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elvensorceress · 3 years

Text

ElvenSorceress’ Writings

Fandoms/Pairings Include:

Buddie of 911

Chad/Ryan of HSM

TonyStark/BruceBanner of MCU

Athelnar of Vikings

SilverFlint and Thomas/James of Black Sails

Buy me a tea if you’d like to support me 😊 💕

Fandom: 911

*Unless You Ask Me To - Buck/Eddie - rated: Explicit - 263K - WIP

Summary: Eddie dates a man for the first time, Buck is completely Fine(tm) and not at all having a breakdown, and the way to love and happiness is not easy but they find it anyway.

Eddie Diaz vs The Feelings - Buck/Eddie - rated: Explicit - 62K - complete

Summary: Eddie dives into the mysteries of attraction, romantic love, and asexuality because there's a good chance he's fallen in love with his best friend. [AKA demisexual!Eddie figures out he’s demi and finds his happily ever after]

The Definition of Love and All Things Ineffable - Buck/Eddie - rated: Teen - 29.3K - complete

Summary: In which Buck processes his breakup, learns his place in his family, has a huge crisis of sexuality, and finds the truth about love beating in his own heart. [post s5 coda]

*The Aftermath of Liberation and Love Confessions - Buck/Eddie - rated: Teen - 17.2 K - complete

Summary: In which Eddie comes out, sexuality is complicated but coffee is not, Buck is roasted, so very roasted, everyone has a love confession, and December is the most dramatic time of year. [post 5x09 coda of sorts]

*Heart of Flowers/Heart of Gold - Buck/Eddie - rated: Mature - 145K - complete

Summary: In the aftermath of the sniper attack, Buck and Eddie find their way to each other and their family’s happily ever after.

*If I Should Fall - Buck/Eddie, minor Buck/T*mmy - rated: Teen - 23.8K - complete

Summary: An accident leaves the love of Buck's life dying in a hospital, leading him to evaluate the life he has, the life he wants, and where his heart belongs.

* *Starlight - Buck/Eddie - rated: G - 4.3K - complete Summary: On a rare, starry summer night, Buck and Eddie discuss what ifs and make decisions about their future. *

*Say You Were Made to Be Mine - Buck/Eddie - rated: Teen - 11.6K - complete

Summary: It's Valentine's Day 2018, and Eddie saves a man from choking to death in the middle of a restaurant. It's only after the man is rushed away by paramedics that Eddie realizes his hands are green. The man he saved is his soulmate. And he doesn't even know his name let alone how to find him. [alternate meeting / soulmate AU]

* *What I Did For Love - Buck/Eddie - rated: Explicit - currently 115.2K - WIP Summary: Eddie is leaving the 118, and Buck is devastated. Since they’re no longer work partners, they have to figure out new ways to hold onto each other and heal from their shared trauma. [post 5x10 / alternate 5b series] *

The Orpheus & Eurydice series - Buck/Eddie - rated: Teen - 84K - complete

Part 1 - The Heart of a Man

Summary: In the middle of s4, Buck is warned by ghosts, gods, and premonitions that Eddie is fated to die. But if he follows his heart, he can change the world and save him.

Part 2 - Entr’acte

Summary: The summer after he was shot, Eddie slowly recovers but feels other realities where he died and where he and Buck were in love.

Part 3 - In the Darkest Time of Year

Summary: It's Halloween and Eddie hasn't felt alive in months. He's been in denial for so long that he's crumbling, and may be losing his mind. But he has to rescue his partner, even if it means facing down death and his own heart to do it.

* *Test Drive - Buck/Eddie, Eddie/Buck/T*mmy - rated: Explicit, 28K complete Summary: Buck wants his boyfriend to give his best friend a queer awakening like he had. For no particular reason at all. Eddie breaks up with the homophobe. And T*mmy decides to put his pining dingbat friends in a Situation where they have to confront their feelings for each other. [technically a threesome fic? but for the angst and pining more than the porns. the smut is clickbait. Buddie endgame] *

*Steamroller series - WIP

Summary: Early s2, Buck is struggling with Abby relationship feelings and newly divorced Eddie asks for help figuring out his sexuality.

Part 1 - Reset the Clock - Buck/Eddie - rated: Mature - 4K

Part 2 - Turn off the Heart - Buck/Eddie - rated: Mature - 5K

Part 3 - Inadvertent Attachment - Buck/Eddie - rated: Mature - 6.2K

*Until Forever - Buck/Eddie - rated: General - 3.2K - complete

Summary: The BuckleyDiaz family celebrate Eddie’s birthday

*Color Him Father, Color Him Love - Buck/Eddie - rated: General - 3.1K - complete

Summary: Buck has a revelation about what he is to Chris. And to Eddie. [alternate ending for 6x18]

*Listen - Buck/Eddie - rated: Teen - 3.6K - complete

Summary: Buck is struck by lightning and Eddie screams louder than the universe. [alternate 6x10/6x11]

*Ever After - Buck/Eddie - rated: Explicit - 7.8K - complete

Summary: After their first night together as a couple, Buck and Eddie wake up together

*Heartfelt - Buck/Eddie - rated: Explicit - 3K - complete

Summary: It’s Buck and Eddie’s 5th wedding anniversary. They celebrate.

*When You Broke Her Heart, I’m Watching it Burn - Buck/Eddie, Buck/Taylor breakup, rated: General, 4.7K - complete

Summary: When Buck confesses he kissed someone, Taylor makes an assumption about who. Eddie deals with what all of it means for his own future while picking up the pieces for both Buck and Taylor. [post 5x11]

Crash - Buck/Eddie - rated: G - 2.5K - complete

Summary: An alternate 6x04 Animal Instincts coda where Buck gets hit by the car and Eddie takes care of him.

*Last Time I Saw You We Had Just Split in Two - Buck/Eddie - rated: General - 4.3K - complete

Summary: Buck is accidentally wounded, Eddie is breaking. They work on healing together. [set sometime after 5x08]

*My Heart’s Been Borrowed - Buck/Eddie, Buck/Taylor - rated: Explicit - 25K - complete

Summary: Early s5, Taylor gives Buck his ultimate fantasy and unintentionally stirs up his long held feelings for Eddie [side note, you can totally skip the first chapter and start on ch2 where it’s just Buck and Eddie getting together if B/T bothers you. It’s definitely not my favorite XD that’s not the point of this. Angst and pining however... ]

*Sunrise - Buck/Eddie - rated: General - 1.3K - complete

Summary: Post break up, Eddie asks Buck to come home. [the 5x03 episode coda we all deserve]

*Starved - Buck/Eddie - rated: General - 2.3K - complete

Summary: He’d give anything to have a life like theirs. A partner and child. A committed relationship. Love. What does it even mean to be loved? Will it ever be something he gets to have? [episode coda for 5x04 - Home and Away]

*Plus or Minus - Buck/Eddie , minor Buck/Taylor - rated: General - 10K - complete

Summary: TayKay is offered a job across the country. Buck has to figure out if he wants to start over or if he has a reason to stay right where he is.

short Tumblr prompts and ask box games

*You have to eat something - Buck/Eddie - rated: General

*I want to wreck you - Buck/Eddie - rated: Explicit

*Everything is Fine - implied Buck/Eddie - rated: General

*I know it hurts - Buck/Eddie - rated: General

Fandom: Black Sails

*Not All Treasure - Silver/Flint, Thomas/James - rated: Explicit - currently 85K - WIP

Summary: Silver's been captivated by Flint since the moment they met, and Flint craves reprieve from his loneliness and broken heart. Their intense attraction becomes one sexual encounter after another, but their drive for Spanish gold pits them against the crew and close brushes with death remind them that all they have is each other. [Or, canon as we know it if Flint and Silver were in a sexual relationship shortly after meeting.]

*Complementary - Thomas/James, Miranda/Thomas/James - rated: General - 2.5K - complete

Summary: When a swirl of green appeared on his left wrist, he stared at it and couldn’t breathe. It looked like script but not words he knew. They crossed the veins in his skin, and he traced the lines and memorized the shapes and pattern. But how could he know who bore a matching tattoo? [soulmate AU, platonic and romantic]

*Iceberg - Silver/Flint - rated: General - 1.3K - complete

Summary: Dr. Howell tends to Silver after his amputation and finds their captain unexpectedly shaken.

*Sea Longing - Silver/Flint - rated: General - 5K - complete

Summary: He's in love with the ocean. He belongs to the sea. Without the moon, the ocean is still. Every day, he regrets, mourns, and feels the absence. [mythic, metaphorical, fairy tale style]

*Painless - Silver/Flint - rated: Mature - 2.6K - complete

Summary: After Silver kills Dufresne, Flint finds him and comforts him while Silver philosophizes on the nature of their relationship. [set during 3x07]

*Shadows and Phoenix - Silver/Flint - rated: Teen - 8K - complete

Summary: The war for Nassau has been fought and lost by all. Long John Silver is tasked with delivering the final hit to ensure it never lives again — killing the man who was once everything to him. Flint must find the man inside the monstrous legend and bring him back to life.

*Every Star that’s Ever Fallen - Silver/Flint - rated: Explicit - 1.7K - complete

Summary: For all the terrifying, rough and violent nature he possessed, Flint was gentler than Silver expected. His touch was careful as he unfastened Silver’s trousers and tugged them down. A ripple of unpleasant queasiness churned his stomach. He didn’t want it to. He didn’t want to think of anything but how Flint desired him. But even he had a hard time looking at what was left of him. [set post 3x06]

Fandom: MCU / Avengers

*Myogenic Contractions of the Cardiac Cycle (aka Bannerella) - Tony Stark/Bruce Banner - rated: Explicit - currently 204K - complete (for now)

Summary: One magical night at a science conference, Bruce meets the incredibly charming, famous, handsome Tony Stark. They end up falling hard for each other but unable to have any more than that single night before Bruce disappears and leaves Tony longing and searching for the mysterious runaway physicist who loved him. [Or the one where Bruce is Cinderella]

*Broken Arrows - Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff - rated: Teen - 750 - complete

Summary: Post Winter Soldier, Natasha contemplates the way she grew up and, with the fall of SHIELD and revelation of all her secrets, she wonders where her partner's loyalties lie. [side note: this was written and posted before Wh*don retconned MCU Clintasha 😒]

Fandom: High School Musical (the movies)

*Boy Disease - Chad Danforth/Ryan Evans - rated: Teen - 72K - complete

Summary: While all of Chad and Ryan’s friends are paired off and (seemingly) happy and heterosexual, they are drawn to each other and share a close, affectionate relationship. To break free of the trappings of high school comphet, Chad has to come to terms with his feelings for Ryan and his own sexuality.

*Status Quo - Chad Danforth/Ryan Evans, Taylor McKessie/Kelsi Nielsen - rated: Teen - 8K - complete

Summary: Chad does not have a secret obsession, but Ryan has always been on his mind. - A character study of Chad Danforth, his denial and subsequent journey of discovering identity.

*Over You - Zeke Baylor/Sharpay Evans - rated: Explicit - 1.8K - complete

Summary: “Maybe I got tired of waiting. Maybe I'm over you. If you want cookies, you can buy them." [written for Porn Battle VII]

Fandom: Vikings

*Everlasting - Ragnar/Athelstan - rated: General - 2.3K - complete

Summary: Ragnar longs for his ever after. [includes character deaths and afterlife]

*No Other Place - primarily Ragnar/Athelstan - rated: Teen - 5K - complete

Summary: Five people Athelstan almost gave his heart to, and the one he did.

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

It Creates Magic - Emma/Regina - rated: Explicit - 5.9K - complete

Summary: Maybe if she can touch Regina, the magic will flow through her. Maybe it can heal her wounds. Maybe it can prove that changing is worth it and that it means something. Emma has no clue how or why it makes any sense, but it does. She lifts both hands and slides them up Regina's arms. [Missing scene for 2x12]

Orpheus of the Sea - Hook/Milah - rated: Teen - 2.9K - complete

Summary: He had been a musician once, but she loved it best when it was his voice that carried the melody. Others had always been entranced by him, whether by his charm, talent, or looks, but he was awestruck by her. She was fierce and strong, but she was breaking. He knew loneliness. He knew being told you were inferior and worthless. He knew being lost and unloved. She wore all of it like vivid scars, like unyielding, crushing chains. [Millian as Orpheus and Eurydice]

Heartless - Hook/Milah - rated: Teen - 5.5K - complete

Summary: Milah is suffocating until she meets a presumptuous handsome pirate.

My AO3 page - there are a few more old and random fics on here but the best ones IMO are linked above

[Note that I currently have two HUGE series that I’m working on. Have been working on for years. Neither of them are abandoned, I just have to take breaks and work on other things because they’re both so long and involved. But Bannerella is currently complete. I may continue it at some point but the story has its happy ending. Not All Treasure just needs me to finish out the rest of the s2 chapters. At some point, I’ll get to them!]

124 notes · View notes

lavendead · 3 years

Text

In honor of reaching 200 fics on my haikyuu fic rec list on here i’m gonna post the simplified version here. It’s gonna be in three parts cause it won’t all fit in one post and this list will not be spoiler free so keep that in mind. Here’s the first part:

Ships(In alphabetical order):

Akasuga:

captivating- https://archiveofourown.org/works/16755400

Caught in Timeless Love- https://archiveofourown.org/works/30683399

lucky corner store- https://archiveofourown.org/works/17912636

Asanoya:

Heatstroke- https://archiveofourown.org/works/24137113

Asasuga:

freaky friday- https://archiveofourown.org/works/26439451

Atsuhina:

Are you winning, Atsumu-San?- https://archiveofourown.org/works/32366317

Evidence in support of the theory of heliocentricity- https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924261 (this is probably my favorite)

Inarizaki!Hinata- https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818832

in gold daylight- https://archiveofourown.org/works/22957585

lumiere over me- https://archiveofourown.org/works/32363392

positions- https://archiveofourown.org/works/27448045

The theory of everything- https://archiveofourown.org/works/26657467

Timmy play your trumpet (let the people go berserk)- https://archiveofourown.org/works/24732475

what did i miss?- https://archiveofourown.org/works/32691553

You Could Be My Ever After- https://archiveofourown.org/works/30590462

Bokuaka:

baby blåhaj in the deep blue sea- https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601849

In another life- https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096105

Msby jackals here we go!- https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047196

Not by blood but by heart- https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929478

Shut up and dance- https://archiveofourown.org/works/3960604

Bokuatsu

If you were a wink, I’d be a nod- https://archiveofourown.org/works/30758036/chapters/75915866

Bokuosaaka

So tell me what we choose- https://archiveofourown.org/works/26696968/chapters/65120185

Bokuroodai:

All bets are off- https://archiveofourown.org/works/17332715

Daikuroo:

Pleasedatemesawamura.pptx- https://archiveofourown.org/works/27297826

Sincerely, your close friend and sworn rival- https://archiveofourown.org/works/29433165/chapters/72302595

We Could Be Everything- https://archiveofourown.org/works/23772889/chapters/57103885

Daisuga:

Heavenly Bodies- https://archiveofourown.org/works/30633701

Point break- https://archiveofourown.org/works/28363797

Swipe right- https://archiveofourown.org/works/26840308/chapters/6548458

Technical difficulties- https://archiveofourown.org/series/881355

Gen:

A catalogue or reminiscence- https://archiveofourown.org/works/26819557

A Study in Miya- https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592876

An Unlikely Alliance- https://archiveofourown.org/works/31531142

break an egg!- https://archiveofourown.org/works/26083081

Coming Home, Taking Flight- https://archiveofourown.org/works/31025843/chapters/76640489

Danger Zone- https://archiveofourown.org/works/28294326

Don’t talk to me or any of my 14 children ever again- https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143536/chapters/71547705

Enough- https://archiveofourown.org/works/28645206

Every Sunday Morning- https://archiveofourown.org/works/30096336

FAITH/FULL- https://archiveofourown.org/works/28176630

Fifteen Twenty Five- https://archiveofourown.org/works/26874613

Focus- https://archiveofourown.org/works/27744676

Haikyuu at Hogwarts- https://archiveofourown.org/series/952755

Half truths- https://archiveofourown.org/works/23272861

Heal our wings- https://archiveofourown.org/works/28881858/chapters/70851954

Hinata Shouyou, Spider Handler- https://archiveofourown.org/works/23173438

his smile, like mine- https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367400

How to get along with your enemies after being literally forced into it?- https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211115/chapters/69129918

how to mend a broken heart- https://archiveofourown.org/works/30122574

I’d Rather A Friend Than A Lover- https://archiveofourown.org/works/30141351

John Mulaney Voice: “We’re WELL Past That”- https://archiveofourown.org/works/28315653

Just friends in a circle (they definitely aren’t sad)- https://archiveofourown.org/works/24287866 (kind of shobio)

Just How Fast The Night Changes- https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224029

laundry day- https://archiveofourown.org/works/28696281

Meet in the Middle- https://archiveofourown.org/works/26920309

mirror- https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656542?view_adult=true

Miya Kids Set Your Plans On Fire- https://archiveofourown.org/works/32053993/chapters/79403821

Oh, Kuroo? He’s just...some guy- https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955621

one more time- https://archiveofourown.org/works/28789152

Orogenesis- https://archiveofourown.org/works/27230047

Reflections- https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246316

rice and nori and salt and brother- https://archiveofourown.org/works/26973457

sugawara’s and kiyoko’s friendship- https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149263

The Great Flower Heist- https://archiveofourown.org/works/32838634

The Steps Were Wet With Tears (Karasuno 7 Mysteries)- https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934250

the whole heart shrinks- https://archiveofourown.org/works/28431330

Ukai Keishin, but make him a parent to the Hinata siblings- https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698718

Used to be- https://archiveofourown.org/works/30406923

Watch me and my team (all year round we just chillin’)- https://archiveofourown.org/works/28691754

We will always find each other, even here (especially here)- https://archiveofourown.org/works/27311068/chapters/66728530

‘We’re Twins After All’- https://archiveofourown.org/works/29260611

Who Am I?- https://archiveofourown.org/works/27148516

Wrecking Crew- https://archiveofourown.org/works/30319569

Hoshihina:

as long as you hold my hand- https://archiveofourown.org/works/27006604

carry the flames- https://archiveofourown.org/works/30275469

catch up, latency- https://archiveofourown.org/works/26224456/chapters/63826174

Iwaoi:

kiss it better- https://archiveofourown.org/works/1739261

Kenhina:

5 Times Hinata Was Sort of Being Really Weird and 1 Time His Teammates Finally Got a Clue- https://archiveofourown.org/works/23455990

according to youtube statistics- https://archiveofourown.org/works/29253687

Feel Good, Feel Special- https://archiveofourown.org/works/30373047/chapters/74878206

Finding Solace- https://archiveofourown.org/works/26058595/chapters/72239145

Game Face- https://archiveofourown.org/works/2551637

here comes the sun- https://archiveofourown.org/works/21671050

I’ve been waiting to smile- https://archiveofourown.org/works/4225026

oops.- https://archiveofourown.org/works/22661212

Sakanoshita Store and Visitors- https://archiveofourown.org/works/23415745

saudade- https://archiveofourown.org/works/28756557/chapters/70513836

The flowers at your feet, the sky at your fingertips- https://archiveofourown.org/works/1833553

Why me?- https://archiveofourown.org/works/29943591

you don’t know half of the things you do to me- https://archiveofourown.org/works/29897343/chapters/74475156

Oihina:

Hinata and Oikawas adventures in Rio- https://archiveofourown.org/works/27615595/chapters/67561510

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emsvegetables · 4 years

Text

16th: fake-dating with kuroo.

- in which he needs a date to his cousin’s wedding or his mom is going to try to marry him off to a random girl. and who’s there to save the day? you!

no. of words: 2.4k

hi. okay. i actually have no idea how much words this fic contains. and I APOLOGISE BUT I PROBABLY RAMBLED ON TOO MUCH BECAUSE I LOVE THIS TROPE SO MUCH and this is actually kinda shitty and bumpy because i just wrote whatever came to my mind so i hope this isn’t too messy and I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS :”””””)

“just hire an escort.”

you raise an eyebrow when you hear the words drift into the kitchen from the living room, and you take five cans of sprite from the fridge and two packets of chips from the cupboard, and when you pad back into the living room, you meet kuroo’s frustrated face, akaashi’s amused one, tsukishima’s normal face, and bokuto’s excited one.

“what’s this i hear about hiring an escort?” you ask, and try to shift the packet of chips to your other hand so the cans won’t roll out of your hands, and you shoot a smile at kuroo when he pushes himself off the couch and heads towards you to help you take the cans out of your hands. it’s times like these where kuroo makes your heart skip a beat. he was always there to help you carry things if you needed someone to.

you pass the chips to bokuto and tsukishima, and settle into an empty spot in between akaashi and kuroo and reach for the television remote to browse through netflix. kuroo instantly stretches out a hand to rest on your shoulders. it’s something he always did, and it just showed how comfortable he was with you. but recently, it’s been causing your heart to flutter just a little bit.

“well?” you say, when the room still remains silent, save for the crinkling of the chips’ packet and the opening of the cans of sprite.

“didn’t kuroo tell you?” akaashi asks, and you tilt your head slightly to the side when he looks at you with a questioning gaze, and you turn to give kuroo a questioning gaze as well.

he’s avoiding your eyes, which means that he’s either embarrassed or frustrated, and you aren’t quite sure which one he is.

“my cousin’s getting married,” he finally says after a short pause, “the one you met during christmas dinner? do you remember her? the accountant?”

“oh!” you say, and nod fervently and smile when you remember how she looked like, “the christmas dinner two years ago? the one that has tortoise-shell glasses? the pretty one?”

kuroo nods, and he lifts up a hand to run through his messy hair, “yeah, well. she’s getting married this weekend.”

you almost tell him to give her your congratulations, but you frown, “and what’s that got to do with hiring an escort?”

a red flush overcomes kuroo’s cheeks, and you blink when you realise that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him so red.

“that’s n-not my idea,” he finally bites out, and he’s looking away from you, and you raise an eyebrow again because that didn’t answer your question, and you’re really confused.

then you hear tsukishima’s laugh.

“his mom told him that she’s going to introduce him to a girl at the wedding. apparently he’s at the age where he should be dating or he’ll be single forever. he’s trying to find a way to get out of this.”

you let out a snort when tsukishima finishes the sentence, and kuroo turns back to glare at you, his face still a little red.

“guess who that girl is,” kuroo grumbles, and you laugh, but stop short when kuroo doesn’t smile.

“who?”

“yura babbington.”

“wait, what?” bokuto cuts in, and laughs loudly, “you didn’t tell us it was yura babbington!”

yura babbington was your university’s resident entitled drama queen. she was rude to the waitresses in restaurants when she went out for lunch. she was an asshole to the cleaners in your university. yura once made everyone believe that a girl kissed her own cousin because the girl showed interest in yura’s ex boyfriend.

“this is going to be gold, kuroo,” tsukishima smirks, “you and yura babbington? amazing. the ultimate power couple.”

kuroo flips the middle finger at tsukishima, and burrows his head into your neck and groans sadly, “help me, (Y/N).”

you have to force yourself to not allow the flush to rise to your face.

“what can i even do?” you laugh, and pat his his head with your free hand, “i don’t think i can even do anything, mr babbington.”

akaashi snorts.

you laugh again when kuroo pulls away from you with the most scandalised look on his face, and you yelp when kuroo tucks his fingers into your sides and begins to tickle you.

“apologise!” he demands, and you laugh again as you squirm on the couch to try to escape his fingers digging into your side.

“no!”

“you can’t joke about me becoming mr babbington! i’m going to fucking hurl!”

you’re about to tease him again when bokuto cuts in, “i think hiring an escort is a good idea! he can have a date the entire time during the wedding and his mom won’t try to hook him up with yura because he’s with someone!”

you laugh again when kuroo flips the middle finger at bokuto, and slumps back into the couch with a frown on his face.

“i’m not going to hire an escort.”

“why not, it’s still better than being mr babbington, right?” you grin, and grimace when kuroo flicks your forehead.

“because.”

“because?” akaashi prods, and kuroo glares at him.

“because it’s weird, i don’t even know the escort,” kuroo says, and takes a swig from his can of sprite.

“i have an idea!” bokuto says excitedly as akaashi scrolls through the netflix catalogue

to finally settle on which movie to watch, “(Y/N), what if you become his date for the wedding?”

“what? are you serious?” you laugh, and when you meet kuroo’s eyes, there’s a flash of something in there but you’re not quite sure what it is because it’s gone when he blinks. you’re sure that the flush you were try to surpress has risen to your face this time.

“yeah? why not? kuroo’s super comfortable with you. you’re super comfortable with kuroo. just pretend it’s a usual outing? y’all always go on outings together anyway,” bokuto shrugs, and kuroo’s slowly sitting up a little straighter as bokuto continues to ramble on.

“(Y/N)...”

“kuroo...”

“please...”

“what do you want me to do? play your doting girlfriend?”

“...yes?”

you shake your head and turn away from kuroo to face the television.

“please? you’re my best friend. the sweetest person i know. the most nicest person i know. the bestest person i know. the prettiest—“

you scoff (because what the hell—how can he say such things to you so easily?), “you’re just a sweet talker.”

he grins at you, “is it working?”

“can’t you find someone else?”

“you’re the only girl i know.”

you roll your eyes, “that’s a lie. what about kaori? yukie? yumi? miyo?”

it’s kuroo’s turn to roll his eyes,” well, yeah. but you’re the only one which i would actually date.”

“you’re not helping your case,” you say sternly, and try to cover up the fact that your heart is now hammering against your chest.

“please?” kuroo says again, smiling at you, “c’mon, i’ll buy you those vanilla crepes that you like so much.”

you sigh.

kuroo blinks when he sees you head towards him and he has to slap himself mentally because holy shit, how can someone look this good? he’s been harbouring a major minor crush on you for a few years now, and every single day he looks at you, you always look prettier than you looked the day before.

you’re looking absolutely beautiful in that dress of yours, and your hair is pulled back into a pretty half-up hairdo, and you look so fucking good, and his mind just goes blank.

“hey, kuroo. what’s up with you?” you shoot him a smile and he just feels like his brain has short-circuited.

“you look really pretty,” he blurts out, and damn it, he didn’t mean to say it out loud, and thank you, he will be ascending to heaven right now.

you laugh, and he has never heard something so pleasing before, “you’re not too bad yourself. you clean up well, huh?”

he manages to get a hold of himself to realise what you just said, and he frowns comically, “what’s that supposed to mean, ma’am?”

you laugh, and dart out of the forehead flick he sends your way, “well—“

“tetsurou? darling?”

the both of you turn, and kuroo watches your smile widen as you recognise the person who just spoke.

“mrs kuroo!” you trill, and you spread open your arms to pull his mom into a hug, and kuroo has never been so jealous of his mom before.

“(Y/N)!” his mom gushes, wrapping her arms around you tightly, “it’s so nice to see you! it been three months since we last saw each other, and you’re still so pretty!”

you laugh, and beam brightly at his mom while she rambles on about what you missed out on on, and kuroo can’t help but think that you just fit in so well in his family.

“oh, so tetsurou brought you here?” his mom asks, and when you nod, she turns to give kuroo a look, “he didn’t mention that he was bringing anyone.”

“it’s not his fault, mrs kuroo! to be honest, it was my fault. we’ve been dating for a while now and i wanted to keep our relationship private, so i told him to not tell anybody,” you say, and kuroo almost laughs at how quickly and smoothly you came up with the lie. and now he can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to date you. he’s been thinking about it for a while now, but he doesn’t want to ruin the relationship between the both of you, so he’s been keeping things to himself.

“tetsurou! why didn’t you tell me earlier? now yura—“

“tetsurou?”

the both of you freeze when you hear the sickly-sweet honeyed voice, and kuroo stiffens when he catches sight of the figure sashaying towards the both of you.

“hi mrs kuroo! and hey, tetsurou! it’s so nice to finally be able to spend time with you! you’re always around that girl—“ yura falls silent when she makes eye contact with you, and smiles at you.

“(Y/N), is it? i believe we haven’t had the chance to interact. i’m yura marie babbington, but you can call me yura marie,” yura sticks out a hand for you to shake and smiles at you expectantly.

“it’s a pleasure, yura.”

“maybe you misheard me, i said you can call me yura marie.”

“yura is easier to pronounce,” you say cheerfully, and kuroo has to choke back a laugh.

you smile brightly as yura tries to mask her scowl with a smile as she turns to face kuroo’s mom.

“mrs kuroo, i hoped that i would be able to get to know tetsurou a little more..privately.” yura reaches forward to lace her fingers with kuroo’s, and kuroo instantly unlaces them and reaches for yours instead.

“yura, call me kuroo. tetsurou is only for people i’m close to,” kuroo says, and he smiles a little when he feels your hand squeezing his slightly.

“i assumed that i could call you tetsurou, because we’re going to be dating, no?” yura smiles at him, but her smile falters when she catches the sight of your linked arms.

“i’m sorry, i assumed that you should be holding hands with me instead of her,” yura says, and reaches forward to try to hold kuroo’s hands, but before kuroo can react, you’re pulling his hands back and smiling at yura.

“sorry, yura, but i’m afraid he’s taken,” you say, and kuroo swears he sees sparks fly around the both of you when you tiptoe up to press a kiss onto his lips.

when you pull back from the kiss, yura merely scoffs and stalks away and mrs kuroo looks like she was torn between frowning and smiling.

“i’ll go clear things up with yura,” she finally says, before giving the both of you hugs, “and tetsurou, i expect to hear details about how you got with (Y/N)!”

when she rushes away, kuroo grins when you let out a sigh of relief.

“i don’t think i’m going to be mr babbington anytime soon,” he smirks, and you let out a laugh.

“oh my gosh,” you say suddenly, and he startles, and turns to face you, “what’s wrong, (Y/N)?”

“i’m sorry i kissed you so suddenly just now, i just thought that it was the only way yura would—“

“it’s fine—“

“no! it really isn’t! we didn’t really establish what we could do and—“

“(Y/N)—“

“i’m so sorry if i made you uncomfortable—“

“(Y/N),” kuroo says firmly, and you freeze in the middle of your words and stare up at him, “it’s fine, okay? the kiss didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

he watches your shoulders sag in relief, and he clenches his jaw when he realises that it was now or never.

“hey, (Y/N)?”

“yeah? oh no, was it the kiss? it was really unco—“

“i like you.”

“i understand if you—wait what?”

he laughs at how adorably confused you look, with your nose scrunching up and your eyes squinting at him.

“kuroo, can you say what you said again? i think i misheard it.”

“you didn’t mishear anything,” he laughs softly, and he feels his heartbeat quicken when you stare down at your feet.

“uh, i didn’t make you uncomfortable, right?” he says after a minute, and he almost wants to punch himself for putting you in this position when you shake your head quickly.

“no. no! you didn’t make me uncomfortable. i was just thinking,” you quickly say, and he nods.

“kuroo?” you finally say after another minute of silence, and you hear him let out a quiet, “yeah?”

“i like you too.”

and just like that, kuroo feels the tension in the air evaporate, and he grins at you before leaning down to press a kiss onto your lips.

“(Y/N)?” he mumbles against your lips after he pulls away slightly.

“yeah?”

“you know you can call me tetsurou, right? you could’ve called me by that a long time ago.”

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#kuroo x reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader

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expectingtofly · 4 years

Text

Not Jealous (Okay, Maybe a Little... Maybe a Lot)

8.1k

fluff, set sometime in s13, tfw gets a visit from the djinn queen

(okay so in 13x16, Cas says he killed most of the djinn guarding the Tree of Life, but this fic ignores that bc I like to think that Cas is an excellent negotiator and actually became friends with the djinn and their queen :))

also posted on ao3

created for CastielWasTheFirstTemptation for the Profound Bond Discord Exchange

Dean was having a crappy Tuesday. And he’d had plenty of experience with bad Tuesdays.

He was sitting in the library trying to parse through a stack of books, organizing them according to random categories he was half-sure Sam had made up to specifically torture him.

They’d been busy with hunts all month and on their one day off, Sam had decided it was “organize the bunker” day. He was downstairs in one of the storage rooms happily cataloguing away. Dean was stuck up here, doing the same thing, less happily.

He was tossing a book onto the Sewer Dwelling Monsters pile when the bunker door screeched open.

“Hey,” he called, grabbing another book and leafing through it. “You better have remembered to pick up beer and pie because I’m going crazy here.”

“Dean, we have a visitor.”

And that’s when Dean’s Tuesday got worse.

Dean looked up to see Cas standing on the stairway next to a ridiculously tall man—and that was saying something when they lived with Sasquatch himself. Dean only needed one look at the black tattoos snaking over the man’s bald head and forearms to realize he was a Djinn.

Quickly, Dean stood, pushing his chair back. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

The man fixed him with a heavy stare, then proceeded to scan the room. Cas spoke up, “Don’t worry, he’s not a threat.” To the man, he said, “I promise it’s safe in here.”

“What—” Dean started, then the man nodded once and motioned to someone beyond the doorway.

In a loud voice, he announced, “May I present Queen of the Djinn, her majesty Zara.”

At his words, a woman swept through the door, dressed in a long, dark cloak, her arms and neck also covered in Djinn tattoos.

“Why, Castiel,” she said, gazing around the room. “What a lovely home you have. I have to say, though, I didn’t expect you to live underground.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean spoke up. “Who the fuck are you?”

The woman turned her eyes on him and Cas shifted uncomfortably. He was holding several reusable grocery bags in his hands. “Dean, this is Zara. My, uh, betrothed.”

“Your what?” Dean spluttered and the woman—Queen Zara, apparently—started down the stairs, her dress and cloak sweeping behind her.

“You must be Dean Winchester,” she said. “Castiel told me about you.” Reaching the bottom of the staircase, she extended her hand palm down, and Dean stared at it. He settled on shaking it, unsure whether she was expecting him to bow or kiss her hand.

“Sorry, can we back up for a second?” He looked up at Cas who was following the other Djinn down the stairs. “Did you say betrothed?”

“Yes,” Zara answered brightly.

“Okay,” Dean said, slowly, unsure if he was understanding this correctly. Cas looked a little guilty. “Care to elaborate, Cas?”

“I may have technically become married to Zara when I went in search of the fruit of the Tree of Life.” Dean raised his eyebrows, and he added, “And I may have forgotten to tell you.”

“You forgot to tell me?” Dean repeated.

“I was going to,” Cas said. “But then we ended up in that cartoon with the talking dog and there was so much going on—”

“If I may,” Zara interjected, and Dean realized Zara and the man, presumably her bodyguard, were watching them go back and forth. “I see there’s been a miscommunication. See, when Castiel arrived for negotiations to obtain the fruit of the Tree of Life, we Djinn were in the middle of a war. I asked for Castiel’s hand in marriage in exchange for giving him the fruit, and we pledged ourselves to each other, agreeing to hold the official binding ceremonies later when the war didn’t require all my focus.”

Dean glared at Cas. Pledged themselves to each other? Cas ducked his head with a sheepish look and set his grocery bags on the table.

Unbothered, Zara continued, “Now that the war has ended, I am able to turn my thoughts towards finalizing our relationship. I came to reunite with dear Castiel and bring him back to my kingdom for our official wedding ceremony.”

“Hold on,” Dean spoke up. “Wedding? Bring him back—Cas ain’t gonna marry you.”

Zara’s eye twitched. “I think that’s up to Castiel, isn’t it, Dean?”

Dean looked to Cas for help, who spoke up, “I’m afraid Dean is right, Zara. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I realized the extent of the commitment I made. I can’t marry you.”

Dean eyed Zara and her bodyguard, tensing for a fight, but Zara’s reaction was only to smile and pat Cas’ shoulder.

“It’s no surprise that you would feel that way, Castiel,” she said. “We hardly know each other, after all. I confess, part of my reasoning for journeying here was to see the real you, to learn about you. I’m eager for us to grow closer during our time together.”

