killing me here Top!” You feel tears prick at your eyes and if you were sober you might have been able to subside them but now they were streaming down your face.

Topper sighs, he wants nothing more than to reach out and pull you into a hug. To comfort you, to hold you and promise none of this was your fault and that he loved you more than anything. But wanting to do that was what caused this problem in the first place.

You could see the hesitation on his face and you cross your arms, stomping your foot slightly like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Tell me Topper. I deserve to know.” You demand and Topper let’s out another sigh because he knows you’re right. He’s been distant and rude and you deserve more than that, so with his heart beating at a ridiculously fast pace he tells you the truth.

“You didn’t do anything,” he begins, quickly shutting you up with a wave of his hand when you start to talk over him. “You didn’t do anything.” He repeats himself, “I meant what I said when I said it was my problem. I was scared so I distanced myself from you.”

“Why were you scared?” You ask quietly when Toppers pause was too long for your liking.

“Because I didn’t want my heart to break again.” Topper lets out a slightly shaky breath, he suddenly seemed a lot more sober than you were, “I didn’t mean to, but I fell for you y/n. I fell hard and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship and I didn’t want to be rejected. I wanted the feelings to go away and I thought if I avoided you I might get over it.”

You find it hard to process what he’s saying in your drunken state, your brows furrowed as you tilt your head studying him.

“Topper I-“ you cut yourself off with another frown, your head shaking slightly, “I don’t know-“

“It’s fine.” Topper cuts in, his stance suddenly nervous, “I get it, you don’t feel the same. I shouldn’t have said anything… I - you should get some sleep.” He quickly turns and hurries from the room without a second glance.

You sit on the edge of the bed and lay back, eyes staring up at the ceiling as you try your best to work out what Topper had told you. He fell for you, but what is that supposed to mean? Was he in love with you? Were you in love with him? You had no idea how you felt, Toppers words were swirling round in your head and making you feel sick. You felt dizzy and confused and were thankful that the alcohol worked quickly to knock you out.

The next morning you wake with covers wrapped around you. Your head hurt but not as much as you imagined it would. You wished you had woken up blissfully unaware of last nights events, either from the excessive alcohol consumption of just from a fuzzy hangover. But you awoke remembering the events perfectly and the sick feeling quickly returned.

You turn onto your side, eyes peering down at your friend on the floor who was eyeing you with a smirk, “Morning, you look a mess.”

“Thanks Rafe.” You roll your eyes and pull the covers up to your chin, “One, never let me drink that much again and two, never leave me unattended when you inevitably fail number one.”

Rafe laughs and rolls onto his side leaning up on his elbow, “I refuse to take responsibility for your messiness, Kelce got the shots out.” He defends himself.

You let out a groan and drop your head down onto his pillows, “Something worse than the shots happened.” You admit quietly.

“Something worse than Kelce pouring double whiskey shots and forcing everyone to drink them? Must be pretty bad.” Rafe comments.

You bury your face into the pillows, “I found Topper,” you mumble out, “I confronted him and he told me he loved me and I didn’t fucking say anything.”

You weren’t sure if Rafe would understand your muffled confession but he did, you lift your head when he doesn’t reply only to find him staring up at you.

“Explains why he’s been avoiding you.” He says simply with a shrug.

You shoot him an incredulous look, “Is that all you can say?” You ask, voice a little high pitched in disbelief

“What?” Rafe asks defensively, “Do you want me to say you’re an idiot for not saying it back? Because you are.”

Your brows furry and you sit up fully, your head spinning from the sudden movement, “But I don’t know if I feel the same way.” You admit, “He’s my best friend…”

Rafe sighs and copies your movements, sitting up on his makeshift bed on the floor, “Do you want me to listen or do you want advice?” He asks.

You consider for a moment, it would be nice to sound out your thoughts with someone, but you knew Rafe well and despite the awful decisions he makes for himself he is good at giving advice. Rafe notices things other people don’t, he’s good at watching people and reading thoughts and he’d hate to hear you say it but sometimes he was like the mother of the group. Always sorting everyone’s problems while ignoring his own, so you ask for his advice.

“You’re in love with him.” He says simply.

You look down at him, waiting a beat for him to continue but shoot him a glare when he doesn’t, “Is that it? Your great wisdom?” You scoff.

Rafe rolls his eyes, bringing his knees up slightly and wrapping his arms around them, “You’ve been in love with him for a while. I can tell.”

“Rafe you aren’t helping.” You let out a groan.

“Think about it y/n! I’m your best friend too, right?” You nod so he continues, “You wouldn’t act the same if I started avoiding you. You wouldn’t sulk and cry, you’d come up to me and call me all the names under the sun and probably hit me. But you cried, because it hurt more because it’s Topper. You aren’t happy when he’s not around, Topper makes you happy. He always has. You love him, you're just too scared to see it, like he has been.”

You study Rafe for a moment considering what he’s said, was he right? Have you loved Topper all this time and just been too stubborn or blind (or likely both) to notice? You think back to your times with Topper, a slight smile on your face at the memories. Topper was the one you always sort out for cuddles. He was the one who’s hoodies you stole when it got cold, who’s house you slept over at the most. Topper was your rock and you had been lost without him. He made you comfortable, made you feel safe and secure. The swell of your heart when he’s around has nothing to do with the fact that he’s been your best friend for so long but has everything to do with the fact that you’re in love with him. Crazily, stupidly in love with him, and it took Rafe of all people to make you see it.

You slowly nod your head, “You’re right, Rafe. I’m in love with Topper.” You declare, a smile forming on your lips as you spoke.

“I’m always right you should know this by now.” Rafe rolls his eyes, “Now go tell him and leave me to sleep off this headache.” He lays back down and rolls over while you jump out of the bed.

You don’t care that you’re in your dress from the night before. You don’t care that your hair resembles a bird's nest and your make up is probably a mess. You don’t care about any of it, all you care about is telling Topper how you feel, and hoping your silence the night before hadn’t ruined everything.

You walk to Toppers, your feet sore from wearing your heels the night before so you walk barefoot, your shoes clutched in your hand as you stride determinedly towards the Thornton residence. You don’t think twice about knocking on the door until after your fourth pound, lip between your teeth as you imagine his mother’s face seeing you stood a mess on her doorstep. Prim and proper Mrs Thornton would not be too pleased with the sight, but luckily for you it was Topper who answered the door. Sleep is still evident in his eyes and messy hair when he appears in front of you.

“Y/N?” He asks rubbing sleep from his eyes, “What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Can i come in? I really need to talk to you.”

Topper sighs, leaning tiredly against his front door, “If this is about last night please just forget it.”

“I don’t want to forget it.” You protest.

“Please y/n. I’m too hungover for this,” he groans, you open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off, “Okay you want to talk about it? I’m sorry okay. I’m sorry I fell for you and I’m sorry I avoided you and I’m sorry I brought it up last night and ruined everything even more,” he rambles out, speaking a little louder each time you open your mouth to speak, “I’m an idiot, and you don’t feel the same, it’s fine.”

“Topper-“

“I mean it’s not fine, far from fine actually. But I’ll get over it. I just hope you don’t hate me forever because of it.”

“Top-“

“Can you just forget I ever said anything? I’ll stop avoiding you and I’ll try and just forget everything.”

“Topper!” You shout finally getting him to stop his ramblings and look at you wide eyed.

You stand in silence for a couple of seconds, you trying to sort out in your head what you should say, Topper looking at you desperately. But words fail you so instead you rush forward, grabbing Toppers face in your hands and pressing your lips against his. Topper's shock is soon replaced by confusion and then relief as he kisses you back, melting into your touch.

Kissing Topper felt like no matter what everything would be okay. It was like coming home after a weekend trip and feeling at home again. The sound of the morning chirping of birds disappeared as you got lost in him. You were the only two people in the world, right now in this moment nothing else mattered except from you and Topper.

“Y/N,” Topper begins when you finally pull away but you shush him.

“I love you. I think I always have. And I think we’re both idiots for taking so long to realise this.” You whisper, lips still hovering in front of his.

Topper's heart soars and he’s sure he’s never felt so full of love before in his life. It was like his body was on fire with the feeling and he never wanted to feel anything else again.

He leans down, kissing you again quickly before picking you up. You laugh softly and wrap your legs around his waist.

“Let’s go sleep these hangovers off, then you can tell me again how much you love me.” Topper smirks, kicking the front door shut behind him before carrying you up to his room.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” You smile kissing over his face as he lays you down on his bed, “Never stop speaking to me for that long again, my heart can’t take it.”

Topper leans down, soft lips against your cheek and jaw, “I will never leave your side again.” He promises, lips finally finding yours in a slow lingering kiss before he finally falls onto the bed beside you and pulls you against his chest.

“I love you.” He mumbles against your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to your head. His soft breathing lulling you into a peaceful sleep, full of happy pictures of your further with Topper forever by your side.

Tags: @rudyypankow @topperthornton @rafej-cambanks @joshy-obx

#topper thornton fic #topper thornton imagine #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #my writing

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b1ksh88p · 3 years

Text

Be Mine Chapter 3

Plot: A storm is brewing in Valentine, and you’re in the middle of it. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen Harry and there’s already been a horrendous murder. With tensions high and everyone finger pointing your ex, Edmund, makes everything worse by spreading gossip. With the sting of rejection still weighing heavy on your heart you attempt to clear everything up only to make things worse.

Describing your mood as sour would be a understatement. You were numb. A grey cloud loomed over your usual cheery exterior as you went through day to day activities. Whenever someone asked if you were alright you’d chalk it up to trivial excuses. When in actuality you were torn that you’d been stupid enough to try and have a picnic with a killer. If you were sane maybe you’d tell the Sheriff and get some of his boys in uniform to smoke Harry out somehow but you had no taste for revenge. All you wanted was to move on.

