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earthfire-75 · 3 years

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You Send Me Flying

Chapter Seven:

(Author’s notes: co-written with @nature-and-music, beta’d by @lady-jane-revisited. Based on The Dirt movie as I don’t yet own the book. Warnings: language and smut)

We headed down stairs and piled into her car, her driving and myself in the passenger seat with the other guys in the back. My fingers were itching to reach out for her, but I fought off the urge. No reason to give those idiots any more fuel. When we pulled into the place, I prepared myself for their antics, because where of all places does she take us? A sex shop.

They’re whooping and laughing in the back seat when they realize it and even she giggles a bit. “Alright, get it all out now. I expect you to act like adults when we get in there. Got it?” She was trying to be stern, but her unsuccessfully-stifled giggles weren’t helping. It was infectious and I cracked a smile as well.

“Good luck with that,” I commented as I got out of the car.

We went inside and she got the clerk to help us with the boots while she looked out for a few other things to pull the costumes together. It went surprisingly smoothly and we met her at the checkout where she pays for it all. I let the other guys go ahead of me, but I pulled her off to the side.

“Have you been paying for all this?”

“Yeah. I mean, Nikki put me in charge of costuming.”

I must have looked as furious as I felt, because she was suddenly standing up straighter and placed her hands on my cheeks with concern on her face. “Mick, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“You’ve been paying for everything out of your own pocket! I’m guessing without help?!”

“Wait…No. Mick, look at me. Nikki and I pooled some of our savings together. Tommy and Vince threw in some too and we opened a bank account for the band. We didn’t ask you, because you’re paying child support.”

My eyes shot to hers for a second before looking away again. I quietly replied, “They weren’t supposed to tell you about that.”

“Yeah, well they were supposed to tell you about the account. What are we going to do with our children, dad?”

Something stirred in me, hearing her call me that. It surprised me that I would react like that, but I pulled her flush against me, letting her feel how hard I was getting. “Screw the kids, say that again.”

“What? Dad?” She asks, sounding confused at first, but then her eyes lit up as the dots connected in her mind and she leaned her head a little to the side so her lips just grazed my ear. “Or would you prefer “Daddy?” She pulled back, looking up at me with innocent eyes and started to back away.

A low growl escaped me at the game she was playing and I managed to hook my fingers through her belt loops before she could turn around to escape. “Oh, no you don’t, Princess.” I tugged her back to me and she gasped when our hips met but there’s a loud honk from her car before I got the chance to kiss her. The trio of idiots were staring straight through the shop’s glass windows from outside at us.

“Get a room!” came their collective cheer.

“I’m gonna kill them.”

“No, you’re not.”

I grumbled under my breath and she shot me a look that told me it would be better for me if I didn’t. “Fine. I won’t.”

She put the bags in the trunk and we headed back to the apartment. The guys and I practiced some more while she locked herself in her unit again to tirelessly work on putting the costumes together. She came back up a little after lunch with her arms full of red and black pleather, one of the boot boxes and a small sewing kit. She handed the pleather material and boots to Nikki before shooing him off to go try it on.

***

Reader’s POV

Nikki took the pile from my arms so I could take the sewing kit. His face lit up, like a kid being given his first present on Christmas, and he ran off to his bedroom. I paced around the front room of the apartment waiting for the bassist to come out. I almost sighed in relief when he finally did with a serious look on his face.

“How does it fit?” I asked, sounding as nervous as I felt.

“Like a fuckin’ glove, man! This is awesome!” He enthused, now cracking a smile and turning for all to see the outfit, front and back before coming up to me and giving me a bear hug.

I laughed and returned the hug. “Are you sure it fits ok?

“Yes, stop worrying! I promise I love it!”

“Ok…if you’re sure. Do you want to keep it here, or do you want me to hold onto it?”

“It’s probably better if you hang on to the costumes. They might get ruined here.”

“Alright. Go change back.”

“Am I next, dude?” Tommy asked, practically bouncing on his feet.

“No. Yours is last because it’s the easiest.”

“Aww, man! Wait, shouldn’t Mick’s be the easiest? His is all black, dude!”

“It might be all black, but I had to sew a damn jacket! Sounds easy, right? It’s not.”

“Oh…damn, dude.”

I turned to the singer, “Vince you’re up.”

The man jumped up from his seat and happily grabbed the outfit, giving it a look-over before trying it on “Sweet!” He comes out looking just as excited as his fellow bassist, “This is so awesome! Check me out, man.”

“And it feels alright? It’s not too tight or too loose or anything?”

Vince was a little busy running his hands over the material at first, but then answered me nonetheless, “You kidding? It fits great. We’re gonna be so badass! The chicks are gonna love it!”

The rest of the gang could agree on that matter, giving each other high fives. I smiled and let him know that I could hold on to it all for them. I gulped as I gathered the next outfit for Mick, clearly seeing the rest of the guys lurking over him like a group of vultures. The guitarist kept his cool and said nothing, aside from a slight grunt as he got up from the couch. He gave me a quiet expression of thanks and headed over the bedroom once Vince returned with his clothing and placed it on the table. Some minutes passed while he was changing and though so far there were no complaints, l still wondered if he was alright, or if he needed any assistance. After seeing him in pain like that, I was getting a little worried.

“Hey I need a little help here,” Mick notified.

I made my way towards the room, ignoring Tommy’s repeated attempt to get under my skin by commenting not to take too long. I knocked on the door, “Mick, are you decent?”

“Yeah, come in, just shut the door.”

The man was nowhere to be found after I closed the door and looked around. However my heart started to slam against my ribcage when he stepped out of the bathroom wearing his full ensemble, a big smirk across his face. The black on black look was absolutely perfect on him. The pentagram headband, the studded boots with the intertwining chains, the belts across his chest, the pleather, and the collar. Jesus Christ. The pleather and collar were too much for me. Minus the make up, he was so close to looking the way he did in my dream, the sinister and demonic creature that put me over the makeup table and took me for a ride. I wanted him, no I wanted nothing more than to let him have me anywhere]: pressed against the wall, letting him roughly pull down my pants so that I could spread my legs and he could taste me. Then grab me by shoulders, hurl me onto the bed, and beg for him to fuck me until I couldn’t walk. Still, the costume would get ruined and of course we would never hear the end of it from the idiot patrol.

“This is really cool, you really outdid yourself with this,” he remarked, walking closer to me.

It finally hit me, “You didn’t really need any help did you?” I asked, closing in the gap by hooking my finger in the ring of his collar, biting my lip as I stared deeply into those sparkling blue eyes. That must have done something to him, his breathing becoming a little shaken, and his eyes widening when I whispered to him, “Daddy...”

His pupils were suddenly dilated, blackness engulfing the pale irises. The next thing I knew, Mick held me very close to his body, his hands grasping my back. I tried to keep my sighs quiet as he kissed my lips, however I couldn’t help but let a squeal slip out when he deliciously devoured my neck with his mouth. The heat from our bodies only increased when he pressed me against a wall, his kisses becoming hungrier by the second as my own hands tugged at his raven black locks.

“Mick, oh Mick...” I whispered.

However reality had reared its ugly head back into the frame when we heard banging from the other side, “Hey! Quit fucking around you two!” Tommy wailed. “Come on, that’s our room!”

Mick shouted back, “Fuck you, you fucking teenager! Open those legs, Princess. Daddy needs you-”

“No, no Mick. Please not now, it’s not a good time. Not with those three right outside the door.”

He was clearly frustrated but took his hands off of me, groaning ast he backed off. Still, I wanted him just as badly, so I thought of a different alternative as I clicked the door shut, lifted up my shirt, and pulled down my bra, “Mark me then, please Daddy.”

Without hesitation, Mick immediately held my breasts and pressed his lips to my skin. He was gentle at first, looking at me to see if I was enjoying the feeling of his mouth. I could feel the pulsations between my legs increasing as I whispered his name. I gasped when he took a nipple and suckled on it with ease, but I needed more from him. No sooner did I settle my hand onto the back of his head that he increased the speed of his sucking. His lips were wet, creating a very moistened sound that invaded my ears. He switched over to the other side and did the same, biting down a bit and moving his head back until my sensitive bud was released from his ivories. The sounds of Tommy’s knocking had completely drowned out as he pleasured me with his mouth and I moaned loudly. I couldn’t stop watching the way he pleased me, feeling my panties getting soaked, especially when I saw the fresh blemishes and crescent marks that were upon my chest. I was nearly there and so was he, yet he had to stop for both our sakes.

He gave each breast one gentle kiss and one little lick to my nipples, he leaned into my ear and growled, “You took that like a good girl, Princess. But Daddy doesn’t want to ruin all your hard work.”

I was in a trance as I responded back instinctively, “Thank you Daddy.”

@nature-and-music @lady-jane-revisited @mickmarstookmyheart @sophiazeppelinchick

#mick mars x reader #mick mars smut #mick mars fanfiction #mick mars fanfic #motely crue #motley crue fanfiction

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years

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Ateez: They Think You Forgot Their Birthday

Kim Hongjoong:

As his big day was fast approaching, Hongjoong couldn't help but think about how you were going to surprise him this year. For weeks, he had been dropping subtle and not so subtle hints about what he wanted. But it seemed to always fall on deaf ears, almost like you had no idea what he was referring to, or changing the topic completely. When the day arrived, there was no happy birthday text, no note on his dresser, nothing to indicate that you wanted him somewhere.

Genuinely upset, he went straight to the studio, hoping to release his sadness through music. Upon arriving though, there was a yellow box with a red ribbon sitting on the couch. He inspected it closely and with curiosity, he opened it up. His eyes widened as he saw a brand new laptop and other components he needed to better his producing skills.

"You didn't think I'd actually forget right?"

Your voice startled him, but he quickly composed himself and pulled you into a hug.

"Oh my God baby! Thank you so much! It was exactly what I needed!" He began peppering kisses all over your face, super elated with the fact you do care about him and pay attention to him.

"I know. You aren't very subtle." You chuckled at him.

"So is this all?" Hongjoong asked.

You shook your head. "Just part of it. I wanted to take you out to brunch for a while, just until the guys give me the signal to bring you to your surprise party."

"It's not a surprise if you just told me." He pointed out.

"Well pretend to be surprised when we get there. We can't have you having a heart attack like last year."

You both started laughing at the memory of last year's fiasco before linking hands together, walking to your favorite restaurant.

Park Seonghwa:

You usually had a tendency to ask him weeks before his birthday if there was anything in particular he wanted or needed. But this year, you didn't. Although he found it odd, he didn't think too much of it. You probably were planning something elaborate and didn't want to spoil anything. It only made him more excited, often thinking about what you were planning.

But the day came, and when he called you, you didn't pick up. When he texted you, you gave a vague reply that you'd be busy for the entire day. His heart sank. How could you forget about his birthday? He spent more time in bed than he usually did, sighing loudly. When he finally got himself up, it was well past 11 a.m. His day got worse when he looked at the mess left by the 99 liners antics last night.

"Happy birthday to me." He said sarcastically to himself as he went to start cleaning up.

Before he could even get his roller, he was stopped by screeches.

"Hyung! What are you doing? You're the birthday boy!" Jongho took the roller away.

"You're not lifting a finger today. We'll clean up here. You already have plans." San chipped in as he started picking things up.

"I do?" Seonghwa asked, utterly confused.

"You do birthday boy." You said, walking in with a couple bags and set them on the table.

"Y/N.... I.." He couldn't get the words out.

"I know. You thought I forgot. Sorry. I just really wanted to surprise you." You explained.

You wrapped your arms around him, giving him a light peck on his lips.

He smiled, happy to know you didn't forget about him. And couldn't wait to see what you had in store.

Jeong Yunho:

He was always like a kid on Christmas, pestering you about what you were gonna get him, or if you were planning a party for him. He just couldn't contain his excitement. He toned it down after you dumped a bucket of cold water on him a few days before his birthday.

"Gift? Why would I get you a gift?" You asked him very seriously.

He was completely taken aback by your answer.

"Y-you know why .... don't you?" The worry could be heard by his tone.

"No I don't. Care to enlighten me?"

But he simply laughed nervously, telling you not to worry about it, that he was just playing with you. He was hurt though. For the next days, he moped around like a lost puppy, wondering how could you actually forget. He tried to not stay upset with you. You had been working a lot more these days, no doubt you were stressed and just forgot. It wasn't your fault. Still......

When the day came, his members gave him a jolly wake up, which did cheer him up a little, but you weren't there, so he was still sad. Throughout breakfast, even Seonghwa and Hongjoong looked agitated, glancing back and forth at their phones like they're waiting for something. That something did come, in the form of you bursting into the dorms.

"Sorry I'm late! There was something keeping me but I'm here!" You sounded out of breath.

"About damn time! He was about to cry." Hongjoong said.

You walked over to Yunho, cupping his cheeks in your hands.

"Did you think I forgot?" You asked him, to which he nodded, a sad pout on his lips.

Kissing his forehead, you smiled. "Never. I could never forget about my cutie pie."

A series of gags and cringing ensued from the rest of the boys.

"So what did keep you anyway?" Yunho asked, hoping it was his present.

An excited smile formed on your face, before you went back to the hallway, disappearing then reappearing with a box. You carefully set it down and opened it, revealing a fluffy and adorable puppy, much to Yunho's happiness and Seonghwa's horror.

"Oh my God! It's so cute! I love it! We're officially parents!" He ran to pick the pooch up and give you a loving kiss.

"I swear to God, I'm not cleaning up after it." Seonghwa warned.

Kang Yeosang:

He tried to pretend like he wasn't looking forward to your gift for his birthday, but the truth was he was super excited. He just liked to play it cool. However, you had been a little distant lately, working extra hours at work, hardly even having time to talk to him. Heck, sometimes you barely replied to his messages. He felt neglected and upset.

"Fine. I see how it is."

He then started giving you the cold shoulder as well, the silent treatment. Call him petty, but it wasn't fair that you're being like this on the week of his birthday, when it's supposed to be a happy occasion. Sometimes he even snapped at the members for little things, even though they weren't the problem.

When the day finally arrived, he was grumpy as hell. He refused anything the others offered him and was overall very moody. When you arrived, he didn't even look at you, refusing to acknowledge you like you did him.

"Ok, what's going on. It's your birthday, why are you like this?" You finally asked.

Sighing, he finally poured what was in his heart. He felt neglected, like you didn't care, like you forgot about his special day on purpose. You calmly listened to him before sitting next to him.

"I'm sorry you felt that way. It really wasn't like that. I was working extra hours because I got you this."

You pulled up the bag you were carrying and handed it to him. He grudgingly opened it and gasped when he realized it was the new drone model he had been eyeing for a while.

"Y-you got this. ...f-for me?" He couldn't believe it.

"Duh. You're an expensive person to shop for." You rolled your eyes.

He suddenly felt guilty. Putting the drone down, he hugged you tightly, whispering an apology for being an asshole to you. You told him it was ok and then ordered him to change out of his pajamas.

"Why?" Yeosang asked.

"We're going to get you your favorite fried chicken. " You answered.

"Assa! This day just got even better!"

Choi San:

San had a tendency of always finding out when you were planning a surprise for him. Whether it'd be that he accidentally overheard you, one of the boys accidentally said something, or he went out of his way to figure it out himself, he always knew. Therefore, you were extra cautious this year, you definitely wanted to surprise him. Even if that meant feigning ignorance that his birthday was coming up.

So whenever he subtly mentioned anything about it, you quickly shrugged it off, changing the topic. You even made the other boys swear themselves to secrecy and also pretend like they didn't know what you were planning. At that point, San became a sulky baby. How on earth could his s/o forget an important day?

When the day arrived, he was anything but happy. Not only did you not spend the night before, but there was no reply to his 'good morning' text. To top it off, the boys told him they got called into the company. He was on the verge of crying. This day could not get worse.

And it didn't. As soon as he stepped foot into the practice room, balloons and confetti were being thrown by you and the KQ staff. For the first time, San was genuinely surprised by the party.

"Happy birthday baby." You greeted him with a hug and kiss.

He actually teared up, explaining how he thought you forgot about him. You shook your head, explaining why you did what you did, and he completely understood.

"I promise I won't ever pull something like that again." You held up your pinkie, which he connected with his own.

"And I promise I won't be nosy next year." San promised.

"Good. Do you know how hard it is to keep a secret?" Wooyoung exclaimed, causing everyone to laugh.

Song Mingi:

It was extremely hard to keep Mingi's surprise hidden. He was clingy, not in a bad way, and loved to spend any free time he had with you. So keeping it a secret from him was extremely hard. That's where Yeosang came in. He hardly spoke at all, so he was the perfect one to help you with this sort of thing. Of course, that involved a lot of meetings and encrypted messages between you two.

Mingi noticed both of your odd behaviors and it kinda worried him. Then you seemed to have forgotten about his coming birthday and that's when he started panicking. You and Yeosang are hanging around each other a lot and you completely forgot about his birthday? That could only mean one thing: you two were probably meeting up behind his back. It honestly hurt him to think that.

The thoughts constantly bothered him, that even he forgot about his birthday and on the actual day, he secretly followed you to some fancy restaurant. No one was there except you.... and Yeosang! He fumed at seeing you two together, marching right up to you two, demanding to know what was going on. You and Yeosang just looked at each other.

"You tell him. This was your idea in the first place." Yeosang said.

"It takes two to tango buddy! You're not exactly innocent either! What kind of a friend are you, taking away my girl/boyfriend?!" Mingi was ready to throw hands.

That's when you and Yeosang asked him what the hell he was talking about. When you heard his suspicions, both of you couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"Honey, don't you remember what day it is?" You simply asked.

Mingi realized it was his birthday and he was able to put 2 and 2 together and realized, you guys were just planning a surprise for him. He felt really stupid for assuming such things, but you told him it was fine and decided to call the other boys over.

"It didn't go exactly as planned, but I hope you like it."

Mingi hugged you with a smile. "Trust me, I know I'll love it."

Jung Wooyoung:

Wooyoung always got excited when the month of his birthday came around. Cause you were always planning something that topped the last one. He often wondered if you would ever run out of ideas. You've done practically everything, how were you going to surprise him this year?

He was definitely surprised when you seemed to have no clue about why he'd be so happy about this month.

"I mean what's so great about it? It's cold and muddy, and it has been raining so much lately. It's gross." You told him one day.

Wooyoung just stayed quiet for once. He seriously couldn't believe you forgot what was coming up very soon. He pretended like he was fine though. He was not going to get upset over the fact you may have forgotten, but in reality, he was very sad. This may turn out to be the saddest birthday he'd ever have, because his s/o didn't remember the most basic thing about him.

However, the day came and he was shocked to see the huge party you organized for him. He was left speechless for the 2nd time in a week. But he was happy to know you didn't actually forget. You were just being extra secretive this time.

"Did you really believe I forgot?" You teased, knowing fully well that he was upset.

Wooyoung only scoffed and tried to play it off. "Pfft. No. What makes you think that?"

"You're a bad liar Jung Wooyoung." You poked his nose in a teasing manner.

"Come on! I'm the birthday boy! Can you tone down the teasing?" He pouted.

You kissed his cheek. "Fine, only cause I love you."

"But probably not as much as I love you." He winked.

Choi Jongho:

Honestly, Jongho never really needed an elaborate gift or party for his birthday. Just getting the day off and spending time with you uninterrupted was all he could ask for. So both of you often took the day off from your respective work places, giving a notice ahead of time to make sure they'd give it to you.

He was confused when you told him though that you'd be flying out that exact day on a business trip. When he asked you why did you agree, you responded that since you had nothing to do on that day, you of course had to go. He was shocked at your words. Did you really forget and you won't be here with him? He didn't say anything though, just wishing you good luck and that you'd stay safe on your trip.

He woke up feeling miserable. He wasn't going to be able to spend the day with you and that made him sad. He didn't want to even get out of bed. But soon, his Hyungs pulled him out, packing his belongings and making him look presentable. He asked them why they'd do this.

"You need to meet Y/N at the airport." Mingi answered.

"They left yesterday." Jongho refuted his statement.

"Nope. You're wrong. They're waiting for you so you two can fly out on a birthday vacation for you for a week." Mingi explained .

Jongho's eyes nearly burst out of their sockets when he heard that information.

"You didn't seriously think they forgot?" Mingi chuckled.

Jongho covered his embarrassed face. Of course you couldn't forget. He quickly got ready, wanting nothing more than to see you soon.

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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innocent-chris-evans-slut · 4 years

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Sinful Fuck

My Masterlist ✨

Requests are open.

Word Count: 2,4k

Type: smut

Summary: you and Ransom have a son. One evening they’re both hungry -of different things-; how can you feed both at the same time?

Warning(s): NFSW, +18, swearing, unprotected sex, hair pulling, spanking

You were reading a book, finally enjoying a couple of hours of peace, when you heard a loud and desperate cry coming for upstairs. You panted and ran in your son’s bedroom, picking him up from his crib and bringing him close to your chest.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you ask him, even if you know he isn’t able of doing it yet, “What do you want?” you saw his tiny hands aiming at your breasts and you immediately got why he had gotten up.

You smiled and hold him closer while you climbed downstairs, you dragged his stroller next to the couch, where you sat down and uncovered your left breast, letting your baby boy taking your left nipple between his lips and sucking it, “Calm down, mini Ransom”, you called him like that only when he behaved like his father and, at that moment, he was acting possessive and craving just like his father.

Sometimes you wondered how you managed to marry Ransom Drysdale. When you had met him, he was the asshole Ransom Drysdale everyone knew, but as time went by, he had become a better version of himself and you couldn’t help but fall in love with him every day more. He had proposed at Christmas two years before and in a matter of months you were wearing a wedding band next to your engagement diamond. Then you got pregnant and there you were, taking care of your son while Ransom was running the best-to-be company in Massachusetts.

You rubbed your thumb on his little forehead while you saw him becoming red as he sucked harder on your nipple. You flinched when he pressed his gums together in order to get more milk from you. You adjusted the position of your breast and gave it back to him.

“I’m home!”

You heard Ransom roughly closing the front door and his heavy steps coming closer to the two of you. When he showed himself to you, his eyebrows were furrowed, his lips tightened in a line and his jaw clenched, “Honey, are you alright?”

“Clearly, I’m not!” he sat down on the armchair in front of you and took his boots off, “I had a terrible day at work. all the people I work with are stupid idiots!”

“Hey, can you keep it low? I’m trying to put him to sleep”, you slowly removed your nipple from his lips and, with the help of your other arm, you re-dressed, “Also, can you go to the grocery store? I need-“

“Seriously? I’m telling you that I’ve had a shitty day at work and what do you do? You tell me to do shopping?” Ransom threw his phone on the coffee table standing in-between the two of you, before your husband moved it away.

“Hon, what are you doing?”

He tossed his sweater to the floor and brought your legs up on the couch, “I’m fucking you”, he replied calmly. The short and large dress you were wearing helped him reaching for his target: your pussy. He undressed you from your panties and threw them behind your back -most probably in the kitchen.

“Wait- Are you fucking me with Jay in my arms? That’s-“ you stopped, you didn’t have a word to describe what he was thinking of doing, “That’s sinful”, you managed to say, firmly holding your little boy in your arms.

“That’s sinful, right. But you weren’t complaining when I was fucking you with your wedding dress on, with all our guests waiting for us. Or the thousands of times you would suck my dick ‘cause you were willing to during your pregnancy”, while talking he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, “I’ll tell you what’s really sinful from you: you enjoying me covering your round belly in cum when you were pregnant”, he got rid of his trousers, standing in front of you with only his underwear on. Through the thin fabric of his boxers, you could state how hard he already was and, for the hundreds of times you had seen it, you could picture the reddish tip of him, begging for some attention from you, “Now, tell me, how do you think we’ve conceived this little man? Praying? Oh, you’ve been on your knees, but for sure you weren’t begging God-“

You stopped him here. All the dirty talk he was doing made you very needy -not that it was a problem standing in the same room of Ransom- and your clit was throbbing, though your husband hadn’t still touched you, “If he cries, you stop”.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You made more room for him, spreading your legs even more open and you saw him lowering a bit before lining up with your entrance. Ransom rubbed the tip of his length between your folds, testing your wetness, and then started playing with his fingers, “R-ransom-“ your moaned, desperately trying not to cry out -as you were usual doing.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he had that smirk on his face, the one you hated in the bedroom, “What’s wrong?”

You knew what he wanted and how he wanted it. You closed your eyes and threw your head back; you tightened your grip around James’ little body with one hand while the other one went to Ransom’s bicep.

He kept teasing you, by gently caressing and then stinging your folds. Ransom knew you were about to cry out when he saw you holding back a scream, “What’s wrong sweetheart?”

You breathed in and out slowly, “Hugh Ransom Drysdale if you don’t put your cock inside me and start fucking me, you’ll sleep on the couch for a week. At least”, you said, sticking your nails into his shoulder.

“That’s what I thought”, he slid the tip of his hardening cock against your warm and soaked core, “Always so wet for me”, your husband brought two fingers to your mouth and let you wrap your tongue around them, so that they would be wet enough when he slipped them inside your channel.

You flinched and let out a moan, “P-please, Ransom”, you wrapped your arm around his underarm and squeezed it, “No games. I need this, I need to feel you”.

Your husband -you really liked calling him that way- hit your soft spot with his middle finger, making you see stars, “You’ll feel me for days, after tonight. This little bean better sleep all night long, I have plans on knock you up…again”, he removed his fingers and soon replaced them with his thick and hard cock.

“Fuuck”, you wide-opened your eyes and watched as Ransom pulled himself out of you, only to thrust into your pussy harder than before, “I missed this”.

“What? How good I fuck you or…uh, you’ve always been so thigh”, Ransom increased his pace and every time he made sure to hit every single angle of your channel. When you felt him hitting your cervix, the knot in your stomach grew bigger and it was a matter of second before you came with a chocked cry. “Yes, fuck, I knew it was there. Now it’s my turn”, he smirked and came closer to you, “Hold on, baby”, then glanced at your child still in your arms, “And also him”. His hands grasped the seatback and he started pounding into you with inhuman pace.

After James was born, Ransom and you had never had a moment alone and, if you had, it was quickly interrupted by his mother, or his grandfather, or James’ crying. That was the reason why he was fucking you like it was the last time, giving all of him, releasing all the stress he had been accumulated in the last period. And, damn, you really hoped he could save something for later.

“Fuck”, you whispered, closing your eyes and resting your head on you child’s, “Too much, Ransom”, you felt so overwhelmed with pleasure that you almost didn’t acknowledge the second wave of pleasure hitting you right away. Your mouth involuntary opened in a ‘o’ and slowly let out a deep breath. Your chest raised up and down rhythmically as you tried to calm yourself down.

“Oh, baby”, one second after you felt hot spurts of cum being released into your channel and Ransom didn’t come out until he had recovered his breath, “Damn, you look so beautiful. Have I ever told you how stunning you look in your post-orgasm?”

If there was something about Ransom that you would have never changed was his dirty talking. He would make you cum only doing his talking and you were certain he would experience that, in a more relaxed moment. Maybe as a foreplay, before fucking you stupid -you thought.

“Hey, give him to me”, your husband stretched his arms out and took your baby from your hands, before pulling out of you and place him in his carriage, “He’s peacefully sleeping. This means I can force another orgasm out of you”, he playfully spalled your ass cheeks and motioned you to get up.

Right when you were about to smarten yourself up, Ransom took your wrists in his big hand, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What?” you asked, totally unconscious of what his plans for you were, “I thought-“

“Nope. You don’t think. You do as I say”, he pushed your dress down and, helping himself with his foot, he tossed it near to the armchair’s base, “Kitchen, now”, he used his don’t-fuck-with-me tone and it made your core clench.

As if you were still a teenager, you rushed in the kitchen and leaned against the counter, waiting for your husband to join you, “What do you want me to do, daddy?”

The first time you had called him like that was right after realizing you were expecting a child from him; you came up with that ‘nickname’ thinking it was funny, but in the bedroom, it was everything but funny. Calling him ‘daddy’ had woken up some primordial instincts which you were glad you were the only one able to satisfy them.

“Oh”, Ransom caressed you cheek, “By the time I will be done with you, you’ll be so sore and your pussy will ache so much that you won’t be able to take our son into your arms”, Ransom grabbed a stool and sat down, not before getting rid of his trousers and underwear.

He was naked and ready for round two, a sight which gave you goosebumps. His thick and erect cock moving as he approached you got you soaked.

“Turn.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle and do as he’d ordered. You knew the rules: you couldn’t look behind, so your eyes were set in front of you, while your hands were tightened around the edge of the sink. Ransom put pressure at the base of your spine, making you bend over the counter and you shivered when your nipples met the cold marble surface.

“What’s wrong, mummy?” he caressed both your sides and placed you perfectly between his legs; one movement and you would feel the tip of his cock at your entrance, “Is it cold?”

You mumbled in response and tilted your head back when Ransom grabbed a bunch of your hair and made you arch your back.

“Poor baby”, he made sure you were to take him once again and deepened his grasp around your waist. You were sure bruises would have surfaced in the morning, yet you didn’t care until Ransom would feel you good. “Are you ready?”

Again, you mumbled a ‘yes’, and became breathless when you felt Ransom’s thick and long cock making his way inside you. The moans escaping from your mouth were almost pornographic -fortunately James was still asleep.

You loved everything about that position; Ransom would have easy access to each spot of yours, he would hit every single spot that made you moan. You would welcome his entire length in your channel, allowing his cock to hit your cervix every now and then. And, what you loved the most, you liked that position because he would spank you. His big, callous hands would reach your ass cheeks and leave signs that he had been there, and you loved the vibration, which would go straight to your clit.

“I should record you next time”, Ransom began slowly -as was usual for him-, moving your hips on his lap with circular movements, “Do you remember what they said in the hospital? ‘He’s so cute’”, he bit your shoulder and forced your head down by putting a hand on it, “If only they knew how good I fucked you at our wedding. You were so hot that day”, you were surprised by his thumb wandering on your spine, which stopped before your arsehole, “Dressed in white. As if you were a virgin, but you’re not. How many times had I fucked you stupid before that day?”

