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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

Sweet Little Love.

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Lil Angst

Warnings: brief mention of violence

Requested: nope

Summary: The Y/L/Ns are a well-off family in New York, and are good friends with Sam Wilson. One day Y/N is threatened by a stalker and needs a bodyguard, so Sam suggests Bucky. Bucky doesn't want to do it; the last thing he wants is to deal with a spoiled, bratty rich girl for a whole month. The only thing is, Bucky has terribly misjudged her and now he can't help falling in love with her.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! the last scene is just a small bonus crack!scene sjsjsjs lmao, enjoy!

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If there was one type of person Bucky liked, it was someone who was kind, polite, helpful and caring… and Bucky knew the person he was going to work for was going to be none of those things. "Sam, come on, man, I don't want to do this," Bucky groaned as he followed his best friend down the street. "I already promised, Bucky."

"Why did you?! I don't want to spend my whole day around spoiled little brats, they're the worst!" Bucky threw his hands up in surrender. "Okay, number one: You have to look after only one person and number two: Why don't you just meet her once? Then you can decide for yourself, how about that?"

Bucky had been hired by one of Sam's friends, Mr Y/L/N, as a bodyguard for his daughter. He didn't know the daughter at all; but the one thing he was sure about was that she was going to be a pain in the ass for him, like in every single movie about rich girls and bodyguards. Mouthy, petty, sassy, rude…

He was in no mood to deal with someone like that.

Ms Y/L/N, he assumed, had been sent some threats over a week ago by a stalker and so the poor father was worried sick as he frantically searched for bodyguards. Sam was also informed and before he knew it, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes was hired. To be honest, the Y/L/Ns were paying a lot so… since he had given up Avenging, the income would be great.

Plus, she only needed protection for around a month or so. Speaking of the daughter, how old was she even going to be? Maybe a child below 10? A rebellious teenager? Who knows? "Alright, stop here. She's supposed to be here somewhere, let me call Y/L/N." Bucky huffed and looked around the crowded streets as Sam contacted the father.

That's when his eyes landed on a lady. She was beautiful; wearing what looked like a tennis skirt and a university hoodie, along with sneakers. Her hair was pulled into a braid and she had a bright smile on her face. Bucky blinked twice and watched. Her body or clothes didn't catch his attention, but her actions sure did.

She was chatting with another, older woman who had coffee spilled all over her white tee. The young lady was holding a baby in her arms, bouncing the sweet child as the older woman hurriedly tried to clean her clothes. Through his super-soldier hearing, he caught their conversation. "I'm so sorry to bother you like this," the woman sighed.

"It's okay, ma'am, you are not a bother. You were clearly in need of help and you know how New York is…" Both women giggled. The older woman soon left with her child but the young lady continued standing there, looking around, as if waiting for someone. Probably a boyfriend, Bucky thought.

"Why is he not picking up?!"

Bucky rolled his eyes at Sam before looking over at the pretty lady again, who had started bouncing back and forth on her heels, glancing everywhere. That's when a loud wail echoed above the already busy street. The lady's eyes snapped towards the voice before she took off running towards a little boy who had tripped over.

The little kid was blond and scrawny, reminding Bucky of a little Steve. He smiled fondly at the memory. "Are you hurt, bubba?" Y/N asked the kid adoringly as she helped him stand. The boy's lower lip wobbled as he tried to hold his tears in but was unsuccessful. "Aw, come here…" Bucky gulped when the lady got on her knees and hugged the child.

She's so kind.

The kid hugged back just as eagerly, sobbing into her shoulder. Soon, two adults approached her; a gay couple, the parents of the kid. They, too, watched with appreciation as the lady easily calmed the kid down with her soothing presence. An involuntary smile bloomed on Bucky's face; if he was in that kid's position, he'd have stopped crying too. The lady was wonderful.

"Thank you so much, honey," one of the men grinned when the lady stood up, dusting her knees and giving the kid a smile. "Oh, it's not a problem! You know what?" She dug around in her purse and pulled out a lollipop. "I always have some on me. I'm a big fan. You?" The boy giggled and eagerly accepted the candy.

"Steve, what do you say?"

Bucky almost laughed. The kid's name was also Steve? Amazing! "Thank you!" Steve exclaimed with a bright smile, making the lady laugh. "No problem! Have a good day!" She waved at the family of three before returning to her original place, standing outside a café. Bucky was enamored at this point.

"Any luck?" he drawled, glancing at Sam who shook his head. "That dick," he grumbled under his breath and Bucky grinned, getting back to watching the pretty lady but she was nowhere to be found. He looked around until he saw her crossing the road, an old man holding her arm with one hand as the other held his walking cane.

She was on his side of the street now, just a few feet away from him. "You are an angel, darling," the old man crooned as he patted her cheek, letting go of her arm once he was safely on the other side. An angel indeed, Bucky smiled to himself. "Oh, sir, I try…" she spoke bashfully, turning in his direction as the man left.

Bucky quickly averted his gaze, he didn't want to look like a creep. "Sam? Sam, is that you? Wilson!" Bucky froze at the lady's voice, her footsteps nearing the place where he and Sam were standing. Wait, is that...? Sam looked away from his phone, eyes lighting up as they landed on the lady. "Y/N? When did you arrive?" Bucky watched as they hugged.

"Been here for a long time, dad said you were going to introduce me to my bodyguard today. He's a good friend of yours, right?" Sam turned and motioned towards Bucky. He stepped forward. "Hi, I'm James Barnes," he introduced himself, holding his hand out. He couldn't believe he had called this angel a spoiled, rich brat.

I'm never gonna forgive myself.

"James, nice to meet you! I'm Y/N Y/L/N. Thanks for doing this, I'm probably going to be a burden—" He immediately shook his head. "Oh, no no no, don't say that! I can tell we're going to be good friends." He winked and she couldn't help but giggle. Bucky didn't even correct her on the name, something about the way she said it made a shiver run down his spine.

"Well, um, do we start now, or…?"

"Your choice," he interrupted, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat as he stared at her, heart swelling with affection. "I already feel safe," she half-joked, "Start now. I have a few places to go to…" He was ready to follow her to Hell and back. "Of course." Both of them turned to Sam, who had a knowing smirk on his face.

If it were anyone else Bucky would've given him his infamous glare but Y/N? He was hoping for a connection. "You two enjoy your date— I mean, day. Anyway, what's up with your dad, girl, he's not picking up my calls." Bucky rolled his eyes at the slip up. "He's not? Maybe he's in a meeting. If you want you can go visit."

"Gonna do just that, tell him that his precious little daughter is in safe hands." Y/N looked at Bucky with a huge smile. "No doubt about that! It's getting late, I'll see you later!" Y/N started walking away and Bucky immediately followed with a nod towards Sam. "Hey, um, I saw you, you know?" he blurted out.

"Saw me? Doing what?" Y/N blinked. "You helping the lady with the child, the kid who tripped over— Steve, his name was? And the old man you helped cross the street. I just wanna say that was amazing. You're a great person, Y/N, I'm honored to be your bodyguard." She gasped softly and looked away, chewing her bottom lip as she grinned, cheeks heating up.

"Oh, um, it's just— I like to help people. It's how my parents raised me. Yeah, we might be rich but I'm not spoiled. Lots of people think that when I tell them I'm Mr Y/L/N's daughter. It hurts sometimes, you know? People just assume anything about you without even knowing you. That's why I try to be good. I don't want to be a bad person," she rushed out, unconsciously voicing all her insecurities.

Bucky's heart sank in his chest as he let out a dry chuckle. "Ugh, just saying this is gonna make me throw up but I assumed that too. I thought I was gonna work with a spoiled, rich brat. I was horribly, horribly wrong, I hope you can forgive me, doll." She turned to him, but she wasn't mad in the slightest. She even started getting a tiny crush on him, I mean, hey, the man is eye-candy. "It's fine! I forgive you, you didn't know."

"No, it's not fine. I shouldn't have made assumptions, I feel like the biggest ass in the world," he scoffed, looking away from her. "James, please, it's okay. You know now, right? Don't feel bad! Why don't we stop for a coffee on the way?" How could he say no to that?

---

2 weeks passed. Y/N and Bucky became incredibly close friends; Bucky went as far as revealing the truth about himself, how he used to be an Avenger, how he lost his arm, everything. What he didn't expect was her to cry at his story. "You did not deserve to go through that, they did you so dirty…" she sniffled and he hugged her like his life depended on it. It kinda did.

God, if he didn't fall in love the first time they met, he was definitely in love now. "Doll, I'm here now, aren't I? All good— well, maybe not all good." And his face broke into the biggest grin ever when he heard a chuckle from her. "I'm glad you're here." Just those 4 words and Bucky vowed that he was never gonna let her go.

"I'm getting coffee, you wait here. Don't go anywhere else."

"Aye aye, Captain!" Y/N laughed and he smiled back as he entered the café. Y/N stood outside, typing away on her phone when someone suddenly grabbed her by the back of her neck, pulling her into the alley next to the café. She couldn't even scream, breathing was difficult with his hand around her neck.

"We finally meet, sweetheart." Oh, God, it was him. The stalker. Y/N whimpered, struggling to get out of his arms but he only tightened his hold on her. Bucky, Bucky please— Over time, Y/N had grown fond of Bucky. He still asked her to call him James, he said it felt good when she called him that. So she did.

He was so protective of her, almost like she was his girlfriend. He was also handsome; incredibly so, with his stormy blue eyes, his tall and broad figure and razor sharp jaw. His first priority was always her and it made her warm inside. She'd decided to ask him out at the end of the month, but it was looking a bit difficult now.

"Your bodyguard not with you today? What happened, lover's quarrel?" the man smirked tauntingly as Y/N's vision blurred due to lack of oxygen. She blinked back tears, crying again when he tightened his hold on her neck. "Scream all you want, sweetheart, no one's gonna hear it," he laughed.

"Try me."

The man's head whipped to the side only for Bucky's metal fist to connect with his jaw. He fell to the ground with a thud, unconscious at the first punch. Y/N slid down to her knees. Her hands went to her neck, coughing and dry heaving. "Doll? Doll, come here." Bucky felt immense guilt as he gathered her in his arms, carrying her bridal style towards his car.

He left her alone. That was the one thing he wasn't supposed to do. "James…" Y/N wheezed, curling closer to him when he tried to put her in the backseat. "Doll, you have to get in," he insisted but she shook her head. "Not without you. Please." Bucky sighed and got into the backseat, holding Y/N against his chest.

She was pretty shaken up. "I'm so sorry, Y/N." He felt himself tearing up. "No… not your fault… you… coffee… I wasn't… phone…" Bucky handed her a bottle of water when she wheezed again. "Drink up, baby," he whispered as he held the bottle to her lips because she refused to let go of his sweater. After drinking some water her throat felt better.

"Don't go, please, I need you," she sobbed as she completely curled against him, wetting his sweater as she cried in his arms. "You will always have me, doll. I'm not going anywhere. Not again," he assured her as he rubbed her back, wiping his own tears away. All of a sudden, she pulled away and pressed her lips to his. "I love you."

He pulled her in for another kiss, fireworks exploding in his head at the confession. Only two weeks had passed but they were both sure about their feelings. "I love you too, doll. You're mine now, only mine," he groaned against her lips. "Only yours," she agreed, burying her face back in his shoulder as he pulled her impossibly close.

"You're not getting out of my sight ever again."

And he kept his promise.

---

"And then I— where do you think you're going?" Sam blinked as Bucky abruptly stood up, eyes trained on his wife. She gave him a smile and walked out of the room, Bucky following her out like a puppy. "To the bathroom, Sam!" Y/N called out behind her and Sam turned to the parents, blinking in confusion as they roared with laughter.

"Why does she need him there?" Sam asked "Oh, haven't you heard? Bucky hasn't broken the promise he gave Y/N 6 years ago," Mrs Y/L/N explained vaguely. "What promise?" Mr Y/L/N laughed once more. "He told her she was never getting out of sight after the incident. And well…" Y/N and Bucky returned at the exact time as Sam made a face.

"Don't you get tired of him?" Sam groaned as Bucky sat down, pulling his wife on his lap. "Oh no no, it helps that she's as much in love with him as he is with her. They do not get tired of each other," Mrs Y/L/N shook her head with a fond smile. "It helps that he's handsome and aesthetically pleasing to look at," Y/N crooned, squishing her husband's cheeks as he laughed and swatted her hands away.

"Even in the bathroom?!"

"He stands outside as a guard," she shrugged. "Damn. Y'all are weird," Sam muttered, barely catching the book Bucky threw towards him. "Not weird. Just looking out for her, like I promised," he muttered, cheeks flushing. "You do know that the threat was 6 years ago, right? Six!" Sam threw his hands up.

"What if there's a new one?" Bucky countered exasperatedly. Sam only shook his head at the couple before a smile broke out on his face. "I've never seen a couple so in love. You two are cute," he commented as laughter filled the room. No more threats, no more danger.

Just a sweet little family and their sweet little love.

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A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!

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sunnysunoo · 3 years

Text

Love Letters ; Sim Jake

Pairing: Jake X Reader

warnings: explicit language and cursing

word count: 3k words

genre: friends to lovers au! fluff with tiny pieces of crack lmao

Jake was always known for being this perfect guy in school. I mean, they're not wrong. They always described him as if he's this walking piece of art in the hallways. People would stop to just stare at him. You'd stare at him all day too, but you set priorities first: writing him love letters.

You're no Lara Jean, but I guess you can say that she's what inspired you to write Jake letters. Who needs Peter Kavinsky when Jake Shim exists anyways?

note: Not me completely disappearing off of tumblr for like months and then showing up again suddenly lol. I got really busy the past few months since I was completing requirements for school, and I really didn't have the motivation to do anything at the time so I took so time off to take care of myself first so I hope you understand :) But now since it's summer break, I am given at least 2 more months until I go back to school in August :)) Here's the long-awaited Jake imagine that I completely forgot about lmao hope you enjoy <3

P.S I finished writing this at 1:26 am so please excuse the really shitty plot and grammar ill rewrite it once i wake up

tag list: @cha-raena ( sorry for the rlly late post bestie )

Dear Jake, First of all, I will never call you Jaeyun because calling you by your English name makes me feel like I'm your friend. Calling you by your Korean name makes us feel like we're cold strangers to one another and I don't want that. I want us to be something more than that, but it's hard when you don't even know who I am. I'm surprised how you don't grow tired of me just dropping letters right into your locker every time you open it, and that's one of the things I love about you. You don't just throw away people's efforts and you treasure them with care. It makes my heart beat so fast as if I ran miles away from here.

We're already one year left until we graduate high school, and I don't want to end my high school years without you realizing my feelings for you. I know for sure that you would never reciprocate the feelings that I have towards you, so I want to treat this as closure in case we do forget about each other in the future. Yours truly,

Moon

"How is this person not over you? That's like the tenth one this month," Jay said, looking over Jake as he reads the letter from his secret admirer. Jake has always been receiving these letters from the same person everyday for the past four months. He's thankful for the letters because they definitely make his day better, knowing that there's someone out there who loves him as who he is regardless of looks. He's not gonna lie that these little notes and letters make his heart race too. "Do you have any plans with finding the person behind the letters?" Jay asked as he watches his best friend trying to hide the small smile that's been growing. No one really knows who this mysterious person is and why they decided to name themselves the moon, but we don't judge anyone in here. If they want to be the moon in their next life, then so be it. "I really want to find the person who's making these letters," Jake shoved the letter in his backpack, trying to not wrinkle it. "But I don't know where to start." "Who's finding who?" A voice popped suddenly beside the presence of the two boys. You leaned beside the locker beside Jake's, watching him as he grabs his books from his locker. "Did Moon drop your daily letter today again?" "They did as usual," Jake wasn't even surprised. He would expect the letters every time he enters the school in the morning. He would open his locker to see the usual small letter placed inside his locker. He usually arrives at seven or earlier, but he's surprised that he could never even catch a glance of this anonymous sender around the campus. "Should I go to school at five in the morning?" "Five in the morning? Isn't that a bit too early?" You questioned, followed by a shaky breath. "The school doesn't even open until six." "I could just walk to that nearby convenience store I always pass by to grab a coffee." He argues, closing his locker shut before walking towards his classroom.

You and Jay followed beside him, and you sneered under your breath, "You don't even wake up to your alarm clock."

"Why don't you even want me to go early anyway?" He glances as you try to give him an answer. But before you could say something, Jay replies first.

"You’re probably hiding something." He said. You rolled your eyes and narrowed your eyes at him. "You are so weird." You grunted, before walking ahead of them. You feel panicked because you were scared that you made yourself obvious to them.

You were inside your classroom sitting on your desk. There were only fifteen minutes left before lunch, but you had eaten your packed meal before instead of going to your school cafeteria. You were fidgeting in your place, conflicted about Jake finding his secret admirer, not knowing that it was you who's been sending him letters the past few months. You're not scared of him finding out that the letters were from you; that was the entire reason why you wrote him letters in the first place. You're scared of how he was gonna confront you about it. Would he like you back? Would he hate you? Would he avoid you?

Your mind was full of scenarios but you were suddenly brought back to reality when a hand planted itself on your desk. You look up and saw Jay standing in front of you, eating sushi with his other hand. His face kinda looks like he knows something, and it's freaking you out a bit.

"What?" You asked, suddenly flustered over how his eyes stared right into you. He took the seat in front of your desk and flipped it so it was facing you. He sat down and blurted the phrase that you were dreading to hear from anyone.

"So, you like Jake?"

You suddenly feel like punching him in the face with his sushi.

"What??" Your body felt like, and you were left a nervous mess. Your heart like it was going to pump right out of your chest any minute, and your hands started to sweat.

Jay's mouth formed into a smirk. He caught you. "Jake may be a bit oblivious, but I can totally see right through you."

“Haha...no you don’t,” You tried to deny, but it was all useless when his expression looked unconvinced.

“Oh yeah? Then why are you all red? You look like a bursting tomato.”

“You don’t know that," You leaned further into your seat, playing with the strings of your hoodie.

“C’mon Y/N, you’re not even trying. Just give up and admit it,” Jay was trying to help you confess your feelings for Jake. Frankly, he knew it was you sending him letters this whole time—how can Jake not see it?

With a heavy sigh, you slumped and laid your head on your desk, embarrassed. “Fine. I like him, okay? Are you happy now?”

The smirk on his face grew wider, feeling proud of himself. You are not dealing with his annoying crap this early in the morning. He grinned and munched on his half-eaten sushi. “I knew it.”

“Congratulations,” It was muffled because you hid your red face away from him. All that was on your mind now was how you could book yourself a flight all the way across the world.

“But seriously, since when did you have a crush on him?” You raised your head to face him, giving him a look that could kill, except Jay finds it entertaining rather than intimidating.

“I started having a crush on him when we were in fifth grade. It was at a friend's birthday party, and he saw me being all quiet and lonely. Honestly, I forgot who’s birthday that was.” You told him the very first time you had discovered feelings.

“He saw how sad I looked so he accompanied me the whole time. He was even trying to feel more included in the games and stuff.” You felt a smile ghosting on your lips as you can still vividly remember how you felt your heart tug the first time. “It was kinda like I fell in love at first sight.”

Jay faked a gag, so you lightly punched him in the shoulder. He may be a bit of an asshole, but he’s one the most caring and kind people you’ve ever met. It honestly felt good spilling out your feelings about Jake to him.

Speaking of, Jake was watching you two play around and laugh at Jay's little jokes from outside, and he felt something burning from inside him. Was it that he felt jealous of you and Jay?

No, he can’t be...right?

Maybe it was because of how he felt separated from you and Jay because of him being a separate class.

Yeah, maybe it's because of that.

Dear Jake,

I just had the most bizarre day today, and I felt like telling you about it.

It was chemistry period, and we had to be partnered with someone for a lab project. I ended up getting paired with Yeojin. We kinda created this unexpected friendship, which I love. We would crack jokes at each other, tell funny stories, it was so fun to be with her that we had completely forgotten about our project. So now, we both got a detention slip for making an accidental explosion.

How about you? How was your day? I hope it was just as fun as mine. If you feel like the day just wasn't as happy or you're feeling down, just now that it's okay to feel that way because days like these just lasts for 24 hours. It will be all over before you know it and you'll be greeted by another day. Maybe it will be different, and you would be all happy again just like how my day went. Maybe being with you would be my happiest day yet, and I couldn't wait for that day to come. See you soon :)

Love,

Moon

"Yeojin!" Jake called, seeing her walk down the opposite way. "Hey, mind if I ask you something?"

"Hey Jake," She greeted him with a smile. "Sure, go ahead."

"Could you perhaps give me any information about your partner in Chemistry?" He had hopes of getting any kind of description about his mysterious sender, but he was instead given a sad frown on Yeojin's face.

"Sorry Jake, but that person told me not to tell you about their information." She gave an apologetic smile. "I wish you all the best in finding them!"

Jake muttered a small "okay," and sighed before walking away, feeling defeated.

Yeojin knew that he was gonna ask about Moon the moment he called her from across the hall. She couldn't wait to tell you about this.

"Hey Y/N," A voice said from behind. You turned around to see Jake with his backup hung on his shoulder. He brought his hand up and raked his hair, and you felt your face grow red. Jake is like a gift from the gods. How can someone look so ethereal even if they're just standing there? You could stare at him all day. You couldn't even understand a thing he said until he started waving his hands in front of you.

"Hello?" You blinked multiple times as you were brought back out to reality. You saw Jake's face grow into concern. "Are you okay? spaced out."

"O-oh..No, I'm completely fine." You reassured him, feeling embarrassed. "What were you saying again?"

"I was asking you if you wanted to go to school with me early tomorrow."

Well, shit.

Your eyes started to go wide, and your hands started to go clammy.

"Tomorrow?" You repeated, voice trembling.

'Well, yeah." He pouted his lips, and you felt like melting into a small puddle in your place. Your heart started to pound heavily.

Oh my fucking god, he is so adorable.

"Okay, sure I can go with you tomorrow," You weakly smiled at him, slightly tense.

How we're you going to give him the letter now?

"Good Morning," Jake said as he watches you close the gates of your house. It was past five in the morning, and you were a mess.

"Morning," You replied back before running your fingers through your hair, getting rid of any flyaways.

As you started walking your way to the bus stop, Jake kept on glancing towards you from time to time. He knew you were pretty, but since when did you become really beautiful in his eyes?

The walk was pretty quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. For him, mostly.

Meanwhile, you couldn't stop freaking out. You had written a letter the night before, but you don't know how you were going to slip it into his locker without him taking notice. If he saw you, he would know.

"Are you sure you're okay? You've been like this since yesterday," Jake blurted. You looked at him before heaving a sigh.

"It's nothing," You mouthed, suddenly feeling anxious and gloomy.

"Something on your mind?"

"Something like that." It was hopeless. I guess he would have to miss this letter today. It was the first time you skipped a day, and you're feeling guilty that you would have to see Jake's face sadden that he wouldn't receive it today.

As you two stop at the bus stop, Jake looked slightly panicked as he was rummaging through the pockets of his blazer before looking through his bag. "Hey, do you have an extra pen? I left mine at home and I have a quiz today."

You snickered, "Out of all the days, Sim Jake. The same day you have a quiz is the same day you forget your pen."

"Very funny." He scoffed.

As you unzipped your bag to grab your pencil case, a folded piece of paper fell out without you realizing it. When Jake went to pick it up, he notices that it was folded the same way as the letters in his locker. It looked so identical.

Once you already got your pencil case out, you were about to hand it to him when you saw what he was holding that made your body freeze with your hand holding the case in the air.

"Why were one of my letters inside your bag?" He glanced at you, waiting for you to reply.

If you were freaking out before, this is a whole other thing. The thing that you were fearing the most is happening right before you.

"Maybe it fell into my bag yesterday..." You stammered, making up an excuse to look like it was an accident. You were tightly holding onto your pencil case, chanting many curse words in your head as you watch Jake unfold the letter.

"I don't think I've received this one yet," He said before he opened the letter and read it.

You watch as his expression formed into confusion as he reads through the paper. It only took a few moments before something in him clicked that it was you sending him the letters.

"Y/N," He began, and you started quivering in fear.

You should've known this would happen, but you didn't expect it to happen this sooner. In fact, you believed that this wouldn't happen at all. But it did.

"Let me explain," You eventually gave up and accepted fate and watch as your identity as "Moon" be revealed to your crush. You're now exposed so you didn't have any other choice but to explain everything. "Yes, I am Moon. I was the one writing you the letters that you've been getting in your locker."

Jake's face was unreadable. He looked bewildered and puzzled. He was trying to comprehend what was happening right now. All this time, it was you?

"I started crushing on you when we attended that birthday party before. I didn't want to confess my feelings for you because I was scared that you were going to harshly reject me, so I started writing down letters as a way to tell you how I feel about you without making you feel awkward around me." You continued, eyes suddenly taking an interest in your shoes. They were brand new too.

Jake was silent, and you felt your heart crack into pieces. You were mad at yourself for being so careless about it that he ended up finding out about you as his secret admirer. You wanted nothing else but to run back home, lock yourself in your room and cry with your sad playlist on loop.

You were expecting a harsh rejection coming from him, but what surprised was how he took dangerous steps towards you, minimizing the gap between you two. He placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

"I don't plan on rejecting you Y/N," You stare into his eyes as it reflects the sunlight of the early morning. "I'm actually happy that it was you."

You look at him, puzzled. He lowly chuckles under his breath before leaning over to place his lips against yours. It was a light, quick kiss, but it brought you feeling ecstatic. You've dreamed of this moment before, and now that it happened, you thanked your clumsiness.

As he pulled away, you were sure your face was a red mess.

"Thank you," His smile was as bright as the stars in the sky. It was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. "Thank you for making me like I'm special to someone."

You felt flustered over his words. You were scared that he could hear the sound of your heart pounding loudly. The butterflies in your stomach were going wild, and you felt like this was all a dream.

"So, what am I to you now?" You broke into a smile as he grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

Jake acted as if he was thinking, "Hm..maybe my best friend still?"

He bursts into a fit of giggles as he sees your smile slowly disappear, replacing it with a look of disbelief. You removed your hand from his and walked at a faster pace away from him.

He ran to match your pace beside you before holding your hand again, "I'm sorry, I won't ever do that again. Is my girl mad at me?"

"Oh my god, it's only five-fifty, Jake." You too broke into laughter over his cheesiness, but your heart fluttered over the thought of Jake calling you his.