But it seemed your ex had other plans. You worked in the diner, usually taking up the night shifts to rid yourself of boredom. As you were cleaning a table you overheard a couple chatting away about you of all topics. Why your name was in their mouths you didn’t know but from what you got out of it made you want to raise hellfire.

“I heard she goes down there every night to see that killer.”

“Edmund said that the sherif saw her go in with food and came out empty handed.”

“No way, maybe she’s a killer.”

There’s no way you could allow these two peons spread such outlandish babble. You’ve never killed anyone nor would you ever. The thought of murdering another made you sick to your stomach. “Edmund is a long-nosed good for nothing asshole who spends his time making up calumniations and dumping his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day for a dumb blonde with a baby voice. You two and the rest of your bubble headed friends would be fools to believe anything that comes out his mouth.” You finish with a astute turn into the back for a extensive smoke break.

If you saw Edmund or that sleazy sheriff you’d be sure to give them a piece of your mind. And speak of the devil, there he was. Your blood was replaced with boiling water as you stomped your way towards him. He was with the sherif and some other random cop you didn’t know. Both of them saw you coming and started to drift apart before you whistle and jogged towards the two snakes.

“Where we going boys? Running away from the new killer of the town?”

“Now listen Y/N I didn’t mean to start anything.” The sheriff assured.

You weren’t impressed. “You’re just the last one seen in the mines so...it makes sense.” Edmund shrugged.

“And you were the last one fucking the blonde bimbo you cheated on me with and she has crabs....so it makes sense right?” You snap back garnering a chortle from the other cop.

“It’s not my fault you’re a boring bitch who can’t get anyone to date you except for some psycho?!” He growled.

“I’m not dating anyone and I’m not a killer. Instead of gossiping like little girls how about you three go investigate and find the real killer.” You throw down the cigarette and stomp it out beneath your heel.

“We apologize if we’ve caused you any trouble Miss, we’re doing the best we can.” The Sheriff whispered.

“Keep my name out your ass licking mouths and out the fucking paper.” You demand before walking back inside the diner.

After your shift you began to walk home. The ominous glow of streetlights did little to scare you. On your way to you lovely home you stopped by the liquor store. A bit tipsy you ventured the winding fucked up roads. The quiet sounds of the night were ruined by the sounds of sirens. It had been what? 72 hours and some change since the last murder what the hell could the coppers be speeding for? Even in your mildly drunken stupor you noticed where they were heading. The mines. Sober you would’ve kept walking like any sane person but you were running on anger, worry, and rum. A mix that didn’t bode well when making good decisions.

You knew a shortcut through the trees and made haste. By the time you fought through flora and fauna two cars were already there. The sheriff and Edmund were there holding lanterns and guns. You step out from behind the trees, face bathed in red and blue lights. Softly stepping towards the shit show. “What the fuck are you two asswipes doing?!” You call out as you make your way to the entrance of the mine. Before they can stop you you’re in front of the cold entrance.

“You protecting your boyfriend again?” Edmund spat as he loaded his gun.

“You don’t have a gotdamn clue who killed those two. It takes you dumb mother fuckers months to even get close to closing a case!”

“We know he’s down there Y/N and he’s gonna fucking burn for what he did. And if you gotta burn with him so fucking be it!” He aimed the gun at you which almost made you piss yourself. You stumble back as he aims it at you. The thumping of your heart beat in your ears.

“I’m not you enemy! And neither is he!” Your words were bold but hoarse.

“That son of a bitch killed family. I don’t care what you think he’s going to die, and if I have to shoot you to get to him I fucking will!” The sheriffs attempts to calm down Edmund were futile. He had his eyes on you. They were large and red and full of rage. He looked like a rabid animal and you his prey.

“...You’re angry I get that but this is a mob attack not a lawful pick up. You have no evidence-“

“DONT GIVE ME A FUCKING LESSON IN LAW BITCH I AM THE FUCKING LAW!” He shot at the ground beneath your feet sending dirt into your eyes. The muffled scolding from the sheriff did nothing to stop your beating heart. In fact there were bigger problems.

Another shot cracked through the night sending you to the ground covering your head. The grotesque sound of choking made you gag. The Sheriff was on the ground, clambering hands grabbing at the gaping hole in his chest as he bled out. Edmund was in shock. He held the man’s dead hand with wide eyes. Perfect time to get away. You book it into the mines. It was dark and cold, even chillier with a fresh murderer on your heels. At first you didn’t hear him but a shot echoed through the caves followed by some demands for you and Harry to reveal yourselves. That wasn’t happening so you keep running, ducking into random corridors to try and throw him off your trail.

Apart of you was afraid of running into Harry. What if he was angry at you? Running into one killer to escape the other was a chance you really didn’t want to take. You’d rather wait it out and hide. Hopefully Harry would take care of Edmund and you could run away without interacting with either of them. You stop running to hide in a old mining cart that was turned over. Covering your mouth with shaking hands you listen. A heavy set of footsteps past you, Edmund more than likely. It wasn’t like Harry to be so loud. He taunted what you assumed were the shadows to face him like a real man. He didn’t really see him right? You wish you could peek but you were far to afraid you’d get your head blown off.

“So that’s what you look like. Y’know it’s crazy. You don’t look like a monster.” He cocked the gun. “Tell me how you did it. How you killed my dad you fucking monster.” He demanded.

There was no response on Harry’s end. You hear something fall to the ground and then Edmund’s smug laughter. What the hell was going on? You quietly peak from out your hiding space. The minimal lighting made the scene hard to make out but by the looks of it Harry had...given up. He had thrown his pick axe ahead of him, taken off the mask, and dropped to his knees. A gloved hand on the barrel of the gun pointing it to his head. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Was he insane? Edmund goes into a end game spill about how long he’s waited to do this. How he’d pin the Sheriff’s and I’s murder on Harry and walk out the mines a hero. During this you start to crawl towards them, ready to rush him or throw a rock, anything to buy Harry time. Your chest is tight as you hold your breath. Nearing the both of them as quietly as you possibly can. Edmund cocks the gun and says something to the effect of “everyone dies, somebody should’ve take your sorry ass out long ago.” Before you hear a shot.

It hits the ceiling once you use all your might to swing Harry’s pickaxe into Edmund’s head, through his cheek. The blast was so close to Harry he fell back in pain. Edmund leans on the wall holding the left side of his face, still turned away from you. When he does look at you all the blood drains from your body. His tongue hung from the broken jaw like a salivating dog, torn flesh dangled around missing teeth, with so much flesh exposed blood spritzed out every time he moved closer to you. He couldn’t move his jaw so when he spoke it was a gurgled cacophony of rage and disbelief. You lift the pick axe once more but see him lift the shotgun and take aim. This makes you freeze like a deer in headlights. You close your eyes, bracing for impact. But to your surprise it never comes. Instead Harry had gotten up and tackled him, only problem was that he got shot.

The two men fell to the ground. Edmund kicking him off and frantically reaching into his pocket for two more shells. Without thinking you kick the gun from his hands. He tried to get up but you stomp on his chest with all the rage bottled up inside. He looks up at you with that mangled face and large eyes but mercy was the last thing on your mind. You look over him, raise the crude weapon, and allow the cold metal to pierce through his chest. You let out a exasperated scream as you continue your onslaught. Hammering down years of neglect, wasted time, slander, and abuse into what’s left of his broken body. When you’re done he’s left torn apart. Rib cage broken and organs exposed. In all the madness you vomit from the stress and overall exertion of energy you used up. The groans from Harry snap you back to reality and you go to aid him.

“Oh god oh shit hold on hold on.” You ramble. Your hands try their best to cover the wound. He was shot in the side. Luckily it wasn’t a direct hit but without medical attention it was gonna get nasty. You use Edmund’s jacket to help stop the bleeding. He was just staring at you. “What? What the hell are you gonna yell at me for now???” You yell trying not to cry. He lifts a bloody hand to your face.

FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON DRAGON BALL Z

#harry warden #slasher #slashers #fanfic

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songtoyou · 3 years

Text

Epiphany - Part Four

Paring: Luke Crain x Female Reader

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3,080

Warnings: Talks of drug use and recovery. Swearing and self-doubt.

Description: Life has never been easy for Luke Crain. After the death of Nell, Luke realizes that he needs to make some changes. He decided to stay in Massachusetts and attend rehab. He was determined to remain on his path of sobriety. When you get assigned to be Luke’s sponsor, it opens a new door of possibilities that neither you nor Luke expected.

A/N: I am sorry that it has taken me so long to write and upload this chapter. I have not been feeling so good since I posted that last chapter. Lots of anxiety keeping me from doing things such as write. Anyway, here is the new chapter. I wanted to write about Aunt Janet. I felt that the show didn’t really tell us much about her except that she took care of the kids after the events of Hill House in 1992.

Note: Italics represent the past or past conversations.

Feedback is wonderful. It is nice knowing if people are actually liking this fic.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Tag list: @morningstar09

~Aunt Janet’s House – 2002 ~

“Luke! Hurry up, or you’re going to be late for school!” Aunt Janet yelled up the stairs.

“Luke! Come on!” exclaimed Nellie. “I’ll go check on him.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” said Janet. Her youngest nephew often worried her, especially since it was the tenth anniversary of Olivia’s death this past summer. Janet started to notice that Luke became more recluse and stayed up in his room. The only person Luke would interact with was Nell, which was not surprising to Janet. The twins only managed to become closer as they got older.