His question urged a reply and you were too lost to give it to him, yet he did want an answer form you. Ransom knew every weak point of yours, he knew that if he stopped moving, your high would fade away and he would come before you, ruining your own orgasm. So he did it, he stopped and impaled you, “I’ve asked you a question. How many times?”

You gasped in search of air, yet you managed to give him his answer, “A lot, daddy. A lot”, you arched your back as you felt your walls clenching around him, “Please, make me cum”.

“As you wish, mommy”, he kicked the stool to a side and quickly and deeply thrusted into you, “C’mon, girl. Cum”, he wasn’t asking, he was ordering it and you satisfied him, stretching him and holding him into you until he came too, leaving all his seed inside you. “I love you so much”, he kissed the entire length of your spine up to your neck, then turned you around, “My life would me miserable without you”.

Ransom always acted like an asshole, but he wasn’t; with you he had always been the caring and sweet Ransom, your husband and father on your son.

“I love you too, hon”, you kissed him and let him embrace you and take to your bedroom. As soon as he laid you down on the soft mattress, you asked: “Can you keep an eye on Jay? I would really like to sleep”.

“Sleep, I’ll take care of him”, Ransom left a kiss on your forehead and made sure you were already sleeping when he left the room. Once in the living room he checked on your son and sat down on the couch, right next to his carriage, “Sorry, pal. I know, that wasn’t respectful. But we gotta work on your little sister, or brother”, then he grabbed the newspaper and read about how the Patriots were training for their match in the weekend.

PERMANENT TAG LIST:

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ALL CHRIS EVANS:

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#ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey smut #ransom x y/n #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombrey #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x y/n #chris evans #chris evans imagine #knives out

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snapefiction · 3 years

Text

#10. Slippery Slope - Snapemas Challenge

A/N: Day 10 of Snapemas! I know this one is delayed but also much longer than my usual ones and completely different and it feels weird to publish smut

This one got longer than I wanted it to and more sexual than I wanted it too as well. I had no time to proof read it again. So please only read this if you're 18+. Enjoy!

Idea from @deepperplexity ´s Writing Challenge ! Check her Writings and the other Snapemas posts out! :)

❤️ Please remember that English isn’t my native language and that my Writings will include Mistakes and maybe weird formed sentences. ❤️

Pairing: Severus Snape x Adult!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Mention of Violence/Pain, NSFW, Smut 18+!

Word count: 5170

Y/N - Your Name, Y/L/N - Your last name

#10. Slipperly Slope Smut - Snapemas Challenge

,When I’m back at home i´ll drink a cup of tea and just relax until New Years Eve.´ Thats what kept you moving through the small alley, hidden behind the shining Shops, the crowd of people and away from the small Cafe you work at. The cold made it’s way through your clothes and you felt naked. Like the freezing air left lovebites at your legs, crawling up to your chest, over your breasts, around the shoulders down your arms- you began to freeze.

This Winter was the worst one you ever witnessed. Actually you and the cold were friends you never got used to snow and the ice. The Sun was already setting down as you crossed the corner of the alley before walking over to the small way leading to the last few houses of this dammed edge of England. You knew no one here. You came here alone a few years ago when there was no going back to your family, to the house you grew up in or anyone else. You were left completely alone and this hole- this last spot in this Town that no one - not even the ones who were born here knew- this is where you had to make yourself a home.

Taking one last deep breath only to release a small cloud of oxygen leaving your lungs seconds after you took the steps up to the entrance of your so what called home. But when you could already imagine the warmth of the safety hitting your skin your feet slipped on one of the steps and your chest, hands, knees and almost your nose hitted against the bricks from under your feet. Out of shock your fingers let go of your keys which flew right into the drain next to your House entrance. The Ice was even more merciless than the wind who crawled into your skin earlier. Mixed with little stones and dust from the street it pressed itself into your body and left little cuts. Closing your eyes for a second you knew that you wouldn’t be able to get those keys back as they would now already swimming deep down under the surface of the street. Trying to get up you checked your Hands. One Cut at the side of your hand that tried to hold you when you slipped. Your arm hurt, but it was alright. The worst thing were your rips. It felt like someone was punching you deeply and as you slid one of your fingers over them through your thick Jacket you already had to flinch. It was bad and all you wanted was this day to end. For a short moment you thought about letting all your emotions out. Crying out of Pain, Screaming out of anger, Pleading for something that felt like love, hoping for an way out of your daily dark thoughts and a way out of this place. Or maybe just a savior to call your own. But your rational thought overtook again.

You couldn’t stay out for any longer or else you’d become sick or probably could freeze to death. Biting your Nails you thought of a solution. The windows were all locked and you couldn’t climb on the wall as your ribs hurted too bad plus it was way to slippery, your spare key got stolen weeks ago, you didn’t knew how to unlock locked doors with a hair clip or anything else that would get you into your house but calling your landlord hoping he could help you. With a checking Glance over to the house a few meters away you hoped that your neighbours where home and no serial killers. Even if they were Serial Killers, it couldn’t get any worse than how you currently live and it would be more interesting than anything that had happened to you in the last few years in general. Also you knew how to do karate- or at least you thought you knew how to do it.

Slowly getting down on your icy steps and walking over to your neighbours house you gave it a closer look. It wasn’t special, it was one of there houses that you knew that they were there but probably never truly recognised. It was dark- no, it was dirty and old. Not very trustworthy but currently your only chance. As earlier you took a deep breath again and knocked, hoping for some warmth to release your tension that had build up from the long time in the cold. At first there was no answer. A desperation build up in you. Looking on the doorbell you saw the name written on it. ,S. Snape´. You never heard this name before.

,,Mr. Snape? Mr. Snape? Could you- I need help.“ Cringing at your own words, at the fact of how vulnerable you made yourself you knocked again.

,,If I could just use your cellphone for a minute- I’m your neighbour.“ The door opened only to reveal a tall man, with dark clothes and a strict look on his face. Not to mention his shoulder length, black hair and his perfume of tea, pine and old books. Taken by his presence you only realised that he was waiting for an introduction or explanation as he raised his dark eyebrow.

,,I- I slipped on my steps and my keys erm- flew into the drain. If I could call my Landlord really quick that’d be really nice.“ Closing his eyes for a second you noticed how deep brown- almost black- is that even possible- are. ,,I won’t bother you for long.“ Promising, pleading you looked up to him. With a small Move he went to the side so you could slide in.

,,Come in.“ He added to his obvious invite. His deep voice slightly echoed through the house. Following him you tried to brush some dirt off your Jacket without crossing the area where your skin still pulsates before entering the Kitchen where he simply put a Telephone in your hands. Thanking him with a small embarrassed smile and a short nod you dialled the number. You knew the number too well by now. There was always a problem at or with the house. Something was always broken and you had to call him every two weeks by now. The beeping wouldn’t stop and your mind already knew he wouldn’t pick up today. It was too late in the evening. Biting your Lip you hung up only to feel another heavy weight laying down on your chest. ,,Thank you, Mr. Snape.“ Mumbling you looked down to the ground only to remember that this was going to be an cold night. Wiping your running nose with the side of your arm and trying to keep the upcoming tears I your eyes you made your way back to the entrance from where your neighbour had led you. ,,Merry Christmas.“ You added before offering a last devastated smile and walking over back to the Entrance of your House. Mr. Snape hasn’t said anything but replied to you Merry Christmas with an ,,You too.“ Before he quickly closed the door.

So you sat in front of your door, the Back carefully leaned against the cold wood, trying not to touch your rip and letting the tears fall. Pulling your knees as close as possible you never felt this lonely before. The Tears rolled over your puffy cheeks which were also the last warm thing on you. What were you supposed to do but drown yourself in sorrow already? Never before has a Christmas be as bad as this one. Minutes passed and the last thing that came into your mind was sneaking back to work after everyone left. Until the cafe closed you still had a couple of hours to wait so you could sneak in from one of the windows that wasn’t working properly anymore. Sighing you now wiped your eyes. The cold was unbearable and just painful by now. Laying your head on your knees you hoped to hide from the falling snow that became heavier and heavier by now. But instead it made you almost fall asleep. You were just tired, your eyes so heavy and your mind so lost. A slumber almost reached you until you heard snow crunch in front of you. Weakly looking up you saw Mr. Snape. In his tall hands he held a patterned Blanket. ,,Would you like to come in? You’ll freeze to death out here.“ He was right. Your fingers were about to turn blue and until the cafe closed you were probably taken by the cold. With much caution he opened the Blanket to pull it over your shoulders and helped you up. Your feet hurt by now too, everything did. As Mr. Snape noticed your trembling he held his arm around you.

,,Let me help you.“ Drained you let him lead you, back into his house, through his kitchen in front of his cabin. Across of the Sofa he sat you on you saw a small reflection of yourself. Your lips were blue and not rosy anymore. This is where life has brought you. Taking a deep breath you leaned your head against the sofa. Taking in the sudden warm you are more and more tired. As the warmth hit your freezing skin you could feel little thunders hitting your skin and the storm inside of your growling. Too exhausted to care you drifted asleep.

As he sat the nameless woman down on his couch he instantly knew he had to warm her up. Make some tea, get more blankets, maybe something to eat too? But as he brought her a tea he noticed that she had fallen asleep by now. Silently he spoke a few Spells to make her feel better soon before getting back to the kitchen. Severus looked at the painting hanging above his fridge.

,,Lily, what the hell am I supposed to do?“ He whispered overwhelmed at the red haired woman. She just rolled his eyes.

,,She was almost freezing , maybe help her warm up? Ugh, you fought the dark lord and have no idea of how to treat humans. Kind of funny.“ Angrily he shot at her with an angry Glare. She was his best friend and knew perfectly fine how to pick up on him.

,,Genius.“ He mumbled sarcastically as he took out one of his pots out of his cupboards to warm up a chicken soup. Turning on the stove he scratched his collar only to reach the spot where Nagini left this deep scar. Whenever he heard someone mention the dark lord he had this feeling to itch his scar. It became an uncomfortable habitat.

,,You really need to work on your social anxiety. It’s been a few years by now.“ Lily now spoke softer and followed his steps with her eyes in worry.

,,Yes, seven to be exact but as you may have seen I opened the door to someone and let her in.“ Taking out his wand to do the rest of the cooking he pressed his lips together. Merlin, he loved his best friend but she could grow quite annoying sometimes.

,,Fine. Just be nice, okay? It was hard enough to get you open that door so you can at least be polite. She’s really not doing well.“ Again she was worried but now over that girl laying on the couch still wrapped in blankets and her winter jacket.

,,I am as always ,nice´.“ Severus now spoke, filled some soup in a small bowl, signed her to be quite and walked into his living room again.

Setting down the bowl he stood there awkwardly. Should he speak to her? Tap her shoulder? Let her sleep? He decided to clear his throat and watch her slowly wake up. Looking at her red puffy eyes made him feel sorry for his incompetence to let her stay from the moment she knocked on his door. Collecting his words and building an sentence with everything he wanted to say he sat down on the small armchair to her right.

,,I made you soup.“ A poet. You’re a literal Poet, Severus. Dumbass he thought to himself before pointing at the Bowl in front of her. Again she just smiled shyly and kept her glance low from him. He’d really like to see her eyes. What colour were they exactly?

,,Thank you.“ Her hoarse voice made him remember the Tea he made for her. He brewed a new Kettle for her. Peppermint Tea. He always drinks black tea but for her he almost crawled into his cupboard only to find the last bag of peppermint tea. He again moved in his chair only to push the cup closer to her.

,,It’s Peppermint.“ Every inch of creativity has obviously left his Body, he thought to himself. Maybe ask about her day, he could almost hear Lilys Voice in the back of his Head. Well it must have been a bad one if she sat crying in front of her door and almost froze to death. Ask her something. Something creative. Thousands of Thoughts ran though his mind but non made him comfortable so he chosed the first one he could catch.

,,D- Do you like dogs?“ His voice trembled. The prettiest Girl he had met in a eternity was sitting in front of him and he asked her about-.. dogs?

You had to keep yourself together not to burst out laughing. Your Mouth almost couldn’t keep the warm tea in your mouth as you though about this terribly random question and your lips arched into a smile. Swallowing the sip you still ha din your mouth you nodded before placing the cup back down.

,,Actually, yes, I do. And what about you?“ Nodding he clasped his hands together visibly nervous.

,,I never had one but someone at my Work, Hagrid, had this huge dog. He was kind of precious. Scary but precious.“ Blinking a few times you tried to follow his intentions. Probably he was just trying to start some smalltalk. The mysterious scary man I just met a few hours ago invites me in to offer me soup and talk about dogs? Well, you loved dogs so that wasn’t the issue. It was just that his random kindness surprised you and totally caught you off guard.

,,Thank you again, Mr. Snape. That’s too kind of you.“ His tension eased and he took a deep breath.

,,My name is YN, by the way. YN YLN.“ You added before taking another sip. This Tea was terribly sweet. You preferred black tea to be honest but at this moment everything was perfect.

,,Severus. My Name is Severus.“ Smiling you ate the last spoonful of Soup before sitting back again.

,,Would you mind if I use your Bathroom before I leave?“

,,Leave? I thought you lost your keys?“ His Surprise was clearly to see.

,,Well, yes. I still need to find a place for tonight. I thought about staying at my working place that should be fine.. I guess.“ Your insecurity was clearly visible.

,,You can stay here.“ Scratching his throat he looked at you. ,,If you want to, of course.“ There was something in the way he looked at you, you knew he cared. And you’re not gonna lie, you weren’t hyped up about walking back all the way into the city just to maybe get into the crappy Cafe. Severus seemed trustworthy enough to stay the night, you told yourself and instantly hoped so.

,,Thank you again.“ Breathing out you felt release on your chest. The Ribs still hurt but the psychic stress eased a bit up. Thankfully for his offer you took off your jacket. Your skin wasn’t as cold as early anymore. Severus guided you to the Bathroom down the floor and could finally inspect your wounds on your ribs. Closing the door you quickly pulled up the shirt from the side only to reveal dark purple skin. ,,Shit.“ It was worse than you anticipated. Pulling your shirt back down again you now inspected your arms. You were okay. After the Holidays you should seek a Doctor but for now you couldn’t do anything but try to ignore this huge bruise. After using the Toilet you tried to wash your face. There was still some dirt above your eyebrow but you couldn’t move down. The Pain took your breath away.

,,Is everything okay?“ You heard Severus asking from the outside of the door. Opening the door you smiled at him awkwardly. ,

,Yes, sorry for taking do long I was just trying to wash my face.“ Confused he nodded and walked into the Bathroom only to give you a washcloth and a towel. ,,Take your time.“ Deciding whether her whether not to tell him you gave in.

,,It’s not about that. I tried to do it in the sink but..“ You moved your shirt up so he could see the bruise which even led over to your Back. He scrunched his face in empathy. ,,From slipping on the Steps?“ He asked more silently. ,,Uh huh.“ He signed you to sit on the rim of the Bathtub. ,,Let me get something really quick.“ He mumbled as his tall legs carried him away fastly. Waiting for him you firstly noticed how simple his house was. He had almost no personal items standing around. - Is this a sign for someone to be a serial Killer or was he just a minimalist or something? Wondering about his Edgy Style you almost didn’t hear him coming back. Holding two vials in his hands he gave you the green one. ,,If you let a few drops run over the Bruise it’ll be gone almost instantly.“

Instantly? He must be very convinced of his little medicine slime. Not really convinced you just agreed and pulled your shirt up again. He watched you opening the vial. ,, A few drops would do it.“

,,Could you help me? I can’t raise my arm that high I guess.“ Shyly he firstly hesitated but then took the vial back in his big hand. You liked his hands. They matched him well. Tall, Slender but pretty- for hands.

,,Ready?“ He asked and you nodded to signal him to start. Seconds later you felt something dripping over your Bruise. Even this small contact hurt. A slight Burn was felt and then it vanished. Confused you looked down. The Bruise was gone. ,,How does this work? I don’t understand?“ Turning back to Severus you noticed how he just smiled simply.

,,I told you it works wonders.“ Getting up to look in the Mirror you inspected it closely. Even the Lotion vanished.

,,What is this?“ As you attempted to walk back to him you almost bumped into him but could stop a few centimetres away from him.

,,It’s Bruisewort Balm.“ His deep voice left goosebumps on your skin. Severus was confusing you but also in a good way. Where were your Thoughts again? Today was the worst day you had in years and now all you could think about this tall black haired man in front of you. You thought he was pretty when you saw him earlier but now he was way more attractive. ,,I can help you with your cut hand as well.“ You felt the vibrations of his chest against yours. Did you got closer? Were you imagining it? As you didn’t answer he gently took your Hand in his. Again he opened the small vial and let a few drops fall on the wound. Your eyes were locked with the sight of his eyes as you didn’t even cared what he did. ,

,Staring is not very polite.“ He said low looking back to you as he finished healing your hand. Blushing you tried to look at something else but him but couldn’t find anything but his chest. ,,I’m Sorry.“ His fingers now took your chin in his Hand. Making you look up at him again.

,,What’s on your mind?“ Was he serious? His eyes wanders over your face scanning for any bruises. Breathing heavier you tried to think of something to say. Saying ,You, Mr.´ would be inappropriate, would it? Raising his Eyebrow you wondered if you said that loud. Your chin still between his fingers he got a little bit closer to you.

,,Use your words.“ He said demanding in an almost growling tone. This whole Situation made your knees weak. How could this shy man turn into such a demanding one so quickly? Your thoughts were now racing in an incredible speed. He demanded the Truth? He’ll get the Truth.

,,About you, Mr. Snape.“ Not knowing why you didn’t call him by his Forename you bit your lip. His eyes wandered down your face, following the movements of your lips only to look back into your eyes. His Hand wandered down your side only to remain above your hip. You knew too well how this would end or at least you hoped it would end the way you thought it would. Feeling him so close you wished for nothing more but to feel his lips on yours. Feel him touching the places that were longing for him so badly.

,,Tell me what you want to do, Y/N.“ He whispered in your ear now. ,,What you want me to do.“ He added as he placed a small kiss on your neck right under your ear. Your chest was rising even faster now. Did he knew which effects these words had on you? Impatiently you waited for him to kiss you again. It didn’t matter where. If it was your cheek, chest, neck or your lips. But you needed it now.

,,Kiss me.“ His eyes looked into yours again. He raised his other hand only to let his thumb brush over your lower lip. His eyes always stayed on you. Licking his lip he slightly shook his head.

,,You have to ask nicely.“ He teased and his hand which touched your lip made its way to your neck. He held you close and there was no where else you’d want to be right now.

,,Please. Kiss me, Please.“ Smirking he got so close you could feel his nose slightly touching your cheek.

,,How polite.“ Was the last mumble he let out before his rosy Lips carefully touched yours only to deepen the kiss a few seconds after. A small Moan left your mouth. Feeling his lips curling into another smile again you had to smile too. Your chest was tingling and your body felt burning. Burning for more but he only let go. Desperate for his touch you only watched him letting go of you. Did you do something wrong? His long statue left the Bathroom. You stood there frozen, this time it was a different type of frozen as earlier. Turning to the mirror you quickly checked your look. Your Pupils were widened, your lips plump and you felt like everyone could see what type of thoughts you have about this man right now. Not thinking twice you followed him. ,,Severus-“ but he sat on the Armchair again. With a Book in his hands he looked like this wasn’t just happening while you stood in the doorframe and your panties were soaked only because of him. He didn’t even respond to you calling his name. Getting back on the couch you just looked at him. How he turned the page of the green, golden book. How his eyes scanned the sentences. How his shoulders leaned against the soft cushion of the armchair.

,,Severus?“ You repeated hoping for any type of attention. He lowered the book and his eyes darted yours waiting for your Question. ,,Why did you leave?“ He raised the book again and began to spoke. ,

,I don’t want you to regret this.“ Regret? You shook your head.

,,I won’t.“ As if he didn’t hear it he continued reading. ,,Also, I’m probably not your type.“ He talked about everything you had in mind like it was the weather.

,,I think you’re my type.“ Trembling you were just whispering. He lowered the Book again only to lay it in his lap. ,

,Do you even know what type I am talking about?“ ,,You mean .. demanding?“ Trying not to laugh he nodded. ,,Demanding.“ He agreed using the words you used.

,,Please.“ You pleaded. Severus did something to you you couldn’t explain.

,,If you really want this you have to follow orders.“ Blindly you’d agree to anything he’d say.

,,I will.“ The excitement inside of you grew. What was he going to do to you?

,,On your Knees then.“ He just said and watched you slide from the couch on your knees. Smirking he got up and got closer to you. ,,Look up.“ He wasn’t speaking nicely anymore. It was just demands. His Hand took your chin in his hand again. This time it was more harsh but it made you only wanting more. ,,If you want me to stop, you’ll ask me to stop by my forename. Only then it’s Severus to you. Until we’re done its Mr. Snape. Understand?“ Your Heart was almost jumping out of your chest. You could feel the impatience between your legs only grow.

,,Understood, Mr. Snape.“ His eyes looked up and down and you again.

,,Now get up again and tell me what you want me to do to you?“ Getting up you noticed his Bulge growing.

,,I- I“ you stuttered. His Eyebrow arched up. He waited for you patiently. ,,I want to please you, Mr. Snape.“

His strict expression always faded whenever you worded your wishes. Even if he knew what was on your mind he loved how shy you were about it. Sitting down on the couch he looked up and down on you again. He had to hold him together not to take out his dick and just fuck you mindlessly. But he just tapped on his lap. Y/N sat down on him instantly.

,,Good Girl.“ Mumbling he placed kissed down her neck again. Sloppy ones, the type that would leave marks. Again she began to moan. It was like music to his ears. Her beautiful voice longing for him to touch her more, give her more of him. His mouth wandered down towards her chest only to be stopped by the edge of her Pullover. ,,Arms up, Kitten.“ He pulled up her Pullover only to reveal a lace bra. A deep Moan he has been holding for a few moments now finally left his Throat. His Dick throbbed against the fabric of his trousers. She must’ve felt it as she began to slightly rub her hip against him. His Mouth connected itself with her chest again. Biting carefully, kissing softly. Taking her breasts in his hands, cupping them completely only to make her moan louder as he pinched her nipples through the thin white lace.

,,Take it off.“ Quickly she followed his orders. He loved it whenever she’d do as he told her. Watching her revealing herself to him, grinding on his lap, slowly kneading her own breasts only for him to see he couldn’t help himself but thinking this must’ve been a dream. ,,YN, get up again.“ Her cheeks were so reed from all the stimulation she got from him, her eyes now wide open fearing she did something wrong. But as her shaking legs made her stand in front of Severus she knew she was more than just alright. His Hands wandered over her Breasts again. Pinching them, kissing them and letting his tongue slowly run over them. As his Mouth laid on one nipple his hand touched the other one. Whenever she moaned he would go harder, it would motivate him. Making him eager to bite lightly into them and then suddenly let go of her only to pull down her Jeans and make her undress completely for him. For his hungry eyes and dark thoughts. As her Panties hit the ground he could see how soaked they were. Quickly Severus pointed to the ground where she kneeled down again. He slowly opened the Button of his Pants. Pushing the clothes to his ankles he hissed as she without waiting or thinking about it begun to suck him off. Shyly she only took the Tip in at first. He gave her some Time but then carefully pressed her Head down further. He was already hard and had to take care that he wouldn’t cum right away. Her pretty eyes and the way she talked to him drove him crazy. Softly her tongue swirled around his member and it was too much for him. ,,Get on my lap again.“ Quickly she did as she was told only to slide down on his dick. ,,Ride it.“ Her innocent eyes could make him cum without she would have to touch him. Slowly she got up and down. YN´s Moaning was filling the room. Severus pinched her nipples again, her plump lips were almost begging to be kissed. She was a goddess. Without thinking about it he did it. Kissing her lips he felt like she was demanding now. He’d do anything for her at this point. Just the elegant way she rode his dick so well made him moan again.

,,Mr. Snape, I- I´m close.“ Huffing he looked her in the eyes again. ,,Close to what, baby? You need to use full sentences.“ She moaned even louder now. His Mouth again teasing her nipples. ,,I´m close- close to cum-m.“ He held her sides to guide her up and down by now. She was getting more and more exhausted. Her thrusts became more and more sloppy. ,,Then cum with me, will you?“ Y/N nodded. ,,Yes, Mr. Snape.“ Her head hung on his shoulder as she was humming, making him hear her moans even closer and even more louder. That was the last thing it took him to cum. Filling her up, closing his eyes enjoying the intimacy. When they were done she didn’t got up instantly but waited a few seconds.

You felt his Arms holding you as his breathes hit your shoulder. Smiling you looked up at him again and pushed a few strains of hair out of his face. Daring to kiss him you felt so close to him, you never felt this intimacy before. It was a small but beautiful kiss before you slowly got up again and hurried to the bathroom to clean yourself. Severus instead just put on his Pants again and took off his long Pullover. There was no Time for that earlier. Smirking he walked into the kitchen so he could at least offer you a cup of tea.

,,You’re disgusting. Couldn’t you do that in your Bedroom?“ Lily grunted and made herself and Severus just laugh.

,,Oh shut it, Lily. You just could’ve changed the Painting. Now shh, Y/N´s coming back.“ She rolled her eyes and went back to her pose. Only to watch her best friend getting known to his future girlfriend.

Taglist: @deepperplexity , @monstreviolet , @wow-life-love4 @my taglist: Please only read if you're 18+! This chapter contains Smut!

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#Severus Snape #snape #snapemas #Snapemas 2020 #snape x reader #snape x y/n #Severus Snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #prosnape #my writing #snapefiction

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fallingoverharrypotter · 3 years

Text

If We Make It Through January 7th

Draco and Harry on the wrong side of the holiday season, making the gloom a little bit brighter. Also on AO3 here.

I’m barely through the front door of the place before I catch a glimpse of the man behind the counter and freeze up. Right there in the doorway.

A frustrated cough comes from behind me, and I hear a rude “excuse me.”

I swear. “Sorry,” I move out of their way, back onto the icy cobblestones: the patron flicks me an insincere smile as they hurry into the warmth of the bakery, and the door shuts in my face with a clang. The noise of the store, regular café sounds and music with it. That’s unfortunate, as Diagon still has Christmas jingles incessantly twinkling across the cold brick back and forth down the alley on this side of the new year, and that’s… only one part of the reason I want to enter.

Surely there are other places on Diagon that sell hot drinks and buns this late on a Wednesday. But… I know there aren’t. Even in muggle London.

Going home empty handed on Monday was one thing, but going home empty handed on Wednesday seems out of the question.

The cheerful drawings of smiling faces and steaming pastries on the glass are mocking me - there’s raucous noise of laughter just from the other side of the windows. I’m drawn up close and shivering in my winter robe, and it’s so cold that the warming charms keep wearing off. There are the sludgy remnants of snow on the cobbles, and I had to save myself from a couple of falls on the way down here. The blush on my cheeks is definitely from the embarrassment of the wobbles, but thankfully it’ll be passed off as the bite of the air. He probably won’t realise a difference anyway.

I take a deep breath, and go to reach for the door again, but then my hand stops, barely within my control. I close my eyes and try once more. Breathe deep, hand out to grasp the handle. I pretend not to think about whether any patrons of the bakery are staring at me through the glass. I hypothesise that if this takes me longer than five minutes, I’ll get an Auror called on me for drunk and disorderly, and wouldn’t that truly make my day.

Suddenly, it’s too much. I don’t even want to see his face. Wednesday pastries will just have to go without. It’s a silly tradition anyway. Surely if I’m ever allowed to forgo a habit, it would be as a new year’s resolution. It was his neurotic practice anyway. Probably one of those things I should toss out like I did all the rest of his stuff.

I take another deep breath and point my chin up, stare challengingly at one stupid smiling figure on the glass, and turn to make my way down to the other apparition point at the end of Diagon.

Stupid ex-boyfriends and stupid bleeding-heart holiday seasons. I manage to keep my feet reasonably stable as I walk down the almost icy path on this darker end of the street.

Unfortunately for me, however, a loud noise startles me and I completely wipe out.

A loud grunt expels itself from my chest as my back hits the ground. Thankfully my neck and head seem to be pretty well protected by the thick green scarf I’ve got wrapping me up, but my ass doesn’t fair all that well. “Fucking hell,” I mutter, and groan as I roll over onto my side. I wince when a sharp twinge in my back is set off with my movement.

Thankfully I’m not alone in my predicament, because the noise that startled me was an initial slick sharp sound of a slip against the icy cobbles. I tilt my head up and see heavy black boots, worn just slightly at the sole, and the figure of their owner, a man in amongst a mountain of sludgy snow that someone had just moved to the side instead of vanishing. I mutter to myself about the absolute travesty which is Diagon without proper foot traffic. People here get bloody careless this time of year.

I push myself up by my gloved hands, now soaked, along with the backside of my cloak. “Are you alright?” I half-heartedly direct to the man who I can hear angrily muttering to himself in his current position. I have to pay direct attention to getting my feet under me so that I don’t make another trip, but I do finally stabilise myself. I sigh crossly. My penance for getting so startled is that I don’t immediately get to grab my wand and dry myself off.

The man sighs too. His reply is muffled, but I think I can make out a “yep”. Charming.

He’s not moving though, so I huff out a breath impatiently and wander over to where he lies carelessly under an awning, face shadowed from Diagon’s twinkling lights. Good King Wenceslas chimes out of the charms on the street, and seems to mock me, and I have to force myself to think of how best to rectify this. I hope this guy isn’t drunk. Or maybe I hope he is, so that I can just call the aurors to deal with this.

“Are you pissed?” I ask, just to know.

“I wish.” Is his muffled reply. “Would be a bit less embarrassing if I were, I think.”

I roll my eyes. “Can you get up?”

“Yep.” He repeats, and then groans again as he pulls himself out of the soaking wet, dirty grey cushion, that is the snow bank.

My mouth drops open. “Potter?”