“During our time—” Dean was interrupted by Zara clapping her hands. Instantly, the bunker door opened to admit a line of other Djinn who filed down the stairs, all carrying baskets or trunks or cases.

Dean stared at them. “What the fuck…”

“There’s more of them,” Cas said unhelpfully.

“Alright, we need to talk.” Grabbing Cas’ arm, Dean pulled him into the adjacent hallway. “Stay right there!” he told Zara, jabbing his finger at her.

“Dean, I’m sorry,” Cas started as Dean dragged him into the hallway.

“Dude, what the fuck? Getting freaking engaged to a Djinn isn’t just something you forget to tell us about!”

“I was preoccupied!” Cas protested.

“And now you’re gonna let them into the bunker? Are you crazy?”

“They’re not a threat, Dean. Zara is very different from the Djinn we’ve encountered before.”

Footsteps sounded behind them and Dean turned to see Sam running over. “What’s going on out here, what’s all that noise?”

“We’ve been invaded by the Djinn,” Dean said, and Sam’s eyes widened.

“What? How? I’ll grab guns—”

“No, Sam.” Cas put out his hand to stop Sam from bolting down the hallway. “It’s not like that, they’re friendly.”

“Oh, so now you’re buddies with them?” Dean asked.

Cas shot him a look and started explaining the situation to Sam. Shaking his head, Dean peeked out through the doorway to watch the Djinn pile their belongings on the map table, Zara giving instructions.

Preoccupied? Really? Then again, communication never had been one of his and Cas’ strengths.

There were about ten other Djinn besides Zara and her bodyguard. One of the men set down a large trunk and Dean winced at the scuffing noise it made on the floor. Then the man opened the trunk and Dean startled, realizing it was filled with weapons and blades.

“Hey!” he protested, storming into the room. “No weapons allowed in here. You don’t wanna start something with us, this is our home turf.”

The bodyguard stepped forward, cracking his knuckles, but Zara only laughed. “This is a friendly visit, Dean, I assure you. These items are for Castiel, as part of my dowry.” She brightened, seeing Sam and Cas enter the room. “Sam Winchester, I presume?” She extended her hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Sam took her hand and made an awkward nod, half bow. “Um, uh, pleasure."

“Charming,” Zara said with a laugh. She looked at Cas. “You were right, he does have such beautiful hair.”

Dean rolled his eyes and Zara motioned around the room. “As you can see, we’ve brought quite a few things. Would you mind having your attendants show mine to the cookery? We brought food for a feast.”

“Um, we don’t have attendants,” Cas said. He looked to Dean for help, and when Dean didn’t offer any assistance—Cas was the one who had gotten them into this mess—he said, “I can show you around.”

He headed off with Zara, her attendants holding baskets of food, and her bodyguard, who cast a suspicious look at Dean before following.

Dean glared at their retreating backs. “A feast? What the hell is happening?”

“She seems nice,” Sam commented.

“Nice? Did you miss the part where she’s engaged to Cas?”

“Yeah. Weird.” He started for the library. “I think we have a few books on Djinn. I wonder how binding their engagements are.”

Dean stared at his retreating back, then at the doorway where Cas and the Djinn had left through. “What the hell is going on?” he asked aloud.

A peek into the kitchen showed the Djinn plating food and cooking—Dean had to force himself to walk away before he started a war with them by barging in and demanding they stop touching his stove.

He followed Zara’s annoyingly regal voice to the hallway outside the bedrooms where Cas was apparently giving a tour to her and her bodyguard.

“How many people live here?” she asked as Dean walked over.

“Just the four of us,” Jack said.

Oh, so now Jack was in on it too. He smiled, noticing Dean. “Dean! You should try these cookies.” He held up something that looked suspiciously like what the Djinn had been putting on plates in the kitchen.

So now they were bribing his family with food? Crossing his arms, Dean said, “I don’t know if you noticed, Zara, but we weren’t exactly expecting you or your, uh, attendants. Just how long are you planning to stay here?”

“At least a week,” she answered, shattering any hope that they might be gone by 6pm. “Cas was just showing us all these extra bedrooms where we can stay.”

Dean glared at Cas, who avoided his eyes and motioned to Zara to follow him down the hallway. “Um, over here is where we keep archival documents,” he said.

Jack made to follow and Dean grabbed his elbow. “What’s her deal?” he asked, watching Zara and her bodyguard follow Cas down the hallway.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, following his gaze.

“She barges in here with a dozen Djinn saying she’s engaged to Cas? Are they trying to infiltrate us? Can you tell if she’s evil?”

“She isn’t saying she’s engaged, she is engaged to Cas.” Jack finished off his cookie. “Cas told me, when he came back from Zara’s kingdom.”

“He told you?” And not me? he wanted to add.

Maybe it was implied on his face because Jack looked mildly uncomfortable. “I can tell, she isn’t evil. She’s friendly.”

“What else did Cas say about her?” Dean asked, trying not to sound too interested or concerned. No need to panic; Cas had only gotten engaged to obtain the Tree of Life fruit. Not like Cas was actually into the Queen.

“Cas said she was very nice, but that he was in a rush and didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. I don’t think he thought she would come after him.”

“Yeah, he looks real concerned,” Dean muttered, hearing Cas’ voice echo down the hallway along with Zara’s laughter.

Wiping crumbs off his hands, Jack said, “I’m gonna get another cookie.”

Stopping to grab his gun first, Dean followed Jack back to the kitchen. He swore, if the Djinn made a mess… But the room was empty and surprisingly clean for the amount of activity that had just been going on in there.

They followed the sound of voices to the library where the tables had been pushed together and covered in platters and dishes. Dean stopped in the doorway, staring.

“Cool!” Jack exclaimed, going over to a plate stacked high with cookies.

“I told them we could have the feast in here,” Sam said at Dean’s elbow and Dean startled.

“You told them—” Fuming, he glared at the Djinn talking to Jack. “What’s the verdict? How many do I gotta kill to get Cas out of this engagement?”

“Put the gun away, you don’t have to kill anyone. According to a book I found, as long as Zara agrees to call the engagement off before the wedding begins, Cas isn’t tied to her.” He gestured to the book shelves. “You know, this isn’t such a bad thing, them being here. We've never actually gotten to talk to any Djinn before, and the Men of Letters don’t have much information on them.”

“Of course you’d be a nerd about this,” Dean complained. He nodded at where Zara was entering the room talking with Cas. “Don’t think she’s gonna give Cas up that easily. She already seems pretty attached.”

“I’m sure Cas will talk to her, let her know this is all a misunderstanding. In the meantime, try to be friendly, okay? We can’t risk getting the Djinn on our bad side.”

“We could take them,” Dean said and Sam gave him his patented bitch face. He huffed. “Fine.”

A clinking noise drew Dean’s attention to where Zara was standing at the head of the table, tapping a glass with a spoon. The room grew quiet and she announced, “I want to say thank you to the Winchesters and my betrothed Castiel for so graciously welcoming us into their home. I hope this meal marks the beginning of a wonderful alliance between us Djinn and the hunters. Now let us eat!”

Everyone moved to take a seat, Zara gesturing for Cas to sit at her right hand side. Dean pointedly took a spot close by to keep an eye on her. “I think you’ll enjoy this dish,” Zara said, passing him a bowl. “Cas tells me you’re the cook here.”

“Uh—” Dean took the bowl and ladled what looked like mashed potatoes on his plate. “When’d he have time to tell you that?”

Zara waved her hand. “We talked some when he came to my kingdom. He told me all about you and your brother and why you needed the Tree of Life’s fruit. I must thank you for saving the world quite a few times.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam spoke up.

Cas had been telling Zara about him? Inconsequential stuff, like that he cooked? Gathering himself, he said, “You know, we’ve encountered plenty Djinn before you.” He ignored the death stare Sam shot at him. “Had to kill plenty too. You wanna tell me how I’m supposed to trust you? What’s stopping you from poisoning all of us?”

Sam cleared his throat and the bodyguard standing behind Zara’s chair glowered at Dean. Dean glared back.

“Those Djinn were not part of my kingdom,” Zara said solemnly. “Our most sacred law is to never bring anyone harm. If I had found those Djinn you speak of, they would’ve been brought to a swift justice.” She glanced at Cas. “I’ve already gained the trust of Castiel, I'd hoped I had your trust as well.”

“You do,” Sam said quickly, side-eying Dean. “Dean’s just being, uh, cautious.”

Cas nodded, and across the table, Jack tore into his meal, seemingly not worried at all that the Djinn had prepared it. Sam gave Dean a pointed look and Dean rolled his eyes. So, Zara and her crew weren’t evil and apparently didn’t mean them any harm. Didn’t mean Dean was going to fall over himself trying to be friends.

Ignoring Sam’s record-setting bitch face, he hesitantly started eating, finding to his annoyance that Zara was right. This food was pretty damn good.

He kept his mouth shut throughout the rest of dinner. Zara answered Sam’s questions about her kingdom, about the community the Djinn had created in the mountains, hidden from humans. According to her, it was “Heaven on Earth.”

Scowling, Dean drank from the goblet in front of him. Some kind of concoction he wasn’t sure he liked or not. Zara sure was laying it on thick. When she mentioned royal gardens, Dean saw the moment interest flared in Cas’ eyes.

For fuck’s sake. Of course Zara loved to garden. Bet she had a whole bee farm, or whatever they called those. Anything to get in Cas’ pants, no doubt.

He tried another sip from the goblet and grimaced. No, not good, he decided. Way too similar to the healthy crap Sam was always eating. Cas asked about the plants Zara had in her gardens, and Dean wondered why Cas had never planted a garden here at the bunker. He was always talking about the benefits of spending time in nature since, apparently, they didn’t get enough sunlight living in an underground bunker. Then again, Dean hadn’t ever really taken Cas’ talk about gardens and sustainability seriously. He categorized Cas’ interest in plants and bees as just another example of what a dork he was. A powerful angel of the Lord, but a dork all the same.

“I’m so happy to see you again,” Zara told Cas as a few of her attendants served what Dean guessed was some kind of Djinn desert, some weird pale pudding. She leaned forward and took one of Cas’ hands, and Dean clenched his own hands into fists under the table.

Zara stroked her thumb over Cas’ knuckles. “Now that our tribe is at peace with our warring siblings to the North, we are looking to expand relations with other kinds. Humans, for instance, and angels. I think you can be a strong ally in making that happen.”

“I can try,” Cas said. He looked uncomfortable, staring at her holding his hand, and Dean remembered sitting across him in a brothel, trying to get him laid on possibly his last night on Earth. Good times. Even after years of being on Earth and talking to women, Cas never lost the deer in the headlights look when one of them showed interest in him. The sight gave Dean a strange satisfaction. Zara had no chance with Cas.

She was going to give it her best shot, though. As if a feast wasn’t enough, after dinner, Zara presented Cas with gifts—ornate swords and knives with gilded handles, books detailing the Djinn history and folklore, robes and cloaks like the ones Zara and her entourage wore. Cas kept a polite smile on his face, but Dean saw the increasingly overwhelmed look in his eyes at the sheer amount of gifts.

Dean felt similarly overwhelmed and, somewhere along the line, he decided he’d had enough of Zara doing her damndest to impress Cas, touching his arm at any given chance. She had Sam and Jack under her spell too, it seemed, because neither of them were bothered by the ridiculous show she was putting on.

Even when he left the library and shut the door to his room, voices and laughter carried down the hallway. He was glad everyone else was having a good time and completely ignoring the absurdity of this situation. Cas? Engaged? And to royalty?

Seething, he sat on his bed and turned on the TV, trying to distract himself. He didn’t know how much time had passed before he realized he was watching an infomercial for a nonstick pan.

A knock on his door sounded and he swore under his breath. “Go away, Sam,” he called. If he had to get another lecture about hospitality…

“It’s just me.”

Dean straightened, said, “Come in,” and Cas opened the door, holding a grocery bag.

“I know, I know,” Dean said. “Don’t be rude to our guests, blah blah blah. I get it.”

“You were very rude to Zara,” Cas agreed, shutting the door behind him. “She’s only trying to be kind.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah. Kind. That’s all.” Cas stared at him, cocking his head, and Dean rolled his eyes. Of fucking course Cas would be oblivious to Zara flirting with him. “You finally get through the fuckton of gifts she brought?”

Cas sighed. “It was too much. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it all.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Sam will be up early organizing everything.” He nodded at the bag in Cas’ hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh, um,” Cas glanced down at it. “I thought you might want this.”

Dean took it from him and looked inside. The pie and beer he’d requested from the grocery store earlier that day. “Thanks,” he said.

Cas stepped closer to the bed, then hesitated. Dean motioned for him to sit and Cas did so on the edge of the bed, away from Dean’s legs. He glanced at the TV. “We should have another movie night soon. We haven’t had one in a long time.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He was pretty sure Cas was just trying to appease him, though he didn’t know why. He was the one who’d been rude to Zara, Cas’ “betrothed.”

He opened a beer and watched Cas out of the corner of his eye, heart starting to quicken a little, as it always did when he was alone with him. It was ridiculous, because he and Cas were just friends. Obviously. He didn’t know why he had to remind himself so often.

Cas twisted a loose thread on his trenchcoat sleeve. “Dean,” he started.

“Your girlfriend’s gonna start looking for you soon,” Dean interrupted. Cas lifted his head and squinted at him. “She sure is trying to impress you, going on and on about her kingdom.”

“It's a very beautiful place,” Cas said. “I wouldn’t mind visiting again. But I wouldn’t want to live there.” He studied him and Dean looked away, picked at lint on the comforter. “Dean, she may be trying to impress me, but I have no intention of marrying her, I never did. This whole situation is an unfortunate accident.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Right. Yeah. Of course.” Obviously. I know that. Didn’t mean Zara fawning over Cas didn’t make his skin crawl.

Cas looked like he wanted to say more, but he stood. “I suppose I should return to the library. Are you coming?”

“Uh, yeah, in a bit,”

Cas left and Dean stared at the closed door, then down at his pie. It shouldn’t matter what Cas did, who he was interested in, who flirted with him. Not like Dean had any say in the matter, not like they were dating or something—which was not an option. Because Cas was just a friend. His best friend, but a friend all the same.

Sighing, he picked up his pie and beer before he left his room. He was going to need them if he was going to have to watch Zara and Cas interact.

***

The next day, Zara and her entourage showed no signs of going home. Dean ran into several of them in the bathroom down the hall, two sitting in the kitchen talking to Jack, and four more in one of the archival rooms helping Sam—as Dean had suspected—catalogue Cas’ gifts.

Zara and Cas he found talking in the library, continuing a conversation from last night about agricultural practices in her kingdom. Apparently there was a lot to say on the topic. Last night, before going to bed, Zara had made some cheeky remark about waiting after the official wedding ceremony to consummate her and Cas’ marriage, and Dean had wanted to rip her head off. It only made things worse that apparently Cas wasn’t bothered by that remark, but of course not—Zara liked gardening and was cultured and had given him a million and one presents. There was no real reason to hate her, though that wouldn't stop Dean.

He paused in the library’s doorway, before Cas and Zara could spot him, and caught the tail end of what Zara was saying,

“I know that you are distanced from Heaven, as evidenced by you living with hunters.”

Dean bristled at the underlying meaning in her words—Cas had no place with him and Sam. They were just gross humans.

Zara continued, “We have many in my kingdom who have been displaced from their homes, who are no longer a part of their own. I think you will find us to be an accepting community.”

“I’m sure I would,” Cas said, and Dean’s heart sunk. “But Heaven hasn’t been my home in a long time. This is my home now.”

Dean felt a little stunned at his words. Cas said it so emphatically. As if the bunker wasn’t just a place he’d ended up, but somewhere he chose to be, wanted to be.

Making a U-turn, he grabbed his keys and jacket and took Baby out for a drive. Unfortunately, even the rushing wind through the windows and the blaring music on the radio couldn’t distract him from his thoughts.

Did Cas really think of the bunker as home? Here? With him and Sam and Jack? Well, of course, he told himself. Cas lived here, didn’t he?

It was more than that, though, Dean knew. Cas had rebelled against Heaven to help them. Stuck by their sides for years. If this wasn’t his home, then where else?

And who did Zara think she was? She thought Cas needed a home, that she could give him one. As if they weren’t good enough for him. Well, Dean knew Cas deserved a lot better, but they got along pretty well. Had been through enough shit together, at least.

Zara had met Cas only once; she hadn’t stopped apocalypses and faced demons with him. Dean knew Cas better than anyone, or so he liked to think. Cas knew him better than anyone, at least.

That’s what this is, he told himself. Why Zara annoyed him so much. He was just pissed that Zara thought she knew what was best for Cas. It didn’t matter that Cas seemed to get along well with her, that she had so much in common with him, that she wanted to marry him. Technically, if Cas wanted to marry her too, that wasn’t a problem either.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter and glared out at the road. Not a problem.

When the sky was dark, he returned from his drive to a quiet bunker. Zara and her attendants were nowhere to be seen, and as he came down the stairs, Cas walked into the war room.

“Where were you?” he asked, stopping short.

Dean shrugged. “Just out for a drive.” He held out a plastic bag. “Here.”

Frowning, Cas took it from him and pulled out two packets of seeds. “Tomato seeds?” he asked, studying them.

“Just thought, I don’t know. You’re always talking about nature and whatever. You could start a garden outside. If you want.”

Cas looked up at him, some unreadable emotion on his face. Dean almost asked if a garden was still in the works, or if Cas had started to envision the Djinn gardens. “Figure even if you don’t eat you should contribute to dinner,” he said instead. “Start growing food.”

Cas smiled and looked back at the seeds. “Thank you, Dean. That's very thoughtful of you.”

Dean felt his face heat. Looking around, he asked, “Where’s her majesty?”

“She went to bed.”

“She try to seduce you?”

Cas cocked his head. “No. Why would she?”

“Uh, maybe because she’s trying to marry you.”

“Well, I’m not marrying her. I think she understands that.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“I’ve made my intentions clear, Dean.”

“Right,” Dean said, not convinced. Cas studied him, the familiar, peculiar squint to his eyes and Dean nearly squirmed. Turning, he said, “I’m going to bed.”

He passed Sam in the hallway near the bedrooms. “Hey,” he said, not stopping.

“Dean,” Sam called, and he turned. “You alright? Where were you all day?”

“Just wanted to get away from our million visitors. I’m fine.”

“Is, um… Is everything alright with you and Cas? He was wondering where you went.”

Dean crossed his arms. “We’re fine. I mean, he brought the Djinn here, but nothing we can do about it now.”

“Right. Um. Well, it’s just…” Sam looked like he was choosing his words carefully. “You’ve been acting… Well, acting kinda weird around Zara and Cas.” Dean stared at him. “Like you’re jealous or something.”

“I’m not fucking jealous! What the hell is there to be jealous about?”

Sam raised his hands. “I’m just telling you what I see.”

“Well, you’re fucking wrong.” Sam started to speak, but Dean ignored him and turned on his heel, continued to his room. “I’m not fucking jealous,” he muttered under his breath.

I’m not jealous, he repeated to himself the next day, watching Zara and Cas talk over breakfast. Or the next, which played out the same way: too many strangers wandering the hallways, Zara taking up all of Cas’ attention. Not that Dean needed Cas’ attention; he just didn’t see how Cas could be so oblivious to Zara’s intentions.

Unless Cas wasn’t oblivious and he was actually interested in Zara.

Absurd, Dean told himself. But the idea sat heavy in his stomach anyway. I’m not jealous, he told himself again. He was starting to sound less convincing.

***

“Hey where’s Cas?”

Zara looked up from where she and Sam were poring over books in the library. Sam frowned, looking around. “I haven’t seen him yet today.”

“If you find him, tell him to join us,” Zara said, “Sam and I are going through the Men of Letters’ books on the Djinn. I’m afraid there are quite a few historical inaccuracies.”

“Right, sure.” Leaving the library, Dean headed back through the hallways, wondering where Cas could’ve gone. He hadn’t left Zara’s side much in the five days she’d been here.

Maybe he’s finally gotten annoyed with her, he thought hopefully.

When his search through the bunker proved futile, Dean had a thought and headed outside. Sure enough, a few yards from the bunker door, next to a bag of potting soil and a tray of small green containers, Cas sat cross legged on the grass holding one of the seed packets Dean had bought for him.

“Hey,” Dean said and Cas looked up at him.

“Hello.” He began placing the seeds into the containers and Dean stood there awkwardly, watching. Maybe planting the seeds was a sign; maybe this meant Cas was planning to stay. Or maybe it meant Cas was going to take his tomato plants with him to Zara’s kingdom.

When Cas remained silent, Dean started turning away to leave him to his planting. “You can fill this tray with soil,” Cas spoke up, stopping him.

“Um, okay.” Sitting down next to him, Dean scooped soil out of the bag with a shovel and poured it carefully into the planting containers. Cas smoothed soil over the seeds he'd planted.

“Zara and Sam sure are getting along well,” Dean said after a few minutes of silence. “They’re going through the books in the library right now. Apparently there’s a lot of ‘inaccuracies’ in them.”

“Hmm.” There was a smudge of dirt on Cas’ chin that Dean was more than tempted to wipe off. Looking away, he poured more dirt in the containers before he was idiotic enough to try.

The weather was warm, a breeze rustling the leafy tree branches around them. Dean wished he could relax, but being in such close proximity to Cas was making his pulse race, per usual. Maybe even more so now, considering the way he’d been feeling lately. Not jealousy, he told himself. Just, concern. Friendly concern for Cas.

Unwittingly, he thought of the way Zara looked at Cas, spoke to him, touched him, and he gripped the shovel tighter in his hand. Okay. Fine. Maybe Sam was sorta right. Maybe he was a little jealous. It didn’t mean anything though.

Realizing Cas had stopped planting seeds, he glanced sideways at him. Cas was letting soil sift through his fingers, a crease between his brows and a seriousness in his gaze that didn’t match the gentle way his fingers moved through the dirt. Dean started to wonder if Cas had come out here to get away from everyone, if something was on his mind.

“You and your plants there wanna get a room?” he asked and, fuck, that wasn’t what he wanted to say. Words were hard.

Cas glanced at him, then his recently planted seeds, and dropped the dirt he was holding. Apropos of nothing, he said, “Zara said she’ll call off the engagement if I really want.”

Dean’s initial surge of relief faded away when Cas kept glaring at the soil. Since he was pretty sure the tomato seeds hadn’t done anything to bother him, he asked, suddenly nervous, “Do you want to call it off?”

“Yes, Dean. I don’t want to marry her.” Looking away, he brushed dirt from his hands.

“But?” Dean pressed.

Cas sighed. “But she wants me to come back with her. Just for a visit. And I don’t know if I should.” He reached for a watering can at his side. “Zara and the other members of her kingdom were very welcoming when I first visited, and I’ve enjoyed taking to Zara during her stay here, but we have work to do. I can’t just leave.”

They did have work to do, but that was nothing new. Dean looked around at the start of Cas’ garden, at the slight rise of dirt a few yards away that marked the bunker underground. Maybe this was home for Cas, but it couldn’t compare to a kingdom, not how Zara described it. Begrudgingly, he thought of Cas and Zara's similar interests and her descriptions of her kingdom and how perfect it would be for Cas.

“Maybe you should visit,” he said, hating the way the words felt in his mouth. Cas frowned at him and he added, “Not saying you should marry Zara, but sounds like a cool place.” One part of his brain screamed at him to shut up shut up shut up, but the other told him this was the mature thing to do. Give Cas the freedom to make up his own mind.

Cas nodded, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know.” he said quietly. “But if you really think so...”

“Yeah, of course,” Dean said, feeling a little sick. Ignoring the sensation, he pat Cas on the shoulder. “Whatever you want.”

Take that, Sam. Could a jealous person do this?

***

Encouraging Cas to leave with his Djinn friends may have been the mature thing to do, but that didn’t stop it from hurting like hell. Going back inside, Dean holed up into his room, not wanting to hear Zara’s gleeful excitement when Cas told her he was going back with her to her kingdom. He had a feeling Zara wasn’t going to be calling off the engagement anytime soon.

He didn’t emerge until that night, when sounds of conversation and activity had diminished outside his door. One thing he had to say for the Djinn, despite the number of them staying over, the bunker had never been cleaner and they’d all obeyed his command to stay out of the garage. Begrudgingly, he had to admit it wasn’t so bad having them over. If only Zara wasn’t actively trying to impress Cas.

How many days had they been here? They’d probably be leaving soon. His stomach twisted at the thought, knowing they would take Cas with them.

Just for a visit, he told himself. He’ll be back.

He went into the library looking for a drink and found Zara and Cas poring over books side by side.

“Oh, hey,” he said, stopping in the doorway.

Cas looked up at him, a worried expression on his face. “Are you alright, Dean? You disappeared all day.”

Why does everyone keep asking me that? Going to a side table, he poured himself a drink. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“I’m sure it must be exhausting hosting so many visitors all week,” Zara said. You don’t know the half of it, Dean thought. “But don’t worry, we’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

Dean turned, nearly spilling his whiskey. “Wait, what?”

Zara smiled at him. “We’re returning to my kingdom tomorrow.”

He thought he’d have a few more days… “Tomorrow?” he managed.

“Yes. I’m afraid I can’t stay forever, my people need me back home. And I know they will be waiting to hear news of my betrothed.” She pat Cas’ hand and Cas turned red.

“Oh. Right,” Dean managed. “Okay.”

He tried to say something else, then turned and left the room in a rush. Tomorrow. Cas was gonna leave and Dean had told him he should go.

The kitchen was empty and he sat at the table, stared at the glass in his hand.

I’m being an idiot, he thought. Cas can do whatever he wants, he doesn’t have to stay here. Probably been looking for an out for ages.

Needing to do something with his hands, he stood and grabbed ingredients from the cupboards. Without really thinking about it, he started making a pie, mixing the ingredients with more force than was necessary.

“Fucking ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, rolling out the pie dough. Tell Cas to go to a Djinn kingdom, that’s smart. With Zara of all people? He’s gonna come back officially married to her, talking about the royal gardens. Or just not come back at all.

“Fuck,” he muttered, throwing open the fridge door to grab the butter.

“What’re you doing?”

Dean wheeled around to see Sam standing in the doorway. “What’s it look like?” He slammed shut the fridge door. “Making a goddamn pie.”

“At…” Sam leaned forward to see the time on the microwave. “2:14am?”

“Is it a crime to make a pie at 2am? I had a craving.”

“What are you, pregnant?”

Dean flipped him off and Sam leaned on the doorway. “Don’t see why you’re in such a bad mood. You should be glad; Zara’s leaving tomorrow. You’ve been bitching all week about the ‘invasion’.”

Pausing in draping the pie crust dough over the filling, Dean stared at him. Glad? Was no one else seeing the problem here? “What, you going with them too? Packed your bags yet? Zara seems to have put you under her spell too.”

Sam frowned. “Dean, you don’t think Cas—“

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean said quickly. “He can do whatever he wants.”

“Yeah, but you got this all wrong.” Straightening from the doorway, Sam came to the island. “Cas isn’t going with the Djinn.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he isn’t! Why the hell would he?”

Oh, I don’t know, Dean thought. Maybe because Zara is fucking perfect for him and knows exactly what he wants and knows how to actually talk to him and not act like a goddamn idiot every time he’s in the room.

Furiously, he crimped the edges of the pie crust and accidentally tore a hole. “Son of a bitch!”

“Okay...” Sam said, watching him. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on with you, but snap out of it. Cas isn’t going anywhere and maybe if you talked to him, you’d know that. Or even just stopped to think for a second.”

“Fuck off,” Dean said, and Sam threw up his hands.

“Fine,” he said, leaving the room. “But you’re freaking out over nothing.”

Dean glared at him and put his pie in the oven, sat back down. He’d done plenty of thinking and like it or not, it didn’t seem completely outside the realm of possibility that Cas would want to be with someone who understood him and appreciated him. Not that Dean didn’t understand or appreciate him, of course he did. Cas was his best friend and Cas had saved his life countless times and Cas was Cas—he was dorky and sarcastic and weird and considerate and too fucking earnest in a way that made Dean squirm while also being secretly jealous of how Cas could just say things and, and—

And fuck he wanted Cas to stay.

He didn’t know how long he stared at the table, but he startled when the timer beeped to announce his pie was done. He glanced at the oven, then looked around the empty room.

"I think I really like him," he said aloud.

Taking the pie out of the oven, Dean grabbed plates and silverware and headed to the library, hardly knowing what he was doing, just hoping to find Cas. Thankfully, Cas was still there, sitting alone.

“Made pie,” Dean announced eloquently, setting everything down.

Cas looked up and shut the book he was reading. “Oh.”

Tossing his oven mitts to the side, Dean cut a slice and wordlessly slid the plate to Cas. Cas stared at him like he had two heads. “Figured you might want to try it,” he said. “See what the molecules taste like.” In truth, he was stalling. He didn’t know what to say to Cas, how to share his recent epiphany that yes, he was jealous, and yes, he did like his best friend, and yes, he was panicking a little.

Cas looked like he had a few questions, but he took the plate. “Thank you,” he said.

“No problem.” Dean’s hands were sweating as he served himself his own slice and sat down across from Cas. He had been hungry before, but now his stomach clenched in anxiety, too many words rolling around in his head with no coherency.

Cas picked up his fork and Dean figured the best way to start was with the truth.

“Don’t go,” he blurted out.

Cas paused, fork poised midair. “What?”

Dean’s face flushed, but it was either speak now or regret it forever. “I know I said you should leave with Zara, but I didn’t mean it.”

Cas slowly lowered his fork, and it seemed speaking a few words broke down a wall in Dean’s mind because the rest came flooding out.

“I know I can be a real dick,” he said, “and I know I don’t know anything about gardening or agriculture, and I know I’ve been acting weird lately, but it’s because I really don’t want Zara to take you away from us. And maybe that’s selfish on my end—no, I know it is. But she doesn’t know you, really know you! And I do. I’ve known you forever and you’re my best friend and also maybe I wish we were more.” His face heated further, and he quickly added, “It’s alright if you don’t want more, that’s fine, just forget this conversation, but the main point is that I don’t want you to leave. I mean that. Please stay.”

Cas’ gaze had turned serious during Dean’s rambling, and Dean stopped there, heart pounding, mouth dry. He hadn’t expected to say all that, but he realized he meant what he’d said. Had meant all of it for a long time now, even if he’d been pretending not to. And maybe it was too late to tell Cas now. But he’d finally said it.

“Dean,” Cas said, and Dean braced himself for the I’m sorry, but... The, you suck and I’m leaving with Zara. Or even, you want more? That’s absurd. Why the hell would we ever be more than friends?

But what Cas said, instead, was, “I thought you wanted me to leave.”

Dean stared at him. And, yeah, he guessed he had told Cas to leave. But Cas should know by now that he was an idiot who usually said the wrong things. “I didn’t mean it,” he said. “I’ll go crazy if you leave, honest. I can’t…” He thought about how empty the bunker felt when Cas left for even a day, thought about how much it killed him to see Cas with Zara, and said, almost desperately, “I can’t do that. You leaving.”

Cas’ gaze had softened and his voice was quiet when he asked, “What do you mean by more?”

Dean’s heartbeat kicked up and he stared at his plate. Fuck. What did he mean? “I don’t know. Well, maybe I do. I just…” He took a deep breath and met Cas’ eyes. “I just want to be with you. Romantically, or whatever. More than just being friends.” He held Cas’ gaze even though his heart was pounding and a tiny voice in his brain screamed, abort mission, because it felt like such a relief to get the words out, albeit awkward and stilted.

Cas studied him and Dean’s pulse hammered in his chest as he waited for inevitable rejection. Instinct told him to backtrack, but now that he’d voiced everything, it seemed like torture to have to carry it all inside him again. He didn’t know how he’d done it for years.

Then Cas spoke. “I want more too,” he said, like it was the easiest thing to say in the world.

Dean stared at him. “You do?” he managed, and Cas nodded.

“I was never going to leave, Dean. This,” he gestured around them. “This is my home. Here with you. I want to be with you too.”

“Oh,” Dean breathed. Cas never was going to leave. He started to feel a little ridiculous for his panicked pie baking, but a smile tugged at the corner of Cas’ mouth and Dean started smiling too. Cas wanted more.

“Can I… Can I kiss you?” he asked and Cas nodded. He started pushing his chair back, then Dean was standing and meeting him by his chair.

Raising his hand, he touched Cas’ cheek. He was feeling a little dizzy from the remarkable change of events in so short a time, but the look in Cas’ eyes anchored him. This is what he wanted, had been wanting.

Cas’ eyes fell shut when he leaned down to kiss him, and Dean smiled a little before pressing his lips to Cas’, finally.

His brain short circuited a little when Cas kissed him back, and it was a second before he could process the way Cas was pressing up close to him, hands gripping at his shirt. Slipping his arms around Cas’ waist, he pulled him flush, chest to chest. Cas made a small noise in the back of his throat and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean’s head spun.

They kissed until Dean couldn’t catch his breath, until he felt weak at the knees. He let out a breathless laugh when they broke apart, and Cas smiled at him.

“I’ve wanted more for a long time,” he said. “I didn’t think you did too.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean kissed him again, pausing to say, “I guess I just never admitted it to myself.”

“And you realized this while making pie?” Cas asked, gesturing to the dish on the table.

“Yeah,” Dean admitted, a little sheepishly. “But better late than never, right?”

“Right,” Cas said with a smile and kissed him.

Dean kissed him back, then took his hand, tugged him to the hallway. Cas followed easily, smiling, and Dean couldn’t resist kissing him again along the way.

They eventually made it to Dean’s bedroom, but Cas paused when Dean grabbed the doorknob. “Hold on.”

Letting go of Dean’s hand, he went to the room where Zara was staying and knocked on her door.

After a few moments, she opened it in a silk nightgown. “Why, hello, Castiel,” she said smiling. “What a surprise.”

“I need you to annul our engagement,” Cas said and Zara’s smile froze. Dean bit back a grin. “Now,” Cas added.

“I—Um. I thought we would discuss this further at a later time. Perhaps allow you more time to decide—”

“I’ve decided.” Cas motioned to Dean, and Zara leaned out to see him standing there. Dean waved. “My home is here.”

Zara blinked at them and Dean stepped forward. “What he means is,” he snaked his hand around Cas’ waist, “he’s taken.”

Cas grinned at him and Zara looked mildly stricken, staring back and forth between them. Then resignation spread over her features and she smiled a little. “I see.” Waving her hand, she said, “Well, then. Consider yourself free of our engagement.”

“Thank you,” Cas said.

“Of course. It’s the least I can do to repay your hospitality. And I won’t stand in the way of true love.” She started to shut her door, then paused, looking at Dean, “And since I seem to be single once again, please tell your brother he is welcome to visit my kingdom anytime.” With a wink, she shut her door, and Dean stared at it for a moment.

“I don’t wanna unpack all that.” He looked at Cas and smiled a little. “You sure you don’t wanna marry her?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I’m sure.” And, as if to prove his point, he kissed Dean again. Then he pulled back to meet Dean's eyes. "You haven't been jealous all this time, have you?"

"No," Dean said. Cas' eyes narrowed and Dean admitted, "Maybe a little." Okay, maybe a lot.

Tag List:

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell @madronasky @famouspsychicpizzabandit @multifandomdisorder @arcticfox007 @mixtapecas @improvedpeanut @castiel-is-a-cat @harmonyhelms @thetrueliesofafangirl @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @theangelwiththewormstache @confusedisaster @welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @queen-rowenas (tagging you bc your post about the djinn queen sparked this idea :))

#PBExchangeReunion #profoundnet #dean is a little out of touch with his feelings #dean gets jealous #first kiss #sam knows what's up #expectingtofly writes

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oftenderweapons · 4 years

Text

The Studio - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 9.7k words

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Rating: 18+

I told you I’d be back really soon ;) Tonight there’s a lot on schedule! I’ve been working on this piece for two weeks, since it carries a lot for both Namjoon and Vixen, emotionally speaking. It means a lot for me too, since to me it was truly a challenge in terms of the different levels of knowledge that Joon, y/n and the narrator hold. I think I’ve grown a lot in terms of writing even from Tiktok Towel Trick, which I wrote last May, but I’m really proud of myself comparing to what I used to produce a couple years ago.