What really began to cause Janet to worry was catching Luke steal money from her purse. She asked him what he was doing and why he was stealing. However, Luke could come up with a pretty decent lie about needing money to buy flowers for Olivia’s grave.

In truth, it was to buy beer. Luke had taken a liking to the barley and hops beverage. It helped him feel numb and not worry about anything. Unfortunately, Luke had one too many beers last night and was paying for it. Nellie found him headfirst in the toilet regurgitating the contents of his late-night beer binge.

“Eww, gross. What is wrong with you?” asked Nellie. She pinched her nose as the stench of Luke’s puke was overwhelming.

“What does it look like! I’m sick! Tell Aunt Janet that I can’t go to school.”

“Luke, come on. You have missed too many days already. They’re going to hold you back another year if you miss any more school,” Nellie argued while searching through Luke’s drawers and closet for clothes.

Luke managed to get up from the bathroom floor when he felt it was safe. He rinsed out his mouth to relieve it from the after taste of throw-up.

“Come on! Get cleaned up and put these on,” ordered Nell and shoved Luke’s clothes in his arms.

Luke groaned and plopped down on his bed. “Nellie…I can’t go to school today. I’m too sick.”

“Well, your sickness is also making me sick, but I managed to get up and ready for school today. Now move it! I’ll keep bugging you if you don’t move. I’m not going to let you fall to the waste side. Do you hear me, Luke?”

“Fine! I’m getting dressed!” Luke yelled to get Nellie off of his back.

No matter what occurred between them, neither twin could ever hate the other. They were each other’s best friends and closest confidante. They had to be. Especially now that they were the last two left in Aunt Janet’s care. As soon as their eldest siblings turned eighteen, they hightailed it out of Janet’s house for college.

Luke slowly trudges down the stairs with his backpack slumped on his shoulders.

“Hey, there he is,” greeted Aunt Janet. “Would you like some breakfast, sweetie?”

“No! No breakfast,” Luke replied with his head on the table.

However, Nellie pushed a plate of dry toast in front of him and told him to at least nibble some bites. “Here’s some orange juice. Take slow sips. The last thing we need is you spewing junks in the toilet again,” whispered Nellie while Aunt Janet was in the kitchen. She would not out that her brother was hungover. That last thing Nell wanted was to cause any more trouble for Luke.

She knew why Luke did not want to go to school, and it had to do with, what else, their family. Some of the kids at school saw Luke as an easy target to bully and terrorize. The topic of their “messed-up” family was their go-to whenever they wanted to antagonize Luke. Nell often found herself a target for bullies but could stand up for herself a lot better than Luke.

With the anniversary of Olivia’s death, the bullies made it their mission to torment Luke about growing up without a mother or father. They would push him against the lockers, knocking his glasses off his face, and trip him in the hallways. It was too much to handle, and Luke was tired.

Leaning back in his chair, Luke re-read the words on the computer screen. His instructor loved the essay he turned in and advised him to expand upon it. Luke pushed aside his reservations about exploring his past traumas through writing. It was a better outlet for Luke to help cope and tackle past stressful life experiences. Not only did Luke have support from his instructor and you, but his counselor at Banyan Treatment Center, Rob, also supported the idea of using expressive writing as a way to heal.

Luke could not deny that writing helped clear his head. Something he learned while being in rehab back in Los Angeles. It allowed him to face things from his past that he had pushed aside. However, Luke had some reservations about how much he should…open himself up when it comes to sorting out his past events. There were still things that Luke was not quite ready to face.

Oh my God!" exclaimed Luke. "It has been a month and a half since we have seen that movie. It would be best if you got over the ending. It happened. There is nothing you can do about it."

"I can't, Luke. It was total bullshit!" you yelled back furiously.

Luke calmly said your name to get your attention. "Listen to me; we don't even know if Steve Rogers actually stayed back in time to be with Peggy. He may have…"

"Then where did he go? Huh? He just up and left his friends who he just got back. Steve and Peggy never even dated! They kissed, that is it. Yes, there was an attraction that each had for one another, but that was all it ever way…an attraction. They are a 'what could have been' type of couple—the movie completely throughout all of Steve's character development…right out the window. Whatever, I'm over it," you stated, throwing your hands up in defeat.

You and Luke were driving to his Aunt Janet's house for a visit. He mentioned to you about wanting to visit his aunt for some time but had not gotten around to it. You were surprised that he asked you to come along.

Luke mentioned that Shirley and Theo were too busy to come with him and did not want to go alone. You agreed on the condition that he drive since Aunt Janet lived an hour and a half away from Wilmington. Lately, your anxiety has been going up and down, so you were not comfortable being at the hands of the wheel, especially on the freeway. You did not understand why you had such anxiety these past few days. You chalked it up to being nervous about your final project at school. The assignment was to create a self-portrait. It should be simple enough, but of course, the art instructor wanted students to "think outside of the box" and not have it be a regular standard portrait of themselves.

Each draft you came up with was of you in some state of turmoil, whether it be you depicted on a gurney getting resuscitated from your heroin overdose or lying in a pool of your own vomit. You could not understand why this particular project was giving you such a hard time. You were three-years sober. You had a steady job and gone back to school. Your relationship with your parents was better than ever. So, why the thought of a self-portrait brought upon negative thoughts about oneself?

You mentioned your troubles to Luke, and he was very sympathetic. While he was now 206 days sober, there were times where he felt…like the achievement did not mean much.

"What do you mean by that?" you asked him while on the way to Aunt Janet's house.

"It's just…this isn't my first rodeo when it comes to recovery," Luke began to say. "There is always this little voice in the back of my head that…"

"That it is only temporary. I have that little voice too. I'm not too fond of that little voice. Three years sober, and there are times where I still feel like a total failure. I shouldn't, but…I can't help it," you revealed to Luke honestly.

"Thankfully, there is another little voice in the back of my head that gives tells me that I'm doing a good job now and then. It's just that positive little voice has been a tad quiet lately," you added.

Luke could pick up on the little defeatist tone in your voice, and he did not like it. You immediately felt his worry about you. "Hey," you said to get his attention and placed a hand on his arm. "Don't worry about me, okay. I'm fine. I have my fears like every recovering addict. It is nice to talk to someone about it, particularly someone who understands, you know. That helps."

Silence soon filled the car, but it was not awkward. You never had awkward or uncomfortable silences with Luke. For some reason, Luke was one of the few comforting presences in your life. Regardless of all of the hardships he has gone through in his life, he offered a sense of hopefulness. With his 6'3 stature, Luke really came off more like a gentle giant. It was like he did not view himself as this grown tall man, but probably still felt like that little kid hiding under the bed from the "Tall Man" at Hill House.

"Luke," you said to get his attention. "Are you happy?"

"No," he replied immediately, then clarified when he saw the look you gave him. "I mean, am I happy that I am over 200 days clean, then yes I am, very much so. But…I don't know, there is a small part of me that is scared to be happy…to be content in fear of something going wrong."

When Luke pulled the car into Aunt Janet's driveway, the older woman immediately came out of the house to greet her youngest nephew.

"There he is, my little boy," she said and wrapped her arms around Luke, which he reciprocated.

"Hi Aunt Janet, how are you?"

"I'm fine, darling. How have you been?" Aunt Janet asked, pulling away to get a good look at Luke. He looked much better than he did at Nell's funeral.

"Good. I'm doing good. Everyone is doing…fine," Luke replied, then turned towards you. He introduced you as his friend and not his sponsor to his Aunt, which kind of surprised you.

"So nice to meet you," said Aunt Janet taking your hand. She motioned for you both to follow her into the house. "I hope you both are hungry. I made an array of sandwiches and salads for lunch. Luke, I also made your favorite…chocolate pecan pie bars."

"Thank the Lord because he was hoping you would make them on the car ride here. It was all he talked about?" you teased.

"Once you have one, then you will know what I am talking about," Luke responded with a smile.

Aunt Janet lead you both into the kitchen.

"Can I use the bathroom to freshen up?" you asked her.

"Oh yes, dear. It is down that hallway, the first door to the right," told Aunt Janet as she showed you where to go. "Luke, you should probably wash your hands first," she added.

"Yes, Aunt Janet," he said and went to the sink to wash his hands.

When you were no longer in earshot, Aunt Janet stood beside her nephew and said, "Your friend seems really sweet."

Luke could not hold back his smile, "Yeah, she is genuinely nice. She's fun to hang out with. We have a lot of the same interests. Shirley and Theo have met her as well," he mentioned and shared that both of his sisters really liked you.

Aunt Janet turned her head to see if you came if you were around the corner. When you were not, she leaned over to Luke and said, "Very pretty too. She'd make a lovely…"

"Aunt Janet, she is just a friend. I can't date her anyway. She's…they say you shouldn't date anyone while still in recovery."

"I'm so proud of you," Aunt Janet said as she placed the food on the kitchen table. "You are becoming the man I always knew you could be."

Luke would be lying to himself if he denied that there was some form of attraction that he had for you, both physically and emotionally. He knew that the feelings that he was slowly developing towards you could be considered wrong. You were his sponsor…a dedicated one at that too. It would not be right for him to act on any attraction he may have for you—no doubt, that you would not reciprocate them, which would be disappointing to Luke.

"Better to just suffer in silence," Luke thought to himself.

"Don't you want a girlfriend? A family of your own someday?" asked Aunt Janet.

"Yeah…maybe. Someday. I'm just learning to take care of myself without drugs in my system. There is no way I can be a dedicated father or husband to anyone… at least not right now. I am still a work in progress," Luke admitted to his aunt. "I do like…" But Luke stopped when he heard your footsteps approaching.

"Oh, my goodness. The pictures on the wall… I'm assuming the little kid with glasses is you, Luke."