And, yep indeed. It’s Potter. He’s leaning back on gloved hands when he looks up at me quickly and then he groans. Throws his wet haired head back, and those green eyes look up at the awning like he’s berating whatever trickster god pulls his strings of fate. Or, so I assume.

He leans his weight on a single hand and stretches out the other in my direction.

For a second, I think he’s extended it so we can shake hands, before I realise that he just wants a hand up. I flush and hasten – carefully – over. A quick pull from my hand and he does the rest of the work, but he has to grab at my shoulders when he’s upright, a little wobbly.

He looks at me and grimaces. “I’m a danger to myself and others.” His hands release my shoulders, but only, it seems, to brush off bits of snow and dirt off of my coat.

I huff, my breath making a cloud of vapour in the space between us. “Well, I won’t disagree with you on that. Do you need me to go and get someone for you, or can you make your merry way to your reserved bed at Mungos?”

He laughs just a little. “It’s always a pleasure, Draco, honestly.” He’s joking, so I reserve the right to kick him until later. Maybe when he’s a bit less pathetic from the slip. “Are you okay?”

I scowl, and don’t answer his question. “It’s bloody 6pm on a Wednesday. In the middle of winter. After a snow storm. Who’s honestly buying wands this time of year?”

He smiles, winks slightly. “Gotta be made, don’t they?”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, I get it. You’re chained to your desk. A snowstorm fit for the arctic circle could blaze through here and you couldn’t be moved.”

He laughs. Harry laughs the same way he’s always laughed, and I blush just a little bit, as I’ve always done. I feel a shiver start to come upon me, but I keep it away by share force of will as he continues. “The new year is good for the thestral tail hair.” A dirty glove subconsciously comes up to rub at his wet hair, and he grimaces when he feels it. “Decay, new life, you know. The Death-horses and Winter going hand in hand.”

I smirk as he tentatively tries to rub his dirty glove off against a cleaner part of his cloak. “Cruel of them. Not taking the time to consider your plight.”

“Well,” he challenges, “I doubt it’s a major concern. It’s actually not every day that I slip and fall on the pavement. I survive my walks, mostly.”

“Well,” I answer, “I never slip or fall.” I raise a haughty eyebrow at him, and I can see the humour dust his eyes a little bit more. “Don’t go blaming me for this.”

He rolls his eyes and grimaces. “Why are we still so wet.” He flicks his hand and a wave of annoyingly familiar magic crests itself over my figure until the dirt and the moisture are driven right away. I flick a warming charm over him in thanks.

He seems to pay a bit more attention to his surroundings now that he’s dry and warm. “You just come from Finch-Fletchley’s? You mind reminding him that if the other shops are closed down for the holidays that it’s his job to vanish the snow after a blanketing?”

I avert my eyes, drawn to the bright lights of the bakery. I scowl. “You can tell him yourself, thank you very much.” I take a deep breath, and straighten my back. Keeping some decorum, hopefully. “We’ve broken up.”

Potter’s eyebrows are up when I glance quickly back to his face. He looks at me, and his face is very controlled. He looks at the bakery. “When?”

I swallow. “Week before Christmas, if you can believe.”

He can’t seem to stop himself from whistling sympathetically. Then he winces. “Sorry.”

I shrug, casually. “No matter.”

He snorts.

“I’m serious” I say, pointlessly.

He crosses his arms and looks hard at me. “Oh yeah? What are you doing here, then? Surely not too many muggleborns turning 11 around this time of year.”

Not to back down, and turn to face him properly and cross my own arms. “You know full well that’s not all I do, Potter.”

He rolls his eyes. “Like my point doesn’t still stand. What? You doing a lot of muggleborn house calls the week after new year’s?”

“Not every muggleborn celebrates Christmas and New Year’s.”

“Sure, technically. In reality, though?”

I turn away, and don’t answer his questions. He snorts, but then steps a little closer. We’re facing the bakery, because of course we are. O’ Holy Night plays above us. I wonder who chooses these songs.

I hear him take a deep breath in and out. “I really am sorry.”

I sigh, too. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“It’s only been two weeks, Draco.”

Two weeks and 5 days. If we’re counting. I don’t say this though.

He bumps my shoulder. “Not to pick at the wound, but what areyou really doing here.”

I consider lying to him again, but we’re not really in the business of doing that. It’d just be a bore. And he’s always been… good about things like this. “Christmas.” I swallow. “It gets lonely, you know.”

He hums.

I kick out at the ground with my foot and it slides a little bit too far, and I end up having to take a step forward to balance myself again – Potter grabs at my arm.

He laughs, a little anxiously. “Never slip and fall, huh?”

I ignore that, my face flushed and hot. “We had a tradition. Wednesday pastries at the bakery. I would assume it’s common decency to let someone know in advance if you’re going to break up with them. So that one can plan for these moments, right?” I close my eyes against the lights of Justin’s bakery, feeling unwelcome. “I apologise. I’m morose. It’s not exactly the post-holiday cheer I’m sure you want on a nice evening.”

He chuckles. “I wouldn’t call this a nice evening.” My warming charm wears off, and he flicks his wrist for another one to settle over us. He lets go of my upper arm, and puts a hand on my shoulder – drags me around a bit to face him. “Fuck him, right?”

I roll my eyes. “He’s not a bad guy, Potter.”

He rolls his eyes right back, and then looks quite serious. “Be a little indulgent with yourself sometimes, Draco.”

I look back at him. He’s only just shorter than me, and I’ve always cherished that fact, but now he almost seems to be towering over me, even with a bit of a slouch to his stand. His messy hair and his shadowed cheeks and under-eyes the likes of which I only really see during the summer break when I’m chaperoning muggle families and their muggleborn children to get their first wands before September. Working too hard. Chained to his desk.

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” I blurt out.

His eyes widen. So do mine. The heat in my face expands to a blaze, and I groan as I drop it into my cold gloves. “Merlin, I’m sorry. You just said the indulgent thing, and I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” He grabs at my wrists lightly and tugs a bit, but I don’t budge. “Draco.”

A clang mutely sounds from just up the street, the usual echo of the door in the cobbled street trapped by the snow. “Draco?” I hear, and look up. Startle, because that’s definitely Justin at the door, surrounded in the glow of the lighting. I take a step back almost without thought, and Harry’s grip on my wrist unfortunately makes me lose my balance. I go right down, and he follows. Right on top of me.

I groan loudly, my head and back and arse all once again wet and cold. Harry groans too, and his warm weight gets off me very quickly, tugging me up by my hands, and then a hand tight on my waist to right me. I don’t step out of his grip immediately, too overcome with the situation. Ready to take another crack at the cobbles and see if this time I brain myself.

“Hell, Draco,” Harry mutters, and then grabs his wand to get the wet and the dirt off the both of us again. Another of his beautiful warming charms settles over my body. “We’re even now, okay? No more falls, for god’s sake.”

Justin has wandered a bit closer by the time I look away from Harry’s face, a little consternated. “Draco? Are you okay? Merlin, what are you doing standing out here?”

I don’t respond. Harry coughs. “That’ll be me. I basically tripped him earlier, and we got talking.”

Justin’s eyes widen just a little, and he looks at Draco in concern. “In this weather? It’s freezing! I’ll grab you mug of spice cider, alright?”

“No,” I say, finally finding my bloody voice again. “No, I’m fine. And anyway.” I shoot a glance at Harry. “We’re tied one-for-one.” Harry smirks.

Justin continues when I look back to him. “Dray, come on. A cup of cider, a bite to eat.”

I shake my head, wanting this day to be done with already. “I’ve got plans.”

Justin eyes get just a little softer. “Come on, please?”

“He does. Have plans.” Potter says, and my neck twinges with how fast I turn to look at him. “We’re going to dinner.”

Justin goggles, just a little, looks between Harry and me. There’s a certain part of me – a different part to the one that’s processing whether or not Harry means what he said about dinner – that’s a little vindictively pleased about Justin’s reaction. “Oh!” Justin says. “Okay, no… No worries!” He meets my eyes, and I flush. “It was good to see you. Please, do come around. The staff miss you, you know.”

I smile politely. “Thanks, Justin.” I stand a little taller, and nod to him. “Take care.”

“You too.” And he grins kindly, lifting a hand to Harry and me, before hastening back into the warm sanctuary of his bakery. The door does its little muted clang again as it closes. My mouth – still sitting in a polite smile – relaxes, leaving a little pain in my cheeks.

Harry hums. “Do you ever think that we’re all a bit toomature now?”

Surprisingly, I laugh loudly at that. I’m nodding even before I get the words out. “Yes. I’d almost wish to be fifteen again and have a real proper tantrum about this.” I sigh, laugh a little again. “But, you know. Fifteen-year-old me? Good riddance.”

“I don’t know…” Harry trails off, “there were some redeeming qualities. He was certainly a creative sort.”

I goggle at him, and immediately stop when I realise that I’m imitating Justin to some extent. “Stop having me on.”

Harry… laughs. “Yeah, I’m having you on. You were a right bastard.”

I shake my head, and turn away from the lights of the bakery, and start walking. He’ll surely catch up.

“I was serious.” Harry says, and I turn my head a little to let him know I’m listening as I walk. “About dinner.”

“I assumed so,” even though that’s a bit of a lie.

“And,” Harry catches up. “I mean ‘dinner’ as in. A date.”

I’m not proud of this, but I slip. Just a little. “Fuck,” I say as I try to catch myself. Thank goodness that Potter’s a bit more onto it, though. He just grabs my arm, and an arm around my back. Straightens me up.

“Bloody hell, I should have talked to him about the snow vanishing,” Harry’s saying as I brush off my cloak to hide my flush. “It’s all the Diagon Business Association talks about during winter, I don’t know what he’s on-”

“Harry.”

He stops and looks at me. Christmas music is still playing, and its still grating, but goodness the lights work well on his complexion. And his eyes.

I smile, just a little. “We’ve got dinner plans, I thought? We could talk about this there, surely?”

He laughs.

#drarry fic #drarry #drarry fanfic #harry potter fanfic #this came out of nowhere and was supposed to be something much different before it became this #fluff #pure and simple #and god now all i want is to have 30k of Harry as wandmaker and Draco as the muggleborn liason #brining the little muggleborn kids and their families through Diagon before they go off to Hogwarts #and Harry and Draco learning to like each other through that #and falling kind of just #slowly for each other because of it #and Draco deserves a little date #as a treat

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trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

3,643 miles

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, smut (& exhibitionism), wee bit of angst

word count: 9.1k

description: established relationship; you’d met in college, both education majors. you really love bucky barnes, and nearing your five year anniversary when he proposes you go on a coast-to-coast road trip on summer vacation. you seem skeptical and unsure, but he assures you it’s worth it.

New York City, New York – Mile 0

You hadn’t been serious. Not entirely anyway. Months ago, when you said to Bucky, half asleep, “We should go on a road trip, just you and me.” You remember his raspy voice in reply,

“Oh yeah?” His fingers slowly trailing down your bare spine as you slipped off into sleep.

“Yeah.”

It was something you’d almost forgotten all about until he brought it up five months later.

“Hey, do you think we should rent a car or just take mine?” You were chewing on a pen cap, going over the essays you needed to grade by Monday, a glass of wine by your side. He was sitting across from you, laptop open and a notebook full of different scribbles.

“For what?” You ask, taking a sip of your wine.

“Our road trip.” Like you’d forgotten, like it was something you’d already decided on. You shake your head, confused.

“What road trip?” His brow furrows.

“You said you wanted to go on a road trip.”

“When?” He was silent for a moment, staring at you like you had two heads.

“Christmas… when we were going to bed, you said you wanted to go on a road trip.” He explains simply, “Just the two of us.” You shake your head again.

“I was drunk on Christmas.” As if it explains it away, “We don’t really have the funds to take a road trip across the country, how long would that even take?” Typing a few things into your search bar you sigh, “Two to three months?”

“They went like everywhere,” He defends, “We are just going straight across.”

“I don’t know Bucky…” You sat back in your chair, crossing your arms.

“I’ve been doing the math.” He comes to your side of the table squatting down at your side, “We have more than twice of what we would need in savings, we still have enough to put down on a house next summer.” A kiss to your hand and some puppy dog eyes. “And we will be back in time for Steve’s wedding.” A kiss to your wrist, “C’mon baby, we’re still young, and pretty soon we won’t have time to do stuff like this. We never get to do anything this adventurous, come on.” You sigh, he’s right.

For the last five years you two had been together you were both working full-time jobs and in college. When school ended and you both got jobs you stayed in the shitty studio apartment you’d gotten when you first moved in together on the cheap to save every penny you could towards getting a nice house in the suburbs, something you both desperately wanted whenever the subject of marriage and kids rolled about. Which seemed to be more common lately, more so with both of your parents than with each other.

“You’re not getting any younger.” From both your Mom and his. His younger sister was just starting college and nowhere near continuing the Barnes bloodline, so his Mom was especially needy with you as far as wanting grandchildren. Something you and Bucky had briefly talked about but hadn’t made any real serious strides towards having. Your implant was good for another couple years and it wasn’t a real concern.

“Okay,” You agreed, “We should probably take your car to save some money.” A rental for even a month would be way too much. Bucky grinned, kissing you, again and again.

“It’s going to be so fun.” A kiss. “Really is.” Another kiss. His hand slipping to palm at your breast.

“Bucky I have to grade these essays.” He shrugs.

“Grade ‘em tomorrow.” A tweak of your nipple, his mouth sinking down to your neck, a well-practiced weak spot that never failed to make you shiver.

“Bucky.” You whined, fingers coming to grip his shoulders.

“C’mon baby.” You were weak for it. Played right into his hands and he knew it. You were such a sucker.

…

The last day of classes came faster than you thought, the morning after, bright and early you were getting ready to hit the road. Bucky had let you over plan a little if only to satisfy yourself and solidify the fact that you wanted to go on this trip. Almost 4,000 miles. The road ahead of your seemed daunting but he liked to remind you,

“We have all summer; we don’t need to rush.” Which means if you need to stop for the night, then you needed to stop for the night, but the goal was to drive as close to each major destination as you could before looking for a room at a nearby hotel or motel. Whatever seemed more convenient. You’d packed one large suitcase between the two of you and a bag of snacks and drinks for the times where you couldn’t reach a gas station or got uncontrollably snacky and bored.

“Please don’t forget to water our plants.” You begged the blond. Steve seemed a little done with it.

“I won’t forget to water the plants.” He was going to forget, he was beautiful, but endlessly forgetful. You sigh, stepping into his open arms and hugging him. “You guys be careful, if you run into any trouble just give me a call.”

“We’re going to be fine.” Bucky took his friend into a hug after you released him, “We’ll let you know when we get to DC.” The first stop on the trip.

“Have fun! Try not to kill each other!” You roll your eyes, slipping into the passenger seat and plugging your phone in, getting the GPS set up. Bucky slipped into the driver’s seat, grasping your hand and laying a kiss on your palm.

“You ready baby?” You smile excitedly,

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Your little notebook in your lap. A polaroid camera for the aesthetic. A picture developing on your lap that you’d gotten Steve to take of the two of you in front of the car before leaving. The first stretch wasn’t very long. Just about four hours with mild traffic, but you knew with it would be closer to six, but once you were out of the North East the roads would open up at least for a little while.

You hit traffic trying to get out of the city almost immediately which is why you liked Bucky driving. Driving in the city was always stressful and you rarely ever had to do it, you’d never gotten that NYC aggression and seeing as he learned how to drive on these streets you let him take the first leg. You’d switch with him most likely somewhere in New Jersey, probably before you hit Delaware.

“Aren’t you excited?” He asks you. You had to admit, seeing him so giddy and excited about something further enforced the excitement you had been feeling about this trip. You’d never been anywhere further than the North East, once you broke free of DC you’d be in uncharted territory and it did excite you.

“Of course, I am.” You smiled at him, he leaned over the center console to kiss you, a loving sweet kiss interrupted by a loud honk from the man behind you, the light was green.

Washington, DC – Mile 233

“Okay, smile.” Bucky snapped a picture of you standing in front of the National Mall, the Washington Monument tall in the background. The day stayed bright and sunny. With the plan of hitting a museum before dinner, the two of you arrived around lunch time, stopping to grab some food before parking the car and walking around on foot.

You’d snapped a couple pictures of him on your phone while he’d been talking to his Mother during lunch, which you scrolled through while you walked to the next destination. The Smithsonian. The Natural History museum that had currently been doing an exhibit on the late Stan Lee. Something Bucky was excited about.

Copies of old prints. Videos of Stan Lee himself, Jack Kirby, and Steve Ditko. A bunch of first editions in plexiglass containers. His favorite, however, was the character his parents named him after. A life replica of the suit he wears in the comics on display. You took a couple pictures of him with it, sending them onto the group chat you had with him and his family.

His hand was in yours walking through more exhibits, both of you aimlessly walking up to different displays and stopped at the little gift shop for Bucky to look at some exclusive merch they had for the Stan Lee exhibit, including a paperback book about Stan Lee and a large exhibit book with detailed explanations about everything you’d just seen.

“Did you want to drive tonight?” Bucky asked while you were grabbing coffee, “Or do you want to find a room?” You playfully shove him, he playfully shoves you back.

Later your back would find the soft hotel mattress, giggling and a little drunk from the multiple drinks had at dinner. The hum of his lips against yours, fingers plucking on your strings, gentle moans and a hand pressed against the headboard as it smacks against the wall in a steady rhythm.

It was nice. This vacation was nice. And much needed after wrangling teenagers all day.

“I love you so much.” You moan against his mouth, the grind of his hips against yours making your eyes roll in the back of your head. His fingers laced in yours.

You knew that you and Bucky had a good relationship. It’s always been stable and nice and good. You love him and you know he loves you. You’ve never had to question that. Your last relationship, seemed like so long ago now, wasn’t that great. Time never made for each other, a great lack of communication, just being young adults and drinking too much at parties and screaming at each other in the car.

When you met Bucky it was an instant attraction. He was charming, sweet. He’d brought you snacks in the library and helped you study for your history exams. Currently, he was still slowly working towards his Doctorate, wanting to eventually teach at the college you’d both attended. But back then you’d moved in together almost instantly. Not just because the relationship came so easily, but because of finances as well.

Money was a little less tight when someone was sharing the bills with you.

Yeah, you had your arguments. Someone leaves their dishes next to the sink instead of in it. Someone keeps putting off taking out the trash. Someone doesn’t make the bed in the morning. Someone leaves their dirty socks next to the hamper than inside it. But they were small things. Things you could both try to do better. And you have.

Another thing all together was the sex.

You were never someone who said the sex had to be good right away. It takes time to learn someone’s body and really figure out what someone likes and what they don’t like. And while the sex has definitely improved over the years, he knew how to make you cum in less than two minutes and was very proud of that fact, your first sexual experience with each other had his head under your skirt in a dark corner of the school library like you were a Victorian royal canoodling with a servant.

You were red about it for days, thinking about how hard you came on his tongue almost caught by another student looking for records for their thesis. The grin on his face for a week afterward as he enjoyed the hastily decided exhibitionism.

It grew from there.

Bucky loved the fear of getting caught, it was one of his favorite things. You couldn’t even really remember everywhere the two of you had sex of some kind. And when you’d had your second pregnancy scare you decided to get the little implant you still have now.

“I love you so fucking much.” That grind. You loved it and he knew it. He would have your knees hooked over his arms, resting in his elbows, he would be deep, brushing your cervix and grinding his hips against yours, pubic bone grinding on your clit. Your nerve endings on fire. “So fucking wet.” Around him. You could feel his cock throb inside of you and you knew how badly he wanted to move, but he wanted you to beg him for it more.

And you would.

Always.

Your leg was over his thigh at breakfast. Sitting at the bar top of the little diner. “So I think today will just be driving.” Over a piece of toast, “I think it’s like… 10 or 11 hours.” So you’d probably get there just in time to get some sleep. He nods, taking a bite out of his omelet, his thumb brushing your thigh. You were scrolling through your phone. His fingers playing with the hem of your shorts.

“Do you want to drive first?” He asks, “Or do you want me to?”

Nashville, TN – Mile 890

The road to Nashville cut through the mountains. Music blasting and windows down, you snapped pictures as Bucky traversed the winding roads that were mostly empty aside from shipment trucks and the occasional other car also travelling to some unknown destination. It was gorgeous out there.

“Could you imagine living out here?” You asked him as you spot a cabin mixed in among the trees on the side of the mountain not too far in the distance. He had his sunglasses on, his hair a little grown out and longer than he usually kept it was whipping around his face.

“Absolutely not.” He laughed. The city boy, through and through, you’d really struggled over deciding where you’d like to buy a house when the two of you decided to actually start saving. He wanted to buy an apartment first, but then a debate of what would be more realistic, what would give them enough living space for what they would be paying. There was a period of time where all you looked at were the pretty brownstones you knew you couldn’t afford, but once the two of you reeled it in and really looked you decided to move closer to where Bucky would be working as a professor.

“It’s bad enough you have me moving to New Jersey.” He laughs. But it was all a jest, he wanted to work for Rutgers in New Brunswick. It was where both of you went to college, after all.

“We should go camping.” You take a picture as you cross a bridge, capturing the rippling mountain water.

“You would hate camping.” He shakes his head, “You went to summer camp for a week in fifth grade and told me it was the worst experience of your life.” You sit back in your seat glaring at him.

“Maybe it would be different now that I’m an adult,” You offer, “And the only reason why it was horrible in the first place is because night one the girls said the cabin was haunted and then I just couldn’t sleep for the rest of the week.” Those little bitches. Bucky full belly laughs, the haunting of the girl was also on top of you getting a UTI and seeing a family of bears roam about outside one day so you couldn’t go outside.

“We are not going camping.” You huff but don’t answer because you know he was right; you’d hate camping.

…

“I don’t even remember the last time we had McDonald’s.” You say while dipping three fries into your small dipping cup of sauce.

“After finals.” It wasn’t as good as you remember it being, but you’d also gotten a salad to split as well. Not being able to quite justify eating strictly burgers and fries. Bucky’s memory was a steel trap, unlike his blond best friend. Bucky could easily recall events, almost in striking detail which really sucks when you promised to go do something and wanted to act like you forgot, he could tell you exactly when you said it.

Like drunk on Christmas when you say you should take a road trip, although this wasn’t a half bad idea.

“You got a 20-piece nugget.” He continues, “You ranted for the entire night about how they only gave you three sauces for 20 nuggets.” A history major who had great memory recall. Tests were very easy for him. The bastard. You used to be so jealous.

“Sounds like something I would do.” You laugh.

Nashville was dark when you’d arrived. Downtown thriving with noise and pedestrians as you drove around, tired, while Bucky looked at local hotels. You’d found a decent one for cheap not too far from where you’d been driving and as soon as that hotel room door shut you slipped into bed. Waking slightly when Bucky slipped into bed behind you, pulling you into his chest. The little wet strands of his hair tickling your cheek as he pressed a kiss there, falling back under.

The Parthenon. A life size replica of the one in Greece. A polaroid or two there. Nashville was gorgeous. Aside from the main city were little outlying towns with walkable shopping and a ton of little restaurants and local coffee shops.

You take a sip of your iced coffee, giving Bucky an odd look as he looks at a wall of cowboy boots. “You’re not buying those.” He turns and gives you a playful glare. “Babe, they’re $300, no. You would never wear them.”

“Maybe I’m going to make them a staple of my closet.” He shrugs, “That’s what that girl you watch says right, make something a staple and work your other clothes around it?”

“She doesn’t mean $300 cowboy boots.” You laugh. “You’re never going to wear those.”

“I could though.”

“But you won’t.”

You’d gone and enjoyed the city, hit a couple breweries and had bar food before doing a little tour of the Grand Ole Opry and walked around the Opry Mills Mall before grabbing dinner. The restaurant had line dancing and pretty decent barbecue. But the one drink they had, some sort of peach and whiskey, went down a little too smooth. And poor Bucky who hadn’t drank quite as much, was propping you up on his shoulder as you stumble down the street back to your hotel.

“We should go to an actual bar,” You whine. “I’m not tired.” You stumble, his arm wrapping around your waist a little tighter.

“You are tired,” He laughs, “Your bedtime was two hours ago.” You stick your tongue out at him but try to keep step. You’re sure he slowed down from his usual long strides for you.

“We are on vacation,” Another whine, “We can stay out late.”

“Baby everything is closing,” He tries to reason, “It’s 2 am.” You gaze around the area you’re in. Stragglers, barely anyone around. It was a weeknight after all.

“But I don’t wanna go back to the room.” He gives you a look, stopping in the street and backing you up against the wall, capturing your mouth against his, his hips grinding against yours. “Bucky…” A whine against his mouth.

“You don’t want to go back to the room right?” It was a darker corner, the streetlight not quite reaching. His fingers unbuttoned your shorts, slipping his fingers into your panties to stroke at your clit. A moan muffled into his mouth. You could feel how hard he was on your thigh. Your mind frazzled and swimming in alcohol still, hand gripping his wrist as his fingers prod your opening, thumb continuing to move in tight practiced circles on your clit. Your legs were trembling as his face pulled away from yours. His forehead resting against yours, eyes connected. “You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you baby?”

Fuck. “Yes.” A whine for a different reason this time, his fingers entering you and immediately stroking your g-spot. Your thighs clamping around his hand as you cum, your loud moan muffled by him capturing your mouth. He worked you through your aftershocks before pulling you tightly into his body, massaging the back of your neck, licking your taste off his fingers.

“C’mon baby,” He kisses you again, “Let’s go to bed.”

New Orleans, LA – Mile 1,422

Your head was pounding, eyes closed with a water bottle pressed to your skull. The music soft in the background while Bucky, bless him, offered to take the first leg of the driving. The eight-hour drive that you were sure would take about nine. He was an angel running into the gas station while you pumped the gas to grab you water and medicine for your headache. While not at all laughing about how you fell flat on your ass into the hotel room and begging him to kiss what was now a bruise on your hip and left ass cheek.

“I can’t believe I drank that much.” You groan, taking a sip of your water.

“I can’t believe you drank that much.” Humor in his voice. The asshole. You napped for the first hour or two, before Bucky began to get antsy. Shifting in his seat, trying to stretch his legs out.

“I can drive.” You mumble, coming out of your nap. “I just need my sunglasses.” His hands tightened on the wheel,

“I could probably go another hour or so.” He says. You roll your eyes,

“Next gas station, we’ll switch.” A sip from your water bottle, “You’re obviously uncomfortable.” He grumbles under his breath, but does it anyway, stepping from the car somewhere in Alabama. He stretches and you swear you could hear a couple pops in his spine. After grabbing a couple snacks and some coffee from the gas station you were back on your way, feeling a little more alive than you had previously.

The music a little louder, Bucky pulled out the book he’d gotten at the Smithsonian, the windows cracked. You made it back on the road and towards your destination still 7 hours long.

When you’d been planning this road trip Bucky decided to make a bunch of playlists on his phone, each supposedly for a different kind of mood, but they all sounded quite the same to you. All but one which was just labeled ‘XXX’ and had such hits as ‘Pony’ by Ginuwine and ‘Sex with Me’ by Rihanna. Which is strange because you’d never had a sex playlist normally, but suddenly he thinks you need one to play on speaker on his phone next to the bed in hotel rooms.

The one he had playing originally was something mellow, without lyrics. Thoughtful to your raging hangover, but you needed something to focus on. Something you could sing, badly to, but sing to keep yourself from going crazy on a stretch of highway you felt like you’d been on forever. Which you kind of were. It was one straight highway for the entire 533 miles it would take to get you from Nashville to New Orleans. That little pitstop just dipping you off the exit and then putting your right back on.

It was brain numbing honestly and you tried to go as long as possible before switching back. Bucky had fallen asleep sometime an hour or so after you started driving, book folded over his thumb and seat tilted back.

You felt bad. You kept him up so late last night and then he’d let you sleep in while he got ready. Bringing you breakfast and coffee and waking you up slowly. You thought back to him in the hotel room, the soft kisses and whispers. He’d gotten you in the shower with the bribe of giving you a massage after, which he did. You glance at him in the rearview, his arm thrown over his eyes. You could go a little longer.

The first thing the two of you did getting into New Orleans was stop for a drive thru daiquiri before finding what hotel you’d be staying in for the night.

Bags down you sip on the strawberry liquor slush, sinking into the sheets of the hotel room. “Take it easy.” Bucky laughs, stealing it from you and taking a sip. “Don’t want a repeat of last night.” You stick your tongue out at him and he leans over and kisses you, your fingers moving to tug on his belt loop, pulling him over to the bed. Sitting up you continue to kiss him, beginning to palm him through his jeans.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” Mumbled against his lips as you begin to work on his belt. “I really appreciate it.” Looking up at him through your lashes as you free him from his briefs. His breath catches as your cool tongue licks the tip, mouth stained red. Wide and flat against his head. Tapping it on your tongue before circling around the tip and sucking it into your mouth, his fingers twisting in your hair, not pushing but just holding.

You drip spit down on his cock, using your hand to spread it down his length before sucking him back in your mouth, beginning to bob your head to meet your stroking hand. Your other hand moving below to fondle his balls.

You watch his head fall back, a gasp as his fingers tighten in your hair. You feel the spongey tip of him brush the back of your throat, holding yourself there for a moment before pulling off and stroking him root to tip. He bent over meeting your mouth, kiss passionate and lusty. When you part you sink your mouth back onto him, moaning.

His hips gently thrust into your face, you know he’s getting close, his breaths coming out in short pants, the barely there thrust of his hips when he’s craving more friction you oblige to, speeding up your movements and you gently tug on his balls.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby.” His head tossing back and a groan as he begins to empty himself into your mouth. You work him through his aftershocks, his hips giving one true thrust right at the end before you swallow. His mouth meeting yours in a satisfied hum.

You went to the French Quarter for dinner. A place with a live jazz band and good food. The atmosphere unmatched. The French Quarter was much less of a drunken mess than Bourbon Street itself, that beast to be tackled a different night. You had a little bit of a pregame with those daquiri slushes before dinner. Buzzed and comfortably riding it throughout. You’d sipped on a rum and coke while listening to the jazz. Just enjoying the night. Tired from driving but satiated from the food. Your hand rubbing your belly you were so full.