Now, let me introduce this fic. The piece takes place two or three months after the two have started sleeping together (ideally late January or February). In this piece Vixen visits Joon at the studio after a bad fight and Joon’s self-imposed isolation. The two feel like they’ve come to a dead-end as they wait for the other person to cut ties. Namjoon is suffocated by his job, his tendency to lash out at his closest ones when he’s stressed and his previous traumas; Vixen is locked in her head, shut out by Namjoon and repeatedly accused of infidelity, as a sign of Namjoon’s lack of trust. Will the two manage to work things out?

Description and trigger warnings: The piece was written referring to Namjoon’s Rkive as in his vlive log. There is ANGST. Loads. There is some crying and it is not Vixen’s. Longing and miscommunication. In terms of filth: so much dirty talking the walls exude holy water by now. Unprotected sex (STAY SAFE GUYS!!!!!!!!), DDLG/daddy kink, Masturbation paired up with Voyeurism and Exhibitionism, Fetishism (Shoes, tights and lingerie), Oral (female receiving), Cumplay (eating), Marking, Spanking, Angsty doggy fucking followed by a very soft ride on the sofa. That should be all. Fluff alarm: Namjoon doesn’t want to lose his little fox and Vixen just wants to cuddle her big teddy bear Joon.

Wordcount: 9.7k

Here is my masterlist

Enjoy!!!

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

Standing in the main corridor of the studios felt very strange. You looked around, uncomfortable, while the receptionist at your side stared at you, waiting. "Don't worry, he's busy all the time. We can wait, no big deal." The fact that you'd been greeted by Namjoon's driver at the entry desk had helped you get to the studios unannounced. "That boy always gets caught up on something. He shouldn't make you wait." He tutted, looking at you with a kind smile.

"____? What are you doing here?" Taehyung smiled at you brightly, close behind him Hoseok and Yoongi approached with heavy-looking bags on them.

"Oh, hi. I sort of stopped by for Namjoon." You bit your lip, smiling embarrassedly.

"He's still in his room. I can show you the way." Taehyung said, grinning.

Yoongi seemed to be observing him closely while Hoseok looked absolutely oblivious.

"No, I only have to give him this." You showed them two small bags, one containing food and the other a few things he had left at your place.

You tried not to let your heartbreak show.

"Maybe you could bring them to him, I don't want to distract him."

You smiled but you felt the tears welling up.

Yoongi's glance moved to you. It felt scorching. "I think you should bring those to him. I think he'd like to see you." His serious tone made you realise that maybe he did know what was happening. Maybe he did know better.

"I think he'd rather not see me right now." Your lips tightened in a thin line.

Both the guys turned to Yoongi. "Go, I'll see you tomorrow."

They both patted him on the shoulder and waved at you, Taehyung hugging you close. "It'll be alright. I'll see you."

Taehyung smiled at you, his cute cheeks popping upwards. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you had just granted him an exclusive piece by one of his favourite photographers. Maybe he was just friendly, maybe he simply liked you because he deemed you a decent human being.

Right at his heels, Hoseok gave you a cute wave, saying bye-bye in a cartoonish voice.

Beside you, Yoongi shook his head, still sporting a fond smile. "Uhm, I never know whether I should introduce myself. Anyway, we've never met before, so– I'm Yoongi. " He said with a tiny smile, his cheeks jumping upwards.

You introduced yourself with a small bow.

"You are just like he described you. He talks about you a lot." He commented. You blushed, almost feeling like dissolving into thin air. You never thought you would meet his friends like this.

Yoongi looked at your face. "You're exactly his type — in the best way possible." He blushed. "Let's go." He said, leading you. "I actually want to say a few things." He threw his bag on the floor, getting comfortable on the sofa in the common room. "How are you doing?"

You stared at your feet. "Decent enough."

"I'll be honest, ____. He hasn't been doing good. Not even decent, in my opinion." Yoongi announced, as if trying to prepare you for what you were going to see. "I feel like telling you a couple things about him. He can be hot-headed, and an absolute pain in the ass. He is a perfectionist, and a terrifically clumsy one at that." Yoongi huffed out. "He holds himself to extremely high standards and punishes himself whenever he feels like he's not delivering. And he has the horrible tendency to lash out when he's stressed. He just takes it all out on those who are closest to him." Yoongi patted the spot at his side, inviting you to sit. "I'll be inappropriate, maybe, but I have to say it. You don't have to stay at his side."

The sentence was like a slap to your face. It had never come to your mind to part ways with him.

"You don't have to put yourself through his tempers and tantrums. You need to be ready to handle those emotionally. If you aren't, I don't think you'll be able to go for the long run." Yoongi looked at you in the eye. "Sorry if I overstepped, usually people come to me to talk, I'm not used to giving unsolicited advice." He blushed and laced his fingers together, laying them on his thighs.

"I don't want to let go of him, Yoongi." You confessed.

"Then you should go bring this stuff to him in person. And remember, you don't have to be his therapist. If you want, you can be his partner, walk by his side, but it's not your duty to carry him." The man was incredibly smart and thoughtful. And sensitive. The more you got to know him, the more you understood Namjoon's adoration for him.

"Thank you so much." You bowed your head briefly, placing your palm on top of his hands.

He moved one on top of yours, patting gently. "Let's go find your grumpy bear, uh?"

With a groaned "aigoo" He pushed himself up, standing on his feet like an old man before bending to catch the strap of his bag. "This way."

He led you through the winding corridors until you recognised the door to Namjoon's studio. "Go on. Knock politely and be smart. Discuss. Negotiate. Compromise. And be kind to each other." He gave you the official salute and left.

You found yourself staring at the door, wondering if he'd roar at you for interrupting him.

The room sounded quiet.

You counted to three. Knocked.

"Come in." Said his voice with a weak rumble. He was probably distracted.

His studio was warm and welcoming, if a bit clustered. The lights were low and yellowy, coming from his desk and contrasting with the white gleam of his computer screen, still you could see everything perfectly in the slight penumbra, your eyes perusing your surroundings. It was easy to see why his apartment felt like a hotel room: he barely spent time there while this place really felt like home. It felt like stepping into his soul. Small sculptures and toys and collectibles were neatly lined in his bookcase together with some books. Then the baby shoes. Art catalogues. Candles. Art. A drape too big for the wall, but still there, a painting, probably from Yoongi, since you vaguely recognised his style. On the back wall, you noticed two drapes embroidered in traditional patterns. The floor was covered in thick cream carpets with geometric prints that reminded you of tribal symbols. And sweet lord, that was his wooden, swoon-worthy, customised low table, matching with the piece by the door holding one of his bonsai. A comfy couch with a fluffy, warm blanket, and embroidered pillows. You were mesmerised. You didn't have time to take it all in, your glance running from the upright piano to the microphone standing beside his chair. He didn't turn around, he kept staring at the screen, typing every now and then. His beautiful desk was crowded with stationery, electronic devices, a keyboard and all kinds of knicknacks.

"What is– oh. Hi." His expression was ice-cold.

"Hi. I was passing by, I wanted to bring you some stuff you'd left at mine."

His heart froze. This is the end then.

He'd been avoiding it for almost two weeks, hiding from you in his studio, even though the only things he could write were heartbreaking blue rhymes that had Jimin and Jeongguk exchanging pitying glances.

The beginning of this tragedy was almost comedic in its stupid futility. It was just him incapable of perfecting a pre-chorus. A dumb verse or something. He had called you, talked it out but apparently all he did was just turn down your ideas and suggestions, snapping at you until you exhaustedly told him that you were tired and needed some sleep. He took that as you umpteenth sign that you didn't care about him — which you both knew was entirely wrong — and caused a huge fight which ended on you telling him to go fuck himself, at which he unceremoniously replied that he was okay with that since you were clearly already fucking someone else.

You didn't bother correcting him, since no matter how many times you told him, he always seemed to get back at you being unfaithful and uncaring. You were done justifying yourself, apologising for things you had never done.

"Uhm. I also brought you some food. I didn't know if you had already eaten."

He looked at you like you had finally lit a candle in a dark and cold room.

Your heart broke some more. You asked yourself if there was any more breaking to do, at this point.

You figured there was the moment you heard his hoarse voice speak. "Let's eat together."

You didn't have the guts to deny him.

You laid the bags on the small table and took off your coat. He stood on his feet immediately, crossing the room in a few broad steps and hugging you to his chest.

Let it hurt. You told yourself. It heals faster like that.

His palms settled at your waist and his eyes closed. He breathed you in. He had never felt something really end. His exes were like a song slowly slipping into a diminuendo until they became silence. His interest burned out, his curiosity simply died down and the feelings never seemed to grow fully. They felt like a balloon which was never supposed to be blown that big. This thing with you was like a song being stopped mid-chorus, silence biting in where it wasn't supposed to be. Is this what the end feels like? He asked himself as he held you tighter, one of his hands climbing up and burrowing into your hair. He pressed your face into his chest, where his heartbeat was so strong and so loud that you asked yourself if you could somehow amplify it, if your body could register it and replay it once you were alone in your bed, mourning over this. "You feel taller." He said, noticing how your forehead reached his lips instead of slotting under his jaw.

"I still have my heels on." You replied.

"Wanna take 'em off?" He asked.

You shook your head. "No, if that's not a problem.

He breathed out heavily. He interpreted your refusal as a sign that first, you were keeping your tough-woman shield up — which he couldn't blame you — and second, you weren't intending to stay long.

You tried to part yourself from him. "One more second, little Vixen. Just a second." He whispered.

You allowed him.

"Come on, dinner is getting cold." You said softly.

He didn't let you go, he simply loosened his grip and dragged you to the sofa. He was willing to keep you as close as he could until you ripped the bandaid off, unraveling this small spell that had turned his life into a perfect, dreamlike snowball.

Sitting on the sofa, he made you sit beside him, your side sticking to his from shoulder to hip to knee to ankle.

It was all too much but you didn't have the strength to part from him. He bent down and opened the small boxes.

It was fried chicken.

Like the first time at his place, at two am, naked in his bed after he had owned you in every way that mattered.

He loved fried chicken. And now it would always mean you to him.

No chimaek after fucking with anyone else. He wanted to keep it for you, in case one day you decided to come back, and he would say he had never done that with anyone else, that he had been waiting for you. Because some part of him told him that you would come back.

Both your brains were going on the same path, already mourning someone who was right there in that moment, but already felt so far away. The room was quiet but both your minds were screaming, thinking so loud that the silence was welcome.

"I got you fried chicken. I know you love it."

I love you, his brain replied. But his mouth stayed silent. It was too late anyway.

"Thank you." He said brusquely. He reprimanded himself for sounding so harsh.

"It's okay." You said quietly, using the lid to grab a couple pieces out of the ten or so. You didn't feel like eating and he always ate two thirds of the box anyway.

He exchanged one of your wings for a leg. "You prefer the leg." He said with a shy smile, trying to make up for the coldness he had shown previously.

You had been sleeping with Namjoon for three months now, spending all your spare time together at his place, sometimes moving in for the weekend, the both of you leaving your job early so you could spend Friday afternoon together and go on small dates. He usually had his schedule on Saturdays and Sundays too, so it wasn't uncommon for you to spend several hours alone at his place. You had made small improvements, making his house feel more like a home with small handmade crafts. And when he came back, you would usually try to keep it chill but eventually you ended up in bed, or on the sofa, or the kitchen counter. Or the carpet on the corridor leading to his bedroom. Or the shower. Let's just say that you would be all over each other.

You thought how different it would be now, and how difficult it would be to get him out of your system.

"How is it going." You asked quietly after you swallowed your first bite.

"Tough. I'm polishing some stuff, but this is the part where I doubt everything and want to rewrite all of it." He explained, his fingers gripping the chicken with a precision and finesse that reminded you of his delicate, careful side.

"You'll get through it. You're a pro by now. And I'm sure you have excellent taste. You know what you want and you'll find your way to it." You praised him, rubbing your shoulder against him since your fingers were dirty.

He leaned his head on your shoulder, shrinking down to reach you. "Thank you."

The more time passed, the more you realised he still hadn't said sorry for what he had implied during that phone call.

"That's okay."

"How have you been doing?" He asked, trying not to let his worry show. It still showed, though.

You decided on being honest. "I've been missing you."

He paused eating. "I've been missing you too." He put down the chicken, using the ball of his wrists to press against his temples. "I'm sorry about what I said that day. I know my past relationships and nerves are not valid excuses for how I treated you, but I got swallowed in those and I dragged you in."

You looked at the leg and finished munching on it, stripping the bone of the last few strings of meat. You put down the naked bone, licking your fingers. "You never talked about your most recent ex." You commented.

He picked up his head. "To put it simply, I was her side piece." He said, plainly. "She was getting married to someone else. And she messed around with me." He looked at his feet. "At the beginning I didn't know. It lasted around eight months, as she was waiting for her fiancé to finish his military service. After I discovered it, we kept going for a couple weeks, but I found the whole thing so upsetting and disgusting that we parted ways. Her fiance forgave her and they got married a while ago, a few weeks before I met you." He snickered sarcastically. "I even sent them flowers."

You blinked distractedly. "Joon, I'm so sorry, baby." You brushed your forehead against his arm.

"It's cool. I mean, it's not since I'm still traumatised by it. I've been talking about it with my analyst, but it's been a while since I last went, almost three weeks, because this project had been swallowing me whole — after chewing me a little, clearly." He had his exhausted laugh on.

You felt like you needed to talk about the whole story about that girl, but right now he didn't seem in the right mindset to do that. For now, knowing that he knew he had a bias and he was tackling the issue with a therapist was enough.

"Have you been sleeping, babe?" All the breaking up was momentarily suspended. There was something to save here. You had a lot you still wanted to save from this.

He seemed relieved when you called him that. Don't get your hopes up. He shook his head. "A couple hours at a time. Small naps when I'm tired."

"Okay, so once you're done eating, we're gonna take a good, long nap."

He didn't want to sleep though. He wanted to hold you close, kiss you, make sure that he did everything he could to make you stay. The meal continued quietly, and as soon as you were fed he asked you about your job, how it was going, if you had any new clients or if you had met any new artists. You replied to each question fully, telling him about curious accidents and little inconveniences.

And he listened. He had missed your voice and it felt good to listen to someone who wasn't himself or the boys' voices over speakers and headphones.

As you were both done with dinner, he guided you to the bathroom, standing behind you as you washed your hands. He took some soap, foaming it up between his hands before he caught your left palm within his, pressing and rubbing them together to clean you up. And then he laced his fingers with yours, lathering your digits in bubbles and making sure that the sticky sauce from the chicken disappeared completely. He moved to the other hand as you laid your head against his chest at his collarbone, tipping it back so you could stare at him. You were sure you had never adored someone this much. He turned slightly to look at you, smiling softly. He bent down and pressed his lips to yours gently. No man, no person in the world had ever touched you or kissed you like he has. No one has ever talked to you like him, showed you their world like he has. He reluctantly parted from your lips.

He led your joined hands to close the tap, moving to the hand dryer. It felt all too intimate.

"Joon."

"Let's get back to my studio, yeah?" He whispered in your ear. You nodded.

He laced his hand with yours.

Once you reached the studio, he quietly dragged you to the sofa, pulling at your arm so that you fell with your ass on his lap. He hugged you again. "I am so sorry about what I said. You have told me countless times that I'm the only one."

"You hurt me, Namjoon." You said quietly.

It felt like a slap, his full name.

"Let me make it right." He kissed your cheek and your eyes fell shut. "I want you."

And you wanted him too. You thought yourself crazy for wanting a man so complicated, someone who had disrespected you, who had repeatedly and blatantly demonstrated his lack of trust towards you. Still, when you needed reassurance, affection and devotion, your bodies always came into play, talking with a language so simple and obvious to each other that you simply nodded, whispering "I want you too."

With his index finger he turned your head, kissing you square on the lips and forcing you to part them, his tongue sweeping in your mouth, making your head spin with the intimacy and intensity of it all.

Let him take you, if that would reassure him that you only thought about him, you wanted only him and no one else.

His free hand curled around your thigh, climbing up under the tight knee-length dress you were wearing. The woolen grey number was the first thing to come off as he tugged it over your head and off his way. "You're so gorgeous," He murmured painfully, looking at you and taking in every small detail. "A work of art, little Vixen." He kissed your shoulder.

You smiled shyly, trying to straddle his waist. He toyed with the lace covering your breasts and nipples, teasing them with his fingers until they pressed hard against the fabric. Next he fooled around with the waistband of your tights, making you stand between his legs as he dragged the nylon down your thighs and calves. He stared at your feet, where the garment bunched up, noticing your black stilettos. "Off." He whispered, tapping his foot against yours. Once you took off the shoes, he bent down to help your feet out of your tights. He bit your leg harshly, leaving a mark behind. "Heels on again, Vixen."

Smiling darkly, you slipped them back on, shivering a little, but so happy to wear your favourite black lace set and stilettos for him.

"Walk for me?" He asked, making you put on a little show.

And God, did you enjoy it. His jaw went slack at the Brazilian cut of your panties, exposing to his hungry eyes the perfect curve of your ass, the way it swelled fully before meeting with the back of your thigh.

That was his favourite place to bite. And spank.

You did a small catwalk with your back to him, reaching his chair, which you turned around from his desk to the sofa. Facing the chair, you bent forward, your thumbs catching the fabric of your panties at your sides and pushing them down as you bent forward, offering him the whole panorama.

He groaned. "I'm gonna get an heart attack, baby."

You smiled at him viciously over your shoulder, letting your lower piece of underwear fall to the floor. Next you dragged your full palm up the curve of your ass, smacking it playfully as your fingers made their way to the clasp of your bra.

"You're gonna kill me, Vixen." He cried out.

Bra undone, you let both strings fall down your shoulders, removing one side first and letting the garment dangle from the other side, making your arm fall and drop the delicate lace ordeal.

Your smile disappeared in an innocent pout when you turned around, completely naked except for your shoes.

"I'm gonna sit here." You announced, waiting for his approval.

He nodded eagerly. "Make yourself comfy, Vixen."

You sat down, crossing your legs and propping your elbows on your knees. Shyness was not a word in your vocabulary in that moment. Your only intention was that of distracting him from whatever it was that was mauling his brain.

"Are you going to make me wait, Joon." You teased demandingly.

He stared at you, meeting your glance. "Stay there and sit still." He ordered before grabbing the hem of his sweater and pushing it upwards, taking off both sweater and undershirt in the process. His upper body appeared, a bit skinnier than two weeks ago but maybe it was just the distance and the slouching position. His sweatpants were taut around his lap and you bit your lip as your eyes traced the outline of his length. He laid his palm there, stroking himself over the cotton. "Missed you so much, baby." He groaned and huffed. His eyes closed, his hand grew tense, stronger and heavier. Licking your lips, you kept staring at him, squeezing your thighs as he touched himself for you.

He was hot, all the time, but this… This felt like a fever dream. You were soaked. Thank god his chair was leather and it could be cleaned easily.

He moaned your name, his eyes struggling to open enough to look at you. His voice was so deep and needy, mixed with heavy huffs. "Namjoon." You whined.

He opened his eyes fully, his hand coming to a halt. It was like a cold shower. He was reminded why you were doing this, why you had come to this, the sudden distance that had come within the two of you. "What is it, baby?"

You pushed your ass against the chair, looking for friction. "Come here. Touch me." You begged.

It pained him seeing you so needy and whiny and stressed. "Listen to me, baby thing. Listen very carefully." He wanted to reassure you but he couldn't come to you. "I need you to touch yourself, little one. Can you do that for me? I promise I'll touch you after you cum, baby, but I want to see you first." He asked, palming himself again.

You licked your lips. "Can I?" You questioned innocently, placing your palm on your thigh, your fingertips grazing your crotch.

"You can, doll. Do it for me." He growled, pushing his fingers under his waistband, grabbing his hard on at the base and stroking it as you parted your legs, exposing your wetness. You were beautiful, naked on his chair, dragging your middle finger along your dripping slit. Your other hand grabbed your breast.

"You're a vision, Vixen. You're magnificent, pretty thing."

"I want your tongue, daddy." You mewled, your finger dipping inside, emerging covered in glossy wetness.

He groaned, taking his cock out of his pants, moving the waistband to his thighs. “I’m gonna eat you later, pretty doll. I’ve been starving for weeks for that sweet cunt of yours.” His erection immediately sprung up, arching to his belly button, the lower tendon looking so inviting along that thick vein that always had him throwing his head back whenever you traced it with the tip of your front teeth. As your fingers met your clit, eliciting a whine from your throat, he used four fingers to press on the vein, his thumb already playing with the tip. His hands always looked incredible whenever he used them on himself, strong fingers and spidery tendons making the vision sinfully erotic. However, he was lost in you as much as you were lost in him, his lips parted, his breath panting while you opened your legs wider, using two fingers in small upward circles that teased the underside of your clit. You felt a chill run down your spine, your legs trembling and closing a little with an involuntary reflex. You giggled at that, closing your eyes and moving your grip to the armrest of the chair. Your upper body inched forward a little and your hand stopped.

“Too much, babygirl?” He asked and you smiled brightly, nodding.

You’re gonna miss it, the way she smiles when you’re doing it right, his brain reminded him and as a way to shut it up, he stroked himself faster, with more pressure, his spare hand brushing his abdomen and moving upwards, spreading over his pectoral, scratching the skin there before his thumb and forefinger curved around the base of his neck, pressing there.

You observed the motion, unpausing the movement between your thighs and humming as he gave you his desperate stare, the one that meant that he couldn’t take it anymore, that he was on the verge of it and even the smallest addition to the current situation would have him screaming and cumming.

“Joonie, lemme get close. Cum in my mouth, Joon, please.” You whined.

“No, naughty girl. Stay there and cum for daddy.” He groaned. “Come on, baby, I’m waiting for you.” He said, with a harsh and strained command.

Arching your neck, you started moving faster, opening your legs as far as the armrests allowed, but they only allowed an inch more than what you already had. Huffing with disappointment, you closed them and propped the back of your right knee on top of the armrest and repeated the gesture with your left leg, spreading yourself wide, almost hitting a split with your legs bent at the knees.

“God, you’re the dirtiest. You stretching it out for me? You’re so good, showing daddy how wet you are for him.” He teased, using that raspy voice that he knew always drives you insane.

With short, quick breaths you brought yourself closer and closer to the edge. “Daddy, please, keep talking to me.”

His hand slowed down. “Need to hear my voice, babygirl?”

You nodded and he snickered. “Then I’ll talk to you, little one. You know what I’m gonna do after you cum? I’m gonna crawl to you and kneel between those wondrous legs of yours. I’m gonna push your ass to the edge of the seat and feast on you like I’m trying to die eating that pussy. And do you know what you’re gonna do, Vixen?” He provoked.

You shook your head. “What am I going to do, daddy?” You questioned innocently, your words stumbling a few times as your breath got stuck somewhere in your throat.

“Oh, little fox, you’re gonna grab my hair and push that lovely cunt on my lips and tongue, fucking my face so hard and fast, pressing your sexy heels on my naked shoulders. I want to hear you gasp for air because I make you cum so good you forget to breathe, you forget how to speak.”

“Joon, I’m cumming.” You cried out, your legs starting to quiver and your clit getting too sensitive to stand the movement of your fingers, slipping them inside and pushing them in slow circles around your cervix.

His fingers moved back to the tip, the other hand massaging his balls. “Take it, Vixen, that’s it baby. I’m cumming, ____.” He moaned your name, spilling his release on his lower stomach.

You were still staring at each other with your chests heaving, eyes wild, hands stained by your pleasure. It was always the two of you. Always getting caught up in each other, always getting tangled in each other's fantasies with this constant lust pulling you in and never having enough. You wondered when the hunger would stop, when you would grow tired of his insecurity and possessiveness, when he would find out you're too kinky, too needy, too fucked up for a busy man like him to handle.

He cleaned his hand with one of the unused paper towels from dinner, crumbling it and throwing it in the box with the garbage from dinner.

"Joonie." You whispered, waiting.

"Coming, baby fox." He replied, standing up and taking off his sweatpants and boxers, walking straight to you. You closed your legs, a bit cold and embarrassed now that your high was over. Standing right in front of you, he cupped your cheek, making you look up at his face, however, even though your head was tipped back, aimed at his eyes, your glance hung low, staring at the droplets smearing his abdomen. "What are you looking at, spoiled little fox?" He said, with a sardonic smile.

"I wanna lick."

He grinned and scooped some liquid with his digit, bringing it to your lips.

Parting your lips, you licked your lower one first, then you let your tongue dart out and swipe at his finger, carefully sucking it into your mouth before he lowered his eyes, staring into yours and smirking seducingly as he pulled his digit out. You smacked your lips and savoured his taste, your eyelids falling shut as you hummed at his flavour.

His cock, once half soft, was now hardening again, swelling intermittently and slowly rising to his navel. But Namjoon's eyes were focused on your face. "Want more?" He asked once your eyes opened and your gaze focused on his face. With a sex-addled, lazy grin you nodded, opening your mouth.

He grinned right back. "Such a hungry little girl."

Impatient, you grabbed his hips, pulling him towards you and licking his belly clean. He groaned, observing you closely.

I'm going to teach her some patience and some manners, he thought darkly. However, he immediately reminded himself that he would never have the time, your liaison coming to an end.

With this unfortunate thought, he cupped your face. "I'm the one supposed to be eating now, ____. Let me take care of you, darling." He said, before falling to his knees. Immediately he pushed the back of the chair to the table, so that it wouldn't cartwheel out of his grasp.

Once more you asked yourself how many times he had done that before, thinking about how the relationship with the bride-to-be must have been mostly sexual, since you don't usually have much romance and dates with someone who is taken. Even though he didn't know she was taken. Whatever.

In that moment he was there, kneeling before you, placing your heels on his shoulders, cupping your ass and tipping it forward so he could easily and comfortably give you that first, glorious lick from your hole to your clit. "Taste so good." He said, nuzzling his lips side to side as he spoke, mixing the movement to the vibration of his voice. He bit the small tattoo at the top of your thigh, where it met your pelvis, just shy of your hip bone. "Sexy little thing." He kissed it. "Drove me insane since day one." As usual, he sucked at it, causing a dark purple mark to bloom over it. "Fucking perfect."

He laid his tongue flat against your slit drawing the tiniest circles with the whole length of it.

You hand-combed his hair back, holding it so you could look into his dragon eyes. He looked vicious and dangerous and so cunning, so smart in the most atrocious way.

"Namjoon." You moaned, your hips arching closer to his mouth.

He snickered cockily, moving his tongue slowly back into his mouth, allowing only the tip to wander up your crevice and reach the apex of your labia. He delivered a set of ten licks, slow and curling perfectly against your nub. "Are you good, little fox?" He asked.

You nodded and pushed his head back between your legs.

He laughed loudly, fighting against you. "I'm not done talking, brat." He bit your lower belly gently. "I'm gonna pump your clit with my mouth, Vixen. I'll suck it twenty times, then I'll let you rest until I'm ready again. I'll keep going until you cum. Remember that after twenty I'll pause. This could easily turn into edgeplay, baby, so you'd better get very horny very fast. You okay, Vixen?"

He checked on you and you nodded, impatient to simply have him on your clit.

"Be verbal, little girl." He reprimanded.

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl. Let's get started."

He wasted no time. He wrapped his lips around your clit and started sucking, sucking so hard that you knew the following day his jaw and ears would hurt. At pump fifteen you already knew you needed more than twenty to cum. And as twenty arrived you whined but you felt confident that the next set would suffice.

This time you felt your edge at twelve, still you needed more. You were getting wetter and wetter, so soaked that his saliva and your slick mixed up and made you feel uncomfortable between your asscheeks.

"Joon–" You said, at which he mumbled "language" in between two pumps.

"Daddy, I want your fingers inside." You said, indulging his every whim.

He fumbled around with his arms, securing you with his left, making sure that your backside wouldn't get too close to the edge of the seat, and cause you to fall. His right arm moved back to your front, his index and middle finger coming to your entrance and waiting, his drool sliding from his tongue down your slit and directly on his fingers which, now lubricated, slipped in with no friction or resistance. The pressure was mind-blowing, your head spinning. "Daddy, please."

"Please what?" He said, hitting his pause.

"Make me cum. Let me." You asked, as meekly as you could.

"Why should I, uh?" He teased.

"Because I am a good girl." Because I love you, said an obnoxious part of your brain.

"Then I need you to say it one last time, Vixen. I know I've tormented you, but I need to ask it once and for all. Is there anyone else?" He said, his voice almost breaking.

"No, Namjoon. I swear to God, there's no one else. I promise it. I swear on everything that I love the most. Please." You begged, hoping that he would feel the desperate honesty in your voice. "Please. You're my only daddy. I have you, only you. I am yours." You said, and God if it felt right, if it felt true, being his, belonging to him.

Tell him you love him, your brain said again, but you refused.

He smiled brightly at your declaration. "We're done playing, if you want to, Vixen."

You simply nodded, batting your lashes at him. "I want to."

"Then hold tight because I'm not going to stop until you're fucking my face and screaming my name and shaking on this seat. Understood?" He warned you.

"Yes, daddy." You replied.

"Then hold tight, baby fox. I'm gonna eat you alive."

"Try." You challenged him.

And that's when he pounced. His pumps became longer, impossibly tighter, and the small pause between one and the next became shorter. Your eyes locked with his, brows knitting together, lips parting in a mewl as you threw your head back. "Namjoon. Please, daddy."

Smirking, he mixed the pumping motion with a barely-there curl of his tongue, teasing your clit with such delicate pressure that you couldn't even wrap your head around the incredible amount of tension that it was causing in your body. Your hands tightened in his hair, your moans dissolving into small giggles.

He wanted to tell you how good you sounded, how pretty you looked, how he wanted to see this every day for the rest of his life. He loved seeing you this happy, this carried away. He loved your morning voice and your late night cuddles. He loved breakfast in bed and midnight snacks and three a.m. quickies. He loved watching you take off your bra from under your t-shirt before going to bed, he loved seeing you shiver as you went to the bathroom early in the morning, clad in his t-shirt, plain cotton briefs and a pair of socks even in the dead of winter, since he always kept you warm under the covers by holding you close. He wanted to confess it all: the heartwarming wonder he felt staring at you had when you focused while reading and studying, when you brushed your hair, when you got dressed before leaving for the day, when you stood at the kitchen counter, cooking, with your back to him, and again when you applied lotion all over your body after showering, when he kissed your nape, standing behind you and donning the zipper of your dress.

However, he stayed silent, showing it all with the reckless ministrations of his mouth as your chest blushed, your hands grabbed his hair almost painfully and your hips snapped, your mouth opening in a silent scream.

You hadn't even bothered telling him you were cumming. He knew anyway. His mouth became more gentle, resolving to small licks while his fingers massaged your walls deep and slow, perfectly responding to the contractions of your muscles. "Here, pretty thing." He murmured, his hair tickling the skin of your stomach. "I've got you, baby. Shhh." He calmed you down, your breath coming in heavy pants, your heartbeat going like crazy. He rubbed his soaked fingers against his thigh, briefly cleaning himself before coming up to your face, cupping your cheeks. "Are you okay, little one?"

You nodded with your eyes closed, getting sleepy.

He caressed your face. "Open your eyes for me, baby girl, let me see your pretty eyes."

With a beatific smile you tried to look at him, eyelids lifting, taking a few seconds to focus on him.

"There she is, my moonshine." He cooed, pressing a kiss to your lips. "You look really happy, baby thing."

You simply moved your head in a nod.

"Do you want more, little fox?" He asked, still fussing over you. "Can you take it just one more time, babe?"

Licking your lips you nodded again with a giggle.

He smiled. "You keep nodding, baby. Are you saying yes to daddy?"

"Yes, Joonie." You whispered slowly.

"Good girl. Can you walk, Vixen?"

"Yes."

"Great. I want you to kneel in front of the coffee table, darling." He commanded, rising to his feet and helping you stand up.

This would be the last time, he decided.

He would allow himself your heaven just one more time, then he would hold you close for a few minutes, clean you up, accompany you home and let you go. He wasn't man enough to look into your eyes. He was weak and unfair. He turned you around with your back to him, his erection brushing against the small of your back. Once you were in front of the table, he moved your hair to the side, skimming the curve of your ear with his lower lip. "Kneel, Vixen."

You did.

He kneeled behind you, moving the books and magazines on the floor, away from the two of you, while the traces of your dinner were thrown into the bag, which he would discard later. With an empty table, he pushed his palm from the small of your back to your nape, making your front adhere to the table and making sure that your hair was out of the way. "I know you love this table." He murmured.

"I do."

"I do, too." His heart felt like a burden. Without further hesitation, he grabbed his length and rubbed his tip against you. "You ready, ____?"

"Please."

With a groan he slipped in, the filling sensation causing a loud whine on your behalf. "Quiet." He reprimanded.

You got a little scared at his dark voice, knowing that at this point you'd better obey. However, it lasted little. Once he bottomed out, he growled, bending down to your neck. "You good, little one?" He said, his sweet persona back in place.

"Yes, daddy."

He was breathing heavily through his nose as he sucked at the skin of your neck, marking you. As soon as he was sure the mark would bruise and stay for at least a couple days, he released your skin. "Do you want your spanks, baby girl?"

Your eyes rolling with pleasure, you hummed. "I want them so much, daddy. Spank me, please."

He simply breathed. "With pleasure, little one." He knew no one would ever be this good to him.

His chest parted from your back, a small shiver settling in instead.

The first smack was harsh, angry. You clenched around him and he thrusted in violently, growling.

The second one hit the tender skin of your outer thigh, where it met your ass. "Daddy." You whined.

"Quiet." He chastised again, his voice strained. He hammered into you four or five times.

"Daddy, it hurts." You cried out, at which he stayed silent, simply spanking you again, twice, without rubbing soothingly at your skin. You emitted a shrill huffing sound of complaint, at which he answered with violent ramming into you, using both hands to push you onto his lap.

This was not how Joon usually did it. This was not normal. With worry distracting your mind, you turned your head, looking at him. His eyes were closed, droplets falling down his cheeks. Was it sweat or tears?

"Namjoon?" You asked, alarmed.

He shook his head, biting his lip. "You good?" He asked, eyes still closed.

"Stop." You murmured.

He obeyed, exiting your warmth and opening his eyes, still avoiding your gaze contact. "Did I—?"

"Look at me."

He shook his head. "I can't."

"Namjoon." You reprimanded.

As your eyes met his, you noticed they were rimmed with tears, and he was biting his lip to hold back a sob, shaking his head in shame.

Your initial shock was followed by an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the beautiful, delicate man in front of you.

You quickly decided what to do.

You turned around fully, facing him as you stood on your knees, your hands caressing his cheeks. "What is it, Joonie bear?"

He simply frowned and hid in the crook of your neck, desperate.

"What is it?" You asked again.

He nuzzled even more into your chest, inhaling the damp feel of your skin. "I just want it to be a good memory." He huffed with a broken whisper.

A memory? "Why would it be a memory, Namjoon?" You asked, confused.

"If it's our last time, I wanna be good to you." He said, and you could feel every ounce of sadness in his voice.

Last time? "Joonie bear, why would it be our last time?"

His shoulders shook with sobs as he stopped holding back his tears. "I've been a bastard, it's okay if you want to go." He tried saying in his most composed voice.

You frowned in confusion. "No, Namjoon."

"You want to leave me. It's okay. I need it only one last time."

You shook your head, trying to grab his chin and make him look at you. However, he strongly opposed.

"Joonie." You murmured, hugging his head and caressing his hair. "I'm not here to leave you." You whispered. "I want to be with you." You continued.

He shook his head even more. "I was dumb. You have every right—"

"No." You kissed his head, caressing his shoulders, hugging him tight. "I'm not going anywhere."