The three of you sat around the kitchen table with your plates stacked with delicious food.

"Luke was the absolute cutest kid. He had a little lisp as well," Aunt Janet shared. "I have more pictures of the kids if you would like to see them?"

"Yes," you replied ecstatically.

"No," Luke disputed, "We are in the middle of eating."

"We can multitask. Let's see those pictures," you asserted gleefully while Aunt Janet got up from the table.

With a belly full of food, the three you were now sitting outside on the patio, drinking tea, and eating Aunt Janet's yummy chocolate pecan pie bars. You already looked through three photo albums that showed Luke and his siblings' younger years.

"I wanted to take as many pictures as I could of the kids. They hated it, but I told 'em they would appreciate it when they got older," expressed Aunt Janet. "Here's a picture of Nell on her wedding day. That's her husband, Arthur. Sadly, he passed away a couple of months after they got married. But…they are together now."

You looked at the photo of the young couple. Nell looked very much like her older sisters and her mother. You could tell that there was a kindness about Nell just by looking at the picture. She was the type of person to go above and beyond for her family and even strangers. Luke would say that Nell was just that type of person to care about everyone, no matter who they were or where they came from.

Luke did share with you that one of his biggest regrets was not going to Nell's wedding. He said that he tried, but Shirley told him to leave. Luke said that it was for the best and that he was in no right state of mind to support his twin the way she deserved on her wedding day.

Thankfully for Luke, Nell understood and held no hard feelings. She never did when it came to her other half.

Aunt Janet began to sniffle, and when you looked up from the photo, you saw the older woman dab her eyes with a napkin. Out of instinct, Luke grabbed his Aunt's tiny hand and squeezed it with his as a way to show support. Just as he was Aunt Janet's little boy, Nell was her little girl. She was the one to raise them, take care of them, and guide them into adulthood.

None of the Crain children were perfect; they were far beyond that notion. However, there is no denying that if they did not have Aunt Janet take care of them and love them, they could have been worse off. Luke had the overwhelming feeling of guilt encompassing him at the moment as Aunt Janet tried to hold back her tears.

You instantly looked up at Luke. You could feel his sense of guilt towards the way he treated his aunt while growing up. He looked over at you. It was a silent conversation you both were having between one another. You mouthed, "Do you want me to go?" so he could have this moment alone.

With a shake of his head, 'No,' Luke spoke up to get his aunt's attention. "Aunt Janet…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for…for all the Hell I put you through while living here. You did so much for Nell and me, and the others that I…shit all over it. I stole and lied to you like it was my job. You deserved better. I just want you to know that…me getting hooked on drugs…well…that was…no matter what had happened…it was my choice to go down that path of destruction. I love you, Aunt Janet, and I am so appreciative of the sacrifices you made for my siblings and me. I wish that I weren't such a fuck up…"

"Oh sweetheart, no, you are not a…fuck up," Aunt Janet interjected and continued, "Not at all. I love you so much that…I would do anything for you, you know that, right? Your childhood is in the past. It happened. It is a part of you. The fact that you are continuing to remain clean after all that has occurred…well, that is something you should be most proud of. It shows that you are dedicated to your sobriety and turning your life around. No one said this process was easy, but you stayed the course and continued to make good decisions. As I told you earlier, you are becoming the man I always knew you could be."

"Now, I'm going to cry," Luke giggled as he dabbed his eyes with a napkin. "I didn't mean to turn this into a sob fest, but I wanted you to know that I'm sorry for what I put you through and that I love you very much, Aunt Janet."

Aunt Janet emerged from her seat to wrap her arms around her nephew and kiss the top of his head. It was a sweet moment to witness.

#luke crain #luke crain x reader #luke crain x female reader #the haunting of hill house #oliver jackson cohen

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perseusannabeth · 4 years

Text

My Hunger Knows No Bounds - Part 2

Okay, so this is based off a prompt I got, asking me for an Elriel labour fic. I kinda had to end up splitting it in two, because I'm still writing, and this would get super long otherwise. Part 3 is coming soon, I promise! Also I've not properly proof read this so I'm sorry for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1

Read on AO3

Ever since Elain had knocked on his door to ask for some food, they had set up a routine. They hadn't told anyone else about it, especially not their siblings. Cauldron knew that they were all a bunch of busybodies, and would ruin a perfectly good thing with their meddling. Azriel could already imagine his brothers with their knowing looks and raised eyebrows, and he didn’t want to imagine what Elain’s sisters would say or do, especially not Nesta. He knew that they meant well, but there was no way that he was ready for his brothers to start talking about the possibility of him being in a relationship again, and he knew that was exactly what Cass and Rhys would start talking about if they heard about the set up he had with Elain.

Plus, with Cassian and his big mouth, there's no way Mor and Ciara wouldn't find out. While he knew that he could get Mor off his back easily enough (just tell her about Amren's secret relationship), Ciara was a whole other ball game. Unfortunately, with three older brothers, Ciara had figured out very early on in life how to get what she wanted. With their big age gap, the girl was able to get pretty much anything she wanted and get away with murder. He didn't always regret it, but when she turned to use her big fake innocent eyes on him, he wished he was less of a sucker for her games. He even knew she was playing him, and still fell for it.

Truth be told, he wasn't quite sure exactly what his relationship with Elain was. They spent some time together with their family, but that wasn't the same. They spent many evenings together, eating and laughing and talking, just the two of them. Azriel had made quite a few recipes from the blue cookbook his mother had given him. He knew without a doubt that if it hadn't been for Elain, he wouldn't have touched it after the one time he had cooked the biriyani. He found it was quite nice to cook for Elain and to have a secret time that was just for the three of them. The baby was so active that you could never forget about the third person (not quite) in the room.

Elain was so easy to talk to. That wasn't something that he had ever found in a person, not his brothers, not his mother, not Rhys' mum, but somehow, Elain made even quiet, stoic Azriel want to talk. He couldn't quite believe it, but they spent most of their time alone just talking about anything, and he was more than capable of carrying a conversation, and participated in it just as much as Elain did, something which he had never been able to do before, and was very proud of.

They would talk about so many different things, some topics light and fun, some topics dark and heavy. Azriel found himself wanting to share things with Elain and looked forward to these evenings often. To this day, not even his brothers knew the full story about what had happened to his hands. They had pieced things together from what Rhys' mother had said, and when Azriel used to wake up with nightmares, and his aversion to fire. With Elain, he had been the one to bring it up. She had made it so easy to talk about, he hadn't even noticed the phantom pains he got when he usually thought about what had happened, because she had been holding his hands. He hadn't noticed the tears streaming down his face either until Elain had wiped them off his face so heartbreakingly gentle. He had felt at peace when he had told her what had happened like a weight had been lifted off his chest and he could finally breathe.

Perhaps it was the fact that he knew Elain would never judge or pity him because her situation made people judge and pity her. She knew how dirty and horrible the judgement and pity made him feel, how he would do anything to not feel like it was his fault it had happened.

Azriel hadn't wanted to pry about the father of the baby. He knew that Elain had recently moved to the building and that she lived alone. Her sisters would go with her for any baby-related appointments, and Nesta was Elain's birthing partner, much to everyone but Cassian's amusement. Nesta had been so horrified by the birthing video, that she had refused to have sex with Cassian for a week. Both Azriel and Elain had been shocked that they had even lasted a week without jumping each other.

Elain had opened up slightly about Graysen, her ex-fiancé who had left her because his family had put pressure onto him to marry someone more suitable. Azriel couldn’t help but get angry at Graysen whenever he thought about it, because how could someone not have the backbone to stand up for the woman he loved to his family. His father did sound like a piece of work, and Azriel was glad that Elain wouldn’t have to deal with that, but he pitied Graysen for being stupid enough to give in to the pressure and give Elain and the baby up. How this man, who claimed he still loved Elain, could give her and his child up was beyond Azriel, but he was almost selfishly glad of it because, without that, he would never have his nights with Elain.

Social interactions often left Azriel feeling tired and drained, even if the interactions were with his family and friends. It wasn't something that happened all the time, and his family and close friends were very good at reading the signs of him hitting his limit, depending on how sober they are. A drunken Cassian, for example, cannot read any signs of anything, and even if you tell him outright, he still might not understand. A drunken Cassian should never be let into your bedroom at 3 am because he 'missed his favourite broody brother'. It is a scam, and he will cling to you like a koala clings to a tree.

Azriel never felt drained when he spent time with Elain. It wasn't that he felt energised after being with her, he was pretty sure that was a myth. But he did feel calm and at peace after spending time together, happy even. Although his family and friends could make him feel like that, it was different with Elain. She made him feel like that every time they were together. He couldn't quite explain it, but he knew that their dinners were some of the most relaxing evenings he'd had in a while.

He wasn't ashamed to admit that he got excited whenever Elain text him to ask if he was cooking for her. Today was no different. When he had seen that she had texted him, he instantly felt the corners of his mouth start to rise. It had been just over a month of knowing Elain, and he had never said no to her. He was pretty sure that it was illegal to say no to a pregnant woman anyway, but he had never been tempted. Elain was just so sweet, how could anyone say no to her?

When Elain had texted him today, he had been having a boring day. Cassian was off work because Nesta was doing some fancy pants lawyer stuff today, and Cassian was a good boyfriend who was going with her to support her. With Cassian gone, Azriel had nobody to laugh at for being an idiot. Rhys was in meetings all day, so he couldn't laugh at either of his brothers for being love-struck fools who smiled dopily at their phones every time their significant others text them. Azriel tried to tell himself he wasn't jealous of what his brothers had.

Azriel had had to get his head down and do some paperwork which had been mind-numbingly boring, and the reason why he had been putting it off for so long. He had text Mor to see if she was around to save him from being bored, but she apparently had to do inductions for some newbies. Ugh. He hated how everyone in his family had responsibilities.