“I love you.” His fingers twisting in the stray hairs that fell from your clip. You smile at him, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I love you too.”

You stayed mostly sober while he drank on Bourbon Street. You let him sing horrible karaoke at Cat’s Meow and drug him away from his forced politeness with about six other woman and at least five men. And you let him lean on you and babble while you waited for the uber back to your hotel.

“You’re so fuckin—hiccup—pretty.” Wet on your ear, slobbering and you laugh. “Like so fuckin pretty.” His mouth sloppy on your cheek.

“You’re going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.” And it would be your turn to take care of him.

That day had been really nice, a little rainy but you’d gotten beignets and coffee at Café Du Monde and bought a pack of the beignet mix and coffee cup to bring home. You’d seen the Madame LaLaurie house which you were sure you’d be talking to Peggy about later, you’d walked around Jackson Square in the light drizzle and even made your way to walk around Audubon Park. You’d been surprised when Bucky said he wanted to go drink on Bourbon Street seeing as you’d been up for a while, but you obliged and now you were rubbing his back as he told you he was nauseous, his arms wrapped around the toilet bowl.

“I don’t feel good.” He blubbers.

“I know baby.” The tile was cold, hard, and uncomfortable. He gagged. And you sigh, wondering if you should just help him throw up so he would feel better. But he finally vomited. You got him cleaned up, helped him brush his teeth. Fed him some water and helped him out of his clothes. His arms wrapped around your waist as he sat on the edge of the bed. Mumbling words you couldn’t understand as you tried to pull his shirt off. His pants long discarded.

“C’mon baby.” You tug on the shirt stuck in his armpits. His arms weakly lift from your body, letting you lift the shirt off him and laying him under the covers. His fingers twisting in your shirt, “I’ll be right back.” In the bathroom you quickly wipe up the toilet, flushing the extra mess and grabbed the trash can, bringing it out to his side of the bed and resting it on the floor near his head, his arm hanging off the bed and already snoring.

The next day when you were eating breakfast, he drank heartily on a Bloody Mary, trying to get the hair of the dog and feel more alive.

“I can’t believe you let me drink that much.” A groan over fried green tomatoes. You roll your eyes,

“I didn’t… the guys buying you shots when my back was turned did.” It was a laugh really, how Bucky wouldn’t realize someone was flirting with him. So out of touch from being in a relationship, Bucky had been quite the charmer when you first met but had a really hard time noticing when someone else was flirting altogether. A marvel, but it’s true.

“But they were so nice.” He reasoned making you laugh.

“They really were.”

San Antonio, TX – Mile 1,965

Another 543 miles, which 541 were spent on the same road. Honestly it was probably the worst part. Driving in mostly a straight line for hours with long stretches of road in between each stop. But that’s how this part of the country was. It was hotter down here for sure, or maybe just because you were getting deeper into summer.

San Antionio was sweltering, you could feel your shirt sticking to your back as you took in the air conditioning of the hotel lobby you were currently in. The electronic keycard slipped across the counter to Bucky while you waited a step behind before shifting your bag back on and following him to the elevator.

The hotel was a lot like every other hotel, but the only thing you were really worried about now was the shower. Bags dropped and the small toiletry case in hand you slipped into the shower, letting the water run a little cold to cool you off before turning it a little higher to be more comfortable. You can hear Bucky enter the bathroom, the shower curtain being pulled back as he entered behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and dragging you back into his body. Just holding you for a minute.

“Are you okay?” He asked. Pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Yeah, I think I just need some alone time.” You hadn’t talked much during the drive from New Orleans to San Antonio. You were used to getting time apart from each other. Not that you didn’t like spending time with him, but sometimes you just wanted to be alone and right now you were getting that itch. He hums, his arms tightening for a moment more before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“After the shower, why don’t you take a nap before dinner, hmm?” He reached over grabbing the soap, “I’ll go grab us dinner and bring it back,” beginning to wash, “We can eat in the room tonight, sleep in tomorrow?”

“That would be nice.” You’d finished your shower, slipped into comfortable clothes and flipped through the local channels on the tv, finding something for background noise as Bucky left the room.

You would get like this sometimes.

Bucky was always a little more adventurous. Back in college you probably wouldn’t have done half the things you did if it weren’t for him. He was far more outgoing; he had more friends. He was always dragging you out of first your dorm, and then your shared apartment. He didn’t need the alone time like you did and at first he was a little hurt by it.

Like you didn’t want to spend time with him, and it wasn’t that. You just needed a little bit of time to yourself to just be on your own and decompress a little. But he kind of knew when you needed it now. When you got a little quiet. When you needed a little space. And he found himself enjoying the time that you spend apart. You were sure he was enjoying his little walk,

“I get to kind of quiet myself a little bit.” He told you, “I always feel like I’m going all the time.” There were often times where you’d spend time together in the same room just not talking, a comfortable silence as you watched tv and he graded papers or just laying in bed reading next to each other. You felt like you didn’t deserve him sometimes.

He always catered to your social anxiety and your stress and you try to do the most you can for him, but there’s always that fear of it not being enough. Like maybe you’d wake up one day and he’d decide that it just wasn’t a good fit anymore.

What would you even do then?

A quick nap, only thirty minutes or so. Then you lay there a little bit, listening to the tv ramble on some sitcom you didn’t recognize. You hear Bucky come in, a paper bag of food in his arms, your eyes meet his and he smiles.

You didn’t deserve him.

“I found this food truck,” He sets down the two glass bottles of soda on the little table in the room. “The guy who runs it, his family used to own a restaurant here in San Antonio, but they were shoved out of business by this fucking corporate bastard who wanted the space for fucking condominiums, kept raising his fucking rent until he couldn’t afford it anymore.” A kiss to your lips, “How was your nap?”

“That’s terrible.” Your hand on his back as you sit at the table, him across from you. “It was good, I think I needed that.” He starts laying out the food. Tacos, empanadas, a little container of radish and limes. Extra cilantro. Little sauce cups of spicy salsa. A hot container of grilled peppers and cactus. A small container of extra rice. “This looks really good, thank you.”

He brings your hand up to his lips, kissing it. “Are you okay?” He asked, biting into the empanada sprinkled with queso fresco. You nod, massaging his arm before digging into the tacos.

“Yeah baby, I’m okay.”

You had to see the Alamo, obviously. The big limestone building that was pivotal in the Texas Revolution and was now a history museum. But you were more excited for the river walk. Not far from your hotel a bunch of small restaurants and shops, very touristy and brightly lit, but beautiful on the San Antonio River. Tomorrow would be the Japanese Tea Garden and the Natural Bridge Caverns, but you always liked a relatively easy day right after travelling.

You found yourself really looking at him for the first time in a long time. The little wrinkles by his eyes when he smiles that weren’t there five years ago. How often he licked his lips. How often he caught you looking at him. You were sure you looked lovesick. You found yourself resting your head on his shoulder a lot. Your hand in his as you walked around, the steady motion of his thumb moving across your hand a soothing balm for your growing anxiety.

“What’s going on?” He’d ask you later. “You’ve been really affectionate today.” His hands around your waist in the elevator heading up to the hotel room.

“I just love you, that’s all.” His hands moving to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You meet his kiss, humming against his lips. The elevator doors ding and you walk to your room,

“I just want to sleep.” You hear him sigh behind you as you begin to get changed.

“No, what’s wrong?” Sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you as you changed into your sleep shorts and tank top. His hand reaching out to yours and dragging you into his lap, your legs on either side of his, you wrapped your arms around his neck. “C’mon baby talk to me.” You felt silly.

“I just… feel like I don’t deserve you.” A laugh in his chest that made you feel dumb.

“I’m sorry baby,” His arms squeezing you a little tighter, “I didn’t mean to laugh.” His fingers tracing your spine. “I feel like I don’t deserve you sometimes, you’re always so patient with me. You pack my lunch for me every day.” He laughs, “You do cute things like bring me coffee when I’m studying or make me those amazing chocolate peanut butter cookies during finals. You know I love you,” He pulled back, your face coming from resting on his shoulder, his hand coming up to cup your jaw, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. “I think we both like to take care of each other, there’s nothing wrong with that baby, you always take care of me so I try really hard to take care of you.”

“How are you so perfect?” A hum as you meet his lips, soft and sweet.

“How are you so perfect?” He falls back against the bed, dragging you down with him, his hand still rubbing your back. You softly kiss him and close your eyes, finding comfort in laying on his chest. “I think this trip was a really good idea.”

Four Corners Monument – Mile 2,936

“How could you have not checked that we were low on gas?” You were trying to not be angry. You were really trying not to be angry, but when there’s desert on either side of you it’s kind of hard not to be. It was sweltering and no gas also meant no AC.

“I checked our gas at the last stop,” Bucky was in the same boat, hands on his hips, “I think— “he sighs, “Maybe the gas gauge is broken.” You groan in frustration, stepping away from the car and pulling out your phone.

“Can you get a signal?” To call his AAA. A moment or two of him on the phone, before he hung up and turned to you.

“They said about two hours.” You huff, sitting down in the passenger seat, door open and arms crossed. You’d woken up extra early to make this 15-hour drive. You kicked at the hard ground with the sole of your sneaker, trying to calm down while Bucky paced a little.

“I knew we should have rented a car.” You glare at him from your seat.

“If you wanted to rent a car why would you ask me if we should take your car or not?” He didn’t answer. “Don’t blame me for this.” A sigh,

“I’m blaming myself.” A kick to his tire, “I’ve had this car for ten years now, we shouldn’t have taken it.” You worry your bottom lip, checking the time on your phone.

“If you knew we shouldn’t have taken it, why did we?” You didn’t mean for this to turn into an argument. But it somehow turned into a screaming match on the abandoned stretch of road. Not even over important things, things so insignificant like how he’d been taking his shoes off in the car and the stink of that or how you smacked your gum out of boredom. The heat leading the two of you to just explode for no good reason.

Two long strides, that is what was between the two of you. That’s all it took for him to grab you tightly and crush you against his chest, mashing your lips together. You moan into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair for a harsh tug. Your back hit the side of the car, his fingers fumbling with the button of your shorts, tugging them open and roughly dipping his fingers into the wet heat between your thighs. Two fingers circling your opening before slipping inside and stroking your walls, thumb rapid on your clit.

Your hands fumble with his belt, your legs already shaking as you stroke his length, hot and hard in your hand. He removes his fingers from your now aching sex, “I need you so bad.” Shorts and panties shifted down on your hips, stuck on your knees, he turns you around pressing you to the car, feet kicking your legs open and you could feel his tip prod your entrance.

With one thrust he was home, his hips slapping against yours furiously, your hand drifting own between your thighs to strum on your clit, the pleasure growing. His hand rips yours away, replacing it with his.

“God you’re so fucking good.” Hot on you ear, “So fucking good baby.” That stretch and burn of him, on top of the practiced fingers on your clit brought you over almost immediately. A moan ripping from your lungs, as your clit became overbearingly sensitive. Your hand met his between your legs, trying to stop the steady motions, but he wouldn’t. His other hand left your hip and wrapped around your throat, dragging your back to his chest. “You’re gonna cum for me again.”

You were a mess, whining as two of his fingers slipped into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue, eyes rolling back in your head as you felt yourself gush around his cock. His hips giving a half a dozen sloppy thrusts before he moaned into your neck, emptying himself inside you. You catch your breath against him before your mind unscrambles and you realize that you’ve got cum dripping down your thighs in the middle of the desert.

“I think we needed that.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek before wiping his cum off your thighs with a tissue, bundling it up and tossing it into the plastic bag you’d been using for trash and tying it.

You snort, buttoning your shorts, “Always the romantic.” He grins, taking a sip out of a water bottle before passing it to you.

“It’s warm.” He warns. You scrunch your nose, taking a sip of the warm water, sweat dripping down your back.

“How much longer?” He checks his phone and looks at you with a defeated expression.

“An hour.” You had to change your shorts.

…

“This is it?” Just a pavilion, one on each side of the square and the little circular concrete stepping area and a large plaque on the ground. He’s laughing, the stress of everything that just happened ending in this.

“You can be in four states at once.” You shrug.

Grand Canyon Village, AZ – Mile 3,165

It was busy and a little crowded at the Grand Canyon. Which was kind of to be expected. A lot of people taking pictures with their families and couples taking pictures much like you’d been planning to. But the view.

It took your breath away.

You’d seen different environments on this trip that before you’d never been exposed to. The North East was heavily wooded, and everything was tightly packed together. Having lived in New Jersey and then NYC it was very much the same. You marveled at the mountains on your way to Nashville and when you first hit actual desert you pulled the car over to take a real look. The swamps and muggy weather in New Orleans you hadn’t gotten enough time to explore, but the first time seeing Spanish Moss was unreal.

But this was something else entirely.

Bucky caged you in against the metal gate keeping you from getting to the edge, his chest to your back and rested his head on your shoulder. “This is incredible.” He agreed.

You snapped a picture on your polaroid.

And probably about a dozen pictures of the two of you together. A nice couple from Idaho even took a picture on his phone and one on the polaroid and in return you took their picture and gifted them a polaroid of themselves.

You’d left around dinner time. Ordering in and spending the night in the room after shoving your laundry in the hotel laundry room.

“We’re only eight hours away.” You grin. “Eight more hours until we are at the Pacific.” It feels unreal that you’re almost to the opposite end of the country, but whenever you pulled up the map on your phone that’s where it showed you.

Driving had been getting a little more difficult the closer you got to your destination. You were just itching to just get there already and you were not excited for the drive tomorrow. You hadn’t touched the bed yet, still covered in a thin layer of dust, you could feel it between your toes, but the hunger led you towards eating the sandwich and salad combo from the shop the two of you ordered from before getting into the actual shower.

You sigh, fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair. His mouth attached to your clit in a gentle suck. One hand drifting up to play with your nipple, rolling it between his fingers. Your hips grind against his face. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Almost, almost. His hand was fisting his cock the heat of it making your toes curl, cumming on his tongue. A few more quick tugs had him spilling over the tile. The best thing about hotel bathrooms was the water never went cold. Still hot and steamy as he pressed a kiss to your hip before standing. You bury your face in his neck, wrapping your arms around him as he pulled you close.

A soft rock side to side under the stream.

God you fucking love him.

Driving was honestly a hassle. You couldn’t go more than two hours without wanting to switch or stop, which as you grew closer and closer to California you began to see more houses and more people on the road around you.

His hand on your thigh as you finally crossed the California border, feeling a little more positive about finally getting to the end of the road before having to turn around.

Anaheim, CA – Mile 3,643

You read about California traffic, but it was unreal in person. The car hadn’t moved in a good five minutes you’re sure. How is this even possible? The gridlock because you’d taken an extra hour at lunch and gotten to California around rush hour.

“That was a mistake.” You sigh, rubbing your eyes. “We should have just hit a drive thru.” He rubbed your thigh affectionately.

“Doesn’t matter now,” He laughs, “We’ll get there.” You know he’s right, but you still feel a little string of irritation with yourself for not just pushing through a little more. “Are you excited?” He’s grinning, a squeeze on your leg.

“I’m very excited.” And you were. There was so much you wanted to see in California. And you both specifically set aside money to spend a day or two at Disneyland having gone to Disney World with both of your families before. Your Mom being a little obsessed, you were going to have to bring her back something for sure.

You had to get In-N-Out. That was a given. You’d almost stopped for it back in Tuscon but reasoned that you had to wait until California. “This is so good.” Bucky picked up some fries you had to order ‘animal-style’ just because it was an option. And it was so good.

“This was worth it.” Over a mouth of burger. Bucky nods,

“So worth it.”

Your toes dipped into the ocean. A hot and beautiful day. Bucky sat back a couple feet laid out on a blanket. You look back on him, propped up on his elbow, smiling at you. The water was warm, and it was unreal that it wasn’t actually green. At the Jersey shore the water is green from all the algae. But not here. It was actually blue.

His arms wrap around your waist, walking you both deeper into the water. The waves rocking gently over your bodies. The sun hot on your skin.

“This was so worth it.” Your legs around his waist in the water, his finger’s toying with your swimsuit bottoms. “Don’t.” Stern. It makes him laugh.

“Don’t what?” Fingers brushing on your labia through your swim bottoms.

“Bucky…” A harder press directly against your clit. Your eyes looking on the shore. “Stop.” Dragging yourself away from him you made him laugh harder, treading water to get back onto the sand, tossing a playful glare over your shoulder. “Pervert.”

A polaroid of the gate, Disneyland.

“The castle is small.” He says. Main Street similar to Disney World itself, but the castle was noticeably smaller than Cinderella’s castle in Orlando. But it was just as magical and just as expensive. You split a hand dipped corn dog and ate dole whip in the afternoon between rides.

It was a fun, but tiring day and left you both a little sunburnt on your nose and cheeks. You’d slept in the next day, barely able to pull yourself out of bed and your legs were sore from walking about ten miles yesterday. You UberEats breakfast to the room, well… lunch. And watched the weather forecast while trying to decide what to do that day, settling down on going to the Santa Monica pier seeing as the day was already half gone.

Bucky began acting a little strange halfway through your stay in California. He seemed anxious and more fidgety than usual. But every time you asked him about it, he shrugged it off as having too much caffeine or just being really excited to be going to go see the Hollywood sign or stopping by the Cecil Hotel, “Just to see it.”

It wasn’t until the night before you were going to start making your way back did you discover the reason why.

Sitting on the trunk of his car, facing the ocean. The food truck where you’d just had fish tacos and chips with guac off to your right, the only real light as you watched the sun set. He offered to go to the other food truck nearby and grab some ice cream. Homemade stuff boasted by the chalkboard sign on the side of the truck.

With his return and the comfortable quiet that came with watching the sun set over the ocean, you feel him shift to your side, fumbling with something before slipping off the trunk, his back to you.

“Bucky?” You watched him take a deep breath and turn, in his hand was a ring box.

…

Bucky had thought about proposing a million times.

Every time you’d bring him coffee at the library. Every time you’d turn down the bed before the two of you went to sleep. He’d almost proposed Christmas, but you’d wanted to drink so he held off.

When you brought up this road trip he started thinking about it, really. And decided that he would do it sometime during this trip.

He kept trying to figure out when he wanted to do it. That night of amazing sex in DC. The night you were babbling and drunk in Nashville. Maybe when he looked at you in that jazz club, your face lit up by the stage lights in New Orleans. He’d almost proposed in San Antonio when you were sweet and needy.

He thought about it during your argument heading towards the Four Corners Monument but changed his mind. And at the Grand Canyon there were just too many people around. But here it was just the two of you, your car farther away from the crowd gathered by the food trucks. You’d just watched the sun set over the ocean. He knew it was now, he had to do it.

He wanted to do it.

“I had a whole thing… planned out.” He stumbles over his words, “I’ve thought about this every day for years now, I think. And I just… you’re the love of my life. You’re the only person I want to spend it with, and I know we haven’t talked a lot about getting married and I’m ruining this, but… This trip has really confirmed everything I already knew that I felt and I don’t think there’s any better time to ask…

Will you marry me?”

…

The ring felt strange on your finger but was easily ignored as your fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair. The windows in the car were cracked to keep them from steaming up, a practice well versed by both of your exhibitionist tendencies. The goal was to make it back to the hotel, but this abandoned stretch of highway would do just fine.

On his lap in the backseat you grind your hips against his, aching for it. Fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shorts and feeling his hands squeeze your bare ass while you work them down past his knees. A hover to adjust before sinking down.

Wet but not completely prepared, the stretch and burn a little intense. His mouth moving passionately against yours as one hand slipped between you and starting carefully stroking your clit. Your hands meet the head rest, using it as leverage to raise and lower yourself on his dick. His hips slip down on the seat a little to help you, thrusting up to meet your hips.

“I’m not gonna last,” He moans against your mouth. You start to gush around him, whimpering as you grow closer and closer to release. His hand that had been on your waist coming to tangle in your hair and tug, those practiced fingers of his between your legs finally bringing you over. He was quick to follow. Panting as you remain in his lap, feeling him soften, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you in tightly to his chest. Soft and loving,

“This was a really good idea.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #captain america #the falcon and the winter soldier #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers #au

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tenacityreturns · 3 years

Note

momoi shifts , carefully drinking her bubble tea. today , she was waiting on sakurai to show up for their bi-weekly shopping trip and had seen kagami out of the side of her eye so of course, she had to say hi! leaning back in her chair , she gets a flash of lunch with aomine wondering about fate. " hey , kagamin, " she starts, " do you believe in fate ? " / from momoi <3

@peachmuses

kagami is watching a tall girl across the mall cafeteria demonstrate, without a ball, how to shoot a basketball. he assumes it's a basketball. she's laughing as her friends have a go, none of them caring that they're in public and everybody could see them. one friend says something as she puts her wrists together, it looks like she's talking about volleyball or something. he wonders what it's like to have friends with different hobbies. he hasn't given it much thought since finding a love for basketball, but he'd still be a loner if not for that. not everyone is as out-going and friendly as tatsuya used to be. the girls sit down at their table again, and he loses interest. he wonders, briefly as the thought is soon interrupted, whether putting all his chips into basketball is the right idea. maybe he should join a cooking class or... run a cooking class ( inspired by present company ).

“kagamin,” he repeats with a grumble as she continues speaking, more to himself than to her. what is it with these people and giving out nicknames like it’s christmas! all these generation of miracles do it, just about. it’s so annoying! kagamin, kagamicchi, bakagami, even! will they ever stop?

but this thought, too, is interrupted before he can make a scene with it. kagami’s got an expressive face, and every emotion sparked by the random question is displayed clear as day. surprise: raised eyebrows, opening mouth as if to speak but with nothing yet to say; incredulousness: squinting eyes, now a frown; contemplative: downturned lips tightened into a line, averting his gaze. does he? why the hell is she even asking? without having given it much thought, he sighs.

“where the hell did that come from?”

“nowhere,” she smiles, then taps her chin with her index finger, “it’s just, dai--- aomine-kun brought it up the other day, and i haven’t gotten it out of my mind.”

“dai-chan brought it up?” kagami deadpans, “no way did that idiot come up with a thing like that.”

“oh, but he did! he’s impulsive, which sometimes comes across as inconsiderate or inattentive, yes, but he thinks about these things a lot.”

“what did he say?” he sits back in his seat, careful not to kick her. kagami folds his arms across his chest.

momoi lowers her drink and hides behind her hand, suddenly acting all embarrassed. “maybe i shouldn’t say!”

“now you have to, saying a thing like that! i won’t tell anyone.”

“he said-- he said!” she’s playing up her embarrassment, right? there’s nothing dai---- aomine could have said that would make her go all... gooey... right? unless-- he didn’t confess to her or anything? no...

“momoi,” he grumbles, “come on.”

“very well!” she sets her drink directly in-front of her on the table, frowning seriously. her hands grip the edge for a moment before lacing together. when she looks up at him, her eyes are cold and calculating -- but gentle. “i trust you, so i’ll tell you. aomine-kun believes that it’s fate that you met.”

here comes the incredulousness again. it distorts his face into a squinting grimace. “he didn’t say that.”

“he did.”

“about me?”

“about you,” her hands release and then fold again.

ah. his cheeks are the first to betray him. in fact, his blush is currently his only reaction, besides downturned lips. does he have any thoughts right now? kagami is short-circuiting. momoi’s eyes are putting him off, so he stares out the window finds nothing easier to look at there. fate, huh? fate. alright. he’s got to say something. or leave. fate. stupid idiot aomine said he thinks it’s fate that they met? what the fuck? what the fuck! alright. alright. alright! alright? alright. alright! that’s a song, right? an american song or something, it’s in english at least. there’s a hook he’s got stuck in his mind now. it’s something else to think about, anyway. alright, now fellas! what’s cooler than being---

“please don’t be upset with aomine-kun,” she says quietly, “or bring it up. he’ll only deny it.”

“no-- no, i--” he sits forward, “i’m not upset. i told you i wasn’t gonna tell anyone so i won’t. he really said that about me? specifically?”

“yes! how you met us at exactly the right point in time, how you happened to join tetsu-kun’s team, the best you could have met first. wouldn’t things be different if you had joined some other team?”

“this is a lot to think about,” he rubs his temple, “you mean aomine thinks like this all the time?”

“well, not all the time,” she reaches into her bag to bring out her pink phone, and replies to a text as she speaks, “but he does talk about you a lot.”

“me? what’s he say?”

“mmm,” she looks around the room searchingly, tentatively standing. no, don’t leave now! what kind of fate is this?! in his desperation at the fleeting moment of opportunity, kagami also stands. as he does, he notices a guy a full head and shoulders taller than most other people around them. speak of the devil! somehow, seeing aomine’s frown dissipate into a smile ( even if that does turn into a smirk ) makes everything worse for once. “oh! what’s he doing here? i guess i’ll see you around, kagamin!”

“huh?!” he feels like he’s being left behind, and stands helplessly as she runs over and greets her friends. sakurai says something, momoi says something, and aomine walks straight passed them. kagami stands straighter, shuts his gaping mouth, and returns to that downturned look of embarrassment.

“oho, what did she say to you?” he’s smirking, but he’d probably just leave if he knew the truth! kagami’s resolved to not say it, of course, but it’s too much to look at him right now! kagami picks up his backpack and pulls it over one shoulder. when aomine repeats his question, it’s with a touch of horror in his voice. “what did she say to you?”

“nothing!” kagami blurts, “nothing. you--- uh, you’re not hanging out with them today?”

“maybe i will,” aomine takes a step away, like sand through fingers, “you’re being weird.”

“uh-- yeah,” his brain is in overdrive right now. “i am? sorry.”

“look, half what she says is bullshit to get a rise outta you. i know it doesn’t look like it, but she likes pushing people’s buttons too.”

“no, no-- i don’t think it was like that.”

“okay,” he turns and starts off in the direction of the others. he must have been able to sense that kagami was off ( no, you fucking dumbass, it’s literally so obvious that you’re uncomfortable and don’t know up from down. cute to think you were being subtle though ? ).

well, that’s no good! if aomine leaves now, kagami doesn’t know how long it will be until he can face him again! better to conquer the fears and awkwardness and butterflies -- however the fuck he’s feeling right now -- and grab the bull by its horns! or, in this case, to catch up and throw his arm around aomine’s shoulders, steering him away.

“no way, you think you can get outta playing a one-on-one with me?” kagami’s trying to be normal, but aomine’s scrutinising glare is a lot to deal with. he gives his best toothy smile, and gets shrugged off but not in the don’t touch me, you weirdo kind of way. hopefully?

“maybe losing will knock some sense into you,” aomine grumbles. “wait, you don’t even have a basketball?”

“uh,” yep, hadn’t thought of that. “i could just buy one-- ?”

“nah, let’s go to the arcade and i’ll whop your ass in there.”

kagami does his best to bury the whole fate concept, which has clearly done little else but freak him out, as they make their way to the arcade. he doesn’t have it in him to talk shit, though, so there’s no reply to that last comment. kagami isn’t sure if he believes in fate, but it’s weird knowing someone else thinks that about him. he’s got butterflies he can’t shake, and he finds himself fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. like that would help anything! instead, he balls up his fists and shoves them into his hoodie pockets. just as he can feel a frown forming, he glances at aomine and notices the familiar red hoodie. kagami’s red hoodie. just as kagami is wearing one of aomine’s. what. that’s--- that’s kind of funny, actually. they could just swap back right now, and that would probably be the normal thing to do, but it looks so good on aomine. kagami’s smiling before he can do anything about it.

“what the fuck are you looking at?” aomine’s alarmed when he spots the change, and instead of sounding insulting or argumentative, his question just sounds surprised.

“nothing, dumbass!” kagami elbows him, giving in just a little. aomine hits him straight back, even as kagami’s continuing. “that’s my hoodie, is all.”

“yeah, so what? you’re wearing mine.”

“you think i don’t know that?”

“you ain’t getting it back, pal,” aomine looks away again, with the excuse of looking around the arcade as they walk inside.

finally, kagami pulls his eyes away. what is it aomine talks about when kagami isn’t around? is it his cooking? his basketball? what does he think of him? usually, kagami doesn’t care-- or at least, he pretends not to. and he cares a little bit about how aomine feels about him... naturally, his eyes settle on the basketball hoops in the corner and he grabs aomine’s arm to drag him over. aomine shrugs him off again.

“what the-- oh kagami,” it’s a groan, but aomine’s smiling. “you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“loser buys the next game!”

“better get your money ready, bakagami.”

“like hell i will!”

he isn’t thinking about it anymore, but maybe it’s fate that kagami noticed that they’re wearing each other’s hoodies at such a crucial moment. it frees him up, somehow, to enter the present. soon enough, fate is completely out of his head, and he’s playing the hoop shooting game backwards because the two of them can’t help but show off. then they’ll play racing, kagami pays, and a platform game, and then kagami’s talking about the arcade he used to go to as a little kid with tatsuya. then they’re talking about something else. something else. nothing and everything. maybe it’s fate that he wasn’t carrying a basketball today, so that they could have whatever today had turned into.

#answered.#peachmuses #drabbles.#aokaga.#aonon.#ok this is my favourite thing ever #i always go way over the top with these and this time it comes with 3 DIFFERENT CHARACTERS' ICONS SDHSJDHJSDJHSD #anyway i really played all my cards #fate is a strange mistress and tonight her name is robyn #JSDHJSHDJHSD

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Sugar and Coffee [6]

Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

➜ Words: 7k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

➜ Notes: I know it’s not Christmas or even remotely winter, but in the timeline of the fic, it is. I hope you guys don’t mind.

cr.