HERE’S A LITTLE BONUS! since I've made you guys wait for 4 months :(

"What the fuck?" Was the first thing You heard from Jay as you and Jake entered the classroom. All of your classmates were staring at your and his hands intertwined together.

Jay stood in front of you two, crossing his arms together. "Can one of you explain when this happened?" he motioned towards your linking hands. You and Jake smiled at each other before walking away, leaving Jay in a fit of joy, and confusion.

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cloudytamaki · 4 years

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bnha » a kick in the balls drabbles

warnings. cussing, crack, mentions of balls companion piece. drabble version of the hcs a/n. a lot of this was based on my own family 😭 anyways enjoy..

KATSUKI BAKUGO.

You mindlessly scrolled through Instagram as you waited for your glass to fill up with water, lifting your head to take it to the fridge as it dispensed some ice in.

You scoffed at this one woman’s post; it was so fake. Caught up in your Instagram feed, you didn’t look up as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom. As you rounded the corner to get into the bedroom, a scrunched face met your own and a loud snarling snort left the creature.

You shrieked, dropping your phone and your glass of water, your hands flying up to shield your face as your feet acted on their own, slamming themselves into the thing’s crotch. Did it even have a crotch??

Another loud sound could be heard as the creature dropped to its knees, now revealed as your boyfriend Katsuki as you turned on the light.

“What— what the fuck was that for?” He choked out, his voice barely above a pained whisper.

“You scared me, dumbass!” You scoffed again, walking into the bathroom to grab a towel, using your foot to wipe up the spill as you picked up the surprisingly unbroken glass.

You went into your bedroom, laughing at Instagram videos and whatnot until Katsuki burst into the room, demanding cuddles for his suffering.

KEIGO TAKAMI.

“Keigo! Stop!” You screamed, your voice pained but still happy as his fingers attacked your sides ruthlessly. Your breathing was messed up, your limbs flailing about as he dug his fingers into your ribs. He recently added his feathers into the action, the long plumes tickling other parts of your body he couldn’t focus on.

“I – I can’t fucking—” Your voice was stuttered as you laugh-shrieked, your chest heaving as you tried to scramble away.

“I’m gonna pee myself, Keigo! Stop it—” Your boyfriend cut off your words with more tickles, his half smirk - half smile growing.

“Never!” His wings were fluttering as he watched you, the cerise feathers glossy in the light.

You were floundering uselessly under him, your legs and feet thrashing about in different directions. He was laughing too, your expressions and sounds hilariously cute.

“Keigo—” He laughed maniacally, his fingers pressing into that one secret spot on your side, the sensation driving you over your limit. You squirmed even more, your foot now colliding with his crotch.

Keigo’s fluttering wings had stiffened as he groaned in pain, dropping onto you, his fingers forgetting his mission at your sides, his feathers settling on the bed. He was on top of you, his body on your own, pretty much crushing you under his weight.

Well, at least he’d stopped tickling you.

TAMAKI AMAJIKI.

“Those fuckin’ bills and receipts can kiss my ass,” You declared, your voice raspy from sleep. You were alone in the dark kitchen, no light at all. You had just woken up from a restless slumber to drink some milk to relax your body.

It was a known practice to drink warm milk to sleep. Would it really work?

You poured the white liquid into your glass, opening the microwave and setting it to thirty seconds as you placed the glass inside, closing the door. You capped the milk jug, placing it back into the fridge as you slumped against the counter, waiting.

The microwave beeped in no time, letting you take out the warmed glass. You took a sip, sighing as the warmth loosened your tight muscles. With the colored glass in hand, you began to walk out of the kitchen to slip into bed beside your boyfriend Tamaki.

Just when your blood pressure was slowing, a figure appeared right in front of you in the darkness. It let out a surprised sound, something like a gasp and a squeak. You on the other hand, mind groggy from sleep, immediately thought of the sticker on the blue car you saw today.

Not today, Satan!

Determination and fear fueled you as you screamed, gripping the glass tightly as you swung your foot into the demon’s groin, landing a perfect and square hit. The demon squawked and yelped at the same time, sounding a lot like a cat that got its tail closed in a door.

The sound echoed throughout the apartment, your eyes checking over your glass to make sure you didn’t spill it; not a drop had left the cup.

You were about to get Tamaki until you realized: demons don’t squawk.

The thing completely crumpled to the ground, falling onto its knees. It was practically doubled over, panting as pained sobs left its lips.

Shit. You had attacked the wrong demon. You hastily placed the glass back onto the counter, sliding down beside the now identified creature. “Tamaki?” Your voice was soft and had completely changed since the attack.

He winced in response, shying away from your touch as he clamped down on his lip, trying his best to stop the cries leaving his lips. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, bunny. That was a complete accident.”

“I – I was just going to ask what you were doing up.” He stated, looking down at his hands as he spoke, the area between his legs throbbing now.

“Oh. I was drinking some warm milk, they say it helps you sleep. I was just a bit stressed and worried. You startled me.” You kept your voice calm and neutral, not intending to blame him at all.

“Are you okay?”

Tamaki exhaled, wiping the tears from his eyes, slowly getting up. “I guess.” You hugged him, slowly walking him over to the couch. “Do you wanna watch a movie or something?”

He nodded silently, sitting close beside you as he crossed his legs, watching you turn on the television.

SHOTO TODOROKI.

“—Yeah, I was talking to Marcus, the guy who runs the coffee shop near my office. He said he’s only been there a few years, can you believe that? There are so many locals that go there.”

Shoto hummed, sitting cross legged. He looked towards you, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “That’s interesting, Y/N. Coffee places are really popular, as well as tea shops.”

“We should go to the tea place downtown,” You suggested, “It’d be so much—”

Your words were halted when you saw a large, brown thingy skitter across the floor. Your jaw dropped, your thoughts immediately leaving your lips.

“Holy shit. Is that a fucking cockroach?” You didn’t swear much, so when you did, Shoto knew something was going on.

“What? Where?” He leaned down a bit, looking at the grey wooden floor. Your feet were touching the floor, making you shriek.

The wind blew outside and seemed to startle the roach, prompting it to move closer to the couch. You jumped up immediately, shrieking as you scrambled to get behind Shoto so he could kill it. You stepped on some bones and soft flesh in your panic to get away. You clung to Shoto, sitting on the top of the back couch cushion, your eyes wide with fear.

He let out a guttural groan and yell, pulling you off of him; your balance wasn’t quite correct at the moment, since you ended up on the ground, beside the cockroach.

You screamed, Shoto screamed, and the wind screamed outside. (You were sure you heard the cockroach wail as well, but maybe that was in your head.)

It was a complete shitshow. There was screaming, yelling, cursing, and groans from Shoto. You noticed something off about the cockroach; why didn’t it have antennae or eyes??

You took a closer look, inspecting it closely – then you realized that it was just a ball of fluff and lint from one of your many sweaters. You picked it up and showed it to a glaring Shoto, who was massaging his ankle as his lips turned up in a frown.

“I’m so sorry,” You apologized deeply, placing a cool hand on his warming ankle. “I kinda just... got scared for a minute.” You hugged him, scooting closer to him, confused when he closed up his legs.

DENKI KAMINARI.

“Fuck! Someone help me!” You shouted loudly, your chest burning as your feet pounded against the dirt ground. “Anyone! Help me!” Your breathing was unsteady, the sounds of the rampaging beast behind you getting closer.

Denki yawned, opening his eyes as he slowly smacked his chapped lips. He stretched, the sun shining down on his face. Ah, how he loved waking up in the sun with you.

“Shit! Where are the tranquilizer darts?!” You dug through your bag, now currently perched on a wobbly tree branch while the large beast clawed at the trunk below you, roaring loudly.

“Good morning,” He turned to you with a soft smile which immediately faded when he caught sight of your clenched and slightly moving fists, your furrowed expression. “—Babe? Wait, is everything okay?” He placed a hand on you, gently shaking your shoulders.

“No, no, FUCK!” Branches and leaves whipped your face as you fell twenty feet from your now broken tree branch, awaiting the beast below. You landed hard on your back, scrambling to your feet when the beast approached you. It had the head of a chicken, teeth of a bear, and body of a bear. The arms were feathered, the back feet chicken feet. Suddenly it dawned on you – you were facing the Bearicken.

“Baby? Please wake up.” He continued to shake your shoulders, worry shooting through his mind at your sweating forehead and balled fists.

“Get away from me!” You yelled, backing away in fear as it came closer to you. There were no weapons; you had nothing to defend yourself. Your fists clenched, anger surging through you as you raced forward towards the Bearicken.

Now your legs were moving as if you were running, the speed picking up gradually as your fists clenched and unclenched. Denki just laid there, unable to do anything else.

You slammed your fists into the beast’s meaty chest, your feet coming up as you kicked it in the lower stomach, legs and arms. You heaved for breath, not even bothering to address your bloody nose as you kept on, pressing forwards with the attacks.

Denki was watching curiously now, still worried but mostly intrigued. Why were you ‘running’? When he saw you punching the air and kicking your feet he stayed silent, confused as ever. He placed a hand on your shoulder, shaking you a bit harder. “Wake up, babe. It’s okay; I’m here.”

In your dream the Bearicken clawed at you and swiped your shoulder, leading you to deliver a hard kick to your left; where Denki lay. Your heel slammed into his balls, eliciting a scream of surprise and pain from the blonde.

He clutched his shorts, groaning as he buried his face in one of the many pillows on your bed. His scream startled you; your eyes snapped open and you screeched, still absorbed in your nightmare.

This startled Denki, who started yelling in pain about his nuts while you started yelling that you’d never order Chick Fil A again. More screaming and chaos; in your panic you fell right off the bed, as did Denki.

EIJIROU KIRISHIMA.

“Crap!” Eijirou jumped forward, internally shrieking at the subsequent back pain that followed the sudden movement. He gritted his teeth as he began groping his right thigh in the dark, his fingers stopping at the sudden pain.

His muscle had completely tensed up and was aching so badly that he couldn’t help the yell that slipped past his lips. Curse words left his mouth as he fumbled to get into a comfortable position, the stiffened muscle making his movements much harder.

“Fuck!” His loud cursing which he hadn’t bothered to muffle woke you up, confusion etched into your face as you sat up quickly. Your red haired boyfriend was doubled over, clutching his right thigh as he spewed profanities from his lips.

“What the hell?” You hair was wild and you were tangled in the mess of sheets and blankets as you rubbed your head, looking towards the clock. 2:48 am.

“M-my thigh!” He shouted, bewildering you even more. He continued going on about his leg while you tried to ask him what was wrong in between his moaning and groaning.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, calling his name to try and get him focused on you so he could speak normally. “Babe?” No answer. “Eijirou?”

Another curse word left the male’s lips, as if you weren’t even there. The hell was going on?? “Eijirou!” Worry was bubbling up inside of you - what was happening?

“Eijirou, take a deep breath.”

He barely exhaled before another wave of pain hit him and his entire body jerked in response, his grip around your wrist tightening. So, like any rational sleep deprived person, you delivered a hard smack to his right thigh to get it to loosen up.

Except your hand hit something much softer and you didn’t hear the loud smack that should’ve accompanied the hit. “Fuck, Y/N!!” His thigh had loosened and now he was... holding onto his crotch???

You screamed, Eijirou’s anxiety riling you up further. After a few minutes of shrieking and yelling and cursing, you two finally settled down enough to sit down and talk.

“The hell happened earlier, Ei?”

“Charley horse.” He rasped, “I could be asking you the same thing. What was with that slap to the balls earlier??”

“That was your crotch?”

“Yeah...”

“Oh shit, sorry. I was trying to get your attention or at least loosen your thigh up. Sorry.”

“Please don’t slap any places where I have a spasm.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” You moved closer to him, hugging him as you gently stroked his face.

a/n. yeah so kiri’s was inspired by my dad’s 2 am screams over his muscle spasms, the car sticker in tamaki’s was something i saw today, katsuki’s was inspired by my dad’s constant jumpscares tf.

#denki kaminari #denki x reader #bnha #bnha crack #bnha drabbles #katsuki bakugo #bakugo x reader #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima #shoto todoroki #todoroki x reader #hawks #keigo takami #hawks x reader #tamaki amajiki #tamaki x reader

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ncssian · 3 years

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A Favor: Part Fourteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: my quickest AND longest update to date?? who am i??

merry christmas for real this time. thank you sm for reading i never voice my appreciation for yall but it’s there i swear

tw: abuse mention

***

Cassian’s plan to grab his stuff and get the hell back home is intercepted by Feyre, who pulls him aside and proceeds to spill everything about her fight with Nesta to him.

His heart hurts for Feyre—he of all people knows what it’s like to feel unwanted by your biological family. But what did she really think would happen? Their entire friend group is about placing chosen bonds over blood bonds. Feyre can’t be that offended if Nesta prefers the company of her friends over her little sisters. And trying to talk to Nesta about her therapy? Jesus.

But Cassian has a feeling it’ll take both Feyre and Elain a long spelling out of things before they can begin to understand Nesta the way he does, and he doesn’t have time for that right now. He’s too distracted to even provide the comfort Feyre came to him for.

Somehow, he makes up an excuse and detaches himself from the conversation, leaving to find his coat and keys. Azriel spies him on the way to the door and gives him a look.

“Not a fucking word,” Cassian growls as he passes. Everyone else is engrossed in a game of poker and getting progressively more drunk. Feyre now sits on Rhys’s lap, once again content. Azriel only smirks but shakes his head, letting Cassian slip out of the penthouse unnoticed.

He takes the long way home, needing the night air and flashing headlights to clear his head. Once he gets off the freeway leading to town, though, he picks up his phone and calls Nesta.

She doesn’t pick up.

On the fourth call that goes unanswered, Cassian gives up. Fine. She doesn’t want to talk to him tonight. But still he finds himself driving past her neighborhood, once, twice, as if he’s listless without being able to talk to her. He has too many feelings he needs to get off his chest, and she’s the first person he always goes to for those things.

Try to consider her feelings.

It’s that thought that forces him to turn around and drive back to the cabin. They’ll both feel better in the morning, anyway. He can find her and talk as soon as the day starts.

It’s past midnight when he finally pulls up to the driveway, and still he’s disappointed to not see Nesta’s car there. Still he’s disappointed to enter an empty cabin.

The Christmas tree they decorated together sits unlit in the corner of the living room, their presents untouched under the fir leaves. Without turning the lights on, Cassian trudges upstairs and heads straight to bed.

Any sleep he finds is short and restless. His eyes shut sometime around three in the morning, and when they next open, early dawn light is streaming in through the windows. Snow flurries gently against the glass.

Giving up on the prospect of genuine rest, Cassian accepts that he’ll have to seek out Nesta with dark circles and a half-functioning brain today.

He already has a list in his mind as he heads downstairs: get coffee and breakfast for Nesta, get dressed, be at her door by the time she wakes at nine.

Then he reaches the foot of the stairs, and realizes none of that is necessary.

Straight out of his dreams, Nesta is sitting cross-legged on the ground before the coffee table, inspecting a puzzle piece in the cutest sweater he’s ever seen.

Cassian freezes with his hand on the banister, wondering if he’s still asleep. He watches her bite her lip intently, trying to fit the puzzle piece into a corner of the puzzle. It doesn’t fit.

“Fuck,” she swears softly, tossing the piece aside. Cassian clears his throat.

Nesta’s head shoots up, her focus broken. “You’re awake.”

“You’re in my house,” he says dumbly.

“That’s what the key you gave me is for, isn’t it?”

Hesitantly, like he’s approaching a wounded bear, Cassian walks farther into the living room. “Are you—I mean, are we…?”

“Use your words, baby.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. She doesn’t seem upset. There’s so much he wants to ask her: did she sleep well? Where did she get her Christmas sweater from, and does it mean she’s secretly been a fan of Christmas all along? Does she want hot chocolate or coffee with her breakfast?

“How was your night?” he settles on. He moves to sit across from her at the coffee table.

“Find where this goes,” Nesta demands, handing him a new puzzle piece and pointing to their nearly finished puzzle.

Cassian obeys, and Nesta talks while he works. “I was pretty pissed when I got home last night,” she says. “I wanted to tell you all about this stupid fight I had with my boyfriend, and how I knew he was right but I was still furious at him, until I remembered that you were my boyfriend, and I didn’t want to see you.”

Cassian pretends to focus on the puzzle, letting Nesta get her words out.

“So Gwyn called to say thank you for her present—you were right, by the way, she loves it—and then we ended up talking the whole night, and I told her everything about my sisters and,” she waves a hand, “the other shit.

“And at one point I realized that I was telling her the stuff I needed to be telling you. So I came here as soon as I hung up with Gwyn.”

Cassian looks up. “When was that?”

Nesta shrugs. “Five in the morning?”

“Nesta,” he scolds. “You’ll fuck up your sleep cycle.”

“Will you let me get to my point, damn it?”

Cassian shuts up and sits back.

Nesta is staring down at the puzzle, fiddling with her fingernails. Carefully selecting her next words like an attorney would. “I wanted to apologize for—the things I said last night. I was projecting my insecurities onto you, and I’m sure you already know it, but that doesn’t make it okay.” She looks up, face serious. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other. We always have. But I let that affect how I treated you when you had nothing to do with it.”

“But you were right.” Cassian can’t stay quiet anymore. “I mean, a lot of what you said was wrong, but at the heart of your point you were right.” It took Cassian all night to sift through what Nesta had said, to separate the truth from the meaningless words of hurt. He finally sees it now.

“I should have watched out for you last night, even if I couldn’t claim you as my girlfriend. I know how you are in new environments with new people and I left you to the wolves.” The wolves are his most trusted friends, sure, but they aren’t Nesta’s. And he was an idiot to forget it.

Nesta fixes another puzzle piece into place, and for the first time this morning, true regret passes over her face. “I didn’t enjoy hurting you. I hated every second of it while I was doing it. So as long as you know I didn’t mean any of it, I’ll be fine.”

We were good distractions for each other in your lonely little cabin, but deep down you know we wouldn’t last a day in the real world.

You were sad and desperate for acknowledgement when we first met, and you’re the same way now.

Cassian nods once. “I know,” he says softly. “You could never lie to me.” Even if some of her words had struck a little truer than they should have. Cassian realizes bitterly it’s because her insecurities are the same as his.

“So are you going to tell me about what the real problem was yesterday?” He dares to broach the elephant in the room.

Nesta stiffens, refocusing on the puzzle to avoid his gaze. “I already told you,” she says. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other.”

“There’s more to it than that, though.” When Nesta doesn’t respond, he adds, “Feyre told me her side of the story. It probably wasn’t all of it, but if it makes you feel better, I agreed with you.”

Nesta snorts derisively. “She was being unreasonable, but I made it worse. You know that, don’t you?” She raises a brow. “You know how I am.”

Cassian remembers their screaming match from the time he tried to get her a doctor’s appointment, and oddly enough, smiles. “I know you hate it,” he says, “and I know it’s frustrating as hell, but people stop taking your arguments seriously when you start flinging insults. It probably isn’t fair, but you’ve been in a courtroom. You know how it works.”

Nesta grimaces. “Believe me, the future lawyer in me is not proud of how I held up in last night’s fight.”

“Right there.” Cassian slides a section of green pieces over to himself and fits them into place, completing the rolling hills of the landscape scene. There’s only a handful of pieces left, all in the sky area. He waits for Nesta to be ready to speak.

After several moments of working in silence, she says, “My sisters have never really accepted me the way I am. I used to think Elain did back when we were kids, but then I stopped prioritizing her and she stopped understanding.”

Cassian knows Elain is pissed that her once-closest sister no longer cares to talk to her. But what he wants to know is why Nesta stopped answering her calls. Why she pulled away and went into isolation, and wouldn’t come out for anyone until a few short months ago.

Nesta clears her throat. “I was not a well-adjusted kid. I’m not a well-adjusted adult, either, but—I was even worse in my youth. I had a deadbeat dad, who I hated while my sisters adored him. I hated the life we had to live because of him, and I let that hate seep everywhere. Into everything and everyone else.” She blows out a breath and shakes her head. “There was no place closer to hell than that fucking one-bedroom apartment. I hated the person I was in that place—like I had no control over my emotions, my tantrums, my entire self. I was stuck in this childlike state of rage and I couldn’t move on, couldn’t grow up.

“No one could figure out what was wrong with me, so I had to take care of my issues myself. I read more books, I went out more often, I always had headphones in—I learned how to escape. I learned how to limit the destruction. Once I did that, I could care for Elain more openly. I could have civil conversations with Feyre, too. That’s where we went wrong, I think. I gave Feyre hope that I could be a better person, and once she latched onto it, she refused to let go.” Nesta picks at the sleeves of her knit sweater. “She never understood that I was cold and removed just because I was. She always had this belief that deep down, I secretly had a heart of gold and a shit ton of love to give. I never bothered telling her she was wrong, so her expectations of me grew. And so did Elain’s. And then I graduated high school.” She shrugs.

Cassian frowns. “That’s when you left your family and moved here?”

She nods. “The distance helped. For a short time, I thought I was free. No responsibilities or people to answer to. But then I met Tomas—my ex—and Feyre and Elain followed me to Colorado not long after my dad died. And even then I stayed optimistic, because most people would be lucky to have their sisters and boyfriend all in the same place. I thought I could finally have all the relationships a normal person my age was supposed to have if I just put in the effort.” She meets Cassian’s eyes. “I never told you much about Tomas, did I?”

His stomach sinks, but he shakes his head.

“It was not a fun first love. But the only reason I didn’t tell you about it earlier was because I didn’t know how to describe it myself.” She rubs her palms down her thighs, but it isn’t enough to hide their tremble.

“I know what to call it now,” Nesta says. “It was abusive.”

Cassian says nothing. He can’t. But his hands curl into hard fists under the coffee table.

“Lana made me work up to using that word.” She rolls her eyes, like the whole thing annoys and embarrasses her. “He was abusive: physically, verbally, emotionally. I’m not going to go into the details or anything, but it’s what was happening to me during those college years that my sisters needed me to be there for them.”

Cassian would never in a thousand years ask Nesta for information she isn’t ready to give, but in that moment he’s overwhelmed with the need to know everything—every little thing that’s ever been done to her, so he can draw up a list and exact calculated revenge for all of it. His voice is rough against the lump in his throat, out of fury or despair he doesn’t know. “Nesta…”

“I promise I’m almost done.” She holds up a hand.

Take your time. Tell me everything.

“This isn’t about him,” Nesta says. “This is about my sisters. Because even if I hadn’t been stupid enough to let that man waste almost four years of my life, I would have ended up in the same place with Feyre and Elain. They’d still be disappointed when they realized I couldn’t be what they wanted me to be.” She wraps her arms around herself in a hug, and Cassian wishes he’d sat beside her so those could be his arms.

She shakes her head. “I did my best so I wouldn’t be cooped up with them, wouldn’t be lashing out at them… and it still wasn’t enough. They wanted me to be nice, friendly, talkative. So I tried doing that too, even though I hated it. But around the same time things with Tomas started to get unbearable, Feyre found Rhysand and you guys. So now I had to hang out with my sister while she had a group of strangers constantly surrounding her, and go back home to a man who hated me at the end of the day.” She looks up at Cassian then, and her blue-gray gaze hits him with the force of a truck. “As soon as Feyre moved away to Velaris, I saw my way out. I finally broke up with Tomas. I gave up on all my relationships and I let go, and I don’t care if you or anyone else thinks it’s pathetic, or the bare minimum. It’s all I had to give.”

Cassian swallows roughly, unable to find his words. “It’s not pathetic, Nesta,” he finally says. “There’s nothing pathetic about doing what doesn’t come easily to you.”

There’s a million other things he needs to say to her, to make sure that she knows she isn’t stupid, or embarrassing, or not enough. But it all floats right out of his head when she heaves a big, dramatic sigh, as if a great weight has been lifted off her chest. As if Cassian’s measly words were all she needed to hear to feel alright.

She snatches up the final remaining puzzle piece and clicks it into place. “And we’re done,” she declares.

Cassian looks down at the table between them, which is now fully lit by the beaming morning sun outside. His eyes land on an empty space near the corner of the landscape, and his face falls. “There’s a piece missing,” he says.

“No way, where?” Nesta leans closer.

Cassian is already on his hands and knees, checking under and around the table for the missing piece.

“This is all your fault,” Nesta is saying above him. “You bumped into the table that time we were making out and all those pieces went flying.”

“Well, how fucking far could it have gone? Help me find it.” He’s serious now, searching the floor with intent. They can’t leave the puzzle unfinished. It was the only thing he could find in his garage all those months ago that could distract Nesta from anticipating her MRI results. And after the diagnosis, it had been a way to lift her mood, to give the two of them an excuse to spend every evening together—

“Sweetheart, it’s just a puzzle.”

Cassian sits up straight at that. “Just a puzzle?” He narrows his eyes at her.

“Well, it’s either that or an overextended metaphor for our relationship—are you crying?”

“No.” He blinks quickly. If there’s wetness there, he doesn’t know how Nesta glimpsed it.

He’s had a hard twelve hours. Nesta even more so. “I just feel really bad, about last night and everything else.” Because even if she acts like what she just spilled to him isn’t a big deal, he’ll never forget it.

He looks up to find Nesta laughing. Hand-over-her-mouth cackling. Before he can ask what’s wrong with her, she’s climbing up onto the coffee table, breaking up the puzzle and sending pieces scattering as she crawls across it. “Nesta—” he starts to protest.

She drops into his lap, winding her arms and legs around his powerful body. And she leans in and kisses him, long and deep and sweet. His hands settle into the curve of her hips, where they’ve always fit perfectly.

She breaks the kiss to fit her palm to his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she says. She never says that. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Her lips quirk up teasingly, but real guilt from the night before lingers in her eyes. Cassian realizes in that moment that Nesta could never hurt anybody more than she hurts herself.

“Don’t waste your apologies on me.” He nudges her nose with his. “Save them for people who’ll actually need to hear them.”

A real smile starts to bloom on her face. “I’ll try.”

Pride and love take his breath away, but he manages to say, “Thank you. For sharing so much of yourself with me.”

She makes an embarrassed noise and waves him off, but emotion shines in her eyes. Just to spare her, Cassian changes the subject. “Now what in the world are you wearing?”

She glances down at herself, frowning. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it.” The sweater looks hand knit, bright red with a green Christmas tree in the center. Balls of colorful fuzz decorate the tree as ornaments. “I want you to wear it every day,” he says.

“Over my dead body. I’d rather you help me take it off.”

Nesta’s hips feel especially snug against his as heat rushes to his crotch. She smirks like she caught him on a hook and leans in to whisper, “You look tired. Did you stay up thinking about my dress last night?”