Just after lunch which he took with Nuala and Cerridwen, where they had a catch up (no Mor it isn't gossiping), he got a text from Elain, asking him if he would cook for her again. Azriel couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, even though Nuala and Cerridwen gave him some funny looks for it. Thankfully, they had been friends with Azriel long enough when to comment on something or not. He had no illusions that they would let it go, they would simply bring it up at a time when he had to answer. They were just so good at getting information out of people.

He spent the rest of the afternoon thinking of which other recipes he could cook for Elain, and what ingredients he had in the house. He probably wouldn't need to go shopping, but he didn't mind if he did need a thing or two. These days, however, he tended to keep his apartment well-stocked in case he needed to cook for Elain at short notice.

Elain had said she had been eating cup-a-soup for the past 2 days and would be for lunch too because, although it was just water and those gross dried ‘vegetables’, that was what she seemed to be craving. He needed to feed her something nutritional because he knew those stupid powered 'soups' had no nutritional value. Over the past month, he had been googling what was good for the baby, as well as making sure that it didn't make Elain feel sick. If he was going to cook for Elain, he might as well make sure that it’s good for her.

He decided that he would also make dessert for Elain, which was something he didn't do as often when Elain had dinner with him, mostly because she would usually want to have something that she had baked. He and Elain had figured out the perfect system so that she didn't feel guilty about eating his food, since there was no way he would let her give him money for cooking, or even for ingredients. He would cook the main meal, and Elain would bring over whatever she had baked. Today, however, Azriel had told Elain he would cook desert himself today. He wanted to surprise her with a dessert from his mother's cookbook. Elain had been enjoying milk flavoured things a lot lately, drinking it at any given moment, even having it with her meals, so Azriel had decided to combine her two favourite pregnancy cravings, sugary things and milk, making a dessert called rasmilai which was a sugary, milky dessert with strange little dough balls in it.

It had been one of Azriel's favourite deserts as a child, and had been craving it himself lately, but had decided to make it for Elain. He knew if not for her, he would have never made it because he was too lazy for that, but making it for Elain was so rewarding that he enjoyed cooking for her. The way Elain’s face lit up was exactly the same as the first time she had eaten his cooking. He wasn’t quite sure what it did to him when she was so happy at the sight of food in front of her, only that it made his chest feel weird and tight.

Azriel decided to finish work at 4, which was early for him, and definitely earned him a few more strange looks from Nuala and Cerridwen but he ignored them with ease. He knew he would be getting grilled about his strange behaviour in a few days after they had snooped around and asked his brothers and Mor about what was going on with him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Azriel drove home, now not even attempting to hide the smile on his face. He seemed to smile more since he met Elain, another thing he didn’t really focus on too much. Or something he didn’t want to focus on. He seemed to be doing that a lot, but then again, Azriel was the master of avoiding thinking about his own feelings. It was definitely not a problem, his siblings had no idea what they were talking about.

Azriel sent Elain a quick text to let her know that he was home and going to start cooking, just in case she wanted to come over and keep him company. It had happened often enough now, Elain laying on his sofa and talking until she fell asleep while he cooked. Azriel would notice she had gone silent and cover her with a blanket, making sure she wasn’t lying in a way that would cause her or the baby any discomfort.

Elain replied as he was getting the milk into a pan, with a ridiculous amount of sugar to boil away, telling him that she would be coming over soon, with a share bag of prawn crackers, that she would not be sharing. Azriel let out a small laugh when he saw her text. He was never sure if Elain was having cravings, or if she just used them as an excuse and this was how she ate normally. Since he had never known her before she was pregnant, he couldn’t quite say for sure.

Thinking about Elain’s pregnancy, Azriel couldn’t help but think about how big Elain was. It was the one thing that put him on edge around Elain, how she looked like she could topple down at any moment and not get back up. He tried not to be overbearing and annoying, but he was always worried something would happen to her and the baby. He had spent more of his free time reading up about pregnancy than he would care to admit. He certainly understood why Nesta had refused to have sex for a week when he had watched a video of a woman giving birth. He definitely did not envy Elain for that.

A knock on the door pulled Azriel from the swirling thoughts in his head. He opened the door, instantly smiling as Elain waddled in, still eating her prawn crackers. He couldn’t help but laugh as she eased herself onto the sofa, still eating.

“Az, the baby likes the smell of whatever you’ve cooked today.”

Azriel couldn’t help but blush at the casual use of his nickname. “Tell the baby thank you, I’m glad someone appreciates my cooking.”

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@hizqueen4life @kelly-fasel @sannelovesreading @acourtofmarauders @maastrash @sjm-things @bookstantrash @cursebreaker29 @humanexile @ iammissstark @stardelia @superspiritfestival @courtofjurdan @cass-nes @thewayshedreamed

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#elriel #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #acotar #acotar fic #my fic #text #elain archeron #azriel

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mynameseri · 3 years

Text

Akutagawa x F!Reader: Slow Motion

Song: Slow Motion by Slander

Warnings: 18+, N/SFW, alcohol and drug use, dub-con

Word Count: ~2,870

Summary: A seemingly dull night takes a turn for the better, when Akutagawa takes you to a party. Mixed drinks, loud music, foreign substances all lead to lust fueled decisions with the man of your fantasies.

A/N: Honestly, this is just super self indulgent. The idea came to me randomly one night as I was falling asleep and Slow Motion by Slander came on and the rest is history. If you read it, I’d love to hear your feedback <3

---

We are dancing in slow motion

We are feeling all the potion

We are loving in slow motion

We are feeling like this new other way of love

---

It wasn’t solely the red string of fate that ended up with you meeting Akutagawa. It was more than that. Over the past few months, your friends had been constantly trying to set you up with him, yet you came up with every excuse in the book for why he just wasn’t the one for you. You didn’t want him to be, or at least that’s what you told yourself. Although, the thought of him was enticing, absolutely thrilling; your fantasies of him were unrivaled by any other thoughts that had ever crossed your mind. The last thing you wanted was those fantasies to be shattered by a looming reality.

As you twirled your straw in your drink and sank into the barstool, you began to drift into those ever comforting daydreams. Imagining his hands tracing the details of your body, what would he say about you? How many hours had you spent memorizing the photos on his social media? His edgy, short captions? Looking through his new followers wondering if they were a love interest of his? Despite actively avoiding him, you were intrigued. Maybe that’s why you kept your distance.

You had only ever met him a few times. Brief interactions. Did he even remember your name? You couldn’t forget his. Akutagawa. It felt so natural rolling off your tongue. You couldn’t help but imagine how it would sound, coming from the back of your throat as he pounded into you. Lewd thoughts raced through your mind anytime your friends brought him up in conversation. Had he ever thought about you in the same ways, with your thoughts always circling back to him? The day dreams were beautiful, but they were just that, a dream. Right?

It wasn’t until you felt a chilling hand on your shoulder that you were shot back to reality.

“Y/N, right?” his soft voice caused your heart to race. “What are you doing in a dingy place like this?” The heat filling your cheeks was a mix of intoxication and embarrassment. You always ended up at this bar by yourself on lonely weekend nights. It was conveniently located near your place, sparing you the hassle of finding parking or catching an Uber. There was no way to explain this to an outsider without sounding absolutely ridiculous though. After a couple seconds of awkward silence, you let out a lighthearted laugh.

“Akuta..gawa…” Your surprise was no secret, as you fumbled over saying even just his name, “I might as well ask you the same thing, should I not?” You mustered all your confidence into that one question, knowing anything after wouldn’t be nearly as smooth. He smirked back at you, surprised by the boldness. He had no business being on this side of town, but you had no right to question him further on the matter either.

“Let’s save the questions for later and get out of this place,” he mumbled, pulling you from the seat by your hand, a movement so seamless you eased right into it. Without any deeper thought about it, you left with him. As you headed toward the exit he leaned into you, “I won’t tell you where we’re going, it’s a surprise. But keep an open mind.”

---

Talk about a long night trip, no-no-no

Don't ever wait

You kept traces of my bounds

Your friends are divided in my thoughts

---

The car ride was a blur in your mind. It could have been 5 minutes, it could have been 30. Time wasn’t even a concept to you in this moment. Between your phone blowing up with messages from your closest friends and trying to admire the man of your dirtiest fantasies, you were torn. It was surreal. It would take a lot of sobering up to figure out how things fell so perfectly into place, like a board game you managed to get the upperhand in.

Checking your phone only made your heart flutter even harder; your friends were blowing up your messages with their hype, encouraging you to make the most of it. Thank god Akutagawa wasn’t trying to make conversation right now, you didn’t have the brain power or attention span to even fake it. He could probably see that just from looking at you.

As you pull up to a mansion hidden deep in the woods, the reality of it all starts to hit you in the form of anxiety and nausea. The mansion was surrounded by cars - luxury, standard, even some motorcycles. Bassy, loud music blared through the house with so much volume, you could hear it from the outside. Flashing, strobing colored lights shone through the windows. There had to be no less than a couple hundred people inside from what you could see as he parked the car.

“We’re here.” He stated nonchalantly, exiting the car before walking over to your side and helping you out. Once more, he took your hand as you walked up to the entrance together. It was a simple gesture, but it provided you the reassurance you were looking for. Spontaneity wasn’t usually your thing, making this adventure a little out of your comfort zone. But, you had a feeling that right now you were exactly where you were meant to be.

---

We all love

Dance so I can feel your lips, oh, no-no

Don't ever look away

You fill the spaces in my heart

Your friends are nowhere to be found

We're tripping all around, oh, no-no

---

A transparent capsule with a white substance inside lingered in your hand. Akutagawa had just popped a couple himself before handing one over to you.