Sometimes when Jungkook doesn’t hear from you for an extended amount of time, he wonders who you’ve found to terrorize now. But he doesn’t have to wonder for a long time since you always find your way back to him, plopping down at his table at the dining center during breakfast when he’s mid-conversation with Jimin, sitting beside him during the lectures and online shopping on your laptop when you’re supposed to be paying attention, texting him to ask how you pop a pimple on your back…. The list is endless. You weasel your way into his life until it’s almost natural. Like you’re Hoseok or Taehyung. And that extended amount of time where he wonders whose life you’re ruining decreases from days to hours to minutes until he eventually stops pondering altogether, knowing that it’s his life you’re destroying and no one else's. “So I’m guessing you didn’t completely bomb the tempering chocolate part of your final.” You look over at him with a raised brow. “Who told you?” “You would’ve screamed about it over text if you did.” “Hmph.” You tear your eyes away from the dark-haired man, continuing to scrub your dishes beside him. “That’s right. I did well, no thanks to you.” “Excuse me, I think it was through our failures that you learnt the most.” The kitchen is still bustling with kids cleaning up after themselves. The two of you are beside each other, washing your own dishes. You hate that Jungkook’s sharing a sink with you, but he complained there was nowhere else to go, and you figured kicking him somewhere else would’ve been more work. “I’ll admit, it was the motivation to destroy you and win that got me through it.” He scoffs as you smile mockingly at him, finishing the rest of your dishes. “Are you almost done with all your finals?” “I have one more tomorrow and I’m finished. You?” “I’m done with all of them.” “Wow, are you trying to brag, you little shit?” Jungkook grins. “Look, I—” He’s interrupted by the vibration of a phone. Jungkook quirks a brow, knowing full well there’s not supposed to be any phones in the kitchen. It’s a dumb policy of your teacher, but a policy nonetheless. You pout at him, pulling the device out of your back pocket. “I’m waiting for a call, alright?” Luckily class is over and there's only cleaning to be done, so you don’t get into trouble for turning around to answer the call. Jungkook continues to wash his plates and bowls, minding his own business. But he inadvertently catches the conversation. “Hey….yeah….I’m good...uh-huh. I have an exam tomorrow and then I’m off for the rest of the month until the second week of January.” You’re speaking in hushed whispers, arm hugging your body as the other presses the phone to your ear. You peek over your shoulder and Jungkook looks away right in time. But out of the corner of his eye, he sees you frown and whip yourself back around into the corner. “What do you mean? No, mom. I...broke up with Jin, remember? I’m not—…..what? Are there any more tickets?” There’s a long silence. You release a frustrated sigh, pressing your hand on your forehead. “Can’t you cancel your trip then? Or find a way….” There’s yet another pause. Jungkook can vaguely hear voices on the other line. “So you’re just going to leave me behind?” His ears perk when your voice cracks like you’re going to cry, or maybe you’re just angry. Jungkook can’t really tell. “Well, what am I supposed to do for three whole weeks? There are no classes, mom. I don’t want to spend Christmas by mysel—Fine. Fine! Have it your way!” you spit in a whisper that’s loud enough to draw the attention of your other classmates nearby too. “You have fun on your little trip then. No—don’t talk to me! I’m hanging up.” You remain there for another ten seconds and Jungkook watches you hang up, sliding the phone into the pocket of your apron. He looks at you fast enough to see how your eyes are glossy and diverts his vision, not wanting to embarrass you or put you on the spot. “Trouble in paradise?” “There’s always fucking trouble in paradise,” you mutter. “Nothing ever goes right for me. Whatever.” Jungkook put the dishes away with you. He decides to address the elephant in the room, clearing his throat. “I, uh, couldn’t help but hear…so what’s gonna be your plans for the break?” “I don’t know.” You sigh again. “I’ll probably just stay here. Work on some stuff. Learn a recipe or two or maybe get a head start for next semester. You?” “I’m going home. We’re not really religious, but my entire family usually gathers for the holiday for gift exchange and to eat and stuff,” he says, trying not to rub salt all over your wound. You nod. “That sounds nice. Have fun.” There’s tense silence again, merely the noise of bowls and plate clanging as you put them back where they belong. But Jungkook is unable to move from the conversation. His thoughts brew in the forefront of his mind. He knows it’s unnecessary, that he shouldn’t, but his conscience compels him otherwise. “You should come with me.” Goddamn. Jungkook hates himself for being such a good person. Why can’t he be as cold as Yoongi? He’s gonna have to ask the man how he does it. But Jungkook also knows if it were him who just got dumped by his two year long girlfriend, he wouldn’t want to spend the holidays at this damned, empty institution by himself. “Pardon?” You give him that look of yours, like you’re disgusted or confused. He’s not sure which one it is in this context. “You should come with me.” The words leave Jungkook’s mouth before he can consider what he’s exactly offering. “Spend Christmas with my family.” “What?” You shake your head. You’re not appalled, merely perplexed at why he’s going out of his way to propose something so big. “Why would I do that?” Jungkook shrugs. “You don’t have to. I just think you shouldn’t have to stay here by yourself.” Your expression softens. “Won’t it be weird?” “No, my parents won’t mind. Taehyung and Jimin actually spent Christmas with me two years ago and that was fine. You don’t have to stay for the entire break, but at least for the holidays….” Jungkook knows that expression — the nibble of your bottom lip, the way your brows knit together. You’re touched by his hospitality and benevolence, but hesitant as you consider it, even though you want to. “There’s no pressure,” he says and quickly adds, “I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself when I put the ornaments on the tree better than you can.” All at once, you make a noise between a scoff and a laugh. It bubbles out of your throat and makes him smile. “How does someone put ornaments on the tree better?” Jungkook shrugs. “Someone without a sense of aesthetics wouldn’t know.” Your mouth curls. “Is that a challenge, Jeon?” “You have to come to find out.” He smirks. “Okay, sounds like a plan then.” Jungkook grins, ruffling your hair with his hand until you swat it away. “We’re leaving in two days. Get packing.”

If you told yourself half a year ago you’d be lugging a suitcase and backpack to Jeon Jungkook’s parents’’ house, you would’ve laughed and then called the psych ward to pick up an insane girl in your dorm room claiming she’s from the future. But you guess in the recent months, insane things have been happening to you one after another. You’ve been on the bus for five hours now, slowly making your way up north where it’s icy and snowy. You only get to stretch out your legs at a rest stop for about an hour. “Took you long enough.” Jungkook pushes himself off the wall he was leaning on, eyes flickering down to a bag you’re holding. You notice his stare and you move the bag behind your back. “I thought you went to the bathroom. Went shopping on the way?” “It was just a souvenir I picked up. A lame key chain for the occasion. How much longer is this gonna take?” “Well we’re halfway through, so another five hours give or take?” “Oh my god.” You sigh while stepping outside. The snow hits you at once and it makes your cheeks numb in the frost. “My ass is so sore.” “You’re the one talking.” Jungkook rolls his shoulder. “My shoulder aches from your heavy head.” “Hey, it’s your fault for stealing the window seat.” “I didn’t know you would be sleeping four out of the five hours.” He sighs with a small smirk, feigning frustration. Yet Jungkook’s the first to climb onto the bus. There are people all around, napping, playing games. You put your souvenir bag into your backpack, sliding it back onto the overhead bin before you look down at the boy who’s settled in his seat in spite of his complaints, looking out the window like he’s having thoughtful contemplation and there’s something in that empty brain of his. “Are you not gonna give me the window seat?” Jungkook turns his head, arm propped up on the rest. He flashes a brilliant smile. “Why would I?” “So your shoulder doesn’t have to be sore anymore, Jeon.” He hums a low note. “Nah. I’m good.” You scoff. “Your call.” You plop down, immediately lolling your heavy head onto his shoulder. You try your best to lean your entire weight on it, as heavy as you can, and you shut your eyes and cross your arms to continue your nap. Jungkook mutters how bratty you are and it only makes you smirk in satisfaction. Eventually you’re shaken awake when you arrive at the destination five hours later and your ass is sore beyond belief. Your eyes are bleary as you try to rub them awake, squinting out the window to look at the small town covered in snow. The white is blinding and it almost overflows into your boots. You pull your suitcase behind you with your backpack on your back. Jungkook drags his belongings with him too. “Where to now?” “It’s a fifteen minute walk. Think you can handle it?” “Yeah.” Even if it’s cold enough that your fingers are curling in on themselves and snot is dripping down your nose, it’s still better than being by yourself in your warm dorm room with nothing to do. The town is quiet, not in an eerie fashion but serene. The houses are twinkling with strung lights, puffs coming out of chimneys, people through the windows putting up ornaments or gathering around the fire. This place is the perfect Christmas movie setting, small shops and friendly folks. You wonder if this is where Jungkook grew up. “It’s this one.” Jungkook stops on the sidewalk suddenly. It’s house one two three at Imlings Avenue, a cozy looking home with a giant front yard and two cars on the curb. You can hear the festive music already. As you roll your suitcase up the shoveled walkway, hearing the wheels roll, you become increasingly nervous. It’s odd — even if you and Jungkook are friends now — you’ve never met his family before. You’re a stranger to them and you’re probably unwelcome considering this is just a family affair… “Wait.” You linger back. “Jungkook—” But it’s too late. He knocks before he can hear your voice. And the door swings open. Oddly, you don’t see anyone….until you tilt your head down. There’s a little girl in a red and green plaid dress, her black hair in pigtails. She looks up at Jungkook and bats her lashes. A wide grin spreads into her chocolate stained cheeks and she throws herself onto him. “Kookie!” There's a stampede of steps and you hear multiple voices. “Yeonjun! He’s here!” “Oh my goodness, have you been eating well? You look so thin! We’ll change that.” “Kookie! Kookie!” “There’s food in the kitchen, son, go have some.” “Or get some rest if you’re tired. There’s plenty to do, but that can get done later.” “Okay, okay.” Jungkook laughs and turns around to see that you’re still standing outside. He quirks his head to the side. “Are you going to come in?” What ensues is one of the most awkward moments in your life. There’s sudden silence, and then two or three sharp gasps. You manage a smile, looking down at the floor as you step into his house. The door shuts behind you, solidifying your position here. Your eyes flicker up. There are two kids, an older lady that resembles Jungkook but with wrinkles creased at her features, and an older man, aged like fine wine and with Jungkook’s doe eyes. “Hi. I’m Y/N. S-Sorry for the intrusion. I really...appreciate your generosity for letting me stay.” Jungkook smiles softly and plops his hand on your shoulder, gesturing to each person. “Mom, dad, this is Y/N. She’s my friend and, uh, classmate I told you about. Y/N, this is my grandma, my uncle, my aunt, and my two cousins, Lia and Eunbi.” He goes over them so fast, you’re reeling. Lia grins a toothless smile, arms politely behind her back as she sways from side to side. “I’m seven, nice to meet you.” Eunbi, the one who opened the door, spreads her hand in front of you. “Five!” “Nice to meet you.” You nod. But instantaneously, your hands are taken by the old lady. Jungkook’s grandma, despite her entire head of hair being stark silver, has her irises shining with newfound energy. “It’s my pleasure, sweetheart. Please, come in. Take off your coat.” “How long have you known Jungkook for?” his uncle suddenly asks, wearing a blazing smile as well like he knows something you don’t. “Umm….actually, we went to high school together.” “Really now?” “We weren’t close though until...until recently.” “Jungkook.” His mother shakes her head in disapproval. “You didn’t tell us your friend was a girl.” Oh god. Now he knows what’s going on and why they’re treating you like you’re a prized possession. “It’s not like tha—” His aunt completely jumps the gun. “How long have you been dating Jungkook for?” You choke on air, taking your hands away from Jungkook’s grandma to pound on your chest lest you die this pathetically. Jungkook’s eyes bulge from their sockets. And Lia is old enough to understand and wrinkles her face. “Ewww, are you guys gonna end up kissing?” “No! No.” He takes a deep breath. “Y/N is a friend. She’s just a friend.” “I-um, sorry if there’s been a misunderstanding.” You back him up. “I’m not dating him. Frankly, I can’t handle someone like Jungkook. B-Because he’s too great,” you quickly add, not wanting to insult their son in front of their faces when they were already inviting you into their home. It’s so awkward, you want to run outside and faceplant into the snow and die from hypothermia. “We’re just not like that. Never.” “Yeah. She’s a classmate. A friend. Like Jimin or Taehyung.” “O—kay then.” Jungkook’s mom breaks the tension with a warm smile. “Well, we shouldn’t dilly dally here all day! Jungkook, you can take your suitcase up to your usual room. Y/N can have the one down the hall, the guest one—oh no, dear, you don’t have to carry it.” She stops you when you grab your luggage again. “Jungkook can do it for you.” “A-Are you sure?” “Of course. He has to make himself useful somehow. Make yourself at home! Lia, Eunbi, want to show Y/N the stockings you made?” “Yeah!” Lia grabs your hand, leading you away. You glance at Jungkook and he has a tight lipped smile. But the moment you turn the corner, he’s bombarded by his family members' curious stares. “Are you sure she’s just a friend, dear?” his grandma croaks. “She’s awfully pretty.” “Are you in the process of courting her, son?” his dad inquires. “Let me tell you, when I courted your mother, I did all sorts of things to get her to like me, so if you ever need advice—” “You learnt how to drive a motorcycle and almost killed yourself with it,” his mother chides. “I’m glad he didn’t.” His grandma turns around, deadpanning, “Your funeral would’ve been a terrible embarrassment to the family.” “I remember that. You stole from me to get that motorcycle and never paid it back,” his uncle pipes up, and his dad ducks his head behind his mom. His aunt laughs and pats his uncle’s chest. “Now, now, let’s not get ourselves worked up.” She turns, addressing the real issue in the room. “Jungkook, is Y/N really just a friend?” “Yeah.” He stops, having ignored his family and struggled to carry the suitcases across the living room. Jungkook doesn’t know how many times he’ll have to insist his relationship with you is platonic, but out of everyone he knows his aunt is the most understanding and convincing. If she believes it, the rest will too. “She’s just a friend. Actually, she….recently broke up with her long-term boyfriend, so…...yeah, um, and she’s my internship partner and I felt bad that she was spending Christmas by herself….” “Well then, that’s fine. Friends are as valuable as any other kind of relationship. I think your mother and everyone else were just surprised that you brought a girl home.” “She was going to spend Christmas by herself?” his grandma asks, surprised by the mere idea of it. “Yeah, I think she was supposed to spend it with her boyfriend’s family but they broke up, so…” “Well then I’m glad you invited her! No one should spend the holidays by themselves. Poor girl.” “The more the merrier!” his uncle proclaims. “But you still should’ve told me it was a girl,” his mother chides with her hands on her hips. “I would’ve gotten her a suitable gift!” “Friend or not, I don’t want any shenanigans under my roof, Jungkook,” his dad warns. “You’ll both be sleeping in separate bedrooms.” The mere idea of it has him frowning. “Of course!” Jungkook says as if it should be obvious. He lugs his suitcase and yours up by himself while wondering what if you brought actual bricks with you. It hasn’t even been ten minutes in this house and Jungkook already has a headache. // Not even an hour at the house, you and Jungkook are thrown into a truck with his dad and uncle to go buy a Christmas tree at some small market. Your hands dug into your pockets as you walk alongside each other, finally able to get a breather. “Sorry about them. Did they ask a lot of questions?” “Only about my education, how old I am, what my parents do, my hobbies, if I have siblings, if I’m religious, where I grew up, and oh yeah, my plans for the next five years.” “Sorry,” Jungkook repeats with a sigh. He knew they were overbearing but this is really something else. You giggle. “It’s okay. Just felt like a job interview. I’m just happy they’re so welcoming. Your family’s really nice, Jungkook.” “Yeah. Mostly. My mom can be pretty crazy. My grandma can be hysterical — same with my aunt. And my uncle and dad can be short tempered.” “Every family has their fair share of crazy.” “You could say that again.” You stop to point at a tall, luscious looking tree. “That tree’s pretty nice, huh?” “I think it’s too big for the house.” You keep walking. “I’ve actually never gone looking for a tree like this before. Certainly not a day before Christmas Eve.” “Really?” “Yeah, my family usually uses artificial trees.” You smile at the memory. “Oh, Jin’s family uses a real tree. Usually it’s already decorated when I get there though—……” It takes a moment for you to realize what you’re saying. “Never mind.” Jungkook glances at you. It falls into silence and he can see you brooding in your thoughts. He then taps your shoulder. “What do you think of that tree?” The boy points to a small one that’s drooped over. “It’s so….sad looking.” “Hmm, like you, right?” Jungkook laughs hard when you shove him. He catches himself before he faceplants into the snow. “God, you should be lucky I love your family or else I would kill you.” “As if you even could.” “Don’t test me, Jeon.” “Hey, kids!” His dad shouts, a few meters away. “Come help your uncle and I with this one. It’s a good one!” Once it’s paid for, you all haul the tree into the back of the truck. You muse that you’ve truly never done this before as you watch Jungkook’s mom screaming as all the men try to shove the tree through the front door and the tree losing nearly half of its pine needles, shedding to the carpet. But finally they manage to get it inside without much damage done and all that’s left is to decorate. You help pull out old boxes from the cottage and Lia shows you the noodle ornament she made in class. “Look!” You’re genuinely impressed at how intricate it is. God knows your talent was in baking and never in arts and crafts. “Wow, it’s really pretty!” “Thanks.” She grins and you pick her up so she can slide it on at the very top. You try to hold Eunbi too so she can put the star topper on but when your arms begin to shake with the weight of the five year old, Jungkook takes over for you. He puts her on his broad shoulders so she can lean over to do it. And you’re finally able to race Jungkook to put the rest of the ornaments up, and find out who’s the true Christmas master. But you don’t get far into the game when his grandma waddles over and starts complaining that he was bunching the candy canes too close together. “When you kids are done with that, come outside. We’re going to put up the lights,” Jungkook’s dad says as he carries a ladder with his uncle. Though once you’re actually outside, dressed up from head to toe in Winter gear, there’s not much you can do. You watch as Jungkook climbs the ladder while you hold the bottom rung to steady him, but his uncle ends up telling him to get down when he nearly slips off the roof. “Imagine if you actually fell…” The both of you looking up, squinting as you observe the old men bickering to one another about how to string the lights on. “You’d probably laugh and use my body for a ritual to summon a demon, huh?” You turn to him, deadpanning, “How’d you know?” What follows is snow hurled to your face and a shriek of his name. “Jeon Jungkook!” Your body shakes with rage and you collect a snowball in your hands. But he takes cover in the backyard behind a tree, giggling boyishly like he’s four years old. “You coward! Come here!” You chase after him at full speed, but he runs, laughing even more. You smack the back of his coat, but there’s no effect so you gather another one, patting the snow firmly to chuck it. You wish you had ice shards, so you can put it in and attack with full force. You sprint after him before taking a leap, jumping onto his back. Unfortunately, your plan in tackling him doesn’t work. Jungkook doesn’t waver, knees not even buckling, but you adapt and slap the snowball to his face. He laughs, shaking you off and you fall onto your ass. It’s one bad thing after another considering you’re not fast enough to run away — and he chucks another one to your face. Your aggressive shouts and Jungkook’s laughter draws the attention of the kids because they come out all bundled up in toques and scarves, cheeks overflowing above them. They march out in snow pants and thick coats, ready for battle. “Be careful!” Jungkook’s aunt shouts from the porch before running back inside to hide from the frost. “I wanna play! I wanna play!” Eunbi hops while Lia runs and falls back, making a giant snow angel. “Come here, Eunbi! Come here!” Jungkook motions her over and she waddles. “We’re gonna get the evil witch!” “Excuse me?!” you shriek and it makes the both of them giggle. You tell Lia to help you and she’s old enough to understand your instructions, making snowballs with you quickly as she laughs hysterically and tries to chuck them at Jungkook to no avail. Lia is hit a few times by her feet, while you’re smacked straight at the neck, freezing snow melting down your shirt inside and making you cry out in agony. You try to smack Jungkook with one but then he holds Eunbi up so she can take the hit. “Are you seriously using her as a shield?!” you scream at him. “You gotta do whatever it takes to win!” Jungkook laughs like a maniac as his human child shield giggles along. You’re unable to hit him at full capacity, but you get the upper hand when you tell Lia to sneak around. She shouts she’s going to the bathroom while you continue to fire light snowballs uselessly. But when the seven year old walks around the gate instead of going inside like she declared, she smacks Jungkook at the back of the head with a snowball, catching him off guard. “Hey!” At that moment, you rush him, trying to shovel snow down his coat. But his reflexes are too good. He lightly tosses Eunbi down on the fluffy surface and she laughs, making snow angels and Jungkook wrestles you. “I think not, witch!” “If I’m a witch, you’re the grinch—!” Jungkook successfully tackles you down, but you manage to rub snow all over his face, making him spaz. In the meanwhile, his grandma, aunt and mom watch from the window, laughing hysterically. And the men up on the roof are speechless. “What are they doing?” “You know how the youngins are.” They exchange a meaningful look, wishing they still had that same amount of energy. // Jungkook is a fucking lucky bastard — sometimes you can’t fathom it. Not only does he have a great group of friends, but his family is amazing. He really has it all. You find out his dad is an absolute airplane enthusiast, and he even shows you his aircraft collection of small planes he gathered over the years. He’s knowledgeable on all the models and tells you about a realistic flight simulator he’s planning to set up. His mother, on the other hand, can paint like a genius. The artwork in the living room that looked expensive was ones she painted and when you found out, your jaw dropped to the ground. Everyone in his family also knows how to play chess ridiculously well and everyone seems to know how to play some kind of instrument. Jungkook’s grandma is teaching Lia piano, his aunt plays violin, his uncle is dedicated to guitar and Jungkook tells you he used to sort of dabble in drums. You wouldn’t be surprised if he turns out to be a musical genius. The gene pool of the Jeon family is just too strong. You can’t handle it. And it’s no wonder he’s good in the kitchen. Everyone in his family is spectacular at cooking. You nearly start crying at dinner because of the sheer delicious taste of every dish presented in front of you. You thought you were in Heaven. After dinner, there are games, and everyone calls it an early night to prepare for Christmas Eve the next day. By the afternoon of the eve, the adults all leave for last minute Christmas shopping while you and Jungkook stay at home to babysit the kids. “What are you two doing?” You approach said children when you finally snap out of the Charlie Brown Christmas special playing on the television, remembering it’s for the kids’ entertainment and not yours. The both of them at the small table, scribbling on some paper. “We’re writing letters to Santa!” “Oh, is that so?” You look over to see the chicken scratch. Eunbi can’t write yet so she draws pictures. “Wow, looks good. What does...this say?” “It says cooking stuff, silly!” “Right, silly me,” you laugh, endeared at how she wrote it as ‘Kooking’ like Jungkook’s name. “You want cooking stuff for Christmas?” “Yeah.” Lia nods enthusiastically. “I saw on tv this oven and you get to make stuff and stuff.” “Oh. You mean Easy Bake Oven?” “Yeah!” Her drawing isn’t bad for a seven year old. “What do you want for Christmas?” “Me?” You hum, considering it. “Maybe an A for my pastries class. What about you, Eunbi? What do you want Santa to give you tomorrow morning?” “Chocolate!” she shrieks with laughter. “She always wants chocolate,” Lia tells you listlessly. “Candy! Cookies!” You grin, lowering your voice like you’re about to tell them a secret. “Do you want to make cookies?” All at once, there’s a change. Eunbi gasps. “Yeah!” And Lia’s hand stops scribbling. “Can we really?” You shrug. “I don’t see why not.” It can’t be too hard. But you’re sorely, sorely mistaken. The moment you preheat the oven, Lia opens it and tells Eunbi to climb in — but you shut that down real quick, joke or not. When you melt the butter and turn around for one second, you come back to find Eunbi drinking the butter straight from the measuring cup. Her lips greasy as she grins. “Yummy.” “Oh my god—” You collect them together, keeping a reign for both kids. Calming down, you try to show them how to crack the eggs, but they’re clumsy and you end up having to fish eggshells out of the mixture. As you’re cleaning, you hear a thump. When you whirl yourself around, the floor is coated in white. The flour bag is upside down on the ground. “Uh-oh.” Eunbi giggles. Lia’s hands are covered in the all-purpose flour, but she points to her younger sister. “She did it! Not me!” You take a deep breath, mustering your patience. “It’s okay.” But it’s not okay. Not when they put in a cup of salt instead of sugar and you have to scoop it all out. Not when you wash their sticky fingers, clean their faces, and open drawers to look for a spatula to fold the mixture, but you hear giggles instead. Not when you slowly turn around to see them mixing the batter with their bare hands. But with a sigh, you give in. Some of their techniques are physically painful to watch and make you cringe, but as long as they’re having fun, you’re not going to stop them. Or at least until Eunbi sneezes straight into the batter. “Okay, alright, let's not do that.” “Can we eat it?” “Eat it? You mean raw?” Eunbi is already taking the cookie dough by the fistful. “Yummy!” “Not too much.” You cringe as you watch them taste it. “You might get sick! Hey— Jeon Eunbi, take your hand out of the chocolate chip bag!” The five year old grins, cherub cheeks rosy as her eyes glimmer with mischief. But after all the trials and tribulations, you finally get the tray of cookie batter into the oven. In the meanwhile, Jeon Jungkook comes downstairs with a towel draped over his shoulder. His hair is still damp but he came down at the ruckus. He stops at the doorway of the kitchen, freezing as he regards the surroundings. “I left for one shower.” “We made cookies, Kookie.” Lia grins with a milk moustache, sitting on the counter with her sister. “They’re almost done,” you tell him sheepishly. “We’ll clean up soon.” He hums as he looks at the floured floor and the sink overflowing with dishes. He wonders what happened. They’re just cookies — but it looks like a battlefield. You approach him with a mug. “I made hot chocolate.” “I thought chocolate was your nemesis.” Jungkook smiles, taking the cup. He notices the floating marshmallows and happily sips. “I can melt it,” you chide. “I know how to do at least that much.” You can hear giggles from the girls and at this point, you know it means they’re up to no good, so you turn around with your brow quirked. Jungkook is curious too and Eunbi answers the unsaid questions when she points above you both, right at the doorway. “Mistletoe.” Lia laughs. “Eww, are you guys gonna kiss?” You look at Jungkook, and he frowns. His expression wrinkles like he just bit into a lemon. “Gross.” “Gross?! Excuse me?!” You loll your head to the side. “I’m gross to you?” The boy grins. “Yeah. You are.” “Give me back that hot chocolate.” You try to grab at it, but his reflexes are fast. Jungkook moves the mug out of the way and then above his head where it’s out of your reach. “Nuh-uh. Finders keepers.” “But I’m gross, aren’t I? You wouldn’t want to consume something made by a gross person.” “I’ll make one exception.” He brings it down and quickly chugs the steaming hot chocolate. “It’s hot, you idiot!” you shout, but like the masochist he is, he downs it all with a groan. “Delicious.” Jungkook grins, wearing his milk moustache with pride. You shake your head. “You’re ridiculous.” He helps you clean and when the oven timer goes off, the scent of freshly baked cookies fill the home right in time as the adults arrive home. All twelve chocolate chip cookies are inhaled at an instant and you muse how the entire Jeon family has sweet tooths. You share a cookie with Jungkook and it’s delicious for the disasters you had to go through. The evening eventually settles in and they tell you about the family tradition of getting in ugly Christmas sweaters and taking a family photo. You’re touched when they show you the sweater they got, one in neon red plastered with dogs and cats in Christmas hats. Jungkook’s has batteries and physically lights up, and you can’t stop laughing. “I feel like a tree.” “You almost look as pretty as one, Jeon.” It’s cute when they waddle together in front of the fireplace and you wonder what it takes to have a family like this. “What camera are you using?” you ask. “I can take it for you.” “Oh no, dear. Don’t be silly! Come in, come in!” Jungkook’s grandma motions you over. His uncle moves to a cabinet. “We have a tripod!” But you hesitate. “Uh, are you sure?” “Why wouldn’t we? If you spend Christmas with us, you’re family. Get in here!” His mother moves aside. “Stand beside Jungkook.” Everyone shuffles, creating a perfect slot for you to join with the Jeon family. Jungkook even slings an arm over your shoulder, giving this biggest and most boyish smile of life. His uncle clicks the button and runs to his spot. The light begins to flash. “Everyone! Say cheese!” With one snap, the moment is engrained forever. Dinner is delicious like last night and it feels like you’re being stuffed like a pig. Your stomach nearly bursts at the seams and you would fall into a food coma if not for how Jungkook drags you along to go caroling with the rest of his family. “I’ve never been caroling before.” “Yeah, well, it’s something my grandma likes to do. She used to do it when she was young and she freaks out if any of us say we don’t want to go. Personally, I don’t like caroling. It feels like I’m a car salesman harassing people.” You know what he means when he’s swaying from side to side awkwardly on some stranger’s lawn while his dad knocks on the door and everybody else waits for it to open. Jungkook looks out of place. But the minute he opens his mouth to sing Silent Night — it’s fucking angelic. You’re shocked, like you found out the devil actually has a halo above his head. The lady and her child thank you all for the song and while walking, Jungkook finds you staring intently at him. “What?” “Since when did you sing?!” “I don’t.” “How can you say you don’t?! You literally sound like perfection.” The sudden praise makes laughter bubble out of his throat, a cloud of condensation emitting from his parted lips. His aunt turns around with a smile. “That’s what I’ve always told him. I’m glad someone else can recognize it.” “I remember when Jungkook was just a small boy,” his grandma pipes up. “He sang so well, knew all the lyrics, and all the neighbours were so surprised. He was so cute, even the grumpiest of grumps would be melting because of him.” “Remember when he would start crying if he didn’t get the main part or had the harmony?” “God, can we not talk about this?” Jungkook cringes. But you grin. “No please, keep going. I’m so curious now.” “Well one winter…” His mom hugs your arm, leaning into you like she’s sharing a secret. “He peed himself but didn’t want to tell anyone because he was scared caroling was going to be cut short and it ended up freezing in his pants. Poor child got a butt rash afterwards.” “You peed yourself for caroling?” you ask incredulously. “I don’t recall,” he deadpans. “Oh, he used to pee himself all the time,” Jungkook’s dad clarifies. “There was an incident on a plane—” “That’s enough of that.” He puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes you forward at a fast pace. You laugh as the two of you walk way ahead of the rest of his family and how Lia and Eunbi begin to sing-song that Kookie’s a bed wetter. Despite being out in the cold at night, you didn’t know your Christmas would end up so warm, surrounded by people who treat you as one of their own. You feel lucky. Privileged to be part of it. The rest of Christmas Eve is spent around a fire and the tree until it’s lights out at nine. It’s early again since the adults know that the kids will end up making it an early morning the next day. So with cookies and milk left out, you bid your goodnights. But their predictions end up exactly as said after many years of celebrating the gift-giving holiday together. Right at five thirty with the sun barely risen, you’re shaken away by Jungkook. “What’s going on?” Your bleary eyes blink and you rub at them. Jungkook’s tender grin and sparkling eyes are the first thing your vision focuses on. His hair shags over his forehead as he stares down at you. “Get up, sleepyhead. We’re all opening presents.” “It’s so early,” you whine, but he tugs the covers off anyhow and helps you stand on your feet. Jungkook ruffles your bed head. “I know.” The two of you make your way downstairs. The adults are already hugging their coffee cups while Lia and Eunbi tear up their gifts that Santa left them. Christmas melodies are turned on for background noise, and there are hugs and gasps given during the exchange of presents. You’re given one too. “For me?” “Yes, we managed to pick up something yesterday for you, dear. If Jungkook had told us beforehand he was bringing such a nice friend, we would’ve gotten something better.” You open up the box to find a red, wool scarf. The texture is soft and it looks warm enough to protect you from the cold Winter wind. You’re touched beyond belief. “T-Thank you, I love it.” “We’re glad.” “I-I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.” “Please, your presence is more than enough, sweetheart.” “I got this for you, Y/N!” Lia comes over with a piece of paper. “Eunbi and I drew it yesterday, well I did most of the work, but she drew you. Thanks for spending Christmas with us!” “I love it. Thank you.” Jungkook watches with a gooey smile. It’s good to see you like this — for once not moping around or crying after some guy that didn’t know your worth anyway. But what he catches him off guard further is when he’s tugged away into the hall by you. Your arm extends, holding a bag haphazardly. “Sorry, I forgot to wrap it,” you mutter, barely coherently. Your vision is diverted elsewhere, looking towards the ceiling so you can spare yourself the embarrassment of how he’ll react. But if you looked, you’d see that Jungkook’s grin could almost break his face. He takes it. “Isn’t this the souvenir you got at the rest stop?” “Well, I lied. It’s not a souvenir. Open it.” He does. Quickly. With much anticipation. You lean over to watch him. Inside the bag is a box. Jungkook tears it open to find a simple, white mug. But across the surface in black text, it’s written ‘Jungkook — World’s Best Chocolatier’. “I found an engraving place. Took ten minutes. It’s nothing. But see? I can be thoughtful. Sometimes…” You pause. There’s silence so you look at him to gauge his reaction. His face is blank, hard to read. Damn. You had second thoughts in the moment but you didn’t think he would hate it this muc— Suddenly, you’re being hugged. Jungkook has his arms wrapped around your shoulders, and he pushes you into his chest. “I fucking love it, you witch.” You smile, a rush of air leaving your nose. “Glad you like it, grinch.” He muses that you’re the most softhearted witch on the planet. Jungkook can’t yet pinpoint the reason why, but he knows without a doubt that this is the warmest Christmas he’s had.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook reader insert #bts fluff #Y'ALLL This chapter is so uwu I can't even

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rhosyn-du · 3 years

Text

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Two

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321 Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Two

They didn’t talk more about it later. Jace barely saw Simon at all over the following couple weeks, in fact. It’s not that he was intentionally avoiding Simon, but they both had final exams to study for, and Simon was wrapped up in guitar ensemble rehearsals for the winter concert on top of that. If Jace had spent a little more of his study time in the library than was strictly necessary and that just happened to prevent any further discussions of dispays of physical affection and practice dates, that was entirely beside the point.