Cassian swallows roughly. It might have crossed his mind a few times—not just the dress, but the fact that she had picked it out for him. He didn’t know that Nesta cared about things like that.

She rubs a thumb under his weary and reddened eyes. “After your anger faded, did you think about all the make-up sex we were going to have? Because I did.”

“Nesta,” he groans, dropping his head to rest against her chest. Either she plays him too well or he’s too easy to play, because Cassian is half a second away from damning everything to hell and dragging her to the living room carpet.

Until Nesta’s stomach growls loudly.

That’s when he remembers: it’s Christmas morning, he’s with the love of his life, and they’re both starving and sleep-deprived.

He looks up to find her eyes screwed shut in frustration. Before she can protest, he warns, “Don’t even think about it.” He pats her thighs. “Let’s get some food in you.”

***

Cassian makes them chocolate chip pancakes, and Nesta, feeling clingier than usual today, hangs piggyback off his body the entire time he cooks. She hasn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours, yet she feels like she was born anew this morning.

In the middle of breakfast, Cassian’s phone vibrates. He hardly even glances at it before turning it over.

“Who was it?” Nesta asks through a mouthful of pancakes. She hasn’t asked him about how his own night went, but she expects that his friends will want to call and talk to him at some point today.

“Feyre,” he says without looking at her. “She asked where I went last night.”

“Why’re you ignoring her?” She raises a brow.

Cassian looks a little surprised. “I thought we were mad at her.”

“No.” Nesta sets her fork down. “I’m mad at her. What’s your excuse?”

He shrugs. “Solidarity. I’m mad that you had your Christmas Eve ruined. I know what it took you just to show up there.”

“You’re the only one that knows.” Nesta supposes that not everything has been cleared up with Cassian after all. “Listen,” she tries to soften her blunt tone. “Whatever is between me and my sisters… you don’t need to concern yourself with it. You’ll never have to choose sides between us.”

He watches her closely, carefully. “Even if I want to defend my girlfriend?”

Her stomach flutters at that inconsequential word, but she doesn’t show it. “Even then. Feyre looks at you like an older brother. I’m sure Elain does too, a little bit. Don’t let me get in the way of that.” He probably feels guilty every time he texts Feyre, the loyal bastard.

Cassian looks at his plate, then nods resolutely. “I can do that.” He adds a moment later, “For what it’s worth, I do get where the girls are coming from. Even if they had a shit way of going about it.” His eyes darken as he remembers.

Nesta doesn’t know what he was told about the fight, but she chuckles at his moody face anyway. “I expected you to. You’ve always loved spending time with your family, and you’ve never known anything different. But the reality is this: the closeness you have between you and your brothers isn’t something that can be forced onto every group of siblings. And the more Feyre and Elain try to force it, the more I push against it.”

“It sounds stifling.” His face is open, understanding. “To feel like you’re always too much but never enough.”

Nesta pauses, stunned. Cassian is almost too empathetic sometimes, like he carries a thousand past lives within him. Maybe he spent his time learning Nesta by heart in those lives.

Or maybe she’s getting too damn sentimental. She chokes out a dismissive laugh, going back to her pancakes. “Just text Feyre back. Then we can have the rest of the day to ourselves.”

***

Late morning brings heavy snowfall and a chill that infiltrates the walls of the cabin. The Christmas tree in the living room is lit—something Cassian didn’t notice earlier when he came downstairs to find Nesta in his house. Realizing that she’s the one who lit it up first thing in the morning does something to his chest, but he pushes the feeling down where it can’t scare Nesta away.

The weight of the past day must finally catch up to her, though, because by the time Cassian finishes lighting the fireplace, she’s knocked out asleep on the couch.

“No makeup sex then, Nes?” he says softly. Getting up from the hearth, he goes to pull the fur couch throw over her body. Cassian settles at the end of the couch near her feet, taking care so she doesn’t wake, and picks up his laptop from the coffee table. He’s been slacking with his work ever since he got with Nesta, and he might as well catch up on it now before Rhysand takes notice.

The first email that pops up in his inbox is a corporate reminder about the annual New Year’s Eve fundraiser gala, hosted in some high-class hotel in Denver this year. Cassian reads the email once, twice, three times before reaching for his phone.

Rhys answers on the first ring. “Oh, so you don’t hate us,” he drawls.

“What?” Cassian is confused.

“Because with the way you’ve been acting at family events lately, one would have reason to think you don’t want to be around your family much.”

“Oh—no, this isn’t about that.” Cassian refuses to let Rhys linger on this topic. “I called about the New Year’s party.”

“What about it?” he says. “Other than that tacky hotel.”

Cassian decides to spit it out. “I’m not coming.”

Rhys is stunned silent over the line for a moment. “What do you mean, you’re not coming?” Cassian never misses company events, no matter how much he hates dressing up and driving out to the city to schmooze with donors.

But too many of his holidays have gone to Rhys instead of Nesta this year, and he finds himself unwilling to give more.

“I’ve been stressed as hell lately,” he lies, trying to stay quiet for Nesta. “I’m always the one driving hours to see everyone else, and I can’t go all the way out to Denver for another party. I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit,” Rhys responds. “You have nothing going on at work and nothing going on outside of it. What could you be stressed about?”

Cassian makes a mental note to find a hobby that doesn’t include his brothers, if only so he can use it as an excuse to spend time with his secret girlfriend in the future. For now, he has to settle with the truth. “I can’t tell you.”

It’s a petty card to play, but it’s a valid one. No matter how nosy his family might be, they know how to back off when a line is drawn, no explanation required.

Rhys’s voice softens. “Is it serious? Is it a health issue?”

Cassian nearly laughs, even though he feels bad for making Rhys worry. “No, nothing like that. But I still can’t come.”

“What can I do to make it easier for you?” Rhys tries again. “New Year’s isn’t the same without all of my family in one place.”

Cassian snorts. “Come over to my place then.” He says it half-jokingly, but then Rhys doesn’t answer, as if he’s thinking.

“The gala guest list is too big to fit in the cabin…” he ponders. “But I guess I could have it narrowed down at the last minute. The Mayfairs certainly won’t be happy about it, though.”

Cassian’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Nesta’s sleeping form. “Uh…” He scrambles for something to get him out of this.

“New Year’s at a luxury cabin, all of us reuniting at your home for the first time in months? I love it,” Rhys declares. “Better than fucking Denver, that’s for sure.”

Cassian coughs, then covers it up with a forced chuckle. “I’ll have the place ready by next week.”

The call is over before he knows it, and all he can do is stare at the phone in his hand wondering what the hell just happened.

You didn’t entirely lose, he thinks to himself. You’re spending New Year’s with Nesta.

Yeah—New Year’s with Nesta and his entire family. He drops his head back against the couch and groans quietly.

***

Nesta wakes up late in the afternoon to Cassian presenting her with a mug of eggnog and bad news about New Year’s Eve.

The idea of another party, especially one with her sisters present, so soon after the last one makes Nesta’s very bones ache. But she supposes she’ll just have to take the next week to recover and prepare, because she isn’t missing out on a holiday with Cassian for anything.

The way she’s started romanticizing simple things like the new year should probably alarm her, but it doesn’t.

They sit down to open presents with the TV playing lowly in the background. It’s nothing serious, and Nesta isn’t expecting to get anything much until she unwraps her present.

It’s a vinyl record packaged in an elaborate sleeve with the words Nesta’s Mix etched across it. She slowly pulls the record out of the sleeve, staring at it. “What’s this?”

“It’s called a vinyl.”

She spears him with a look. “I got that. What’s on it?”

Cassian turns sheepish, sprawled out across from her on the carpet. “I stalked your Spotify to figure out what you listen to. Then I made a playlist based off what I thought you’d like and got it turned into vinyl. It’s all new music…” He trails off at the look on her face. “But if you hate it, the B-side has your favorite songs on there. You can listen to it either way.”

“I don’t hate it.” Nesta blinks her burning eyes rapidly, staring down at the gift in her hands. She’s not used to receiving thoughtful gifts—or pricey ones. “Thank you,” she says plainly, trying to let her feelings speak for themselves in those two words. “I love it.” She knows she should be saying more, damn it, but what can she say?

Cassian reaches out to put a hand on her knee, his thumb stroking circles across her leg. She looks up at him and realizes she doesn’t need words. Leaning forward, she lands a kiss on his cheek and can only hope that it’s sufficient. “Where am I going to play it?” she asks.

“I was close to getting you a record player when I remembered I already have one. I’ve never used it in my life.” He looks at her more gently now. “So it’s basically yours.”

Nesta’s chest tightens painfully. Not because he’s giving the record player to her, but because he’s suggesting they own it together.

“My present is going to look so stupid next to yours,” she says quietly.

Cassian grins. “Now I really need to see it.”

Nesta buries her head in her hands in humiliation while he tears open the wrapping paper of his gift, and only looks up when she hears him laugh aloud.

He’s holding a copy of one of Nesta’s favorite romances, and the first of many of her books that he’s ever stolen from her and read. He turns the vintage paperback around in his hands. “I remember this one. I totally had a sex dream about it.” He gazes in reminiscence at the busty blonde on the cover.

Nesta snorts, but scoots closer to him eagerly. “Look inside.”

He flips it open to find dark scribbles along the margins, in every single margin.

“I annotated it,” Nesta says hesitantly. “With my thoughts and analysis on each scene. It’s probably dumb to critically analyze a ninetie’s erotica novel, but I thought you’d find it funny.”

Cassian is flipping through the pages more slowly now, taking his time to read each one. “I don’t think it’s funny,” he says after a moment, his eyes still on the book. “I think it’s more than anything I could have asked for.”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic for a romance book—”

“Not the book.” He looks up at her with something in his eyes. “It’s all your thoughts.” He looks back at the book in wonder. “Written out for me in detail to keep.”

He starts to smirk, searching for a specific page. “I already know how you feel about the boat scene, but now I need to read about it.”

Nesta makes a noise of protest, grabbing for the book. “Don’t spoil the good parts yet.” She can hardly believe it. He finds her joke present good. “You always spoil the good parts first and get sad about it later.”

He makes a face. “True.” He lowers the book, growing serious. “Nesta.” He clears his throat, and her heart starts pounding. She can hear the words before he says them—

“You’re a really good gift giver.”

Nesta’s breath shudders out of her, in relief or disappointment she doesn’t know. Cassian is still staring at her in amazement, and she can only respond by throwing herself at him, her arms holding him tight.

He doesn’t falter under her weight, but pulls her closer. “Thank you,” he says into her ear.

She pulls back far enough to see him. His beautiful face is outlined with too many emotions for her to read, yet somehow she knows exactly what he’s feeling.

Overwhelmed, she leans in to place a soft kiss above his upper lip, then on his mouth. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Nesta.”

***

please tell me if you wanna be removed from the taglist so i can make space for other readers!

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens

#ncssianwrites #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #a favor #nessian fic

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mae-gi-writes · 3 years

Text

Twilight | Changmin (The Boyz)

Twilight drives and tender eyes.

Genre: fluff, little angst if you squint, soft Changmin hours, Changmin being the softest bf ever.

----

"Stop! Changmin seriously!"

The said brunette's grin widens and in response, he follows up with more splashes, his giggles mixing in with the scent of salt as the ocean roars behind you in the distance.

You duck, hands covering your face and hair -- to no avail -- before splashing him back in retaliation. It's cold and soaks you right to the bone, but nothing can compare to the stupid grin that's been permanently stretched across your face from the moment Changmin had greeted you with a coffee and a promise to soak up the sunlight at twilight.

He had a tendency to do that. Just appear out of the thin air whenever you were having a hard time and drive you along the coast of the country till the weight in your heart had lifted.

"Ha! Take that!" Changmin childishly sticks out his tongue when you got drenched by an ongoing wave, only to yelp himself when it swept him off his feet.

You burst out laughing, "say what?!" You taunt, giggles intensifying when he sticks out the finger in mock annoyance.

The sun is slowly setting in the horizon as you clamber back into his used-up, battered red Honda and get hit in the face with Changmin's towel, "ow!"

"That's for laughing at me earlier," comes his muffled alto. Then, before you can retort, his hands come on either side of your head. He rubs att your hair, drying it off, and your heart warms up at his gesture.

When your eyes manage to peek out of the towel, you offered him a soft smile, "thanks."

Changmin stills for a moment as he gazed back in your eyes. Features softening, he leans down to drop a shy kiss at your temple, "pleasure," his words tickle your forehead and you swear that heat has blossomed through your limbs at his sweet countenance.

"Want me to drive?" You offer while watching him pull out of the parking lot, eyes lingering over the curve of his arm, the way the golden hues of the sun bathes his side profile.

Changmin snorts, "and get myself killed? No thank you."

"Says the one who failed his driving test three times."

"That was the policeman's fault."

"It's okay Changmin. Not everyone can be as talented as I am in driving," you taunt as you reached for some chips you'd packed in your bag, pop it open to offer him some, "also, was it necessary to drive all the way out here just for the beach? There's a beach back home too, you know?"

"So that we could bump into people we know? No way," he shakes his head, "not my style. Anyway, it's prettier here."

The more you gaze fondly at the young man sitting beside you, the more your heart beats for him, dances to the rhythm of his laughter and reacts to the curve of his smile.

You are lucky. Oh so lucky indeed.

A comfortable silence eases your nerves and as you settle comfortably in the passenger seat, you let out the softest of sighs while taking in the array of trees spilling on both sides of the quiet road. It's almost as if only you and Changmin are present in this very moment. Reddish gold sunlight streams through the leaves, the darkening purple sky softening life and all its forms. Somewhere in the distance, you catch the sound of a bird singing.

"Oh let's stop here for a minute," Changmin says. You follow the direction of his gaze towards the edge of the forest lining that gives view of the ocean lying beyond. Pulling onto the side of the road, he quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and ushers you out so that you stand only a few feet away from the edg of the cliff.

"Now that-- that's what I brought you here for," his murmur gets washed out by the crashing of waves below. A deathly drop if one was to jump. You are so mesmerized by the swirls of foam that you don't miss your boyfriend's absence -- until coldness suddenly presses to your cheek.

Jumping slightly, you turn towards him to see that he's holding out a beer that he has previously cracked open, and gratefully take it from him with a soft thanks. He takes his place next to you amidst the tall grass and it's almost like instinct that your body curves into his ever so slightly, your shoulder meeting his own while admiring the gradation of blues and mixed purples and soft dimming oranges that are washing out by the minute.

"Is it safe here?" You can't help but wonder aloud.

"I'd like to say yes," his face looks so determined that you giggle slightly, "you're so dumb."

"Is that what you say to the best boyfriend in the world?" He gasps mockingly, hand over his chest to stare at you. Trust Changmin for always being a drama queen, "I am hurt, Y/N!"

"Oh shut up."

"Only if you kiss me."

"Dream on," your cheeks flush despite the tone of finality in your voice, though you don't protest upon feeling his arm wrap around your shoulder to pull you close. He giggles in response as his nose bumps against the side of your head and you flush with even more heat.

To distract yourself, you take a sip of your beer, "I gotta say, you impressed me today."

"I did, didn't I?" He sounds smug, "so admit it, I'm the best boyfriend you could ever ask for--"

"You--" your finger reaches up to shove his forehead back, "need to stop being so cocky. It doesn't look good on you."

"Are you saying I'm not the best boyfriend you could ask for? After everything I did for you?" That's when he pulls you even closer before pressing the softest of pecks along your brow line. Heat explodes through your cheeks, and you know it's not from the cold that suddenly sweeps in without warning.

"I never said that," you manage to mumble out. Proceeding to hide your face in the depths of his chest as his arm curls around your middle, you continue, "actually, I do think you're winning the best boyfriend title today. With everything that you did."

"Well I gotta keep up my game. Can't have my girlfriend always being better at courting than I am."

You shove him then, "you know what? Screw you, I'm trying to be serious and grateful here."

"And I'm trying to compliment you," his lips skim along your cheekbone. He peppers a few kisses there before mumbling out, "you smell like the sea."

"Wise observation, considering we just went swimming," your face turns ever so slightly to face your boyfriend's doe-eyed gaze and in the warmth of his brown pupils your breath stutters at how beautiful he looks. That, and the fact that it feels as if he can't seem to look at amything else but you.

Beautiful, your throat closes up. Beautiful. Changmin's features rendered soft in the dim shades of the evening, the angular curve of his brows matching the feline tilt of his eyes, and then of course--

His mouth. Curled slighrly upwards in amusement because he just knows that you're ogling him openly without excuse. He knows.

"I know you've been struggling," Changmin's eyes search yours, "and it hurts me to see you like that."

"It hasn't been all that bad though," you murmur out before your throat clogs up as his palm cups your cheek, stroking slightly, "I've ...been okay."

Changmin snorts, "Y/N, anyone who knows you can see it. It's not that hard," his gaze softening then, his nose nudges yours and very lightly, as if you're made out of glass, he pecks your lips, "and honestly, it hurts me more to see you sad. You can be angry or moody or snappy. I don't mind that. I can take all that. But your sadness, that hurts more."

Guilt coats your tongue in a bittter aftertaste. You hate it, how much your mood affects Changmin and how you get overly sensitive, how the tiniest things can trigger you.

"I'm really sorr--" his finger presses upon your mouth to stop your attempts and he pins you down with his gaze, now hard and firm, "don't. It's my duty. No--it's not even my duty. I just love you Y/N. What hurts you hurts me too."

"Well maybe you can love me less?" You try to lighten up the atmosphere but the joke falls flat. He chuckles anyway, bringing you into another chaste kiss and murmuring against your mouth, "that, I definitely can't do."

Allowing yourself to kiss him back while your hands find their way to his chest, tracing the span of his shoulders to tug him closer, your mouth slants against his as time slips through your fingers.

It is only when you pull apart for air, foreheads pressed together and eyes half-closed, that you realize that the night now fully dominates the sky, the ocean dark and deep and abstract.

"Thank you," you finally whisper. You close your eyes and press one last kiss to his mouth.

"You know that--" he kisses you in-between words, "you can't just--" kiss "get away" one more "with that."

Giggling and kissing him once more on the lips, you proceed to pepper his entire face with kisses-- his nose, his cheeks, his jawline, his forehead -- everywhere you can think of. So much so that by the time you pull back, he's grinning at you with wet eyes.

"Let's go back home," his alto is rough with emotion. It makes you smile that you have that effect on him.

Pulling himself up and you along with him, his fingers find their rightful place in-between yours while making your way back to the car, the night air now cool against your faces with Changmin's warmth to keep you warm.

He holds your hand all the way back home, even if that means driving at turtle speed.

You let him.

Because after all, slowing down to bask in a moment is a luxury.

And you won't have it any other way.

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lubdubsworld · 4 years

Text

Falling for you( Falling from grace) Jungkook

Falling for you ( Falling from grace) Jungkook

Read Chapter 1 here

Read Chapter 2 here

Read Chapter 3 here

Rated : 18 +

Warning : . Fuck buddies? Or rather enemies that have sex. They just really hate each other but also can’t keep their hands off each other. Fair warning this has no plot. its just them being idiots .

Chapter warning : a little bit of plot just to keep things interesting yeah?

Chapter 4

The washroom on the seventeenth floor was the unofficial gossip hub and normally I would steer clear of that place but desperate times called for desperate measures. I was pretty sure I looked like I’d been dragged backwards through a hedgerow and I had to get it fixed before I got written up .

Willing myself not to openly flinch with every step, I tried to curb the trembling in my thighs, almost painfully sensitive to how wet and messy my lower half as. What the fuck had I been thinking.

When I entered the restroom, I moved to the huge ornate mirror in the center and took a nice long look at myself.

I felt my throat seize up in shock.

Good God.

I looked ten times worse than I felt. The hair in the back of my head was sticking up , four even gaps from where he’d gripped my hair too tight. Yelping, I pulled on the dozen hairpins holding my hair up in a messy bun, letting my hair fall around my shoulders. Panicking , I threaded my fingers through the strands, wincing when I touched my jaw. What the fuck...

I leaned closer, peering at the small abrasion near my chin. It was a bruise, shaped exactly like Jungkook’s thumb. And it was already turning into an ugly shade of puce.

Slightly hysterical because, Hoseok was so incredibly unbending when it came to office etiquette and I did not want to get fired, I flipped at the fancy taps, sticking my hand underneath the cold water and splashing it all over my face.

The door opened behind me and I flinched.

“Oh, hey Areum....” Three of my colleagues walked in . I recognized two of them , Jieun and Hana . The third one looked new.

“Hey...” I croaked out, trying hard not to look like I’d just been fucked to an inch of my life in a supply closet by the boss’ son.

Oh fuck, what the hell was I thinking?

The girls moved to the mirror , spreading out across the long counter and pulling out their compacts and lipsticks . I kept my head down, still trying to calm my pounding heart.

“So let me get this straight, he called you at eleven in the night yesterday and wanted to meet you ? At your apartment?” Hana was saying.

The new girl was blushing as red as a tomato.

“Yeah...he uh... he told me he was just returning from his training. He’s a boxer.” There’s a shy sort of admiration in her voice and I felt an odd sense of foreboding.

“Booty call.... He wanted to fuck you for sure.” Jieun said firmly. “ You’re a lucky bitch, Sana... ”

Sana.....

My fingers started trembling when I heard the familiar name. I tried to calm myself down but it was impossible . A red hot sort of rage began licking its way up my spine. It wasn’t new. I knew he fucked other people. We both did.

but I’d never stood within two feet of one of his conquests.

“ Yeah...but then he called me like an hour later and said he wasn’t coming around.” Her voice was tinged with disappointment and I felt a sick sort of satisfaction.

Jungkook had cancelled because of the pic I’d sent him.

“Maybe he thought he wanted more.... like you told me he asked you to come meet him at practice tomorrow right? To get coffee afterwards... ? Maybe he wants to do this properly....take you out on dates...get to know you....”

I couldn’t stay there a second longer.

“Ladies...” I bowed quickly and they offered me cheerful smiles. I all but ran out of the restroom, hating the sharp sting of tears somewhere near my lashes.

I stumbled to the back stairwell, which was mostly unused and usually deserted. Gripping the walls, I slid down to sit on the floor, drawing my knees up to bury my face in.

There was a reason I didn’t do public sex, I thought, shaking. Despite the way I mouthed off at Jungkook, sex with him always took a toll and I had always, always made sure I had space and time to recover from it. Gripping my thighs and trying to fight the urge to whine, I fumbled with my phone.

“Areum?”

“Can I have the day off?” I whispered, shaking a little.

“You alright?” Hoseok’s voice sounded genuinely worried and I hummed.

“ Got my period.” I said blankly.

“ Gotchu. I’ll fill up the form and get one of the interns to pack your stuff up. You need to get some meds or something? Need a ride home?”

I felt warmth bloom in my chest. This is why Hoseok was such a great HR manager. He genuinely cared.

“ I don’t need a ride. Or anything else.” I said quickly, “I’ll take a cab...”

There was a slight shuffling and then, an altogether familiar and unwelcome voice in the background went.

“Who’s that?”

Oh fuck. What the hell was he doing there?

“Areum...hang on, Jungkook’s here....he wants to talk to you...” Hoseok said quickly and before I could protest , I heard Jungkook’s low raspy exhale against my ears.

“Where are you?” He said shortly.

I considered protesting but remembered that Hoseok was still there.

“ The back stairwell... I... I’ll come there , I...”

“Stay right there. I’ll come get you.”

Before I could respond, he had hung up. I stayed on the floor, staring stright at the opposite wall. I forced myself not to think, trying to take deep breaths. The truth was I was exhausted. Physically and otherwise.

Letting my head fall back against the wall, I closed my eyes, trying not to think about what Id’ heard in the restroom. Was Jungkook interested in Sana? Meeting him at practice? Coffee?

That just screamed dating to me. I’d always assumed that Jungkook wasn’t into dating. That he just enjoyed quick fucks because that’s all he had ever offered me. So maybe, it wasn’t because Jungkook didn’t want to date. It was because Jungkook didn’t want to date me.

Which was fine. I didn’t want to date him either. I really didn’t .

“Hey....you okay?”

I had to inhale shakily, just to bring myself to look at him. I felt my heart ache something fierce because he was kneeling in front of me, strands of hair falling into doe back eyes. Eyes that fairly glistened with genuine concern. There was no infuriating smirk or haughty smile....instead his lips were parted in genuine concern, eyebrows furrowed in worry and one hand resting on my knee , fingers just so unfamiliarly gentle.

I stared at him for another second and smiled evenly.

“Guess I’m gonna be needing that wheelchair after all.” I quipped.

He stared at me for a second before his face split in a wide grin, a genuine bark of laughter spilling out of him. He looked so carefree and unabashed that I bit my lips, staring at him some more.

“Let’s get you home , yeah?”

I nodded, letting him grip my arm to help me up.

“It’s okay. I can walk... “ I said softly and he hummed, but still kept an arm around me and I noticed that he had my handbag slung on the other shoulder.

We reached the elevator and rode down in silence .

I followed him to the basement parking and he fumbled with the smart key to his car , pointing in the direction of the multitude of cars and I watched one of the flashy red ones blink.

“Let’s go to my place...., yeah?” He said casually and I groaned.

“Jungkook, I know this going to make your ego swell but I’m not joking when I say that I cannot physically take your dick at least for another couple of days.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t want to fuck you, God. I’m working on a project for the Art Fest down at the Museum and I’m staying home. You can rest there....” He said casually, moving to put his seat belt on. He fixed the mirrors by prodding a few buttons and I watched the tattoos on his arm flex as he gripped the steering wheel, one arm coming around the headrest of my seat so he could turn and back out of the lot carefully.

I frowned at the broad shoulders near my face. .

“Why would I rest there? I have a home....” I protested , watching him hold the door open for me.

“Because I know for a fact that , it being Monday, both your sister and your mother are supposed to be coming over today to cook and clean for you because you have no life skills, “ He grinned and I glared at him, “ . They’ll probably notice the limp and I just thought I’d spare you the humiliation.”

I didn’t respond because he was right. My mom and sister were home and it would be impossible to get any rest with them around. The fact that Jungkook somehow knew this made me feel jittery and nervous though.

“You have a fight this weekend?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He kept his eyes on the road, sparing me just one questioning glance.

“How’d you know?” He asked curiously and I bit my lips.

I’ve been following your boxing career for a three years.

“ Just heard someone say something at the office...” I said vaguely.

“You aren’t invited.” He said sharply and I gripped the seats, annoyed.

“I don’t want to be there anyway.” I snapped back.

He huffed.