“Ever tried molly before? I think you’d like it.” He rasped, as he gulped some water to clear his throat. Am I really about to take molly with almost a total stranger right now? You thought to yourself as you prepared your throat to swallow it down. You were already taking so many chances tonight, living on the edge. You had no plan to stop now. Music filled the house and excitement rushed through your body as you downed the pill, eager to see where the night would take you.

How long had it been? An hour? Two? The euphoria consuming your body distracted you from such minute things. Akutagawa’s body felt so perfect as it pressed against yours while you danced along to the songs together. You hardly noticed the masses of people around you on the dance floor. The jealous stares of lustful eyes, the scowls of strangers clearly judging you. He was a very desired man to say the least. You were sure they were asking themselves: why you of all people? But you didn’t care. As far as you were concerned, it was just you, him, and the music. A couple times he had leaned in for a kiss, a small peck but you craved more than that. He smoothly worked his hands up and down your body, over your clothes, riling you up. Conversation was minimal, but you weren’t bothered since you were occupied by your feelings and thoughts.

“I’ve been waiting forever to get some one on one time with you, (y/n).” He whispered into your ear, the words sending chills down your spine. A familiar heat flooded your cheek as. every fantasy of the past flooded back into your mind. Could this really be happening? You didn’t dare want to lose this chance. The chance to make your fantasies into reality.

“I can honestly say I’ve been thinking the same thing,” you confessed, cupping your hand around his face, pulling him in for a kiss. The molly fueled you with a new found confidence, unafraid of any consequences. “I want you.” Without a second thought, you pulled him into a nearby bedroom, hastily undressing each other as soon as you closed and locked the door.

---

We don't know nobody

There's people all around

Oh, girl it's a private party, oh, no-no

We don't know nobody

There's people all around

But love, it's a private party

---

Your tongues crashed against each other, in a war of lust as your bodies melted together into the silky sheets. You had your fair share of wild makeouts and spontaneous happenings in the past, but nothing could even slightly compare to this. Each kiss lingered with the right timing, each time you pulled back for air your eyes met his, stirring up arousal in your core. He looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, here with you right now. The sounds of the party going on in the background faded away as nothing else in the world seemed to matter other than taking in every second with him.

With the way the night was escalating, it was no surprise the vibe between you and Akutagawa became more passionate and heated. His tender lips were so addicting, pulling you back in for more. You couldn’t get enough; it was everything you had ever wanted and more. Removing his hand from where it rested on the backside of your head, you pressed it up against your chest, inviting him to explore your body however he’d like.

With no explanation, he pulled his hand away from your body and retracted from the kiss. He gazed longingly into your eyes as a soft look came over his face, one you had only seen in your daydreams. “Are you okay with all of this?” He asked, cupping his hand around your cheek, “Is this what you want?” He rubbed his thumb gently up and down your cheek causing your heart to beat frantically in a rhythm that almost felt unhuman. Your response was a shy smile as you nodded approvingly. There was no doubt in your mind this was what you wanted. Sober or not, it was always him.

---

We don't know nobody

There's people all around

Oh, girl it's a private party, oh, no-no

We don't know nobody

There's people all around

But love, it's a private party

---

It wasn’t like you to make the first move, but in this altered state of mind you couldn’t help yourself. Starting at his neck you peppered kisses down his soft, pale skin, occasionally taking it between your teeth and gently nibbling on it. He breathed out lightly moaning with each kiss, his enjoyment of your touch was no secret. You made your way down to his length, stroking it a few times as you prepared your mouth to take it.

“Quit teasing me, (y/n). This molly is hitting so hard...” Akutagawa breathed as he entangled his fingers in your hair, pressing down on your head and filling your mouth with his cock. “I want you so badly.” His moans were angelic to say the least. You flattened your tongue against his shaft, taking him in and out of your mouth, trailing your tongue from the tip to the base. “Fuck.” His tightening grip on your hair was euphoric, proof that he was clearly being satisfied. You placed a hand on his cock, moving it in motion with your mouth to pleasure him further. A smirk formed on your face as he involuntarily bucked his hips into you; he was so riled up he couldn’t even control his body.

“I won’t let you cum just yet,” you laughed sweetly, after removing his length from your mouth. He smiled back at you, a hot mess, so worked up from your touch. He looked so helpless beneath you, entranced by your touch, unable to predict what your next move may be. Rather than let you continue to toy with him, he began to stroke his cock with one hand and pulled you up to his chest with his other hand.

“Don’t be such a brat.” He groaned as his lips met yours once again. With no hesitation, he flipped you onto your back, leaning above you and kissing down your neck purposely leaving hickeys as he went. It was your turn to unravel beneath him, craving his touch as he lived up to every expectation you had built in your fantasies. He stopped at your panties, licking your growing wetness on the fabric. A smirk grew on his face, as your desire for him was all too visible.

“I… want..” you moaned trying to hastily remove your panties. His hand quickly swatted yours away, as he took the fabric of your thong between his teeth and slid them off your silky legs.

“I know what you want.” He teased as he pressed his tongue to your clit, licking it in circular motions while aggressively grabbing your thighs. Clenching the sheets with your hands, you desperately tried to hold back your moans, but it was useless. He knew how to touch you in just the right way, forcing you to let out the sounds you were depriving him of. Sensing and hearing your pleasure, Akutagawa eagerly pushed two of his fingers inside of you, curling them and pumping them in and out of you roughly. As he continued to finger you, he pulled his face away from your core and looked you in the eyes before whispering: “You want… me.” You did and you were craving more. He was bringing you so close to the edge with just his fingers and mouth, you were desperate to find out how much better it would feel with his perfect cock buried deep inside of you.

“On your knees, now.” He commanded you sternly, withdrawing his fingers and leaving you aching to feel some part of him inside of you again. You complied with no hesitation, arching your back so he could hit the most sensitive parts of you with ease. “Good girl.” His praise alone stirred up even more fire inside of you. Akutagawa had no intentions of taking it easy on you tonight, whether this was because of the molly or if this was just how he was normally, you found it extremely attractive, craving him more by the second.

It was obvious he felt the same, as you kept wanting to take it further, consumed by the euphoria overwhelming your bodies and your mutual attraction to each other. As he positioned himself behind you, you inhaled deeply as you felt the tip of his cock press against your warm, dripping entrance. He let out a breathy groan as he bottomed out inside of you and dug his nails into your ass cheek, causing you to whine out his name. Holding back a chuckle, he leans against your body kissing your spine while he pounded his dick in and out of your tight, wet core.

“Gonna… Cum.” You whined between moans, as each perfectly paced thrust brought you closer to your impending climax. His rough hands smacked your ass in unison, a strike so powerfully painful yet enjoyable, you yelped in response. While continuing to fuck you, he moved his hands from your ass, bringing one to grip your throat and the other to pull your hair. Euphoria. Pure ecstasy. The drugs. The sex. The roughness. It was perfect. You were so overwhelmed by being fucked senseless while drowning in so many emotions. “Akutagawa!” You choked out, feeling your pussy tighten around his cock as waves of pleasure rippled through your body. It was the most intense orgasm of your life, unlike any you had ever experienced before.

“That’s so fucking hot,” Akutagawa moaned, not loosening his grip on your hair or throat, “But, I’m not done yet.” He rammed his cock into you, deeper and harder than he had at any point in the night, making the most of your pulsing core around his length. He continued to fuck you aggressively as you quivered from the continued stimulation, chasing the euphoria of his soon to be climax. Not long after, his thrusts became sloppier and slower in pace as he released inside of you, while letting out the softest, hottest moan you had ever heard.

---

Listen, talk about a long night trip, no-no-no

Don't ever wait

You kept traces of my bounds

Your friends are divided in my thoughts

We're tripping all around and though

---

As you began to sober up from the molly and pleasure that had guided your night, you laid breathlessly in Akutagawa’s arms. Questions, thoughts, feelings all flooded your body now that you had a moment to rest and process it all. From start to finish, you would have never guessed this was how your night was going to play out, lost in the fact that this was completely unlike anything you had ever experienced before. The silence of the room contrasting the dying down party in the background was comforting in a way you couldn’t explain. Tracing your fingertips around Akutagawa’s arms, he hummed happily as his lips pressed against your head.

“I’d like to see you again.” He breathed, catching you completely off guard.

“Then please do.” You responded effortlessly, thoughts of the possible future clouding your mind. Akutagawa pulled you closer into his body, giving you one last kiss before you both drifted into sleep.

#eri.writes #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa bsd #tw drug use #tw dubcon #bsd fanfic #Akutagawa fanfic

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openheart12 · 3 years

Text

A New Beginning

Summary: Tony and Michelle are once again thrown back into the chaos that is CTU. The same place that tore their family apart, is the same place where they get their second chance at a life.

WC: 4,441

Michelle never thought she would be standing in front of him in the same place that tore them apart, but here they were. She hadn’t seen him in six months and even though this is the hardest thing she’s had to endure, it was better this way.

Especially since he was the one who asked her to leave.

Her heart ached at the memory she tried to bury deep within her but it always found a way to bubble up to the surface.

They locked eyes and she noticed how much different he looked compared to six months ago, hope fluttered in her chest that maybe he finally cleaned himself up.

If not for her, then for Avery. She deserved to have her father in her life.

Michelle had found out she was pregnant just less than a year after they had gotten married. Both of them were beyond ecstatic although nervous.

Tony had ensured that Michelle stayed out of the field and he only went as a last resort. When they found out they were having a baby girl, a mini Michelle, Tony had been adamant on her name much to Michelle’s dismay.