He looked up at you, his face covered in tears.

"Oh, baby bear." You cooed, touching his cheeks, kissing his forehead. "Don't cry, Joonie." He disappeared even more into you, hugging your entire figure, dwarfing you. "Don't cry, my love." You whispered, the word tiptoeing out of your lips. He sobbed harder. "I'm so in love with you, Joonie bear." You crooned, offering him all your soul in those simple, childish words.

"You love me?" He asked, confused, alarmed, petrified.

"I love you, Namjoon." You repeated.

He completely forgot his messy face and brought his lips to yours, his mouth melting into you eagerly as your tongues spoke a language that came so natural to both of you.

Breathless, he parted from you. "I love you. I love you so much." He pressed tens of kisses on your face with such speed and pressure that you felt like disappearing into him.

"I love you too." You giggled, trying to clean his face.

You both laughed, elated, his hands coming to your waist, holding you closer and closer. "I wanna make love to you." He whispered. "Let me love you."

"Missionary on the carpet or cowgirl on the sofa?" You asked.

"Why choose when you can have both?" He wiggled an eyebrow. You smiled. He smiled back. "Let's get on the sofa." He replied gently. "You'll catch a cold with your sweaty back on the freezing floor."

"But no missionary on the sofa…" You cried out like a child.

He smiled. "Do you want missionary so bad?" He kissed your temple, smiling.

"I guess I'll be happy with anything you want." You pouted, still doubtful.

"C'mere." He said, getting even closer. You slipped your stilettos off and he picked you up by the back of your thighs and with some strength you didn't know he had, he carried you to the sofa, careful not to step on your shoes. "I'm going to sit. Careful with your legs." He warned, plopping down as carefully and as gently as he could, mercifully avoiding to sit with your calves underneath him.

"Don't worry, I won't make you ride me, baby." He kissed your brow. "You're too tired for that." He cradled you to his chest, offering you a bit of his body heat. "Can you push it inside you for me, love?" He asked seducingly, kissing your neck.

You smiled and reached between your bodies. He was already pulsating, you knew he would come undone in a few strokes. Slowly, you lifted your hips and pushed his tip inside, making him groan.

"You're always so tight, babylove. Fuck, you feel amazing." He sucked at your neck some more, drawing a twin bruise to the one you had on the other side of your throat. "I feel like a fucking teenager with you. I can never get enough." His hips jutted a little, pushing into you while his forearm around your waist pulled you down, his hand gripping your ass.

"Daddy." You breathed out, your forehead pressed against his neck as he bottomed out.

"Yes?" He replied, soothing you with long caresses down your spine. "Does it hurt, doll?"

He had so many nicknames for you but you couldn't wait for your next. "No, daddy." He held your face away from his shoulder. "Are you sure babylove?"

Your face stretched in a slight grimace. "Maybe."

He giggled and kissed your cheek, sliding down to your mouth. "I'm sorry, Vixen." He pressed his lips to yours once and then again. "I'm so sorry, baby. For everything." He combed your hair back. "I can't promise you I'll never hurt you, but I can promise I'll try to make it better every single time." He held you close as your brow furrowed. "I love you." He whispered, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pressing on your lower back.

"I love you too." You said right back. "But please, Joonie…"

"Need me to move?" He asked.

"I want you to cum." You murmured.

He smirked and nodded. "Want me to finger you?" He asked, already drawing short thrusts into you and helping you ride him with his forearm around you.

"Yes, please, daddy." You whined.

His right hand left the crown of your head, coming to the top of your thighs and beginning to draw small circles at the apex of your labia, the flat of his thumb wide enough to cover your bundle of nerves entirely.

"Would you like to take your time, Vixen?" He asked kindly, knowing that sometimes it took you a bit longer than him to actually get worked up.

"I just need you to keep going exactly like this. You're perfect, Joonie."

He grunted and started pushing into you from below. "Like this?" He said, his voice a tad strained.

His thrusts were low and deep, curling just enough to hit your sweet spot. He realised you started holding your breath. Usually that meant you were close.

He bent his head, looking down where your bodies joined. It was hypnotizing, his thumb drawing perfectly identical circles. He started kissing and licking any and every inch of skin that came close to his mouth, your shoulder, your chest, your neck, sucking whenever he managed to grip the skin for long enough to bruise and mark.

When you started shoving yourself on him, bouncing in earnest, he kept his cool and stopped fooling around, staying focused on lasting long enough, doing the exact same thing, knowing that with a few thrusts delivered just right, you would become like putty in his arms and he could just get crazy and chase his high.

With your lips parting in a high pitched moan, you pressed your hips to his two more times before your chest collapsed into his with a tired whimper. "Take what you need." You murmured before propping yourself with your forearms against the back of the sofa, lifting your hips. Your face was pressed at the crook beneath his jaw, your tongue blindly chasing the droplets of sweat sliding down the column of his throat. He emitted an animalistic groan before his palms thudded heavily against your glutes, gripping your hips so hard that both his knuckles and your flesh turned white. And then he started ramming into you from below. The sounds in the room were a mix of his grunts, the smacking of flesh and the wetness between your legs, but more quietly, under all those layers, in between a groan and the next, there were his whispered love declarations, which poured out of his mouth like prayers, until he was so close, so fucked out that he could only repeat 'I love you', over and over, interrupted only by a final howl as he spilled inside you.

In all of this you had tried to stay quiet, shushing him and kissing his neck, not sure that you were allowed to mark him.

You laid both exhausted, his body sliding sideways down the sofa, trying to rest on the seats, his head laying on an armrest as his ankles dangling from the other. You covered him like a blanket, your hair draping over his chest and tumbling down the edge of the sofa.

You were both sweaty and messy with cum and drool, still you simply laid there, until you felt too cold and shivered.

"Blanket?" You asked.

He shook his head. "I'd better dress you and take you back at mine. I can go home tonight. There's no use working late. I need to rest anyway."

"Are you sure." You asked, touching his face.

He kissed your wrist. "Sure."

"I have to clean your chair first. I should have some wet wipes in my handbag." You mumbled. "And I should clean myself too before I drip on your lovely sofa."

He hummed, tired, fake-crying as he said "I don't wanna get up."

"My bag is right beside the sofa, just stretch your arm backward." You directed him.

He fumbled around a bit, moving the bag from behind his head to your side, where you could easily reach inside. After a bit of rummaging, you fished out your wipes, making a quick work of pulling him out and cleaning yourself.

"Cold." He muttered with a pout, which you kissed away from his face.

"Come on, baby bear, get up and get dressed. I wanna shower with you and shower you in kisses." You pampered him, trying to convince him to get ready to leave.

He whined as you sat up, quickly dashing to recoup your underwear. Once you were wearing it, you cleaned his chair, quite happy when you noticed that it wasn't half as bad as you though. When you turned, you noticed he was staring at you, already completely dressed, your dress in his hands. You moved closer.

"Up with your arms, love." He said gently, and for a second you realised that your simple and emotional confessions weren't a mirage caused by arousal or desperation.

You followed his instructions as he helped you wear your dress, slipping it over your head and helping you find both sleeves. Next he gripped the hem at both sides, delicately rolling the fabric down your body. Once it reached your knees, he let his hands skim back up your hips and waist, crossing his wrists behind your back before squeezing your ass. He stared at your throat.

"Will I have to wear a turtleneck for the next ten days?" You asked, slipping the neck of your dress aside and checking the damage.

"Sorry." He murmured.

"It's okay. I like it. I'm just teasing you." You said with a playful smirk.

"Brat." He mouthed with a snicker, bending down to pick up your tights.

You tutted, stealing them from his hands. "Let me do these, they're tricky."

He simply stared, his body trembling with a new tide of arousal at the mannerism you used to put on the garment, rolling up one leg between your thumbs and forefingers, pressing your toes against the stitching and dragging the nylon up your leg. He had seen this scene in an old Italian movie, but seeing the gesture in real life helped him understand the frenzy that the main character experienced after such an act. After you repeated the movement on the other leg, his mouth practically salivating, he watched some more as you fixed the gusset and the waistband, stretching the garment around the curve of your ass.

"Call me whenever you need to wear those." He whispered in marvel and agony. "I might take them off you just to see it all over again."

You smiled coquettishly, grabbing your coat and wearing it.

He kneeled in front of you, holding one of your shoes. "When's your birthday?" He asked, making you lift one foot as he slipped your heel on.

You frowned, the connection unknown to you. "Mid-november. Why?"

He held your other shoe and you held onto his shoulder as you lifted your other foot, wearing the black stiletto. "I loved seeing those on you tonight. I might buy you another pair or eight as a birthday gift."

You shook your head and laughed. "I don't need a sugar daddy, I'm happy with my plain, regular one." He rose to his feet and you grabbed his cheeks, planting a big, fat smooch on his mouth. "I'm actually very, very in love."

"Hello, Actually Very, Very in Love. My name is Head Over Heels — he pointed at your shoes — in Love. Pleased to meet you."

You laughed and he felt his heart explode with joy, his nose brushing against yours with Eskimo kisses. "Your bag." He said, bending to pick it up. "My bags." He said, collecting his tote and the small paper bag with his belongings that you had brought him. He neared his desk, checking the various devices. "Equipment off, computer off–" He mumbled as he moved the mouse to shut down the system. Meanwhile you fixed the low table, putting the magazines back on top of it. He switched off his table lamp and moved towards the door. "Dinner." He reminded himself, picking up the trash bag by the entrance. "You ready, Vixen?"

You hummed in confirmation.

"Let's go."

#bangtan smut #bts smut #bangtan sonyeondan #namjoon smut #namjoon one shot #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fic #Namjoon x reader

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waywardimpalawriter · 3 years

Note

Could you do a Bucky/Reader fic for 16 on the smut prompts?

The intimacy of shaving

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader

Bucky Bingo Square: New haircut square

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Sarah Wilson

Setting: three months after the end of Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Rating: M (Mature), E (explicit), NSFW, +18 only please

Warnings: fluff, angst, bickering, smut, oral female receiving, yearning, pining, unrequited love, smutty dreams, broken bones, mention of torture, Bucky’s old memories,

Word count: 10,800

Summary: Frustrated with being left behind, worry taking hold after finding out just a fraction of how bad your boys are. Making you start to search your feeling's for both men. Especially with the intimacy of giving Bucky a hair cut and shave. Unexpected emotions surface on all parts.

Notes: Sequel too “My own worse enemy," filling in a bingo square for #buckybingo and also an Anon request asking for smut prompt #16 “I’m going to die if you don’t let me cum.” Hope you don't mind me adding Sam into the mix sweetie. Also for my head cannon Sam uses Delacroix LA for his base of operation. Wanting to help take care of his family while taking on the mantle of Captain America. Hope you enjoyed doll.

Tag list’s: Are open

@buckybingo

Forever’s: @jedi-mando @chickensarentcheap

Bucky Barnes list: @learisa @eclipses-and-moondust

Story list: @sammyissassy @feelmyroarrrr

Wearing a path from the kitchen to living room ignoring Sarah’s stare, thumb nail damn near nibbled to the bed with how much your chewing the poor abused finger. Cell phone pressed to your ear, listening to Sams deep baritone, “What’d ya mean three places Samuel? How the f-ing hell did you both managed to get so banged up?”

“Explanations will roll out once we touch down Y/N for now know at least he didn’t break his funny bone that’s still none existence,” glancing towards Bucky stretched out over the metal helo bench. Right arm in a sling snug to his body, thick plaster cast covering from mid bicep to mid palm, fingers still visible.

“I heard that and I do to have a sense of humor just not your brand of stupid jokes bird brain,” deep voice unmistakably Bucky’s catching a wobble in the cadence not there when last they spoke.

Swiping a hand over your face wanting to kill them both for leaving you behind. Plans to do just that forming in your mind while snarking, “Remind me again why exactly you chose to leave me behind?”

Staying home you could’ve possibly worked with, the unknown danced on your nerves more than you’d give credit to. Having grown even closer to both men over the last six months, always brushing those pesky feelings and thoughts away that surface during weak moments of worry or sleep.

“To dangerous and I’m not arguing with you on those semantics it’s bad enough cyborg got the shit beaten out of him,” quickly pulling the phone from his ear at the high pitched sound from down the line. Forgetting a moment your attachment to both men, “You finished?”

Low growl in answer, biting off the curses you wish to fling at both Captain America and the Winter Soldier. “Don’t worry you’re in for it once you get home. ETA?” Checking the watch strapped to your left wrist, “I’ll come pick y’all up, gotta stop in town for supplies anyway.”

“No worries my trucks at base I’ll get Buck and myself home.” Glancing at his watch, “Landing in about two hours, think you can grab a couple of Miss Bridgette’s pecan pies?”

Too many years working with that man not to know what he likes, “For the shit you and Barnes pulled get your own pie man.” Soft chuckles lets you know Sarah heard you. Eyes locking with her’s for a moment seeing the worry in those warm browns matching as you knew in your own. “Just bring you asses home so Sarah and I can roast them.”

Almost feeling the deep groan from over the phone line, “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing since that’s what I got,” shaking head tips to the side picking up on Sam’s easy breathing and the helo’s engines in the back ground. “Just get home dumbass,” affection in your tone. Ending the call, slipping the cell into your front pocket to flop down into the worn out but still comfortable couch.

“They get hurt?” Anxiety tainting her voice from across the room.

Peeking through your fingers at her, dropping them to your thighs to run the length of denim covered skin, “Don’t know really, Sam sounds fine but a concussion or another type of head injury wouldn’t show it’s self right away. From what I did gather they finished up the mission a little over four hours ago, in flight for the last two.”

“What about Bucky?” Meeting your eyes having confided in her years ago about the crush harbored for a certain metal armed ex-assassin turned Cap’s left hand man. Always leaving out the other part of your secret crush. “Speaking of which you ever gonna tell them how you feel?”

“Busting chops about that again Sarah?” Exasperated sigh marches passed barely parted lips, “Something’s broke in three places that’s all Sam ‘Stubborn ass’ Wilson would say. Just not which one of them or what body part exactly.” Firmly ignoring her last question and not picking up on the fact she said them instead of him. To stand hands to hips, leaning back to stretch and possibly pop your spine. “I’m going to town you wanna come or need anything.”

“And you call Sam stubborn,” head shaking with a fond smile tipping her lips upward. Picking up the subtle shift in your demeanor as relief floods your system with knowing they're coming home at least safe. Having guessed your feelings for her older brother not long ago however, keeping that little tidbit to herself. “I’ll come with, give you company and grief along the way. The boy’s won’t come home till later anyway.”

Eyes roll you reach for the car keys on the coffee table, patting your back pocket to check for wallet and the front for cell phone. “Ready to roll?”

Hour and a half later arms loaded with grocery bags, making sure to hide Miss Bridgette’s pie’s from Sam, you and Sarah set to work putting everything away. Setting to work fixing dinner efficiently dancing around each other like a well oiled machine working together in tandem getting each task done. Back door quietly trying to open, Sam poking his head around the well loved oak wood door. Showing a face littered with cuts, a busted bottom lip and dark shadow of a black eye around his left. But his smile still widens flashing pearly whites at seeing the two of you. Entering, Sam places a large locking suit case and round leather carry case not far from the door.

Soft gasp leave’s Sarah’s lips, quickly moving towards her brother to look him over, “You were ugly before now it’s just worse bro.”

Snort existed through his nose, stepping fully into the house with a limp on his right side, accepting the hug she gives him carefully. “You should see the other guy.”

“I’m the other guy,” voice slightly strained but still light almost playful unlike the Bucky of months ago. Though seeing him coming around Sam, arm cradled close in a black cloth sling. Peeks of plaster noticeable making you groan, head shaking at the very sight of him. Assortment of bruises littered his face, his own busted lip, and a three inch cut circling just above his collarbone. Seeing the storm brewing in your eyes, “No we didn’t fight and Sam didn’t cause these wonderful souvenirs.”

“Stupid ass got captured, wouldn’t listen to my plan…”

“You didn’t have a plan Sam not a logistical one…”

“Oh, so you bulldozing in like a raging bull in a China shop worked so well. Who got capture?” Pressing a finger behind his ear to lift the shell listening for Bucky’s answer. “I’m sorry I can’t hear you. You’re gonna say you right Robo soldier cause that’s the correct answer.”

Exasperated with them both, “Shut it and sit down dinner’s ready. I swear the two of you fight worse than Cass and AJ.” Authority ringing through Sarah’s tone cutting eyes at both men.

“Oh sweetheart Cass and AJ have nothing on these two bone heads, more maturity in their little bodies than both of them put together.” Rubbing your temples trying to fend off the building migraine behind your eyes. “Listening to constant bickering I wanna put them in a ‘Get along shirt.'”

Scowl in place while giving them a full once over. Cataloguing the damage you could see and wondering about that which you couldn’t. Noticing the length of Bucky’s hair almost a shaggy just falling a little over his ears and brushing the collar of the black t-shirt he’s wearing. Full beard dusting his cheeks and chin reminding you of those days long gone back in Wakanda. In contrast to Sam’s neatly kept mustache and goatee, close cropped haircut smartly framing his handsome face. Looking much like the day he and Bucky left three months ago on their reconnaissance mission. Knowing better as looks deceive and clothes cover up places eyes can’t see without stripping them naked. The very thought peeking interest but pushing those thoughts back with a frown. Of course it doesn’t stop you from wanting to hug them both mindful of injures unseen that brings a scowl to your features.

“You wouldn’t?” Traces of fear slicing through those deep russet browns. “I thought you loved me Y/N?”

Speaking over Sam, “What’s a ‘Get along’ shirt?”

Caught between wanting to roll her eyes and chuckle, “It’s a big shirt we’d put the two of you in till ya stop bickering like children and actually get along.” Dishing up dinner, Sarah looks towards both men. Trying hard not to burst out laughing at the sour look on Sam’s face nor the still slightly confused one on Bucky’s.

“I see smoke coming from his ears,” snarky quip receiving a back handing smack to his arm.

Bowel’s placed at the table, “Aim for the head next time Sar.” Taking the seat on Sam’s right offering him a cheekily smile, “Might actually knock the few brain cells he has left around and jump start the hamster running the wheel.”

“You both wound me,” clutching his chest dramatically. “With friends and family like this who can you trust.”

“Dramatic’s must come with handling the shield,” cerulean eyes rolling edged with teasing tone. Glancing towards Sam first then you beside him, going to explain for Sarah’s benefit. “Steve could put on some high melodrama back in the day. Much like Samuel here.” Scratching at his chin with vibranium fingers, a low hiss only you catch sounds when the plates catch the little hairs.

Scoffing, “Only Sarah calls me that first off, second look who’s talking Mr. Bionic Staring machine scaring off everyone who comes within two feet. Dramatics run through your veins just as well. ”

“Children,” both women exclaim hands coming down to slam the table at the same. Before time digging into dinner as the back door opens with Cass and AJ storming inside with excited chatter upon seeing both Sam and Bucky.

Each asking about what happened, how’d the mission go and why exactly Bucky’s sporting a sling and cast. All questions peeking the interested of both women with brows raised and narrowed eyes.

“Settle in first and eat dinner,” Sam intones wanting to keep most of what happened from his family. “For the most part the mission went successful.”

Very unladylike snort leaves your nose hidden behind a glass of sweet tea you sip from, “At least you came back in one piece or three in someone’s case.” Eyes narrow even farther on Bucky who has the good graces to look sheepish and divert his eyes.

“But the super serum why didn’t it help like that,” AJ snapped his little fingers for emphasis on the quickness the serum should work or so he thinks.

“Doesn’t quiet work that way AJ,” Bucky starts running a hand through his longer than usual hair. Giving a short frustrated tug before returning to the topic at hand. “Yeah the serum helps speed up the healing process it’s not instantaneous and,” pausing to side eye you not wanting to admit there’s more injures than just his arm.

Scowl returning having a feeling you know why he’s paused in explaining, “Takes longer to heal when multiple injures are involved.”

Dinner finishes with other questions, skirting the full truth about the mission, discussing the coming week with work and school. Sam’s boyish smile appears when Sarah brings out the pie, cutting out slices to pass around with Reddi-whip, coffee for the adults, milk for the kids. Silence settles for a moment the enjoyment of pie more important to savor and only once done do you raise to start cleaning up.

“I’ll,” shooting Sarah a look with a shake of your head.

“You got paperwork to catch up on babe I’ve got this, besides Sam volunteered to help. Didn’t you Sam?” Shooting a look his way, clearly speaking volumes if the answer comes back no.

Brow arched in question but thought better then to ask, though he flips the script on you, “Of course, Bucky volunteer’s.” Quickly moving away from the hand threatening to land a hard punch to his right thigh. Almost toppling to the floor in his hast to move Sam tweaked his hip a twinge of pain slicing through his features.

“Serves you right Wilson,” thought a slice of regret skates across your thoughts. Head shaking you stand gathering plates as the boys excuse themselves to play video games.

“Homework first or I’m taking those games away,” Sarah yells after them looking in your direction for a second. “You got these two?” Pointing at each of them in turn with her own frown dropping her lips downward.

“Sadly yes,” exasperation clearly written in the rigidness of you stance and narrowing to slits of your eyes. “Blissfully unaware or want to know everything?”

“Unaware I’m just happy their back whole,” nodding Sarah takes her leave, heading for the home office.

Times flown, six months in fact since Karli’s death and Sam taking over the mantle of Captain America. Going above and beyond to change how the worlds become and see’s the shield. Using Delacroix as home base to keep himself grounded and around for his family. Surprisingly enough including you and Bucky the house feels a touch over crowded but wouldn’t want things any different.

“Care to explain what that means?” Limping with hands full towards the sink, Sam places his arm load down watching you move around the kitchen. Putting leftovers up, setting to work on the dishes, the familiarity you exude warms a place in Sam’s heart. Always pushing those thoughts from his mind, your his best friend and wouldn’t see him in any other way. Especially with your heart firmly filled with Bucky.

Giving your back to both men and only acknowledging their presence when Bucky comes over with a bowel. “Thanks,” leaves your lips with a nod.

“We’re sorry for leaving you behind Y/N, but Sam and I agreed things were to dangerous neither of us wanted you to get hurt,” trying to reason Bucky leans his back against the counter beside you. Tugging once again at his too long hair that gets slightly tangled in the plates of his fingers.

“You actually agreed on something?” Catching his actions, your head shakes grabbing for the towel to dry soapy hands and help with his dilemma. “Instead you both come back looking like train wreck’s all beaten, broken and bruised. With a busted arm,” finished with untangling his fingers to point at his arm. Whirling around to assess Sam who’s trying not to put weight on his right leg, “Banged up hip and God know what else internally. Neither one of you are spring chickens for heaven’s sake.”

“Don’t know what your talking about Y/N? I’m not a day over twenty-five,” taking an aim to make you smile and ease the tension in your shoulders. Frown appearing when your countenance doesn’t change but deepens, “Talk to the resident Centurion who got his ass captured and tortured for over a week.”

Low growl leaves your lips pursed together in a grim line, “Do either of you think about the consequences of your actions? Of what’ll happen without either of you in this God forsaking world?” Tossing your hands up and turning back to dish washing, something to keep from chocking the life outta the two of them, or spilling your inner most thoughts. Afraid to loose either man the very thought making your heart clinch painfully in your chest, breathing picking up as tears gloss over your eyes. Plates clang loudly, forcefully slamming them into the drying rack making both men wince at your actions.

“Y/N,” coming up behind you large warm hands carefully rest on tense shoulders. Aware of your feelings for a certain cyborg the thought a little bitter to take but Sam resigns himself to the role of best friend. “We’re sorry really,” taking a breath and clearing his throat wanting to make amends and explain. “We thought, planned, things just…”

“Went to shit around us, it’s not like Sam or I wanted to get the crap beating out of us doll it just,” shrugging vibranium hand coming to rest on your shoulder beside Sam’s. “Got complicated.”

Taking a deep breath drawing in the scents of Sam’s citrus and cider wood cologne you couldn’t put your finger on naming, mixing with Bucky’s old world sandalwood base cologne of 4711. Eyes close for a moment blinking back the tears, and to gather thoughts, righting them in an order that makes sense. Trying to keep out the feelings currently jumbling up your brain. “I know,” body sags back against Sam’s strong chest while unconsciously leaning towards Bucky’s hand. “Neither of you will do that shit again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Not if things go dark side like this time, we’re not putting you in harms way,” feeling you stiffen Sam steps back, Bucky’s hand drops back to his side when you whirl on the man behind you. Stance ridge and firm, Sam crosses his arms adding his own glare and not backing down. “My decision is final on the matter and no amount of arguing will change that.”

Understanding Sam’s position, however the thought of staying behind, waiting to find out if… no you push those thoughts aside. “Mine, that’s who makes the choice not either of you,” heat of annoyance flaring to life as you look between the two men. “Knowing what I signed up for, choose to stick around and help put this broken blue marble we call home back together. I won’t sit out the next mission we clear on that?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, barely audible hiss leaves Bucky’s lips at having hair yanked out by the roots. Though his voice is steady when asking, “Why did you stick around? Thought once Walker handed over the shield, the Flag smashers agenda crashed and burned you’d skip out on the next train back to normal.” Not that he minded of course, in fact Bucky rather enjoyed your company, reminded him of those first months out of cryo getting to know each other. Plus his questions distracted you from getting an answer that won’t satisfy.

“I have my reasons,” giving a half hearted shrug you turn back to finishing up the dishes not really wanting to explain. Not fully sure yourself why you’ve stuck around though deep down you know it has to do with both men. “Reasons neither of you need to know.”

Sharing a look with Bucky, “Don’t pull that shit with us sweetheart you demand answers now we ask the same in return.”

Sure they still argued like an old married couple but a begrudging understanding has built between the pair, coming to an almost friendship neither would fully admit to. Both wanting to protect the small family friend’s circle patched together like grandma’s old quilt. Tattered, frayed and a few wholes but well loved and always cared for. Eyes landing back on you to watch the forward slump of your shoulders rounded inward along with your chin dropped to your chest.

“I have the two of you house broken,” idea forming to steer the conversation away. “Don’t need that headache on repeat and I wouldn’t leave the two of you bone heads alone to kill each other or drive poor Sarah crazy,” quicker than either can react you’ve scooped up hand fulls of soap bubbles to smash into both their faces. Deflecting the conversation away from having to answer and lightening the mood. Or so you hoped with the playfully murderous looks both men shoot you. Skirting Sam’s grabby hands heading to put the kitchen table between yourself, Captain America and the Winter Soldier. “Now boys that’s just all in good fun and your both hurt so I suggest you think about your actions before retaliating.”

Wiping the remains of soapy bubbles from his face, thick fingers making wet tracks over denim to dry hands. Sam edges a little closer intent on trying to snag your arm. That ghosts through his fingers, “For now but remember paybacks a bitch sweetheart.” Bright smile tugs his full lips, head shaking though he knows there’s so much more your hiding from both he and Bucky. One day he’ll crack that secret you hold so dear, for now Sam lets you cling tightly.

Watching him go you turn towards Bucky who’s smirk sets you back a moment. “I don’t think I like that look Barnes,” arms crossed mustering a half glare. “Sam’s right you really can see the smoke rising from your head.”

“Hahaha that jokes getting old,” light hearted quip falling from his lips, eyes raking your form as you near the sink. Catching you looking between finishing the dishes and making sure Bucky’s not going to retaliate. “I come in peace promise besides I’m too old for revenge I’ll leave it to you young whipper snappers,” throwing his voice to sound like an old man.

Laughter rings full and deep from your parted lips, soapy hands gripping the sink to keep from toppling over in mirth. His own chuckle exists on a grin, cerulean eyes taking in how carefree you look. Tension and worry melted away with his well played grandpa joke. Making Bucky wish he got to see you like this more often but then he remembered why he never searched. Why he left you alone and only within the last ten or so months managed to reconnect the missing dots in his life. Sure there’s still blood on his hands he tries to scrub clean with each mission, to make those amends and not just avenge. But truly help people in ways that didn’t require lead or blood.

Still wondering, so he gives voice to those thoughts, “Why didn’t you go back to your life doll?” Feeling he’s perpetuated a grave error in asking the question but a part of him wants. No needed the answer to know why you’d give up a happy life for one of danger and uncertainty with him and Sam.

Sobering, his question hitting you like a ton of cement bricks keeping you from turning to face him. Wincing when another hiss echos around inside your head from your right side. “Tell you what Buck you let me cut that hair and beard of yours I’ll answer your questions.”

“I get you don’t… wait… what?” Not sure he’d heard you right. Pain making a return to fog his brain for the moment as throbbing radiates across his broken clavicle to the dislocated shoulder, dancing along the fractured radius and painfully tingling his fingers. Soft curse exists his lips reminding himself to take Sam’s suggestions next time though he wouldn’t let the other man know. “Don’t happen to have any pain meds do ya doll?”

Eyes narrow, “Which parts did they break?” Holding up a hand to stop him from answering while you head towards your room. Grabbing up the small med kit Sharon gave you months back for times like these. Pausing to scoop up the hair scissors and trimer, along with a shaver and cream, both of which belonging to Sam. “Now you were saying?”

Placing everything on the table, unzipping the medium size unassuming black bag pulling out a small bottle to pop the top and wiggle out two pills. Handing those over to Bucky who just stares at them resting in his metal palm.

“Trying to kill me doll?” Teasing tone to the cadence of his words while popping them into his mouth and excepting the glass of water. Downing in one go and handing it back, “Never did like pills reminds me of Steve.”

Resting a gentle hand on his bad shoulder, “If I tried to kill ya Buck you’d see it coming,” snickering at the wide eyed look he gives you. Sobering with understanding filled eyes that stay locked with his, “I’m sorry it”s not my intentions to bring up the past.” Moving to put the glass down, you stay at the sink looking out over the backyard, orange and reds dancing over the rippling surface of the bayou. Sinking sun creating a cornucopia of color heralding the on coming twilight and the end of another day.

“You didn’t Y/N,” coming to stand next to you watching the golden ball of life giving light slowly sink into the horizon. On the tip of his tongue to speak about Steve, the abandonment he felt acutely with the absence of his best friend. Slowly filled by your present, that of Sam’s and his family. “I guess ‘Till the end of the line’ meant just till he could get back to who he really missed.” Anguish heard loudly through soft spoken words not meant for your ears but once uttered there’s no going back.

Out of your peripheral vision you study Bucky for a moment heart breaking for the man who’s lost so much to then fully face him. His own gaze staying straight ahead staring unseen out the window with tan lace curtains framing the coming twilight. Over head light casting shadows in the hallows and angles of his features, bringing out the bruises highlighting the cuts, making your heart ache for this man in ways you’ve tried to push aside. Ways you didn’t want it to feel in case of rejection but couldn’t help the tightening in your chest nor the want to embrace and hold Bucky close.

“Come on,” without thinking your hand slips into his vibranium palm tugging till he follows and only dropping to scoop up trimmer, combs and scissors before heading out the back door.

For a moment Bucky stood there thankful to Shuri for the ability to feel warmth and the weight of your hand in his vibranium limb. The very thoughts your simple gesture conjures damns his heart making it beat triple time. When your head pops back around the door sweet smile crossing those kissable lips. Bucky has to remind himself you’re off limits friends nothing more and to breath. Your beauty stealing the air from his lungs, making it hard to focus on anything except your present.

Catching the out of focus look in his cerulean eyes mind swirling with questions as to what he’s thinking about. “You gonna stand there taking root or get your silly ass out here,” motioning with a jerk of your head over your shoulder smile still firmly in place. Making sure he’s actually moving before existing to place a stool about middle of the back porch. Patting the hardwood barstool then reaching up to tug on the pull string as light floods the area casting a bright glow.

Transfixed for a moment in the doorway with the peek of skin allowed to his eyes. Your heather grey band shirt riding up teasingly tormenting him. Cursing internally, tongue trapped between indenting teeth to keep the sounds at bay. Till the hard slap of your palm against wooden seat draws his attentions and he robotically takes the seat. Stiffening with the fluttering of a barber’s cape hating to have things around his neck. Only to settle once you have it in place and buttoned reminding him your not there to hurt or torture him. Fingers brushing lightly over the exposed skin of his neck, creating goosebumps to dance across his flesh.

“Not too tight?” Gently running nimble fingers through his hair, blunt nails scratching the scalp. Finding it hard to keep from rubbing into your hands and fighting the urge to purr with each pass. You work the larger knots out carefully, pulling a comb from the back pocket of your jeans to run through his hair. “You with me Buck?”

“Hmm?” Simple noise issues from the back of his throat lost in the tingling sensations your fingers bloom across his body. Wanting to chase the feeling bringing peace to his mind much like the soft cadence your voice takes on with the intimacy surrounding the two of you. Sweet chuckle music to his ears and snaps him back to now, noticing you’ve paused your hands waiting for a response, “Sorry no I’m good.”

“Enjoying yourself Barnes?” Teasingly quipped while adjusting the cape to cover his back. Making sure all his hair lays over the edges and carefully combing out the smaller knots your fingers missed. Secretly enjoying the soft chestnut strands as they curl around your fingers. Massaging his scalp hoping to relax his tense posture when a particularly stubborn knot has you accidentally giving a not so gentle tug. Garnering a low moan from the man in front of you. “Sorry Buck,” working the knot out with a little more care taking the sound as one of pain.

Throat clearing, thankful his crotch is currently covered to not give away the secret he’s concealing. Praying to all the heavens you’ve taken the moan as one of pain instead of pleasure that’s surfing through his veins with a simple hair pull. “Yes, and it’s fine,” words pushed passed lips held taunt to keep from letting any sound out. Searching his mind for a topic to settle on, willing his body to stop reacting to the warmth of yours.

Each brush of fingers sends heat flaring to life along his nerves. Knowing the pain killers don’t worked through his system that quickly. Yet, the throbbing ache once present has diluted to a low annoying thump with the heat of your hands on his cotton covered shoulder. Wanting to lean back into your body but holds himself ridge from doing something stupid like enjoying the moment. Therefore clears his throat, “You’ve got me at your mercy doll ready to answer my questions?”

“Should I worry what you’ll ask?” Moving from behind him to head back into the kitchen. Grabbing the empty spray bottle to fill with warm water and head back out.

Eyes close with the first spritz of water, chin dropping to chest as you work to wet his hair. “Why?”

“Why what?” Knowing what he’s asking, your distracted for a moment putting the spray bottle’s trigger through a belt loop incase its needed once your satisfied with the wetness of his hair. “I’ll need more specifics than just why. Why’s the sky blue? Why’s it so damn hot? So many why questions you gotta stop wasting your breath Buck.”

“Cheeky doll very cheeky you know damn well what I mean,” keeping his head still to prevent you from severing an ear.

Smirking, setting to work on trimming up the top back portion of his head, trying to keep from childishly making faces. “Sure don’t Sarge.”

Groan slipping passed before he’s able to trap and swallow the sound at the off handed use of his military rank. Wondering which deity had it out for his ass today. Cursing the fact he’s let you so close to breath in the flowery scent of your body. Gentle use of those skilled fingers through his hair not making things any better for the growing problem tenting his jeans. Returning to himself when you move to his left shortening the hair over his ear. “Why’d you stay with us? I thought,” remembering those painful words back in Madripoor. “I thought you had a happy life to go back to.”

“Ear hustling Barnes?” Switching sides and glancing down with a raised brow you know he doesn’t see.

Looking up to try and catch your eye your focus on cutting his hair makes the attempt impossible. So he settles on, “Don’t know what you mean doll. Just asking a question,” trying to hold the shiver at bay when your fingers brush over the shell of his ear.

“Since your asking it means you didn’t hear everything Sam and I talked about,” thankful that’s the case or things would get a whole lot complicated. “I lied.”

Head whipping to the side so quickly you fear he’s damaged his neck with the wince taking over his handsome features. “Lied why?”

“Reasons,” ‘Ones I won’t tell you James,’ speaking the last words in your mind, careful probing fingers check for anything popped out. Garnering a hiss of pain when you’ve found the break in his clavicle. “What did you break besides the hamster running your wheel brain?”