“I’m serious about what I do Areum... I don’t want you interfering in that part of my life, alright? We’ve been through this before.”

I sneered at that.

“I know....isn’t that why you literally banned me from your gym. “

He didn’t reply and I stared at my hands.

He had invited that girl, though, my mind supplied helpfully.

He invited her not only to the gym, to watch him practice, but also for coffee afterwards...you know...to get to know her better....probably because she’s not the kind of girl who would spread her legs as easily as you do.....

I stared out of the window, remembering how pretty and put together Sana had looked. The dainty walk, the perfect make up and the long hair, styled perfectly.

I was beautiful too. Of course I was and I knew it.

Men like Jungkook didn’t go for unattractive women even if it was for a quick lay. But, there’s beauty and then there’s actual charm? I wasn’t charming in any sense of the word. But then, did I have to be charming and attractive and perfect to go see him fight?

Why?

What about the other people there? If literally anyone could go watch him fight, why wasn’t I allowed?

“I want to come watch you train....” I said impulsively, my anger getting the better of me.

Jungkook turned to give me a shocked stare.

“What? Why?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion and I shrugged.

“No reason.” I said shortly. I could physically feel his irritation build.

“Areum....” He began , voice holding a note of warning but I refused to back down.

“Literally anyone can visit your gym. You own the thing and you love offering discounts to everyone you meet...and yet somehow, I’m ‘ banned’. Why?” I demanded.

“Because I don’t want you there...That’s a good enough reason for me.” He snapped back and I clenched my fists harder.

“Well, sucks for you. I’m gonna be there. On the front row. Let me see what’s so great about Jeon Jungkook in the ring that drives women wild...” I scoffed.

He stared at me for a second and then chuckled.

“Ahh..... so you just wanna watch me get wet and sweaty.... ? Understandable.”

I sneered.

“You have been wet and sweaty on top of me enough times and trust me the novelty has long worn off.”

He groaned.

“It genuinely feels like anytime I try to be halfway decent human being to you, you repay me by being as annoying as you can....” He said thoughtfully and I couldn’t say anything to that.

i flinched when his hand reached out, moving to my knees and squeezing /lightly.

“What are you doing?” I frowned slapping at his fingers and he merely moved his hand higher up my thigh. I flinched when he squeezed again.

“The only time you’re remotely bearable is when I’m touching you....So I’m gonna keep my hand here...” He gave me a smug grin, eyes practically dancing with mirth and I grimaced.

“I’m still going to come. I want to.” I said firmly.

He didn’t argue further.

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

Much to my surprise , I slept away the better part of the day, buried in Jungkook’s soft white sheets , head pillowed in the dozen fluffy throws he kept around. It was vaguely arousing that someone so intensely masculine like Jungkook preferred a comfortable , soft toned bedroom. The sheets smelled exactly like him, a fresh citrusy scent that managed to be soothing and sweet and yet somehow seductively warm as well.

I woke up to fingers in my hair, lightly stroking. The room was dim, a little bit of light from the streets spilling in through the gaps between the curtains.

“Areum.... It’s almost eight.... I’m gonna order us something for dinner... You wanna wake up now?”

His voice. Fuck.

I rolled over , groggy and disoriented. My eyes took in the splendor that was Jeon Jungkook, taking in the fact that he was only wearing grey sweatpants . I stared at the smooth expanse of his chest, feeling arousal bloom , slow and steady all over me.

“I wanna suck you off...” I croaked out before I could fully filter my own thoughts.

Jungkook chuckled a bit at that.

“I’m not gonna say no to that, but why don’t you take a shower and wake up fully.

I shook my head.

“ Let’s get messy first..... we can shower later...” I whined, still blinking and he groaned, slipping into the bed with me, under the covers, grabbing me by the waist and lifting me up till I was on him, my chin resting on his chest as I stared at his beautiful face.

What am I doing here? Where is this leading?

“I’ve never seen you like this. “ He commented mildly.

“Like what?”

“Sleepy and horny....Usually you‘re just angry and horny.”

I shook my head.

“I should go.” I said hesitantly.. Jungkook didn’t respond for a few seconds, merely staring at me with a blank look on his face. Then he gave me a slight squeeze around my waist and moved out from under me. .

“I can call you a cab...” He said simply, moving to get up off the bed again. I felt something jump in my throat . It was unlike him to acquiesce so fast, and it was unlike us to just.... hang out without mutual orgasms thrown in the mix and somehow that felt like a change I wasn’t ready for. A bit of panic flashed through and I reached out blindly when he stood up, grabbing his waist and yanking him closer.

I looked up at him, scooting to the edge of the bed and kneeling till I was right in front of him.

Eager to get things back to normal, I smiled and casually, pressed both my hands behind my back, looping my fingers together at the base of my spine.

“Get those handcuffs.”

Jungkook’s dick literally twitched in his pants and he swore.

“Fuck baby....” He grabbed my face roughly, crashing his lips over mine. I kissed back, almost desperate, trying to remember all the reasons why he annoyed me, why this was all we were to each other. A quick fuck, a quick lay, fuck buddies. that's what we were......

“Stay here. Stay right here...Don’t fucking move.” He pulled back and dove for his bed stand. I watched as he pulled out a silky black tie.

I grinned when he nearly fell, scrambling up on the bed and pushing up behind me. He grabbed the hem of my blouse, yanking it up over my head before grabbing my wrists together again , tying them swiftly behind me.

“Only you...” He whispered against the back of my neck. “ Only you can do this to me. Drive me wild with want just by fucking existing....”

And then he was lying down near me, grabbing my waist and jostling me around till I was straddling his waist. It took me a second to orient myself I managed to steady myself, staring down at him in surprise.

“ Seeing as you said you needed a break from my dick, how about you come sit on my face, today?” He smirked.

I tested the give on my hands, before carefully leaning down to him

“Sure you have the lung capacity for this , Jeon?” I whispered, lips brushing his as I spoke.

He responded by gripping my waist hard, easily lifting me up till i was straddling his shoulders.

“I’m ready to drown in that sweet sweet honeypot, baby...” He winked and it was such a ridiculously bad joke that the laughter got wrenched out of me.

And just like that , we were back to being us again. Or at least, that's what I convinced myself of.

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

AUTHOR’S NOTE : TELL ME WHAT YOU GUYS THOUGHT ....I WANTED THIS TO BE JUST PORN BUT APPARTENTLY I CANT WRITE ANYTHING WITHOUT ANGST FML.

Also requests open :)

#bts fanfics #bts smut #bts #jungkook #bts fics #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fics

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pixiebuggiewrites · 4 years

Text

A spilled coffee and a chance encounter

Valentines drabble exchange piece for @zorua-adorable you put that you liked soulmate au, meet-cutes, and coffee shop au’s so i kinda did a sort of hybrid of the 3 hope you like it!!

Big thanks to @eat0crow for setting this whole thing up!!

Wordcount:1103

Marinette was running on 2 hours of sleep. Again.

She had a busy schedule okay? Balancing ESMOD classes, commission work, and searching for Lila Rossi aka Hawkmoth 2.0 took up a lot of time. So sometimes she just had to make up the sleep deficit with caffeine.

Ah yes, whether she was knee deep in fabric or dealing with an akuma at 2 am, coffee was always there to help her through. And after pulling such a late night finishing assignments, she needed some desperately.

Too bad her roommate hid all of her coffee.

Adrien had claimed that it was "for her own good" and that he was "saving her from an early grave" like the both of them weren't basically demigods after so many years of miraculous exposure. Well, she had been wanting to try the small café she always passed by anyways. This just the perfect opportunity.

Doesn't mean she's not getting back at Adrien though.

----------

Marinette stepped into the café and took a deep inhale at the pleasant aromas of coffee beans and fresh pastries.

Despite the small shops location and the time of day, coupe du destin was fairly uncrowded. There was a very inviting aura about the place, reminding her of the many days spent at Fu's old tea shop as a teen. While someone had been leaving as she entered, besides that there was only one other customer in the café.

She was thankful that she wouldn't have to deal with the usual morning rush line, especially since there only seemed to be one person working. It was a girl who seemed to be a couple years younger than Marinette with a smile that put the sun to shame, and she was saying that as someone who knew Adrien Agreste.

The young lady at the counter, Felicity according to her name tag, smiled at her.

"Welcome to coupe du destin! What can I get for you today?" She greeted with enthusiasm

After ordering herself a caffe mocha, Marinette watched as the lively barista flew between machines and equipment creating her beverage, she honestly wasn't sure if the girl knew what she was doing, maybe it was her first day? Eventually the barista came back over to the counter with the finished drink.

Of course though that's when things got just a touch odd

After paying for her drink, the barista looked to be analyzing her. Though It was almost as if she was looking through her, straight into Marinette's soul.

Now if she were anyone else, she probably would have been more creeped out by something like that. But she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Guardian of the Miraculi and heroine of Paris. Honestly this didn't even make top three for weird things she's seen this week. It also helped that the girls analytic gaze reminded her of Luka. She still wasn't sure whether or not he was a meta of some sort or if he just like that, but this barista had the same look in her eyes as when Luka would figure out somebody's heartsong.

She could only hope that the girl wasn't about to pull a guitar out from under the counter.

After the peculiar girl had been studying her for a minute she stopped and broke into another wide grin with a newfound gleam in her eye.

Thankfully the barista did not at this point pull out a guitar, instead having grabbed a red pen from a mason jar next to the register and quickly drawing something on something on the cup before handing it to Marinette.

The drawing was of a robin.

After paying, Marinette finally got to try her coffee. Marinette took a sip and... it was the best coffee she had ever had. She was definitely making this her go-to café from now on. And if Adrien kept hiding her home supply, she would likely soon be a regular.

She wouldn't get to finish her heavenly coffee though, apparently being a superhero for nearly a decade had not made her any less accident-prone. As she turned around to leave the shop, she walked right into a man who was getting up from his seat and spilled her coffee all over both of them.

Only one other customer in the café, and she somehow managed to run right into the guy. So much for having the goddess of luck in her purse.

She finally got a good look at the guy. He was about her age, maybe a year or two older, but that could just be how tired he looked, somehow he seemed even more exhausted than her which was quite the feat. Other than looking like he was gonna pass out any minute, he was quite attractive. Like her, he had black hair and blue eyes, Though his eyes were more of a gunmetal than her shade of bluebell. Average height, and very well built. And his suit…

Oh sweet Tikki she was so dead. That suit was designer, it can't have cost less than somewhere in the quadruple digits. And she spilled coffee all over it. She was so screwed.

This guy was probably loaded and she ruined his suit and now he's gonna ruin her. He was gonna sue her for all she's worth and she'll have to fake her death and go live all alone in Tibet and her only company will be Tikki and a hamster named-

"Are you okay?" The man before her asked, with a concerned look that managed to break her out of her catastrophizing. While her spirals had gotten better as she got older (and a therapist), evidently the lack of sleep was bringing them out in full force today.

"I'm so sorry! I should have been paying better attention to where I was going." Her mouth finally caught up with her brain as she began apologizing.

The man began to reassure her "Don't worry about it, it was just as much my fault. I am sorry about your coffee though, could I buy you a new one?"

Oh yeah her coffee, about half the cup was lost in the collision. "Oh no it's fine, if anything I should be offering to pay for your dry cleaning considering I totally ruined your suit."

"Really it's fine, plus I'm getting myself another anyways."

Well if a cute guy was gonna offer her free coffee who was she to refuse?

"You know in that case I might just take you up on that offer…"

"Tim."

"Nice to meet you Tim, my name's Marinette."

Neither of them noticed the ladybug drawn on Tim's empty cup.

#maribat #timinette #maritim #ml x dc #MaribatDrabbleExchange #buggiewrites #oneshot #ah sorry I'm posting this so late lowkey sick atm so it took forever to work up the energy to get my computer #hope you like it!!

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gaitwae · 4 years

Text

The Blessings of Damsels [|] Batman x OC

read on AO3!

Warnings: Slightly open-ended, hinted love triangle.

Length: 8.4k

Summary: A short timeline of how Charlene Park got over Clark Kent and set boundaries with Bruce Wayne.

=-=-==-=-==-=-==-=-==-=-=

=-=-=

The wind felt exquisite on Charlene’s skin, calming her racing heart. It wasn’t every day where her life flashed before her — she had been left under a pillar near LexCorps, then saved by an angel named Superman. Her eyes, shut tightly and pressing away tears, helped her forget exactly why you couldn’t go back to Metropolis. It had been a week, and, yet, here you were. She was hiding from someone too important to her. Charlene was hiding from shaking buildings and crumbling roads and screams and glowing rocks and a reporter who kept disappearing every time that Superman kept showing up.

She was done with the lying and the rejection.

She didn’t plan on jumping from the rail where she was standing. She didn’t want to hurt herself. She just wanted to see something else.

So, in search of new scenery, of something alien to her, Charlene went to the most dangerous city in America. Albeit, it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, it was something that at least distracted her. Central City was just too far to drive, and Gotham was supposed to be the sister city of her home. She could just forget about this man who had worried her sick, she could just relax and listen to the cars run and the flags flap and smell the sulfur and petroleum and the flowers in the box on the building beneath her. Way up on this rooftop, she let her surroundings melt away her fears.

Char sat on the ledge of the roof, setting her fingers under the concrete lip.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” a deep voice said, startling her. The stranger set a sleek, covered hand on her shoulder to secure her. “People jump all the time. I hope you’re not looking for an escape that way.”

“Um,” Char started, trying to find her voice, “I wasn’t going to jump. I was just trying to get over someone.” She cleared her throat and dusted her clothes off. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Not that it’s important… but he’s kind of important in Metropolis. I had to leave.”

There was a hum from the man who was behind her. Char looked up, seeing a black cowl and stubble dotting a square jaw and set lips. There was a familiarity to him — not that she knew him, but that she had seen him somewhere before. Charlene felt… well, not safe, but there was something comforting about him. As she looked closer, she noticed a large silhouette of a bat was weaved into the fabric on his breast.

Batman.

“How important can he be? He’s not Lex Luthor, is he?” the vigilante asked. He sat down next to Char, setting his cape underneath his legs so it flowed beneath him. His lips twitched upwards, but not quite.

“He’s one of the biggest writers for the Daily Planet newspaper,” she said, laughing sadly. She felt like an idiot. Why was she spilling her guts out to this stranger? “Clark Kent, such a dork, but he’s always in the building. I work with him. I’m a newscaster —”

“Charlene Park,” he filled in. He turned to look at her, bright blue eyes gazing into her own orbs.

Charlene blushed. She wasn’t surprised. This was the Batman. He was crazy smart. Who knew how much he knew about anyone at the Daily Planet. Rumor was, Superman worked there, so of course, he might have known something about it. “You know my name. Creepy.”

He gave a slight nod as if agreeing with her. “You said it yourself. You’re a newscaster. I make it my job to watch the news.”

“For Metropolis, too?”

What a stupid question, of course for Metropolis too —

“Yes,” he said, patient and friendly. “Superman lives there. I have to know if I ever need to interfere. If he was ever mind-controlled, I need to be able to step in and save the world. The other members of the Justice League aren’t capable.” Each word that came from his mouth didn’t seem arrogant or rude at all. Batman was almost… melancholy.

“So… you’re all by yourself?” she asked.

“I have my kids. They’re trained pretty well,” he replied. He turned his gaze out to Gotham City. He had a firm stare, unwavering and determined. Her heart dipped, sorry for him, impressed by him, and so… so weirded out, too.

Charlene looked out at the city, too. “I don’t have kids. I don’t have anybody. My parents died when I was young, I was never adopted, and I don’t have siblings.” She scratched the back of her neck. “Clark was my friend back in Smallville. It’s just been so odd, recently. He hasn’t been around as much, he’s been tailing Lois Lane, and I’ve been breaking my own heart over and over.” She sighed. “Don’t get me wrong — Clark’s a great guy! But…”

“That’s why it’s hard to get over him,” the Batman supplied. He bowed his head. An understanding was hidden beneath layers of quiet. “I don’t know what it’s like to be in love with some kind of Clark Kent, but I know what loneliness is, Miss Park.”

“Char.”

“Char,” he corrected himself.

She cleared her throat, unsure of what to say. “Do you still feel lonely? With your kids?”

He shook his head a little. “Not as much, no. There are times I feel lonely, but I’ve been blessed. Your blessings will come, Char.” He turned to look at her. “I hope that helps.”

“It does,” she said, smiling. “What makes you so sure I’ll have blessings? I mean, you coming to talk to me seems heaven-sent, but that’s not a guarantee.” Charlene twisted her hands together, now restless. The Batman took his time to collect his answer.

“You’re a woman in her mid-thirties who still pines over her high school sweetheart,” he started. “You had one good thing, and it either ended or you grew apart. You built others up instead of yourself. You’ve waited patiently for what you want — but not for everything. You let some things go for others. You fought for everything and you’ve sacrificed it all. The foster homes were nothing, and yet it was the worst thing to live through. A kid with no one made herself into a someone, even if it was half of a someone.” The Batman rested on his elbows. “You’re too scared to let people go, but you’ve accepted people letting go of you or setting you aside. Char, you’ve got to have something coming to you.”

Charlene was stunned. How did he know all these things? Was she that obvious? Was she an open book? Or was that the hero of Gotham doing his job, once more? Oh, she couldn’t tell. Her skin prickled from both his sheer guesswork and the chilling night air. She wrapped her arms around herself. “Wow. You got all that just by listening to me for a few seconds?”

“And from feeling it myself or seeing my kids struggle with it.” He unclipped his cape, standing up. He wrapped it around her shoulders. The Batman stood close, but not too close. This was all too surreal. Charlene didn’t know how to feel. This stranger was becoming less and less of a stranger. She knew he wouldn’t want to be too close, and it was foolish to think that they would be close. This was just a weird talk about Clark Kent on a Sunday night, on the ledge of a rooftop. Being in love with Clark Kent was the least of her worries, anyway.

“Can I ask you something?” she whispered. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t protest. She waited about thirty seconds before saying anything. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Her larynx didn’t want to cooperate.

How to phrase this?

He set a hand on her head, signalling for her to continue.

“If I wanted to talk to you again, how would I be able to do that?” she whispered. “I feel as if you’ve understood me more in ten minutes than my shrink has in years. Not to mention, you might be able to relate to me more than my shrink can. You said you felt some of this stuff yourself. Are you an orphan, too?”

“That’s more than one thing,” he said. He looked down at her with a glint in his eyes. “Just go back to Metropolis. You’re needed there.”

Charlene stopped. Of course. Right. She put her palm to her forehead. “You’re right. I’ll have to just face Clark like normal.” She barked a laugh. “You’re a hero, Bats.”

“Good to know.”

Char stood up. “You might want this back, won’t you?” She flapped the cape around her shoulders. She felt silly. She didn’t know this man. She knew nothing about him, and she was talking to him like she was talking to Clark. She wasn’t a writer; she wasn’t an interviewer; she was a reciter. This was all new to her.

The cowled detective hooked a thumb in his belt. “I’ll walk you back to your hotel room — you can return it then, Char.”

=-=-= “The Batman Incident” was what Charlene came to remember that night as. It was fresh in her mind for weeks, as fresh as the minutes she had lived through it. Any time she felt crisp cool air on her neck, any time she was alone at night on her balcony, she was instantly reminded of the interaction. Charlene didn’t ache or wish or anything like that, but it didn’t stop her from trying to figure out why the moments felt so real compared to anything else she had been through. Out of all that, she had been now, instead of Clark’s hurt bothering her the most, it was the Batman’s words ringing in her ears.

Char was sitting at Clark’s desk with the writer himself, now. He was leaning against it, scratching his head and playing with his glasses. Kent was antsy. He groaned, turned, then slapped his hands against the desk with a deep, deep sigh. “I can’t believe Lois caught an interview with Bruce Wayne. Wanna know the weirdest part?” he asked. He looked into Char’s eyes, pure confusion dressing his face.

“What’s ‘the weirdest part’?” she asked, repeating what he said exactly how he had said it. “She’s gotten interviews with the president of McDonald’s, before, Clark, I’m not exactly surprised. Lois is talented.” Char reached over the desk and grabbed a cup of coffee that had been nearly emptied, though had enough for her pleasure. She didn’t need to be an anchor, today. It was supposed to be her day off. She wouldn’t have even come in at all if Clark hadn’t asked her.

Charlene really needed to stop doing things because Clark asked.

“The weirdest part was how he never accepts interviews. In fact, he asked if Lois still worked at the Daily Planet.” He shook his head, pinching his nose. “He asked if we could hold the interview here, otherwise it wouldn’t happen… oh, sometimes I think billionaires hate me…”

“Makes sense,” Charlene agreed. She propped herself up on her elbows. “Why wouldn’t they hate reporters and journalists? They could be talking with Superman or Batman or Wonder Woman.”

Clark laughed dryly. “You have no idea how much I wish I was having an interview with Batman. Instead, I have to deal with Bruce Wayne.”

“Lois is having the interview with Wayne, Clark. Calm down. It’ll all be okay.” Char stood up, patted his back, then sat back behind his desk and took a long sip of his coffee. “Besides, Bruce Wayne can’t be that… scary…” She trailed off. She saw the elevator to the writing room open.

The man walking out of the elevator and toward her was not who she was supposed to be seeing. She might have been bad at recognition in general, but she remembered that square jaw, those blue eyes. She hoped against hope she was seeing things. “I take it back,” she whispered to Clark. Her old friend kept shooting his eyes back and forth between her, Wayne, and Lois Lane, trying to put the pieces together quickly. Charlene stood up, a smile tugging up her face at the sight of the man she wasn’t supposed to know. “He’s terrifying.”

“Charlene —”

“Mr. Wayne,” she greeted, speaking louder than Clark intentionally. “Welcome to the Daily Planet. How are you, this morning?” She extended her hand outwards to take his. Mr. Wayne took it, gave it a firm shake, then smiled broadly at her.

“Charlene, right?” he asked, squinting his eyes and setting a hand on her upper arm in a friendly manner. His suit was about as straight as wrapping paper; shiny like it, too. He was just missing the Christmas bow.

“Yes!” she grinned. She set her hands on her hips. “Charlene Park: a lowly newscaster. I hope you like the Daily Planet and find some friends, here.”

Bruce smiled. “Then I suppose we’re friends already, Miss Park.”

“I guess we are,” she said. “Friends are life’s greatest blessings, aren’t they?”

“They are, I agree.” Bruce Wayne let go of her, moving back to Lois Lane. He kept his eyes on hers. He clapped his hands together lightly. “I have an interview to complete. It was nice meeting you, Char. I hope to see more of you.”

“Best of luck, Mr. Wayne.”

When Bruce Wayne walked away, Clark folded his arms tightly over his chest. “That was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen — and I’ve seen my dad in daisy dukes.”

Char cocked her head, trying to stifle a snicker. “Clark, c’mon. It wasn’t anything. I’m fine, really.”

The man fixed his tie, taking the empty coffee cup from his desk over to the office kitchen. As he walked past her, he said, “I’ll believe it when you don’t giggle at the billionaire.”

“Maybe he looks funny!” Charlene offered.

“Har har!” Clark called. “I’m sure that’s it.”

=-=-= The interview with Bruce Wayne was done and over within record time. Charlene had never seen Lois so happy before. Bruce, on the other hand… Charlene had no idea someone could hide such a smile behind two eyes.

She was shaking. She didn’t know if she was happy, mad, excited, or scared that she knew the man behind the mask all the way back in Gotham City. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what emotion she was feeling… or if she really wanted to know the man behind the mask in Gotham City. She kept replaying the Batman Incident in her head. She didn’t want to relive it. She didn’t want to have a vigilante smile at her and know exactly who she was pining for.

Yeah, she still hurt for Clark. It wasn’t going to go away so quickly. But billionaire Bruce Wayne didn’t need to know that.

She let her mouth run twice. She needed to keep a lid on it the next chance she got. To make sure she didn’t even risk it, Charlene packed up and left early. She was at home without another run-in with Bruce.

Boy, did that make her feel worse. She felt terrible, cowardly. Running from her problems was just another thing Char found herself doing constantly. She had made herself some pasta, wrapped herself in a bathrobe over her T-shirt, and sat with a mug of sweet tea in her lap.

Her newspaper clippings of the Batman littered her coffee table. Every award-winning article written by Clark was framed up. Her old dog was sitting next to her, chewing on his toy without a care in the world. For being a coward’s safe space, it was very comfortable.

“Real brave, Charlene,” she mumbled into the ceramic as she took a sip. She switched on the TV, hoping for white noise. “Just hope I was wrong about Wayne…”

“That depends on what you think you’ve found,” said the last voice she wanted to hear. Char exhaled through her nose.

“Come in,” she called. “Don’t just hang around in the shadows.”

The Batman slipped out of her bathroom door, cowl on and frown deep. He was regal and knightly, feet apart and shoulders taught. “Char,” he greeted.

“I was hoping you could tell me if I was wrong, actually.” Charlene sat up, putting her mug aside. She beckoned him over. He sat down next to her. “I just never noticed how similar the Batman is to Bruce Wayne.”

“Similar?”

“Like your eyes are the exact same shade of blue,” she reasoned. “And you wear the same aftershave, too.”

“Charlene,” the Batman said quietly, “anyone can have similar aftershaves and blue eyes.”

“Not everyone in Gotham knows who I am.”

“Not everyone in Metropolis knows who I am, either,” he countered. “Do you really want to know who I am?”

“I know Clark is Superman. Part of the reason I’m furious with him is that he lies to me.” Char made sure her emphasis was on lies. “The allegations would be too crazy for anyone to believe, trust me.”

“There are too-crazy people in Gotham that can’t know,” he answered. “I’m sorry. Even if I trusted you above everyone, your position makes it hard for me to tell you.”

“My position?” she repeated.

The dark knight looked at her as if it were obvious. It was, but she didn’t understand why she couldn’t at least hear the truth from him. “You’re a friend of Superman’s and a newscaster. I have responsibilities, a lot of them. My kids, my city, my assets.” He said assets, not money. He was a businessman at his core, even if he had the heart of a lion there, too.

“Just tell me if Bruce Wayne can answer me, then.” Charlene stuck her hands under her arms. “Since the two of you already know I know.”

“Charlene,” he said quietly, roughly. She turned her head away. She felt insulted.

It took her a second to realize it, but the Batman was pleading. He didn’t do it the same way Clark did. Clark would soften up, not set up defenses. Clark would take her hand, not give her space. Clark wasn’t anything like the Batman. He just sat, frozen, waiting his turn patiently.