But when Avery Michelle Almeida made her entrance into the world, during a national security crisis nonetheless, she was deemed perfect and healthy. At six pounds and seven ounces, and nineteen inches long, she already had her parents wrapped around her little finger.

Michelle recalled the moment, remembering how Chapelle was pissed that he had to come in as their replacements, but neither of them had cared in that moment. She remembered all the congratulations they received from their friends, how happy everyone was for them.

CTU had played a big part in the course of their relationship. It was where they met, where they shared their first kiss, where he actually ended up proposing, where they had to come in the middle of their honeymoon, and now the place where their baby was born.

And it was going to be the place where they reunited, unbeknownst to them.

Almost everyone knew of their history so they were inclined to see how the day would go. The people they worked with before knew about their daughter, but the newest employees had no idea. Most of them knew that this was the first time they’ve seen each other in a while since the divorce.

Almost all eyes were on them when she made her way through the bullpen and into the center next to Secretary Heller.

Secretary Heller asked Tony to bring her up to speed and he told her of the events at McLennan-Forrester and Jack and Paul. After he finished, he started to walk away as she called after him.

“Tony, I need the access codes for CTU and Division.”

He nodded and handed them to her, their fingers brushed against each other for a brief second. She thanked him and as she turned around to go, he asked her, “what do you want me to do?”

“Division’s sending over a supplemental list of terrorists who supposedly had contacts with Habib Marwan. Check any names that have been flagged by other agencies, including overseas.”

“Given what’s happening right now, it doesn’t seem like the best use of my time.”

“It has to be done and I’d like you to do it.” She started to walk away when he reached out and gently grabbed her arm.

“Michelle, Jack and Paul have information that could be vital to ending this crisis. I should be helping us find them, Michelle!”

“The last time I saw you, you couldn’t stay sober long enough to keep a job.”

“That was six months ago.”

“This is what I need you to do. If you don’t like it, you can resign.”

He let out a sigh, scratching the side of his cheek. “I’m gonna need a security clearance,” he relented.

“I’ll make sure you get a level three.”

“Level three?” He scoffed. “I used to have a six.”

“Right now, all you need is three,” she turned on her heel and walked into the situation room where a woman was sitting. She was looking through the files in front of her when the woman started speaking to her.

“Is there a problem with Agent Almeida?”

“Not at all.”

“It’s just that Secretary Heller is very sensitive to personal conflicts on the job. I know your history. I know that you guys were married and that he sacrificed his career to save your life, but if this is gonna be a problem-”

Who the hell was this woman, parading around like she knew anything about her and Tony’s relationship. “His being here will not affect my work. I won’t let it. Now, if Secretary Heller wants to speak to me about it, I’ll be more than glad to,” she said, signaling the end of this conversation.

With Sarah gone and Chloe back in play, the two of them found a way to put their personal problems aside and work as a team again. Michelle regretted not listening to Tony’s insight about Jack, knowing that he knew Jack and his tactics better than she did. But she couldn’t tell if she did it out of spite or not and that bothered her because she never let anything interfere with her work.

She tried apologizing, saying that she valued his input, which she did, but the damage had been done and the worst of it was yet to come.

Bill Buchanan strode through CTU and Michelle quickly introduced him to everyone else there. Her and Tony were standing close together talking after their failed attempt at capturing Marwan when Bill walked up next to them.

“Did you secure Marwan yet?”

“No, he must’ve slipped through the perimeter,” Michele explained.

“How the hell could you let that happen?” Bill accused, taking Michelle by surprise.

“It doesn't matter how it happened,” Tony defended. “What matters is that he’s gone and we’re doing everything we can to find him.” He and Michelle might not be together anymore, but he’d be damned if he let anyone talk to her like that, especially since it was a situation out of her control.

“What exactly are you doing to find him?” Bill asked, turning his attention to Michelle.

“We widened the perimeter, set up a search grid, state police and LAPD are conducting a sweep,” she answered as they were interrupted.

A few minutes later, Bill walked up to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Listen, um, I’m sorry if I snapped.”

“It’s okay, we’re all under a lot of pressure.”

“You holding up?” He asked softly.

“I’m fine,” she smiled, hoping to convince him and herself of that.

Michelle wasn’t aware that Tony had seen their interaction. Tony knew something had probably transpired between the two and wanted to know the extent of it so he made his way towards Chloe.

“How long has Buchanan been at Division?” He asked her.

“Well, it took awhile to fill Chapelle’s position… six months.”

That’s how long ago she left, he thought. That wasn’t fair and he knew it since he told her to leave. “Where was he before that?”

“Seattle, I think.”

“Seattle?”

“Yeah, that’s where Michelle was posted while you were in jail, right?” Chloe asked, piecing it together. She was one of the few who didn’t know what had happened between Michelle and Tony, it wasn’t her business so she stayed out of it.

“Yeah… thanks.”

Tony had debated on confronting her about it or not and his curiosity ended up getting the better of him. “Michelle,” he called to get her attention, “when were you planning on telling me?”

“About what?”

“About you and Buchanan.”

She immediately became defensive, already knowing she wasn’t going to like where this conversation was headed. “Never because it’s none of your business.”

“Michelle, before you worked with him at Division, you worked with him at Homeland Security restructuring, right?”

“Yeah.”

“We were still married then.”

“Legally… yes.”

“Did you sleep with him while we were married?”

She stared at him in disbelief. “No, I didn’t.”

“But you are now?”

“Like I said, it’s none of your business. You know, it’s not like I have time to do anything between work and raising my daughter,” she retorted.

That jab took him by surprise and he hung his head low and walked away. She felt guilty, but he accused her of cheating on him while they were still married. She couldn’t even look at another man, even now, she was still completely and utterly in love with Tony.

Hours had passed by since their encounter and he wanted to clear the air between them, the tension was at an all time high.

“Michelle,” he began, “I was out of line a couple hours ago about you and Bill. It’s your life and I’ve got no right to judge you.”

“I appreciate that,” she said sincerely.

“And whatever tension there is between us, I would like to apologize for my part in it. I’d like it if we could just let it go so we can do our jobs. Leave the past in the past,” he finished. “And if it would be okay with you, I’d like to be in Avery’s life and I know I don’t deserve it, but she’s all I have left,” he added, sadness lacing his words.

“That sounds good,” she lied with a smile. “I know Ave would love to see you. She misses her daddy.” I miss him too, she thought to herself. Not to mention that she wasn’t ready to let go of their past just yet, she may never be ready to.

“We can talk about it later,” he said before going back to work and she did the same thing.

Both of them seemed to be working together better after their conversation, just like they used to. They became one again, putting their time and effort into the crisis at hand.

“Anything new?”

“Yeah, White House just authorized adding Iowa army reserve units to the ground search.”

“Have they widened the perimeter?”

“Yeah, they locked down a 60-mile radius around the area where the warhead was stolen, but I’m concerned Marwan’s people might’ve managed to sneak it outside that perimeter.”

“Well, we closed all major roads and air traffic immediately, but there is a chance they got it through.”

“Homeland Security’s faxing over casualty projections based on that possibility,” he said just as the fax started to ring.

“That’s probably them right now.”

“Yeah, I’ll get it.”

Another phone started to ring and she answered it, “CTU.”

“I’m calling for Tony Almeida. Who’s this?”

“This is Michelle Dessler, a colleague of his. May I ask who’s calling?”

“The woman he happens to be living with. Is he there?”

She felt as if she had just gotten kicked in the stomach. “Yeah, hold on. It’s for you,” she said, handing him the phone.

“Who is it?”

“The woman you’re living with.” She answered, hurt was evident in her eyes.

“Jen,” he answered with a sigh.

“I’ve been calling everyone we know going crazy looking for you. Then finally I thought maybe Jack Bauer took you back there. God, do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I should’ve called earlier. I’ve been very busy.”

“Really busy with Michelle Dessler?”

“I’m working, Jen.”

“Oh, for CTU?”

“On a provisional basis, yeah.”

“I thought you hated that place.”

“Things have changed a little.”

“Yeah, I guess they have.”

“Look, Jen, we can talk about this later. Right now, I gotta go. All right?”

“Tony, what’s your ex-wife doing there?”

“Jen, I’m sorry, but I gotta go,” he said before hanging up. He rubbed his face, knowing how big of a jackass he had been earlier. “Michelle, um, I’m sorry you had to find out like that.”

“It’s really none of my business.”

“Yeah, it is,” he countered. She started to walk away and he followed after her. “I should’ve told you I was living with someone else.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now.”

“Yeah, well, I do. Listen to me,” he gently grabbed her arm, turned her around, and backed her into the wall. “When you left, everything fell apart. Jen happened to be there for me.”

“You don’t have to make excuses for your relationship.”

“I’m not making excuses. I’m just telling you how it is.”

“Do you love her?” She asked, afraid of his answer.

He didn’t hesitate before answering. “No.”

“Ms. Dessler, the new protocols from DOD just came in. Should I send them to your screen?” Edgar told him, quite aware that he was interrupting something.

“Send them to station sixteen,” she answered and with one last look at him, she walked past him.

She didn’t know how much time had passed since Jen called and she hadn’t talked to Tony since and truth be told, she had been avoiding him to try to sort out her feelings.

Her phone started to ring and she answered automatically, “Dessler?”

“Hey, Michelle, it’s Allison.”

Allison was Avery’s babysitter and panic immediately started to set in after seeing what time it was. “Is Avery okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. She just misses you and wants to talk to you. I tried to tell her you were at work, but you know how stubborn she is.”

Michelle smiled for the first real time today, leave it to her daughter to be the reason. “Let me talk to her, I have a few minutes.”