Bitting off the curse as pain flared over his right side. Gritting out, “Clavicle, dislocated shoulder, fractured radius, you can see the cuts and bruises so take it a little easy on this old man.”

“How… Why did you get captured?” Worry fights fear both dance with anger marching through your veins as a Thanksgiving Day parade band would down the streets of New York City. The very thought of both your men hurt and so far away from home torn a hole in your heart. Thoughts you try to push away and focus on the job of cutting Bucky’s hair.

Finishing up what you could on the back of his head, Bucky feels you come around to the front. Knees spread to accommodate your body, closing his eyes to keep from staring at your breasts. Licking suddenly dry lips with having you extra close, he tries to gather an answer to your question. “We needed an in so I made a decision.”

“One I’m sure Sam disagreed on,” carding your fingers through the top, snipping pieces checking length. Jealous over how soft his hair feels between your digits. Woodsy pine scent reaching your nose that twitches in pleasure at the fragrance matching what you always thought he’d smell like.

“Yeah well we ran out of time doll. Couldn’t let what remains of LAF get away,” eyes quickly open only to slam shut again with having you still too near for his own good.

Every brush of your fingers, thighs brushing against his with every move, your flowery scent wrapping around his heart to squeeze tight. Breath punched from his lungs when your knee makes slight contact with his erection. Shooting pleasurable fireworks off behind his closed lids. Wishing for your hands on his body, wondering what they’d feel like over bare skin. If you’d shy away from the scars littering his flesh or… he wouldn’t, didn’t need to think about the alternative.

Unsure why he gasped you move from between his legs and look upon his face confused as to his ridge posture eyes held tightly closed. Insecurities rushing through your mind, setting up shop to remind you no man let alone someone as handsome as Bucky would ever want to look at you. Shoving back those thoughts to ask, “You okay Bucky?”

“Fucking fabulous doll,” bitting out the words while trying to reign in the need to grab hold of your hips, bringing you back against him. Wanting to find out if you’d fit as good or better than what he’s imagined during those dream filled nights he doesn’t talk about with anyone. “Finished?” Praying you’ll say yes, the temptation becoming almost unbearable.

Unconvinced by his words but pushes that aside and stepping farther back to round him, grabbing up the trimmer on the way with a numbered comb. “Almost but then I still have your beard to do.”

“Fuck,” low gravely voice intones the single word hoping you’ve not heard and cursing the heaven for this test of his will and desires. In another life Bucky wouldn’t have hesitated to ask you out, wine and dine with dancing till midnight. Taking you home with a simple kiss of promise with more to come. But he’s different now and you don’t deserve to have a broken man on your hands.

Swallowing harshly to cover your growing need to escape and bury yourself in another program or book to distract from those awful thoughts running around in your mind. Replaying all the brush offs and look aways as rejection shattering your heart. Pushing you to finish his new hair cut that much quicker. “Done, now how short you want your beard?”

“Gone,” knowing exactly what he’s saying and damning himself to the torture of a different kind.

Coming back in front of him, you slip between his parted knees so easily a thought you try to push away while switching the trimmer combs and flicking the on button. Carefully cupping his left cheek while shortening the right for a closer shave once your done. “Surely you didn’t just let them capture you.” Returning to a safer subject other than how good his bearded jaw felt in your warm palm. Wondering how it’d feel in other places.

“Offered myself up for a little bloody torture and a few broken bones. I’m here to tell the tale instead of those guys Y/N. They're off the streets and we have the information needed to finish taking down LAF.” Teeth gritting to keep from rubbing his jaw into your palm, from turning to kiss the center and devour you with his mouth.

Pausing a moment, “But you could’ve gotten killed James.” Sorrow coloring the cadence of your tone, eyes filled with fear at what could’ve happened. “You should’ve called me, I could’ve helped.”

Heart stopping, never had you spoken his first name, always Bucky or Buck, Barnes when your angry but never James. Opening his darken cerulean orbs breath trapped somewhere between lungs and mouth at the sorrow written deep in those eyes he never could not stare into. Heart hammering back to life with the subtle brushing of your fingers over his cheek, “Would it have matter?”

Confusion tips your head to the side, “What you dying or me helping?”

“Dying,” single word dropped like a bomb destroying everything in the path.

“James,” softly spoken with so much emotion held within the countenance of your features. Watching the ghosts float through those beautiful cerulean eyes, memories of a time he couldn’t control, of deeds done to people who didn’t deserve the pain and death he dealt out as the Fist of Hydra. Tears gloss over your eyes once again trying to blink them away to keep them from clogging your emotions filled throat. “It matter’s Barnes, matters to a lot of people you’re just too stubborn to realize that.” Shaking your head to clear the fog and get back to work.

Speechless Bucky just sits there letting you finish up trimmer the hair away as if trying to erase the past months, the torture he let happen with no regard to his personal well being. During this time your words chase around his mind, combined with Sam’s out right demand of him to never put himself in harms way like that again. Adding more questions added than any true answers. Delicate fingers brush over trimmed facial hair bringing him back to the present right as you move to take the barber’s cape from around his neck. Missing the warmth of your touch, heat radiating from your body, your scent filling his nose and making him drunk on you.

Folding the cape to drape over your arm, “I’ll shave you as well come back inside.” Voice slightly rough with unshed tears avoiding looking directly at Bucky and missing the longing written in the ocean pools. Mistaking his lack of response for rejection of your words and feelings. You enter the house placing the small hand load down and moving a chair over towards the sink. Returning to grab up the shaving cream and razor, pulling a fresh wash cloth from the draw by the sink too wet it hot.

“You don’t have to,” entering and closing the back door with the heel of his boot. Bucky leans against the counter watching you with a closed expression. Pain dull but still worming its way through his veins along with so many thoughts.

Glancing his way, “I know,” motioning with a wave of your hand, “but if I don’t that beard’ll come back in short order and we’ll have to do this all over again.” Going for playful to ease the tension built from the lingering words of out on the porch, “Bring your ass over here Buck.”

Your change in mood has a confused frown pulling his mouth down but complies with the order. Taking up the seat with spread legs and turned up face watching you wring out the wash cloth. Using your elbow and tipping his head back to gently place the hot cloth around what’s left of his beard to soften the hair and wake up the pores. Catching the small muffled groan, “To hot?”

“No, perfect,” faintly hearing the two simple words you grab up the shaving cream to put a generous amount in your palm before pulling the quickly cooling cloth from his face. Tossing it towards the sink and applying a layer of cream to his skin. Left overs rinsed from your hands quickly before drying and grasping the razor with steady hands. “Just a little off the top if you please,” boyish smirk slips over his lips tipping cream covered cheeks up while trying to be funny.

Eyes rolling, “To late for that one top’s already taken care of.” Using the pad of your thumb to push the skin of his cheek taunt. Carefully dragging the razor over his flesh intending to keep your gaze directed towards working the blade over his check. However, you’re unable to do so while cleaning the razor as your eyes dart up catching the fact Bucky’s gaze firmly rests on your face. Heat blooming across your body, eyes drop back to his cheek intent on getting finished quickly to avoid any farther embarrassment.

Meanwhile Bucky maps every feature of your face, the slant of your nose, set of your eyes, cupids bow of your top lip. Visions of drawing the plump flesh in for a bite and pull before letting go with a wet pop, filter through his mind. Finding himself in a rather precarious predicament, thighs spread to accommodate your body, his palms itch to grasp and tug you into his lap. Bitting back a moan each touch brings, the gentleness tearing a new hole in armored covered heart. Wanting to keep you out but finding it harder to do every time you show the kindness his life lacked for decades.

Minds eye drawing the curves of your cheeks, lips twitching to caress, fingers tapping trapped in plaster and cloth against his body. Wanting to brush his knuckles over your throat to gently grasp the back of your neck and bring your lips against his for a slow sweet drink of the tempting cavern of your warm mouth. Only snapping back to reality with the soft brush of your fingers along his jawline.

Searching for any hairs left behind, soothingly palming his cheeks with cool hands desperate to taste his skin. Drag your lips over the same spots the razor just graced. Teasing the tip of your tongue along the hard edge of his jaw to place a kiss just below his ear. Tempted to even suck a mark for everyone to see. You swallow harshly removing your hands from his cheeks to rinse and warm up the cloth to clean off any residual shaving cream from his face.

“Finished,” clearing your emotions clogged throat, stepping towards the sink, your profile the only side Bucky sees as you work to clean up the mess.

Feeling rather than hearing him stand heat radiating of his body just a few inches shy of brushing against yours. “Thank you doll,” impulsively leaning forward to brush his lips over your cheek. Lingering longer than he should but unable too stop himself from pressing soft slight chapped lips to the corner of your mouth. “Next time I need shavin’ I know who to come too,” breathing the words before pulling away, taking his leaving quickly to keep from doing something even stupider. Like wrap you up into his arms and actually kissing those pillow soft lips. Backdoor swinging closed a little harder than he meant in his bid to get away from your warmth and tempting body.

Frozen in place, skin tingling from just that slight press while your heart beats almost out of your chest. Pounding against your rib cage so hard fear it’ll crack a rib any second now. White knuckles grip the sinks edge, heat flaring across your body to pool low and throb through your lady parts. Thighs unconsciously rub together needing friction to alleviate the ache growing between your legs.

“Did you cut him or take a hunk of hair out and now he looks like Frankenstein monster?” Teasing tone to his quip, Sam enters the kitchen still staring at the back door. Having watched the exchange from the darkened hallway. Reverting his eyes to your back, taking in the ridge posture of your spine with a slight very subtle shake. “Y/N what’s wrong?” Swiftly coming up behind you, hands gripping your shoulders to turn you around. “Did Bucky say or do something wrong?” Worry creasing his brow the want to hold you close growing with each second your not in his arms.

Looking up into the kind russet eyes flashing with concern and worry, “No,” head shaking, “no he didn’t Sam just…” unable to stop yourself from burying your body against Sam’s firm chest. Trying to figure out how to explain what’s running around in your head. The indecision, thoughts you know shouldn’t roll through your mind doing just that as your arms wind around his trim waist.

“Just what sweetheart?” Wanting to help smooth things over between his two best friends even if it meant swallowing his own feelings.

Keeping your eyes closed, breathing in his cedar wood and citrus scent, burying your nose against his collarbone. Always able to calm the raging storm of emotions boiling through your veins. Confusion setting in with those same tingles you feel when Bucky touches you now dances across your body at the warmth of Sam’s arms cradling you close. Reminding you of earlier when his chest pressed to your back strong hands gently placed on your shoulders. The shiver you suppressed at the touch of both men. At the memory your eyes pop open and you quickly push away from Sam as if he’s burnt you. Needing to escape and figure out what’s going on.

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter, I’m sorry,” feet quickly taking you from the kitchen into the safe arms of your bedroom.

Missing the confused look marring Sam’s face that turns into hurt at the way you’ve shoved him aside. Body sagging against the counter, hand rubbing at the back of his neck searching for what’s changed in such a short period of time.

“Men, blind and just plain foolish,” landing a hard hit to his shoulder, which he rubs to alleviate the pain. Sarah comes up beside her older brother with a raised brow. “Still don’t get it? Searching for exactly why she reacted so strongly? Think Samuel use that big brain you have and actually put it to good use.”

Frown creasing between his eyes and drawing his lips down, “Left behind sucks Sarah that’s all it amounts to. But we… I couldn’t have her along, wouldn’t risk her life like that.”

“Has nothing to do with leaving her home Sam,” giving him a meaningful look that still bewilders him. “Why didn’t you want her along but you took Bucky with you?”

“He’s a super soldier Sar he can take the hits not that I want him hurt either. Shit when he let himself get captured,” moving towards the abandoned chair to plop down heavily. “He scared the living shit outta me, I thought…” hard to swallow the memories of watching those men pulling an unconscious Bucky into a van. Driving off before he could plant a tracker and barely able to get up with bruised ribs making breathing painful. Sam runs a hand over the short hair unsure when things got so complicated between the three of them.

Pulling up a chair in front of Sam, “You’d lost him?” Seeing the nod Sarah’s features softened knowing from the tell’s she picked up watching the three of them for so long. “You love them?”

“What?” Head whipping up so quickly making Sam wince. “Of course I do but not like that I mean their family, you know I’ll do anything to protect my family.”

Hand resting on his shoulder, “You keep telling yourself that big bro maybe one day you’ll actually believe it and able to push those feelings away good enough to keep them at arms length.” Looking up at her, “Just a word of advice,” seeing him nod, “don’t push those emotions away, you deserve that love they both would readily give you.”

*****************************

Softly closing the door behind you heading towards the ensuite bathroom for a nice cold shower, preforming your nightly routine, and shutting off every light except the one beside your bed. Falling into the soft mattress with your current book keeping you company for the rest of the night. Eyes start to droop, words blur and you read the same sentence half a dozen times. Book falling against your chest as a yawn takes over your features.

Body stretching out against cool sheets jumping when a soft knock echos around your room, eyes darting towards the clock to see its just a little passed mid night. Slowly getting out of bed, pulling the extra long dark blue with little pink flowers dotting the sleep shirt down to cover your ass and thighs. Thinking its Sarah checking on you, eyes shocked wide with the small crack you open the door to spy Bucky standing there fidgeting.

“Everything all right Buck?” Opening the door wider to lean against the casing arms crossed just under your breasts.

Swallowing, glancing from your eyes to lips repeatedly. Trying to form the words he wants to speak when the decision makes itself clear and Bucky surges forward. Gently wrapping vibranium fingers around the back of your neck and bragging you against his strong chest. Slanting his lips against yours, nipping your bottom lip to make you gasp and slipping his eager tongue passed into the warm depths of your mouth. Leading the kiss and praying he’s not wrong.

Rewarded by your arms winding around his neck careful of his injures. Fingers tugging at the now shorten strands thanks to your expect hands. Garnering a low moan from the depths of his chest, one that rambles with a pleased hum as you return the kiss. Tangling your tongues together making nothing soft nor gentle about this melding of mouths. Only breaking apart for both of you to gasp for air.

“No, nothing’s all right doll. I can’t stop thinking about you,” resting your foreheads together sharing common air. Fingers at the base of your skull massaging the tension with surprisingly easy pressure. “I’d done fighting, done pushing you away, I need you Y/N.”

“James?” Lips tingling from a kiss you’ve only dreamt about as confusion marring your tone, eyes blinking a few times to make sure you’ve pushed the sleepy haze from your mind.

Soft groan issues at hearing you whisper just first name, hand slipping down to wrap around your waist and pull your taut to his body. “If…” trying to push the next words past his lips, “if you don’t want…”

“Us, we need to know now sweetheart. We won’t push you into anything you don’t want,” Sam’s voice full of desire and longing cuts across Bucky’s for a moment.

Making you look up from eyes locked with Bucky to stare at Sam trying to process his words, the look in those beautiful russet eyes you can’t pull yours away from. Till Bucky presses a kiss to just below your ear, “We know it’s a lot to take in doll and you can say no…”

“I,” gulping like a fish out of water, heat thumping through your veins at the unspoken promise both sets of eyes show. “I don’t know what to say.”

Stepping forward to push you back a step so Sam can fully enter your bedroom and close the door. He comes behind you sandwiching your body between two walls of muscle and masculine warmth. Pressing a kiss to the opposite cheek, lips brushing over the shell of your ear, “There’s no going back sweetheart you’re ours if you say yes. But if the answer is no I’m not going to lie things will change. Awkward as hell yes especially at first but I,” Bucky clears his throat to which Sam nods, “we would work through that with you. Loosing your friendship can’t happen no matter what.”

Removing yourself from between their warm bodies to collapse at the end of the bed, head in your hands. Mind so confused, a jumbled mix of desire and lust touched with a heavy dose of love that scares the living shit outta you. Feeling the bed dip on either side, removing your hands to glance at both men. Seeing the reassurance in those cerulean and russet orbs you swallow to wet your parched throat. Gaining strength to finally speak, “I don’t want to loose either of you,” looking between both men. Taking each hand within your own, “But this last mission taught me I don’t want to deny my feelings any longer.”

“What feelings doll?” Giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

Looking into Bucky’s cerulean eyes, “I’m in love with both of you.” Switching to Sam’s russet orbs seeing the blatant want shining only boosts your confidence to lean over. Cupping his jaw and bringing your lips against his. Different from the kiss you shared with Bucky. Who’s bottom lip begs for a nibbling, Sam’s fuller lips press against your own in tender caresses.

Gentler too, a soft slant of his mouth against yours, pressing twice at different angles before tracing over your bottom lip. Gaining entrance on a sigh of need to check in with your tongue before tangling together. Heated palm cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple twice while he artfully pillages your mouth. Drawing out a low moan squeak following when a set of lips slide over the side of your neck nibbling a short path to suck a mark behind your ear. Making you weak and boneless against Sam, who releases your cheek and hand to grip your hips, having you straddle his thighs.

Kiss breaking for air, “I’m to heavy Sam, your hip.”

“You’re prefect baby girl no arguing understand?” Cupping your ass in both hands to roll your hips against the hard bulge of his erection. Teeth gritting at how good you feel in his arms, the damp heat of your core only serving to make him grow harder with each brush against your cloth covered pussy. Sam reclaims your mouth, this kiss much different. Desperate and demanding taking no prisoners this time as he immediately slips his tongue back into your mouth. Pulling a groan from deep within your chest, arms going around his neck to help move your body against his. The delicious friction sending jolts of pleasure radiating out over your body, clit throbbing with a need you’ve never felt before.

Hissing at the cool sensations of Bucky’s vibranium fingers drawing circles across your back. Pushing your sleep shirt off your body arms raising, breaking the kiss to accomplish the task. Looking over your shoulder at the bare chested Barnes, mouth salivating at the sight eager to touch and kiss every inch. Brought back to Sam with the heat of his mouth connecting to your pulse, adding his own mark to your body while his callused fingers dances across your back.

Cursing his rotten luck for not having use of one hand, Bucky steps forward lowering to his knees carefully. Brushing his lips along your spine while cool alloyed fingers sweep around your body between you and Sam to trace a line between your breasts. Head dropping back to Bucky’s shoulder and baring your breasts to Sam’s hungry glaze and Bucky’s questing fingers.

“So beautiful,” words whispered reverently from Sam’s lips against the damp column of your throat. Mouth tasting each inch of your skin he can reach. Till moist heat circles your nipple, wet tip of his tongue coming out to flick the tightly budded peak before sucking harshly. In contrast to the cool patterns Bucky draws, taking the time to tug before pinching just hard enough that your back arches into Sam’s mouth.

Pushing into Bucky at your back a whimper parting your gasping lips. Needing more of both men surrounding you, slick coating your trembling thighs as you clinch around nothing. Dragging a whine of desperation from you soul,“Please,” single word escaping your mouth.

“What doll? What do you want?” Drawing his lips up to your ear, nipping the lobe bringing it between his teeth giving a sharp bite at the same time Sam flicks his tongue over your nipple.

Letting go with a wet pop, smiling at the whine exiting your heaving chest, “I think out girl needs more Buck. Any thoughts on how to please her?” Brow wiggling over your shoulder at Bucky who just smirks.

Fingers sliding down then under the band of your panties to find you soaked and pulsing. Cool metal meeting heated flesh makes you jolt in Sam’s arms. Grinding down into those wonderful fingers and against the thick ridge of Sam’s cock.

“Don’t stop please,” gasping head lolling back, your eyes close as sensations crash through your veins. Tight coil starting to form with just the brush of his fingers.

Maneuvering closer to slip two fingers into your clinching channel. Deep groan vibrating through his chest and into your back, “Fuck Sam she’s tight and so wet for us. I bet she tastes just as good as she feels.” Rocking your hips, fucking his fingers desperate for that high traveling up from the bottom of your spine. Tickling your tummy with jolts of pleasure only to have it diminish when Bucky pulls his fingers out.

Frustrated whine leaving your lips only to choke on air when Bucky offers one of the fingers perviously buried inside your cunt to Sam. Who doesn’t hesitate to wrap his lips around the single digit, groaning at the very taste of your essence. Circling the tip with his tongue, making sure to clear every drop off while keeping eye contact with Bucky. Mimicking with his mouth how he’d suck Bucky’s cock, garnering a growl from deep within his chest. Letting go with a smirk, “Even better Buck and I bet from the source it’s simply heaven.”

“Only way to find out,” answering grin firmly in place he raises from the floor. Helping you stand on shaky legs turning you to face him. Capturing your lips in an open mouth kiss, flicking his tongue against yours, teasing your bottom lip and drawing out another frustrated groan making him chuckle. “Don’t worry doll we promise you won’t go unsatisfied we’re going to take care of your every need.”

“Don’t tease her Buck it’s not fair,” glint of mischief sparking through those russet eyes that only Bucky catches since your still face him. Sam comes up behind to pressing his bare chest against your back, hands resting on your hips, tugging and letting the band of your panties snap back against your skin. “You can still say no.”

Wiggling back against Sam then pressing forward to feel the hard line of Bucky’s erection against your lower tummy. Knowing why he’s asking, seeing the same sentiment mirrored in Bucky’s eyes that warms your heart filling with love for both men. “Now who’s teasing Samuel,” reaching behind you to slide your palm over his ridged cock giving a squeeze at the same time you palm Bucky. “I’m sure my loves,” enjoying the answering growls from both men. Before another word leaves your lips Sam tugs down your panties letting them pool at your feet as Bucky moves you towards the bed.

Swiping the book from the mattress to lay on the nightstand, smile on his lips at finding the well loved copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. Bringing you to sit then lay back against the cool sheets, trailing his vibranium fingers from your cheek down between your breasts. Circling each nipple, giving the right a light pinch that has your back arching and a gasp existing your paired lips. Distracted till Sam gently grips your left ankle, spreading you open to slide between your legs. Pressing kisses alone the inside of your leg towards your thigh. Soft bread tickling your skin making giggles erupt from your mouth.

“I think she likes that Sam,” the comment spoken against your ear. Placing a kiss to your cheek, “Have to remember to let my own beard grow back out.”

Whimpering softly at the thought one hand fisting the sheets as Sam draws his tongue over the crease between thigh and groin. Purposefully avoiding the spot you want him most, “Payback is a bitch boys,” words growled out right as Bucky envelopes your left nipple into the heat of his mouth.

“Teasing half the fun sweetheart have patience,” looking up from between your legs. Stiffen tongue drawing up from your entrance to clit, circling the little throbbing nub and making your back arch, gasping for air.

“Fuck,” single word breathed from deep within your body. Sweat starting to bead across your forehead. Head tossed back into the pillow free hand carding through Bucky’s chestnut hair tugging the strands harshly till he lets your breast go with a wet pop. You guide his mouth up to yours, demandingly taking the kiss over, slipping your tongue into his mouth this time. Swallowing your moans of delight with each thrust of his tongue. Matching the pace Sam sets against your dripping cunt.

Rutting into the mattress to find the prefect friction hoping to ease for a moment the throbbing of his cock. “Stop stealing all those pretty noises Barnes I wanna hear our girl,” reaching up to smack the other mans thigh hard enough to break the two of you apart.

“Sorry not sorry,” giving him a smirk while licking his lips from the heated kiss.

Filing away the fact Bucky knows what means only to have any thought fly from your mind as two thick fingers enter your quivering channel. Slowly thrusting, his mouth suctioned onto your clit, drawing little short patterns making your thighs shake around his head. Slacking off to lazily place kisses over those thighs but still pumping his fingers, crooking them into a come hither motion to brush over that special spongy spot.

Blooming stars behind your tightly closed eyes, “Watch him doll, see how much you loves devouring that pretty cunt.” Voice rough with arousal against your ear, Bucky’s metal fingers dancing over your chest only adding to your heighten state of desire.

At his command you eyes open to lock with Sam’s passion blown blacken eyes. Moaning at the picture he presents you with, panting breath as you keep drawing closer to your orgasm. Only to have Sam back off creating frustrating tension in your body. Gritting out, “I’m going to die if you don’t let me cum.”

Smirk showing in those beloved eyes as he doubles down on your clit. Lips puffy but forming a perfect O too suction and flick his tongue over the engorged nerve bundle. Fingers, third added to stretch you open and picking the pace up as your mouth drops wide in a scream Bucky devours with a deep kiss. To keep from waking the kids or Sarah, his own body on fire with a need to have you both.

Tingles quickly dancing through your veins, breath panting as you break from Bucky’s mouth, one hand gripping the sheets below the other still buried in his hair. Body on fire as you near that perfect orgasm Sam’s intent on giving you.

Denial’s not just a river in Egypt as your eyes pop open at the knock on your door. Reminiscent of what your sluggish brain comes to understand as just a very vivid dream. One that makes your heart drop with the book that’d lay on your chest now face down on the carpeted floor. You stand checking the time of mid night before heading to the door and finding Sarah on the other side with ice cream in hand.

“Figured you might need some cheering up,” letting her in and taking the bowl of your favorite ice cream.

Vivid dream lingering though you don’t share feeling a TMI moment she doesn’t and most likely wouldn’t want to know about her big brother. You steer the topics away from the non existent love life to plans for tomorrow and the coming weekend.

#Buckybingo #New Hair cut square #Sam Wilson x Female Reader #Bucky Barnes x Female Reader #Sam Wilson x Fem!Reader #Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader #Bucky Barnes x F!Reader #Sam Wilson x F!Reader #TFATWS fiction

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lilydalexf · 4 years

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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Penumbra

Penumbra has 9 stories at Gossamer and 1 at AO3. You can find her complete catalogue here. If you’ve read any X-Files fic, surely you have read at least one of her stories. If not, why not? Some wondrous places to start are Parabiosis, Contact High, Black Hole Season, and Heuvelmans’ On the Track. Big thanks to Penumbra for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

In a way, yes. There are no precedents for what happened to us with XF fandom, and in the late aughts it all seemed to be over. I got out and never looked back, haha. What really surprised me was to find, all these years on, that there are still X-Philes, although it does make sense they’d seek out those wonderful old fics we wrote.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

Let's be honest, in my Penumbra days I was in a bad situation, the X-Files was a coping mechanism, and Mulder and Scully's relationship an idealization. I latched onto it as only a lonely obsessive can. The X-Files withholds; it opens up metamagical voids; it isolates while simultaneously plunging one into an ethereal community. It’s the tattoo I deserve.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

The X-Files forced me to get online. Computers weren’t a part of my life, so I sneaked into the local university comp labs and figured it out. It was absolutely terrifying, like landing a space capsule, and I didn’t have ID and lived in fear of being caught. The first thing I typed into a computer was ‘X-Files’. So renegade! My heart was pounding and I thought sirens might sound and fire doors engage.

The Fox site had an X-Files forum that was utter pandemonium. Glorious and scary. At that time, I was one of the many Starbucks. The people on atxc seemed way too smart and opinionated. It was hard to even get membership in forums; they were heavily moderated. Mostly I remember lots of email friendships. Sometimes a kindly mature Phile would reach down from the ether with some words of wisdom. A. I. Irving was one. She was dealing with M.S., and writing fic while she still could. It is with an enormous sense of poignancy that I think of the people who were the ‘adults’ of the fandom then. Now I’m ancient in Phile years, but at the time I was just a clueless twenty-something, looking up to all those greats.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

Wow, as WE ALL KNOW, discovering X-Files fanfic was a revelation. Whew! I thought: stand back, the professionals are handling this. The authors were about as human as Greek gods. Eventually it dawned on me that anyone could write it.

The first fic I wrote was HORRIBLE. I put a link to it on my site, so that people can get a little hit of schadenfreude. Those early stories were on shaky footing. I had no confidence in myself. I felt intimidated writing about sophisticated, highly-educated career people when I was none of those things. Heck, I was cleaning motel rooms. I'm still none of those things, but, through Mulder and Scully, I've lived that life a little bit, and it was fun.

The third story, 'Contact High', was all sex and drugs. I’d done acid and shrooms, so finally, a subject I could assert some authority over! I decided to just go for it. That abandon was a breakthrough, and Penumbra came into being. But there was so much going on inside me, it was hardly harnessable; as stories like ‘Vespers’ and ‘Black Hole Season’ show, it was like getting on a horse that you can't control and just clinging to its neck as it gallops.

This time around, in my latest incarnation, I feel that I have a better perspective on Mulder and Scully, more of an even footing. I’ve been through a lot, and in 'Hotel-Zero', I wanted to demonstrate not just how to survive, but how to survive as yourself. I wanted to maybe create a sort of handbook for how to keep your head above water. Life is hard for all of us, people are hard on us. You need to keep a singular perspective on yourself, and allow no one modify it.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

I’ve had two separate experiences, with a seven-year hiatus, and I wouldn't have missed either of them for the world. Belonging to an obscure hive mind has been one of the most interesting and rewarding (not to mention super-secret) facets of my life, and that will always be my overall takeaway as an X-Phile.

However, as the fandom imploded there was understandable backlash against the whole Penumbra thing. The panegyric was just too much, the style definitely overblown. I posted 'Fathoms Five' as things were melting down, and there was real outrage. People were boycotting it as a political statement. Oh, we were all so raw—the X-Files was ending and IWTB was a heartbreaker. At that point I’d been working on 'Heuvelmans’ for a couple of years and was forced to admit I couldn’t finish it, nor would it be well-accepted if I did. So you can sort of see the baggage I was carrying when I left the fandom, not to mention the creative angst.

Three things brought me back:

1. They started filming the Revival. I flipped out at the thought of seeing Mulder and Scully again.

2. @perplexistan contacted me, and I realized there was a frisky pack of Philes on tumblr. Philes are my people, that’s just a fact.

3. I read @teethnbone’s ‘Das Ding’, which zapped at my temples like thunderstorm electrodes. So, there I was, in a trance, making the Devil’s Tower out of mashed potatoes.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

No, I would consider it a sacrilege. I have loved and admired many other television series, but writing X-Files fic for Philes has been too extraordinary an experience to dilute. I have a zillion obsessions, but for only one am I fannish.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I just finished up that monster oldie called ‘Heuvelmans’ On the Track’, under the name The Mythopoeic. It’s on AO3. I have a couple of obscure side projects with a writing buddy. And I have another old fic called ‘Blue Ruin’, a cancer arc fic I’d like to finish someday.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

It is very nice. People are gentle and welcoming. Philes used to criticize stories mercilessly and authoritatively, but you don’t see that a lot anymore. I have plenty of outside projects, so I am trying to ease away, you know, like taking off your shoes to slip out of the room after the baby’s fallen asleep.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

I’d like each one of you to know that your belief in me changed my life and saved me a thousand times over.

(Posted by Lilydale on December 8, 2020)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #penumbra

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perksofbeingatallpotato · 4 years

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Gray Suit

Harry Hart x Reader Warnings: Death Word Count: 1,355 A/N: I think it is fitting to wrap this month full of new Colin Firth content with a fic. Thanks to my over-caffeinated brain which came up with the idea for this at 1am and finished the whole fic in a few hours. The wonders of a brain overloaded with coffee. The proofreading took a while, and I also made a gif for this fic. You guys might’ve hated me if I ended this at that part, so I added a few more lines. Let me know what you think! Oh, and Happy Halloween if you celebrate! Stay safe!

You hit a wall.

The books and folders you were carrying slipped from your hands. Well, it was a wall made of flesh and beauty.

Then the most handsome man you've seen on campus was apologizing to you. He crouched down to pick-up your things from the floor, and you tried to help him. Your hand accidentally brushed against his over the last book on the floor.

You quickly retracted your hand and mumbled a sorry.

He stood up, as did you. He's tall, taller than you by a few good inches. He's wearing a double-breasted gray suit, a pair of glasses, and his hair was perfectly combed in place. It looks like he came straight out of a suit catalogue.

He apologized once again, yet it was probably your fault that you bumped into him. You were occupied thinking about the things you need to do, their deadlines, and who would cover your shifts at work, but now he's all you could think of.

"It's okay. I guess it was also kind of my fault. I'm sorry." You looked down, smiled, and you tucked your hair behind your ear. You looked back up at him and he flashed you a smile before he excused himself. He really seemed like he was in a rush.

With the way he walked and that tailored suit, there was no doubt that he’s a model from a magazine or a catalogue. You turned to watch him walk away, and you saw him enter the lecture hall beside the one you were just in.

Your eyes widened.

And you mentally facepalmed yourself.

'Of course, he's a professor! Who walks around the campus in a suit like that? Duh!' You were slightly horrified that you almost tried to flirt with a professor.

At the very least, he's not your professor. You got excited by the idea that you’re going to see him every day. It's just a harmless little crush, you said to yourself.

And you left the campus smiling.

While waiting for Professor Arnold, Harry was thinking about that girl he bumped into.

He didn't know how to tell you it was really his fault. He already saw you from afar. A face of an angel, lost deep in her thoughts, walking straight ahead.

It might be an exaggeration, but to him you were the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

He could've dodged you, stepped aside, and let you pass by. But as you were lost inside your mind, he felt like an arrow went straight through his heart.

He was never one for clichés, but suddenly he didn't know how to introduce himself. His years of training seemingly went out the window. And he doesn't want to simply let you pass by without knowing your name or seeing your smile. So, he did the ungentlemanly thing and let himself collide against you and pretend like it was an accident. Yet he still failed to introduce himself, or ask for your name.

Harry heard the door open and it snapped him out of his thoughts.

The next day, Harry was outside waiting for you.

"Hello." You heard a familiar voice. You turned to your right and there he was, the professor from yesterday, leaning against the wall.

"I forgot to introduce myself and ask for your name.” Harry stood straight and walked towards you. “Do you mind?" and he extended his hand. "Harry Hart." "(Y/FN) (Y/LN)." And you shook it.

"Can I walk with you?" Harry asked. You wanted to say yes, but... “Can you? I mean, isn't that, you know, against the rules?"

"Sorry, rules of what?” Harry paused. “Ah."

He chuckled. "Sorry to give you the wrong impression, but I don't teach here. Well, I am not a professor here or anywhere else for that matter."

"That's a relief." And then it was your turn to chuckle.

You and Harry continued the conversation as you left the campus. It was when the dusk started to settle that you realized you two were walking around aimlessly.

"So, you live around here?" Harry probably had that realization too. "Uh, no. Do you?" "No, I do not. And here I thought I was walking you home like a proper gentleman." And as fate would have it, the two of you happened to stop in front of a quaint café.

"Since we're here, how about we grab something to eat?" Harry asked you.

It was a casual dinner; the conversations came naturally. You could talk to him for days and it would be impossible to run out of things to talk about. You’ve only just known him for a few hours but it feels like you’ve already known him for years.

When it was starting to get late, you knew you needed to head home even though you didn’t want to part with him just yet.

Over the next few days, Harry was always outside the campus waiting. Although he never revealed anything about his actual job, he would tell you when he's going to be busy with his work as a tailor and wouldn't be able to see you.

Harry knows how to respect your time and your space. Even if you're busy, he'd still wait for you outside your college or your work, sometimes with a single rose or a bouquet of flowers just to say hi, and then get you a cab. And whenever you need him, he is almost always there for you.

This continued on for weeks. The dates, the flowers, him waiting for you, until the waving good-bye when parting turned into hugs.

He just seems too perfect to be real, but the smell of his perfume, his after shave, and his warm hugs are proof that he is as real as he could be.

It’s been months and your friends were bugging you to spill the details about your boyfriend, but he wasn't your boyfriend, not yet anyway.

You said to yourself that if he's not going to make the first move, then it's up to you. You invited him over at your place. You told him you have something important to finish and just really wanted to see him. But you were actually planning to cook for him and maybe take the relationship to the next level.

Harry arrived in his navy-blue pinstriped suit, still looking perfect after a day's work. He was surprised. "Well, you weren't lying, you really had something important to do." He smiled and gave you a hug and a kiss on your forehead.

After dinner, he helped you clean up and volunteered to wash the dishes. He took off his suit jacket and rolled the sleeves of his white shirt.

Harry Hart’s sexiness just went up a different level, and you thought he has already maxed that.