She had to be patient with him, too. She wasn’t a superhero. She didn’t know what this was like for him, but she could still be patient. So to help, Charlene waited, too, for what seemed like forever. She took his hand and squeezed it. He didn’t squeeze back, but he didn’t recoil. The hand was limp despite her grip and she couldn’t say that she blamed him for it; she was thankful he didn’t rip his fingers away so soon.

“Why did you agree to an interview?” she whispered. “And… and don’t say it wasn’t you. Lois doesn’t talk about me, I wasn’t wearing a nametag, and Bruce Wayne has no reason to be watching the Metropolis Daily Planet Newscast outside of the financial updates.”

“I figured it was time for an interview,” he answered. The Batman didn’t deny it. Bruce didn’t deny it. He kept his eyes away from hers. “I remembered that you worked there. You owe me after that talk, so I came to collect.”

“You think you’re funny,” she said with a smile. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness… Lois will be grinning ear-to-ear for weeks because of you.”

“I was supposed to be meeting Clark, anyway. I figured the pitstop might be worth it.” Bruce’s lips twitched again. Char grinned broadly. He removed his cowl then faced her. “You could really tell it was me because of the eye color?”

He seemed more at home in his bat armor. He was comfortable in this grey/black getup. When he wore the crisp suit, he seemed fidgety, but when he was sitting next to her, his muscles weren’t so tense. His eyes didn’t dart all over. He was at rest as the Batman.

“You do a good falsetto, but yeah, it was the eye color.” She stood. “Can I get you tea? Or are you going to disappear?”

Bruce pressed his lips into a line. “I don’t know how long I can stay. I have to drive home tonight… and I’m not the type for this sort of domesticity.”

“I won’t tell anyone you’re docile,” Charlene promised, crossing her heart. She took her cup and went into the kitchen. “As long as no one knows about me, no one can hurt me or my family — there is no family to hurt.”

“You’ve thought this through?” he asked, footsteps not far behind hers. He stopped in the doorway. “May I?” He pointed to the kitchen wall lined with the cupboards and appliances. Charlene nodded. Bruce poked around her cabinets and her drawers, casually picking something up every now and again. She didn’t mind — he was getting to know her. He was a detective. She had nothing to hide, and he had everything to see. Win-win. “Impressive.”

“I’ve been dying to see you, again,” she teased. “You could say I’m crazy for you.”

“Not really my type,” he mused. Char could hear items jangling around behind her. “Desperation isn’t my style.”

“But stopping a girl from jumping — when she wasn’t — is?” She poured another cup of tea, looking back at the dark knight. He was holding a spatula and studying it carefully. He pretended as if he hadn’t heard her.

“My son, Damian,” he started. He set the spatula down, digging for something else. “He wouldn’t admit it, but he would love to rescue a damsel in distress. I think he would like you.”

“I’m a damsel in distress?” she laughed. She set a teabag in the cup, doing a one-eighty to face Bruce. “Who are you? Some kind of prince charming?”

“The term is ‘knight in shining armor,’” he corrected. He closed the drawer he was meddling in. “The prince is the kid from Smallville, Kansas.”

“I’m from Smallville, Kansas.” Charlene walked over to him. Bruce was still standing rigidly. She didn’t know if he knew how to relax. Could he relax? Was it even physically possible for Bruce “the Batman” Wayne to relax?

“I’m from New Jersey.” He crossed his arms, rubbing his fingers together.

“Hey. You don’t have the Jersey accent,” Char pointed out. She pulled his gloves off gently, setting them on the counter. She went to get his tea. “Let it steep for about thirty more seconds.” She set the mug in his hands. They were so large that the orange cup seemed like a plaything compared to a real item.

“I never said I interacted with New Jersey,” he said dryly. “I just lived there. I was raised by my butler.”

“Does Detroit have any superheroes?” she wondered aloud. Bruce waved the tea under his nose, scrunching his nose upwards. He took a sip without glaring at the tea again. “Your butler sounds like a wonderful man. He raised you well.”

“I’m lucky.” He paused for a moment. “Aquaman, the Green Lantern, and Amazing Man live in Detroit. Why are you asking?”

Charlene patted his shoulder, throwing away everything he had just said. Truth be told, she just wanted to hear Bruce’s voice. “Not many kids are lucky.”

“Three of my boys are adopted,” he said quietly. He rubbed the mug that she had given him. “I give to adoption centers. It’s important to me to give kids homes where they’re loved. Clark Kent’s only known family’s love, and that’s what drives him. What drives me is the chance to make sure all sorts of people never have to worry about losing it.”

“I admire that,” Char murmured. “I wish I had a family of my own, but I just don’t have the time.”

“Someday, you’ll find the time.” Bruce gave her a smile. “I promise.”

Charlene smiled back. His small smiles were infectious. “I’ll hold you to that, Bats.”

=-=-= “Hey, Charlene?” Clark called from the living room. She was too busy combing her hair out and fixing her gown. She had received a letter in the mail (honestly, who does that anymore?) from Bruce, inviting her to a charity gala with him. She almost gave Clark a heart attack when she started laughing triumphantly at some paper. He wasn’t particularly happy that Charlene was going for a night on the town with Bruce Wayne, billionaire bachelor supreme. “Are you okay up there?”

“I’m fine, Clark!” she called back. “I’m just seeing a friend, tonight. Tell Martha and Johnathan I won’t be able to come to dinner tonight. I’m going to a foster care fundraiser with Bruce Wayne. I’d think you’d be coming to interview some of the guests there since you were adopted, too.”

“I can’t! I don’t have any way to get in. It’s private, Char.” Clark was starting to sound impatient. “Are you going to meet him or is he going to meet you?”

“He said he would pick me up!” she answered, finishing her eyeliner and walking downstairs. “Does that bother you, wonderboy?” She gripped the rail, fanning out her yellow skirt around her legs. She wore simple copper chains and glass earrings — nothing expensive, but classy enough that she didn’t look like a bum. Charlene knew Bruce liked his reputation (not a lot, but still) so she thought she would save him a few steps. No jewellery, no dresses. He would just have a friend tonight.

Clark’s eyes flew open wide. His cheeks colored. “Wow… you’re going like that?” He puffed his cheeks and took off his glasses. “You look…”

“Terrible?” she fretted.

“Like an angel. Like Wonder Woman,” he said quickly. He looked down at his lenses and quickly wiped them with his shirt like they were going to melt off his face. “You’re gorgeous. Wayne is going to love it, Char.”

“Thanks, Clark.” Charlene walked over and kissed his cheek. The writer wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against his chest. He felt warm, he felt like home. She never had to worry about being something more than she was around Clark. But Bruce knew how to take her walls down. Charlene was better off with a friend than with someone who had never noticed her. Suddenly, she got an idea and pulled back to see Clark. “You should ask Lois out! I heard she likes the boys in blue.”

He stopped. “‘Boys in blue’? She knows?”

After meeting Bruce a few more times, she finally gained the courage to confront Clark about the whole Super-gig. She made sure she wasn’t going to be blown off — so sure, Char almost confessed her years-old feelings to him. She couldn’t have lived through that, even with Bruce’s support. They had talked through the deception and somehow managed to build better trust between themselves. She almost forgot why she had originally left Metropolis for that fateful encounter with Bruce Wayne.

“Clark,” she scolded gently. “You haven’t told her?”

“Listen, I’m working on it —,” he started, holding his hands up in defense. His feet slowly removed themselves from the floor. Charlene set her hand on her hip, pinching her nose.

“You promised she would know before she kissed you, again.”

Another reason why Charlene absolutely could not tell Clark she liked him. Lois, caught up in the rush of being a damsel, kissed her rescuer unabashedly in front of half the staff of the Daily Planet. Charlene’s heart didn’t break for the first time; it didn’t mean it didn’t crack a teeny, tiny bit.

“I know I did —” There was a knock at the door. Clark’s face fell into a scowl. He tucked his knees up to his chest, silently moving toward the door, and straightening his clothes out once he reached his destination. “Wait there for a moment, Char.”

Charlene crossed her arms. “Clark.”

Clark opened the door. Bruce was standing on the doorstep with a single pink rose. “Hi,” he said, giving his signature subtle smirk. “Is Charlene ready? Tim’s not too patient behind the wheel.”

“Hi,” Clark greeted warily. He kept his fingers curled around the door. His gentle manner was nearly nightmarish. Every breath was a slow calculation of how to kill a billionaire and get away with it. Charlene sighed deeply into her hand. Clark continued despite her wordless sass. “She’s ready. You better know that if you hurt her —”

“I wouldn’t do it without a positive benefit,” Bruce swore. “Besides, I’m not the one who’s dancing between two ladies. Save the shovel talk.” He pat Clark’s shoulder, pushing him aside and out of the way. When his eyes hit Charlene, his jaw dropped. She had never seen that reaction before, so her temples tingled from slight self-consciousness. “Char, you look beyond stunning. You’re shining.”

A nervous laugh bubbled up Charlene’s throat. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” She grabbed her clutch on the side table where Clark was standing. Quickly, she hugged him in a farewell. “Bye, Clark.”

Clark released a big breath, hugging her back once more. He set her back next to Bruce. “Bye, Charlene. Bruce.”

“Clark,” he responded in kind. “I’ll take care of her, don’t worry.” Bruce put his arm around Charlene’s waist. “There won’t be any need to play hero; if there is, I’ve got all I need within reach.” With that, Bruce took Charlene out of the foyer and into his limousine.

“That was weirdly intense,” Char commented. With the knight’s help, she sat next in the back of the cab. “Did he make you uncomfortable?”

Bruce took her hand and set the rose in her grasp before sitting down next to her. “No. He doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“Okay. Clark is very protective; I didn’t want you in the hospital for saying the wrong thing.” Charlene played with the rose in her hands, resisting the urge to breathe in the sweet aroma. The cab of the limousine was warm, spacious, and smelled comforting. It took her a second to realize it smelled like Bruce: his aftershave, his cologne, and a hint of something metallic. Her cheeks heated at the realization.

How close had she and Bruce become? So close she knew exactly what Bruce smelled like? So close that she wasn’t nervous about the speculations tied to being on a billionaire’s arm? She looked at the rose petals. The color always meant something — Bruce always meant something. Pink… Why couldn’t she remember its meaning outside of being her favorite color? Why? Did she just forget everything the minute Bruce smiled?

“Char?”

“I’m fine,” she said, snapping out of her thoughts. She set the rose down next to her, clasping her hands over her lap. “I guess I got so swept up in the idea of an adoption charity… I forgot who I was going with.” She looked at Bruce with a half-smile. “Thank you for taking me to this. I have as much as I can give on me, tonight; I even sold some of my old pieces of jewellery for these kiddos.” Charlene laughed nervously. “It seems so little compared to what you have… will it even be taken? I’m not an elitist. I’m not even close to well-off.”

Bruce’s eyebrows drew together. Something in his eyes softened, but she couldn’t pin what. He held her hand. “It’ll be taken. It’ll help someone, and any help at all can go a long way. You don’t have to worry about earning a position to give.” He tilted her head upwards, locking eyes with her. “You don’t have to earn anything. Not with me.”

She laced her fingers with his to signal her acknowledgement. Char couldn’t form words. She kept opening her mouth to protest but no sound came with the action — she felt helpless, yet all the same, she knew Bats would understand. Bruce let go of her hand to favor her face, instead. She leaned into the touch with a shaky breath.

“I’m not Clark, Charlene,” he whispered. “I’m not going to keep stringing you along; I won’t compare you to anyone or make empty promises. You’re more than a comparison.” Bruce brushed her hair out of her face, keeping those electric blues trained on hers. “You don’t have to earn anything from me. You don’t have to earn me.”

“I’m not…” Charlene stopped, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to talk about this; she didn’t want to beat around the bush, either. “Gosh, how do you know this stuff? Is it all estimation?”

“Observation,” he admitted. He kissed her forehead. “Cheer up. We don’t want your mascara to run just yet, do we?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath in to calm herself. She hadn’t realized her eyes were quite that full. “Bruce.”

He hummed, arching a brow. Yes?

“You don’t have to earn anything from me, either.” She kissed his cheekbone. The corners of his eyes crinkled, which made her smile. She rested her head on the dark knight’s shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

“But?”

“No ‘but,’” she hummed. “You’re a good man, and that’s all.”

=-=-= Saturday morning, three weeks after the gala, Charlene’s heart felt heavy and light at the same time. She couldn’t put the gala out of her mind: the party; the guests; the smiles on the Wayne boys’ faces; Bruce’s kindness. She was trying her best to think it all over. The waiters kept offering her champagne, but she declined every time. She didn’t drink out of anxiousness, yet the whole ordeal was a blur. Blurry, except the speech about the children, and the way Bruce’s smile widened every time she smiled back.

She was sitting at the window, holding a water bottle and gazing out into the street. It was raining. She had a few pink roses in a vase, all from Bruce. A note was attached, something like “Thank you for your support,” but it didn’t really matter to her. He was gentle in his own way. That was just the way the Batman was: gentle and swift, yet blunt and cold at the same time. How had she managed to stumble into his good graces? What if she brought down his reputation? What if she did the wrong thing?

The Wayne boys were very polite. Dick was making her laugh all night long, Jason knew how to talk old-money downlookers away, Tim was a good conversationalist, and Damian asked all the good questions. All the right questions. Questions like, “What’s your relationship with my father? Do you believe in this cause? Are you using my father? Do you know how to play Mario Kart?”

She almost couldn’t answer some of the questions. Were she and Bruce friends? Were they something else? Were they acquaintances? Was she being kept around because she knew who Bruce really was? When it came to Mario Kart and the adoption cause, she couldn’t say anything but “Yes!” enthusiastically. Every now and then, Bruce would come over to recharge. He seemed tired with all the interaction.

Then there was the turn of the night.

The most vivid part.

Dancing with Bruce Wayne.

Charlene stopped herself from clawing over her heart. It was sinking deeper as she recalled the moment.

“You’re nervous, Char,” Bruce whispered into her ear. “Why?” The question was innocent, concerning. He kept a steady hand on the small of her back, swaying to the beat of the soft jazz band. He was a natural at it. Charlene did her best to hold onto him, gripping his shoulder and his hand.

“I’ve never been to anything like this, before. Not even some kind of prom,” she laughed quietly. She looked down at their feet. Bruce was leading, but what else was new? The floor gleamed… Bruce’s shoes were worn, despite his money and status… Worn shoes said a lot about how he spent his money on himself. Oh! Beneath the suit, it was clear that he wore a compact utility belt — at least, it was after learning he wore one everywhere. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing, at all,” Charlene continued. “After talking with your boys, it just made me realize how scared I was to be jumping into this life with you.” She cleared her throat as she prepared to tell him exactly what was on her mind. “I know I’m just on a leash to keep you guys safe. You really don’t need to worry about me.”

The dance halted. No one paid any attention to them, keeping up with the music and circling around them. “Is that what you think?” he asked. Amusement lined his words, as well as a vague hint of hurt. “You’re just a liability?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Charlene had answered honestly.

As of right now, she still felt like a liability. Even though Bruce had promised her she didn’t have to earn anything, her heart was having difficulty believing it. She looked over at her vase of roses. Were those flowers from him? Or were they a product of manners?

Was she seeing things that weren’t there?

Bruce had been so quick to answer her when she admitted her insecurities. He had taken his hand out of hers. “You’re not a liability.” He ran his hands through her hair, pulling her closer. “If you were a liability, I would have used other ways to keep an eye on you.”

Char’s heart was racing faster by the second. “Ba… Bruce…” She wanted to call him Bats. She wanted to say so many things, just then. She wondered if Bruce could feel her pulse through that utility belt he had under his suit. His eyes fluttered shut before she realized what was happening. She didn’t want to believe it was real.

With a never ending, agonizingly slow quickness, lips met hers. Moving, soft, warm lips met hers and drew a gasp from her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to reciprocate the best she could without losing her cool.

Now, three weeks later, she hadn’t talked to Bruce about it. She hadn’t brought it up. He didn’t verbally acknowledge it, so neither did she. A kiss with Mr. Wayne meant nothing. Not in public. Not when he had a false reputation of being a playboy. A kiss between them would have meant the world… but that was in the middle of a gala; in the middle of a party filled with people Bruce was supposed to impress.

So, even though she loved that kiss, she was still confused about Clark and she was miserable about the manner it came about. She wanted to know the truth. She knew if she asked he would have an obvious answer and call her a fool for believing him.

“Hey, Charlene?” Clark called. Her ears pricked back at the sudden noise. She stood up and walked downstairs, rubbing under her eyes to make sure there weren’t any tears. She hadn’t cried, yet, but she didn’t want to start crying over it, either. “Come here.”

“What, Clark? Can’t you see I’m busy moping about — …what is that?” she yelped. Clark was standing with his writing tablet facing outward, a glower painted over his features. She could hardly care about his nasty expression, however. There she was, her yellow evening gown and Bruce’s hands laced in her hair, plastering the first article of the month. Big, bold words read:

“Bruce Wayne Finds New Lover — Will It LAST?”

“Who took that picture!?”

“You’re saying this is real?” he asked angrily. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. “Charlene!”

“I’m sorry!” she apologized, not really sorry. “We’re not lovers, anyway — it was one kiss. Who wrote the article?”

“You never kiss people you don’t know.” Clark turned the screen back to his face, scrolling down and shaking his head. “Jimmy wrote this one, I think, I recognize the alias. I should have known something was going to happen when I told him to follow you…”

“For the record, Clark, all I’ve ever wanted was to kiss you,” she snapped. “Bruce is just differe— you sent Jimmy to follow me!?” She was so engulfed in her defenses that she forgot she had just told Clark she had feelings for him. She didn’t even register the implication that they didn’t matter anymore. She was angry at Jimmy, and at Bruce, and at Clark. She grabbed a throw pillow and fluffed it furiously. She needed an outlet. “I can’t believe you.”

“It’s Bruce Wayne, Char,” he said. He set his tablet down on the coffee table. “He’s not exactly the safest guy to get involved with.”

“And neither were you! I appreciate the worry, but it’s misplaced.” She spun around to stick her finger at Clark accusingly. “For ten whole years I tried to tell you I was in love with you, Clark, so don’t even try to talk to me about what’s good for me! You hear? I can kiss Bruce Wayne if I want to.”

“You tell him, Char,” a small voice came from behind the TV stand. Charlene and Clark both froze. Charlene knew who that was. She did her best not to sigh.

Muffled, a much bigger voice complained, “Look what you did! Now we’re caught. Bruce is gonna —”

“Shh!”

Clark moved over and gently removed the TV stand. “Damian I expected, but you, Dick? That’s low. Spying on Charlene?”

“She’s a friend of Father,” the young boy answered for his big brother. “After the gala, he went to brood in the Bat Cave and when he came up, he said she was going to be more involved.”

“I think he’ll be happy to hear you like him, Charlene,” Dick smiled. He extended his legs and sat like a toddler on the floor. “We came here on our own, by the way. We wanted to surprise you by picking you up and surprise him by bringing you to Gotham. We racked his schedule up with business meetings so that we could pull this off. Think of it as a rescue.”

“Surprise me,” she regurgitated. She wanted to cry, laugh, scream, and fall over all at once. “You wanted to surprise me.”

“Sure. Why not?” Damian shrugged. “But your friend, here, got in the way with all his mumbling and weird comments about our father. He’s scary but I could take him.” That comment made her smile. Damian taking on Clark. Dangerous, but it still tickled her mind.

“They were not weird —”

“Yeah, they were.”

“Guys, guys,” Charlene interjected, “Bruce and I aren’t much more than friends. He’s just my knight in shining armor.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “If anything were to happen, it would be very slow.” She made sure each male looked at her. “Very, very slow.”

“So he does make you happy?” Clark asked quietly.

“He does,” Charlene confirmed. “It could be more with work. Relax, Clark. You’re not going to be walking me down the aisle so soon.”

He squeezed his eyes tightly, confusion coloring his face. “So when you said you used to want to kiss me…”

“It’s mostly ‘used to,’ now, yeah.” Charlene’s mouth moved before she even filed how truthful the statement was in her brain. She sat down on the couch, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I hope that’s not an issue — I know you don’t approve of Bruce.”

Clark pursed his lips. He set his hands on his hips and looked at the two delinquents on Charlene’s floor. “The gala with you and Wayne wasn’t a full-on date. Was it?”

“He and I went to sponsor the same cause and spend time together as friends. It couldn’t have counted as a romantic date, anyway,” she said. “The boys spent more time talking to me than Bruce did.”

“I saw him kiss you, though —”

“Dick, shut up,” Damian hissed. “You’re not helping.”

Clark tried for a smile. “I just want you to be safe and happy, Charlene.”

Charlene nodded, feeling much better since the gala. She had made an impression on the Wayne family? “I know I will be.”

=-=-= Charlene, in the end, told the boys she wanted to stay at home and sent Clark back to the Daily Planet to do his work. She had a lot to think over. She took a seat in her loveseat and got comfortable. She had to sit there for a long while. A kiss with a billionaire, a concerned Kansas Chiefs fan, four young men who already looked up to her, and a melting pot of feelings. If this were a young adult novel, she would have already picked someone by now. She had roses in a vase that called her name. She had a heart that wanted her attention, too.

Her whole past screamed for her to let go of Clark Kent — she was learning to set those unrequited feelings aside. He had always looked out for her and been her friend. Sometimes friendship, in the end, was just friendship. Clark was in love with Lois Lane. By the looks of things, he was starting to grow closer to her. Stepping away from that, Charlene could see he was happy; for the first time in years, that didn’t sting as much as it had before.

Then there was the new friendship: Bruce Wayne. He was more than a friend, but less than a romantic partner. His affection was a different brand than Clark’s in all the good ways. He brought some kind of freshness, a sense that she never had to pretend to be pulling herself together. She knew deep in her heart that Bruce would have a hard time being with her — she would find difficulty being with him, too. They had much in common, as well as a lot of differences. He saw through her, she saw through him. Charlene needed some kind of stability. She needed a friend that offered their hand instead of shared reliance.

Clark was the bright summer’s day that you longed for in the winter; he was the smell of newly cut grass and the way a paintbrush head felt between someone’s fingers. He was khakis and ball caps and the colors in the sunrise. He had always been the simple pleasures in Char’s life.

Bruce Wayne had already proved what he was. He was the necessity in life like the clap of thunder in the middle of the night or the hardwood floor on bare feet. Bruce was the crowded streets of Metropolis after dusk; he was petrichor after a much-needed rain, the thimble on your thumb, he was the flick of the light switch that you could never balance. He was the mundane, everyday wakeup call that life was buzzing everywhere around her.

That was the difference between Clark and Bruce. Charlene had always had Clark, but she could imagine life without him. When it came to the Batman, she had a hard time thinking about her life without the petrichor on concrete, the snippy wind on her ears, and the occasional clap of thunder. She didn’t need him, but he was her equal.

He was the equal.

Not the hero.

“I’ll have to tell him, then,” she sighed. Charlene buried her face in her hands.

“Tell who what?” a gravelly voice came from behind her. His presence was close. Char leaned back and extended her hands.

“You,” she said. Bruce pushed her hands back down, setting his own on the cushion behind her. “We need to talk about what happened at the gala, don’t we?”

“I don’t see why,” he replied. “You know it was a public display of affection.”

“From the world’s Bruce Wayne,” Charlene countered. Bruce pressed his lips into a line. “Not mine.”

“I know. I figured if the world knew you were Bruce Wayne’s, it would give you a chance to find that time you wanted,” he said slowly. “The boys could teach you how to defend yourself. You’d always have a place at Wayne Manor.”

“But what about us?” she asked, turning to see him better. “C’mon, Bats, you know that kiss was a little more than just a well-rounded plan to turn me into a Bat-Person.”

The dark knight was still for a long second. “It was a moment’s weakness. Even if we wanted to pursue a relationship —”

“We both know we do.”

“— neither of us are ready for it.”

Charlene stood on the loveseat. She cupped Bruce’s face, holding his jaw with both palms. “I agree. I think we should take our time before we even worry about labeling this.”

“We cannot be involved.” He held her hands, prying them ever-so-gingerly from him. “You aren’t ready for the livestyles I come with. I’m not ready for that kind of —”

“Domesticity,” she said with him, nodding. “I know, I know. You don’t want to be a husband, I don’t want to be a wife. No, we can’t be involved, yet.” She rested on her forearms. “You can guess what that means.”

He smiled sadly. “You won’t come stay at Wayne Manor.”

“Not for extended periods of time,” she answered with the same bittersweet expression. Char stroked his cheek. He had been so open to her physical affection. “It wouldn’t really work the way we want it to.”

“You mean Alfred will be asking about dress shopping?”

“I’ll be asking about dress shopping!” she teased. “Why are you here, exactly?”

“If I said that you no longer worked at the Daily Planet, what would you do?” he asked bluntly.

Charlene stopped. “I would ask you to fix it, right now.”

He hummed. “You want Clark, still?”

“No,” she said defiantly. She crossed her arms. “I’m just not ready to date, yet.” Charlene was quickly learning how to own herself around Bruce. She felt at home, like he was at home in his spandex. Bruce made her feel like her own woman: strong, compassionate, and happy. If he could be her complement, she could do anything. Absolutely anything.

Bruce leaned in, smirking. Charlene hit him with a pillow, which he promptly caught. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Promise to try someday?” she teased.

“Maybe.”

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pinkywildflower · 3 years

Text

izuku meeting his photographer intern! s/o

izuku midoriya x short!reader

a/n: this was meant for a friend but it was too long so i had to post.

ok so you would be an intern at some big time studio working with some big time photographer who’s main job is to work with pro-heroes.

this was a once in a lifetime opportunity so you are very excited to say the least.

anyway, on this day in particular, you were tasked with assisting with yet another pro-hero’s promotional shoot but not just any hero, it was for pro-hero Deku.

he ended up being late because (unsurprisingly), he got caught up helping someone on the way.

other than that, he was an absolute sweetheart and treated everyone with respect, however, he had one problem: he was an awkward mess.

this man is not at all used to any kind of attention, especially when there are bright lights and cameras all in his direction.

not to mention the people constantly making sure his costume and face looks ok.

for him, this is more challenging than fighting any kind of villain.

because of this, the people in charge decide to take a short break in hopes that he can calm down enough to actually get things done.

that’s where you come in.

plot twist: you were the person he helped on the way to the studio.

you were fine but while you were on a coffee run some creep kept messing with you and he just so happened to be around to help you.

or at least that’s what he intended.

being a smaller person compared to the average population, creepy men who loved to take advantage of that were very common.

so before he could do anything you’d already spilled the coffee you were holding all over the guy in question (it was iced though, you weren’t trying to get a lawsuit for giving someone third degree burns)

you’d also given him a piece of your mind while you were at it.