“Momma?” She heard her daughter's tinge voice say.

“Hey, sweetheart. What are you still doing up?”

“I miss you a bunch. When are you coming home?”

“Not for another couple hours, but what if I told you I have a surprise for you when I get home?”

“Ooohhh, what is it?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?” She laughed at her excitement. “But you have to go to sleep to get it.”

“Okay, okay. I love you, momma.”

“I love you too, baby. I’ll see you soon.” She reluctantly hung up. She swore she had to have the easiest five year old who actually listened to her.

“Everything okay?” She turned around to see Tony’s worried expression.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. That was Avery.”

“Is she okay?” He asked as worry started to set in.

“Yeah, she just wanted to talk.”

“Leave it to our kid to be awake way past her bedtime,” he joked.

“I wonder who she gets that from,” she teased back with an easy smile.

“Hey, my sleeping habits have gotten a lot better,” he defended himself with a laugh. “At least I don’t take up half of the bed when I sleep.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, Almeida,” she shot back. They were treading into dangerous territory by bringing up the past but before either of them could say anything, Michelle was called away and she gave him an apologetic smile.

After the news of the attack on the Chinese Consulate circulated through CTU, it only made finding the warhead a bigger priority and it didn’t help that Cheng Zhi demanded to come to CTU to get some answers.

Michelle was just getting off the phone when Tony walked into her office. “This situation with the Consulate is dragging us down. We shouldn’t be diverting resources away from finding that warhead.”

She was amazed at how they were thinking the same thing. “Well, hopefully this is just a formality and we can get rid of him quickly. If we don’t get information from Lee, Audrey’s husband would’ve died for nothing,” she said, leaning against her desk.

“What is she still doing here?” Tony asked, staring down at her through the glass panel.

“I think she wants to stay busy so she doesn’t have to think about it,” she answered softly. She was familiar with the concept herself.

“It’s funny, when I met Audrey this afternoon, it seemed she and Jack were totally together… a few hours later and everything has changed.” Just like it had with them. He turned to look at her before speaking again. “Michelle, I hate being without you,” he said softly.

“I never wanted it to be this way,” she answered honestly. “And Avery… she deserves to have her dad around.”

The phone rang telling them that Chang had arrived and just like that, they were back in work mode.

Later, they were up in her office once again. “Tactical is at Richard’s house, they’re going through his things right now.”

“What about Jack?” Tony asked.

“Jack and Curtis are on their way back right now.”

“Someone has to tell Audrey that Jack is going to be interrogating her brother.”

“Audrey’s not going to want Jack near her brother,” Tony pointed out.

“Can’t be helped… I mean if Richard knows something about that missile…” she trailed off.

“It’s funny, this morning Jack and Audrey were planning their future, now he’s responsible for her husband's death and he may have to torture her brother.”

“Yet, every move he’s made has been the right one.” She went over and sat down on the couch.

“Not if he wanted to be with her.” He took a seat beside her. “Look, Michelle, everything that’s happened today, it’s been hard going through it with you again.”

“It’s been hard for me too.”

“I look at what this job does to people in our positions and I realize,” he met her eyes, “I want us to be together again, but it’s gotta be away from all this. We shouldn’t have to put our country over our family.”

Getting back together didn’t come as a surprise to her, she had been expecting it, but leaving the job completely took her off guard.

“You want us to leave our jobs?” He nodded. “We’ve spent the last twelve years of our lives doing this. Where would we go? What would we do?”

“I don’t care… Look, people start over every day if it’s important to them and you are important to me and so is Avery. I want my family back, Michelle.”

“You’re asking me to leave the only thing I’ve ever done?”

“Yes, I am,” he answered. She turned her head away from him, her thoughts scrambling all over the place.

He went to walk out her door when she stopped him. “Why did you want me to leave?”

“I thought it was for the best and plus, Ave didn’t need to see me like that. I wasn’t the husband or father that I needed to be and I was humiliated and ashamed of myself. I thought I was helping you and that you would eventually figure out that you deserved so much more than I could offer you. Prison was the worst time of my life and I just, I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me like I was of myself.”

“Do you ever regret it,” she asked hesitantly. “Saving me, I mean.”

“Michelle, I never once regretted my decision to save you. If I had to, I would do it again because I love you. If it hadn’t been for you, I never would’ve had the best three years of my life. Our girl wouldn’t be here either if it wasn’t for you. The only thing I regret is telling you to leave, thinking that it would help both of us when it only made things worse.”

“But look where we are now because of me.”

“Exactly, Michelle, Avery has both of her parents. I’m willing to fix us, if you are. I love you more than my life itself and I love our little girl. Nothing is ever going to change that fact. This job isn’t worth it anymore, it’s not more important than you or Avery.”

“Okay,” she smiled, tears in her eyes.

“Okay?” He mirrored her smile.

“I’m ready to leave here. I’m ready to go with you.”

He swiftly walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Are you sure? Because I’m not letting go of you again.”

“I can’t spend another day without you,” she confirmed and that was all he needed to seal his lips over hers. It had been six months since he saw her, six months since he last touched her and even longer since he last kissed her. The kiss spoke more than words could ever say.

After a minute, he pulled back, both of them breathless with huge grins on their faces. Stupid love drunk grins.

“I love you from now until forever,” he told her.

“I will love you always,” she choked out. He knew repeating part of their vows would make her emotional, but he wanted her to know that he was serious about trying again.

This is forever.

“Come on, let’s get back to work so we can go home.”

Home. It sounded too good to be true, but nonetheless, she was ready to start fresh. A new beginning was exactly what they needed.

Hours passed by, Marwan was dead, the missile had been destroyed, and they had just helped Jack fake his death with the help of Chloe and President Palmer.

Dropping Jack off for the last time was hard for both of them, but Michelle could see the toll it took on Tony. They were friends for years and had come to trust each other like brothers.

She covered his hand with hers and he intertwined their fingers together.

“Let’s go home.”

“Let’s go home,” she repeated with a smile. She gave him the directions to her apartment and they arrived twenty minutes later. Looking over at him, she could tell he was nervous. “Come on,” she nudged him slightly.

The afternoon sun bathed the building in a golden glow with white clouds drifting lazily in the breeze. It was a beautiful day in California.

They got out of the SUV and Michelle led him up the stairs to her front door. “It’ll be okay,” she reassured him.

The keys turned the lock, a soft click was heard before she opened the door. A woman who Tony didn’t recognize was seated in the kitchen.

She nodded in acknowledgment before turning her attention to Michelle.

“Avery’s in her room playing and we did all of her homework, she hasn’t eaten lunch yet because she wanted to wait to eat with you,” she laughed softly. “Are you going to need me tomorrow?” She asked, looking between her and Tony.

“Probably not, but I’ll give you a call if that changes. We’re supposed to have a couple days off,” Michelle explained. “Thank you, Allison.” They bid their goodbyes and Tony wandered over to the living room, where the pictures of Avery caught his eye.

“I can’t believe I let things get this bad,” he said, choking back tears.

“Oh, Tony.” Michelle strided over towards him, wrapping her arms around him as he clung to her.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating.

“Shh,” she soothed him gently, rubbing small circles across his back.

“Momma?” A tiny voice asked and she felt Tony tense in her arms.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she greeted, turning around to face her daughter. Her little eyes were trained on the person behind her who was now trying to stifle his sobs.

“Daddy’s home?” She asked, a hint of hope in her voice.

“Daddy’s home,” Michelle smiled as her eyes filled with tears.

Avery tentatively walked up behind him and placed her arms around his legs. Tony stood there for a few seconds, soaking in the feeling of being home before squatting down to her level.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he greeted with a smile, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“I missed you,” she cried out, throwing her small arms around his neck.

“I missed you so much.” He told her.

Michelle watched the two of them, her heart swelling with joy. Her family was together again, her perfect little family.

“Can we watch The Little Mermaid?” She asked after a few minutes, making her parents laugh.

“I see not that much has changed,” he teased, referencing Avery’s favorite movie since she was a year old. Avery led Tony over to the couch where they plopped down on it together, her talking animatedly about anything and everything that came to her mind and Tony listened intently.

These were the moments she missed the most, just the three of them together. She watched them for a few more minutes until she headed towards the kitchen to make some popcorn.

She didn’t even know Tony was in there until she felt his arms wrap around her and his chin resting on her shoulder. “Are you already tired of me? It’s only been a day, Michelle.”

“What?”

“You’re making popcorn… ya know, it requires using the microwave, right? Are you trying to kill me already?” He teased her.

“I think I can handle a microwave.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I recall a time where you almost set our house on fire when you heated up that Chinese food without taking it out the box.”

“Shut up!” She laughed, turning around in his arms. “I’ve gotten better since then because-” she stopped, her smile faltering. She learned how to cook, to the best of her ability, after leaving Tony so that her and Avery wouldn’t have to survive off of takeout for three meals a day.

“I know,” was all he said.

“We have to be able to talk about it instead of just pushing it aside. Not like what we did last time.”

“And we will, but now, we have a movie to watch. We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise.”

“Okay,” she relented with an easy smile, her cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling she had done within the past couple of hours.

They heard Avery come back to the living room, calling for Tony and the two of them together grabbed the popcorn and snacks and sat down on the couch with Avery between them. She was dressed in her The Little Mermaid pajamas to match the movie.

As the movie started, Michelle stole one last glance at them and smiled yet again. This is what their life was going to start looking like from now on once they left CTU, the place where this all became possible, but the same place that could take it all away in a split second.

This was their second chance, their new beginning, and she wasn’t going to waste it.

#tony x michelle #tony almeida #24 fanfiction #24 the show #24 #tony almeida x michelle dessler #michelle dessler

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