He looks so adorable while doing the dishes, that you couldn’t wait any longer. Once you placed the last plate you dried on the rack, you took the glass he was holding and placed it back on the sink.

He looked at you slightly confused.

You stood on your tiptoes and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He leaned into you slowly.

You closed your eyes and anticipated his lips.

But Harry opened his eyes.

He looked around; a number of medical equipment was attached to him. A buzzer was placed near his hand, which he pressed once the reality set in.

You’ve heard about the explosion at the campus over social media when you arrived home that day. You asked your friends about it and about that professor you bumped into. Apparently, there was only one casualty, it was Professor Arnold. Poor guy, he seemed like a really smart and somewhat cool professor.

Yet no one seemed to know who the man in the gray suit was.

Months later, on your last day for the semester. Your heart skipped a beat. You saw a familiar figure in a gray suit standing at the end of the hallway. Once you reached the end, there he was, waiting.

“Hello.” He was not a ghost or a figment of your imagination.

#Harry Hart x Reader #kingsman imagine #Kingsman Fan Fics #Harry Hart Imagines #Harry Hart #Colin Firth #Kingsman

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bruh-haikyuu · 4 years

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A/N: Timeskip Lev make me go BARK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF AAARF ARF. P.S: For double the experience, read while listening to this

diapason. | haiba lev

summary: in which lev meets you again and you develop some sort of warm reconnection with your past underclassman. (Continuation of this fic)

word count: 4402

warnings: manga spoilers!!

(n.) a full, rich outpouring of melodious sound

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

The Danube Canal in mid-winter reminds you of a lot of things:

The Shakujii River flanked with its timeless parade of cherry blossom trees. Christmas celebrations spent at home with your family, popping bottles of soda and whining about misshapen gifts. Your piano recitals played in utter devotion, like the winter would never end.

You’re a long, long way away from home, and you start to hope if anyone is missing you. If there’s a hole in your figure carved into someone’s heart back in Japan or some place in the other side of the world—

What am I thinking... you sigh, bashfully urging yourself to keep on walking.

Nestling deeper into the warmth of your wool scarf, you wonder if it’s the cold ambience of the night that’s making you feel all sappy. Twinkling lights, murmured chatter from late-night cafés, the occasional gust of wind against your cheeks. You never thought you’d get so nostalgic on your “vacation”, but perhaps you’re just like any other hopeless romantic.

“Come to Vienna! A whirlwind of budding love!”

You’d read that advertisement in one of the catalogues your symphony’s personnel manager had excitedly dumped into your lap the day she announced your personal invitation to spectate the Vienna Philharmonic live a few weeks ago. You didn’t think much of the slogan, but even so... you have to admit you’re a tad bit lonely, aren’t you?

You can barely remember a moment where you didn’t feel lonely. You had your family at home, but you’d considered it your fault for being such a shut-in for the most part of your life. The neighborhood kids weren’t exactly the nicest people. And school life hadn’t been much of an improvement either.

Of course, until him.

A colossal first year stumbling into the desolate Orchestra Club room, with a mouth just as big as his stature. Haiba Lev who had been anxiously lost that day you’d met. With such little sense of direction, you can’t help but laugh at how much times he’d managed to find you in that maze of your high school.

He’d find you, talk to you, laugh with you. And you’d never felt all the rushing feelings you’d felt when you were with this dewy-eyed boy. He was the perfect image of confidence—radiant, ambitious and all the more charming.

If only you can thank him. Your hero of sorts. Haiba Lev who poured into you all the faith he had so you could move forward—

“A-ah, excuse me?”

Whipping your head into the direction of the choppy English, a seething blush rises onto your cheeks when you zero in to the large camera lens pointed right at you.

The bearded man speaks again. “Eh... you’re Japanese, aren’t you? Sorry, but we’re having a photoshoot right now, and you’re in the way of our model. Could you maybe...”

Oh dear, you frazzle. Prostrating yourself incessantly at the camera crew, you blunder. “I’m v-very sorry! Waah, I must’ve ruined your picture!”

“It’s fine,” the man smiles kindly. “Things like this often happen anyway. Ain’t that right, Hafu-sama?”

The lean figure behind you laughs, and for a second, you feel your chest flutter in your throat when you hear him. “Yep! Don’t worry about it, Miss—”

You really wish you hadn’t turned around because the moment your eyes locked with a pair of emeralds, you swear that your heart leapt out of your chest. All feeling of chilliness lamented, you feel red heat stretching out across your skin.

“H-Haiba-kun?!”

Unable to keep your footing steady, a stagnant lump rises in your throat when the familiar man grins at you with galaxies in his eyes.

“Fairy-senpai!!”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. October 2012.

“Senpai!”

Footsteps echoing down the corridor, a wave of frightened third years part to let the gigantic creature of a first year through. Haiba Lev, age 16, is excited. Haiba Lev, 194.3 centimeters tall, is burning with so much resolve that he pays no heed to the Discipline Committee member who is resentfully yelling at him to “stop running in the hallways, you hoodlum!”

But who could blame him?

When you turn around and jolt in surprise, Lev drowns in the tiny fairies that flutter in his chest.

“Haiba-kun? What are you doing here?” you take a moment to register his full presence—considering his substantial size, Lev would probably understand your current disposition.

Finally, you whisper in a low tone, highly aware of the crowd that’s pivoting towards your conversation. “... Did you get lost again?”

“Of course not!” Lev replies rather gruffly. “I wanted to look for you to give you this so I can thank you for when I got lost.”

Thrusting a daintily wrapped bento towards you, the tall boy is rather unabashed about the entire situation—lace cloth and all. There’s a fragrant steam seeping out from the gaps of the box, spooling and wafting (and you think your ears pick up the noise of someone’s rumbling stomach).

You’d thought of spending your lunch alone in your club room, or maybe even the rooftop if you were up for it... like the usual. But the moment Lev starts talking again, you completely forget the idea as a whole.

Innocently grinning, he asks, “Do you want to eat lunch together, L/N-senpai?”

How could you say no?

And thus, here you are in the courtyard with a titan first-year who is nearly twice your size, jovially chattering about as you quietly eat your lunch.

When was the last time you ate something so cute? Your parents stopped making you character bentos since you got into middle school (“Aah... sorry, Y/N. Dad’s hands aren’t as artistic as they used to be,” your father had told you that day, an utter look of guilt dancing across his face). You weren’t too confident in your own skills either, so bentos with endearing faces and shaped cut-outs of vegetables were simply a fragmented piece of the past.

First-years today are so talented, you think, shoveling down your meal in sheer politeness. “This is delicious, Haiba-kun! The chicken is so tender and the rice is so well-seasoned! I wish I had your sense for cooking...”

“My sister made it, actually. I tried to help her cut the eggs, but it ended up being a mess and she told me to just sit and wait in the dining room,” he replies sheepishly, a bubble of laughter slipping from between his lips. “I’m glad you like it though, Senpai! Just wait ‘til my sister hears about your reaction!”

“Does your sister always make your lunches for you?” you ask, curiosity subduing your reserve.

Lev takes a moment to swallow the lump of rice in his mouth.

“Mm, sometimes. If she’s not having a lecture in the morning, she’ll make breakfast. Otherwise, the teriyaki set at the cafeteria is just as good!”

Cafeteria. You shiver. That hellhole of shoving and scrambling and incessant talking... You’re thankful the school had decided to set up a few more vending machines close to campus when you entered your second year.

And then you think of Lev. With that extreme height and intimidating presence, he wouldn’t have to put his foot on the line every time he wanted melon bread, right? And he is definitely the type of person to be able to talk to the loud cafeteria lady without dropping his change.

Confidence. Recklessness. Bliss. All the prime features you wanted, right in front of you—and yet...

“Hey, L/N-senpai?” you snap awake from your thoughts. A dash of concern flashes over your underclassman’s features before he repeats his muted question. “Can I have one of your sausages?”

Peering down at the cluster of uneaten octopus sausages, you quickly nod, face reddening once you realize how close Lev is breathing near you. “G-Go ahead.”

Chirping out a “thank you for the food!”, the silver-haired boy swoops down on a miniature octopus, a sound of immense satisfaction humming in his chest. He’s like a child, you laugh to yourself. A young boy with no sense of care of the world, no concern of what’s going to happen to him unless he really does it.

Leaning back on the bench, you sigh, a smile dawning on your face. “You didn’t have to force yourself to eat lunch with me, you know. I usually eat by myself anyway.”

You’re being apologetic again. You want to punch yourself for even thinking of it. But your habit precedes your intentions, and you can already feel the mood turn sour—

“Why not though?”

Looking up at him incredulously, you can barely string together a coherent response before Lev pipes up again.

“Isn’t food always best when eaten together?”

How pretentious.

There are already valleys of flowers blooming in your stomach at his innocent reply. The same kind that sprouted the day he’d burst into your private practice room. You really hoped you wouldn’t get ahead of yourself anymore. Not with the risks that it carried. But this guileless first year was a much more difficult case than you’d imagined, and thus the flowers go into full blossom.

You smile, the faint blush on Lev’s cheeks going unnoticed. “Yeah. We should eat together more often.”

And so you did. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. The passage of time a trivial shadow beneath your budding happiness.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

“You work in a symphony?! Senpai’s job is super cool!”

Under the amber light of the cafe’s chandelier, you can’t help but feel a certain déjà vu at your current situation. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re having tea with your high school underclassman, or maybe it’s simply the residue of your more recent wistful thinking.

Yet again, it still hasn’t registered into your mind how you’d miraculously manifested Lev into proximity just from your sheer yearning... You kind of feel selfish.

“It’s just a freelance job though, it’s probably not as impressive as being a model,” you say.

Lev crosses his arms huffily, and you worry if you’ve started to offend him. Until he opens his mouth again. “Modelling is suuuper embarassing. Sometimes, I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that ‘that’s my face!’ or ‘I made that pose with that other model’. The agency’s really harsh on the way I dress too—I mean, what’s wrong with wearing a shirt that says ‘HERBIVORE’ to go to Lawson’s?”

You stifle a giggle as he rambles on about “the time I had to cross-dress as a woman because the female model quit on the day of the shoot”. For someone who had grown up to be a lean, rather attractive figure, you can’t shake your head away from the thought that the 16-year old Haiba Lev is still stuck inside the body of a corporate slave. There’s a sense of relief that accompanies the feeling, and memories of your high school days slowly come into picture—

“One black tea and a latte for the lovely couple?” a kind-looking waiter gently sidles in between you, cutting Lev off from his rant, and you from your reflection.

Turning a vivid shade of crimson, you stutter, “O-oh... we are not—”

“Thank you,” Lev grins dashingly, enough to make your heart race and a few passers-by to stop in their tracks.

Once the waiter retreats back into the pantry, the man across you slowly leans forward to whisper endearingly. “My sister wants me to practice my English while I’m abroad. You think I got my message across, Senpai?”

“You did well, Haiba-kun.” There are a lot of things you want to ask him really. If he really knew the meaning behind the waiter’s sentence. Or if he realized he’d nearly pronounced ‘you’ with an extra ‘th’.

... Or why he’s pouring in a mound of sugar into your cup of tea.

“H-Haiba-kun, that order’s mine...”

“Hm? Yeah, I know,” he mutters, the soft clinking of the spoon against glass echoing in your head. “You like your stuff really sweet, right? Man, I used to be really worried the first few times we had tea together.”

That’s right, you gulp. The endless hours you’d spent together in the Orchestra Club room... he really did learn a lot of things about you that time, didn’t he? Although you had merely been friends, Lev had grown on you, as if he’d always been there from the start. And you wonder: what else does he remember about you?

“Ah, by the way,” Lev starts. “Are you still thinking about setting up that music store you wanted?”

“Of course,” you mumble. It was only a naïve dream was what you meant to say, but in the presence of such a captivating man, all the gears in your head seemed to... dislocate.

Lev smiles a simple smile. Boyish at best, but still enough to enrapture you into his lingering gaze.

“I’m glad.... I’m glad you haven’t given up. You know, the old L/N-senpai would’ve called it quits because you thought you weren’t good enough. But look at you now! Soon enough, you’ll be off to teach music to the world.”

Your heart is already doubling in size at his words. Any more and you’d probably explode... You’d lost it. You’ve lost all the capability to keep your heart in control, and now you are smiling like a maniac in front of the last person you wanted to see in this state.

But he only laughs. Youthful and full of color. Unchanging from all those years ago.

“Wahahaha! You finally smiled! We should celebrate, you know. Just a small holiday from all that hard work. Say... are you still going to be in Vienna in the weekend?”

“I’m free on those days. But what’s all this about?”

Hiding his bashful smirk behind his cup of coffee, Lev murmurs. “We have some catching up to do, don’t we—Uwaah! Hot!”

Unchanging indeed, you shake your head, calling over the waiter for an extra set of napkins.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. February 2013.

There is a tea party set stashed between the two cardboard boxes filled with sheet music and spare melodicas. They’ve been left behind by your graduated seniors, who insisted that tea, “as the prime component to a good host”, was to be kept in the club room at all times, case there were any visiting guests.

...Of course, such things never happened. And you always ended up drinking the tea by yourselves. But even with the departure of your beloved seniors, you can never shake off the habit of drinking and restocking the supplies whenever required.

So you wonder if you should really be thanking your tea-loving upperclassmen for the free beverages.

“That’s a lot of sugar!” Lev gasps in awe, the emeralds in his eyes twisting and shining with the cascade of crystals falling into your cup of tea. “I bet you have a lot of cavities in your mouth, Senpai.”

“I brush my teeth very well so I don’t think anything like that’s every happened to me,” you say, irritably trying to ignore the tactless comment from your starry-eyed underclassman. “It’s been a while since you’ve been in my club room, hasn’t it? I’m glad you didn’t get lost trying to get here.”

He grumbles, crossing his arms in faux-anger. “Geez! I won’t get lost like that so easily! Besides...”

Lev takes a moment to drink in the warmth of the club room’s solace. The grand piano in the corner. The orange light streaming through the open curtains. Your curious face, like something out of a fairytale book.

“This place is full of good memories, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ll ever forget something like that.”

You chuckle at his monologue. “You sound like my grandfather, Haiba-kun.”

Lev’s face warps into something reminiscent of a prune.

“Senpai, we’re only two years apart!” he fumes. “You didn’t invite me here just to crush my self-esteem, right?! C-Come on, aren’t you going to show me the audition piece you wanted me to hear?”

There is a burning urge inside of you that’s telling you to “pull at his leg just a little more...”, but nevertheless, the artist within you says to keep your audience at bay. And so, the curtains open and your fingers dance on familiar keys.

You’ve played for him before. Songs like ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy’ or ‘Ma Mère L’oye’. Songs that you love, much like the one you’re performing for him right now. But you’re shaking in your seat. Wondering, anticipating, fearing.

He’s staring so much, you bite your lip, trying to avert your focus from Lev’s unbreakable gaze.

A single spectator wracks your brain even more than a theatre full of different kinds people—enthusiasts, university scouts, onlookers. But in your dismal, little club room, there is only your underclassman. Someone who knows nothing of music, but lacks so much knowledge that you know any of his critique would come from honesty alone.

...Why do you care so much about one person’s opinion?

You don’t realize how long you’ve been pondering until your train of thought is abruptly thwarted by the end of your song. You finish on a satisfying note and your endearing onlooker suddenly springs on his feet to shower you in applause.

“What the heck—that was so cool! I’ve never seen anyone play like that before!” Lev stumbles, everything and anything he’d planned to say pouring out as a blubbering mess as your face grows hotter from the attention. “Senpai, you’ll definitely pass the audition if you play just like that.”

“Y-You really think so?” he’s probably just being nice, you think. But for a spare moment, could you simply imagine that he means every word?

“I know so!” he smiles, the palpitations in your chest growing intense by the second. “You just have to keep going, won’t you?”

Even if you’re not brave enough to believe it, you want to believe that there’s a single Haiba Lev in this unyielding universe who believes that you, a mere side character who wishes for more, can and will.

You feel invincible.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

Did you know that swans mate for life? As a symbol of love and affection, they’re widely known to curve their necks together in a shape of a heart when courting. A form of elegance at its finest... until they start hissing.

“They’re so big! Senpai, come take a look at the swans!”

Folding the brochure into a tiny square, you return to your companion’s side, peering over the railings of the bridge to catch a glimpse of the thrush of white feathers down below.

You gulp. They are much larger than you expected.

“They’re surprisingly loud, aren’t they?” you mutter, watching a cygnet waddle its way out of the water onto the banks of the canal. You didn’t want to say, but it slightly reminded you of Lev the first time he’d waddled his way into the the Orchestra Club room.

With the constant squawking of the swans, the both of you find yourself in silence. For you, at least, the past two days viewing all sorts of Austrian sights with Lev had been strangely more gratifying than you’d fathomed. Lev, who’d been as excitable as he’d always been, breathes in peace, plumes of white forming from his mouth.

“This weekend’s been nice, hasn’t it?” you break the silence, observing the smooth junctures of his face. Lev turns to you slowly, his voice squeezing out.

“Don’t say that.”

Your blood freezes. “What?”

“Saying things like that...” Lev sighs wilfully and turns back to the view of the canal. He frowns. “I don’t want to think that this weekend is going to be over soon.”

You want to cry out. Me too. Me too, me too, me too. Your entire body is so full of butterflies you want to double over and pass out. But he continues.

“Travelling and talking with you is so fun, I never want it to end... It’s kind of embarrassing,” he says, eyes sparkling. “D-Do you think so too? Am I a selfish person for thinking that?”

You shake your head. “It’s not embarrassing, Haiba-kun. I—”

Are you red? Are you blushing? Your face feels so hot, you can’t even finish your sentence. He’s so close. So close to you. You want to be reliable, you want to reply, but you can’t. Under his bewitching gaze, you’ve fallen so deep.

When Lev opens his mouth again, it’s like everything around you—the bridge, the people, the swans have entirely vanished. “L/N-senpai, c-can I tell you something? Something I wanted to tell you for a long time.”

Eh?

“I’ve always liked you, Senpai. I really, really like you.”

Blank. Your mind goes blank, even when you whisper a small, “Really?”

You’re happy, you’re so happy you want to jump and shout to the world that you love him. Awfully. Dearly. It’s all like a train had crashed into you headfirst, and you can’t settle on a proper response before the floodgates burst open.

“Wh-Whoa! Don’t cry!” he flails his arms in panic as more tears dribble down your cheeks. “Geez, Senpai, at least reply to me first...”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you laugh, wiping your eyes with the edges of your scarf. “I’m just so happy, I didn’t know how to react.”

Lev’s chest inflates for a moment before he lunges forward to encapsulate you in his embrace. Between the persistent layers of clothing, the beating of his heart resonates deeply against your face. It’s quick and lively, warm enough to remind you of the swirled feelings that you harbor for one another.

“Oh, thank god...” Lev grins, burying his face in your shoulder. “You feel the same way...”

Humming calmly into his ear, you revel in the closure. “I really, really like you too, Haiba-kun.”

And none of you lets go—save for when a swan makes its way up to the bridge to peck at Lev’s boots.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. March 2023.

“... Lev, wake up.”

Feeling a slight nudge on his cheek, Lev tethers over opening his eyes to wonder at your beautiful smile or bury his face even deeper into the sheets.

It’s not like he didn’t favor you, but as of now, the comforts of your shared bed was more important. And thus, Haiba Lev, age 26, shrouds himself under the plush duvet and focuses himself on the sweet dream he was having about you.

“Lev, I know you can hear me...” he hears you sigh, long and airy, just enough to lull him back to sleep. “You have a fitting today, don’t you? You’re going to trouble Matsuyo-san and Alisa-nee if you arrive late.”

Isn’t that on Thursday? Actually... what day is it today? He isn’t very good with dates and formalities—that’s why he considers himself lucky to have you! A cute lover to bring him back to land during the day, and to shower with love and to cuddle with during the evening.

Yawning widely, Lev owlishly wrenches his eyes open, the crystalline sunlight from the bedroom window illuminating your face like a halo.... and was that his shirt you were wearing?

Lucky me~ he grins goofily.

Pressing his lips together, Lev pulls you by the wrist and before you can avoid the sudden attack, you’ve collapsed once more into a tangled mess of limbs and crooked sheets, with your boyfriend’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Let’s just stay in bed today, Y/N-san~” he slurs, nuzzling closer to you. How catlike, you think. “I want to be lovey-dovey and kissy-kissy again...”

He yawns again, a few stray tresses of silver falling over his face. As if he wasn’t as attractive every hour of the day, you really have learned how to take control of your extreme heart palpitations around him.

Your adorable younger boyfriend, ah... he really is your weakness, isn’t he?

“I’m really sorry, but I have to open up the shop soon,” you reluctantly peel yourself away from him, eliciting a small whimper from the Leviathan in your bed. “I’ll make it up to you when I finish teaching my evening lessons and when you come home, okay?”

Stubborn as a goat, Lev grumbles. “I’ll come back early, you know. Can you not do your evening lessons today?”

“Hm? Why not?” your raised eyebrow is cynical, but is juxtaposed by the gentle strokes of your palm on the crown of his head.

As much as Lev loves you (he does, he really does!), it’s rather annoying when he can’t tell if you’re seriously being oblivious or simply teasing him. He hopes for neither, but in his case, you’re an addict to his gags and without a doubt, you’re definitely messing with him right now.

“Those damn brats... I don’t like the way they stare you up during your classes.”

You laugh, raucously. And Lev considers leaving you to catch a break from the constant jeering. When you finally pipe down, you shift closer to him and press your head onto his bare chest.

“Lev, they’re nine. How else are they going to learn to play if they don’t watch me do it first?” you chuckle. “You shouldn’t worry so much about me. You should be worrying about that fitting you have in a few hours.”

“Geez, fine,” he groans. “A kiss before I shower?”

You know exactly where this is going. “Just one.”

Lighting up like a Christmas tree, Lev makes quick work of his hands and tenderly cup your cheek before placing a timid kiss on your lips.

No morning breath, you notice. As expected of a professional model.

“One more...” he whispers, swooping down on your lips once again.

Two, three and maybe seven kisses later, Lev has you caged between his arms, his looming figure propped proudly over you as he continues to pepper you with affection. The moment he starts to lap up your bottom lip, you know you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

“It’s so early, Y/N-san,” he mumbles, pleading eyes making your heart turn to jelly. “We have a few more hours before we really have to go, don’t we? So... in the meantime...?”

Sighing, you can only turn a deep red—he really has you around his finger, doesn’t he? Oh well. You suppose it won’t hurt to push back your morning lessons for a few minutes, right?

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guswaters · 4 years

Text

Bash

Paramedics arrive on scene after Kurt’s assault in Bash.

Canon fill-in fic for 5x15 Bash from the point of view of paramedics who attend Kurt after his assault.

Warning for: Discussions of gay bashing, mention of blood, description of medical procedures.

Read on AO3

James and Lisa were an hour into their night shift, the ambulance parked up on Bushwick Avenue. They sat in comfortable silence, watching the buzz of activity around them: families out walking, cabs blaring their horns, and groups of friends dressed up for an evening out in the city. They were in for a busy night.

“Did I tell you?” James asked. “I think Paul is planning something for our anniversary.”

“Go on.” Lisa said.

“Well, I’m just speculating. But he keeps asking me really specific questions about my rota. Like, he never pays this much attention to my shifts.”

“A vacation?” Lisa suggested.

James grinned. “Maybe.”

“Oh, you lucky fucker.” Lisa said, batting James playfully on the arm. “I consider it a win if my husband remembers our anniversary.” She rolled her eyes. James chuckled.

“Do you think - “ But James’ question was cut off by their radio alarming with a call.

“Here we go.” Lisa said, starting the ignition. “What we got, captain?”

“20 year old male. Unconscious, bleeding.” James read. “Just a couple of blocks away.”

“Oh, shit.”

Lisa turned on the blue lights and pushed their way onto the busy avenue.

***

They pulled up on scene - an alley in a less favorable neighbourhood of Bushwick. Stepping out onto the sidewalk they were met with the smell of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and blood. The patient, a young male, was on the floor in the recovery position. He was lying in a pool of blood, staining his coat and hair a deep red. A middle-aged woman stood by him, a look of immediate relief on her face on seeing the ambulance arrive.

“Hey. What’s your name?” He said to the woman, whilst crouching down by the motionless boy on the floor. He grabbed his wrist to feel for his pulse, which was strong.

“Andrea.”

“Hi Andrea. I’m James and that’s Lisa.” He said, gesturing towards where Lisa was still grabbing equipment from the back of the ambulance. “What’s happened tonight?”

“I have no clue. I was walking over to meet a friend and I heard shouting. Didn’t think anything of it - not at this time of night.” Andrea said. “Walked by the alley, and he was just lying here. Is he gonna be okay?”

“We’re going to look after him.” James reassured.

The patient looked to be in his late teens or early twenties, and had multiple wounds to the head and face. “Looks like an assault. Did you see anyone?” James asked.

“No. He was on his own.”

“Lisa, can you get the cops running please?” James called to his crew mate.

“On it.” Lisa called back.

James squeezed the boy’s shoulder. No response. “Hello? Hello? It’s the ambulance service. Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?” Trapezius squeeze. No response. “Let’s get some vitals going.” James said to Lisa, now approaching carrying their equipment. “I’ll try and get some more history.” James stood up to speak to Andrea, leaving Lisa to take over.

“Hi sweetie. My name's Lisa. I’m just going to do your blood pressure and a few other checks.” She said. “I’m going to have to cut your jacket and shirt to get to your arm, I’m sorry.” She deftly got the patient hooked up to the LifePak and took his temperature and blood sugar reading. Shining her pen torch to check his pupils, she could see the extent of the wounds and swelling on his face. “Oh, you poor thing.”

“I’m gonna look for some ID.” James said, crouching back down beside her. He rooted through the patient’s pockets looking for a bank card, driving license, student card, anything that might identify him. He found his iPhone in his coat pocket. Unlocking it, the home screen was a photo of the patient with another boy about his age. They were standing close, their cheeks pressed together. His boyfriend, he realised.

James felt a sickening feeling washing over him. He and Lisa had attended two incidents of gay bashing this month alone. Was this boy another victim of such a crime?

“Okay?” Lisa asked. James often joked that Lisa had a fifth sense for what he was feeling; a product of having spent so much time working together. He was so grateful to have a crew mate who looked out for him, especially with some of their recent jobs hitting extremely close to home.

“Yeah. Yeah.” James said. Emotions aside, they had a job to do. He put the phone back in his coat, and continued searching. In the patient’s pants pocket he found his wallet, and pulled out a bank card. “Ah. Kurt Hummel.” He read out to Lisa. “Nothing with date of birth though.”

“Kurt. Kurt? Can you hear me?” Lisa said, squeezing the boy’s shoulder again. No response.

“How are vitals looking?” James turned the LifePak to inspect the numbers on the screen.

“Vitals look okay, but I’ve got him at GCS 3.” Lisa said. “Pupils equal, size 3, a bit sluggish.”

“Okay. Let’s just get a neck collar on him and get him loaded.”

***

Once on the ambulance, Lisa and James were dancing around the patient reconnecting him to the LifePak, getting his wounds cleaned and dressed, and warming him up with plenty of blankets. Police had arrived and were outside taking details from Andrea and photographing the scene.

“I think I’ll give him a dose of Ondansetron, just in case he starts vomiting on route. Can you pass me a cannulation pack please?” James asked, and Lisa fished in the drawer for the small plastic packet, handing it to her crew mate. James tied the tourniquet around the boy’s bicep. He was clearly very fit and healthy and James had no trouble finding a vein.

“I’ll try a green please.” Lisa passed him the needle. He prepped the skin and easily inserted the cannula.

“Flush. And your Ondansetron for when you’re ready.” Lisa said, passing over the two filled syringes. “Ampoule is in the bowl.”

“Thanks.”

“Need anything else?” Lisa asked.

“No, let’s just get going.” James flushed the cannula, before inserting the smaller syringe to start administering the drug. He looked up at his crew mate, teasing. “Nice smooth blue light drive please.”

“For you, always.” Lisa smiled. “See ya there.”

She slammed the door, and James heard her talking briefly to the cops outside. He pulled out his phone, and dialled the familiar number.

A doctor with a heavy accent answered the phone. “Hello, ER.”

“Hi, please can I pass a pre-alert?”

***

Kurt remained stable on the journey, so James took the opportunity to write some paperwork before they arrived at the hospital. He tapped away on his tablet whilst keeping a close eye on his vitals on the LifePak screen. Suddenly, he heard a voice.

“Blaine.” It was just a mumble - it could barely be heard over the sound of the engine and the sirens.

“Kurt? Kurt, can you hear me?” James said, leaning forward to squeeze his shoulder. Kurt responded by opening his eyes.

“Blaine?” He said. “Where’s Blaine?”

“My name is James. You’re in the ambulance.” Kurt eyes darted around, taking in his surroundings.

“Are you in pain?” James asked. No response.

“Do you feel sick?” He asked. No response.

“I need to see Blaine.” Kurt whimpered. He was getting distressed - reaching up to tug at the neck collar and the straps securing him to the stretcher.

“It’s okay, Kurt. Just try and stay still.” He said, holding his right arm steady so he wouldn’t pull the cannula out.

“My head.” Kurt groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I know, buddy.” James took his hand. “We’re almost at the hospital.”

***

An elderly woman who had fallen in the park later, and James and Lisa were back at the hospital. After handing over, they had some time before clearing for their next call, and James wanted to check up on Kurt. He scanned the ER board to locate him.

Approaching the window of his room, he saw that Kurt wasn’t alone. A boy was lying on the bed with him, his arm draped over his chest and his face buried in his neck. The boy from his phone home screen, James realised. James tapped lightly on the door and the boy startled, sitting up. He was petite with dark, slicked back hair and an outfit straight out of a Brooks Brothers catalogue. He looked physically and emotionally exhausted.

“Sorry to disturb.” James said, stepping into the small room. “I’m the paramedic who brought him in, and I just wondered how he was doing.”

“I’m Blaine. I’m his fiancé.” The boy said, standing up to shake his hand.

“James.”

“Uh, he’s fractured his eye socket and has lots of bruising, but his scans were clear.” Blaine said. “No…uh, no bleed.”

“He’s very lucky.”

“Yeah. He is.” Blaine smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Do you know what -"

“He was protecting someone. Apparently a gay guy was being beaten up and Kurt just ran in.” Blaine shook his head. “Why would he do that? Put himself in so much danger.”

“Wouldn’t you have done the same? I know I would.”

“I just wish I had been there to protect him, to stop him getting hurt. I should have been there.” Blaine broke down then; his face falling into his hands, his body shaking with his sobs.

“Hey no, you can’t think like that.” James moved closer to the boy, placing a comforting hand around his shoulder. “You don’t think my husband worries sick every time I’m out at work? That I don’t think about him constantly when he’s out alone? But if we stop going out and living our lives - they win.”

“I just thought being in New York that we were getting away from this kind of thing. That we’d be safe.” Blaine sobbed.

“I know. We always think the big city will be perfect and easy for us. That’s what makes this so scary. But, and look at me Blaine.” James said, his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Blaine looked up at him, sniffing. “Hearts and minds are changing everyday. You think when I met my husband that I ever though we would be able to get married? Things will get better, Blaine. I promise.”

Blaine gave him a watery smile. “Thank you. And thank you so much for looking after him.”

“No problem.” James said. “I hope he makes a good recovery.”

Kurt stirred in his sleep, mumbling. Blaine was back by his side immediately, gripping his hand tightly. “Kurt? I’m right here baby.”

Blaine looked at Kurt with a tenderness that felt almost private. James took his cue to leave, slipping out of the room. Before walking away, he looked back through the window at the couple; Blaine was lying pressed up against Kurt on the bed, their hands entwined. They would be okay, James thought.

***

James climbed into the drivers seat of the ambulance.

“How was he doing?” Lisa asked.

“No serious damage, just a small fracture and bruising.” James said. “His fiancé was pretty shaken up.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” James gave her a reassuring smile. “Just, it sucks. I never thought I’d see these sort of crimes happening in New York of all places.”

“It’s awful.” Lisa shook her head. “Hey. If you ever need to talk about it - you know where I am.”

“I know. Thanks.” James smiled.

“Now, come on.” Lisa said, handing him the keys. “We probably have time to hit up Starbucks before clearing up. I’ll buy.”

#klaine #klaine fic #glee #bash #glee 5x15 #wrote a fic lmaoooo #my fic

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kirishibi · 4 years

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Nights Like These | Kirishima Ejirou

Summary: You’re having a rough night struggling with your anxiety and your long time crush, Kirishima, helps you through it

Pairing: Kirishima Ejirou x Reader

Warnings: pretty vivid and possibly triggering descriptions of the physical symptoms and racing thoughts that come with an anxiety attack, non-established relationship, pining, lots of Kiri comfort, so much fluff, very very mild cursing, spoilers abt Kirishima’s backstory, (y/n)’s pretty shy in this one oops

**this fic has a lottt of comfort and fluff in it after the first quarter, but if descriptions of anxiety are triggering for you please read with caution and skip over bits if needed**

Word Count: 2.8k

a/n: chef actually writing for once??? unheard of. anyway, i was struggling really hard this week, so i wrote some kiri comfort because who doesn’t want this sweet boi to hold ur hand and tell you everything’s gonna be okay when it feels like the world’s falling apart.i legit wrote this while crying bruv if any one of my fics is a window to my soul its this one

It began with that all-too-familiar pit of dread in your stomach, an uncomfortable rush of adrenaline in your upper chest that you desperately tried to force away. Trembling fingertips, wobbling knees, the sudden urge to crawl out of your own skin. All you did was get tongue-tied while chatting with Bakugou and a few of his friends, but your fumbled words wouldn’t stop echoing through your skull, the angry blond’s mocking gaze replaying over and over again in your mind.

You barely made it to your dorm before shards of your shattered confidence gathered to form a lump in your throat, and tears stung at the corners of your eyes. You threw open the door to your room, hastily swung it shut as you entered. As heavy wood slammed into its frame, a jarring bang echoed throughout the hallway outside. You physically cringed, brows knitting together and nose scrunching in disgust at your own actions.

Damn it, you thought to yourself, everyone heard that, and now they’re all pissed at you.

This happened more times than you could count: one minor mistake drudged up what seemed like hundreds of embarrassing memories from your past, and in a matter of minutes you knew you’d wind up a sobbing mess on your bedroom floor, gasping for air, convinced that the only thing you’re truly good at is being a burden.

There was a dam inside your mind; one that held all of your regrets, self-loathing thoughts, and most embarrassing memories. The multitude of cracks in its foundation threatened to give with every little thing you deemed a screw-up, and in that moment, the dam broke.

A half-complete exam sat before you. Your left leg nervously bounced beneath your desk as a pencil twirled between the nimble fingers of your dominant hand. The eraser of your pencil caught on the surface of your desk mid-twirl, causing the utensil to fling from your grasp. It arched through the air and thumped the boy seated in front of you, Ojiro, right between his shoulder blades. No amount of rambled apologies from you, nor sincere ’it’s okay!’s from the kind-hearted blond could stop that moment from searing itself into your memory. Just another reason you should never leave your room again.

Sinking into an unmade bed, you pulled your knees up to your chest. Feeble arms hugged your legs tightly as you desperately tried to shake the unpleasant thoughts from your own brain. “No,” you pleaded with yourself, “no, (Y/n), you’re not doing this again.” Fingernails dug into soft flesh beneath your school uniform’s knee-high socks, a momentary distraction from the sheer panic swelling inside your chest. Forehead pressed against bent knees, you hoped that if you made yourself small enough, maybe you could disappear entirely.

Accidentally interrupting someone during a conversation, tripping over your own feet while walking down the hall, getting anxious speaking to your redheaded crush and forgetting what you wanted to say altogether.

You couldn’t help but gasp for air, the angry burning of your lungs only worsening with every shallow breath as hot tears trailed down the sides of your face. There was no stopping the sobs that pushed past your lips, nor the self loathing thoughts that racked your brain. You pressed your back firmly against the cool drywall beside your bed with the vain hope that the sudden chill may keep you grounded.