What Jace hadn’t counted on was how unprepared he’d feel pulling up outside the Queen Anne style townhouse he’d called home for most of his childhood. He suddenly wished he’d let Simon talk him into driving together and using the drive as a last minute planning session, even if it meant they’d need to coordinate their trip back to Boston. As much as he’d been avoiding talking about their plan, it really only occurred to Jace on the drive how much he wished they actually had, you know, a plan.

“Wow,” Simon said, hopping out of the hand-painted van he’d parked right behind Jace’s car. “Is that an actual turret?”

“Yup, gotta love those late 19th century architectural fads,” Jace answered as he pulled his suitcase out of the trunk. “The house belonged to Maryse’s grandparents, and I’ve never been able to tell how much she actually likes the style and how much is just childhood nostalgia, but she hasn’t even changed much of the interior except for renovations and repairs.”

“I have a hard time imagining growing up in a place like this,” Simon said as he joined Jace with his own suitcase in hand. “And it’s not like my mom’s house is tiny or anything, but this is just...” He waved a hand vaguely at the house. “A lot.”

He didn’t ask why Jace was sharing a tiny apartment furnished entirely secondhand if his family lived in a house like this, and Jace didn’t offer an explanation.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” Jace said, even though there was plenty to be nervous about. “I promise the house doesn’t bite.”

“Yeah, less worried about the house than the people in it,” Simon told him.

“I thought you were, like, the parent whisperer,” Jace teased. “Isn’t that why you offered to come with me? Because you make a great boyfriend? Trust me, as long as Alec and Izzy think you make me happy, they’ll love you, and you know more about comics than anyone I’ve ever met, so Max will love you regardless.”

“Okay,” Simon said, releasing a heavy breath. “Okay, thanks. You’re right, I just got a little intimidated by the house, but this is all going to be fine.”

“Maryse is probably going to hate you, though,” Jace continued, keeping his face carefully deadpan. “She hates everyone we bring home. It’s like a rite of passage. But you’re great with parents, so I’m sure you’ll at least avoid intentional food poisoning.”

Simon stared at him in horror, and Jace couldn’t keep a hit of a smile from breaking through.

“I hate you,” Simon told him.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Jace said, “I’m pretty sure the food poisoning wasn’t actually intentional.”

“Wait, there was actual food poisoning?”

“Come on,” Jace said, heading toward the door. “I want to get inside before we freeze to death.”

“You are such a dick sometimes,” Simon muttered, catching up to him.

Then, he slipped his free hand into Jace’s like it was a totally normal thing to do, and Jace had to catch himself from tripping over the steps.

“Careful,” Simon said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m not going to make a very good impression on your family if you fall and break your neck before we even get inside.”

And there was just nothing to say to that, to how uncomfortable it wasn’t to have Simon’s hand in his like this, to the way it made him want. So Jace simply rolled his eyes and pushed open the front door, letting the scent of home wrap around him like a warm blanket.

“Okay,” Simon said quietly as he surveyed the entryway, complete with antique chandelier. “Feeling a little intimidated again.” And it was so easy for Jace to just give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, you made it,” a warm voice greeted them. “With as bad as traffic has been, we thought you’d be another hour at least.”

“Hey, man,” Jace said, dropping Simon’s hand so he could pull his brother into a hug. “People must be staying home for the holidays this year, because we barely hit any traffic at all.” He glanced around. “Where is everyone?”

“Iz should be here any minute, Max is holed up in his room playing video games with his friends, and Magnus is helping Mom with some last-minute grocery shopping for dinner tomorrow.” Alec held out a hand to Simon. “I’m Alec, since Jace apparently can’t be bothered to make introductions like a civilized person.”

“It’s okay,” Simon said, giving his hand a quick shake, “I gave up on the idea of Jace being civilized the first time I saw him eat pizza that had been sitting out on the counter for three days.”

“That was your pizza,” Jace pointed out.

“Yeah,” Simon said, “which I was going to throw away because I forgot about it for three days.”

“On the subject of uncivilized,” Jace said, turning back to Alec, who was looking just a little too pleased, “you really sent Magnus shopping with Maryse? Buddy, if you decided you don’t want to marry the guy, just break it off with him. You don’t have to throw him to the wolves like that.”

Alec’s tiny smile became a little less tiny and a whole lot softer. “Magnus and Mom have actually been getting along lately. She wanted his opinion on wine pairings, so they went to the store and left me here so I can pull the bread out of the oven when it’s done. It’s very weird, but also nice.”

“That does sound very weird,” Jace told him, “but I’m glad things are working out and Maryse has found some level of chill somewhere.”

“Hopefully that means I won’t get poisoned,” Simon said.

Alec snorted. “If you want to avoid it, you should probably avoid mentioning you know about that. Or any other embarrassing family stories Jace might have shared with you.”

“And don’t eat anything Izzy hands you,” Jace added. “Anything she cooks probably won’t kill you, but the taste will make you wish you were dead.”

“So, I should just fast while I’m here,” Simon said. “Good to know.”

Jace led Simon upstairs to drop off their bags while Alec checked on the bread.

“Just toss your bag anywhere,” Jace said, opening the door to his old room. “We can argue over who gets which side of the dresser later.”

“Sure,” Simon said cheerfully, “as long as we can be civil deciding who gets which side of the bed.” He stopped just inside the doorway. “Wow, okay. The apparently very small bed.”

And this really was something that should have occurred to him, Jace realized. It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered that he’d be sharing a bed with Simon. They’d even talked about it, briefly, and agreed it was no big deal. But Jace hadn’t considered exactly how much smaller his childhood bed was than the generous queen he slept in back home. It was technically large enough to fit two grown men, but only technically.

“Don’t worry,” Jace said, falling back on his trademark bravado, “I won’t get mad if you cuddle me in your sleep. I know you can’t help it if your subconscious recognizes that I’m irresistible.”

“I’m more worried about your freakishly sharp elbows,” Simon muttered.

“As long as you don’t snore or steal the covers, you won’t have to worry about my elbows,” Jace told him. He was planning to keep his elbows, and the rest of him, as far away from Simon as possible. Which, given the size of the bed, was maybe three inches.

“Dude, I do not snore,” Simon protested. “You know that; we live together.”

“You absolutely snore after your fourth drink.”

“I wasn’t planning to get drunk with your family,” Simon said, tossing his bag onto the bed.

“You say that now,” Jace said, leaving his own bag next to the door. “But wait until you get the full Lightwood Christmas experience before deciding you want to spend the whole thing sober.”

“If your family drives me to drink, you don’t get to blame me for snoring,” Simon countered. Which was probably fair, but Jace was saved from having to admit that by the sound of voices coming from downstairs.

“That’d be Izzy,” Jace said, “and we’d better get down there before she accuses me of trying to hide you from her.”

“Jace,” called a singsong voice, right on cue, “quit making out with your mystery hottie and get down here so we can actually meet him.”

“You should be careful making demands like that,” Jace called back. “What if I’m not wearing any pants?”

“We’ve all seen it. Get your ass down here “

“I like your sister already,” Simon told him.

“You say that now, but wait until she decides you count as family. She won’t be any better with you.” He took Simon’s hand. Because it helped sell their relationship. Because he could. Simon laced their fingers together, and Jace tried not to feel any way about that at all as he led Simon back down the stairs.

They only made it a couple steps before Simon came to a complete stop, almost causing Jace to trip the rest of the way down the staircase. He heard Simon mutter a soft ‘oh crap’ at the same time a bright, redheaded whirlwind came rushing up the stairs at them.

“Oh my god, Simon?” Clary grabbed Simon into a giant bearhug, effectively tearing his hand out of Jace’s. “You’re Jace’s mystery boyfriend? How did I not know about this? You didn’t even tell me you were dating anyone, you jerk! What happened to best friend gossip privileges?”

Clary pulled back from the hug, and now that Jace could actually see her face, he could see the hint of concern she was trying to hide under her wide smile.

“Clary. Hi,” Simon said, eyes wide. “I was going to tell you, I swear. It’s just, this is kind of new and so...” He trailed off, looking panicked. His eyes caught Jace’s. “But, uh, yeah. This is Jace. My boyfriend. Jace, this is my best friend, Clary Fray.”

“Yeah,” Jace said, looking between the two of them and feeling more than a little out of his depth. He’d planned for things to be weird, but not this weird. “We’ve met.” He flashed Clary a smile. “Fray, huh?”

She nodded. “I couldn’t keep his name. Not after...after everything. Fray is the name Mom used before she married Luke. It’s the name I remember her having when I was little, so.” She shrugged. “I filed the paperwork to have it legally changed the day I turned eighteen.”

“It suits you,” Jace told her, and let himself be pulled into a tight hug that he suspected was as much because she needed one as that she was glad to see him. Clary had never told him much about the biological father she barely knew, but she’d told him enough to know that Clary held him responsible for her mother’s death, even if the courts had cleared him of any wrongdoing.

“Thanks,” Clary whispered, before surreptitiously drying her eyes on his shoulder and pulling back to flash a smile that was less forced than Jace expected. “So, tell me how this happened without me hearing about it.” She bumped Jace with her shoulder. “And if it’s so new, what possessed you to subject Simon to your family holidays?”

“Hey,” Izzy said, walking up behind Clary and wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. Jace had to admit, they looked...well, right together. “That’s my family, too, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Clary said, offering a soft grin over her shoulder. “And the fact that I’m here should tell you exactly how much I love you.”

“Fair,” Izzy said, then looked at Simon. “So, how’d my brother convince you to join this circus?”

“We made a trade,” Simon said, straight-faced. “I put up with his family for Christmas and he puts up with mine for my cousin Rachel’s wedding.” He leaned in and told Izzy in a stage whisper, “Also, I’m weak for his smile, but don’t tell him I said that, because he will abuse it.”

“You say that like I don’t already abuse it,” Jace said, sliding his arm around Simon’s waist in a mirror of Izzy and Clary’s pose. “And to answer your earlier question, us being officially together is new, but we’ve been sort of on the verge of dating for ages. Practically since we started sharing an apartment last year.”

Clary let out a peal of delighted laughter. “Oh, you’re the roommate. It makes sense now.” Before Jace could ask what made sense, she was pulling the both of them into a tight hug. “I’m really happy for both of you.”

“If I’d known you were going to be this excited, I definitely would have mentioned it sooner,” Simon said, pulling back from the hug.

Jace tried to catch his eye, wondering what on earth was going on. He knew both Clary and Simon well enough to know he was missing something, but he had no idea what it was. Simon ignored him, and that just made Jace more suspicious.

“Come on,” Izzy said. “You can have your hug fest later. Right now, I want to help Alec get things set up in the kitchen and maybe surprise Mom by getting dinner started before she gets back.”

Jace and Clary exchanged a panicked look, and Jace frantically searched his mind for excuses to keep Izzy busy. He didn’t actually want a repeat of the food poisoning episode, after all.

“Actually,” Simon said, turning a bright smile on Izzy. “I was kind of hoping you’d be willing to show me your Lego Star Wars collection before we get too wrapped up in family stuff. Jace mentioned you have the deluxe Imperial Star Destroyer set from the early 2000’s, and I’ve never actually seen one in person.”

“Oh,” Izzy said, looking torn. “I’m not sure—”

“We can help Alec in the kitchen,” Clary said quickly. “You two go do your nerd thing. I knew this was inevitable when I finally introduced you two anyway. And this way I get the chance to harass my bestie’s new boyfriend without him in the way trying to keep me from learning the embarrassing details.”

“You know, on second thought—” Simon began, looking slightly panicked.

“Come on,” Izzy interrupted, smiling brightly and grabbing his hand.

Simon flashed Clary a betrayed look, then looked to Jace for support. Jace simply smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, love muffin,” he said mildly. “I’d never intentionally embarrass you.”

“I want you to know that I hate both of you,” Simon said before allowing Izzy to drag him back up the stairs.

“My collection is all still in my old room,” Izzy said. “Clary and I have been looking for an apartment big enough I can actually move the rest of my stuff out of here, but so far we haven’t found anything in our price range.”

Jace turned back to Clary. “Exactly what kind of embarrassing stories were you hoping for? Because I have many.”

Clary shook her head. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got more embarrassing Simon stories than you do. I’ve got almost two decades worth. But I was actually hoping to talk to you alone anyway, and this seems like the best chance we’re going to get.”

Jace followed her down the stairs and into the study. “Sounds serious. You planning to give me a shovel talk?”

Clary laughed, shaking her head. “No, I know you, remember? I’m not worried about you hurting Simon. Well,” she amended, “not any more than I am about him hurting you.” She met his eyes with a soft smile. “You might be the only person I know with a heart as big as Simon’s, as much as you try to hide it.”

Jace looked away. It had been two years since the last time he’d seen her, and she could still see right to the heart of him. He didn’t want to know what she’d see if she kept looking. “Clary—”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” she teased. “But I didn’t actually bring you out here to talk about Simon. I wanted to apologize.”

Jace frowned, looking back at her. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He was more than a little grateful not to have Clary grilling him about his entirely fabricated relationship, but he wasn’t sure where this conversation was going.

“No, I do,” she insisted. “I promised to keep in touch when you moved away, and I didn’t.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jace said, even if maybe it had been at first. Those first few months at school had been hard. Jace always thought he was used to being alone, especially after his mother’s suicide, but he found out just how much he’d come to rely on his new family when he didn’t see them every day. They’d kept in touch, of course, but with Izzy immersed in her studies and Alec all wrapped up in his new relationship with Magnus, it wasn’t anything like what it had been when they were all under one roof.

For a while, he and Clary had been in touch nearly every day, sometimes texting multiple times a day. Jace told her about his classes and how much he liked Boston, and Clary told him all about trying to narrow down which art schools she wanted to apply to. It was almost the same sort of easy friendship they’d had before he left, after they agreed they were better off as friends.

But after a couple months, Clary’s messages came less and less often, and eventually stopped altogether. Jace tried not to let it bother him, but he started drinking a bit too much and going to a few too many parties. Which was how he’d met Maia, his attempts at flirting somehow leading to him getting his ass handed to him at beer pong, and soon he found himself with an entire group of new friends. Although Maia insisted for almost a year that she and Jace were merely antagonistic acquaintances.

Clary gave him a look that told him she knew exactly how full of it he was. “It was a shitty thing to do, and I was a shitty friend,” she told him. “Especially because I did it on purpose. Izzy and I started getting close and I started to have feelings for her, and I didn’t know what to say to you about it. I didn’t know how to even talk to you about what was going on in my life without mentioning that she was becoming such a big part of it.”

“You didn’t actually have to hide it from me, you know,” Jace said. “I was surprised when Izzy first told me, but I’m mostly just glad you’re both happy. And seeing you together, I know you both are.”

“Thanks,” Clary said. “I didn’t want to hurt you or make things weird. For a while, I thought I could just ignore what I was feeling, but Iz is just... She’s not someone you can ignore, you know?”

“Oh, I know exactly how hard my sister is to ignore, believe me.” Jace stopped, considered, then admitted something he had never said—would never say—to another person. But this was Clary, and he knew she would never repeat it. And even if she did, he could always play it off as part of the act. “She and Simon have that in common. You know, I actually thought I hated him at first? He’s so enthusiastic about everything, and so sincere, and just.” He shrugged. “Not the kind of person I thought would ever do it for me.”

“But he won you over with his boyish charm?” Clary guessed.

“Mm,” Jace agreed. And the way he loved without reserve. Not just his family and friends, but his music, his favorite films, even the crappy nachos from the 7-11 down the block from their apartment. Simon loved every part of life, and being around him, Jace could almost imagine what that felt like. “Well, that and his abs.”

“Can’t forget those,” Clary laughed.