Izuku was stunned to say the least (if not a bit amused)

the creep, however, was very pissed and was not afraid to show it.

he lunged at you the first chance he got, but Izuku didn’t give him a chance.

Izuku quickly apprehended the creep and called for someone to arrest him

he would’ve done so himself but he was already running late so he settled for making sure you were ok and handing off the creep to another pro in the area.

which brings us back to now, with you standing in the front entrance of the studio holding two drink carriers full of coffee (that you had to reorder since you’d spilled it the first time)

Izuku visibly perked up at the sight of you, not expecting to see you again.

however, he didn’t have the time to approach you since the 10 minute break had ended upon your arrival.

he instead went back to being the subject of dozens of cameras, except this time his smile didn’t seem so forced anymore.

if anything, the man was full on grinning, all while looking directly at you.

just the memory of you spilling coffee and cursing out a man half your size was truly a sight to behold.

hell, he’d had a hard time not bursting into laughter back at the coffee shop.

meanwhile, you were freaking out.

was he making fun of you?

was he just seriously amazing at modeling?

you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking of hundreds of self deprecating and anxious thoughts.

you knew who he was back at the coffeeshop and you knew that you’d be working with him today (you’d purposely taken your time on the way to the studio out of sheer embarrassment)

regardless, after an agonizingly long shoot, it was finally over and Izuku had done an amazing job compared to before.

such a good job in fact that the main photographer was very curious as to what had changed in such a short time.

“oh, nothing really, I just thought of something funny,” he’d answered while rubbing the back of his head.

funny?

he thought that was funny?

however, before your inner thoughts could go any further, Izuku had already made his way towards you.

god he truly was beautiful

“i didn’t get to make sure were fully ok back at the coffee shop.”

“as you can see, I’m fine. i hope me defending myself was enough entertainment for you,” you’d said quite annoyed.

that made him panic.

“no, wait, that’s not what I meant. I mean yes it was funny, but you were really brave and cool and-,” he started to ramble.

this made you laugh

he was beautiful and cute.

“it’s ok, it’s ok, really. I get comments about my height all the time and I guess that spilling a drink on some creep is funny.”

he seemed relieved but you could tell he still felt bad.

“well, since you seem so concerned about making sure I’m ok, how about we get some drinks? I can’t promise I won’t spill though,” you said teasing him.

This made him smile.

“I’d love that. And don’t worry-“ he leaned close to your ear, “that won’t be necessary.”

rip

#deku #deku fluff #bnha #deku x reader #mha deku #mha #izuku fluff #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya

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purplelurkinghini · 3 years

Text

Narcissus by the Pond

0. PROLOGUE

Under the cut is the prologue to yet another multi-chapter mess I am planning to write. What is different about this one is the narrator: Edward Nygma himself. Another aspect of this piece that sets it apart from the rest of my writing is its epistolary form. That’s right, baby! First-person POV!

If you’ve seen >> this << post floating around, this is indeed me actually putting that second prompt to use.

Enjoy!

Dear ▚▛▙▙

I found a cat toy while cleaning out my closet today. It was that ashy plush mouse stuffed with dried nepeta cataria which you spent money on instead of saving up for your student loans. If he were still here, he’d be rolling around on the floor in some vivid dream in which he was a lion and it was a gazelle. And, if you were still here, I would’ve asked you to stay.

The day you got that tabby’s claws into me was the day you checked into work late. Frank, our project manager and your internship supervisor, had to drop his showman act and instill in you the fear all WayneTech employees are motivated by. After you offered your excuses and exchanged glances with the floor, you were free to enter the kitchen to heat up the coffees that you went out of your way to fetch for us each morning.

My daily routine, which you’ve played no small role in forming during your short stay with us, was disrupted by the absence of caffeine in my bloodstream. I remember my Rubik’s cube and how I crammed a corner into my palm, squeezing down on the still unscrambled sides. I would call it an ‘absentminded’ action, but we both know that would be an incorrect assessment. My mind is never not present, even as it wanders. For this reason, when you finally came out of the kitchen, I couldn’t not wonder what happened to your sweatshirt. It must’ve been soaked in rainwater, I concluded, and that was the reason you removed it. Or, rather, that was the excuse you used as you removed it. After all, your sneakers were soggy, but you couldn't exactly walk barefoot all over a corporate. Even so, there you were, in a far too small t-shirt which was too tight around your torso and too short to cover your stomach, walking around the office with your brewed bribes.

“Here you go, Jim” you placed the foam cup right in front of his face to get him to notice you. I’d argue that that slip of skin that was eye level to him was enough to get that scatterbrain's attention. He must’ve made a joke, or attempted to, because you laughed louder than anyone should around him.

“Cory,” you sauntered over to him. “I asked the barista for two tablespoons and a half this time.” Sure, he might’ve taken his glasses off before taste-testing it, but his lenses were fogged-up before the lid came off. You felt the most confidence around Cory, the least confident one in our team. While no line of code was too complex for him, women were a mystery he had yet to solve. You see, I haven’t failed to notice you making the most physical contact with him, brushing your hand against his as a means of disarming him.

After he served you a stuttered smile, you moved on to Paul who was pretending to be preoccupied with his screen. He’d been watching you since you walked out of the kitchen, yet still acted surprised when you showed up next to him. You didn’t mean to disturb him, of course, so you tip-toed around his desk, silently setting the cup on a coaster. He thanked you without taking his eyes off of his work, but took the time to watch you walk away as soon as you turned away from him.

"I'm sorry, Ed," you pouted as you placed the coffee on top of a stack of papers. "I know like to have your coffee before 8, but the storm hit while I was in the shop and the whole street took cover in there-"

"Slow down," I released the Rubik’s cube, flexing my fingers. "I'm not your supervisor. It’s not my forgiveness you need."

"Well, no, but I actually want your forgiveness," you covered your mouth in a coquettish display. "I mean-"

“Like I said,” I brush off the blush creeping up on my cheeks. "There's no use for that." Fetching the foam cup, I take a sip of the scolding beverage and brave through it. “There's no use to ask the barista to write our full names either. This calligraphy exercise cost you a scolding from Frank.”

“Actually,” you pulled the hem of your shirt down which only uncovered more of your cleavage instead of hiding your stomach. “I wrote your name myself.”

I stroked the surface of the cup right across the script. Again, I can’t call this action ‘absentminded’ either, but my mind had wandered off again. That lovely lettering was yours and so was the green marker, so you must’ve scavenged your backpack for it on a crowded morning train. You also must’ve taken your time steadying your hand for each stroke, each dot. E. Nygma. You also must’ve cleaned up the cup as it inevitably spilled and steadied your tongue for each stroke, each lick. Maybe you ever sampled the coffee yourself, the taste of cherry Chapstick staining the rim.

“Well,” you interrupted my intrusive thoughts. “Jim’s showing me the new user interface, so-”

“Of course,” I dismissed you and my daydreams.

“Talk to you later.”

Yes, that was the day the cat got his claws into me. It was after I’d drained the drink, and found myself restless still, that I made my way into the kitchen for another one. That is when I spotted you in the corner, cradling the sweatshirt you discarded earlier. At the sound of my steps, you straightened your back, but you didn’t turn your torso towards me.

“Hey, Ed,” you smiled and it was a painful sight because I couldn’t ignore the panic I ignited in your eyes. “Lunchtime already?”

“What are you doing?”

“Umm, trying to dry my shirt?”

The closer I got, the more gregarious you grew. You asked about what I’d like to eat, what the guys would like to eat, if I’d like to order out. You didn’t stop until I asked it of you.

“What are you hiding from me?”

Before you could bellow out something long enough to cover the sound, I heard it.

“Did your hoodie just meow?”

It was only then that you turned, facing me fully. “Please don’t tell Frank, but this is the reason I was running late.” Two pairs of eyes were pleading with me. One belonged to you and they were begging. The other belonged to an orange ball of fur and they were unblinking.

You were holding a bottle cap filled with water up to its meowing maw, so you must’ve been attempting to keep the animal hydrated, even after rescuing it from the streets in the middle of a storm. You bought kitten kibbles on your way to WayneTech and that had eaten ten minutes of your time and cost you a scolding from Frank.

“I couldn’t just leave Eddie to drown in a ditch somewhere.”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah,” you let it sink its little teeth into your skin as it held a single finger close with two whole paws. They feel like needles, I should know, but you carried on cooing the pincushion. “He reminds me of another green-eyed ginger. Maybe you know him.”

Yes, you remember now, don’t you? That was the moment Eddie sunk his claws into me, and I do mean it literally. He released your finger only to get his paws trapped into my button-up. I also mean it figuratively, as I swore to keep your secret the very next second. And, once you were by my side, shadowing me as I was coding like you wanted to since your first day of internship, you made me swear to keep him. How could I not? Your dorm had a ‘no pets’ policy and you had named him after me.

The two of us had time to get acquainted after you left for your evening classes. I fed him the kibbles and was careful not to get caught. And, because I wouldn't be using it that day anyway, I replaced your sweatshirt with my gym towel. While it smelled like a sad, soaked kitten, whatever fruity fragrance you were using had yet to fade from the fabric. That evening I drove straight home as soon as I left WayneTech, skipping my daily workout. My daily routine, as I’ve mentioned, had been modified by you.

“We don't even need to potty train him,” you giggled when you saw Eddie digging through the brand new litter box I had ordered. It had been waiting for me by the front entrance along with the delivery guy and yourself.

You got into a cab before even texting me, asking for an address only after the driver started the clock. I expected that stupid stunt from the likes of Jim, not you.

“He's a clever boy,” I smiled when I saw you were still wearing the green button-up shirt I asked you to exchange that shrunken t-shirt of yours with. “Like his namesake.”

You kneeled before the kitten and produced the plush mouse I'd only seen Eddie play with once. “Did the shampoo arrive? He should be high enough to not scratch our eyes out now.”

After rolling around on the rug with a bag full of catnip, he seemed blissed out enough for a bath. And, after only scratching you twice as you held him for me to scrub his ginger fur ever so gently, we got him all dried and drained. Those green eyes were barely opened as he looked up at us from the cat bed he was supposed to grow into and the sweatshirt he had grown fond of.

“Now we know he hates all water,” you said through gritted teeth as I sanitized your shaking hands. Your fingers were as fidgety as Cory's, yet I doubt his skin was ever that soft. “Not just the rain.”

“I bet he'd hate flees more,” I caressed your knuckles after bandaging the bloody bits.

“I hate the rain, too,” your eyes were downcast, much like earlier that morning, seemingly searching my sheets for something. “I never knew Frank could be so-”

“Terrifying?”

“Mean,” your giggle wasn't as gleeful as I'd grown used to. “I thought he was going to fire me right then and there.”

“He wouldn't,” I squeezed down on the shadows of your hands as they were snatched away from me. Then, I leaned in close and almost brushed your love with my lips as they moved: “He will let the anxiety that comes with that uncertainty eat you alive first.”

“See, now you're being mean,” you laughed, finally looking up at me.

“Me? Never,” I said, satisfied with myself. You were laughing - actually laughing - because of me.

When the dryer dinged, I was confident in leaving you in my bedroom with a smile on your face. After all, I was the one who brought you in there and I was the one who brought that out of you. Once I've collected your clothes, I returned to find you had already removed my button-up and was drying up the rest of your skin with one of my towels. You were turned only half the way, so you must've perceived me in your periphery. Paul pulled the same thing earlier today. Still, you sounded surprised as you covered the side of your breasts I bet you wanted me to see.

"Forgive me,” I turned around, but, unlike you, I did it all the way. “Here you are,” I stretched my arm behind me to hand you the bra and t-shirt.

“Thank you.” It was only after your bomber jacket was zipped to your chin that I dared to look at you directly. Your sweatshirt was Eddie's now, so you covered up with what you had. “For everything.”

“Let me drive you to your dorm.”

"You've already done enough," you pulled out your phone as I walked you to the door. “I'll just call another cab. Eddie needs you here. You need to wear him out, or he'll wear you out tonight.”

“Cats are crepuscular creatures,” I assure you. “Not nocturnal. I'm sure he'll fall asleep before I even turn in for the night.”

Yes, I was sure he'd fall. However, Eddie was so convinced. And, sure enough, there he was, meowing in my face at midnight.

My mistake was letting him get his claws into me. You see, I couldn't bear waking that little bastard up. Not when he looked so small in the middle of your sweatshirt, in the middle of his bed. He finally had a dry place to dream in and I couldn't take that away from him, so I let him sink his claws into me that much deeper.

And yours, as well.

After chasing him with my hand atop of my covers and letting him swat at the finger-spider, he was ready for bed. My bed. Yes, his green eyes were drooping when he surrendered to sleep. It just so happened that he did it on the left side of my bed. And I, not willing to risk another rude awakening, placed him atop of the pillow. Then, ever so silently, I slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. It was on my way back that I stumbled upon it: your sweatshirt.

I recall calling it off the floor and taking it with me to bed. For Eddie, of course. He loved that sweatshirt, as I'm sure you know. However, as I placed it on his pillow, I caught a whiff of it. It smelled like rainwater, pet shampoo, Eddie, and you. It was your sweat and deodorant, sweet and soapy, just as I had smelled it on my shirt before tossing it in the laundry basket and I couldn't smell it on the left side of my bed.

As I closed my eyes, I saw you. You were walking around the office, their wandering eyes watching you. You pass my desk and I am drenched in your scent. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. Your sweatshirt is drenched, so you discard it. Your t-shirt is too tight, so I can see the dip of your belly button and the swell of your breasts. Though I am convinced you had a bra to cover them, my mind wanders. It wanders about the color of your nipples and it paints a picture of them peeking through the flimsy fabric.

And, as my mind wanders further, that flimsy fabric is pulled down, your hands wriggling at the hem of it. That's when those peeks pop out along with the rest. All of a sudden, you're soaking. Sweet. Soapy. You even try to hide this from me, crossing your arms over your chest. I capture your hands, soft skin, and fidgeting fingers, and wrestle with them. Oh, how easily you surrendered to me, sighing in defeat. I lock your arms behind your back with one hand and squeeze your tit like a stress toy. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. I had to taste it.

When my tongue touched the tip, you pushed against it, filling my mouth with your flesh. You wanted this. That nipple is as sharp as a needle, but it melts in the heat of my mouth. You wanted this. After your tit is slick with my saliva and the peak is all puffy, I gather the other one in my grip and repeat. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking.

You wanted this and you told me as much. You said it loud enough for the others to hear. You wanted this. You wanted me. And, as if I haven't done enough, as if I haven't given you enough, I gave you all of me. Clearing the desk, cube, keypad, computer, and all, I slam you atop the surface. I had to pull down your pants for you, but your legs part all on their own. As for your panties, well, they all but dissolved under the duress. You attempt to hide from me again, tightening your thighs together. And, again, you surrender to me all too easily. After all, you want me. Your pussy? As I parted your legs and pushed your knees up to your chest, I saw how much she wanted me. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking.

However, I was not in a hurry. No matter how hot were your insides and how cold the chills were down my spine, I still took my sweet, soapy, soaking time. I set myself loose, my length slapping against your ass once it sprang free. You shivered, your back arching like a bow and your hands treading through your tangled hair. You wanted me. I took my time, sandwiching my shaft between your pussy lips, sliding across the slick and even wearing your labia as a hood atop its head for a maddening moment. It was only when you began begging, mewling to be mated that I gave myself to you. I crammed my cock inside of your cunt and went in so deep, I felt your heartbeat as your inner walls collapsed around me.

Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. I fucked you into a fever, your skin as slick as your insides and your mouth leaking as much saliva as your pussy was spilling precum. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. Soon, it would've been spilling cum. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. When I did come, however, it was in my fist and not between your lips.

As I opened my eyes, you disappeared. There was nothing there to greet me but the strike of the street lights slashing the darkness across the ceiling. Your sweetness had been replaced with my saltiness. It was indeed soapy and soaking, but it wasn’t you. Then, for the second time that night, I slipped out of bed and snuck into the bathroom.

The day you got cat’s claws into my shirt was the day you sunk your own under my skin. After that day, we shared a secret. I never told Frank about Eddie, but Eddie never told you about what I did in the dark. His glowing green eyes didn’t judge me, but they never let me forget. After you left without a notice, ginning up your internship, changing your phone number and never surrendering your real name, I couldn’t face them anymore. His eyes never let me forget, so I rehomed him.

I found your Gotham U sweatshirt while cleaning out my closet today. The name you gave WayneTech is nowhere to be found in their student records. Your name can’t be found in any police records either. Your real name, however, I am sure will uncover quite the mystery.

Yours,

E. NYGMA

#Edward Nygma #Riddler #Edward Nygma x Reader #Riddler x Reader #It is Not Safe For Work #Riddler x You #Edward Nygma x You

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demxters · 4 years

Text

Falling

jj maybank x reader

request: Can you write a jj imagine based on falling by harry styles like he goes to your house and is telling you how he feels and there is flashbacks to what happened between the two of you with fluff at the end

word count: 3.0k

warnings: swearing

a/n: ok, so i got carried away with this one, but i couldn’t help it, i’m a sucker for jj maybank. anyways, this was my first song request and y’all are probably gonna hate me for saying i’ve never listened to any harry styles until this request but i loved the fine line album sm i listened to the whole album twice over while writing this.

(gif credit @rudypankows)

***

I'm in my bed

And you're not here

And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands

Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

And I can't take it back

I can't unpack the baggage you left

JJ can’t sleep. He’s been laying in bed for hours, staring at the beige ceiling in his room illuminated by moonlight, the only sound he could hear being his dad’s snores and the light breeze of the Outer Banks. He couldn’t sleep because he can’t stop thinking about what you said that night. He turns on his side, gripping the sheets of his bed. He closes his eyes for a moment pretending that he’s with you, in your room where he should be. He imagines the sound of your laugh when he tells you yet another corny joke, your beautiful y/h/c hair splayed out on your pillow and your eyes crinkling in delight. But he knows he can’t face you now, not after what he said.

______

“Stop saying that! How can you say that when I’ve brought you nothing but hurt? You got caught in the middle of a fight because of me! Doesn’t that say enough?” JJ’s voice echoes through your empty house as you follow him through the front door. He has one hand in his hair, the other holding a half empty beer bottle. He moved from pacing in your room to pacing on the front porch. He takes another swig of his beer, shaking his head. “All of this, all of this is bullshit.”

“JJ,” you say softly, tears filling your eyes. You slowly continue walking towards him on the porch, afraid that any sudden movements would scare him away. “I meant everything I said back there. I love you. I love you so much that it physically hurts to even look at you sometimes. Do you think that seeing you battered and bruised doesn’t make me angry? That it doesn’t make me want to storm over to your house and confront him myself? Everything I do for you is because I care.” You pause to take a breath. “As for thinking you bring me nothing but hurt? I would go through it all if it meant being with you at the end of the day.”

JJ doesn’t say anything. He just looks away from you to hide the tears that are now threatening to spill down his face.

“Because you don’t deserve to go through this alone. No one deserves to go through what you’re going through alone. I love you too much to put you through any of that by yourself. So please, JJ, just let me in.” You’re fully crying now. The apples of your cheeks are sticky and damp from all the tears.

“I need to go,” is all he says walking down your front porch steps.

“JJ!” you exclaim, grabbing his wrist to stop him from going any further.

He turns to face you. “Let me go, Y/N. Let me go and don’t even try coming after me. I don’t need this,” he says gesturing between the both of you, “right now. I don’t need any of it.”

You watch him go through tears and a tear in your heart.

_______

What am I now? What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

What if I'm down? What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

JJ sits up, turning to his bedside table. 11:28, his clock reads. JJ groans, just wanting the night to be over. He meant none of the stuff he said to you that night. He was just so afraid of how fast he was falling for you that he did the only thing he knew to do, he pushed you away. JJ wanted nothing more than to go to your house right now and take you in his arms, apologizing over and over for what he said. To kiss you with all he’s got and tell you that he loves you too. But there’s a voice in the back of his head telling him that you hate him. That you hate the person he’s become. And he believes it.

_____

You said you care, and you missed me too

And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you

And the coffee's out at the Beachwood Cafe

And it kills me 'cause I know we've ran out of things we can say

The day after your fight with JJ, you were hesitant to join the others at the Chateau, knowing that he was going to be there as well. His words hurt, but nothing hurt more than knowing that things between you two would never be the same again. If only you weren't such an idiot and kept your feelings to yourself then you wouldn’t even be in this position in the first place. Dreading the idea of seeing JJ again you called Kie telling her that you couldn’t make it today.

“What? Why not?” she asked.

“I’m just not feeling it, s’all,” you say softly into the phone.

“Is this about JJ? Because if this is about JJ, Y/N, then I swear to god-”

You called Kiara last night and told her about what happened between you and JJ knowing she was the only one who you could talk to about it. “Yes, this is about JJ, Kie. I can’t see him right now. It just hurts too much. As much as I miss him, I can’t. I can’t put myself through that right now.”

“Ok,” Kiara says, hearing the pain in your voice. “But please call me if you need anything at all ok? I’ll drop anything the boys decide to do today if you need me.”

“Thanks Kie, love you,” you say with a sniff, wanting to cry.

“Love you. And take care of yourself, ok?”

“Ok.” You hang up the phone and bury yourself back into your covers, just wanting to disappear. You wipe your face with your shirt catching a quick whiff of its scent only to realize that it’s his. It was one of the shirts he left at your house after staying the night. The smell of weed, sunscreen, and his musky cologne fill your nose and you can’t help but cry even more.

***

At around four in the afternoon, you decide to go to Heyward’s to buy some ice cream after finding out that your mom ate it all. You change out of your sweat pants and into some jean shorts, unconsciously leaving JJ’s shirt on.

You enter Heyward’s with a small smile of content. Heyward’s always felt like a place you could take refuge in since you spent so much time there working with Pope. Heading toward the ice cream aisle, you accidentally bump into a body causing them to drop what they were holding.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you say, picking up the pack of beer cans that fell to the floor.

“Y/N?”

Oh, god. You knew that voice. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. You look up to see him staring down at you with wide blue eyes.

You thrust the cans of beer back into his hand before ushering past him wanting to get out of there as fast as possible.

“Y/N! Wait!” JJ exclaims. “Can we just talk, please?”

You stop in your tracks. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you say, coldly. Not even turning your back to look at him you walk away.

JJ stands there, alone, wanting nothing but for you to come back. But he knows you won’t. He knows how stubborn you can be. It’s then that his worst fear comes true for he just lost the one person he cared about the most.

_______

And I get the feelin' that you'll never need me again

What am I now?

What if you're someone I just want around?

I'm fallin' again

I'm fallin'

He looks over to his bedside table to see that barely any time has passed since he last checked, the clock only reading 11:35. He can’t stop thinking about the way you didn’t even move a muscle when he last saw you at Heyward’s. That the second you knew it was him you bumped into, you acted as if you guys had never been friends at all. And he can’t blame you, if he were being honest. He’d hate him too if he were in your position. But he couldn’t take any of that back now. It’s been two weeks since the last time JJ has seen you. You didn’t want to see him, you made that much clear. You’ve been avoiding him like the plague. JJ’s talked to Kie every once in a while about how you were doing. She told him that you were slowly getting back to your regular self, eating, getting out of the house, helping Pope with the groceries and hanging out at the Chateau every once in a while. It hurt to know that you were still seeing everyone, but what did he expect? He had his chance and he ruined it. The pain was just getting too much for him to handle. He wanted you back. He wanted to be back in your presence that made him feel safe, loved and cared for. He wanted to be resting his head on your lap while you ran your hand through his hair. He just wanted you.

JJ bolts up from his bed, puts on his shoes, and is out the door in record time. He doesn’t even think twice about where his feet were taking him, knowing the route to your house like the back of his hand.

______

JJ stands at your window for a moment, unsure of whether he should even bother to knock knowing you’ve been avoiding him for two weeks straight. No, he thinks to himself, He needs you now more than ever. So he pushes all his doubts and fears aside and raps the familiar tune that you two use to let the other know that they’re there.

You sit up in your bed, immediately recognizing the knocks on your window. After two weeks of avoiding him, you couldn’t believe he was here. You hesitate for a moment, thinking if you should continue your act of ignorance or if you should let him in. You choose the latter. You’ve just missed your blonde haired boy too much.

You pull off your covers and slide open your window. You then step out of the way so JJ has room to climb in.

He just stands there staring at you from the shock that you opened the window for him, but also to take his time to admire you for he hasn’t seen you in so long. Your hair was slightly mussed and you had your arms crossed over your chest. He didn’t think anyone could look so beautiful wearing faded pajamas with a scowl on their face.

“So are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna come in?” You ask, finally breaking the silence.

JJ makes his way into the room as gracefully as he can, though he knocks his foot on the window sill and face plants right onto the floor.

It takes everything in you to not laugh or crack a smile at the sight of him face down on your floor. You quickly move to shut the window and walk back to your bed, sitting on the edge. “What are you doing here, JJ?”

“I needed to see you,” he says, getting up off the floor. “Y/N, I made the biggest mistake of my life telling you I didn’t want this.” He makes his way over to you and sits next to you on the bed. JJ’s so close that you’re sitting knee to knee and you can smell the weed on his clothes.

“JJ, I completely get if you don’t feel the same way,” you whisper. “You just really hurt me with what you said. I mean I thought I scared you off so bad that you didn’t even want to be friends anymore,” you say with a scoff.

“Y/N, that’s the thing. I do feel the same way. God, looking at you physically hurts sometimes too. Because I look at you, and it’s like time stops. Like nothing else in this world even matters. I see you and only you.”

“JJ-” you try to say, but he only shushes you and grabs your hand in his. He leans forward, placing his forehead against yours and closes his eyes.

“Please, let me finish,” he opens his eyes to look into yours as if waiting for your confirmation.

You bite your lip and slightly nod your head.

JJ takes a deep breath before closing his eyes once more. “You are the only thing that matters in this life, the only thing that keeps me from losing my shit 90% of the time,” he lets out a light laugh before continuing. “And I know I have the Pogues but it just isn’t the same when I’m with you. It’s better. With you, I feel like I could do anything, beat anything that stands in my way. You make me want to become a better person because the guy that I am right now is shit.”

You squeeze his hand, trying to silently tell him that’s not true. That he’s everything you could ever want.