Nearly spitting out your tea as Kaminari cracked a joke during lunch, not realizing you took someone else’s seat in the common room, bumping into an elderly woman on the train, dropping a handful of textbooks in front of your entire class.

A knock on the door momentarily pulled you from what seemed to be an inescapable frenzy of thoughts. You stumbled to your feet, stole a glance in the mirror beside your bed. Reluctant to allow someone else to see your puffy, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, you forced yourself to speak up, “uh- uhm,” your voice wavered with every word, but you cleared your throat and continued on, “I-I’m sorry, now isn’t really a good time.”

“Aw,” a familiar voice pouted from the other side, muffled by the wall between you, “well, think ya could let me in anyway?” It was Kirishima, the guy you’d been head-over-heels for since the beginning of your freshman year.

You refused to let him see you so disheveled, couldn’t bear the thought of willingly adding another embarrassing moment to your catalogue of painful memories.

“I’m sorry, I- well,” you wanted to lie, to make up an excuse as to why you couldn’t answer the door, but nothing came to mind. “I just can’t talk right now. Do you need something?”

“Yep! It’s really urgent, can’t wait another second!” He eagerly pleaded, and you just couldn’t find the will to say no.

Hastily drying your wet face with creased sleeves and fixing your hair to the best of your ability, you made your way to the door and cautiously inched it open.

The crimson haired boy stood before you with a box of your favorite candy in his hands and a warm smile on his face. His brows were knit together in concern, tender eyes wholly trained on you. He glanced both ways down the vacant hallway to ensure that no one was within earshot before speaking in a hushed tone, “you didn’t seem like yourself in class today. Like, you were quieter than usual, and then Bakugou was a bit of an ass earlier...“ He nodded to the cardboard container in his hands, “I’ve seen you eat this before and it always seems to put a smile on your face, so I thought maybe it could do the same today too.” His grin faltered for a moment, gaze dropping to the floor as if embarrassed by his own words. “It’s stupid, I know, but I had to do somethin’!”

Despite your best efforts, the happy facade you’d forced on for Kirishima fell, and your eyes welled with tears once again. Your bottom lip trembled as you tried to swallow the lump crawling up your throat. His gaze shifted from the floor, back up to meet yours, and he nearly dropped the container in his hands at the sight of you so close to crying.

Without a second thought, he threw his arms around your shoulders in a tight hug, “What’s wrong, (Y/n)?” His voice filled with worry, further breaking your heart, “Did I get the wrong kind of candy?”

“N-no,” you whimpered into his shoulder, unable to finish before the words caught in your mouth and tears wet the thin cotton of his shirt . Your arms wrapped around his waist, unconsciously reciprocating his hug. His warmth reminded you of just how long it had been since you’d let someone be so close. Your knees buckled under the weight of your own grief, and before you knew it, Kirishima was scooping you up into his strong arms. He carried you to the comfort of your bed, kicking the door closed as he passed.

“I knew you weren’t okay,” he muttered into your ear, tone much softer than you were used to from the boisterous man. He carefully set you down on your plush mattress, grabbed the nearest blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders, then knelt on the floor before you.

“I’m f-fine,” you forced out, trying to steady your voice but failing horribly, “You can go if you wa-want. I don't want to-”

Kirishima silenced you with a tender palm rested atop your own. “I’m not leaving you, (Y/n). Whatever’s going on, I care about you too much to make you deal with it alone.”

Up until then, you had made it a point to keep your anxiety hidden from your peers. You worried that they would treat you differently if they knew, that they wouldn’t quite understand. But, something about Kirishima told you that he was different, that nothing would change if you opened up to him. Regardless of your fears, the look in his eyes and tender cadence of his voice made you feel safe, like it was okay to be vulnerable.

“I,” your eyes flicked from your lap to meet his worried gaze, “I can’t help but remember everything I’ve done wrong over the years and just hate myself. I hate every mistake, every failure, every moment I did something dumb and didn’t know how to fix it.” Your stomach clenched as yet another sob forced its way past your lips. “I have so many regrets, and I constantly feel like an awful person because of them.”

A calloused thumb brushed along your upper cheek, wiping away the tracks of fallen tears. He nodded along as you vented, as if he understood exactly where you were coming from. Then, when you went silent, he waited for a few beats to ensure you were entirely finished speaking before responding. “I’m sure it doesn’t seem like it, but I used to be someone I’m not proud of either, and, honestly? Sometimes I still don’t like the person I see in the mirror.” He paused for a moment, lips pulled in a thin, contemplative line before continuing, “can you keep a secret?”

You nodded, surprised and mildly confused by his words. Could someone as confident and lovable as Kirishima really struggle with the same anxieties that you did?

He chuckled at the quizzical look you gave him, took a deep breath to steady his own nerves. “So, I actually didn’t look like this back in middle school -- hold up, I think I actually have a picture.” Five fingers flexed around your own, holding you close as his free hand fished into his pants pocket and pulled out a red-cased phone. Within a few seconds, ruby eyes were locked with your own once again, a shy smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Promise not to laugh?”

The redhead’s grin was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile with him. Your worries hadn’t been entirely forgotten, but with every word spoken between you, every passing second with his fingers entwined with your own, a subtle calm began to wash over you. “I’ll try not to,” you responded. That seemed good enough for him, and with only a short moment of hesitation, Kirishima turned the phone’s screen toward you to reveal a photo of himself from a few years before.

Long, black hair framed a round face, slender shoulders slumped and eyes downcast as he stood alone in the courtyard of what you assumed to be his old middle school. Your head cocked to the side, brows furrowed in disbelief as you looked from the photo to the person in front of you. For a moment, you thought he must have been kidding. The muscular, seemingly self-assured man that knelt before you didn’t resemble the boy on his phone in the slightest. “You’re serious? That was you?”

He nodded, clearly amused by your reaction. You wanted to ask what changed, how he pulled such a total one-eighty, but couldn’t find a way to without sounding rude.

He seemed to read your mind, though, and answered your question without hesitation. “I realized that I didn’t like the person I was, and vowed to be better.” He powered off the device in his hand and tossed it aside, attention entirely back to you, thumb unconsciously caressing the back of your hand as he continued. “I’m not telling you this because I think you need to change. Frankly,” his eyes darted to the floor, voice lowering nearly to a whisper, “I, uh, I really like the person you are now.” He cleared his throat, a pink tinge dusting his cheeks as his gaze flicked back up to meet yours. “I’m telling you this because, like I said before, I’m like you in a way. I can’t help but cringe when I remember the way I used to be, and I still worry sometimes that I haven’t actually changed that much.”

“But you have. I mean, you’re a completely different person now.”

“Exactly. Here’s what I’ve learned: if you cringe at something you did in the past, that’s probably because you’ve matured enough to know you were being dumb back then. Being able to look at your past self and recognize your mistakes means you aren’t that person anymore.” His other hand moved to rest atop your knee, as if he wanted to hold you closer but found himself hesitant.

You felt a weight lift from your shoulders at his words, yet still one question continued to gnaw at the back of your mind. “But, what if I’m beating myself up something I did recently… like,” your voice lowered in embarrassment, “when I a-accidentally threw that pencil at Ojiro, for example…”

“I promise, you’re the only one who even remembers that.” Kirishima chuckled softly, “you’re sweet for worrying about those little things, but no one worth knowing is gonna judge you off small mistakes. I know how great you are, and so does everyone else in our class. You light up every room you walk into, I swear. It’s like you’ve got a second quirk or somethin’.” You giggled, and his smile only grew wider. “I mean it! How could anyone not fall in love with that laugh?” The boy’s face turned bright red, eyes widening in realization at what he had said, grip tightening around your own. “Shit, I mean- well-” he cut himself off, sharp teeth nervously nibbling on his bottom lip.

His words resonated with you, filled the anxious pit in your stomach with warm butterflies and heated your cheeks with a rosey blush. Still, you convinced yourself he was only embarrassed because his words had come out in a different way than he had meant them. There was no way he actually had feelings for you, you thought. He was clearly just being nice. “I-It’s okay, I know you don’t like me like that. You’re way out of my league, anyway.” You forced a nervous laugh, attempting to comfort him through words that burned as they passed your lips.

You thought he’d relax at what you had said, agree with your comment, and thank you for understanding. Instead, he rose to his feet, a look of bewilderment in his eyes as he pulled you up to stand with him. “Do you really think that?” He questioned, expression twisted in disbelief, hurt by your self-deprecating words. His hands gripped yours tightly as you stood only inches from one another. Heat radiated off of his tan skin, shielding you from the chilly air of your room and prickling your arms with goosebumps.

“Sorry to break it to ya, but you couldn’t be more wrong.” Kirishima lightly tugged you closer, closed the distance between your bodies without a second thought. You allowed your chest to press against his, listening carefully as he continued, “I was afraid of making you uncomfortable or scaring you off, so I didn’t say anything before. But, if that’s really what you think, I’ve gotta set you straight. Truth is, I’m absolutely crazy for you, (Y/n). I mean, you’re cute, and sweet, and witty -- It’s impossible to take my eyes off of you whenever we’re in a room together, and just hearing your voice makes me feel warm all over.”

Calloused fingers released one of your hands, traveled up to caress a now-dry cheek. He cracked another sharp-toothed grin at the realization that you were no longer crying. “Can you do me a favor and tell me next time you start to feel all anxious and stuff again? Regardless of if you like me back, I just want to be there for you, whatever you need. It’s not very manly to fall for a girl, then leave her hangin’ when she needs ya the most.”

An eager nod in agreement was all you could manage for a long moment as you stood entirely awestruck by his confession. All you wanted was to find your voice, to tell him how much his efforts meant to you, but the words refused to come.

So, you did the next best thing.

The box of candies he had brought as a pick-me-up laid forgotten on your bed as tentative fingers gripped Kirishima’s broad shoulders and you rose onto your tiptoes. Without allowing yourself time for hesitation, you pressed pursed lips to a flushed-pink cheek. It wasn’t a large gesture, but in that moment it felt perfect.

You’d never seen Ejirou smile as wide as he did in that moment, strong hands firmly gripping your waist as you pulled away -- as if to make sure that you wouldn’t stray too far from his grasp. “That settles it then! Tomorrow I’m asking you out properly -- with flowers, and chocolates, and way more than just one box of your favorite sweets… but you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“That we’ll take care of one another. I’ll never judge you, hurt you, or belittle whatever you’re struggling with, as long as you promise the same to me, okay? From now on ‘til the end of time, I’ve got your back unconditionally, and you’ve got mine. Promise?”

“Promise.”

#kirishima ejirou #no beta we die like men #kirishima #kirishima bnha #kirishima fluff #kirishima x reader #ejirou kirishima x reader #hurt/comfort #anxiety help #kiri writes #trigger warning: anxiety #fluff #bnha fluff #kiri gives good advice from my therapist #anyway #pls forgive me if this isnt that good #its been months since ive written a full fic #lub u be good to urself #its 4 am forgive me for typos and goodnight

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sparkkeyper · 4 years

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The 2020 Aro Way Challenge had a prompt "Heaven's prayer inbox room" and while that wasn't my prompt at the time, this idea never left my head. So here you go.

I did way too much math for this fic, haha.

***

Aziraphale had only been sent up to Receiving once or twice in the last few thousand years, and upon stepping through the door again in 1967, he decided at once that his opinion of it hadn't changed.

It was stark and white and open just like everything else in Heaven but it was crowded. Angels moved briskly about, carrying stacks of incoming prayers from their jingling manifestation points in boxes along one massive wall to a series of filing rooms in the opposite one. Processing desks filled the rest of the space: noting, sorting, cataloguing. Aziraphale might have liked it if it hadn't been so clean and empty, but the only thing close to decoration was a set of long white curtains down the left wall, which seemed more for texture than anything else. He got the impression that there was much more cataloguing going on than answering.

He didn't need to like it, he reminded himself. It wasn't his jurisdiction. He just needed to pick up his intended prayer and be on his way.

He walked up to the closest desk, getting bumped by three angels in the process. "Yes, hello. I'm here per Gabriel to pick up...well, I suppose it would be one of the more recent-"

"Name?" the clerk asked without looking up.

"Emilia-"

"Not the human's, yours."

"Ah. Aziraphale."

The clerk flipped through a rolodex, frowned at the card she found, and added it to a different pile on the desk. "Your prayer has already been requisitioned. It will be ready for you in thirty minutes. Please wait by the wall."

"Yes. Well. Thanks so much."

Aziraphale picked his way back to the edge of the room, doing his best not to get trampled in the crowd. After several more moments of sidestepping and pressing back into the wall, he found himself next to the long white curtains. Perhaps he could take shelter behind them, he thought wryly.

Yet another angel shouldered past and he pressed himself further into the wall until -

There was a door there. Just behind the curtain. An older style, still white but polished wood instead of metal. A single, simple plaque sat at head height.

Unnecessary

Aziraphale blinked. Heaven didn't have unnecessary doors. It was, if anything, ruthlessly efficient. So why?

He had thirty minutes, he reasoned. Clearly the Receiving angels didn't want him around. And it would be easier to stay out of the way of their work if he left the room just a few steps.

The door wasn't locked, he discovered. Few of Heaven's ever were. It opened without a sound and he ducked behind the curtain and through the opening before he could be noticed.

The hall beyond was dark. Well, nothing was truly dark in Heaven, but the light was a bit muted and that seemed a stark contrast to the brightness outside. Filling the massive interior were rows and rows of shelves identical to the ones outside in which prayers manifested - not unlike modern human post boxes. Except these were silent. Empty. No sparks of light or jingles of bells to indicate any use. No slips of paper with requests or thanks or pleas. Curiosity getting the better of him, Aziraphale slowly moved deeper into the room. His footsteps echoed in the silence.

A moldy scrap of parchment, covered in so much dust that he nearly missed it, sat in a box at about shoulder height. It looked like it must have been thousands of years old. Had Heaven missed this prayer by accident somewhere in the past? Glancing around to make sure he was alone, he pulled it out and pried it open.

Day %#&%: HOW COULD YOU?! WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY?! I HATE YOU!!

He dropped the the parchment at once and stuffed it back into the box. That...surely that wasn't...

He scrubbed dust from the box's label, trying to read the sender's name. Instead of letters in any Earthly language, he found himself staring at a sigil.

An angel.

No, not an angel. Not anymore.

He stood slowly, looking around at the countless rows of empty prayer boxes. The places where the Fallen had once been stared back at him, like a graveyard.

He wandered the shelves with a strange mix of pity and dread pooling in his stomach. Here and there, the occasional box would hold only a single, ancient, dust-covered paper - their last response to the Fall. Unnecessary, the door had said. Because the Fallen did not pray. Not to God.

He was just about to turn around and head back to the main Receiving hall when a break in the pattern caught his eye. One box, all the way down by his feet, was not empty. He bent to examine it and found that it held a small stack of folded papers - not much but far more than the rest of the boxes. He rubbed away the dust on the label and was shocked to see that he recognized the serpentine sigil - he had seen it many times over thousands of years on the face of his adversary.

Crowley had prayed? The topmost paper didn't even look that old. He reached for the box but hesitated. It wasn't his place to read another's prayers. They were private correspondence. But his stomach sank as he looked around at the empty shelves. No one was hearing them, he realized. Unnecessary, said the door. The Fallen gave up a line to the Almighty when they chose to rebel and the angels ignored them accordingly.

But if a demon did choose to pray...shouldn't someone listen?

Carefully, he pulled the papers out and flipped over the stack to reveal the oldest.

Day %#&%: THAT HURT! IT STILL HURTS! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?? Do You have any idea what it feels like?? I don't want to be here, I didn't ask for this! Hello? Hello?! Are You listening?!

The symbols on the page devolved into several lines worth of furious, wordless screaming.

Okay, fine! S'pose I'm not good enough for You! Screw You anyway! You and every other miserable angel!

Aziraphale put the paper down, swallowing hard. Had God ever seen these? He suspected She interacted differently with prayers than angels did, but had She ever heard these final cries? Or had She blocked them out like the rest of Heaven had?

He unfolded the next paper.

Day 46: Well You at least did one thing right.

Odd. Aziraphale thought back hard. Days were tricky to remember near the Beginning, as he hadn't known he was supposed to be keeping track of them yet. But if his memory served, Day 46 had seen the first humans cast out of the Garden. Crowley certainly hadn't considered that 'right', whatever his definition was. The only thing he'd seemed to like at all was...

Aziraphale felt his face heat up, remembering the demon smiling at him. Crowley couldn't be referring to him. Could he? Even if that was the case, surely he wouldn't have intentionally said so to God?

Intentionally was the key word, he suspected. It was possible to pray without meaning to - directing thoughts Upwards very hard or invoking the name of the Almighty, for instance. He doubted very much that this particular thought had been meant as a prayer.

The next one, though, definitely had been.

Day 351898: You really don't want me, do You? I know, sure Crawly, what was your first clue? The screaming dive or the sulfur bath? But I dunno, I wondered... I hoped... I mean the humans... Never mind. It's been a thousand years, more or less. I can take a hint. Who needs You anyway? Not me.

With a deep breath, Aziraphale opened the rest.

Day 365357: What are you doing? All this rain... You can't be serious?

Day 365358: StopstopstopstopSTOPSTOPSTOP!

Day 1018783: What did he do?! He was five! He had another twenty five, thirty years ahead of him! All for a row you've got going with Pharaoh?!

Day 1018783 Part B: Fuck You, fuck You, fuck You, fuck You!

Aziraphale bit his tongue hard to keep it in check. It wouldn't do to find himself agreeing with such things.

He bit it very hard.

Day 1493608: It's so quiet tonight. The stars are still so bright, all the way up there. Like it's been no time at all. ... ...do You ever miss me? ... ... ...suppose not. If You did You'd answer once in a while. ... The sky looks so vast from here on Earth. Funny. It used to look so small from above. Does it still? There's so much here. Does it all look so tiny to You? ... ... It's quiet tonight. I used to hear You in the quiet. I don't anymore. ... ... ... ...I miss You...

Day 1479943: God Almighty, that smile. How did you capture an entire sunrise in one angel's face?

Day 2078008: I thought You were supposed to be omniscient. Know everything, right? Know about him and me. If You are, why have You never told them? And why did You ask about the sword if You knew he'd- ...No. No use pressing my luck, eh? Or his. If anybody's gonna snitch its not gonna be me.

Day 2171226: God, please don't let me be too late, please don't let me be too late - You think burned feet are enough to keep me out when he's in trouble? Up Yours, You sanctimonious prick.

Day 2172585: God help them, they're going to kill themselves.

Aziraphale did some mental maths, putting the date of that last one somewhere around early August, 1945...

Oh. Yes, that made sense.

The final paper looked recent, maybe a couple months old at the most.

Day 2180588: You play a bloody confusing game, You know tha'? Spinning everybody 'round like pawns, nono, like tops, like dreidels until they dunno which way t'go and jus' fall down, and then HOPE they land on th' right side. An' if they don't well too bad, thanks for playing, they're etern'lly fucked six ways fr'm Sunday! Ingenious game design, really. You great TWAT. ... ...Okay, okay look, I'm really drunk right now. I know I shouldn't be talking t' You. I know You don't listen. An' I probably shouldn't've started off with th' insults but Jesus You don't make tha' easy, do You? Just...just don't hang up, just listen t' me this once, yeah? Look, I haven't seen him in two decades. I just...I don't want to lose whatever this is. I can't. I need SOMEBODY to talk to at the end of the day. Because fuck knows You never stop in to have a chat. So much for laying off th’ insults, I guess. Wha’ are You gonna do about it, eh? Gonna smite me when I break into Your House tomorrow? I know wha’ You’re thinking, didn’t he learn ‘is lesson from th’ burned feet? Too bad, I need tha’ water if I’m gonna keep all this safe. Joke’s on You, I’ve got a plan AND I’ve got shoes this time. I won’t ask him again. I ruined everything last time. Still not sure he wants t’ see me again, long as Nazis don’t have guns t’ his face. Surprised You didn’t smite me when I bombed th’ church, honestly. You must know. If You're watching at all You must've seen us. ...unless You're not watching. ... ...unless You've given up on all of us. ... Please don't. Look, look, I know You gave up on me a long time ago. I've accepted tha'. Just...don't give up on th' humans. Don't give up on HIM. He still looks to You. Don't turn Your back on him. ... Fuck, I'm drunk. I've said too much. Keep ignoring me, like usual. It's safer that way.

Aziraphale folded up the last paper, his heart doing uncomfortable acrobatics inside his chest. Thousands of years and no one listening. Or, if the Almighty had ever heard, She'd left them in the empty hall to rot alone for eternity.

In an instant of decision, he gathered up the small stack of prayers and tucked them into the breast pocket of his coat. Without so much as a backward glance, he strode back through the silent hall, closed the door securely, picked up his waiting assignment from the Receiving clerk, and left.

In the deepest corner of the bookshop, inside a box-within-a-safe-within-a-cabinet that was jammed behind an Edwardian-era end table, several lamps, and twenty seven stacks of biographies (and protected by no less than seven miracles and three human locks that Knew Their Business) sat an unassuming tartan thermos.

Aziraphale removed it with more care than he afforded even his rarest books and left the stack of papers in its place.

#good omens #Good omens fic #My fic #aziraphale #Tw child death #I guess I mean it's barely mentioned but just to be safe #Heaven's prayer inbox room #Crowley prays accidentally sometimes whoops #Does God listen to these prayers even if the angels don't?? You decide #Crowley yells at God

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ajokeformur-ray · 4 years

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Shaken to the core // J x Lilith // angst, fluff, comfort.

Summary: During the scene in which J is interrogated by Batman (the True Villain of Gotham), you protect J and end up getting punched by the Masked Coward. J goes feral but when you’re safe at home and patched up, J’s own emotional wounds come to the forefront and your bond deepens; if such a thing is even possible.

Warnings: I don’t like Batman and it shows lmao (so maybe don’t read if you like him), reader gets punched, J is scary angry, descriptions of fights and physical injury, swearing, crying, intense discussions, lots of comfort.

A personalised fic for @jokershyena. I love you, doll, and I can’t thank you enough for letting me fully write this out for you skskskkkskk I adore our talks. I hope you like this! ^^

Word count: 3, 581 (Okay, I know you said under 1k buuuut~ a) have you met me? and b) when do I ever do what I’m told?)

Everything happened so fast.

One minute J was sat in the cold and unforgiving metal chair, his hands folded neatly in his lap in a mockery of the ‘rules’ the Commissioner had left him with, and the next were his feet suspended several inches above the floor, steel toecaps scraping across the floor, his painted face so close to Bats’ own masked one. J had been sat there teasing the Masked Coward but once again had Bats’ power and the situation at hand gone to his head. He was acting more like a villain than J was as without a word did Bats swing J around and slam him down far too harshly onto the metal table. It made J cackle and woop through his amusement as he curled his fingers up beneath his chin in a position of mock defense. “Ya’ gotta break your code,” J dropped his voice to a gravelly octave to mock Bats’ own ridiculous voice. “You know it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“I’m not gonna break my code,” You rolled your eyes at Bats’ voice - seriously, how was this dude able to talk like that for so long? Did he use something to alter his voice? - but your sarcasm quickly turned to horror when Bats lifted J up, still by his collar, and slammed him down once more against the table. How could this man call himself a hero when he was so violent with J, a man who hadn’t actually done anything in this particular case and had just been minding his own business? And why the hell had someone asked for you to be in the room, too? Ugh, you hated Batman. If anyone was the villain of Gotham, it was him.

While Bats was still holding J down by his collar, his other arm, clad in hard leather, came up, up, high above his head, his fist clenched -

“No!” Your heart seized in your chest as panic and a fierce need to defend what is yours took you over and you flung your body forward, moving so that your back was pressed to J’s chest, your hair spilling over his abdomen and chest like a dark halo. You were leaning over him, protecting him, and you heard J growl, felt the vibration against your back as it rumbled through his chest and pushed out of his throat, the sound guttural and foreboding, as Bats’ fist connected squarely with your shoulder, and made you cry out. You slid off the table and dropped to the floor and the room. went. silent.

Pain exploded in your shoulder. Fuck, it hurt. The hard leather, Bats’ brute strength, the harsh way that Bats had let you drop, presumably shocked by the fact that he had just broken his code completely accidentally. Your entire arm was numb, pain and fear pulsating through you. You were so scared for J, you were terrified that something bad was going to happen to him. You had always been so protective of him, immensely so, and right now was no exception. You knew, even through the haze of pain, that right now J was both impressed that you had managed to get Bats to break his insanely stupid and hypocritical code but also really angry.

Seconds ticked past, marked in silence. You weren’t sure anyone was even breathing as you each took the time to process what had just happened. Your thoughts all circled and though the words changed, the sentiment was the same every time as the reality seeped into your foggy mind. You would be lucky if you only had bruising from this.

You had just been punched by Bats.

Bats had just broken his stupid fucking hypocritical code.

You had been protecting your J.

One thought, more important than the rest, stuck in the very forefront of your mind. So strong was it, so raw was its intensity, that it reverberated around and around inside your head, like a hurricane of beautiful devastation, once it registered in your mind. It was louder than all the other thoughts:

You had been protecting your J.

You felt proud of yourself for doing so. You were a woman of your word. You had told J once that you would be a dragon if he ever got hurt - you would defend him with your life. And right now - you had just proven yourself to be true. You were proud of yourself, immensely so, for looking after your clown. He was yours and no one hurt your J. No one.

“You really shouldn’t have done that.” J’s voice was lower than you had ever heard it before. You had known J for twelve years; you knew his every tone, his every expression, his every demeanour... but you had never heard that pitch from him before. Your head shot up as you took him all in. The ticking jaw muscle, the clenched gloved fists, the leather creaking with every flex of his fingers, his tongue prodding against the scarring on his inner cheek, first one side and then the other before the thick muscle left the warm cavern of his mouth to wet his full lips, his chin dipped, his head tilted to the side... your blood ran cold. “No one hurts my hyena.”

J was pissed, so much so that he was almost shaking with sheer unadulterated rage. In a movement so fast that your naked eyes struggled to see what was happening, and your mind, oh, it was spinning, J grabbed Bats’ head with both of his hands, raised his knee and mercilessly brought Bats’ head down. J acted with no hesitation and with brute force in a moment which reminded you of just how dangerous your chaotic clown could truly be. There was a sickening noise and Bats dropped to the concrete floor like a sack of potatoes. It was loud, undignified and he was undoubtedly out cold, but you didn’t much care. Good riddance. It was nice to see Bats get a taste of his own medicine. You had no idea where the Commissioner was or where any of the stationed police officers were but you suspected that everyone had cleared out of the vicinity once Batman had begun his portion of the ‘interrogation’ - or, as you and every other morally flexible person saw it, unwarranted aggression akin to torture. You had intervened long before Bats had truly started on J, but he never should have even been allowed to do so. He wasn’t a man of the law and as such, he had no jurisdiction here and he definitely had no right to be throwing anyone around like that. Who the fuck did he think he was??

J climbed gracelessly off the table and stepped over Bats’ body like he was nothing more than a pile of shit in the middle of the road (if the shoe fits...) and got down on his knees beside you, gently, gently, pulling you into his lap. His body was trembling, from worry or from adrenaline you knew not. “You shouldn’t have done that, doll.”

Tears came to your eyes fast now that it was all over and you sniffled. Oh, but you were in so much pain, but J was okay. Nothing more than a few scrapes or bruises. J’s okay. J’s safe, J’s okay he’s okay he’s okay... “I would never let you get hurt, J.”

“I know,” J sounded so genuine, his voice quiet and his tone soft as gloved fingers swiped your tears away. Not many fell - both of you knew that this was neither the time nor the place, no matter how much it hurt. There were no masks here, no pretenses... just you and J, as it had always been. “You’re my guard hyena, aren’t’cha?” There was untapped urgency in his words, a need to make sure that you were okay and you felt that same sense echoed within your own self, so desperate were you to ensure that your J was okay.

Your answering nod sent sharp stabbing pains shooting through your shoulder and you couldn’t have stopped the wince if you had tried. J’s gaze sharpened as he looked you over. His intense chocolate eyes were looking at you critically, his stare roaming over your body as he catalogued your body language. He was being so tender, his arms around you like the safest, warmest cage, like a heater was your clown.

Deft fingers pulled your collar aside, making you wince, and J leaned into your body, peeking into your shirt as he checked out the damage. There were no cameras in this interrogation room but even so did J not wish to expose you, to make you uncomfortable in any way. He made a soft whistling noise. Had you been anyone else, he would have been impressed with the colouring. As it was... he was enraged and trying so, so hard to keep himself from beating Batman shitless. “It’s a pretty purple ya’ gonna be wearing when this settles, Lil.” Despite his gentle teasing, J was being completely serious. It was almost scary. Almost. But you knew your J, you knew him, and you knew that he would always take care of you. Right now was no exception. “Come on, let’s get’cha home.”

There was a shakiness to J’s voice which both of you could hear but J’s ticking jaw muscles kept you from voicing your concerns as he gathered you up in his arms and carried you out of the building. Nothing had gone the way he wanted it to, but you had always been and would always be his number one concern. Fuck the world - his hyena needed him and truthfully, he needed you, too.

Time ceased to have all meaning as J did not let you go. You remained in his arms for the few blocks that he had to walk, your face tucked into the warm crook of his neck. You littered the skin available to you with kisses, licks, nibbles, gentle bites... J had so much pent up anger and energy within him that he was almost vibrating, but he was still so gentle with you as he got you both home, holding you in such a way that you were barely jostled by his movements. Oh, but he was so strong, emotionally, physically... your clown was fierceless, unstoppable, especially in the face of one of his worst fears.

Losing you.

Without you, J would truly have nothing to lose, nothing that he could be threatened with. He got you both home safely and he carried you through to the sofa in the living room.

“J... J, you can put me down. I can walk.”

He only shushed you, somewhat roughly, and set you down on the sofa. Immediately was he gone to get the dark green first aid kit which you kept in the bathroom, and he was back just as quickly. A pocket knife slid out of his sleeve and he fingered it into position expertly, the blade balanced between two fingers as he sliced your shirt off straight up the middle and peeled it off your body as gently as he could. You made no protests. J would replace it, you knew he would, and the circumstances were such that you couldn’t bring yourself to stop J. His face was set, his eyes were somewhat misty, and his breaths were deliberately slow, deep. J was keeping calm as best as he could, and you knew that once your injury had been examined and taken care of, you would have to deal with J’s own wounds.

You almost wanted to tell him to not bother with your injury, to let you take care of him, but that would only get you scolded, so you sat tight and let J take care of you. In moments like this did the two of you not need words, so well did you know each other and so deep was your bond. Twelve years... twelve fucking years and never before had you made good on your promise to take a hit for him if you had to. J had always made sure that such a promise wasn’t even necessary but today, today there had been an opening to prove yourself, to use your body to protect J’s own, and you knew that he was more thankful for it, for you, than he knew how to say.

So he would show you, instead.

And J did... careful touches, slightly rough kisses to your forehead, to your cheeks when you hissed in air through your teeth or otherwise winced, two pairs of chocolate eyes met every time you did so, and J would either shush you or his full lips would turn downwards in genuine sympathy. You were hurt because of him. His touches were so tender as he ran fingers over the deep purple bruise which bloomed across your collarbones, the slope of your shoulder, veiny lines spreaded out like tendrils around the outside of the bruising like a border of red and purple vines... there was some blood where the skin had completely split and J mopped it up, bandaged the areas and kissed over the protective layer he had placed against your skin as if his love could seep through the barrier and heal you from the outside in; indeed, many of your emotional wounds had already been healed, or, at the very least, soothed, by his presence in your life. You were pretty messed up just from one punch, but you were infinitely grateful that J hadn’t had to take the hit. You would do, be and say anything for him if it meant keeping him safe, sane, honest.

The more J put you back together, the more unravelled he became.

When at last you were bandaged and J had helped you to get into your pyjamas ready for sleep - you had been awake with J this entire time and neither of you had slept for more than a few hours at a time over the last few days and you were both exhausted on top of everything else - J put the first aid box back into the bathroom. He took his sweet time, his head bowed, his broad shoulders stiff. He was still on the defence. J was too calm, too quiet and you knew, you knew your J. He was barely holding it together.

As he came back into the living room, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers, his beautiful face bare and his footsteps uneven, his fists clenched, his head bowed and his slightly greasy locks framing his face, hiding himself from you, J sighed. “Best you, ah - get some rest, doll. Bed’s ready for ya’.”

“Aren’t you... aren’t you joining me, J?”

J shook his head, angling his face away from you some more as he took another step towards you. “No, no, I, ah - got some calls to make.”

Like hell he did. Not tonight. “Then I’m not sleeping.” Fire crept into your voice and you stood. Your shoulder didn’t hurt too badly. It wasn’t as bad as the pain you had felt that time you had been shot in the leg, and you knew you’d be okay. “Not without you, J, not after today.”

“Lilith - “ There was a warning in J’s tone and you went immediately to his side. You knew your clown, you knew that he had been on the edge of something ever since you had taken the hit for him, and you saw the opening that you had been waiting for, perhaps subconsciously, this entire time.

You took his hand, locked your fingers with his and you walked the both of you to the bedroom. You could almost hear J’s torment as you got into bed, easing yourself down with a wince. Lying down, it wasn’t so bad. You would be just fine within a few weeks. You had taken worse before.

“J, don’t... don’t hide from me. Come here, sweet angel.” You kept your tone soft, warm, comforting and you used your grip on his hand to pull J towards you. He didn’t protest, he didn’t fight you, he didn’t argue or try to say that he had work to do. No, J went with you, and as he eased himself down atop you with barely any hesitation - you were always so sure of yourself and what you wanted with him and for him - he sunk into your body.

J’s strong forearms framed either side of your head, your hair once more like a dark halo; it was reminiscent of what had happened today, though this time was J protecting you, and his shaking only intensified until his entire body was shaking. J dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his slightly greasy locks tickling at the underside of your chin, your nose, and you felt the falling of one, maybe two tears.

J was shaken to his very core and you needed (and wanted) to take care of him, now.

Ignoring the screaming in your shoulder, you wrapped both of your arms around J’s broad shoulders, wrapped your legs around his waist and crossed your ankles to solidly anchor him to you. “Shh, Jack, it’s okay - it’s okay, my darling, I’m here.” J didn’t even react to the mention of his real name, he just burrowed down further into you as if he was trying to climb inside you, to hide himself from the world by literally becoming one with you so that never again could the two of you be torn asunder. You ducked your head somewhat awkwardly so that you could rain kisses down upon the top of J’s head, your lips lingering against his skin, your nose resting in his strands, which were in desperate need of a dye job as well as a wash. Normally, you would have made him shower before coming to bed, but not tonight.

Tonight, all the rules were off the table. There was only room for the two of you. The raw essence of your relationship had been exposed to reality this night and neither of you quite knew what to do about it. All you could do was just to... simply be together, to express the impossibly deep bond which the two of you shared with one another. You continued to kiss J over and over and at some point he lifted his face up so that you could reach him there, too, his bare scars receiving the most love. You adored his scars and you treasured the times he let you interact with them.

J lifted himself up so that his nose was inches from yours. Your lips landed on his forehead next and J’s broken rasp of a voice broke the quiet stillness of the room, “He dared to touch my hyena. No one touches you, Lilith. You’re mine and… there’s no me without you. Without you, I have nothing… nothing.” As if he was distressed by words alone did he shut his eyes tightly, and you cooed as you cupped his face in your hands, your fingers stroking along his cheeks.

“No one hurts my J. Mine. I love you.” You felt like you were going to cry, so deeply and so intensely were the waves of love and affection crashing over your shores at this moment.