“Not with how often he eats breakfast shirtless,” Jace agreed. “Come on. If we aren’t in the kitchen by the time Izzy gets back downstairs, you know she’ll try to help Alec herself, and I was kind of hoping for dinner to be edible.”

~~~

Dinner was surprisingly painless. Maryse was more relaxed and happy than Jace had ever seen her, and he couldn’t help wondering how much of that was related to the very unsubtle smiles she kept exchanging with Clary’s stepfather. Even Max, who was deep in throes of preteen scorn, grudgingly admitted that Simon being in a band was “pretty cool” and joined in on some of Simon, Clary, and Izzy’s excited nerd talk that went entirely over Jace’s head.

After dinner, they retired to the living room for eggnog and carols. Jace limited himself to a single cup of Magnus’s infamous eggnog, knowing better than to let himself get drunk when he was putting on a show for his family. Or sharing his tiny bed with Simon.

As usual, Jace let himself get pushed over the piano to play. He felt something in him settle as soon as he rested his fingers on the keys of Maryse’s baby grand, the feel different and so much more familiar than the ancient keyboard he had back in Boston or the well-used uprights in the practice rooms at school.

When Jace had first come to live with the Lightwoods, he’d been afraid to touch the piano. His mother had put him in lessons as soon as he was old enough, but she hated to listen to him play and often chastised him for not being a better player, saying he should be better at it with how talented his father was. Now, he understood that it was just another manifestation of the combined grief and mental illness that led to Celine’s death, but at the time he’d hated how awful he was at playing, no matter how much he enjoyed doing it.

But Maryse knew he played and encouraged him to use her piano. She told him that it had been her father’s, and though she’d taken lessons herself as a child, she’d never really loved it the way he had. She said that the instrument deserved to be loved, and as long as Jace loved playing it, she didn’t care how good he was or wasn’t.

It was the first time he’d really felt like this could be his home.

“Okay,” Jace said after the third version of O Tannenbaum with ridiculous altered lyrics—this one courtesy of Simon rather than Max or Clary, about an ill-fated toad who chose the wrong moment to cross the street, “I think my fingers are done for the night.”

“Oh, come on,” Clary said. “Simon and I have at least a dozen more of these we came up with when we were kids.”

“When we were little, I only knew the lyrics to the Christmas songs they played on the radio, so Fray made up silly lyrics to the other ones and told me they were real,” Simon explained. “And it made her so happy that I went along with it even for the couple I did know.”

“There will be plenty of time for more singing tomorrow,” Maryse said. “But if I know this one,” she continued, smiling at Max, “we’re all going to be dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn for presents.”

“Mom,” Max whined, “I’m not a kid anymore. I know the presents will still be there whenever I get up.”

“I seem to remember someone who looked an awful lot like you waking us up before sunrise last year,” Magnus said with exaggerated confusion. “Perhaps you have a twin I haven’t met?”

Max fixed him with a withering look. “Last year, I was eleven. This year I’m twelve,” he said, as though that explained it.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve grown out of it,” Alec told him. “Because I intend to sleep in. And if you try to get me out of bed early, I’ll remind you of this conversation.”

“Oh, no need for that, darling,” Magnus said cheerfully. “I’ll just barricade the door before we go to sleep so he can’t get to us.”

“Brilliant,” Alec said, giving Magnus a frankly sappy smile. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

“And on that note,” Jace said, “I think I’m going to head to bed before I die of sweetness overdose.”

“Oh, please,” Magnus said, giving him an unimpressed look. “We all saw you and Simon making eyes at each other over those cookies you were frosting earlier.”

“It’s true,” Izzy said before Jace could protest. “You don’t get to tease Alec about being a sap anymore, not now that we’ve all actually seen you with someone you love.”

Jace froze, his mouth half open, then quickly snapped it shut. It made sense that Izzy would assume. He’d brought Simon home for Christmas, after all. That was the story they were selling even if they hadn’t actually discussed it, even if it wasn’t something Jace had said or even implied. And whatever he did feel for Simon, it certainly wasn’t love. It was, at best, a friendly crush. A very intense friendly crush.

Izzy seemed to realize her mistake, glancing between him and Simon with a look of dawning panic.

“No, you’re misunderstanding how this works,” Simon said easily, because of course Izzy’s words hadn’t sent him into a panic the way they had Jace. “Jace gets to tease Alec, and you, and you both get to tease him back.”

“Yep,” Clary agreed. “Those are the rules, because that means I still get to tease Simon.”

“Please,” Izzy said. “Clary and I are too sophisticated to be sappy.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard you call Clary ‘cuddle bug’ earlier,” Alec said.

“And I definitely saw you laugh at that terrible joke she told at dinner,” Jace added.

“She ate one of the cookies you made,” Max accused.

“Yeah, sorry, cutie,” Clary said. “We’re really pretty sappy.”

“Fine,” Izzy huffed. “But I just think you’re all jealous because I’ve got the cutest girlfriend.”

“Yes, Izzy,” Alec said drily. “You’ve uncovered my secret. I’m extremely jealous of your girlfriend.”

“I knew it,” Izzy said smugly, as though Alec had been perfectly sincere.

“Definitely in danger of dying of sweetness overdose,” Jace said.

That set off another round of teasing, this time with Izzy throwing in not so subtle attempts to drag Maryse and Luke into it. Jace wasn’t sure why Izzy was so determined to make the two admit there was something between them. It was obvious there was just from the way they acted around each other. Maryse would tell them when she was ready, just like she had when she and Robert filed for divorce.

It was almost another hour before Jace finally made his way up the stairs toward his room. He was surprised when Simon rose to follow him, but didn’t say anything until they were back in his room.

“I’m surprised you didn’t stay to nerd out with Clary and Iz some more.”

“I get to talk to Clary all the time,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, it’ll be easier to keep up the whole fake boyfriend thing if I don’t let her get me alone. She’d definitely figure out something’s up if I let her start grilling me about our relationship. Also, you don’t get to call me a nerd when you know just as much about Star Wars as I do.”

“It’s impossible to grow up with Izzy and not know way too much about Star Wars,” Jace said, pulling off his shirt and tossing it over a chair. “Are you still sure about doing this? Neither of us counted on Clary, and I’ll understand if you want to back out.”

“Huh?” Simon said, sounding distracted. Jace turned to look at him and thought he detected the faintest flush on Simon’s cheeks when he met his eyes. “I mean, yeah, no, I’m not backing out.” He gave an uncomfortable shrug as he pulled a set of pajamas out of his suitcase. “The last thing I want is to have to explain this whole thing to Clary.”

“Good point,” Jace agreed, turning around to put on his own pajama bottoms. It was tempting to watch Simon change, but it was also a very bad idea. “I don’t want to think about what she’d have to say to both of us if she knew.”

There was a beat of silence before Simon asked, “So, do you, um, have a preferred side of the bed?”

Jace turned to look at him, only a little disappointed to find Simon fully dressed in his pajamas. As usual when someone asked a question he didn’t want to think about, Jace flashed a smirk. “In a bed this small, I usually just take up the whole thing.”

“Well, unless you want me on top of you, you should pick a side,” Simon said, unimpressed. “Because I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

“I’ll take the left,” Jace said quickly, trying and mostly failing to avoid thinking about exactly how much he did want Simon on top of him. “I’m just gonna hit the bathroom real quick.”

Which was how Jace found himself locked in the tiny guest bathroom, lip caught between his teeth as he frantically tugged at his cock. He hadn’t planned on jerking off, but he couldn’t get Simon’s words out of his head, and he sure as hell wasn’t getting into bed with Simon half-hard, which was really the only other option.

He could picture it far too easily. Simon pressing him into that ridiculously tiny bed, hands gentle but firm, mouth just a little bit desperate.

He came to the thought of rutting up against those ridiculous abs.

By the time Jace cleaned himself up and returned to his room, Simon was nestled under the covers on the right side of the bed. Seeing him like that made something in Jace’s chest clench, and he flipped the light off just so he wouldn’t have to look anymore.

“‘Night,” Simon said as Jace slid into bed, taking care to stay entirely on his side.

“Don’t even think about snoring,” Jace answered.

He lay in the dark for a long time, staring into the darkness, listening to the sounds of the city that didn’t quite drown out the soft breathing of the man beside him. He tried not to think about how easy and relaxed the night had been, how perfect it would have been if only half of it weren’t a lie.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis

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daisybeewrites · 3 years

Text

The Best Medecine

word count: 2.7k

warnings: fluffflufffluff

requested? no i just needed to see daisy take care of daniel

ship: dousy/daniel sousa x daisy johnson

PART 2!! idr have an authors note today, just enjoy :)

(gif not mine)

Daniel felt like crap.

He had caught Daisy’s cold, and the effects were hitting him harder than a ton of bricks.

Daisy had recovered fairly quickly after he smoothly convinced her to take the proper medicine and rest. They had a great few days where both of them felt alive and normal, not like zombie versions of themselves. Going grocery shopping (avoiding the soup aisle, they already had a freezer full), taking a day trip to hike the Eaton Canyon trail and picnic, testing out a new prosthetic Fitz designed, and pulling an all-nighter to binge-watch Grey’s Anatomy completed the week wonderfully.

Things were going great! Almost too great. Things never go this great in their universe. Which is why neither of them were surprised when Daniel shot up in bed at 4am sneezing, waking Daisy and, she joked, the rest of the street. He tried to go back to sleep, only to wake up with a loud achoo! ten minutes later. Daniel rubbed his forehead, the pressure centered between his eyebrows insisting that he was not going to get any sort of true rest that day.

He told a sleepy Daisy that he felt fine, that he just needed a hot bath. It was probably just the spring allergies, right? Nothing to worry about, Daniel told himself as he swung his leg over the side of the bed, grabbing his crutches and lumbering to the bathroom. He splashed his face with warm then cold water before quickly checking that Daisy was asleep again, her silhouette rising with deep breaths, outlined in diffused blue light from the stars on the ceiling. Maybe he could shake this before it got too bad? Surely, it wouldn’t disrupt his routine too much?

Daniel quietly crutched to the soft couch, grabbing a blanket from the pile on the armchair. The flannel of the blankets and the comfortable give of the couch lulled Daniel into a restless sleep.

Early morning turned to late morning turned to afternoon, Daniel only waking up from tossing and turning when Daisy shook him and offered a sinus pill, which he gulped down with an entire cup of cool water. Three ice cubes shaped like half moons knocked into each other as he tipped the cup back, letting the smooth liquid drown out the scratchiness in his throat.

A glance at the clock alarmed him, mentally calculating how long he slept. He noticed the second quilt that had been laid on top of him, the fleecy textile one Daisy frequently curled up with when she had a bad day. He could faintly smell her coconut and lavender conditioner. It tickled his nose.

“Sweetheart?” Daniel called weakly.

“Mmm?” Daisy hummed.

“I slept for fourteen hours?” Though he asked a question, his tone was almost a statement.

Daisy nodded, slightly smiling. “I think you caught my cold. Maybe cuddling so much wasn’t a good idea.”

Daniel chuckled a little, but stopped when he saw the flicker of worry in her eyes. He reached over to her and grabbed her hand. “I don’t regret any time spent helping you feel better, Daisy.”

She smiled, mirroring his expression. Their eyes both crinkled at the sides, happy gazes taking in the other. Daisy’s eyes still furrowed though, and Daniel cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the frog there before speaking. The action only scratched his throat, a string of coughs interrupting the couple’s staring contest.

“Hey, could you bring me som—” Daniel was cut off by more crackling coughs. Daisy threw him a concerned glance. He could hardly keep his eyes open, hands clammy and forehead burning, body shaking with hacks. He could feel the dip in the cushion as Daisy moved to sit down beside him, resting her hand on his forehead. Her cool skin felt incredible on his. He understood why she liked it so much when he had done the same.

He slowly opened his eyes, ignoring the dry, itchy feeling and opting to focus on Daisy above him. She looked beautiful, like an angel, with airy morning light surrounding her and two messy braids running down her back. She was his angel. His angel was smirking at the way he leaned into her touch.

“These?” she asked, as she held up a small, blue box of tissues. He nodded, swallowing thickly before sitting up and scooting back to lean against the rounded arm of the tan couch. Daisy laughed quietly.

“What?”

She continued giggling, her small laugh growing a little.

“What’s funny?”

Daisy leaned forward and rested a hand on his thigh for balance.

“You’re wearing those pajama pants I got you for Christmas,” she explained. He glanced down, recognizing the tiny planets of their solar system dyed into the plush fabric. “They’re cute on you.”

He smiled, gazing at Daisy. Then he sneezed. Luckily, he picked up a tissue and covered his face in time to not sneeze in Daisy’s face. Daisy leaned back, laughing. Daniel started to, too, a low rumble in his chest diffusing the nerves he had felt. This was the first time Daisy had ever seen him sick. There was that one time in space when he had almost gotten (unintentionally) poisoned by alien coffee, but that was an unpleasant memory he didn’t want to dwell on. Other than that, not a single sniffle had popped up.

Daisy suddenly stood up and slid to the kitchen in sock feet, a large grin on her face.

“Dais, where’re you going?” he wondered out loud.

“The kitchen, duh,” she replied as she slid to the soapstone countertops, grabbing a red and white box out of the counter.

Daniel recognized it as Daisy’s favourite tea, she had bought it on a mission in South Africa and became enamoured with it. Sometimes Daniel would catch her up at odd hours of the night, when she couldn’t sleep, out on the back patio drinking a steaming mug of Rooibos. He knew it was her favourite, and it had slowly become his, too. Lately, they have made a habit out of winding down from long days at work with mugs in their hands, on the couch or in the backyard, red-amber liquid relaxing their minds and limbs. Those were some of his favourite times with Daisy, spent talking and drinking their tea and laughing at reruns of sitcoms.

The sound of hot water trickling into a mug pulled him out of his thoughts. The mug in question was one he had made for Daisy—large and hand painted, artsy flicks of white and yellow and blue serving as reminders of their time in space. That was a modern invention he was particularly fond of (paint your own pottery, not space). It was mesmerizing to watch the colored, chalky paint glide onto the ceramic surface. He often went to this local hole-in-the-wall café that let you paint one of their mugs and bring it home, for an extra charge. Their coffee and ‘old-fashioned southern’ biscuits were delicious.

Daniel stared as Daisy danced around the kitchen, her fishtails swishing and hips swaying. There was no music, just her. She dunked the tea bag in a couple times and let it steep. When the tea was ready, she poured in a squeeze of honey and grabbed a shiny green bottle of cough syrup, carefully walking over to the couch. Daniel gently took the mug from her, using the corner of the blanket as a barrier so as not to burn his hands. Daisy sat on the coffee table across from him, smiling as Daniel took a sip.

“Hot!” he exclaimed.

“I know I am, you don’t have to tell me,” Daisy teased. “Do you want some ice cubes?”

“Jemma would disapprove,” Daniel shot back.

Daisy rolled her eyes and sighed. “Jemma has put up with my odd tea-drinking since 2013. I already made the tea wrong, might as well make it so that you won’t burn yourself trying to drink it.”

Daniel watched Daisy laugh. As ill as he felt, Daisy just being there helped tremendously. The tea soothed his scratchy throat and her laugh sped up his heart. He knew the pink dust on his cheeks couldn’t be attributed to fever alone.

The pair sat in silence for a while as Daniel finished the tea, thankful for the warm beverage. His headache was slightly dissipating, due to the tea or Daisy’s light aura he wasn’t sure. He sat the mug down on the table and leaned up to peck Daisy’s lips. She leaned in a bit putting her hand on his chest to pull away.

“How about that bath?”

“Only if you come, too,” Daniel whispered.

Daisy chuckled. “You, lover boy, are sick. If we keep this up, one of us is always going to be sick. And plus, I need you distracted while I make a surprise!”

Daniel perked up, his slight pout disappearing. “A surprise…?”

“Yes, Danny-boy, a surprise. Which means I can’t tell you, so sit here and I’ll go fill the tub and then you can feel the full effects of that chill pill.”

Daniel leaned towards Daisy, confused. “What chill pill?”

“This chill pill,” Daisy said, leaning forward until her nose almost touched his. Daniel’s head swam with the scent of her silky blonde hair and vanilla lotion. She gently rubbed her hands up and down his arms and over his shoulders. He took a moment to watch the twinkle in her eye, the warmth resonating through him. He felt the tension from staying on the couch all day slowly release, his arms coming to wrap loosely around Daisy’s back in an attempt to keep her there. She shook her head with a grin and sat up, easing off the couch.

Daisy kissed Daniel’s forehead before walking down the hall to the bathroom. Daniel watched her leave, conflicted. Shouldn’t he be able to take care of himself? He had for years, why stop now? It isn’t like he couldn’t fill up the tub, or cook or grab tissues, no matter how light headed he got. Why did she want to help him? ‘Because I love you, you stubborn square!’ Daisy would say. He could practically hear her protest, ‘Just let me take care of you! It won’t hurt!’

If he was honest with himself, that’s all he wanted.

So, he did.

Daisy came back into the living room, the faint sound of water rushing creating a comforting ambience. He didn’t have his leg on, as laying around all day didn’t require it and he was more comfortable without the prosthetic cramming against the back of the couch. He reached back and grabbed the pair of crutches that were leaned against the arm of the sofa. Daisy walked with him back to the bathroom, making sure he didn’t lose his balance due to dizziness from dehydration. Apparently, that was one reason Daisy had felt so horrible after her mission, she had been so busy taking down bad guys that she almost took herself down, too. Even knowing that dehydration isn’t contagious, neither of them wanted him falling into décor à la Daisy.

They reached the bathroom, Daisy running to their room to grab an extra set of sweats for Daniel to put on once he was done.

While she was rummaging through drawers, Daniel carefully undressed and got into the deep tub.

The bath felt incredible. He could smell the lavender from the fancy epsom salt that Daisy had gotten him wafting up from small waves he created. The water was warm, but not so hot that it burned and not so lukewarm that it would go cold in a few minutes.

“Dais, this is first-class,” Daniel called.

Daisy giggled a bit before responding. “First-class?”

“I know you’re poking fun, but thank you. It feels amazing.”

Daisy peeked her head around the corner, nodding.

“I'm glad you like it. Now I'm gonna go fix that surprise. Yell if you need anything, k?”

Daniel nodded and relaxed his head back, muscles slowly easing their tension and his eyes softly closing.

“Oh, shit!!”

Daniel startled, bath water dripping over onto the towels lining the tub. Daisy’s exclamation didn’t seem pained, but he couldn’t help his brow from creasing. He felt fairly rested, he wasn’t sure how long he had been napping in the water. It had gone from pleasantly warm to tepid, he guessed around thirty minutes at the most.

“Dais, everything alright?”

Daisy paused before responding, “Yep! Got it all under control!”

Daniel smiled and shook his head, figuring it was probably time to get out and troop back to the living room, anyway.

He grabbed the grip-bar beside the tub and eased up, sitting on the edge before swinging his good leg around and stepping onto the floor. He grabbed a towel off his hook on the wall and started to dry off. Daisy had set a pair of comfy pants and a shirt on the counter, which he pulled on before grabbing his crutches and making his way to the kitchen. Something smelled… burnt.

He rounded the corner, stopping in his tracks.

“Uh, Dais?”

“It’s burned, I know,” Daisy said, disconcertedly.

“Are you okay?”

Daisy was staring disappointedly at two bowls of seemingly okay soup. She gestured loosely to the sink, Daniel’s eye following.

“Oh, okay, yeah, I see.”

There was a large pot sitting in the sink, filled with greyish water, black bits glued to the bottom.

“I’m sorry. I know cooking isn’t exactly my thing.”

Sousa smiled, running a hand through his wet hair. Daisy’s hands fidgeted, rubbing at her neck.

“Is the soup in the bowls good?”

Daisy looked him up and down, a twinkle of mirth in her eye, like she knew something he didn’t. She shrugged, “The char adds flavour.”

At that, Daniel grinned and stepped forward a little, leaning against the counter next to her. “I’m up for some extra flavour.”

Daisy looked over at him with an odd expression. “Even sick, never fails.”

Daniel responded immediately, “Through sickness and health.”

Daisy’s eyes went wide.

“Relax, I’m kidding. Mostly.”

Daisy’s posture slumped a little as she hit his bicep. “Funny. You’re a funny, funny man.”

He nodded and felt a deep laugh in his chest. “I am very funny, yes.”

Daisy squinted her eyes at him, turning and picking up their bowls of soup to set on the kitchen island. She slid onto one of the backless bar stools that served as seats for when she didn’t feel like being fancy and eating at a table. Sousa took a moment before following, leaning his crutches against the cabinet after sliding onto the stool across from Daisy. He picked up a spoon and tasted the soup, swallowing down a grimace and giving her a thumbs up.

“It's great!�� Daniel exclaimed.

Daisy pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows at him, tasting a spoonful. She was not as great at acting as Daniel was, and could barely keep herself from spitting it out.

“Oh, god, that’s awful!” Despite her wry expression, she was giggling as she picked her cell out of her pajama short’s pocket. Daniel eyed her, perplexed as Daisy hit a button in her .

“Yes, hi... Thank you. Can we get six egg rolls, a small veggie fried rice, a plate of crab wontons, and a small shrimp lo-mein?... Yes! Thank you!... Alright, we’ll be there in ten. Have a good evening!” Daniel watched as Daisy hung up, a bright grin slowly spreading across her face.

Daniel mirrored her, smiling wide. “Chinese food?”

“Yep,” Daisy nodded, popping the 'p'.

Daisy slid lithely off the seat, grabbing the bowls of blackened soup and trashing them. She felt bad, throwing away food. She never got rid of food unless she absolutely had to. Old habits die hard.

She turned around and gave Daniel a smile. She noticed that he wasn’t as pale, his face wasn’t as flushed and he wasn’t swaying like his head was full of air. Maybe she had helped more than she thought. They walked out to Daisy’s car, a metallic dark grey crossover with slightly tinted windows. Daisy got in on the drivers side, Daniel climbing into the passenger. She cranked the car and turned up the radio, checking that Daniel was okay. It was a slightly chilly evening, and the windows were rolled down just enough to let the air in.

The evening felt great, the cool air and orange-pink sky refreshing their senses. Daniel’s eyes were soft as he gazed at Daisy. Even though he caught her cold, he had the feeling that Daisy was the best medicine. Lucky him.

Maybe things do go this great in our universe.

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

awwwwwww, cuuuuuuute! as always, feel free to drop a request in my ask box (linked in the bio) or comment any thoughts!! thanks for reading!!

#dousy #sickfic #daisy johnson x daniel sousa #major fluff #daisysous #quakersquares #timequake #fanfic #post-canon #ashby writes #danny-boy #jemma simmons #agents of shield #aos

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much-brighter-ink · 3 years

Text

Secret Santa Queendom Exchange

Merry Christmas Eve! Enjoy your secret santa gift fic- since you said you were ok with anything, I went for a festive fic because I thought the queens experiencing modern christmas would be amusing (also my entire knowlege of Tudor Christmas tradition comes from a single Lucy Worsley documentary so apologies for any wrong details!)

‘Well that was a complete waste of time-’ Jane dropped her handbag and keys onto the kitchen table, scowling. ‘You would have thought I was asking for the moon from how he reacted!’

Anna hummed sympathetically and got up to put the kettle on to make Jane a soothing post-shopping-trip cup of green tea. ‘No good?’

‘I said, I told him, that I completely understood that he might not actually HAVE one in stock, especially on Christmas Eve, but that we’d all agreed to check just in case and-’ Jane pulled out a chair with slightly more force than was necessary and Anna leant forward.

‘What? What? He didn’t have one?’

‘He just laughed Anna!’ Jane’s annoyance softened into hurt. ‘He didn’t even answer, just laughed and then turned to the next person as if I was joking!’

‘Oh love-’

‘It was REALLy embarrassing AND then a lady stopped me before I could even LEAVE and asked why on earth I’d want to eat something like that…’

Anna put a comforting hand on Jane’s shoulder and put a mug of tea in front of her. ‘Well you shouldn’t be too upset then- the very fact that she had to ask shows she’s obviously got no taste at all.’

Jane chuckled weakly and took a sip of tea. ‘Thanks. It was just horrible- everyone looked at me like I was completely stupid.’

‘Well the others will be back soon, maybe they’ll have had more-’

Anna’s words were cut off by the bang of the front door and the sound of a pair of shoes being angrily kicked off.

‘Kitty? Is that you?’

‘I’m back.’ Kitty trudged into the kitchen and leant into Anna’s side. ‘Don’t ask how it went.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it was absolutely useless.’ Sinking into a chair, Kitty stared pathetically at Jane’s tea until Anna laughed and passed her a cup of her own. ‘No one could help and I got stuck listening to an hour long lecture about animal cruelty and The Law from some interferring old busybody that was passing!’ Kitty sighed heatedly. ‘Since when was it illegal to try and have some fun at Christmas?’

‘Weren’t you listening Kitty? If your lecture was anything like mine, it’s-’ Jane assumed a mincing tone. ‘-cruel the poor endangered boars. Or bears, in your case.’

Anna rolled her eyes. ‘God. Wiping them out globally is all fine and dandy then in the name of progress but kill one bear in a good old fashioned family bear-baiting to bring the community together and provide everyone with a bit of holiday cheer and you’re a monster…’

‘This century is so joyless.’

Jane nodded. ‘You’re telling me.’

Kitty turned anguished eyes upon her. ‘Don’t tell me you had no luck either!’

‘Sorry-’

‘Argh!’ Kitty let out a frustrated wail and let her head flop down onto her folded arms. ‘No bear baiting AND no boar’s head? It might as well not even BE Christmas…’

The others murmured disconsolate agreement just as Catalina burst through the backdoor wildly.

‘That had better be some ill-judged Protestant humour-’

Anna shook her head. ‘Sorry Catty.’

‘A tomar por culo! This is going to be the worst Christmas ever!’

Jane looked at her oddly. ‘Didn’t you die at Christmas?’

Catalina fixed a cold stare upon her former lady in waiting. ‘But at least I got to have one last Christmas dinner to keep my spirits up Jane!’

‘Fair point…’

‘Thank you Kitty.’

The silence fell on the kitchen, and then Anna suddenly looked up.

‘Where are Anne and Cathy? Shouldn’t they be back by now?’

Catalina looked up. ‘Didn’t they go with Kitty?’

Kitty shook her head. ‘I thought they’d gone with you-’

‘No-’

‘They probably just-’

‘I bet they-’

Their speculation was interrupted by the insistent buzzing of Catalina’s phone, accompanied by a rather tinny but still recognisable refrain-

‘Oh my god you have Anne’s song as your ringtone!’ Despite her earlier misery, Kitty now looked positively gleeful. ‘I can’t believe it, I KNEW you liked it really-’

‘It’s CATCHY-’ Catalina mumbled, as she half turned in her chair to hide her blush. Jane patted her arm sympathetically.

‘Catalina Trastamara de Aragon-’

‘Why does she always answer her phone like that?’

‘Leave her alone, as if Good Morrow, Bitches is any better-’

‘Madrina?’

At her goddaughters voice, Catalina flapped an arm at the others. ‘Shut up! It’s Cathy! -Are you alright querida?’

‘I’m fine.’ Cathy sounded rather hesitant. ‘Just- promise not to panic, ok?’

‘Cathy?’

‘Promise!’

‘Ok-’

‘…..We’re at the police station!’

‘What?!’

‘How!?’

There was a scuffle and Anne’s voice came on the line. ‘Hi! Look, before you get cross, absolutely NOT our fault ok?’

‘What did you do?’

‘We had no idea it’d go like this-’

‘What did you DO?’

‘It’s was Cathy’s idea!’

‘Anne!’

‘We just thought it’d be fun!’ Cathy wailed from the background. ‘We never got to do it back then but it always sounded so exciting-’

‘And Jane SAID we needed to make more of an effort with the neighbours!’

‘What did you DO?’

‘Well….and let me just remind you again that it was CATHY’S idea, seeing as it IS Christmas Eve…’

‘Anne-’

‘Turns out people get REALLY weird when you cover your face and burst into their house in disguise-’

To the queen’s disgust, it turned out that the jolly Tudor practise of Mumming was, in the 21st century, considered to be highly suspicious and also in contravenence of the law.

A quick and grovelling conversation with the neighbour who had called the police (plus a promise of free yard work and snow shovelling for the foreseeable future) saw the two errant queens released and sent home with the stern warning not to try anything like that again.

Jane entered the living room where the five rather dejected queens sat in gloomy silence in the living room. ‘So they’ve agreed they won’t press charges and I THINK they’re going to keep quiet about it so that’s sorted at least.’

‘Thanks Jane-’ Cathy made room for the third queen on the sofa and Jane joined her.

‘What are we watching?’

‘Anna suggested we try a modern Christmas film to try and get into the spirit-’

��Oh?’

Kitty made a face. ‘It’s about a demon who goes around sneaking into the houses of children before Christmas day…’

‘Oh. Weird.’

‘Yeah not very cheering…’

‘Speaking of which, where IS Anna?’

‘Oh she said she had a surprise to cheer us all up-’

Cathy hugged a cushion to her chest. ‘Honestly, I can’t think of ANYTHING that will make today ANY-’

She was interrupted by Anna- Anna von Kleve, dressed in an oversized red hoody with Trust No Bitch emblazoned on it in gold sequins and bearing what looked to be Jane’s best Le Creuset mixing bowl, filled to the brim with-

‘Is that….what IS that?’

‘Mmmm….vodka….and the gin that was left over…and about a half cup of cooking sherry….’ Anna looked up defensively. ‘What? I know the wassail cup is MEANT to be cider but we didn’t have enough to fill the bowl!’

‘I suppose that’s fair enough-’

Catalina reached for the bowl and took a swig. ‘At least that’s one tradition they can’t take away from us. Even if we’re the only ones to do it anymore…’

‘They can take our boar and our bear and our mummers but they’ll pry our wassail cup out of our cold dead hands!’

‘Yep’ Anne nodded decisely. ‘It can still be a BIT like Christmas IF we can all drink alcohol out of a massive bowl….’

The other queens nodded, looking slightly cheered.

Needless to say, the Boxing Day performance had to be cancelled.

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

Ahhhh @cynicalrainbows thank you so, so much!!! This made my day, I love your writing so much - have a wonderful Christmas Eve! @queendomsecretsanta

#secret santa gift exchange #six the musical #alcohol tw #submission

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lonelyreputation · 4 years

Text

Different (part three)

A/N: Sorry it’s a little bit later than usual!! But here’s part three ahh!! I’m so grateful for all the support you all have shown this series it really makes me 🥺 as I cry into my tea you all are THE BEST 💖✨🥂

Anyway…Enjoy part three!! Let me know your thoughts! 💞 💗 There WILL be a part four 😉

Part ONE | Part TWO | Let’s Chat!! | MASTERLIST

Warnings: Few swear words

WC: 3.1K

It had been six months since you successfully scrapped your life clean of your best friend. Even with all the time that passed, it wasn’t enough for your heart not to ache whenever you heard him on the radio. So you stopped listening to the radio.

You had taken down all of the pictures where he made an appearance on your Instagram and switched it to private; you blocked him, anyone from his team, and distanced yourself from his friends that had woven their way into your life. You eventually deleted your twitter account after Shawn tried contacting you from the AG Artist official account.

It had been a painful process, removing your best friend and the person you loved out of your life, but it was necessary for you to reclaim your sanity. And something else that helped you stop staining your pillows with tears at night was a daily walk in the park.

There was a park ten minutes from your apartment. And it had become your safe haven whenever you felt the phantom pain of Shawn twisting the knife in your heart six months ago. Early on, when your roommate noticed something was different when Shawn wasn’t over, or you weren’t at his place constantly, the park was your escape. And it continued to serve that purpose up until now.

As usual, you were lost up in your head, trying not to replay the scenario of Shawn destroying you in every way possible, when a voice you hadn’t heard in six months call out your name.

“Y/n?”

You froze in the middle of the pathway, taking a deep breath, and holding it in. Maybe, you thought to yourself, if you stay as still as possible and don’t turn around he won’t know it’s you.

But he called your name again, letting out a small, but awkward laugh. You shakily released the breath that you held captive in your lungs, as you slowly turned on your heels to face the red head you hadn’t seen since you begged him to keep Shawn from coming after you.

“Brian,” You offered him a wave, still standing in your spot that was a good few feet away from him, “Hi.”

His eyes tried to shine bright, but you recognized the gloominess in them, because you stared into gloomy eyes every time you looked in the mirror.

With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his winter coat, he took a few steps forward, “It’s been––Wow, it’s been too long. How’ve you been––” he cut himself and offered you a regretful smile, already knowing the answer to his question, “What’ve you been up to.”

“This and that,” you lamely offered him with a shrug of your shoulders. Your friendship with Brian had suffered greatly when you cut Shawn out of your life. He was one of his friends that you blocked from all your social media.

“Do you walk here often?”

A cold breeze made you shiver as you gave him another vague answer, “Every now and then.”

You were almost as close to Brian as you were with Shawn, and he could see right through your poor excuse of answers, “Let’s go get a coffee.”

You shook your head, “I have to––”

“I’ll only take twenty minutes of your time,” his shoulders dropped as he looked at you with pleading eyes, “I’ll even pay.”

Knowing how much Brian hated spending money, it took you aback that he was offering to pay. Never once in your friendship with him had he paid for anything other than what he absolutely needed.

Warily, you nodded your head in response, and a smile lit up his face, “There’s a place not too far, c’mon.”

The walk to the coffee shop was absolutely silent. Not that you minded it, but you knew that Brian was holding back whatever thoughts were whirling around in his head for the conversation at the coffee shop.

Soon enough, Brain was holding open the door for you to walk through and you were hit with an immediate warmth. He asked you if you still had the same coffee order, you nodded your head, and he told you to go sit at a table while he ordered the drinks.

You plucked your gloves from your hands, finger by finger, but kept your jacket on. Your leg bounced under the table and you chewed on your bottom lip. Twenty minutes, you said to yourself, you’ll give him twenty minutes and then you’re off.

When Brian placed your coffee on the table, you jumped and hit your knee under the wood table, so lost in your head that you didn’t see him appear. He didn’t say anything about the shake of the table that caused some of your drink to spill over.

“So…” Brain circled his hands around his coffee and tapped his fingers on the white disposable cup, “You’re really done with Shawn?”

Your eyes bulged out of your head as you placed a hand over your mouth, trying not to spurt coffee out of your mouth, at his direct conversation starter.

You patted your chest a few times to clear your throat, “Are we really going to talk about this?”

Brian looked at you with sympathetic eyes, “He really didn’t tell you anything?”

“Told me I destroyed our friendship,” you said bitterly as you took a sip of your coffee, your mind flashing back to the day where your best friend obliterated your confidence, “Asked me what he did so wrong that made me fall in love with him.”

You took a shaky deep breath in and shut your eyes tight. You had done well in blocking out the memories of that day, but the soul-crushing feeling in your chest that made it difficult to breathe had taken up residence since that day.

“He doesn’t mean that,” Brian said softly, “Trust me––”

“You weren’t there, Brian,” you snapped at him, “He meant every single word.”

It was silent as the two of you drank your coffee. In the past, you and Brian were always laughing, poking fun at one another, but today could not be further from how you used to interact with one of your closet friends.

After another moment of silence, Brian let out a deep sigh, and he looked at you like he knew he was going to regret the words about to come out of his mouth, “You really hurt him.”

You let out a laugh, “I really hurt him?” You waited for him to say something else, anything, but he remained silent as he looked into his black coffee, “You have to be kidding.”

Brian shook his head, “He had to go back on tour a week after your falling out,” he rubbed rubbed his eye, “Did you see any videos of his performances?”

“Of course not,” you scoffed out, “Why would I want to see my ex-best friend who shattered my heart?”

Brian rolled his eyes at your childish remark, but didn’t say anything, “He was messing up chords, singing off key…He couldn’t even finish singing When You’re Ready.”

“Why would he have trouble finishing that song?”

Brain took a deep breath and looked like he was about to say something, but he shook his head as he backtracked, “He really didn’t say anything to you?” You shook your head no, and he let out a deep sigh, “Was it really necessary to just drop him like that?”

“I needed time for myself to stay sane,” you placed both hands flat on the table and leaned forward, “Has someone you’ve ever loved tell you to your face that what you’re feeling for them is wrong and then they get mad at you?”

Brian stayed silent and you nodded your head. If Biran witnessed the full blow out that dismantled your friendship, you knew you wouldn’t be having this conversation. He would probably not even be speaking to you since he was Shawn’s friend first.