He squeezes your hand back. Thank you, the action conveys. “I don’t deserve you, Y/N. You deserve someone better than me. Someone who could provide you with a life better than this one. That’s why I couldn’t believe it when you told me you loved me because how could someone like me ever be loved? My mom didn’t love me enough to stay and you already know about my dad, so why should you? So I pushed you away. I was afraid that if I let you love me I’d only lose you in the end, just like I lost everyone else.” JJ scoffs. “Some plan that was, huh? I ended up losing you anyway.” He opens his eyes to look at you and he’s a goner. The tears stream down his cheeks like a leaking faucet, no end in sight.

“Oh, JJ,” you whisper. Your heart breaks for the boy in front of you. You wanted nothing more than to love him more than anyone’s ever loved. To make him feel like he deserves to be loved, because in your eyes, how could anyone not love him? You pull him into your arms wrapping one arm around his back and using the other to press his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. He continues to sob into your shoulder making your shirt a little damp, but you don’t care. “JJ, you never lost me,” you softly say, rubbing your hand up and down his back while running your other hand through his hair. “I will always be right here.”

JJ pulls himself from your shoulder and takes your face in his hands. He wipes away the tears streaming down your face as you’ve begun to cry as well. He lets out a small laugh at how disoriented yet beautiful you looked in that moment. The tip of your nose was red from crying and he couldn’t help himself but to lean in and press a quick kiss to it.

“You missed,” you whisper.

“What?” JJ asks, looking back into your eyes.

“I said, you missed.” This time, you look from his lips to his gorgeous blue eyes before licking your own.

JJ gets the message and he slowly leans in. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips softly meet yours. He barely applies any pressure to them just slightly pressing into you. You parted your lips and he tilted his head, slightly giving you more access. The feeling of his warm, chapped lips against yours was like a drug as he pulled you against him, deepening the kiss. You ran one of your hands through his hair and rested the other on his jawline. He kept one of his hands on your face while the other moved down to the bare skin of your waist where your shirt rode up a little. His skin on yours sent a shock through your body as he started caressing the skin of your waist with his thumb. As he applies a little more pressure, you gasp at the cold sensation of his rings on your skin. The kiss was slow, yet desperate. Needy, but passionate. Needing air, he finally pulls away, lips red and swollen.

You open your eyes to already see him staring back at you. You rest your forehead against his and lean forward brushing the tip of his nose with yours. “Stay with me tonight?”

JJ smiles for the first time in a while. “Anything for you, my love.”

The two of you climb into your bed. JJ has his back against your chest and you have your arms wrapped around his torso. He holds your hands in front of him and plays with your fingers. You press your face against the back of his head, basking in his familiar scent and presence. You lightly press your lips to the back of his neck and whisper a small, “good night” into his ear.

JJ brings one of your hands to his lips and presses a soft kiss to it before holding it against his lips and whispering an “I love you.”

You let out a contented sigh as you reply, “I love you too. More than you could ever know.”

What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm fallin' again

I'm fallin'

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eddieeatsass · 3 years

Text

On the Edge of an Avalanche

Summary: Graduation was upon them and Eddie Kaspbrak was eager to leave Derry behind. His one last hurrah would be the senior ski trip, earning him an escape from his mother and the looming stress of college admissions. It was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, until he got slated to look after resident pain-in-everyone’s-ass, Richie Tozier. Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak Rating: E Chapter: 4/5 Read Chapter 3 Here / Read on AO3

Richie’s room was nicer than Eddie’s, way nicer. It’s not that Eddie’s room was bad, in fact he’d spent a good amount of time admiring it earlier, it’s just that Eddie’s room was like the discount version, and Richie’s was designer. Where Eddie’s room had gotten tall windows, half of Richie’s wall was taken up by a fireplace. Eddie supposed it was a trade, someone who preferred a nicer view might say Eddie’s room was the winner, but there was something undeniably romantic about your own fireplace. Richie’s room also seemed to have a newer TV, mounted on the wall across from their bed. The TV in Eddie’s room was older and hid behind two panels of wood in a cabinet. Simply put, Eddie was very glad Richie had decided to bring them here. Richie flopped on the bed immediately, overdramatizing how exhausted he was just from limping his way down the hall. Eddie hid a knowing smile and joined him. “Thank you for saving me, I was about five minutes away from dying of boredom.” Richie drawled. “Well, I can’t promise you’ll have any more fun here, but you’re welcome. ”Richie let his head loll to the side, regarding Eddie closely before speaking again. “No, I’ll definitely have more fun here. ”The insinuation was brash, Richie didn’t even bother trying to hide it behind a joke. It made Eddie’s gut clench in unusual ways. He brought his thumb up to his mouth, the habit of gnawing at his fingernails a hard one to kick, but was interrupted by his own gasp as his hand came into view. His knuckles were starting to bruise, tender to flex and even more tender to touch. He hadn’t noticed any pain earlier, too caught up in Richie to even think about anything else, but now that he was staring at his fist the ache began to echo under his skin. “You just notice that?” Richie asked gently, noting the horror in Eddie’s eyes. Eddie could only nod, his gaze fixed on the evidence of his breakdown. He wasn’t sure how long he stared at his hand, but when Richie’s entered the frame Eddie startled. He’d gotten a hand towel from the bathroom and wrapped some ice in it, which Eddie could only guess was provided in their minifridge. Richie guided Eddie’s hand down to his lap, placing the ice pack atop his knuckles gently and murmuring an apology when Eddie hissed at the sudden coldness. They stayed silent for a few minutes, simply sitting in each other’s presence as the ice dampened the cloth atop Eddie’s hand. Eddie was the first to speak, keeping his eyes downcast as he admitted his guilt aloud. “I’m not a violent person, you know.” He could feel Richie’s eyes on his face but didn’t give in to the lure. “Yeah, I know.” Richie reassured. “But Bowers is an exception-”“No, he’s not.” Eddie snapped. “If I sink to his level, I’m just like him.” Eddie wasn’t sure if Richie would get it. They had both been targets of Henry’s attacks, but Eddie never wanted anyone to feel the way he’d felt, not even Henry himself. Eddie’s mind was constantly replaying all the times he'd had his face shoved into the dirt, the way the gravel would stick to his wounds, the shouts he’d receive from his mother upon getting home. Henry was a god-awful human, but that didn’t mean he deserved to feel that same pain and sorrow. That wasn’t going to change anything; you can’t break the cycle with the same bullshit that fueled it. “I didn’t mean to do it.” Eddie whispered. “I just snapped.” Richie immediately scooted closer, an action Eddie wasn’t expecting or prepared for. He looked up and met bright blue eyes, tender and open and completely void of judgement. “You’re nothing like him; you didn’t want to hurt him. Bowers wants to hurt people. ”Eddie looked back down at his hand, flexing his fingers and watching as the makeshift ice pack slid off and landed on the sheets. “You know…” Eddie began thinking out loud. “I’ve felt the brunt of a lot of people’s insecurities. I don’t usually mind being projected on, it’s easy to see through the words and figure out what’s actually going on behind them. I’ve even gotten good at doing it with Henry, though he’s a bit of a different breed… But there was something about the things he said today... they felt more personal.” Richie listened intently, allowing Eddie to spill out into the space between them, his vulnerability a tender wound. “Whatever, it’s stupid.” Eddie was quick to dismiss his own feelings, covering them up with a shrug of his shoulders that attempted to pass as indifference. “It’s not stupid.” Richie insisted. Eddie stared down at his uninjured hand as it picked at a thread on the blanket beneath them. “Listen, I don't know what Henry said, but you're not suddenly a super villain for fighting back one time. The first time I was called a fag, I threw a mug at the dude’s head.” Richie admitted aloud with a chuckle. “We were in a coffee shop and I was on my first date with a guy. I ended up having to pay for the broken mug and my backtalk. ”Eddie perked up like Richie had just given him a straight shot of smelling salts. All other sound in the room fell away as Eddie homed in on Richie’s voice, trying to discern if he was dreaming or not. “Safe to say it was not a very good first impression.” Richie laughed lightly, completely unaware of the way he was flipping Eddie’s world upside down. “Anyway, all I’m trying to say is you’re not the only one who’s lost their cool before. You’re human, you’re allowed to get upset when people treat you less than.” Eddie was sure Richie was making a good point, was sure what he was saying held some wisdom that could potentially help, but he was guilty to say he hadn’t processed a word of it. He was too caught up on the fact that Richie had dated guys before. Stan’s words echoed in his brain ‘You might want to consider the possibility that this isn’t their first time eating a hot dog’, fucking Stan was always right, even with that stupid metaphor. Richie had begun talking again, but Eddie didn’t hesitate to interrupt him, this new revelation too significant to pass by. “You like boys?” Eddie blurted out, all grace and subtlety left behind with his spiraling thoughts. Richie froze in place, his hands up in a gesture Eddie was sure had something to do with what he’d been talking about, but now looked comically out of place. Slowly, Richie lowered his hands to his lap and regarded Eddie with a new look, one that held enough cockiness to knock the wind out of Eddie. “Grinding my dick on you didn’t send the message?” Richie teased, raising one eyebrow and swiping his tongue across his teeth. Eddie suppressed a full body shiver, averting his eyes from Richie’s intensity. “I thought you were maybe, like, I don’t know-” “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy.” Richie said with a twang that went straight to Eddie’s pants. He blamed Brokeback Mountain. “Well, it isn’t mine either.” Eddie defended instinctively. He watched as Richie’s eyes flicked down to his mouth and back up again, quick like a hummingbird and with all the same charm. “So, then what’s the issue?” Richie’s voice had lowered, taking on something much more intimate and sultry. It made Eddie’s heart rate spike. “I guess there isn’t one.” He breathed. “Good, because I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” Eddie barely had a moment to breathe before Richie captured his lips in a hungry kiss, his hand burying itself in the hair at Eddie’s nape to pull him in closer. The gesture almost made Eddie go limp, as if he were a cat being held by its scruff, submissive by instinct. He opened his mouth pliantly, allowing Richie in with a welcome of his own tongue. Eddie couldn’t believe that this was happening. Just a couple hours ago he was fisting his own cock, fantasizing about the way Richie tasted. Now he knew. Richie was a cold fire, stoking Eddie’s lungs with mint and cinnamon spice. He tasted like the frost outside, and the embers that kept you warm. It was comforting, enveloping in a way Eddie couldn’t describe. Eddie pushed against Richie, guiding him to lay down on his back so Eddie could climb atop his lap, resuming the same position they’d been in the night before. This time, however, there was clear determination between them. There were no longer hesitant touches or swallowed moans, every move was purposeful, made with intent. Eddie wasn’t shy to shed his sweater, wanting to move things along as quickly as possible now that they were finally happening. “Your body, god, do you know how long I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you?” Richie grabbed Eddie’s bare waist in near disbelief, awe shining in his eyes. “Less than 24 hours?” Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes and his hips in tandem. Richie groaned and tightened his grip, stilling Eddie forcefully. “Try years. You think I didn’t notice you until Mrs. Harrow forced us to sit together?” Eddie flushed even hotter, his skin reddening to match the fire that Richie was stoking. Richie grinned at Eddie’s speechlessness, pushing forward. “I noticed you for the first time in sophomore year. You were trying out for the track team at the same time as Mike and we were in the bleachers cheering him on. I was gone the second you walked out onto that grass. I tried to be respectful, but I couldn’t stop imagining myself squeezed between those thighs that your tight little track shorts did a great job of highlighting.” Eddie tried to recall that moment, tried to visualize Richie in the bleachers with his floppy hair and lopsided glasses, but all he could remember was the adrenaline he’d felt going behind his mother’s back, too busy to notice anything else. “I never stopped noticing you after that, in fact I’m surprised you never caught me looking your way during class…” Richie moved his hands to begin trailing up Eddie’s thighs. “But the second time I really noticed you, was at the end of that school year. We had a heat wave and the AC broke, d’you remember that? The school had no idea how to deal with it, so they just chucked us outside and gave us popsicles from the freezer in the cafeteria, probably because they were going to melt anyway. But you sat there in the middle of the field sucking on your popsicle like it was the best fucking thing you’d ever tasted. You might have been miserable like the rest of us, but you were too focused on your treat to pay any mind to the weather.” Eddie’s throat was going dry, his head beginning to feel light and airy as he listened to Richie talk. “That night I dreamt you were sucking my cock, that same euphoric look on your face as if it were that damn popsicle.” Richie’s hands reached Eddie’s hips and traced the curve around to his ass, causing Eddie to stutter a breath as his eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones. “I’ve thought about fucking you for years, Eds, to see you cum on my cock and hear you cry my name. I would do just about anything you asked me to, just as long as I can make you feel good.” Eddie had never been this aroused in his life. Every single nerve in his body was buzzing like a live wire, his toes already curling just from Richie’s words alone. “What if I asked you to take your clothes off?” Eddie braved, his voice shaky. Richie sat up, bringing them chest to chest. “Anything. You. Asked.” Richie punctuated each word with a featherlight kiss to Eddie’s lips. The butterflies in Eddie’s stomach went wild as he watched Richie begin to strip off his shirt. He did it slowly, keeping his eyes on Eddie as Eddie’s own raked down the newly exposed skin. Richie's skin was pale enough to rival the snow outside, spattered with fewer freckles than Eddie’s, but enough to break up the milky complexion. He was thin but still held definition, especially as Eddie’s eyes reached the ‘v’ of his hips that dipped into his waistband. Eddie swallowed thickly and nodded towards the spot where Richie’s hands were already hovering over his waistband. Eddie had to swing his leg off Richie and move to the side to let him shimmy his pants down his legs, every new inch equally as mesmerizing. “Like what you see?” Richie’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Not sure yet, I think I need to see more.” Eddie whispered back, tension thick between them. Eddie could see where Richie was straining against the fabric of his boxers, tenting them to an intimidating level. The way his mouth watered at the sight made Eddie feel absolutely depraved, lewd in a way that only added to his arousal, made him want to spread his legs wide and offer himself up whole. The moment that stretched between them as Richie pulled his boxers down felt like an eternity. Eddie lived, died, and got reborn all in the span of that second. Richie’s cock was heavy, springing free for only a moment before falling back against his stomach. Eddie could see Richie moving in his peripheral, getting comfortable back against the duvet after throwing his boxers to the floor, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off his dick. He felt fingers carding through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and finally Eddie tore his gaze away from the challenge that sat before him. Richie’s smile was smug, but his eyes seemed vulnerable. Eddie realized he was waiting for his next command, unsure how they’d fallen into that pattern but not opposed to continuing it. Eddie felt powerful as he raised on his haunches and moved to where Richie’s legs were spread. He watched Richie’s face, noted the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his fingers twitched as he tried not to move. Eddie lowered his head so it was level with Richie’s cock, pausing just a few inches away so his breath grazed against it as he spoke. “Fuck my mouth.” Eddie directed, lust overwriting his usual nerves and replacing them with boldness. Richie’s breath shook as he let it out slowly. “Jesus fuck, Eddie…”Richie’s hands travelled back into Eddie’s hair, gentle at first and then gripping at the base. He guided Eddie’s head the rest of the way down and shuttered when Eddie finally took the head in his mouth. Eddie instantly felt intoxicated, like Richie was the strongest absinthe man had ever made. He greedily gulped it down, laving at the underside of Richie’s cock as it glided into his throat. Drool was already pooling at the corners of his mouth, but Eddie paid it no mind, his only focus on drinking in as much of Richie as he could. He knew right away there was no reality in which he could take all of Richie at once, at least not without a lot of practice, so he committed his mouth to the top half and his hand to the bottom. His fingers barely met as they wrapped around Richie’s shaft and gave an experimental pump. Richie groaned, and Eddie took it as a good sign. He repeated the motion with a twist of his wrist, tonguing the slit of his cock where precum was leaking out greedily. Eddie could feel Richie’s legs tensing where he had his free hand splayed across his thigh. Every time he teased the underside of Richie’s head that muscle would jump, and it almost became a game to see how quickly Eddie could make that muscle twitch, his tongue moving faster and faster against that sensitive spot and causing Richie's legs to vibrate. “Oh my god- fuck, ahhhh-h-how are you so good at this…” Richie’s voice was wrecked, raspy and low and breathy all at once. Eddie just hummed in acknowledgement, sending vibrations up Richie’s shaft that made him hump up into Eddie’s mouth. The action caused Eddie to gag and he reveled in it, moaning like a whore in heat. He was so far gone he barely noticed when Richie pulled him off suddenly. “Okay you’re too good at that.” Richie panted, his chest heaving. Eddie’s head was cloudy, the only conscious thought chanting ‘more, more, more’. He blinked a few times, trying to shift the room back into place. “Why did we stop?” Eddie asked dumbly, his words a bit slurred. “I didn’t want to cum yet. I sort of thought… maybe, if you wanted to, we could-” “Finger me.” Eddie blurted out, his senses coming back to him but not all gracefully. “I mean…” He cleared his throat, face beginning to flush. “…please." Richie looked liked he’d just won the lottery and been slapped across the face at the same time, a dopey kind of smile accompanying his features. “You don’t have to be polite about it, Eds. I’m kinda digging this whole dictator thing you’ve got going on, actually.” Eddie giggled adoringly, calmed by the way Richie was able to dissolve his nerves so quickly with such a disastrously dumb joke, even at a time like this. “Gimme a sec.” Richie leaned forward, catching Eddie’s lips in a chaste kiss before he was springing off the bed. “I know that bastard has lube somewhere.” Eddie watched as Richie began searching through what he assumed to be Bill’s suitcase, throwing things to the side in a frenzy. He finally came across a toiletry bag and ripped it open, rifling around for only a moment more and emerging with a small bottle of clear liquid. “Will Bill mind if we use it?” Eddie worried his lip between his teeth, not so much caring about the answer but asking anyway out of respect for his new friend. “Nah, he’ll just be happy I’m getting laid.” Richie winked and those damn butterflies acted up again. Richie crawled back onto the bed, setting the lube to the side temporarily. He returned his attention to Eddie, a renewed twinkle in his lust blown eyes. He crowded Eddie’s space, towering above him but lowering his head so their lips grazed against each other. “Let’s get these off, hmm?” Richie’s fingers stroked lightly at the waistband of Eddie’s sweatpants. “I thought I was the one giving orders.” Eddie teased back, voice barely above a whisper. Richie hooked his fingers under the waistband and pulled, letting it snap back against Eddie’s stomach as he released it with a shuttering breath. “Alright Kaspbrak.” Richie let his body fall backwards, bouncing lighting as it hit the mattress. He brought his hands up behind his head and made a show of getting comfortable. “I am at your mercy.” That same emboldened feeling consumed him once again, a confidence only Richie seemed to instill in him. It was intoxicating, much like everything else about Richie. With a smirk, Eddie backed up off the bed and stood in the middle of the room. Eddie kept his eyes focused on Richie as he began to pull his sweatpants down, going painstakingly slow just to see Richie’s reaction. He saw his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed back his desire, a nearly imperceptible twitch making his cock jump in intrigue. Eddie kicked his pants to the side where they joined his long since discarded sweater, and then all his focus diverted to his neglected cock. All earlier thoughts of whether Richie would like his body were gone, he knew Richie liked his body, and he was planning on milking that for all it was worth. Eddie palmed himself over his underwear, letting his head fall back and his mouth drop open as he finally offered himself the stimulation he needed. He looked down and noted that the white fabric had gone translucent where his cock had been leaking against it, giving Richie a peek of the pink head underneath. He heard Richie whimper from the bed but paid him no mind, indulging in his own senses for a moment. He continued to tease himself through the thin cloth until he couldn’t take any more, finally allowing his hands to wander to the waistband and pull the underwear down his thighs. Richie was silent, watching so attentively that a pin could be heard dropping in the room. Eddie kicked the last piece of clothing off to the side and immediately let his hand wander back to his own cock, tugging it a few times and allowing himself to moan at the sensation. He heard the bed squeak and opened his eyes to see Richie crawling towards him. Gone was Richie’s passiveness and submission, replaced with a new hunger that made Eddie’s legs quiver. Richie reached his arms out and pulled Eddie in until his legs hit the edge of the mattress. Even with Eddie standing and Richie kneeling on the bed, he was still a good few inches taller than him, and he used that to his advantage while crowding into Eddie’s space. “You can’t tease me like that.” Richie whispered into the shell of his ear, kissing right under it and beginning a path down his neck. “I didn’t mean to.” Eddie answered honestly, succumbing to the warmth of Richie’s lips and letting his head tip back once again. “Just felt so good…” “I can make you feel even better.” Richie promised, ghosting his hand down Eddie’s torso and just barely grazing his cock. Eddie moaned, arching into the faint touch and whimpering as it left. “Please…” Eddie’s jaw was slack, the word falling out without a thought. Richie continued making his way down Eddie’s body, sucking marks against tan skin as he passed. He paused at Eddie’s nipples to give them special attention and Eddie keened, grabbing at Richie’s hair in sudden desperation. Richie swirled his tongue around one bud, allowing his hand to pluck the other until he switched. He nipped lightly enough to cause Eddie to shutter and then sucked to soothe the reddening skin. He continued his trail downwards, licking along Eddie’s hip bones and kissing the juncture between his thighs and his pelvis, avoiding Eddie’s cock purposefully. Pleas were falling from Eddie’s mouth steadily now; his hands tugging weakly on Richie’s hair to try and guide him towards pleasure. Richie swiftly gathered Eddie in his arms, catching him off guard in his haze of lust. He moved back up the mattress and laid against the bed board, situating Eddie so he was laying across his body. “I bet your pretty little hole is just begging to be touched.” Richie murmured, reaching for the bottle of lube and hastily pouring a generous amount on his digits. Eddie moaned at the lewdness of the comment, his hips moving against Richie’s and causing their cocks to grind against each other. He could feel a wetness smearing against their bellies, similar to the wetness Richie was spreading between his fingers. He watched as Richie’s hand disappeared behind him and then he felt the warm press of a finger at his entrance. The feeling was somewhat familiar; Eddie had fingered himself countless times before, he wasn’t new to pleasuring his prostate. But this was the first time anyone else had ever touched him there. It was difficult not to focus in on every small sensation, to not grind up against Richie like a virgin being touched for the first time. Richie teased the pad of his finger around his rim and unsurprisingly, Eddie fluttered in response. He could hear Richie’s laugh reverberating in his chest where Eddie laid his head. He closed his eyes and spread his legs a bit wider, silently ushering Richie to continue. The first slip inside was uncomfortable. It always is, no matter how turned on you are, but it was also euphoric in a way Eddie was never able to make it for himself. Richie’s fingers were thinner than Eddie’s, but significantly longer, and soon enough Richie was already in to his knuckle. Eddie breathed steadily, allowing his body to get used to the intrusion. Richie followed his queue, stilling for a moment until Eddie nodded minutely against him, signaling him to continue. The next finger wasn’t too much harder than the first, and soon the discomfort ebbed away to make room for pleasure. Richie worked his fingers in and out, scissoring them to stretch Eddie open as much as possible before a third was added. It felt way better than Eddie had ever imagined it would. Richie’s fingers weren’t clumsy or unsure like Eddie would have thought, they were precise with their pressure and quick to find the spots that made Eddie melt. He went at the perfect pace, allowing Eddie his time to adjust but not waiting too long to lose their momentum. Arousal bubbled hot in Eddie’s stomach, searing his skin at every spot where they were connected. His breathing had become labored, and his hips had begun their own little rotation where he ground himself down into Richie. Every time he did, he felt Richie’s cock twitching against his, eager to escape the slot between them and burry itself inside Eddie. And in that moment, Eddie wanted that more than anything. “Fuck me, now.” Eddie demanded breathily, holding no more space for patience. “You sure you’re ready?” Richie checked, his own breath seeming to stutter. Eddie whined indignantly, raising himself up on shaky knees and grabbing both of Richie’s wrists. He pulled them away, deft fingers slipping out of him easily and falling to the pillow beside Richie’s head where Eddie pinned them. “Now.” Eddie repeated, grinding his ass against Richie’s cock and coating it with lube. “I’m gonna die here and it’s gonna be the happiest day of my life.” Richie rushed out, eyes squeezed shut and face flushed a blotchy red. Eddie removed one hand and reached down to grasp Richie’s cock, marveling once again at its size. He was sure he was going to feel a stretch, but he craved it at this point. With determination and just a little too much arousal for rational thought, Eddie lined himself up and began sinking down. The stretch was… a lot. Eddie let out a pained whimper as Richie’s head breached his rim, and suddenly there were hands all over him, cradling his face, petting his hair, steadying his hips. “Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Richie rushed to comfort him, kissing the spot between Eddie’s eyebrows where he hadn’t realized he’d furrowed them. “We can stop at any point. You want to stop?” Eddie was stubborn, he knew this about himself. He was aware that his stubbornness had gotten him into trouble in the past, but it had also earned him some of the best moments of his life. He didn’t want to end this prematurely and look back on his first time with remorse, but he also didn’t exactly want to rip his asshole open on a high school ski trip. Eddie decided he just needed a minute, so he shook his head and told Richie as much. Richie continued to rub his back, his hair, anywhere his nervous hands could settle. He seemed on such high alert Eddie wasn't sure how his dick wasn't flagging. Eddie winced as Richie inched down the bed carefully, lying himself flatter and pulling Eddie back down to his chest. Eddie closed his eyes and focused on Richie’s heartbeat, feeling Richie moving above him but paying it no mind. He jumped in surprise when Richie’s hand joined his dick, but his body relaxed instantaneously as he felt those soft fingers begin to massage extra lube around his rim. As the seconds passed Eddie could feel himself opening up under Richie’s touch, his muscles relaxing and his temperature rising. Richie was clearly feeling the heat himself, as he’d started to rock his hips gently beneath Eddie’s. The action was gentle, inching him further into Eddie in torturously small increments but not pushing him past his limits. It was beginning to drive Eddie crazy as his craving for more became overpowering, all the pain from before having subsided. Without warning, Eddie pushed himself back on Richie’s cock, feeling his fingers flutter around his hole at the sudden movement. He was quick to use his hand to steady himself at the base of his cock, holding it still for Eddie to fuck back on. Richie let out an elongated breath, swearing profusely at the end of it. It made Eddie blush and move faster, his hips taking on a rhythm of their own. Eddie was on cloud fucking nine. His body lit up like a live wire, electrifying him with every move he made. Richie appeared to be just as affected, his mouth stuck open in an orgasmic ‘o’, his eyes practically rolled back into his skull. Richie had been quick to match Eddie’s pace, thrusting up into him feverously, hands clamped on to Eddie's hip as tightly as Eddie was clamping around his cock. "You're so fucking huge." Eddie moaned, the statement coming out honestly despite sounding like a script from a bad porno. "Holy shit, you can't say stuff like that or I'm gonna blow my load." Richie responded, chest heaving. "I'm serious, it feels like I'm being split open, god Rich." "That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble." Richie's thrusts were speeding up, becoming more erratic. Eddie almost felt like he was riding a bull, clenching his thighs in a desperate attempt not to be bucked off. "Then shut me up." The response was instantaneous. Richie flipped them over, pressing Eddie into the mattress as he pounded into him mercilessly. He brought one hand up to Eddie's mouth and shoved two fingers against his tongue, forcing Eddie to suck on the digits. Eddie gagged on them like he would Richie's cock, saliva dripping out of the corner of his mouth and mixing with the tears that had escaped without notice. He was completely fucked out, his brain unable to process anything besides Richie. "I'm gonna cum." Richie warned, his orgasm approaching rapidly after being so on edge for so long. Eddie didn't mind, his own release not far behind. "Cum inside me, please, want to feel you." Eddie begged, unaware of his desire until it was suspended right in front of him. "Fuck, unnnf- god, Eddie." Richie said his name like a prayer, bringing his hand up to stroke Eddie's neglected cock. The sensation was downright sinful, the best thing Eddie thinks he's ever felt in his entire life. It caused his toes to curl, most of the muscles in his body seizing up at the pleasure. Richie's hips stuttered a few times and then he was overwhelmed with a warmth deep inside him, Richie's cock pushing through it to press diligently into his prostate. Eddie came with blinding lights in his eyes, his body convulsing as waves upon waves of euphoria flooded his senses. He's pretty sure he screams, but he could have been completely silent and it would have sounded the same to his deaf ears. Eddie's not sure how long he lays there in fucked out bliss, his mind completely separate from his body, but when he finally tunes back into the world around him he's alone in the bed. He looks around to find Richie and spots him crouched on the ground by the fireplace, tinkering with the button to light it up. Electric flames suddenly burst alive behind Richie's silhouette, highlighting his long legs as he stretches back up and turns to regard Eddie. "Hey." His voice is gentle, not quite a whisper but close enough to one that the greeting still felt secretive. "Hi." Eddie matches his tone, his throat appreciating the low register after being abused not too long ago. "I thought I lost you there for a minute." Richie crawled back into bed, pulling the thick duvet over them. "I think you did." Eddie admitted sheepishly. "That was fucking... wow." Richie laughed at the advanced vocabulary Eddie was able to implement at that moment. "Wow is right." Richie agreed, welcoming Eddie as he crowded into his space. The silence fell upon them naturally, their bodies and minds too exhausted to bother with much else. It was a long while until Eddie pipped back up. “Was that your first time?” Eddie asked quietly, his eyes having drifted closed from the comfort of being satiated in such a new way. “Mm-mm.” Richie answered carding his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “First time was with Ally Mae Espin. It was a mess.” Eddie hummed for Richie to continue, too content to respond vocally. “It was in Bill’s garage in 8th grade. It lasted exactly two minutes and neither of us finished. I had blue balls for the rest of the night, but honestly, I didn’t even care. I’d realized as soon as we’d kissed that I wasn’t into her the way she was into me. I don’t regret it, but as far as first times it’s pretty anticlimactic. Literally.” Eddie giggled, nuzzling closer into Richie’s warmth. He felt fuzzy all over, invincible to the evils of the outside world. He thinks he could probably survive an avalanche right now, completely safe inside Richie’s arms. “What about you? How was your first time porking the hog?” Eddie scrunched his nose in disgust, peering up at Richie judgingly. “First of all, ew. Don’t ever call it that again. And also… this was my first time.” Richie’s eyes widened a fraction, an unreadable but unmistakable softness within them. “Shit, Eds. I wish you’d have told me, I would have at least tried to perform better.” Predictably, Richie was trying to hide his vulnerability with humor. Also predictably, Eddie could see right through it. “It was perfect. You were perfect.” Richie seemed to gnaw on the inside of his cheek, so Eddie continued. “Ten out of ten, would pork again.” That earned a surprised laugh from Richie, and Eddie considered his mission accomplished. He could work on Richie’s insecurities more later, but for now, at least he knew Eddie didn’t regret what had happened. They fell back into another stretch of silence, the crackle of the fireplace background noise to their steady breathing. Eddie had almost fallen asleep when Richie spoke again. “Did you always know you wanted to be a mechanic when you were younger?” It took a moment for Eddie to fully re-inhabit his body, wondering why his slumber had been interrupted for such a random question. “Huh?” “You know, kids are so indecisive. One minute it's 'I'm gonna be a doctor' the next it's 'I'm gonna be an alien superstar princess'. Did little Eddie have lots of dream jobs or was it always a mechanic?” Eddie took a moment to think, having to dig through all of the expectations and responsibilities that had piled on top of him over time, shielding his passions and replacing them with pragmatic plans for the future. "I always wanted to be a mechanic. Actually, I even wanted to open my own garage when I grew up." Richie listened intently, allowing Eddie to continue. "My dad was a mechanic. I learned a lot just from watching him, and then when he passed away I continued learning under a guy named Isaac, until mom decided it was too messy and too dangerous for me to be in the shop. I always believed I would grow up, open my own place where my mom couldn't ban me from being, and name it after my dad." Richie's face fell at the mention of Eddie's dad's death and he cursed himself for bringing it up. People always felt uncomfortable at the mention of death, and even though Eddie had long since accepted that his dad was gone, he always had to suffer through people’s weird grief reactions that, more often than not, made him feel worse. However a few moments passed and Richie still hadn't said anything, so Eddie braved a look upwards. "What's your favorite car?" Eddie was taken aback, already in the process of mentally preparing himself to field the same old questions he'd long since memorized his answers to. He blinked a few times, a smile creeping up on him without his permission. Richie continued to surprise him at every turn, and Eddie was absolutely giddy about it. "You're gonna make fun of me." Eddie sighed, infinitely grateful for Richie somehow always knowing exactly what to say and when not to say. "I absolutely will." Richie nodded. "1966 Volkswagen Type 2." Richie seemed to contemplate it, nodding slowly before bursting into a side splitting smile and letting a little laugh go. "You’re right, that's hilarious." Eddie laughed along, but still slapped his chest playfully to at least act offended. He snuggled in closer, settling his head on Richie’s chest. "It's just that the hippie lifestyle doesn't exactly match the Eddie Kaspbrak I've grown to know and lo-" Richie cut himself off just as Eddie's heart skipped, both of them falling silent for a moment before Richie cleared his throat and marched onwards, his own heart beating rapidly in Eddie's ear. "I'd have guessed you were a smart car kinda guy." "Why? Cause I'm small?" Eddie challenged, trying (and failing) to return his heart rate back to normal. "Yeah. Small, compact, can fit a surprising amount in its backseat." Richie moved his hand down from where he'd been rubbing circles into Eddie's lower back and tapped one of his cheeks. "Careful! I'm still tender." Eddie pouted, unknowingly looking far too cute for Richie's fragile sanity. Richie kissed the top of Eddie's head and Eddie kissed him back between his collarbones, absolutely smitten with the way Richie handled him. "I like the freedom of it." Eddie admitted, picking the conversation back up. "I've always felt trapped in this town, it's comforting to think of owning something that can take me anywhere." “Technically anything with two wheels can accomplish that.” Richie pointed out. “Yeah, but with a van I don’t have to worry about where I’m gonna sleep. I can live out of it for as long as it takes me to get to my destination.” “Where is your destination?” “New York.” Eddie answered automatically, surprising the both of them. Richie’s arms tightened around Eddie, erratic laughter falling from his lips. “EDDIE!!!” “WHAT!?” Eddie was being jostled now, Richie’s happiness contagious even though Eddie had no idea what was happening. “NEW YORK IS MY DREAM!” Eddie finally connected the dots, realizing a little late what that meant. If Eddie wanted to move to New York, and Richie wanted to move to New York, then they could theoretically move to New York together. The notion made Eddie’s belly do flips. “Oh, yeah, I guess that is kind of perfect huh?” Eddie answered, far more bashful than he'd expected himself to sound. “We can get a little apartment downtown where you can open your own garage and I can work at whatever coffee shop will hire me while I practice my standup routine on the weekends! We'll be a dynamic duo, running the streets of New York together. It’s FATE!” Eddie couldn’t deny that it did feel like something cosmic was at play. Richie was this boisterous, loud, chaotic puzzle piece that somehow fit perfectly into the slot on Eddie’s board. He pushed Eddie’s boundaries, encouraged him to challenge his world and rethink the ways he’d been taught to live. Being around him was invigorating, but it also felt like home. Eddie realized with terrifying clarity that he didn’t want to spend another day without Richie in his life. He couldn’t fathom how he’d done so before; looking back felt like watching a black and white film in contrast to the technicolor movie magic he was living in now. Richie had lit up a spot in Eddie’s life that he hadn’t even realized had been dark before. Eddie trailed his hand up Richie’s chest and found the back of his neck, tilting his head down to face Eddie. He moved slow, bringing their faces close together so their lips barely touched. Richie’s skin was soft, his lips plump and inviting as they trembled beneath Eddie’s. They breathed each other in as Eddie nosed at Richie, watching as his eyes fluttered closed and his brain took a backseat. Eddie hummed a nearly imperceptible laugh and finally slotted their lips together, lingering in place for just a second before parting. It was teasing, but not in the sense of arousal. Eddie left Richie with a million thoughts on his mind and nothing but big brown eyes as answers. “I think I passed out for a second there.” Richie breathed shakily, effected in exactly the way Eddie’d intended. “You’re going to take me to New York one day.” Eddie decided aloud. Richie was all shy smiles, dipping his head low to try and hide his blush. “I sure fucking hope so.” Richie responded quietly, looking back up at Eddie through inky curls. Eddie pushed his hair to the side, tucking it behind Richie’s ear and letting his hand fall back down to his chest. “You will.” They fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other’s arms with thoughts of the future fueling their dreams. Eddie knew that nothing was guaranteed. Two days can’t rewrite your whole life, and once they left the resort and re-entered Derry, he was sure that all the expectations and pressure he’d superseded were going to come back full force. But somehow, he felt more prepared to face them. They didn’t hold the same weight as they once had, because now Eddie knew he had a whole world outside of the one his mother had built for him to exist within. That world might just be Richie Tozier, but it was a thousand times bigger and brighter than the solitude he’d lived in before. For once, Eddie was excited to live.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fanfic #reddie fanfiction #reddie smut #reddie lemon #my posts #my writing #OTEOAA