The answering sentimental declaration came in the form of J’s full lips crashing against your own, his lips warm but heavy against your own, his tongue hot as he commanded your full attention. J’s kiss was so thorough, his hot hands cupping your face - like a heater was he - the feeling of his heart pounding against your own... oh, but this was everything you could ever want and need. J left no room for arguments as he took from you what he needed, though in equal measures did he give you what you needed. You only needed each other, to reaffirm that the both of you were alive and safe and whole and loved, always loved, and that would always be enough to shine a light on any residual fears and anxieties lurking in the dark about each other’s continued safety.

“Mine,” J growled against your lips as he peppered your face with kisses so ferocious that they were almost bruising, “Mine, mine, mine.”

“Yes, J,” You smiled through tears you refused to let fall. Too many had been shed this night. “I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

J made a noise low in the back of his throat by way of agreement, by way of making and keeping a promise which never needed to be voiced because you both just knew as he claimed your lips with his again once more, but it was a slower, more tender expression now, more reverent and full of worship than it was of desperation, of urgency. “The hyena and her clown... the clown and his hyena. I like the sound of that, doll, don’t you?”

The smile you gave J by way of a reply was brighter than any firework, bigger than any explosion, and more commanding of J’s heart than anything else in the world.

You were his entire world, and so long as he had you and you had him, why, you both had everything.

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hournites · 4 years

Text

Maxed Out

Hournite semi-smut fic? Yeah. Okay.

Summary: Beth asks Rick to turn over his hourglass in bed. Calamity ensues.

~.~

Beth trailed her fingers over Rick’s chest, unbuttoning his breezy summer shirt. His muscles were more defined than the last time she did this. She didn’t need Chuck to notice the build he’d put on over the last few weeks during training. Beth wasn’t complaining.

He tilted his head back, watching her as he settled against her yellow decorative pillows. “You act as if you’ve never undressed me before.”

Beth met his gaze with a shy smile. “Every time is still exciting,” she admitted.

Beth had no reason to be embarrassed. She loved the slow stripping tease of removing all his layers to get to her boyfriend’s skin. Besides, if it didn’t feel that way, should she even be doing it?

Rick chuckled and kissed her, chaste for their compromised position. The dark hum of the dim lamp in the corner, the way the bed creaked under their weight when she leaned down to continue making out. They were sounds Beth grew familiar with, in bed with her boyfriend. Rick lifted his head to remove the hourglass around his neck. Beth stopped him abruptly, her hand over his.

“Have you ever wondered…” she trailed off. He frowned.

“Have I ever wondered what?”

Beth flushed, looking aside to stare at her old wallpaper. There used to be butterfly decals, but she decided she outgrew them suddenly last summer and peeled them all off. She sort of missed them now. One was never too old for butterflies.

“Beth?” He brushed her thigh, breaking her out that thought bubble.

“Hmm?”

She bit her thumb, eyes darkening when she took him in again, loose, pliant, ready to have her whichever way she wanted. Oh right.

Perhaps any way, really.

She let it out all in one breath. “Do you ever think about flipping this over when you're with me?”

His silence was terrible. Beth withdrew her hand. She was still straddled over his lap but this was awkward now, she should get off him.

“...Yes.”

Beth sucked in a whole lot of air and just sort of kept it in until her lungs were on fire. Sure, she asked but she wasn’t prepared for his answer.

His hands went to her hips. “I’ve thought of it a lot.”

Beth shifted a bit. “You’ve never brought it up.”

He gave her a knowing look. “Because it’s a terrible idea? A really really terrible idea.” Though by how torn he looked and sounded, it didn’t seem like he meant that at all.

“We haven’t trained since Saturday,” she reminded him. She kissed him again, slow, teasingly, breaking away right when he wanted more. “We don’t have anything JSA to do until next week.”

“I know,” Rick groaned, tightening his grip. “God, I know. I want to.”

A slow smile spread over Beth’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. He started to laugh softly when she played with the chain around his neck, like he couldn’t believe they were seriously entertaining the thought. “Beth. Beth, sweetheart. We really shouldn’t.”

Beth knew that. Every logical part of her brain knew that. It didn’t stop her from wanting to.

She flexed, placing her soft hands on his chest to hover over him as his eyes went wide and dark, taking her in. She was still in her shorts and shirt, but really those should come off soon too. Beth was in a really interesting type of mood. A Rick Tyler mood. Only with him did she ever feel this way.

“I say we should.”

The sentence came out breathlessly. She’s already feeling the zing of anticipation.

God, she wanted it. She wanted the hour of his unlimited strength. She wanted to see him pick her up effortlessly, she wanted him to pin her somewhere, hold her up without breaking a sweat. She wanted the way his ego boosted when he was powered up. She loved Rick with all her heart, but right now she was dying for the touch of Hourman.

The kiss she gave to enunciate her bold claim had Rick gripping onto the back of her neck, groaning. Beth leaned back again before they got too involved, toying with the hem of her shirt as Rick, weak and dishevelled, cursed under his breath. She liked it when he did that. Not the swear words exactly but the fact she made him utter them.

“What would you want me to do?”

“So that’s a yes?!”

“I didn’t say that,” he warned, chuckling at her eager impatience. She grabbed his hourglass again. Rick covered her hand over it. Beth wasn’t going to turn it without his permission, it wasn’t her object and it wasn’t her decision. But she couldn’t seem to put her hand anywhere else at the moment. And she desperately hoped she could get him to join her on the dark side.

“I’m just curious. What do you want, Beth?"

Beth’s eyes slid over to the wall again.

Rick followed her gaze. His jaw dropped. “You want— there?”

Beth nodded, flushing.

Rick flipped the glass over without hesitation. “You should’ve said that before.”

~.~

Rick pulled Beth flush against his chest. He cocked an eyebrow, hiking her higher up so she could wrap her legs around his hip. “You like this?” he teased, nipping at her ear. “You’re fucking beautiful, Beth.”

She whimpered, arching her back against her missing butterfly decals, aching for Rick to stop running his mouth and just do what she’d been pleading him for.

“You’re so light,” he whispered, picking her up again to carry her around the room just because he can.

“You’re so strong,” she marvelled. “Don’t break any of my furniture!” It would be impossible to explain to her father. He’d been away on a business trip for a few days now, but no matter how long he was on the road, she knew there’d be no way she could hide a broken chair or bed from him.

Rick huffed, rolling his eyes before slamming her back against the wall just to prove that he won’t. Her pictures of Courtney and Yolanda on her wall shook in their frames, but she could tell he was using only a fraction of his strength, or else they would’ve shattered.

“We’ve got fifty-five minutes.” His voice was low and sexy, a rumble deep in his throat that she could feel the vibrations of as he mouthed at her jaw and neck. She whimpered again, mind racing, trying to catalogue his every word, every touch, every move for, well—scientific research—intellectual curiosity—a very important personal project for Beth. He slipped his other hand behind her back and under her shirt to unclasp her bra. “I’m not wasting a second of it.”

“Then don’t.” She wanted Rick so badly she could hardly breathe. “I want you in me.”

Rick paused to look at her, taken aback. Her eyes widened and her pulse skyrocketed, worried she went too far. She never was one to talk like that but neither was he. What if he didn’t want to do this anymore? What if he was having second thoughts? But Rick didn’t give her the opportunity to panic any further, pulling her leg back up when it slipped from his waist. His grip was unshakable, steady, relaxed even like he knew exactly what he was doing, and that unreadable expression morphed into a smirk.

“How much do you like this top?”

“I— What?”

“Let me rephrase that,” he murmured. His fingers wandered up the black buttons of her simple floral shirt, unbuttoning one to access the dark valley hiding underneath. “How much would you mind if this is the last time you could wear this?”

Oh. He wanted to rip it off her. Everything Beth could ever feel for Rick liquified southward in slow, syrupy pulses. She squirmed against him, suffering. Her boyfriend destroying her inventory from Forever 21 really shouldn’t be so hot.

“Not very much,” she managed out and the sound of the fabric tearing echoed in the quiet room immediately after, the cool exposure and Rick’s warm palms handling the new expansion of skin drove Beth insane. “Not my bra! Bras are expensive.”

The kiss he gave in reply was filthy, but he listened and he raised her up again so she could shimmy out of it, letting it drop to the floor.

Another hard press that made her bookshelf shake beside them had Beth reeling, begging for more. She clung to his shoulders and buried her face in his neck, already overheated. And this was just the beginning. Beth knocked her head back against the wall when his hand snaked up past her thigh, tugging at the waistband of her shorts, knowing she was doomed. She was wet and shaking and so ready.

“Rick,” she begged with a gasping breath, unable to wait any longer. “Please .”

“I got you…” he promised, voice deep and rasped. He kissed her again. “I love you.”

This was Beth’s smartest idea yet.

~.~

Courtney leaned against her staff, taking in the damage. Trees upon trees upon trees fallen over themselves. It would take forever to climb through it.

Yolanda jumped over the first dead trunk on all fours. “It looks like Grundy had a temper tantrum.”

Beth listened, folding her arms over her chest. This mission took them all by surprise. It had been days, weeks even since they had to suit up. ISA went quiet. There hadn’t been any danger in quite some time. This was worrying. She leaned into Rick’s side. Her mind flitted away from the forest or the potential lair hidden behind all the forestial destruction. Last night took up every spare thought.

They were good together. They were always good together. But last night was something out of her locked up compartment of fantasies. The way he held her, the way he looked at her. Rick was gentle and sweet and considerate with his touch on her when they made love, and Beth adored him for it. But making love was not what happened yesterday during that hour.

Rick fucked her.

They fucked until the sand timed out, her legs wobbled, knees buckling after he put her down and every lucid thought in her brain fizzled out like smoke. He carried her to bed, and brushed the sweat from her forehead, whispering praises in her ear, telling her how much he loved her. Making sure he never hurt her, letting her curl against him until the world stopped spinning and she could gain her breath again. Even now, she could only think of Rick. The way he made her feel. The way he moaned out her name. He was strong and exuberantly confident with himself in a weird way Beth could never grow tired of. That hourglass was magical.

She shook her head, tilting her head to tune into the debate in front of her. JSA was important. This was important, Beth knew that. She tried to tell herself this.

It was kind of hopeless. Really, she wanted to drag Rick by the hand right out of this forest and go back home to bed.

“Beth?” Pat asked. “Why don’t you ask Chuck if this is worth the effort. Maybe there was just a wind storm and we missed it.”

“But that cryptic note,” Courtney said. “There’s no way that’s not something.”

Rick was awfully silent. Beth tugged on his sleeve and looked up to check if he was alright. He met her gaze and his eyes went soft with a hint of heat.

I want to get out of here too, he didn’t have to say.

It was especially bad with that hourglass around his neck right now. Just sitting there. Taunting her. A teasing visual memory of last night. Rick looked down at what she was staring at. A red blotch crept up behind the mask on his face.

She relished not being the only one of the two of them disastrously turned on.

“Beth? Beth???”

She snapped her eyes to the team and mumbled a quick apology. Right. They wanted her to use Chuck to see if there was anything worthwhile behind those trees. She tapped on her goggles, picking the right setting. Not X-Ray or Night Vision. Maybe infrared.

She squinted at the looming box figure in her magnified sight. “What do you think that is Chuck? A hideout? There’s only one story. It looks like it’s centred by an underground basement.”

“Gee. An underground hideaway. Never heard that before.” Pat shared an annoyed look with the JSA.

"You’re quite right, Beth. It seems there are several heat signatures underneath the roots of the decayed birch trees and foliage. My guess is an underground hanger, an off branch location perhaps for the regrouping of the ISA."

They all groaned.

“Thanks, Chuck.”

“So we have to get there.”

“That’s gonna take all day,” Courtney groaned. Her staff complained too, lifting her off the ground to survey the distance from the start of the forest to the nearest clearing. “Yeah, it goes on for miles. Maybe we could fly over with the Staff and STRIPE.”

“A big robot and you in the sky? Pretty sure they’ll see that, Court.”

“Yeah, we need to do recon from the ground.”

They all turned to Rick.

“What?” he snapped at their stares.

“How do you feel about being a lumberjack?” Yolanda asked. “Throwing away all the trees?”

Rick tensed, and so did Beth.

“That’s stupid,” he said. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?” Courtney frowned.

“Uh.” He shared a panicky look with Beth, who stared at him back, stumped. “I pulled a muscle. Don’t want to.”

That’s what he came up with!?

“You know what,” Beth said hastily, putting a hand on his arm, “Rick’s not feeling well.” She flashed a grin at her friends. “Let’s do this another day, I’ll take him home—Bye!”

Courtney flew over on her staff, blocking their way when they turned around to leave. She crossed her arms over her crop top.

“Rick always said he doesn’t feel that kind of stuff when the hourglass is turned over because of his adrenaline rush.”

“Um. Well, now I do.” He continued to walk away.

Chuck went silent in her ear. Like he knew exactly what was going on but didn’t want to comment. And thank god, for that. Beth’s palms broke out into a sweat under her gloves. This was so embarrassing, she thought she might pass out.

What was she going to say? Heyyyyy guys! Actually, we can’t do any type of heavy lifting today, nope! Oh? Why, you ask? No big deal really, my boyfriend just decided to use his superpower to do dirty, dirty things to me while I screamed into his shoulder ha ha ha funny, right!?

Heat flared up to her face, Beth couldn’t make eye contact with anyone. She put one of her gloved hands over her cheek and kept her gaze on the weird twigs on the ground. She needed water. She needed a bath of ice. Where was Icicle Jr when she needed him? Getting blasted with frost would be better than this.

“Rick,” Pat snapped. “Stop fooling around. Turn the hourglass. Now.”

“No,” he said stubbornly, batting away Yolanda’s swat at his glass.

“Why are you being so weird?” Yolanda hissed. “You think you’re the only one with things to do? My brother has a piano recital in a few hours. We all want to go back home.”

She glared at Beth like she was mad at her for not talking sense into Rick herself. Like it was a chore to be the one that had to do it. “Beth, c’mon, what’s wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with us!” Beth said, hearing the way her voice pitched an octave higher than it was supposed to.

“Rick. Turn the glass over!” Pat said, increasing the volume of his voice modifier for extra emphasis—not really extra menace, he couldn’t scare them anymore. Not that he didn’t try.

“I can’t,” Rick gritted out through his teeth. He ran a hand through his hair, even more flustered than before.

Beth covered her ears, starting to hyperventilate as they all began to argue. This was her fault. This was her fault!

She pestered Rick into using his strength and now they couldn’t do their jobs and they were going to end up revealing their sex lives in explicit detail in front of Courtney’s dad. She whined, hiding her face into Rick’s suit, unable to bear her mortification.

His hands wrapped around her tight, which was her briefest solace of this embarrassing nightmare.

Yolanda stared at them, narrowing her eyes. She jumped off one of the trees and circled the couple to Rick’s chagrin, who was now staring up at the sky, looking extremely uncomfortable. Beth closed her eyes and nuzzled her head further against his chest. She wasn’t even horny anymore.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Courtney echoed, tilting her head to the side. “We haven’t had a JSA mission in like, forever so—“

“I can’t!” Rick nudged Beth to the side so he could flip over his hourglass to show them. Beth watched as it did nothing. The sand just stayed there in the top half like a fixed, broken toy. “I told you, I can’t!”

Yolanda gasped, finally putting two and two together. “Beth Chapel, you didn’t!”

“We did!” Beth admitted miserably against Rick.

“What?” Courtney was unable to follow along. She whipped her head at Yolanda. “What did they do??”

Yolanda began to laugh. She covered her mouth and turned around, walking away to lean against a spared tree. “Don’t make me tell them, because I won’t.”

The hiss and metallic clanging of the STRIPE head unlocking echoed through the forest. Pat’s seat raised. He looked between the two with his brows furrowed. Suddenly, understanding dawned in his eyes. He swore under his breath as his face twisted in a complicated combination of shock, horror and disgust. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, Rick!”

Rick stiffened his jaw. “If we were kidding do you really think we’d be having this conversation?”

“What conversation!?” Courtney shrieked.

“We’re sorry!”

“Sorry about what!?!” Courtney tugged at her hair, stressed out, looking at the JSA for answers. “Pat?!! They’re sorry about what?”

“Not now, Court—” Pat warned. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it."

“Ugh!” Courtney landed on the cracked ground and stomped off to sulk with her staff. "This is now how teamwork works!"

Yolanda lifted an eyebrow, shrugging as she cleaned some leaves from her claws. She sat at the base of a standing trunk, knees pulled up to her chest as though she knew they weren't going anywhere for a while. “I mean, was it at least good?” she asked with a tiny wicked smirk after a stretch of awkward silence.

“Yes,” Beth mumbled hotly. Her cheeks burned.

Pat glared down at them from his towering height in STRIPE, the ultimate patented look of parental disappointment etched upon his face.

“Are you two out of your minds?!” he yelled, trying to guilt-trip them further into the valley of shame Beth decided she now permanently lived in. “You could’ve risked your lives—What if we were ambushed right now? You’re a man with no hour—You could've died!”

Yolanda snorted from off to the side and even Beth had to bit her lip to keep in a smile at how silly that sounded.

“—What on earth did you think you were doing?”

“Uh,” Rick looked down at Beth. She looked up. They shared a funny look, an almost laugh. His eyes lit up when their eyes met and she let out a giggle. “....Having really good sex?”

Pat grimaced, regretting that he asked.

Courtney’s head shot up. “You used the hourglass to have sex?”

Beth smacked his shoulder. “Rick!”

Rick smirked, far too pleased with himself for their situation right now. “Look, we learned our lesson. We’re not doing it again.”

“You’re damn right, you aren’t!”

Courtney couldn’t stop staring at Beth, utterly baffled. “How would you even—Why would you want to do that?”

Beth opened her mouth to reply, but Pat held up a robot hand, stopping them from continuing.

“Nevermind that,” he said pointedly. “Court, let’s go home. We’ll reconvene tomorrow.”

Yolanda dusted the dirt and soil from her suit silently to follow Court and the stomping robot back down the trail.

“I have nothing to say to you Richard,” she sniffed, then gave Beth a fist bump, leaning to say something in her ear. “We’ll talk later.”

Beth looked at Wildcat, wide-eyed and gulped. “...Okay."

And then they were alone.

“So…” Beth said after a moment of them standing there in the bushes like two idiotic teens who just screwed up a very important superhero mission because of their screwing. She looked at one of the silver maple trunks that looked securely fixed upon the others and hopped on top of it, sitting down. She took her gloves off and stuffed them in one of her many Dr. Mid-Nite pockets. “That was the most embarrassing moment of my life.”

“Yep.” Rick put his hands on the back of his head, elbows out as he began to pace, walking the distance between the only two trees left standing. His cape rustled against the dead leaves. A black squirrel stared at them from a foot away. Beth didn’t blame him, they looked like quite a sight.

Her goggles came back to life.

"Lack of judgment happens to the best of enhanced and metahumans in their first few years in the field, Beth. Do not beat yourselves up so hard. Rick is young and impulsive, and you have a curious mind. Perhaps this learning experience served to put your wonderings at ease."

“Thanks, Chuck,” she said softly, but somehow his words were not as comforting as they usually were. “But it wasn’t Rick's impulse. It was my fault. I knew we shouldn’t have. Rick was the one that told me not to.”

“You make it sound like it wasn’t me who turned it over.”

Beth shrugged. “You wouldn’t have if I hadn’t brought it up.”

Rick threw his head back and laughed. The squirrel startled, scurrying away.

“What?”

He walked over and held her chin, stroking her cheek with his covered thumb. “You underestimate how much I think about having my way with you.”

Beth’s heart stuttered in her chest. She blinked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Do I?”

Rick’s boyish smirk shined through the Hourman mask. “You really liked it, huh?”

She nodded. “I really did.”

He pressed his lips against hers and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing back hungrily, knocking his hood off his head so she could reach up and fist his hair. She’d been wanting to do this ever since he put his stupid glass back around his neck after school. She leaned back against the logs, and Rick climbed over her, pulling off her mask so he could kiss the skin of her neck.

"While this is all well and good, Beth, need I remind you there is an unconfirmed ISA base, not even an acre away, and you have removed integral pieces of your costumes crucial to conceal your identities?"

Beth pushed Rick away to yank off her goggles from their perch on her head, blushing madly. “Chuck!”

Rick ran a hand over his face and groaned, stepping away. “He’s right,” he said and pulled up his hood. “The damn computer’s right.” He reached onto the ground where Beth’s mask fell and tugged it over her hair and face. “We can’t afford two JSA screw-ups in one day. Pat would kill us.”

It was true. They had to stop now before things spiralled and they ended up captured by new ISA members in the middle of Samuel McKelvie, Nebraska.

“No more hourglass in bed,” Rick told her sternly, giving her a hand to haul her up from the trees.

Beth let out a sad sigh. “No more hourglass in bed.”

She grabbed Chuck and repositioned him over her eyes, then reached back to hold Rick’s hand again. They walked through the forest back where they came, listening to Chuck’s directions when they got lost a few times. The walk back was nice, relaxing. Beth felt the tension leak from her shoulders, content to simply chat and walk around with Rick.

So they’d had their moment of wild times and reckless behaviour, and as much as she enjoyed it, Beth loved soft, quiet moments with her boyfriend too. Cuddling together after missions, going out for movies and drives, being gentle and sweet when they’re intimate without worrying about breaking anything...

Now she knew, both were possible, whenever they wanted it. Just without the help of magical strength-inducing hourglasses to boost stamina along the way.

She still kind of wanted it, though. She peeked up at him with a new idea.

“Rick…?”

“Yeah?”

“If a mission ever ends early with time still left over…”

Rick stopped in his tracks.

Beth continued walking, only turning her head over her shoulder to pull Chuck off her face and wink at her dumbstruck boyfriend.

“...Then I wouldn’t say no to that.”

#stargirl #hournite #hournites fic #Beth Chapel #Rick Tyler #smut

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limjaeseven · 4 years

Text

The Boyfriend Dilemma

Pairing: Jaebeom X Jinyoung

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2,896

Warning(s): JJP being cute as hell, fake dating!au

Summary: Jinyoung had lied to his mum about having a boyfriend. What does he do when she asks him to bring said boyfriend over for Christmas dinner?

[a/n]: I know I’m a bit late but here it is, this fic was lots of fun to write so I hope you enjoy it! Written for @ksmutclub‘s ‘Under the Mistletoe’ project.

Christmas Eve was usually a calm night in for Jinyoung, spent curled on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book. That was until his mother called him, asking him to come for dinner on Christmas with his boyfriend. He was eternally grateful that his mother couldn’t see the way he cringed on the other side of the line as she mentioned his love life. You see, there was a small issue, Jinyoung didn’t really have a boyfriend.

Jinyoung’s mother had always wanted Jinyoung to find a good man and settle down, having come to terms with her son’s attraction towards men a long time ago, she just hated the idea of her son being lonely, without someone to look after him. The thought wasn’t unfounded, Jinyoung was known to work late nights, get little to no sleep and go for days without bothering to eat properly. His mother only knew of one out of the four incidents on Jinyoung ending up in the hospital due to exhaustion after he had left home for college.

She kept asking him if he had found anyone, setting him up for dates with her friends’ sons when he graduated college without having been in a relationship even once. It wasn’t even like Jinyoung wasn’t interested in being in a relationship or guys weren’t into him, he just hadn’t found the one for him and regardless of whether he sounded childish or not, he hoped to find true love, or at least a man who he would want to spend the rest of his life with.

After four years of constant nagging and pretty bad dates, Jinyoung finally decided he was done with all the nagging and lied to his mum about being in a relationship. He was smart enough to not reveal too many details about his imaginary boyfriend, because he knew eventually his mum would ask him to bring the boy home and he would have to strategically plan a fake breakup before that but he didn’t expect her to call him over for Christmas, since his parents were usually working through the holiday.

“But Jinyoung, your dad and I took a day off just so we could meet your new boyfriend, we thought Christmas would be the one opportunity where you both would be off from work and could drive over” And despite how hard he tried, his mum didn’t let up. He couldn’t fake a breakup, he had just told her that his relationship was going strong a week prior, which meant he would either have to come clean to his mom or try something else.

Jinyoung would have scoffed at the idea of hiring a date, he actually had once when he saw an ad for what was basically an escort service disguised as a date-for-hire app on TV. Little did he know that not months after that ordeal he would be sitting on his bed on Christmas Eve, looking through a catalogue of good looking men, trying to pick one to be his fake boyfriend to appease his mum.

The options weren’t bad, there were a few men there he felt genuinely attracted to, but they were all either too nerdy or too bad boy looking for what he had described to his mum. Unfortunately, Jinyoung had gotten a bit too carried off by his description of his fake boyfriend and had described more of his dream man, one Jinyoung knew he would never find, to his mum.

That was till his eyes landed on the name ‘Lim Jaebeom’ accompanied by the photo of a man pulled right out of his wet dreams. He had long, black hair that brushed his shoulders, dressed in a designer suit with a face to match. His eyes were alluring, the two moles above his left eye too perfect to be real. Jinyoung pinched his arm, wincing at both the pain and the realisation that he was not, in fact, dreaming.

Clicking through to his profile, Jinyoung read through the man’s likes and hobbies listed and wondered if he was high, because it felt like the man he had described to his mum had been brought to life. The rates were low enough for Jinyoung to be able to afford the man for a night, and even though he couldn’t believe that he was hiring a ‘date’, one look at Jaebeom’s photo made him forget all those thoughts, and all that filled him was the anticipation.

Once he made his payment, he was given the option to chat with Jaebeom in order to discuss the date. Clicking the link he was provided, he stared at the text box for ten minutes before sending a ‘hey’, his hands shaking as he saw the word ‘typing’ linger at the bottom of the screen.

Jaebeom: Hey Jinyoung, how can I help you?

Jinyoung: So, this is kinda embarrassing but I lied to my mum about having a boyfriend and now she’s asked me to bring him home for Christmas dinner so I panicked and hired you to be my fake boyfriend for a night :/

Jaebeom: Don’t worry Jinyoung, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to be someone’s fake boyfriend, we should quickly go over what you’ve already told your mum about your ‘boyfriend’ first and work from there

Jinyoung: This is super weird but like somehow everything I told her about ‘him’ was listed in your likes and hobbies, like a love for music and cats. All I told her is I met ‘him’, or in this case you, at a café where you worked, you wrote your number on my cup and I texted you and we started dating

Jaebeom: Okay, at least I don’t have to pretend like I know anything about stock markets or something

Jinyoung: You’ve had to do that before?

Jaebeom: Oh yeah, some girls I’ve accompanied lied about dating a rich CEO and I had to borrow my friend’s Gucci suit for it, that was interesting

Jinyoung: Sounds like it

Jaebeom: Is there anything else I should know?

Jinyoung: Beware of my mum, she will ask a lot of questions, just go with the flow. Also wear an ugly sweater, my mum is big on Christmas traditions

Jaebeom: I don’t think I have any ugly sweaters, I’ll have to get one. How about I get us a matching pair? She might like that

Jinyoung: You are a genius Jaebeom, I’ll pay you for the sweater, just come here by 6pm so that I have enough time to get ready and we can drive over to my parents’ in time

Jaebeom: Will do, also don’t worry about paying, that’s on me

Jinyoung: But

Jaebeom: No buts, it’s getting late, you should sleep some, we can discuss any other details tomorrow

Jinyoung: Okay fine, good night Jaebeom

Jaebeom: Good night Jinyoung

It was past noon when Jinyoung woke up the next day, his brain deciding to oversleep on the one day he would have liked to wake up early and get ready properly. Jinyoung managed to get out of bed in time for lunch, taking a long bath in preparation for dinner, mentally preparing himself for what was about to come.

Jaebeom had texted him in the morning, asking for his address, which Jinyoung sent him, accompanied by an apology for his delayed response. They texted back and forth for a bit, engaging in normal small talk before Jaebeom signed off to head to the mall to buy the aforementioned sweaters.

At precisely six o’clock, Jinyoung’s doorbell rang, revealing a man about a thousand times more gorgeous than the photo Jinyoung had seen on the app, standing at his doorstep. He swallowed visibly, his throat suddenly parched, as Jaebeom stood there, dressed in a pair of black trousers, a white t-shirt and a long, brown coat, holding a bag in his hand.

“Come in” Jinyoung said, barely managing not to stutter, as he welcomed Jaebeom inside his apartment. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a voice calling him dumb to allow a stranger inside his house but something about Jaebeom just pulled Jinyoung in and clouded his judgement. Jaebeom slipped off his oxfords, extending the cover in his hand to Jinyoung as he settled down on the couch. Confused for a moment, Jinyoung quickly realised that the bag probably contained the sweaters Jaebeom had been tasked to buy.

“I said UGLY Christmas sweaters, not cat sweaters, we can NOT wear these.” Jinyoung exclaimed in horror as he examined the pastel blue and pink coloured sweaters the man had bought, adorned with large cats and the words ‘Meowy Christmas’ in calligraphy font on the front. Jaebeom smiled sheepishly as he got up from his seat and made his way to Jinyoung, grabbing the blue sweater from his left hand.

“They didn’t have any ugly sweaters at the mall that I actually liked, and these were too cute to say no to” Jaebeom made his best puppy eyes at Jinyoung, causing the younger to groan.

“I can’t believe this, my sisters will not let me live this down” Jaebeom just pouted, taking off his coat to pull the sweater over his head. Jinyoung would be lying if he said he didn’t ogle at Jaebeom’s biceps flexing as he changed his clothing. When caught staring by Jaebeom, he promptly turned around, clutching the garment in his hand to his chest and running inside to put it on, but mostly to calm his beating heart down.

Jaebeom was unnecessarily attractive, and that was not good for Jinyoung’s heart because he didn’t want to develop a crush on a dude he paid to spend the night with, even though Jinyoung knew it was too late, he had already formed a soft spot for the man’s warm smile and adorable pout. Pulling on the pink sweater, Jinyoung checked himself out in his bedroom mirror, admitting to himself that it actually looked rather cute on him.

“Shall we get going?” Jinyoung asked as he stepped back out into the living room, to which Jaebeom nodded, grabbing his car keys and walking Jinyoung out of his apartment. The two settled into Jaebeom’s car, Jinyoung feeding his parents’ address into the GPS system in Jaebeom’s car to guide them to their destination.

“So, any nicknames or that sort of thing you want to talk about, you know, to convince your parents that we actually know each other and didn’t meet each other for the first time like half an hour ago?” Jaebeom turned to Jinyoung just to guage his reaction before turning back to the road.

“Well the website said you were born in jan 1994, meaning you’re older than me, so how about hyung?” Jaebeom nodded, thinking for a moment before replying.

“Hyung is fine with me, what about you? Are you comfortable with Jinyoung-ah or would you want something more cutesy like Jinyoungie or Nyoungie?”

“Honestly I’m fine with anything, like I said, go with the flow. I haven’t told my mum enough for most anything for you to say to sound too suspicious. Just be yourself, your profile said you like music, talk about that, maybe” They talked a bit about themselves for the rest of the drive, sharing crucial information required to make it look like they know each other well.

Jinyoung sighed as he stood in front of his parents’ house, the reality of the situation finally hitting him. Sensing Jinyoung’s discomfort, Jaebeom offered the boy a warm smile, waiting for him to ring the bell to alert Jinyoung’s parents of their arrival. After five minutes of Jinyoung trying to calm himself down, he finally mustered enough courage to reach over to press the doorbell.

“Oh Jinyoungie, you’re finally here! Come in, come in” Jinyoung’s mother greeted them, welcoming them inside their house. Jaebeom looked around for a moment, admiring the classy furniture of the house covered in brightly coloured tinsel and other Christmassy accoutrement.

“Mom this is Jaebeom, my boyfriend” Jinyoung signalled to his mother, who smiled at Jaebeom, wrapping him in a warm hug. She dragged them to the living room, sitting them down on the couch before calling Jinyoung’s father and sisters from the kitchen to join them.

“Nice sweater, Nyoung” Jinyoung’s elder sister snickered, causing Jinyoung to hit her arm lightly before turning to his mom.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Jaebeom. I was worried our Jinyoungie would never find himself a man, but now that you’re here I feel relieved that he finally has someone in his life”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mrs Park. Jinyoung talks a lot about you”

“Oh please, no need for the formalities, call me mom. I’m sure he talks about how I nag him all the time, doesn’t he” Jaebeom chuckled as the loud groan from Jinyoung’s end.

“Absolutely not, he talks about how much he loves you, he knows you worry about him” Jinyoung’s mom smiled at that, reaching ruffle her hand through her son’s hair.

“So how long have you two been dating?” Jinyoung’s oldest sister asked.

“Three months”

“Four months”

Jinyoung and Jaebeom said at the same time, causing a look of confusion to cross over Jinyoung’s family’s face. Before Jinyoung could come up with a lame excuse, Jaebeom placed his warm hand reassuringly on Jinyoung’s thigh and addressed his parents.

“We went out together for the first time four months ago, which I thought was a date but Jinyoung thought was us just ‘getting to know each other’. According to him we only started dating three months ago, it’s something we fight about all the time”

“That sounds like my son, oblivious and stubborn” Jinyoung’s father commented.

The rest of the night went by pretty smoothly, a few slips here and there covered up quickly by Jaebeom. They sat next to each other at the dinner table, Jaebeom’s hand resting on Jinyoung’s thigh throughout, as a way to reassure the younger that Jaebeom was here for him.

“It’s time for the mistletoe photos, this is the first time I’ll get one of Jinyoung kissing his boyfriend!” Jinyoung stiffened, as he turned to Jaebeom, realising that he would have to kiss the elder. Squeezing the elder to signal his apology, Jinyoung guided the elder to where the mistletoe had been hung in the living room, Jinyoung’s father bringing out the old polaroid camera to click a picture. Jinyoung stood there for a moment, too nervous to actually kiss the elder, till Jaebeom gave in, placing his hands on either side of Jinyoung’s face and placing a chaste kiss on the younger’s lips.

It was like a lightning bolt had hit Jinyoung, a shiver ran down his spine at the touch of just their lips, causing him to chase Jaebeom’s lips as they split from his own. Jinyoung’s father handed them one of the two photos he clicked, the other going straight to Jinyoung’s mother’s collection.

By the end of the night, they were all happy and exhausted. Jinyoung didn’t want to leave but he reluctantly let go of his mom because he had to go to work the next morning and Jaebeom probably had work too. Just as they were about to leave, Jinyoung’s mother pulled him aside to talk to him privately.

“You know, Jaebeom is a pretty nice boy, I like him a lot”

“I’m glad you like him mom, I like him too”

“If you do you should actually ask him out”

“What!?”

“You think I wouldn’t know when my son was lying to me? He looks at you like I look like your dad Nyoung, I’m pretty sure you both barely know each other but I think you should give him a shot if he’s interested, you two seem perfect for each other” Jinyoung merely groaned and hid his face in his palms as he lamented at his unsuccessful attempt to fool his mum. He did agree with her though, he would like to actually go out with Jaebeom, hopefully with Jinyoung paying for his meal instead of his time. Promising to call her soon, Jinyoung grabbed a hold of Jaebeom’s hand, guiding him to the car.

The drive back home was quite, comfortably so. Jinyoung looked out the window, thinking back on the few hours he had spent with Jaebeom and the many more he wants to spend with him. When they arrived back at Jinyoung’s place, the younger looked over at Jaebeom, before closing his eyes and leaning in. Half expecting to be rejected, Jinyoung jumped when Jaebeom’s lips met his halfway, and they shared a sweet kiss.

“Will I see you again?” Jaebeom asked, and Jinyoung reached over for Jaebeom’s arm, one of his hands digging through his pocket for the pen he always carried around. After scribbling on his number onto his arm along with a few hearts, Jinyoung stepped out of the car, turning around to bid his farewell.

“I do charge for dates though” Jaebeom added, making Jinyoung’s face fall suddenly.

“Ten kisses for every hour” Jinyoung smiled at Jaebeom’s bad joke, his face lighting up once more as he waved at Jaebeom, the elder sending him a flying kiss before driving off. Jinyoung went to sleep with a smile on his face. His lie had after everything, turned into a hopeful tomorrow for Jinyoung.

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