Your eyes were drawn to him tapping his fingers on the table, “But that––That doesn’t make sense,” you looked up at him to see his eyebrows scrunched together as he looked off somewhere in the distance behind you, “You guys are so––so different––”

Different; everyone kept using that word to describe your relationship with Shawn.

Your friends didn’t even blink an eye when either you or Shawn would randomly start laughing together at something when you were across the room from each other. Or, when walking down the street; your friends would always joke about how Shawn always held your hand, and whenever you tried to pull your hand away in embarrassment, he would squeeze tight and look down at you with a smile.

He would bake casseroles with your grandmother. You had a key to his childhood house in Pickering despite not growing up with him. He picked up groceries for your parents, because the one time he was over at their house with you, he noticed they were out of cereal. You showed up to Aaliyah’s science fair to see her win a third place ribbon.

Even after everything…Everything that clearly showed your relationship with him was different than a regular friendship, you weren’t enough for him.

You abruptly pushed back your chair, causing a loud screech on the floorboards, as you begged yourself not to cry when you felt your throat tighten up, “Thanks for the coffee,” you didn’t even bother to slip your gloves back on as you pushed the chair back under the table, rushing toward the door, “But I have to go.”

“It was nice seeing you, Y/n.” His voice was somber, mournful of the friendship lost between the two of you, “See you around?”

“Bye, Brian.”

//////

Christmas Eve was two days away, and while the 24th of December was just another day, you would usually be out helping Shawn buy Christmas presents for his family around this time. The pang of pain you felt in your chest didn’t subside as you stressed cleaned your apartment, so you decided to transfer your energy into your other coping mechanism; a walk in the park.

The brisk winter air of Canada caused your throat to feel scratchy and dry, so you stopped at the coffee shop Brian had brought you to a week and a half ago, and ordered yourself a hot tea. The barista was nice enough to double cup the boiling water, but it was still a bit too hot, and you cursed yourself for leaving your mittens on the countertop of your apartment.

You left the shop and crossed a few streets until you were in the familiar park. Unlike when you first started your walks; the trees held no colorful leaves, children running around with smiles were scarce, and the sharp air nipped at your skin like the tip of a knife was vastly different from the warmth of the sun.

“Y/n?”

It was a voice you hadn’t heard in six months. A voice that you so desperately wanted to never hear again, but at the same time, the smoothness of his calming voice was ingrained into your mind and you missed the sound of it.

With the surprise of his voice, it caused your hand to shake, and hot tea scorched your exposed skin.

“Fuck,” you swore under your breath, back still turned to him.

“Shit––Sorry,” you saw the familiar black chelsea boots––the ones he would always kick off and leave on your floor before he lounged on your couch––come around to where his toes were pointed toward you, “Here––There’s a uh––There’s a coffee shop not too far from here, I can get you napkins––”

With your head still angled downward, refusing to make eye contact with him, you shook the tingling feeling of boiling water on your skin away, the frigid air helping only just a bit to cool it down, “What are you doing here, Shawn?”

In those six months, you hadn’t uttered his name to a single soul, but it was the only name that replayed over and over again in your mind.

“What am I––I’m helping you clean up?” His voice was nonchalant, as if he hadn’t knowingly broken your heart six months ago, and it made you angry.

“What are you here,” you picked your head up from your shoes to look at him for the first time in six months.

If a stranger were to look upon him, or even if a fan were to dissect a photo of him, he would look completely normal. But you knew him better than that, you knew him a little too well.

His jawline had a few pimples scattered across, where he usually broke out when he was under an immense amount of stress. While it was noticeable he hit the gym on tour, he was skinnier than the last time you saw him. His hangnails and cuticles were picked at, with his fingernails bitten down, the curl that always hung in front of his forehead was pushed back in place, and eyes lacked their usual bright gleam.

To the world he looked like a twenty-one year old who just finished a massively successful world tour, but to you, he looked different.

He was silent as you took in his appearance, but he soon got uncomfortable under your hard stare, and coughed, “Brian––He uh––He told me––” You could see that he was trying so hard to maintain eye contact, but his eyes nervously darted around the barren park, “––He said you came and walked here every now and then.”

You silently cursed Brian. Of course he would tell Shawn the best place to find you that wasn’t your apartment. You were glad that he had the decency to actually grant you the space you pleaded for and not show up at your doorstep.

Not knowing what to say to him, you just stood blankly in front of him, your hand gripping your cup of tea, that should still be piping hot, but you were numb to the pain as Shawn stood in front of you.

The blistering pain of the hot water was no match for the pain you felt looking at him.

“I…” his words trailed off as his eyes focused on a pebble he lightly kicked with the tip of his boot, but when his eyes looked into yours, all you saw was his eyes mirroring the pain you felt, “I miss you, Y/n.”

You felt your throat tighten up, but manage to squeak out a sentence, “Are you serious?”

“Please,” his voice was begging to rebuild your friendship, “Don’t be like this.”

“You…You told me,” your voice was tight, as his eyes quickly looked down at the cup your hand that was shaking out of rage, “You said that what I felt was wrong and how––how I can’t and shouldn’t feel that way about you––”

“Are we really doing this now?” He let out an aggravated sigh, eyes closed, as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’re the one who came to find me,” you said matter of factly, voice laced with malice, “I said I needed space––”

“It’s been six months!” Shawn ran a hand through his curls, “Six god damn months.” You noticed his muscles straining in his neck, trying not to yell at full capacity, “You’re telling me you want to go longer without being friends?”

You let out a soft sigh, and with a defeated voice you said, “How can we go back to being friends?”

Shawn shook his head, “Don’t––We just have to talk about what happened that day.”

That day. The day that unequivocally changed the course of your four year friendship with him. The day that played over in your head like a film on repeat, with you strapped in a chair, reliving the worst day of your life; it’s what your own personal hell looked like.

“We did,” your voice shook as you replayed the worst part of the film in your head; his words.

The way he held resentment in his voice as he said, “That––Can’t––You don’t love me––Not––Not like…That.” The way he cried because he didn’t want to let you go when you were obviously hurting, “You’re my best friend. I don’t want space from you.”

But most of all…The most selfish act of the day––that’s still too painful for your mind to drift to––was when he admitted to seeing you outside of the bathroom door, and how he was knowingly entirely confident in diminishing your self-worth, “I thought if you heard I didn’t love you, instead of me saying it to you, we could go back to being normal.”

There was not a chance you could go back to being normal after that.

“And it obviously screwed both of us over,” you sniffled as you brought the back of your hand up to wipe away a tear that had fallen from your eye, “But we talked and there’s nothing more to it.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” his cheeks were looking more red with every sentence you said, and they weren’t red because of the cold.

“Okay then,” you paused and sucked in a deep breath, “Do you love me now or do you still see me as a friend?”

“You’re my best friend––”

“Do you still see me as a friend?”

It was the loudest silence you had ever heard and you had your answer loud and clear.

“See?” You clenched your teeth together, in hopes to keep the familiar scratchiness of your throat that always preceded your tears, at bay, “Nothing’s changed so there’s nothing to talk about.”

When you felt another tear betray you and fall down the side of your face, you knew you had to leave his presence. You quickly spun on your heel, but before you could even make it two steps away, a hand took hold of your elbow.

“Y/n, please––”

You tugged your elbow out of his grasp, but this time when the boiling water of the tea fell on your hand, you didn’t feel it, “I told you I needed space,” you peered over your shoulder to see his eyebrows slanted, eyes glistening with tears, and lip quivering, “If you love me as a friend,” you choked the words out, “Then you’ll give that to me.”

You didn’t wait to hear his response, knowing that whatever it would be, would be determined if he either chased after you or let you walk away.

He let you walk home alone.

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#Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes x y/n #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes x you #Shawn Mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes writing #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes angst #shawnblr #smtt #Shawn mende sblurbs #Shawn Mendes writings #Shawn #we h8 tags!!! they are a necessary evil lmao

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stereksecretsanta · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas, blizsquees!

For @blizsquees. Merry Christmas Bliz! May it be filled with much love, laughter, and Sterek :)

Read On AO3

*****

A Courting We Will Go

Erica hands Derek his wolfsbane laced beer and plonks herself down next to him on the bench.

“Have you asked him yet?”

Derek groans, running his hand down his face. “No, Erica.”

“Why not?”

“None of your business.”

“Actually, it is my business. You’re my Alpha, he’s my Emissary. Or he would be if you just freaking asked him!”

Derek grumbles at his beta. “It’s not that simple Erica! There’s a process. I essentially have to court him. I can’t just walk up to him and say, “Yo Stiles! Wanna be my emissary?”

Erica looks at Derek with wide eyes. “You have to court him?”

“Kinda. It's not an overly lengthy process, but I have to make my intention known by bringing him a hard to get spell ingredient, preferably one he needs and then it goes from there.”

“This is perfect!” Erica jumps up from her seat and throws herself into Derek’s lap, both of their beers sloshing out the top of the bottles. “You can court him as your emissary, AND as your loverboy.”

“WHAT??? NO ERICA that’s not …”

“You’ve been pining over Stiles for months, if not years! You can woo him to because our Emissary, and woo him into your bed!”

“I have not been pining!”

Boyd and Isaac walk out of the house and down the back stairs. Isaac snorts. “You so have been pining.”

Boyd nods. “It’s pretty obvious too. Scott noticed.”

Erica starts to cackle. “And he’s a dumb as a box of rocks! Come on Der, you can combine the two! MULTITASKING.”

Derek looks at his betas. “OK. Maybe I have been pining, But it doesn’t work like that. I can’t woo him as my emissary and mate at the same time.”

Boyd shrugs. “So pick one.”

The betas look at their Alpha expectantly. “We’ll go with Emissary first. We need an Emissary.”

Erica looks disappointed. “Can’t you woo him as your mate first? I don’t want to have to endure the pining until after the Emissary wooing is finished.”

Derek sighs. “Be patient sheesh. I’m going to go talk to my mom. You two make sure that Erica behaves.”

Derek gets up from the bench and climbs the stairs to the house. As he shuts the door he hears Isaac whisper, “I can't wait for them to bond, they're so good for each other."

*****

Derek runs over to his parent’s house in the preserve. As he breaks through the treeline he sees his mom Talia waiting on the porch.

“Hello Bun, what brings you over here today?”

Derek runs up the stairs and pulls his mother into a hug and gives her a squeeze. Talia laughs and hugs her son back giving a squeeze of her own.

“You seem happy! What’s gotten into you?”

Derek pulls away from the hug. “I’m going to start the Emissary courtship with Stiles.”

“Oh, darling heart that’s wonderful! You’re here for some information?”

Derek nods, following his mother into the house. The scent of cinnamon, vanilla, and ginger is rich in the air along with the fresh pine from the real Christmas tree standing in the corner of the living room.

Once in the kitchen, Talia pours Derek a coffee and one for herself. “So Bun, what do you want to know?”

Derek savours the flavour of the coffee and takes another sip before answering his mom. “Everything. I think I remember the steps, but I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Tell me what you remember then.”

“So the first step is the initial gift of getting something Stiles needs that’s hard to get. Then if he accepts that gift then the next gift is a copy of the latest bestiary. Then lastly I offer myself as his Alpha.”

Talia smiles at her son. “Good memory Derek! So you need to think of what to get Stiles, my suggestion is to look at his style of magic and get himself that will enhance that. While you do that I’ll make sure Peter has a Hale bestiary ready for the next step. This is so exciting Bun!”

Derek nods slowly as he downs the last of his coffee. “It feels like a long time coming. I mean, my betas say it’s a long time coming.”

“They probably thought that you would have at least asked Stiles out on a date by now.”

“MOM not you too!”

“Oh please Der-Bear, you have never been subtle when you are enamoured with a young man or woman. I’ve seen how you look at him, stealing glances when you think he’s not looking, smiling when he laughs even though you have no idea what he’s laughing at. But I’m glad you are going down the Emissary route first though. It will make your relationship so much stronger once you get together.”

“You seem awfully sure he’s going to accept my gift and then when I ask him out.”

“Bun, I’ve seen how he looks at you too. Now. What are you going to get for your first gift?”

*****

Derek pulls into the parking lot of the vet surgery just as Alan Deaton is about to lock the door for the evening. Alan holds the door open until Derek has entered, closing and locking the door after the wolf.

“What can I do for you, Mr Hale?”

“Sorry I’m here on closing Dr Deaton, but I won’t take too much of your time. I just wanted to ask you the best way to get all the different strains of wolfsbane. Is there a one-stop-shop or something?”

“Let’s take this conversation out the back Derek.”

Deaton lifts the bench to break the mountain ash line and leads Derek into the back office. “Back to your question, there is a one-stop wolfsbane shop actually. But it’s in Argentina.”

Derek’s face falls. “Oh.”

“I’m going to take a guess and say that this is for the first Emissary gift for Mr Stilinski?”

Derek nods.”Not only would it be helpful for the pack, but I think Stiles would love that.”

“I agree. I'm going to give you the name of the Emissary of the Garcia pack. Her name is Este. Not only does she have all the strains, but she’s the only person in the Americas who has a surplus of seeds. If you explain why you want the wolfsbane, and talk some about Stiles, I think she might send seeds too. That’s a mighty fine first Emissary gift.”

Deaton pulls out his address book from the locked bottom drawer in the drug cabinet and a piece of paper from the top of the desk. He writes down Este’s name and her contact details and hands the page to Derek. “Good luck Mr Hale. Stiles will make a wonderful addition to your pack. I believe your wolf and his spark are going to meld very well together and be a very powerful addition to the Hale pack.”

Derek holds the page in his hand gently as if it will shatter. “Thank you, Dr Deaton. I appreciate the help.”

The vet guides the wolf out of the building and closes and locks the door behind Derek. He waves and walks into the now dark office.

Derek walks to his car and pulls out his cell phone. Punching in the number he takes a deep breath and waits for the call to go through. There’s a click.

“Buenas tardes este es Este.”

“Hola, mi nombre es Derek Hale, soy uno de los Alfa en Beacon Hills. Quería hablar contigo sobre tu colección de matanza de lobo, ya que estoy planeando mi oferta de Emisario.”

*****

A week later Stiles Stilinski is in the kitchen of his family home preparing his homegrown vegetables to accompany a large roast beef that is already in the oven. His babica sits at the dining table laughing at her grandson as he tries to chop a carrot while shaking his backside to the music playing from the Bluetooth speaker.

A knock on the door startles Stiles as he’s about to begin chopping another carrot. “Babica can you get that for me? I’m covered in carrot guts.”

“Of course Mischief. For you my boy.” Gabriela Stilinski gets up from her chair and shuffles towards the front door. Opening the door widely she sees a nervous Derek standing there clutching a strong wooden box.

“Derek Hale! My goodness, you have grown up very very handsome. Isn’t he handsome Mieczyslaw? Come! Come!”

Looking like a deer in headlights, Derek walks into the house as Stiles is walking out of the kitchen wiping off his hands on a tea towel.

“Hey, Derek! What brings you here?”

Stiles throws the teatowel back into the kitchen.

Derek takes a deep breath. “Mieczyslaw Stilinski. With this gift, I offer you a place by my side. As my equal. As my partner. As my Emissary. Together we will guide and strengthen our pack, defend our territory, and support our allies. What say you?”

Derek holds the box forward, offering it up to Stiles. The Spark slowly lifts the lid and sees the perfectly wrapped strains of wolfsbane, as well as the numerous packets of seeds. Stiles gasps and runs his fingers over the top of all the packages. Taking a step back he looks up at Derek.

“Alpha Hale. It is my honour to accept your offer, both the gift and place by your side.”

Derek releases the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “Really?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Of course Sourwolf! We’ve always been a good team.”

Derek places down the box and sweeps Stiles up into a hug. Stiles returns the hug eagerly while Gabriela claps.

The men pull away from the hug, Derek squeezes Stiles’ arms. “Your family is invited to our home for dinner on Sunday night to finalise the next steps of our joining.” Turning to Gabriela, “I’d love it if you came as well babcia.”

Stiles smiles brightly. “We will all be there. Dad isn’t working this weekend.”

Grandma Stilinski steps forward and grabs Derek’s arm. “You must tell us what to bring Derek, we must celebrate!”

*****

Sunday morning, Laura and Cora find Derek pacing the kitchen while the brand new Hale bestiary sits on the kitchen bench.

Cora rolls her eyes at her older brother. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor boofhead. What’s got you so worked up?”

Laura raises an eyebrow. “Are you freaking out about tonight? It’ll go smoothly bun. It did for Lydia and me, it will for you and Stiles too.”

Derek stops pacing and looks at his sister in a panic. “What if he backs out?”

Talia sweeps into the room after her daughters. “He’s not going to back out Bun. He’s been telling everyone who will listen how excited he is. This is a big moment for both of you! Now, time to stop freaking out and bring yourself and your stuff over the main house to get ready. Everyone is aiming to be there by 5 pm so we need to get cracking.”

Laura goes upstairs and grabs Derek’s duffle and suit bag and brings them out to the car. Cora follows her out of the door leaving Talia and Derek alone in the kitchen. “My son, look at me.”

Derek looks at his mother, eyes filled with uncertainty.

“Stiles is just as nervous as you sweetheart. Claudia called me earlier laughing because Stiles had the hiccups for an hour. She said that he was scared you would change your mind.”

“I would never mom. He’s it for me.”

“As your Emissary? Or your mate?”

“Both. But I don’t know if could only having him as one and not the other.”

Talia takes her sons hands and gently squeezes them. “My boy, you have nothing to worry about on either count. Trust your mother. Forge your wolf’s bonds, then let the other happen naturally, and they will happen. But one thing at a time hmm?”

Derek smiles at his mom and grabs the book off the countertop, and follows his mother out of his house and to the family car.

*****

The grandfather clock in the hall strikes five, and the entirety of the Hale pack and Stilinski family sit in a circle in the backyard of the main Hale house. There are lights strung through all the trees, the aroma of cooking meat dances in the air, and the excited chatter of the families dulls down after the final clang of the clock.

From either side of the circle, Derek and Stiles make their way through their pack and meet in the middle. Derek is holding the new bestiary in his hands.

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski. To further our bond as wolf and spark, I offer you the complete history of the Hale family and our knowledge of all supernatural lore. Our bestiary is yours, guard it with your life and power, this knowledge not to leave our pack.”

Stiles opens the front page of the bestiary where Derek has put a singularity claw mark in the front cover. Closing his eyes, Stiles places his right index finger onto the claw mark. “My spark and your wolf, together as one.”

The page glows as magic inscribes into the paper the mark of the Emissary. Talia comes and takes the book from Derek and goes back to her seat. The men take a step closer.

“As our final step towards our joining, I pledge myself as your Alpha. To support you at all times. To protect you at all times. My wolf. Your spark. Our pack.”

Derek tilts his head to the right exposing his neck to Stiles while several people in the audience gasp. Stiles runs his hand down Derek’s neck and stops when he can feel the wolf’s pulse under his thumb.

“My spark. Your wolf. Our pack. I pledge myself as your Emissary. To support you at all times. To protect you at all times.”

Stiles squeezes Derek’s neck then removes his hand. Bearing his neck to Derek in return he whispers, “My Alpha.”

Derek lunges forward with fangs bared, pressing them gently into the pale skin of his Emissary. With the tips of his fangs touching the skin, the bond is completed, power surging between the wolf and the spark. Erica, Boyd, and Issac leap from their seats and howl in happiness as they feel the pack bonds strengthen and Stiles bond snapping into place with theirs. The rest of the Hale family then join in, howls ringing out into the night, the Stilinskis cheering and clapping.

As the howls quieten, and the wolves calm, Derek and Stiles are still standing in the middle of the circle, heads bowed, both men smiling widely.

Stiles breaks the silence. “Would it be too soon to tell you that I love you?”

Derek looks at Stiles in surprise and bursts out laughing, pulling Stiles into a hug. His laughter dies down and he looks in adoration and his Spark. “Not too soon at all.”

“Good. Now kiss me Alpha.”

Derek’s smile brightens as he tips Stiles chin gently and places a delicate kiss on his lips. “My Emissary.”

#blizsquees #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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piracytheorist · 3 years

Text

A Kiss for Good Luck (9/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 3.1k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 9: Emma Swan, October 19th 2015 – May 19th 2016

The kiss doesn't get deep, but Emma's insides are melting; damn it, it feels so good and he feels so sweet. She breaks the kiss, fearing she's already gone too red and hoping the cold lights around them won't show it.

He's looking at her, and she feels she'll have to run or she'll turn into a pool of goo right at his feet.

Thankfully, his eye catches something and he turns his head to the side. Emma turns as well, only to see a woman a few yards away, about their age, looking at him with a scorned expression.

Killian just shrugs at her, and the woman seems to scoff and turn her back at them.

He turns back to Emma. “Don't worry,” he says. "Wanna add me on Facebook? It's Killian Jones, if, if you're interested... we can share favourite songs."

Emma snorts. "Like we're in high school?"

He laughs, a bit awkwardly so. "I won't stalk you if you don't add me, just saying."

Emma smirks at him, then reaches into her belt bag and takes out her phone, which immediately slips from her fingers.

"Shit," she says, picking it up and gasping when she sees that the screen cracked a little. "Shit!"

"Oh." Killian bites his lip. "I feel as if I've caused that."

Emma shakes her head. "It's replaceable. Don't worry. Killian Jones, you said?"

He looks to be debating himself. But Emma quickly opens the app, finds him and adds him. "Friend request sent," she says. "So we can chat about hot, new releases," she says, only half joking.

"Hey," Ingrid calls at her. Emma turns to see Ingrid's eyes go from her to Killian.

"Coming," Emma says. "So, we'll keep in touch," she tells him, pointing at him with her phone.

For the first time in so long she finds herself hoping that this near stranger will actually respond.

“Who was that?” Ingrid says as they start walking to their rented car.

“He's Killian,” Emma says with an innocent smile.

“You know him?”

“No, actually. We just met.”

Ingrid's brows shoot up. “You were just kissing a guy you just met?”

Her tone isn't accusative, just curious. So Emma's smile widens and she says, “Yeah. Yeah, I-”

She's cut off by her own gasp when her ankle bends unexpectedly and she falls down. For one long second she feels cold sweat at the back of her neck; first her broken phone screen, now tripping on flat ground?

“Emma?” Ingrid is kneeling next to her, face full of worry.

“I'm okay,” Emma says, collecting herself.

“Sweetheart, did he give you something?”

Emma laughs, trying to break the tension despite that small but insistent piece of her mind that's still worried. “If you're referring to butterflies in my stomach, yes.”

“I'm serious.”

“I'm alright. I just... didn't step right. And I'm a bit tired, to be honest.”

Ingrid's face relaxes a bit. “You did dance a lot tonight. Are you sure you're okay?”

“Yes, Ingrid. We were just talking and then... kissing felt right.”

“In any case, perhaps you should let me drive.”

Emma's jeans got a bit dirty and she scraped her palm after falling, but they're too small to rival the amazing birthday night she just had.

She wakes up with a bit of a headache, ringing ears, and a sore throat. But that day it's the goodbye to Ingrid that takes priority.

Ingrid promises to do her best to come to Boston for Christmas. Emma holds back her tears, hugs Ingrid, then waves her goodbye as Ingrid boards her plane.

Emma sits back. And waits. And waits.

Her flight was supposed to have left only twenty minutes after Ingrid's – she had considered herself very lucky to have found two cheap flights so close to each other – but now it's been delayed for more than two hours, the waiting chairs full of exasperated passengers and too many tired toddlers.

The food isn't great, the air conditioning hits her a bit too much and she doesn't get much rest. The lines at passport control are long, and she's happy she decided to take just a cabin trolley and not have to wait at the baggage carousel. She's already too tired, her body stiff, and she regrets not asking Ruby to come pick her up as she waits for a taxi while it's raining and a little too cold outside.

The next morning she scrolls through the line of notifications from Ruby asking her again and again to wake up and tell her everything, and it's only then she sees that Killian has accepted her friend request.

And he's active now. She checks the time – it's afternoon there and a Sunday.

She gives herself ten minutes. Her hair is not cooperating and she smudges the eye pencil on her lower eyelid.

She just shakes her head. Maybe the connection will be bad enough that he won't be able to see that much detail.

She settles herself on her bed and takes five deep breaths before calling Killian on video.

It takes a bit too long for him to answer. Maybe she should have asked first?

Eventually, his face fills her screen, and her stomach is all in happy knots again.

“Good morning,” he says. “Or afternoon? Have you gone back yet?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, noticing her wide grin on her preview, “I arrived last night.”

“How was your trip?”

“A bit more tiring than I'm used to. But safe.”

“Than you're used to? You do it often?”

Maybe she's not ready to go fully into her history with Ingrid, but he seems to catch up with what little she shares. They talk more than just their favourite music. For now, it's food, and how they'll spend their Sunday, then Halloween and Christmas...

She doesn't realize a whole hour went by until Killian, seeming a bit conflicted, says he has to go eat. He's staying with his family, and his parents are 'already experiencing retirement by eating early'.

Emma laughs, swallowing her own bitterness. She keeps it at bay until the call ends, then she sighs, looking at her cracked, black phone screen.

He's with family. He doesn't have to move countries and choose whether to celebrate holidays with them or with friends.

“Ugh,” she tells herself. She doesn't actually know much. For all she knows, he's had it as bad as her.

Work isn't going well. There are enough cases to go by, but they wear her out every day. Ruby is busy with work and her new girlfriend, and David's mother has gotten sick and the Nolans don't have the time to invite Emma every Sunday anymore.

At least, she manages to talk to Killian twice a week. She knows she'd like to talk more often to him, but she's still a bit insecure. Not just about whether she's annoying him, but because she feels like an old pessimist again, and caring for this will only end up breaking her heart.

She can't help it, however, especially when half the time it's him calling her, staying up late because it's already evening when she finishes work, then they spend the next at least two hours equally listening and talking.

She still gets to see Ruby and the Nolans occasionally, and she still gets enough to go by. But her one constant these days is Killian.

Ingrid tells Emma that she can't issue a visa in time and she won't be there for Christmas. Emma knows her bank balance isn't enough to afford a last-time trip to Norway; the Nolans will spend the holiday with David's mother in a small town in Maine, and Ruby is taking Mulan to New York City. Bless their hearts, though, they offered. It was only the white lie that she found super cheap tickets to Norway that convince both Ruby and the Nolans to not cancel their plans.

She gets a gift from Ingrid – a hand-sewn sweater that apparently got coffee spilled on it during shipping and she has to wash it. It shrinks and the coffee stain hasn't left. She doesn't dare use the word 'luckily' to describe the fact that her other gifts weren't ruined. Killian sends her a collection of seashells, with a note telling her that he gathered them himself.

She spends the little money she kept aside on a grand meal and many boxes of pop-tarts for Christmas. She calls Killian as she eats one of them, teasing him about eating her favourite “sugar-coated sugar,” as he called them once.

It's still late for Killian, but he talks to her even longer this time.

“What about your family?” she asks.

“It's four in the morning, Swan. If anyone's awake they're probably sneaking around the kitchen for a 'very-late-night' snack.”

She's the one falling asleep to him talking to her that night.

Just five years ago, Emma would watch the ads on TV and everywhere else talk about “family time”, or a “time to share the love”, and they would wash over her like everything else did in her life. She was the one everyone else counted on to not take the days off during holidays. But since reconnecting with Ingrid and making new friends in Ruby and the Nolans, Emma got slowly used to being part of something. A family, a company, where she learned to appreciate that time again. A time when she would go shopping for someone other than herself, when it wouldn't be a given that she would work on a holiday, when she would expect it just for the extra time and coziness she would live with someone else.

Now the commercials hit as hard as they did when she was seventeen and homeless; eighteen and in prison; nineteen and alone.

Being loved and thought of has really spoiled her, hasn't it?

She barely has the heart to call Ingrid when it's the latter's time to change the year. They wish each other a happy new year, and she feels glad that there's a lot of celebration going on where Ingrid is, so Ingrid doesn't get the time to truly see how difficult it is for Emma, to see what she's missing and all for a stupid lack of money.

At eleven in her own time, Emma breaks down crying in her bed.

She feels so alone. The past few years of reconnection with Ingrid and having new friends seem to weigh nothing over the emptiness she feels now. She didn't even have the heart to decorate her house this year.

She lies curled up in bed, hoping she can fall asleep before she surely hears the neighbors start the countdown, but, of course, no such luck.

Instead, four minutes before midnight, she gets an sms from Killian. An sms?

Turn wifi on, he tells her.

Breathing shakily, her throat thick with sobs, she turns it on but is still surprised to immediately receive a video call from him.

She checks the time, and tiredly tries to do the math. It's four minutes to five in the morning there. What is he doing?

She accepts the call, and her first glimpse of Killian is his tired but smug face. As he gets a good look at her, though, his face falls.

“Oh, Swan...”

She bursts into sobs again. He doesn't speak, but from the few glances she gets of him until she calms down, she knows he's waiting patiently.

She wishes she could reach her arms into the screen. She knows that his would hold her back.

She knows.

She gets her breathing under control and she looks at him, wiping away her tears.

“Thank you,” she says, and he smiles softly.

Damn it, that smile. She almost starts crying again, but he takes pity on her and looks somewhere away.

“It's thirty seconds now. Do you want me to count with you?”

“Yes, please.”

He smiles again, still softly but a bit more cheerfully now.

The connection lags two seconds, according to her neighbors' countdown. But the two seconds between the cheers across the wall and Killian popping a confetti cannon in front of the camera are theirs and theirs alone.

“Happy New Year!” he says.

His smile is so bright. Her tear-stained face in the preview looks so out of place, it feels wrong.

“You stayed up,” she says, voice harsh from crying.

“I... woke up. I mean, I went to sleep a bit early, and even I would say two is early for New Year's, so I snuck in a few hours of sleep before the alarm went off.”

He did it for her.

How wrong is it to wish she could kiss him now?

Her words will have to do.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“I wouldn't forgive myself if I let you change the year alone. Especially after you told me what you didn't tell your friends. Losing a bit of sleep is nothing.”

Her friends. He says it as if he's not one of them.

Well, he's not in that group of friends, but he belongs in that category.

Only that, though? Just a friend?

Once again, he stays up with her. He's properly prepared – snacks and music and lights and, well, soda, considering how late it is there – and she just feels stupid all she has is the sugar-coated sugar.

“Perhaps I chose the wrong flavor,” he says. “If I visit Boston one day you'll get me your favorites and I'll taste them all.”

Her heart flutters at the idea of him visiting. She's tempted to correct his 'if' with a 'when'. Because she wants him there. She wants it to be certain.

But she decides to keep it low for tonight. He already gave her the best surprise she could have had.

Perhaps she loves him.

But she's known better than to hang onto hope.

The last thing she remembers seeing is the view from his window, at the tiny show of the sky getting brighter.

The last thing she remembers hearing is him singing Auld Lang Syne.

None of them ask, and none of them organizes anything more, but their video calls become daily. Depending on Killian's schedule, of course, they talk from ten minutes to three hours at a time. Even on very busy days, they manage to sneak in at least five minutes of talking, even if it's just voice chat.

Gerda is having health issues, forcing Ingrid to not visit at all nor call often, and Emma's work is still hectic. She manages to meet Ruby for drinks or the Nolans for dinner, but it's not on a constant basis like it used to be.

The only constant in her life is coming back tired from work and talk to Killian, who will stay up and chat no matter how late it is for him.

And he once told her he's an early bird.

It feels silly, but Emma can't help thinking of it as a compromise he's making to himself for her sake.

Killian tells her about his childhood; about his mother dying, his father leaving, and then nearly losing himself after losing his brother as well. How getting adopted saved him.

Emma tells him about Ingrid saving her. How she took a disillusioned kid with no family and gave her love and a home.

She tells him about being alone at seventeen and leaning on the wrong person. But her admitting that she has done time comes differently.

He tells her about losing his first love and resorting to things he is not proud of, including getting himself into a relationship that he knew would hurt him.

“I've done some stupid things myself,” she tells him.

“Well,” he replies, “I have a criminal record.”

She shrugs. “So do I.”

He actually raises his eyebrow. “Well, you can say we're equal in that.”

“Mm. I've done time.”

“Oh. Okay. You win.” He seems super casual about it.

“You don't mind? That I've been in jail?”

“Well, did you kill or otherwise harm someone innocent?”

“No.”

“Then, if you've moved on, who am I to judge?”

“What did you do?”

“Hacking, breaking and entering...”

She was a thief herself, but she didn't expect to find such a kindred spirit in him in that way – as well. “What? What for?”

His brows furrow. “Nothing too dangerous, and I was too stupid to think rationally, and it was a very difficult time.” He pauses for a while, then looks at her seriously. “I was an alcoholic. I've been totally clean for about six months now. It had only lead me to make more stupid decisions.”

“Well, you're working through it, right?”

He smiles at her, that smile that always threatens to rip her to pieces. “Aye. I never believed it at first, but it gets easier.”

It's always easier when one is not soul-crushingly alone, she thinks.

She had underestimated him and how much he understood what being alone can do to someone. Conversation flows easier the more they talk, and in early May, he surprises her by telling her he's thinking about visiting her.

Emma immediately offers to let him stay with her.

She fakes a broken connection to recover from the smile he gives her. Jesus. How will she handle it when they're face-to-face?

They come to a mutual understanding; neither thought light of their first kiss, but both knowing of each other's pasts, they decide to take things especially slow.

She hasn't been so excited to count the days for something good since the first time Ingrid visited.

She drives her Bug to pick him up from the airport, but it breaks down midway there. A long string of curses and many calls to a service center later, she manages to send Killian a text letting him know she'll be late.

After a tow truck takes her car away for service, she takes a cab for the rest of the way to the airport, only to find that her message to Killian hasn't been received, and that his flight has just landed, nearly an hour late.

However, he looks fresh and cheerful when he exits arrivals. Even from afar, she can already feel his smile turning her knees into jelly. She steels herself to at least walk normally to him.

They embrace and it's as if a weight is lifted off her shoulders. And if she judged by his face, it looks the same for him.

His eyes trail to her lips, and she gives him a quick peck.

#Emma Swan #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #see this chapter doesn't have any warnings!#wow I managed that #still a bit of angst tho #you know how it goes #piracytheorist writes

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