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isitgintimeyet · 4 years

Text

Just A Friend

AO3

So. here’s the final chapter, although there may be an epilogue (thanks to @faeriesfanficblog for the suggestion)

Thanks to you all for reading, liking, reblogging and commenting. I appreciate all of you. I cant tell you how much I enjoy reading your lovely comments.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks and @faeriesfanficblog for their support

I hope you enjoy this chapter

Chapter 14: From Regret to Realisation

A noise rouses me from my deep sleep. My legs ache as if from unaccustomed exercise and I feel in desperate need of a shower. Last night’s activities come hurtling back into my mind as I become aware of the large, warm body lying next to me. What had I been thinking? Actually, that was the problem—I hadn’t been thinking. My body betrayed me and totally bypassed my brain. I can’t even blame alcohol. Two beers each—last night can hardly be classed as a drunken mistake.

A loud snore makes me turn over to face the reality of what I’ve done. Jamie is lying flat on his back, still asleep. The duvet is loosely tucked around his torso, leaving his chest exposed. I feel myself blushing slightly as I notice the evidence of our nocturnal tryst—an angry purplish bruise on his shoulder and another above his left nipple.

I don’t want him to wake up just yet. I don’t really want to be having an awkward conversation at this time in the morning. And, the fact is, I don’t really know what I want. Actually, I do know—I want it to be this time twenty four hours ago—when Jamie and I were friends. Everything’s shifted now and I’m worried that it’s the end of our friendship.

So, we do need to talk, I know that. But not here, not now, not with the smell of sex in the air and my lips still tingling from his kisses.

With a muffled sort of ‘hmmph’ noise, Jamie rolls onto his side, facing me—fortunately still asleep. Under the duvet, one leg trespasses onto my side of the bed, trying to wind its way around my calf. I hold as still as possible, willing him not to wake up, trying to delay that inevitable moment of awkward realisation.

My mouth feels very dry. And I’m sure my breath must stink too. I can’t go to Geillis’ smelling like this—all garlic and sex and sweat.

Of course, brunch! I reach behind me and fumble around for my phone on the bedside table.

My phone tells me I have precisely one hour before I’m due at Geillis’.

“Shit!”

Jamie groggily opens his eyes as I leap out of bed and quickly gather up my sweatshirt from the floor, wrapping it around my torso. He looks half asleep and somewhat confused. Part of me just wants to reach out and stroke those auburn curls off his face. The other, more sane part of me holds back, not sure of the message I want to give to Jamie or what Jamie wants to hear.

Securing the sweatshirt under my arms I sidestep towards the door, conscious of his eyes following me.

“Morning.” I venture, clearing my throat.

“Morning,” he replies, warily.

“Look,” I begin. “I know we need to talk about...about...er, last night. But I need to get to Geillis’ for brunch. If I’m late she’ll think there’s something wrong. So, sorry, I need to have a shower after…well… after...”

“Aye, I ken.”

“Can I call you later and we’ll sort something out?” I find it difficult to look him in the eyes.

“Ok… er… I suppose. Till later then.”

*********

Once in the shower, I wash quickly but thoroughly, removing any trace of Jamie from my skin. It can’t, however, remove the turmoil going on in my head. The same thoughts keep revolving around my mind—what have I done? Was this a one night stand for Jamie? Does he want a ‘friends with benefits’ set up? Is this the end of our friendship? What do I actually want?

So many questions but I’ve got no answers.

Unbidden, an image pops into my head, scattering my questions to oblivion.Jamie’s face last night, close to mine, sharing the same breath as slowly, so slowly, he enters me, watching me. Even now, my body responds instinctively to that memory. A spark flickers in my groin, only to be extinguished as I think I hear the front door slam.

As I step out of the bathroom with my robe tied firmly around me, I’m not surprised to find that I’m all alone.

**************

The brisk walk to Geillis and Dougal’s house does nothing to clear my mind. Normally, I love this walk through the park on a bright Sunday morning, watching children feeding the ducks while parents relax on the benches. The fresh air and wonderful scenery in the middle of Glasgow’s urban sprawl usually fills me with a sense of freedom and relaxation—but not today.

The ping of my phone causes my heart to race. As I read the message from Geillis, asking me to pick up croissants en route, I can feel my heart rate return to normal but my thoughts are still completely tangled up. Am I pleased or disappointed that it wasn’t Jamie?

***********

Armed with a bag full of still warm croissants, Geillis lets me into her house. There’s no sign of Dougal.

Geillis notices me looking around.

“I’ve sent him tae see his mam,” she explains. “She’ll be desperate tae see her wee boy and I dinna think she’ll be that arsed about whether I’m there or no’. Besides, as much as I love him, I’ve been wi’ him all day every day fer two weeks and I need a bit of girl time. Ye dinna mind do ye? He’ll be back afore ye’ve gone. And I wanted ye all tae myself.”

I settle myself on the sofa in Geillis’ cosy kitchen while she busies herself brewing the coffee and setting the table.

“So tell me,” I begin. “How was St Lucia?”

Geillis’ description of their days spent relaxing on gorgeous sandy beaches, snorkelling in the warm blue ocean, and evenings spent drinking cocktails in little beach bars watching the sunset turn the sky golden, makes me long for a holiday like that and I suddenly realise how much I want to share it with someone special.

Eventually, she realises her coffee’s going cold. “So, enough about that. What’s been happening here while I’ve been away? Any news, eh?”

I look down at my plate, now full of flakes of buttery pastry and idly push a few back and forth. “Oh, nothing much. Work keeping us busy, as ever. We missed you, you know.”

Geillis tilts her head, trying to catch my eye. I look up and try to make my face as expressionless as possible.

“Claire,” she sees right through my glass face. “What’s happened? What’s gone on?”

I say nothing.

“Let me guess. Is it tae do wi’ work?... Jamie...er…?

At the mention of his name, I stop playing with the croissant crumbs.

Her face breaks into a huge grin. “It’s ye and Jamie, isn’t it? Ye’ve slept together. When? C’mon, spill.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to Geillis about it, but as soon as she says that, I realise how much I need to tell someone.

Pushing my plate to one side, I rest my arms on the table and lay my head on them. “I’m not sure what I’ve done. Yes, we slept together last night, and now I think everything’s ruined. That’s it...our friendship gone.”

A chair scrapes across the floor as Geillis comes to sit beside me. She engulfs me in a tight hug and leans her head on my shoulder as I sit up.

“Claire, ye canna ruin a friendship with sex,” she cajoles. “It’s like ruining ice cream with chocolate sprinkles, eh.”

“If only it were that simple.”

“It could be that simple. Why not? Jes’ think about it...think about what ye want.”

“I want everything to go back to how it was—Jamie and I as friends.”

Geillis pulls away a little bit and looks me squarely in the face. “Truly? Is that what ye really want. Claire, think about it. Dinna lie tae yerself.”

“I—“ I pause and try to corral the thoughts rushing around my brain. Is that really what I want or do I want more? I’ve been telling myself for so long not to get involved, not to get hurt, it’s become my automatic response—don’t form relationships, get out before it gets too serious. I’ve never really questioned it before. But now Jamie has ignited emotions, feelings that I tried to keep locked away.

“I want Jamie in my life.” The words burst automatically from my mouth. And Geillis is right. It is simple. But—

“See, ye finally admitted it. Ye need him, don’t ye?”

I nod silently as tears fill my eyes. But I’m scared, I’m terrified of this feeling, this need for him. I’m scared of allowing myself to relax, to love someone and then to have it all vanish. That happens—they can just be taken from you in an instant. I’ve learnt that. And I’m frightened of being rejected.

“This isn’t easy for me,” I talk slowly, trying to find the right words to explain. “I don’t know what to do. I’m used to not getting involved, not having a relationship. If I let my guard down, relax, lo—“ I stop myself from that premature declaration. “And then what happens? People leave and I’m on my own again. Only this time it’s worse because I know how happy I can be.”

Geillis rips off a piece of kitchen towel and hands it to me. “Nothing but the finest here,” she smiles. “I ken ye sae well, Claire. Ye’re ma best friend and I ken what’s going on in yer head. I’ve seen yer fighting this fer weeks. Even when ye wouldna admit it tae yerself. Ye wrap yerself up in this shell, afraid tae let anyone in, afraid tae let yerself get truly involved. That’s why ye date men like Frank—they’re never going tae touch ye. And yes, it’s scary sometimes. But ye need tae take the risk.”

“But—“ I try and interrupt but Geillis hasn’t finished.

“Nah, I’m no’ done yet. I ken that, growing up things were no’ always easy but consider this— we’ve been best friends fer what… eight years, nine?”

I nod obediently.

“And I love ye. Ye’re ma family, ye’re the one I depend on. Ye ken mam and dad are bonkers. Anyway, ye love me too, right?”

Again, I nod, frantically sniffing and trying to hold back the tears at Geillis’ heartfelt words.

“Sae, ye’ve allowed yerself tae take the risk wi’ me. And look, I’m no’ going anywhere. I’m no’ leaving ye. Why could it no’ be the same wi’ Jamie? Go on, risk it, take that step.”

I know that Geillis is right. And I think that maybe, with Jamie, I’m ready to try. A feeling of excitement bubbles up inside me as I let myself consider a future with him—only to have the rational part of my brain quickly stamp on that emotion and grind it to little pieces.

“There’s another thing though, Geillis,” I explain as I twist the sodden piece of kitchen towel between my fingers. She gently takes it off me and passes me another.

“I mean, what if he doesn’t want me? What then? It might be just a casual one night thing to him. I can’t go back to being just a friend… I can’t.” Thinking of that, I start to cry, already anticipating this scenario.

At this, Geillis jumps up and rushes from the room, calling over her shoulder “Back in a sec. Just stay there.”

I’m more than a little confused, but, true to her word, she quickly returns carrying her iPad. She sets it on the table in front of us and selecting an app, types in a password.

“Our photographer has saved all our wedding photos here, for us to make our selection. Dougal and I were looking at them last night.” she explains.

I try to focus on what Geillis is saying. Perhaps she’s trying to distract me from my worries, cheer me up by looking at the photographs. I should stop thinking about my problem and let her have her moment of pride. But she's scrolling too rapidly for me to see the images, until she eventually stops.

“Here ye are,” she sighs. “Tell me what ye see.”

The photograph was obviously taken at the reception, after the meal. The white tablecloth is covered with glasses and cups. I’m sitting to the right, talking to someone not in the shot. My cheeks are slightly flushed from food and wine and my hair has started to free itself from its confines. I’m looking happy and relaxed. Jamie is sitting next to me, his jacket casually slung over the back of his chair, his hand resting on the backrest of mine. His face is partly turned towards the camera. There’s a small smile on his lips, but it’s his expression in his eyes I notice, watching me with such softness, such tenderness and, dare I say, such longing, that it takes my breath away.

Geillis touches my arm. “Ye see it, don’t ye? Claire, that is clearly a man in love—and I dinna mean with Great aunt Frances. Seriously, ma pet, rejection is something ye dinna need tae worry about. Sae, ye need tae tidy yerself up a wee bit, dry those eyes and go and get yer man.”

***************

There’s no word from Jamie and so, once I’m home, I decide to take the initiative and contact him. However, inspiration fails me, so in the end I decide to keep it simple.

I think we need to talk. When are you free?

Anytime today

I’m at home for the rest of the day.

I’m on my way

I quickly rush to the bathroom to check that the effects of my tears have disappeared—no red eyes or snotty nose, thank goodness. I add a dab of perfume and a touch of lipstick before running my fingers through my curls.

Time passes slowly when you’re watching the clock. Every second lasts a minute, every minute an hour. I try and focus on something else but fail miserably. Jamie’s presence is everywhere in my flat—from the living room sofa where it all started, to my bedroom where it came to it’s natural conclusion. I retreat to the kitchen but the pizza boxes and empty beer bottles are a further reminder of him. And so I end up wandering aimlessly from room to room, constantly checking my phone, constantly listening for footsteps outside my door.

Eventually, the doorbell rings. With sweaty palms and my stomach performing somersaults, I walk to the door, taking long, slow breaths, trying to keep myself calm.

Jamie stands in the doorway. He’s wearing his favourite rugby shirt and jeans that I’ve seen him wear so many times, but somehow today he looks different. I feel so aware of his body underneath his clothes, I need to catch my breath.

“Come in, please.”

Today he’s holding back—yesterday he needed no such invitation. With a brief hello, he follows me into the living room, standing awkwardly next to the sofa.

“Will you sit down? Drink?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine.” He sits on the sofa, wiping his hands on his jeans. Maybe he’s as nervous as me. Maybe Geillis and I have got it wrong and he’s here to put me straight.

I sit on the chair opposite him. An awkward silence descends. It’s so strange—not even twenty four hours ago, he was making me scream with pleasure, and now we can’t even look each other in the eye.

I clear my throat. “Jamie—“ I begin.

“Claire, please. Can I say what I need tae say,” he interrupts me nervously, looking down at his hands.

I’m finding it difficult to keep still, my knee won’t stop jiggling and I keep biting the inside of my cheek, but I let Jamie speak.

“Yesterday...last night…I didna plan that... I didna come here for that.”

Even through my nerves, I can’t help but smile at this confession. “I know that, I was the one who invited you here, remember? And I was the one who—”

“Aye, ye were. But I wasna sorry. And I’d be lying if I said it wasna welcome. In fact, I’d been wanting it for the longest time,” he pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing. “That is...I mean...not jes’ the sex but a relationship wi’ ye, Claire. I held back because I thought...think...thought ye jes’ wanted tae be friends. But now I need tae tell ye this, after what’s happened, I dinna think I can go back tae that. Mebbe we could try, if that’s what ye want, but for me that’s no’ going tae be enough.”

Finally, he looks up at me and I see it. I see what the photographer captured. How could I have missed it? And, just like that, a weight is lifted off me and my stomach stops it’s somersaults only to be replaced by a feeling of excitement and anticipation.

In one swift move, I’m at his side. Reaching out to touch his cheek, my fingers stroke the soft bristles. He turns to me, eyes now full of confusion—am I trying to console him as I deliver unwelcome news?

“Jamie,” I speak softly. “I didn’t think I wanted a relationship.”

His body tenses and he tries to turn his face away as I continue.

“But, then I met you. I thought I just wanted you as a friend. But I was scared to admit to myself that I wanted—want— more. So, I don’t want us to be just friends. That’s not enough for me now. I’m ready to move forward.”

He breathes a large sigh and I feel his body relax. A huge grin lights up his face. His arm draws me in and I snuggle there, resting my head on his chest.

“Sae, Miss Beauchamp, do ye want tae go out wi’ me then?” His voice sends vibrations through my body.

“Jamie, we’ve already been out loads of times.” I laugh.

“Ah, but this is different, this is courting,” he over enunciates the last word. “We go out, aye, but this time there’ll be hand holding, secret looks and then we rush home when ye canna keep yer hands off me.”

I playfully punch his shoulder. “Or vice versa.” I’m feeling bold and playful now, almost giddy with relief. “Maybe you won’t be able to keep your hands off me.”

His hand, snaking down my back to rest against my bottom, proves the truth of this statement.

“Mebbe,” he kisses the top of my head. “Sae, would ye like tae go out fer dinner tonight, as a couple?”

It’s amazing how natural, how right this feels to me. I sit up. “What I would really like is dinner here. We don’t have to go out.”

“And?” Jamie gives me his attempt at a wink and, as usual, fails miserably.

“Well, maybe an early night? It’s been a stressful day.”

He glances down at his watch. “It’s four thirty. Is that early enough fer ye?”

“Never too early,” I laugh as he leans in and wraps his arms around me, showering my neck with tiny kisses that send shivers down my spine.

“Oh, Claire,” he whispers between kisses.

And just like that, with Jamie’s arms around me, I feel like I’m home. I’ve found what I never even realised I was searching for. All the doubt and worry in my mind has disappeared. It seems so clear now. This isn’t scary, it’s exciting. This is where we’re meant to be—moving forward together.

This isn’t the end. It’s just our beginning.

*****************

The line about ice cream and chocolate sprinkles was actually from The Big Band Theory (credit where credit’s due) but I loved it

#outlander fanfiction #outlander fan fic #Just A Friend #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #chapter 14

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